Septiplier One-Shots

Goodnight

I am back from vacation, and I had an awesome time! But as I predicted, I missed a day of uploading. I'm so sorry!! I'm hoping to get back on track with my writing as I catch up with YouTube videos.

Buuut something amazing happened when I was gone. WE HIT 3K VOTES!!!

Seriously, HOLY SHIT, guys! You are all so fucking awesome and I just... wow. Thank you all sososo much for being such amazing people. My world definitely wouldn't be the same without you all, and I'm glad you're all in my life.

Anyways, please excuse any grammatical errors in this chapter, because I'm just too lazy to read over and fix everything. On with the chapter!

T/W: Implied rape

Night One

White. Silhouette. Figure. God? Angel? No, impossible. Black. Voices. Crying? Jack. Jack...

I woke up with sweat running down my forehead, leaning upwards and breathing rapidly. I briskly looked next to myself to see the sleeping Irish man named Jack. I let out a sigh as the brief memories of my most recent dream flashed into my brain, leaving a permanent mark that would possibly scar me for a long time. I was only able to remember small fractions of my dream that couldn't connect,  but maybe it was for the best.

Night Two

I'm in a white room with nothing else. Or maybe it's not a room, possibly just nothingness. There's a figure of someone with wings. They can't be a God, or an angel, because the wings are spiked. The world around me turns black and I hear laughing. I hear many voices, but they sound as if they're coming from the same person. Now there's crying- no, more like sobbing. Where's Jack? I know it's him...

I woke up screaming, which led me to waking up Jack as well.

"Markle Sparkle, what happened?" Jack asked with a worried tone.

"Ah- It's nothing. Just a bad dream, that's all."

"Ya want to tell me about it, ye goober?"

"I, uh, no. Let's just go back to sleep, alright?"

"Ya sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Jack planted a soft and loving kiss on my forehead. I smiled at that, feeling a little better than I had felt before.

"Night, Mark." Jack cooed.

"Goodnight."

Night Three

There is nothing in the white room except for myself. I'm not tied down to anything and I can walk freely into the bright white nothingness. A figure appears out of nowhere with pointed wings that resembles one some sort of  evil creature would have.

Black smoke fills the room and there is no more white. It's dark and I can't see anything except for myself. I can only hear evil laughter. The laughter fades and turns into a familiar voice, which eventually leads to crying. Someone holds me, and the sensation immediately tells me who it is: Jack.