william afton - smut one shots

4 vs 1 (Michael) pt 3

As I sat down and pulled out my lunch bag, the sight of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and apple slices I had packed the night before turned my stomach. Over the weekend, I hadn't been able to stomach any solids. Ever since they violated me, nothing had been the same. My appetite had vanished, and I couldn't shake them from my thoughts.

With a sigh, I tucked the food back away. My stomach growled, desperate for something, but I knew I couldn't eat. The thought alone made me nauseous, and deep down, I knew that even if I tried, I'd just throw it all up. It felt inevitable, and I had no idea when—or if—it would stop.

I had been sitting there for about 20 minutes when the unsettling sensation of being watched crept over me. I swallowed hard, trying to convince myself it was just paranoia, but the moment a hand landed on my shoulder, I knew.

I froze, too afraid to turn around.

"Feeling lonely?"

Michael's voice sent a chill down my spine, every word dripping with a familiarity I wished I could forget. My breath caught, and I could already feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Take that scarf off," Frederick demanded, his voice unmistakable, just like the others. I knew all of their voices too well. I didn't dare turn around. Before I could react, the scarf was yanked away. I gasped, instinctively reaching to cover myself, but a shove sent me sprawling onto the bleachers.

Lying on my back, I looked up at their grinning faces, each one more cruel than the last. The only one who wasn't smiling was Simon. His discomfort was clear. My eyes locked onto his, silently begging for help, but he quickly looked away, leaving me alone with their laughter.

Michael dangled the scarf in his hand, a smug grin spreading across his face. "No need to cover up, sweetie," he taunted, crouching down to meet my eyes. "Embrace your marks. They're all out of love..." His words dripped with mockery as the boys erupted into laughter—everyone but Simon.

I sat up slowly, wincing from the pain. "Aw, did that hurt?" Mark jeered, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I'm so sorry..." He exaggerated every word, fueling more laughter from the group. Their cruel laughter echoed in my head, painfully familiar, suffocating me in its harshness.

As the boys' laughter echoed around me, I tried to steady my breathing, but it was impossible to drown out the sound. My body ached, not just from the fall, but from the overwhelming sense of helplessness pressing down on me. I could feel their eyes on me, each second stretching into eternity, while Simon kept his gaze locked on the ground, as if pretending not to see made him less responsible.

I wanted to stand, to run, but my limbs felt heavy, as if the weight of their laughter was keeping me pinned. Michael finally stood up, throwing the scarf carelessly over his shoulder like it was some kind of trophy. "Maybe eventually, you'll come around and see things our way, huh?"

A pit formed in my stomach as he loomed over me, and my heart pounded in my chest. I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat, but my voice wouldn't come. Silence wrapped around me, crushing, suffocating.

Just as I thought they were about to leave me there, Mark bent down and grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet with a force that made me stumble. "Get up," he said, helping me to my feet, "Have you been hiding from us, Lauren?" He asked with a smirk.

I glanced around desperately, hoping someone might step in, hoping Simon might do something, but he stood there, frozen. It felt like my last shred of hope was slipping away as I realized I was truly alone with them.

"Of course she has," Frederick sneered, his laughter echoing as he glanced at Simon. "She's too easy." He repeated the taunt, eyes fixed on Simon now. "You've been awfully quiet, Si. Got anything you'd like to say to our sweet Lauren?"