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supernaturalscribe67 · 15 days

Text

Hidden Bruises

Words: 7,546

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam/Dean Winchester x Male!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, PTSD, Mention of past Rape, Trauma, Sexual Assault, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mention of Character Death, Azazel

Summary: After the death of their father, Sam and Dean's older brother went missing for a couple of weeks. Eventually, he returned, and everything seemed to go back to normal. When the brothers follow a lead that takes them to an abandoned schoolhouse, Sam and Dean come face to face with the reality of what happened to their brother when he went missing.

Request:

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the Winchester's (John/Dean/Sam) x Older brother finding out the Azaseal (yellow eye demon) s/a him and he's been keeping it secret intill they run into Azaseal and he gloats about what he did. (If you don't feel comfortable using yellow eyes that just some strong random demon is fine)

Maybe reader is someone who has always took care of all of them including when John was drunk or injured, took care of both his brothers doing whatever he could

@xweirdo101x

A/N: I'm not dead! Just stressed! These past several months have been horrible, but I'm happy to say I'm back in the groove of writing! This request has been long overdue and I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to get it out, I did not forget everyone who sent in a request! I hope you enjoy the story! Do NOT read if any of the warnings are triggering to you. Keep yourself healthy, keep yourself safe. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love

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“Dude, are you sure you’re taking me down the right road?” Dean asked, brows furrowed as he looked in the rear-view mirror occasionally.

“I’m sure.” (Y/N) confirmed, gaze focused on Google Maps, which he had cued up for the last thirty minutes of their drive.

“We’ve been driving the backroads for ages. Never thought an old schoolhouse could be this deep in the countryside.”

“A lot of people settled here at some point, Dean,” Sam said with a brief shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Sam’s right. According to local history, the first group of settlers that arrived built make-shift houses deeper in the woodland areas for better hunting and fishing grounds. To accommodate, they built a schoolhouse in the middle of the settlements so all the kids would be able to make it to school a little easier. Once the years passed and all the people started moving away to start the nearby town, the schoolhouse was practically abandoned. There wasn’t any need for it anymore.”

“Look at you doing your research,” Dean teased with a smirk.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “More than you, asshole,” he mumbled. “Oh! There should be a small clearing up here to your left. Go ahead and turn in there, but we’re going to need to walk the rest of the way,”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, grow up, Dean.”

“Says the one sitting in the middle of the backseat.”

“You’re so lucky I love this car as much as you do, otherwise I’d make you drive her into a tree.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, baby brother,”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sam waved his hands, cutting them off. “As much as I like seeing you two go at it, now’s not the time.”

Both Dean and (Y/N) opened their mouths to object but stopped themselves. They each grumbled something incoherent under their breath. Dean returned to the road and (Y/N) looked down at his phone.

“Are you going to turn here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled.

Dean slowly turned the wheel and edged the Impala onto the beginning of a dirt path. A couple of feet ahead of the car, the path narrowed and was overgrown by trees. Even if the Impala would have been smaller, there was no possible way it would be able to fit down the path. It appeared to be more the size of a hiking or bike trail. Once the car was settled, Dean turned the engine off, the heavy purr dying to a low hum as the heat dissipated. The headlights stayed on for a couple of seconds before going out.

“Let’s rock ‘n roll,” Dean grunted as he stepped out of the car.

Sam and (Y/N) soon followed after, the three of them heading to the back of the car. Dean popped the trunk and lifted the cover, revealing their large array of weapons. Each of them took their respective weapons and sheathed them before the trunk was closed with a heavy bang that echoed throughout the trees.

“Could you be any louder? We don’t know how close the schoolhouse is from here.” (Y/N) grumbled.

“Bite me,” Dean mumbled.

“Guys,” Sam sighed.

(Y/N) held up his hand in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he turned away from his brothers and began to make his way towards the dirt path.

“You sure it’s down this way?” Sam asked, following after him.

“Yeah, that is, if we assume the coordinates are accurate.”

“And you’re sure you can trust Google with that?” Dean asked.

“Same as we trust any other research material. All I know is that it should be in some type of field.”

Dean nodded, satisfied with the answer.

They began to make their way down the dark, dirt path, towards the canopy of trees, bent after years of surviving thunderstorm after thunderstorm. As they approached the trees, they pulled their flashlights out, illuminating the path ahead. The treetops were thick and heavy, the moonlight disappearing when they passed the entrance to the woods.

Thirty minutes filled with dodging bulging tree roots and low tree branches, accompanied by some complaints from Dean about how far they had walked, moonbeams became visible through the upcoming branches. (Y/N) held up his hand, and turned off his light, before he walked towards the clearing. Sam and Dean followed suit, killing the light.

Past the wall of tree branches, a field became visible. Sat in the middle, about twenty feet away from the group, was an old, dilapidated building. The building sat in front of them, tall and menacing, as if a dark aura circled the decaying brick exterior. It stood three stories tall, some windows broken, and glass surrounding the foundation. The steps out front were cracked with some concrete pieces scattered about near the bottom. The bold lettering that rested right above the front doors was faded, some letters almost invisible, but it was clear that it was supposed to read out the name of the school. (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder how the interior of the building looked compared to the outside.

One thing that struck the group as odd, however, was the fact that some of the windows were filled with warm lights, indicating power had been added to the ancient building. It wasn’t until they got closer that they realized a small hum was disrupting the evening crickets in their peaceful song. (Y/N) raised his hand, halting their movements. They got down low, the only cover they had being the overgrown grass that engulfed their bodies.

“They’re using a generator.” (Y/N)’s voice was low and deep.

Sam sighed. “And it looks like there’s only one entrance. I wouldn’t trust those windows either. No one knows how long it’s been since they’ve been opened.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s gotta be against fire code to have one doorway.” He mumbled.

“The fire code came around in the 1600s, but I highly doubt these settlers cared about it.” (Y/N) muttered. “I’m going to sneak towards the generator and turn it off. You two keep an eye out to see if there’s any movement inside. We can go in then,”

“Got it,” they said in unison.

(Y/N) gave a brief nod before he headed towards the building, keeping low in case of peering eyes from the windows. Rounding the side of the building, the humming became almost deafening. A dull light illuminated a small patch of grass on the other side of the school. With his eyes glued to the light, (Y/N) swiftly made his way around and to the back. The generator sat against the foundation, rumbling loudly and shaking the earth around it. He grabbed his flashlight from his waistband and shone it on the generator, furrowing his brows as he looked for a way to stop it. Finally, he saw the power switch, took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead, and switched it off.

The power died immediately, the once bright school house going dark in an instant. (Y/N) knew he had to be quick. He made his way back towards the front. Sam and Dean stood at the base of the steps, their weapons drawn. (Y/N) drew his before he joined his brothers.

“Alright, let’s gank these sons of bitches,” he mumbled, taking the lead as they entered the school.

It was a lot darker inside than they originally thought it would be. Despite the massive windows in each room, the decades' worth of dust covered the natural moonlight, engulfing them in darkness. They brought out their flashlights, illuminating the entranceway. Their dim lights skimmed over the walls and floors, taking it in as they took careful steps deeper into the school.

The interior of the school was just as damaged as the exterior. No longer was it a place of learning, but a place filled with debris and graffiti. Artwork and random words riddled the walls in different colored spray paints and many wooden panels lined the floor that were covered in a ripped-up, faded green carpet. The three of them took their time navigating through the mess that was near the front door to get to the main hall. A room was located to the left, which would appear to be the location of the office and the home of the principal when the school was in operation.

A couple of feet away from the front door, there was an archway that led down a narrow hallway as well as a staircase to the right. The halls were a little more clean compared to the entrance. All of the debris was pushed to one side or the other, making it a little easier to navigate through. (Y/N) turned to his brothers and gestured down the hall.

“You two take this hall and I’ll check upstairs,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, yet booming in the dead silence that surrounded them.

Dean furrowed his brows. “What? No.” Dean protested, his voice at the same level as (Y/N)’s had been. “We stick together.”

“There shouldn’t be too many in here. I’ll be fine on my own. You two stick together, and shout if you need help.”

“But-”

“Dean,” (Y/N)’s tone was low. “I’m not arguing about this.”

Dean shared a glance with Sam before he shook his head in disapproval and began to make his way down the hallway. (Y/N) watched them for a couple of seconds before he turned. He stalked towards the narrow staircase, caged in by cracked and deteriorating walls. Other than the small amount of concrete or wood that was scattered around on the stairs that he had to avoid, they were rather clear compared to the entrance. Gingerly, he placed his hand on top of the railing, an old wooden rod that had paint and wood chipped away at it. He used it as a guide as he made his way up and to the second floor. The stairs creaked under his weight, despite his careful steps.

While he walked, he concentrated heavily on his sense of hearing. With his sight limited, he was relying exclusively on his ears to tell him if anyone, or anything, was near. When he reached the landing, he shone his flashlight down a hall that looked identical to the one Sam and Dean had wandered down.

The second floor was in the same state as the first floor with scattered debris on either one side or the other of the walkway. Doors lined the walls, some fully opened, and some cracked ever so slightly. One by one, he took a step into every room, shining his light around all four corners. He whispered a quiet ‘clear’ following each empty room he examined.

All of the rooms were dimly lit with the mixture of (Y/N)’s flashlight and the faded moonbeams begging to go through the dusty windows. Chairs and desks were strewed about, some toppled over, while others rested in, presumably, the same spot they did all those years ago. Those tables and chairs were unknowingly preserving the history of the once-active school.

It was quiet. Too quiet. A part of (Y/N) wanted to believe that the intel they received might have been wrong, that no demons were haunting the very halls he walked, but the generator out back told no lies. Squatters wouldn’t waste what little money they had on luxuries such as that, nor would they put forth the time and the effort to wire the entire building. The other part of him, the logical side, told him that the demons were good. Sneaky. They knew how to hide and they did it well. He had to be even more focused than he already had been.

He hoped Sam and Dean were doing okay.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to split up.

(Y/N) got to the last room, on the left side of the hallway. He noted that it was the only door that had been shut, making sure to be extra cautious as he reached a hand forward, grasping the splintered doorknob. As he opened the door, the aged hinges creaked, the sound echoing down the hallway, breaking the uneasy silence. The room was noticeably darker than the rest, not an ounce of moonlight visible. (Y/N) raised his light and shone it around the room. He took a couple of steps inside, broken glass crackling underneath his boots. When he shined his light on the window, he noticed that it had been completely boarded up, the remnants of a black trash bag that had once covered it hanging from nails lazily placed along the window sill.

Just as he got to the center of the room, the door hinges creaked again, loud and eerie. (Y/N) was quick to turn around, but he was only able to catch the final seconds before the door closed. His breathing stopped, heart racing inside of his chest. He listened, closely, but he heard nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Nothing.

“Guess who,” A deep, scratchy, all too familiar voice spoke.

The same voice that plagued his mind and haunted his dreams.

He froze.

Like a deer in headlights.

Then, his world went black.

*~*

The harsh light wasn’t good for his pounding head. A throaty moan slipped past (Y/N)’s lips as he awoke, vision blurry and eyes watery. He slowly lifted his head, groaning at the noticeable crick in his neck. He could feel that he was slouched in a chair, his back was aching from the posture, but he felt too nauseous and weak to fix it. When his vision cleared, he was able to take in some of the details of the room he was in. It was obvious that the room used to be one of the many classrooms, desks and chairs were pushed to one side of the room, stacked up to the point where they could topple at any moment. A single window stood across the way, the bottom half completely shattered with a puddle of broken shards resting beneath. The chill night air whistled and caressed his face. To his right were two massive floodlights, shining down on him. To his left, were Sam and Dean, bound to chairs the same as he was.

Sam and Dean.

(Y/N) quickly sat up, despite the throbbing in his head. In an attempt to move his arms, he could feel how tight the ropes were around his wrists and forearms. The demons were skilled, it seemed.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” Dean grumbled, his speech coming out slurred.

He has a concussion.

“What the Hell happened?” (Y/N) hissed.

“They came out of nowhere,” Sam mumbled. His eyes were half-lidded, looking as if he was experiencing the same pain as (Y/N).

“There were too many of them.” Dean finished.

(Y/N) cursed under his breath as he tried to wiggle his arms out of the binds, but it was all to no avail. He was used to being held captive by people who didn’t know how to tie a knot, but the way he was tied up was rather intricate. He wasn’t too sure he would be able to break out of it.

“How many did you guys run into?”

“I don’t know, man,” Dean answered. “A dozen, maybe more. You?”

(Y/N) stopped moving, his eyes cast down to the floor. “Just one,”

“One? You got taken out by a single demon?”

“It was dark,” (Y/N) defended himself with a growl. “I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t hear anything. It was silent.”

Don’t think about his voice. Don’t think about his voice.

“Still, to be taken out by one demon, geez,” Dean mumbled.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you! I’m trying to get us out of here!”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” a sweet, sultry, female voice echoed in the room. “You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon,” a demon came from behind them, a wide smile on her lips.

She walked behind (Y/N), grabbed the knots connected to his wrists and arms, and tugged at them.

“Did these myself,” she spoke proudly. “Wasn’t too difficult, really. Just seems as if people aren’t willing to teach themselves anything useful anymore,” she pursed her lips, crossing her arms underneath her breasts.

(Y/N) snarled as the frayed ropes rubbed against his skin, scratching the surface. “If you’re done boosting your ego for five minutes, I’d really appreciate it if you let us go.” He spoke between clenched teeth.

The demon let out a boisterous laugh as she walked around the chair to stand in front of him. “Are you kidding?” She scoffed. “The Winchesters practically fall into our lap, and you think we’re going to let you go? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “Now, what would my boss think of me if I did that?”

“And who, exactly, is your boss?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you know him. Quite well, actually. He’s so excited to see you all again.” She walked over to (Y/N), the back of her hand brushing against his cheek gingerly. “Especially you.” Her voice was low, menacing.

With that, the demon left, the click of the doorknob filling the silence. (Y/N) was tense. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Gooseflesh littered his arms, the hairs standing up. The panic began to set in.

Have to get out. Have to get out. Have to get out. HAVE TO GET OUT.

“We have to go.” (Y/N) said, his voice barely above a whisper and shaky.

(Y/N) began to frantically pull at the ropes, only resulting in them tightening around his arms. His muscles strained, shoulders shifting. Sam and Dean both tried to wiggle out of their confinements. Sam’s movements were slower and more thoughtful than his brothers’.

“Do you know who she’s talking about?” Sam leaned his head close to (Y/N), voice hushed.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that we get the fuck out of here.” (Y/N)’s voice was louder than it normally would have been, the anxiety flooding his words.

Sam and Dean shared a look of concern but decided to say nothing. They had never seen their brother so frazzled. Dare they say, scared? If there was one thing that (Y/N) never experienced when he was on hunts, it was fear. (Y/N) was always the one who kept a calm and collected attitude, barked orders, kept victims quiet during stressful situations, and he was the one Sam and Dean always fell back on. It was as if the brother they were bound next to wasn’t the same person.

They all worked on getting the ropes off of them. Sam and Dean weren’t struggling as much as (Y/N) seemed to, who, at first glance, one would assume had never gotten out of binds before. That was far from the truth. He was, normally, the first one to get out of the ropes, as if he was an escape artist in a previous life. It was rather evident that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Sam and Dean, however, didn’t have the slightest clue.

Have to get out. Have to get out.

CLICK

The door opened, and (Y/N) froze. He was sure his heart stopped as well. Every muscle felt as if they were tying themselves together in intricate knots. The creaking hinges seemed louder than before, almost as if they were teasing him. Laughing at his pain. Mocking him. Or, perhaps, they were warning him.

Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.

“Well, well, well…” The voice spoke, amusement evident.

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold. In situations like that, when faced with immediate danger, our brain turns to one of three options; fight, flight, or freeze. You can defend yourself, run away, or accept your fate. Being tied to the chair didn’t give (Y/N) the chance for flight, and there wasn’t an ounce of fight left in his body. So, he sat there, frozen, eyes wide with fear. The last time he was filled with that much fear was when he last encountered the demon. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been that long ago.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump. He knew that touch all too well. It felt as if fire was spreading from the hand, down his torso, and through the rest of his body.

Azazel turned to stand in front of the three Winchesters, his deep, yellow eyes lingering over (Y/N)’s body. Sam and Dean tensed, their jaws clenched, noses scrunched as they stared down the demon.

“Yellow eyes,” Dean said between clenched teeth.

“Oh, come on, Dean, you know I’m much more than just my eyes,” Azazel smirked. “You know, me and my demons were having a fairly good night. Got a lot planned for you, Sammy. Of course, the plan has some kinks to work through, but what plan doesn’t? A peaceful night, nonetheless. Imagine my surprise when the lights turned off. Not only that, but imagine my surprise when I hear who turned it off.”

Azazel’s eyes scanned over the brothers, but they always wandered back to (Y/N). Each time they did, it felt like he was getting stabbed in the gut.

“You know,” Azazel continued. “I can’t thank you enough for showing up unannounced. I mean, that’s one less child I need to find,” he gestured to Sam. “Not only that,” Azazel turned to (Y/N), stalking over toward him at an agonizing pace. “But you brought my favorite little plaything.”

This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real.

When Azazel placed his calloused hand on (Y/N)’s jaw, fingers trailing down to his chin, (Y/N) was faced with the brutal reality that everything was real. (Y/N) hadn’t realized how much he had been shaking until Azazel let out a deep laugh.

“Still scared?” He teased, his tongue poking through his eerie grin.

“Leave him alone,” Sam growled. “It’s me you want.”

“Correction, Sam, I want both of you.”

“Why? What is he to you!?”

Azazel looked at Sam, then Dean, then back at Sam. His brows raised as a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh,” he cooed, tilting his head to the side as he bent down in front of (Y/N), their noses almost touching. “You never told them, did you.”

“Told us what?” Dean questioned. “(Y/N), what the Hell is he talking about!?”

(Y/N) couldn’t speak. He felt as if there were cobwebs in his throat, his lips and mouth dry, and no part of his body wanted to function. Azazel stared into his eyes. Correction: Azazel stared into his soul. The soul that he had left was damaged. Oh, did that fact fill the demon with pride. Azazel’s lips curled up at the corner of his mouth as he stood up straight. He sauntered over so he was standing in front of Sam and Dean.

“Months ago…” Azazel began. “After your dear old Daddy passed, your brother decided to go on a little manhunt, all on his own.”

Sam and Dean turned their gaze to (Y/N). Sam’s eyes were wide with shock and betrayal, while Dean’s expression could only be described as pure anger. Their minds immediately drifted to the worst possible outcome from that hunt. Their first thought drifted to him selling his soul. Making a deal with Azazel. While that seemed like a possibility, it didn’t make sense, as Azazel still spoke as if he had plans for Sam. What could (Y/N) have done?

Azazel began to make his way back over to (Y/N), his back straight, his posture intimidating. “After a couple of pathetic weeks of trying to find me, he was finally able to catch up to me.” Azazel stood in front of him. Slowly, he leaned down, his breath fanning over (Y/N)’s face. “Do you want to tell them all of the gory details? Or should I?”

(Y/N)’s breath quickened, chest noticeably rising and falling at a rapid pace. The panic became evident on his face. Azazel reached a hand up and let it rest on (Y/N)’s knee.

“Do you want to tell them how you quivered under my touch? How you were shaking and sobbing? How you were crying for them to save you?”

As he talked, his hand trailed further and further up his thigh, getting dangerously close to his crotch. (Y/N)’s body began to convulse, eyes bulging from their sockets. Whimpers escaped his parted lips as he tried desperately to wiggle away from his touch.

Have to get away. Have to get away. Get away. GET AWAY.

“Hey!” Sam shouted.

“Get away from him!” Dean exclaimed.

“Tell me,” Azazel continued, ignoring Sam and Dean’s loud protests, his attention solely focused on (Y/N). “Do you still hear my voice as you drift off to sleep at night? Do you still feel my fingers digging into your hips? Do you still feel my cock inside that tight little hole of yours?” He grunted as he gripped (Y/N)’s penis through his jeans tightly.

“No! Please!” (Y/N) screamed louder than he had ever screamed before. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely, painting his face with their wetness. He desperately attempted to get away, not caring that the ropes dug into his flesh, rubbing it raw. His sobs echoed off the walls.

“That’s right,” Azazel grinned wickedly, teeth and jaw clenched. Somehow, his quiet voice was the only thing (Y/N) could hear. Not the hum of the floodlights, not his brothers’ angry shouts, just Azazel. “Cry, my little pet.”

“You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I will fucking kill you!” Dean screamed to the point of almost instantly becoming hoarse.

“Oh, I hear you boys loud and clear.” Azazel pulled his hand away from (Y/N). “And I must say, it’s getting rather irritating. I might just have to take my pet somewhere else to play.”

“Don’t you dare,” Sam snarled.

“Well, not now. I’ve worked him up a little too much for me to have a good time playing with him.” He glanced at (Y/N), licking his lips predatorily. “It won’t be any fun making him scream now. Don’t want him to lose his voice too soon. Besides, you two made a mess of one of our rooms, and I need to make sure that everything necessary is accounted for.”

Azazel continued to stare at (Y/N), obvious amusement etched on his face. The tears continued to fall, but he was silent. His bottom lip wobbled. By the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, it was evident he was holding back cries he desperately wanted to let out. Azazel grabbed him tightly by the jaw, tilted his head up, and planted a rough, bruising kiss on his lips. Before Sam and Dean could resume their shouting, he pulled away.

“I’ll see you soon, little pet.” He purred, fingers trailing over his wet cheeks before he stalked out of the room, not even giving Sam and Dean a second glance.

Click

Creak

Slam

Silence

The three of them sat there and said nothing. (Y/N) stared off towards the window, head moving from side to side ever so slightly. His brain was foggy and dizzy from the overstimulation. Dean’s jaw was clenched, nostrils flared. His eyes glimmered with a murderous rage. He stared at his older brother - his broken older brother - before turning his attention over to Sam. Sam shared the same look of anger as he did.

What no one had been aware of was that, while the chaos with Azazel unfolded, Sam had been working on the ropes around his arms. A couple of silent seconds after they were left alone in the room, Sam let out a grunt and pulled his arms apart. The ropes fell onto the floor with a light thud. With determination in his eyes, Sam turned and untied (Y/N) first before going over to Dean. Once Dean was free, he stood, stretched his neck muscles, and then turned for the door, eyes flooded with blind rage. Sam was quick to grab him by the upper arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“What’re you doing?” He whispered.

“I’m going after that son of a bitch, Sam, what do you think I’m doing?” Dean retorted.

“We can’t. There are too many of them, and we don’t have our weapons anymore.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Dean pulled his arm from Sam’s grasp and turned to leave, but was quickly grabbed by Sam once more. “Let go, Sam.”

“Dean, I want the bastard dead just as much as you do, even more now, but we’re outnumbered. Plus, (Y/N) needs us.”

Hearing his brother’s name snapped him out of the trance he was in. Dean snapped his head around towards (Y/N), who was still sitting in the chair.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, quickly making his way over to him. Sam followed.

Once they were in front of (Y/N), they could see just how much he was affected. His arms hung at his side lamely, his gaze still set towards the window. They were empty, devoid of any emotion. His cheeks were still stained, and his lips were slightly parted. They had started to swell.

“Hey, hey, (Y/N),” Dean reached up and cupped his face, turning his head so he would look at him. “Hey, buddy, you’re okay. You’re safe. He’s not here anymore, but we have to get out of here. Can you stand up?”

Silence.

Dean slowly nodded. “Alright, Sam, you get that window open and we’ll get out of here. I’ll grab him.”

Sam moved over to the window, scraping some of the broken glass away from it. He glanced out the window and let out a breath of relief when he saw they were on the first floor. He grabbed the top of the window, lifting it, but it didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath and took a deep breath as he hoisted the window open with all of his strength. The bottom half of the window slammed upwards, causing the wall to shake. He raised his brows and turned to Dean, gesturing him over quickly.

Dean reached under (Y/N)’s legs and picked him up bridal style. He held him tight and close to his chest as he swiftly made his way over to the window. Sam was the first one to climb out, hissing as the splinters from the window sill embedded themselves into his hands. Once his feet were on the ground, he turned back to the window.

“Pass him through,” he held his arms out.

Dean glanced behind him at the door before he helped Sam get (Y/N) through the window. Once (Y/N) was through, Sam cradled him in his arms just as Dean had. Dean moved even faster to get out of the window. When they were outside, they could see, in the distance, the familiar sight of the sun peeking out past the horizon. They shared a glance, examined their surroundings, and then rushed back towards the tall trees at the edge of the field.

They ran at Mach speed through the forest, hopping over roots and dodging protruding branches. Now and then, Sam would look down at his brother, still held tight to his chest, but the same, vacant expression was always present on his face. Sam was, admittedly, worried for him. He had never seen (Y/N) in such a vulnerable state. He was always the level-headed one, so put together. He was the one that Sam and Dean leaned on in times of trouble, the one that picked them up when they were down, the one to jump to their aid when they needed him the most without any hesitation.

And here he was, carrying him in his arms, the broken shell of his oldest brother. Never, in a million years, would he have imagined this scenario. To him, it was always supposed to be the other way around, as it had been on multiple occasions. He felt so heavy, but, at the same time, light as a feather, as if Sam could carry him for hundreds of miles if he had to. He would in a heartbeat.

By the time they reached the edge of the wood, the sky had turned a brilliant pinkish-orange, and mourning doves began to sing their elegant tune. Dean broke out into a wide grin as Baby came into view.

“Oh, Baby, I am never leaving you again,” he mumbled as he ran his hand over her hood.

“Dean? Keys?” Sam raised his brows.

Dean slowly frowned. He patted his jean pockets, then his coat pockets. He grumbled, unzipped his coat, and reached inside. After seconds of searching, he let out a heavy sigh of relief as he pulled the keys out of an inner pocket.

“Thank God for inside pockets.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get the door opened.”

“Right, right…”

Dean unlocked the car before he rounded the corner to the back passenger’s side. He opened the door.

“How is he?” He asked.

Sam took a moment to look down at (Y/N). He was so focused on getting them as far away from the school as possible, that he didn’t even notice that he had fallen asleep. Sam felt relief wash over him, glad that his brother didn’t have to experience any more of those negative thoughts he must’ve had. At least, not at that moment. Carefully, Sam navigated his way to the backseat, laying (Y/N) on his side. He made sure not to wake him. With everything he had gone through and all the emotions that had seemingly piled onto him all at once, he wasn’t sure how easy (Y/N) would be to wake up. He must have been exhausted.

“He’s fine, at least, for now,” Sam mumbled.

Once (Y/N) was situated in the backseat, Sam stretched, not having realized the strain he had received from carrying him for so long. He closed the door as quietly as he could and took his spot in the passenger’s seat. Dean walked around the car and got into the driver’s side. He was quick to start the car, the rumble of the engine sending vibrations through the seats. Dean pulled off the dirt road and did a U-Turn, heading back into town.

The first five minutes of the ride were silent. Not even the radio dared speak up. Sam and Dean’s eyes were glued to the road, both of them taking turns to occasionally look back at (Y/N).

Dean was the first one to speak.

“We need to get the Hell out of Dodge.” He said.

Sam nodded. “You’re right. If Yellow Eyes is this close, he’ll waste no time trying to find us. I can go in, pack all of our stuff, and check us out. Then, I say we drive as far away as possible.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Another deep silence. Dean was the first one to speak again.

“How come he never told us?”

Sam hesitated for a moment, considering the question himself. He tried to look at it from a personal standpoint. Why didn’t he tell them? They’re family. They tell each other everything. But do they? He tried to look at it from a logical standpoint.

It was one thing the Winchesters were notorious for; their lack of communication when it comes to their emotions. It was preached to them when they were younger, that emotions were the reason hunters got killed. You had to go in, get the job done, and don’t let it get to you. Then again, a vast majority of hunters are alcoholics, so what does that say about them? They are human, after all.

What happens when something serious occurs? Something so traumatic that they lose themselves at the first sight of the enemy? That was something neither the hunting life nor their father had prepared them for. At that point, they were lost.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, you saw the way he acted when Yellow Eyes walked in.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.”

“I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, nor what he went through. I mean, if something like that happened to you, would you tell us?”

Dean opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. He clenched onto the steering wheel. “No,” he mumbled.

“Exactly, I mean…” he trailed. “This is fucked up.”

“Yeah, extremely fucked up. You have no idea how hard it is for me to drive away. I wanna go back there and kill him so bad.” Dean spoke between clenched teeth, his grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

“Trust me, Dean, I get it.” Sam nodded. “But right now, we should focus on (Y/N). He needs us right now, more than anything.”

Dean looked over at Sam for a second before glancing in the rearview mirror at his older brother’s sleeping form. On that day, he vowed that he would kill Azazel with his own two hands.

*~*

His vision was fading, black spots decorating his peripherals. Any sound had been replaced with a low buzz. His breathing was staggered and labored. Every inch of his body was on fire as if he was being burned from the inside out. The only relief he felt was the cool concrete that was pressed against his cheek. It felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t move.

Suddenly, the pain shot through his body like a bullet, his muscles and nerves tensing. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

“Aw, isn’t that cute,” Azazel growled from above him.

(Y/N)’s fear-filled eyes shot towards the sound of his voice. Azazel’s deep, yellow eyes stared into him intently, filled with rage, lust, and desire. (Y/N) tried to scream louder, but, still, no sound came out.

“Sam! Dean! Help me, please!” He mouthed, hot tears streaming down his face.

“Look at you trying to call out for your brothers. Well, I hate to break it to you, little pet, but they aren’t here, and they’ll never find you if I can help it.”

Azazel caressed his cheek before grabbing his hair roughly, yanking his head back. In a flash, a cool, sharp black was pressed against his neck.

“Now, be a good boy and take it.”

The pain intensified, lightning shooting through his veins.

Take it.

Please.

Take it.

Someone.

Take it!

Help me.

TAKE IT

*~*

(Y/N) gasped as he jolted upright, eyes wide and alert. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his pants. In an instant, Sam and Dean were by his side. Dean stood next to the bed while Sam sat next to him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sam spoke in a soothing voice, hesitantly reaching toward him. “You’re safe, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) jerked away from his touch, and Sam was quick to pull back. As (Y/N) attempted to gather himself, he looked around the room. They were in a motel room, although it was different than the one (Y/N) remembered being in. What did he remember? The last thing he could recall was the look on Azazel’s face as he smirked down at him, the look in those deep, demonic eyes. Those damned eyes. He didn’t remember leaving the school, nor did he remember their journey to another motel room.

“Where are we?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse and broken.

“Chattanooga,” Dean replied. “A couple hours south of where we were.”

(Y/N) nodded in acknowledgment. Then it was silent. No one said anything, the only sound filling the room was the electricity coursing through the air from the outdated box TV sat on the dresser. (Y/N)’s gaze was cast down towards the discolored comforter while Sam and Dean shared a glance as if silently urging one another to say something. Finally, it was Sam who spoke up.

“Look, if you don’t wanna talk about it, we-”

“He was right,” (Y/N) interrupted.

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they turned their attention back to their older brother. Dean sat down on the bed opposite (Y/N), and leaned forward, hands folded.

“Everything he said was true.” (Y/N) swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

“So, after dad died…” Sam trailed.

“When I went AWOL? Yeah. I, uh, I had found where he was. Didn’t take that long, at least, not as long as I thought it was going to take. I was so set on killing him that I didn’t take into account the fact that there might be other demons with him. It was like I was…blind by rage…” (Y/N) lowered his head and twiddled his thumbs. “I was captured pretty easily, I hate to admit. Then, he came in…you know the rest.”

(Y/N) was unaware of the tears that had begun to form in the corner of his eyes. He refused to look at his brothers. What would they say? What would they think? Would they be disappointed? Disgusted? Betrayed? He didn’t think he could handle what they thought about him at that moment.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean asked softly.

(Y/N) glanced up at them, brows furrowed with a look of confusion. Sam and Dean’s expressions conveyed a feeling of sadness. Of hurt. (Y/N) clenched his hands into weak fists and looked down.

“I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to be the one to protect you guys, not the other way around. I’m supposed to be the strong one. How would you think of me knowing your big brother couldn’t even stop himself from getting raped?” (Y/N)’s voice broke, tears flowing more freely.

Sam and Dean watched (Y/N) hug himself tightly. Slowly, they began to make their way onto the bed, not wanting to startle him in such a fragile state. With Sam on one side and Dean on the other, they wrapped their arms loosely and gently around his shaking frame.

“(Y/N), I hope you know that we don’t think any less of you because of this,” Sam said.

“Yeah, this isn’t your fault,” Dean agreed.

(Y/N) shook his head. “If I wouldn’t have gone after him…” he sobbed.

Dean shushed him, reaching a hand up to gently caress his head. (Y/N) stopped what he was saying and just leaned against his brothers. The Winchesters were never good with comfort. Get over it, they were always told. Stop being so sensitive. Real men don’t cry, type of narrative. They all just sat there in silence, sobs continuing to fall from (Y/N)’s lips.

He was always so scared about the way his brothers would react. He decided to take a page out of John Winchester’s book of dealing with his emotions. Bottle it up and everything would be okay, which was completely false. That much was evident back at the schoolhouse. (Y/N) wasn’t okay. Hell, that had been the first moment he had verbally admitted that he had been raped, and it hurt.

Even though he felt a small sense of security in the arms of his brothers, he still didn’t feel safe. Knowing Azazel, his rapist, was still roaming the world in search of them always kept him on edge. He wasn’t sure he would ever feel peace unless he witnessed, firsthand, the life drain from those yellow eyes of his. After that, he wasn’t certain how he would feel.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice broke the dead silence.

(Y/N) looked up at him, eyes red, but slowly drying. Dean gazed down at him with a look of determination on his face.

“We got this, okay? As long as you’re with us, we won’t let anything else happen to you. You’ve been our big brother and protected us our whole lives. Now it’s our turn to protect you.”

(Y/N) took a moment to look at Dean, then looked over at Sam. He gave a small, brief nod as he pulled them closer for a tighter embrace.

“Thank you,” he spoke in a hushed tone.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Sam shook his head. “You would do the same for us.”

(Y/N) nodded.

“And if there’s one thing I can promise you, (Y/N), it’s that the next time I see that slimy bastard, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes,” Dean growled, holding his brother close.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but give a small smile, because, while the Winchesters weren’t good at comfort or expressing their griefs with one another, there was one thing that made them stand out amongst everyone else;

When they promised to kill something, nothing on God’s green Earth could get in their way.

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secretwhumplair · 26 days

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Fighting spirit

1,104 words | Izara and the serpent king (sequel to Izara's appraisal)

Content | Slavery, dehumanization, restraints, manhandling, implied: past beatings, nudity, knife whump, mention of: noncon, punishment

Notes | Yay double hit today! A little look into Izara as he properly arrives at his new master's.

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator @neverthelass

Izara was scared out of his mind as the serpent king’s guard led him through the palace, firmly gripping his arm; it wasn’t over the worst of the bruises, but it hurt regardless. Everything hurt.

He would be hurt more, he knew that. He had been hurt incessantly for the past seventeen months, passing from one cruel pair of hands to the next, all trying to break him before giving up, frustrated or bored, and selling him on; and now? He had snapped at the hand of a king. He was under no illusions that his punishment was even close to done.

A part of him wished he could simply stop fighting back, insisting it would be easier; that things would get better then, even having seen slaves getting beaten for the smallest accidental infraction, getting raped with brutality regardless of how pliant they were trying to be. Another, though, feared that day more than anything: as long as he was fighting, he was alive. He was his own person, by some definition. He couldn’t give up, even as each day it became harder to remember what he was fighting for when there was no escape in this nightmare.

He was terrified he might have finally found a master who wouldn’t care about his resale value, who would leave scars and burns over his body, or… or worse. The serpent king’s blasé offer had proven that money was not an issue for him; after having been sold a dozen times, Izara was well aware what the value of an unruly beast like him was, and it was well below.

The serpent king was, currently, leading the way. Leaving the throne room, he had said something to the guard in their language, which Izara didn’t understand a word of, and he had little hope it had been merely to follow him.

They wound up in a relatively small room with doors on both sides, which Izara took to mean it was an antechamber of some sort. There was also a window high along one wall, narrow, but easily wide enough to let his skinny body through.

Not that he stood a chance to escape between the serpent king, the guard, and the servant who had been awaiting them here, or at least awaiting the king.

»You can let go of him now, I suppose,« the serpent king said softly, eyeing Izara up and down.

The guard, miraculously, let go of him, backing off towards the door they had entered through. For a moment Izara was tempted to make a dash for the window, no matter how hopeless it was, but the serpent king was almost right between him and the sweet air outside. He just dug his nails into his palms and waited.

The serpent king stretched out a hand to the guard, without taking his eyes off him. »Your dagger, Captain.«

And just like that, every thought that had fought its way through the pain and exhaustion and the hunger gnawing at Izara’s stomach was washed away, replaced with cold, glaring panic. A better slave, perhaps, would have fallen to his knees and begged for mercy. Izara though backed away so quickly his back slammed painfully into the piece of furniture behind him. It was a table of some sort, and he scrambled up onto it.

»Stay away from me!« The words went out without thought, and upon hearing them, he wished someone at some point would have sewn his mouth shut. That would never happen to an elven slave, of course, they were supposed to sing for their masters, not scramble through a room trying to escape whatever they had in store for them.

If he made it behind the servant snake, he might get through the other door.

The guard dashed at him faster than Izara could blink, and in a moment, he was being held by his arms again. Harder, this time, on account perhaps of him struggling to get away as hard as he could, kicking into the air until the guard wrapped his body around his legs, immobilizing them. Then, for some reason, they let go of his arms.

»Easy, little thing,« the serpent king said. »I will cut your ties.«

Izara stopped struggling, half out of surprise, half because there was nothing he could do anymore, anyway. Besides, at this point even the mere moments of panicked struggle were enough to exhaust him. The bruises on his arms throbbed where the guard had grabbed on to him.

»That’s better.« The serpent king approached calmly, and Izara bared his teeth. He could snap again. It would do him no good whatsoever, but it was the one thing he could. »Easy.«

The serpent king took the rope binding his hands together. On pure instinct, Izara yanked them away and regretted it immediately. Maybe the serpent king would have cut his ties, but not now-

The serpent king took the rope binding his hands together. When Izara, this time, held his breath and his arms, he hooked his fingers behind the knot, pulling it to the side enough to slide the dagger into the loop of rope chafing his skin.

The mere feeling of the cold metal against his skin made Izara bite his tongue against a whimper, but in a moment, it was over, his hand—suddenly, unexpectedly freed—falling limply to his side.

The raw skin on his wrist burned in the air.

He could have hit the serpent king, then.

The serpent king was still holding the rope and cut it loose from his other wrist as well.

Izara crossed his arms, half-hugged himself, glimpsing down on his damaged wrists. It had been a torment on its own, the rough ties scraping and chafing and biting into already rope-burned skin when he couldn’t simply hold his arms and hands still, and he couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t.

Now it was gone, and there was nothing that wouldn’t heal with time. Of course not. He was too beautiful for scars.

He could have pushed the serpent king away. He would if he tried to touch him, he swore to himself.

But the serpent king merely tossed the cut rope to the servant, and then backed up all by himself.

»If I tell the Captain to let you go, will you follow me?« His golden eyes were still fixed on Izara.

It was a trick question. There was only one correct answer, and Izara didn’t even know whether it was true or not. He would try to escape given the chance.

But was this really a chance?

»No,« he heard himself say.

#whump #whump writing #slavery whump #defiant whumpee #my writing #izara #mirai and the serpent king #izara and the serpent king #eshihir #I wanna name the guard captain I have HeAdCaNoNs about them

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destroyerofnations92 · 1 year

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I always find it funny when those who support the Greens cling to Daemon’s (supposedly) evil acts and atrocities committed, to justify them overthrowing the king’s chosen heir, while also completely ignoring their own side.

Aegon is a proven rapist and frequent child abuser, who might even be a pedophile as well, depending on how you interpret the comment that he prefers the more “unsavory” brothels. He has bastards, whom he has fight in fighting pits. He is an absolute monster.

Helaena is an innocent victim. I’ll give you that. I feel bad for what is to come for her.

Aemond is a kinslaying psychopath. I don’t get those who seem to look forward to him and Alys. He killed her entire family and then took Alys, a prisoner of war, into his bed. Sounds like rape and a war crime to me. His actions cause so much pain. Burns the Riverlands, killing thousands, and his actions are the reason Jaehaerys is brutally massacred.

Daeron is an unknown entity, though he doesn’t seem evil, just a dutiful young man and another victim of his family’s misplaced ambition.

Alicent is a terrible person. She sneakily crept into the bed of her best friend’s father, not even six moons after his wife died in the birthing bed. I’d be surprised if the birthing blood had dried yet. She raised her sons to be hateful little monsters, and inspired their base and disgusting behavior. She was abusive and an all-round horrible mother. Every bad thing that will happen to her family is because of her. She hides behind her false piety, while she is out here allowing dudes to wank one out over her feet the day her husband died. Alicent is no victim, she hasn’t been one in a very long time. She could have had Larys seized, but she didn’t because she wants him working for her and not her father. Manipulative and disgusting.

Larys is a kinslayer of the worst kind. No problem with the foot fetishism, to everyone their own. Though I do find a dude called the Clubfoot having a thing for feet a little on the nose.

Criston Cole is truly an incel. He had one whiff of pussy and upon being rejected started spouting every incel/MRA talking-point out there. He is just a sad and pathetic person wearing a mask and clinging to his false Faith and his white cloak, pretending to be someone he is not.

Otto is a jealous little troll, who did everything in his power to destroy the House of the Dragon. I am a firm believer in the Oldtown Conspiracy, and that the Faith, the Citadel and House Hightower conspired to overthrow the Dragonlords and install Hightowers on the Iron Throne. He cares for nothing but himself. He is an almost one-dimensional villain.

That said, while the Greens are shit, they wouldn’t have been able to pull this off if not for two people: Jaehaerys and Viserys.

Jaehaerys was no conciliator, he was a capitulator. He kneeled to the Faith, was a shit father to his daughter, clearly a rampant misogynist, and allowed these “lesser” Andal lords a say in the governing and succession of the House of the Dragon. His entire shtick about Targaryen exceptionalism was thrown out the window the moment he didn’t want a woman on the throne. He is the root of all evil. Alysanne was a far better queen than he was a king.

Ah, Viserys the Peaceful. More like Viserys the Fool. The only reason he even sat the throne was because his brother assembled an army for him. Well, that and because his grandfather was clearly a deep-rooted women-hater. He was a moron. I saw someone describe him as using his kindness and peaceful nature to cloak what hides beneath: weakness. He was so easily manipulated and his actions led to the death of the dragons.

It is no coincidence it all went wrong for the Targaryens the moment the King wed an Andal. You can disagree with Daemon's Valyrian supremacy all you'd like, but he was right. The moment they "bred" with lesser beings, it all went to shit. They should have kept it to the Velaryons, Celtigars, Baratheons or the bastard Valyrians from the Free Cities.

The Greens’ treason caused the death of the dragons and was the reason the Seven Kingdoms were unprepared for the Night King and his armies.

#House of the Dragon #Team Black #Daemon Targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen #Daemyra #Daemon x Rhaenyra #Matt Smith #Emma D'Arcy #Milly Alcock #Fuck the Greens #Team Targaryen #Danyrion #Daenerys x Tyrion #Anti Jonerys #Maester Conspiracy #Oldtown Conspiracy #Fuck the Hightowers #Anti Alicent Hightower

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bullet-prooflove · 3 months

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BlackIce!Series - Part Three: Check In: Frank Castle x Reader

Companion Piece to Black Ice & Ice Pack

Tagging: @purrrrfect @juliannatryon @beardedbarba @crazy4chickennuggets @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @pleasurebuttonwrites @annetje @adaydreamaway08 @est1887 @multiflixshelves @thanossexual @bonsaijoons @spookyboogyuniverse @ankhmutes @spaghettificationandpretzels @trublu2u @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @skyesthebomb @viridianphtalo @yezzyyae @casa-boiardi @lulawantmula @vermillionwinter @trublu2u @lauraaan182 @ghostslillady @@xo-zeze @@destielsdaugther @anoverwhelmingdin @marshmallowflufffox

Black Ice Series:

Part One: Black Ice - Frank rushes home after hearing you've been in a car accident.

Part Two: Ice Pack (NSFW) - Frank loves you for the first time in months.

It’s been almost two months since you last laid eyes on Frank, since he slipped from your sheets whilst you were sleeping and disappeared into the night. It’s not unusual, the real surprise is that he stuck around for six weeks this time. Normally it’s a night or two, no longer than a week.

You’re out for a run in the park when someone falls into step alongside of you. You know it’s Frank, you’d know his presence anywhere. The two of you have a six sense when it comes to each other.

“Castle.” You huff out his name between breaths, keeping your gaze fixed on the bench right straight ahead of you.

“Knee’s holding up pretty well Lieutenant.” He remarks as you slow to a jog.

The truth is it’s aching already. You’ve been pushing yourself lately, trying to get back in the field because being behind a desk is killing you.

“Physio’s helping.” You tell him as you stop alongside the bench, the one where the two of you had sat all those years ago. You’d been a Sergent back then, reading the morning paper and sipping a cappuccino when The Punisher had sat down alongside you and told you Lou Beretti had put a hit a out on you for killing his son during an undercover op.

The two of you had been exchanging information for a couple of years by that point. He got the jobs done that you couldn’t. The law wasn’t infallible, far from it. Sometimes bad men walked free, they went on to kill again, to rape and torture, that’s where Frank came in.

“It was him or me.” You’d told him, pulling up your sleeves so that he can see the scars that transect your arms. He knew what they were, defensive wounds from a knife, he had a couple of his own. “I chose me.”

Kyle Beretti had a reputation for beautiful women and blades, the two interests intersected more frequently than his father cared to admit. You’d seen the bodies, so had Frank.

“Look,” he’d said. “I don’t want to see you dead.”

You’d laughed then and that laugh…

It lit something up deep inside of him, something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

You weren’t just someone he swapped information with, you were someone he trusted, and humour was the way you dealt with shit when things got tough. The fact he knew that about you was just a testament to how close the two of you had got.

“I’m gonna take care of it.” He’d assured you.

You’d given him that look, the one he’d come to know so well. You were stubborn, you always had been, it’s one of the reasons he’d liked you. You knew who you were, and no one was going to change that.

“I don’t need you to do that.” You’d told him forcefully. “I can take care of it myself.”

It’s an age-old adage he’d heard a million times before and it always ends the same way, with a bullet in the brain. What Lou Beretti had planned for you was much worse, he’d wanted to take you apart piece by piece until you begged for mercy and even then, he wouldn’t end it. He’d keep you alive for days, recording every second of your terror, your agony until your body gave out. Frank couldn’t let that happen.

He'd tried to explain that to you in every conceivable way but you, you were a pain in the ass. You wouldn’t go into protective custody, you wouldn’t take a few vacation days and disappear for a while, you wouldn’t listen to any of his suggestions. It goes round and round until you get up from the bench and walk away.

They come for you that night. You manage to take down two of them but the third gets the jump on you, it ends with a concussion and a spiral fracture in your left arm before Frank gets his ass in there. He has to say he’s appreciative of your work. You’d used the riot shotgun on the first two, gone hand to hand with the third.

When he catches up with Beretti he makes it last, he does the exact same thing the crime lord was intending to do to you. When he’s finished, he sends a bouquet of brightly coloured daisies to your hospital room with a card that says, ‘Rest Easy – F’. That’s how you know he’s taken care of the problem.

“Look.” Frank says interrupting your reverie. “I just wanted to check in.”

You tilt your head towards him. The stubble that lined his cheeks the last time you saw him has flourished into a closely cropped beard. His dark hair’s grown a little long, strands escaping from underneath the charcoal-coloured beanie that’s perched on his head. He’s wearing a grey zip up hoodie over loose running shorts and leggings. The same attire he used to wear to your meet ups.

“The knee is fine. I’m fine. People are still doing stupid shit, so the job is fine.” You tell him, taking a sip from your water bottle. “I think you’re all caught up.”

“Angel…”

He sees the way your jaw clenches at his use of the word. You give him that look, that fierce stare of yours. It causes a pang in his chest because he knows he’s hurt you, and he fucking hates it.

“You know I couldn’t stay.” He says gruffly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“That’s not the part that gets me.” You tell him, using the back of your hand to wipe the water from your lips. “You stay, you go, it’s part of who you are. I accept that.”

You do, you always have. This thing between the two of you has been going on for a couple of years now, you’ve never once chastised him. It’s the other thing that’s cut you deep, the thing he didn’t do, the thing he normally always does.

“I didn’t say goodbye.” He says quietly, his gaze lowering as he scuffs at the tarmac with his sneaker.

“Yea.” You say, replacing the cap in your water bottle with a click.

He always says goodbye, he has ever since the night he slipped up and called you angel in the throes of your love making. That’s the way he thinks of you, his beautiful, battle-scarred angel, the one that gives a shit about other people, who tries her best to do the right thing. You are the one person he doesn’t disappear on, you may not know where he’s going or what he’s getting up to but he never leaves without kissing you on the lips and telling you goodbye. He opens his mouth to explain but the words, they just won’t leave his throat because that means coming clean, admitting that he’s vulnerable.

To you his silence speaks volumes. You laugh and it’s a harsh, bitter sound that stabs into his chest like a knife.

“I don’t need an explanation,” You tell him, your attention diverting to the path ahead. You have that look in your eyes, that faraway distant expression. You’re withdrawing from him, shutting down. “I think I got it loud and clear. Now if we’re done, I need to finish my run, my shift starts soon.”

“I started to settle,” He says abruptly, reaching out for your hand and clasping it in his. “I started to settle, and I didn’t want to leave.”

“Frank...” You begin but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“The first thing I did when I heard about your accident was get in the car to drive here, I was in Minnesota. It took me almost twenty-four hours to get back to the city. I couldn’t get through on your cell and I just kept running all these crazy scenarios in my head. When I saw you, I was so fucking relieved, you have no idea…”

Those dark soulful eyes of his meet yours and you are completely captivated, because you had no fucking clue. You remember that night, how calm he was as he stood before you when you opened the door, how tender he had been in the aftermath.

“All I wanted to do was stick around and take care of you, do you know how nuts that is?” He asks you; his hand comes up to clasp your face, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. “I don’t do that kind of shit and it makes me realise just how crazy I am about you.”

His kiss is soft, tender. It says a thousand things that words just can’t.

I love you; I want you, you’re everything I’ve hoped for, everything I need.

The two of you are far from perfect but you don’t need to be.

It’s messy and it’s complicated but its yours.

At the end of the day that’s all that matters.

“Let’s get you home.” he whispers against your lips. “That knee must be killing you.

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#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher

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f1ghtsoftly · 8 months

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I’ve put this other places, but basically-even if no woman was hurt in pornography, even if no woman was trafficked into pornography against their will getting off to porn would still be gross as fuck.

But usually when I talk about why I was turned off from pornography as a child it has very little to do with the reality that woman are brutalized in it’s creation but the very nature of it as a commercial sex transaction. What is the point of sex if not to authentically bond with another person? Why is sexual desire divorced from just, desiring another person? I could, and still can’t, wrap my head around women as meat, women as objects, women as things to use. What’s the point of that? Where is the gratification if not in the pleasure of your partner? Even temporarily. Why fuck someone you know doesn’t want it? Where is the enjoyment out of causing someone harm?

It bothers me that “normal men” “good men” “feminist men” can cross that line of consent so easily and they can go about their lives and interact with women as friends, mentors, lovers, daughters.

To enjoy viewing pornography knowing that the actress (and sometimes the actor) in the “film” are doing this for money and continue to view it….it is morally wrong. It is a form of sexual assault. It pollutes you mentally and emotionally as you learn to excuse harm done to the others in order to appease your animal instincts. People who watch porn are bad people, they are dangerous people. They are people who watch someone get raped and enjoy it and don’t trouble themselves to think about it further.

But why don’t we see it that way?

The male hatred for women really goes beyond our ability as women to fully understand I think. Like really, consider what would be pleasurable about fucking a corpse. Think about how you’d have to pry a woman’s limbs apart, how cold she would feel, how lifeless the experience would be and the entire time you would simply not think about, not care, or actively like that fact that you’re violating something sacred that you’re treating what was once a loved human being like an object. Or a woman asleep which is much in the same. The fact that men get off on the pleasure of knowing we might wake up. How can a woman enjoy it? Wouldn’t you want your partner to be happy? To love you? To feel pleasure because of your touch? What gain is it to you to know that women live in fear of your desire? How absolutely depraved is man to think that rape is love?

Men frighten me, not because I always believe they’re malicious in a deliberate way, but because they are capable of dehumanizing women so utterly, utterly completely that her horror is not even relevant to them. It’s just an inconvenance as trivial as not liking her “job”. It’s a joke, a dalliance. It’s not serious. Desecration is not sufficient to describe the ways in which male behavior violates the human spirit. How can they live with themselves. How can they live with the lie.

——///

To hear related content on this topic:

#char on char #radblr #radical feminism #radical feminist #radical feminists do touch #radfem safe #radical feminist theory #radfems #radfem #gender critical #Spotify

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cross-word · 8 months

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Right person Right time

Ethan Landry X male reader

Tbh I never knew if I wanted to make a pt2 to the other one but. I got this idea like the second I woke up so I wrote it

Word count: 827

It had been two years since you were hit by a car. Mindy wouldn’t let Ethan near you after finding out why you ran into the street without looking. You finished your education and moved back home unfortunately Ethan’s hometown was also yours.

You never noticed him before but now he's the only thing you notice from his beautiful brunette curls to his 6’2 height everywhere, your local convenience store, to the mall, and now across the street. “Mom how long have they been living here” you ask pointing across the street “oh since we moved in, they were there before us” you never knew Ethan lived across from you.

What are the chances of that?

You were scrolling through dating apps hoping to find a connection but all that pop up is men in their 40’s or guys who clearly are not old enough for this app. When you stumbled upon Chase he was 2 years older than you, he had a job and he was looking for a relationship.

You two talked for weeks before he asked you out on a date.

Your parents were gone, it was just you home alone and soon chase would pick you up for your date.

You sat in the living room waiting for Chase to text you when a knock came from the door. You opened it to see Chase with the nicest outfit and most beautiful smile. But you can’t help but steer your eyes to the house across.

He was watching Ethan from the living room. He might not notice, but you knew he was watching.

You walked to Chase's car and drove away. You watched as a nice casual restaurant showed up. You two talked for hours until you went to the bathroom. You drank your drink, it tasted weird you thought.

“So is anybody at your house” Chase asked “no, my parents are gone for a vacation they’ll be back tomorrow though” you say that your eyes start feeling heavy.

You watched as Chase paid for the meal and took you to his car driving back to your house. You drunkenly walked over to your front door. When you pushed against it. Chase was kissing down your neck and touching you in places you didn’t want to be touched.

“Stop. Get off me” you tell him trying to push him away. Failing as the drugs flood through your veins, suddenly you feel the weight of him fall off. You look in front of you as he is being beaten by a person.

The same person came up to you “are you ok Y/N” they asked you shake your head as a no he grabbed your keys and opened the door. Letting you slump down the couch.

You get up feeling disoriented you look to the kitchen seeing someone cook you walk in to see Ethan “Jesus what are you doing here” you ask him “first of all I’d be more grateful to the person who saved you from getting date raped” he says giving you a plate with pancakes, bacon and eggs.

“I deleted your profile on that app no one’s is going to bother you anymore” he says patting your back “where’s the dude” you ask him “in custody I called the cops and they found date rape pills in his pockets” he says.

“Thanks, Ethan” it felt weird saying his name after what he did to you “can we try this again” he ask “hell no, after you cheated on me it’s going to take a long time before I even trust you again” you tell him chugging down a cup of apple juice.

Long time it did, everyday Ethan would talk to you before you go off to work, ask how work was when he saw your car drive in the driveway.

It took 1.5 years for you to consider liking him back but it was worth it. That’s what Ethan says.

What broke your don’t date ex’s rule was when Ethan surprised you with Valentine’s Day balloons and you agreed.

Slowly you and Ethan started to date and he kept his promise, he never cheated, he never even looked at another person even when they were hitting on him he would look at you with the most caring eyes and they walk away.

Eventually Ethan’s parents wanted to retire so they sold the house to him and sailed across Europe and wherever else they wanted to travel to.

It didn’t take long from him and your parents to convince you to move in. Your mom never wanted you to move out worried you’ll move far and Ethan wants a house where you and him can do anything you two like and anywhere. Never have to worry about your parents walking in on you.

Now here you are, sleeping in the master bedroom with your fiancé tucked into your neck while your dog is tucked into your other side.

#ethan landry #scream 6 #x male reader #ethan landry fluff #x male reader fluff #fluff #jack champion

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loveandmurders · 2 years

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Good morning, I hope you are having a great day. Do you think I could ask maybe the guys being protective? For your Sister Sinclair AU. Someone bothering/harassing reader or a memory of Trudy not being so nice to her and the boys intervening. I just want those guys to protect and take care of me :(. Feel free to ignore this, I absolutely love your AU<3

Hello love, hope you’re doing well!

Your request made me very happy, and because you’re the first one I ever received you’ll have a special place in my heart forever <3 I’m so glad you’re enjoying this AU and of course the boys will take a good care of you! For your request, I mixed a little bit of both, and got carried away so I hope you’ll like this :)

Warnings : sexual predator, mentions of sexual threats, abusive family, mentions of murders, one or two strong words.

You had no idea what to do, and you hated how weak and powerless you were currently feeling. It had been an awful week and it wasn’t going to stop so quickly. You knew he wasn’t going to stop harassing you so easily. He was your boss’ son and the man didn’t take too kindly to the fact you refused to go out with him. He was now doing everything he could to drive you crazy, to hurt you, to make you beg him for forgiveness. He was trying to make your life a living hell, and even was following you around in his expensive car to scare you. He promised you he was going to rape you until nothing would ever be left of you.

And of course you were scared - terrified even - but you would never beg him. You thought about going to the police, but he was rich and you would lose your job. And you really needed that job. Plus, you knew justice wouldn't do anything for you.

What were you supposed to do?

You kept asking yourself this question over and over again.

You were laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling as if you were going to find an answer there. You had cried so much the past couple of hours that your eyes were now dried and hurting. You were hungry but you didn’t have the strength to get up and to fix yourself a meal. You just wanted to disappear and to never feel that pain again. You wanted to be left alone, and to not be ashamed, humiliated and terrified by this man. It was unfair. Because you said “no, I don’t wish to go out with you”, you were now tracked down like a prey. Yes, that was what you hated the most, to be like a prey, to be stripped down of your humanity. You were nothing but a piece of meat some guy wanted. And it was revolting you so deeply inside of you.

You desired this man to die more than anything. It would only be fair after everything he told you, promised you and the way he harassed you.

The worst was that you knew the perfect way to lead this man to his death. You had three dangerous brothers who would do anything for you. It wouldn’t be the first time they looked after you, they protected you. Actually, if you let them do, you would be coddled inside Ambrose, like a true little princess. Bo and Vincent Sinclair would be more than happy to have you around a lot more, allowing them to keep an eye on you. And Lester Sinclair would be forced to be a lot more in town so he could spend time with you. For the twins, it would be a win-win situation. But so far, you had never wanted to live with them.

Your current situation was changing your point of view a lot. Maybe you should go live in Ambrose for a little while, until the man decides to leave you alone? Of course you weren’t certain it was a good idea to talk about it to your brothers… because the man would be dead before you could stop them. You knew how protective of you they were, how they always had been.

You perfectly remembered all the time Trudy, your “mother”, had said something hurtful to you. She would do that when she was so done with your brothers, but at the same time too scared to yell anymore at Bo. He was often on the edge to jump at her throat, and the older he got, the more out of control he became for your parents. So sometimes she was passing her rage onto you. You weren’t the most quiet children ever, but in this household you had needed to raise your own voice to not be forgotten by your parents. But your brothers would have never forgotten you. When Trudy was saying something in order to calm herself down and hurt you in the process, you were usually answering back. You had always felt strong with your brothers by your side, so you dared to stand your ground with your mother. And like Bo, you were too proud to let someone humiliate you like that. But sometimes, Trudy would say the right thing to shatter your heart in pieces. She would say something about how annoying you were to talk so much like that, or how you would never be good enough for a certain project you really wanted to do. When she was finding the right thing to break you, you were instantly falling silent. You would look down and you wouldn’t open your mouth until your brothers would have found how to cheer you up. It could take hours and a lot of cuddling and sweet talking for you to get back to your normal self. And even once you would feel better, for the rest of the day, Bo would keep you by his side, Vincent would find you small gifts and Lester would crack jokes to make you laugh. On the other side, Bo was only feeling more hatred toward her mother for treating you that way, and even her dear Vincent would grow cold and distant to her. Lester would ignore her as if she had stopped existing to him.

One day, she made you cry. It was the first time… and the last. You had created a little wax figurine, out of pure curiosity and you found it not that bad, so you proudly showed it to Vincent. Even though it wasn’t perfect, for a first try it was pretty decent. Vincent was gently praising as he was showing you how to make it better. Trudy entered the room, and saw the sculpture. She took it and threw it away, so quickly that even your brother hadn’t been able to stop her. “To be a wax sculptor, you need talent, Y/N. And only Vincent has it, so please don’t even try again”. In the end, she won, because you never ever tried to work with wax again, no matter how Vincent coaxed you into making something. But at the moment, she didn’t seem to have won. You started to cry and Vincent grabbed you to hug you and comfort you. He sent a death glare to his mother that sent shivers down her spine. At the sounds of your crying, Bo showed up. He had no idea what was going on, but he could tell it was his mother’s fault so he took a knife and started to threaten Trudy with it. He would have hurt her if Victor hadn’t used all his strength to stop his son. Lester arrived in the room as well and he softly guided you away from your parents so you wouldn’t have to deal with any more drama.

As you remembered how safe and loved you had felt after that awful moment, all thanks to your brother, you thought you really needed to go to Ambrose. At least you would be able to sleep without fearing anything. You finally got up, dressed up and reached for your car keys. You didn’t look at yourself in a mirror, too scared of how awful you would look. You just crossed your fingers for your brothers to not notice it; hopefully they would just think you were tired after a week of hard work.

You drove to Ambrose, wondering if the man would follow you down here, to his certain death, or not. You stopped at the edge of it as you found yourself face to face with Lester’s car. The boy jumped out of it, followed by Jonesy, to greet you with his usual toothy grin. You smiled at him and you knew you looked worse than you had hoped when your brother’s smile faded away.

“Everythin’ alright, darl?” he asked you with a frown.

“Yeah, yeah, of course” you replied as you nodded, but you could tell you weren’t convincing him that much.

“Then whatcha doin’ here?” he asked again.

“Can’t I go back home wheneva I wanna?” you huffed with a pout.

“Ya for sure can, but Bo usually needs to beg ya for days.” Lester replied and you sighed, knowing it would be useless to lie to your brothers. You also made a mental note to be nicer to the twins, and to come to Ambrose more often. It was just that the wax sculptures and the killings were weirding you a little bit out. But you were missing your brothers more than you would ever admit.

“Look, I’m just feelin’ a little bit unsafe at my place, and I thought I’d feel betta here” you finally said and Lester nodded in understanding.

“Alright, take Jonesy with ya and be prepared for the twins to question ya to death about it.” he warned you and you did think it was going to lead to someone’s death “Bo sent me on some errands, but I’ll come back for dinner” he promised.

You watched him go as you grabbed your puppy to settle her on the seat next to you, before finishing your travel and parked in front of Bo’s garage. He quickly popped out of it, quite surprised to have a working car coming there, and then even more surprised when he realised it was you. In quick movements, he was already by your side, opening your driver door. He helped you out of the car before grabbing your face to examine you, without saying a word. Alright, you were probably looking like an utter mess if Bo was acting that way. You looked away, in shame, and Bo’s touch grew softer against your skin. He wrapped an arm around you as his eyes searched for yours.

“Who do I need to kill?” he whispered. You gasped at the suddenness of his words. Gosh, your brothers were really a lot more protective than you thought, and yet you knew them well.

“No one, ya’re killin’ enough already” you replied and tried to move past him but he kept you where you were and forced you to look him in the eyes. He wasn't fooling around as usual, he was deadly serious about the situation.

“No one’s makin’ my baby sister cry” he replied with harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you. You knew if he kept saying those kinds of things you would start crying again. But at the same time, you were feeling a lot better to be at Ambrose. You finally wrapped your arms around his neck and hid your face into his chest. He hugged you back.

“Alright, Vincent will get ya somethin’ to eat and then ya’ll talk” Bo decided. You were too tired to protest anyways.

You called for Jonesy and followed him as he guided you to the house. You felt like you could finally breathe once you entered your home and you settled at the kitchen table.

“Ya betta stay here” Bo warned you, but it wasn’t like you were going to run away from Ambrose. You petted your dog and smiled down at her. She brought you some comfort as she stayed close to you, as if she knew. Meanwhile, Bo opened the basement door. He called for Vincent who seemed to be deaf for a moment, until Bo added, quite exasperated by his brother’s attitude, you were home. Vincent was upstairs in a flash. But his excitement turned into worry when he saw you. He knelt by your side and gently stroked your face, silently asking you what was wrong. You shook your head, as you weren’t certain how you could tell them, or even if it was a good idea to talk about it.

“’m fine,’m just hungry” you said. Vincent got up and went to the fridge to get some ingredients. He started to cook for you and you were really grateful your brothers were always eager to take care of you. It wasn’t often you indulged them into fussing around you. Bo sat in front of you, staring at you as if he was trying to read your mind.

“So?” he insisted.

“Ya said food first” you countered back. He groaned in annoyance but didn’t push the subject.

Vincent settled in no time a good meal in front of you before sitting next to you. You thanked him before eating with appetite. Once you were done, you leaned onto the chair and relaxed. You closed your eyes and you could even pretend that everything was alright. Vincent gently took your hand in his and brought it to his masked lips. You looked back at him before sighing. The twins were tense and very focused on you. You felt like you wouldn’t be able to escape them, and you were too tired for that.

“’s just a guy” you finally said and Bo arched an eyebrow.

“Did he hurt ya?” he asked

“Well, not physically… not yet” you replied and you could tell the twins weren’t taking too kindly what you were saying.

“So he threatened ya. Alright, what did he say?” Bo continued. You looked away.

“Doesn’t matter” you tried to defend yourself.

“Why are ya here, Y/N?” he added and Vincent sent him a disapproving look. Bo sounded rude and his twin didn’t want him to scare you off. Bo just didn’t know how to stay calm when his darling sister was telling him someone was harassing her.

“’m just feelin’ safer here…”

“Oh so ya think he could truly hurt ya” he said, getting darker and darker.

“I don’t wanna ya to kill him! What if the cops found their way down Ambrose!” you exclaimed, because it was the only reason you didn’t want to tell them. It calmed down the twins a lot and they moved closer to you. Vincent slightly removed his mask so he could kiss your fingers and Bo gave you his signature smile.

“Give your big brothers some more credits, love” he replied. You rolled your eyes at him.

“He’s my boss’ son. I refused to go out with him and now he is followin’ me and tellin’ me he’ll sexual abuse me” you finally said it. Bo’s smile fell instantly and was replaced with true and pure rage. You could tell Vincent was only better at hiding it, but he was feeling the same way than his twin. The man was dead for sure now.

Bo was about to ask some more questions, but got interrupted. You jumped a little when Bo’s phone suddenly rang. You watched him frown before answering it.

“What’s up Lester?” he asked and listened very carefully to his kid brother. He hummed and hung up.

“Is Les okay?” you said, hoping everything was fine. Bo only nodded.

“Hey, love, how about ya go get some rest, hmm? We’ll continue this discussion once Lester’ll be here too” he said. You were quite surprised, but you were glad you didn’t have to keep talking about it. You were about to start crying again.

Vincent guided you upstairs and helped you settle into your bed. Jonesy laid down at your feet, like a guard dog. You thought that the whole household was actually overprotective of you, but in the moment, you didn’t mind. Vincent removed his mask to kiss your forehead as a silent promise you were safe. You watched him leave your room, and then you instantly fell asleep.

You woke up hours later to the sound of your brothers quietly chatting downstairs. You took a shower before joining them downstairs. You were feeling a lot better than when you first arrived. You found the boys in the living room and sat next to Bo on the couch. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder to have you closer before kissing your temple. Lester brightly smiled at you and Vincent offered you some cookies that just finished being baked. You stayed silent, enjoying the quiet moment when it hit you: your brothers were all too calm and relaxed.

“What’s goin’ on?” you asked and the twins shrugged, as if to say ‘oh but nothing, everything is alright’, so you stared at Lester. He looked down at the ground before spilling out.

“A man was lookin’ for ya earlier” he said and you tensed but Bo shushed you. “He said ya owe him and all kinds of weird stuff, so… hmm… so we talked to him” Lester didn’t know what to say as he didn’t want to say something that would trigger you.

“Ya killed him?” you asked Bo who nodded

“Just keepin’ you all safe, love” he replied

“Ya won’t turn him into a wax sculpture, right? I don’t wanna stumble into him one day…” you said to Vincent who quickly shook his head before gesturing toward Lester.

“He’s in the pit already” Lester promised and you fully relaxed against Bo’s side.

You stayed silent for a few moments as you needed to process all that information.

“Well thank ya I guess” you finally said to your brothers.

“We saved ya and all ya givin’ us is a ‘Thank ya I guess’?” Bo teased, but only because he was in a good mood now. Vincent shook his head in disapproval once again and Lester rolled his eyes, not impressed either.

You thought about it, and you believed Bo was right, for once.

“Thank ya and I promise I’ll come back home every weekend. Betta?” you offered and by the bright smile appearing on their three faces, you could tell that yes, it was indeed better.

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animenicolesmith · 3 months

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i’m so tired of being assured over and over that everything is going to be okay and then just one day suddenly nothing is okay and everything i’ve ever done is wrong and horrible and bad. I don’t understand what i do that makes everyone hate me so much, all i do is try to be nice and accommodating and considerate. I know that i’m pretty boring and i don’t have a very robust personality but i try to be nice and be there for the people in my life.

it just feels like my entire life has been a punishment for some past life karmic misdeed. i’ve been raped 3 times. i’ve been sexually, physically, and emotionally abused by so many people in my life since i was a very small child. i’ve been stalked to the point that i had to leave college after being set up by someone. and after all this I have severe ptsd and i can’t find anyone to treat it. who have i been that i deserve this? what have i done? when does someone else make a sacrifice for me? when do i stop losing? My father never wanted kids, i wasn’t supposed to be here. When do i get to leave? The pain gets worse every day. I grow more alone every second that ticks by. If i died there wouldn’t be anyone at the funeral besides my family. I have no meaningful connections because i am too scarred to make any friends. I can’t talk to anyone, i can’t leave my house alone.

It really just never stops. not even for a second. The world is ending every day and i can see it but i can’t make myself care about it. i can’t do anything about anything, i have never had any control. I can’t make myself imagine a future anymore. there’s only suffering on the horizon. i don’t know how to end it quickly enough. everything is too shattered, my pieces are in pieces.

I’ve been on a downward spiral since i could talk, i will fall sleep and never wake up.

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yourmomsfav18 · 1 year

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Never bump into strangers

Paring - illumi x reader

Summary - You got to a BDSM club with your friend and meet this weird ass guy that to hooks up with you.

Tw(s) - sexual content, cussing, very kinky, shit sounds like rape but I promise it’s lot

AN - idk I just wanted to write about illumi and a bdsm club lmao

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If you didn’t love the fuck out of your friend you would have came. Watching as your friend was drunk dancing with this strange man in the crowed and you were just sitting there…very awkwardly. You’ve never been to a bdsm club so when your friend suggested it you of course turned it down and said “it’s not my kinda thing” but when she told you she didn’t like clubbing alone while forcing you into the car you just went with it. So now you were sitting her lonely tipsy and horny. You were ashamed to admit watching all these people tease each other was kinda a turn on. So now you were stuck between two options leave and solve the problem or stay with your friend and suffer…and of course you choose to leave and take care of your needs. So you got out of your seat and started making your way to your friend to tell her you were about to leave so she wouldn’t get worried.

“Damn this place is packed” you whispered to yourself. “Maybe I should just call-“ you stopped thinking mid sentence when you felt yourself lose your balance. You grabbed on your the nearest thing with happened to be what felt like a…a long strand of hair? Once you got your balance you were already preparing your “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean too” speech but before you could you felt something grab your arm in an iron grip. You looked up to see a man with big very very bug eyes staring down at you with this monotone look.

“What are you doing?“ you starred trying to process what he was saying but with all the flashing light, loud music and iron grip on your arm all your could do was reach for your arm and try to get loose. That only lasted about 2.5 seconds before you felt him pulling you off somewhere. You tried to get free tell him to let go but it didn’t work and by the time you felt his grip loosen you felt you body being slung into a closet? You were so confused and the tequila in your system really wasn’t helping.

You scrambled to your feet when you heard the loud slam of a door and what sounded like the lock turning.

“I asked what you were doing” the calm deep voice asked as he grabbed a grip of your hair yanking you back down to your knees. You let out a yelp from not only the pain but the shock of it all. You opened your eyes which you had forgot you shut when you realized it was pitch black. You couldn’t see a damn thing! You heard an irritated grunt come from above you as a cold hand slithered around your neck. “So not going to answer I see. Oh well it can’t be helped.” You we��re flip on you back. “Ouch! What the fuck are you doing.” He pinned your arm by your sides and glanced at you “so you can speak…I hope you don’t mind if I use you for a bit. I was out there about to get some play” He nugged his head towards the door “but…you interrupted that. I’m actually quite pissed about it she promised the best blowjob of my life.” He started moving his hand lower to grope at your boobs. “Stop you creep!” You started to squirm around in his grip

“Why are you making this difficult? Are you not here to have hook up with someone?” You looked up at where you thought the man was and just started he’s sexual assaulting you and has the never to ask why you making this difficult!

“I can smell it you know” he pointed a finger to his noise and continued groping at you boobs “I have a very sensitive nose and can smell even the most tiniest scents. I know you want it” He said quite happily as if he wasn’t touching you without consent. “THAT WAS THERE BEFORE YOU GOT HERE! Get off!” You struggled against his hold even more now “Why fight me if I’m helping you? It’s a win win for us both” … silents fell over the both of you as you both starred into the darkness of the room. “He’s not wrong” you thought to yourself “you were in desperate need and a plastic dildo just wasn’t cutting it anymore. You felt his hand wonder lower and wrap you thighs around his slim waist. “I’ll be gentle ok” you didn’t have time to respond before you felt his lips smash against your. It was slow and tender but not loving or caring you tried opening your mouth for air when you felt his wet slimy tongue into you mouth. You bit down in his tongue hard enough to draw blood and he pulled back immediately.

Trying your hardest to catch your breath and recover from the kiss when you felt his hand snake back around you neck and one around your thigh before pulleying you back into the kiss this time a lot rougher.

He began grinding his hips in a fast and rough motion. He slipped his hand down towards your pants and unbuttoned them swiftly removing them in the process. Left in nothing but your top and a pair of underwear the cold air began to hit you, but the chills went right away when you felt something rock hard touch your underwear. “When did he even take off his pants” you thought.

He moved your underwear to the side and spit on his finger before rubbing the inside to get you even more slicker. “I now what I said earlier but I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.” You heart drop and you began to panic as he forcefully shoved himself inside. It was big a very painfully stretch. You repeated the words wait several times before he could get even half way in. Finally fully seated inside he began to move his hips. You curled your toes in pain and pleasure as he bottomed out inside. The song that was playing was fast and a very loud bass . The faster the music got the faster he got. Your yelps and screams could only be heard yourself and him with how loud the music was. The hand that was on your neck moved up to your mouth to muffle your screams a bit. Tears rolled down your checks as you grabbed onto his back and left red marks all over. Everything felt so good but hurt so much you’ve never experienced anything like this. You hadn’t even realized that you had cum your brain was so scrambled.

“Damn.” You heard him grunt before he gripped your throat as tight as humanly possible and let out a creamy substance that filled your insides.

You were a panting mess trying to catch you breath as best you could wanting to do nothing than sleep. Mean while the figure above you was acting like he just took a walk in the park and didn’t just take you to pound town for the last 20 minutes. You cervix was crying out in pain you pretty sure you were going to see a doctor to make sure everything was alright.

Finally he pulled letting all of his cum drip on the floor. He stood and some how his pants were back on. “Thank you” his said rather cheerfully and walk out the door without giving you a second look.

#chrollo x reader #chrollo headcanons #chrollo x y/n #chrollo hunter x hunter #commission #illumi headcanons #illumi x reader #illumi hunter x hunter #illumi x y/n #hisoka headcanons

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thebattleofstarcourt · 2 years

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.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ . a new hell

eddie munson x gn!reader

requested by: @fofisstilinski :)

warnings: blood, 1 mention of date-rape-drugging (but it does not actually happen), vecna being a gaslighter, angst w/ a happy ending

you don’t remember a lot about the last week. you remember bits and pieces, like a film camera flipping through stop-motion stills. you remembered blood, and yelling, and crying and walking home alone from eddie’s trailer for the first time in almost a year.

there was some other things you remember, too. you remember a voice, a sinister one, telling you things about yourself. things you absolutely hated. you remember closing your eyes and seeing the film strip — the blood, the yelling, the crying. you remember opening the fridge and seeing a grandfather clock nesting between the orange juice and egg carton.

it was the last spring break of your high-school career and you were spending it going crazy. well, at least, you thought you were going crazy, until you heard the voice again.

he was good before you it said. he was happy.

he didn’t hurt before you. you did this to him. why did you do that? how can you claim to love someone and watch them bleed before you. he suffered for you and it’s your fault.

your head was spinning at this point. the glass of water you had just poured yourself slipped from your hands and shattered on the glass floor. you knew what was happening — you were hallucinating. but it felt so fucking real, you couldn’t help but lean into it. it was terrifying, but it was safe. probably because you knew you deserved it.

you heard the sound of a car pulling up in your driveway but you didn’t care. it probably wasn’t real and you needed more water so you walked back to the fridge, your bare feet stepping on the shards of broken glass, but you didn’t care, you just needed a cup of water, 2 advils, and a benodryl, then you’d sleep off whatever the fuck has been happening to you.

you opened the door and instead of condiments, you were suddenly transported back into to eddie’s trailer. he was standing in the bathroom, with the bloodied lip and black eye, but when he looked back at you, you could barely recognize him.

“are you okay?” you heard a voice ask, before realizing it was coming from your mouth. you didn’t remember opening it, but the other eddie just stared at you with disgust.

“haven’t you done enough?” he snapped, not turning his attention away from his reflection in the mirror.

“what did i do?” your voice asked, referring to the incident that brought the both of you there in the first place. one that involved eddie, jason carver, and his lackeys in the courtyard during lunch.

“cut your bullshit,” he said. “don’t act fucking dumb.”

“are you being serious right now?” you said, your jaw dropping in awe. “you actually think this is my fault?”

“i told you it was a bad fucking idea!” he yelled.

“i just wanted you to fucking look at me!” you yelled back. “when we’re in school you act like i don’t even exist! even the fucking freshman in your club don’t even know about me!”

“i did that for a reason!” he pointed to his black eye and bloody cheek. “this reason exactly, actually.”

you opened your mouth to defend yourself but he just kept going.

“but no.” he said. “you just had to fucking kiss me in the middle of the fucking cafeteria, in front of everyone.”

“we’re a couple, eddie!” you said. “couples kiss each other in public!”

“not when it’s gonna get the whole fucking athletic department to bash my face in because they think i’m drugging you to fuck me!”

“i didn’t want that to happen, eddie!” you said, “i love you, i never want to see you hurt.”

“you don’t fucking love me.” he spit, his voice laced with venom. “you don’t care about anyone but yourself. if you loved me, you wouldn’t never done this to me.”

you gaped, completely taken aback by your boyfriend’s foreign streak of cruelty. “i didn’t…” you said, voice breaking as tears began to flood down your face.

“this is your fault.” he said. “it’s all your fucking fault.”

you cried, harder than you ever have before. but when you opened your eyes to try to reason with your furious boyfriend, all you saw a glooming dark figure, tall with charred flesh and eight arms.

“aren’t you tired?” it asked, it’s voice awfully reminiscent of the one that’s been haunting your head.

“please,” you tried, but it shook it’s head and stalked closer to you.

“let me help you.” it said, and suddenly one of it’s demonic hands was on your face and you felt your feet leave the ground.

before you could fully succumb to it’s offering, you heard the soft strums of music, directing your attention away from the monster before you. you turned around and found yourself, not in eddie’s trailer, but another realm entirely — one much darker and air dust-filled air that flew across the sky, softly illuminated by bolts of red lightning.

in the distance, there was a small circle of light. it was hard to tell, but you swore you saw a guitar framed in the center of the circle. fingers strummed it lightly and the more you focused, the more familiar the hands became. they had silver rings and bitten nails and the tail end of a tattoo on it’s connecting wrist.

the chords became more cohesive and you recognized the song immediately. it was eddie’s song, the one he wrote a couple of months ago. It was slow and soulful, a stark contrast to any other song he ever wrote, or hell, even listened to. but you didn’t mind. you sat at the foot of his bed and listened as he nervously fumbled around his guitar strings, pretending like he didn’t know the instrument like the back of his hand. you beamed at him with a bright smile as he hummed a soft tune. his voice was raspy, deep, and definitely damaged beyond repair from the years of smoking, but you couldn’t help but tear up as he neared the chorus, where he sung your name in a sweet melody while looking at you with hearts in his eyes.

you told him it was the best song you’ve ever heard in your life. he said you were biased because it was about you, but you don’t care. maybe you were, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t telling the truth.

you felt a shift in your mind, like the wires in a circut board miraculously reconnecting after periods of dormancy. what once was a blank slate of misery, guilt, and self-loathing, suddenly roared back to life, and you could finally think clearly for the first time in a week. before you could even think twice, your feet as you took off in the direction of eddie’s music.

the closer you got to the music — the light — your mind was starting to clear. you began running like your life depended on it because you just fucking realize it does. you ran closer to the light, and closer, and closer and –

you woke up on the floor of your kitchen, sitting in water, glass, and a small puddle of your own blood. your head was pounding, your heart was racing, and your lungs felt like they had just got finished running a marathon through a wildfire, but when you up and saw eddie leaning above you and as tears ran down his face, you ignored your exhaustion and slammed your body into him.

“baby,” he said. “oh my god.” he pulled you closer so that your chests were squished against each other. your adrenaline was drained and all the fear you drowned out was catching up to you while you let yourself go limp in his arms.

“it fucking worked oh my god,” he mumbled into your hair.

your continued to bury yourself in his neck, attempting to isolate yourself from the world around you. like no one else but you two existed.

“i’m so fucking sorry.” he said. “this is my fault, i was so fucking mean to you and i pushed you into this bullshit. i was so mad at jason and everything and i took it out on you and i really fucking should have and-”

“hey nothing is anybody’s fault, okay?” a rapsy voice said, immediately alerting you of their foreign presence in your home. you quickly whipped your head away from eddie and to the owner of the voice in question and were met with 6 people you have never talked to before.

“what the fuck?” you asked before eddie took your face in his hands and turned you to face him.

“holy fuck you’re bleeding,” he said, pulling himself away from you looking down at your feet. “oh my god, jesus christ.”

“i’m fine, just –”

“someone go find a fucking first aid kit for the love of fucking – ”

the rest of the corwad immediately dispersed, half of them opening every door in their line of sight to find a bathroom, and the other half haphazardly flipping through every cabinet in your kitchen. if you were less terrified, you’d probably ask why the fuck you could hear steve harrington and nancy wheeler quietly bicker over whether or not they could use the a bottom half of a bottle of volka to clean your wounds.

“are you okay?” he asked. “are you hurt?”

“you’re here.” you said, ignoring his question.

“i’m here.” he repeated. “i’m here, you’re alive, and you’re okay and i’ll never leave you again, okay?”

“why are you here?” you asked. “what happened?”

“i can’t let you get hurt.” he said. “not because of me.”

the eerily familiar sentiment caused a wave of tears to flow from your eyes, and he responded pulling you back into his embrace and matching your weeps.

“i’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“eddie –”

“i love you.” he said. “i miss you. i miss you so fucking bad, baby. i’m so sorry.”

you just wrapped yourself around him and cradled his head.

+ .˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ . +

BONUS (bc i couldn’t resist lol):

“so who’s gonna tell them?” dustin asked, walking up to his his group of his fellow soldiers — his friends, if he put it kindly. “‘cause i was the one who told eddie and i don’t wanna do it all again.”

“oh c’mon you love doing that.” lucas said. “it’s the closest you’ll get to being a DM in real life.”

“maybe eddie should explain it.” max budded in. “he’s the closest to them, they’ll believe it more from him.”

“he barely knows what’s happening. plus, he’s just as distraught as him.” nancy said, looking over to eddie cradling your feet in bandages with shaking hands.

“well i just got here, like, 9 months ago.” robin said, putting her hands up. “so it’s not gonna be me.”

“i mean if we’re abiding by that rule, then i’m out too.” max agreed.

“you’ve done like like 3 times already!” dustin protested.

“jesus, stop fighting.” steve said, stepping forward. “i’ll do it.”

“god no.” dustin, lucas, and max said in unison.

“what the hell? why?” he asked.

“you being steve harrington is distracting enough.” robin said.

“you too?”

“uh duh.” she replied, walking up to him. “if we didn’t, like, seriously trauma bond after being kidnapped by russian soldiers, i totally wouldn’t have believed steve the hair harrington spent his free time fighting DND monsters with 14 year-olds.” she said. “and i don’t even like men like that.”

“rob, how many times have i told you to please stop referring to me as steve the hair–”

“honestly, i vote nancy.” dustin said. “she’s definitely the most trustworthy-looking person out of all of us.”

“yeah, me too.” max said, and robin nodded in agreement, mouthing a quick “sorry” to the girl in question.

nancy sighed and rolled her eyes. “fine, but if i get stuck,” she pointed to dustin and lucas, “you two are helping me. deal?”

“fine.” they huffed, the group making their way over to where you and eddie were sitting on your couch.

“hey, i’m nancy wheeler.” nancy said. “i don’t know if you know me –”

“from the school paper, right?” you asked.

“yeah.” she nodded, looking back to the group behind her and sending them a sharp glare before sitting down next to you.

“do you remember when will byers went missing a couple years ago?”

/ .˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ . /

another a/n: if ur reading this and are mildly interested, i have a full draft of the actual fight that reader and eddie had (without all the vecna manipulation). it’s decently similar (a lot of lines were directly pulled from it), but it has a slightly less evil tone for eddie so lmk if you’d like to see that as well!

#wc:2.1k #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #my fics

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psychic-refugee · 8 months

Note

Curious as to what you think of the resurgence of click bait articles claiming Percy has been taken out of Wednesday season 2? Went to do a quick check on him on Google and it was the top results again after a blissful period of silence. Also I love your mood boards <3

I think everything should always be reviewed with a critical eye, within context, and as a whole.

I think it’s worth noting that there was a “blissful period of silence.” Slow periods of gossip like to be filled with more gossip. I feel like these days “X male actor caught in accusation scandal” is low hanging fruit.

It’s very easy to get the gullible riled up and angry, as we’ve witnessed with PHW antis.

We also see that in short succession, we also saw Trump lose a second defamation case against E. Jean Carrol AND Danny Masterson just got 30 years for his rape trial.

I don’t specifically think it was a concerted effort by this particular gossip rag to write about all them together, but I think they can see what will get a lot of clicks given the current social climate.

I will say that the Daily Mail article had the most decisive language to date in terms of outright saying he was kicked off. But they still did CYA later on by specifying that a) Netflix hasn’t confirmed this and b) it was a “close family friend” who “told” them. The latter also gave me pause because it’s different that the normal go to “insider.”

Both the decisive language and different “source” did more to make the story seem credible, but it’s still all sleight of hand mind tricks. In context, additionally, the Daily Mail is also a bigger gossip rag than the rando, smaller gossip sites.

IMO, Daily Mail can be more aggressive in their language because they’re bigger and probably have a more robust legal department. They can flirt closer with libel than other sources simply because they have money. Money is intimidating and a shield, they can say things with more confidence even if they know it’s all bullshit.

I wouldn’t be surprised, nor would I blame anyone, if people were more worried about this article than the others.

I would not worry at this point, because despite the more aggressive language, it still has the pitfalls of the nobody sites such as Poptingz or whatever.

It’s a gossip site, it’s bread and butter are clicks and getting people talking. I think there’s an expectation that it’s not a reliable source, legally most of them are categorized as “Entertainment” vs News. There’s no money in being ethical, factual, or writing the truth.

Why now? The accusations are almost a year old and PHW hasn’t been arrested nor is there a hint of a police report. There is documented evidence of the accusers retracting and clarifying that PHW hasn’t done anything criminal to them personally, only that they heard or speculate that he did something criminal to others. It would be strange IMO to drop him now, rather than earlier when the fervor was at an all-time high AND before the accusers incriminated themselves and tossed away any shred of credibility they might have had.

I think Netflix has enough problems right now, they don’t need to get a reputation of not standing by their talent when there is such poor, unsubstantiated evidence. It would also set a precedent that all a competing actor needs to do is create a sock account and accuse someone of malfeasance.

These idiots on twitter and tumblr were believing accounts with no name or real PFP, screenshots that could easily be faked and also showed no criminal intent, and the accusers bragged about “canceling” someone across MULTIPLE social media sites.

I would be hard pressed to believe that any reasonable company would see loud idiots on twitter and Insta as a bellwether for real life sentiment.

The idiots stick to their safe space of social media rather than real life for a reason. These people don’t actually care about women, victims, or justice. They simply see an easy and trendy way to take the moral high ground to justify being their worst selves.

They basically want a pat on the back for being gullible, telling someone to kill themselves, and falling face first into fascism (which is what arresting someone with no evidence is).

They can only do this on social media. I would bet money that no one in their real life is aware of their beliefs or what they’ve said to people online.

Overall, I think the only time we should be really worried is if any NEW accusations AND actual, substantiated evidence are brought forth, AND an actual police report was made, followed up by charges from the Crown.

Otherwise, it’s just recycling the same bullshit and stirring the pot.

Glad you like the moodboards! Thanks for liking and reblogging.

I do respond to asks, so feel free to put in a request. I just can't guarantee a time frame. lol

#percy hynes white #Psy Answers #percy found not guilty

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caterpillarinacave · 7 months

Note

Tatiana is absolutely evil, but I don't think she's fully in her rights mind. Like, I think Tatiana is also a victim in many ways, and she was driven to madness and evil despite having once had the potential to be a fine person. Mortmain is WAY scarier than her because he isn't just in his right mind - he's incredibly methodical, meticulous, and scientific as he goes about his plots. He caused a girl to be born while fully intending even before she existed to rape her and use her to breed his children. He linked her to an angel to make sure she survived. He worked for decades to perfect his automatons. He is batshit crazy and is basically an evil capitalist overlord.

I find Mortmain to be a genuinely unsettling villain.

Tatiana is very much not in her right mind, and falls into the category of “shadowhunter women who didn’t get what they want and absolutely can’t deal with it”. She sort of does that thing that a lot of fictional charcaters, and a lot of real people, do where when someone is absent from their lives they make them up in their heads to fix everything. Like “if only my dad were alive everything would be perfect!” Or “my grandma was exactly like me if I’d known her I wouldn’t be lonely!”, when they barely knew that person, and that person defiantly wouldn’t fix everything.

In TLH she operates with idea that if Rupert were still alive everything would be better, and if her Benedict was alive everything would be perfect, when logically, she’s totally wrong.

Mortmain on the other hand has no delusions about anything.

He’s the opposite of a lot of characters in that he doesn’t seem mean and have a nice, sympathetic side, he almost seems nice while very much not caring.

He’s not at all concerned with human life or even recruiting people. He’ll straight up say “so and so shouldn’t die” and kill them without being at all smug, sad, or angry.

It’s not even like there’s anything you can do to make him angry. He’s going to destroy the shadowhunter end of story. You can bring up his parents if you want but it’s not gonna upset him.

He basically views everyone around him as very little more than ants.

Also he fought like ten shadowhunter children. No one in the institute is over the age of like 23 and he still lost.

He is so creepy. He’s planning to breed a teenager??? He’s planning to keep her, mostly teenaged, friends hostage so she doesn’t defy him??? So creepy. So gross. Loved his death<3

Part of me wishes we could have seen what would happen if the TID gang did stay in the mountain for few days, solely to see some interactions. There are a few interesting parallels in the books involving Mortmain that I’ve never seen anyone point out. Whenever I reread TID I’ll point them out. He’s easily my favorite TSC villain, since he’s so successful in being a major threat while still being at his core just a dude.

#If I had energy the fic I write involving those paralells and that possible au #Thanks for the ask #tid #Eat the capitalist #Or crush him to death in an angelic grip

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rosemary-morgan · 2 years

Text

Aemond Targaryen X F.Reader - Greedy lust (Part 1)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Summary: You take care of him when he is sick. Aegon enjoys all the attention you give him, for he is quite taken with your beauty. But you have someone else in mind, even though you know that there will be no future with him...

Warning: Strong language, angst, attempted rape, violence

Okay guys, this is my first story for this fandom. I hope so, so much that I have described the two characters of the brothers well. It was not easy for me, but I hope that I can make you happy with this story. Also sorry if it’s OOC 😅The question is if I will write a second part? We will see 👀😊

Read part 2 here 👈

Greedy lust

"Please, stay down, young master."

Aegon looked at the beautiful woman above him as she wiped the sweat from his forehead. But as Y/N had feared, her patient was not doing what she had kindly asked him to do. He challenged the young woman, for he wanted to find out how far he could go before she would lose patience. The funny thing was that he knew very well that she would not dare to order a Targaryen to do anything. So he could do whatever he wanted. He grinned towards her, and when Y/N perceived this from her point of view, she sighed softly. She already knew this kind of game, and yet she never lost patience with him. It was not the first time she had to take care of the young man. For days now Aegon had been bed bound because he was afflicted with fever and pain. Being near him felt strange, because she felt his fiery eyes on her. However, she did not mention with a word that she found it uncomfortable. But, what could he possibly do? He was not able to do anything stupid at all. She also tried to ignore the fact that he touched her by any opportunity.

"I can't stay calm looking at you."

"Sir, I beg you."

"Oh, you would beg me, if you would only let me."

Y/N knew exactly what Aegon meant by that and this time, she had to bite her tongue not to say anything back. The young woman turned away from him to dip the cloth into the bowl of cool water.

"If I wasn't so sick, I'd take you right now. Wouldn't you like that?"

She remained silent, wringing out the wet cloth before turning back to him and placing the cloth on his forehead. He waited for her to answer, but when he realized that Y/N had no intention of answering him, his grin faded. His gaze darkened, his mood suddenly turning bad. Who the hell did she think she was? She had to answer him! At least that was his point of view. Y/N quickly realized that he didn't like her manner, so she tried to placate him.

"You flatter me, young master. But right now you need rest and recuperation. No excitement."

There it was again. That smug grin of his, which almost made Y/N roll her eyes.

"You're just delaying what's about to arrive, Y/N."

She heard him laugh softly as he stroked his fingers along her arm. Y/N shuddered and her heart hammered wildly against her chest. Oh, hopefully he would know how to behave next time he visited, otherwise his mother would have to find another healer!

"But maybe you're right. However, I assure you that even in this condition I would be able to satisfy you. Better than those farmers out there!"

Oh, Y/N had no interest in Aegon at all. His arrogant and selfish manner disgusted her.

"Well, young master. I will check on you tomorrow!"

She just wanted to escape from his bedchamber and forced a smile on her face, as she rose from her seat.

"Can’t wait for it, Y/N."

He wink at her, and the moment Y/N finally left the room, she sighed in relief as she stroked through her long hair.

What a terrible man, she thought.

She was a healer and unfortunately it happened often, that men considering her as an object. Just like Aegon did. But this was her life. She wanted to help people because that was what she had been taught from an early age. Her father had taught her a lot about healing herbs, but she also knew about the plants that could take lifes. Y/N didn't reveal much of her knowledge, since she didn't want to be considered a witch and burned at the stake. Thinking about her job, she walked down the long corridor before noticing long, white hair. It was Aemond who came towards her and immediately caught her eye. A smile played around her lips and he did the same, while his gaze wandered over the young woman's body. Y/N didn't miss this gesture and she shuddered. But this time, it was a pleasant, an almost exciting feeling.

She liked it. The distinctive features, his beautiful, curved lips and the scar... This scar. What history was it hiding? She did not know him and yet she felt all the more attracted. They hadn't exchanged a single word before, but their gazes were all the more intense.

As Aemond walked close past her, he looked intensely into her eyes and their arms touched. The fact that his brother Aegon kept sending for this healer did not surprise him and yet it bothered him enormously that she took care of him. Aemond knew him. He knew his brother wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her, and he feared that Y/N would also be bothered by his lustful looks. However, he did not know that Aegon touching her by every opportunity.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir!"

She had touched him as he passed, but it was Aemond who had bumped into her. He had only wanted to touch her once, to inhale her scent, and by God, she smelled so good. And to hear her tender voice now was the crowning glory of the whole thing. Instantly, the young man shivered and the smile on his lips did not pass.

Aemond didn't say anything, but averted his eyes from her and simply walked past her. Her heart beat to her throat as she looked after the handsome man and she blushed. He was mysterious, quiet, and she knew what they were saying. Still waters run deep. But Y/N also knew there was no hope of holding this man's interest in the long run. She did not belong to a noble family. She had grown up in simple circumstances. Even if she was a healer and she had a good status among the inhabitants, she would never be seen at this man's side. At most for passionate nights. After that, another woman would take her place anyway. So why should she torture herself? The sooner she would banish Aemond from her mind, the better. She should not let any feelings get to her in the first place. The young woman would try it, but the coming days did not make it easy for her...

It happened one late afternoon, after she had taken care of her patient Aegon, she was on her way home. She left the building and entered the courtyard when she saw Aemond sitting on a bench. His bloody wound on his left rib, immediately caught her eye, just as she noticed that his torso was unclothed. At first she just looked at him from afar, but then she slowly approached him and when Aemond noticed her, his eyes looked up at the delicate creature.

"May I?"

Her voice sounded pleasant to his ear and the young man nodded towards her with a smile.

She knelt down beside him and looked up at him before daring to touch his wound. She just wanted to make sure Aemond wanted her treatment.

"Go ahead, Y/N."

He knew her name? How? Had he picked that one up somewhere? Y/N didn't think about it for long, as she instantly attended to the young man's cut. She cleaned his wound, wiped away the blood around it, and immediately realized that the cut was not deep. Aemond closed his eyes for a moment as he breathed in her scent, just barely suppressing a moan of pleasure. Having her so close to him made his blood boil. Unlike his idiot brother, he knew how to behave and he wouldn't force himself on Y/N. Well, at least not until his greed would become too great as well. Aemond was not a patient man and when he wanted something, he usually got it. But at the sight of this delicate creature, he hold back the hungry wolf inside him.

But to feel her delicate fingers on his skin made him tremble, for it excited him deeply. The thought of lying in her soft lap pleased him.

"Your wound will heal in a few days. You should keep it clean and an ointment of herbs should help."

She looked up at him, wondering what he was thinking right now.

"I'll... bring you some tomorrow, if you like, young master."

She blushed, suddenly becoming quite unsure, as she realized how close she was to him right now and what this might look like. Kneeling in front of Aemond Targaryen.

"You may do so."

Y/N nodded with a soft smile and rose before walking past him. But the moment she was about to leave, Aemond gently grabbed her delicate wrist, making her stop in her tracks.

"You have my thanks!"

He reluctantly let her go, but he would have plenty of opportunities to seduce this young woman...

♦♦♦♦

"Well, I see you’re doing much better, sir!"

Why had Aegon sent for her if he was in good health? She doubted that he had done it to thank her. He didn't think she had fallen for his advances, did he?

"Indeed."

He smiled seductively at her and Y/N turned her eyes from the young man, trying to hide the fact that she was nervous in his presence.

"So far, you've always been there for me when I was sick."

"I was only doing my duty, sir."

Y/N feared where this conversation was headed and she wanted to defuse this whole situation as soon as possible. Not send any wrong signals, not say any words that he might misunderstand because Aegon seemed to be hoping for a lot from her visit.

"No. I don't think it was just duty for you."

The young man reached for the wine that stood on a table. He wanted to enjoy the wine with her. Oh, the things he could do with this red Liquid and her desirable body...

"Would you like some wine?"

"No, sir. I... don't drink."

She heard Aegon laughing softly, and she swallowed nervously. What was so funny about that?

"I don't believe you. No one can resist the sweet taste of grapes."

Then he filled the glasses with the delicious red elixir and brought her the glass, standing close in front of her so that she could feel his breath on her face.

"Drink. It will do you good."

Hesitantly, she reached for the wine before taking a sip, while Aegon did the same, watching her closely. Then, he took her glas and set both aside.

“I wonder, how you will taste like.”

Aegon didn't want to wait any longer. Without any warning, the young man forced himself on her. His right hand gripped the back of her neck, while his left arm wrapped around her waist, pressing her close to his body.

"B-but, sir!"

"Enough with the games, Y/N. I want you!"

"Please! Who am I anyway? You'll find a woman who suits you better!"

But Aegon felt pure lust and desire right now. Unasked, he pressed his lips to hers and Y/N instantly pushed him away. Aegon did not like this at all and he showed it immediately.

"What are you thinking, you whore? Do you think I'm not good enough for you?"

"Sir, please. I don't want this!"

"I don't care what you want!"

Then he grabbed her arm and dragged her to his bed, where he pushed her on it and instantly mounted her. He tugged at her dress, ripping the fabric from her chest and exposing the tender skin beneath.

"Stop it! No!"

He pressed his hand over her mouth, threatening her, ordering her to be quiet. But enough was enough! Y/N would not put up with this. She punched him right into his face. Aegon had not seen this coming and her attack only made him angrier. The young woman screamed as he grabbed her dark hair and slaped her across the face. He grinned at her, laughing softly.

"You want it the hard way? I'm gonna fuck you so hard until you bleed, whore!"

But it was never to come to that, for in the very next moment she slammed her knee between his legs and Aegon collapsed to the floor, whimpering, while Y/N took flight. She ran down the corridor, fleeing from her tormentor, and by God, she would never enter that building again! Well, if they would even let her live after this. She had dared to hurt a Targaryen! What choice did she had? Tears obscured her vision as she ran for the exit. And as if she wasn't already in a bad situation, she bumped into Aemond and she fearfully looked up at her tormentor's brother, who scowled at her. He looked at her closely, looking into the frightened face of the beautiful woman. Her split lip, the disheveled hair, the torn dress. He knew exactly what was going on here and he was disgust.

"Was that him? My brother?!"

"Please, let me go, sir! I have done nothing wrong!"

Would Aemond punish her? If he found out she had attacked his brother?

"Please, please!"

She whimpered and cried until Aemond gently grabbed her face and soothed her.

"Shh. It's all right," he whispered, looking into her eyes. But Y/N was afraid. Could she trust Aemond? She was trembling all over and the youngh man noticed it.

"Nothing will happen to you."

Because she was under his protection. As for his brother, he would pay him soon enough a visit.

"What happened?"

"Sir, please… I..."

"Don't be afraid." Gently, he wiped the tears from her cheeks, not taking his eyes from her. "Tell me what happened."

"Your brother. He... he forced himself on me!"

"And you didn't want that?"

"No, I didn't want that!"

"Then what happened? Did he go on?"

He already knew the answer and it made him very angry.

She tearfully told him how Aegon had threatened her and Aemond had heard enough.

He leaned his forehead against hers while still holding her delicate face in his hands. She was his and no one would dare touching Y/N!

"No one will harm you!"

And he had no intention of leaving Y/N or replacing her with another woman. She was the woamn he was thinking day and night.

And now she was here. Laying in his arms, crying and afraid of being punished for defending herself.

"Y/N, I will protect you!"

#aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #Female reader #aemond x f.reader #house of the dragon #targaryen #fanfiction #my fanfictions

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