#please read the tws

[incorrectjane-andthedragon]

Undertaker: A fic. The Sequel to The Mysterious Message

This fic starts roughly 24 hours after the conclusion of The Mysterious Message. 

Magnus often paced to gather his thoughts, so Gunther awakening very early in the morning to the sound of regular footsteps downstairs was far from unusual. What was unusual was the frequency and intensity of the footsteps. Magnus was pacing with a rabid quality, like an animal trapped in a cage. His low growling voice floated up the stairs. 

“No need to worry myself…the tree. The tree.”

This didn’t happen unless something was really getting under his skin. Gunther knew he should make himself scarce before his father started snapping. 

So he did, sneaking off to the one place he knew he could go for certain: the castle. 

Being surrounded by the massive gray walls and expected routine sometimes made him feel safe, protected. 

But the feeling didn’t last for long. For, after a few hours, he sensed Magnus stalking him like a shadow. This happened all the time, but what didn’t happen all the time was how obvious it was. Magnus rarely got this close to Gunther while watching him spar, he almost never bumped into other people, he certainly almost never mumbled acknowledgements of other people’s existence while peering at his son with bloodshot eyes. 

“Sorry, excuse me.” Magnus mumbled after accidentally bumping into Sir Theodore. Gunther could count the amount of times he’d heard his father apologize on one hand.

“Are you feeling all right?” Sir Theodore asked, ever the diplomat. 

“I am perfectly fine. Is Gunther’s training session over yet?” 

“No, there is still much work to be done. Why don’t you go-” 

“I’m not going anywhere, thank you very much.” Magnus glowered at Sir Theodore, and the sight twisted Gunther’s stomach. Sir Theodore, please leave before he gets angry with you. 

“All right.” Sir Theodore said calmly. He walked away, only for another knight to immediately accidentally collide with Magnus. 

“Watch it!” Sir Ivon snapped. 

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you bumbling buffoon?” 

“Why don’t you watch your mouth?” 

Gunther broke into a cold sweat. Why didn’t Sir Ivon ever know when to drop an argument? 

Ivon was still continuing, in spite of how red Magnus’s face was growing. “You ought to respect one of the king’s knights. You can’t just do whatever you please around here.” 

“Actually, I can.” Magnus’s voice abruptly went into an oddly higher pitch, his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. It made Gunther sweat even more. “For example, I will be taking Gunther home now.” 

Gunther felt himself starting to go numb, he couldn’t really feel his hands. He’d realized both he and Jane had stopped sparring and openly staring. Jane’s mouth was open as if she was about to interject, but she also looked a little afraid. 

Ivon scowled. “He still has a lot of work to do here. You cannot just come and demand-” 

“Yes I can, I am his father-” 

“Listen-” 

“Is something wrong, gentlemen?” Sir Theodore asked, walking over again. 

Both men started talking rapidly at the same time, looking at Sir Theodore and then back at each other with increasingly ferocious glares. Magnus’s chest was heaving. 

Sir Ivon turned to him again and snarled something, Gunther would never for the life of him know what it was, but he saw Magnus’s hand begin to move. 

Time slowed to a snail’s pace as Gunther watched, frozen. He heard Jane begin to yell. Then he couldn’t hear anything beyond his own pulse. 

Magnus slapped Sir Ivon across the face. 

A brief and terrifying silence froze time. 

Sir Ivon’s bellow broke the spell. 

“WHY YOU-” 

There was more rapid movement, Gunther couldn’t make anything out. He heard the thud of two bodies colliding, saw a spurt of blood. Whose blood was it? Why was he just standing there? 

More yelling, so much yelling. He was running now. Ivon yelled, then grunted. He was trying to wrestle Magnus off of himself. 

Not thinking anymore, Gunther grabbed Magnus’s shoulders and squeezed, trying to heave him off, but it was no use. 

“GET OFF OF HIM!” Gunther screamed, a guttural sound. “LET HIM GO, YOU MONSTER!” 

His father’s only response was a howl of fury that chilled him to the bone. 

More yelling, more people yelling now. Was someone crying? Was it him? 

Hands on his shoulders, squeezing hard. His father, trying to send him a silent reprimand? No, these hands were too warm and squeezing too tight as someone tried to drag him away. 

Whoever dragged him away succeeded, taking him inside. 

During a brief and embarrassing phase, Gunther had experimented with writing poetry. He never got very far and he’d repressed most of those memories  so he wouldn’t cringe at himself constantly, but he still remembered a comparison he’d drawn between the queen’s blue eyes and serene clear pools. 

He wished there was a serene pool of water he could dive into now, and stay there forever. 

She was saying something to him now. 

“Your father has been taken to the dungeon. You can see him, if you wish, but I do not recommend it, and you will not be allowed to see him alone.” 

He nodded numbly. “Understood, my queen.” 

“Had your father been behaving unusually before this outburst occurred?” 

“A little, Your Majesty. He seemed more agitated than usual this morning, and,” he remembered how bloodshot his eyes had been. “I do not believe he slept very well, if at all, last night. I sensed something was bothering him deeply.” 

“Could it have been something to do with the knights?” 

“I do not know.” 

She said something else that he only half-listened to, something that dismissed him. He was glad for that. 

At some point, he found Sir Theodore walking next to him as they left the throne room. He was glad for that. Sir Theodore said nothing, but he didn’t need to. The older knight was scowling, but he knew all that rage was for Magnus. 

“Hello.” Jane said, walking up to them both. She sounded more alive than he felt, but still shocked. 

“Hello. How is everyone else?” 

“Ivon took a beating, but he’s Ivon. Fighting men almost twice his size is his idea of a good time. Smithy saw most of the fight, he’s spending some time alone.” She paused. “Everyone is rattled. Unharmed, but rattled.” 

“Good.” Sir Theodore spoke for them both. 

The rest of the day was a haze, with only pops of lucidity. Everyone was talking a lot. He was asked a lot of questions about the fight, and his father, and he ignored most of the latter. At some point he found himself being hugged. The part of him that registered it let him sink into the embrace. 

Two days later, he walked up to Sir Theodore. 

“I’m ready, Sir.” 

“May I come with you?” Jane asked. 

“As long as you keep your temper in check.” 

She promised she would. 

“May I come?” Sir Ivon asked. His voice sounded funny, since his nose was broken. He said it was worth it, since he’d broken Magnus’s nose in turn. 

“No.” Sir Theodore said firmly. “You risk riling him up too much.” 

Ivon grimaced, but nodded. “I’ll stay close by in case you need backup.” 

Together, the three of them descended into the dungeon. 

Magnus had been placed in a cell. He was cloaked in shadow, the only part of his face that was visible in the dim light was one of his swollen eyes. He swallowed, let out a soft wheezing breath. 

Everything Gunther had been planning to say evaporated. He scrambled to say something, anything, but Magnus beat him to it. 

“Did they find it yet, bastard?” 

Gunther internally groaned. It could refer to about a million illegal things in his father’s possession. The king might as well confiscate the whole house at this point. 

What do I say now? Do I lie and say they found it, see how he reacts? Do I tell him the truth? Wait. He stared his father in the eyes. There’s a strong possibility that whatever it is had something to do with his distress and outburst. 

What could be so important? 

Gunther thought back to the fight. How his father had wanted to take him home, keep an eye on him. 

Ah. He found out what I know. 

“No.” He said half-truthfully. “They did not find the letter.” 

Sir Theodore shifted curiously at the mention of a letter but said nothing. Jane shot Gunther a glance, but she too remained silent. 

Magnus had them all in the palm of his hand and he knew it. Gunther waited for him to smirk, or sneer, or even laugh a little to himself. 

Instead, he stared at them with immense misery in his eyes. He looked exhausted. Furious. But exhausted to the bone. 

He made a scoffing noise. “Then my secrets are kept, then.” 

“No, they’re not.” Jane interjected, practically shaking with loathing. “The letter’s already in the process of being translated. Soon everyone will know what you’ve hidden.” 

He scoffed again. “I don’t care about the letter, I care about what I’ve buried.” His eyes widened as he realized he’d slipped up, but it was too late. 

“Need my help?” Dragon asked as he hovered awkwardly above Gunther’s house. “My claws will be able to dig more than your tiny things.” 

“No thank you, Dragon.” Jane wheezed as she stabbed her shovel into the soil again. She was starting to imagine he was plunging it into Magnus's chest instead. That made this easier and more satisfying. She suspected the other knights digging with her were doing the same. “Whatever is buried on his property may be delicate. Damage cannot be risked.” 

“Tree.” Gunther gasped abruptly, almost dropping his shovel. 

“What?” 

“Before-the morning of the fight, before he left the house that day, my father was muttering to himself about ‘not needing to worry’ and a tree. Something’s probably buried by or beneath that tree.” Gunther pointed a sweaty hand at a small tree on the property, across from them. 

“The tree’s roots will make that impossible.” Sir Ivon grunted. 

“Not if we uproot it.” Jane said, her eyes lighting up. “Dragon?” 

“Mmmm, and what do I get in return for the knowledge you gain?” 

“Free head scratches for a week?” 

“Done!” 

Dragon grabbed the tree by the trunk in both of his front talons, and heaved. Most of the tree’s roots came up with it. 

The uprooted tree shook with Dragon’s wingbeats, causing something white to fall from the roots it had been tangled in.

Gunther screamed. 

Entangled in the roots was a human skeleton. 

Waking up to the sound of her father pacing was not unusual, he often paced to gather his thoughts. She knew he had a lot of thoughts to gather that morning. 

“Kippernia’s not that far away.” She said as she walked past him. 

“Yes it is.” 

“It’s close enough for us to do business with.” 

“Yes, but-“ 

“Father, please. I am nervous about this too, but I can do it. I can.” 

He sighed heavily. “Yes, yes you can. I’m just-“ 

“I know, Father. But I am excited too.” She felt a genuine, goofy smile start to spread across her face. “Magnus is going to be my husband! My. Husband.” She wiggled her fingers as if flaunting an imaginary wedding ring. 

Her father smiled at her, but it was slightly strained. “Yes, he will. I can only hope he will be a good one.” 

“I’m certain he will. He’s so smart, and considerate, and have you seen the gifts he’s given me? I’m just-” she squealed girlishly, thinking of hugging him again, and being able to flaunt him to all her friends as her husband! Husband! AAAAH! 

“I know you will miss me, but I will write.” 

“In our runes?” 

“In our runes. I will never forget my roots.” 

“I will ask you one more time.” Sir Theodore growled. “Who was buried beneath that tree?”

“Where is Gunther?” 

“Whip him again.” Sir Theodore commanded. 

Sir Theodore’s face was grave. “He simply refuses to talk unless you are there. I wish it had not come to this.” 

Gunther steeled himself with a shuddering breath. “It must be done.” 

Magnus looked even worse than before. His wounds from the brawl had barely recovered when his torture had begun, after he’d refused to talk. 

Gunther felt no pity. He scowled. Magnus scowled back. 

“Who was buried beneath that tree?” 

Sullen silence. 

“Enough with the games. Tell me who was buried beneath that tree or I will-” 

“Or you will what?” 

“I-I will have you executed.” 

Magnus retreated back into silence again. 

Gunther felt like his voice was coming from somewhere deep inside him. “Tell me who was buried beneath that tree or I will have you executed, Father.” 

Magnus threw back his head and laughed. When the horrible sound died down after echoing ominously through the dungeon, he spoke. 

We were happy. We were happy. The wedding was lavish, the bride was luminous. I loved her so much, Gunther. I loved her even more once she bore a healthy baby boy. A son. I had a wife, money, and a- a beautiful baby boy. I had never been happier. 

You do not remember him, but my close friend James was there for all of it. We’d known each other for decades, since I was young and he was an experienced merchant several years my senior taking me under his wing. He treated my wife like royalty, and you like his own son. He always wanted to hold you.

Your mother, my wife, didn’t always want to hold you. After a while she didn’t want to hold me either. It took me far too long to discover why. 

I went searching one night, when she didn’t come home when she was supposed to. Watching from a distance, I found her in a tavern, in the arms of another. 

I will never forget what I saw. It is as vivid in my mind now as it was all those years ago. 

I walked home. I waited for her to come home. She did. I let her think everything was fine. 

I don’t know for certain if she died. I tried my best, but I am still not certain. I- I couldn’t bring myself to bury her, I don’t know why. I put her in the ocean instead. 

I don’t know when James started to suspect. Very soon, most likely. He came to the house, played with you, then asked, in that gentle voice of his, what had happened to her. 

I could not risk anything. I worked under the cover of darkness, and the tree I had planted over that spot did its job well. 

Do you see now, Gunther? 

Do you see now, bastard? You have many of my traits, and none of the monster that stole my wife from me, but I have never been able to shake the feeling that you are not mine. I have tried, over and over, to make you prove to me that you are mine. But time and time again, you have failed me and turned to others. Do you see the face of the man who might be your father in the face of that old knight you worship? I know you saw it in the face of the man I fought, which is why I broke his face. 

Ha. Your shocked expression looks just like mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. 

“Breathe, Gunther, breathe.” Sir Theodore kept saying. “He’s back in the dungeon, he cannot hurt you.” 

You don’t understand. He’s already hurt me. Gunther wanted to say, but instead what came out was: “We need more information. We have to go back down there.” 

“We can wait.” 

“No.” He felt it in his bones. “We need to go back down there now.” 

You’re a smart boy, Gunther (just like me). Yes, your discovery of the letter “was the straw that broke the camel’s back” as you put it. Some relative of your mother wrote it. I knew that if you decoded it (which you would, thanks to that damned dragon and that insolent brat), you would find everything. James, and them. You have to understand, I couldn’t have you finding them. 

Gunther recounted this to Jane, who had just returned back from patrol and was sweating hard. 

“Gunther…” 

“What?” 

“I saw an unusual ship on patrol. I think your mother’s family has already found you.”

[hahahahahangst]

Another love (Be The Young 22)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, SELF H*RM, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

A/N: As I said last time, I’m sorry... This- this is just sad tbh

MASTERLIST

Another Love

So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude Words they always win, but I know I'll lose“

Howdy, Emily.” Said the demon’s voice from behind her as she arrived at the agreed destination. “You should probably learn to drive less recklessly. Almost caused a couple of crashes back there.”

“Right. Let’s get to business.”

“Alright, alright… fifty miles that way,“ he pointed. ”...I need you to open something for me.” He dipped his hand into a pocket and took out the Colt from it. Emily instinctively reached for it, but he retracted his hand. “Now, now, don’t be hasty.” He said. “This is the key for the crypt.” He handed the gun to her. She looked at him, suspicious and put it away in her pants.

She started driving in the direction the demon gave her. She didn't bother asking for any explanation, she just drove there. Then, she put the gun into the crypt and waited.

At first, some glyphs lit up and started spinning. Then, the door actually started opening. All of a sudden, she was overwhelmed by a sea of black smoke, which knocked her over. She felt the pain of the ground hitting her head and then passed out.

When she woke up, she saw a familiar figure towering her. Bobby was bringing her somewhere. She briefly passed out again and found herself in the backseat of a car. “Emily, can you hear me?” Said Bobby's voice. She moaned, in pain, as a response. The car soon came to a stop. Ellen, helped her out of the vehicle. She recognized Bobby's lot.

“Bobby, I-”

“Are you okay?” He said, checking her for wounds. “Hurt?”

“No, Bobby I am fine, please-” She got out of Ellen's hold and leaned on the car. “I can't be next to Dean right now.”

“What the hell happened this time, uh?”

“He was about to-” She was distracted by the door of the house suddenly opening. Dean stood on the porch with his arms crossed in front of him. A sudden urge to vomit reached her guts. She covered her mouth and turned away.

“What on earth happened?!” Asked Bobby. Emily gagged and threw up in a corner of the lot. “Okay, that’s it, come inside.” The man tried to help Emily towards the door but she tried to move away. Her legs gave up on her and she fell. Quickly coming back up, she stopped anybody from helping her and leaned on the car. “I said no.”

“Alright, you wanna do this here?” Said Bobby, crossing his arms as well. “Fine by me. What on earth were you thinking?!”

“Oh, perfect, now it’s my fault.” Answered Emily, brushing her face with her right hand and trying to ignore Dean staring at her from the door.

“So was it someone else that I just saw opening the gates to fucking hell? Emily I am old, not stupid. What the hell were you thinking?”

Emily ignored the question. She looked at Dean. He was the reason she did all that.

She just opened the gates of hell all because of someone who didn’t even consider her family. “What the hell are you looking at?!” She asked him, bitterly. “This is all your fault, you realize that?!” He didn’t move. Bobby turned around to look at him. He gazed in between the two siblings.

“Okay, enough with this shit!” Said him, suddenly grabbing Emily by her arm and dragging her in front of her brother. “This has been going on for three years, I’ve had it up to my hair with you two idiots. Now get inside!”

Neither of them moved. They limited themselves to staring at each other, upset and ready to explode. “I said get inside!” Yelled the man, pushing them both through the door. “Start - talking. What the hell happened?!”

“He’s an asshole, that’s what happened!” Said Emily, pushing Dean away from her. “An unaffectionate, egoistic bastard!” Bobby immediately stopped her and divided the two siblings.

“For the love of god, stop hitting your brother! Be a fucking adult for three whole seconds!”

“Me?!” Emily looked at the man, her eyes widening in anger.

“Yes, you!” He said, grabbing her by the arm again and having her sit on the couch. He did the same with Dean.

They sat on the opposite sides and accurately avoided looking at each other.

“GROW UP, BOTH OF YOU!” Screamed Bobby, startling Emily way too much. “I’ve had enough of your fights, this has gone too far! You are going to find a way to get along and you are going to do it now!”

Then, he leaned on the wall in front of them and stopped talking. He stared at them. He gestured “go ahead.” with his hands. Soon, Ellen appeared through the door and she joined him as well. They would occasionally talk to each other, whispering a couple of words, but for the most part, the room was completely silent.

Emily didn’t want to be there. She would have given anything to just be somewhere else.

She still had to hear from the demon about bringing Sam back, which was the whole reason she had followed his orders.

She had nothing to lose.

Even if Sam came back, she would probably still be leaving the Winchesters, since it had become as clear as day that Dean didn’t want her there.

But what would she do? She knew she had to leave, but she wasn’t sure what she would do or if she really wanted to, for that matter.

She looked at Dean briefly and recognized that he had been crying.  However, she was too hurt, too full of pride and decided that it wasn’t her fault. He could have been a decent brother.

He could not have been mean to her all those times.

He could have shown some kind of interest for her even if she was not about to die.

He never did.

Never once in the previous three years. It was always out of pity, out of the urgency of getting rid of the broken member of the family, the one that slowed them down.

She let a sob slip out and saw Dean roll his eyes. “What?!” She said, sharp. “I’m not allowed to cry now?”

“Do you ever do anything else?” He asked, aggressive. “Apart from screwing up I mean.” Emily immediately stood up, ready to throw her brother on the floor, but she was interrupted by Bobby’s voice.

“EMILY, SIT THE FUCK DOWN!”

“What, am I supposed to let him say whatever he wants to me?”

“How is breaking his nose going to make this any better?” He said. “One of you is gonna have to decide to be the bigger person at one point!”

Sam would have said to her that she should be the bigger person. One of them had to. Just be the same person you were when you baked pies for him, he would have said. Or when you brought him to your old house in Portland.

But Sam was dead and with him any persistence of what he would say to her.

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

“What would your brother say?” Suddenly said Bobby, still staring at them. “Uh? What would Sam say if he was here right now?”

Dean and Emily shared a quick look before going back to staring at an indefinite point in front of them. They knew exactly what he would say. But saying it would have required them to let their guard down. It would have required admitting that they didn’t hate each other as they were pretending to.

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

Ellen leaned in to whisper something to Bobby. He nodded. “I will be back in a second. For your own good you better be still there when I come back.”

He left the room with Ellen.

Emily quickly gazed at Dean. He quickly dried his face with the back of his hand.

Emily sniffed. For a while, that was the only sound in the room.

“Do you hate me?” She said, barely audible.

“No. No, I don’t think I do.”

“You don’t think?”

“Okay, Emily, Sam is dead, and it’s also your fault. And if that wasn't enough, you opened the fucking gates of hell. Think is the best I can give you.”

Emily released a long sigh and turned away from them. She tucked her legs on the couch and rested her head on her knees. “You really can’t see it, can you?” She said. “I also lost a brother. Again.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Sure, yeah.” She said, sarcastic. “I never do. After all, I am just a kid, right?”

“Right.”

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

silence

Be the bigger person.

That’s what Sam would have said. He would have told her to just say sorry, to be open.

To be vulnerable.

Although, she looked at Dean and she found herself locked into a mask of strength and stubbornness. Inside the mask, she was breaking into pieces. More than she was already broken. She was close to not having nothing left but her mask.

“Did you really try to save him?” He asked, all of a sudden.

“You know I did.”

“Are you sure?”

“He was stabbed in the spinal cord, there wasn’t much I could do.”

“So you didn’t even try?!”

“Holy fucking christ- YES, I TRIED! I TRIED FOR A WHOLE HOUR BEFORE YOU SHOWED UP!”

“But you-”

“THERE IS NO BUT! STOP TRYING TO FIGHT WITH ME!” She stood up and kicked the table in front of her, making it fall to the ground. The shards of a beer bottle which was resting on it covered the floor in front of the couch and a strong scent of beer spread. She walked to the window and, just like the previous time, leaned on the cold glass. She stayed there for a while, in silence, letting the low temperature calm her down. “It’s not gonna bring him back. And I can’t take it anymore. Please, just-” She turned around. “Just stop.”

He looked at her and nodded. Bobby came back at that exact moment. He stared at Emily, then at the table. Then at Dean.

“Can you go 5 minutes without kicking anything?” He put the table back into a standing position. “Sit back down.” She sighed and reluctantly sat back on the couch. “So, I am not your marriage counselor and it’s been an hour. Are you going to talk or what?!”

Dean and Emily gazed at each other for a second, then looked away.

“I swear to god-” whispered Bobby. “Emily, don’t you have anything to say to your brother? You’re only alive because he killed the damn thing just in time!”

Emily jumped on her feet. “You did…WHAT?!” Bobby tried to drag her down, but she escaped his grip to walk in front of Dean. “The whole reason I did what I did was that he was gonna bring back Sam and you…“

“And you really believed him? You really are more stupid then it looks.”

“I was trying to-”

“What?” Dean stood up as well. Bobby tried to intervene, but Emily had other plans. “I am sorry, Bobby, I really am.” She raised a hand and had his body fly away towards the wall, stopping a couple of feet before he actually hit it. He tried to protest, but Emily ignored him.

“Let him go.” Said Dean, stern.

“Right, so you can avoid this conversation a little bit longer?” She said, still holding the man up in the air.

“What on earth were you thinking, trusting a demon like that?!”

“You were going to kill yourself!” She pushed him.

“So you decided to die first so you didn’t have to watch me?!”

She raised a hand to slap him, but he was faster and intercepted her arm. The moment she had to resist Dean’s strength, Bobby fell to the ground. “I WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASS!” She screamed back.

“AND YOU COULDN'T FIGURE OUT A WAY THAT DIDN’T INVOLVE RISKING YOUR LIFE?”

“COULDN’T YOU?!” He tried to speak, but Emily interrupted him. “I WAS LITERALLY ABOUT TO KILL MYSELF WHEN THE DEMON CAME TO ME!” Dean raised his hand to slap her but she stopped him just like he did with hers. They stared at each other, blocking each other’s arms. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?” She said, fighting him with all her strength. “When your sibling talks about offing themselves.” She slowly stopped fighting him and she dropped her arms by her side. “All these years, I was wondering why it was so difficult for you to just behave like a brother with me. Sam had his ideas but now I think I see it. He was wrong. None of that shrink shit was real, it was all made up. You’re not afraid to get attached, you are just an asshole.” Bobby, who had managed to stand back up, gave up on civility. He stared at them from where Emily had thrown him.

“You’re one to talk.” Answered Dean. “You never lost a chance to remind me how bad I was doing at being your brother, even if I was trying my best!”

“YOU CALLED ME A BITCH AND TOLD ME THAT IF I WANTED TO DIE SO BADLY I SHOULD HAVE CUT MYSELF VERTICALLY, IS THAT YOUR DEFINITION OF TRYING YOUR BEST?!”

“You’ve been hiding shit from me from the very first day!”

“HOW DOES THAT COMPARE WITH YOU FORCING ME OFF THE GROUND WHILE I WAS HAVING A LITERAL MENTAL BREAKDOWN AND COULD BARELY BREATHE?”

“YOU BROKE MY NOSE!”

“I BROKE YOUR NOSE BECAUSE YOU AND DAD STRESSED ME SO MUCH MY BRAIN SNAPPED IN HALF LIKE A BREADSTICK!”

Everytime they said something they would push the other away.

“I CLEANED YOU AND DRESSED YOU LIKE A FUCKING BABY!”

“I SPENT THE FUCKING NIGHT HOLDING YOUR UNGRATEFUL HAND WHILE YOU WERE DYING!” Emily gave Dean one final push. She tried to attack him again but he stopped both her hands. Frustrated and unable to move, she tried to set herself free and started crying again. Soon, her legs started shaking and they gave up on her. She leaned onto Dean’s chest as he was still holding her up by the wrists. “I just want you to be my brother, that’s all.” She said in between sobs. Breathing was becoming more difficult each second, her extremities going more and more numb as time went on. Dean let go of her arms, but she immediately reached for his wrist and held onto it, her nails digging into his skin like it was butter. With a grimace of pain, he tried to get rid of her hold, but she only made it tighter. She felt as if everything was collapsing under her feet and that wrist was the only thing to keep her alive. Her crying became less and less intense as she lost the ability to breathe, her body completely overwhelmed by a panic attack.

“Alright…“ he said, struggling to keep her standing. With the only available hand, he put her head on his chest and unexpectedly hugged her. “It’s okay. It’s over now.” He repeated. “You’re right, this is not good.” She finally let go of his wrist. He put his hand on the back of Emily’s head. “We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

[modify-and-sever]

if gender is what's in my pants then my gender is YOUR MOM lol anyway yeah I heard you're nonbinary do you have a penis. are you girl agender or boy agender. are you girl nonbinary or boy nonbinary. you have multiple genders but like are you more girl or boy. ok you're neither but are you more boy or girl. no haha I get it like no gender lol but seriously do you have a penis. is it a boy penis or a girl penis. it's honestly really weird that you don't want to answer this question honestly I'm just going to assume you have a dangerous male penis and tell all my friends that you're a bad person

[very-small-giant]

murder of crows ravens

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Diluc x Reader

Summary: Kidnapped Reader begins to feel touch starved after being trapped for so long and finally reciprocates Diluc’s need for physical affection. Cue a steamy make-out session.

MDNI.

Warning(s): YANDERE content (do not read if you are not comfortable), kidnapping, imprisonment, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, implied Stockholm syndrome, dubious consent (concerning touch), forced affection, forced kissing, steamy, !! heavily suggestive ending (smut implied)!!, slight hair pulling, slight isolation, forced marriage, they make out and both of them get somewhat turned on *gasp*

—————————

“Just one kiss. Please, darling.”

“No-“

Your protests were silenced by Diluc pushing his plush lips onto yours. The kiss was soft, delicate, and loving, something filled with longing after not seeing you for hours. However, the romance of it all didn’t mean much to you when you had been backed into the corner of your shared canopy bed with no way to escape.

You tightly fisted your hands into the sheets as his lips pressed insistently against yours, a discarded book next lying open on the silken bedding. You had been entertaining yourself pretty well before Diluc, your husband, had gotten home from a long day of work and business, deciding that he wanted to relish in your company after being deprived of it for so many hours. Your husband was a working man, and unfortunately for you, he only became more desperate to hold you after being separated most days.

Diluc’s arms caged you in while his thigh pressed against yours, heat seeping through the thin fabric. His winter clothes had been switched out for lighter ones with the coming spring, and you could feel every tensing muscle in his body as it shifted against your shamefully thin loungewear. You could feel the twitching of his body, the stiff movements that came with him resisting the urge to run his hands all over you. He knew you didn’t like him touching you. He knew that he was pushing it by kissing you with such intensity.

Today though, today was different. You didn’t mind the way his lips were bruising yours with each practiced tilt of his head. An all too human part of you was so tired of resisting every day, and it craved the warmth that you felt in those moments after he was done kissing you; those moments when he brought his gloved hands up to caress your face as you avoided his painfully adoring expression.

Hesitantly, you brought your tense arm up to graze the hair near the back of his head, each movement feeling slow and forced. But god, you were so desperate for the thought of being touched, and could no longer keep up the act of repulsion to the little physical touch Diluc gave you; you were tired of being careful to avoid every brush of skin, every silent show of affection.

Diluc knew it made you uncomfortable, and for the first few months of your “stay” you would have rather gagged yourself before you ever kissed him willingly. But loneliness was a powerful thing, and besides the maids who would barely look you in the eye, he was the only one you could reach out and hold.

Your hand landed on the back of his ponytail and you did you best to ignore how quickly Diluc stiffened under the shift in weight. His lips froze against yours in shock, but you pushed your hand further into his hair before anxiety made you pull it back. Your fingers curled into his locks, slightly tugging at the base where a ribbon held it back, and the first thing you thought was how absolutely soft it was.

You heard Diluc shakily breathe in, his eyes wide as he stared at you in disbelief. His hands landed firmly on your hips in an awkward attempt to put them somewhere. You could feel his fingertips digging into your skin, hands tense as he felt the new sensation of your fingers running through his hair.

…Clearly your touch was not unwelcome.

Feeling emboldened, you went further. With one of your hands still nestled in his hair, you rested the other one on his chest. You curiously ran it up to his collar, distracted by the new feeling of the coarse clothing and the strong body that shuddered underneath your light touch. You felt his heart beat unimaginably fast against your palm, heat seeping into your skin already from the light contact.

You quickly glanced up at his eyes and immediately became aware of the intensity of the look he was giving you. His gaze roamed your face, going from your eyes to your lips, searching fervently for something in your expression. You had never been the one to initiate anything before, much less encourage his behavior. You had always been quite cold to your captor ever since he had swept you away and locked you up in his mansion, too paranoid and in love to keep you anywhere but under his watchful eye.

You suddenly felt very nervous. Diluc’s blood red eyes reminded you of a predator, following every slight movement you made with rapt attention.

A primal part of you was scared of breaking eye contact with the dangerous man in front of you and you felt your heartbeat quicken for the first time in a while; whether it was fear or excitement, it made a fire light in your body.

Slowly, you leaned into him, ghosting your lips against his as he sharply inhaled, muscles tensing underneath your fingers as you focused on the rhythmic thrum of his heart. You moved the hand over his heart to join the other nestled in his hair. You pressed your chests together, practically melting into him as the lonely place in your heart sighed in relief at the warmth surrounding you.

You were the closest to him you had ever been, and you were returning the affection he had showered you with since the day he took you away. In the moment, you were unaware as to what exactly was going through Diluc’s mind. This was a sign of you willingly accepting his love. A thing you had only ever seemed to acknowledge reluctantly. His self restraint snapped, and then his hands were everywhere.

What had gone from a sensual kiss of longing was now a passionate fight for breath, with every harsh press of his lips to yours ending and beginning again at a dizzying pace. His exhales met yours in quick, desperate pants, as he seemed only able to pull away for a second before attaching himself to you again.

You soon lost your balance from the onslaught and fell back onto the bed. Diluc paused for a brief moment before following you and carefully placing himself over you, putting his weight on one forearm and using his other hand to impatiently tug open his collar.

“Diluc?” You said, dazed by the sudden change in his behavior.

“Hot,” was the only thing he said, forgoing elaborating to instead nudge his face into the crook of your neck. You tensed as you felt his lips brush against the sensitive area, each exhale adding more heat to already damp skin.

You nearly screamed when you felt his lips settle onto your skin, his teeth latching onto your neck happily. He bit painful heat into your throat, marking each new spot he found with eagerness as he moved down your neck. He began pressing fleeting kisses up to your ear, which he then happily bit and abused. His tongue ran across the shell languidly, a teasing motion with a meaning more sensual behind it, and an unexpected bolt of electricity shot through you.

Diluc seemed to be caught between deciding to pin you underneath him or allowing your hands to be entwined in his hair. Eventually, he guided your hand up to where it have previously been, and you automatically pulled on the long strands just to ground yourself. He moaned at the feeling. You teased the ribbon away until it fell from his nape, watching bright red locks spill over the broad shoulders now caging you in. Errant strands floated above you, teasing at your face and skin as Diluc ran his hands up and down the side of your waist. He panted in your ear and his hot breaths bounced against sensitive skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms.

You jumped as you felt his hand run to your thigh and squeeze, the firm grip making something light up in your stomach. You inhaled shakily, gasping as your realized that you were going to get what you wanted and more. Tonight was going to be a long night.

—————————

[latenightdaydreams]

Could you write something where the reader is König’s enemy, and once koctac wins, Konig takes reader as a prize, fucks her in front of her team making sure they see how good he makes her feel, then takes her back to base where she’ll be his personal and only fleshlight/fuck toy.

"Oh nooo, the big sexy Colonel took me as a sex toy." heeheehee🤭

I Win (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, cnc, r@p3 spelled out, humiliation

1.0k word count

🥇

.

.

König walks you towards a tent with one of his hands on the back of your neck, your hands cuffed behind your back. He walks through the flaps where you see your squad, handcuffed and forced to kneel on the ground while KorTac soldiers surround them with guns aimed at them. König forces your head down on a table, making you see your squad.

“Pathetic.” König spits at your squad. “You thought you could go up against Colonel König? My men?! I’ll show you all what a winner looks like.”

He snaps his fingers and has two of his men come over to you. They grab your arms and spread them apart over the table. You can feel König’s hands pull away at your gear and undo your pants. In an attempt to fight him off, you squirm and kick. A hand comes down and slaps your ass harshly.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill your squad.” He snaps quickly.

With a look of disdain on your face, you stop moving. König pulls your pants down to your ankles, pulling your black cotton panties down with them. His hand comes up and spanks your ass once again. You can feel your face heating up from embarrassment and nervousness of what is coming.

“Everyone, take a good look at your sergeant now.” König points at your squad. “I don’t want to see one person looking away or I’ll fucking shoot you, understood?”

Your squad was quiet, not knowing how to react in this situation until König shouted again, “I said IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!”

“Yes…” Their broken voices rung out.

“Gut…” König chuckles as he turns his attention back to you. His fingers rub in between your legs, parting your folds before shoving two fingers into your pussy. Your hands balling into fists as it takes everything in you to not try to kick him off of you.

“Nice and tight, just like I thought you would be.” He withdraws his fingers and wipes your wet arousal on his pants before pulling off his belt quickly with one hand, quickly unfastening this olive-green cargo pants.

You can feel the size of him as he slaps his cock on your ass, leaving behind little drops of pre-cum behind on your skin. The look of discomfort and sympathy is written all over your squad’s face as König spits on your ass, rubbing his dick in the spit. He can sense you tensing up, thinking he’s about to fuck your ass.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Liebling. I’m saving that for later.” He laughs at the mental strain he’s causing to you.

König lines his cock up with your entrance, looking over your body. The shape of you is perfect. You’re the type of woman he would typically go for outside of these circumstances, so it’s perfect that you just ended up in his hands. Without warning, he shoves his cock into. A loud pleasured groan leaves his lips as his hands grasping your hips shove you back even more on to him. Your knuckles are white from holding a tight fist.

“Keep those eyes open for me, Liebling.” He demands while pulling your head up by your hair, he forces you to look at your squad as he fucks you. Looking ahead you notice your squad and KorTac soldiers growing erections in their pants, you’re disgusted.

Your eyes meet those of your squad, their eyes trying to avert your gaze; but it’s difficult when they have guns pointed at their head. With each thrust a small pleasured whimper leaves your lips. König’s fingers are digging into the supple flesh of your hips so deeply, they will be leaving bruises behind.

“Look at your leader, submit so easily to the stronger man.” He laughs loudly before a hand comes down and spanks your ass. “A woman like this needs to be shown she’s nothing more than a hole to fuck.”

His hand lets go of your hair and wraps around your neck, squeezing until it’s a little hard for you to breathe. Your small whimpers coming out strained as König begins to fuck your cunt faster. He scans the faces of your men to make sure they’re watching.

“Beg for me to cum in you.” König pants as his hips begin to roll into you faster. “Beg to be bred.”

At first you stay silent, not wanting to give in more than what’s happened.

“You know I can rape you and then kill all your team in front of you…one by one…” His voice sounded deep and intimidating as he spoke those words.

“Please cum in me.” You say with a strained voice from being choked.

“More convincing!”

“Please! Cum in me please!”

“There you go, keep begging.” König could feel himself building up to the moment, your horse voice just adding to his arousal.

“Please breed me… please I want your cum.”

A loud moan leaves Königs mouth as he throws his head back. His cock shoved deep inside of your fertile pussy as he cums inside of you. Slowly he pulls out and his men let go of your arms. He lifts you up, placing you on the table on all fours.

“Look at your sergeant, my little cum dumpster.” He spreads your ass to show your pussy to your squad as a little of his seamen drips from your now very stretched hole. “Push.”

You do as he says and push the cum out of your vagina. His thick creamy cum falling on to the table underneath you as your squad sits there and watches you do this.

“I stretched her good, huh?” He says to his men and they laugh with König. You stay on all fours humiliated. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of König.

“Bring them to HQ, I’m taking this one with me.”

“Wait!” You protest. “You said you’d let my men go.”

König began to laugh even more, “I said I wouldn’t kill them, not let them go. What happens to them from here is no longer my concern, only you.”

He walks over to you and lifts you over his shoulder before walking you out of the tent to his truck, he was going to have so much fun with his new toy.

[ara-line]

Stop glorifying the suicide of that US airman.

He grew up in a cult and never really left behind the mindset of that cult, even if his beliefs on the political spectrum shifted. According to a former member of the cult, it was common for members to leave and end up in the military. She described it as "going from one high control group to another" in the WaPo article linked.

In short, he never got help that he clearly needed. And from what I've heard about the military, his time in it may have worsened whatever issues he already had.

His suicide is a bigger reflection of this very strange pattern on the left to glorify self harm since others are suffering. It's one thing to see children in a playground and think about how there are children in refugee camps who don't get to enjoy those freedoms. This is another thing. Bushnell, unlike many other cases of self-immolation (ie the self immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi, the man whose death kickstarted the Arab Spring) was not directly affected by the bombings in Gaza. Yet he chose an extreme route that even those affected by the situation, whether through being related to the Israeli hostages or through having family in Gaza, would not go to. This is a reflection of a larger trend on this website of self punishment and forcing every last gory detail of horrific events on yourself because of a) this feeling of powerlessness over not being able to do much about the situation and b) wanting to show how much of a good leftist you are because you will subject yourself to horrific violence to show how much you care. In reality, it is mental self-destruction. I've seen this behaviour in true crime communities as well.

I think a lot of the leftists on this site grew up in conservative environments where it's all or nothing right wing extremism. Thus, much like Bushnell, their political beliefs have shifted, but not their mindset. That's why so many people on this site are glorifying his suicide.

The reason newspaper headlines aren't mentioning his name is because we already know many school shooters do what they do for infamy. Therefore, by not mentioning their names, the media wants to avoid copycats. It's the same line of thinking here. It's got nothing to do with Zionism, according to some people who probably had no idea what that is before Oct 7 and not now, controlling the media. No, Zionists do not control the news cycle. You're perpetuating antisemitism when you say that.

Inevitably, since people on this site have piss on the poor reading comprehension, I expect this post to go over well. If you're going to tell me to kill myself, just know that you will be blocked and reported. Any dialogue ended the moment you decided that was acceptable.

[bloodycowboyclub]

AEW: REVOLUTION (2024) hangman adam page // dogwood flowers gear

"a little dogwood tree is losing its mind;"

[melaninnpink]

If you enjoy my blog please do me a huge favor and share this post and please donate, if you can.

[buglaur]

fireworks show 🎆

material preview version is very cute also :)

i struggled with the lighting on this one so badly, but it turned out alright in the end.

i actually started it last year for new years 2023 but never got around to finishing it, hence no progress pictures this time sadly lol. i do have a very low-res, first draft, test gif though

stills 🥳

[gauloiseblue]

I'm Only Flesh and Blood

(König × Reader)

[Dead dove: do not eat | MDNI]

TW: rape, non-con, imprisonment, death, violence, overall dark theme

(I don't know why, but this song just resonates with the story, not because of the lyrics, but the way he sings it.)

You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You didn't realize there was a war on the horizon, before it all fell down upon the city.

Between the rumbles and the upstanding pillar, you coughed as the dust surrounded you.

You screamed for help, as the shattered walls trapped you in, leaving no space for you to move. You did it over and over again, until your throat scratched. Yet no one came to rescue, no one heard you scream.

When the night fell, you curled up your body, trying to find warmth in the harsh structures. There's no light that could reach your place, you only knew if it's daylight when the temperature rose up slightly, although it soon blurred as you lost track of time.

You were starving, your lips were cracked and split open. You thought you'd die like this, until you heard a heavy stomp of a boot.

There was a sound of a man shouting above you, and a heavy thud soon followed. You didn't have the energy to speak, as you watched a little light come through the rubbles. One by one, the wreckages were lifted, and you winced at the glaring light upon you.

There's a shout, and more shouts followed after in a language you didn't understand. You covered your eyes to see a soldier stretched his hand to you. Just like a fool, you reached up to him.

The event that unfolded between the rescue and the medical help was fuzzy in your memory. What you knew was, you woke up in a cold room, with men in uniform by your bed.

They asked you your name, and basic questions that you weakly answered. After they wrote it all down, you heard them mumble the word 'foreigner'.

"Where am I?" You asked them with a hoarse voice.

"Hospital." One of them said, before they both left the room.

Your brows furrowed, as you sensed something's off, but can't pinpoint what it was.

When the doctor declared you've made a full recovery, you were immediately brought to a different building. The man took you to an office, where a hunched figure in a mask sat at the desk.

He shooed your escort with a wave, and he left the room without a sound. Leaving you with the big man.

"What's your name?" He asked with a strange accent.

"(Name)." You responded.

"They said you're not from here." He stood up, and you witnessed the full glory of his height, "Visiting?"

You slowly nodded, nothing to add.

He shot you a sneer, as he walked closer to you, "You didn't know there was a conflict?"

"No," You lowered your head, "I thought it was safe."

You saw his polished boots as he stood in front of you, before he lifted up your chin so you'd face him.

"You're lucky you're inside the ruin, you know." He began to speak with malice slowly dripped out of his mouth, "Your kin were mostly dead or imprisoned. The women were raped, and the men were skinned alive. But you're still alive. You must be lucky."

The grip on your jaw became harder, and you whimpered, both from fear and the pain.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He let go of your face, and you immediately took a step back with your legs trembling. Your gaze was down, and you couldn't see the smile on his face. He walked past you, and you heard the door open, before a soldier took your hand and led you through the hallway.

In the other room, you met several girls with the same expression as yours—scared, confused, unsettled. You stood beside one of them, and watched as the soldier left.

The girl turned to you, asking your name.

"It's (Name)."

"Oh." She responded, "Where were you from?"

You told her the name of your hometown. "You?"

"I lived in the neighboring country." She smiled, "I'm Nina by the way, nice to meet you."

You returned the gesture.

"Do you know why we're here?" You asked.

"I'm not sure." She said as she rubbed her neck, "But I overheard the soldiers referring to us as flowers, I'm not sure what that means."

"Flowers?"

"Pretty flowers, in fact." She clarified, "One of them even said exotic ones. I just hoped it's not what I think it is."

You opened your mouth to reply, but the conversation was interrupted by the opening door.

There's a man striding from the door, and stopping on his track to see the people in the room. He scanned them one by one, before he turned to the soldier on his side.

"Which one is the Colonel's girl?"

The soldier looked at you, before leaning in to whisper.

"Hmm," He let out a displeased grunt, "Well, take her away then. There's no point in choosing her when she's off the list."

The soldier said something to him, but he dismissed him.

"I don't care, take her away."

He pressed his lips together before he nodded.

"Come." He said to you, and Nina immediately grabbed your hand.

"Don't go." Her eyes were wide as she told you, and you were alerted by the fear in her face. But you didn't have the time to process it, as the man ripped you away from her, dragging you out of the room.

"No—" You tried to protest, "Let me go."

He stayed silent, while his hand was planted on your arm.

"Where are you taking me?"

"None of your business."

"It's my business to know."

"Shut up."

The two of you arrived outside, where he quickly called a car to the lobby. As the car parked, he opened the rear door and shoved you inside.

The door was already closed by the time you shouted at him.

The whole ride was silent, as you bit your nail, trying to make sense of the situation. You tried to look out the window, figuring out where the driver's taking you. Though you found nothing, not a single clue.

It took perhaps 15 minutes before the car parked in front of a house—a big house, in fact. At the front door, you met another man in military uniform. He didn't say much as he let you in, before locking the door behind.

It took a minute for you to process what happened, before you knocked on the door, asking why you're here. Again, you received no answer.

Deciding it's not worth the time, you began to roam around to find a way out.

It's a two-story house, with a big dining hall and equally big kitchen. It has a study room, and a meeting room right beside it, the two rooms were connected by a door. They looked like they've been used recently.

Upstairs, you found the bedrooms, as well as the bathrooms. There's a door leading to a balcony, but it was locked.

When you came back to the first floor, you tried your luck in the study room. It was full of papers, and you skimmed over it. But it's all written in a language you didn't understand, so you decided to move to the drawers. But as you bent down to reach the handle, you heard an unmistakable voice coming from the door.

"Don't touch that."

You lifted your head to see the same man you met in the office. He was leaning on the frame with his arms folded, watching you intently behind the mask.

"Curious, aren't you?"

You looked down to avoid his stare, "I'm sorry."

He took the time to examine your face, before he spoke, "I was planning to take you home with me, but it seems like my lieutenant sent you away without my permission."

"What do you want?" You asked him through gritted teeth, "You're not planning to send me back home, aren't you?"

He smirked, "Clever thing." He said, "Do you really wish to know that?"

You kept your glare at him as he explained.

"You see, you're still officially missing, and it's not our job to report every single person we found." He walked toward the bookshelves with his hands on his back and his chin up, "So if we found someone, it's our right to keep them."

He pulled a file from the shelves, and threw it onto the table.

"It's yours." He told you, "Go on and read it."

You looked at him with disdain, before you flipped the file open. There, you found all of your private information—the copy of your and your parents' IDs, your bank accounts, and detailed information about your background. Although it's written in German, you knew it from the written dates and a few familiar names.

"Do you understand now?" He spoke in a low tone, "You have no choice."

He left the room as you froze on the spot, unable to bring yourself together. The soldier by the front door took you to a bedroom and locked the door behind as ordered. Leaving you alone, at a loss.

You stared blankly at the window, and took notice how it's screwed shut. Even if you were to break the glass, it's already lined with railing. The same applied to the small window above the toilet, and you saw no possible way out in the bathroom too.

Maybe you could open it with something, something that resembles a screwdriver.

When the sun had set, you heard the lock turned, before the soldier entered with a tray and a jug of water. He set them down on the nightstand, before leaving without a word once again.

You looked at the food, and you had no appetite despite your stomach growl. You didn't touch the plate, but filled up the glass with water. That was it, that's your dinner for that day

At night, you couldn't sleep. You could hear the clock ticking, reminding you that you're still here. Pretty much alive.

20 minutes past midnight—you knew it from the toll of the grandfather clock outside—you caught the sound of the door opening, then closing. It came from the room beside you, the master bedroom.

That night, he spared you from the dreadful ordeal of sleeping together. But your luck was running thin after the third day of your stay.

You were laying on your bed with your thoughts, before the door of your bedroom opened. Your blood ran cold, as you heard a heavy step entering the room, and went towards your place.

The blanket rustled, as the man slipped inside. He settled into the bed, before pulling you into his chest.

Your heart beat hard against your chest, and you began to feel yourself sweating. You knew Fortuna frowned at you when he slid his hand under your neck, pressing his fingers on your pulse.

"You're still awake, aren't you?"

You bit your lower lip, and slowed down your breathing. All was an useless attempt to calm you down.

"Don't worry, I won't touch you tonight."

You took a sharp breath as you caught the meaning of it. It made him chuckle, as he buried his face into your nape.

"But if you try something funny, I can't guarantee that to you."

Your body turned cold when the words left his mouth, to the point that you stayed still, petrified by the threat.

He did keep his promise, as he fell asleep right by your side. Perhaps if you're a bit braver, you could lift his hand and escape that night, but his words hung on your head, as if it's a guillotine that'd fall on you if you moved an inch.

You didn't sleep that night. Drowsiness only came to you after hearing the birds singing, signaling the first arrival of the sunray. And you were too tired to notice the way he stirred, as it went closer to his waking hour.

In the afternoon, you found yourself alone in bed, with the door locked, and the breakfast on the table.

You survived that night, but it didn't mean you'd make it on the other days.

Unfortunately, it came sooner than you prayed.

It was your fault, you were careless. You thought he wouldn't pay any mind to a missing cutlery, but he did.

At the dinner, he asked you to accompany him at the dining table, and you sat there, blissfully unaware of the impending torture.

As you chewed the tender steak, he announced his concern about the lack of butter knife in the dishwasher.

You stopped at your track, as your body tensed up. The meat stayed in your mouth, as your throat tightened up, closing your chance to swallow.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He asked with a cold glare, "Did you think I'm stupid?"

You kept your gaze to the plate, as the alarm blared in your head.

"Answer me!" He slammed his fist on the table, and you flinched away in fear. The reaction caused you to choke, forcing you to cough out the meat into the napkin.

"I'm sorry." You whimpered, while gripping your hand so it would stop shaking. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought the time had stopped for you. Until you heard the chair moved, and he stood by the table.

"Hands on the table." He retorted, and your body obeyed him without delay.

You jumped when he threw away your plate, sending it and the cutleries to the floor as it shattered upon the contact. You began to feel unsteady, as the panic was rising from your chest.

He stood behind you, and you trembled as you heard the sound of a zipper.

That was the day you found that he'd use sex as a punishment.

He made sure that it hurts, and left you bleeding, he'd render your legs useless by bruising your hip and insides, as he rammed his cock against your core. You screamed at him, begging him to stop, but he kept going until he ripped the orgasm out of you. By the time he finished, you're entirely spent, as you curled up on the floor.

In daze, you felt yourself being picked up, before laid down on the mattress. Leaving you wondering about it in the morning.

He was cruel, but he took you to the bedroom instead of leaving you. He was merciless, but he bothered to put a few medicines on your tray.

You didn't understand him, and you didn't like it one bit. You had a hunch that it couldn't be that simple—that he felt guilty, or he felt the need to take care of you.

To your disdain, he continued to do it for weeks. He helped you up, and gave you the medicines every morning. He kept it as a routine, until you could stand on your feet again.

While your body's recovered, the phantom pain still throbbed between your legs. Reminding you of the consequences for your misbehavior.

The memory of it kept you in line, as you unconsciously complied with his demands.

That was, until his demand became more outrageous.

It seemed that he was testing you—putting you through unnecessary trials of whether you would obey him or not. He'd put a choker on you. He'd ask you to get on your knees, and put your head on his lap. He'd tell you to sing, while his finger slipped inside your panties. He'd place you on his desk, and told you to spread your legs while he watched you pleasure yourself. He'd force you to watch an erotica without your pants on, so you'd leave a stain on your chair. He didn't ask for sex, but what he requested was way more improper, to the point that you felt dirtier after doing it.

And he seemed to be pleased by it, he delighted in your humiliation.

He also got off on your fear.

He'd play a cat and mouse game with you, and he'd scream threats that'd set you running. He knew you're scared of him, and he used it to his advantage. And when he caught you, you'd be forced on your knees as he shoved his cock into your mouth.

You're aware that there'd be an escalation from the moment he declared he'd take care of you, but you weren't prepared for the level of depravity he possessed.

The way he'd threaten you with sex, and soothe you with aftercare, it was too much.

One day, you sobbed as you begged him to end it all, with your tears running down your face. But he just sneered as he rubbed his member against your clit, forcing you to watch as your body trembled when you came for the fifth time.

There were times when it's all quiet, when he was wrapped up in his work. Those were the times where you could gather your thoughts, and planned for a possible escape.

You knew about his gun collections in the study room, you just needed the bullet. You couldn't really escape through the front door, except when it's night. So you began to devise a plan.

In the back of your mind, your rationality told you it's impossible; that even if you killed him, his affiliates would catch you so easily. You have nowhere to go. But you shoved it back into the water, as your feeling thrashed inside your chest. You need to go. You need to get away from him.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—you found out the answer to your plan.

He hosted a house party with all of the soldiers. Some of them were recruits, and some of them looked like they're on the same level as him, judging by the presence of a pretty partner on their side.

You were given the role of a quiet escort, and you were allowed to leave his side only when he told you so. You wrapped your hand around his arm, as he greeted his guests.

The last friend of his came a little later, and your eyes were widened as you saw a familiar face. It was Nina.

She looked thinner compared to the last time you saw her. Her eyes were hollow, and her face was pale, with the exclusion of the red mark on her cheek.

You had the chance to talk to her when they all sat at the dining table. While the men were talking over brunch, you made your way to her and stood beside her.

She was quiet, and you doubted that she heard you, but it only lasted for a moment before she muttered out I'm fine.

"He slapped me this morning because I forgot to brew his coffee." Her lips trembled as she spoke, "But he told me to prepare everything for the party last night, of course I'd forget it."

Your brows furrowed with sympathy, as she continued her snivel, "I should've felt grateful that he only slapped me. The other girls—the other girls got it worse. But I—everything I did was wrong in his eyes. I don't—I'm so sick of it."

She quietly sobbed, and you took the initiative to pull her aside, guiding her to the restroom.

In there, you got the full length of her story.

The man who took him treated her as a housemaid, but never addressed her as such. He'd shout at her constantly, and he'd shove her face against the counter, forcing her to look at the little dust spot she missed. At night, he'd force himself upon her, with little to no preparation. And when she tried to escape one time, he brought home the head of her mother. The only family she had left.

You didn't know what to feel, but you could see that she got it worse than anyone.

You tried to soothe her, but you knew the wound was larger than you could stitch. It could never be healed.

As you both returned to the dining room, you found the table empty, as the men had already moved to his study room.

And your heart triumphed when you saw the key in his hand, as he opened the locked drawer to fetch something vital for your escape.

The bullets.

You watched him as he slipped them one by one into the old revolver. You burned the image of it in your head—the silver, big barreled revolver.

He then invited everyone in the room to walk with him, with the intent of showing a demonstration.

"This thing is a beauty, a wild horse," He remarked as he exhibited the firearm, "You need to learn to tame it before you ride it, or she'll kick you off the mount."

The men laughed, as some of them added an equally filthy joke. He chuckled before turning his body and stretching his arm to aim at the target.

There was an apple on the fence, on the far side of the garden. And the red fruit stood still, before it exploded as his gun went off with a bang.

The men cheered, applauding the magnificent show that you couldn't understand. Why did they praise it? Wasn't a gun supposed to do that?

You didn't have the time to ruminate, as you heard your friend whisper under her breath.

"He loves you."

The chatter from the men almost drowned her voice entirely, that you had to double-check your hearing.

"What?" You asked her.

She turned her face towards you, and a tear rolled down on her cheek. The sight of her stunned you, as she reached to touch your cheek.

"He never took his eyes off you." She muttered as she leaned closer to you. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought you felt her lips brush against yours, as she pulled you into a kiss. And you almost taste the wine in her tongue, until a sharp shrill flew past you with an incredible speed. Before you knew it, you were on the ground, with her body slumped against you.

You sat there, watching the open side of her head as it dripped dark fluid into your dress. It was warm, and slowly seeped through the fabric, spilling over your thighs.

You didn't know who was screaming.

You couldn't remember how long exactly before they removed her body from you. The party must be over since the men took you to your room, leaving you alone as you sank into your chair. Your hands couldn't stop shaking, as you saw them stained with red.

What happened to your dress? It was supposed to be white, wasn't it?

You stared at your knees, as the image of her head was still fresh in your mind. You felt your vision narrowed, as if you watched yourself through the third eye. You weren't there, you were still on the ground, with your friend's head on your lap.

The door was opened, but you didn't notice it. You didn't notice any presence, before a hand softly landed on your shoulder.

You jumped out from your chair, almost shouted for the second time, if not for his embrace.

It caught you off guard, and you began to sob against his chest. You couldn't help it, it was the only comfort you had, even though you knew that he had removed every other hand just so you'd choose him.

"Don't be sorry." He gently lulled you, "She brought it upon herself."

He removed the bloodied dress from you, before turning away to fetch a wet towel. You didn't have the energy to fight him, moreover to lift your finger. So you let him clean the blood off your face, and off your body.

You didn't resist when he put the fresh clothes on you, and he guided you to the bed, letting your head fall onto the pillow. He didn't do much and left the room without a word.

On the bed, you let your mind wander to your friend—her hollow stare, the gaping wound in her heart, you should've known it. There's a quiet anger in you, as well as a deep sense of loss. She used you as a means to end her pain, but she had no other choice. She had nothing left.

For days, you asked yourself if it's the only way for her, or if you could help her, reach out to her just a little further. But what came back was an echo, since she was already an empty shell long before you could help her.

You were angry at yourself, angry at him, angry at the man who took her. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you were powerless.

He was smart enough not to bother you, since you'd erupt at any given moment. But he'd snap at you if you crossed the line, and you'd end up with tears, as you bit your lips shut.

You don't know what to do with this anger, you still don't know the answer to this day.

While you have the plan ready, you haven't chosen the execution date. You need to be close enough to him to take the key, but you're still repulsed by him.

A week has passed by, and you find the courage to close the distance between you and him. You begin to join him for dinner, and keep him company in his study room.

That's when you start to see the crack.

There's a time gap where you can carry out the plan, at least the first plan. When he comes home, he usually leaves his things unattended at dinner time. You would have the freedom to roam, and you could sneak into his room for a short time. You once made sure which pocket that had the key in, and did a double-take a few days later. When you're certain of it, you move to the gun collections. You had memorized the revolver, so it didn't take long before you found it.

With that in mind, you're ready at any time.

You maintain a good facade in front of him, as you wait for the moment to strike.

The chance comes to you one night, when he decides to postpone the dinner. He has to talk with someone outside, and leaves his things on the dining table.

The window of time will be short, since the time it takes for him to finish will be uncertain. But you take it nevertheless.

You don't waste any time as you pull the key from his vest's pocket, and march toward the study room.

Adrenaline rushes through your body, and you're shaking as you take the revolver off the padded wall. You then turn your heel as you approach the desk, sliding the key with difficulties, before unlocking the drawer.

Alas, you run out of time.

You hear the front door close, and a heavy step echoes through the house. You hold your breath as you slide the cylinder release, and take a few bullets in your hand.

"Mäuse?" Your panic rises as you hear his call, with trembling hands, you try to push the bullets into the cylinder. Alas, one of them falls to the floor.

The noise must've alerted him, as the sound of his step turns into a heavy bolt.

You only manage to put two bullets in, before slapping the cylinder shut and aim at the door, right at the same time as his arrival.

He stops in his tracks when he sees you inside, with the gun in your hands.

"Don't come any closer!" You shouted a warning at him, though you couldn't hide the quiver in your voice.

He stands by the door, with his face unreadable, as it hides behind the mask. You pull the hammer, while your finger rests on the trigger. You're ready to shoot, he knows it from your stance.

He sighs, shaking his head in disapproval, "I gave you time, and this is how you repay me?"

"Don't—don't move." You tried to warn him once again, "I'll shoot if you move."

"Can you even shoot me with those hands?" He leered at you, taunting you with his words, "You won't hit any target if you keep shaking."

He catches you off guard as he storms the room, forcing you to pull the trigger.

The bullet hit his shoulder, and he shouts in pain. The shot you released enrages him, as he pulls a sledgehammer from his side.

You don't have the time to aim as you shoot the second bullet, and it flies past him, leaving him unharmed.

A high-pitched scream escapes your mouth as the hammer slams onto the desk, causing the wood to crack upon impact.

The revolver quickly dropped as you fled to the connecting door, escaping the place through the next room.

You run towards the front door, trying to push the handle, but it won't budge. You hear him coming, and jump to the side, narrowly escaping his hammer of rage as it punches through the door, sending the broken pieces everywhere.

"YOU COME BACK HERE!" His voice boomed through the house, and you could almost feel the floor shaking.

You dash to upstairs, and push your bedroom door open, before locking it just in time.

Still, it can't protect you from him.

You watch in horror as the door shakes and fills the room with the cracking sounds, before it flies open by force.

And there he is, standing at your door like a nightmare.

You can't do anything except running away from him, running to the corner where you'll certainly meet your demise.

And you lift your arms and brace for the impact. You can see the hammer coming to you from the corner of your eye, and you cry out when it strikes.

It's all silence, before a quiet sob falls from your mouth.

His hammer crashed on the wall, just an inch away from your head, showering you with dust and smashed fragments.

Your body slides down to the floor, as your legs give up. You continue to weep, while he lifts up the hammer, and tosses it to the ground.

"Are you done?" He retorted harshly, and you shrunk away from him.

He yanks your hand away, and throws you to the floor. You yelp when he sits on top of you, pushing your face down to the ground.

"Should I treat you badly so you'd learn to appreciate what I did for you?"

"You took my freedom away." You hissed through your tears, "You kept me in here so you could play me like a toy."

"But I took care of you, didn't I?" He growled, "I never asked you to clean the house, you didn't even have to cook for yourself. What more could you ask for?"

You flinch at his tone. You've seen him angry a few times, but never this angry.

"Do you want a toy of your own?" He asked, voice dripping with bitterness. Your eyes snap open, as the phantom pain throbs in your hip. "I can certainly give you one."

"No…" Your lips quivered as he slipped his fingers under your clothes, "No, no! Stop!"

You tried to kick him away, do anything to get away from this monstrous man.

"Get away from me!" You screamed at him, but he ignored you as he ripped your clothes off. "Please! I'm sorry—"

"It's too late for that, don't you think?" He laughed when you tried to crawl away, while he undid his belt.

You cry out when you feel the head of his cock poking against your core, before he slowly pushes it inside.

It was excruciating, as he stretched you open with a force. He groans as your walls clamp around his member, as if repelling him from entering.

He snakes his arm around your shoulders, as he pulls you close until his chest is flush against your back. A bitter tang of iron hits your nose, reminding you of your own mistake. He hisses when you grab him on the place near the wound.

"Don't think you can escape me, (Name)." He snaps his hip against you, and you throw your head back, eyes tightly shut. "Not even in your death."

You scream when he buries himself completely, stuffing himself to the hilt, until you feel yourself full.

The pain comes back to you, as you feel your core burning. He makes it worse by feeding it frictions, as he begins to pump himself in and out. He tosses his mask aside, before he marks you with his bites. He sinks his teeth onto your neck and shoulder, before he lifts you by your chin, and crashes his lips against yours.

It was bitter, full of teeth. His kiss tasted like rage, and the jealousy he held since your friend stole it from him.

You cough from the lack of air, and fall down on the floor. The mixed saliva in your mouth drips down to your chin, and he runs his thumb to wipe it off.

He bends down to kiss you once again, and you whimper when you find yourself growing wetter against your will. The resistance from your walls becomes lesser, and he can easily slide his member in.

"You know, Mäuse," He mused as his hips moved like a piston, "I'm only flesh and blood, but I can be a good father."

He keeps his arm around your body, as you struggle against him.

"I can buy you a big house, taking care of our little ones." He covers your mouth when you begin to voice your protests, "As long as you're with me."

Your hand starts to flail around, trying to hit his wound, but it's out of your reach.

"I'll make you my wife, and we'll live together as a couple." He said with a smile, but through your eyes, it was a madman's grin. "You just have to be good, and I'll treat you as such."

His cock brushes against the spot that made your moan, and he keeps hitting it until your back arches, as you turn limp in his arms.

He soon follows after you, as his cum spills into your womb, filling you up to the brim. You gasp when his arms tighten around you, as his cock twitches inside your core. A sense of dread hits you as you feel his cock doesn't get any softer.

"I think you'll make a great mother." You heard him murmur, before he pressed his lips against your temple.

[daigina-3]

📕Read the rest on Twitter

Comic by @ nekonosebire, translated by me.

⚠️ dark content, NSFW. Please read the tw at the top of the thread ⚠️

[comet-wire]

QUICK. POST THE SILLY.

[ohproserpine]

୨୧⋆.ೃ࿔*serphie <3 17 | she/her. requests open but not guaranteed!

#serphiewrites <- tag for my writing fandoms <- hazbin h, helluva b deer dolly! <- big ole masterlist

to see all of my written works i suggest going to my ao3 instead! it's much easier to navigate there: ao3 <- persephonecakes

[thespookiestprincessofthemall]

[iluvvpaige]

Bloody Nose | PB x female reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, language

Summary: Paige and her secret girlfriend Victoria accidentally go public at a game after an incident on the court 🤭.

Me and Paige had been secretly dating for 6 months. The only people who knew were her team, my siblings and parents, her siblings and parents, and my best friend. Me and Paige were planning to keep it private until our 1 year anniversary.

Paige had a very tough game right now with a good college. Paige is the number 1 scorer of the night. Every point the other team makes, she goes right back and makes a point, tying the game. The game was tied right now, 39 to 39.

The game had started to get really heated. Like really heated. Smart remarks were made from girls on the other team and paige just brushed them off because she didn’t want to get into trouble, but i knew she was cursing them out in her head.

One of the girls from the other team had the ball and was going to the basket. Paige went to steal the ball and the girl elbowed her in the nose and made a three pointer. Paige’s nose had started to bleed really bad which caused me to stand up, looking at her in worry.

And when i mean really bad, I mean really bad. The team and medics ran over to her to check on her but she pushed them out the way walking off, cursing. She wouldn’t listen to anyone. She was so mad.

“Tori! come down here please!” Azzi yelled at me. It was no secret to everyone that i was a friend of the teams, but it sure was a secret of who i was dating. I immediately ran down the bleachers, excusing myself.

I walked down to see Paige yelling and pushing the medic away. “Thats bullshit!” I heard her yell before she walked off. “Paige!” I called out, following behind her. I called the medic over and asked for the tissue. “Let me do it” I told the medic, grabbing the tissue. She nodded and stepped out of my way.

“Paige come here.” I said. She walked over to me, shaking her head. “Bro, you seen that shit, right? i mean that was obviously a foul! they had to pay those shitty ass refs off” She rambled. “I know, baby, I know.” I replied, holding the tissue up to her nose.

I knew my choice of words were risky as there were cameras everywhere - but i really didn’t give a fuck. She needed to calm her ass down before she got in trouble and sweet talking was the only way to get her calm.

She shook her head and put her hands on her hips as if wiped off the dripping blood. “Calm down, P” I said as held the tissue to her nose. It felt like everyone there had their eyes on us, watching intently as she didn’t listen to anyone else but me.

“Bro those refs are paid off. I mean, that was clearly a fucking foul.” She stated. “I know. Just leave it, okay? you’ll get in trouble, paige. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” I said, removing the bloody tissue to her nose to replace it with a clean one. I watched her closely as she licked her lips, still shaking her head slightly.

I removed the tissue from her nose when it finally stopped bleeding. Her ass was still rambling on about the refs not calling that a foul. At this point the game had went on and Uconn was currently winning by 5.

“Go let the medics check your nose and make sure it’s not broken, ma.” I said. I knew she liked it when i called her ma and she needed to calm down. She smirked at me and nodded before she started walking off. “Wait, P” I called her back. “Huh?” she replied, turning around to make eye con with me.

“C’mere” I said as i motioned her over to me. She walked over to me, confused, and looked at me. I pulled her into a soft, short kiss and a tight hug, not noticing that the camera was pointing at us.

“I love you.” I said, pulling away. “Love you too, baby.” She replied. I gave her a quick smack on the ass before she walked off and i went to go sit back down.

The clip of me and paige was released and needless to say, the editors had a field day with that one 30 second clip.

•

Tysm for reading!