#FULLY MASKED FEMALE CHARACTER!!!!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eempyreall · 16 days ago

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♪ 𝑇𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑏𝑦 𝐵𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 ♪

༺ Toxic Love Of Siblings ༻

Oneshot ~ Female Haitani Sisters x Stepbrother Male Reader x Female Sanzu Haruchiyo

Summary ~ Your step sisters and their friend have been so overbearing since you got a new girlfriend. Unfortunately for you and your partner, things get pretty messy.

Featuring ~ Sanzu Haruchiyo and the Haitani Sisters—mentioned Kokonoi Hajime

Extra Notes ~ This story will have stepcest and slight incest. Do NOT read if that makes you uncomfortable.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr, and ao3. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered male, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

If you could afford it, you would’ve moved out of the house that your parents left you and your step-sisters when they had moved away. It’s not that you didn’t have familial love for the women you had grown up with for half of your life. They were just so overbearing, along with their friend, Sanzu.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing here?” You thought you had locked the bathroom door before you showered, but here you are, using the curtain as a cover after you had just finished bathing.

Ran lathers lipstick on her lips as she leans over the counter, gazing at the mirror.

“Using the bathroom, silly,” she shrugs with a smirk, her long black-and-blonde strands flowing freely down her back.

“I was in the middle of a shower. Couldn’t you have knocked? Don’t you have a vanity in your room?”

“Relax, Y/n. It’s not that big of a deal,” she chuckles.

“Hey, isn’t that my hoodie?” you question Rin, who sits on the sofa in the living room.

She has one knee propped up, her mid-length blonde-and-blue hair resting above her shoulders. She uses a finger to adjust her glasses against her nose as she turns away from the television to look at you.

“Yeah, and what about it?” she says, giving you a heavy-lidded, sly smile.

You groan with annoyance. “I’ve told you so many times not to steal my clothes. You have to ask first, Rin,” you sigh, fingers holding your forehead.

“If ya want me to give it back, I can,” she smirks as she grabs the ends of the fabric, pulling the top up enough to show off her blue, laced bra.

You gasp before rushing to say, “Never mind! Just give it back later.”

It was especially a nuisance when they had their weird friend over. Sometimes, you would notice her following you on your college campus, or you would find her walking out of your closet. The blonde girl was so damn creepy, especially with the intense look in her blue eyes as she stared at you through her platinum eyelashes.

Honestly, she was gorgeous—as were your step-sisters. You might’ve even dated Sanzu if she wasn’t so weird. It was fun the few times you had smoked together or when she actually spoke without her mask covering her face. She seemed to hide her true personality, and although you understood, it made her stand-offish.

There was even a time when you and your last girlfriend had been making out in your bedroom, and she screamed when she heard rustling from your closet. You only sighed in response as you walked over to fully open the cracked door.

“Sanzu…,” you huffed, speechless as you gestured for her to step out of the closet. You shook your head as she complied.

“Haven’t I told you not to do that anymore?” you groaned, as she stared back at you with an unreadable expression before turning to face your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend flinched at the narrowed eyes she received from the blonde girl before Sanzu quietly walked out.

Their behavior became worse whenever you would have new girlfriends that started to come over more often.

There was one night when you could hear exaggerated moans coming from Ran's room. You figured she must have another fuck buddy over, though usually, they were quieter than this. Your most recent girlfriend followed you as you walked to Ran's door.

“Hey, can you keep it down?” you questioned while knocking on the door. You heard rustling in response.

You were about to walk off until the door opened, revealing a half-naked Ran, dressed in just a t-shirt and purple lace panties. Her busty chest was prominent, nipples poking through the white fabric.

“Ex/n?!” your girlfriend questioned. Your attention turned to the half-naked man, wearing only underwear, who appeared behind Ran at the doorway.

“G/f?” he questioned.

“You know him?” you asked your girlfriend, whose face heated up with anger.

“So this is what you do now? Hook up with whores?” she spat before walking off. The man called out to her as he rushed to put his clothes on and ran out of the room.

Ran leaned against the doorway with her arms behind her back and thighs pressed together, a smile on her face.

“You knew that was her ex, didn't you?” you asked her.

She stepped forward and reached out to pat your head. “You're focused on the wrong things, Y/n. I wonder why she was so upset about her ex fucking someone else,” she shrugged before walking back into her room without bothering to shut the door.

After thinking about the situation, you realized she was right and had done you a favor—so you let it go.

One time, you accidentally left your phone at home, and Rin and Sanzu found it.

Rin immediately picked it up and dialed the number of your girlfriend at the time. Both she and Sanzu covered their mouths to hold in their laughter as the girlfriend answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Yes, baby! Ah, Y/n! Fuck me harder! Just like that,” Sanzu moaned as Rin held the phone at a distance to make it seem like an accidental dial.

Sanzu continued to whimper and moan while Rin pressed a palm over her face, stifling her laughter.

“Right there, Y/n! Yeah! Ugh—!” The line cut off before Sanzu and Rin burst into loud laughter. They messaged Ran in their group chat about the phone call as Rin dropped your phone back on the couch.

When you came home, expecting notifications from your girlfriend, you saw that she had blocked and ghosted you. Confused and a little hurt by the rejection, you tried to make sense of it.

It had been so long ago when you found out about what Rin and Sanzu did that you couldn’t even be mad about it anymore.

Time passed while you were single, and your step-sisters and their friend only became weirder and weirder.

You were casually watching television when the girls walked into the house. They were clearly drunk and maybe even high as they giddily made their way toward you.

You were caught off guard when Sanzu climbed on top of you, wrapping her arms around your neck before dropping her head in the space between your neck and shoulder.

Rin sat on the arm of the chair nearest to you, lying across the top of the surface, while Ran sat next to you with her legs curved on the sofa and her arms wrapped around your limb.

“Woah, what's going on?” you ask in bewilderment.

“Hey, Y/n. Do you think I'm pretty?” Sanzu questions as she pulls back to make eye contact with you.

“Huh? Why does that matter?” you ask as they all giggle.

“Of course he does. I've seen the way he looks at you,” Ran smiles as her grip on your arm tightens.

“Hey, don't speak for me! You guys are drunk as fuck. You need to sleep it off,” you advise them as Sanzu grabs your hands and slides them under her skirt to grip her hips.

You were not one to ever sleep with a drunk girl, beautiful or not, so you remove your hands.

"No, don't do that. You're not in your right mind," you tell her, watching her expression shift to annoyance.

“You’re so annoying, Y/n. Come on, I know you want me,” she whined as she slightly grinded her hips against you.

“Yeah you’re so uptight, Y/n,” Rin scoffed as she sat up.

Heat burned your face when you felt blood rush to your cock while Sanzu rubbed herself against you. Your sisters smirked when they saw your heated gaze as well as Sanzu who felt your bulge against her panties.

“Alright!” You exclaimed as you grabbed her thighs and lifted her, catching everyone by surprise as you pulled Ran along and snatched Rin’s hand.

“Time for you guys to go to bed, right now!”

They groaned in annoyance as you led them to Ran’s bedroom, which used to be your parents’ old master bedroom.

You stayed in the living room for a long time, scrolling aimlessly through your phone.

When you become tired, you make your way down the hall, only to stop when you hear whispers, giggles, and moans. You notice that Ran’s bedroom door is cracked open. You could’ve sworn you had shut it before heading back to the living room.

You move to close the door, only to freeze in your spot when you see the display inside.

Sanzu lies across Ran’s king-sized bed with her legs spread wide open. Her plump breasts lie on her chest as they bounce, pink nipples exposed.

Ran is thrusting her hips against Sanzu’s lower region with straps wrapped around her hips. One of her hands hold Sanzu’s leg up while the other is entangled within blonde-and-blue strands. Her chest is exposed, the light shining on her busty mounds.

Rin is sitting on top of Sanzu’s face as she grinds her hips—a lacy bra concealing her breasts as she grips onto her older sister’s shoulders.

Both sisters have their tongues pressed together with their eyes heavy-lidded. Saliva dripped from their mouths as it fell onto Sanzu’s stomach. Rin begins to suck Ran’s tongue before they press their lips together.

All of the women were moaning—Rin whispering curses against Ran’s mouth as Sanzu’s tongue flicked against her clit enthusiastically.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You didn’t know how to make sense of your conflicted feelings—disgust, disbelief, and arousal all swirling inside you. You just knew that whatever you were witnessing was completely wrong.

It wasn’t until the Haitani sisters’ eyes shifted to yours that you snapped back to reality. When they continued regardless of your stare, you immediately shut the door and quietly rushed to your bedroom.

As time went on, you did your best to avoid all of them. You couldn’t look at them the same after that moment. You weren’t upset or mad, but you hadn’t really known how to feel. Unfortunately, the more you steered clear of them, the more they made their presence known.

“Why are you avoiding us?”

You had just woken up to find three of the women you’d been trying to stay away from in your bedroom. Rin is leaning against the wall of the doorway while Sanzu leans against your closet door. Ran is sitting on the side of your bed, closest to your knees.

You sigh as you sit up. You knew that at some point you’d have to face them and tell the truth. Your palm rubs against your face as you lean back against the headboard.

“Look, I just need some space to think,” you say. You feel like you’re breaking up with a girlfriend, which is very strange considering the circumstances.

“To think about what?” Rin scoffs, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

You suddenly feel the weight of the women’s unamused gazes. It doesn’t help that you already don’t know how to word what you’re feeling.

“There's been a lot going on—,” you're cut off by Sanzu's scowl.

“Bullshit. What's your fucking problem, Y/n?”

Your eyebrows furrow at her tone.

“Hey, don't get an attitude with me. Look, I saw some crazy shit you guys did the other night. Honestly, it's not even my business, but it just weirded me out, okay?”

“What? That's it?” Rin questions, disbelief in her voice. Your eyes widen.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘That’s it?’ I saw you and Ran making out while having a threesome with your friend. That's fucking crazy!”

“Crazy? You're just childish,” Sanzu scoffs.

“Childish?! I saw my two sisters, who are blood-related, making out on top of you while you guys were drunk. That's insane!” you laugh in disbelief.

“Step-sisters,” Ran corrects you. “I don't understand why you're freaking out. It was just a kiss. Guys usually think it's hot,” she shrugs. Your eyes widen even more than before.

“You've done this before?!”

You had punched a guy in his mouth for talking shit and spreading what you thought was a rumor about Rin and Ran fucking each other. They even stood by and watched you take up for them. Now you're questioning it all.

“This is too much,” you breathe out as you tear the covers from your lower body.

When they allowed you to rush out of the bedroom, you snatched your keys and walked to your car. You drove around the area for a long time, needing a breather. Eventually, you ended up at your college campus to grab some food.

While you were there, a woman caught your attention by calling your name. You both greeted each other, recalling your high school relationship. She had broken up with you without giving a reason and disappeared completely. Apparently, you both went to the same college.

Akari was your first love. It had been the most devastating break-up you’d ever experienced. You never fully healed, even though it had been a high school relationship.

After a month of catching up, you and Akari decided to try again. You and your sisters had mostly made up. You chose to forget about it and move on. After all, you loved your sisters, and you did enjoy hanging out with their friend sometimes.

When you reintroduced Akari to your sisters, there was an unspoken tension between all of the women that you hadn't noticed. You asked them if they remembered each other, and they all nodded.

What you didn't know was that there was a history between your sisters, their friend, and Akari. In high school, Akari did have a reason for breaking up with you, and it wasn't because she wanted to.

Akari had multiple cuts and wounds from the Haitani sisters beating her, and from Sanzu's pocket knife. Rin hugged Akari's leg as she squeezed, a horrifying crack echoing through the locker room.

The young girl screamed in pain as Ran slammed the baton down on her back while she cowered. Suddenly, Sanzu snatched her by the collar of her shirt, pulling her face-to-face.

“If you don't break up with him, we'll kill you.”

They only went as far as they did because Akari was determined to stay with you through the threats, tricks, and games they played. This time, she was back with a vengeance.

Eight months had passed since you two got back together. The Haitani sisters and Sanzu were frustrated. They had tried everything they could without getting their hands dirty. They were sick of her.

They hated the way she stole your attention, no matter what they did. They hated the way you spoke to her with so much affection in your voice. They hated that you were barely ever home because she took all of your time.

It was time for them to try one last thing.

“Woah,” you slurred, as your sisters wrapped your arms around their shoulders. Sanzu’s hands grazed your back as they guided you to the couch.

“When is she gonna get here?” Rin asked Sanzu who grabbed your phone from your pocket. Once she unlocked it, she checked your text messages.

“Fifteen minutes,” she stated before tossing your phone on the couch.

“Then we should get started. She’ll freak out when she sees him fucking one of us,” Rin said.

“Exactly what we want,” Ran says as she immediately unzips your pants. She yanks them off of you while your head is lying on the back of the couch.

You’re barely conscious as you slur a curse.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Y/n,” Sanzu said as she grasped your face with both hands. You could barely make anything out with your blurred vision.

“We need to make him hard,” Ran said as she stared at your flaccid penis.

“He’ll probably get hard when you stick it in,” Rin said.

“Okay, you go first since you called dibs earlier,” Ran responded to her sister.

“Awesome,” the younger sister said as she removed her sweatpants and climbed on top of you.

Ran sat next to you as Sanzu sat on the other side. Rin grabbed onto your limp penis and pulled her panties to the side.

You make out a figure with your blurred vision as warmth slides against your lower region. You groaned as your hips twitched, your cock instantly growing to the new sensation.

“That was quick,” Sanzu said in excitement as she used a thumb to caress your face. Ran leaned over to press her lips against your neck while she slid her hand under your shirt. The palm of her hand caressed your chest.

Rin flinched as you grew inside of her, hands pressing against your shoulders as she adjusted to your new girthy length.

She moaned. “That’s good,” she whispered as she bit her lip. She quickly grasped your wrists to force your hold against her hips. You grabbed onto her skin sluggishly as both of you grinded against each other.

“His face is heating up,” Sanzu giggled before pressing her lips against yours, tongue exploring your mouth.

Rin’s vaginal walls clenched around your cock as you penetrated her. Her moist insides sucked you in as she thrusted her hips, movements becoming harder and pace becoming faster.

“Oh God,” she whined as her sister continued to suck marks onto your skin.

You could feel everything and yet you had no clue what was happening. Whatever it was felt very good and so you enthusiastically lifted your hips to meet her thrusts while you moaned into Sanzu’s mouth.

Rin wanted to soak up all of your semen. Even if she hadn’t been on birth control, she wouldn’t have cared if you impregnated her. That way, you’d be stuck with them for even longer.

She had completely forgotten about the plan as she eyed your drowsy expression while Sanzu made out with you.

“F—fuck,” she hissed as her mouth hung open and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her nails pricked against the fabric of your shirt as she rolled her hips harder.

Sanzu and Ran released you as the door clicked open. Akari eyed the scene with a blush rising to her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she examined your sluggish movement and sleepy eyes. When she realized the situation, she charged.

“You fucking freaks! You’re raping him!” She ran to snatch Rin’s hair, only for Sanzu to immediately hop from the couch and step around the coffee table—Ran watching the scene.

Akari grabbed a wad of Sanzu’s hair and yanked her head to the side as Sanzu mimicked her movement. The blonde girl landed a punch on Akari’s face as Akari punched her back. The two girls begin to tussle until Sanzu shoves Akari off of her, sending the girl crashing onto the glass table, breaking it in the process.

Rin continued to ride you as her moaning became louder. She felt pure ecstasy. She didn’t care about what was happening in the background. How could she when the head of your cock continued to hit her g-spot?

Ran stood up and snatched Akari by her hair and lifted her up. Akari yells in pain at the shards of glass cutting her skin.

“A—Akari?” you whisper, swearing you just heard her voice. It feels like you’re dreaming as you drift in and out of reality.

Rin grasps your face with both hands as Sanzu muffles Akari’s screams with the palm of her hand.

“Shut the fuck up!” Sanzu hisses at the hysterical woman.

“It’s Rin, baby. It’s just Rin,” the younger Haitani whispers as she pressed her lips against yours. Her hands cover your ears.

“I’m sick of this bitch,” Ran muttered as she walked to her bedroom.

The plan was for Akari to walk in on you cheating on her.. She was supposed to break-up with you and then run out. Sanzu may have gone a little overboard with the pills. The plan didn’t end up working out so now they would have to get their hands dirty.

Ran walked back in with her baton in hand as she walked towards the struggling girl.

Sanzu had her pinned against what was left of the broken table until she saw Ran walking closer. Before Akari could say anything, Sanzu moved back just in time for Ran to slam the end of the baton against Akari’s face.

Rin’s moans got louder as she reached her orgasm, riding it out as Ran continued to beat Akari’s face in—even when the girl’s body was still. Sanzu watched with an unreadable expression as Akari’s face became an unrecognizable glob of blood, flesh, and bone.

Your cock shoots a load of semen inside of Rin’s pussy as you both ride it out. You completely fall into a deep slumber after.

Your eyes blink open with blurred vision. Your eyes squint in confusion as you eye the display, your body unable to move.

Three pairs of pigmented irises bore into you as Sanzu circled her lips around the head of your cock, sucking the tip with her face covered in dried blood.

The Haitani sisters are on either side of your cock as Ran sucks the skin, sliding her lips slowly up-and-down the shaft. Rin mimics her sister as your cock twitches. You groan before darkness engulfs your vision once more.

Once they were finished with you, they contacted their rich friend, Kokonoi, who had plenty of resources when it came to destroying a dead body and cleaning the crime scene.

Akari’s body and belongings were never found and there were no leads on her disappearance so they closed the case. When you had woken up, you saw that there had been no texts between you two the night before.

You were devastated and had no recollection of last night’s events. The last thing you remember was drinking some water and falling asleep, which is exactly what you told the police since you were one of the only people who knew her at the university.

The Haitani sisters and Sanzu comforted you through it all, and everything went back to normal. The only difference now is that you keep waking up with a lingering drowsiness you don’t understand. You also find yourself in Ran’s bed with all three women.

You’re too exhausted to understand.

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bones4thecats · 10 months ago

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Hello, I would like a request for Ror from Hades x Female Anubis from Hades meeting the parents of Anubis and Seth, his father threatening the god for setting his eyes on his “baby” please

Hades Meets His Anubis! S/O's Parents

Type of Writing: Request Name: Hades Meets His Anubis! S/O's Parents Character: Hades Requester: @anubis-ror

A/N: Apologies for this taking so long to get out, I'm currently undergoing a lot of stuff at once with my classes and whatnot. But, I do hope you guys enjoy this! By the way, the Reader here is Anubis' twin sibling

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

💀 You always were committed to your family, from watching over your siblings, Horus and Anubis, to trying to help out your uncles, Set and Khepri, you were always there to help them out

💀 It was because of your willingness to help that lead you to offer your assistance to Anubis, your twin brother, in leading the many dying humans to the underworld and getting them fully settled

💀 It was because of this that you had met your future husband, Hades, the Greek God of the Underworld and the King of Helheim

💀 When you had taken both your brother's and your shifts one day, due to him getting slightly ill from no doubt doing something stupid, you had learned from your helper, and niece, Kebechet, that you had a meeting with the King

💀 During your meeting, Hades thought to himself about how similar you appeared to his ally-in-work, and he learned from your introduction that you were the Deity of the Soul, meaning you would watch over and mold someone's soul correctly before they came to life, and you would take them down alongside your brother

💀 Hades may not inherently like how your brother acts, but whenever you look at him with big puppy-dog eyes, his heart melts

💀 You mainly became close due to your jobs working together and gossiping about your families (the Greek and Egyptian Pantheons), you now know a lot more about Poseidon and Zeus

💀 You and Hades eventually began to court one another a few centuries after your first meet, which in a God's life is like knowing somebody for around a few months, depending on the amount

💀 Due to how close you had gotten, you wanted Hades to meet your parents, Osiris and Nephthys. And he always reacted the same; maybe after you meet mine first

💀 Respecting his wishes, you had met Hades' family on a number of occasions, your most memorable being when Zeus tried hitting on you, but before his sons could pull him back to reality, Hades grabbed his ear and scolded him like a mother would. Though he did also glare at him with nothing in his eyes... maybe that was why he almost pissed his toga...

💀 And over time, your requests began to get more frequent. So, respecting your wishes as well, Hades agreed to meet your family, much to you and your brother's delight

💀 You hopped that this would go perfectly, but hope doesn't always work out...

" You're kidding me. " " Osiris! Be nice. I apologize for my husband's harsh words, Hades. I'm Nephthys, Y/N, Horus, and Anubis' mother, it's so nice to have you here. Oh, by the way, Y/N, the rest of the main family is coming by soon. " " Including Uncle Set and Uncle Khepri? " " Yes. Now come, I must show you how he redesigned your room. "

💀 Hades watched as you walked away with your mother, smiling gently as you groaned and you slide your upper-jackal head mask down to cover your burning cheeks as your mother ranted

" So, what are you planning to do with my youngest, huh? "

💀 Your husband's eyes widened as your father pointed his Shepard's crook at his neck. His green skin clashing with the gold and wooden item

" Apologies, but I do now quite understand what you mean by 'doing with them'. " " Are you gonna hurt them like Zeus hurts Hera? After all, you do have the same genetics. "

💀 Hades had to resist grabbing Osiris' crook and snapping it into splinters with his hands. Instead, he took a deep breath and lightly nudged the item away from his neck and began looking at you across the room with hearts in his eyes as he spilled said organ's love and devotion out to his Father-in-Law

" Osiris, your youngest is by-far the most spectacular person I have ever met in my many centuries of living. In both physical appearance and how their personality and beyond is, they just... they just feel so right to have by my side, you know? I cannot stand the mere thought of laying harm to her, mental of physical. It makes my stomach plummet to the depths of my immortal soul. Seeing them happy and smiling on the other hand? That is one thing I would never change nor rid myself of for the world. "

💀 Looking up and down at Hades and contemplating his words, Osiris sighed deeply and held his crook lighter than before as a smile slightly covered his face before it turned into a teasing yet dangerous scowl

" I shall allow you and my child to prosper in your love for one another longer. But, know this, you hurt them, I will dispose of you like how we do here in Egypt. Understood? " " Completely, Father. " " Don't call me that. "

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crackedpumpkin · 1 month ago

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All Too Human (02)

| 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁

The advantage of being confined in the dungeons in an elven kingdom of another world you'd only read about in books, is that you didn't have a choice but to touch grass .

Figuratively, of course. The only form of grass you actually could find in your cell is damp moss. You'd recoiled from the grimy walls in the beginning, fingers itching for your phone, and your heart aching for your home.

Is this what it's like to go cold turkey without technology? you wonder, as futile as it seems when your hand meets the emptiness of your pockets each time. This sucks.

It’s probably around midnight, you guesstimate, as the dwarves are being shoved into individual cells. Your head tilts slightly when you hear a calm, boyishly charming voice speak up.

“Aren’t you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers.”

You suppress a cringe. Curiosity wins out over caution, and you step closer, eyeing the scene as the supposed heroes of the book voice their protests. A female elf stands in front of the cell to your left, staring down at one of the dwarves.

“Or nothing.” She smiles coldly, though a flicker of amusement passes through her gaze before she masks it in an instant. She turns, ready to leave. Your eyes meet hers, and a chill settles between you.

You’ve seen her before. Realisation dawns on you, and you snap your fingers. She’s the elf from the room you woke up in. The one Legolas likes. Well, Legolas and one of these dwarves. Fili, was it?

Either way, you feel nothing but pity for their little love triangle.

“You.” Her voice is devoid of warmth, eyes narrowing as she takes in your unusually clean appearance. You wave halfheartedly in response. She rolls her eyes and moves past your cell, paying you no mind.

Gripping the bars of the cell door, you watch her leave with Legolas. The elven prince glances back at you, brief concern flitting across his expression, before turning to follow her.

Even though you’ve tried to accept that one of your ( formerly ) favourite characters barely acknowledges you now, you can’t help but feel disappointed by his lack of empathy. He showed you concern at first, but over time it became clear that you were never of much importance to him anyway.

“Is there someone next to me?” The same charming voice calls out, his curiosity evident. Fili. You’re pretty sure it’s Fili that the elf has a situationship with. Ignoring his repeated question, you step toward the back of your cell, laying back down in the darkness with a sigh.

Minutes, maybe hours have passed since the dwarves were imprisoned, and the noise doesn’t cease. More cries of protest, vulgar swears (vulgar to them, but to you it’s like listening to a D&D party) , and lots of banging against their cell doors.

The one next to your cell seems to forget you’re even there, preoccupied by his daydreaming of the female elf, you suspect. What was her name again? You try to recall, feeling bad that her name hadn’t remained in your memory whilst the other two did.

Tawny.

Her name is Tawny , you decide with a vague sense of uncertainty.

Sleep feels as distant as the hot showers you’ve taken for granted in the past, but exhaustion pulls at you, demanding some rest despite the racket. You shift against the cold, hard floor, eyes drooping as you finally start to drift off.

But just as you’re about to fully pass out, a fresh wave of shouting erupts, this time more intense. Heavy footsteps approach, and a low, gravelly voice grumbles — almost growling — in defiance.

You sit up, grogginess partially clouding your mind. Blinking to rid the sleep from your eyes, you watch another dwarf being shoved into the cell opposite yours. His gaze is dark, and his gritted teeth tell you that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

He had that main character energy about him. If you aren’t wrong, he might be the very dwarf in charge of the whole group. God, you really hope you aren’t wrong.

Metal clangs as he’s forced inside, and he slams against the cell bars with a ferocity that startles you fully awake. His deep, frustrated voice fills the air, hurling harsh dwarvish insults that echo down the corridor, stirring a chorus of support from the others. It’s as if his very presence reignites their determination.

You let out a long, tired sigh.

Looks like you won’t be sleeping tonight.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you lean back, hoping the noise will eventually quiet down. But with their leader riled up, the others become even more animated, pounding against their bars and shouting until their voices become hoarse.

Your patience is stretched thin, and with each clang of metal or shouted curse, it frays a little more. You start pressing your hands over your ears, even resorting to tugging up half the tunic to cover them, but nothing dulls the sound.

Someone curses loudly enough that you jerk in your cell, biting back a groan. Eyes shut, you count to ten, then twenty, then thirty, promising yourself calm. But the noise only builds, louder and more grating by the second.

Something in you finally snaps. You raise your arm and slam it against your cell door, the metal clanging loud enough to cut through the noise. “I swear to God , if you guys don’t shut up for like, five minutes, I’m going to murder you myself.” The words hiss out louder than you intended, echoing through the dungeon like an accusation.

The dwarves fall silent, their protests cut off mid-sentence. You feel a dozen pairs of eyes shifting toward your cell, surprised, hopefully a little impressed even, by the venom in your tone.

Thorin, in the cell directly across from you, lets out a low, humourless chuckle. “Bold words for someone trapped in a cage of her own,” he says, his voice edged with frustration. He crosses his arms, leaning against the walls of his cell. His eyes are narrowed, studying your being as if assessing how much of a threat you are

“Oh, quiet as mice for hours, and she suddenly snaps,” another dwarf with a long white beard chimes in, his tone amused. “Can’t say I blame her, mind. Some of us have been… shall we say, louder than others.” He gives a pointed glance toward the dwarf in the cell beside yours (the one you’ve assumed to be Fili).

“Who’s loud?” The voice comes from the left, a thick layer of teasing in his tone. “I think she’s just upset because we’ve been better company than her.”

You blink, absolutely floored by the audacity. “Are you shitting me?” you fire back, incredulous. “Better company? I don’t even fucking know who you are.”

“Oh, but you do know us now, don’t you?” he quips back, undeterred. “And I’d wager I’m the most charming cellmate you’ve ever had.”

You scoff. “Perish in a ditch, I beg of you.”

His chuckle is warm and unapologetic, and you can hear the grin in his voice even if you can’t see it. “Maybe it’s for the best that we aren’t proper cellmates. I’d probably steal all your attention.”

If he kept talking you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst a blood vessel or something from frustration. Instead, you hang your head and mumble out another plea like for the love of God please shut up so I can get some sleep.

“Oh, aye, that’s one way to call it,” the kind dwarf from earlier mutters, laughing softly. “Maybe we’ve all worn on her nerves, eh? A bit of quiet might do us all good.”

With an exhausted huff, you mutter, “Honestly, you guys are like a D&D party with no volume control.” A beat passes before the cellmate on your right breaks the silence.

“What’s a D&D party?”

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Exhaling slowly, exhaustion tinges each word that falls from your lips. “It’s…It’s nothing. Just, please let me sleep? It’s probably already three in the morning.”

Your request doesn’t go unheard, and the dwarves begin to quiet down.

Laying back down on the cold floor, your eyes finally shut.

— — — — — —

After your outburst from last night, you found yourself falling silent for the entire day. The cell door creaks open, the guard placing the usual tray of food down with a warning glare. You watch him leave with a scoff.

As if you had any energy to fight. They’d probably kick your ass in five seconds flat. Maybe ten, if you’re lucky.

“Where’s our food?”

You glance over at the cell beside Thorin’s, the dwarf inside whose question draws your attention, and catch sight of a dwarf with a tousled hat perched messily atop his head. He has a friendly face, framed by a bushy beard that seems to bounce with every word that leaves him.

Now that you think about it, all three dwarves opposite you have long beards, obscuring the lower half of their face. Damn. They’d do great as before and after models for a razor commercial, maybe break a Guinness World Record while at it too.

You can’t help but notice how he leans against the bars, a grin spreading across his face. He falters when the guards walk past him without another word, leaving you to your meal. You choose to sit in the dimly illuminated area of your cell near the door, slowly chewing the coarse bread.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you look up to see the dwarves across (excluding Thorin), their gazes fixed on the tray with a hint of hunger. You glance from the tray to them, uncertainty gnawing at your gut.

Should you?

On one hand, you knew perfectly well that they're the good guys. Technically the elves are too , you think, struggling to recall the twisted morals that Tolkien, that bitch, wrote about.

It's no wonder you couldn’t remember much. With the complexity of the world he built and the fact that you'd only been sixteen or so when you last read about Bilbo and his adventures, you probably would've died had you not recalled Sauron's name.

With a sigh, the decision is made. “Stick your hand out,” you say gruffly. Their eyes widen, but they follow your instructions, a mix of reluctance and hope in their expressions. You tear the loaf into three, keeping one for yourself.

Hollowing out the bread with your fingers, you fill it with roasted vegetables from a wooden bowl. The dwarves watch, curious about your next move.

Standing up, you pray your trusty aim hasn't grown rusty. Extending your arm through the bars of your cell, you inhale slowly before flicking your wrist. The first makeshift bun leaves your hand, plopping neatly into the palm of the white-bearded dwarf.

He beams, withdrawing his hand back into his cell. “Thank you, lass!” he calls out gratefully, munching down. The second dwarf is more eager now, catching the second bun you throw. His expression morphs into one of disgust when he sees the vegetables inside, only to hurriedly take big bites when he sees your glare.

You’d be damned if he tried to throw away the precious food you’d so kindly given them. With a satisfied smile, you flex your fingers, recalling the countless hours spent at the batting cages back home. Dartboards, too. Not exactly a common hobby you shared with your friends, but it gave you an aim you could trust, and a reminder of who you truly are.

“So lass, what brings you here to the dungeons of the woodland realm?” The kindness in the first dwarf’s voice prompts you to part your lips, only to pause when you see Thorin’s eyes set on you, waiting for your response.

You swallow.

“Why should I spill my secrets to a bunch of strangers?” You reply dryly, drawing a chuckle from him. The memory of how you’d been treated when you’d started saying stuff about how you’re from another world makes you press your lips together in a thin line. Who’s to say they wouldn’t see you the same way they did?

“Aye, ye've got it right. I’m Balin, and this here is Thorin. The oaf who almost got all of us in trouble is Bofur.”

“I’m Kili,” the cellmate on your right chimes in. “And I’m Fili,” the other on your left adds.

“Oh.” You blink. “Oh shit, I got you mixed up, huh. You’re the one who’s gonna have that whole thing with Tawny the elf.” You gesture aimlessly with the remains of your third of the loaf in your hands, shaking your head in sympathy.

“Are you talking about Tauriel?” Confusion laces his words. You mentally berate yourself for mixing up yet another character’s name, clearing your throat.

“Right. Tauriel. That’s what I said. It’s just my nickname for her. Like how Legolas is…Lego, and Thranduil is…” Your voice trails off, racking your brains to come up with a suitable nickname.

“Is?” Fili prompts.

“A bitch.” You refuse to elaborate, disdain flitting across your face. Bofur seems to catch it, raising his brows in intrigue.

“Now that we’re acquainted, how is it that a fair maiden like you ended up in this dungeon all alone?” Kili asks.

The more you got to hear him speak, the more you have an inkling as to how Tauriel had fallen for him in the first place. If he were back home, he’d definitely be a girl magnet, that’s for sure.

You let out a breathy chuckle, shifting to sit against the wall, knees slightly bent. “I didn’t exactly make a good impression on the king. Said a few things he didn’t like and mentioned a few things he wanted to keep private, and well,” you gesture sarcastically to the dungeon, “here I am.”

You glance at Thorin’s cell, half expecting him to have his back turned, lost in his brooding thoughts. Instead, piercing eyes meet yours, and it takes a moment to process that he seems genuinely curious about your story.

Now that you’ve got his attention, you’re unsure of what to say. Swallowing thickly, you weigh your options. You could reveal that you know their future now, but it wouldn’t be the best move.

Most of them are still wary of you, and suddenly saying stuff like hey, I know all about your super secret quest that you wanna keep under wraps and I know the dragon’s going to wake up is sure to earn you a one way ticket to Hell, or whatever the equivalent is here.

Before you can say anything however, the atmosphere shifts, a sudden tension in the air. Thorin’s expression which was once indifferent is now wary, eyeing you with newfound suspicion. “It still doesn’t explain what you’re doing all the way out here. You’d have had to pass through Mirkwood and survive.”

Your throat suddenly becomes dry. Flexing your clammy hands, you stare down at your lap. “I don’t know either,” your voice comes out soft, unintentionally revealing the vulnerability beneath the bravado you’d exhibited the night before. “I just woke up in there one day, and one of the elves saved my life. Since then, I’ve been imprisoned here after the audience with the king.”

Thorin's eyes narrow as if he’s searching for something in your expression. “And what is your name, then? Where do you hail from?”

Before you can answer, Balin interjects, his tone light but firm. “Now, now, Thorin, let’s not frighten the lass. She’s been through enough, hasn’t she?” His voice is soothing, like a balm over the tense air that hangs between you and the king.

Thorin's gaze softens slightly. Balin continues, “She’s a visitor in a strange land, after all. No need for an interrogation when we could simply have a conversation instead.”

You take a moment to collect yourself, grateful for Balin’s attempt to ease the tension. Maybe a part of you has been desperate all this time for someone to talk to, otherwise you wouldn’t have given away your name this easily when he asks again.

“I live in… well, a place far south of here. San Francisco, if you’ve ever heard of it.”

Thorin’s brow furrows in confusion. “San Francisco? Is that a town of men?”

“And women,” you correct.

“Of course, women.” Every word that comes out of Kili’s mouth is sarcastic, eliciting an amused laugh from his brother.

“Very funny,” you sigh, tilting your head back and staring at the ceiling. “Tell that to Tauriel tonight.” The only reason you’d remembered that they’d have a whole conversation was because you recall practically swooning at his romance.

Looking back, however, you can’t help but recall how cringey their conversation would be about. Something about his mother’s treasure and the flirting…It makes you cringe.

A moment passes before he speaks again, clearly flustered by the sudden callout. “What do you mean? How do you know if she’s coming or not?”

Before you can answer, footsteps that wander down the corridor halt right outside your door. Watching the guard you'd grown to recognise over the weeks, you wait with bated breath when he brings forth a singular key, unlocking your cell.

“You are to be transferred.” He speaks emotionlessly, eyes flitting over the dirt that stains your cheeks and hands filled with scratches from clumsy attempts at standing. “By his Majesty's orders.”

“Where?” Caution is the only word that encompasses how you feel in the moment, filling every word. Your heart begins to race in your chest, much like the moment before you passed out after Legolas had rescued you from the spider. Why, out of all times would Thranduil give such an order?

As your gaze meets Thorin's, it hits you like a sack of bricks being thrown at your stomach. He didn't want them knowing about the stuff you'd said. Even if his scepticism kept him from believing you, there must've been some part of him that doesn’t want his prisoner overhearing it.

You look up at the guard, an odd sense of calm filling your chest. “Tell Thranduil that if he transfers me, I might just somehow let slip to the dwarves about the things I know.”

It's a pathetic threat, really, but enough to make the guard hesitate. Uncertainty taints his gaze, though his firm hands grab you by the shoulders, throwing you near the exit of your cell.

“Didn't your boss tell you not to harm me?” You spit through gritted teeth. Now that you have confirmation about his intentions, courage bursts forth from an unknown place within you.

You're tired of being thrown about, tired of catering to his whim and reciting events you barely remember like you’re back in school once again, forced to read a passage aloud in class when the teacher caught you sleeping.

Wiping your cheek with a bitter smile, you stumble to your feet. “Just let me take a bath while you relay this to him: I may not remember much, but what I do know will benefit those dwarves and allow doom to befall your people.”

Since when did you start speaking so dramatically?

Maybe it's due to the time (unwillingly) spent with Thranduil that’s changed your vocabulary. The idea makes you grimace, hiding your disdain with a cough.

The guard's eyes narrow slightly as he processes your words. “You think I’m afraid of your threats?” he scoffs, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays his uncertainty. “You’re just a human girl trapped in a dungeon. What could you possibly know that would matter to the likes of us?”

He glances back at Thorin and Balin, who watch him intently. The tension in the air thickens, and for a fleeting moment, the guard seems torn between his duty to Thranduil and the possibility that you might hold some valuable knowledge.

“Fine,” he says finally, his tone grudgingly respectful. “I’ll pass on your message. But don’t think for a second that this will change anything for you. You’re still at his mercy.”

He steps back, still eyeing you warily. A sense of victory fills your grin, but it's quickly dimmed by the appearance of another guard.

The new arrival, tall and broad-shouldered, takes a position directly in front of you, effectively blocking you from view of the dwarves in the cells around you.

“Keep her out of sight,” the first guard mutters under his breath, as if he’s already second-guessing your little threat. The second guard nods and shifts to your left, standing close enough that his form casts a shadow across your face.

Without sparing another glance at the dwarves, the guards flank you, one on either side. You can feel the weight of Thorin’s gaze, curious and intense, following you as you’re led away.

As you’re escorted down the winding corridors once again, reality starts to sink in. You just basically threatened a king, with nothing more than the vague knowledge that remains in your mind.

I’m so fucked, aren’t I?

— — — — — —

The icy water that hits the bare skin of your shoulders makes you shiver involuntarily. Drawing your knees to your chest in the ornate bathtub, you stare at the soapy water that muddles your reflection.

You feel lost.

Days that had turned into weeks feels like an eternity. Has anyone back home even noticed you’ve gone missing? Numb to the freezing cold water being poured over your head once more, you state aimlessly at your hands.

Once as smooth as a baby's arms, the skin of your fingertips are wrinkled and pruny, various tiny scratches on your palm from the tiny rocks that jut out from the floor of your cell. You’d grown used to them being there after the number of times you’ve collapsed from pure exhaustion after your workouts.

Your fingers trace one of the scars absently, following the jagged line like it’s a map that could somehow lead you home. The water laps against your skin, but the chill barely registers anymore. It’s as if you’re only half here, trapped in some distant limbo between two worlds.

The first week, you’d clung to memories of the life you left behind. Your family, your friends, the hum of city life. Now, the details blur. You can hardly remember what your bedroom looked like, or the last meal you shared with someone. Every second in this place feels like another part of you drifting away, sinking into the fog that’s settled over your mind.

With a sigh, you let the water wash over you, hoping it will take with it some of the weariness weighing down your bones. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes as cold rivulets stream down your cheeks, mingling with the tears you hadn’t realised were there.

Salt hits your tongue upon licking your lips, carelessly swiping the back of your hand across your closed eyes. “Time’s up.” A female elf notifies coldly, handing you a towel before stepping aside. Even though Thranduil had granted you opportunities to freshen up properly, he still placed someone on guard to ensure you wouldn’t run away.

Squeezing out the excess water from your hair, you press the towel to your body. Once dry, you take the fresh set of clothes from the chair next to you, putting them on. The tunic and pants aren’t as nice or extravagant as the quality the other elves wore, but it’s more than enough to keep you comfortable.

The walk back to your cell is silent, the same guards flanking you until the cell door opens and slams shut behind you once more. You sit back down onto the hard floor with a weary sigh, staring at your empty palm.

Warm clothes, familiar streets, your own bed, your phone… God, what you’d give for even five minutes with that little touchscreen, just to feel something connected to home. Feeling a heavy gaze set in your direction makes you glance up.

Thorin’s hands are clenched around the bars of his cell. Weariness, suspicion, distrust…all of the above taint the air in an almost suffocating manner. “Tell me. What knowledge makes you so certain of your guaranteed safety?”

Standing up with an air of defiance, your composed state quickly crumbles when he tightens his grip. “Not some I’d be willing to spill so easily with a simple question.” Right now, everything that you know is a card in your favour, something that you can leverage.

Whether or not he’d take the bait would be an entirely different thing.

Sure enough, he bites.

“And it is beneficial to us, you mentioned? Yet, Thranduil does not seem to care for your value.”

You cross your arms, trying to match his intensity despite the tight knot forming in your chest. “Maybe because he doesn’t know the half of it. Not everything I’ve got is common knowledge, Thorin Oakenshield .” The name comes out almost mockingly, the false bravado backfiring when you spot the tensing of his jaw.

“Then enlighten me,” he snaps. His voice is low but charged with frustration, eyes narrowing as if trying to strip away every layer of your defiance.

Your lips twist into a humorless smile. “Funny. That would kind of defeat the whole ‘leverage’ thing, wouldn’t it?”

Thorin’s knuckles whiten as his grip tightens. “Leverage? So that’s what this is to you — a game of manipulation? I’ve seen the likes of you before, always spinning words, always hiding behind secrets. What do you gain from this?”

“Because sitting around and doing nothing isn’t an option!” you snap back, pushing yourself up from where you’ve been sitting and stepping closer to the bars of your own cell. “Do you think I asked for any of this? I didn’t. I didn’t choose to be dragged here, or into your mess. But here I am, and like it or not, I’m trying to survive.”

His eyes narrow, suspicion clouding his expression. “And yet, here you stand,” he says coldly. “Unharmed, unbound. Thranduil doesn’t waste cells on anyone he deems unimportant, and you seem perfectly content to keep whatever use you have to him a secret.”

Your fists clench tightly, the sharp edges of your unkempt nails pushing past skin and drawing blood. “Do you think I’m ‘safe’ in here, Thorin?” you retort, your voice rising. “That bastard of an elf king is only tolerating me because he doesn’t know what to do with me. I’m as much a pawn to him as you are.”

“A pawn?” he repeats, his voice low but cutting. “No. Pawns are expendable. Whatever you are, he sees value in you — and until I know what that value is, I have no reason to trust you.”

“And you think I trust you ?” you shoot back, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. “You’ve done nothing but glare and be mean to me since the moment we met. You demand answers, but what guarantee do I have that you’ll listen?”

His jaw tightens, his glare hardening. “You want guarantees? There are none. Not in this world, and certainly not in these halls. If you think you can bargain with secrets and survive unscathed, you are either very brave or very foolish.”

“Maybe both,” you snap, your composure unraveling. “But what choice do I have? You think I’m holding back just to irritate you? Everything I know, everything I can’t tell you yet, is the only thing keeping me from being completely useless here. I have to play my cards carefully, bitch, or I lose everything.”

His hands tighten on the bars, his knuckles pale against the cold iron. “Then perhaps you’ve already lost. Trust isn’t earned with half-truths and riddles. If you cannot prove your worth, then why should I risk the safety of my company for you?”

“Because whether you like it or not, you’ll need me!” you fire back, the words tumbling out before you can temper them. “I know things you don’t. Things that could help you. But if you keep treating me like a threat instead of an ally, then maybe I’m wasting my time even trying.”

For a moment, the silence between you is deafening. Thorin’s glare remains fixed on you, unyielding, but there’s a flicker of something (doubt, perhaps?) that crosses his face before his expression hardens once more. The anger fades from your system as fast as it comes, leaving you emotionless and with a sickening lurch in your gut.

“You speak boldly,” he says at last, his tone like ice. “But words alone will not earn my trust. Actions will.”

You exhale sharply, leaning back against the cold stone wall of your cell. “Fine,” you mutter, though the bitterness in your tone is impossible to mask. “Then watch closely, Oakenshield . I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to judge my actions soon enough.”

He falls silent after that, perhaps having exhausted himself with a fight as petty as this. You can’t tell whether to take this as a win or loss on your end, fighting back yet another round of tears that threaten to spill.

Exhaustion eats away at you. You’re tired of trying to tiptoe the line of survival, barely avoiding death. Yet, even though you weren’t exactly the most welcoming of people to him, you still need their help to escape in the end.

With that thought, you fall back into silence, staring at the wall aimlessly while the murmurs of the rest around you resume.

— — — — — —

It’s around a few hours later when everyone else is asleep, a shadow outside your door drawing your attention. Shifting your position, you tilt your head to see Tauriel in front of Kili’s cell.

“The stone in your hand, what is it?” Her voice is gentle, tinged with curiosity.

Oh no , you suppress another annoyed groan, it’s time. Kill me now . Why couldn’t they just let you be depressed in peace?

Kili speaks, his voice low. “It is a talisman; a powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed…”

You stifle a laugh behind your hands, the absurdity bubbling up. Sure, bro. Who wouldn’t want that as an opening line to flirt? You can’t help but smirk at the irritated frown Tauriel sends your way, almost making your laughter spill over.

Tauriel’s sharp gaze locks onto Kili, and you can’t help but press your lips together in an attempt to hide the ball of cringe in your chest at what you can sense coming next. “Or not... depending on whether you believe in that kind of thing. It’s just a token — a rune stone. My mother gave it to me so I would remember my promise.”

“What promise?” Tauriel asks, her interest piqued.

You can practically hear Kili’s casual shrug. “That I would come back to her. She worries; she thinks I’m reckless.”

“Are you?” Tauriel presses, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Nah—” His voice carries a playful lilt as he flips the rune stone lightly in the air, but you hear the slight thud as it skids across the floor, almost tumbling into a dark chasm. You suck in a sharp breath, half-expecting it to disappear forever. But Tauriel, quick as lightning, stops it, glancing at it briefly before handing it back to him.

“Sounds like quite a party you’re having up there.”

“It is Mereth e-nGilith — the Feast of Starlight,” Tauriel replies, her voice softening.

She hesitates, her gaze lingering on Kili. “All light is sacred to the Eldar, but Wood Elves love best the light of the stars.”

Killmenowkillmenowkillmenow-

You can hear Kili’s dismissive tone. “I’ve always thought it’s a cold light, remote and far away.”

Please. PLEASE. End me now.

It takes every ounce of strength not to gag. The cringeworthy flirtation unfolding just inches away makes you want to groan, but you know better than to draw attention. So, instead, you sit there, jaw clenched, enduring secondhand embarrassment that feels like it could kill you.

You try to tune them out, focusing on the tray of food that must’ve been placed by the corner of your door by the guard while you were dozing off. Their idea of “dinner” is bleak as ever: coarse bread, a few sad bits of carrot and something that might be green. You break the bread into pieces, hoping that taking it slow will make it somehow taste better.

A bite, a chew, a sip of water. This routine feels like a punishment, but it’s better than starving. You tear off another bit of bread, staring down at it with a sigh. What I wouldn’t give for grilled meat right now. Thanks to the elves and their “nature-loving, we-love-veggies” diet, you'd lost weight, replaced by some muscle from the exercising you'd done.

But then, in a hushed, dreamy voice, Kili says, “I saw a fire-moon once.”

And just like that, the crumb of bread lodges in your throat. Your hand flies to your mouth as you cough — loudly. So much for staying quiet. You thump yourself on the chest, trying to calm the wheezing fit, which only draws an annoyed look in your direction.

Desperation fills you the more you cough, spluttering through watery eyes as you try to dislodge the bread. “Are you alright?” You can barely process Kili’s concerned words, tinged with mild embarrassment when he realises that you’ve probably been listening in on their conversation while everyone else is asleep.

Screw his embarrassment, you’ve probably just ruined the whole romantic bit they had going on.

As your wheezing gets louder, you remember a trick you'd seen once from the instructor of your first-aid course. It’d been a mandatory class when you worked as a lifeguard at the public swimming pool, and the instructor was pretty chill.

Now that you think about it, you clearly recall choking on something as well before he helped, and taught you the self-Heimlich. You ball one hand into a fist like he’d shown you, place it just above your navel, and thrust it sharply upward, hoping that it works as well as they say.

Nothing. Your eyes are watering, your chest feels like it's on fire, and that stupid crumb is still lodged in your throat. Great. Truly amazing. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Tauriel watching, arms folded, face as blank as ever. She looks like she’s observing a particularly unremarkable bug flailing on its back.

“Oh, you — absolute menace ,” you choke out in a strangled gasp, more annoyed than desperate now. You always knew she wasn’t your biggest fan, but really? Letting you choke to death over here? You brace yourself, trying again; one last, undignified shove to your diaphragm.

With a spectacular sputter, the offending crumb finally flies out. You slump back down, chest heaving as you pant from the near-death experience you’ve just had. Surprisingly enough, you never thought you’d almost perish this way.

Beheaded? Yes. Speared? Possibly. Choke to death on stale bread? Never crossed your mind.

Kili’s voice drifts from his cell, tinged with genuine concern, "Are you alright?" You manage a weak grunt, swallowing what’s left of your dignity along with the reminder that your interference might come with unexpected consequences.

Tauriel turns and leaves without another word. Glaring at her retreating back, you point your middle finger at her, jabbing it at the air like a madman. A broken laugh falls from your lips when you realise what you’re doing, blinking away the tears that involuntarily form.

Kili’s voice drifts out again, and there’s a nervous, almost embarrassed edge to it now. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh but is also genuinely worried, caught somewhere between sympathy and the awkwardness of knowing you were listening in on his whole starlit, heartwarming moment.

You throw him a thumbs-up you know full well he can’t see, still catching your breath. “Nothing a little willpower couldn’t fix,” you mutter, though you can practically feel his grin through the walls.

“Glad to hear,” he says, then, in a lower, almost conspiratorial tone, “Not the most graceful moment, but I won’t tell.”

You manage a half-smile he can’t see, and he chuckles softly, his laughter almost warm enough to take the edge off Tauriel’s cold indifference.

— — — — — —

It’s been close to a week since the dwarves were imprisoned, and you’d taken to playing a little game with Bofur dubbed as Pass thy Rock. Pure boredom had gotten the better of you, having carelessly fiddled with a stray pebble in your cell.

Bofur had gestured to you to throw it to him, and thus began a rallying of rock tossing you play with Balin, Bofur, and even the brothers that neighbour you. Balin had tried to get Thorin to join, but he simply ignored him.

He’s always either pacing the floor or brooding quietly, with the occasional slamming of his cell door as he demands for an audience with Thranduil. The elf king never granted his request, and ever since that day when you told the guard to pass on the message, he didn’t call on you either.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or fearful of that.

“Don’t drop it too soon,” Fili chuckles, catching the pebble Balin tossed his way. He hands it to you with a grin, the smooth stone cool in your palm as you give it a thoughtful turn. It’s strange to think you’re really here, part of a story you once read about.

“It’s weird,” you find yourself saying, words slipping out before you can stop them, “I never really understood why people liked you all so much...until now.”

Balin hums, amused. “People, you say?”

“I didn’t realise we were that well known across Middle-earth,” Bofur adds with a chuckle.

You force a small smile, masking a pang of uncertainty. If only you could ask Gandalf for advice. Maybe he’d know of a way to get you home. But for now, it’s a waiting game, and with these dwarves for company, a part of you feels...oddly content.

“Guess you’re more famous than you thought,” you say, flicking the stone back to Balin with a smirk. So far, the only ones who know what you look like are the three opposite you, and truthfully? They’re much taller than you expected. Or maybe you’re just short.

Balin catches it with a shake of his head, tossing it to Kili’s cell. You’re waiting for the pebble to be tossed once more, only to hear it clatter to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet cell. A sharp hiss of pain echoes, and judging by the look on Balin’s face, it’s not hard to piece together what’s happened.

“ Shit , are you okay?” You curse, fingers gripping the cell door tightly. Worry fills you, an unexpected consequence of the silly game you’d come up with. With the additional fact that you’ve no idea when they actually make their escape, panic flits through your body at the possibility it could be at any minute, even now.

“I’m fine.” His breathy chuckle does nothing to shake off the unease that gnaws at your gut. Relief is fleeting, and it dawns on you that this isn’t a world where doctors are aplenty, nor medicine or basic hygiene.

“Give me your hand.”

You can sense his amusement even through the bars. “How, exactly? We aren’t really in a position where I can do so.”

“Just — stick it out or something,” you say, exasperated. He must realise you’re not joking, because he dutifully follows your instructions. His arm stretches out past the gap in the cell door bars, the closest one to you.

You observe the grime beneath his nails and the faint tremor in his fingers, along with the multiple scars on his arm. “You really need to clean up,” you mutter, sarcasm still pulling through even in this situation.

“I could with your help.” His teasing draws out a sarcastic laugh from you. “But it’s really nothing. I’ve gone through worse.”

“He’s right, we’ve all got the scars to show for it,” Fili calls out. Thorin eyes Kili with concern, though he chooses to simply observe.

You reach out cautiously, your fingers brushing against his as you inspect the makeshift bandage he’s tied in a loose knot. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself properly,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes.

He flinches at your touch, only to allow you to continue. “Your first aid is horrible,” you remark, sitting down and pulling away from him. His arm remains there for a moment, before withdrawing back into his cell.

“Here, since we can’t see each other, follow what Balin does.” The dwarf mentioned tilts his head in intrigue, inching closer to the cell door. “Grab a piece of cloth, or find one that’s relatively clean. It can be from your shirt or something.”

A loud rip echoes through the dungeon, and you guess he’s already found one. “Alright, focus,” you say, starting to slowly show Balin your movements so he can mirror it back to Kili. “Once you’ve got your cloth, wrap it around the wound. Make sure it’s snug, but not too tight— you want to stop the bleeding without cutting off circulation.”

“Got it,” Kili replies, his tone serious now as he carefully follows your instructions. “What’s next?”

“Now, start by layering the cloth over the wound, but don’t just go in circles. You want to cover it from the centre outwards. Think of it like a spiral, but keep it neat,” you instruct, trying to visualise the process in your mind as you speak. “If you have any leftover fabric, you can use it to tie off the bandage.”

“Leftover fabric? You mean, like the remnants of my shirt?” Kili quips, though you can hear the focus in his voice.

“Whatever works for you bro,” you shrug. “I'm not gonna be the one with the potential infection.”

“After you’ve wrapped it, make a knot to secure it, but not so tight that it restricts your movement. You don’t want to lose feeling in your hand,” you add. “And if you can, check to see if it’s bleeding through. If it is, you’ll need to add another layer on top, but don’t remove the first one.”

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye on it,” Kili assures you, his voice steady despite the pain he’s likely enduring. “I’m tying it off now… it’s a bit tricky.”

“Being injured tends to do that to you.” That draws chuckles from the dwarves around. “Show me what it looks like now so I can check.”

He sticks his hand out once more, the makeshift bandage tied almost perfectly according to your instructions. “That’s…not bad.” You raise your brows, genuinely impressed.

He wiggles his fingers as if to show off. “Comes with the territory. Handling weapons all my life, after all. Bandaging? Piece of cake.”

Fili pipes up from the other side, snickering, “He’s more used to wrapping himself around trouble, to be fair.”

The cell falls silent again as your thoughts spiral inward, a wave of fear creeping in. The earlier laughs fade, leaving only the loud reminder of your isolation here. The foreignness, the absence of anyone from your world, from home. Your fingers start picking at the skin around your nails, words slipping out before you even realise.

“What if they don’t remember me?”

It’s muttered more to yourself than to anyone else. The vulnerability in your voice draws the attention of the dwarves, especially Thorin, whose eyes narrow slightly.

Fili speaks first. “Who? Your people?” Raising your gaze, you stare at the wall bordering his.

Great. Talking to dwarves as makeshift therapists now? Rock bottom, here I come.

“I don’t even know if I have anyone looking for me. I just... I don’t belong here.” The weight of your words hangs in the air, and you can feel the dwarves' gazes on you. It feels understanding, but a certain wariness remains.

Balin’s voice breaks the tension, kind and encouraging. “If the opportunity comes, lass, we’ll help you escape alongside us. No need to fret on that.”

You try to give him a smile in return, but Thorin’s scoff from his cell wipes it right off your face. He shifts, arms crossing over his chest as he sizes you up with a disdainful look. “She’ll only slow us down. A human female, no less. She wouldn’t last a day on our journey, with no weapon, no training, and no resilience to speak of. We’ve got more than enough to deal with without—”

That bastard.

A hot rush of anger flares up, the thinned frays of patience for all the treatment you've endured here finally snapping. “Oh, don’t worry,” you snap, tone dripping with sarcasm. “I wouldn’t want to drag you all down.”

His condescension feels like a weight, pressing against you until the words spill out before you can stop them. “Besides, if I wanted to survive, I’d have just stuck with Bilbo. He practically saved your asses from being roasted on a spit by those trolls. You’d have been—”

A cold, shocked silence follows. Your mind stalls as you realise you’ve said it — let out a detail so specific that the absurdity of it sinks in, even for you.

Thorin’s eyes narrow, his piercing gaze fixed on you with a new sharpness that unsettles you to your bones. “And how, exactly,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “would you know of that?”

There’s an intensity in his stare now that makes your pulse skip. Every dwarf in the dungeon has gone quiet, their eyes turning between you and Thorin. Balin’s thoughtful gaze seems to scrutinise you even deeper than his.

Cheeks burning, you swallow hard, the weight of what you’ve said bearing down. Excuses pile up in your throat but stick there, choking you. You could say it was a guess, a wild shot in the dark, but something about Thorin’s intense stare tells you he won’t be easily convinced.

Balin clears his throat, an attempt to ease the tension. “Perhaps it’s mere coincidence, Thorin. Maybe she simply overheard tales from…from somewhere. These stories travel quickly among folk these days, I’d wager.”

But Thorin’s focus is relentless, his gaze never shifting from you. “Not tales this specific,” he says slowly, his voice growing colder with each word. “You know more than you’re letting on.”

The irritation from earlier has drained, leaving only a quiet dread. You drop your gaze, picking at the edge of the cell bars as though they hold answers. “Maybe I do,” you mutter, your voice softer but just as defiant. “Maybe I know plenty about what you’re up against. Maybe I know things that would make your head spin.”

The challenge in your tone has clearly gotten under his skin. He takes a step closer to his own cell bars, fingers curling around the metal as he watches you with a dark, unreadable expression. “Then speak plainly. What are you hiding? And why?”

Your hand grips the bar tighter, as if that might ground you. “Why should I?” you say, your tone icy. “The last thing I need is to be explaining myself to someone who’d sooner leave me behind than listen.”

A flicker of something unreadable crosses Thorin’s face. Maybe surprise, maybe irritation. But before he can respond, Balin interrupts, a careful look in his eye. “Lass,” he begins gently, his voice coaxing, “if there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ us, know that we mean you no harm. But it’s only fair we know what we’re dealing with, for all our sakes.”

You breathe out slowly, watching their faces — some concerned, some suspicious. Thorin, though, is guarded, like he’s ready to block out whatever you might say next, no matter what it is.

So you smile. A faint, tired one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m not your enemy, Balin. If that’s what you’re wondering. I…don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

Kili speaks up, the curiosity in his voice soft but evident. “So… you’re on our side?”

You pause, your eyes flicking to the floor outside his cell. “I never said that either.”

— — — — — —

Taglist: @chennqingg <3

#Kili x female reader #kili x female reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #kili x you #kili x y/n #kili durin #kili x reader

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oakbuggy · 1 year ago

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Liar, Liar chapter 1

Recom!Neteyam x female OC

Summary : Tala of the Tawkami gets captured by a familiar face and to both of their misfortune, they are trapped together due to circumstance. They are extremely vexed by this and each other and also very horny.

Warnings: Minors DNI, non-con+dub-con, explicit smut, dirty talk, authority, power struggle, mentions+depictions of blood, minor violence, character death, marking, biting, scenting

!! Each chapter will have images throughout the chapter, only the AO3 will have the NSFW-uncensored versions. Please keep this in mind as you read !!

Chapter 1 (NSFW) ~5.2k words

AO3 Link Here!

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Tala grimaced every time a bullet was fired, noisily ripping through the greenery no matter where it was aimed.

She stayed huddled in a thicket, eyes darting through the leaves and flowers and rain.

Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. They were supposed to be the scouting party, that’s it, it wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. But the tawtute sterile and foul scents proved otherwise.

The sudden downpour helped to mask all individual Navi scents, but it also made it harder to know where anyone was. Seeing a cluster of roots with just enough space for her smaller body to fit, Tala slid into the safety of the crevice, disturbing only blades of grass.

At least, that’s what she hoped.

And she was glad her years of alchemy training didn’t fail her because through the blood, ash, and mist, she smelled a much less offensive sterile scent. The rain was dampening it, but the odor of tawtute fabric stuck to their skin. Just her luck to have a dream walker hovering so close to her, but better her than another. She was technically a warrior, as all alchemists of the Tawkami went through the same rites of passage, but she honestly barely qualified as a fighter. Tala would’ve wildly preferred being someone’s pretty mate and just experiment all day for new recipes and poultices.

Tala stayed absolutely still, her green eyes glued to the entrance of the roots. She looked down at her hands, her entire body folded into the smallest ball she could be, frowning a bit at the scars and scuffles. She could imagine her friend scolding her for paying attention to such things when she was being actively pursued-

A gun’s barrel burst through the entrance of the roots and shot through her hair.

Tala screamed and thrashed, kicking the gun out of the way she forced her body outside of the root’s crevice. She reached into her satchel on her hip and flung coarse powder into the assailant’s face. The rain solidified on the soldier’s face and she scrambled away through the jungle.

The RDA soldier coughed and hissed behind her, empty-handed save for one of the pink flowers that were decorated throughout Tala’s hair. He crushed it and gave chase, abandoning the gun. He didn’t need it.

Tala jumped through all manner of branches and foliage. If she had time to think, Tala would be praying to Eywa now to save her, air burning her lungs.

The dream walker was insufferably graceful, talented at keeping his eyes on her. Tala dared a look back and gasped. She didn’t realize until too late that her foot stepped on only air beyond the edge of a steep glade.

“N-Netey-OOf!” The soldier fully pounced on Tala, which only sent them toppling. Large hands clawed into her sides as the two of them rolled down, slowly coming to a painful stop of groans and blooming bruises on their heads and limbs. Immediately the soldier got to his feet while his target was violently backing away, clawing through the grass. It couldn’t be him, he’s been dead for years now. It was a trick of the light, the rain entered her eye, she was being delusional, desperate.

As if a cruel trick of Eywa’s, Tala found herself back in the start, she had burrowed into a large and hollow tree trunk and was again trapped inside it. From the darkness outside, a hand burst through the entrance and clawed at her hair, impartial as to whether it wanted to pull her out or claw its way inside.

She was slapping, thrashing, the soldier’s large gloved hands were searching for her neck through her thick, loose curls. Her nails caught on the soldier’s green military headband, ripping it off to reveal a large, star-shaped scar on the left side of his forehead. He snarled but now so close, Tala froze.

Sunlillies and tree bark. A nostalgic smell.

She stopped, letting the soldier squeeze her neck, as her wide green eyes blinked upwards, staring at his face.

“Neteyam? Is it really…?” Tala started to whisper, she felt around at his hands. Four fingers, not a dream walker. She kept trembling eyes on his face, it looked so much like him. Even the way his forehead wrinkled when his brow raised in perplexity, now a large scar resting right above it. Yellow eyes met green and all the terror-induced adrenaline Tala had pumping through her was now going straight to her heart.

The soldier had also long stopped, stunned. Stunned by her scent, of spiced honey and rose, scents that he attributed to the environment than to her. The hammering pain he felt in his skull, from his scar, had dissipated drastically. He realized who he was holding.

“Tala.” His voice was low, uncharacteristically unsure.

She wanted to open her mouth and ask all the right questions, the smartest ones, but her mouth stayed silent. The soldier slowly loosened his grip. She looked at the name tag on his uniform. ’T. Sully’.

He allowed some minute bit of space between them, their breaths warming each other up from the cold of the constant rainfall. Tala eyed his scar, blackened and old.

“You’ve been poisoned.” Her throat was dry and her heart was pounding. As if simply saying something was enough, the RDA soldier lunged back into her, his face in her hair and arms encompassing her. She made a strangled, distressed noise.

“N-Neteyam! What are you-“

“Shut up.” It felt like a shadow covered her body, snuffing Eywa’s light on her. The voice, low, husked into the shell of her ears. Cold. It was very cold. The usual comfort she’d feel hearing his voice was missing.

When Tala tried to pull back, Neteyam’s hands tightened painfully around her body, squeezing her impossibly closer. His head hasn’t felt this at peace since he ‘awoke’. The headache was mercifully lessened each time he breathed in the Tawkami girl’s scent. Months felt like decades of torture, something for him to shoulder with each waking moment. Everything hurt his head, it was constant and numbing but somehow, with her…

A whine cried out of her throat, her breath felt constricted. Tala tried to scramble her fingers around the sleeves of his black shirt, clawing at the fabric and trying to push him away but to no avail. His tactical harnesses, both on his chest and around his legs, dug into her skin painfully.

“Let go of me.” Tala weakly hissed into his hair even though her arms, though tense, felt so weak. Brittle.

Neteyam hissed.

“Just stay still. Don’t you understand how easy it is for me to kill you?”

Tala stilled, confused. She was used to being admonished, by many people, yet she’s never known the Omaticayan to waste time for a kill. She noticed though the shallow pressure of his broad chest against hers, the lowest and quietest inhale.

He was smelling her.

This na’vi may no longer be Neteyam, a shadow that shared his name, but still, something stirred in Tala when she realized this. Stupid feelings she thought were buried and dead.

“Killing me by smelling me then, are you?” She mumbled, taking the gamble. No matter how overpoweringly soothing her scent was, Neteyam felt irritation rise at her words. That’s right, she’s always been sort of a pain to talk to… They’ve met twice before and both times left him feeling embarrassment and indignation. For what exactly, he couldn’t recall.

Still, his tail swished irritably now. He sat up to see her face to catch a glimpse of those green eyes that constantly taunted whoever had their attention.

Great mother, he wished he didn’t remember her so the thought that she’d only gotten prettier wouldn’t enter his head.

“Don’t push me, Tawkami. How haven’t you changed at all?” He snarled, venom dripping from his maw. Tala frowned and sunk her claws into his uncovered bicep, earning a small hiss. His hands curled again around the column of her neck, lightly squeezing.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she started seeing spots in her vision. Somehow, the universe both gave her a gift and a curse. Eywa returned his body to her, but not his mind. No more gentle hands, no kind eyes, no bashful expressions, or the comfort of his silhouette. She felt so entirely bitter to have hoped at all.

“Maybe I’ve not changed at all…” Tala felt like the headband in her hand was suddenly too heavy, she didn’t want it.

“But you’ve changed too much.” She finished, her stare was acidic.

“I died. And now I’m back and I’m forced to bear the consequences of it.” His voice was stern but quiet. Tala’s brows furrowed. Then her eyes went back to his large scar. From her studies, it truly looked poisoned, festering, and painful but the skin on top was healed. She was confused, na’vi were not the type to hide scars.

Tala reached around and placed his headband slowly back around his forehead. Delicate fingertips felt like burns along his skin and Neteyam was ready to crack her neck at any sign of force.

“The poison?”

No response. She scowled.

“Poison’s made you a bore too?” Tala let out a loud gag when his large thumbs momentarily dug into her throat.

“Still so foolish and mouthy.” The soldier growled. ‘Poisoned’ was a strange way to call his ever-present migraine, but seemed close enough. Unfortunately, the cure to that headache was another one in the form of an incredibly annoying woman. His patience was thinning.

“But you still find me so pretty, don’t you? Otherwise, what’s taking so long, hmm?” Her tone and smile were sickly sweet, just the way he always hated it.

The consequences were immediate, Neteyam nearly buried Tala into the ground, knocking whatever little breath she had left. He forced her legs around him in the struggle and went for her neck to suck and bite. She yelped when rough fingers clenched at her hair and pulled her closer to him.

Her words incensed him and now he knew that Eywa cursed him, why did this loathsome woman have to smell so good, and have to smile so lovely and be so soft?

“You’ve always been so fucking-“

She could feel Neteyam’s tongue and fangs scrape over her neck. Her strangled yelps stopped when Neteyam roughly pushed the stiff tent of his pants against her thigh.

“Annoying, so fucking full of yourself-“

She saw only a flash of golden eyes glaring at her before she felt lips crash onto hers. Fangs clashed against each other and Neteyam stuck his tongue into her mouth. Tala was mortified when she could immediately feel a heat pool in her belly. The musk of his arousal was so dizzying even through the thick camo fabric.

She wanted to say she struggled heroically but in shame, Tala’s will crumbled quickly. The kiss was just so bruising, so angry, she stopped struggling to focus on twisting his tongue and stealing his air.

Neteyam didn’t break the kiss as he ripped the gloves off his calloused hands, now feeling desperate to lose himself in her smell and her softness. He groped at her waist and squeezed the roundness of her hips, now her smell was intoxicating, tinged with her desire. He moaned at the contact, practically rutting his clothed cock against her. Tala could feel slick gather underneath her tewng, she knew for sure a wet spot was already leaking through it.

His hand stilled and Tala could finally look at him, tense. Neteyam seemed only to revel in it, his pupils enlarging further, brows furrowed, he looked near enraged. With him or with her, Tala figured it was probably both.

“What are you doing, Neteyam?” She rasped, conflicted and now hot and bothered. Her only answer was him sucking her clavicle hard, hands now groping at her tits wantonly.

Sense returned to Tala’s head and she started kicking at him, kicking around his much larger, muscular waist.

“Get away-oh!” She screeched when suddenly he was picking her up, making her back bend uncomfortably around the roof of the hollow tree, she was practically sitting on his shoulders now. His head was between her thighs and the wet muscle of his tongue was digging through her tewng, getting her wetter and wetter. She smelled divine here and he licked a long strip over the thin cloth, he could feel her heat on his tongue.

Unable to keep her balance she gripped the back of his head, his neck, the slope of his back, just anything so she wouldn’t topple over. Squeezing her thighs around his face only seemed to goad him on further.

“Neteyam!” Tala said, choking on her drool as the heat of her core rose exponentially with Neteyam’s sudden worshipping.

“I’m going to taste you. Don’t stop me.”

The announcement makes her cunt clench around nothing and she stills. Her face is on fire, she is so conflicted by the way he was squeezing her ass and how completely and uncomfortably drenched her cunt was- Neteyam pushed the tight fabric of her tewng to the side and started lapping at her pussy lips.

“Ooohh, oh, fuck!” She moaned, feeling just so filthy. His rough and wet tongue pressed against her hole, licked long strips against it and he dug for deeper, more of her juices. The more those juices dripped down his face, the more he lapped it up hungrily. He was just fucking gone, nothing hurt anymore and only extreme pleasure was left in his wake. His ego preened as he listened to her muffled whimpers like a favored song, she was not so annoying when his tongue was deep in her cunt like this. He thinks he prefers her like this, hanging onto him desperately, legs wide for him.

Neteyam felt like he could cum from just the sound of her desperate whines alone.

“Net-Nete…” She whispered his name harshly but could barely form it. The coil of heat in her belly was tightening oh so much, and when Neteyam’s nose burrowed further onto her clit, her eyes glazed over in pure ecstasy.

He sucked at her clit and groaned at the sweetness that exploded on his tongue. In his mind, it was his private feast and the satisfaction he got from making this irritable woman melt in his hands was simply an appetizer.

Her eyes rolled back, the spring snapped and she closed her legs impossibly tight around his face as she came so hard she saw white. Her body stiffened, even her tail squeezed tightly around Neteyam’s bicep, and after agonizingly long seconds, her body went limp.

To her vague surprise, he was still completely supporting her despite her relaxing her whole weight over him.

To the extreme surprise of her nerves, he was still swallowing all her excess liquids, now sucking over her reddened and puffy cunt for just a bit more savory sweetness.

“N-nete- I-came…” She said in broken mewls and weakly pawed at his back, eyes starting to water from the overstimulation. He, of course, didn’t stop, he didn’t even hear her. “It’s too much, stop…” She said a bit louder and dug her nails deeper into his back, but still Neteyam didn’t budge.

He basked in massaging her twitching, sticky cunt, the way it pulsated around his tongue, and flinched at every light scrape of his teeth. He only wished he had enough space to soak his fingers in her until she was hiccuping and the pads of his fingers were pruney.

Tala felt another orgasm crash through her and this time she wailed, body staying limp, hair cascading over her and over Neteyam’s back. Her cunt was now hurting and she was struggling to keep conscious.

She blinked at the distance, seeing the flash of yellow plastic. The Compass. She had pressed random buttons in the struggle, trying to get the dog tags or his uniform name as she knew the device could record nature, likenesses. Tala continued trying to blink away tears but before she knew it, her eyes clamped shut and everything went dark to the constantly stinging and tingling texture of Neteyam’s tongue.

It was maybe 20 minutes before the RDA na’vi noticed her noises were considerably muted and her body felt boneless. He swallowed the rest of his fill, he had practically licked her clean before he let her body completely relax on the jungle floor.

He stared down at her figure and took another deep breath, his migraines truly were gone.

She had said that he was poisoned. Neteyam clicked his tongue as he readjusted her coverings and hoisted her over his shoulder.

To the detriment of both of them, she seemed to be the only cure he had for now.

–

When Tala came to, it was as violent as she had never hoped it to be.

She screamed, static coursing through her entire body and when an RDA soldier shut it off, her whole body felt numb. She could barely see the bright white linoleum floor as two combat boots came into view.

A large hand forcefully tilted her head up and she grimaced.

“Well, outta all the biters you could’ve brought back, you chose a pretty one.” The dream walker said, his face was aged and his hair was cut extremely short. He had a square jaw and aged features, along with thick eyebrows. He let Tala’s face fall carelessly as he stood back up straight.

“That better not be the only reason you chose her, Corporal Tom.” His voice was hard. Tala was vaguely aware of her body being strapped vertically onto a table and only able to move around her neck, though she barely had the energy to lift it anyway.

“No, sir, Colonel Quaritch, sir.” It was Neteyam. Voice cold and unfeeling, just like how he had first talked to her. No sunlight, no warmth. “She is of the Tawkami clan and has knowledge of all of Pandora’s natural resources as an alchemist and healer. She will be of use in identifying plants still undiscovered.”

Quaritch simply stared hard at Neteyam, or, Corporal Tom, and grumbled quietly. The Phoenix II reconditioning program had worked almost miraculously well, but the older soldier still had his suspicions. He was somewhat aware of the change he himself was facing since the Skirmish at the Three Brothers years ago, so he had to keep a close eye on the former Sully boy.

It’s been a fast year since his reawakening, and to Quaritch’s knowledge, he was pretty sure the kid spent his ruts alone and barely interacted with those outside of the Recombinant Squad if even them. The… experience left him angry, which was great on the battlefield. Not for making sure his head was all there even in downtime though.

The colonel kneeled low to look at Tala’s face clearly, her head still hanging. Easy on the eyes at least, would it be so bad for him to have his own little fucktoy? It wasn’t regulated, but some prisoners became favored partners of the Recoms or other reawakened Na’vi, if at least to help with their monthly biological needs.

“I know you can understand me doll face, most of the Tawkami does by now.” He started with a cold hostility in his tone. Tala kept silent, trying to steel herself. She didn’t want to die, but she’d welcome any return to Eywa with open arms before helping these demons.

“To make everything crystal clear, I’m going to say this once. You make a peep of trouble, we shoot you. You fuck up, we shoot you. We’re not animals mind you, you play by our rules and you can live a reasonable life of use to us. Just don’t give us a reason to kill, and we won’t, sweetheart.” His seethe ended in a cruelly humored smile and Tala was feeling her blood run cold looking at him.

Quaritch rolled his eyes emphatically when she stayed silent.

“Gonna need to hear that you understand, doll face.” He rumbled and she pursed her lips. She nodded.

“…yes. I do.” Tala said, English heavily accented but understandable all the same. Quaritch stood to his full height, carelessly letting go of her face.

He turned to Neteyam with a scowl.

“Well, you got your fucktoy, Corporal Tom. Enjoy it.” He meanly snarled, getting close to Neteyam. The younger didn’t flinch, both of them staring intensely into the other’s glowing eyes. Maintaining eye contact, Quaritch waved his hand and another blast of shock scorched Tala’s body, making her scream in pain. Tala balled her hands and felt tears burn down her face as pain shocked through every bone in her spine.

Quaritch searched Neteyam’s face for any ounce of care, even the faintest inclination to help her. The colonel didn’t want any emotional bullshit conflict, he had his own to deal with.

Not even a flicker towards her figure, despite her screams getting shriller. Quaritch sent the operator a glance and finally, Tala was given a break from the torture. Her whole body sunk, the restraints digging into her skin, though she couldn’t feel it. Tala breathed hard, her body still twitching from the pain. It felt like her eyes and ears were bleeding, she wanted to vomit.

The older soldier smiled lightheartedly.

“Just a little welcome present,” Quaritch said, then passed by the younger and clapped his shoulder. “Look alive, soldier. Get her ready and cuffed. I’ll ask the eggheads which lab needs a hand. Don’t take too long.

When he left the room, Neteyam nodded his head at the operator to also make his exit.

Now they were alone. His footsteps towards her were silent, she only knew he was so close because his shoes came into view.

Tala twisted her head to at least be able to peer up at his face. She was aching thoroughly, but the soreness of her crotch especially made her sport quite a mirthful smile.

“Did you like the taste enough to keep me?”

Neteyam scowled then smirked.

“Almost as much as you liked creaming on my tongue.” He taunted back and his smirk grew as he saw Tala’s pretty smile get wiped off her face instantly.

A surprisingly soft grip supported her chin, and she raised her head to meet his eyes. While he still wore the harness and cargo pants, he was no longer wearing his tactical vest. She could clearly see the broadness of his shoulders, how sculpted and wide his chest was under the tight black shirt. Eywa really picked favorites.

Neteyam’s nose twitched, as it usually did with irritation.

“Be thankful I didn’t kill you. At least now you can be of use.” His voice had a sharper edge that made Tala glare at him. The stale light of fluorescent bulbs didn’t seem to suit either of them.

“Of use? Like you are to the vrrteps(demons), kavukte(traitor)?” Tala hissed, green eyes flashing with indignation. She wanted to bite his fingers off. Neteyam’s jaw tensed.

“What are you planning, Neteyam? What do you want?” She pushed, her voice much more hoarse than she thought it would be.

“I’m saving this planet by ending the Na’vi people’s resistance, Tawkami. They are being manipulated by Eywa, it’s not their fault, but they refuse to listen. Eywa keeps the People from growing, and she is the reason they suffer now. The humans will save us.” Neteyam said with such finality and clarity that it unsettled her, like lines practiced over and over again.

“Eywa keeps the balance, Neteyam, the vrrteps are selfish, they take and take. You know this, I know you do.” Her voice was pleading now, nerves heightened. She wanted desperately for him to listen to her and see reason.

“Then even this is part of Eywa’s plan, no? To let the sky people take and take. It was the sky people that saved me, not Her.” He said with a growl.

Tala couldn’t bear to listen anymore and ripped her face away from his grip, squeezing her eyes shut.

Wretched words, cruel thoughts that didn’t sound truly like his.

“The vrrteps did not save you, Neteyam. They were the ones that killed you! Lo’ak-.” Four fingers clamped her mouth shut and the amber pool of his eyes seared into hers.

“I remember everything. And my life was over far before Lo’ak’s stupidity got me shot.” He seethed, pupils in threatening and aggressive slits. Tala scowled, ears pinned to the side of her head.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jake. He ended my life long before that battle. Then replaced me before my body even turned cold, and now I live every single day in torture!” His words suddenly erupted in anger, violently surfacing above. Resentment emanated from every word and his hurt was suffocating. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get through to him, she was not the person he needed now. He needed Kiri or Tuk, he needed his family.

Tala was suddenly reminded of how small a part of his life she really embodied. At most a week’s worth of memories, years stretched in between. Barely any history.

She wanted to entertain that maybe it was her good looks and charming personality that made her memorable, but Tala wasn’t completely dumb. Neteyam had always been surrounded by attractive, talented navi, better yet, members of his own clan he could court.

Those infuriatingly beautiful eyes, making her think unnecessary things right then. Because that time was over, and these feelings didn’t matter. They never have.

“So your life is over, and now you’re ‘Corporal Tom’. Why does the Corporal want me?” Tala wondered out loud, biding for time as she scanned the room. White, eye-achingly so, metallic, plastic, unnatural, sterile, cold.

His waw tensed as he didn’t answer.

“Honestly, it’s looking like you’re obsessed with me.” Tala said with an entirely syrupy sweet and contemptuous smile. A fire started growing in her mind.

He lived every day in pain. And the scar looked blackened; poisoned and now hidden. Navi don’t hide scars. And suddenly he’s smelling her and eating her out as if she was his ambrosia.

Tala crinkled her eyes and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Oh, does being around me help with the hurt, poor sky demon warrior?”

When Tala saw his tail swishing in angry large strokes, she knew her answer, unable to contain how pleased she was now. It was laughable, for both of them, truly! She went through her mental alchemy compendium, considering what and how effected him. Relief through her scent, then arousal? Or minor dosage of comfort through scent then a substantial through oral consumption?

Tala sighed internally, this would have been a wonderful opportunity to experiment with the effects of this mind poison if it wasn’t for all the guns and threats and torture.

Neteyam suddenly and wordlessly stripped off her floral top.

“Neteyam!” She screeched, though his eyes just wandered along her chest, tits soft and dotted with dark pink nipples. Tala flinched violently away when large fingers pinched at her flesh, but still they continued to play and bruise the sensitive buds without care. Tala strangled a mewl in her throat, mortified. He had stayed too silent all this time, she should have known something was boiling in him.

And indeed there was, he hated her insolence and her overactive brain, how she pieced things together so damningly quickly.

“Nothing will get you to shut up, will it.” Neteyam mused out loud, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He pinched it hard and Tala yelped.

“Remind yourself that you have no power here, Tawkami. At most, you’re a stress toy.” He said in a deceptively simplistic manner. As if to make the point stick he stuck thick gloved fingers in her mouth, pushing teeth and tongue. Neteyam stared, daring her to bite him. She didn’t.

“Smart toy, good toy.” He mumbled then, eyes narrowing in self-satisfaction. Tala’s face went hot but she kept compliant.

“Stay good, and I won’t break that thin neck.” Neteyam said, pushing his fingers in her mouth deeper. She gagged and Neteyam felt a familiar throbbing in his pants.

He stopped and then leaned over her like a predator, almost growling.

“I can smell how bad you want me. If you’re good, I’ll fuck the brat out of you until you’ve had your fill.”

Tala closed her eyes, just so completely humiliated yet so aroused, it made her fume. Neteyam smiled smugly when he saw her expression. He liked seeing her when she was too frustrated to do anything else but let her face turn red.

Tala grumbled something under her breath. His ears caught something about him being a horny psychotic asshole. So he proved her point.

“AH!” Sharp fangs sunk into the crook of her neck. He was-he was biting her, marking her! Neteyam was nearly crushing her small shoulders still as he bit down, blood beading and staining her skin.

“Great Mother, what is wrong with you?!” Tala was screaming, now jerking her body this way and that. She didn’t care that it made it more painful, she didn’t care that flecks of her blood were landing on his face and the rest of her body.

But neither did he, he let his fangs stay sunk into her skin, he seemed to be enjoying her struggling, the fucking asshole-

When Neteyam finally stood up, there were thin dribbles of saliva and blood running down his chin and he wiped it off with the heel of his glove carelessly.

Tala was breathing hard, confused and so horribly aroused, she didn’t even want to know how much of a mess she looked then. Her skin was on fire, she was barely aware of the tears running down her cheeks, tears of anger.

Her green eyes shined brighter in her shock, pink lips parted in terrible confusion. Her hair was a mess, braids no longer neat and curls in her face, sticking to her cheeks with her tears. And now the side of her neck, bitten into and punctured, like a pearl necklace of blood.

Neteyam thought it was the prettiest he’d ever seen her. And by Eywa his head felt the most relieved it’s been by far.

“A horny, psychotic asshole, right?” He said smugly, daring any more rebellion from her in his tone and she glared viciously at him. Neteyam merely kept his head raised and roughly pulled up her top.

He turned away and left once the doors slid open, whispering something to the tawtute waiting outside. He didn’t take any look back, he didn’t need to.

Tala felt hostility bubble in her gut, marking was for mates, not whatever the hell this was. Not from whatever he was!

The scientist walked in and pulled out a needle, making her ears pin to the back of her head. The injection went in so quickly, Tala could only remember those yellow eyes, searing into her.

It made her want to gag.

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pls lmk if u want on/off the tag list!

#doodle #smut #fanfic #recom neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar way of water #fanart #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #neteyam x oc #the spicy stuff #finally begins!!#hehehe

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raffe156 · 2 months ago

Text

Breakaway State Part 6

Pairing - Price X Female OC “Tank”

Summary - Finally, finally, finally

This one is a little dark towards the end, Not much of Price but this is the bridge chapter for what’s to come an I’m so thankful for all those who have waited patiently I love you all.

Warnings -17+ Angst. Language, Age gap Price (38) Tank (26), Violence, abuse, abuse of power, controlling behaviour, injury, implied torture, death.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank, Luke, Dredd, Mckinley, Crest and Falkirk.

“Thank fuck for that…” Mckinley’s laugh echoed through the van as it pulled away from the base. He turned in his seat, trying to catch your eye, but you only gave him a brief glance before turning to take one last look at the place you were leaving behind. You spotted Kyle just as the van rounded the corner—he would understand.

Once you were on the road, Mckinley couldn’t help himself.

“I hope you lot realize how good you have it,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

The van stayed quiet.

“Don’t any of you get any ideas about wearing a Halloween mask, either. I’ll shut that shit down before it starts… I’m looking at you, Dredd…” Mckinley chuckled, but the others remained silent. The lack of response was like a cold slap, and you could see it was starting to eat at him. No one found him funny, and it irritated him. Unfortunately for you, you were right in his line of sight. A nasty grin crept across his face.

“You going to sort things out with your fella before we head out?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, watching for your reaction.

“Nothing to sort out…” you muttered, knowing exactly who he meant—Luke. You kept your eyes glued to the window, hoping he’d drop it.

“Haha, yeah right. There’s plenty to sort out. From what I hear, he’s playing the field while you’re off fighting in it. But then again, you’re not entirely innocent, are you? Little sleepovers with Price, weekends away with him. Dirty dog.” Mckinley shook his head, clearly enjoying himself.

You could feel the tension in the van rise, and it wasn’t just McKinley—everyone was listening now. You felt Dredd shift behind you, ready to jump in.

“Weekends away?” Crest’s voice cut through the tension, his head raising slightly, his interest piqued.

McKinley smirked triumphantly, like a predator who’d just caught its prey. “Yep, escape-to-the-country style. Up at Price’s house in Hertfordshire—nice and secluded. Found out from his missus, you know, the Doc at the base? The Irish one?”

The words hit you like a punch. McKinley knew exactly which buttons to push, and now, the squad’s attention was fully on you. A few brows raised, and you could feel the heat of their stares.

Dredd, bless her, quickly came to your defense. “It wasn’t just them two! Kyle was there, too. Doesn’t sound like a romantic weekend to me, does it?” She let out a soft laugh, trying to defuse the situation.

“They weren’t together..”

“What was that?” McKinley cupped his ear, feigning ignorance, his grin widening.

“They weren’t together… not that it matters.” The words came out sharper than you intended, your blood starting to boil.

Dredd’s hand squeezed your arm from behind, a silent plea to let it go, but it was too late. McKinley had already pushed you too far.

“Not what the Doc said, though,” he said with a mock sigh. “Ah well, only you and Price know what really went on. I wonder if that’s why you transferred?” He turned back around in his seat, content with himself.

The seed had been planted. To the rest of the team, you were now a suspected homewrecker—and worse, the home you’d wrecked was that of your former captain.

The squad exchanged a few fleeting glances, the tension palpable. No one spoke for the rest of the ride, and the silence in the van was deafening as the weight of McKinley’s words hung heavily in the air.

*********************

“I’m not looking forward to this…” You thudded your head back against the stained headboard, the frustration evident in the gesture.

“Just leave him on read,” Dredd muttered, sitting cross-legged on the bed next to yours, casually rolling a cigarette. “He already thinks you’re gone for a while.”

The motel room was a depressing sight, tucked away near the ship-out base, its stale air heavy with the smell of smoke and spilled beer. The two creaky single beds groaned under the smallest movements, their springs long past their prime. They had definitely seen better days, but at this point, it didn’t matter. As long as the door locked and kept Mckinley out, it might as well have been the Radisson.

“I can’t leave him on read,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t want him thinking he has to wait around for me… He has no obligation to me. I’ve told him that from day one. He deserves more than this. Hell, I might not even make it back—might get taken out, put out of my misery.” You threw your hands up in mock exasperation, but the thought wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounded. For you, and for people like you, that card was always ready to be pulled. It hovered, high in the deck, just waiting for the right moment.

“More like put down by Mckinley,” Dredd said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She wasn’t wrong.

Before you could even let that sink in, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was Luke. Your stomach dropped, a strange weight settling in your chest. Why did this feel like a breakup? Could it even be classified as that? You’d never made things official. Hell, he didn’t even know what you did for a living. As far as he knew, you were just working abroad, setting up a logistics depot. Was it a breakup? Or just… a break? You hadn’t even thought about what to say, hadn’t planned for this moment.

“You gonna answer that, or you actually going to take my advice for once?” Dredd’s voice cut through the silence as she leaned out the window, struggling to light her cigarette.

Before you could even process, she was already at your side, grabbing the phone and answering it for you. With a flick of her wrist, she put it on speaker, then casually leaned back out the window, puffing smoke as if nothing was amiss.

The phone crackled to life.

“Hey, city girl.”

You took a breath, your heart suddenly heavy. “Hey… you okay?”

Dredd was still trying to push herself further out the window. You glanced at her, then back at the phone. For a split second, you thought about joining her.

****************************

Price sat at his desk, shuffling through papers that required his attention, but his mind wasn’t on the job. He lacked the patience, the energy—anything really—to deal with the endless stack. But more than anything, he couldn’t shake the thought that you were gone. Not just off base, but probably out of the country. That fact was hard to swallow. Yet, as the door to his office creaked open, there was a fleeting moment of hope—hope that you’d walk through it, storming in with that familiar, thunderous look on your face, ready to give him an earful. You’d tell him what a twat he was, how you wanted to come back, to come home. But no… standing in the doorway, where you should be, was Kyle, holding a mug with a large carp on the front and the words “Master-Baiter” emblazoned across it.

It was another secret Santa gift from you to Soap. The memory made Price chuckle despite himself, recalling the pride on your face as Soap unwrapped it, immediately accusing Ghost of being the culprit and starting one of his usual ruckus-filled tirades. The theme for the gift exchange had been “shit mugs.” Soap had Ghost, who received a blank mug that only revealed its true message—C*NT—when it was heated, drawing laughs every time someone used it. Kyle had drawn Price’s name, gifting him a mug that read “World’s Best Dad.” Price had smiled when he opened it, raising an eyebrow and saying, “Thanks, SON.” Kyle had sworn blind that he’d ordered “World’s Best Boss” instead, but either way, it was perfect. Ghost had given Kyle the “Shit in Bed” mug, and Price had watched with a wry smile as you unwrapped yours, reading the words “Accident Prone” across the front.

“Very funny!” You had swatted his arm, and he’d laughed.

“Glad you like it,” he had said, his grin widening.

“Very fitting, lass,” Soap had added, raising his mug in a mock toast. The rest of you had joined in, clinking mugs and sharing a moment of camaraderie.

The memory faded, and Price snapped back to the present. Kyle was now sitting in the chair across from him, carefully placing the “Master-Baiter” mug on his desk, his face a mix of concern and hope.

“You heard anything?” Kyle asked, voice tight.

“Not a thing, lad. All hush-hush on this one,” Price replied, leaning back in his chair and taking a slow sip from the mug. “Not even Laswell’s got a whiff of anything. It’s one of those ‘need to know’ deals, and right now, we don’t need to know, I guess.”

Kyle’s face darkened, and he started picking at his nail—a nervous habit that only appeared when he was truly wound up.

“Fuck’s sake… don’t ask me why, but I’ve just got a bad feeling about the whole thing.”

“Same, lad… same.” Price’s voice was grim, his eyes distant as he looked out the window. The weight of the situation hung heavy between them.

*******************************************

You couldn’t even remember how long you’d been sitting in the freezing cold truck. All that mattered was staying close to Crest—he was like a human furnace, a welcome warmth in the biting chill. You shifted closer to him in the front seat as the truck rumbled through the quiet streets of Tiraspol. The streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the road, and you knew you weren’t far from the safe house.

Crest was a soft-spoken Yorkshireman, a man you knew only in passing. He had served briefly with your first captain, Falkirk, and often spoke of him with a fondness that made it clear the two shared a bond. Over time, you’d found common ground in stories of Falkirk and tales of the infamous 141. Crest, with his quiet admiration, had something of a man crush on Price—something you couldn’t ignore. It showed in the way he’d let his beard grow out, shaving only the center to mimic Price’s signature look. And when he spoke, most of his questions were about Price, with a few curious ones about Ghost thrown in for good measure.

“Does he sleep in the mask?” Crest asked, voice thick with curiosity—he was voicing the question that had been on everyone’s mind.

“He does, yeah.” You smirked, recalling the moment vividly. “Shit me up one night. I’d just come off watch, crashed out on one of the mattresses, and rolled over to find bam—his bloody skull mask, just staring at me. What made it worse was that his eyes were closed, so all I could see were these pitch-black holes in the dark. I nearly had a heart attack, rolled right off the bed, and landed on Soap. He starts shouting, waking up the whole room. Price comes running, thinking we’ve been made, and Ghost just sits up, all casual, asking why I’m on the ground next to Soap.”

The memory made you smile.

“Sounds like a right laugh,” Crest muttered, raising an eyebrow. “But, uh… how does he eat or shower with that thing on? Does he shower with it?”

He furrowed his brow, clearly trying to picture how Ghost managed to drink a cup of tea with that mask on. It wasn’t a pleasant image.

“Jesus, Crest, how would she know if he showers with the damn thing on?” Dredd chimed in from the backseat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Plus, if she’d seen him in the shower, don’t you think I’d be the first to know something so important?”

Dredd’s laugh rang out, her gun was hidden under a blanket, but the tension in the air had lightened—at least for now.

Crest, however, had turned a deep shade of red as the weight of his question settled. He stammered, suddenly aware of how ridiculous it sounded.

“Sorry Tank, I…”

Crest didn’t finish his sentence—he couldn’t. You turned toward him, but it was already too late. The bullet struck without warning, its sharp hiss inaudible in the chaos. You just heard the sickening sound of him choking on his own blood as his body slumped forward, sending the truck veering off the road and crashing into a ditch.

Everything seemed to stretch into slow motion as the truck rolled. You felt a dull pain spreading through your head and wrist, but the rest of your body felt strangely numb, as if it no longer belonged to you. You tried to prepare yourself for what was coming next—find your gun, defend yourself—but your hand wouldn’t respond. The pain in your skull splintered like shards of glass, each jagged piece tearing through your senses.

The last thing you felt before everything went dark was the gradual fading of Crest’s warmth, slipping away from your side.

**********************************

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

The voice was unmistakable… Soap? You tried to sit up, but a steady yet gentle hand held you back.

“Easy there, kid. Take it slow. You’ve got quite the bump on your head,” Price said with a reassuring smile, helping you sit up.

“Where am I?” you asked, glancing at Price.

“Told you she was accident-prone,” Soap chuckled, giving Kyle a playful smack on the back.

“How did you all get here?” you asked, turning to Soap.

“Guess that means he’s terrible in bed, then?” Price shot a teasing glance at Kyle.

“Yeah, and he’s a C*NT” Soap laughed, his voice echoing through the room as he clearly found himself hilarious.

Your eyes shifted to the corner, where Ghost stood motionless, his presence looming. He hadn’t said a word, just observing in his usual quiet, unreadable way.

“Where’s Crest? Is he ok? I didn’t even see the shooter?” Your eyes pleading with Ghost to give you answers. How were they all here?

“Well we all know your mug is a perfect fit eh fairy liquid!” Kyle laughed.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on please?” You glanced from Price to Ghost, your voice cracking, a lump in your throat forming.

Price cupped your face, his touch firm yet oddly soothing. Though his touch wasn’t necessary, it was comforting, and your reaction made that clear. You almost melted into his palm, the warmth of him seeping deep into your bones, filling you with a sense of safety.

You glanced up at his wide smile, and just as you were about to return a weak one, his hand slipped away from your face.

“You need to wake up, kid…”

“What? … I am… I’m…”

The words felt heavy on your tongue, but something in the way he spoke made the air shift—unnervingly cold, like a warning you couldn’t quite place.

The icy cold water struck you like a violent slap, ripping the breath from your lungs as you jolted upright, gasping in shock. But before you could even steady yourself, you were dragged down by a force and the deafening clank of chains.

Collapsing to the ground, your eyes shot forward, locking onto the heavy iron door looming in front of you. Just beside it, a dark figure stood, holding a bucket with a sinister stillness.

The room was cold, the air thick with the stench of damp concrete and stale air. You turned slowly, the harsh scrape of your shackles echoing in the silence. Looking down, you saw the heavy chains binding your wrists, the cold metal biting into your skin. They were bolted to the concrete floor.

Your mind raced, adrenaline surging as the questions piled up. How had you missed the shooter? You’d let your guard down, gotten comfortable—no, lazy. That was the mistake. Crest… where was he? Had he made it out? Was he alive? Dredd—had she escaped? Had she managed to slip away, lay low until things cleared up? Maybe she’d gotten back to the safe house, or even to the backup house. But the uncertainty gnawed at you, each thought more unsettling than the last.

Did McKinley know? The thought hit you like a jolt of cold electricity. This mission had been clear from the start—if caught, you are not acknowledged. There were no backup plans, no rescue team, no second chances. You were disposable.

You were on your own.

The realization settled in like a heavy stone in your chest, and for a moment, everything felt impossibly still. No one would come for you, no one would speak your name. If you didn’t get out of this yourself, there would be no one to blame but you.

Before you could ponder your fate any further, a second figure appeared in the doorway. The sound of footsteps echoed through the cold, empty space, each step deliberate, measured. A tall, thin man made his way toward you, his movements almost unsettlingly calm.

In the dim light, you could just make out his features: dark eyes, sharp and unblinking, and hair as black as coal, stark against his pale skin. He was impeccably dressed in a suit—clean, pressed, and entirely out of place in the grim surroundings. His presence made your pulse quicken, your instincts screaming that he was not someone you wanted to meet.

And then, the realization hit like a gut punch. Staring at you with cold, calculating eyes was one of the world’s most wanted criminals—the very reason you were here in this godforsaken town. Vladimir Makarov.

The name alone was enough to freeze your blood. His reputation preceded him—ruthless, cunning, and without mercy. Every mission, every brief, every intelligence report had warned you of him. But no amount of preparation could have ever truly prepared you for the man standing in front of you now.

“Good morning, Tank. How very nice it is to finally meet you…” Makarov’s voice was cold, each word laced with a mocking sweetness that made your skin crawl. “…I’m sorry about your friend.”

His words cut through the silence like a knife, but you couldn’t help the sick, twisted laugh that bubbled up in your throat. It was probably hysteria setting in, a coping mechanism for the absurdity of the situation. All those years spent hearing about Makarov—the Russian scumbag that Price had been gunning for relentlessly—and now, here he was. Standing right in front of you, casually offering some sick version of politeness.

Good morning, like he wasn’t the very reason you’d been dragged into this nightmare. Like you weren’t sitting here, shackled and broken, Crest dead, Dread MIA, all because of him.

You almost wanted to laugh again. Almost. But it died in your throat, the weight of reality sinking in. This wasn’t some briefing room or war room banter—it was real. And Makarov, for all his cold composure, was here because he wanted something. That much was certain. His eyes never left yours, calculating, waiting for a reaction, a weakness. The mockery in his voice was a mask, but beneath it, you could feel the tension—the thinly veiled threat of what was to come.

You had no doubt he was enjoying this moment, savoring the control he now held. But what was it that he wanted? Information? Revenge? Or something more personal, something that would break you in ways no one could predict?

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as he took a slow step forward. You could almost feel the weight of his presence pressing down on you, and despite everything—despite the pain, the fear—you refused to let him see how much it rattled you.

Not yet. Not until you knew what game he was playing.

The figure in the doorway bent down, reaching for something on the floor. It was square, bulky, and heavy. With a cold, deliberate motion, the man placed it down next to Makarov. A car battery. The heavy thud of it hitting the ground felt like a warning, its significance sinking in with a quiet dread.

“Let’s see how strong Price makes his toy soldiers, eh?”

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oriley42 · 3 months ago

Note

Serious question but no need to answer if you don’t want to

I see a lot of talk about Amber’s portrayal being sexist in the show, but I’m not quite sure why? To me her motives always seemed really well-defined (high pressure = “I’m only worthy when I’m successful”) so she puts on this sharky mask with a feminine facade so she is feminine enough to get a certain amount of approval but never shows how much she cares (which could be used against her but also could be used to undermine her “oh you’re too soft”). I thought the show did an excellent job of showing a mask for her

But a lot of people talk about 00s sexism and how it impacts her characterization. The sexism… Is it that she gets called a cutthroat bitch? Or how her story revolves around a man after she leaves House’s team? Is it the fridging?

Any of those could be it I guess but it just sounds like you and others are talking about something a little more fundamental to her personhood so I thought I’d ask if I’m missing anything.

Very interesting question! I think you're getting at exactly the trickiness of the issue, which is that sexism always operates systemically. It's not that any key aspect of Amber's character "is" misogynist, it's that every aspect of her character is automatically filtered through a lens of sexism.

In today's world where "bitch" has been very de-clawed, turned into a more casual and way less gendered insult that's used without cruel intention in queer slang, I think it's hard to understand just how violent the term was--and was meant to be--in the aughts. House in canon is not calling Amber a bitch in a cute, almost self-deprecating, friendly way (though I think it's valid to re-write it that way in fic to defuse the term!). He is calling her a bitch to contain and belittle and dehumanize her. We see the term mobilized this way against Cuddy in 5 to 9 as well: calling a woman a bitch was an extremely powerful rhetorical tool to turn any dangerously competent, brilliant, threateningly accomplished woman back into a harmless, debased, controllable object. So, "CB" reflects how easily the fact that Amber is the "female House" gets turned against her--it doesn't mean she's an eccentric genius like him, it means she's an evil copycat who needs to be put down. And this kind of structural logic applies to her whole characterization--it doesn't matter that House does it all more frequently and worse, if she does it, it's unacceptable because she's a woman. (There are parallels here with how racism means that when Foreman acts like House, he also gets the axe instead of the narrative bending over backwards to make what he did alright.) That's why she was fired, after all!

And her death. Woof. Classic case of killing a woman for man-pain. Everything supposedly about her death is actually about how her violent destruction can be used to fuel Wilson and House's character arcs. The narrative is occasionally conscious of this, for example, Wilson saying "none of you even liked Amber" is an almost metatextual reminder of how cruelly she was disenfranchised in every way (including the sexism of her trying to "defect" to the men's team early on, having no female friends, because unlike House who has so many people orbiting him, she is truly alone). Comparing her death to Kutner's is instructive: Kutner gets a whole episode that's about characters desperately trying to know him better. They trace their relationships towards him. Amber, on the other hand, is nearly absent from her own death. The characters trace away from her and towards the way male characters feel (Wilson's loss, House's guilt). Amber becomes just an imagined figure of House's guilt. Even her ghost is not her own. (Though I think many fans do a more feminist read and reclaim the way she haunts the narrative--but imho that would be a negotiated if not fully oppositional reading, to use Stuart Hall's decoding/encoding terms.)

One easy way to see that gendered difference is in how the show refers to these characters after death. Kutner is always "Kutner," never just "House's dead fellow" or rarely "our dead colleague." Amber is often referred to as "Wilson's dead girlfriend." Kutner is his own person, Amber rhetorically gets reduced to an object belonging to a man.

In conclusion: sexism operates structurally, which can make it hard to identify! And one of the funny effects of contemporary fandom doing so much good work to un-fridge women and give marginalized female characters richer personalities and more chances to grow is that canon's intended message of sexism gets obscured. Which, is awesome? Keep up the good work! Let's make misogyny unintelligible 🎉

#house md #amber volakis #meta #asks #it's media studies Saturday with oriley!

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restlessmaknae · 3 days ago

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words that started you & me // hanbin

After a particularly nasty injury and a year abroad, you go back to dancing, but it turns out that it’s still too difficult for you to trust someone else, even if it’s Sung Hanbin out of all people.

➳ Characters: dancer!Hanbin x dancer!female reader/you

➳ Genre: dance partners au, hurt/comfort

➳ Words: 2.5k

➳ Warning: mentions of injuries (sprained ankle, broken ribs, back injuries, blue and purple marks), period pain, hint at parental pressure, reader having flashbacks to her injury, reader's previous dance partner was a jerk

➳ A/N: This story was requested in my 1200 followers request event by the lovely @kukkurookkoo. Hope you enjoy it with all its angst! 💖

You still have time to request in the event, so check out the masterpost if you're interested *-*

You had always thought that injuries showed how excellent of a dancer you were. You had worn those blue and purple patches dotting your skin as a badge of honor, a testament to your hard work, to the many hours you put into practise, to the many falls you had taken and even more you were about to take.

You had always thought that you were invincible, an unbreakable diamond placed inside a metallic glass, strong and durable through and through. You had kept dancing even through muscle pain, period cramps and being sick. You had told yourself that this was the only way you could make it and cement yourself as the perfect dancer, the perfect performer and the perfect daughter.

Until your sickly twisted illusion had shattered into tiny pieces, and you had fallen into the darkness alongside your perfectly curated confidence and long-withstanding trust for dancing.

You were cautious when you met Sung Hanbin, but you were cautious with everything since your injury. Even though you wanted to start again on your own, not with a partner, it didn’t end well, so to hold you back from destroying yourself even further, your old dance teacher suggested joining one of her peers’ academy. You weren’t about to go back to the same one you used to attend, not when you could run into your previous dance partner any time, and see how fine he was when he had destroyed the one thing that you had worked so hard for.

So there you were, meeting your new dance partner for the first time who was said to be an ace, a boy who could defy gravity and push the boundaries of dancing with his excellent sense of rhythm and body control. One would think that he didn’t need a partner to shine if he was so good at what he was doing, but the teacher who paired you two up said that it was because he wanted to challenge himself given that he hadn’t danced with anyone before.

“Hello!” Sung Hanbin entered the practise room with ease and with the confidence of a boy who had been attending that exact same academy ever since he had started dancing. Compared to him, you must have looked out of place, masked anxiety laced with fear under that neutral expression of yours, but you held your chin up high nevertheless.

“Hello!” You greeted him back, eyeing him for a good five seconds when he walked up to you to properly introduce himself. Despite his reputation, there was nothing off-standish about him; he had worn-out sweatpants, sports shoes that had probably seen better days and an oversized white tee on, but it was the way he moved that told tales about the dancer he was. Elegant, fully in control of his every move yet relaxed limbs that were more defined than others his age.

“My name is Sung Hanbin. Nice to meet you. Please, take care of me,” he said it so eloquently, so perfectly as if he had been practising these lines over and over again, and bowed at a perfect angle out of respect. You wondered what the teacher had told him about you to act this way or whether he was generally this polite.

Either way, you shook off your questions and introduced yourself, reciprocating his gesture. He wore this genuine, relaxed smile that made you feel even more out of place than before. There was something about the way he looked so composed, so put together when you constantly felt like crumbling at the passing of a gentle breeze ever since you had come back from abroad.

He either didn’t notice your stoic expression or he thought that you were merely shy around strangers because he started talking about how excited he was to dance with you, and what kind of styles he had done before. Then, he asked about your side, and you were glad that the dance teacher came in at that moment because you weren’t sure that you could chat so easily about dancing. He might have been your new dance partner, but you weren’t ready to trust him.

The class went better than expected. The teacher probably took it into consideration that you had an on-and-off history with dancing in the past year because you didn’t start with a difficult choreography. The moves were loose, well stretched out to the rhythm of the song, and the first part didn’t involve any close interaction with Hanbin, only a part where you were standing in front of him and did the same moves in the opposite direction.

You monitored the two of you in the front mirror, and you could tell that the difference between you two were obvious, the way his muscles were ready to dance any given second and the way you were still a bit stiff, still just getting into it. Hanbin didn’t comment on it though, instead, he turned to you when the class was over and raised his hands for a high-five.

“We were good, weren’t we?” He flashed you a wide smile that not even the drops of sweat rolling down his cheeks could wash away.

You looked at him, trying with a smile, but you couldn’t get any words out, and maybe that was what pushed the boy to ask:

“Did I do something wrong?”

The way he asked was so sincere, so earnest, you had to look away to not see the genuine worry in his eyes because you didn’t deserve it. Besides, there was no use getting used to someone’s worry when they could hurt you anytime and not even apologise for it.

“Nope. It’s not you, it’s me,” you let him know before gathering your stuff and leaving him behind in the practise room.

Going back to dancing after taking time off due to your injury was like meeting an old friend: you were expecting to feel the same thrill, reminiscence about the good times together, but instead, all you felt was fear and anxiety over what could go wrong and how you could have messed it up so bad.

The only thing that helped you through this transition was Hanbin. At first, you were suspicious of him because he seemed too kind, too gentle, too positive, but after a while, you realised that was just who he was, and he wasn’t playing a part. Unlike you who had to put on your best act each and every time to not crumble like a sand castle swept away by the waves of the sea.

You were actually starting to feel more comfortable around him, something that you had not seen coming with your tendency to keep a distance from people since the injury, but then, the dance teacher decided to put a part into the choreography where you were supposed to spin out of Hanbin’s arms.

At first, you thought that you were fine. It had been a year since you had done that move, it was okay. It was supposed to be okay. There were no stairs around you after all, you weren’t even on a stage but in a practise room, and it was Hanbin beside you, not your previous dance partner. Yet, the flashbacks of that day, of that performance, of your injury came crashing down on you, and instead of spinning out of his arms, your legs stayed cemented into the ground, your left hand holding onto his right hand, your eyes closing in the meantime.

You heard your erratic heartbeat pulsating in your ears, making your head spin, your chest heaping up and down in a panicked manner. Your whole body froze in time, in the memory, in the past version of you, the one before you had gone through the worst year of your life. You were waiting for the crush, the excruciating pain in your leg, in your side, in your back. The needle-like feeling of the ache setting in, and the numbness that took hold of you afterwards.

You were waiting for all of it, and yet… none came. Instead, you heard Hanbin’s voice faintly, and both him and your dance teacher were around you when you dared to open your eyes. You didn’t even hear what they were saying, you merely held onto Hanbin’s hand while croaking out:

“Can we take a break… please?”

Your own voice sounded distant, unfamiliar, but as you broke through the remains of the flashback and heard your own words, the rest of the haunting feeling slowly faded away, and you heard your teacher’s answer clearly:

“Let’s finish class early today, and next time, we can talk about how to proceed with this part. Alright?” She suggested, her voice taking on a more gentle tone. She knew about your injury, so she must have sensed that you acted this way because of the flashbacks.

You bobbed your head, and once she was out of sight and you were sure that you stood on the ground firmly, you let go of Hanbin’s hand. The boy hesitated only for a short moment before he asked:

“What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?”

You shook your head. No, nothing. No one could do anything to help this situation but you yourself, and you knew this, but still it was so difficult, and Hanbin… he deserved to know at least why you were acting this way. Even if you couldn’t word it, even if he couldn’t help it, you pulled your phone out of your bag and showed him the video of that performance.

“You aren’t standing in the centre,” Hanbin noticed right away, and you just hummed in agreement.

Before you had your dry rehearsal, your dance partner had been texting his girlfriend when you had been instructed about the position of the cameras and the lights and which sticker plastered onto the ground you should stand behind. He had done the dance routine with you, but when the time had come for the actual performance, he had chosen the wrong sticker though you had told him that he had been wrong.

“I’m never wrong. I’ve been dancing for longer than you have,” he had told you off and though you couldn’t have seen his expression in the dark because the lights had been off between the performances, you had a feeling that he had been furious. Thinking that it might not be that big of a problem, you had positioned yourself taking his starting position into consideration, not your rehearsed one.

Hanbin let out an exasperated gasp when the audience in the video did the same. You had been spinning out of your partner’s arms full speed even though you had whispered to him to hold on, but he had let go. Instead of saving both of you from falling down the stairs at the edge of the stage, he had foolishly let you go, letting you stumble down the flight of stairs in your high heels and thin, skin-tight dress. You had a severely sprained ankle alongside a broken rib and back injury. You had immediately cried out from the pain, and you saw Hanbin wince when he heard your voice through the recording.

The video came to an end right then and there, and there it was, the reason behind your step back from dancing, the reason you could only have theoretical classes during your exchange program for uni because you couldn’t actually teach a dance lesson when you were advised by doctors not to. The thing is, you could have chosen to go back on the year abroad opportunity, but you had been so sick of everyone treating you with pity, knowing that you had been the girl who had fallen down the stairs that you had chosen to go away. To run away.

If only coming back wouldn't hurt so bad…

“I’m so sorry. I can’t even comprehend how it must have felt, and…”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, pocketing your phone. You had watched that video over and over again, so much that it felt like it had become a part of your identity. Ironically so, the last year had more or less taken dancing away from you, but it had given you this memory, something that now you carried with you wherever you went.

You saw the exact moment Hanbin’s calm expression changed, how it shifted into rage and frustration – so unlike him – that you embraced the storm before it even hit.

“It’s not okay. He shouldn’t have let go when he had seen the edge of the stage, he shouldn’t even have stood to the side in the beginning. What’s more, he should have reached after you, did anything, literally anything to help you break your fall, but he just stood there!”

You had screamed these sentences at the top of your lungs over and over again, but had never heard it from anyone, much less someone as gentle and composed as Hanbin. It surprised you so much that you found your facade slipping, cracking, breaking with each of his enraged words, your tears accompanying the downfall.

“You’re right. It’s not okay. It’s never been okay,” you admitted through the curtain of your tears, your voice breaking by the end.

Hanbin immediately closed the distance between you two, and put his arms around your fragile frame, shining some light onto the darkness, empathy onto the hurt, as he let you cry the tears you had been suppressing ever since you had come back to Seoul.

Time had seemed to stop when you had come back to Seoul after your year abroad. However, the more you let yourself break through the shield that the past had built around you, the more you realised that time didn’t stop, rather, it was you who made time stop by being stuck in the past memories.

Hanbin helped you make new ones, and by allowing him to guide you through your new dance journey, you began to trust him. Not just with the choreography, but with your past and your vulnerabilities. It wasn’t easy, but he was there to hold you, to be someone you could hold onto, and he was patient even when you momentarily built walls around you and your feelings.

Beside him, you realised that injuries were not an accomplishment, rather, something you should tend to as soon as possible, and let them heal even if it took time – the same applied for both physical and emotional injuries. Beside him, you weren’t terrified of falling because he held you steady and strong, his care for you just as unwavering as his support while dancing.

For the first time in a long time, you were willing to put your past behind you and start anew – in the moment, in the present, in the company of Hanbin.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

Click here for my ZB1 masterlist!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for ZB1 or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here. 🥰

Header taken from the 'Good So Bad' MV, story title taken from 'HELLO'.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

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creepy-friday · 2 years ago

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Just came across your blog and I ended up binge-reading everything! I'm in love with the way you write the characters, specially the Proxies. And the female Proxy is definetly my favourite👌.

How it would be if, instead of being Slender's trusted minion and already a experienced Proxy, she was a newbie and fresh meat? Kinda like Cody, younger and dragged there with little to no choice because the Operator saw potential in them. Would the dynamics change, since she doesn't have a high rank to rely on?

Maybe Brian is appointed as her mentor and he gets advantage of her inexperience by corrupting her?

I'M VERY GLAD YOU ENJOY MY BLOG💖

Creepypasta Proxies x Newbie!Female Proxy

The overbearing silence after the buzzing static faded away was bringing in a new damned life.It's been a month since you were bought here,locked in your room until The Operator decided it was enough for you to settle in

It was time for you to meet again with the masked men that dragged you here-the same killers that were supposed to be your team, "allies" even

Every resident was looking down on you,even EJ that pitied you and looked at you with mercy behind his blue mask.The first time you had to pay a visit to his clinic he even asked if you are scared because deep down,his instinct made him to enjoy it

The harassing is real,but this time it's more dangerous.Remember,you're a helpless outsider in a place full of rapists,killers and awful fantasies.Walking down dark hallways is always in a hurry,same as eating and showering.

Since Brian was assigned to your ass,you're almost totally saved and worry free next to him,but he's also a piece of shit

He sees your potential,after all, if The Operator views you as valuable-then you're most certainly priceless.

He's a gentle guy,takes his sweet sweet time to teach you everything you need to know.

Sure,he respects you,but during training sessions he will do everything in his power to get you under him,sort of helpless.

"See,it's not that hard" he breathed out as he guided your hands on the right places "if you ever happen to find yourself in this position you know what to do now,right?" he smiled in a gentle manner,slowly standing up from above you,taking you by your hand with him."Do you want to reverse the roles?"

He will defend your name even if you are in the wrong during proxy meetings.He will keep on bringing up how fucked up all of them felt when they arrived there,and this point always works.(more or less for Masky)He knows how to pull the strings when he wants to

You already know the drill,Masky is a menace to work with,especially with newbies.Don't get me wrong,he doesn't expect you to be fully prepared to know shit,he enjoys having you dumb,but he will always make you feel like shit,he will try his best to bring a pained expression to your face because it makes him feel better and he's bored of Toby

Definitely uses you as a vent chat,no restrictions for him,from inventing some fucked up story to telling you about his miserable life from before the mansion and during the present since he doesn't expect you to stay

The only time he stops is when his friend gives him the sign.It's crazy,but he respects Brian more than he cares about breaking some of your lovely bones

Toby was more than glad to know another woman "joined in",especially since you're new and vulnerable,he now has the chance to look out for someone and to be needed

Altough Toby was the most unusual individual,Cody was the one to give you the creeps most of the times.And he does it on purpose

Since he's no longer the fresh meat everyone looks down to,he feels superior that now he has you around

He wouldn't bully you or make you feel bad on purpose, but he will definitely baby you around A LOT

Kate is complicated.She doesn't talk,she doesn't look at you,she doesn't make any effort to teach nor to train you.She looks down on you,and the only time she will open her mouth is to either tell you to stop what you're doing or to answer any of your questions with a phrase so vague it will make you have even more questions

Time is precious,so don't waste it.Every hour can be spent becoming stronger,but also every hour goes by terribly slow when around every fucking corner someone is gawking their eyes at you

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i-smoke-chapstick · 5 months ago

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‘BEAUTY SCHOOL,

-RORSCHACH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; He has to show you how much he craves you.

⋆ tags/warnings. rorschach x female reader. NSFW. pure porn, SOME plot. but mostly porn. incredibly self indulgent after watching watchmen and realizing theres no smut of this man? I had to do it myself. Kinda OOC. (Rory’s codependent in this). I wanted to write something a little more obsessive. Be prepared for more watchmen fics. WATCHMEN REQUESTS OPEN!! For all characters!! stalking, smut, unprotected sex, man handling, choking, groping, obsessive behavior, mild pseudo praise kink. AGRESSSSSIVE sex. It’s Rorschach, what do you expect ! He’s a warning by himself.

♫ “I like you when you take off your face. / I watch you taste it. / It drives me crazy, Just drives me wild.” Beauty School by Deftones.

You aren’t sure what the two of you are.

Late nights, just like this. He stalks you, put bluntly. He follows you home, hands in pockets, weaving in and out of shadows. The night is dangerous. Full of sinners and whores. Scum.

But not you. No, you’re…purer than the rest of them. Distilled. You remind him of Daniel. Naive. And you lack Daniel’s skills in protection. You need to be careful, at all costs. That’s why he’s there. He watches silently, and eventually when you’re alone, he’ll appear. He won’t knock, but he’ll appear. You won’t know how. But he always does.

You aren’t safe, not even now. Not in your apartment, door locked. No, you’re only safe with him. Next to him.

Your adrenline spikes when you turn on the light. There he is. Expressionless mask standing before you, staring right back into the nothingness. Your body jumps, and you force yourself to swallow the squeal in your throat.

He grunts to himself. He zones in on you, like a predator. Any other night you’d ask why, but you already know. From the way his jaw just barely clenches from underneath his mask. He’s needy. As rough and rude as he is…Walter Kovacs will never fully dissapear. Not with you.

He needs to taste you. Know you’re here. Know you’re safe. Make you feel good.

You let your breathing slow, and your heart calm. When you realize what it is, what he wants, you can’t help the smallest ghost of a smile on your face.

Okay, Rory, You think. Go on and have it.

Before you know it, he’s all tongue and teeth. Mask lifted up just above his mouth, kissing and licking and sucking on your neck. He’s placed himself behind you, breathing you in. His hand starts around your neck, squeezing you breathless, holding you in place. He works his way down, eventually almost painfully grabbing onto you. You can’t help the small string of noises that fall from your lips.

“I watch you when you sleep,” He says, voice hoarse as always. Blunt. He doesn’t hide it. You’re eyebrows furrow together, trying to focus. You should reprimand him, but you can’t. It’s who he is. “You’re all I think about…Don’t you dare turn away from me.”

His voice comes out in a growl, and you feel your body surge.

“Won’t let go.” His hand traverses down to your core. He wastes no time, rubbing gentle circles through your clothing.

“I’m yours,” You say, to help him. Reassure him…ease him. Help him down from this.

Almost involuntarily, at his words, his ministrations speed up. He needs to feel you, he needs more.

“Show me,” His words border on impatient. Demanding. But you see through them. He’s begging. For trust, for loyalty, for proof.

You turn your head towards his, flipping yourself around. You connect your lips, letting his grip falter, only to tighten. It’s raw, borderlining on feral. It’s all desperation. This kiss is punishing. You don’t know what for. His stubble scrapes your chin, breathing raggedly. His teeth skim your bottom lip.

You’re surroundings blur as you’re moved onto the bed, pushed and laid out for him. Even though its dark, he’s guided you to your own bed. He knows this room as well as you do, and you don’t even question it.

One last kiss is pressed to you, dizzying. A groan of his vibrates against your mouth as he trails down. Further and further and further, pressing wet and messy kisses across your chest and navel. He’s hungry tonight. He’s starving.

He practically rips your clothes off you. In one movement, you’re bare for him, and you shiver. You feel his hot breath against your clit, and he wears an expression akin to a snarl, before he roughly grabs your thighs. Impatient.

You didn’t peg him for a tease, but it seems he knows what he’s doing. You know he’s never had anyone else before you. You think he just likes to see the way you shake underneath him. Knowing he’s the cause.

He presses only a few more tentative kisses to the inside of your thighs, before he lets out a huff, and his tongue connects with your pussy instantly. Like magnets. His tongue is rough against you, swiping up and down. His nails dig almost painfully into your thighs, and he pushes you’re whole body up into him and his mouth. He’s feeding you to himself.

“Rory-” you whimper out at the harsh move, legs lifted above his shoulders. He grunts in response.

“Closer.” Is all he says, unable to break away. He shoves you into him, and obscenities fall from your lips.

His hands come up around your legs, palming your breasts and thighs. It’s all for you, for your pleasure. You can feel his praise, communicated through his tongue shoved in and out of you. The bundling of nerves in your stomach tightens. You can’t see through his mask, how he watches your every move. The way your eyes glaze over. Him. All him. All because of him.

A yelp of surprise leaves you when he breaks himself away, boiling point reached. He flips you over on your stomach, ass up in the air. A guttural sound from him arises, and you feel his palm collide with your thigh. Coat long ago discared, muscular arms man-handle you upwards, angling you up to him.

You clutch the sheets hard, clawing for a tether. He shoves his cock into you in one movement. Animalistic. His hands hold onto your hips like a lifeline, and he wastes no time in pounding you into the bed.

You hear the mattress squeak and the headboard bang against the wall. You go to put your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but he roughly grabs your wrist before you get the chance, shoving it back down. You squeeze your eyes shut in the pleasure, pitying your neighbours.

“Feel,” He commands. And you do. “Feel me.”

You can hardly breathe, sprawled out for him. You don’t know how you couldn’t. His teeth grit as he bucks into you, pinning you down. He watches, mesmorized, as his dick slides in and out of your hole, dissapearing. He’s kept himself from this degeneracy for so long. This…this is weakness. But not with you. Never with you. You’re different. You’re his. And you feel better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

Everytime you clench around him, he fucks you harder. You’re sure you’ll be bruised in the morning. You don’t care.

“Only me,” He repeats. He feels that strange, foreign feeling of ecstacy boil within him. Everytime he takes you like this is like an electric shock. He’s been…celibate for so long. He’ll never tire of this feeling. His words break more than usual, both of you lost in complete pleasure.

With a low grunt, he pushes into you one final time, spilling his cum inside you. You feel him pump you full, hands gripping onto you that silently say hold still and take it.

This is him. He’s bared himself to you. He needs you, over and over again. He’s filled with guilt. Disgusted with himself. Somehow, it only makes him fuck you harder through your orgasm, as if chasing it all away. Nothing else matters. No one. No one but you.

When you both are dressed, he stands at the edge of the bed. Your body is worn, and sleep overtakes your body and mind easily. He wasn’t lying. He’ll watch over you, all night. Every twitch of your body, every soft breath. He fantasizes about what he would do, to any criminal stupid enough to dare try to hurt you.

You’re safe like this, he reaffirms. Only like this. Only with him.

#x reader #watchmen x reader #watchmen #rorschach #rorschach x reader #walter kovacs x reader #walter kovacs #dc #dc comics #smut

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

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Underworld Insomnia || 3 - B. Barnes

Character : Bucky × Psychiatrist Female!Reader

Summary: As a ruthless contract killer, Bucky is feared in the underworld of criminals. His opponents freeze when they see him, as he is feared among them. However, they don't know that he could be warm to only one person: his psychiatrist. The only person who could make him fall asleep.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

Upon hearing your plea and witnessing your disheveled appearance, Bucky feels a surge of determination. After all, you had helped him with his sleeping troubles, and now it's his turn to repay the favor. "Let's go back to somewhere safe," he suggests, his voice steady and reassuring.

A glimmer of hope flickers in your eyes at Bucky's offer of assistance. With a grateful nod, you gather Conroy into your arms once more, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

As you start to move, Conroy's voice breaks the silence with a whisper, "Are we going to run again?"

You pause, glancing down at Conroy with a reassuring smile. "No," you reply softly, your voice filled with determination. "I think we will stay safe for a while."

Arriving at Bucky's house, Conroy's eyes widen in awe as he takes in the grandeur of the surroundings. "Wow, you're rich," he exclaims, unable to hide his admiration.

Bucky can't help but scoff at the comment, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Finally, he feels a sense of accomplishment at being able to impress the young boy, even for a moment.

At that moment, Bucky had assumed Conroy was just a curious kid, until he made another astute observation.

Conroy adjusts his glasses and remarks, "There's no female trace in this place. It looks so empty, which means this must be one of your hidden houses."

Bucky's eyebrows raise in surprise at Conroy's insight. "You hit the nail on the head," he acknowledges, impressed by the boy's perceptiveness.

Bucky begins to piece together the situation. He realizes that you and Conroy must be hiding, especially considering the recent danger you faced. Given the risk of the masked man finding your address, you would unlikely return to your place. Although Bucky doesn't fully trust you, he sees no harm in offering one of his safehouses as a temporary refuge.

When you heard that, you felt relieved. If this place is one of Bucky's hidden houses, it means it's likely off the radar of the group of people who chased you and Conroy.

"Thank you so much for your help, Mr.Barnes," you express gratefully, feeling a sense of gratitude toward him.

Bucky chuckles softly. "Call me Bucky. I feel old every time you call me 'Mr.'"

Before you can reply, Conroy interjects with his typical bluntness. "But you are old."

Bucky grits his teeth and playfully ruffles Conroy's hair. "Go to sleep," he commands, trying to distract the boy.

Conroy protests, "I can't. I'm hungry!" His complaint is cut short when you offer him a piece of chicken. Before returning, Bucky had kindly bought dinner from a fast-food chain restaurant.

As Conroy takes a bite of the seasoned fried chicken, his eyes widen in delight. "Yum! This is the most delicious food I've ever eaten! It's even better than the food in the lab."

Bucky raises an eyebrow, intrigued by Conroy's mention of a lab. What does it mean? Is this the first time the kid has tasted fried chicken?

"I think it's time for me to explain," you suggest, sensing Bucky's curiosity and realizing it's time to share more about your situation with him.

You and Bucky converse in the living room while Conroy enjoys his food, appearing like any other child his age in moments like these.

Seated in different chairs facing each other, you begin, "Conroy is a special kid."

Bucky nods in agreement, recognizing the uniqueness of the situation.

You continue, "He grew up in a lab where all the best scientists gather. His mother is my sister, who is also a scientist."

Memories flood back to you, vividly recalling the day when your sister, weak but beaming with happiness, handed you Conroy. "He's your nephew," she said gently, sealing your bond. Since that day, you promised to protect Conroy.

"The reason why we're hiding is because of the Hercules project," you explain further.

Bucky listens intently, intrigued by the unfamiliar name.

"Hercules is the name of the drugs," you elaborate. "It's designed to make soldiers stronger, undefeatable, with accelerated wound healing, enhanced eyesight, and heightened hearing senses."

"Sounds promising," Bucky comments "What does this have to do with Conroy?"

You close your eyes, remembering the horrors of that terrible night. The day you lost your sister, along with the lab. "The drugs caused people to go insane. Blood poured from their eyes and ears, and they would harm themselves."

Bucky's expression darkens as he absorbs the gravity of the situation.

"The worst part," you continue grimly, "is that the lab wants to mass-produce the drugs for regular people, particularly those who enjoy working out. Just imagine the potential side effects."

Bucky's brow furrows in confusion. "Still, I just can't connect the situation with Conroy," he admits, struggling to understand the full extent of Conroy's involvement.

As you explain further, you clench your fist tightly, the tension evident in your voice. "The only person who could recreated the drugs is my sister. Conroy has an amazing memory. Before my sister died, she made sure he remembered the Hercules drug formula, the calculations, and the side-effects. But what truly made him a target is that he memorized the names of the victims."

Bucky is taken aback by this revelation, his expression mirroring his disbelief. "A 4-year-old understands something so gruesome?" he murmurs, his voice laced with incredulity.

You nod solemnly. "Yes. And that's why we're hiding."

"The people who chase us," you continue, your voice trembling with emotion, "on the day my sister destroyed the drugs, they destroyed the lab. Everything they built turned to ash. And everyone in it, including my sister." A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the horrifying events.

"If they catch Conroy," you whisper, your hands trembling as you clasp them together, "they will torture him, force him to reveal the Hercules drug formula. And after that..." You trail off, unable to voice the unspeakable horrors that may await Conroy if he were to fall into the wrong hands.

Tears well up in your eyes as you speak, the weight of the situation bearing down on you with crushing force. "I pray to God every day," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, "that nothing bad happens to Conroy."

Bucky feels a surge of empathy as he listens to your story. If he had a family like yours, he knows he would be grateful beyond measure.

"Bucky, could you help us?" you ask, your voice tinged with desperation.

Bucky tilts his head, considering your request. "How are you going to pay me?" he inquires, his tone cautious and business-like.

You're taken aback by the question, realizing you hadn't thought about it before. "I...," you falter, unsure of how to respond.

"You can't afford me," Bucky asserts bluntly, cutting off your attempt to explain.

Speechless, you struggle to find the right words. "I-I know," you stammer, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over you. "Is there anything I could do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he considers your offer.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured. "Work for me," he suggests. "Read me to sleep."

"That's it?" you inquire, surprised by the simplicity of his request.

Bucky nods a hint of determination in his eyes. "That's it," he confirms.

You smile warmly at Bucky, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unexpected kindness. "I will give my best. Thank you, Bucky," you express sincerely, your voice filled with appreciation.

When Bucky sees your smile directed at him, he's taken aback. He's accustomed to seeing you with a groggy expression around him, so your genuine smile catches him off guard. It's a small gesture, but it makes him feel strangely reassured as if you're starting to trust him.

"Sister," Conroy pipes up, interrupting the moment with his childish voice.

Bucky rolls his eyes at the interruption, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

Conroy leaps toward you eagerly. "I'm full and I want to sleep. Read me a bedtime story, please," he requests, his excitement palpable.

However, before Conroy can reach you, Bucky swoops in and lifts him up. "Your sister is going to read me a bedtime story," he announces, a playful glint in his eye.

Conroy frowns in confusion. "But you're an adult. Why do you want to listen to children's stories?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

You step in to defuse the situation, sensing the tension between the two. "Guys, calm down," you interject, your voice gentle yet firm. "I'll read it to both of you," you offer, hoping to restore peace and harmony to the moment.

As Conroy and Bucky settle into their respective armchairs, a palpable tension fills the room as they exchange glares.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence, and begin to read another bedtime story, hoping to diffuse the tension between the two.

"Once upon a time, there lived a mischievous squirrel named Sammy in a magical forest far, far away. Sammy was known throughout the forest for his clever tricks and daring escapades. Sammy's adventures took him to every corner of the forest, from the tallest treetops to the deepest, darkest caves. Along the way, he encountered many colorful characters, including wise old owls, friendly rabbits, and even a grumpy bear with a heart of gold-."

As you reach the story's climax, you notice their eyelids drooping, and before long, they both drift off into a peaceful sleep.

The soothing cadence of your voice coupled with the enchanting tale seems to be lulling them into a peaceful slumber.

You smile softly to yourself, feeling a sense of accomplishment as you witness the calming effect your storytelling has on them.

With each passing moment, their breathing becomes more rhythmic, and their bodies relax into the comfortable armchairs.

You quietly close the book, careful not to disturb their rest, and bask in the serene atmosphere of the room.

********

The next morning, Bucky wakes up feeling refreshed.

As he rises from his chair, he notices that Conroy is still sound asleep. Leaning down, Bucky can't help but admire the child's peaceful expression and chubby cheeks, finding him unexpectedly endearing. However, he knows all too well that Conroy's innocent appearance belies a sharp tongue that can test even Bucky's patience.

The aroma of something sweet wafts through the air, drawing Bucky's attention to the kitchen. Surprised, he finds you cooking pancakes—a sight he never expected, as he rarely sees anyone use the kitchen, let alone cook.

"Morning," you greet, turning off the stove and wiping your hands on your apron as you acknowledge Bucky's presence.

Bucky squints slightly against the brightness of the morning light streaming into the kitchen. The room seems to radiate with a warm and inviting atmosphere that he's not accustomed to experiencing.

"Uhm, morning," Bucky responds, still adjusting to the unexpected scene.

You take a recorder out of your pocket, explaining your idea from the previous night. "I thought ahead and recorded myself reading several children's stories," you explain. "There may be times when I can't be here to read to you, so this way, you'll always have something to listen to."

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, impressed by your foresight. "Thank you," he murmurs sincerely.

"You want to try listening to it?" you offer, extending the recorder and a pair of earphones to Bucky. "Let me know if it's not good."

"Sure," Bucky replies, accepting your earphones and recorder. With a nod of appreciation, he puts on the earphones and presses the play button, eager to hear your recorded stories.

As Bucky listens to the recorded stories, he notices something unexpected—the faint sound of your breath in the background, almost as if you're beside him.

Intrigued by the intimate detail, Bucky finds himself drawn into the story, eager to experience the magic of your storytelling once again.

"Once upon a time, in a land of eternal winter, there lived a lonely snowflake named Frosty," the recording begins, your voice gentle and soothing. "Frosty longed for companionship, but no matter where he drifted, he found himself alone in the icy wilderness,-."

As Bucky continues to listen to your story, he finds himself growing increasingly relaxed. The soothing cadence of your voice and the gentle rhythm of your breath lull him into a state of tranquility.

Suddenly, his eyelids begin to droop, and he feels an overwhelming heaviness wash over his body. Before he can even register what's happening, his vision blurs, and everything fades into darkness.

You watch in shock as Bucky loses balance, the earphones slipping from his ears. "Bucky!" you exclaim, rushing to his side.

In just two short minutes of listening to your story, Bucky's body dropped to the floor.

Concerned, you gently shake him, trying to rouse him from his sudden slumber. "Bucky, wake up!" you urge, but he remains unresponsive.

Panicked, you quickly check his pulse and breathing, relieved to find that he's still alive, albeit deeply asleep.

As you try to process what just happened, you can't help but wonder—did your story really have that much of an impact on him, or is there something else going on with Bucky's health?

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player279achlys · 22 days ago

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The golden rabbit's legacy (Hwang In-Ho/Frontman x fem! reader!)

Il-nam's granddaughter will prove herself worthy of being the next hostess, while someone becomes her loyal shadow.

CHAPTER VII: the weight of memories & a dangerous bond

Previous chapter: Chapter VI

Next chapter: Chapter VIII

Pairing: Hwang In-Ho/Frontman x Original!female!Character

Word count: 1,9k words.

Summary: In the shadow of her grandfather’s dark empire, Melinoe, a brilliant young woman in her early twenties, steps into a world of blood, betrayal, and power she was never meant to inherit. As the granddaughter of the infamous Oh Il-Nam, creator of the deadly Squid Games, she is thrust into a brutal legacy that demands she not only survive but thrive as its new hostess. Determined to honor her family’s name and prove herself worthy of the golden rabbit mask, she designs games more cunning and lethal than any before.

But power comes at a cost. Beneath her calculated exterior lies a woman haunted by guilt, trauma, and the faces of those she has condemned to die. And at her side stands Hwang In-Ho, the enigmatic Front Man—older than her, cold, and feared by all, except for her. Since the day he learned of her existence, In-Ho has been deeply, obsessively in love with Melinoe. His devotion is as intense as it is toxic, a tangled mix of desire and protectiveness that pushes him to control every aspect of her life.

As Melinoe rises to prominence, she finds herself navigating not only the deadly games but also the dangerous allure of In-Ho. Their relationship is a powder keg of suppressed emotions, forbidden passion, and fraught power dynamics. He would destroy anyone who comes close to her—including a charming, younger VIP who flirts with her one too many times. Yet, while In-Ho dreams of keeping her safe in his arms, Melinoe dreams of reshaping the games into something darker and more just—her own twisted vision of justice against the world’s worst offenders.

When the 33rd Squid Games begin, everything changes. With her grandfather entering the arena as Player 001 and Gi-Hun as Player 456, the games take on unprecedented stakes. As alliances crumble and bodies fall, Melinoe must contend with the weight of her grandfather’s legacy, the manipulations of the VIPs, and the unrelenting obsession of the man who would burn the world for her.

Will Melinoe rise as the queen of the games, or will the bonds of obsession and love be the end of her?

Warnings: MDNI!!!, Afab!, angst. Sexual language. Fear of losing someone. Smut (light kinda), grumpy x sunshine, dark romance, age gap, possessive, obsessed, paranoid and dominant In-Ho, daddy issues, yandere behaviour, jealousy, violence, murder, typical squid game stuff.

English isn’t my first language, if there are any mistakes, please forgive me. :)

That night, Melinoe sat alone in her quarters, the sounds of the compound distant and muted. Her exhaustion pressed heavily on her, but sleep felt impossible. Her head throbbed faintly, a lingering reminder of the injury she had barely survived. She reached for the small glass of water on her bedside table but froze as a fragment of memory flickered across her mind.

It was a fleeting sensation at first: the warmth of his hands, the press of his lips against her skin, the low timbre of his voice as he whispered her name. The memory was hazy, like a dream she couldn’t quite grasp, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

“In-Ho…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she pressed a hand to her temple.

The fragments came faster now, tumbling into her consciousness with startling clarity. His touch—gentle yet commanding. His eyes—dark and intense, filled with a yearning that matched her own. The way he had kissed her, his lips claiming hers with a desperation that left her breathless.

Her heart raced as the pieces fell into place. The night she had thought was lost to her was suddenly vivid, her body remembering every detail even before her mind could fully process it. She saw herself beneath him, her hands tangled in his hair, her voice calling out his name as he worshipped her with every touch.

“Oh my God,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing as the weight of the memory settled over her.

The next morning, Melinoe found herself restless, the vivid memories of her night with In-Ho still fresh in her mind. She needed answers—needed to confront him about what had happened, why he hadn’t told her, why he had let her believe she had forgotten something so monumental.

She found him in the control room, his mask set aside as he pored over the monitors. His focus was unwavering until she stepped into the room, her presence immediately drawing his attention.

“Melinoe,” he said, standing as she approached. “Is something wrong?”

Her gaze was piercing, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “You didn’t tell me.”

His brow furrowed. “Tell you what?”

She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. “About that night. About us.”

In-Ho froze, his breath hitching as her words sank in. For a moment, he said nothing, his mind racing to process her revelation. “You remember,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she replied, her tone firm. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was better this way,” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “You had so much to deal with already. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“Burden me?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, stepping closer. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me differently if you didn’t remember it the same way.”

Her expression softened at the vulnerability in his voice, but her frustration remained. “In-Ho, you should have trusted me. That night… it mattered to me. You mattered to me.”

The intensity in his gaze returned, his voice trembling with emotion. “You still matter to me, Melinoe. More than you’ll ever know.”

The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air thick with tension and longing.

Before she could respond, he reached for her, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her with a passion that left no room for doubt. This time, there was no hesitation, no barriers between them. She kissed him back just as fervently, her hands gripping his shoulders as she poured everything she couldn’t say into that one moment.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling, he rested his forehead against hers. “I thought I’d lost you,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I can’t lose you, Melinoe. I won’t.”

“You haven’t lost me,” she said softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “But you have to let me in. No more hiding.”

He nodded, his dark eyes glistening with emotion. “No more hiding.”

In the days that followed, their relationship shifted in ways neither of them could deny. In-Ho’s possessiveness grew, his need to protect her bordering on obsessive. Melinoe, now fully aware of the depth of his feelings, found herself drawn to him in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Their bond, forged in the crucible of the games, was as intoxicating as it was dangerous.

As the 33rd games progressed, the weight of their connection became increasingly evident. In-Ho watched her every move with unwavering focus, his obsession with her safety consuming him. Melinoe, for her part, found solace in his presence, even as the games tested her resolve.

But beneath the surface, a storm brewed—one that neither of them could fully control.

The 33rd games moved into their second stage, and the arena’s cold, merciless efficiency claimed more players. Melinoe and In-Ho continued their roles as overseers, but their relationship had irrevocably changed. The memory of their night together, now fully restored, weighed heavily on Melinoe. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had touched her, the way he had looked at her as though she were the center of his universe.

It wasn’t just desire she saw in him. It was obsession.

In-Ho, for his part, felt both exhilaration and terror. She remembered. She was his, and she knew it. But the more he tried to hold onto her, the more he feared he might lose her. Every decision she made, every moment she spent focused on the games instead of him, felt like a knife to his chest.

“You’re distracted,” he said one evening as they reviewed the progress of the players.

Melinoe glanced at him, her hazel-amber eyes sharp. “I’m focused on what matters.”

“Am I not what matters?” he asked, his voice low and tense.

Her lips parted in surprise, but she quickly composed herself. “In-Ho, you know this isn’t about us. My grandfather is down there. I can’t lose sight of that.”

“And what about losing me?” he asked, stepping closer. “Does that matter to you?”

Her chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice, the intensity of his gaze. “I haven’t lost you,” she said softly. “You’re here. You’ve always been here.”

“Then let me be more than that,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “Let me be everything.”

The second stage of the games concluded with a brutal test of strategy and endurance, reducing the player count to ten. Among the survivors were Oh Il-Nam and Gi-hun, their contrasting personalities creating a fascinating dynamic. Melinoe watched her grandfather closely, her heart aching every time he faltered.

“He’s holding on,” In-Ho said, standing beside her in the observation room. “But not for much longer.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the screen. “This was his choice. I have to respect that.”

In-Ho’s jaw tightened. He wanted to comfort her, to take away her pain, but he didn’t know how. Instead, he stood silently by her side, his presence a quiet promise.

That night, Melinoe returned to her quarters, her mind heavy with the weight of the day. She barely had time to process her thoughts before there was a knock at the door. She knew who it was before she even opened it.

In-Ho stood in the doorway, his dark suit pristine, his mask tucked under his arm. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something she couldn’t quite name.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he replied simply, stepping inside before she could protest. He closed the door behind him, his presence filling the room.

She sighed, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “In-Ho, what are we doing?”

“What we were always meant to do,” he said, crossing the room to stand before her. “Melinoe, you can’t keep running from this.”

“I’m not running,” she said, her voice rising. “But we can’t keep pretending that everything is fine. The games, my grandfather, the players… It’s all falling apart.”

“Nothing’s falling apart,” he said, his voice firm. “I won’t let it.”

Her gaze softened as she looked up at him. “You can’t control everything, In-Ho.”

“No,” he said, kneeling before her. “But I can protect you. And I will. No matter what.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “I don’t need protection. I need you.”

The words broke something in him. He surged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. She responded with equal fervor, her hands tangling in his hair as he pulled her closer.

Their movements were frantic, driven by the weight of everything unsaid. He pushed her back onto the bed, his hands roaming over her body with a mix of reverence and urgency. She gasped as he kissed his way down her neck, his lips trailing fire along her skin.

“In-Ho,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He froze, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Say it again.”

“In-Ho,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time.

He groaned, his lips claiming hers once more as he poured everything he couldn’t say into that kiss. They undressed each other slowly, their touches lingering, their breaths mingling as they came together.

He worshiped her with every touch, every kiss, every whispered word. She was his salvation, his obsession, the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

The morning came too soon for In-Ho. Melinoe awoke to find In-Ho watching her, his expression softer than she had ever seen it. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“You should sleep more,” he said quietly.

She shook her head, sitting up. “There’s too much to do.”

“You can’t keep pushing yourself like this,” he said, his voice tinged with concern. “You’ll break.”

She looked at him, her hazel-amber eyes filled with determination. “I can’t afford to break, In-Ho. Not now. Not ever.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her that she didn’t have to carry the weight alone, but he knew better than to push her. Instead, he nodded, his hand lingering on hers. “Then let me carry some of it.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “You already are.”

The marbles game had reduced the players to a select few, their numbers dwindling in the shadow of merciless choices. The once-rowdy arena was now eerily silent, the echoes of desperation and betrayal fading into the distance. Among the survivors, Gi-hun stood out—a man who had won by the skin of his teeth, his eyes haunted by the cost of his victory.

Melinoe watched the proceedings from the observation deck, her hands gripping the edge of the console. Her grandfather, Oh Il-Nam, had lost deliberately, giving his marbles to Gi-hun with a smile that carried more weight than words. Now, the guards escorted him from the arena, his frail form leaning on their support as he prepared to leave the games for the final time.

In-Ho stood beside Melinoe, his expression unreadable beneath his mask. But she could sense the tension radiating from him, the way his gloved hands clenched at his sides. He had respected Oh Il-Nam’s decision to participate, but the outcome weighed heavily on both of them.

“He’s leaving,” Melinoe said quietly, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest.

“It’s what he wanted,” In-Ho replied, his voice low.

She turned to him, her hazel-amber eyes meeting his. “And what about what I want?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, with a softness that belied his usual stoicism, he said, “Whatever it is, I’ll make it happen.”

Our man In-Ho is OBSESSED with Melinoe, like A LOT, and it'll go deeper, trust me.

With love, Achlys.

OKAY OMG YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING. 500 LIKES!? Love youuuu

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stu-dyingstudent · 7 months ago

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Sakura fic recs: captured on a mission/mission gone wrong

Okay, I'm going to be completely honest with y'all, I'm really just recommending stuff by my favorite tropes lmao. Quite honestly, mission gone wrong just makes things so much more entertaining. Poor Sakura though, this girl just can't catch a damn break.

Now, I should point out that there are MANY Sakura fics out there were the mission goes wrong, but in this list I am only going to put ones where that is the primary focus of the series.

Started: 2024.07.23

Last Updated: 2024.07.25

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

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Survival of the fittest - cywscross || ao3 || T || shikasaku || mission gone wrong || one shot

Sakura is thirteen, still a Genin, lost in the middle of Earth Country, lugging an unconscious Chuunin around, and so far beyond scared that she’s moved right on to pissed off.

Survival of the Fittest is a fabulous one-shot that follows the trouble that Sakura and Shikamaru find themselves in after accidentally landing themselves in Iwa. This story depicts the characters truthfully and fully conveys exactly how hopeless they feel in their situation. I highly recommend.

The Ocean is Deep and Dark - Pleasedial123 || ao3 || M || captured || complete

Gato doesn't trust Zabuza to get the job done. Instead he sends a team of thugs to ambush the Bridge Builder on his return to Wave. Team Seven, exhausted from their fight and Kakashi still unconscious, is separated. Sakura gets captured.Terrible things happen to pretty girls in the hands of men like Gato and his thugs.But Zabuza puts his claim in first and suddenly Sakura isn't the prisoner of a civillian businessman and his hired muscle. Suddenly she's Momichi Zabuza's.

I won't lie, I have a soft spot for fics that take place during the land of waves arc, especially when they focus on Sakura's growth. I love how Zabuza was portrayed in this as although he wasn't necessarily a bad guy, he wasn't a good one either. He simply has morals. Sakura's fear in this is also quite raw and eye opening as it covers a theme that isn't ever covered in the original series. The reality is, the world is not kind to women, and a captured young female ninja is most certainly going to be at some untasteful risks. Oh, team 7's concern was also pretty touching ngl.

With Every Beat - halfdemonfan || ffn || sasusaku || M || canon divergent || incomplete

Pain can come in various forms. Sakura had suffered all of them; but with the war raging on she found the torture would continue.

If I'm completely honest, With Every Beat probably isn't the best rec for this trope since from what I remember Sakura is not captured for too long. I never did get very far reading this so I don't have too much to say, but it takes place during the war arc and is an interesting take.

Ripples - Yellow Mask || ffn || sasusaku || T || captured || complete

Following a botched mission, Sakura is made a slave by Sound, a position that could very well alter the future…especially concerning a certain familiar missing-nin.

Ripples is probably one of the og mission gone wrong/captured Sakura fics, as far as I am aware, but it's pretty good! On her way back from a mission, she manages to get captured and is taken to Orochimaru's hideout. Super interesting to see as Sasuke is still with the sanin at this time.

The Pack Survives - ihopethelightwillshineupon || ao3 || team 7 || mission gone wrong || complete

When a simple C-rank mission turns into a straight-up nightmare, the members of Team Seven narrowly escape with their lives. They end up stuck in the middle of nowhere, each of them injured and forced to rely on one another for help.They’ve only been a team for a couple of weeks, still distant from one another, still trying hard to prove themselves. But when they’re all hurt and struggling desperately to survive, they have no choice but to lower their walls.Stranded far away from the village, Team Seven fights to get back home safely – but with help impossibly far away, with their food supplies shrinking and with their injuries slowing them down, their journey becomes more difficult with every step.In the wake of their struggle, though, their bonds grow steadily stronger.

Sakura is not the main character in this one as it it more focused on team 7 as a whole, but she still has some great development! Essentially, in typical team 7 fashion, they find themselves in a bit of a pickle during a mission and it results in some great bonding between them.

An Inch of Gold - KuriQuinn || ffn || sasusaku || T || mission gone wrong - time travel AU || complete

Team 7 is sent on a mission to investigate a disturbance outside of the village, where they encounter an unconscious girl in a crater. The mysterious Sarada insists she's a shinobi from the Hidden Leaf trying to rescue her teammates. When the team discovers she possesses a Sharingan, things become even more unbelievable. [Part of the Legacy of Fire Series]

Somehow, the Boruto and Naruto timelines interconnect and Sarada literally falls into team 7's mission. Things only get worse from there. The writing captures the personalities of the characters so well and I'm a complete sucker for the whole Sarada meets Sakura and Sasuke trope!! Sasusaku is super cute in this (while being realistic) and I love how Kakashi is such a shipper. Also, this is a multiple perspective fic.

Dirt and Ashes, or: The One-and-a-Half Body Problem - Tozette || captured || gen || M || canon divergent || complete

The invasion of Konoha during the chuunin exam didn't fail. Team seven is broken, people are dead, and Sakura is hurt and frightened and a very long way from home.Alternative summary: In which Sakura carries half of Hidan across two countries, leaving a trail of blood, bodies, and other people's legs.

This one is pretty gross tbh, but I highly recommend!

Only a Crush by Gingersoup || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent || complete

It was supposed to be an easy, fun night out. She never intended to wake up in her sensei's bed, half-naked and with no memory of what happened the night before! As she tries to unravel the mystery of that night, something sinister is growing beyond the walls of the Leaf Village... and what was only a crush spirals wildly out of control.

I can't really say much without spoiling, but Sakura is unwillingly thrust into the world of illegal drugs, trafficking, and sex all while coming to terms with her new feelings regarding her former sensei. I typically don't like kakasaku, but I think this work is done tastefully well. The characters are both adults and the immorality of the relationship is not ignored, so be prepared for a lot of "we can't," "this is wrong," etc.. Anyway, Sakura is an absolute powerhouse and I thoroughly enjoyed the relationship between all of the different characters and villages!

Got Nothing to Prove (but I'ma show you how I do) - GuardianMars || ao3 || gen || T || mission gone wrong || incomplete

Civilians and orphans are always used as cannon fodder. Sakura’s not sure where she first came by this phrase. Whether she heard it or read it, she can’t quite remember, but it stuck in her head and it stays in the back of her mind whenever Team 7 takes a mission. When Sakura and Tenten get placed on a temporary team looking into a series of kidnappings of local village girls, Sakura is naturally worried. She doesn't want to be cannon fodder. When the mission goes to pot, Sakura and Tenten find themselves far away from home and with only each other to rely on. As it turns out being cannon fodder is the least of their worries.

Genin Sakura and TenTen are sent on a mission due to their unimpressive lineage and things go wrong. This is a bit of a mystery where details of the mission are uncovered as the series progresses and is seen from the prospective of both the girls and their sensei's who are desperately trying to bring them back.

The Storm Beneath - CrimsonEden || ao3 || gen || T || mission gone wrong || one-shot complete

Sakura skidded to a halt. “Sensei?” she choked out, voice raw and painful. Kakashi made no reply. His eyes stared desperately up at her, as if he thought that she was going to disappear if he looked away. One of his hands reached out slowly, like he wanted to touch her face, to check to see did she was really there. His eyes were glazed over and his chest was heaving from the force of his heavy breaths. She stood there frozen, unsure of what to say or do. How could things have gone so wrong? . . . . . A simple mission goes horribly wrong, and Team-7 finds themselves stuck in the wilderness injured and facing Kakashi’s past demons. POV Kakashi and Sakura.

Team 7's mission gone wrong not just lands them in a complete disaster physically and politically, but also uncovers some of Kakashi's trauma. Really well written and focuses a lot on the team bonding, primarily Sakura and Kakashi, which I love.

Team Seven and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Roadtrip -Transformatron || ao3 || gen || T || captured || incomplete

No chakra. No allies. Captured by an unknown enemy a thousand miles from home, Team Seven must work together if they want to survive - which, if you ask Sakura, puts their life expectancy at approximately one week. If she’s feeling generous.

Team 7 is captured and the enemy is trying to get information out of them by any means possible. Follow them as they try to escape.

final exams coming up! - waterpllar || ao3 || gen || M || captured || complete

Kakuzu can name numerous reasons why Hatake Kakashi could make him an excellent profit, most of which involve the numerous organizations he's sabotaged. Specific figures would certainly be willing to pay very well for free reign to relieve their violent frustrations on one of the most notorious jounin in the Bingo books. Such a business would only function with a healer on hand, but it just so happens that a vast majority of shinobi teams have a healer, and there is a pink-haired genin without a bloodline limit or bijuu on the team. What he did not anticipate is that the Copy-nin's teaching might be so remiss that he hadn't trained said genin in any iryo-ninjutsu whatsoever. Kakuzu does not like making oversights, and he decides to remedy this fact immediately (unluckily for sakura).

Kakuzu captured Sakura and Kakashi in an attempt to make money (of course) off of Kakashi's many enemies and Sakura is forced to learn medical ninjutsu in order to keep him alive. Although this is marked as complete and could be considered that to those who read it, the ending is not very conclusive tbh (I wanted more).

Edit: ok this actually just got updated even though it’s marked as complete, so ig it’s still ongoing?? Maybe???

New Day Dawning - IncompleteSentanc (Erava) || ao3 || narusaku || T || captured || complete

One day, while visiting the grave of Nohara Rin, Obito stumbles across a young girl terrifyingly like her. He decides to ensure she doesn’t meet the same fate. As for Sakura? Sakura had no idea what she was awakening the day she went to visit her parents graves - but she never looked back. One way or another.(Feat. Sakura raised by Obito and the Akatsuki, and her eventual return to Konoha and all those she left behind)

Sakura is brainwashed and manipulated, but loved by notorious killers nonetheless. Incredibly well written and I won't lie when I say that the ending took me a bit by surprise.

Your childhood home is just powder-white bones (and you'll never find your way back) - Dovey || ao3 || gen || M || captured || complete

Sasuke is not the only one who worries he's getting too comfortable in his genin life. Itachi decides to add another motivator to Sasuke's revenge plans by kidnapping the teammate who wasn't a charismatic Jinchuriki. Sakura is used to being an objective for those around her, not a person, but even for her this is a little much. In which Sakura is held captive and learns what a genjutsu specialist can do to a person's mind, that sharks can actually make great friends, joins a dying clan, and gets regifted multiple times before she's finally strong enough to fight back. *while this fic contains explicit and graphic torture, there's no sexual assault.

Okay, this was actually a really hard read for me. We truly see Sakura's decline in this as she slowly loses her mind and it is very frustrating to see what has happened to her. Nonetheless, it is extremely well written and great is you want something dark.

Freedom in the Eyes of Another - Oroburos69 || ffn || gen || M || captured || complete

The Wave Mission was a failure. They got caught, captured, taken-it didn't end well. Now Sakura has a half-heard order, uncut fingernails, and more desperation than bravery. One way or another, she's getting Team Seven out today. Complete.

I actually can't believe that I forgot to add this the first time I wrote this list! Anyway, team 7 is captured on the mission to Wave and Sakura takes Kakashi's mumble and runs with it! Pretty interesting as we get some nice team bonding and there are some other popular character appearances too.

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Like always, please send me recs if you have any!

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