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shoyostar · 6 months

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POWER OUTAGE .ᐟ

── TETSURŌ KUROO ┊ HAIKYUU!!

raining in japan m.list // haikyuu!! masterlist.

premise. thunderstorms scare you greatly. but thanks to your cute neighbour, you know you’ll be okay after all.

content. tetsurou kuroo / f!reader. fluff. reader is a scared of storms, mainly thunder. power outage. set ambiguously post highschool / university. neighbours to lovers.

word count. 3.1k

soundtrack. show me how : men i trust.

¹new message from jia ෆ hi i’m not dead yes i do still write !! @tetzoro @tetsuskei i hope i did your man justice ^_^

03:24

You barely manage to catch the flickering lights of your dining room’s lamp glitch out repeatedly from the corner of your eye, the lights inside your dingy apartment appearing to go haywire as constant streams of raindrops pound against the glass of your windows.

With each passing second they seem to multiply tenfold of the previous, their impact upon crashing into each other sometimes merging with one another in sync to form a continuous stream of running water trickling down the brick walls of your complex instead of the constant buzz of millions of tiny water droplets.

The soft glow from your lamp dims momentarily before coming to a complete halt. Your hopes are quickly dashed when you see it attempt to start back up again before going dead, and after a few seconds of the darkness swallowing your apartment whole a begrudging sigh escapes your lips as you close your textbook.

“Ah, damn it . . . not again . . .”

You slowly stand up from your seat at the dining table, cautiously pushing your chair back just a little as to not hit the rest of your furniture and carefully maneuvering your way through the dark of your living room.

“Where the hell did I put that flashlight . . . ?”

You really should’ve thought to charge your phone and powerbank ahead of time when you heard a thunderstorm was making it’s way to your city on the news earlier. Now with a dead cellphone battery and empty powerbank you’re left to fend for yourself amist the unknown layout of your apartment without a light source.

Scuffling around in the dark, you take a step forward, miscalculating how much distance there is infront of you as you find yourself accidentally ramming your shin against the side of your unusually hard bookshelf, sending you reeling in agonizing pain stomach first and flopping right onto your couch.

Ouch.

Your teeth grind against each other as you hold your shin, wincing while rocking slightly in an attempt to alleviate the pain. “God, that did not sound good . . .” You can’t see through the near pitch black lowlight of your apartment, but you’re almost certain a nasty bruise may have begun to form on your skin from that.

A few more minutes of stumbling finally merits you to where you had originally intended to end up in the first place— the supply closet. Feeling around for the door’s surface your hand manages to find it’s grip onto the smooth metal handle, twisting it open and carefully reaching out into the darkness.

“It should be on the second shelf . . . or was it the third? Fuck, I really can’t see anything right now . . .”

Your fingers brush up against the elastic wrist tie of the flashlight (it was on the third shelf after all, go figure) and you impatiently snatch it from off the pile of other assorted junk you’ve haphazardly thrown in there throughout the years.

All you hear is a soft click as you turn on the device before your eyes are bombarded by a bright flash, the sudden overload causing you to stumble back a bit, blinking repeatedly to soothe the burn in the back of your retinas.

Maybe it’s not the best idea to hold a flashlight so close to your face while it’s aiming (or pointed) directly into your eyes.

Using your newly gained lightsource you make your way to the fuse box in your kitchen, now being able to easily navigate your way through the dark you give yourself a moment to stop and glare at the corner of your bookshelf that you’d run into earlier, “Asshole.”

Opening the fuse box, you shine the light onto the many circuits housed within, eyes trailing down and scanning each one for the labels of what light they control. You experimentally switch the one for the living room on, glancing outside of your kitchen into the hall to check, only to be met with disappointment as you see the nothingness of the night staring right back at you.

Just as a confirmation (and because you’re stubborn), you switch a couple more of the circuits on and off repeatedly, disappointment mares your features when they yield no results. “No power at all . . .”

A deep crackle of thunder booms from the sky outside, startling you as you nearly drop the flashlight in your hands if not for the wrist tie securing it. A few seconds of heaving and checking outside your kitchen’s windows— only to see more rain than you could ever possibly need in three lifetimes —causes you to ease up a little. You feel a chill run down your bare arms though, the short sleeves and pajama shorts you chose to wear tonight not doing much with the raging wind howling just outside your apartment.

The sudden sounds of gentle knocking at your door cuts through the silence of your empty apartment, the hairs on your back shooting straight up in surprise. You cautiously make your way over to the door, uneasy as your hands hesitate to lay on the knob. Who else could be up at this late hour?

Your eyes squint through the tiny peephole of your door, zoning in on a familiar head of messy black hair, donned in a worn out old highschool volleyball hoodie. With noticeable bags underneath his eyes matching your own, you can tell he’s been staying up as late as you have.

You can’t quite see much or well for that matter through the tiny peephole’s space, but he patiently waits outside with an uneasy look on his face, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and pacing around anxiously on the small space on your door mat.

With your heart rate spiking back down to normal levels, you slowly open the door to him. He jumps back a little when he sees you in front of him, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually be awake. You give him a polite smile.

“Hey, Kuroo.”

He chuckles a little, bringing his hands out of his pockets. You notice the pearly whites of his canines poking out from his lips when he grins. It suits him well. “You know it’s okay to just call me Tetsurou.”

“Right, right. My bad.”

“‘You doing alright?” He asks you worriedly, craning his head aside to check the dark of your apartment. “Heard the entire building’s power just got wiped by the storm. ‘Was told it won’t be back for another few hours.”

Of course it won’t be back for awhile, the electricians can’t really do much while the thunderstorm rages outside. You doubt anyone in the building who was asleep by now would even notice there had been a power outage tonight, most people aren’t awake at the acceptable hours of 3AM working on their overly procrastinated capstone assignment anyways to even care about the torrential rain pouring outside their windows.

“Can I come inside?” Tetsurou asks before stopping himself, backtracking hurriedly while making funny hand gestures. What was that sign he just made? It might’ve meant Apple in JSL. “I mean, if it’s okay with you. I know it’s late and all, and that you probably want to sleep but I—“

You cut him off with a giggle of your own, “Tetsurou,” his cheeks dust a light shade of pink in the darkness. Your laughter. It sounds like bells to him, akin to the raindrops that hit your windows with a light tinkle each time they fall from the clouds above. Wind chimes in the raging storm that falls around you two and lighting crackles behind him, illuminating your bright face for him.

“I don’t mind, you can come inside. You must be cold standing out here, I know I am and I’m just in the doorway.” You take him by the hand, his skin’s cold just as you expected from the frigid air as you guide him into your apartment.

He stumbles a bit through the front door “H— hey!” trying to remove his shoes by the entrance and lay them by the door mat, bringing with him two large blankets tucked under his arms you hadn’t noticed him carrying in the darkness.

Tetsurou’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness, squinting and zoning in on the little stack of books piled up at your desk, the flashlight you were using placed just beside an open notebook. “You’re still trying to work on that assignment?” He asks, setting the blankets down on a chair as you slide into your own, clicking the flashlight on and shining it down on your pages.

“Yeah, it’s due soon.”

“There’s a storm outside.” He comments on matter of factly, chin folded into the crook of his hands as he leans on the backside of the chair. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the obviousness of the situation.

“And?”

“Just, come here.” You feel his hand reach out into the darkness, standing you up from the table with mild disagreement from you, “Relax with me a little, let’s go sit on your couch together. I brought blankets for a reason.”

“I can use one while working at the dinner table.”

The frown that tugs at Tetsurou’s lips is barely noticeable in the dark, but he whines audibly. “That sounds uncomfortable, though.”

“It’s fine.”

“Isn’t it better to huddle together for warmth?” He suggests playfully, “Y’know, no power n’ heat.”

You think his compromise over for a moment, and he senses the hesitation brewing inside your mind. “I promise it’ll be good.” Lighting flashes outside your window for a split second, followed by the loud seismic boom of thunder that causes you to flinch in his hold. Instinctively he jumps, pulling you into a hug as your heavy breathing fills the silence of your apartment. Seconds tick by on the clock hanging on your wall, as it seems like the heartbeats of both you and Tetsurou meld into one beat.

“Are you . . .” Tetsurou looks out the window for a moment, his voice drawls on low and quiet even though the only two people here are you and him, as if he’s about to ask something he shouldn’t. “Are you scared of thunder?”

“. . . No.”

“That sounds like a yes to me.”

“I’m an adult,” You huff, trying to break out of his hold and back to your pile of due papers, “I don’t get scared by thunder like a little kid.” Tetsurou barely catches the “anymore” you mutter underneath your breath. His hold on you not only tightens but he drags you to the couch, much to your protests and complaints.

“You’re not a very good liar,” he grins, plopping you down beside him before reaching over you to drape a thick blanket over your shivering body, were you always this cold? You try to move your hands to lift the blanket off, to stand up but it’s heavy. It traps your arms underneath it, feeling like he condemned you to the couch.

“Is this blanket weighted?” You ask and he hums, draping the other one he bought over himself with a relaxed sigh. “Yeah, I’ve found they’re really good for rainy nights.” You can’t deny that now that you’ve gotten a taste, having this is almost like having a barrier from the cold rain and air outside, and you’re already warmer than you were just a few moments ago.

You wrap it tighter around your body, the fabric smells like him. “Thanks, Tetsurou.” Another crackle of lighting blasts inside your living room through the window, peeking through the gap of your curtains as thunder follows closely in suit. It’s louder this time, and seemed to be a lot closer to your apartment than the others. Your hands slam over the cups of your ears to shield them from the thunderous booms, they feel weighed down by the heavy blanket as you bury your head into the thick material, closing them as like an extra precaution from the storm outside.

You don’t even realize you’re shaking until you feel a hand smooth over you back. Tetsurou’s.

You can barely make out his voice with your hands blocking your hearing, “Are you okay?” It’s muffled and quiet, and his hand rubs soothing circles into your back as you barely manage to move your head to a nod. More thunder comes and Tetsurou’s eyesbrows knit together as you frantically switch to shaking your head no, feeling it drop further into the blanket in shame. Your heart in sync as the storm outside won’t stop taunting you.

The small raindrops that crash against your window feel like they’re right up against your ears, the bright lighting that races across the sky’s edge stings your eyes to look at it, even if you shut them as tight as can be. And that god awful thunder, the thunder that makes you feel like your dingy apartment might crumble underneath it’s roar, crashing to the floors below as the trees outside cave in on you from above.

“This is so embarrassing . . .” Tetsurou hears you mutter as you lift your head to the side to face him, fear is written all over your features and you look like you’re about to cry in the presence of your next-door neighbour. Your voice cracks, and you think you’d prefer if the floor underneath you did fall through after all. “I just really hate storms . . .”

A weak chuckle escapes your lips as you wipe away the tears that prick at your eyes, attempting to lighten up the situation for Tetsurou. You don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by crying in front of him when you were the one who invited him in, “I guess I really am still a little kid, afraid of thunder and lighting like I’m still four.”

Tetsurou doesn’t laugh at your self deprecating jab, and you feel your stomach drop at the lack of a response. Would you have preferred if he laughed? No, not really— but it felt awkward to have only silence between the two of you in the heat of the moment. His hazel eyes seem to twinkle in the darkness when he blinks, and he wraps an arm around you before pulling you into his chest, you let out an alarmed squeak involuntarily from his actions, and the heartbeat in your chest magnifies to the sound of the thunder that you’re so scared of outside.

His own heartbeat is loud too, now that he has you leaning on his chest like this. The wild thumping and beating, is that from you? You feel stupid for getting excited over that possibility, but as you look up from your spot you catch his eyes, tired and still beautiful as both his arms envelope you in a deep hug. He covers your ears with the palms of his hands, red crawls up the skim of his neck and ears in the darkness.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you quietly, flinching when you snuggle deeper into his chest, the scent of his home shirt being the same as the one on the blanket he brought over but stronger. The smell of clean linen from his laundry detergent sticks to the material of his shirt, and you can’t stop yourself from blurting out “Did you just do the laundry before coming over?”

This time it’s his turn to laugh nervously, “Yeah . . .” his head rests atop yours, taking in the scent of your shampoo. It fills his senses, it’s not overpowering or overwhelming at all.

Maybe because it’s you.

“I didn’t want to smell bad when I came over . . . Is that— is that bad?”

“. . . No,” you decide, a content smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not.”

Suddenly the loud sounds of the storm that had you once afraid and cowering in fear seem to drown out from Tetsurou’s cupped hands over your ears, but you know they’re just as strong now than they were earlier, and perhaps even stronger as the night drags on. But in Tetsurou’s embrace, underneath the blankets he brought from home that smell just like him, wrapped up in his arms and snuggled up against his chest; you think you’ll be okay.

“Stay with me,” you eke out without thinking, and a part of you hopes he didn’t hear because you’re worried you’ll ruin the tranquility of whatever you have now— that this moment is only temporary, all will be over by tomorrow morning when the technicians come to fix the apartment’s power outage at 6AM, and you’ll both go back to treating each other as just neighbours. That you’ll pretend you never snuggled together when you had no power and no heat, and you never said the words you’re about to say to him now. “Please, don’t go . . .”

To your surprise, a soft kiss is pressed to the crown of your forehead as Tetsurou’s wild hair tickles at your skin, the erratic beat of his heart thumping wildly in your eardrums. He looks just as nervous as you do, lips suddenly dry and throat closed up when he tries to speak. After a disgruntled groan, the two of you laugh as once more does lightning flash across the sky, with thunder coming in it’s place moments later, hand in hand as always. Just as you expected.

But this time you’re not scared, not when he next whispers out the words you’ve longed to hear since you were a little kid during these storms, not when he cuddles you closer to his chest and brings his lips close to yours before tilting your chin up and capturing you in the sweetest of kisses, his lips perfectly molding to fit yours as he mutters in between the short breaths of air with a smile that rivals the brightness of the lighting you were so scared to gaze into from outside the windows.

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

Raindrops continue to fall from outside, thunder and lightning work as a terrifying duo in sync as they torment the nature. But it all seems significantly less scary now. Underneath the onslaught of rain, the continuous lightning and thunder you’ve feared since childhood, the annoying lack of power— you found something able to strike against even the worst of thunderstorms, and something better to indulge your night in than your assignments that lay long forgotten beside your flashlight on the dining table far away from you and Tetsurou on the couch, warm underneath the blankets together bundled up to escape the cold air.

You found Tetsurou Kuroo.

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

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i-cant-sing · 1 year

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Yandere Dabi accidentally made reader blind

*sighs* it's time for another fic idea:

Imagine Dabi terrorising the city and doing evil shenanigans, the usual stuff, and while he's welding his fire quirk, you- an innocent civilian gets hurt in the process. Now look, a lot of other civilians got hurt too, but what made you stand out was the fact that you locked eyes with him, saw his face right before your retinas were burned by the blast of fire aimed at a hero past you.

You were taken to the hospital, where you got the news that you'd be blind for the rest of your life now and Dabi had begun stalking you from the moment you woke up from surgery, only because he thought you'd spill his identity to the police or whatever. But you didn't, probably because you forgot his face, but "probably" isn't good enough for him. He needs to be sure you won't rat him out to the authorities, so he continues to stalk you and eventually develops yandere tendencies for you.

Of course, as he falls in love, he also begins to feel guilty as he sees you struggling with your daily chores because of your new disability. I mean, you worked at a school, volunteered at orphanages and nursing homes, fed strays, the perfect daughter, friend, employee.

You are the nicest human ever and Dabi made you blind😭

He sees that you can't continue working at the school, and he sees its harder to volunteer when you haven't learned how to deal with life without the ability to see. And his chest hurts when he sees you break down at nights, in your apartment alone because you don't know how you'll be able to take care of your aging parents as their only child, when you can't even walk in traffic without help.

That's when Dabi decides to step in. Sure, you may have seen his face, but you haven't heard his voice, right?

He makes the first meeting seem like a chance encounter, bumping into you and catching you before you fell. Faking concern when you apologise for being blind, he takes you to a nearby cafe and offers to buy you a coffee for the one he made you spill.

And eventually, he asks you out and now you're two dating. You think he's the sweetest guy, always helping you but never patronising. And sure, deep down Dabi's heart jumps whenever he catches you in a danger, but he knows he shouldn't be coddling you. How else will you navigate?

Then again, the deeper Dabi falls in love with you and the more yandere he becomes, the more he wants you to become dependent on him for everything. But he has to be smart; he doesn't want to drive you away just because he wants to wrap you up in bubble wrap.

He helps you use you walking stick, gets you Braille, and with your permission, he babyproofs the house a bit (mainly because he saw the bruises on your leg from the sharp corners you bumped into).

And since you two are not living together just yet, he worries what would happen to you if he's not there. So he stays a while longer, hiding in the background just until you fall asleep, making sure you have your mobile (with his number on speed dial) near you.

But Dabi can't always be there to watch you. He's still pursuing his successful career as a villain, so without your knowledge, he installs cameras in your house, purely out of concern and not because he's a creep. Yes, even the ones in your bathroom are just in case you slipped and hit your head.

After some time, you two do end up moving in together. He of course modifies his house so that its more safe for you, like rounding off sharp edges, installing devices that let you know when youre near stairs, etc. And Dabi just absolutely adores spending time with you. Be it cooking, he's right there with you as you tell him all the steps to your favourite recipes and taste test food (he blows on your hot food), dance slowly in the kitchen while the pizza bakes in the oven, straddle you and tickle you until youre near tears, or cuddling on the couch as you enjoy each others silence. You're so nice, so kind to him. He won't ever say it outloud but you being blind is a huge positive for him because he doesn't get insecure with the way he looks. Plus, he can smile as much as he wants without feeling like its tarnishing his "villain image" (he has absolutely melted when you said you adored the way he laughed. Stfu bitch, hes never laughing again😭💖🫶) And you're great at matching his vibe too. He can see the way he's rubbed off on you, how you joke about your disability, the two of you surprising people with your dark sense of humor.

He can be intimate with you, because you feel perfect against his charred skin. When you touched his staples and his burned skin, his breath hitching when you pulled your hand away, your brows frowning. Did you find him ugly now that you knew he didnt have smooth, pristine skin?

When you didn't say anything for a few seconds, he asked if you'd like to know what happened to him.

You shrugged. "Only if you want to tell me. I just want to know if it hurts when I touch your skin." Hes so glad you can't see because my man had tears falling down his face. Why are you so concerned for his well being??? Why are you so sweet? Why Why Why Why-

Not to mention the way your parents absolutely ADORE him???? Like, the first time he met them, they immediately welcomed him into their homes and into their hearts. Dabi is like so overwhelmed because he's never felt so accepted and loved. Your parents never once looked at him differently because of his scars, and Dabi knows he looks like a criminal for sure, but your parents???? They don't care. Hell, they've already begun telling him all your embarrassing childhood stories and are inviting him to family gatherings and have already decided what clothes he's gonna wear for the family Christmas picture. And Dabi has realised that both you and your parents are way too naive and trusting and so so so so precious, he's adopting all of yall😭😭😭 (like fr, your parents just saved themselves from being killed and/or thrown into a nursing home).

Anyways, years pass by, Dabi had left the crime life the day you got hurt in his house and he wasnt around to help you. Now he works from his home office and you work at the school for visually impaired. Your relationship has reached it peak and Dabi pops the marriage question and you say yes. But before you guys can get married, someone (maybe an ex, or a cousin or friend) reveals to you who he really is and how he's the reason you're blind, and Dabi is eavesdropping because he needs the prefect opportunity to both kill the guy who spilled his secret and catch you before you run off.

"I know."

"You know?"

"I know. Always have. And I'd appreciate it if you don't bring it up ever again. Also, you're not invited to the wedding." You said before having the guy leave the room.

"You can come out now, Dabi." You called him inside.

"How did you know I was here?" He asked standing in front of you.

"I'm smart like that." You chuckled.

"Y/n- you knew?" He asked quietly, wanting to confirm what he'd just heard. You nodded. "How? Why didn't you say anything?"

You sighed. "You're not the only one keeping secrets, Dabi." You sat down, patting the seat next to you for him. "I have a quirk like you do. I have a heightened sense of smell. So, I pretty much recognised you from the moment you bumped into me."

"Huh? How could you recognise me? We never met before that." You shook your head. "We didn't meet before, but I noticed you the day of my accident." Dabi's mind couldn't stop at how you chose to refer his attack as an "accident", which is exactly what it was. You were never his target. Honestly, you're the best human being, an actual angel-

"I only noticed you because you smelled like charred barbecue."

"WHAT?!"

"Hey, no yelling!" You scolded. "That day, I was walking home when I was suddenly hit with this intense smell of grilled barbecue and I was superrrr hungry that day, so I was like I gotta get me some of that and then I looked up and I saw you."

Dabi listened to your explanation, and he honestly wouldn't have believed you if he hadn't spent so much time with you to know how your brain works. "If you knew who I was, then you knew you lost your eyes because of me. So, why did you..." He couldn't complete his question, afraid of you admitting to leading him on just so that you could take revenge and hurt him by pretending to be in love.

You cupped cheek. "It wasn't your fault. You weren't aiming for me. Besides, you and I both know that I would've been dead that same day if you wanted me to."

"Still... I am a bad person-"

"No, Dabi. You're not." You cut him off, not wanting him to taint himsslf with such foul thoughts. "No one is born good or bad. People just do good things or bad things, as circumstances force them to. The world isn't so black and white, Dabi. Everyone's got a grey area."

A tear fell down his cheek, and Dabi pulled you in for a deep kiss. "God- You're just- perfect." He whispered against your lips. You smiled and pecked him once more before settling on the couch, your head on chest.

"So... I smell like charred barbecue?" Dabi asked, playing with your hair. You hummed. "And it doesn't bother you?"

"Nope!"

"Why not?"

"I love charred barbecue. They're the best pieces!"

Ah, if you keep saying things like that, Dabi will need to buy you bigger diamonds.

Fuck it, he thought pulling out his phone.

He's already ordering one online.

Now imagine someone hurts Dabi's baby, and she dies. That'd suck, huh?

#yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #dabi imagine #dabi todoroki #dabi bnha #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #dabi

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doberbutts · 1 year

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@corvus--caurinus

Yup! Per my neurologist, before the mid/late 00s the medical community was sort of, uh, unconcerned about so-called "minor" concussions, because the symptoms didn't seem to last longer than a few seconds and thus it was treated as a non-issue. Most parents didn't take their kids to the doctor for them and the few who did were told to let the kid rest for a day and then get back to life as normal.

Then a breakthrough study happened and revealed there is no such thing as a "mild" concussion. All concussions are concussions and all concussions are brain injuries. And all concussions run an exponentially higher risk of increasingly dangerous and life-affecting symptoms as you knock your brain around more and more. And with each subsequent concussion, you run the serious risk of these symptoms becoming permenant brain damage. Turns out, your brain does not actually like to be jumbled around in there, who knew.

The white flash is usually caused by one of two things: a jarring motion in your retinas (not a concussion) or the impact of your brain banging against the fluids and other matter inside of your skull (that's a concussion). Same if you "see stars"- the "stars" are the damaged nerves that just banged into something firing off electrical impulses trying to figure out how to cope with what just happened. And of course if you hit your head or are shaken to the point of losing consciousness, that's your brain's equivilant of the computer that, when smacked, turns itself off. All of these are concussions, and while it may seem like knocking yourself out should result in a worse concussion than just seeing stars, brains don't always follow that rule. All of these concussions will eventually stack on top of each other and will cause a major TBI once you hit your head a little too hard or perhaps even just one too many times.

So when he said "okay so you were never *treated* for a concussion but have you ever had this happen after hitting your head?" well... yes, actually. I was hit in the head by a thrown baseball bat (accidentally) in gym class and promptly took a nap. I was awake and otherwise fine in a few minutes so besides being sent home that day and having a large bruise/egg nothing really happened. I was doing flips on the gymnastic bars and lost my grip and whacked my head against the ground and, you guessed it, was unconscious. By the time my friends got the recess teacher over I was already awake and just a little dazed- again they sent me home but that's it. I fell through one of those dome monkey bars at a playground with my mom and hit the ground head/neck first. This was before the age of cell phones so Mom told me she was trying to figure out what to do about her very unresponsive child in the middle of the park (it's dangerous to move someone who may have broken their back/neck but she also can't just leave me laying on the ground to knock on someone's door to call 911) when I woke up and outside of a stiff neck seemed "quiet but fine".

In fairness according to my neuro there's not really much a doctor *could* have done medically as I bounced back without any problems except maybe have me take it easy for a couple weeks (I'd've died of boredom with no stimulation) but it still should have been noted that each of those were concussions. Then the amount of times that I've been dazed or saw lights... too many to count. I work with high energy dogs in an impact sport, they headbutt me or punch me or knock me to the ground all the time. I was an active kid and an athlete prior to my heart acting up, so sport-related injuries just sort of come with the package and that includes knocks on the head.

But sitting in his office and hearing him say that, and then recovering from the TBI and examining what it's done to my life... it made me realize how much people take for granted. It just takes one too many knocks on the head. He said the major thing he regrets as an older neurologist is that for a very long time, most of his practicing career and certainly a significant portion of my own life, no one really cared about concussions. But the line between concussion and TBI is very blurred, because in truth a concussion *is* a brain injury, and at some point you will concuss yourself much much worse than you were expecting due to the buildup of damage from not taking hitting your head seriously.

The best way to think of it is breaking your ankle. A broken ankle is a broken ankle, there's no such thing as a "mild" broken ankle. But there are grades of severity- a hairline fracture on a single bone is a broken ankle, but recovery time and process are relatively straightforward in most cases. Completely shattering multiple bones on the other hand significantly lengthens recovery time and the process is significantly more involved with a risk of further complications. If you keep doing whatever it is that gave you a hairline fracture, one day you won't be so lucky, and you will completely shatter the whole joint assembley.

That's how concussions are. Those cute little knocks that cause a white flash and nothing else? That's a warning to stop doing that and be more careful. You get to hobble around in a boot for a while to think about your choices leading up to this point. Knocking yourself out? Well you've snapped a bone. You get a cast and some crutches. Full blown TBI? Congrats, the whole ankle is fucked and you need major surgery now.

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hamsternella · 3 months

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Douma being in love please?? and obsessed maybe👀

Douma x Reader

cw: obsession, yandere behavior, non-con elements, murder, gore, MDNI

Blood and viscera. Torn muscle beneath the fleshy openings of an unrecognizable body; the face contorted into a crude grimace. You thrust with both hands into one of the many flesh bags, keeping your sword glued to one of your legs. You tried not to lose sight of it as you made your way through the forest in the gloom.

The smell was intoxicating. The truth is that you wanted to vomit. Maybe retrace your steps and wait for a Hashira. But one of your companions was still alive, and most likely trapped with a Superior Moon. It would be a shame not to try to die on the spot for them; risk your sword with it, and put your training to the test. Even if the thought of ending up as another bruised and unrecognizable piece of meat turned your stomach.

A muffled murmur in the distance made your hair stand on end. You stopped in place, unsheathing your sword before you began to slide your feet along the pools of blood, taking cover behind the thicker trees. You regulated your breathing, approaching delicately until you came up with another scream. This time a broken one; a ghastly sound, accompanied by a piercing cry.

And a laugh.

A soft, sweet laugh. The crying was softer this time, and overshadowed by an animated voice. You tried to register the demon behind this atrocity, but you didn't think you had encountered this voice before. This way of mutilating. You wanted to try to see who was holding your companion; but you feared you would be discovered on your way out of the tree.

"Where are they? I'm still missing one."

A muffled sound. You assume the demon slayer drowning in their own blood. And then another laugh.

"I'm going to stick a finger through here... and I think I'll hang you up there. See?" Silence. A few steps, away from where you were, and the murmur of flesh being forced. A tearing; another torrent of blood-drowned cries. "How cute!"

You swallowed dryly, stopping your hands from shaking. Sooner or later you were going to have to get out. Sooner or later, even if you ended up dead and torn, the demon would find you and a fight would ensue. And you would have to endure. You were going to have to be of help until the sun took its place in the sky, or a hashira appeared.

Any moment.

A sigh, a laugh; and footsteps through the leaves and earth, with the distant gurgle of your companion.

Any moment.

You prepared your position, looking for where the demon was coming from. You held the sword with fear and anxiety running through your guts.

Any moment.

And there he was.

"Welcome, little one!"

Douma underestimated you

He did not believe much of you, neither by the way you held yourself, nor by the way you used your sword

He thought you were just a pretty face

But the truth is, you turned out to be freakishly skillful

You tore one of his arms, and almost made him lose an eye; but he was beginning to enjoy himself

He did not bother to take the fight seriously. The sun was not yet up; but the hashiras were approaching and you could no longer bear the brunt of his attacks

Douma tried to remember your face and your scent, excited to meet you again in the near future

The need to taste your blood burning in his throat; the hunger growing in the pit of his stomach as he disappeared into the distance, listening to your war cries

Since then, he has not stopped thinking about you

Eventually, your fight with the superior demon, in the forest, was rewarded with enormous gratitude, and a promotion that allowed you to be trained by a Hashira. This not only fueled the flame of your determination, but also made it easier for Douma to track you down. Neither of you stopped thinking about the other.

While your memories were inflamed with hatred, his were fueled by an almost unhealthy desire to find you again. Your face, which he considered beautiful when stricken with resentment and terror, was etched in his retina; the gleam of your blade reflecting in your gaze like a ghost. Your scent still wafted around him, as if clinging to his hands, with which he tightened his grip on your neck. The vein throbbing against his skin still existed even though you were not there.

Douma needed your head sheltered in a nice glass holder, and your heart deep in his stomach, after being chewed by his teeth and having soaked his lips with your blood. Nothing turned him on more than imagining you with him; your body under his, with his nose sunk into the space of your neck. Maybe a hand hidden under your clothes, to tear your belly and feel the tenderness of your viscera.

The second meeting was after many, many months; but it was received with great emotion by the superior demon, who kept knocking down humans in the hope of attracting your hatred towards him. Your attention. It was what he had been wishing for with deep desperation.

This time it was very difficult for Douma to contain himself

Seeing you fight with greater courage than before, and resisting his harm, inflamed him bestially

But there was something strange. You noticed that the demon wasn't even making an effort

The truth is that Douma wasn't trying to kill you at all

It was strange even to him; he had thought he had outgrown that side of himself

He didn't want you to disappear so soon

His hunger for you was increasing with every moment, his desire to drink your blood

But listening to your voice, even your breathing; and being able to see the change in your expressions were a thousand times more gratifying

The fight ended with you splitting the demon in half

One of your arms ended up broken; the other, too injured to continue

Breathing felt like swallowing needles. You would close your eyes as you inhaled, and open them with tears streaming down your cheeks as you exhaled. You needed to regulate your body if you wanted to survive until the sun came. Not for the demon to die, exactly. He could regenerate as he pleased; you knew he wasn't going to die that easily anyway.

You simply wanted to die while watching the sun in the sky. You didn't like the night. It reminded you of all the things you hated: darkness, death, demons... the night when you met this monster, especially. Since then you never stopped feeling watched; even your companions warning you of some strange movement around your mission sites.

As if someone was pulling the strings of a puppet theater.

Your eyes fell on the eyes of the demon. His head on his side, on the ground, still attached to his upper body. The rest was inches away and he hadn't even bothered to regenerate. Didn't he want to devour you? The Hashiras weren't going to get there that fast, anyway.

Unable to support your weight, you fell to your knees with your arms immovably at your sides, tight to your body. Your hands hit the ground. Your eyes, eyelids heavy with sleep from blood loss, still fixed on the demon.

"What are you thinking so carefully about? It's a bit embarrassing that you won't stop staring at me..."

His voice had taken you by surprise. You had a hard time answering him; your throat hurt from the blows.

"You're not... going to kill me?"

"I'm debating that right now, actually," he said with a sigh. He averted his gaze from you, searching the sky for answers. "What's so complicated?"

"I'd like to... I'd like to die with the... with the sun..." you coughed awkwardly, and a little blood shot straight to the ground. You frowned in pain. "Please... let me die here..."

"Douma."

You looked at him with confusion. He just smiled.

"It's Douma. You can call me that!"

The lower half of his body disintegrated, and almost instantly the rest materialized with a sickening sound of flesh and bone. In one leap he was on his feet again. He didn't seem to want to let you out of his sight, though there was no way for you to escape him. The thought made him almost tremble with joy.

You couldn't go anywhere. Not if he didn't allow it. Nowhere away from him. Didn't that sound wonderful?

When the demon stood in front of you, his body leaning forward slightly, his hands on his hips, you couldn't help but admire the color of his eyes. They were mesmerizing and terrifying; the color of a rainbow in the gaze of a beast.

"What should I do with you, then?" he asked with a smile. "It would be very sad if you were to die so soon... But there's no one to save you either!"

Douma put a finger to his lips, pretending to be burdened with a difficult decision. The truth was clear even to you: he already knew very well what he wanted to do with you. And when that realization fell on your head, you couldn't help but shake your body, wanting to pull away. Your legs barely responded.

"Don't you... fucking dare to touch me, monster..."

"But it would be great! Doesn't an eternity by my side sound rewarding?"

His hand grabbed you by the hair, lifting your head. You let out a whimper as your neck rattled miserably. Douma's eyes narrowed with the growth of his smile; a grimace of pure cynicism that turned your stomach.

"We could fight all our lives if that's what you want," he whispered, "or let you die in the sunlight."

His smile trembled for a moment, threatening to disappear. There was a long silence. Something was going on in his head as you writhed in pain.

"Honestly... I don't think I like the idea of you ending up like that so soon." Douma frowned, confused. "It's kind of strange, isn't it? Disappointing too."

His hand released your hair, returning to his hip.

"I guess this confirms my greatest suspicions!"

His laughter burst in his throat like an explosion of pure happiness, but it didn't last long. You interrupted him before he returned his attention to you, nudging him with your head as you propelled yourself with a piercing scream into his stomach. Surprise kept him frozen, but as soon as he was stable again, he wrapped his arms around your body in a tight embrace.

You wanted to cry from frustration. That wasn't even what you wanted to achieve; but the energy had long since left your body.

"Aw, how sweet of you! Who knew you'd thank me like this?"

"Let me go!"

"Let me think about it. Uh... no!"

His nails pierced the fabric of your clothes, reaching your skin. You held back another scream, choking back the pain with tears blurring your vision.

"I can't wait to see the things you're going to accomplish very soon..."

The transformation was painful and, obviously, forced

Douma made sure to keep you with him throughout the process. The smile didn't leave his face even when a group of demon slayers appeared on the scene

You killed them; he took care of a Hashira so that you could feed yourself to your heart's content

You cried all the time

He thought you looked even more beautiful doing it

In the end he carried your body away from the place, leaving the Hashira badly wounded. His only interest was you

Being with Douma was strange and annoying

He is especially loud all the time. He always seeks to figure in everything you do; and he wants to be where you are

All the time

Killing yourself was something you came to think about: dying in the sun. But he discovered you in the attempt

Punishment is something that could not be written down or said

Humiliating. Remembering it made you want to tear your skin off.

You stretched out an arm, reaching for one of the blankets in the distance, but Douma's claws digging into your flesh made you close your eyes, surrendered. The pain was imperceptible; by now you were used to it. It was commonplace considering your current nature... and the creature you had to live with because of it.

A gasp from the demon on your back caught your attention; his hot breath caressing the skin on the back of your neck. You didn't even bother to continue to deny his hands along your body. For you it was humiliating; for him, a sign that you were beginning to learn how things were going to be from now on.

"You keep thinking," he whispered hoarsely. "You always think—you don't stop. What is it that keeps you so far away from this place?"

His nails crawled along your arm, tearing your skin with deep cuts that healed as soon as they were opened.

"I thought I was very clear. You don't need to think." A laugh vibrated behind your back. The urge to cry hit you hard. "Not here, not with me... not with them."

His other hand grabbed your hair, forcing you to arch your body to reach his face. His eyes searched yours; in his gaze the ghost of madness.

"Because you're not going anywhere; not even in your mind," he muttered with a smile. "That belongs to me. All of you do. And nothing's going to change that fact."

And you knew it was true.

#fanfic #reader insert #reader #obssesion #horror #yandere #angst #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #yandere douma x reader #yandere douma #douma x reader #douma x y/n #douma x you #anime anime anime #anime and manga #anime #obsessive #obsessive love

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cybsoo2 · 6 months

Text

a bleeding bruise (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — The aftermath of the 'accident' stirs up suffering in all of you. How will you handle the pain? How do these three survive with the shame? And what will be the outcome of your relationship?

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!vminkook x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.2k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, injury, past abuse, vomiting, they're such little liars, needles, angst

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

The rush to the hospital is a blur of blood. Stained hands, soaked in sin, carry you out to the car. Clarlet carnage covers everything it touches; their skin, the midnight air, it even seeps into the seats.

Jimin and Jungkook are frantic to force themselves into the backseat. They sit side by side with you laying limply over their laps. Your head is held in Jimin’s hands. He cradles you with care and caresses your soft skin. You’re turnt to face the front of the car in case you spit up any more scarlet. The cold air creeps into your lungs. It’s a comforting contrast compared to the fiery heat that incinerates your insides.

Taehyung speeds down the streets, missing multiple turnoffs in his mindless panic. Every bump he hits along the road results in cruel curses and scolding from the boys in the backseat.

The night sky looks like an inked artwork. Blue stars bleeding out into the black; their loss of light mirroring your own. It rushes by in a restless haze. Blots of blood stain your vision. The starry sky keeps you company as you sink further into a fatal sleep.

The first time you wake, you’re blinded by everything at once. The white-hot overhead lights burn your retinas. Their image lingering even as you screw your eyes shut. You blink back the burn and let your eyes scan over the unfamiliar room. White walls stare straight through you. An alcoholic taste burns at the back of your throat. A sterile smell makes you sick. All these unknown sensations swarm you at once.

The heart monitor picks up the pace, sending sirens off in the two men’s minds. Jimin tightens his grip on the hand he was already holding. He squeezes three times and watches while you panic, feeling frozen from your unexpected awakening. Your eyes roll rampant in their sockets; overwhelmed with information and foreign feelings. Taehyung takes over, forcing your attention on him instead. He pushes back the sweaty strands of hair that stick to your forehead. Then he grabs your jaw in a gentle grasp, whispering words to calm the chaos.

“Shhh, sweetheart, go back to sleep.” He cradles your cheek in his hand, creating a makeshift pillow for you to lean into. “The doctor said you shouldn’t be awake so soon. Go back to sleep, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up.”

Jimin pulls up the blankets to sit at your shoulders. He lays on the edge of the blue bed; head having sunken into the side of your pillow. His hair is sprawled out everywhere, tickling your neck when he attempts to crawl closer. He puts his hand over your face, slowly passing over you to shut your eyes.

You’re dragged back off to dreamland by their sweet songs. They sing lovesick lullabies that send you off to sleep in seconds. The last thing you spot is Jungkook walking into the room. His face is sunken with a certain type of sadness. A doctor lingers out in the hall, clipboard and consoling frown falling off his face.

The second time you wake is much more tranquil than the first. This time, the lights are dimmed to drench the room in darkness. The steady beat of your heart monitor gives you something to focus on. The air lingers with the lasting scent of Taehyung’s cologne. You lift your head up from the pillow, trying to pull yourself up to look around. Two sets of hands push you back down.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t rush. You’ll end up straining yourself.” Jungkook stares at you while he speaks. A pitiful smile pulls at his lips. Trying to act as if the isolating room isn’t alive with pain and panic. “How you feeling?”

“Are you hurting at all? Do you need a doctor? Never mind, I’ll get one anyways.” Jimin’s words are tangled with terror. He tries not to show it on his face, but his words are weak and erratic. Before he can get up to go grab a doctor, you tighten your hold on his hand, keeping him sat in his seat.

“No, I’m okay. Just a bit sore.” The words claw themselves up your throat in a croaking tone. You swallow against the dryness and wince with discomfort.

With the help of Jungkook, you sit up to take in more of your surroundings. All three of them sit in front of you. Jimin sitting at your side, Jungkook standing with your hands still interlocked, and Taehyung laying down at the foot of the bed. All of them watch with worry, waiting for what you’ll say next.

“What happened?” It’s a simple start, and you can already assume the answer, but the suffocating silence pushes you to speak.

Taehyung tries to speak his thoughts, but he ends up sputtering like a fish out of water. Jimin takes a look at Tae and tries not to tear up. Sick memories massacre his mind. His nose twitches as stray tears swim in his eyes. He attempts to hide his emotion, turning away from your questioning eyes.

Jungkook jumps in when it’s obvious the silence has been strung out for too long. “You just got out of surgery and the doctors said it was internal bleeding.” He skirts around the obvious accident that caused it. “They also said you’ll be in here for a couple days at the least. Just so they can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t tear open your stitches.” His line of vision lingers on your stomach.

You follow his lead and look down. Although, you can’t see the damage stuffed under your scratchy hospital gown, you can still feel the strike of pain. White bandages that wrap around you like rope and silver stitches pulling at your sickly skin. Thoughts of the damage hiding in the dark bring a grimace onto your face. Your injuries are all stashed away on the inside. Your only though is that you feel worse than you look.

“Was it that bad?” You turn your eyes up to stare at Jungkook.

He hesitates for a solid second. Your words have whispers of a deeper, more dreadful meaning. His head twists your words into a torturous truth. Because you aren’t really asking about the accident. You may have asked him ‘Was it that bad?’, but all he can hear is ‘Are you that bad?’ He hurt you so horribly that it almost invoked the dawn of death. This torturous truth is too much for him to handle, too much for any of them, including you… so he lies.

“It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of you, like we always do.” Jungkook speaks his sweet lies with a sorrowful smile. Everyone else mimics the same miserable grin. You listen to his white lies, but this time you’ll try to trust them.

You eat a somber dinner of things that are barely solid. A simple soup, soggy bun, and jello that’s supposed to serve as a delicious dessert. You poke at it with your fork, watching as the red blob bounces around. Taehyung nudges your shoulder, silently telling you to stop. You can feel his watchful stare straight through your skull, actually, you can feel all their eyes at once. Their anxious eyes only settle when you start picking away at your plate. The food tastes like poison as it passes through your throat. Your appetite has slipped away from you ever since the surgery. But, with the boys acting all antsy and irritated at everything that hurts your health, you force down the food in order to ease their anxiety.

Each man nurses their own coffee in their hands. Taehyung watches the hot liquid swirl around in his cup. He’s reckless with the way he handles it, anxiety jumping at the slightest sound and spilling the drink down his hands. Red and angry marks wrap around his arms. Blisters burned deep into his skin; yet he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the pain. He keeps his attention towards you. Trying to be subtle, stealing glances at you every so often. Watching for any discomfort, making sure you eat at least half your food, and studying the bittersweet sadness staining your face.

Jimin downs his 4th drink before you’ve finished your food. You make a mixture of your meal, poking and prodding at it. Sometimes Jimin has to hold himself back from force feeding you. Stress stretches him apart, tearing at his mind, his lungs, and his heart. He hates seeing you so pale and so sad. So he helps out with hidden motives. He takes bits and pieces off your plate, eating small bites before holding the rest up to your mouth. He doesn’t let you shrug off his advances, so you end up eating more than you’d like.

Jungkook stirs up his coffee into something sweet. 6 packets of sugar and sweetener sink into the bitter blackness. He adds cream to his concoction and stirs until the sour taste dies down.

You stop eating when everything is half of what it once was. Not too sure how much more your stomach can handle. You push away your plate, trying to pass it over to Taehyung to get rid of.

“Just take one more bite.” He tries to encourage you, pushing the plate back into your arms. He takes a scoop of the jello with your spoon, the easiest to eat, and holds it in front of your mouth.

“I don’t think I can.” You look down at the plate, feeling intimidated by such a simple task.

“Just one more.” Taehyung stares straight into your eyes. His insistent nature has become normal for you. Normal enough to know that he won’t take ‘No’ for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh and take the spoon in your mouth. It's a difficult task to force the food down your throat. The texture and taste turns your stomach. As soon as you swallow it down, you know you never should have. Regret almost comes rushing out as you struggle to stand and run to the bathroom. The boys fall behind, faces clouded in confusion.

Your knees hit the floor with a heavy fall. Fragile form collapsing under the weight of your weakness. You hug the toilet seat tight to your body and hang your head over the inside. Within seconds everything you ate is spilling out of you. The sight of scarlet jello mimics blood from the present past.

A crash is heard out in the other room. Taehyung comes in, colliding with the door and dropping down to his knees. He acts out of adrenaline, gathering your hair in one hand and resting the other on your back. He rubs soothing circles into your skin, whispering words of encouragement.

“It’s alright. Just let it out.” He locks eyes with Jimin as he enters the room. He sits down at your side, pressing a peck against your temple. He hushes your cries and keeps trying to tame the trembles that rack your body.

Jungkook gets a glimpse at the sorry sight and is immediately scrambling out of the room and screaming for a nurse. Head spinning with imprinted images of your red and raw lips. A bloody tint that throws his mind back to before.

Even after you’re sure you’ve thrown it all up, you gag on the metallic taste that lingers in your mouth. A rotten taste that tangles with your raspy cry and tints your teeth.

There are tears streaming down your face. Throwing up everything you just ate has left you feeling empty and aching. Jimin and Taehyung still stroke soothing motions down your back. Jimin pries your hand away from where it grabs the porcelain bowl in a death grip. He intertwines his hand with yours and lets you squeeze it wherever another sense of nausea rolls around.

Two nurses come running into the room. Unfamiliar faces set the two boys on edge. Jimin clutches your hand closer to his heart. Taehyung shifts his body in front of you, trying to keep you out of sight. Jungkook is the one to push them both out of the way so they can help you, but he never strays far, always hovering with a possessive stance and protective eyes.

The two nurses appear anxious in the presence of such intimidating stares. They’re hands sweat and shake as they offer up more painkillers and check to see if your stitches have torn. And when the nurses have nothing more to help you with, they’re fast to flee the room.

You’re settled in bed once again. You find yourself falling asleep as an IV drip digs deep into your arm and the painkillers put a heavy haze in your head.

Jimin squeezes in at the side of your bed, Taehyung crawls in close, and Jungkook holds your hand. They cradle you close. You’re smothered to sleep by careless kisses and whispered wishes. You’re sent off to slumber chasing a delicate dream of a different life.

The rest of your stay at the hospital looks relatively the same. You’re smothered with affection in the form of sweet sorrys. The three men do everything they can to make up for the incident, everything but actually acknowledge it. No one speaks a word of that night. Nothing goes past a simple sorry when alluding to it. Instead, they’re eager to show their remorse through action and affection.

Jimin hasn’t left your side since the surgery. He lays beside you in the bed, having squeezed in during the dark silence of your dreams. You wake every morning only to end up caged in his iron grip.

Sometimes he sits in the steel chair at your side. Cast aside whenever Taehyung or Jungkook has decided he’s pestered you enough. He never backs down without an argument. But one look at your exhausted expression and his angry words begin to die down. He taps the metallic chair in time with the clock. The tuneful ticking and copious amounts of coffee are how he distracts himself from drifting off into a dream. In all honesty, he’s been scared to sink back to sleep. The last time he found himself falling asleep, he woke to you bleeding out on the bathroom tile.

Taehyung takes most authority when it comes to distracting you from your discomfort. He turns your attention to the shows playing upon the TV. He gives you his portions of pudding at meal time. And drowns out any signs of discomfort with his tender touch.

Jungkook is the only one who acts the most distant. A simple side effect of taking on the brute end of your beating. His shame feels like the same shackles used to hold you down. A cold chaos harrows at his heart. He feels the bitter burden of his wrongdoings with every breath he breathes. He turns over his thoughts in the silence, and sorts through his sinful emotions while you sleep. He refrains from talking too much. Only chiming in on conversations when it includes your health or happiness.

He listens to the doctors lecture him on how to take care of you, sinking further into his shell with every sentence because he’s only done the opposite thus far. He watches while the nurses talk him through how to re-wrap your bandages when needed. He struggles to keep his hands to himself. Biting back his tongue whenever they touch your blooming bruises and you flinch. The nurses nurturing hands roam your body with innocent intentions. Applying balm to your bruises and wrapping you up in white. But when your eyes twinkle with tears unshed, the three men shout and shut them out of the room without any rebuttal.

They take matters into their own hands, knowing their tender touches are still too tense. You shed some tears and take your lips between your teeth, trying to hide the pain that’s more prominent than before.

They take matters into their own hands, knowing they’re worse for you than anyone else. But they’re blinded by love and can’t let their butterfly fly away.

The day you’re told you’ll finally be discharged is one you’ve all been looking forward to. They carry you out to the car once again, this time with much less gore and guilt. The scenery blurs by from where you watch out the window. The spring season seems to melt together with the high speeds Jungkook is driving.

They’ve all been acting more restless and rash as the days go on. Impatient and eager to keep you hidden in their home. Protected from prying eyes and devils in disguise. Naive to the fact that they themselves are the real mask-wearing monsters.

The rest of the drive drones on. Each building that passes more boring than the last. Instead, you fix your focus on the three men that surround you. Taehyung wouldn’t take no for an answer when he insisted you sit on his lap. So now you rest against his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers skim across your stomach, soothing away the sickness that still remains. He does anything to avoid the white wraps that stick to your stitches. A pang of pain hits him in the heart every time he’s reminded of that night time nightmare. He walks his fingers across your waist, trying to kill time and relax his restless nature. Sometimes his hands stray away from your stomach and shove Jimin instead.

In his sleeping state atop your legs, he tries to catch up on the sleep he’s missed before you get back home. Too hysterical in the hospital and too obsessed over your well-being, he developed a sort of insomnia. However, this tiny sliver of sleep he finally gets is full of disturbances. As his dreams drift into a tortured terrain, his body begins to tremble in terror. Shifting in his sleep and almost smacking his arm into your stomach if Taehyung wasn’t there to pull him away.

During the rest of your drive, each man continues to fight their angry and anxious feelings. When you arrive at your house, nothing much has changed. They cling onto you like a second skin and still struggle with their self-loathing.

Yet their sorry words and tear-stained eyes will never be enough. Not when they know you both are bound to destroy each other. Not when this cycle of crimson chaos will continue till the end.

Even when they love you the most, stricken with guilt and grief, willing to do anything you ask, their lovesick obsession only serves to make matters worse. They hold you too tight, kiss you too rough. Their love is slowly sending you to an early grave. Yet you chose to be ignorant to their insanity. Developing tunnel vision to their love and ignoring all else. And when you slip up again, when they snap again - you’ll pretend it never happened. Harbouring hope in a broken heart. Trying to be someone you aren’t in order to survive. Their love is like poison and their hate is like hell. Staying alive with three lovesick psychos, all you can rely on is hope.

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anki-of-beleriand · 8 months

Text

Bad Liar ch. 16

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Mentions of Natasha/Maria being married

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - violence - mentios of abused and sexual assault - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: The aftermath of the confrontation with Vision, and the realities Wanda now needs to face.

Guys, we are almost there!!! Two chaptrs to go! Please rmemeber English is not my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes, hope you like this one.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 16

New Year’s Eve

There was a constant beeping inside your head.

Your mind broke into several images at first, your ears twitching trying to grasp the source of the beeping noise without any success. At first, it was difficult to get a hold of your consciousness, your mind was a pool of different sections of memory that made you dizzy at first, then it stopped.

A gun.

Screams.

Wanda!

The beeping became a deafening whistle and then it stopped.

Your eyes popped open only for you to close them again with an exclamation of pain leaving your lips. You tried to lift your left arm but it was heavy, numb to any other sensation; thus, trying to protect your eyes from the lights above your head was impossible. You grunted, clenching your eyes close tightly, until a soothing hand placed itself on your right hand.

“Y/N?” America mumbled softly; her voice denoted the tiredness the young woman felt though there were traces of excitement right there. “Y/N?”

“Ugh, just give me a few minutes, I feel like my head is going to explode.” You whispered back making a face while trying to open your eyes once more, this time around slowly and squinting your eyes so as not to bother the retina.

America sighed in relief, her lips drawing a sad smile while she grasped her sister’s hand. The moment she had been brought into the hospital; America feared the worst but was soon calmed down by Tony telling her nothing too life threatening had happened. Just a gunshot on the arm, and a few badly cured wounds and bruises you couldn’t keep up with any longer.

“Wha-What happened? Wanda…Wanda, the kids…America!”

You jerked awake completely almost falling on your side while trying to sit up, America jumped away only to go back to you trying to push you back on the bed. She frowned, shaking her head until her eyes finally found yours, reading in them the desperation you had been experimenting all day.

“I’m here, they are here, we’re fine.” America tried to sound reassuring, pressing you back on the bed, “come on stop struggling, you idiot! You’re hurt and need to take it easy for a moment.”

It wasn’t until then that you noticed the bandages covering your sister’s wrists, she too held some bruises and cuts on her face but otherwise America was unharmed. Your eyes went big, this time around you lifted your good arm cupping your sister’s face.

“Kiddo, are you alright? God, I’m so sorry…”

America swallowed down her emotions nodding curtly, “I’m…I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Your wrists…”

“I-I cut myself trying to get away from the ropes.” She explained looking at the bandages, “I couldn’t and perhaps if I had done so…”

“You would be dead.” You replied wrapping your right arm around your sister putting her to you. “I’m sorry, I put you in danger kiddo, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry.”

America slumped down holding onto you with tears forming in her eyes, her arms sneaking under your body until she was hugging you tightly. You felt your own tears prickling in your eyes, holding onto the only family you had left.

“I was so scared.” She whispered between sobs, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’m sorry that…that she didn’t tell you everything.”

You blinked slowly while pushing America away for a moment, you tilted your head trying to sit down. America soon was by your side lifting the bed and helping your position on the bed, she was still crying softly but relief was quite evident in her features.

“What do you mean everything? Who was supposed to tell me everything?” You dragged the words tilting your head, America tensed with her brows knitting together.

“Wanda.” She spat out shaking her head, “Me and the others found out she had been living with that asshole for a time now, I confronted her when things with you were getting serious, she told me she would speak with you but…”

“Wait, you knew about Wanda’s husband? You dug into her past without consulting me?” You snorted, shaking your head, “she told me about Vision. She told me…”

“That he almost killed her and the twins several times? That the last time she was put into the hospital she decided that was enough because the man burned a knife on Tommy’s back while she was out?” America exclaimed with her voice getting louder and louder with every word.

“That the man had a restrained order? That…that, I almost lost you?” America was shaking by now, it was as if she had been containing herself until that point and seeing you like this, all hurt and weak finally broke the resistance inside her.

“It is her fault! It’s all Wanda’s fault!”

You winced trying to incorporate, almost falling on your knees you grabbed America and pulled her towards you hugging her as tight as you could. A part of you understood where this was coming from, America had never seen your parents’ bodies the way you had to, she had only gone to the funeral so she was never there to see their broken bodies still, the trauma lingers and the fear that was trying to consume America was something you had already experienced. You were her only family, if she lost you then what would be of her?

She hugged you back sobbing silently against your chest, your body protested at the stress you were putting it into but you didn’t care. You waited until America seemed to calm down, your voice finally reaching out to her more logical part instead of her emotional one.

“It’s okay to be angry, Kiddo, it’s okay…” You whispered with your hand drawing soothing circles on her back, “but it’s not Wanda’s fault, or yours, or mine…Kiddo, what others do, what others decide to do is not our fault…This is the fault of a man that wanted to be evil, Wanda was just a victim, like you, like me…but we cannot blame ourselves when he is the one that should be carrying with this.”

America took a breath holding back her rage and her fear, she didn't agree nor she denied your words, instead she stepped back giving you a quick check up. You were wearing a hospital gown, your left arm had been put on a sling holding your arm tightly against your chest. Your face was covered in bruises, with your hair badly combed with a paleness that came with the concussion and the tiredness you felt the day before.

“You were lucky,” America stated pointing to your arm, “the crazy woman, she went mad shooting like crazy she just hit your arm, the…they have to shoot her down.”

You gulped nodding curtly while glancing at your arm, you didn't remember much after the initial shooting. But you remembered the burning pain, the numbness going on your left side and then just giving into darkness.

“What about…?” You didn't finish the question, America shook her head.

“He was arrested, not before he almost killed Wanda with his bare hands.”

America had heard enough from Tony and that one eyed man, she had been taking care of the twins when this was mentioned and of course she had seen Wanda come into the emergency room right after you. Everything had been so confusing she could barely remember anymore, or at least tried to pinpoint where to go whenever she felt lost. Kate had been released early in the day and while she offered to stay, America knew Kate’s mother would want to be with her.

You sat down on the bed again, your knees trembling under the weight of your body. You winced finally feeling the effects of the medication wear off.

“How is Wanda?” You asked tentatively, America tensed up nodding to the door.

“She is at the other end of the hall, with Billy and Tommy.” Then after a moment of hesitation, “Hope is with them.”

“Have you talked to Hope already?” You inquired lifting a brow at your sister, the young woman shrugged looking away from you. “America…”

“I'm just happy you are okay.” America let herself drop right beside you, you smiled wrapping your good arm around her.

“I'm happy you and the others are okay.”

America sighed, closing her eyes, “do you want something? I need to tell the doctor and the nurse you are okay.”

“It's Vodka an option?” You teased, America snorted, shaking her head.

“I can try.”

“Please do, and while you're at it try to record their reaction.”

America chuckled, pushing you playfully while standing up.

“If you're cracking bad jokes already, that means we will be home on time for the New Year celebrations.”

You frowned, cocking your head while speaking again.

“What do you mean? What day is today?”

This time around America was the one frowning, “It's New Year's Eve, more exactly we are eight hours away from the new year.”

“Woah, so I was unconscious what? Twelve hours?”

“More or less, yes.”

“I was lucky.” You stated absentmindedly, America glanced at you for a long time before nodding.

“We were lucky.” America didn’t say much after that, you furrowed your brows trying to actually feel the strength coming back to your body.

“Even if I’m not release today, we should celebrate New Year today,” you dared to glance at America who pursed her lips nodding curtly, “I mean, we shouldn’t stop celebrating the good things in life, and well…”

America let out a heavy sigh, she passed around the room stopping right in front of you. Her hands placed carefully on your shoulders and for the very first time you saw your stepmother in her, the same determination behind her brown eyes and her serious features.

“I have never felt so afraid before, Y/N, and while I was there trying to get away I was…I was feeling powerless to help the twins, to help Kate, to help Wanda.” America trailed off never breaking her eyes contact with you, she swallowed down her tears opening her mouth with a quivering lip.

“I thought what you would do, and when I heard him said he had killed you,” America snorted, “I was ready to do something foolish, yet I felt so defeated.”

“America…” You started but she then broke into a half smile, shrugging while squeezing your shoulders comfortingly.

“Then I heard you were okay, that you were trying to get me and the twins out of it and I knew.” America rolled her eyes punching you lightly on your good shoulder.

“What did you knew know?” You asked when America didn’t elaborate, the young woman lifted her chin stepping back nearing the door.

“That you are in love with Wanda, that you love those kids as if they were your own, and that you would never let anything bad happen to me or them, even if you have to sacrifice yourself.”

You broke into the same smile, shaking your head you offered a sheepish stare to America.

“What can I say? It is the foolish in me, perhaps in another life I was a hero.”

“Perhaps, you doofus, I think…it would take time, but I understand.” She mumbled with her eyes shining lightly.

“I know, kiddo, I know.” You called to her and she stopped right before closing the door, “I think more now than ever they will need a big sister, you know?”

America snorted shaking her head, “it’s good then that I learnt how to be a good big sister from the best.”

And with that, America left you alone while she went to look for the doctors. You kept your eyes on the white door for a long time, your mind numb giving into the growing pain on your left side. You didn’t dare to let your thoughts wander towards Wanda or the twins for fear of just jumping to your feet and running to her room. Whatever had happened, whatever stated she was in the last thing you wanted to do was to overwhelm her or scared her away. You could still remember the fear in her eyes, the sudden changed in her whole demeanour while she gave into a state of numbness that broke your heart.

You took a deep breath, looking around you found America’s mobile and after a moment of hesitation you grabbed the gadget watching the time and the day. With a trembling thumb, you decided that you wouldn’t let this to change things with Wanda or America or even Billy and Tommy.

A plan already forming on your mind.

__________________

It took fifteen minutes for everyone to come rushing into your room as soon as the news of you waking up reached them up.

As you expected it, Christine and Strange were the first to come rushing into your room ready to check over your wounds and bandages. Your chest exploded into a wave of warm affection when they started fuzzing around you making you go back to the bed to make a full check-up while asking questions about your physical health.

Soon Hope came in as well with Tony, Reed and Sue who had made sure to be there as well. This time around the questions changed into a more deep, emotional speech to find your emotional state, with everyone being careful of mentioning Wanda or her children. When it became too much, and your anguish grew without everyone taking noticed of this, Christine and Pepper came right in hushing everyone out of your room with only America, Christine, Hope and Pepper staying behind.

You closed your eyes slowly, wincing when the shifting on the bed made you pressed your weight on your left side.

“Easy there, Y/N, it would take some time to get use to it but the pain won’t last that long.” Christine spoke soothingly, she offered a shaky smile at you while helping you get comfortable. “You were really lucky she was bad with guns, and her aim.”

You gave a crooked smile, “I was lucky indeed.”

Hope glanced at America then at you, the exchanged didn’t go amiss by you and soon your eyes were on your best friend.

“How is Wanda?” Finally, after almost two hours of avoiding the topic you brought the white elephant into the room.

Hope sighed stepping closer to you, “she is not okay, this really shake whatever progress we made in the past and has been affecting her greatly. She feels guilty, she feels as if she doesn’t deserve you.”

“She actually thinks you hate her.” America chimed in playing with her lower lip, “and I may have led her to believe she was right.”

You glared at your sister but said nothing, it was okay. It was only natural. The situation had been less than ideal, and everyone reacted differently to these situations, you couldn’t blame America more so than you could blame Wanda or yourself. Hope grabbed your right hand squeezing comfortingly.

“She will need a lot of support, Y/N, if you…” Hope took a deep breath, “if you are serious about her, about a relationship with her then I suggested you start working on convincing her that she deserves to be happy. And that you don’t hate her.”

You looked away finding Christine’s eyes on yours, the young woman smiled gently at you already knowing the answer. You nodded turning to America then to Hope.

“I am very serious, Hope. I wouldn’t have done what I did with just anyone.” You stated serious grabbing your best friend tightly, “I fell in love with Wanda because of who she is, I don’t know if she feels the same or if she even is ready for this but I won’t give up.”

“I know, Y/N. It will take time but…well, I cannot say she feels the same, I can say though that she really feels strongly about you.” Hope shrugged stepping back, “so, who knows?”

“Right.” You sighed turning to the door then back to Hope and Christine, “I need a favour.”

“What is it?” You offered a half smiled wiggling your brows and soon America knew you had planned something incredible reckless and crazy.

Christine and Pepper exchanged a glance pretty familiar with the mischievous glint of your stare ready to see where this favour of you lead them.

____________________________

You were ready to go out of your room, you were tired already of staying in bed more so if there was no need for you to stay overnight.

“You really should try to follow Christine’s advice,” America mumbled helping you inside your pants while shaking her head, you almost fall flat on your ass if America hadn’t hold onto you.

“Ugh, please I’m okay, just bruised and in pain but at least I can get dress, and besides I want to see Wanda and I wasn’t about to flash my but to everyone in this wing.” You glared at the hospital gown before turning to your sister.

America winced making a face at the mention of your butt.

“Yes, I agreed, we don’t need that anymore than we need to.”

You chuckled sitting down on the bed while watching as America went to grab your sneakers and put them on you. Just as she was finishing up the last of them the door to your room opened without any warning, you were about to scold at whoever had come in unannounced when you found yourself staring at Nick Fury and Peggy Carter.

Both agents came into your room, closing the door behind them. Peggy stepped closer her eyes checking you up before the fell on America. The older woman offered a warm smile stretching her hand to your sister.

“You must be Ms. Chavez, I’m Agent Peggy Carter.” America took her hand lifting a brow at her.

“A pleasure.”

“So, agent Carter, Agent Fury, what can I do for you?” You asked right away with your eyes going from Peggy to Fury.

“We came here to inquire about your injuries and your general state,” Peggy started taking a seat on the closest chair, “and then, if you were agreeable to the idea, we are also here to take your testimony.”

“As you can imagine, the case against Jarvis is going to take high priority since he broke into a private airport handle by National Security so, now only is he under some federal charges, he is also being investigate for terrorism and treason.”

You snorted shaking your head, not really understanding how all those charges came to be but happy to know the man would have it really difficult to go out of the trouble he got into. America stood right there glancing at you then at the agents, she bounced on her feet before nodding curtly to herself grabbing her phone and moving to the door.

“In that case, I’m out of here and directly to help Christine and the others with your…surprised.”

“Go on, Kiddo, I’ll be in Wanda’s room if you need anything.”

Peggy watched as America left before settling her eyes on you, Fury took a seat on the sofa and soon both agents had their attention on you.

“Well, where should I start?” You finally asked, Peggy put her phone on the table the recording app on.

“You can start from the beginning, when did you meet Wanda and how you became involve with her, and Jarvis.”

You raised a single eyebrow before nodding, for a moment you kept silent contemplating how much had happened in the last six months of your life. With a deep breath, you started telling them the first day you met Wanda, the different encounters, and the conversations you held with her. It was not relevant, but soon just to humour yourself you started talking about your changing feelings, how you started seeing the other woman and the shaky friendship that blossom one day when you first got to see the scars of the abuse in the boys.

The story then went directly to the confrontation you had with him the day before. His words inviting you over to see something he had been working on, then the surprised attack and you fighting back up until the moment they showed up and cooked up the plan that almost cost you your life and Wanda’s life as well. Peggy shifted uncomfortable, her eyes glancing fast to Nick then back at you.

“Now, I want to know what happen to him,” you asked glancing at both agents, “You promised me nothing bad would happen and I got shot and Wanda was almost killed by the man.”

The reproach was quite evident in your voice, Peggy glanced at Fury then back at you, she leaned forward placing her elbows on her knees making sure you could not look away from her.

“He was already on top of Wanda by the time Agatha shoot you,” Peggy shifted as she recounted what happened while you were unconscious on the ground, “we were supposed to arrest him right there and then, but we never expected him to get to Wanda and tried to strangle her before we could pull him away from her.”

“He knew he had been caught, so his last act before going to jail was to make sure he would kill his wife.” Fury continued shrugging, “he was just a fucking coward.”

Peggy glared at Fury but the man didn’t even flinch, you scowled shaking your head.

“What is a dead woman if he is the sole survivor and the only guardian to his children?” You snorted, shaking your head, “he knew you needed him alive if you were to keep building a case against the criminal organisation he had been stealing from.”

Peggy nodded curtly, not even bothering in denying your words. clenching your jaw, you sit up trying to get out of the bed, Fury stepped forward helping you out of the bed while holding you up.

“I will make sure that man doesn't see the light of another day, Agent Carter, he tried to kill me and my family.”

“I know.” She replied softening slightly, “I'm sorry you have to go through that, you and Wanda…”

“Whatever information he is offering you, I can double it. You have my resources at your full disposal as long as there is written guarantee he won't have the kids custody; his name will be erased from their records.”

Fury lifted a single eyebrow quite impressively while Peggy tried to hold back her expression into a neutral facade. You shrugged pointing a finger to the door.

“I don't know if the movies are real or not, but if the government can make it happen I want that man like the iron mask prisoner from Dumas’ book.”

This time around Peggy cracked a smile nodding curtly, “I shouldn't tell you this but, he wouldn't be our first iron mask prisoner.”

You opened your eyes before squinting them with a hint of suspicion there.

“I can't promise you he would be put away in such a secure place, but I can promise you the other part of your request. He won't have any claim on the children or his ex-wife or his freedom.”

“Good, now I think I'm going to see my girlfriend. If you excuse me, you gave me the perfect chance to run from this place.”

Fury and Peggy watched you leave the office, Peggy waited until she heard your footsteps far along the hall.

“So, tell me why we never recruit her?”

“Her father threatened to skin you and Steve alive if you ever tried it.”

“Right, like father, like daughter.”

_________________

The energy you had spent re-telling your story for the last six months was soon building up again. Your hand hover above the doorknob of Wanda’s room, with you standing right outside waiting for courage and the right words to find a way into your mouth.

You played the words of Hope inside your head, and you went over what America and everyone else had told you so far about Wanda’s real physical and emotional state. You needed to play this right so as to ensure Wanda would not run from you; you lifted your face ready to go in when a couple of questions creep into your mind, what if Wanda really didn’t want anything with you? What if things really change?

The white door was suddenly heavier, bigger and it stood before you as a silent guardian of what was at the other end. You remembered your sister's anger, the fragility of life as your left arm pulsated with the ghost of a bullet piercing your skin and muscle.

Wanda.

Everything you did up to that point had been for her, right? Then, why were you hesitating?

With more courage that you felt, you grabbed the doorknob and pushed through.

The room had the light of the TV projecting colours of a children’s program on the wall, there was only a single lamp projecting a different light resting on the bedside table. You stepped into the room closing the door behind you and effectively calling the attention of the little lumps resting on the sofa. Billy and Tommy both turned to the door, their eyes growing wide while they expression changed from one of boredom and tiredness to one of happiness.

It caught you by surprised to see as the both of them came rushing to you meeting you halfway and wrapping their arms around you. You winced when Billy got to you first, he crushed into your left side while Tommy grabbed your right side.

“Hey guys,” you greeted them softly, wrapping your good arm around Tommy while later on ruffling Billy’s hair, “it’s good to know you guys are okay.”

“Mommy said…” Billy trailed off stepping away from you, frowning he then pointed to the sling, “she said dad hurt you.”

Tommy pressed his lips together looking down in shame, “we’re sorry.”

You opened your eyes kneeling while putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, Tommy.” You replied looking at the boy before turning your eyes to his brother, “never felt sorry for what other’s do, guys. He hurt me, but it was not your fault.”

Billy clenched his jaw close stepping closer to you, “he hurt mommy too, and Tommy.”

Tommy trembled feeling the tears in his eyes, you softened your features cupping his face while offering a smile to Tommy.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Tommy, but he won’t be able to do so anymore, I promise.” Tommy then stepped towards you hugging you tightly hiding his face on your neck.

You wrapped your good arm around him drawing soothing circles on his back, you could see Billy hesitating though this time around he was looking at you with a glint of hope in his eyes.

“Are you…mad? Mommy said you saved her but…she was crying.” Billy furrowed his brows glancing at the bed where his mother was resting then back at you, “I don’t want mommy crying anymore.”

Your heart melted right away, these boys had been in constant fear yet always ready to defend and protect their mother. You shook your head nodding to Billy to come closer to you.

“I’m not mad, Billy. I was worried sick about you guys, and Wanda, I love you guys.” You said without a hint of hesitation, “and I’m sorry I was not there to make sure nothing bad happen to you, or Tommy or Wanda. But I promise you, this won’t happen again. And he…he won’t be able to hurt you again.”

“You promise?” Billy said lifting his right hand, putting his little finger out, “you pinkie swear it?”

You held back your smile, you let go of Tommy for a moment taking Billy’s finger with yours.

“I swear it, Billy.”

And you meant it.

You would do anything that was in your power to protect this family from any harm, they didn’t deserve to keep on suffering the way they had done in the past and if you could offer them something different you would do so.

Billy nodded curtly before he too came into your arms hugging your tightly, you closed your eyes for a moment enjoying the embrace these two kids were sharing with you. You smiled when they let go of you and put their fingers on their lips turning to the bed where Wanda was still sleeping.

It wasn’t until that moment that you noticed the state she was in.

If at any point you doubt your love for Wanda, and what the future held for the both of you it soon crumbled under the weight of your emotions and your beating heart. Your eyes softened at the sight of Wanda sleeping on a hospital bed, there was nothing relaxed on her expression and the way she seemed to be clenching her jaw and fist told you she was probably having a bad dream.

“Dad hurt mommy.” Billy mumbled looking up at you, “can you make her feel better?”

“I will try, kiddo, why don’t you and Tommy go back to the sofa, okay?” The twins glanced at one another then back at you and then at their mother before nodding and running back to the sofa.

You stood by Wanda’s bed taking in the bruises on her face and the bandages covering parts of her body. You were trembling by now, your hand lifting to touch at the bandages covering her neck. The man had tried to make s much damage as he could, and Wanda was now paying a price she shouldn’t be paying. You made a silent promise to the skies to never let anyone or anything hurt her the way Vision had done so.

With a softness that surprised you, you grabbed her hand in yours, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand while leaning in to place a single kiss on her forehead.

Wanda stirred with her eyes popping opened all of a sudden, you could see the flash of panic in those green orbs and the tension of her body pushing her to almost sit up and put herself in unnecessary risk.

“Hey, wait, it's me, Wands.” You tried to soothe her, this time around you placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, tilting your head. You tried to offer a shaky smile but Wanda just shook her head trying to get away from your touch leaving out exclamations of pain from her lips.

“Hey, Wands, wait…” You tried to calm her down, with the twins standing up coming to the bed while looking at you and then at Wanda.

“Y/N? Mommy?” Billy asked tentatively, hearing her son was enough to make Wanda returned her attention to them then back to you.

“Hey, love it’s okay.” You furrowed your brows, while Billy and Tommy were not understanding such a reaction for you was crystal clear what it meant.

The words from Hope came back, and now you understood what they really meant. The fear she was flashing on those green eyes were the silent symbol of the fear she was feeling of getting closer to you once more, of perhaps living the rejection coming from you and experimenting the hate she thought you had for her.

Wanda never lost the tension on her muscles, she tried to ignore you while turning to her children that were looking at her wide eyed.

“I’m okay.” She tried to speak but her voice came hoarse with dried undertones and broken words.

Billy frowned grabbing Tommy by the hand then turning to you and Wanda.

“Y/N is here, mommy. You can sleep again; she pinkie promise dad won’t hurt you. Ever again.”

While Billy offered a tentative smile to his mom you could see the widening of her eyes, and the tension coming back to her. You grabbed her hand, trying to be as careful as you could while making sure she returned her attention to you. Wanda pressed into the bed keeping her face hidden from you while keeping her hand limp.

“Wanda, look at me, please.” You spoke clearly, without demanding but asking as a favour.

After what seemed like an eternity the young woman turned to you and the tears were filling up her eyes.

“You want some water?” You asked lifting your good hand to brush some locks of hair away from her face, “I notice your voice was hoarse and…well, I know why but perhaps cold water can help some with the swelling.”

Wanda felt her lower lip shivered, she was trembling waiting for you to start screaming at her, for the words of finality to leave your mouth. But you never changed your posture, or the softness behind your expression, or even the tender caresses from your hand. You locked your eyes to hers lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Well? You want water or, I can also offer you some Vodka, but that will cost you a kiss at least.”

You chuckled when Tommy and Billy made gaging sounds before erupting in giggles and going back to the sofa. Wanda frowned opening her mouth ready to speak, but with her breath caught in her throat when you placed a single finger on her lips.

“Don’t, Princess, try to not put any unnecessary stress on your voice. Let me bring you the water, and then…” you trailed off leaning, “then we will talk.”

Wanda trembled nodding slightly, you winked at her and then asked the boys if they wanted something to drink asking them to come with you while leaving the room for a moment.

Wanda was soon left alone with her thoughts, she thought the first time she would see you again after the whole ordeal she would be far away, perhaps ready and strong to face your hatred and the finality of whatever relationship you two had built in the last couple of weeks. She had been waiting for you to hate her, to perhaps blame her for what had happened the way America had done so hours ago.

She never expected you to behave the way you were doing, or for you to offer her the smile she loved so much. Or for you to just be you. She held back her tears, her heart beating heart against her chest while she tried to quiet down any whispers of hope that had been trying to grow inside her head and heart, she couldn’t allow herself to hope only for you to perhaps coming back with a breakup and hurtful words against her. Her heart wouldn’t take it.

Ten minutes later you came back alone, your lips curled into a sheepish smile while lifting a glass of water with a straw.

“America and her friends were down in the cafeteria, and Balder was there and the twins wanted to talk to him, I hope you don’t mind.” You stepped closer to Wanda helping her up before offering the straw. “Here, drink some water.”

The woman hesitated before drinking form the straw, her face broke into a mask of pure relief while wincing lightly feeling her throat pulsated with the water flowing inside her. She then opened her eyes, looking directly into yours.

“Thank you.” Wanda whispered looking away for a moment, getting ready with the huge speech she had prepared in your absence, her mouth opened but whatever she had prepared came crushing down and the only thing she could say was a shaky, “I’m sorry.”

“Wanda…” You started but the other woman put a hand on yours gripping your tightly, her green eyes big and desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…I…It wasn’t my intention, I’m sorry, please don’t hate me…”

You could hear and see the effort she was making into talking, her voice was trembling just above a hoarse whisper. You waited until it was impossible for her to continue and then, you leaned in to kiss her forehead tenderly.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, Love.” You whispered for her only, breaking into a tender smile while letting her see the love you felt for her.

She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks her lips trembling. You brushed your hand against her cheek, wiping away the tears while brushing her hair.

“I have never had so much fear in my life that the fear I felt knowing I couldn’t stop him on time and you and the twins and my sister were in danger.” You said softly, furrowing your brows while looking at Wanda.

“I was so afraid that something was to happen to you and them, when I finally got him to leave the kids and America behind my next concern was to make sure you were okay.” This time around you let your fingertips trace a line to the bandages around her neck.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Wands.”

“Why?” She finally asked, and that single question held everything she wanted to tell you.

Why were you still there with her? Why did you keep coming for her? Why?

You opened your eyes blinking away a couple of times, “I thought it was obvious.”

Wanda furrowed her brows shaking her head, you softened leaning in making sure she was looking deeply into your eyes.

“Because I’m in love with you, Wanda, and from the moment I met you I realized I want nothing more than to make you and the boys happy.” You shrugged offering a tender smile, “I thought it was that obvious, but let me correct that, from now on I will show you every day how much I love you, and I will tell you so, to make sure you know without a glimpse of a doubt.”

Wanda felt her lip quivered, she wanted to say so many things. She wanted to ask for your forgiveness because if she had told you the full story of Vision nothing would have happened. She wanted to tell you that she would understand if you wanted to end whatever it was the both of you have, she had put you and your sister in danger and she would understand. She would understand if you hated her, if you wanted to leave.

And then, you came over to crash all of these thoughts by confessing the most wonderful thing to her. She felt her heart stopped for a moment, and soon she opened her mouth wanting to tell you the same, that she had been in love with you from quite some time. She locked her eyes with yours, her mouth opened ready to say those words…

I love you.

She gripped your hand tightly, and your heart broke at the fragility you found there. Your own tears welling up your eyes, offering a comforting smile when you hold her hand.

“I know.” You said to her silent confession.

She lowered her gaze, gasping when you brushed your lips against hers.

“Wanda, I know life has not been easy or kind to you, but I want you to know that I will be here for you, for Billy and for Tommy.” You all but whispered to her, “whenever you are ready, I still be here, and I won’t leave unless you tell me to. So, you better be ready because, If you want to, I’ll be by your side until we are old and living in an Italian coast watching our grandchildren grow.”

Wanda offered a shaky smile clenching her eyes closed thinking she really didn't deserve you. Or happiness. When she opened her eyes again, you were still there smiling softly at her, and Wanda had to ask herself if she was ready to be with you in such a way. To finally step forward and give herself to you. You whispered sweet, comforting words to her, trying to ease out the sobs leaving Wanda’s lips until the young woman finally fell into an easy sleep.

-------------------------------------------

Wanda was not sure when she fell asleep, her body stirred painfully under the weight of recovery and sleepiness. She could hear the muffled conversation happening in her room, and the excited chatter coming from her children but her eyes refused to open, only giving her the comfort of the sounds of conversation.

She let the voices soothe her worries, her heart shrank deeply hearing the snickered from her son's and the conviction behind your voice. She loved the tenderness in which America chided them but also the way she conspired with the twins. Wanda didn't know when she let the smile showed on her face, but the moment she opened her eyes your hand was comfortingly wrapped around hers.

“Hey, sleepy head, are you ready?” Your question caught Wanda by surprise, she furrowed her brows opening her mouth only to close it again.

You chuckled turning to the bedside table lifting the glass of water with straw that was left there by a nurse. You offered the straw to Wanda and, after some hesitation, she drank some of it trying to clear her throat while locking her eyes with yours.

“Ready for what?” She finally said in a raspy, guttural voice wincing at the effort.

“For New Year’s celebration, of course!”

It wasn't until then that the young woman noticed the change in your clothing. You were wearing a loose shirt, your left arm still wrapped around the sling, your legs covered by a nice black jean and some Vans. Your hair out up in a ponytail, freshly washed and ready for an afternoon stroll apparently. She turned to see the twins were both wearing black and khaki jeans with matching jackets and light blue shirts. America wore a beautiful dress and everyone was just ready to go out, Wanda tried to sit up with her eyes slightly open glancing around her room with her heart beating fast and a tingling down her abdomen.

“I brought you a dress that Billy and Tommy select, and a nice coat because, baby is cold outside.”

You chuckled winking at America who rolled her eyes making gagging sounds while Wanda returned your smile blushing lightly.

“I would offer to help you get dressed, but you know…” you pointed to your arm sheepishly, “Nat is coming over and we will wait upstairs, don't take too long, Wands.”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something, but soon enough her words tangled on her throat when you leaned in, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Just go with the flow, love.” You winked walking backwards before hurrying everyone out of the room.

The room soon felt empty, with just a tad of cold breeze making Wanda shivered. She sat on the bed for a moment until the door of her room opened and there was Natasha with a huge smile.

“I hope you're ready because Y/N really outdo herself this time around.”

Wanda was not sure what to say, the tears were back and her heart was just trembling under the raw affection trying to overwhelm her. Soon her eyes fell upon the dress, Wanda narrowed her eyes trying to calm herself down while letting the older woman assist her still confused as to what exactly was happening and not obtaining any direct answers from the redhead.

“Nu-uh, you will have to wait, Wanda, and you won't regret it.”

Half an hour later Wanda and Natasha were making their way to the elevator of the Hospital, not many people were left in the halls. Midnight was almost there, and many were either in their rooms, on their homes, or on the rooftop. You waited patiently by the elevator, your eyes growing big when you took in the appearance of Wanda who was holding Natasha tightly.

“You look beautiful,” you stepped closer offering your arm to her, Wanda hesitated before taking yours her cheeks burning brightly while her eyes lowering shyly.

“You look good, too.” She replied softly, you chuckled winking at Wanda.

“I want you to have the best New Year’s celebration ever, we were supposed to go to Stepehen and Christine’s party but…since we can, I brought the party to you.”

You explained while standing in front you Wanda, the young woman furrowed her brows turning to the open door of the elevator then back at you. For Wanda you were a box filled with surprises, one after the other, you had always shocked her in ways she never thought possible. She gulped wincing when her spit went down her sore throat, closing her eyes she then lifted her hand to cup the side of your face stepping closer to you.

“I wish I could show you the same, our date was cut short last time,” she shook her head stopping any reply from you, you clamped your mouth shut letting her finish, “I’m sorry about everything, I still think I don’t deserve you…but I will make sure to be worthy of your love, of your company.”

Your heart leaped forward, and your eyes fluttered close when Wanda leaned in kissing you tentatively on the lips. It took you a moment, and soon the both of you were sharing the softest kiss you had ever experienced in your life. By the time the both of you parted, you two were equally flustered, smiling at the other with the same affection growing in your eyes.

“Well, then let’s go.” You said holding onto Wanda and leading her to the elevator where a very amused Natasha had waited all along.

When the doors of the elevator opened in front of you, you smiled hearing the gasp coming from Wanda. The young woman stepped forward glancing around the place while admiring the decorations and the people filling out the place. The night was completely dark, with a cold breeze traveling around the celebrations goers that were wearing heavy coats and drinking warm beverages.

The place had been decorated with lights and torches, tables were set up and many patients with their families and friends were sharing light conversation and food, doctors, nurses and staff members had also been invited and all of them had also chosen different tables to enjoy the music and the tension just before the clock hit midnight.

Wanda turned to you, and you could only smile at her shrugging.

“I thought we need to start the new year with a huge celebration, not on a hospital bed.” You said simply earning yourself a tight hug before she grabbed your hand dragging you down the different tables to the furthest part of the rooftop.

The lights of the city twinkling down the streets, and the music was sometimes interrupted by the host of the radio station someone had put on. Wanda approached the group and soon she found many familiar faces she had met before, she stopped dead on her tracks with you wrapping your arms around her midsection while putting your lips on her ear.

“I told you I call everyone.” You whispered making her shivered under the caress of your voice.

Wanda soon spotted her children talking with Balder and Morgan, while America was standing with her friends laughing and drinking alcohol free cocktails. At the other end was Hope with Reed and Sue, and nearby was Tony, Thor, Sif, Pepper, Stephen and Christine all sharing a good meal. There were to spots free right beside Christine, facing Eleanor Bishop that was trying very hard to not glare at you.

“Thank you.” She whispered at you, you winked at her pointing to the table.

“Let’s go to eat.”

“Here they are!” Tony stood up calling everyone’s attention, he lifted a hand then pointing at you and Wanda just as you two took your seats, “please everyone, let’s give it up for these two women that had shown us that the power of love can do everything and anything!”

You rolled your eyes with your lips drawing a smile, while Wanda dipped her face trying to covered the blush on her cheeks. Soon conversation resumed, and Wand found herself the subject of Christine’s fuzzing.

“Now, I know this may be difficult at first, but nothing spicy, or acid or anything like that, I chose your food for today, and only cold drinks. Well, lukewarm so as to not to hurt yourself.”

You chuckled grabbing your fork with your good hand watching as Wanda gaped at Christine who was like a mother hen trying to tell the young woman what was good for her sore throat. The table was buzzing with light conversation, the food was soon finished and the dessert along with the flutes of champagne were brought over. All around the rooftop people were getting ready to receive the new year, people glancing at their watches while others were just calling their loved ones.

“Are you guys ready?” America came from behind the both of you, you turned around seeing as America rested her stare on Wanda.

Wanda shifted nervously nodding while offering a tentative smile to the young woman. For a moment you waited, you knew America had been mad, she had told you as much as well as the heavy discussion she had with the redhead. But after you spoke with your sister, you thought whatever disagreement she had with Wanda had been cleared out.

“Wanda, I just…” America started, you could see as Wanda tensed clenching her fist while leaning back with her eyes lowering to the ground, “I’m sorry for all the things I said to you. It was not your fault, I just… Y/N is my family, and I almost lost her, I…”

Wanda shook her head placing a hand on top of America’s, her eyes going wide opened gleaming in disbelief.

“No, I’m sorry.” Wanda replied hoarsely, she put a hand on her throat standing up. “I’m sorry, I put you and Y/N in danger, I…”

America did something you never thought possible, she stepped closer wrapping her arms around the woman holding her tightly.

“Stop talking, you fool, you’re going to hurt yourself even more.” She said tenderly, “don’t apologise, I’m sorry for the way I treat you, it was not fair.”

America looked out of the corner of her eyes to see your smile there, she returned the smile before stepping back grabbing Wanda’s hand in hers before grabbing yours and joining them with hers wrapping around your joined hands with Wanda.

“I know there is no one better to be with my sister than you, just don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t.” Wanda whispered looking at you, you stood up intertwining your fingers with hers.

“I won’t either.”

“Good, now get ready is about to be midnight.”

Wanda turned to you, everyone was getting ready around you. You could see the hesitation in her eyes, with a nod of your head you locked your eyes with hers offering a comforting smile.

“It is going to be okay.”

“I don’t deserve her forgiveness.” Wanda replied, she closed her eyes allowing the comforting squeeze from your hand to warm up her heart.

“Whatever happens, Wands, I want to be right there with you. I want to live with you, to grow old with you…to love you, if you let me.” You said softly, “you deserve forgiveness, and you deserve happiness, Love.”

“I'm scared.” Wanda confessed while unable to tell you the reason behind her fear.

She didn't need to tell you, though. You knew, you could imagine the guilt and the fear she held inside her mind for everything that happened, for the things that came in between. You placed a soft kiss on her hair, putting her closer to you.

“Me too.” You replied, chuckling lightly, “but I prefer to be scared and have you by my side than miss the chance to be with you.”

“You're so sappy.” she leaned back offering a teasing smile you returned with a wink.

“Only for you, Princess.”

Wanda relaxed in your embrace, everyone started standing up checking their watches and grabbing the flutes of champagne.

“Okay everyone, it's about time!”

The music stopped and soon it was replaced for the local radio station in which the announcers were ready as everyone else to start the countdown to the new year.

The rooftop vibrated with excitement, families and friends came together, everyone talking and exchanging their new year's resolutions.

Wanda stepped back welcoming her children in her arms, and America stood right beside you with Kate hugging her from behind. Your eyes soon found those of Wanda and the man in the radio start counting.

“10, 9, 8…”

You chuckled when the twins jumped excitedly, Billy dragging his mom closer to you while also grabbing his brother.

Kate watched the scene with a softening stare kissing America on her cheek.

“You guys look like a happy family.”

“...3, 2, 1 Happy New Year America!!”

The fireworks broke into the sky, everyone gasped and celebrated while Wanda leaned in tilting her head and kissing you openly in front of everyone. Wanda never imagined her year would end in such a way, when she ran away from Vision’s grasp she did so with one thing in mind: To survive.

Now, standing on the rooftop of a hospital with a woman kissing her slowly, tentatively, she realized that love was possible, that being loved was something she also deserved, and that loving someone might not be as bad as she was led to believe. Just as you stepped back with a huge grin adorning your face, Wanda knew.

You two would be forever.

_______________________________________

Next Chapter: Wanda and Reader need to have that date, only family fluff and a bright future ahead of them. With some decisions to be taken, and Wanda finally giving in.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #reader

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yellowbunnydreams · 17 days

Text

Melancholia (William Afton x F! Reader) [Part 2]

~You may want to have little bit of a stronger stomach for this one, folks~

@itsybitsyb0nes @springlockedfool @brightcosmos

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI - Age difference, Older man/younger woman, Murder (adult and child), violent acts, manipulation, gas-lighting, dead bodies, blood, gore, graphic description of injury, use of religious imagery, toxic relationship, boss x employee, god-complex, knife-play, vomiting/retching/gagging

William Afton gazed down at your frightened form beneath him. Shadowed by his presence, covered in blood and his sins with the wide look of horror and fear that made his shiver in anticipation. His hands tightening on the axe instinctually as his pupils widened in the low light. Adrenaline coursing through him, the thrill of being caught in such a perverse act, dismembering a body. He almost wished you had gotten there all but ten minutes earlier, he wondered what you would have done, seeing the killing blow being brought down on your co-workers head.

The body had no use to him anymore. But you had potential as his newest disciple.

He grabbed your arm, gripping so tightly you knew you would bruise, making you yelp as he dragged you to your feet despite the slick floor. You could see it properly now that the light was turned on. The gore that splattered across the table, oozing from the gap where his head once sat. There was something acrid smelling too that dripped from a throat that would never close again, making bile rising in your own throat as you looked over the torso that had been stripped down. Shirt and vest gone, you could make it out in a bin-bag in the corner of the room, you felt at least grateful that William had left your co-workers pants on. As strange as the thought was.

William slid in behind you, making your body tense as you could feel the taller, predatory figure against your coated back. Barely warm blood seeping into your own clothes, as Afton wrapped his hands around yours, placing the axe into them as your mind raced as to what he was doing. Shock had settled in deep within your psyche.

You hadn't even cried tears for your co-worker yet.

His hands moved awkwardly around your loose grip, staring at the body in front of you as he forced you to bring it down. Flinching as your hands gripped onto the shaft of the axe handle despite the fact you wanted to do anything but that in that moment as the sharp blade bit into the torso. The sickening sound of wet meat and crunching bones and cartilage filling your ears as William raised your hands again, letting the weight of the axe fall and cutting further into the chest. The low, almost wheeze of air exiting dead lungs, sounding almost like a moan of pain making you finally sob as your body shook. The reality hitting you as you tried to struggle away from your boss but were only met with his hands tightening on yours and forcing the axe down harder.

You had never wanted to know what the smell of a split human stomach was, or to know what the bisection of a lung looked like, but you gagged as those images were seared into your retinas. William humming in distaste as he surveyed what you had accomplished together. Turning his head towards yours and smiling almost reassuringly as his eyes sparked and his breathing was a little ragged, licking up the track of one of your tears as you continued to sob. Squeezing your eyes shut and turning your head away.

"Little lamb, you took communion so well. Doesn't it feel good?" He cooed, stroking your hair with bloody hands and streaking more evidence through it as you gagged. The smell in the small room was vile, as was your proximity to the murderer.

"N-No...God, no it doesn't feel good. You're a monster."

"If I'm a monster, then so are you. Your prints are now all over the weapon, I could testify that you helped me cut him up into little pieces." A promise, a threat, as William stepped out from behind you. Axe over his shoulder as he surveyed what was left to be done. Tutting and sucking air through his teeth as he stood over the body, fingers tapping impatiently over the wooden handle of his chosen weapon. "Damn it, you got his stomach. That's going to be a pain to clean up."

The comment was almost so normal that you couldn't help a startled laugh that escaped your lips, making William raise an eyebrow at you as you were half laughing, half sobbing. Choking on mucus and spit as your mind reeled at what was happening.

"Oh well I'm terribly sorry I've made a mess." The words were as slick with venom as there was bile in your throat. William huffed, that predatory smile returning to his face as he hefted the axe again, swinging it with vicious force and burying it half into one hip joint. Hearing the meaty crack and splinter that meant he had met his mark.

"Your apology is accepted, little lamb. Now," Another swing as you kept your head turned, unable to watch but only finding yourself staring at the decapitated head on the floor instead. "Strip."

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?" Your head snapped back towards William, who shrugged off his blazer, unbuttoning the purple, starred vest and revealing how tightly his white shirt fixed to his firm chest. The only sign of blood against his cheeks, smattered into his grey hair and across the collar of his white shirt. Not even glancing at you as he picked up the axe again. starting to separate the other leg from the body.

"Strip. You're covered in evidence and we need to get rid of it." Gesturing to your vaguely as you looked down at yourself. The tears still streaming down your face, unable to stop them as you realise your breathing was no longer verging into hyperventilation. "Also, second warning for language."

"You're chopping up a...you're chopping up one of my friends and you're warning me about swearing?"

"You're in uniform. You know the rules."

"Pretty sure there's rules about murder too."

"Freddy's is a place where fantasy and fun comes to life. This is my fun." The way he so easily twisted the tagline for the normally cheerful restaurant turned your stomach. But you weren't sure your already weak digestive system could handle adding to the smell of blood, meat and vomit that permeated the small space. "Now, are you going to give me your damn clothes, or am I going to have to come rip them off of you?" Turning his attention to you with the same slow, predatory smile that made your blood run cold.

Shaking your head to indicate that it wouldn't be necessary, your fingers shook as you unbuttoned your own star vest. Shrugging it off before letting it drop to the floor. Swallowing hard as you began to unbutton your shirt too, glancing up at Afton and watching as he had completely turned his attention back to the body, swinging the axe with precise movements that made you wonder just how many times he'd made the motion before, how he managed to keep so calm and collected about it all. Your shirt dropped too, hands covering your bra and chest as you tried to discreetly reach behind you and check whether or not there was blood on the strap around your back.

"Shoes and socks too."

"Mr. Afton, I-" Opening your mouth to protest as you looked at the gore on the floor, swallowing hard as you tried to desperately not think how it had been a living human that you knew.

"No ifs ands or buts. All of it comes off. You can keep your underwear if you like. You got it all over you."

"And you didn't?"

"That's different. I know how to get blood out of my clothes." Another swing and he used the blade of the axe to move the pieces he'd cut towards the edge of the table. Grabbing a few trash bags and wrapping them around the various limbs, bone splinters and internal organs as they spilt out of the body cavity. Your stomach turned as you heard and watched them sloshing about.

"And I, as somebody who has a period doesn't?" The comment slipped out before you could stop it, making Afton pause and look up at you. That manic smile reappearing as he began to laugh, the sound rich and vibrant as his blue eyes flashed, running his hand through his brown hair as his tongue worried over one canine.

"See, I knew I was right about you, there's something workable in there." Laughing as he shook his head in disbelief. Continuing to scrape and clean the table with a practised ease, even as he grunted whilst moving some of the heavier bags. Bringing out a tub of cleaning supplies and gesturing vaguely to the binbag pile. "Put your clothes in there when you're done. You can go wait in the bathroom if you like. Although, if I find that you've left, or decided to call the cops..." He trailed off and gestured to the table in front of you. Making you nod in understanding before you finished stripping down and gingerly placing your clothes in the bag. Trying not to gag and failing as you were sure that you touched still warm intestines.

You hurried towards the bathrooms, looking around the hallway section and realising that it was perfect for William to work in. There were no cameras apart from near the door into the main dining area, since there were bathrooms near by and it would open up the company to all sorts of lawsuits if somebody felt that their privacy was being invaded.

It felt like an age, sat against the cold tile and shivering, arms wrapped around yourself as you wished that you could warm up. In reality, it wasn't that cold, but the shock had set in and your body was trying anything to shut out the horror, the feeling of cooling skin beneath your fingers. Organ meat squishing in black bags, the way that your co-worker's head bounced against the floor before William Afton booted it out of the way.

You weren't as covered as you were, but you could feel the ghost of the blood lingering against your skin.

The bathroom door swung open, and you barely lifted your head from your knees. It wasn't until a soft hand touched your head that you looked up, bleary eyes puffy from crying as the reality sunk in that you had experienced death up close and personal. You hoped for a saviour.

All you got was William Afton.

He was shirtless, and you realised after a quick appraisal, pantsless too. Wearing tight black boxers, you might have laughed at the absurdity of it all if you weren't tracing the faint lines and dots that seemed to be mirrored up his chest. A sparse trail of hair across his chest and stomach as he smiled in what you supposed was a benevolent way down at you. He looked like a priest, laying hands on the congregation and absolving them of their sins.

The irony did not escape you.

"You need to shower. I have some spare clothes in here that we can use."

"Leave me be. Maybe I'll wake up from this nightmare if I just keep my eyes closed." Murmuring as William sighed and tutted. Crouching down in front of you and running those same bloody hands soothingly over your hair.

"Most people would be happy to be in the presence of a man like me." He sighed, watching your head move slightly as you looked at his angular features, the dark almost bruises under his eyes making his blue eyes stand out more as the lacked that spark once more. Cold. Dead.

"A murderer?"

"A god, little lamb."

"You're not a god, you're sick."

"I have controlled life, whether somebody lives and somebody dies. Is that not, in it's most basic essence, what a god is?" You stared at him as he gave a rueful smile, his hand landing on your cheek and stroking the thumb over your cheek bone as he stood up, turning and cocking his head to one side as he gave you a smile.

"Do not make me regret my decision to be benevolent, little lamb."

You woke up in your own bed the next day. The lingering sense of an uneasy dream following you as you swallowed, reaching for the half drunk soda besides your bed as you looked at the time, rubbing at your face with your palm, digging the heel in.

You could have almost convinced yourself that it was really just a horrible dream if it wasn't for the new, still in the plastic wrapping uniform that sat on your dresser.

Bile rose and you grabbed the trashcan nearby as your guts emptied themselves of their contents. Coughing and spluttering as you drooled acid and orange tinted stomach lining into the bag lining the trash. Splashes of dark soda looking too much like congealed blood in your shaken mind as you retched again. Your head hurt, your whole body hurt. Grabbing the phone as tears streamed down your cheeks and you tried to swallow back the foul, acrid taste in your mouth. Tongue running over your fuzzy teeth as you dialled the number for Freddy's and heard it ring a few times, staring off into space as you waited for somebody to pick up.

"Good morning, little lamb." The cool British accent made you want to cry as you felt your whole body tensing. Sobbing before you could control it, free hand shakily reaching up and wiping your trembling lips as you heard him make a satisfied hum through the crackling phone-line. "No good morning for me?"

"Go to hell." You croaked, earning a tut and a chuckle from your boss.

"Rude. And here I was thinking that we parted last night with a special understanding." You could practically hear his pout through the phone.

"What, that I'll be dead before I hit the door if I told anybody?" Thinking back to the blended blur of emotional turmoil, unable to pick out a specific point where he might have been referring to.

"That too, but that you would be my disciple."

"I'm not your disciple. I'm your fucking Judas." You spat, tired of him harping on with what you had pieced together was a god-complex. Running your fingers through your hair as you moved the trashcan to one side, hoping that moving the source of the smell would make you less queasy.

"Fiesty today aren't you? Well, Judas was still a disciple first, dear, if you're going to try and use faith against me." Chuckling through the phone as you heard a faint creak and imagined William leaning back in an office chair. "Why did you call, little lamb?"

"I called Freddy's, not you."

"Sadly, there was a network outage last night, the only phones that work in the building right now are Henry's and mine." You swore under your breath, feeling your fingers snag in a knot that had formed as you tossed and turned over your pillow. Glancing back at your messed up sheets and comforter before sighing.

"I've thrown up, I shouldn't be around food today."

"Perfect, then you'll work in my office. I need somebody to help me do paperwork." You could hear the disinterested musing in his voice, despite the fact that your stomach was still twisting, your blood boiled, hands tightening on the phone. "See you in a few hours, little lamb."

The fact he had hung up on you didn't even register until you went to open your mouth, and all your heard was the sound of the dead line.

It was almost funny, how easily William Afton snuffed out things like that.

Afton's office was surprisingly spacious when you had entered it upon arrival to work. Dressed in a uniform so new and crisp that it dug into you at weird angles slightly, you felt embarrassed as your colleagues stared at you and whispered amongst themselves. Any rumours that had started to percolate were quickly dismissed however, as soon as they saw your drained, greenish complexion.

You weren't really in a fit state to be working.

But there you sat, on a kid's party chair that William had clearly dragged up the stairs and sat at a low coffee table. The room itself wasn't large, but William had kept it relatively dark. A control panel on one wall that you figured was for party lighting, which made sense as you knew a lot of kids would find and fiddle with it otherwise. You were surprised however, to see the same paper stars and neon confetti carpet in the space, despite the dark, dull furniture, the lack of personal items about the place and on surfaces, you would almost describe the office as friendly.

Almost.

William Afton ruined the illusion entirely.

The tall man was dressed in another black suit ensemble, white shirt and purple vest. His pin-badges were back too, although when you looked carefully, they were different than the day before. The worn out enamel one was still there. An almost skeletal grin on what might once have been a yellow bunny, you wondered how many damn badges he had that he could just change them on a whim. His hair tousled back roughly, blue eyes flickering over paperwork as he silently leafed through them.

He hadn't even greeted you when you entered his office, simply gestured to the too small chair and a pile of manila envelopes. You figured out the task pretty quickly, stamp the envelopes and push in the paperwork that needed to be filled out into them, realising that they were health and safety training on 'bio-hazard clean-up'. A little scoff escaped your lips at the absurdity, making William glance up at you and raise an eyebrow before going back to his paperwork.

"So, are we not going to mention last night, at all?" You were the one the break the silence first, watching your boss pause before leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. Realising all too late that you had played directly into his hand.

"What is there to talk about, unless you want to relive the gory details?" His eyes sparked and his tongue ran over his teeth, your head shook before you could stop it. Earning a disappointed huff from him as he sat back in his office chair. The plastic groaning as it strained slightly. Eyeing you coolly before slowly standing to his towering height. Rolling his shoulders and joints, hearing the pop and crackle of joints that seemed a little bit worse for wear than somebody his age should be.

"Why didn't you kill me?" The words hung heavy from your lips, William staring at you before approaching you, nodding his head up as a gesture for you to stand, waiting for your compliance before growing frustrated that you weren't moving quickly enough for his liking. Grabbing your upper arm in a vice-like grip, making you yelp as you tried to fling your weight out of his hand whilst he sighed and dragged you over to the large glass window that took up a large portion of his office.

"What are you doing, let me go!" You protested, trying to stop yourself from approaching the glass as images of you being thrown through it came to mind.

Afton scoffed as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck. Forcing you to look down over the dining area and watch as your co-workers moved about and children played as normal. Running, screaming, even behind the thick, one-way glass, you could hear the tinny bass of the music from Freddy and the band. You hadn't ever realised it was one-way, thinking the darkness of the glass was a trick of the light and angle.

"See? Isn't being so high wonderful? I get to watch you all and play with your lives without you realising it. Want more hours? You'll have to impress me first. Piss me off? You'll barely meet the requirements of the contract for your employment." His breath cool against your ear and making you shiver as your gaze flickered sideways, and you saw that same elated spark.

"I-I see." Swallowing, praying he would let you go soon. But William's eyes were focused outside, watching the pizzeria go by without a care.

"Pick one." His voice startled you, your attention landing fully on his his intense blue gaze.

"What?" "Pick one."

"For what?"

"You'll find out. Pick one. This is a chance for you to play god with me, little lamb, and I am not comfortable sharing my throne."

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked down at the swirling mass of families and workers. Eyes naturally drawn to the purple of the staff vests, but then your attention flickered to a child running through in a bright pink dress and blonde curls, before an adult leaning against one of the vending machines and trying to sneakily vape caught your attention. A group of children circled around a smaller one, a child in a party hat. You couldn't pick a child, the smell of spilt vomit and heavy, cloying iron filling your mind as you thought of that inanimate, slack jawed expression on such a young face.

You couldn't pick one.

Could you?

The cool glass under your fingertip was the first indication that you had in fact, chosen.

"That one." The words a whisper almost lost on William as he glanced along your line of sight. A slowly building mania palpable on his face as he looked where you were pointing.

A young lad, perhaps twelve, maybe a little younger and large for his age. You recognised that striped t-shirt from a mile away, the poorly done buzz-cut, he was a real handful for everybody who worked there. Parents dropped him off with five dollars and the promise that they would 'be back later before closing', and so the child had become a menace in search of arcade tokens, tickets and loose change. You couldn't believe that you had picked a child out for whatever William had planned.

And neither could he.

"An interesting choice, little lamb...I'll be back in a moment." His hands lingering down your back as he released the grip on your nape, trailing down the curve of your spine before offering you that wide smile, although the light didn't reach his eyes as usual. Stuffing his hands into his blazer pockets, you didn't need to be told twice to stay where you were.

William made his way down the spiral staircase that might have once been an exterior features for a building, you watched helplessly from above as he stalked his chosen prey through the crowd. How he bobbed and weaved with a grace and ease that surprised you given how tall he was, and whilst he wasn't thin, it would have been very hard to call him 'built'. Swallowing hard as the adrenaline set in, watching as he approached the child, wondering that surely, William wasn't such a monster that he would harm a child. Let alone in public.

You closed your eyes and put your head into your hands. Your stomach turned again, unable to bear to watch as all your mind could focus on was how much glee William had in his face after you had swung the axe into your co-worker's chest. The thick, cracking, meaty sound that you knew would haunt you to your dying day, as quickly as it may come without the chance to absolve yourself of these sins.

The hand on your shoulder made you give a short scream, before that hand clamped over your mouth and you felt warm breath stroking over your ear in a sensual caress.

"Look little lamb, at what you have done whilst playing god."

You forced your eyes to open after a moment, looking exactly where the kid had been standing. Stomach dropping as they weren't there anymore, frantically searching the main dining hall as William's slender fingers rested against your pulse point, hearing him groaning in your ear as he felt is fluttering and pounding under his touch. Wondering how much fear he could push through you before your body would collapse and cease to function. Finally, you caught sight of him, mouth opening to warn him, despite the fact that William had a firm grip over your mouth to stop you uttering a pee.

You were surprised, doing a double take when you saw the child standing by an arcade game and pushing in tokens occasionally. Frowning, you knew that the kid would always spend his money on drink and a soda, wondering where he got the money from for extra tickets.

"See, doll, I can be kind....gentle...God doesn't always need to be wrathful." Murmuring lowly, he stroked your hair in a way that made you shiver. Swallowing hard as you turned your head out of his hand and looked at him, cheeks flushing and every nerve screaming at you that it was wrong and you needed to leave as William's face was less than an inch away from yours.

"But, I am going to have to take two to balance it out now, don't you think?"

Of course there was a catch.

There were always catches to the deals with the Devil after all.

#william afton #william afton x reader #springtrap #springtrap x reader #william afton x you #william afton smut #melancholia AU #fnaf x reader #fnaf

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nesaluvstherecoms · 2 months

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Feelings of grief, mentions of injuries.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

The only sound that echoes through the medical wing room is the continuous buzz of the white lights above. It goes on and on and on, nonstop. And the more it continues, the louder it rings in Miles’ ears, piercing painfully through his brain. He hates it.

The stitches on his face burn, the wounds still swollen even with the fluid draining that the medics did on them. The gauze pads that cover them are uncomfortable and dry against the raw skin, secured awfully tightly by bandages and adhesive tape, adding to the burning sensation on his face. Miles’ heavy eyes remain unfocused, staring blankly at some random corner of the room. If only Prager was there. He would’ve stitched his cuts so carefully and soak the gauze pads in cold povidone-iodine to keep the cuts disinfected and cool his burning skin. He would’ve carefully placed freezing cold gel pads against his now dark purple almost black bruises, relieving some of his pain. But Prager is not here anymore is he? His body is probably rotting somewhere, decomposing in the cursed icy waters of Pandora. He’s now just another name, fallen in battle, soon to be forgotten. Miles hates it.

His swollen eyes try to move somewhere else around the room. That horribly bright white light blinds his vision, hurting the sensitive retina of his sharp, golden eyes. The buzzing gets louder.

Everything hurts. His skin, his flesh, his muscles, his nerves, his bones. Everything hurts. His heart. Everything hurts.

Was this all for nothing?

No, he doesn’t think so.

Why is he even doing this?

It’s his purpose.

He is a living tool.

He is the Colonel.

He’s living another man’s life.

No, it’s his life.

He’s suffering the consequences of another man’s actions.

No, those are the consequences of his own actions.

He has opened his heart for another man’s child.

No, that’s his own child.

He’s not that man.

Right?

The buzzing of the lights above him gets louder. His breathing is slow, shallow, too exhausted to even inhale long enough. His heavy eyelids hood over, blurring half his vision. The sheets and blankets placed over him yesterday to counter the hypothermia he was suffering, now feel awfully hot against his exhausted body. He wants to remove some of them, to relieve himself from this heat that has enveloped his form, causing him to sweat profusely. He tries to raise his bruised hand to pull them off, but he can’t move his arm. It remains still on the bed, taking IV fluid from multiple needles sticking into his veins.

He is completely naked underneath. The medics stripped him bare from his wet uniform before treating his wounds and stuffing him in the covers he’s currently in. He was shivering uncontrollably, the hypothermia getting to him as soon as he stepped down from his mountain banshee. The animal kept screeching as people rushed him towards the medical wing, trying desperately to follow but the soldiers sedated it before it could harm anyone. The rest is a blur to him. He doesn’t remember much. Just fragments of doctors erratically moving around him. It might’ve been the painkillers. He’s not sure.

The heat gets worse. He starts sweating harder. His body feels sticky underneath the covers. The buzzing continues.

His eyes feel so heavy. Maybe he should go to sleep again. He’s still absolutely exhausted. The medics said he might be suffering internal bleeding from all the equipment on the Sea Dragon crashing into his body as it was tipping over. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of his pathetic condition. Colonel Miles Quaritch reduced to a bloodied and weak mess. But no expression takes form on his face. It’s just blank. He closes his eyes. He wants to sleep. The heat doesn’t let him.

The card scanner on the other side of the door beeps, and soon enough a gentle hiss is heard from the doorway. Slowly, Miles opens his exhausted eyes again. A human doctor and two human medical assistants step in, making their way towards the large Recom sized bed he is laying on.

“Colonel Quaritch.” The doctor greets, a polite smile on his lips. “How are you feeling, sir?”

The assistants quickly move over to check his condition, observing how much IV fluid he has absorbed and the information on the monitors he is strapped to. Miles doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have the energy. Instead, his heavy eyelids slowly shut close again. Being met with silence, the doctor nods slowly, looking away and pulling out his datapad. One of the medical assistants leans over, finally pulling away one of the blankets covering him, relieving some of the heat from his body. The doctor begins checking over the data on the screen. As he is scrolling through the numbers, with his eyes remaining on the device at hand, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“We weren’t able to tell you yesterday, since you fell asleep shortly after being treated, but we have good news for you to make you feel better, sir. Your Lieutenant survived. The teams that were sent over to the scene were able to pull his unconscious body out of the water during the CASEVAC. He is currently being treated in another room. His condition is stable.”

Miles opens his eyes. He looks upwards, tracing the patterns on the ceiling above him. CASEVAC? Teams? But as the last sentence leaves the human doctor’s mouth, a gentle wave of relief washes over Miles, lifting some of the suffocating, heavy weight on his chest. Lyle is alive. He’s alive. The buzzing of the lights stops.

Y/N’s right leg bounces rapidly up and down beneath the conference table.

“The numbers are still going. We haven’t recovered everyone from the water and wreckage yet. But one thing is for sure, most of the fleet have been killed.”

“And the natives?”

“Very aggravated.”

“How much equipment have we lost?”

“Until now we have estimated to about five billion dollars worth.”

“Bloody hell.” Riley huffs out.

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, disappointment weighing in her chest like a brick. They have been in this conference room for about two hours now and each detail mentioned gets worse and worse. She sits back and listens as Ardmore, ALPHA, operators from other departments and scouts continue on discussing. The tip of her tail moves slowly below her, adding to the rapid movement of her foot while she leans back on the cushioned chair with her right elbow on the armrest and her balled up fist against her right cheek. All this, just because of one man’s incompetence.

“How about amrita sourcing?”

“We have halted it momentarily as we rack up the numbers. We have to redistribute quotas to the remaining Sea Dragons to make up for the amrita sourcing we are losing with Captain Scoresby’s fleet.”

John who is sitting next to Y/N, slowly turns his eyes to take a look at her through the corner of his vision, taking in her reactions. But Y/N’s face remains stoic, just listening carefully to every detail being said like she has been doing for the past two hours. He wonders what is going through her mind. But before he can ponder on it more, Y/N shifts in place and opens her mouth. As soon as her voice gets to the ears of the people in the room, it falls dead silent and all attention turns to her.

“How about Colonel Quaritch? What was his testimony?”

Her question hangs in the air for some seconds. The operators who were investigating the scene and its circumstances exchange panicked eye contact with each other before one of them clears his throat and replies.

“Colonel Quaritch’s condition is pretty serious. He remains under intense supervision in the medical wing so therefore we have not had a chance to speak with him yet.”

The rest of the people in the room turn towards Y/N for her reaction. Her eyes narrow down at the man, clearly displeased by his answer. An uncomfortable feeling pits at the bottom of his stomach as the Recom’s alien eyes pin him in place.

“I see.” Is all she says before gesturing with her gloved hand for them to continue. The others exchange brief glances before the meeting then proceeds again as before. As people go back to discussing, Ardmore’s eyes land on Y/N, giving her a look of curiosity to see what she’s thinking. The Recom’s eyes turn back at her, with almost slitted pupils and a spark that has started to brew over until it is time for it to snap. Ardmore holds eye contact with her second in command for a few seconds before she turns her eyes forward again and sighs. Quaritch has a storm coming his way.

To say that Y/N was incredibly disappointed and angry, would be the understatement of the century. But to still be entirely fair, Y/N understood Quaritch’s side to some extent. He had been given only one Sea Dragon for only a week to get this mission accomplished. He had no exact idea of his target’s location, and his knowledge of the sea environment was limited. Even from her judgement, this could lead anyone to desperation. However, an officer with the rank and experience Quaritch has, would be wise enough to not rule out the possibility of letting this mission go, for the sake of preventing collateral damage and losing human lives in the massive amount that his actions caused. An officer with his expertise, would also know that chasing one target is not worth sabotaging said mission, after finally managing to get the upper hand. Not only that, but still managing to get your target to fight you one on one to death, and not only still failing to kill said target, but almost dying yourself, that’s just purely appalling. His squadron are all dead except for one operator, an entire Sea Dragon is completely destroyed along with billions of dollars of all the equipment and amrita vials that were in it, the entire fleet of said Sea Dragon are almost all dead, the sea natives are now incredibly hostile and aggravated and that’s hundreds maybe even thousands of them, a prisoner who spent months in base learning everything from the inside is now on the loose, apparently those whale things have now learned to fight back, and amidst all of this; Jake Sully is still alive and in a safe place along with his savage bitch and his demon spawns. Well fucking done Miles Quaritch. Well fucking done.

Y/N strolls irritated through the halls of the Ops Center, with John, Riley, Fernando and Oscar following behind. People open the way immediately without even blinking twice, not wanting to get in the way of the Recom General who has just stopped fuming after reading the newest report on her desk that morning. And who could blame her? Only the loss of that Sea Dragon and its entire equipment catalogue is catastrophic, let alone the amount of human and Recom lives lost. This is the biggest tragedy that the RDA has suffered since boarding, and bodies are still being pulled out of the water and wreckage.

John keeps an eye on Y/N as they walk, studying her expression. With the years the team has had with her as their commanding officer, they know what’s about to go down. Quaritch and Ardmore both better start appreciating the final moments of peace they are getting right now because they will be their last.

。。。

Quaritch’s tail can’t stop moving behind him. His body is tense, shoulders flexed and ears folded back. He takes a deep sip of carbon dioxide from his Recom Breather, trying to ground himself by filling his lungs with the much needed gas. The atmosphere in the two story hall is calm for the moment, humans pass below him, paying him no mind as they prepare and calibrate the Holofloor for the upcoming meeting that he has been dreading for the past week. Quaritch is about to face General Ardmore and the Major General for the first time. Since the battle at the Three Brothers, he has yet to give his side of the story and explain his actions. But having read the final report on the aftermath of said battle, even Miles Quaritch knows that he is in deep shit. As he was reading through every line on the document, it dawned heavily upon him how carried away he had gotten during that battle. The desire to kill Jake Sully had completely blinded him and all thought processes were thrown out the window. Though, he doesn’t fully understand why himself. Now he is left with no team, no equipment, no mission and worst of all; he has to cover for his ass in front of the two officers that command the entirety of Bridgehead and the RDA.

For the past week he has been pondering on what to say and the more he thinks about it the more he realizes that he has no valid excuses. Facing Ardmore alone will prove to be challenging, however he has been able to persuade her before so chances are he can do it again. On the other hand, the Major General is still an unknown mystery to him. From what he has gathered from the people on Bridgehead, General F/N L/N is also a Recom, who commands her own squadron of highly decorated and skilled Recom officers. She is always busy, doesn’t smile much, talks only to people she deems worthy of her attention, and spends her time in strictly two locations; either the battlefield or her office. From the troopers who accompany her and her team in missions, he has heard that she has no remorse when it comes to killing Na’vi and will turn the barrel of her gun on anyone who stands in her way, even her own soldiers. So for her to take time out of her day and come and interrogate him about his failed mission, it means that he really fucked up. But if his logic is correct, if he manages to convince Ardmore that it was all just a big accident and get her to give him another chance in pursuing Sully, then General L/N won’t really have a say in it. Right? She’s second in command after all.

As he continues thinking to himself, the sound of footsteps heavier than a human’s behind him catches his attention. He turns around, eyes slightly wide as the large and buff frame of the other male Recom gets closer to him with a warm smile.

“Colonel.” Wainfleet greets softly, nodding his head once in respect. At the sight of his right hand man, alive and well in front of him, a gentle warmth fills Miles’ chest. He smiles, opening his arms.

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” He asks softly as he hugs him, both men wrapping their buff arms around each other’s shoulders in a tight and comforting embrace. Lyle’s own soft smile doesn’t leave his face, patting Miles’ shoulder firmly as they part, giving it a gentle squeeze, and careful not to hurt any of his bruises. Their arms remain holding each other, large and bruised hands grasping each other’s veiny forearms. The Corporal’s face is also bruised, with a stitch on the upper left of his forehead. But it’s much less wounded than Miles’ and it looks like it’s healing well.

“I heard you were gonna report to the Generals today. I came to back you up, Colonel. I am the only other Recom who was there and survived after all. It’s only a matter of time before they called me in too.” He replies, squeezing Miles’ shoulder again as he speaks before they both release the grip they have on each other. Quaritch’s eyes look down, his head nodding once.

“So it’s really true then. They’re all dead.” He says in a low tone, confirming the worst case scenario that he had been afraid of for the past week. Wainfleet lowers his head, his ears pressing back against his head before he nods sadly.

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid so.”

Miles nods one last time in understanding, deciding to push the feelings of mourning away for the time being, before he looks up at the Recom in front of him with a sad but proud smile.

“Well, all that matters now is that we’re alive and well. Welcome back, soldier.” He says, grabbing the back of Lyle’s neck playfully and squeezing it as the other man chuckles, the deep and raspy sound resonating from the base of his throat.

“Thank you, Colonel.” Lyle replies softly, eyes staring into Miles’ with ambition and the confident glint of determination. “We won’t let the deaths of our brothers and sisters go in vain.”

The Colonel nods in return.

“Yer damn right.”

The doors of the Holofloor hall slide open with a loud hiss. Quaritch and Wainfleet part, turning towards the sound as the people in the room immediately start scrambling, setting up the giant device below their feet. Ardmore’s boots thud loudly on the ground as she enters the room, followed by her assistant, her right hand man, and six Recombinants that Quaritch has never seen before, while the large doors slide closed behind them. The Colonel and his Lieutenant straighten their postures as the RDA’s Expeditionary Force Commander approaches, face stoic and withered lips already pressed tightly into a thin line. The Recoms that follow her are large, with a strong, buff build and all dressed in a black Special Ops uniform, wearing full gear and all armed to their teeth. Quaritch and Wainfleet eye the way every inch of their skin is covered in thick layers of protection, black carrier plates with various equipment strapped firmly on their chests, boots laced tightly on their feet and tails wrapped in a semi-thick layer of military-grade black adhesive camo tape. At the sight alone, Quaritch and Wainfleet realize how little uniform they themselves are wearing compared to these Recoms. Their feet and shins are still exposed the same way they have been for months, their tank tops leave their arms bare and a good portion of their necks and collarbones exposed, and the sight of the other squad’s tails wrapped tightly in that camo tape sends an uncomfortable chill down their own tails. Large Recoms, armed to their teeth, with deadly faces and a proud glint in their eyes; these must be General L/N’s men.

Ardmore finally walks up to what’s left of the Deja Blu Recoms, taking her time to take a deep breath and ground herself before she has to deal with Quaritch yet again.

“General.” Quaritch greets firmly, saluting her and giving her a nod of respect as Wainfleet follows suit.

“Save your breath. You’ll need it.” Is all Ardmore replies with, making her way over to the people controlling the Holofloor to check if they have all the material ready. Quaritch and Wainfleet exchange a baffled stare, as Ardmore doesn’t even spare them a single glance. The other Recoms follow suit, dispersing through the Holofloor and doing their own thing. The atmosphere in the hall soon turns anxious. People start fidgeting as they wait for Y/N’s and the rest of the Recoms’ arrival. The technicians commanding the Holofloor are ready and are checking the material and footage of the battle with Ardmore next to them. Quaritch takes a look at the analogue watch on his left wrist. It’s almost time for the meeting to start, but General L/N doesn’t seem to have arrived yet. He lowers his wrist and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, praying silently that she will not show up and he will have to deal with just Ardmore today. However, the loud hiss of the large doors sliding open a few feet away, throws all of his hope out the window.

“Oh my, am I the last one to arrive? How embarrassing.”

Y/N’s smooth voice is teasing and filled with hints of sarcasm as she leisurely enters the hall with a smirk, scanning it with her amber eyes behind the round mirrored shades sitting on the bridge of her feline nose, the last four Recoms of her team following behind her. Quaritch and Wainfleet, along with everyone else turn towards her and her men, watching as they make their way to the Holofloor while the doors slide closed behind them.

“You’re just in time, L/N.” Ardmore speaks up, raising her eyes briefly to give her a glance, before turning her attention back to the screen playing the footage she was going over with the technicians.

Miles’ breath catches in his throat as soon as his eyes land on the woman approaching. From all the Recom and native women he has seen throughout his life and the memories from his predecessor, none seem to compare to the Major General. Her form is mind blowing beautiful, lean and toned with the perfect amount of plump that fills her in the right places. Her hips sway almost hypnotically as she walks towards them, with a long and elegant tail, wrapped in the same black camo tape, that sways behind her figure like she’s teasing. She is also dressed the same as her men, black uniform hugging her body and gear strapped tightly on her chest, hips and thighs, digging into the plump flesh. Her lean waist contrasts the curves that the gear accentuates, emerging between her carrier plate and modular shooter’s belt that’s loaded with pouches and different pocket storage bags. A rigid holster is strapped to her right thigh, holding a .40 caliber United Ballistics Zarkov-33, as the adjustable straps of the holster dig tightly into the mouth watering plump of her inner thigh, making the flesh swell between the openings.

The first thing Quaritch does is immediately remove his eyes from her form, disciplining himself internally to stop ogling at his higher up and show her some respect. Has he really gone so long without interacting with an attractive woman that he’s almost losing it? However, as he turns his eyes away and moves them to look at Wainfleet instead, his face almost loses color. Lyle is staring. Hard. His eyelids are frozen in place and his mouth is slightly agape as he shamelessly stares at Y/N without even realizing it himself. Quaritch clears his throat in his direction, and that seems to snap Lyle out of it as he straightens his posture and forcefully removes his eyes from the General, turning them to look back at Quaritch. The expression of “Fuck, she’s hot.” is plastered all over his face, and Quaritch squeezes his eyes shut in disappointment. He can’t believe this is really happening right now. Sometimes he forgets that when outside of the battlefield, Lyle does most of the thinking with his dick.

Y/N finally gets on the Holofloor, leisurely and slowly walking up the steps as if to test Quaritch’s reactions. The four Recoms that walked in with her stand behind her, lining up next to each other and taking ready formation, at attention for anything she might need. The Major General is now standing a few feet away in front of Quaritch and Wainfleet, moving one gloved hand up to remove the mirrored shades from her face. The sharp V1R receptors in the nasal cavity of Miles’ sensitive feline nose immediately capture the sweet scent emitting from her smooth striped skin as soon as she’s within range. His mouth waters, saliva pooling at the top of his tongue and he doesn’t know why. This has never happened before. Her scent holds something familiar but he can’t put his finger on it. Quaritch swallows thickly, before raising a toned arm and saluting her firmly.

“General L/N!”

Wainfleet follows suit, saluting her right after his Colonel. He is in no better shape. His sensitive nose has also captured her sweet scent and it brings back memories of his predecessor, listening in on the male Avatars he would escort into the forest, as they talked about the scents of the women and how much it affected them. He remembers huffing in amusement, mocking them internally for acting like dogs in heat, like savages. But as he stands there, nasal cavity slowly filling with the scent of this woman, who is his superior no less, making his tongue overflow in saliva, he understands. Quaritch reaches forward in Y/N’s direction for a handshake, his ears folding back in respect.

“Good evening ma’am-“

But as soon as he moves even an inch near her, all of ALPHA have drawn their weapons in a flash. John, Fernando, Riley and Oscar, being the ones nearest Y/N, have taken out their combat knives and have put their arms in front of her protectively, clutching their knives in a reverse knife grip with the cutting edges of the blades facing Quaritch. The rest of the team have all drawn their guns and are now aiming at his head threateningly, their stares hard and piercing. Ardmore who is watching behind the controlling panels of the Holofloor, tries to hide her grin by pressing her lips in a brief pucker, while Quaritch stands in front of Y/N and her men, baffled, with his open palm in front of him and ears pressed against his head as ten large Recombinants threaten to take his life right on the spot. Wainfleet stares shocked at them as well, one hand having instinctively moved on the gun strapped to the back of his left hip, to protect his Colonel.

“DO NOT APPROACH THE GENERAL WITHOUT PERMISSION! STEP AWAY, NOW!!” Riley yells in a threatening, loud and harsh tone, staring daggers at him. The people in the hall stare with wide eyes, the atmosphere having quickly turned tense. Quaritch raises his calloused hands up to the sides of his head to show them that he means no harm and takes a step back, looking at them with a still puzzled face. What the fuck just happened? Y/N chuckles, now having removed the shades from her beautiful face as the sound resonates from the base of her throat. She carefully clasps them on a small pocket on her left upper arm, and raises a hand to signal her team to stand at ease. The men and women exchange a few glances between each other before lowering their weapons, but maintain their threatening stares on the pair of Deja Blu Recoms. Miles swallows thickly again. Her eyes are so fucking beautiful.

Y/N’s pupils trail up and down Miles’ form, taking her time to take in every detail on him. His form is large, with muscular broad shoulders, as expected of a Marine. His biceps and triceps bulge out under the bruised skin of his buff arms, with long, thick veins that decorate his large hands and bulky forearms. A tattoo of an eagle is placed over his left lateral triceps, the blank ink contrasting against the blue of his striped skin. His body comes down into a trim and lean waistline, as expected of a Na’vi but the sheer exercise that he seems to have put it under has made it a bit thicker, abs almost visible under the thin RDA standard issue military tank top. Her gaze moves lower, to his legs. His thighs are thick and muscular, tight against the fabric of his cut out camo pants and the leather of the holster strapped to the left one. Speaking of the cut out, his lower legs are still exposed like the last time she saw him, the soles of his feet planted on the cold glass of the Holofloor. His calves are thick, muscles strong and bulging out from all the running and movement he has been doing through the forest these past months.

Y/N’s eyes then travel up, raking over his collarbone and neck, to his face. Even though it’s still bruised, stitched and swollen, a small feeling arises in the depths of her chest as she stares at his features, just like when she saw his hologram on her first day on Pandora. He’s really fucking handsome. But even with these thoughts in her head, Y/N’s face shows nothing but stoicism. Under her gaze, Quaritch suddenly feels exposed, his mind racing at 100 mph to figure out what she’s judging on him.

“United States Marine Corps; General Orders and Knowledge for Tests and Inspections; Leadership Traits of a Military Officer. Number nine: Bearing: “You earned your uniform and everything on it; wear it with pride. Carry yourself with dignity and correctness. Master yourself before you try to master others.”” Y/N states, giving his form one last up and down look before her amber eyes trail up towards his own, looking through long lashes straight at him for the first time ever. “And yet here you are, a high ranking officer wearing a uniform with cut out pants, a tank top thinner than paper that leaves the entirety of you arms, neck and collarbone exposed, and walking on my floors with bare feet. Why are your toes out in my base? Where is your decency? Don’t you know any better?”

Quaritch’s eyes are so wide that his eyeballs look like they’re about to pop out of his skull at any second now. This woman might as well have just called him a whore for the lack of uniform on his body. Wainfleet’s mouth hangs open briefly before he composes himself and turns to stare at Quaritch, baffled. The rest of the Recoms in the room grin at each other, watching as the so called Colonel stands there, caught off guard. Quaritch clears his throat.

“I… uh- It was part of a strategy-“

Y/N raises a gloved hand to shut him up, turning her eyes away from him, unamused.

“I’ve heard enough.” She comments, walking towards the center of the Holofloor and saluting Ardmore, before turning towards the rest of the room. She opens her arms wide and brings her palms together into a powerful clap that echoes throughout the space, bringing all attention and heads towards her direction.

“Okay, anyone who is not part of this meeting; scram. The rest prepare your material and let’s begin.” She announces loudly. The people follow suit immediately, some leaving and some scrambling to get the footage and reports ready. Quaritch squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath to ground himself. This meeting hasn’t even started yet and it already went downhill. Ardmore was right, he really is going to need his breath for this. As the place empties out somewhat, and the ALPHA Recoms take seats, Y/N turns her head towards Quaritch and Wainfleet, her hair and neural whip braid moving with it as a sickly sweet smile plasters on her soft lips, promising the duo nothing but hell for the next few hours.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

Quaritch takes a deep sip of carbon dioxide from his Recom Breather.

“Disaster. Absolute disaster. Hundreds of people dead, an entire team of Recoms gone, billions of dollars of ships and equipment wrecked to the point of no return, extremely aggravated natives, a prisoner who knows almost everything on the loose, and your target is still free. What the hell do you have to say for yourself?” Y/N presses, walking through horrific holografic images of the wreckage and bodies being pulled out of the water, being projected from the Holofloor all around them. Ardmore watches with her lips pressed tightly, arms crossed over her chest as she observes the briefing going on in front of her. Lyle’s ears press low against his head, looking over at his Colonel with a worried expression on his bruised face. Quaritch swallows a thick glob of spit that has pooled in his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. His brain races to find an answer to dilute the situation and defend himself, but all odds are currently stacked against him. His actions caused this and he must face the consequences.

“I…” He trails off, pondering carefully on his next words. “I lost control of the situation-”

“Really?” Y/N frowns, cutting him off and crossing her arms under her chest. “You lost control of the situation? Well no shit, but that’s your best excuse?”

Quaritch clenches his jaw. His eyes remain down, refusing to look at either of the Generals. The tip of his large tongue pokes out briefly to wet his dry lips, but he immediately regrets it as the bottom left corner starts stinging painfully, reminding him of the busted bottom lip. He clears his throat and his eyes look up at the Major General.

“I had everything under control. But somethin’ went wrong and I lost the grip I had on the situation. I swear everything was going according to plan but they had advantages on water that I didn’t think were possible.”

“I am not asking you what they did, I am asking you why you failed so horribly.” Y/N replies, staring him down harshly. “I don’t want to hear bullshit of them having weird connections with nature, I want to hear why you, as a high ranking officer on this base, with the appropriate expertise and thinking skills, could not deescalate the situation, retake control of the circumstances and put the lives of the people under your command over your target.”

Ardmore remains silent as things unfold, with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Quaritch has embarrassed her to an extent she did not think was possible for someone his rank, and Y/N’s condescending stares of “I told you so” made it even worse. Not only is she embarrassed but she is fuming as much as Y/N about the losses they took, so for now, she has decided to remain silent and let Y/N rip him a new one.

Quaritch swallows down again, clenching his jaw tighter. Before answering, he inhales more CO2 from his mask.

“I did as much as I could. My team did as well. They saved as many human lives as they could. But some things were just out of our control. They had the upper hand and we realized that too late.” He explains firmly as he puts the mask down, trying to get Y/N to understand his perspective as well.

“No. You had the chance to retreat. And you didn’t. You reeled Jake Sully back in and forced his hand into killing what was left of your team and the remaining people on deck. You could’ve retreated with the two daughters you had hostage and we would still be having some of our people, Deja Blu Recoms and two high value prisoners. But you didn’t. And I want to know why.” Y/N replies, not buying into what he’s saying for even a split second. Quaritch grinds his teeth slightly, his tail swinging once behind him. This is the first time he has met this woman and she is already at his throat like no one else ever has been. But he doesn’t really blame her. He would have reacted the same if he was in her position. Wainfleet’s anxious eyes remain on his Colonel.

“I… I thought I could accomplish the mission, finish what I went there for.”

“And why didn’t you?”

That catches Quaritch off guard. He thinks for a moment, brain working to figure out the answer to her question. Why didn’t he? Then he remembers. He doesn’t want to tell her about how Sully’s batshit crazy wife almost killed Spider, and how Miles Quaritch at that moment realized that that boy is his deepest weakness. But how is he supposed to come up with a believable lie and tell it to this woman’s face? Even Wainfleet doesn’t know what happened, no one does really. It was just him, Sully, his woman and spawns, and Spider.

Now everyone is looking at him for an answer. Wainfleet senses that something is wrong so he jumps in.

“The odds were really stacked against u-“

“Did I say you could speak?” Y/N cuts him off, her voice raising in tone as she holds up a pointer finger in his direction before snapping her head to glare at him. Wainfleet’s ears press harder against his head.

“No ma’am-“

“Then why are you still speaking?” She continues, her own ears folding back in irritation. Wainfleet shuts his mouth at that, lowering his head down.

“Everyone here barks when I tell them to bark and that includes you.” She finishes with Wainfleet and turns back to Quaritch. “So, let me rephrase my question. You had two of his daughters hostage. You reeled him back in. You had the upper hand. How did you end up losing that advantage?”

Quaritch clenches his jaw. He must think his answer carefully.

“His wife was there, pointing her arrow at my head. It was either my life or the girl’s.” He lies, with a firm voice and confident eyes, hoping Y/N won’t see through it.

“And what exactly was stopping her from firing the arrow?” Y/N asks, raising a brow, unimpressed. That starts to irritate Quaritch.

“I don’t know. Probably didn’t want to kill someone in front of her youngest daughter.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. It does make sense, no one would want to let their child watch a dead body drop, especially the Na’vi who are known for their empathy. But still, there’s something that doesn’t sit right. She brings the mask of her Recom Breather up to sip some much needed CO2, before continuing to question him.

“And then you managed to get Sully to fight you one on one.” She says, letting go of the mask. Quaritch nods.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And why did you let him go? I mean all that charade couldn’t have been for nothing.”

Quaritch takes a deep breath. This is gonna hurt his pride, badly.

“I didn’t let him go. He managed to choke me unconscious.”

That sentence hangs in the air uncomfortably. Multiple pairs of eyes land upon him, staring him down judgmentally. The ALPHA Recoms are the ones with the worst stares, piercing through him like an array of needles. An uncomfortable silence fills the space. Y/N raises both her brows, blinking rapidly. The fuck did he just say?

“Say that again?”

Quaritch squeezes his eyes shut briefly. God fucking damn it.

“We were engaged in close quarters combat, underwater, as the Sea Dragon was flippin’ over. He managed to get me into a chokehold, and the lack of carbon dioxide from that, adding to the lack of air underwater for several minutes; I lost consciousness.”

Another moment of silence passes. Then, Y/N presses her palms together, and brings them up so the sides of her pointer fingers press against her soft lips. Her beautiful face looks almost flabbergasted.

“Let me get this straight. You; Miles Quaritch, Colonel of the RDA, with the mind and expertise of an excellent long-timer trooper, and the strong and trained body of a twenty year old Na’vi; engaged in close quarters combat with Jake Sully; a wounded and exhausted jarhead Avatar that went AWOL more than a decade ago, who is pushing thirty four, who has had a litter of spawns and inhabits the build of your average dad; and you still lost?”

Quaritch remains silent. His eyes are now fixated hard on Y/N as each word of that sentence leaves her mouth, almost glaring at her but holding himself back. His lips are pressed tightly into a thin line, ears folded back and displeasure plastered all over his bruised face. Does she really need to rub his face in it? In front of all of these people? What is her damn deal? He wets his lips again, tongue raking over the skin, this time avoiding the busted corner.

“Indeed, ma’am.”

Silence falls yet again. Quaritch feels the uncomfortable prickles of humiliation slowly crawl up his neck. The judgmental stares of the people in the hall still fall on him, almost burning into his striped blue skin. Ardmore hasn’t changed her expression, remaining silent with her arms folded. Y/N on the other hand still has the sides of her pointer fingers together pressed against her lips. Her head is lowered a bit, her elegant eyebrows are furrowed in sheer disappointment and her golden eyes look up at him through long lashes with an expression that nearly pities him. Wainfleet who is standing by Quaritch’s side, has his head lowered, avoiding eye contact with anyone at all costs, finding the Holofloor glass beneath his bare feet safer to look at than the people in the room.

After a few more minutes of suffocating silence, Y/N lowers her hands and plants them on her hips. She brings her Recom Breather mask up again and takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut to ground herself before she loses her fucking mind. How the fuck was a man this incompetent given the rank of Colonel? She opens her eyes again, swallowing the saliva that has pooled in her mouth, and nods slowly in disappointment, pupils glued to some random corner of the Holofloor while she lets go of the mask. At this moment, not being able to handle the pressure and embarrassment anymore, Quaritch speaks up. But this time he turns towards Ardmore.

“Ma’am, I swear on my life, this was just a huge miscalculation on my part. It will never happen again-“

“You’re damn right it won’t.” Y/N’s voice cuts him off. He turns towards her again and this time he is met with a soul piercing glare that freezes him in place. His cropped ears press against his head, eyes widening and tail stiffing. Y/N raises her head, taking a few steps back slowly. Her combat boots thud on the Holofloor, the sound echoing through the silent hall. Slowly she turns around, turning her back towards Quaritch and Wainfleet, and walking to the center of the Holofloor.

“Well, I think that by now it is clear to all of us that this situation was entirely caused by Colonel Miles Quaritch’s bad decisions and actions.” She says out loud, making sure everyone in the hall can hear her. “Just like I predicted would happen.” She adds, turning her head back to give Ardmore a cold, cocky stare as she says the sentence. Ardmore clenches her jaw, looking away, defeated. Y/N’s lips stretch into a victorious grin, before she turns her attention towards the room again. She starts walking slowly around the Holofloor.

“Now that the situation has been concluded and the culprit has been identified, then it is only fair that the appropriate measures are taken. That means, that Colonel Miles Quaritch…” She states, stopping her movement to stare long and hard into Quaritch’s eyes. “Needs to be reprimanded.”

Quaritch’s jaw clenches tightly. He holds the eye contact with his superior, his breathing pattern getting faster. Y/N smirks lightly, breaking the eye contact and slowly walking to the edge of the Holofloor, facing her own team.

“So, before I make my decision. Would anyone like to chime in?” She asks, her tail raising up in an arch behind her. Quaritch balls up his fists at his sides, the veins on his forearms popping out. Is she being fucking serious? She’s asking for people who are lower in rank than him to decide on a punishment for him? No, this isn’t about briefing anymore. She’s trying to fucking humiliate him. The ALPHA Recoms on the other hand, exchange some knowing glances between them, hiding their smirks. Oh how they love their commander.

“Based on the severity of the situation he caused, an order of censure should be the right reprimand.” John speaks first, deep voice echoing through the room.

“Adding on to that, a forfeiture of the allowances and benefits he has on this base should be ordered. We all saw what happened when a single Sea Dragon was put under his command.” Fernando continues.

“Aside that, a reduction in rank seems the most logical course of action. We cannot afford a Colonel that makes these mistakes. And adding on to my suggestion, some time in correctional custody in the brig will do him good.” Riley adds, throwing a condescending glare in Quaritch’s direction.

“I believe extra duties should be given ta hem. I’m sure ya can think of some appropriate tasks tha’ he must perform ta make up fer hes mistakes.” Scott continues, looking at Y/N as he offers his suggestion.

“I would say that an order of restriction is more appropriate in this case.” Henry speaks up, one gloved hand holding his chin as he indulges in the topic at hand after some moments of thought. The rest of the team turn towards him. “He did not cause any problems for us when he was still roaming the jungle. Well at least, minimal problems. But the second he was given access to an area where Jake Sully was present, he went off the rails and crashed. I believe that an order of restriction that excludes the areas that the fugitive Avatar is deemed to be, would be a good addition after Colonel Miles Quaritch serves his punishment. He will have a better chance to focus in his missions if he is restricted in a certain area and banned from going near Jake Sully.”

Y/N brings her Recom Breather mask up to her face again, before nodding at her team once, proudly. Just as she thought, her team are as sharp as ever. They didn’t fail to identify any of the punishments she has in mind. The Recoms exchange smiles, looking at each other just as proudly. On the other hand, an additional vein has popped on Quaritch’s neck with each suggestion from the ALPHA Recoms. Wainfleet’s cropped ears are almost flattened against his bald head, eyes wide as he stares between his Colonel and the other Recoms. These people are animals.

Y/N finally turns towards Quaritch again. She slowly walks in the duo’s direction, stopping a bit further away.

“So, thanking my team for their feedback, even though some were harsher than what’s fit for this case,” She throws a glance in Riley’s direction before turning back to Quaritch. “Here’s what my reprimands are. And these are final.”

The entire hall is now listening with open ears as the intriguing play before their eyes is finally concluding. The Recoms, Ardmore, the humans in the room, and Wainfleet and Quaritch, stare at Y/N, waiting eagerly for her to continue.

“I have three temporary punishments for you, and two reprimands that will remain in place until you cease to exist in this organization. Punishment number one is the same as what First Lieutenant Álvarez suggested; your benefits on this base will be forfeited until I decide to give them back to you. This means that your authority on this organization will be reduced. I will not take away your rank, however your control on our air, land and sea troops is no more. Every decision and every order you want to give to our soldiers, our employees, and our personnel from now on will have to be approved by me until I am satisfied with your performance. Punishment number two and three are what First Sergeant McCaskill suggested. Both of these punishments are extra duties, but they differ from each other as much as they are related. The first one is undergoing additional knowledge and specialization training. It is very clear to me that you are used to how the RDA was operating in the time of your predecessor’s death. However, today that is not the case. The RDA no longer works on private administration but on full military administration and command. That means that you will no longer break the United States Marine Corps’ rules and regulations, like you have been doing for months on end. You will undergo additional training where you will relearn every single sentence on the USMC Manual and the USMC Handbook, because you have clearly forgotten everything. Adding on to that, you will identify and highlight every single rule and regulation from these documents that you have broken until now, and write a finalized report where you explain in detailed paragraphs how you broke them, why you broke them, what you should have done instead, and what the USMC says that the consequences for each one of them should be. This report will be handed to me when you are finished and based on my satisfaction, the second punishment will be lifted if I find that you have done a good job. The second extra duty and your third and final punishment, is that you will undergo additional physical training with Second Lieutenant Riley Jones, until I am satisfied with your performance. Lieutenant Jones is responsible for training our troops, therefore he will have no trouble refining and polishing your skills in combat. You almost lost your life engaging in close quarters combat with a middle aged Na’vi and I will not have that. So, these are your three punishments. They are temporary and can be lifted whenever I find it appropriate for them to be lifted. The better you excel in your extra duties, the sooner you will find yourself out of these punishments.”

“Now, on to your two reprimands. Unlike your punishments, these are permanent and will remain in place until you are retired or dead. The first one is what Captain Keller suggested; a formal order of censure. This will be put in your personnel file, detailing your actions and the consequences you caused at the Three Brothers, and will remain there permanently. It means that no matter if the authority on base changes, decisions regarding you will be affected by this event. Your second reprimand is what Master Gunnery Sergeant Davis suggested; an order of restriction. From now on you are restricted within areas that I approve, and if you step out of these areas it will be considered trespassing and you will be disciplined for it. You are banned from entering an area within a thirty mile radius from Jake Sully, whether that be by foot, by vehicle or by animal. To ensure that you will follow this order, I will have the science department design a tracking chip that will be implanted into your body. Your Lieutenant as well will undergo this procedure. All of my Recombinant operators have tracking chips in them, and that will include you two as well. It’s simply standard procedure that you have been excused from for way too long. With that being said, I’m sure that you have already been informed that you and your Lieutenant have been moved from General Ardmore’s primary command and have been put under mine. This means that from now on I have the same commanding authority over you as General Ardmore does, and you will be coming to me first instead of her. And with that all being concluded and hopefully understood, this meeting is now over and your punishments and reprimands take effect immediately. You start training first thing in the morning. Everyone is excused.”

The hall starts buzzing at the final sentence, personnel and people already standing up to head back to their respective tasks. The images and footage of the aftermath at the Three Brothers, projected from the Holofloor disappear as people start leaving and others entering through the large doors.

Quaritch stands there, frozen in place and unblinking. His brain is scrambling, trying to process the array of punishments that the Major General just laid upon him. Forfeited benefits, extra duties, a formal order of censure, and an order of restriction. She can’t be serious, can she? This is all just a big, bad joke, right? The color from Miles Quaritch’s face has been drained. Wainfleet stands there, eyes almost bulging out of his skull and mouth nearly agape. His ears are so far back that it’s cutting the blood flow of said cartilage, and his pupils move to stare at his Colonel. Quaritch’s jaw looks like it’s about to pop out of its sockets, his eyes glued onto Y/N as if trying to shoot lasers at her. Y/N in question stares back at him with eyebrows raised, challenging him to dare and say something against her words.

Ardmore who has now started walking towards the direction of the door to take her leave, walks past them without another word, followed by her assistant and her right hand man. As she passes, Y/N, Quaritch and Wainfleet nod at her in respect, straightening their postures. She stops briefly in her tracks, turning her head to look up at Y/N.

“You did well L/N.” Is all she says, before turning her head forward and continuing to where she was heading. Y/N nods once in respect, with a polite smile on her soft lips.

“Well, I wish you a nice evening and the next time I see you I expect better performance.” Y/N tells Quaritch after Ardmore leaves, still challenging him with her eyes to try and dare say something. Quaritch remains silent, having decided that the best course of action is to shut his mouth before he says something that he will regret deeply. He only nods once respectfully, fists clenched at his sides. Y/N grins, taking a sip of CO2 from her mask and giving him one last look from top to bottom before slowly, teasingly, turning around and starting to walk away as well, her long tail flicking slowly behind her as if to add on to his nerves.

“Ma’am.” Quaritch and Wainfleet farewell politely at the same time as she takes her leave, followed by her team who quickly are short on her tail. Quaritch’s jaw remains clenched, waiting for her to finally leave so he can get a grounding breath in.

The doors slide open for Y/N to leave, but just as she’s at the exit she stops. Turning around briefly, her amber eyes fall on Quaritch’s form yet again, looking at him over her shoulder.

“And enough with this tree-hugging savage crap. Go put on some goddamn clothes.”

With that, she’s gone. And so is her team, one by one until the only Recoms on the Holofloor are Miles and Lyle. Miles’ eyes are glued on the now closing doors, right where Y/N left from, and his lips press together. His glare is filled with anger, coursing through his veins and burning through his body.

You know what? He actually fuckin’ hates this damn woman.

Title explanation:

Fire for Effect – Military term indicating that the adjustment/ranging of indirect fire is satisfactory and the actual effecting rounds should be fired. In this case it holds its euphemism meaning for the execution of a plan. The plan in question is the punishments and reprimands that Y/N had been brewing inside of her, just waiting for the right moment to lay them down upon Quaritch, therefore “firing for effect” on him when she indeed does so.

End of chapter notes:

I hope ya’ll liked this chapter because I have read so many articles from the USMC handbook about rules and reprimands for this-

Additionally, I lied. The way Toddy got in Y/N’s office will be revealed in the next chapter lmao. ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

Also pookies, keep in mind that tiny detail of how Y/N’s scent affected both Miles and Lyle more than usual. And how Y/N lingered her stare on Miles for a bit too much. 👀

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

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sigloverofwords · 1 year

Text

let me wrap my teeth around the world

An Astarion x spawn!Tav fanfic

Series warnings: violence, injury, abuse, self injury, suicidal ideation, animal death, rape (past), ptsd, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, scars, panic attacks, manipulation, transformations

Summary: You awake at the nautiloid crash, wounded and starving but free of your Master for the first time in your life. You’re determined to get as far away from Him as possible, and finally get some answers about your existence. Fortunately for you, you stumble upon another spawn. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you.

Your ability to transform into a monster quickly changes his mind, though.

Posted to AO3 first!

Author’s Note: this is a y/n-free second person slow burn hurt eventual comfort fic. Lots of heavy stuff addressed, please take care of yourself and don’t read if any of the warning subjects are triggering to you.

2k+ word chapters

Chapter 1 (next)

Your head throbs with a deep-seated pain that feels like a hand squeezing your eyes from within. For a moment, that sensation is the only thing that you're capable of being aware of — the pain that washes out the rest of the world and paints everything with blinding, nauseating red.

Then, slowly, the rest of your senses return. The red fades to yellows and oranges with a halo of black around the edge: light beaming through your eyelids to assault your retinas. Acrid smoke stabs into your sinuses, making itself known along with the coppery stench of blood and something else that just smells…wrong. Your mouth is dry, your tongue sitting heavily in your mouth, dried over with a thin layer of blood. Your own? You hope.

Heat flickers erratically over one side of your face, and a moment later you're able to place the crackle of flames as one of the sounds assaulting your senses.

You become aware of the rest of your body, outside of your pounding head.

You're sprawled out on a firm, fleshy surface, the grit of sand digging into your cheek and nose. Everything, and you're sure you mean everything, hurts.

The heat grows stronger and you force your eyes open a crack. Your eyelids stick together, unwilling to be parted for a moment, but through a web of dried fluid and shadowy eyelashes you see dancing flames creep closer to you.

Part of you begins debating the benefits of closing your eyes and ignoring the fire until the flames or smoke inhalation take you. You ignore it.

With sharp, painful jabs of protest from each and every muscle, you force yourself to roll over to your front. You plant your hands, simultaneously hyper aware of the individual grains of sand digging into your palms and unable to focus on any one sensation due to the overload of stimulation you're undergoing. You give yourself one wheezing, smoky breath, and push.

Distantly you recognize that you made it to your hands and knees, said knees very unhappy about their sudden use, but you keep pushing. Almost robotically, you stagger to your feet. Something warm and wet starts to soak into your side. Eyes still closed, you lift an arm and press your hand to your ribs. The familiar aching protest of bruised and cracked bone, and burn of an open wound, seem almost comforting. This is pain you're familiar with, you understand.

Finally, you grit your teeth and open your eyes once more.

Searing, flickering firelight floods your view, washing everything out momentarily before your eyesight can adjust. All around you a structure of rubbery bruise-purple and flesh-pink burns, platforms groaning and collapsing around you. It takes you far longer than you would like to wade through the various fear and horror responses to find a coherent thought.

I need to get out of here.

Your lungs are barely working as is, and your shortened breaths certainly don't help your struggling oxygen supply (or your injured ribs).

After a brief moment of pure panic, you feel your mind clamp down.

You've been through worse, you tell yourself firmly. Figure it out.

Forcing your breaths to slow, you turn in a slow circle. Smoke obscures your vision and the pain in your head is causing little bursts of bright white light to appear randomly in your field of view, but you push through it.

Something isn't sitting right with you.

Besides, well, all of it.

You look down at your hand, which is scraped and bloody, and you see it.

Sand.

From the rumors you'd heard, mind flayer ships flew. Why would one have sand on it?

Another careful survey of your surroundings and you spot it: a rend in the fleshy wall behind you, near the bottom. The sand must have gotten in there when the ship plowed into the ground. Throat closing with hope and smoke, you drop to your hands and knees and crawl to the tear. It's awkwardly positioned, but looks just big enough for you, so you lay on your stomach and try to peer through.

Your heart drops. Outside, bright sunlight streams down onto a rugged coastal cliff.

A cough strangles your throat, smoke stinging your airways as the fire creeps closer. Screwing your eyes shut, you stick a trembling hand through the tear, exposing it to the sun, hoping against hope that the ship provides enough shelter to keep you from going up in flames immediately. For a nauseating second you think the pain is so intense that your nerves have given out and you can't even feel the skin peeling and flaking off your arm, but after a long moment you steel yourself and open your eyes.

You're fine.

Your arm is fully intact.

Your skin is whole, unmarred by burns. It's even warming in the sunlight.

Unable to fully process this information, you start frantically scrambling forward, forcing yourself through the narrow tear. The edges of your clothes catch and rip, but you barely even notice. Mind reeling, you flop onto the sandy ground outside. You're panting with exertion, covered in fresh scrapes, and hacking a cough out every other breath, but you're alive and bathed in sunlight somewhere that very much seems like the Sword Coast.

For a moment you just lay there, salty breeze soothing your inflamed airways, hardy grass tickling your arms, sun, beautiful, wonderful sun covering you in it's gentle warmth, but then you force yourself up once more.

If you survived that meant others may have as well. Others that may include mind flayers, which would be a less than ideal situation to run into, especially in your current, weakened state. You need to put as much distance between you and the crash as possible and find a healer before infection starts to set in and the tadpole in your head eats away what's left of your humanity. You need to figure out how the hell you can stand in the sun without burning to ash. You need to run, far and fast.

Despite feeling the warmth of the sun for the first time in decades, a chill runs over your skin. This sudden freedom you’re experiencing comes with its downsides, but anything is better than being under the sway of you master.

Still clutching your side, crusty with blood and sand, you stumble up the hill.

Movement in your peripheral draws your attention, but you're too slow, pain dulling your reaction speed, mind swirling with too much information, too many possibilities. In a pale blur, a figure charges you out of the bushes, the flash of a knife glinting in the sun. The next thing you know you're slamming into the rocky ground, all air forced from your lungs and your ribs shrieking in protest. A strangled exclaimation escapes you before you can clamp your mouth shut.

No! Your mind screams, and you suddenly feel on the verge of tears as you try to roll to your feet. Not this close to freedom. Not now!

Desperate, you try to push away the figure holding you down, but the pinch of a blade at your neck quickly stills your struggles. A silky voice speaks lowly by your ear, turning your stomach.

"Shh, stay still," he says. "I saw you on the ship, didn't I?"

You try to look at him out of the corner of your wide, frightened eyes. He’s a pale elf, clothed in patched up finery, with a steady hand and deadly crimson eyes. When you don't answer immediately his voice hardens.

"Nod," he orders. You do, careful against the blade.

"Good girl."

The words are practically a purr. You swallow, and for a moment you're afraid even that small movement will draw blood.

"Now you're going to tell me what you and those tentacled freaks did to me."

“I didn’t do anything—”

This answer is clearly not what he’s looking for. He scowls, lip curling in a sneer and revealing a flash of familiar fang.

A vampire, just like you. Somehow freed from the night just in time to drag you back into shadow.

It’s all just too much.

This time you can’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes as you stare at the fangs.

“Are you one of His?” you ask in a quiet, broken voice, eyes stinging and heart heavy as lead in your chest. “Are you here to take me back?”

The anger on the other vampire’s face is quickly replaced by confusion.

“What? No. I don’t even know you!”

He sounds offended at the insinuation that you may move in the same circles.

You close your eyes, a single tear escaping your lashes to clear a path though the smoke and grime on your cheek.

You don’t see the elf frown at it, gaze following its track down to your chin, where he spots the scarred puncture wounds in your neck.

The blade at your neck disappears but you remain limp on the ground. For this moment, you give up.

Maybe your master had decided you’re not worth the effort anymore, maybe he ordered this spawn to dispatch you. Instead, after no blade slits your throat or stake caves in your chest, you look up to watch the elf roll to his feet and sheathe his knife. When he speaks, his tone is distant and haughty.

“You’d best start running, little vamp,” he says, his back turned to you. His shoulders are tense. “It’s not often spawn get away from their masters.”

The words are heavy with the weight of personal knowledge.

Sniffing, you scramble to your feet, brushing uselessly at your ripped skirt to avoid looking at the other spawn.

Your moment of weakness and surrender passes, and you gather the tatters of your strength around you once more.

“You— are you like me?” you ask in a small voice, eyes glued to the ground.

“No,” he snaps instantly. “You’re clearly an overemotional weakling, and I have places to be.”

Although your tears don’t dry, you feel yourself steel in quiet rage.

You endure torture for years, enough to break anyone, not even allowed to end your own life, and this…this man assaults you and insults you?

Despite the horror your master had inflicted on you, he had given you one gift.

Every full vampire has something they are particularly gifted in, whether it be charm and deception, arcana, or even performance and languages. They pass this gift onto their spawn, sometimes in small doses, sometime in a rush of power they can’t control.

Your master had overwhelmed you with his gift of monstrosity, and you draw on it now.

The pain that you usually feel when you transform is nothing compared to your white-hot indignation and need to lash out.

How dare he. How dare he.

Even your master had learned, long ago, that you were not a girl to be dismissed, not someone to turn your back on.

Your limbs elongate, nails stretching and hardening into black talons. Your teeth all sharpen into deadly fangs, your eyes flood with red for a moment as they change, becoming fully crimson. You can feel your bones pushing against your skin as it constricts, each bump of your spine straining, skin tightening until it feels like it’s about to split. It’s honestly a relief when your skin rips, spikes pushing through where each vertebrae sits.

The elf is walking away, but his step hesitates at the sound of cracking bone. Slowly, he glances over his shoulder, and whatever blood he had drains at the sight of you.

Your hair, singed and bedraggled, hangs in limp strands around your face as you take one step towards him. You’re seeing double, disoriented by a taller point of view, with everything bathed in red, and your too-long tongue sits awkwardly behind unfamiliar teeth, but you can tell you cut a terrifying image by the stumbling step the elf tries to take away from you.

“Don’t. Move.” you order, your voice scratchy and hoarse, lower than it was. You feel a thrill of power when he freezes.

“You are a vampire spawn, like me?”

You phrase it as a question, but before he can answer you reach out with a too-long arm, one talon resting on his doublet, right over his heart. A few threads of embroidery snap with a brush.

“Nod,” you say. He does.

“Who is your sire?”

You try and keep the fear out of your voice. If you share the same master, if he is under compulsion to find you…well, despite how it appears, you’re not looking to kill anyone right now. You just want, no, need answers. Answers that another spawn can give you.

“Cazador Szarr,” he answers, unable to keep a hateful sneer from flickering across his face.

You almost collapse in relief.

Not the same sire.

“You are not under compulsion?” you ask. Your limbs ache: a pain deep as bone marrow, unescapable, unignorable. You only have another minute or two before you have to release the hold you have on this form.

“No,” he replies. “I don’t know how, I don’t know how I can walk in the sun or be free from his orders.”

“You have places to be,” you say, voice starting to shake with the effort of maintaining your form. The red haze over your eyes is beginning to darken at the edges. “Where? What are you doing, where are you going?”

The elf’s jaw clenches as he reluctantly gives up his plans.

“I need a healer, then I’m going back to Baldur’s Gate to kill Cazador.”

“Good.”

You drop your arm from his chest. The extra length allows you to rest it on the ground, supporting yourself almost like a four-legged creature.

“You will take me with you,” you say. You start to sway. The darkness at the edge of your vision creeps closer.

Before he can reply the darkness slams shut and you crumple to the ground, unconscious.

Astarion blinks as the girl—creature? — suddenly collapses. Her monstrous form fades in an instant, and she transforms almost immediately from the stuff of nightmares to the weak, useless thing she was before. His mind reels, taking in her small body.

He had heard rumors, of course, of the vampires of Neverwinter. It was a horrid, cold, backwards place in the north, somewhere he and the other Baldurians spoke of with disdain when it was spoken of at all. It was said the Vampire Lord there was cruel and powerful in ways even Cazador had to admire. The Szarr-sired spawn were “gifted” with beauty and persuasion, the ability to lure most humans to their side with a few honeyed words. It was an ability Astarion had in spades as a mortal, and becoming a Szarr-spawn only made him more irresistible - a fact that Cazador abused relentlessly.

The Neverwinter Lord, though…he was a horrific beast of a man, his spawn few and far between, more frightening bedtime tale than actual beings.

There is no doubt in the elf’s mind as he looks down at the unconscious girl. She is a spawn of Durva Szörn, the Vampire Lord of Neverwinter.

A smile slips across his lips, and for the first time since waking in the sun, Astarion feels hopeful.

With a Durva spawn by his side he can strike fear into the heart of even Cazador Szarr. She could prove a powerful weapon, if he can just keep her leashed.

Crouching, he gathers the bundle of filthy fabric and broken girl into his arms. She doesn’t stir, and he hopes she didn’t do something stupid like kill herself with that transformation.

She’s lighter than he expects, and he starts to pick his way around the wreckage of the mind flayer ship. She wants to go to Baldur’s Gate? Very well. Astarion is happy to oblige.

#astarion #Astarion x Tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion fic #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #wrap my teeth #wmt chapter 1

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k-atsukibakugou · 2 years

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 | 𝐞.𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚

pretty | kirishima – k-atsukibakugou

feeling especially sadistic, kirishima uses clear packaging tape on your pussy, saying he wants something pretty to look at while he fucks you in the ass. porn without plot i cant even lie

pairing: kirishima eijiro x f!reader w/c: 2.1k warnings: d/s dynamics, anal, praise, dirty talking, kiri calls your pussy ‘she’, free use dynamics, pet names (pretty girl, gorgeous, babydoll, angel, my girl), slight objectification/dumbification (?), cheeky aftercare moment, overuse of italics ngl notes: THANK YOU SO MUCH @kaidabakugou FOR BETA READING ILSYM UR AN ANGEL <3 crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

you had really done it now, trying your luck with the ever-so-patient hero, over and over again until he was banging at your door, demanding you pay the price for your bratty behaviour. the debt you expected to owe to your composed boyfriend was a sharp slap to your cheek to expertly silence your sinful mouth, and leave you with a glow as warm as the red atop his head, bruises as dark as his stormy pupils on your ass until you were begging for mercy. of course, he always gave you mercy, slick glistening on his cheeks, lips and chin until the morning sun gave him a golden halo.

tonight, you’d pushed him much further, annoying him constantly at work today, a constant stream of pictures throughout his patrol, you in less and less clothing with each buzz of his phone in his pocket, ending with your naked body splayed in hd quality on his screen, the image of you bent over the couch in your home, fingers in your already wet hole, burned into his retinas after staring at it in the shadows of every alleyway he went down, palming his weeping cock over his costume, eyes glued to the curves of your body, every swoop and dip in your skin, every tiny flaw the camera picked up, the curl of your toes betraying the fact you were amidst the throes of pleasure twice at least already with the creamy slick collecting at your knuckles. kirishima was certain he’d see your eyes crossed and jaw slack if he could see your face in that picture.

you knew you were in far more trouble than usual when he stormed inside your shared apartment, instead of the sight of your hulking boyfriend stalking inside, crimson eyes locked on yours with an evil smirk seen by no one but you, you were greeted by the soft sound of the door clicking unlocked, blown out eyes that looked the inky kind of black you only see in a thunderstorm, and the frustration radiating off of your boyfriend in waves as he made sure to relock the apartment door, and slip off the thick, heavy boots beside your own. the display of faux calm making you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress a sly smile and ever-so-slightly clench your thighs together in an attempt to quell the growing ache, wide eyes glued to the constrictive tent of his hero costume over his cock, the tight fabric leaving nothing to the imagination

“you didn’t shower at work today, baby?” noticing the costume abnormally still on him, you teased the hero in a light voice, standing to greet your sweet, heroic eijiro in a thin, long shirt of his, hiding nothing beneath it other than slippery thighs and your still pulsating cunt. your voice was as sweet as sugar while his face only soured in response, stalking closer to you while you made no attempt to run away; you’d made your decision hours ago when you first slipped off your shirt to squeeze your tits for the camera, there was no use in trying to escape your punishment now. his hand when he reached you was as rough as his voice talking down to you, a grip like a vice around your wrist; “you wanna tease, baby? you like making me suffer at work with those photos? why don't we see how you like it, huh?”

the glint in your depraved eyes betraying your faux-innocent demeanour, nothing more than an attempt at convincing the towering hero ahead of you of your innocence, that teasing him beyond comprehension was never your intention, how you just wanted to please him, to make your boyfriend feel good, to show him how much you loved him, he can’t punish his angel for that, can he? the growl reverberating in his throat made it clear he can, and he would. losing your balance, you felt the soft cushions pressing against your back before you could register eijiro moving to throw you, your body bouncing on the soft cloth at the strength at which he tossed you onto them.

the shirt you wore for him was quickly discarded across the living room, landing in a heap somewhere down the hallway. instead of leaving you naked for him, he hastily pulled clear tape from the table – when did he even pull that out? sticking the plastic over your pussy and mouth firmly, silencing your babbling questions of what he would do to you, how he would punish you for your teasing, smoothly silencing your chatter to pull his cock out from his costume undisturbed, drowning it in lube, giving your ass a similar treatment, quickly dipping one finger inside you, not missing the way your annoying, muffled questions dissolved into a whine low in your throat, his second finger pulling a louder, more garbled moan from you, your eyes already fluttering closed and thighs squeezing around his wrist in awe. you’d given up trying to avoid your punishment the moment his fingers curled inside you, opting to dig your nails into his bare shoulders, accepting your boyfriends sadistic punishment, thinking he would fingerfuck your ass then brutally fuck you until he filled you and then you’d sit on his face for hours until he was satisfied with how sensitive you were from repeated orgasms, curbing your corrupt thoughts for a couple days.

only it was hours later now, the sun that was low in the sky when he returned home now replaced by the moon shining through the windows; eijiro pulling out anytime he was close to cumming, fingerfucking your hole to keep teasing you while he calmed himself down, babbling at how pretty your pussy was, how he just needed to watch your pretty pussy clenching in need underneath the tape, leaking since the first photo you sent him.

“goddd, doll, you’re so fucking tight for me, so pretty, so empty aren’t you? she’s fucken drooling for me, huh?” staring at your cunt sweetly, as if he were staring into your eyes whispering sweet nothings, he didn’t spare a single glance to the tears slipping down your cheeks, teary gaze trained on his defined, muscular hips circling against your pillowy ass, leaning on his elbows above you, dark hair hanging over your face while treating you like nothing more than a fleshlight, something to be used to indulge him in his chase for his own pleasure. he filled your senses, you could see nothing else but him, hair strands clumping together with sweat, eyebrows furrowed at the centre, lips red and glossy from his constant biting and sucking. there was nothing but his scent surrounding you, musky and just so him, all you could feel was his fat cock prodding deep inside your ass, the deepest he’d ever been in you, feeling like the curved tip was in your lungs with every snap of his hips to yours, spitting out praises while he did, but paying no mind to your muffled sobs.

his attention was locked on your pretty taped cunt and the wetness accompanying it on your thighs, the same clear tape that had your lipstick smearing pink over your lips and cheeks and your whines muffled; and your disordered stuttering attempts at his name. but that wasn’t his focus, his head only clouded by the image of your cunt begging to be filled by him, the twitch in your muscles each time his fingers ghosted over your clit, tight hole clenching around the air you so desperately wanted to be his heavy dick, squirming on the cushions, knowing no matter how erratically you writhed, his sadistic streak wouldn’t be cut short before he wanted it to be.

“pl-mms!” you mumbled over and over again, knowing eijiro understood you despite the plastic over your lips, yet he continued to ignore your pleads to cum, for him to fuck your cunt, to fill you while you creamed on his thick cock, anything more than this. still, his hips rutted into yours, his eyes flicking to your bouncing tits at the force of his movements but never to your watery eyes and begging, squished lips, “your tits are almost as pretty as your cunt, angel.” his eyes instantly went back down to watching his length slide in and out of you, thick veins coated in lube and hints of his own pre cum, leaving you feeling like nothing more than an object for your hero in the best way possible.

shifting his position above you, he moved to rest his calloused hands, laying them high on your thigh, his thumb close enough to brush your clit if he wanted to make you cum with his dick buried deep in your ass, “you want me to cum in your cunt, gorgeous?” immediately you nodded and mumbled your agreement as enthusiastically as you could, his gaze watching your pussy as if waiting for her to answer him instead of you.

when your pussy didn’t answer, he moved to gently swipe his thumb across your overly sensitive clit from all of the teasing, right as he asked in a raspy voice, “or you want me to fill your ass?” your moan was unmistakable, louder than the previous, your voice shaking at the tiniest of stimulation and your thighs trembling when he took his hand away again with a deep chuckle, “oh she sounds like she really likes that idea, babydoll.” trying again to get his attention with a whine and a shake of your head, any argument died with the snap of his hips that left your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your jaw dropping as far it could beneath the constraints of the tape from cheek to cheek.

“nnn–”

“shh, gorgeous, you had your fun earlier, let me enjoy myself, yeah? let me have my fun, baby,” blindly, you nodded, too delirious to even want to argue against his breathless chatter with pleads of your own, the feeling of his body hunched over yours and fucking into your ass roughly removing any other thought from your mind as your eyes crossed, you could’ve sworn they rolled into the back of your skull. with each rough thrust into your ass, you were pushed further up on the couch cushions, head bumping against the delicate cushions, leaving you just as breathless as the man above, carving deep red lines into whatever patch of bare skin you could reach. moaning in time with the red-headed man above you, his much louder than yours, his pace grew faster and more precise, chasing the same high he’d been craving since the ring of your texts, you tried to catch your breath as much as you could as his fingers dug impossibly deep into your thigh and the jerk of his hip stuttered, a loud swear echoing in the living room warning you of the warmth you were soon to feel the from his cum filling your guts. shaking beneath him, your body was wound so tight just eijiro blowing onto your taped clit would have you crashing into an orgasm, the brush of his pubic hair against the plastic making you whine at your inability to grind up against it, the strength at which his hips had yours pinned preventing you from moving anyway, unless you wanted a spattering of bruises across the tops of your thighs.

slumping over you, eijiro pressed his sticky, heaving chests to yours, feeling the rhythm of your hearts beating against each others, flashing a dopey smile up at you, keeping his softening cock inside you while he reached up to slowly and gently pull the tape from your cheeks with gentle, caring hands, immediately pressing his lips to yours in a slow, sensual kiss that had his cock twitching inside you, your muscles mimicking the twitch with a contraction of your own muscle and the both of you smiling into each other.

leaning back up, you stared up at him with glossy eyes, “how are you, baby?” his voice was back to the normal, sweet, kind voice you were used to, albeit still scratchy, smiling happily down at you as he wiped frustrated tears from your cheeks stained by smudged lipstick, nodding, you chased his lips to steal another kiss, “i'm good, more than good, my love.”

“and you’re done being a wicked brat with me, pretty girl?”

“yes, ei,” you giggled dumbly, nodding your head, sure there were hearts in your glazed eyes.

sweaty foreheads pressed together and a blissed out smile on his face, eijiro slowly began to pull his fat cock out of your pulsing ass, thick veins pulling whimper after whimper from you, a pleasured sigh escaping both of you at his head popping out of your stretched and abused hole, before he took his time to gently peel the tape from your soaking pussy, your slick making it easy to slip off without irritation.“so good baby, now let me taste my angel’s cum.”

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

#divider by me #eijirou kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #k-atsukibakugou #「mercury writes」

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Unexpected 27

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Lloyd’s absence does not extend to your dreams. Your nights are haunted by him, horrifying premonitions of your future together. Rather apart. You’re trapped in that house, alone, with a screaming baby, a child that grows to resent you, that drains you dry and blames you for being a husk.

Under his thumb, even from a distance.

The haze swirls and another twisted scene paints your unconscious. You hear his voice first, a long groan, and hiss shortened behind his teeth, a harsh snarl which resembles, “son of a dick.” Footsteps surround you, softened deliberately as they circle the room, a snap, a click, and a loud scrape.

You grunt and your eyes slit, the room darkened with shadows, static with your fatigue. You search through the dim, a black figure leaning against the dresser, broad shoulders and a dipped head. It’s not a dream. He’s back.

Three and a half weeks. Not a word from him. None from you either.

You suppress a moan as you sit up, a twang in your hips, and reach to turn on the lamp. The glow burst around the room and limns the dark stains pooling slickly across his dark clothing. He drags his foot and turns to face you, leaning on the dresser so it knocks against the wall. You sigh.

“Is this how it’s going to be? You leave without a word and come back… like this?”

He says nothing as he pushes his head to the side. His jaw squares beneath a thick layer of stubble. He turns and uses one hand to guide the other onto the painted wood. He takes a breath and withholds a rumble that nestles in his chest as he slams his weight down and you hear his shoulder pop. He sighs and leans his head back.

“Shit,” he growls and bends his arm gingerly, not quite able to get it all the way. He stretches his fingers and shakes them out.

A whole month. He’s missed a whole month of your pregnancy. Sloughed you off on his parents like an orphan. Is that what this child is going to be to him?

You turn your back to him and swipe up the pillow and grip the bed frame. You’re even bigger now. It takes two tries to haul your ass up off the mattress. The couch is even less hospitable for your burning hip bones.

“Stay,” he says, “please.”

“Lloyd–”

“Give me a fucking second,” he sneers, “I…” He begins, “I need your help, peaches.”

You stop and slowly face him across the bed. He peels off his black turtleneck awkwardly as his left arm refuses to raise all the way. The fabric catches on something along his back and he tugs with a grunt. He reveals the bruises up his torso, several formidable slashes along his side. The blood makes you queasy.

“I can’t reach this,” he turns and shows his back, the broken blade of a knife jutting out from the muscle around his ribs.

“Jesus Christ, Lloyd, I’m gonna fucking puke,” you drop the pillow back to the bed and cover your mouth.

“I’m gonna be honest, I already did,” he chuckles as he limps around the foot of the bed.

He surpasses you and disappears into the bathroom. You wait, frozen as the sight of him sears into your retinas. What the fuck was he doing?

He returns and tosses the white kit on the bed. He spins and sits with a wheezy grunt as he winces. His hand tremors as he rolls his eyes back.

“You wanna grab a cloth and put pressure around the wound, then pull the blade straight. Don’t wiggle it–”

“Lloyd, you need a doctor–”

“Doctor’s ask questions,” he frowns, the gash in his brow made more obvious by his expression, “you can do it, peaches. I’ve had worse–”

You’re quiet as you gulp back bile. He has a lot of faith in you. A lot of trust that you won’t twist the blade deeper to hear him suffer. You click your tongue and go to grab some hand towels from the linen closet.

He turns on the bed, hovering awkwardly on the edge as he presents his back. You reluctantly wipe around the blade, nearly gagging as you press the cloth around it and grip the shorn end with your fingers. You retch but hold it back.

“You’re doing fine, sweetheart,” Lloyd grits out, his fingers clutched around a fold in the blankets, “once you get that thing out, you need put as much pressure on it as you–”

You pull and the blade slides out slowly. He roars and curls forward as he quakes. His visible agony is both satisfying and startling. You get the metal free and push the cloth flat over the wound, the slippery blade falling from your grasp.

“Oh god, are you sure you shouldn’t see a professional?”

“I’ve been stabbed before. He didn’t hit anything important.”

“Didn’t– Before?” You scoff, “Christ.”

“What did I tell you? The less you know, the better.”

You’re silent as you keep the cloth firm against him. He groans and sits up straight. You have a thousand thoughts swirling in your head, some angry, some confused, others even worried.

“You gotta stitch me up,” he says, “you know how to sew…”

“I’m gonna barf,” you look over at the curve needle in the kit.

“Well, just aim it away from me,” he clucks, “peaches, you just gotta sterilise me, then a few stitches should do the job.”

You take a breath, your tongue slimy with a nauseous sheen. He reaches for the kits and wipes the blood from his hands with one of the pre-packaged alcohol wipes. He then peels open the little packet with the needle and threads it with expert precision. He holds it out for you to see.

You take it shakily and ease back the cloth with your other hand. You cringe as your lashes flutter. You shudder and try to steady your grip. You poke the tip into his skin and another gag lumps in your throat. You manage to pierce through to the other side and weave the thread into his flesh. You swallow and take a deep breath.

“So…” you have to talk, you can’t think about what you're doing, “you left.”

“Work,” he says bluntly.

“Mm, it’s been almost a month.”

“You didn’t want me around.”

You huff. You jab him a bit too harshly and he grunts. You correct course and sniff.

“I wanted you to make a goddamn effort beyond getting your dick hard,” you snap.

“I was making a goddamn effort. I was making money for our little girl.”

You shake your head, “sure. While I’m stuck here.”

“Not alone–”

“So fucking what? You let your parents do the heavy lifting, huh? Never do anything yourself.”

“Oh, don’t–”

“No, Lloyd,” you pull the thread tight and knot it. He gives you the scissors as you snap your fingers, “you don’t. I won’t do this. I’m not going to have this… baby only for you to run off whenever you feel like it. Do you think this is going to be a vacation? My body is going to be ruined, I’m going to be miserable, and you’re going to go find someone else to torment.”

You cut the wire and strain as you push yourself back to your feet. You go around him and toss the scissors and unused tail of thread into the kit, “I know you, Lloyd Hansen, too well.”

His nose flares and his eyes list away, “I told you, I don’t want anyone else. You need to let that go–”

“Fuck you,” you spit out. “I’m human, Lloyd, unlike you. Yeah, it fucking hurts to be the one tossed away for some bimbo blonde. Is that what you want to hear? That I have fucking feelings.”

He blinks. A long blink. “I know. Peaches,” he looks at you, “it’s one of the many things I admire in you.”

You’re taken aback by the authenticity in his voice, in his expression. It’s not some comment on your ass or your tits, it’s damn near a real compliment.

“I’m sorry, I really am. And I heard you. You wanted space, you got it. But you gotta listen to me too, sweet cheeks.”

“Sure,” you say dully, “what? What did I do this time?”

He squints and his forehead wrinkles, “baby. Kid. Why won’t you say it? Girl? We’re having a little girl. A daughter.”

You take a breath, your shoulders rise and fall. You look at him, take him in, blood, sweat, and who knows what else.

“Fine, girl. Daughter. I get it Lloyd, I got it from day one. About time you do, too.”

He purses his lips and his throat bobs, “yeah, I guess you got me there.”

He stands, slightly slouched as the pain twitches in his cheek. He grasps the top of his pants as he takes an uneven step.

“Peaches, I’m holding back the horny but I do need some help with these,” he says as he limps toward the bathroom, “gotta wash all this shit off me.”

“Mhmm,” you say as you follow him, “and I gotta change the damn sheets.” You nudge him so he exclaims, “always making a goddamn mess.

“Yeah, well, you’re so good at cleaning it up,” he chortles as he grasps the doorframe, “Peaches, you’re gonna be a great mother.”

“Shut up,” you retort, “it’s late and you smell.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #unexpected #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #the gray man

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unforgivenn · 3 months

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16th HOUR — #3 Slaughterhouse

Masterlist/ Previous

CW: gore, suffering, dehumanization, violence, captivity, death

When Samuel awoke, it was to a harsh, sterile light that seemed to sear into his retinas.

His vision swam, and he barely registered the guards on either side of him, their grips unyielding as they dragged him down a cold, sterile corridor.

"Move it, livestock," one of the guards snarled, his voice a harsh growl in Samuel's ear.

His body felt like it had been dragged through hell and back, every inch of him screaming in agony. The seared flesh on his shoulder throbbed with relentless, burning pain, the twin brands marking him as both an 'L' and an 'S' class.

His vision gradually focused, revealing a cold, sterile room through a large, transparent glass wall as they rounded a corner. His heart skipped a beat as he caught sight of the room beyond it. . Through a large, transparent glass wall, he saw a room filled with people—men, women, even children—trapped like animals their face twisted in expressions of terror and despair. They were crammed together, some clawing at the glass, others pounding on it with their fists, their cries muffled but still piercing.

The people inside were a picture of raw, unfiltered despair. They pressed their faces against the glass, their eyes wide with fear and desperation. Some were sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down their faces, while others pounded on the glass with their fists, their cries for mercy muffled but still audible through the thick barrier.

"Please, let us out!! This is insane! W-We didn't do anything wrong!!" a woman screamed while hot tears streamed down her cheeks, her voice breaking with anguish.

A man beside her was on his knees, tears streaming down his face. "I have a family! M-My children need me! Please, I’ll do anything!" His voice was hoarse, broken by sobs.

A young boy, no older than twelve, was curled up in a corner, his body shaking with silent sobs. Another man, his face gaunt and bruised, stared blankly ahead as if he had already accepted his fate.

Samuel's stomach churned as he witnessed the harrowing scene.

Samuel's stomach churned, bile rising in his throat as he watched the horrifying scene unfold. The people inside the glass walls were herded like cattle, their fear palpable. Mothers clutched their children, old men collapsed to their knees, young men and women clawed at the walls, their nails leaving bloody streaks. A conveyor belt ran along the back of the room, leading to a set of massive, menacing doors. He realized with a sickening jolt that the doors led to the meat processing area.

Samuel's breath came in short, shallow gasps, his heart pounding in his ears. The box stopped for a moment, and a hissing sound filled the air. Gas began to pour into the enclosure, a noxious, yellow-green cloud that spread quickly. The people inside began to choke, their hands flying to their throats, their eyes bulging in sheer terror.

One by one, they fell, their bodies twitching and convulsing as the gas took hold. The screams turned to gurgles, then to silence.The young boy's lifeless body slumped against the glass, his eyes still open, staring blankly into nothingness.

Samuel felt a wave of nausea wash over him, his legs threatening to give out. The sheer horror of the place was overwhelming, a relentless assault on his senses. He couldn’t understand how anyone could be so cruel, so.. so utterly devoid of compassion.

The guard on his right gave him a rough shove, forcing him to keep moving. "Don’t look, livestock. You’ll get your turn soon enough."

The guards yanked the man forward, forcing him to turn away from the horrific scene. His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat.

Samuel's mind reeled, the words a cruel reminder of his own fate. He felt a cold sweat break out on his skin, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly, each step a journey deeper into a living hell.

As the glass box moved through the metal doors, a sense of finality washed over him. Those people were gone, consumed by the machine, their lives reduced to nothing but another cog in this hellish system. He wondered if that would be his fate too, if he would end up another nameless, faceless casualty in this nightmare.

Tears burned his eyes, but he forced them back, swallowing hard. He had to keep going, had to find a way out. For those people, for himself, he couldn't give up. Not yet.

"Move it, scum," one of the guards growled, shoving him roughly.

He stumbled, but kept his eyes forward, a steely resolve hardening in his heart. They might break his body, but they wouldn't break his will. Not as long as he had breath left in his lungs.

He didn't know he would be regretting that line soon enough.

Reblogs are always appreciated <3

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theszarrpalace · 5 months

Text

Acts Of Service - Masquerade

Summary: The dungeons underneath the Szarr palace had been bad but could this really be worse than being locked up in the dark?

Pairing: Cazador Szarr x afab!spawn!Reader x Sebastian

Word Count: -2.2k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat 18+!, It’s Non-Con Central In Here, Intoxication, Drugging, Memory Loss, Explicit Mentions Of An Orgy, Emotional Coercion, Implied Unprotected P In V, Implied Unprotected Anal, Implied Oral (F Receiving And Giving), Fingering, Hurt/A Cheap Excuse Of Comfort, Descriptions Of Physical Discomfort Due To Aforementioned Abuse, Everybody Around Reader Is Kinda Really Disgusting

A/N: No, seriously, heed the content warnings. This one is just vile.

Tagging: @vampiric-hunger

A shallow, still halfway asleep sigh slipped past your lips as your consciousness lazily settled back into your body. Out of habit, you stretched your limbs and arched your back but unlike feeling the unforgiving, cold, and hard stone floor underneath you, you sensed your skin being caressed by a heavy velvet blanket. It boggled your dizzy mind, causing your eyebrows to furrow into a crinkly arch, expectations not suiting the reality of finding yourself curled against a thick, feathery pillow. You had no recollection of getting even remotely close to an actual bed and before better judgment set in, you genuinely thought to still be fast asleep, your brain allowing you to escape from your place of misery for a few hours again.

No, something very vital was horrifically off. From the way you were barely able to open your eyes even if you really wanted to the looming soreness emitting from your lower abdomen, a sudden tinge of panic settling in your chest, forcing you to gasp for air. Eventually, you had to force your eyelids to open up. They felt terribly heavy and only revealed a set of eyes that were hardly able to recognize anything. With your vision only slowly coming back into focus, you blinked repeatedly to get rid of the milky sheen glazing over your retina.

“What…in the hells?” The voice whispering from between your lips sounded dry and raspy, words pressed from a sand-paper throat as you worked your upper body to rise from the mattress.

At first, the overworked and abused synapses in your brain refused to connect, however, as soon as the first spark flew, an entire wildfire followed accompanied by a silent cry that got stuck right behind your tongue causing a painful moment of muscle spasming. Random splinters of fogged memories clouded your thinking as they fought each other, each one of them trying to work its way to the forefront. You tried swallowing the lump that was threatening to gag you but it was a rather fruitless attempt. If at all possible, the inside of your mouth turned endlessly dry whilst burning eyes looked down at yourself, staring in horror and disbelief for they found clusters of bruises and bite marks painting a morbid work of gruesome art on your brutalized skin.

A gush of hot tears pricked and stung in the corners of your eyes as you started to remember; remember being passed around like a platter of appetizers for everybody to get their little piece. Men, women, spawn, high lords, and their ladies from all over Baldurs Gate feasting on your body until satisfied. In an absentminded gesture, your fingers snapped to your mouth, tracing dry and chapped lips in a moment of pure and utter shock. They’d used all of you, every orifice tainted with countless gushes of cum and discharge, leaving a salty aftertaste that threatened to make you gag. You’d cum, too, not only on bare cock but also on gently swirling, caressing tongues and fingers fucking into you for hours on end.

You wanted to cry out, you really -really- wanted to but every little sob got stuck in your gradually tightening throat, every cry making you choke on your own emotions. Every single thought led back to you hungrily raising a chalice to your lips. Gods, you drank that all up to the last drop of red with no second thought, not thinking that your Master would be monster enough to set you up like that, make you pliable with alchemistic powders and potions.

“Still tasting me on there, pet?” You turned your head with such vigor that it hurt, weary eyes darting at a pale face adorned by a vile grin.

You ached to leap right at the bastard, to scratch his fucking eyes out there and then but as your mind was busy murdering him your body froze.

“Oh.”, The Vampire lord cocked his head to the side, a shallow laugh escaping his lips, “You got fucked up good.”

You blinked. Nothing within was able to comprehend what was happening, neither the resurfacing memories of being the very centerpiece of an escalating orgy at the Szarr palace nor seeing him like that, black hair ruffled with the thick, velvet duvet covering him up to his hips…so disgustingly domestic and human.

“Cat got your tongue now, hm?” Cazador hummed, oh so well entertained by your display of misery.

“You drugged me.” Three words that felt like tearing your vocal cords out of your larynx.

“And then I fucked you. Your mouth, your ass, and lastly your cunt. Got you all to myself before everyone else did.” He filled you in, his glaring red eyes exploring your violated body with pleasure.

There was nothing adequate to respond to that with, no cuss nor swear loaded enough to really make a point so you just swallowed heavily in defeat.

“Get yourself cleaned up. I don’t like to play with dirty things.” He threw his demand at you before raising his voice to call for one of the other spawns, Sebastian.

You couldn’t help but flinch at the screeching volume of your captor's voice. It cut right through you, shushing you off the bed with your hands trying to cover yourself in a meager attempt.

“Master?” The spawn with beautifully long, white hair stepped into the bedroom moments later, his eyes jumping from your naked form to his superior.

“Get it washed, Sebastian.” The vampire lord barked at his servant.

“Of course.”, His gaze now rested upon you, nonverbally signing you to follow him, “Come on now.”

“Move!” Cazador pushed, effectively making you jump in Sebstians direction.

You didn’t utter a single word as you followed him down the corridor, golden-framed paintings adorning the walls, towering over you just like everything in this palace seemed to do. Everything was in pain, muscles, bones, joints, all of it hurting with every step you strode to keep up with the white-haired spawn. The pain prevailed even after the two of you reached your destination and Sebastian insisted on you sitting down in an oval wooden bathtub. Unlike you, the water was warm almost hot even and it stung as it touched your abused cunt.

“I’m sorry.”, Sebastian broke the heavy silence, he sounded sincere, “He does that to those he’s into.”

“What the hell…” It swapped out of your mouth just like a little gush of water over the brim of the tub after you’d sat down.

“I know. It’s…disgusting. He is.” The spawn lowered himself to find comfort in resting against the tub.

“Would you like me to help you?” He fished for the sopping wet sponge drifting afloat between pleasantly fragrant piles of bubbles.

For a moment you pondered, not wanting someone else to touch you yet again but being nearly incapacitated to do it yourself as well.

“Can’t you just drown me? I think I’d like that.” It shot from the tip of your tongue in dry cynicism.

“No can do. We both know I’d be next.” He was right about that and you sunk deeper into the water, allowing it to wash around the curves of your breasts, nipples pebbling up upon contact.

With slightly trembling fingertips, you pushed the soaked sponge towards Sebastian: “Please.”

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.” He fought with himself to manage a faint smile, trying to give you some sort of comfort at last.

“Not exactly that much left to mess up anyway.” Your own crude comment pulled the corners of your lips down.

For an instant it looked like Sebastian wanted to say something to counteract, however, his brows twitched in a way that told you that he silently agreed with you. Exhaling a low sigh, the spawn palmed the sponge, squishing it a few times with slender fingers, before getting to carefully work your bruised skin. He hadn’t been lying, his strokes and dabs came indeed gentle. Sebastian carefully wiped you clean, washing the assault from your skin but not from your thoughts. The shrapnels of broken memories cut through your mind like a butcher’s knife through bone; loud and gruesome.

You drifted off, eyes locked on the reflections sparkling back at you from the water’s surface, breaking light dancing, and jumping whilst being moved by Sebastian’s broad hand. Although you didn’t know much about him, you liked him. Compared to some of the other spawns, he appeared to you as rather calm and reasonable. The thirst inside hadn’t rendered him into an animal…yet.

“Sebastian?!” You snapped back into the reality of things as his fingers had crept amidst your thighs, the pad of this thumb unabashedly administering a languid stroke and a teasing flick.

“Does it hurt?” His gaze caught yours, he stared, and pinned you to the tub with flaming eyes.

“Stop.” You wanted to scoot back but you couldn’t, the curve of your spine already pressed against the wet planks of wood.

“I asked if it hurts.” Sebastian not only repeated the question but also the ministrations of this thumb, pulling an involuntary moan from your throat.

“No, now stop it!” You protested weakly, your body reacting to the gentle caresses on his own accord.

“Why stop when it obviously feels good, hm? I think you deserve it, to be washed and properly satisfied. It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Sebastian cooed in a tone that reminded you an awful lot of someone who had very much hurt you

“Just…let me do that for you, hm?” He started drawing circles, spoiling your sore clit with tender touches, drawing a slick wetness from you alongside a disarming, pathetic rush of arousal.

There was no way of denying that it felt good, pleasurable, a brief silver lining in this cesspit of a palace.

“See? There you go. Enjoy it.” With a sly smile that now came naturally, he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, eliciting a whimper as you arched your pelvis into his touch.

You let your eyes flutter shut, body awash not only with the soap on your skin but also wretched, wrong pleasure festering on the inside.

“Gods, you’re such a docile little thing. No wonder Master is all over you.” The spawn mouthed against your damp skin, thumb working your swollen clit whilst middle- and ring finger pushed inside, filling you up gingerly.

Your sense of reason wanted to scream out loud, to protest and to bite his hand right off, yet, those little moments of actual pleasure were all you had left in here. You’d be ripped apart by your very seams whether you wanted to or not, you’d get fucked, orgasms being pulled from you with violence again and again so why shouldn’t you… why not allow yourself to kill that very last bit of pride in your chest and enjoy what you were given without pain?

“Pretty thing. So wet and needy for someone to get you off properly. Can I tell you a little secret?” He curved his fingers, massaging you from the inside as you clenched around him gradually harder.

“I didn’t partake last night. Wouldn’t want to do you like that. But I watched and by the Gods did it make me blow a big fucking load,” His twisted words snaked into your mind, conjuring the image of him watching with hungry eyes.

It made you moan out aloud, nothing held back this time.

“Oh, that’s doing it for you, hm? Getting off on the thought of being watched. Such a dirty little vampling.”, Sebastian’s fingers pushed against your insides, eventually triggering you to go off, “Going to watch you fall apart just now, dear.”

The orgasm tore right through you. Your cunt spasmed around his fingers in heavy pumps, pulling them in a little further whilst your clit throbbed in unison. For a few fleeting seconds, you felt bliss. Brain and body-numbing pleasure that ascended you out of your body for the blink of an eye only to brutally slam you back into your cracked and bruised shell.

“Good girl.”, Sebastian hummed contently as he pulled out of you, fingers brushing through your labia to dissolve your slick with the bathwater, “Can’t tell on myself like that. Master wouldn’t approve.”

He raised his hand to shake the excess water off with a quick jerk of his wrist.

“Now you’re all good again. Rinse that pretty head of hair for me, would you?”You answered with a shy nod, face still flushed with the rush of your climax.

“How’d you like it if I taste you next time, hm?” Sebastian’s boldness got to you immediately.

“Next time?” The spawn nodded at that, laughing softly.

“You'll find me when you need someone to be gentle with you, dear.”

#posting from the crypt #cazador szarr x reader #cazador szarr #cazador fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #sebastian bg3

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