#graphic violence

[hellfirecvnt]

It's Personal

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

TW: Violence against Y/N (not via Billy), farfetched for the plot, Billy is mean, angst, possible cringe idk. We're all friends here. THE VIOLENCE IS DESCRIBED IN DETAIL FOR THE MOST PART. A little bit non-canon Billy, but if you're reading his dialogue as sassily and as dry as I'm writing it, it's not quite as jarring to his personality.

Notes: I literally just learned about the "Who did this to you?" Trope and now I'm giving it an angsty go. This is not smut, womp, womp. Also, I did the gifs like a picture book so you can kinda see the expression or energy I was going for. Summary: Billy's been an ongoing bully/ nuisance in your life since you met. He's acting a little different after finding out you've been hurt.

"Can you try not to take up half the lecture dick-riding the professor?" Billy catches you as you're making your way across campus. He's always been an issue for you, ever since he moved here your junior year in high school. Now you're both freshmen in college. He'd taken a year off to pursue other outlets, but sometimes you're convinced he did it just to be able to torment you in college, seeing as he was always a grade above.

"What are you talking about, Billy?" You ask with an exasperated sigh. Already too exhausted from studying late the night before to deal with his endless harassment.

"I'm saying every time we have this course, you ask a million fucking questions the whole time," his voice is low, but filled with a palpable hate. Why does he dislike you so much? You've never known. You've never asked. "Try to save your desperation for after class, cool? It's hard to watch," He jabs, speed-walking ahead of you.

Most days, you'd say something back. A quip just as hateful, if not worse. You were his rival in every sense of the word. The two of you even shared the same genre of fashion sense. You stole his spotlight, and he doesn't like it, so he notices when your venom is running low. You're silent the entire lecture, not because of what Billy said to you, but because you're tired.

Your study session only ran so late because you and your boyfriend spent most of the day arguing. The gaslighting is constant, and his moods have become more and more unstable and harder to navigate. You tell yourself over and over that you love him. You've loved him since you were young. He's your high school sweetheart. Andy was on the basketball team in high school and while that type usually didn't take to a hair-metal gal like you, he seemed so smitten when you met.

The room is dismissed and you try to file out long before Billy can make it to the door. He laughs at your desperate attempt to get away. Like a cockroach scurrying away from a suddenly illuminated bulb. You're not fast enough and as he passes you before you reach the exit to the building, he leans over and taunts you in your ear.

"It's about time you listened," he hisses and walks away laughing. You're indifferent. Nothing he says could hurt the way Andy's words do. You tune everything out to make room for your insecure thoughts to take over. You blame yourself for Andy's rapid change in personality. What could you have done to make him feel like this toward you? Your mind is far too occupied by these untrue concerns, that you barely feel the anxiety settle in until you get back to your dorm. It was a bit more pricey on your tuition, but your scholarship allowed you to have a dorm room for yourself. Instead of another bed, it has a small "living room" area.

With a deep, grounding sigh, you reach for the door handle and step inside. Things are fine. Andy greets you with a smile and kisses you sweetly as you set your things down by the door. You're pleasantly surprised, allowing all the toxic thoughts circling your mind to melt away under his gentle touch.

"How was class?" He asks.

"It was fine. Nothing spectacular," you giggle, smiling warmly, overtly relieved that he's not still upset with you. You can barely recall what he was angry about, to begin with. You snuggle into him as you both relax on the couch. He stares straight ahead as he opens his mouth to speak.

"One of my buddies said he saw you talking to that Steve guy," Andy's voice becomes colder, and you realize it was all a trap. You're wrapped in his arms, feeling his body go rigid as you hesitate to answer. "Y/N." He finally looks down at you, meeting your anxious gaze.

"Oh, uh," your throat goes dry. "I did talk to him. He was a little late and just needed the notes from the first section. I charged him five bucks." You begin to ramble, hoping to defuse the situation before he explodes. "He's still going steady with that Debra girl, too. She's in my journalism class. I bet those cookie-cutter losers end up married, honestly."

"You know I don't like you talking to other guys without me." Andy clenches his jaw.

"I know! I completely understand, too. You know I love how possessive you are, babe. It's hot," you're desperate and hopeful that stroking his ego will put this anger to bed. "There were so many people around, so I was thinking nothing could happen." You furrow your brow at your own words. "Your friend was even there to make sure!"

Andy's grip around you tightens, nearly cutting off your ability to fill your lungs just using one arm.

"I don't ask you for a lot, Y/N." His free hand reaches up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes, though you weren't looking away to begin with. "Don't make me look like a fool." When he loosens his grip, your lungs inflate with a loud gasp and his shift in position slides you off the couch, into the floor with a small thud. Now you're angry. The two of you have screamed at each other plenty of times, but how dare he act so bold?

"Andy," you stand, hovering over him where he remains on the couch. His arched brows frame his bright eyes with anger. "Get out." He smirks, and it fills you with unease. Standing from the couch, he takes one step forward, nearly chest to chest with you, if it weren't for the dramatic height difference. He towers over you, stealing the feeling of power you thought you were cultivating.

"What'd you just say to me?" He asks with a sociopathic smile.

"I said," You swallow hard. "Get. The fuck. Out." You barely get a chance to speak the last word of your sentence before a fast, hard open hand meets your cheek, knocking you to the ground, and almost sending you across the room, it felt like.

"Do not ever talk to me like that just because you got caught," Andy's words are full of anger. You stare at him with wide eyes, arching your brow in an expression that asks him who the fuck he thinks he is. He storms out of the dorm, but you know he'll be back. And after these events, you're scared to try and stop him. His college teammates are at every corner, it seems. It's as if ever since Jason went out of state for college, they all bend to Andy's will. Losers. Andy doesn't come home until after you've fallen asleep. You stayed up as late as your body could take, but he wasn't back in bed until 5 AM. You have no idea where he's been.

The next day, it's your misfortune that you and Billy share yet another class. This one was early in the morning rather than yesterday's afternoon lecture. You're running on very little sleep, and the trauma of Andy snapping and putting his hands on you. It's just something you could never even fathom. The way he would kiss the ground you walked on when you first met, how could he? You're more than distracted, staring directly at the floor as you walk until you run flat into someone else in the hall.

"I stood here, completely still, to see if you'd notice. I guess other people don't exist to you, huh, princess?" He mocks you. It's not long before he notices the dark bags under your lifeless eyes and the speckles of red that have risen in the hazy shape on the side of your face. Assuming it's an allergic reaction like you had back in high school, he didn't hold back. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. You look like shit."

"Still look better than you could pull, pussy," you sneer, shoving past him. "Don't fucking make me late." He steps in front of you again, knowing neither of you is late because he's on the same schedule.

"What happened to your face? It looks like your boyfriend had to tell you twice," he bursts out laughing at his distasteful joke. You can feel your blood begin to boil. You no longer wish to exchange hateful comments. Now you want to hurt him. You want to hurt Billy the way Andy hurts you. You can't swing on him, so you take your next best shot.

"Yeah? How many times did your mom have to tell you before she just gave up and left?" You boldly stare Billy in the eyes, hoping so badly that none of Andy's henchmen see the two of you going at it. Billy's jaw is rigid, and you can see it tighten as he grinds his teeth, subduing his emotions. You've never come at him like that, it wasn't expected. His taunting smirk is long gone.

"Are you trying to get your fucking ass kicked, Y/L/N?" Billy's disgusted with himself the minute he says it. Of course, he doesn't mean that. He'll drive you into an early grave, but it's never been in his moral compass to hurt a woman the way his father hurt his mom. He wants to rescind the rhetorical threat, but his ego just clamps his lips shut. Your eye twitches as you wonder what else you've got to lose. Or would Andy hit you again for letting another man kick your ass? Your thoughts are exaggerated and full to the brim with frustration. You finally explode.

"Fucking do it then, Billy! Swing! Hit me, motherfucker!" You drop your belongings and stomp toward him and he's unsure how to react now that you've called him on his bluff/ intrusive thought.

"Calm the fuck down. You look ridiculous," Billy takes a cautious step back.

"No, let's go outside. Let's see how hard you can hit someone half your fucking height, pussy!" You're nearly causing a scene, but the building is empty for the hour. Tears well in your eyes and you refuse to let up, demanding he act on his "big, scary" threat. He won't. He stares at your watery, red eyes. Your face is flushed and only your cheeks, nose, and around your eyes hold any pigment. He essentially waits until you tire yourself out.

"You've gotta do something about that shit, Y/N. You're fucking losing it," he shakes his head.

"I'm not losing any-fucking-thing, Hargrove. Don't ever mistake me for a bitch you can scare off with an empty fucking threat," you spit, grabbing your things and taking off, leaving Billy standing confused in the empty hallway.

"What the fuck was that?" He questions aloud. He has no idea you've been drained with no way to recharge. You've been hurt with no way to heal. To him, you're losing your goddamn mind. After that, he's not even angry at your comment anymore. He's just, concerned? Maybe just curious, really. After all, he's supposed to be your burden. Anything else takes the attention off of him.

The class is long and just like yesterday, you're quiet when you usually never stop engaging. Even the professor notices, and she asks you to linger behind after the lecture is over.

"Hey, Y/N. What's up? You were so quiet today," the professor's soft voice is sweet to your ears.

"I've just been, um, tired." You shake your head, barely convincing yourself.

"Is that a bruise on your cheek, honey?" The kind, older woman asks with two hands resting on her coffee mug. Just outside the open door, Billy waits for you to pass by before he realizes you're staying behind. He scoots as close to the door as he can, flat along the wall, listening.

"A bruise," he whispers to himself, recalling what he thought was a rash. His stomach almost attempts to simulate the feeling of guilt as he remembers the joke he made at you. The one that set you off.

"Oh, no. It's a reaction. New laundry detergent fucked me up," you stop yourself. "Messed me up, sorry."

"Y/N, you're an adult. I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, but it's very clearly not hives," the professor sighs, her eyes full of concern as she stares at the ever-developing bruise as it slowly takes the shape of a hand. "Is it another student at the University?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm dealing with a lot right now. I will see you on Wednesday. Goodbye." You snatch your things up and zip toward the door, holding your breath. The wind from your speed walking blows your hair back, giving Billy a perfect view of the hand-shaped bruise yellowing on the side of your face. You're too determined to get out of there to react to his eavesdropping, so the two of you just share a look, and you keep going.

Billy furrows his brow. He's unsure you even have a boyfriend, so who exactly is leaving bruises like that right, front and center on your face? After his last course of the day, Billy congregates with his friends at a nearby frat house belonging to a different college.

"Hey, Tommy," Billy calls his friend's attention. Tommy pulls himself away from the group of guys he was laughing with and sits across from Billy. "You know that Y/N girl? Lots of denim, nice ass?" It's not until the last two descriptors that Tommy recalls who you are. Figures.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"What's her deal? She dating anybody?" Billy asks, innocently enough.

"I don't know, man. Why do you always ask me about shit like that?" Tommy laughs.

"Because you gossip like a woman," Billy smirks, standing from his slouched position on the couch and grabbing a beer from the large, ice-filled cooler in the kitchen. "She's some annoying broad in a couple of classes with me. I thought I'd ask around and see if there's a reason she never shuts her goddamn mouth." Both of them laugh at his hateful remark, but it's true to him. You get on his nerves, but it's less what you say, and more so the fact that you do "him" better than him. The men drink irresponsibly and cause a ruckus until late, late at night where they then wander back to their campus/ dorms on foot.

You wake up in the morning finally feeling well-rested for the first time in a while, despite the sudden changes in your relationship. You look over to see Andy's side of the bed is empty. You assume he slept over at the frat house after getting too fucked up. You know he likes to party.

Sitting comfortably on your couch, watching an episode of your favorite show, though it's a rerun, you involuntarily flinch when you hear the door open. Andy slightly stumbles through, laughing with messy hair. His clothes seem disheveled, but you chalk it up to drunken hijinks.

"Hey, babe! Did you have fun?" You ask, smiling, beaming, really. Hoping the sound of his laughter is a sign he's in a good mood this morning.

"Huh?" He looks over at you as if he didn't notice your existence until you spoke.

"I was just asking if you had a good time. Sorry I couldn't go with you, I was just too tired," you laugh.

"Oh, no. It's cool. I like it when it's just me and the guys, actually." His confession makes you a little sad, but you try to understand.

"Got any plans for today?" You grin, letting your guard down.

"For the love of God, dude. Can I get in the door first?" He snaps.

"Okay... Sorry," you quieted yourself down at first, but then quickly realized that's not who your daddy raised. You're getting ready to confront him again despite the smack until you notice something that makes your stomach drop, a small trail of three faint hickeys along your long-term boyfriend's neck. "Babe. Where did those come from?"

"What are you talking about?" He groans, throwing himself on the couch next to you, gripping your thigh possessively.

"I'm talking about the hickeys on your neck, Andy. Where did they come from?" Your voice is low and shaky. "Just you and the guys, huh?"

"Don't start with this shit again, Y/N. I'm too hungover." He dismisses you entirely, and all the rage you'd been holding back to be the "cool girlfriend" comes pouring out.

"You knocked me to the floor for looking at Steve Harrington! You put your hands on me for some made-up story you formulated in your own head and now you're coming home with hickyes?!" The longer you scold him, the darker his expression becomes.

"I'm giving you one fucking chance to get on your fucking knees right now and apologize," Andy's unsettlingly calm. You're frozen. Too scared to be openly defiant, but too angry to fold at his command. "One... Two..." He stands, softly placing a hand on your cheek and sliding it up into your hair, gracefully scraping the tips of his fingers behind your ear. It's so soft and soothing, that the sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and just as they're about to open again, he closes his fist around a large portion of your hair and forces you to the ground.

"Andy!" You scream, both terrified and in pain.

"I'm so sick of this, Y/N. I'm sick of you," he growls through gritted teeth, holding you painfully at his side like a heeling dog.

"God damn it, stop! It's fucking over! Fuck whoever you want!" You cry, shifting your position against him in hopes of loosening the pull against your scalp.

"And let you whore yourself out to every other guy on campus? Fuck off. You're mine." He finally releases your hair, tossing you forward in front of him. He kneels down to get closer to your face, speaking lowly. "I heard Hargrove's been asking about you. Think you're safe with your playboy side-piece?"

"He's not my side-piece! Please, Andy. Why are you being like this?" You hold a hand up to defend yourself.

"You think I don't see you two whispering to each other? You think you're smart enough to hide anything from me?" Andy's voice is slowly rising in volume. You worry the other students will hear the commotion. You don't want to lose your solo dorm rights seeing as men aren't supposed to "live" with women in the dorms.

"He's a dick, dude! I fucking hate the guy, please stop!" Your makeup is trailing down your face as you continue to cry for mercy. He shakes his head at the scene.

"I tried warning you. I tried getting my point across to you, but you won't hear me," he sighs as he snatches your hair back into his fist in one, quick, snake-like action. You wail at the aching tug, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. Just as you go to open them, you see his hand flying toward you. It starts with open-handed smacks, knocking the wind out of you from how bad they hurt, but he progresses until he's landing blow after blow, all over you. Anywhere he can reach as you try to block him.

Eventually, you're badly roughed up, and Andy stands to look at what he's done. The remaining alcohol seems to clear from his system as the reality of his actions sets in.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he mumbles, tearing his shirt off as it's stained with your blood. He shoves it deep into the trashcan and disappears to wash the evidence of the horrors against you off of his hands. He returns to where you lie in the living room. He's wearing a fresh shirt and his breath heaves as he stares at your seemingly unconscious body. You're awake though, barely. Holding your breath as long as possible, only allowing the shallowest of breaths, basking in the stillness after the abhorrent beating.

Andy bolts out the door and after a few moments of silence, loud sobs of relief and pain emit from your sore chest. You roll over into a ball, holding yourself close as you process everything. You mourn who you were before the person you trusted most betrayed you. You mourn your relationship, regardless of the last few days. You mourn your own face as you imagine the recovery process will be long and draining. You lie there for a while until night falls.

Once it's dark out, you sneak to the old gym building to use the showers there, hoping to avoid running into anyone and having to answer any questions about your battered appearance. No one uses the old gym because it's full of spiders and has a terrible draft, but it's still open to the students 24/7. It's your run-of-the-mill college basketball court with a weight room and showers.

You get inside the building and listen to the silence of the empty halls. Peace. You're numb now. You've cried all you can, and the pain has become a dull hum. Now you just want to shower and try to find yourself beneath all the blood. You scale the walls of the dark hallway, searching for a light switch. You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel what you can only imagine is human flesh.

"Oh fuck!" You and the mystery person exclaim in unison, startled by each other's presence. Still on edge, you duck down, covering your face. The light flips on and you recognize the sweaty figure who stands before you. Billy. He comes to this gym for privacy in the weight room and always has. Not as confident as his demeanor would lead you to believe.

"Had to be you, didn't it?" He rolls his eyes. "Did you come here to- Oh fuck, Y/N." His uncreative insult is cut short when you lower your arms, revealing the massacre of swollen features and bloody skin that used to be your face. His mouth hangs open for a moment. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up. Like you fucking care, Hargrove. Get out of my way," you're angry, and it feels like you'll be angry forever.

"Hey," he stops you from walking past him by stepping in your path. "I said what happened?" His voice sounds different. Like you've never heard before. Uncharacteristically concerned, but don't let that fool you. It's still not a lot of concern and it's quite monotoned. His eyes search yours for any kind of answer and it's the least arched his brow has ever been. He's being so... Quiet. You're silent too, stunned by his behavior.

"Thought you were gonna kick my ass too, Billy. You scared now?" Your remark is meant to be a bold taunt, but your voice cracks as you fight for your life to hold back tears.

"Y/N, I'm serious. Who did this to you?" He asks sternly, losing patience by the minute. You still can't seem to trust him enough to open up, so you look down at the ground in silence. "Fuck it. Come on." Billy's long legs float him swiftly down the hall and you hesitate to follow, ultimately deciding all these years arguing with Billy have at least felt better than the last three days with Andy. He leads you to the empty men's locker room where he retrieves an old first-aid kit and a bottle of water from the coach's office, then he makes his way to a locker and retrieves a clean shirt. It's soft and worn in and has the name of your university written across the front.

"Thanks," you mumble, taking the box and other supplies from him. You douse the shirt in water and begin to try to wipe your face clean. There's no mirror, so you can't quite tell what you're doing, causing you to scrape over your open wounds and flinch.

"Just fucking," Billy snatches the damp shirt from you. "Let me do it." He's careful and thorough as he gently works the soft, wet fabric across the new and old blood covering your identity. You can't help but stare at his eyes as they focus so intently on each section of your face that he wipes clean. Just as he's finishing up, his eyes meet yours for a moment. It's a short, little second, but it felt so drawn out. Billy breaks the eye contact when he sets the shirt to the side.

"That should be okay, for now." He reaches for the kit in your hands.

"I can do it, Billy," you remind him, yanking the box away, rejecting any more gentle touch. It doesn't feel like you deserve it right now.

"Let me help," he demands softly, popping the little tin box open and rummaging around for bandaids and antibiotic ointment. He patches you up and while he's working, you're watching his intense face. His brows are arched and his lips every so slightly pursed. You can't clock what emotion he's feeling. Obviously, he's expressing some sort of sympathy, but he hates you. He always has. So maybe he's just having a human moment.

"What's the matter with you, man? Are you fucking with me?" Your guard begins to rise again. You don't trust your own intuition anymore. You tighten your grip around a plastic pair of scissors from the first-aid kit. Billy notices and releases a laughing sigh.

"No, I'm not fucking with you." He places one final bandage. "You're insufferable as fuck, but I don't think you had this coming." He looks you up and down. That's as close as Billy can get to "comforting" anyone. "Don't stab me with those." He points to your hand and you blush, a little embarrassed by your overly-cautious behavior.

"Why do you hate me, Billy?" You ask, point blank as you release the scissors, catching him off guard.

"Because you're the worst. You're loud, you're egotistical, you're an ugly crier," he chuckles, all too quickly, being put on the spot.

"You're just describing yourself," you knit your brows, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes after his ugly cry comment. "I'm serious. You'd think we'd have so much in common. You hated me the second we met. Why?"

"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm putting bandaids on your split fucking eyebrow. You're just fun to get a rise out of." Billy closes the kit and tosses it aside with the bloody shirt. It's not news to him that he torments you because of a mix of annoyance and attraction, but you have no idea. What started as his catty attempts to pick you up turned into an all-out rivalry when you were the first girl to tell him to shut the fuck up instead of batting your eyelashes at him. To you, he's just a mean dude. But right now, it's like he's someone else entirely. When he's acting like this, you're finally able to see what makes him so irresistible to every girl on campus. Your rivalry kept you blind to it, but now, you can see his brilliant teeth in his wide, warm smile. You can see his sunflower eyes, framed by long, thick, dark lashes. His jawline, his shoulders, everything about him seems so beautiful to you now.

"Thank you, Billy," you smile weakly. He scans your swollen features and something in him awakens. A possessiveness. Rage ensues. Every opinion of you he's ever had melts away except for his attraction to you. Your voice, your mannerisms, everything he's ever absolutely torn you to shreds for, suddenly he admits to himself that it never bothered him. In his eyes, you're his, even if you're just a target for his teasing, a bit of banter around the school, you're still his.

"You never said who did it," Billy chews his inner lip, trying to keep calm until he gets the information he needs from you.

"It doesn't matter-"

"It matters. Who was it?" His voice is stern and sharp. He's still knelt close to you even though he's done tending to your wounds.

"It just... Happened so fast..." You flinch as you recall opening your eyes to his incoming hand.

"Start from the beginning," the sternness in his voice softens. You give him the full run down. Billy's face remains stone, motionless, but his eyes twitch and flutter with each gruesome new detail dragging him further down to the point of no return.

"We've been together so long. I never thought..." You hold your hands up in confusion, dropping them hopelessly in your lap.

"A name. Now." Billy stares deep into your eyes as he makes his demands. You can almost feel a heat coming off his gaze as it bores into you. It's clear he will not relent until he gets the answer he's asking for.

"His name is Andy." That's all Billy needs before he's standing up and exiting the locker room without another word. "Billy?" You call after him, still sitting on the bench. You finally stand to follow when you don't hear a response from him. "Why do you care?" This stops him in his tracks. He turns around for a second as if he's going to explain, but he never does. He tilts his head with a small shrug and disappears. "Wait!" You call, but the exit door is already closing behind him and he stalks off into the dimly lit campus. He sparks up a cigarette on the way, exhaling a large cloud behind him. Andy better have life insurance.

Billy ponders your question as he makes his way across the courtyard. Regardless of any flirtatious feelings he has for you, this comes down to wishing he could've defended his mother in this same way. He was too small then, he's not now, and Andy's about to face the full extent of that rage extending all the way back to his childhood. For now, it's personal.

You take the time alone to have a quick shower to wash away the blood in your hair and hopefully make yourself feel a little better. You're careful not to get your face wet and ruin Billy's careful doctoring. Once your shower is finished, you grab your bag and head back to your dorm. It's still dark, so you keep close to the dim, yellow street lamps that lead to the student housing. There's a dull hum that vibrates from each light post, it's all you can hear, all you can focus on to make yourself stop thinking about Billy.

Back at your place, you lock the door as many times as possible before shakily taking a seat on the small couch. You flip the TV on, just to have something to fill the silence. Every time someone passes by your door, your heart rate leaps and you lose control of your breathing. After the third or fourth time it happens, you seem to desensitize. Billy's new demeanor he has toward you is all you can think about. The softness of his words, his touch. You didn't think he was capable of it. You curl up, pulling your legs to your chest as you snuggle into the plush cushions, nearly dozing off, trying to remember the way his shirt smelled when he was using it to clean you up.

Billy's hell-bent on getting his hands on Andy, tonight. Crossing the lot, he reaches his car and slides inside. His face is blank as he stares ahead, with only one objective in mind. He follows the sound of blaring house music to a nearby frat house and angrily tears the door open. Wasting no time, he walks right up to the first person he sees.

"Where's Andy?" He asks, yelling over the music. The first few people have no idea who he's looking for until he comes to Tommy. "Where's Andy?"

"Andy from Econ? He's upstairs. Dude's super stressed about something and took a bottle up there. Finals, man." Tommy laughs, but Billy's already walking away before he's even finished his sentence. The entire party becomes muffled beats in his ears as he climbs the stairs in pursuit of the man who made you look like a bad Halloween decoration.

First door, nothing. Second door, nothing. Third door, Billy slings it open and a stressed out, curly-haired brunette man jumps out of his skin.

"Fuck, dude! You fucking scared me!" He exclaims.

"You Andy?" Billy asks, already breathless with anticipation.

"I- yeah? Why?" Billy answers his question by crossing the room in the blink of an eye and scooping him up by his shirt. He slams Andy against the wall, eyes wide with unbound rage. "What the fuck are you doing, man?!" The commotion can't be heard over the party below. It's just the two of them.

"You know how much of a pussy you gotta be to beat up on someone half your height?" Billy strains through gritted teeth. This is a thin reference to what you said to him when he let his emotions cloud his judgment and threatened to kick your ass.

"Wait... Y/N? She's alive? Jesus Christ..." Andy's eyes nearly roll back with relief and Billy looks at him disgusted.

"What? You thought you beat her to death? Then, you just left her there and went to a party?" Billy raises his eyebrows, almost seeming to smile. "That's fucked up, man." He slams Andy against the wall again, harder, to accentuate his point.

"Come on, dude. Whatever she told you-"

"I'm not here to talk about her." Billy silences your cruel, long-time partner. "Right now, we're not gonna talk at all."

"Dude-" Billy tosses the guy to the floor, cutting off his futile begs.

"I think right now, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you," Billy kneels at Andy's side. "And then I'm gonna go fuck your girlfriend."

Billy lands punch after punch, unintentionally mirroring the way Andy laid into you. The only difference is that Billy's got a lot more size, muscle, and strength training than Andy. He lays into him, pummeling in any way he can figure out to mimic all the bruises and blood he could see on you. Billy grips Andy's shirt by the shoulders and forcefully pulls him to his feet just to uppercut him in the stomach, over and over. Blood and saliva fly from Andy's mouth as Billy hooks his fist up against his stomach.

When he's finally done, Andy's no more than a gargling mess on the floor. Properly bloodied just like he left you. Once again, Billy kneels down to Andy, establishing dominance and reminding him who he's fucking with now.

"If you come near her again," Billy inhales and exhales a shuddering breath as adrenaline continues to surge through him. "I will hurt you. I will hurt your family. There is no hiding, I will fucking kill you." His threat is no more than a low whisper before he stands and leaves Andy to wallow in his filth.

Billy's drive back is short and sweet, but he doesn't trust Andy or his entourage of prissy jock boys, so he rolls his eyes and pulls into the lot in front of the women's dorms, and makes his way to yours. He's always known which one you stay in, though finding out was an accident while he was being snuck in by one of his one-night-stands. It was common practice, hence why Andy pretty much lived with you since he had a shared dorm on the men's side.

He raises his hand to bang on the door, but hesitates, knocking softly and even calling your name through the door so you'd know it was him.

"Y/N, it's Billy." You smile with relief, still steadying your anxiety from his initial knock.

"Billy? How did you know which dorm was mine?" You question as you pull the door open.

"I knocked on every single one. And asked for you by name. At 11 PM." He looks at you, straight-faced, annoyed that you think so little of him.

"Are you fucking serious? They'll crucify me," you sigh, unsure if you can even feel any more stress at this point.

"I'm fucking with you. I know where your dorm is because I pay attention."

"And here I thought I was so annoying," you chuckle. There's a short silence between you, something unheard of for you two. "Do you, um, wanna come in?" You step to the side, inviting him in. Nervous, but not sure why. He's never had that effect on you before.

"No, you're coming with me."

"I am?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I just stirred up a lot of shit, probably. I don't like the idea of you sleeping here alone." His words are compassionate, but the delivery is so blank, that you'd think he didn't actually care at all.

"Oh, alright. Let me grab some stuff." You gather your things and follow Billy to his light blue Camaro. He opens the door for you, but even he's wearing an expression that says this is a foreign act of kindness for him. He closes the door and takes his spot in the driver's seat. Billy glances over at you, but you're peering out the car window, searching the shadows for movement. The copper-colored light shining from the street lamp illuminates the high points of your face, exposing your expression as he watches the anxiety dissolve into comfort. Something about being the cause of it strokes his already inflated ego.

"You know what?" You break the silence, turning to meet Billy's gaze.

"What?"

"Contrary to the way my face and body look right now, he really can't hit that hard." You raise your eyebrows and nod, reassuring him that you mean that with your whole chest.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't give him a chance to swing." His grip around the steering wheel tightens, but he grins proudly.

"Don't worry, I took enough for the both of us," you joke, earning a shocked laugh from the curly-haired man you positively loathed just a day or so ago.

"I dunno. I think you could've taken him if the circumstances were different," he smirks at you, chin up.

"Oh, absolutely. If the emotional ties weren't there, we'd at least have gone a round or two," you mimic boxing the dashboard. It's obvious to both of you that this is not the case, but making a joke of a bad situation is a lot easier than crying. Billy's relieved, as he would have zero idea how to even approach you if you were crying. He's the "tell you you're not a pretty crier and then wonder why you cry harder" type of guy.

"Matter of fact, put me back in coach," you chuckle, accidentally reopening the split on your lip. "Oh, fuck," you mumble, pressing a finger to the wound, worsening the mess.

"Shit," Billy grabs a napkin from his glove box. "Don't touch it," he snaps. You quickly pull your hand away from your face and for just a moment, your breath hitches in your chest. You don't mean to react this way, you're not scared of him, you hope he knows that. He gives a small smile and a nod, almost like a silent apology for scaring you. He holds the napkin to your lip for you as he pulls into the Men's dorm parking lot. His family, much like yours, paid the extra fees to have a large dorm room all to himself. It was sort of a necessity for Billy considering his short temper and inability to compromise.

"How's your lip?" He asks as you set your overnight bag on his small futon in the tiny living area the solo dorms come with.

"It's fine. I think the bleeding stopped and everything," you smile, keeping it small so as not to pop open another split.

"You can take my bed. I got the futon," once again, his words are so kind and generous, but his tone is flat and bare.

"Don't be stupid. I'm your guest. You've..." You sneer at yourself in disgust as you prepare your next sentence. "You've done a lot for me already."

"God," he stares at you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"It looked like you were gonna be sick from saying that out loud."

"Came pretty close, bud." You squint your eyes. It's clear to both of you that this is weird. It's awkward and even a little uncomfortable. He's done so much for you, yes, and you do feel it outweighs all the innocent hell you gave each other, but where do you go from here?

"So, now what? I sleep here. We go to tomorrow's lectures. Then, I just go back to normal?" You don't want to insinuate that you expect him to play bodyguard forever, but it would be kind of nice. You lie the futon into its flat, bed position as you ask.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. 'Night." Billy climbs into his bed.

"Goodnight, Billy," you say, lowering the tough-gal front you attempt to keep up, usually when you aren't dealing with shit like this. Your voice sounds different when you let your walls down. It's sweeter. And the sound of it makes Billy's chest light.

In the safety of Billy's dorm, sleep finds you swiftly. You're out like a light, but Billy can't say the same. He lies with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. His mind is incoherent, bouncing all over from the possibility of the entire college sports program jumping him to the thought of you and him going back to "normal." It all started when he saw you, thought you were hot, but learned pretty quickly how self-assured you are. You would never be the easy catch he was used to and it pissed him off, igniting a multi-year feud between you. What if that feud were to end?

Billy lies on his back, his two muscular arms propped beneath the back of his head. He glances diagonally in the direction where you sleep. You're peacefully out, features slowly healing from the damage. He could stare at you all night, and that pisses him off too. He rolls his eyes and expels an exasperated sigh before rolling over, hoping that keeping his back faced in your direction will help shield him from the ambiguous thoughts invading his mind.

The next day, you're awake long before him, and to avoid overstepping, you rush through your morning hygiene routine and begin to reset the futon. You're as quiet as possible, but the second your fingertips graze the doorknob, Billy stirs.

"No," he says, wiping a hand over his face to rub the sleep away. "Just give me a minute. We'll go together." He sounds annoyed. You shake your head, dropping yourself down onto the futon while you wait for him to wake up.

"It's really no rush. I gotta get back across campus to get ready anyways." You call to him as he brushes his teeth in the small bathroom.

"I know you do. I'll drive you, just give me a minute," he waves away your excuses to leave without him, his voice becoming a little harsh as he repeats his request for more time. You know walking across campus isn't a treacherous walk. It's long, sure, but not unmanageable. What's really at stake is you running into anyone from the basketball team. And while that's your main concern, Billy has his own selfish reasons for wanting to keep you around. She's nice to look at, he tells himself, but it's more than that.

He walks from one end of the dorm to the other, wearing nothing but a dark grey pair of boxers. He's so lean and huge with well-toned muscles. He must spend a lot of time in the old weight room. You begin to wonder if Andy's in the hospital or not. Your eyes travel from his broad shoulders down to the V shape at his waist. You're unsure if it's your newfound ability to see him as a person, or maybe a trauma bond, but this man has you feeling out of character.

"Alright, car." He points out the door, using his primitive two-word command to instruct you to get into his car. He's still waking up.

"Billy, you know I could've just come back by myself, right? You didn't have to get up so early." You're the first to break the sleepy morning silence in the car. He looks at you like you've suggested possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"I know that. That's stupid. You're too trusting." Billy stares straight ahead through his black sunglasses.

"I guess," you shrug, not taking anything he says too seriously. How could you after all these years? He pulls into the Women's dorm lot and the two of you approach your personally decorated dorm room door. To your horror, the doorknob opens with ease. You forgot to lock it. A wary breath falls down your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, grounding yourself before opening the door. Billy's confused until he finally sees inside. It's just as you suspected. The entire room, top to bottom, is trashed- thoroughly.

"What the fuck?" Billy inserts himself in front of you, taking a few steps inside to further assess the damage. His eyes narrow in anger as he catalogs every broken picture frame and demolished knick-knack. You seemed to have had a lot of curiosities and oddities, all of which were destroyed on your equally ruined floor.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna lose it," you whisper, exasperated. You place your fingers on your temples and apply gentle pressure in hopes that it'll do any fucking thing for the way you're about to break the fuck down right now. "They want me to fuckin' lose it." Your voice is nearly inaudible.

"Hey, okay. Don't... Lose it. Let's go find 'em and beat the fuck out of 'em." Billy grins, still bloodthirsty. It's as if defending you almost feels like having you.

"I'm gonna get dressed. I'm gonna fix my fucking hair and makeup. And we're gonna go to our goddamn morning classes. This afternoon, we will figure out which one of them is getting their mom's severed middle finger in the mail."

"Sure thing, Killer Klown. That's not at all an overreaction." Billy shakes his head, laughing at your misfortune, though he does feel for you. You disappear into your restroom. It's miraculously, for the most part, untouched. You do a quick version of your usual big, glamour hair and slap on your makeup. It feels good to look like you again, even with the scabs and colorful bruises threatening to peek through the foundation. When you return to the common area, looking and feeling more like yourself, you radiate a type of glow. Billy catches himself in the very initial stage of staring but quickly nips that in the bud. You hardly notice.

"I guess I'm ready. You walking me to class, big guy?" You ask, teasingly.

"I am."

"Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but this isn't nes-"

"Y/N, have you looked at your dorm? Do you see how every single thing you own is destroyed? Stop being an idiot." His harsh words carry an air of motivation with them as he scolds you.

"Fine. But you're gonna have to pick up the pace or something," you snap your fingers repeatedly, in a circle to show him it's time to leave, now. He sighs, standing and leading the way out the door.

He walks you to your first lecture and waits outside for the entire hour. You don't know, but he actually doesn't have any classes today. He just knew you'd make a big deal out of it if you knew he was going any more out of his way than he already is. All 60 minutes drag by painfully slow, but all the while, Billy notices a few familiar faces casting passing glances into the building, only to suddenly change direction when their eyes meet his. He huffs out a satisfied sigh.

"Don't even think about it," he whispers, staring out the small door window. He glances at the clock, and just a moment before the lecture hall dismisses, he steps outside and waits for the crowd. After a handful of peers pass by, he then walks inside, keeping up his ruse.

"Oh, just in time, I guess," you say, meeting him in the middle of the breezeway as if he'd come from the other end of the college.

"As always," Billy sighs, unbothered, indifferent. You don't mind. It's a peaceful shift from his usual behavior before everything went down. The two of you step out the door and immediately, your eyes meet Andy's. He is standing around his car with his goons. They're all staring, not at Billy, at you. An intimidation tactic that might've worked before, had you not been walking next to a brick wall of a man. As the two of you strut past the bitter sportsmen, you hear Andy decide to pipe up.

"Told you she was a slut. It's already happening," he laughs and his teammates join in. You are unfazed by this sort of insult. Before the trauma at the hands of Andy that you'll now have to work through, you've always been a confident, self-assured person. At least that's all you'd allow anyone to believe. You shake your head at the insult, but when you look beside you, Billy's nowhere to be seen.

"That's pretty bold Andy. How're you healing? Doctor already tell you it's safe to get your shit rocked again?" Billy smiles sadistically as he stalks up to Andy. His crew of bench warmers seems to tighten up, taking a few steps closer, surrounding Andy. Billy can't hold back his laughter.

"Are you guys gonna jump me?" He asks, taunting, grinning as he does. "You think it's gonna be easy because there are so many of you?" Billy's only getting closer by the second, and the confidence of most of the players begins to waver. "Do you think I'll stop if I get my hands on you a second time?" Billy's icy blue eyes are dark with rage, almost black in the right lighting. They bore into Andy's and the two men fall silent.

Eventually, Andy's the one to back down. As expected, of course. And from the look on his face, you'd think he'd just been mugged and told his mom died. Billy smiles, tongue between his teeth as he watches the team climb into their cars. They have a visitors game, so you won't have to deal with them for the next 48 hours at least. As Billy returns to where you wait for him on the sidewalk, he wraps a protective arm around your shoulder. You're visibly jarred by this action, but Billy just stares straight ahead, leading you back to your dorm. He's wearing a self-satisfied grin as each and every busybody on campus whispers when they see the two of you.

Billy's a known bachelor and you're a known bitch. Even his more reoccurring hookups never got the public treatment. And you, fuck you're mean sometimes. Andy liked that about you. You'd be mean to anyone but him, but you guess it just stopped being enough. Even you and Andy weren't exactly "public" with your opposing schedules. You'd only ever been seen together at parties.

You finally reach your room and Billy leans against your counter, silently smiling at you as if he expects you to say something.

"What?" You ask, already starting the clean-up process.

"Just thought a 'thank you' would be in order." He shrugs.

"Thank you, Billy. Please hand me the broom," you groan, pointing to the tiny closet in the kitchen area. He rolls his eyes and carries the broom over to you. You're picking up the larger pieces of shattered glass and placing them into a small trashcan, hoping to make sweeping easier.

"Careful," Billy says as he notices a crack in the shard you're holding. His warning didn't reach you in time though, and the piece snapped, catching the upper part of your palm, slicing it open. "Jesus fucking-" Billy drops the broom and you follow him to the counter where he tears a wad of paper towels off the roll and shoves them into your hand. He stares at you with a straight face, almost like a disappointed parent. You stare back, blinking.

"What?" You ask, daring him to give you a hard time or risk being kicked out of your domicile.

"Nothing. Just getting tired of having to play doctor for you all the time." You release a huff and he smiles, a little sweeter than before.

(Do we want a part 2? Do we still read angst or are we all into smut rn? Maybe sex next chapter. idk.)

#stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove #billy hargrove angst #who did this to you #angst #stranger things #revenge #who did this to you trope #billy is mean #but also not #billy hargrove x reader #tw violence #tw domestic violence #tw dv #graphic violence #billy hargrove x y/n #stranger things angst

[moonlayl]

They told them to flee to the south. And when they tried to flee to the south tried, they got killed on their way there. 8 children.

They were slaughtered. This is what Israel’s doing in the name of “self defence”.

This is what y’all are justifying when you say “we’ll they warned them! Hamas needs to be destroyed! If they didn’t wanna due they should’ve evacuated!”

Evacuate to where? They get bombed if they stay out, they get bombed heading to the area Israel literally told them to go, they get bombed in that area, they get bombed by the border, they get bombed in refugee camps, and they get bombed when seeking refuge in a hospital, AND they have no way of leaving Gaza. Where are they supposed to go? And what on earth could justify THIS?

Has humanity collectively lost its damn mind? How can you NOT see this for the genocide that it is??

⚠️ graphic content

#I can’t stop crying #tw child death #tw graphic #graphic violence #free palestine #Palestine #Israel #israel is a terrorist state #free gaza #gaza #gaza under attack #genocide #occupation #current events #important #ya Allah protect them #May they reach firdous Al a3la ya Rab. #انت كريم يا رب

[brienneoftarth1989]

Forever Young

Larissa Weems x fem reader

Summary: You tried to save the school from The Hyde but it ended up killing you dying in Larissa’s arms. Larissa was beyond upset due to your relationship and organising the funeral was much harder

Warnings: Violence, blood, Major character deaths, funeral, grief, depression, suicide, overdose

Requests open

———————————

“I’ve got to go out there. I’ve got to defend this school” you told Larissa as you got ready to shift into your werewolf form. “You should be careful out there. I can’t lose you y/n. You are all the family that I have left” Larissa told you clearly scared about everything.

You walked over to Larissa as you brought her into a hug and gave her a kiss on her lips. “I promise. I love you Larissa. I will come back to you” you told her as you gave her one last kiss on the lips before running out the door and heading off to find Hyde

You immediately shifted as soon as you exited the door as you ran deep into the woods to find this huge creature. You had to stop this thing before it got any closer to the school. When you reached a clearing in the woods you stop for a second before smelling the air.

You had its scent. You started to follow after it and it wasn’t long before you realised you were making your way back towards the school. The two of you must have ran past each other at some point and not noticed each other. As soon as you made your way back you realised The Hyde was standing in the courtyard waiting for its next victims.

You couldn’t stand the thought it was just waiting for its prey to fall into its hands so you did the only thing that felt right for you at the time which was to attack. You ran straight over to the creature as you clawed at its back. The beast let out a shriek before spinning around causing you to lose your grip.

You fell onto your back and before you knew what was going on you felt its claws going straight across your chest. Pain was all you felt as you then watched it run off into the distance. It wasn’t killing for food. It was killing for sport.

You looked up to see Larissa standing on her balcony in shock at the scene she just witnessed before she ran down to see if you were alright. You had shifted back into your human form by the time she got to you and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Blood and deep cuts covered your stomach. You weren’t going to make it and you knew it. Larissa picked you up gently and held you in her arms being careful not to cause you too much pain. Your breathing was getting weaker and you wanted to spend the rest of your life looking at the one true person you loved.

“Hey, ssh, it’s going to be ok. You’re going to be ok. We can fix this baby. Just know I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you” Larissa sobbed as she fought back her tears. You felt one of them hit your cheek as you fought back your own tears.

With the strength you had left you lifted your arm and whipped away her tears. “I love you Larissa. I will always love you even from beyond. I just wish I had more time to tell you the many ways I love you…” you said with all your strength before the world went black.

Larissa just looked down at your lifeless body as she held you in a tight grip. “No. You can’t be gone. We still had the rest of our life together. I shouldn’t have let you go out. Maybe then you would still be here” Larissa cried, holding you tighter and tighter.

Larissa sat there for hours with your cold lifeless body before someone eventually found her. The authorities were called and they eventually came to take your body away as Larissa cried not wanting to be apart from you. The next couple of weeks were going to be the hardest as she had to sort out your funeral.

Larissa didn’t leave her room for that whole period. They had to get cover for her position while she grieved your death and trying to organise everything was stressing her out but eventually a day came when she realised everything was sorted just a week before your actual funeral.

Larissa had chosen a nice dark oak coffin for your cremation as well as many wreaths that contained white and black roses which were always your favourite. The songs she had also chosen for the funeral was It’s time to go and Safe & Sound which was a fitting choice considering your love for Taylor Swift and to send you off to your funeral you would be travelling via carriage which would be driven by two white horses.

The wake was the last thing that Larissa had organised. It is to be held at Nevermore where everyone would come to gather to celebrate your life. Larissa decided that no one is to be sad during the wake. It is a time to celebrate your life and Larissa knew deep down that you would have wanted it this way.

With everything sorted now the only thing Larissa wanted to do was sleep and stay in her room until the day of your funeral and that was what Larissa did. She only left her room to eat and go to the bathroom. She was lost with you and she didn’t know how much longer she could go on without you.

When the day of your funeral did come around Larissa finally pulled herself out of bed trying to put on a brave face for the day. She jumped into the shower as she got herself ready for the day. After bathing for the first time in weeks she styled her hair and put on a light amount of makeup.

She then made her way over to the wardrobe to get the outfit that she would be wearing to the funeral. It was a beautiful long black dress and a black coat with a white rose stitched into the pocket. She got herself dressed before looking at herself in the mirror. The urge to cry was already taking over.

Larissa grabbed her large black glasses so people couldn’t see that she had been crying before placing them over her eyes. She took a deep breath and started her day. Larissa spent the day in and out of what was going on. One minute she was at home. The next minute she was at the funeral, the she was at the wake and now she is back in bed crying.

The day had gone amazingly and you had the most beautiful send off but Larissa was hurt and she didn’t want you to be gone but she had to stay strong. That night she once again cried herself to sleep forever thinking of the moment where you died in her arms.

Months went by and Larissa wasn’t getting any better. She had tried to start getting through everyday life but there was something missing and that something was you. When your ashes came back Larissa decided to have something made.

Using one of your favourite hoodies she had a custom bear made with your ashes being put inside the bear as well as in the eyes when they were made for the bear. She then sprayed the bear in your favourite perfume which you always wore which meant that it always smelt like you.

Larissa was currently laid in bed with tears covering her face as she held the bear tight to her chest. The empty bottle of pills laid next to her. “I will be with you soon my love” she whispered as she felt the effects of the overdose taking effect. Larissa awoke to see you standing there at the end of the bed. “Just close your eyes, you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now” you told her as Larissa walked to you and took your hand.

You both looked back at her lifeless body on the bed as you both stepped into the light waiting to spend eternity together.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #larissa weems #larissa x you #larissa weems x teacher #larissa weems x you #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa x y/n #forever young #graphic violence #tw blood #character death #tw death #funeral #grief #tw grief #depression #suicide #tw suicide #tw overdose #overdose #brienneoftarth1989

[puddle-nerd]

You’ll Do

Summary: You’re lucky you survived the crash but after you crawled to safety, well, the phrase was out of the pot and into the fire, right?

(Recombinant Jake Sully/Human Reader)

Story Tags: No Use of Y/N, Pre Way of Water, Slight Mention of Gore, Restraints, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Neytiri Died, I’m Sorry, Manhandling, Verbal Degradation, Knife Kink, Mention of Non-Lethal Self-Harm, Mention of Blood, Panties Uses as a Gag, Extremely Dubious Consent, R4p3/Non-Consensual, Interspecies Sex, Na’vi Biology (Avatar – Cameron), Na’vi Language (Avatar – Cameron), Vaginal Sex, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Belly Bulge, Jake Sully Definitely Babbles During Sex, Creampie

So, this story was requested by @jakesullywhore, happy early birthday, baby girl 😘😘😘, on Tumblr back during Luna’s Kinktober Challenge (and she’s been wonderfully patient with me, I’m so, so, so sorry it took so long) and then it turned out… uh… quite a bit longer than I was originally expecting (insert sheepish shuffling here) in amongst several things happening all at once IRL so if you want to skip to the smut, and you’re over the age of eighteen, scroll down to the

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* Beginning of 18+ / NSFW Scene *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Na’vi Translation: Hì’i — small, little (size) Mawey – calm Olo’eyktan — clan leader (generally gender-neutral) Sevin — pretty (mainly for female(s)) Tawtute — human | Sky Person Toruk Makto — rider of last shadow | currently, Jake Sully

AO3 Link

You looked up as your supervisor groaned in protest as the supply train rumbled down the freshly built tracks, rocking with its momentum slowly but surely back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Your gaze didn’t falter from him as he closed his eyes, trying to center himself so he didn’t vomit while his motion sickness made itself known. “Ya good, sir?” you asked over the hum of the engine and the sound of the wheels turning, your words making your mask fog up briefly. The compartment was atmospherically converted to oxygen but with the increase of raids by the one known as Toruk Makto and his Na’vi followers, it was better to be safe and have your mask on, just in case. “You’re really pale,” you added.

Actually, he looked kinda green and you were beginning to think he was going to puke any second now.

Your supervisor looked up at you from where he sat across the way and gave a weak smile from behind the plexiglass of his mask, sweat beading up visibly upon his forehead. You’d think he’d have been used to the way a train rocked, having claimed to be from New York back on Earth, but who were you to judge? You all had come out here for a chance at a better life and there really wasn’t anything back on your home planet for you, personally, so when they opened up opportunities for grunt work (i.e. luckily you were a high value information system tech), they let you grab a space on the next flight out to Pandora. Only to find yourself in a middle of a war zone and having to take care of people who hadn’t been informed of what they were getting into. You hadn’t really known either, but that was beside the point. You reached beneath your seat and leaned forward to hand him a vomit sack. Suddenly, the illumination turned a reddish hue from a warm white, a skreiching alarm blaring over the speakers, a voice shouting, “Missiles inbound! Port side! Brace for impact! Brace f–”

Then the world went topsy turvy as the train de-railed.

What happened next came to you in spurts. The screech of metal on metal. The blur of the red warning lights amongst the darkness of the cabin with the world turning itself upon its head mimicking a high-speed roller-coaster back on Earth. The pain of smacking your masked face into the cushion of your full-body harness. The reek of liquid iron and the stench of something burning, stinging your nose. The sound of high-pitched screams ripped from several throats. The taste of copper upon your tongue. Pain radiating throughout your body from the top of your head to the tips of your booted toes.

Then nothing.

No sight, no sound, no smell, no touch, no taste…

Was it seconds later when you slowly regained consciousness?

Minutes?

Hours?

Your skull felt heavy and full of cotton as you very slowly lifted your chin, your eyelids blinking slowly as you took in the scene now, acutely aware of the ringing in your ears muffling everything else out. Shock rippled through you, icy and paralyzing, as you stared uncomprehendingly at the wreckage that had once been the train car you had been sitting in. Were still sitting in. Were you sitting? Your head ached.

Fear gripped you, your stomach turning as you surveyed the shattered glass, the debris of metal, splashes of dark liquid that smelled like the sharp tang of fuel and blood, and chunks of unidentifiable meat. You blinked slowly but the throbbing in your head refused to comprehend what you were gazing at – or maybe it was the shock of it all – and so you looked down at your own body. The harness was pulled tight around your chest and hips and your leg looked like it was bent at a funny angle for a moment, until you realized… it wasn’t your leg. Your hands trembled with a surge of adrenaline as you struggled to press the release clasps. Once you managed to liberate yourself from the strangling body-belt, you fell forward and stumbled to your feet, wobbling forward over questionable piles of… things you refused to look too closely at to get towards where you could see the light of day peeking out from where the door had crumpled in like tin, your limbs feeling like they were weighed down with lead blocks but you managed to slide yourself out, your gaze hazy and your mind slow as a turtle.

Pieces of shattered glass twinkled menacingly from the smoldering dirt in the sunlight amongst pieces of metal that should have been on the train.

Something huge suddenly swooped over your head and you lurched to the side as you saw a couple of colorful Mountain Banshees for the first time ever. You stared at them as they landed further down the wreckage and then noticed several very large bodies crawling over the train and the upturned earth.

You blinked and struggled to focus as you saw one of them, huge and blue, turn towards you, painted with black and green paint stripes all over his face and body beneath his battle band and very human-style tactical vest. You watched him incline his head before his lips drew back and he hissed in your direction and a new wave of adrenaline flooded your body.

You were going to die.

You didn’t think.

You just turned and ran.

You weren’t fast enough, though, and a sharp pain to the back of your head had you blacking out.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

You could hear them moving around you as you took stock of your situation, your eyes currently shut as you regained your other senses. There were at least two beings hissing at each other in a foreign language you recognized as the Na’vi tongue that you had no hope of understanding. The air smelled stale and recycled while you could taste a touch of iron on the back of your tongue. Your wrists were tied to the unforgiving metal table you were laying on, the cold seeped into your skin.

Your bare skin.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the realization that you were stripped almost fully naked and your eyes shot open. You tried to sit up only to jerk backwards, your wrists pulling tightly from where they were secured above your head. Your ankles were restrained as well.

“Oh, good, the sevin hì’itawtute is awake.”

You twitched, shrinking in on yourself as far as you could when you laid your gaze on two big blue striped beings watching you with interested golden eyes.

One was more serious, more intense, with his beaded braids hanging about his rounded cheeks and bordering his red ornate necklace. His broad shoulders, built chest, and thick arms looked more human-like except for the generous smattering of bioluminescent freckles adorning his striped sapphire skin. His torso tapered down into a slim waist, a leather band encircling just beneath his pecs. A light purple loincloth hung from a thin band over the front of his pelvis, a dagger longer than your forearm gracing his left hip. The other Na’vi was smirking much more mischievously at you, his heated golden eyes scanning your body with a hunger that made you shiver. His own braids, unadorned except for two hanging in front, were more towards the top of his head, the right side of his skull shaved. The second male was also so much leaner and gangly than the first, all long limbs with an equally lengthy torso and slutty, little waist though he was easily a couple of inches taller with less freckles that you could see. His dagger, hanging from his left lip, was a littler shorter as well above his simple green loincloth. They were both quite handsome in their unique ways.

“Go get Dad,” the broader male hissed in English.

You blinked.

Brothers?

The leaner male rolled his eyes with a sigh and turned on his heel and you felt your eyes widen as a blush stained your cheeks seeing that his loincloth left his firm backside on display. You glanced away only to see the remaining male raise a brow at you with a knowing look in his golden gaze. You flushed further and looked away, turning you eyes up towards the restraints holding your arms and then down to your ankles allowing you to see you still wore your sports bra and your thin, cotton panties.

The whoosh of the door opening again drew your attention and you choked.

While the two males were handsome, this third Na’vi – their father – made them pale in comparison. His long black hair was styled into thick, unadorned dreads and pushed back from his black and green streaked face. A woven band crossed over his forehead with something shimmering over his burning golden eyes was adorned with small, sharp bones that were probably as long as your hand from base to the tip of your middle finger. A wide, flat nose tipped in pink flared as he scented you, his thin lips pressing together. A comm unit acted as a choker as it settled at the base of his throat, just above a second necklace with five small stones. His shoulders were wide beneath his tactical vest, his chest was… beefy to say the least, and his biceps were near double the size of your head. His built torso tapered down into a trim waist cushioned lightly with an ever so slight, soft and inviting plushness, his brown loincloth embroidered with specialty woven knots around the hem and over the belt clinging to his hips. From mid-thigh to just above his ankles, dark brown leggings clung to his strong legs in a most sinful way that had you swallowing around a growing lump in your throat.

“Out,” the adult male hissed, his gaze not leaving you. He added something in the Na’vi language you had no hope of understanding.

The serious teen male nodded quietly and grabbed his brother by the back of the neck, pulling the mischievous-looking one roughly out of the… you supposed it was originally a shack laboratory that had been retrofitted to become your jailcell, hence why you could breathe without your mask.

You swallowed, watching the adult Na’vi male look over your nearly naked form once more.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, reaching down and unbuckling his tactical vest slowly, revealing a battle band in red and brown nestled just under his thick pectoral muscles, tossing the vest over to the side once he was freed. You shook your head because you weren’t sure. “You probably have heard of me. I’m known as Toruk Makto, more commonly called Jake Sully.”

You felt the blood drain from your face.

This was THE Jake Sully?

Oh, fuck… No wonder General Ardmore was determined to have LOTS of man and firepower because every inch of this Na’vi gave of vibes that screamed ‘lethal’.

You swallowed again and nodded, letting him know you now knew who he was. Your eyes flicked over every single inch of him once more and you shivered again at seeing that his whole body was defined muscle that human men wished they could have. And you weren’t entirely sure if it was because of the cold of the table, the chill of the air, or the fact that he was seriously fucking hot but your whole body trembled. Not, that that meant anything. God, you hoped his ability to smell things was seriously overstated. “I’m telling you this so that you understand what’s about to happen to you.”

You wetted your lips with your tongue and whispered hoarsely, “You’re going to torture me for information?”

Golden eyes – darkened with rage – flicked your way and a slow smirk that promised things pulled at his thin lips, revealing sharp fangs that had your heart doubling in speed. He replied, “Something like that.” He removed the leather strap from around his middle and tossed it over to where the vest was now. “I know it’s not entirely your fault, you’re just a drop in the bucket of problems known as the human race trying to destroy Pandora,” he removed his headpiece and added it to the growing pile, “but I need to know who’s in charge and what your superiors are planning.” His tomahawk from the small of his back was the fourth thing he removed from his body, though this he placed on the table by your hip, chuckling meanly when you attempted to shift away from the sharp edges of the weapon.

“I’m just a lowly IT,” you admitted, fear making you jittery upon the table. “General Ardmore doesn’t even know my name.”

Jake leered at you nastily, unsheathing his front dagger and slamming it down by your head with a startling SLAM. You recoiled sharply, twisting your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut as your heart beat vibrated within your chest. “That’s alright,” Jake hissed, bending down and breathing hotly into your ear. “I’m sure I can make use of you… somehow.” You trembled as he pulled back and circled your body on the table. “You know, up until about a year ago, I was happy,” he told you conversationally, trailing his callus roughened fingers over the softness of your body, causing you to flinch again and tremble. “Y’know, I was the Olo’eyktan, wha’chu call the clan leader.” He pinched at your fleshy hip, the one on the other side from where he had left his weapon, chuckling as you baulked away from his touch. “I was respected by The People,” he continued, moving towards your feet and you hoped to god he wouldn’t tickle your soles, “all throughout the vast jungles of Pandora. I had a wife and four beautiful children. Had.”

Oh… shit…

You met his gaze and now understood the fury in his golden depths.

Jake told you, voice flat and ice cold, “My wife, my mate, my better half, my Neytiri te Tskaha Mo’at’ite died today because all of you stupid humans had to come the fuck back here where you weren’t wanted.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t killed her. You hadn’t killed anyone. But you could see the absolute wrath and the soul-shattering hatered burning deeply from within the golden depths of his eyes. You understood from just looking at him that he wouldn’t really listen to any of your words or, even if he did hear what you said to him, he wouldn’t actually care about them. Either way, he was about to take it out on you in one way or another.

“So… what do you have to say about that?” Jake demanded.

You gulped and murmured, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jake’s ears flicked back and he bared his teeth, shaking his head as his tail – he had a fucking tail! – lashed back and forth in agitation. ��Y-you’re sorry? You’re sorry?! How’s that – how is that going to bring back my wife!?”

“It’s not! It’s – it’s not,” you yelped, flinching away from the fists he pounded down onto the metal table between your secured ankles as best you could, though it wasn’t much. You stuttered, tripping over your words, “But I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Sully! I – I swear, I swear, I swear I had n-nothing to do with it! I – I’ve never killed any – anyone, I swear. I’m just a, uh, just a computer jockey!”

His nose flared as he scented you again and a wide, dark smirk adorned his features as a switch seemed to flip and an idea came to him.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·. Beginning of 18+ / NSFW Scene .·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

“Well, if you’re not high enough up the chain and have no useful information to give me, guess I’m gonna have to find a different use for ya,” Jake announced and reached down. The Na’vi male pressed a lever on the table and the table flipped nearly vertical to about a 75-degree angle, causing you to yelp in surprise as you were suddenly jerked upright, the tomahawk and the dagger sliding – luckily – harmlessly down to hit the floor with a loud double ‘CLANG’. He chuckled meanly down at you, pressing something else to lock you into place.

You gulped, begging to know as your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, “What are you going to do to me?”

The painted male just smirked, flashing his fangs.

Kneeling down between your legs, your whole body shivered of the sight of Jake exchanging your ankle restraints for his large hands, his grip strong and unyielding giving you no chance to kick him in his stupidly handsome face. You felt your belly twist itself into knots as a warm bubble of dread – yes, it was definitely dread and nothing else – began to build inside of you as an idea of how he was going to “make use of you” formed in the back of your mind.

Jake manipulated your legs apart and leaned in, pressing his flat, pink nose against the front of your panties, flaring as he sucked in a deep breath with a chuckle. “Well, …look at that. You’re liking this, little girl,” Jake hummed, rubbing his nose over the material separating him from your femininity. “If I strip you, how wet will I find you, you stupid fucking slut?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he added, “Guess I’ll find out in a second. Don’t move.” Letting go of one of your legs after placing it over his shoulder and nipping at it in warning to not kick him or anything, he grabbed his dagger from the floor and brought it up to your crotch. You whimpered, trying not to squirm as the sharp edge of his weapon was drawn carefully up the silken skin of your inner thighs, leaving little red welts but not actually splitting the skin, getting closer and closer to your cunt. You recoiled slightly. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” Jake reiterated with a rumbling growl, ears and tail both flicking in irritation.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, flinching when he tucked the sharp edge under the hem of your panties and tore it beyond repair. “Please…”

Jake smirked as he cut away your panties completely, muttering up towards you, “You’re gonna be saying that for a different reason in a little bit, little girl.” You froze, watching as he tossed the scraps of fabric away and raised his knife one more time, lifting it to the material of your sports bra and hooking it beneath the front hem. The material gave away just as easily as your panties had, ripping like paper up the middle, revealing your tits to his gaze before methodically cutting the shoulder straps of what used to be your chest covering. “Huh, you are actually pretty, aren’cha?” Jake muttered, more to himself than to you as he tossed the now useless fabric away and set his dagger back down onto the ground. His gaze drifted down to your pussy and he smirked. “Oh yeah, you are such a dirty little slut, aren’t ya?” Jake chuckled, finally placing your other leg over his shoulder and inspecting you. “Gonna be a tight fit but now… I can smell you even better, all sweet and musky. Wonder if you taste just as sweet?”

He leaned forward, cupping your upper thighs with his blue hands, and pressed his nose against your center, breathing deep.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, cringing as much as you could away from his touch. “Oh, please don’t do this. I – I don’t want this, Sully. Please.”

You didn’t know who you were trying to convince more.

Jake or yourself.

He ignored your words and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue and sliding it up the seam of your cunt from the bottom to your clit. You yelped, jerking away from him again at the feel of what you might describe as sandpaper touched your most intimate of parts. It wasn’t… unpleasant… but it was, definitely, strange. He tightened his grip on your legs and did it again, collecting your wetness upon his tongue. And then again. And again. You chewed on your lower lip, trying not to make any further noises or to move, lest he got angry or thinking you were enjoying this.

‘You weren’t enjoying this. You weren’t. You weren’t. You weren’t,’ you chanted to yourself.

“You can try to be quiet all you want, but I’ll get’cha to sing,” the Na’vi male told you confidently, smirk firmly in place on his azure skin. “Singing like an ol’ opera singer.” With that, he leaned in and began his attack on your pussy, dipping his tongue inside your cunt and rubbing his nose against your clit, determination pouring off of him to make you enjoy yourself, whether you liked it or not. The control this man had over his tongue made you bloody your lower lip from biting down so hard on it, just as equally resolute to not give in. No matter how good it felt. But Jake was a man on a mission, practically shoving his face against your pussy and feasting like you were going to be his last meal.

You felt the pleasure undeniably building, a choked whine building in the back of your throat.

Jake lifted his gaze and pulled back, seeing the blood trickling down your chin from where your teeth had dug too deeply. “Ah, fuck, don’t do that,” he grumbled and looked around swiftly. Spotting the remains of your bra and underwear, he grabbed your ex-chest covering and balled it up, wiping away the red liquid from your skin roughly, ignoring your mewl of pain. Now that your underwear was even more ruined, he tossed the sports bra back down and grabbed your panties, balling them up and shoving them into your mouth. “There now, no biting yourself while I enjoy my snack, you ungrateful brat,” he snarked picking up right where he left off and devouring your cunt like he was starving, humming as he dug his tongue deeper into your passage than you ever got with your own fingers. And his tongue was thick enough to almost resemble the girth of the silicon dildo you’d smuggled in the luggage you’d been allowed to bring with you from Earth.

You could no longer hold back the whimpers, your makeshift gag muffling your noise only somewhat.

“Yeah, that’s it, you needy little whore,” Jake chuckled against your clit before lapping at it greedily. “Let those noises out. Let me know what a filthy little slut you are for the first male Na’vi that gives you attention.” He laughed a little more to himself and then leaned in sucking on your hard nub as he slipped two broad fingers into your wet heat, curling them just so that had your eyes crossing as you jerked against your restraints and dug your heels into his shoulders while also trying to rut your hips up into his mouth and hand. “That’s it, bitch. I can feel you tightening. You’re getting close, aren’cha? Gonna cum with your enemy finger fucking you like a dirty, little slut?” Your inner walls clenched greedily around his digits and then he found a spot deep inside of you.

Your climax took you by surprise, running you over like a bus or a train…

‘Oh, too soon,’ you thought just before the euphoria overtook your senses.

You jerked in your restraints, screaming through the gag as you unraveled, your whole-body trembling with bliss.

“Fuck, yeah, look at you,” Jake sneered as he sat back on his heels, still curling his fingers inside of you as he rubbed circles over your clit to draw out your orgasm. “What a fucking little whore. Look how much you came for me.”

You sagged in your restraints, panting heavily and continuing to tremble, eyes widening when you saw how much his loincloth had tented.

The Na’vi male pushed himself to his feet and began to circle you, casually licking his fingers and palm clean of your slick while his tail flicked behind his toned, bare backside. You looked up at him as he came back around and stood in front of you, gazing at you expectantly but your throat didn’t want to work, didn’t want to form words. Especially with that monster of his pressing against the inside of his loincloth. So, you didn’t bother to try. Instead, Jake spoke up for you. “Got nothing to say?” the Na’vi demanded. You breathed out heavily through your nose and shook your head slowly. He snorted and lowered his gaze to watch the remnants of your orgasm trickling down your leg. He gripped himself, muttering, “You do taste as sweet as you smell, pretty, little slut. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me.”

In any other situation, you might have been flattered.

Jake moved forward and towered over you, your head barely coming up to his sternum as you hung from the upright table. He smirked and reached down to untie his loincloth. “Think it’s gonna fit in your tight, little pussy, slut? You were squeezing my fingers all nice and snug,” he commented, letting the cloth drop, “I’m wondering if I’m gonna fit inside of you.” You whined, seeing the thick human-like cock spring upwards, firm and full. Jake’s dark blue shaft was decorated with pretty stripes of a lighter shade and bioluminescent white freckles scattered amongst ridges and nubs all over the length of him. What made you clench though, besides the sheer size of him, was that his light blue foreskin was pulling back from the pink tip of his cock to reveal that his slit was beginning to bead with pearlescent precum tinged silvery blue.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, quietly through your makeshift gag, no longer able to deny you were enjoying this.

Whether you liked it or not.

The Na’vi male chuckled and stroked himself a couple of times. “Yeah, thought you’d like this,” he leered down at you with a smirk. Letting himself go, his cock bobbed but continued sticking straight out from his pelvis. Jake stepped closer and grabbed your wet thighs, lifting you up and settling himself between your legs, his shaft hot and hard against the seam of your center so you could feel the texture only a Na’vi penis had; you whimpered, trembling in his grasp, pleasure skittering through your nerve endings. “I can feel how slick you are, you filthy little whore,” Jake commented, grunting as he rutted against you, coating himself in your natural lubricant. “Getting me all nice and wet. Gonna have to go slow, though. Don’t want to tear you.” You whimpered as he continued to lift your hips up and back, dragging your dripping cunt up the length of his cock, teasing you with his firm shaft but not yet putting it in.

You bit down on your gag and jerked in his grip, seeking more stimulation.

“Look at you, you needy little thing,” Jake chuckled, watching you with a derisive jeer. “Yeah, you need it, don’cha? Okay, here we go, then.” Carefully, Jake took his shaft and lined it up with your entrance, slowly easing his thick mushroom head into your channel. You whined as he began to push himself further inside, the stretch burning your inner muscles slightly and forcing all of the air out of your lungs. “Mawey, baby. Mawey. Daddy’s got’chu.” The Na’vi male adjusted your thighs around his lean waist and reached down between you, circling your clit as he continued sinking himself further into you, the inescapable pressure and the incredible feeling of absolute fullness making you let out a whine through the fabric in your mouth. Your inner walls keep tightening and loosening, as if your center didn’t know whether to allow Jake’s girth further inside or to try to push him back out of your body. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned through gritted teeth. “Le’me in, little girl. It’ll feel so good. I promise.”

You whined, his thumb still circling your clit as he finally, finally bottomed out.

Jake couldn’t quite fit his entire cock into your pussy, the tip of him pressed against your cervix in a way you weren’t entirely sure was painful or pleasurable. Either way, you felt so utterly stuffed you could barely breathe, breaths shuddering in and out of your nose in short bursts. The hand gripping your thigh was definitely going to leave bruises later as he reveled in the feel of your center stretched around him to your utter limit, his free hand still rubbing circles over your hard, little bud.

“Fuck, baby,” the Na’vi male groaned, shifting his hips to test how you felt now that you had started to adjust to his intrusion. “Tightest pussy Daddy’s ever had. Fuuuck, yer strangling my cock.” The noise that escaped your throat barely sounded human in pitch, more like it was an unintelligible fusion of a whine and a groan, muffled by the panties still in your mouth. He chuckled and added, “Pretty sure you were made for this. Huh? You were made to be my little cock slut, baby, right? Daddy’s little whore.” You whimpered and nodded slowly, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you again. “Yeah, I thought so.” Then he sucked in a sharp breath and whistled. “Fuck, yeah, I can see myself in your belly.”

You looked down to see your stomach slightly distended to accommodate the total girth of his length and you released a wail.

“Isn’t that a sight,” Jake laughed quietly, hissings as you subsequently clenched internally. “Okay, okay, ya greedy little thing. Daddy’s gonna start moving now, little girl. Tell me if it hurts.” You made a muffled noise of complaint and tried to spit out the panties still forcing your jaw wide. “Ah, forgot about that,” the Na’vi male chuckled to himself and finally pulled the cloth out of your mouth, tossing them off to the side. “That better, little girl?”

“Yes,” you moaned quietly, moving your jaw to relieve the slight ache. “Oh, fuck, Sully. Feel so full.”

The male chuckled, “Yeah. Bet you do.”

Jake pulled out of your center a little before rolling his hips slowly back inside of you, glancing between your face and your belly bulge as you whined, feeling the friction of his textured shaft to cause the most exquisite of pleasure to tease your nerve endings, his heavy testicles bouncing off of your taint with each move of his hips. He slowly began to increase his pace, the sound of his thrusts squelching wetly through the air as he pounded his length deeply within you with the power and the consistency of a machine, causing that coil to tighten once more inside of you.

Without the gag hindering you now, you whined aloud, “Huh, fuck. Oh god.”

“Yeah, my little slut likes this,” Jake snarled, quickening his tempo further and growling low in his throat as your center tightened further around him. “Fuck, little girl, gonna cum for Daddy like a good whore? Gonna gush all over me when you climax? Bet you will, you greedy little cock slut. I want to see how your belly bulges further when I finish deep inside of you.” You whined nonsensically as his thrusts got sloppy as he sped up even further, the head of his cock pressing a spot that made your toes start to curl. “Oh, fuck, baby. I can feel you getting close. You’re even tighter around me. You ready, baby? Daddy’s gonna fill you up.”

You wanted to feel the pleasure but you didn’t want it.

Not like this at least.

The Na’vi male’s breathing increased as his rhythm stuttered further, slamming wetly into your depths even more loudly, his balls now smacking against your taint with each shove of his cock, pushing inside of your pussy even deeper until he shoved himself in firmly one last time, burying himself in to the hilt and –

“Ohhh, fuck, fuck, fuuuck, yeah baby! Cumming. Cumming!”

If your first orgasm had been like getting hit by a bus, your second one was more like getting swept away by a tsunami, the pleasure-pain of Jake’s cock being wedged just beneath your cervix and pressing in from behind your bellybutton caused you to release a nonsensical throat-aching scream as well as you beginning to weep in humiliation from the heat overtaking your senses making you feel like you had peed yourself as the lush flow of your and Jake’s combined finish both bulged your stomach and dribbled steadily down your buttocks while every muscle within you spasmed almost violently and your toes curled painfully.

“Fuck, my little slut is a gusher,” Jake chuckled, groaning as he trembled in pleasure. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna keep you. You’ll do just nicely.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 24 November 2023 Word Count: 5,500

#avatar #avatar smut #atwow #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully x human!reader #graphic violence

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

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Phobos paused in his struggle with Sun as he heard the noise and began to turn to see what it could’ve been when for a split second all he could see was brown and red before something smacked into the side of his face, and the sound rang out again. The imp shrieked and rolled off of Sun, clutching his face and fiercely rubbing the pain away. He and his twin groaned as they blinked away stars from their vision. 

Sun and Moon’s eyes widened and followed the projectile back from where it came, both astonished to see Lunar catch his staff at its center. What was he still doing here?!

“Hey, Ditzo and Bozo!”

The twin imps hissed with glaring eyes as they looked to the helper fairy who returned a glare of his own. He pointed the head of his staff towards them, the red gem glinting and casting an ominous shadow across his face. 

“Paws off.”

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CHAPTER 5 FOR "TERROR COMES IN TWOS" IS NOW READY!

'There is a fight still to be had.'

Feedback appreciated! (preferably on AO3 ;w;)

#fairy au #dca fairy au #sundrop fairy #moondrop fairy #lunar fairy #bloodmoon imp twins #goblin kc #gaia #terror comes in twos #ao3 #fairy au fic #fnaf dca #fnaf daycare au #tw blood #tw eye injury #tw broken arm #graphic violence #angst #hurt with little comfort #lunar is a little badass #sassy lunar #fnaf lunar #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #moondrop #sundrop

[occasionallyprosie]

A Thousand Ways

Chapter 1: "Sometimes you shouldn't just keep your head down"

Event Masterlist | Next>>

On a night in Legend's era, safe within the boundaries of an unnamed town, the veteran finds himself unstable but unable to sleep. He intended to just sleep off the concussion at best, or take a potion the next morning when they restocked on them at worse. He probably shouldn't have gone outside where he was easily seen while not at his best and without basically any of his items.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 1: Helpless

Read on AO3

Warnings: torture

Legend had decided back on his first quest that he hated concussions. Over ten years later and on his... variably numbered quest (it could be the seventh if he combined the Oracles into a single one, it could be the sixth if he ignored Koholint too, or it could be the ninth if he individualized and counted every single vaguely adventure-like thing that happened), he still hated concussions.

Nonetheless, he powered through. It was a mild one anyways, he would be fine by morning probably, and if he wasn't then he'd buy an extra potion to drink.

They just arrived at a town in Legend's own era and kingdom, it was late and they had already decided to get supplies the next day after a good night's sleep in the inn. Legend didn't go to sleep though, despite the rather mild--he wasn't even nauseous really--concussion, he slipped out of the inn and found himself sitting out on a bench outside, watching the innkeepers wife's--Leanne's, he had visited the town before-- garden of flowers sway in the wind.

"Hey," someone sneered, "what's a brat like you doing out this late?"

He was literally an adult, but before he raised his head he saw armored boots.

A knight.

"Just getting some fresh air," he said, keeping his head down. "I don’t mean to bother."

Please don’t--

The boot swung up and he had plenty of time to dodge it, except he was trying not to be recognized so he took it. The steel boot hit his forehead and he let himself gasp, dropping his head lower.

"Look at me when I speak to you, brat!" They spat.

Legend grit his teeth, not responding in favor of keeping his head down. Maybe he should've dodged and just ran, that kick made his concussion much, much worse if only briefly. He couldn't think and suddenly, that nausea that hadn't been so bad, was very bad.

Instincts kicked in when the guard went in for another kick. Legend avoided it and quickly stood.

"You'll learn some resp--" the guard visibly recognized him when Legend met his eyes, forcing back the dizziness.

"You could've just walked away," Legend said coldly. "You just had to pick a fight with someone who you thought was a kid."

"You! Criminal!"

The outraged cry drew the attention of a nearby patrol of guards. Legend cursed, especially the fact that he'd left most of his items inside the inn. Four guards converged toward him, yelling and waking up the townsfolk while Legend bolted.

He didn't want nor should kill them, they needed a reality check sure, but death wasn't the answer here and he only had his medallions as an offense. No regular person would survive them, so instead Legend just ran.

To everyone's surprise, when he swerved into an alleyway unhindered, a patrol of guards were on the other side and startled when the patrol chasing him roared behind him. They quickly blocked off his escape, and with his head spinning, stomach lurching, and eyes refusing to focus--

A shield was slammed into his face and he was out cold.

Legend woke up in a painful daze, his whole body was sore, arms especially so, wrists in genuine pain and not just sore. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, yet simultaneously it felt empty with how his brain seemed to rattle in his skull. His magic was practically gone--

His magic was gone. He didn't feel the familiar weight of his medallions and pendants. He wasn't even wearing all his clothes! His red mail was gone, and his boots, leaving him just in his dark green under-tunic. His cap was gone as well and his hair was loose.

After assessing his own condition, Legend drew in enough focus despite the physical pain and magical exhaustion, and he tried to determine his situation.

He was in a cell, water audibly dripping down from the ceiling and down the walls. The ground was damp if anything. Stone lined the walls and floor, mortar on the walls but dirt in the floor. He was chained to the wall opposite of the (probably) iron cell door, the cuffs around his wrists had runes etched into it... the source of his magical exhaustion no doubt.

Metal clinked as he tugged the cuffs around his wrists, he didn't have a single inch of give, being cuffed directly to the wall itself. His magic was cut off, and his head spinning and throbbing and requiring far too much concentration to focus, Legend took far too long to come to a conclusion about his situation.

He had been captured, by knights no less, and he was completely trapped. He had no items, he'd never had the strength to even escape, and his magic had been drained before he could even try the... two things he'd been able to do in extremely extenuating circumstances to escape.

The cell door slammed open, Legend glared daggers at the knight who entered.

"Link, seems we finally caught you," they said, scowling and approaching him.

"I wa'--I was par-pardoned years ago," Legend snapped, his words attempting to slur, leading him to repeat himself clearly. "You have-- You have... no grounds for this arrest."

The knight drew closer. "Just because you tricked the queen doesn't mean you’re innocent. You'll pay for kidnapping her, and for the murder of dozens of good soldiers, especially Sergeant Alphon."

He snapped. He swung his leg up and nailed them in the face. Despite the height they had on him, his legs were just long enough and he was flexible enough to kick them.

"Get his name out of your mouth you bastard!" Legend fought against his chains, ignoring the pain and fuzziness. How dare this knight try and use his uncle against him?! How dare he?!

"Oh, you'll pay for that."

The knight punched his face, the back of his skull slammed against the iron panel behind him, a loud clang echoing through the room simultaneously followed by a hissed curse. His skull reverberated, pain exploding and seizing. A stabbing pain tore through his mind.

A second punch to his lower ribs had his legs giving out and his stomach to empty itself on the ground.

"Not so high and mighty now," the knight sneered. "You'll die in this cell, hero. Nice and slow, another day, another hour, another pain for all the men you killed."

Legend inhaled shakily, lips wet as he raised his head to glare.

"Do your worst," he growled. "I've survived worse."

He survived death itself, and returned with new items, new artifacts, new memories. He survived Ganon four times over, a lightning strike to the head, the near-death of his ancestor borderline erasing him from history.

Even if Legend did die here, it was the first... second time he could trust that someone else would finish the job. The other heroes would finish this quest and he didn't need to worry. He could die without regrets.

Turns out, dying slowly with a glimmer of hope to escape is far worse than being struck by lightning and drowning in a storm on the ocean.

The other heroes should've been able to find him, he'd gone with Twilight, or Wolfie, to track down the Traveler and Champion dozens of times, never through towns though. Yet they hadn't and Legend had determined not to rely on anyone, even the other heroes.

Though... it was hard not to cling to the hope of hearing blades clashing, or even just the creak of the door as one of them sneaks in. Not as his body refused to do the most simple of things, not while he could barely lift his head, not while he felt the cuffs that drained his magic very slowly chip away at his soul, eliminating any replenishment of his magic before it even formed. It was hard not to cling to any glimmer of hope of someone else saving him for once when his skin was torn, cut open, and his blood soaked the floors more than the water that dripped from above did. He told himself that he had to save himself, just like every other time he'd been pushed to the brink. He had a job to do and even if the other heroes could do it themselves, it was still his job to at least help. Yet as he hung from bleeding wrists, legs not strong enough to support him, he knew that even if he wasn't chained up, even if the cell door was wide open, he wasn't going to be able to walk out.

When the knights returned, jeering and joking with one another with the familiarity of brothers, Link drew in another breath.

He wasn't escaping. He survived death once, thanks to an ocean deity, but he was certain that he wasn't going to escape its hold a second time. Not as the knights pulled out something new--every day, it had been something new, or maybe every hour, he wasn't sure how long it had been--and discussed who got to use it first.

It was a flail, a handle of leather likely around wood but maybe steel, and multiple long ropes of frayed leather.

Link--Legend(they were still there, he wasn't alone again, the quest was still ongoing even if he died here) didn't have the energy to cry out as the cat o' nine tails was whipped across his face, tearing his lip, the bridge of his nose, his brow and cheek, his eyes sealed shut from the pain. He did flinch, he did whimper and gasp, but nothing more.

He didn't have the strength for more. Frayed leather struck across his chest, catching his collarbone and cutting a scabbed wound open. His throat was raw, had been for a while now with stomach acid burning the irritation of his screams. Even as he tried to scream, nothing more than a wheeze fell from bloodied lips.

He hoped they wouldn't be too upset with him leaving them to finish the fight. He almost wanted to laugh, it was a bit ironic... Of course he, the helpless bunny, would be killed in captivity. He, the veteran, would die on an adventure. He, the collector, would be left item-less at the end, after all you can't take anything to the afterlife.

It was ironic, because the adventuring veteran who collected items from across four countries, three worlds, and had killed Ganon four times... was still just a helpless bunny who couldn't defend himself when it mattered.

Soon enough, as his vision faded out, Legend fell.

Though with his magical stores empty and his soul having just been drained... he didn't even notice that his fall had been in the physical sense. Cuffs didn't matter when the goddess herself took matters into her own hands to displace her hero through time.

Next>>

#febuwhump 2024 #linked universe #lu legend #everyone else will show up in later chapters but they aren't featured here #legend linked universe #linked universe fanfic #whump #angst #torture #graphic violence #legend lu #ao3 fanfic #prosie writes #a thousand ways au

[commander-krios]

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.” for revan and canderous? :D

I... I finished it?? OMG I did it! I hope this was worth the wait, I'm so sorry this took so long. Warnings for graphic violence and descriptions of death/corpses.

Read on AO3

“We need to talk.”

Closing her eyes, Yuehai breathed in through her nose, trying her hardest not to give in to the anger that swelled in her chest. The coarse red dirt of Korriban stained her feet, dirtied her robes, burned her skin as she knelt to retrieve the stone urn half buried. “This isn’t the time or place.”

Gravel crunched beneath Canderous’ boots as he stepped closer, his shadow dwarfing her as she pried the urn from the ground. The HK droid had walked off to patrol a few minutes before, leaving the two of them in the heated silence. The Mandalorian hadn’t said a word during most of their trek through the tombs or the caves, but now, when they were so close to getting off this dreadful rock, he had to open his mouth.

“Revan-”

With a hiss, she glared up at him, furious at the use of a name that died with her past. “Don’t call me that.”

Those grey eyes she swore didn’t haunt her dreams slanted in her direction. The unforgiving sun left his skin burned as he stood there, but not once did he complain of the pain. Stubborn to the end. Something they had in common, at least.

One of many things, her mind taunted, dark whispers fading as his gaze brought her back to the conversation. It was a strange thing, to feel desire for a man that she might’ve killed in another life. To think that one look into his eyes kept her from falling to the dark again.

“Revan is a part of who you are, even if you’re ashamed of it.”

“You think I’m ashamed of who I am? Who I was?” She stood, shaking some of the dirt out of those hideous black robes the Academy gave their students. “You know nothing about me.”

“That’s a lie.” Canderous crossed his arms over his chest, not backing down even as her fingers flexed, tempted to strangle him where he stood. “We are the same. Even you can’t deny that.”

No, she couldn’t. 

And that was part of the problem when it came to this thing between her and Canderous. They were warriors, scarred by blade and hands stained with blood, capable of both terrible destruction and great deeds. Their lives were built on war, sustained by death, only to fall at the height of their power.

Whenever she looked at him, she saw the past. 

Canderous stepped closer, the space between them thinning to nothing. The sweet pungent scent of sweat mixed with the rusty smell of dirt, turned red by years of blood seeping into the ground. When he reached out with a steady hand to brush his fingers over her dark hair, she dropped her gaze to a scar on his neck, jagged, white, and she wondered, not for the first time, where he’d gotten it. His rough fingers brushed her cheek and she couldn’t stop the immediate reaction to his touch, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand, wanting to feel more of his strength.

“Look me in the eyes.” He commanded, refusing to back down when she did without argument, his eyes like molten metal, no light in their depths, only darkness. “Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the pull that’s between us. Tell me to leave you alone and I will.”

That was just it. She couldn’t do any of those things. Because no matter how much she wanted to deny this old bastard the satisfaction of being correct in at least one thing since he joined her crew, Yuehai knew she’d never speak those words. Because they were lies. 

And Revan was many things, but a liar, she was not.

The telltale feel of the dark side washed over her suddenly, skin prickling uncomfortably, the hair on her arms rising before three Dark Jedi appeared in the distance over Canderous’s shoulder. They strolled casually down the hill to where they’d been secreted away, red lightsabers glowing bright even against the bloody sands of Korriban.

“I almost feel guilty for interrupting such a lovely moment.” Heavy sarcasm laced every word, not a trace of sincerity in the voice that spoke from beneath the dark hood.

Not that she’d expected any.

Yuehai couldn’t see their faces, but she could see the pale skin and black veins that were common in dark side corruption. She sighed, stepping around Canderous at the same time he turned, her sabers in her hands without hesitation. “More of you? Didn't you have enough of getting your asses kicked on Tatooine and the Leviathan?”

One of them hissed at her, spitting curses before stepping forward, as if he could strike fear in the heart of the woman who had destroyed the Mandalorians and destroyed the Jedi. “You are nothing without your Jedi, traitor. With her battle meditation, the Republic will lie before our feet, nothing more than burned rubble and broken bodies.”

She eyed the Sith’s form, making a mental note of how he favored his left leg: an old injury or perhaps he was tortured as punishment for a failure. The cause did not matter when she could benefit from the weakness. “Your master is the traitor and I will see him kneeling at my feet before I end his life.”

A crimson lightsaber slashed through the air, a wide arcing swing that was full of rage and little control. Yuehai lifted her hand in a single fluid motion, the blue lightsaber in her left hand blocking the first swing while the one in her right, one that glowed with an amethyst crystal, found its home in the Sith’s chest. With a downward thrust, she cleaved him in two, leaving a smoking mass of flesh where a person had stood a moment before.

The Sith that had spoken howled in fury, stepping forward with a raised hand, electricity crackling at his fingertips. Blocking with one of her sabers would only work a few times before the lightning overpowered her, but she didn’t need much time to close the distance.

If she was truly Darth Revan, she doubted any of these Sith had the power to kill her. They were nothing more than ants to crush beneath her boot.

Canderous opened fire, his repeater leaving multiple smoking holes in the Sith furthest away. The scent of burning flesh assaulted her nose only briefly before Yuehai used her connection on the force to leap into the air, lightsabers posed to strike. The Sith got his saber up in time to block the attack, but she didn’t let up, slashing and pushing the Sith back until he was practically pressed against a outcropping of stone, nowhere left to go. 

The electricity built to a maelstrom beneath his skin. Shadowy whispers of imminent danger tickled at the back of her mind but she ignored the warnings, striking out with her right saber. It met the Sith’s in a shower of red and purple sparks, the blades hissing as they made contact. She pushed as hard as she could towards his left side, the weight of her form pressing against him, her muscles straining beneath thick, itchy robes. The Sith tried to pivot the sudden movement, but his weakened leg almost buckled under their combined weight.

She saw the terror flash in his gaze when he looked at her, blue eyes turned hazy, yellow, a mark of the Sith. There was no doubt that he’d killed innocents, done evil in a galaxy that had suffered enough. Here, in the sandy wasteland of Korriban, under the shade of tombs of greater Sith, this man would die and Yuehai felt not a fraction of pity for him.

He hesitated to release his hold on the lightning with her body so close. If he did so, he’d be caught in the crossfire, frying him as well as himself. As he fought against being overpowered, Yuehai spun her second lightsaber, severing his hand from the rest of his body.

He screamed as the stump smoked, blood sizzling as the wound cauterized, and Yuehai stepped out of the way so Canderous had the perfect shot. It was over within seconds, the Sith all dead at her feet, her breath coming in puffs, her lungs burning from the exertion. When she turned to face the Mandalorian again, her hair fell into her eyes, obscuring his image slightly. 

Nothing could hide the flash of his eyes as he watched her across the battlefield. After a moment, the tension eased, and he slung the repeater across his shoulder before crossing the distance between them with purposeful strides.

“Don’t-” She warned him, lightsabers still hanging at her sides, the heat felt through her clothing even with the brutal Korriban sun beating down on her. She didn’t know if she intended to use her weapons or not, but all thought fled her mind when he pressed her against the stone at her back.

He was pigheaded, impossible, irritating, and one of the most stubborn bastards she’d ever met and yet, when he slipped his strong hands around her waist, his hot mouth against her own, she knew that she was lost. The kiss was hasty, intense, leaving every part of her burning, the desire for more lingering when he pulled back.

“You are the greatest warrior I have fought against, Revan.” He told her with a conviction that almost had her heart singing in her chest. Yuehai knew what the feeling was even if she couldn’t remember ever feeling it before. It terrified her. “And the greatest warrior I have ever fought beside. I will continue fighting at your side until you have no more use for me.”

With a groan, she shut off her lightsabers, clipping them to her belt once more. Damn him. “Stubborn bastard. This misplaced devotion of yours is going to get you killed one day.”

The smallest of grins crossed his lips, fleeting, brief, disappearing as quickly as it’d appeared. So quick it was that she thought she might’ve imagined it. “Dying in battle, with or against you, would be an honor.”

It almost sounded like he was teasing her.

“Will it be such an honor when I suffocate you in your sleep?” Squinting up at him, she tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but she saw the quirk of his eyebrow at her words.

The whir of machinery broke the silence that fell, the familiar sight of HK-47 returning from his patrol. At the sight of the bodies scattered around them, the assassin droid pivoted towards her almost offended. “Statement: Master! You killed meatbags without me. Query: How could you?”

Yuehai bit her lip, trying not to laugh at how human he almost sounded and instead, tucked her hand into Canderous’, enjoying the rough calloused skin against her own. They still needed to find the Star Map, but they were so close, Bastila’s rescue nearly at hand. Then… maybe then the future might actually be a possibility.

#my writing #kotor #kotor fanfiction #star wars #star wars: knights of the old republic #knights of the old republic #darth revan #revan #canderous ordo #hk 47 #revanderous #revan x canderous #yuehai xun #violence #death #graphic violence

[devileaterjaek]

#cw gore #gaming #mortal kombat #mk #mk9 #mortal kombat 9 #blood #violence #graphic violence #extreme gore #tw extreme gore #cw extreme gore #gore

[vocaloidsongpoll]

do you like this vocaloid song?

(FLASHING IMAGES WARNING, VIOLENCE WARNING)

(composed by FLAVOR FOLLEY (Vane, Jamie Paige, and rice)

submitted by @simsparadise3 and an anonymous user! thank you both so much!!!

#vocaloid #vocaloid poll #vocaloid music #music #music poll #poll #tumblr poll #flashing lights #flashing #eyestrain #shaking images #graphic violence #violence #body horror #cannibalism #yi xi #xi yi #yi xi synthv #synthv yi xi #synthv #flavor folley #vane #vane vocaloid #vocaloid vane #jamie paige #rice #rice vocaloid #vocaloid rice

[gizamalblythe]

BloodTide Au

In this Au instead of Blackbeard capturing and turning in Ace, he somehow manages to massacre the Red Hair Pirates and brings in the head of Shanks.

This event is managed to be kept so under wraps that Mihawk only finds out because at the warlord meeting to announce a new warlord, Shanks' decapitated head is placed at the end of the table opposite him.

Mihawk gazes into the dead, empty eyes of his husband. Someone is speaking but Mihawk does not hear a single word. There is only ringing, ringing, ringing. And then, he remembers his vows.

“Akagami Shanks, I swear by the Wind and Waves, I will love you everyday I draw breath, and for ever more after. Should any tear you from me in Eternity, I shall fight till the tides run crimson.

Yoru strikes the ground, the shock moving up his arm. Blood from the cowardly whelp splatters his face, as the two halves of the bastard fall to the ground.

Shouting erupts after a moment of silence, but Mihawk doesn’t listen. For the Red Emperor is dead, and the BloodTide Rises.

@blackcat2907 @manofbeskar @blackholesun321

#one piece #dracule mihawk #red haired shanks #mishanks #akagami no shanks #op #hawkeye mihawk #angst #graphic violence #? maybe

[deya-blossom]

Dizzy's Super Heroes AU! Flower Husbands

@pacificwaternymph made some drafts that she posted here!

SO-- I made some sketches-not-so-sketches of the ideas! (this was before I read all of the story she had to begin with-- I will draw more bcs im *INVESTED*)

Scott's part

Jimmy's part

Reference for Jimmy's design based on this skin

#empires smp s1 #empires shipping #graphic violence #graphic death tw #flower husbands #superhero au #solidaritygaming #scott smajor #solidarity jimmy

[achenetype]

content warning: graphic violence, drug and alcohol use, slight dubcon if you squint, death, a lot of death actually, vomiting, eating disorders, riko-typical abuse, riko is his own warning, the ravens kind of all love and fuck each other because who else will, self-harm mentions, explicit sex, thoughts of suicide, the riko/reader/kevin situationship is so intense (here's the playlist, btw) , graphic descriptions of injury/surgery, ravens-typical cult/grooming behavior

thinking about the ravens again. this team of athletes bred to be the best of the best, the bloodiest of the bloodiest. the fierce competition for the top spots (and by extension proximity to riko). i know parties in the nest go fucking CRAZY, like i know there’s someone on the team who always has drugs or alcohol and sometimes this well oiled machine of a team likes to lose its shit.

imagining being a walk-on, freshman year. you’d committed to edgar allan university for their pre-medical program, been offered the best scholarship offer of your life, and in your first biology class this boy with sharp cheekbones and a sharper tongue sits down next to you. he asks you for a pencil, which you give him, and he introduces himself as riko moriyama. over the next few weeks, riko convinces you to come to tryouts for the school’s exy team, and because you’re a little starstruck at the thought that riko fucking moriyama wants you anywhere, you agree.

you hadn’t played exy since your sophomore year of high school, but you’re strong. you can run fast. you’re not afraid to fight dirty. the ravens sign you only minutes after you bruise your knuckles punching the mouth guard out of another freshman’s teeth. you hadn’t even gotten settled into your dorm, so moving out and moving into the nest was no big deal.

riko wants every raven to know every other raven, wants to have a network of sleeper cells through the whole school. your team has players from every major, every background. rich kids, poor kids, every ethnicity you could think of. the ravens are all-encompassing. they’re family. they’re everything. you get paired with someone, a sophomore with an easy smile and skin just a shade darker than yours, and you feel amazing for the first time since leaving your hometown.

the first party happens after you win a match against a school from new york city. it’s in the basement of the nest, this long, catacomb-like chamber that the ravens have turned into their own personal den of sin. you barely register a drink being shoved into your hand before your pair partner is dragging you through a sea of people in black and red to a small table in a back corner. he gestures to the powder cut into neat lines on a silver tray, squeezing your hand, and murmurs, “go on.”

the coke burns your nose like you’d inhaled water, but sharper. worse. from across the table, riko grins at you. his hair hangs messily around his face, loose and curly, and you want to lean into his sparkling space and kiss him, but his partner is right there, their arms linked together and his head resting on riko’s shoulder, and the hivemind has been doing its job—everyone knows that riko and kevin are a thing, are exclusive. you don’t stand a chance, especially not as a freshie walk-on.

your partner claps you on the shoulder and whoops. the music is loud enough to drown out what he says, but something shifts in the air. you’re one of them now. one of us. you drink until your vision goes fuzzy and the pounding of your head matches the bass of the music.

you wake up for practice feeling like shit. it shows.

you’re sloppy, aching and hungover, hungry and tired. it’s unacceptable. really, you deserve it when riko slaps you across the face in the middle of the court and sends you back to your dorm. you deserve it when you open the door and see him standing there, see the knife in his hand. you deserve whatever he carves into your back, even though it feels like he’s peeling your skin off. maybe he is. you’d let him do it anyway, would beg for his fingertips to unsheathe you from the body you spent so long trying to hate and hurt and perfect into something unattainable.

you throw up for the first time in months that night. it becomes a habit. eating in the nest is something that one has to dance around carefully. the running joke is that there are two types of ravens: the anorexics, and the bulimics. starve or puke. the result is the same: lean, hollow things that break when you throw them at each other. riko invites you to smoke with him and kevin and jean, the french boy with silver bands around his neat rows of locs, and you pass a pack of american spirit cigarettes between the four of you until you’re dizzy and nic-sick.

you think kevin doesn’t like you that much.

you think it until he drags you into the showers one day after practice and kisses you, mean, like he’s got something to prove and you’re the only person he cares about proving it to. you should have known something wasn’t right, because the press of riko’s body behind you makes you jump out of your skin. he’s got one hand on your neck, turning you to kiss him while kevin mouths at your jaw and collarbones, and one hand under the sleeve of your jersey, tracing over the uniform lines that cover your arm.

he asks you what you use. “box cutter,” you say breathlessly. “i take apart razors or pencil sharpeners when it’s not sharp enough.” you’re not sure why you tell him so easily, or why kevin drops to his knees and licks a stripe up your forearm, his tongue rolling over both your scars and riko’s fingers.

the second party happens a day later. it’s not technically a raven party—it’s a sigma pi frat party, but every sigma pi brother is also a raven, so it’s basically the same thing. you get tipsy, hit a few people’s weed.

you can’t remember when the last time you saw your pair partner was. god, you must be drunk. he was in your room….not today, not yesterday. maybe a few days ago. a week. before practice.

you realize that he didn’t come back with you in the same moment that you realize you’re going to puke.

in the bathroom, you lay on the cold tile and think about what else you’d forgotten, or just been told not to notice. you knew you weren’t the only member of the team to get beaten after a bad play. you remember rubbing ice over jean’s bruises, watching victoria swallow a small white pill dry after meeting riko for a debrief.

you wonder how many layers of makeup are hiding bruises in this house. you think you’d kill yourself if you had to count. you think you might kill yourself anyway.

(no, you won’t. you have no reason to. you’re untouchable. you have good grades. you have family. you have the ravens. you wouldn’t throw that away by cutting too deep or emptying your drug stash into your mouth.)

someone decides to play spin the bottle and kevin’s hand closes around your wrist, drags you into the circle with him and riko and jean, and a junior whose name is something with an m, manuel or martin or mickey. a few other people take spots—victoria, a freshman like you, but she was recruited from a private school in connecticut—alexei, a sophomore backliner whose english was about as good as his passes—a pair of seniors who give you an up-and-down glance as they sit.

you can feel their eyes resting on kevin’s hand clasped around your arm, jean’s shoulder brushing yours. they could burn a hole through you and into the ground with how hard they stare when riko taps your thigh, signaling you to spin the empty wine bottle first.

it lands on jean and the two of you swap spit for around five seconds before he pulls away. you smile at him. he doesn’t return it. something dark and sick curls up in your chest. you think you might puke again, or at least cough up whatever rot has taken root inside of you.

jean spins, kisses victoria, and retreats to find another drink. victoria makes out with alexei for what seems like a frankly embarrassing amount of time. alexei spins, tripping over his words as he does so, and ends up drooling into manuel’s mouth.

manuel’s spin lands on kevin, who accepts a kiss on the cheek before nudging the bottle with his foot so that it points at riko.

watching the two of them feels like watching a pair of animals try to eat each other alive. kevin swings one leg over riko’s lap and riko very unsubtly rolls his hips, leaning in to kiss kevin fast and sharp and hungry.

you’re so hungry. the alcohol swaying like liquid nitrogen in your stomach has done nothing to make you feel full, make you feel satisfied. you just feel empty and sick.

it gets worse when kevin snakes one hand up to yank riko’s hair, moving from kissing his mouth to sucking bruises into his exposed neck. riko tips his head back and laughs. as kevin matches riko’s rhythm, riko reaches around and spins the bottle, one decisive movement

the neck of it points to you. you feel your face heat up. riko inclines his head towards you in silent invitation.

this is a test, you think through the buzz of weed and alcohol.

you take a deep breath and turn to your left, and riko’s lips against yours feel like lightning. you can feel kevin still mouthing at riko’s neck next to you, the movement of his hips stuttering as riko thumbs over your cheek and lets his tongue slide against yours. “cmere,” he murmurs. “stop holding back.”

you’re not sure what makes you bold enough to catch his lip between your teeth and bite, but the little gasp that comes from riko is indication that you’ve done something right. you kiss him deeper, messier, spit slicking both of your mouths before pulling away.

there’s blood dripping from riko’s lips and you’re satisfied in a sick, wobbling way. kevin separates his face from the crook of riko’s neck to stare at you.

silent invitation. silent test. everything the ravens do is unspoken. you’d think the entire team had some kind of telepathy.

you end up pressed between them. you’re dizzy—the world sways in time with riko’s hand on your thigh, kevin’s mouth between his legs. everything slows to a crystallizing point. riko laughs as he guides you and kevin together, watching the two of you kiss, watching the desperate movement of the two of you against each other.

riko laughs and it sounds like bells. riko laughs and everything is perfect. the bass of whatever song is playing is pounding in your ears, muffled by the door that you're not sure if anyone locked.

when you wake up the next morning, you feel dead. you wish you were when you roll over and see kevin and riko in bed next to you, fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces.

you decide to go for a run before your morning practice, tugging on your shoes and jacket quietly so that neither of them wake up. your feet thud against the pavement as you turn around one corner of the school.

your legs burn. the hickeys on your thighs and chest burn with them, dull flickers of pain that remind you with every breath of riko’s mouth and kevin’s hands.

you’re early to practice that day. and the day after that. you climb the ranks, taking #10 and then #8 and finally, finally, settling on #6. you're second-string, which means you get to play almost every game because red cards are beautiful and impermanent and fold in half like the hinge of a door opening. you are real. you are exactly where you are meant to be.

winter break comes and the ravens are taking a team trip to the southern exy banquet. raise morale, get closer. all that. you lie to your parents and say you’re road tripping with your friends, which isn’t technically false, but it’s not true either. you fall asleep on the bus, your head resting on kevin’s shoulder.

it’s the safest you feel for a long time.

"team trip" turns out to be a rather misleading way to say "working our athletes until they pass out or die." you scream the first time someone collapses during sprints. you cover your mouth with your hand when a forty-pound weight caves in someone's chest and you can see the splinters of their ribs. as a pre-medical student, you end up treating those who survive.

by the time kevin comes to you, shaking and mute with his hand cradled close to his chest, you don't flinch. you memorize the position of the bones: carpals, metacarpals, phalanges. you memorize the look on kevin's face when you walk him to the hotel room of another team's coach after rearranging the bones and tendons of his hand to make the damage look half unintentional.

you memorize the lie riko tells you to tell everyone else. skiing accident. too fast. accident. accident. not on purpose. accident, meaning no one's fault, meaning avoidable, meaning, meaning, meaning.

(when kevin is gone and the rest of the team is on the bus back to west virginia, riko tells you the truth. he tells you between kisses that he didn't ask for but you give anyways. he tells you if you breathe a word i'll fucking kill you in low, guttural japanese, the language you'd been learning to talk only to him and kevin.

you nod, and quietly tell him nani mo iimasen. you won't say a thing.)

#— ash’s yelling! #— ash’s writing! #aftg #all for the game #kevin day #riko moriyama #reader insert #edgar allan ravens #edgar allan university #raven!reader #okay and now into the warning tags because this one is a doozy yall #graphic violence #injury #cw sh #cw sui ideation #cw ed #cw cults #cw death #cw drugs #cw alcohol #nsft #not safe fw #rated r for riko

[jacks-the-flower]

i'm grateful to have had you

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Looking at my lips, Magister?”

“Difficult to not,” she confessed.

Valen's expression grew somewhat contemplative, somewhat surprised, and a great deal concerned.

~~~~~~~~~~~

read on ao3 <3

#afk journey #afk arena #whump #malen?? #valister?? #merlen?? #valin?? #whats their ship name #valen #afk valen #afk merlin #tho i just call them magister #keeps it more reader friendly if that makes sense #i firmly keep my magister female tho #just for the lesbian subplot if nothing else :) #mirael my beloved you will have your time #but first ma boi valen #graphic violence #injury

[batrogers]

Summary:

Arrested for nonsense reasons, the boys break out within hours -- but Time was taken as hostage, and they don't know where he is. All the know is, they heard someone flogged outside in the yard, not long after they were taken, and Hyrule (and the others) know that could be fatal even if nothing worse happened to him. However, Hyrule's known corrupt officials before. He doubts someone like that would stop there.

Rated E for graphic violence and temporary major character death. There is also implied desecration of a corpse. Doll fic. READ THE TAGS.

"Take me instead" rescue scenario, done as graphic horror. BAMF Hyrule & whumped TIme.

It has cuddles after? Very traumatized cuddles.

*READ THE TAGS*

#my writing #Zelda fanfic #Linked Universe #LU Time #LU Hyrule #look you can tell who my favourites are #Whump #Angst #Horror #Graphic Violence #I am either so sorry for my subscribers #or you're very welcome #there's no in-between on this one

[occasionallyprosie]

"Choosing Your Path"

Chapter 1: "Lives Taken"

Event Masterlist

Next>>

"Why can't you ever just use a map! Follow the path!" Legend complained, Hyrule grinning in front of him. "Why would I even bother? It's so much more fun to not! I make my paths," Hyrule declared as he laughed. Legend covered his eyes with a hand. "You’re exhausting. "I'm the Traveler and I choose my own paths! No map can tell me what to do!"" He mocked. Hyrule just laughed at him. ...Legend wasn't laughing anymore.

Febuwhump 2024 | Alt Prompt 10: Last Man Standing

Read On AO3

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Major Character Death

They were set up for failure, Legend realized.

For starters, they were in Hyrule's era, which already was bad for them. Secondly, they were ambushed in a ravine area, high, steep slopes on two sides and monsters closing in on all four.

"Get a vantage point!" Warriors yelled. Legend whipped out his switch hook, hissed at Hyrule to swing at him, then shot at one of the archers overhead.

He switched places, only disoriented for a moment before he was drawing the first blood with Hyrule carving his switched monster apart.

Wild scaled the other side of the ravine, Legend trusted him to handle it.

He whipped out his fire rod and sent a strong blast along the ridge and at least knocking over a dozen monsters. With his general area cleared, he drew his bow and shot down a monster running down the bottom of the ridge.

They had a strong start.

He heard Four scream, he saw the smithy get thrown into the wall of the ridge. Rocks crumbled toward him and it was a pure shot of instinct that had him throwing a hand out and shooting as much magic as he could.

With the intention to protect, a magic shield formed above Four, and the rocks bounced off it.

He'd never done that before, but quickly jerked the shield larger, over the whole group, and angled it before the rocks fell again.

A few boulders crushed the incoming swarm of monsters.

"Thanks Vet!" Four called.

"Don’t make me do it again!" He called back, drawing back his bow and shooting one of the lizalfos on Wild's ridge.

A wizzro appeared across from Legend and set a magic sphere at him. It wasn't the basic elements, but it crackled with dark magic.

Alright new shield magic don’t fail now-- he pulled it up and the sphere slammed into it. Instead of bouncing off, however, it pressed further and Legend had to pour more magic to maintain the shield.

Then it exploded and the magic, though it didn't touch him, the force sent him flying back into the ravine.

"VET!" Someone screamed, Hyrule, he was pretty sure.

Thankfully, he wasn't dazed. He twisted and landed... still very badly, but not awful. He managed to roll, which sucked on rocky ground, and as a result only his shoulder was screaming in pain. He got back up as quick as he could, forcing his shoulder back into position then drawing his sword.

He heard something slam--metal crunched and Twilight screaming.

Time was injured. He looked over and sure enough, a daira had gotten to the old man. An axe had sunk into his side. Legend saw him slice off the daira's head with that giant sword of his, but he lost vision of them.

Hyrule pressed against his back. "I can't get to them!"

Legend dug out his switch hook again, his best and favorite option at getting through thick hordes of enemies, and shoved it into Hyrule's chest.

"Switches places with the target! Do what you have to."

Hyrule startled, then he nodded and launched the switch hook.

Next thing Legend knew, beside him was a lizalfos and he was cutting it down.

"CUB LOOK OUT!"

A sinking pit formed in Legend's chest, he chanced a glance up and saw Wild dodging an arrow only to get caught in the ribs by a flying javelin.

"NO!" Twilight cried.

Legend cursed. Sky was already hookshotting up and defending Wild.

We're not winning this, Legend realized. Even if we do kill them all.

He had to put distance between himself and the group. He had to pull out his stronger items and abilities, this could go much more quickly if he could.

The Bombos Medallion and Quake were just out of the question, Ether would do just fine.

The temperature dropped several degrees as ice exploded ahead of Legend.

An arrow whizzed past his ear, slicing it open. He hissed, covering the bleeding with a hand and slashing his frigid blade ahead of him.

He heard a yell. "CHOSEN'S DOWN!"

How?! He was--That's Time, Wild, and Sky. Oh goddesses, he really had to pick up the slack, and he had to do it now.

A whole minute passed before Legend forgone any option of holding back. Right before he made that decision, he heard Hyrule call out for the Captain, and then the Smithy cried out in pain.

Five down. That left the Sailor, Traveler, and the Rancher.

That's when he dropped any bars, newly discovered shield forming behind him, he released a pure explosion of flame and force in front of him.

The ravine shuddered, he staggered from using two medallions but still turned around and tried to take out the monsters he'd protected in efforts of saving his brothers from the explosion.

"SAILOR GET--" Twilight's voice cut out and was covered by a scream.

Legend actually could see the blood now. Four was unmoving with a huge, moblin-wielded mace on his chest. Warriors was trying to get up with four arrows in his back and a fifth in his chest, Legend couldn't even react fast enough before a sword impaled his stomach and he watched the light dim from the captain's eyes. Time was unmoving not far from Hyrule, who was yet untouched, thank the goddesses. Legend wasn't sure if Time had been healed or he was dead. Wild was crumbled on the ground, the spear still in his chest and Legend could see his blank eyes.

Sky was getting back to his feet, tearing a blade from his chest. He raised his blade upward and Legend watched him let out a battle cry as lightning split from the heavens and in a similar display of his own, blasted the monsters that had come from the other side of the ravine.

He collapsed right after. Legend finally spotted Wind, who had a huge gash almost bisecting him from his shoulder to his hip.

Twilight didn't last a minute later than the sailor. Legend was caught off guard by a pair of bright gold lizalfos, taking a spear to the side and barely dodging the sharp tongue. At that moment, from the corner of his eye he spotted Twilight get caught by a ball and chain, sent into the rocky wall, and he didn't get back up.

Legend blinked and Hyrule replaced the lizalfos beside him, spinning and slashing through a nearing moblin.

Their backs met.

"Just us still standin'?" Hyrule asked and Legend noticed the blood seeping down his head and how quickly his tunic was becoming soaked, a deep gash in it. He must've just been hit.

Legend nodded. "If any of the others are, I haven't seen or heard them."

"Well--I got your back."

"I got yours."

He wanted to get to Twilight, cover him until he got back up, but that was just not an option. Even with his and Sky's powerful attacks, monsters still flooded in. It was an army in the ten thousands, and Legend didn't know how many he had killed, but it was in the single thousands now, and he was matching his total kill counts from each adventure.

Hyrule must be used to unending battles like this too, and considering they were in his era, most of the monsters were ones both of them were well familiar with.

Legend didn't know how they were the last ones left, luck or what, skill? Maybe, but he knew the other heroes should've been right beside them still too.

Maybe the other heroes were more used to different battle styles, now that he thought about it. If any of them ever had to fight such a large horde, they probably had companions and therefore trusted someone to have their back and to cover their missteps. The only exception was Sky, but Legend didn't even know what took the Chosen down the first time, and he'd seen him collapse after his display of power, which had been a last ditch effort to help. Warriors was used to companions, Wild probably wasn't but he had admitted to depending on stealth to handle large masses, the Sailor and Rancher definitely weren't used to this, nor was the Smithy, and Time? Legend never knew anything about Time, but he knew the old man had been hit early, so considering how well he'd noticed his defense was, Time was probably targeted off the bat.

The difference between Legend and Hyrule, and the rest of the heroes, was first, they'd all agreed their monsters were just generally stronger, faster, and more dangerous. It came from the saturation of darkness because of Ganon's victory and reign. Wild was the same. The second difference was that, for Hyrule, he didn't have any companions so fighting to this extent alone was his usual, and for Legend, he had the experience. He hadn't fought a battle to this level, not this many opponents, but similar enough that it was like he was doing the smaller group over and over again. That, he was familiar with.

Legend lost count, he lost track of how many monsters he cut down. Just that he and Hyrule had to move before they were stuck atop a pile of dead bodies.

He grew exhausted soon enough, then he lost track of his brother.

He took an arrow to the arm at some point.

The battle went on for so long his magic had replenished enough for him to use a fire rod.

Eventually, he sliced through a monster and staggered. He expected another one to follow and yet...

Yet it was done.

Hyrule was still standing too, Legend wondered how they'd survived.

He pulled the arrow from his bicep as he staggered toward Hyrule, who was swaying.

"Rulie?" He called.

Hyrule turned, and with blood soaking his features, he smiled. "Hey... hey Vet."

"Hey--RULIE!" He dove forward and caught him as he collapsed. "No, no--come on, hold on. You’re not supposed to die before me, that's not how being my successor works."

"I'm sorry," Hyrule breathed softly. "I couldn't save the old man... Had to stop to keep fighting... I'd be surprised if any of them survived at this point."

Legend would be to. He'd also be surprised if either of the two of them survived their wounds, especially since the group had ran out of potions two days ago.

"But..."

He raised his hand to Legend's face and Legend froze as he felt his magic.

"Don’t you--No!" His wounds healed, faster than Hyrule usually could heal which meant-- No. his hand was glowing gold.

Hyrule caught his hand. "I... I choose my path, right? No maps make me do anything."

How dare he use Legend's teases against him?! Now?!

"J-Just make sure my body's burned, kid."

"You're barely a year older than me you jerk! Don't do this!" Legend begged, as if that would change anything.

His body flashed gold and Legend could feel the divinity that always encased his successor fade, the Triforce released from its protector to wherever the goddesses wanted it.

Hyrule was gone.

Legend was unhurt, he realized that as he got up, standing over the whole massacre.

He looked around, monster bodies were finally just about gone... and he could see the bodies of his brothers, all dead... all gone.

How--goddesses how--was he the last man standing?

"I can fix it for you," a voice spoke up from behind him and he spun. He drew his sword out and held it at their throat. "For a price."

Next>>

#febuwhump 2024 #linked universe #lu legend #linkeduniverse #legend lu #lu hyrule #downfall duo #Hyrule is older than Legend #major character death #temporary character death #tag readers get hope :) #graphic violence #whump #whump fic #fanfic #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind #lu sky #lu four #lu twilight #lu time #prosie writes

[alternatefandom]

IRAS 17514 | 2/5 "This is the distance between her and tomorrow. This is the world taking revenge against her. But her believer will never give in. Once their soul dissipates, one cannot be brought back to life. The world allows the mind to find another matching vessel, but does not allow a vessel to gather the pieces of a mind. To save the one and only her, I can only create new possibilities in the past. Kallen... live."

#honkai impact 3rd #IRAS 17514 #thus spoke apocalypse #otto apocalypse #kallen kaslana #mine #my gifs #ari's top 5 songs #hi3rd spoilers #blood #gore #graphic violence #I FORGOT TO POST THESE