#as i told a friend i want to drag his face against unfinished concrete

[scribespirare]

I want to watch the new season of arcane but it's caused a resurgence of a ship I fucking loathe and my contrarian brain is refusing to cooperate

[cherryobx]

Cell mate for the night//JJ Maybank x reader

requested?: yes honey “jj meeting the reader in a cell as she's being interrogated and smart mouthing the police n introducing her to the pogues? only if you have time don't rush yourself🥺”

A/N: i LOVE the idea but i hate the way i wrote it, i still hope you enjoy it

summary: JJ meets you in the weirdest way possible

warnings: a few curse words i think, grammar mistakes and bad writing, incorrect stuff (i don’t know anything about what goes down while interrogating lmao and i 100% know they don’t put 2 people in the same cell but oh well it’s for the sake of the story)

WC: 1416

NOT MY GIF!!!

Yet again, JJ found himself in a cell at the local police department. He had been there quite a few times but not at a late time like this. It was almost 12 a.m when he was brought in. 

He was there for a pretty stupid reason. He got into a fight at a party and the police were called. The other dude was let go. He was a kook. They never got into serious trouble. But JJ was kept there for the night. He was lucky they didn’t call his dad.

But what JJ didn’t know is that he’d meet the love of his life that night.

You were caught vandalizing a boat. But you, of course, called it art.

“I was just drawing pretty pictures! You’re gonna put a teenager into jail for drawing?” You scoffed in the backseat of the police car, rolling your eyes.

“No, I’m not taking you to jail. And you were not drawing, we both know it. It’s called vandalism.”

When you arrived at the station he got you out of the car and held a firm grip on your hand as he pulled you through the building, making his way towards the cell. 

“Aw, man! I have to share my cell? What a shame,” you commented as he unlocked the only cell that was in that room and slightly pushed you in. The blonde boy, already in the cell, was watching your interaction with the cop.

“Come on, Steve! I didn’t do anything serious,” you complain, leaning against the cell bars, looking at the cop.

“Let me out. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll even be your friend if you let me out. We’re already on first-name basis.”

“No, we are not, Y/L/N.” The cop was looking through the drawers. He was probably looking for your file.

“So it all meant nothing to you? How we met on the dock? How we held hands for the first time?” 

“Y/L/N, we didn’t hold hands. I was dragging you here. Please, let me do my job and tell me everything you did today. And be honest.” He took a seat behind his table and pulled out a pen to write everything down.

“I already told you in the car. Do I need to repeat myself? You have trouble with your memory or something?”

“Y/N/L,” he said in a warning tone.

“What?” you innocently asked.

“Talk.”

“I am talking right now. We’re having a conversation. What else do you want?”

He sighed, looking down at the papers in front of him. You could tell he was already done with your bullshit.

JJ was watching the interaction between you and the cop, smirking. He didn’t even know you but he already liked you. Not only for your good looks but the way you were talking to the cop. You didn’t care that you might get into more trouble than you already were. He admired your personality.

“Y/N, this is your last warning. Talk.”

“Take off the handcuffs and then we’ll see,” you tried to compromise with him. To your luck, it worked. 

After getting free from the restraints on your wrists, the cell was locked again and the cop took his seat once again.

“Now, tell me everything.”

“Well, I was in a spectacularly good mood today. I was feeling artsy, you know. And the boats looked really boring,” you explained, emphasizing on the word ‘really’.

“Go on.”’

“And then I decided to make them a little less boring. That’s it. There’s nothing really. So, when will I get out?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“You’re gonna leave a kid in a cell with a random stranger for the night?”

He got up from his seat and put the papers back in the drawer where he took them from in the first place.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, chief. I’ve always wanted to sleep on a cell floor. You’re fulfilling my dreams right now.”

“You’re welcome.” He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a loud thud.

“Ouch, a random stranger?” JJ asked as if he was hurt by your words.

“I said what I said,” you said, sitting down and leaning your back against the bars of the cell so you could face him.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m JJ. And I just have to say, you’re really good at pissing people off. You got him off of your back in 2 minutes. I have been here for the last 2 hours, talking to him.”

“Well, JJ, what did you do to end up here on this fine night?”

“I got into a fight,” he answered.

“Ooh, a bad boy. What a rebel,” you sarcastically said, making him laugh.

“Are you new here? Cause I haven’t seen you around.”

“Oh, I’ve lived here my whole life. Most of the time I’m just doing my own thing.”

JJ patted the spot next to him on the so-called bed, silently telling you to go sit next to him. Well, it kind of resembled a bed.

“You’re gonna get sick if you sit on that cold concrete floor.”

“So nice of you to care about my health, stranger,” you chuckled and got up from the floor and joined him on the bed.

You leaned your head against his shoulder and let out a tired sigh. JJ leaned his head against yours and you sat in silence for a while. It was a beautiful sight, honestly. 

You had known JJ for only some minutes but you felt sort of connected to him. Like you had known him for years instead of minutes. And that feeling made you comfortable around him. So comfortable that you fell asleep on his shoulder.

You woke up at the sound of a door slam, followed by a “Good morning, lovebirds!”

In the middle of the night, when you were sleeping JJ leaned against the wall behind him and placed your head on his lap so you could sleep more comfortably. 

“Good morning, Steve! So nice of you to finally come back. I missed you.”

“Y/L/N, stop. It’s too early for that.”

The cop came over to the cell, taking out his keys and finally freeing you.

“Maybank, you’re free to go.” JJ just nodded and sent you a smile as a goodbye.

“Y/L/N, we have some unfinished business. I need you to sign these documents. I’ve contacted your parents about the fine.”

“Fine? What the fuck? These it’s not spraypaint, you dumbass. It can be washed off easily.”

“I know. And you’re going to be washing it off tomorrow morning.”

“Then why do I need to pay the fine?”

“Because.”

You huffed in annoyance and took up a pen from the table and signed the papers placed in front of you.

“You may go now.”

“Thanks, bestie, see you soon.” You waved at him as you walked out of there.

“Hopefully not,” he mumbled but you still heard.

“Ouch. I heard that, you prick.”

When you exited the police station JJ was waiting for you. He was sat on the stairs, his back turned to you.

“Waiting for someone, Maybank?” You ruffled his hair as you walked past him. He got up from the stairs, following you.

“Yeah, just this girl I met at a police station cell.”

“She must be amazing,” you jokingly said, flinging your hair over your shoulder.

“She is indeed. And I was wondering if she’d like to meet my friends? I feel like they’d like her.”

“Why do you think so.”

“Cause she’s really cool. I like her.”

“You do now, huh?” you asked, turning around and facing him, smirking.

“I do.”

“Then she’d love to meet your friends. Take her to the right now. She’s busy tomorrow. She has to wash the paint off of a boat tomorrow,” you said, still talking about yourself in third person point of view.

And he did take you to meet his friends. They really liked you, as JJ had expected. You became best friends with them and started hanging out with them every day.

A few weeks went by and you fell for JJ. You had already started liking him the night you met but as time passed, you really fell for him, and you fell hard.

Love strikes you at the weirdest times and in the weirdest places. And you were okay with it. You wouldn’t change anything about the way you met JJ.

taglist: @teamnick @www-imbored-com @delightfullynlove @prejudic3 @afterglows7b-tch13 @tomhardybby @ad-infinitums @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @ilovejjmaybank @mdlyncline @allycat449-blog @abbiesthings @teenwaywardasgardian @copper-boom @canibeoneofthepogues @fttayla @ifilwtmfc @bedazzledbanks @jeyramarie @joshy-obx @pink-meringues

PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK!!!! (it helps me get better at writing)

[shattersstar]

la douleur exquise.

Pairing: Jason Todd!Bodyguard x Reader Prompt: la douleur exquise. / the heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have. a/n: finally got around to reposting this bc tumblr decided to delete the original imagine :/ anyways, feedback is always appreciated and expect of this au

***

The car ride was silent, heavy and cold. You slumped in the passenger seat, knees resting on the inside of the door, head vibrating against the glass as you watched the city roll by in a haze of neon. Police cars caught your attention, screaming down the road and flashing their colourful lightshow. Your head perked up as you gaze followed them, speeding in the direction of the place you were fleeing. You let out a long sigh before slumping back into your chair, letting whatever noise from the radio fill the space. Your shoes were long kicked off and legs tucked up onto the seat, eyelids heavy and lashes slick with tears. Your arms wrapped around yourself as you let your eyes fall shut for the remainder of the drive.

You hadn’t remembered dozing, only waking when a breeze cooled your skin. You blinked awake as Jason turned into a parking lot, window rolled down. You straightened up, rubbing your nose as he let out a long breath, the tensions in his body relaxing. His shoulders had been square, alert, since possible threats at the scholarship party began to hum low. And soon when the night exploded into chaos as so many nights in Gotham do, Jason’s hand was wrapped around the curve of your elbow, leading you away from the danger. Bodies fluttered about in their unorganized manners, shoving and screaming, but he kept moving, kept you close as he maneuvered through the crowd. It surprised you a little how light he was on his feet, how he dodged and curved people with a swiftness saved for those much smaller, much more nimble. You weren’t as graceful, people smacking into you, making you waver as you tried to keep in stride. If Jason hadn’t been holding you, you would’ve been swept away.

But as one particular man, set on escaping any impending doom, shoved between your linked arms, the steady grip Jason held you in, faltered. His vice was gone and you nearly screamed as the man cast you aside with a swift push. You stumbled into a wall, Jason’s name about to fall from your lips when he grabbed you. Hands on your biceps and eyes full of concern, you hadn’t realized you were crying till you saw your reflection in his gaze. Jason crowded over you, people nudging him, but he remained unmoved as he scanned over you. Soon you were in front of him, chests pressed together as he held you, leading you through the sea of scared party goers. You broke into the night with a shuddering gasp, ushered into your car and the whips of cool air rolling over your hot, nervous skin were missed as the car peeled away from the hall.  

Now you got out of the car on your own, ignoring the offered hand as you bare feet touched the cracked concrete. You stepped carefully around the large rocks, the cool air you missed had dropped too many degrees, prickling your skin with goosebumps as you climbed the stairs ahead of Jason. You let him pass you as he moved to unlock the door, holding it open for you to duck under his arm and into the place you two hadn’t been in a while. A safe place that was saved for moments of uncertainty, when your home was possibly too dangerous. You had come accustomed to the procedure after incidents like this, sitting at the dining room table and waiting for Jason who was locking the door and toeing off his dress shoes. He hung his jacket over the back of the couch, dress shirt sleeves rolled up as he squatted in front of you. You always liked Jason in a suit, you also like taking him out of it.

His neatly combed hair, which you had done, was now a mess from his agitated hands and sweat. The white mess of curls fell into his face, dipping past his eyebrows. You told him he needed a haircut, that he couldn't do his job if he couldn’t see. He only had shook his head with a smile on his lips, everything felt so easy just hours ago.

“I’m fine Jay.” You dismissed his gaze and long fingers that tilted your head and inspected the visible skin. You knew your words wouldn’t do anything, that it was his job to make sure you were safe and out of harm's way. And to take care of you when you were hurt

“Does anything hurt?” He ignored your protest as you shook your head.

“Not physically.”

“You hit the wall pretty hard ar-- ”

You brought a hand to his cheek, fingers sliding up to push his hair out of his face. Jason softened, letting his eyes slip shut as your hand slipped to his shoulder, the other one coming to rest on the side of his neck. He stood up slowly, letting your arms drift around his neck as he pulled you into a hug. The professionalism established between months ago crumbled once again as you found yourself in his arms. It seemed that your apartment wasn’t only dangerous to physical threats, but the threat of anyone finding out about your relationship. The one that pushed far beyond client and employee. Moments like this were only shared in safe houses or hotels, away from peering eyes and the violence of Gotham.

Jason smelled of the cologne you gave him for his birthday and the wine that was spilled at the table, its red juices dripping off the round edge, and staining the black of his pants. You had laughed when it happened, a little too loud, too unrehearsed and received a handful of eye rolls for it. You wanted to leave than, to tell your parents that you had no reason to keep coming to these events, to keep putting yourself in danger, but appearance mattered too much to those your family associated with.

Although, none of that mattered now. Not when Jason held you, leading you to the bedroom with the billboard across the street streaking through the close blinds and slotting over his face as you fell onto the mattress. He knew you were thinking too much, about the dinner before and after it went bad. He knew his words would falter and leave the two of you unsatisfied, but he knew you didn’t care for them anyways. Not at this moment. You just wanted to be in his arms, to feel safe again, to feel as vulnerable as could be and not be in danger because of it. Instead, he kissed you like neon. Electric, and loud, and consuming. You already were drowning in him, fingers digging into his skin as you left marks that wouldn’t be as permanent as the others that littered the expanse of his body.

Some were from protecting you, some were memories he wouldn’t share and some you made up your own stories about. Your imagination was always running wild, always dragging you into fantasies of a normal life shared with Jason. But it was all make belief, all conjured in your mind, but what was real, was Jason above you. So, you kissed him with all the urgency you could muster, all the fear you could turn into want as you melted under his finger tips. Under his gaze, so heavy with adortion and desire. It used to dizzy you, when all this first started, when you couldn’t keep your hands off your bodyguard and kissed him so fervently in your kitchen one night. The nose colliding, and eyes watering because of it kind of kiss. You thought Jason would’ve quit right there and then, the line he drew in the sand was stolen away by the shore and beckoned further away with each kiss and daring touch. But he stayed, stayed to continue keeping you safe in what way you desired. You once asked him if he’d done this with any of his other clients.

“Done what?”

“Seriously Jason,” You rolled your eyes from where you slouched into the couch, legs tossed over his lap as he ate your unfinished bagel. “Y’know what I mean.”

“Eat breakfast with them?” He was grinning at this point, eyes deep with mischief and you sighed.

“You’re such an ass.” You were silent after, moment forgotten as many were. Intimacy was always fleeting with you two. You got dressed for the day ahead, walking behind him as he strode over to the elevator. He wasn’t supposed to stay over at your place, not as often as he did at least, and you hoped prying eyes never knew more than you two allowed to the public eye. You stood next to him in the elevator, eyes on the floor as he tapped his fingers on the rail. The elevator jolted to a stop, taking a moment to open. You pushed off the wall, ready to venture out the back and to your car when Jason grabbed your wrist.

“I haven’t.” He said when you casted a look over your shoulder, worry low in your eyes that someone may see.

“Haven’t what?” You questioned, lips rubbing together. He dropped your hand and reached between the doors to stop them from sliding shut.

“Haven’t done anything with my clients before you. And I wouldn’t do anything with clients after you.” You only nodded, swallowing hard and letting him guide you to the car. There was something odd, yet wonderful that Jason seemed to perceive time as before and after you.

Although, time felt far off, unreal and unmoving as you laid in a large bed with sheets wrapped around you and darkness sunken into the room. Jason slipped out of bed some time ago, likely checking in with his unknown friends to find out what happened at the dinner. You waited patiently for him, body spent and heavy against the soft blankets. You thought of drifting off, of letting him find you with soft snores falling from your lips and carefully making his way next to you, but you knew Jason. You knew he’d find some excuse to sleep on the couch, to push distance between you two, to make it easy for the day he’ll eventually leave. When the target on your back shrinks and to be under constant watch becomes a hassle. It made your stomach churn to think about it, to let him slip away and move on. And there was the option to let the world know the truth, but Jason lived a life in the shadows, he wasn’t supposed to be a face associated with you. He was hidden under a mess of hair and dark sunglasses. He had friends or family, you never really knew, that help operate his business away from the public eye. Your family hired him to be a ghost to haunt and protect you for some time. Till the contract ended and the final payment was dealt. You knew you couldn’t ask Jason to stay, there was a fear that money was his true motivation for all of this. That once that ended so did every bond he had with you.

So, you stayed awake. You laid there with sleep in your eyes and listened to the creak of the floorboards betraying his quiet step. And you rolled over once he nudged the door open, inviting him with a silent smile. Jason obliged in a lazy manner, falling into bed and sighing long and heavy. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, kissing the warm skin there. Jason’s arm curled around you, fingertips brushing over the skin he could reach. You wasted no time letting sleep drag itself over you, inviting you into the deepest place of make belief, where your mind could run rampant with all the fantasies of a life shared, of early morning kisses and long hugs goodbye as you both ventured to jobs, of a house instead of a condo and a dog that Jason would name something you rolled your eyes at. It was all easy to pretend in the dead of sleep, in the place of dreams where anything was made possible.

Even love.

[jadekitty777]

Ain't Your Ordinary Tinkerbell

Seems like I’m not getting out of these FG shipweeks with every one being a fully completed work (*eyes the unfinished soulmate one from March*). 

This one is a story that’s been on the backburner for awhile, but I do intend to finish it. I got inspired to do this one from Shana340′s Dark Fairy AU... the minute the first picture was posted I fell in love and wanted to write something but couldn’t think of anything concrete. Leading to the piece that really got my storyline cogs going this one, which was the collab done between her, Chi and Kyra. So I hope you’ll all like this... admittedly short beginning!

Day 3: Fantasy AU

Dedicated to: @shana340artblog with side credit given to @chiherah and @narwhalish

Rating: K

Words: 3.5k

Summary: All fairies, except one, are welcome to Feywood.

This is the story of Qrow, the only fairy to be unwelcome, and his desperate journey to find a place he belongs. [Dark Fairy AU]

Ao3 Link: Chapter 1:First and Second

~

His life was over.

“Qrow Branwen! By order of the Queen you are to return to – ack!” Whatever else Tukson was about to command was mercilessly cut off by one of Tai’s ruthless punches to the gut.

Tai left the woodland fairy on his knees before hopping back to stand on the railing of his treehouse’s porch. “There’s more where that came from, so all of you back off!”

“Tai-!” Qrow tried to go back for him, but Summer’s grip on his arm was stronger than spider thread.

“He’ll be fine, come on!” She shouted as she pulled him inside.

Qrow’s last glimpse of his best friend was the proud, protective way he fanned out his feathery, yellow wings as he faced the oncoming Queen’s guard, before Summer shut the door and she started to throw up magical wards.

They wouldn’t kill him – he knew that with as much certainty as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow. No one was foolish enough to eradicate a phoenix fire fairy. The nightmarish stories of their vengeful rebirth were things of legend; tales of burnt down forests and wiped out colonies. Still, Queen Salem would punish him severely for his defiance. His friend was making a great sacrifice for him – and Qrow would never be able to pay it back.

His eyes fell to Summer, still working her magic, her silver butterfly wings emitting a soft light every time a spell was cast. She, likewise, would be receiving retribution for her actions today.

Guilt weighed his wings down, until they nearly brushed the floor. “Summer, I…”

“Don’t just stand there!” She cut him off with a snap. “Dust is in the second drawer to the right. Hurry!”

He bit down the protest that wanted to ring out, turning on his heels and running to the hutch. He ignored the knickknacks of lost things the three (four) of them had collected over the years, for the memories they would have brought forth would stall him yet again when there was no time left for him to delay. He yanked open the requested drawer and pulled out the satchel, the edges of it glowing sunflower gold, nearly spilling out as he carried it across the room.

Summer met him in the middle, taking the bag and undoing the clips. “There’s just enough for me to get you to the human world. You’ll be out of reach there. You’ll, be safe there.”

He could tell she was trying to be strong, but the shake told him she was barely holding back tears. It left his own eyes stinging. “I’m sorry. If only I hadn’t been born with these accursed wings.”

“No.” Summer seemed to pause for the first time since they’d fled from the Queen’s castle. Her gaze on him was open and earnest as it always was. “Qrow, what all she was saying – that you’re a harbinger. That you caused the drought. I don’t believe a word of it.”

“You can’t be sure of that.” He told her, unconsciously folding his wings over his arms. As if the dark things actually had the power to protect anything.

She shook her head adamantly. “I’m sure of you. Your magic is beautiful but misunderstood.”

A thud against the wall made them both jump. Time was running out.

Summer upended the satchel over him, the fairy dust spilling over his head and clinging to his clothes and feathers. Despite its warmth, Qrow felt none of the normal elation and joy that came with being touched by the dust’s power. Instead, he was left shivering and empty as he realized this would be the very last time.

“I,” The dam he’d held finally broke, spilling down his cheeks. “I love you both, so much.”

She clutched the back of his head, bringing him close and touching their foreheads together. The diadems they both wore clinked together, the mystical jewel in the middle of hers tapping the hollow hole where his had once been before it was stolen away. For a second, he felt touched by her magic.

“No matter where you are, we will always be your family.” She swore to him.

“I know.” He would never forget.

She pulled away, taking two steps back and cast her final spell.

It layered over him like ivy vines, immobilizing him so effectively, there was nothing to he could do – not even shout – as he saw the wards shatter along the door and get thrown open, the Queen’s guards rushing in.

He was plummeting before they could even hope to reach him.

Everything fell away. The floor underneath his feet, the walls of the house around him, even Summer herself warped out of existence as he was thrown through the magical plane. Nothing was left but a kaleidoscope of color and noise, so chaotic it was impossible to grasp at anything defined. And then he was out the other side, the chill on his skin immediate as a constellation of stars surrounded him.

Though not a novice by any means, it took him longer than usual to recover from the jump, so that he was already falling through the clouds before he finally willed his wings to open. A few steady flaps were all it took to right himself and control his flight and soon he was wheeling round and round, descending through the darkness of night to the human world below.

All the times before when he’d visited, he approached with wonder and curiosity. Humanity had many creations, from their giant fireflies on poles to their noisemakers on wheels. Each item was fantastic to consider their use – or if they had one at all. The species was frivolous like that, creating things of beauty simply for the art of it.

But now he could hardly focus on the landscape below him, taking in only the most minute of details like the shimmer that implied a lake a winged creature such as him should best avoid and the many small abodes that ringed around it. He was drawn to the one that still had its fireflies lit, too distressed to think of much else beyond a place to hide.

He landed on the rooftop, entire body dragging as he lumbered about for something raised high enough to slip in-between. But it was made of a material he was not used to, flat and gravely. When he tried to pull at one, he found they were held in place by silver tacks. Without magic, he’d never be able to pull them up. No magic, no home, no family. Everything was gone.

Qrow gave a noise that sounded too close to despair, sitting down on the edge of the roof and burying his head in his hands.

How had things gone so wrong? He’d awoken this morning with expectations to get to work. Harvest was soon and the plants needed careful tending by all hands this time of year. Yet, instead, he found himself belayed on his flight, called away by an urgent message by their queen. What would have happened to him had Tai not spotted him being detoured and grew suspicious? What would he have done, had he been alone in that throne room when Salem decreed his disownment to her court before she plucked the ruby gem from his diadem and stole his magic away? He would have been helpless and dead, if not for Tai and Summer rushing in at that moment to intervene. And now here he was, lost and alone.

Perhaps a fate worse than death after all.

A few seasons ago, Raven had warned him before she had left that this was what all those stray, accusatory looks from their fellow clanmates would build to. He’d brushed off her concerns, claimed them as nothing but excuses for her true desire to run away from a place she never felt she belonged to – what an incredible fool he was! If his sister could see him now, she’d mock and jeer at him and it would only be what he deserved and more.

If only he had believed her. Had gone with her. At least then they’d be together. Did he even have any hope of finding her, on this vast and massive world?

A screeching noise jerked him to attention immediately, unconsciously flattening close to the roof as wariness overtook distress. There were many ways he imagined he could go out from this world; to be a meal for an owl was not one he particularly liked to entertain. He could feel sorry for himself once he was properly hidden.

He searched the sky and trees with an attentive eye, trying to spot something staring back – and that was how he noticed it. A little, green home hung from the branch of a tree, not unlike the ones back home.

Why would a human have a fairy house?

Another screech in the wind reminded him he did not have time for such trivial thoughts, so he swooped down quickly, landing on the little platform leading to a decently sized hole. He took note of its shape, finding it wasn’t perfectly round, and shavings of wood jutted at strange angles, as if it had only just recently been carved.

As he climbed inside, he found there was nothing inside but a nest of moss, sticks, and leaves with one portion particularly more rotund than everything else. It was there he rested, finding the bed suitable for now as he drew his wings about himself and resigned himself to his new home.

~~~~~

On the third day, at dawn, whistling awoke him just like it had the days before.

Qrow sat up from his nest, stretching his arms above his head and flapping out his wings, stirring the loose bits all about. He leaned out of the hole of his shelter, watching the single human who lived in the house pass by underneath him. He was going fishing yet again if the pole resting on his shoulder was any indication. It seemed to be a daily chore – or maybe a pleasure. He would not be back until the sun had evaporated the morning dew from the grass.

It was a consistent, reliable routine and one Qrow would use to his advantage.

Once the man had disappeared on his boat, Qrow got to work. By the handful, he begun to shove out the pointy sticks, pieces of smelly moss and crinkly leaves out the hole, letting it litter the floor far below. Once complete, he plucked one of his own feathers, sweeping up the dirt and pebbles that had been lying underneath it all, tossing it out by the handful until his temporary home was decently clean.

Job complete, he moved onto his second mission, climbing out through the hole and swooping down towards the man’s larger version. He needed at least a few things – something to gather water, something sharp to cut plants, and some soft, proper bedding. He may not have plans to stay forever, but he certainly did not need to live uncomfortably in the meanwhile.

He fell down to the door, landing on the knob, considering how he might open it. Had he had his magic, he could have willed it to turn itself or transform to his full size to just grasp it in his own hand. Neither were on option, so he’d have to be creative.

He tried instead to hop up and then back down, putting force into his legs. Rather than causing the knob to budge, his shoes merely slipped on the smooth surface, and he gave a cry as he fell right off. A few frantic flaps kept him from hitting the ground and back to the knob he went, considering again. He eyed the space between the door and the frame, before wedging himself there and trying to push his feet against the knob, leveraging all his weight in hopes it would turn.

Yet, it barely budged.

Qrow grunted, frustration welling within him at his limitations, before giving up the venture. Instead, he circled the home in hopes of finding an easier way in. His hope came in the form of a window, open just a crack. He gripped the side of the open pane, planting a foot against the jamb and the other on the sill, and started to pull. It slid by the millimeter, painfully slow, his body straining with the effort.

And then, quite suddenly, it slid open several all at once. He lost his balance and fell again, only to wearily make his way back up, pleased to find the opening had widened considerably. He sidled in sideways and hopped down to a large wooden surface just underneath, plopping down for a sit and taking stock of his new surroundings.

At this size, it was easy to say everything looked quite grand, but experience told him this human lived quite modestly. From the writing utensils nearby, Qrow knew he sat upon a desk. Directly across the room, was the kitchen with its many metallic oddities to craft meals. Two doors, both open, were to his right one yielding a bedroom, the other a washroom. To his left, a small sitting area with a comfortable looking chair and a low table with an unfinished ship-in-a-bottle placed upon it. Adjacent that, angled against a wall, was also a tall bookcase, full to the brim with texts that all looked well-read. There were other decorations upon the walls – pictures and paintings that were all pretty green landscapes, wild oceans and colorful sunrises.

Had he been able to grow, he could have explored the home more fully. All the drawers and cabinets were certainly well stocked with things he could certainly make use of. With the knowledge his excursion would certainly be more restricted, he stood with a sigh and flew to the thing that had most intrigued him.

He landed upon the table, eyeing over the strewn parts of the unfinished ship that gave off a glint or shine, knowing they had the highest chance of being sharp. A laugh almost left him when he noticed the embellishments that were meant to gussy up the whole thing and found a small, fairy-sized cutlass among them. Retrieving it, he found its weight to be acceptable and its sharpness to be true. He flew it back to the desk before beginning his search anew.

His water container was much less glamorous – nothing more than a bottle cap that smelt of sweetness retrieved from the kitchen counter. Still he added it to his small pile before heading to the washroom for what he knew would make a perfect bedding.

The rectangular box he was looking for was set on the corner of the sink, little white tissue sticking out from the top. He pulled out a few, folding the large sheets over and over until they were easily transportable squares. Once done, he carried them to the rest of his collection of stolen things. He placed the sword in the notch of his belt before hefting the cap and tissues under either arm and squeezed back out the window.

Qrow was back home and already laying in the softness of his new bed well before the whistling of the man returned.

AS he ponded over his unknown future, he fell into a restless, exhausted sleep.

~

Qrow was awoken instantly by a violent rocking that tumbled him from his bed.

His back impacted a wall, disorienting him as his vision swiveled, and he turned his head about to figure what was going on. A scratching noise had him looking to his entrance, only for his heart to leap into his throat as he was faced down by a pair of black, beady eyes.

The bird knocked its beak against the edge of the hole once again, the noise rattling the walls of the home and shaking him to his bones. In the streams of light that filtered in every time it pulled its head back, he caught the red crest along its crown. Between that and the chips of wood beginning to litter his newly cleaned floor, the species name came to him.

Woodpecker.

Suddenly, the misshapen hole and the empty nest had connotations he dared not give full thought to.

Breath coming in rapid pants, he flattened himself into the furthest corner he could while scrambling blindly for his sword. His terror only heightened as the woodpecker squeezed its way inside and in the light that followed, he spotted the glint on the other side of the room. Well out of reach of saving him.

With alarming speed, the bird thrust its beak at him. Qrow ducked low, narrowly avoiding the attack and dove to the opposite wall, scrabbling along it to try and reach the exit. His fingers curled around the edge of the jagged hole, freedom moments away.

It was ripped from him as that beak latched around the top of his left wing as the woodpecker yanked him back. He shouted, agony lacing like lightning through him, and he desperately twisted and struck out with a fist, delivering a swift sucker punch right between those hungry eyes. It released him with a squawk of surprise and maybe pain, jerking back.

Qrow wasted no time, clambering out the exit and taking to the wind.

The problem was immediately realized as his injured wing buckled and his other flapped wildly to compensate, sending him into an uncontrolled downward spiral. Everything meshed together into a confusing motley, and he braced himself for the inevitable impact.

He didn’t hit the dirt – didn’t even come close to it – because the house got in the way of his chaotic flight. He caught only the briefest glimpse of his own, panicked face, before glass was shattering around him in a great, explosive sound. His shoulder took the brunt of the next impact and he went rolling along a hard surface, stopping just short of falling off the edge.

In the moments that followed, all Qrow knew was anguish. It quaked along his entire body, every nerve on fire. But the pain was most splitting on his lame wing, lances of it shrieking through the delicate, hollow bones and zipping with unforgiving ferocity along his spine. He knew without having to test it that it was broken.

Gingerly as he could, he sat up, a hiss escaping him as his shoulder also protested movement. His hand fell to it, grounding himself with a few deep, slow breathes.

“Great stars.”

The sudden voice had him jerking around and for the second time within ten minutes, he was confronted by a face larger than his own. It was the fisherman. Deep set green eyes stared back at him, mouth slightly agape with shock.

Qrow’s chest froze with fear and he leapt to his feet only to immediately stumble back to his knees when the pain became too great to handle.

“Hey…” The human’s tone lilted with concern. “Are you alright?”

A hand as large as his torso reached for him. He flinched back, instinctively trying to curl his wings around him, only to cringe as his broken one protested violently.

The man drew back immediately, eyeing him in quiet worry. When he spoke again, it was even softer than before, “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to check on that wing of yours.” He rested his palm out, open and inviting, before him. “Please don’t be scared.”

Tiny as he was, Qrow offered his fiercest glare in return.

“Alright.” The man seemed to get comfortable, hand never moving from its spot. “I’ll wait.”

Incredulity filled him. He seemed certain Qrow would bend to his will. Was this man overconfident or simply foolish?

Knowing humans, it could easily be either one.

Then, even more unbelievably, the man smiled. “I’m Clover by the way.”

“I didn’t ask.” Qrow snapped. A useless endeavor, as he knew humans could not understand him in this form.

Clover arched a brow in return, replying anyways, “I’ll take that as a ‘nice to meet you’.”

He rolled his eyes, pointedly avoiding his gaze, and instead considered his options. He was on an empty shelf that was next to the kitchen, with nothing close by to climb down to. Not that it mattered. With the window broken, he wouldn’t have too much trouble leaping out of it.

But then what? Even if he survived the drop without further injury, he was grounded until his wing healed, at the mercy of every predator sharp enough to snatch up an easy meal. And even if he did escape and managed to survive the grueling two months of mending such a break would take, without a proper healer to bind it, his wing wouldn’t set correctly.

He’d… never fly again.

Was that a price he wished to pay for stubbornness? His friends didn’t risk everything for him not to do the same.

He looked over to Clover, read his earnest and hopeful expression.

Defeatedly, he rose to his feet, took three steps to what might possibly be his greatest mistake yet, and plopped back down onto his palm.

Clover gave him another beaming grin, rising with all the care of a man who knew he held a very delicate gift. “Don’t you worry, fairytale. I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Already familiar enough with his surroundings, he didn’t bother to look around, merely accepting what was certain to be his next new home.

Well, third time’s the charm, right?

[thirsty4theextraordinary]

Everything Burns- Chapter 17

Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC

Warnings: Murder, Knives, Guns, Extreme Violence 

Word count: 3646

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | - Chapter 16

Chapter 17: Bluffing

She looked over as the Joker moved and she smiled, he was still in his nurse's outfit.

"Will you take that ridiculous outfit off now?" She asked as he grinned a yellow-toothed grin at her.

"Don't you think it's sexy, nurses are sexy right?" he joked giggling.

"Not always and I don't really think the look suits you," she sighed laughing as she sat up fully.

"What about now, Jester?" he cooed, as slowly he pulled the skirt up his leg with one hand, as though teasing her.

She burst out laughing and he frowned. Suddenly he had pushed her back into the bed covering her body with his own, he began to kiss and nibble at the sweet spot on her neck and she moaned at the sudden pleasure. He bit hard on her neck and she arched her back pushing herself against him again.

"Am I sexy now?" he asked and she nodded breathlessly as he kissed her again, his hands moving down her body and she moaned again. She couldn't believe he could actually get her wet even when he was in a nurses uniform. She moaned again as his hand caressed her inner thigh and began working it's way up.

"J" she moaned as he undid her waistcoat and pulled it from her roughly.

"That's Nurse J to you" he muttered as he began to nibble on her ear.

Around an hour later, Joker led Jester down the stairs to help him make another video for the news. She was pleased that after removing all of his clothes upstairs, he had redressed in his normal attire rather than his nurse costume. When she entered the room, Mike Engel was laying face down on the ground, his feet bound at the ankles with a rope that was connected to a pulley that led to a hook in the ceiling. She grinned at Joker as he came into the room behind her, he pulled off his coat and jacket and dumped them in the corner of the room.

Mike Engel groaned as Joker began to pull the free end of the rope, hoisting the news anchor into the air by his ankles. The Joker cackled as he looked at the hanging man strangely bending his neck so as to look at Mike in the eyes.

"Jester, here is going to do your makeup now, Mr Engel" said Joker as though he were the producer of the news channel. He handed Jester a pot of red grease paint and she took it and approached the news anchor.

She began to smear the red pain on the anchor's lips and he groaned angrily.

"Oh don't moan, I'm sure you're very used to wearing make-up for the camera" she laughed as she began to paint a smile that from her angle looked more like a frown. She applied more and took a step back to admire her work before she turned to Joker.

"Mr Engel is ready for his close up now, Mr Joker," she said smiling widely and he grinned at her before giggling wildly.

Joker pulled a sheet off of the table in the corner and handed Jester a spray can.

"This will be his backdrop" the Joker explained as he pulled the cap off the can. Jester nodded as she began to spray the words 'Breaking News' on to the sheet sloppily. There were already a few black spots on the sheet and so some of the letters were blurred, but the Joker looked pleased with her work. He took the can from her and sprayed a few 'Ha Ha's' on the sheet before he dragged it over to the wall behind Engel. She followed pushing Engel slightly so he spun around. Joker laughed as he held the sheet up to the wall, the paint running slightly. Before he frowned and looked at Jester and then Engel before he turned the sheet upside down and proceeded to hammer it into the wall.

"Give these to him, to read," said Joker and handed her a pile of cue cards. She flipped through them quickly while the Joker set up the camera, in front of Engel, flipping it upside down. He pulled the table in front of Engel before he bent so his elbows could rest on the table as he filmed.

"Read your lines," said the Joker as Jester handed Engel the cue cards. She laughed loudly as he took them from her. On the card right at the back was the word Hi Mom written and Joker shot her a grin from his awkward spot. She made herself comfortable on a chair behind Joker and watched.

"Ready Mike," shouted Joker nodding to Engel slowly, but the news anchor said nothing.

"Okay ACTION" said the Joker as he pressed the record button and the red light on the camera switched on. Mike looked down at his cue cards and then up again, as though he didn't believe he was really there. Engel looked over to Jester and she grinned madly, his gaze turned back to his cue cards again.

"I'm Mike Engel for Gotham Tonight" he said, his voice more confident than Jester had expected.

He looked back down at his cue card again. Jester began playing with her knife, twirling it in her hands and Engel swallowed hard.

"What does it take to make you people wanna join in?" he continued dropping the first cue card to the ground causing it to fly over his head.

He looked at the next card, his face sweating. 

"You failed to kill the lawyer. I've gotta get you off the bench... and into the game" Engel said.

"Bench. Game," said Joker quietly along with Engel. A little giggle fell from his lips as Engel dropped the next cue card and began to read from the third.

"Come nightfall, the city is mine," Engel continued.

"Mine," growled Joker quietly a little after Engel, his voice louder than before.

"And anyone left here plays by my rules," continued Engel.

"Rules." growled Joker.

"If you don't wanna be in the game, get out now." said Engel, dropping the penultimate cue card to the ground.

"Get out NOW!" the Joker laughed again.

"But the bridge and tunnel crowd are sure in for a surprise." Engel said after a short pause.

"Ha-ha, ha-ha," said Engel dryly and The Joker giggled wildly again. Before he turned the camera around and switched it off.

"That was very good Mr Engel. You were fabulous!" laughed Jester patronisingly as she spun him around again. Joker undid the tie holding Engel up and they both watched as he plummeted to the ground head first. He was knocked out cold by the time his feet hit the ground and Jester laughed loudly.

"Now, we need to send this off, but I'll wait for the boys to get back first" Joker said and Jester frowned.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"Running an errand, I had some ammonium nitrate left so I thought I'd put it to good use," said the Joker laughing madly, before he closed the gap between them and began to chew on her ear lobe sharply. She purred as her knees went weak and he chuckled before he pulled away. He led her back into the main room of the warehouse.

The Rottweilers had been locked inside an enormous metal crate and Jester went over and opened the door. The three large dogs padded out and she lay on the floor, allowing them to lick her face, the smallest laying in-between her legs and she laughed as she stoked them.

The Joker looked on frowning slightly, these were supposed to be attack dogs.

"You've made them soft" he shouted at her angrily and she looked up from the floor at him with wide eyes.

"These are supposed to be vicious, they are supposed to attack people not lick them" he shouted, approaching her, her eyes went wide and innocent and she sat up to look at him. He stopped in his tracks and looked at her, sighing he smiled.

"You sweetheart, I can't stay mad at you," he said, his grinning widening as she smiled at him. Jester went back to playing with the dogs.

After 3oclock the 'boys' got back, they pulled Engel back to the locked room. They confirmed that both ferries had been filled with explosives and that both had their 'presents' hidden. Their distress signals and phones disconnected.

They had also found an unfinished skyscraper that overlooked the bay and had secured it for Joker. Joker only nodded as they told him of their work before he went about explaining his ‘plan’, handing them all a doctors lab coat.

The boys told Joker that everything had gone well and that the commissioner was actually planning on filling one of the boats with prisoners, some of which were Harvey Dent's most wanted. This piece of news entertained the Joker greatly, and he thumped Grumpy on the back as he laughed.

The weapons table had been raided somewhat and Jester pulled a few items from the relatively small pile and looked them over. She poked at a pistol before picking up a handgun, swapping it for the one she had. Then she spotted something that made the monster insider her mind purr like nothing else. The chainsaw sat on the desk balance on top of other weapons. It was smaller than a standard chainsaw meaning she could probably wield it with just one hand if she wanted.   She snatched up the chainsaw and held it in both hands.

"This is mine!" she said loudly but no one replied and she continued to stare at the tool in her hands. There was a large clip connected to the handle to allow for the item to clip to the pants of the user. 

She had never used one and she suspected she would be slightly useless with one, but she loved it. Though she didn’t know why, she knew she needed this. She clipped it to her shorts so it hung against her hip uncomfortably but she didn’t care. 

There was nothing to do but wait till sundown and Jester sat on the stairs watching the boys playing Poker at the table, the Joker was in his office planning still. Jester sighed heavily and one of the goons looked up at her.

"Everything okay?" he asked kindly and the other goons shot him a strange look.

"I'm bored," Jester sighed her chin resting on her propped up arm.

"You can play with us if you want," he said and again his friends shot him a look, but it was too late as the psychotic clown girl was now bouncing down the stairs towards them.

She pulled a chair over to the table, the metal legs squealing angrily along the concrete floor, before she sat herself upon it at the table. The goon who had spoken to her dealt her some cards and she handed over $100 in cash in return for some chips.

A groan broke out amongst the men as Jester pulled her winnings towards her, her pile of chips was really starting to grow and she grinned happily. The cards were dealt again and again she won. This happened three more times before something hit her hard in the chest and she flew backwards off her chair, her chips flying up into the air. Before she could stand there was a goon known as Happy standing over her. Happy was the biggest of all the goons his shoulders were about double anyone else and he had a strong broad chest. He pushed his heavy booted foot down onto the middle of her chest and she struggled as the wind was pushed from her.

"You think you can cheat us of our money, you're not the boss you can't just do whatever you want." Happy shouted and Jester shook her head as tears began to surface as she struggled for breath.

"I wasn't cheating, it's called bluffing" she choked out.

Happy let out a roar of anger and with his other foot kicked her hard in a chest. For a split second his full weight was bearing down on her chest and as his foot collided, she heard something crack.

She looked up towards the stairs praying to see Jack come down as she struggled to get out from under this colossal man's weight.

"First you carve Shaun's arm and now this. What do you expect us to do? With you prancing around with your boobs out, we are men we are bound to notice. But you think you can do it coz your the boss, well you're not! You are just some pathetic girl who tries to dress like him and god knows why you would even wanna do that. I don't even get how someone like you can even want to be around someone like him! Something must be wrong in your head, you must be crazy or something." Happy shouted at her. As the rage of insulting both her and Jack in one foul swoop filled her, Jester found her strength. She wiggled out enough to bend so she could bite down hard on Happy's bare ankle.

He let out a yell and grabbed her quickly as she rushed up to him. He turned her and held her back against his enormous chest, his arms holding her own at her side's stiffly. She wiggled and he cursed.

"You think, he's gonna save you. You really think he cares about you? He doesn't care about anyone! I don't even think he cares about his own safety. But that's why you do it. Because you think he's gonna come and save you if you get into trouble. Because he once told you, you could play boss. Well you're not my boss, lady. He let you think that he cares, so he can fuck you when he wants. And who could blame him, you are mighty fine. Well now you know, you can't just do what you want cause no one is coming, let alone him." Happy said so close to her ear, she could feel his hot breath moving her hair. Jester continued to struggle, her back brushing against his solid chest.

"You know with you so close, and wiggling like that. I'm having a change of heart, maybe if you give me a good time. I'll forget all about our differences" he cooed quietly into her ear huskily and she felt his new found arousal pushing into her bum cheek. He was clearly suffering from some sort of bi-polar, with his mood shifting so dramatically. She gagged at the thought of him touching her and launched her foot backwards in-between his legs. It made a satisfying thud as her foot connected with his crotch. He let out a yell and his arms realised her, as he bent over in pain.

She backed away keeping her eyes on the enormous man as he reared his ugly head again. She fumbled for her knife as a laugh bubbled up from her manically. She took a step back, readying herself for a fight and collided with something solid. A soft arm wrapped itself loosely around her and began to play with the material of her waistcoat subconsciously. Happy looked up at the man behind Jester and he smiled warily.

"Boss, I was just teaching her not to cheat," said Happy confidently, a smile on his face. Joker let out a cackle which stopped abruptly. Joker moved away from Jester and towards Happy, his hand brushing her side as he passed her.

"Do you remember Melvin, Happy?" giggled Joker cheerfully. Happy shook his head.

"Ah, of course, you're too new to remember that. Well, let me tell you a story. You see Melvin liked Jester, a little too much. I don't really like to share. I guess that is a flaw of mine. Well when Melvin tried to play with Jester, I killed him. Do you understand?" laughed Joker standing very close to Happy, his knife in his hand, hanging loosely at his side.

Happy's face lost its colour and his smile faded as he nodded to his boss. Though Happy was at least twice the size of Joker, Joker was an intimidating man no matter how big his opponent, maybe it was his unpredictably or maybe that he did not care for his own well being, you could hit him as much as you wanted and he would just laugh.

"Good lad," said Joker laughing. "This shouldn't be a surprise then."

Joker launched himself at Happy, though Joker was not as large as Happy, Joker's strength was enough to hold him down as he knelt on the larger man chest and began to carve a smile into Happy's face.

"Why so serious?" Joker asked over Happy's screams to the other goons, who quickly dispersed.

When the large man had finally stopped breathing, Joker stood and wiped his bloody hands on Happy's shirt before moved over to Jester quickly. He took her hand and quickly dragged her up the stairs, shouting to one of the men to clear up the body.

He led her into the bedroom and stopped in the middle of the room and looked her over.

"Okay?" he asked seriously and she nodded.

"Thank you, Jack. It won't happen again" she assured him and he grinned.

"Any time gorgeous. I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever" he said taking her hands up in his and turning them over in grasp, not looking at her as he spoke.

She pulled her hand from his grasp and instead wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her body close to his. She closed her eyes and breathed in his intoxicating scent. It took a while but soon Jack wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her closer.

Once the sun began to set, they all headed off for the skyscraper the boys had found, along with the hostages. Jester helped as they taped unloaded guns into the hands of the hostages and forced them to stand as they placed clown masks to all of them. 

The boys were dressed in doctors and nurses uniforms and they sat on the floor in front of the biggest window in the skyscraper, making sure that the cops would have a perfect shot from the building opposite. Joker went up to the highest floor and Jester followed. He stopped himself by a window overlooking the water and stopped and turned back to her.

"Look down there, the last of the people are loading onto the ferries," he said pointing down to the two large boats docked up. She simply nodded and he began to laugh.

"Now all we gotta do is wait," giggled Joker and she nodded again. Her nerves were making her feel slightly sick and a feeling of dread had washed over her. Without a word she went back down a few floors to check the boys had secured the last of the hostages.

She approached slowly as they bound a blonde woman's hands and her blue eyes shot up to Jester.

"I know you!" she said looking Jester in the eye.

She was right, she was a trainee at the hospital, Scarlett had worked with her a number of times.

"You are a nurse! How could you do this?" the blonde she knew as Kate asked, her eyes wet with tears.

Jester couldn't help the laugh erupted from somewhere deep within her and once it had started she couldn't make it stop. Soon she was bent over in hysteria, shaking her head slightly at Kate.

"When the police come, I'll tell them your name!" said Kate boldly, and Jester pulled her gun out of her back pocket and raised it, pointing it towards Kate’s head. 

"You really think the police are coming? And if they do, you think they will realise you are the hostage before they put a bullet through your face." Jester asked, waving her gun at the woman.

"Because if you think so, then I'll just get a head start on them now." laughed Jester.

"Please Scarlett, we were friends," said Kate, her voice shaking, as her tears began to spill.

"No, we weren't friends. I didn't really have any friends, we were colleagues, nothing more. And really you shouldn't beg I have no compassion to appeal to" said Jester as she laughed again and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped a path through Kate's skull and Scarlett frowned as she looked down at the dead body on the floor.

"Well that was not satisfying at all," moaned Jester as she pushed the gun back into her back pocket and turned on her heel to leave. Though the feeling of dread she had been experiencing seemed to float away as the bullet had left the gun, and she now felt rather good as she skipped back up the stairs to find Joker.

The Rottweilers had been brought up to him and were now roaming the top floor. Joker continued to stare out the window at the ferries which were still docked, Jester sighed and took a seat on the floor, the smallest Rottweiler curling up at her feet.

"Who got shot?" asked Joker without turning around.

"One of the hostages, she recognised me from the hospital," said Jester, not looking up as she scratched the chin of the dog in her lap. The Joker didn't say anything and simply shrugged.

After an hour the ferries finally moved off and the Joker moved back to the window again. He watched as they moved further away until slowly one stopped and then the other. They were completely stationary in the middle of the lake and Joker began to giggle to himself quietly.

--------

Thanks for reading if you liked it please, Like and Reblog

[fandomoniumflurry]

Keep Calm and Carry On

Part 10- technically the final chapter though I do plan on making a smutty epilogue later. For now, I feel like this part is unfinished but I wasn’t sure where to end it so I just left it as is. Hope you’ve enjoyed this journey cuz I have. THanks for the request @lukecastellamz cuz this was awesome!

catch up here

Warnings: Language, canon style violence, fluff, little angst

words 3k

tags: @elsatxx @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @ambermei @becs-bunker @janai-mcgarrett

Whatever this creature wanted, it wasn’t revenge. Monsters have a tendency to rant and rave about the ways you had wronged them once they had you tied up. And he was in no hurry to make one watch while the other died which was usually a fan favorite. If he planned to eat them, seemed like he would have already had himself a taste. Unless he was just some even mutant squirrel that was stocking up for winter.

The constant whirring sound of an engine was what really threw Dean off. It sounded big, some kind of heavy machinery. It didn’t move so he could only assume it was stationary. As a hunter, he hadn’t stumbled across many creatures that needed farming or construction equipment but there was a first for everything.

Then there was the matter of the utter darkness he was imprisoned in. Clearly, the monster with his lime eyes could see better in the dark. But he had barely graced the hunter with his presence. Dean could guess that the darkness was meant to cause madness.

The ease with which Jo escaped also concerned him. Perhaps the monster had intentions to follow her or use her as a trap to lure his brother in. Or he planned on letting her go just so he could hunt her down like prey. Anyway he spun it, he didn’t like any of the odds of both of them getting out alive.

The monster had been smart enough to remove everything from his pockets, making it difficult for the hunter to even try and formulate some kind of plan. His wrists and shoulders were sore from trying to wriggle free from his binds. The chair was too heavy to lift at this angle and he wasn’t about to give himself a concussion by pushing the chair over onto the concrete floor. The quick witted hunter was without a plan and running out of hope.

His head was pounding from the noise of the engine echoing off of the stone walls, making it even harder to stave off insanity. He tried to keep his mind on Jo, on Sam or Cas, anything that would distract his mind from giving into the monster’s plan. He hadn’t gotten a visit in a while. It was hard to say how much time had passed or how long he had been down in the dank basement.

A sense of relief and anxiety washed over him when the engine cut off and everything went silent. His body stilled, sure that this was either the end for him or by some miracle, he was about to be rescued. The silence was eery and he waited with bated breath. The explosion that came next caused him to let out a yell. The jerk of his body toppled him over, making him hit the floor with a loud groan. His ears were ringing from the explosion and his sudden fall and the haze of his vision didn’t quite register that light had washed over the room.

Everything that happened next was a blur. In and out of consciousness, he couldn’t be sure what was real or just a wishful dream. Voices all sounded the same and the words made no sense. Every movement, every location blended together and made him nauseous. He couldn’t make out figures and for all he knew, the monster was dragging him off to his doom. Finally, the darkness took over completely, leaving him in a state of peaceful yet aching sleep.

Time trickled like molasses in winter time and it was impossible to tell just how long they waited for Dean to awaken. His eyes moved beneath heavy lids and he groaned from time to time but other than that, he was still and silent as the dead. His state was worrisome and it was hard not to think the worst.

Jo had done just as Dean had asked. She ran as fast as she could, getting as far away as possible in search of help. SHe had ran until her feet practically bled and her lungs burned from the exertion. She was hoarse by the time she got to a phone and called Sam. When he arrived, she was passed out on the bus stop bench. He scooped her into his arms and laid her in the car.

Slapping her cheek gently, she began to stir. She shot up in a panic causing Sam to lean back with wide eyes. He found it hard to understand her as she rambled and flailed about, telling her story. She pushed and shoved him to drive, urgency mingling with her terror. Sam had no idea what he was going into but his brother was in danger and he would do anything to save him. But Jo was in no shape to help so he would be going in alone with no backup and no idea what he was up against.

The machine was tall and slender, reaching up into the sky as Sam pulled up. It was loud and shook the ground, enough that even with the rumble of the car engine, the vibration could be felt under his feet as the machine bore through the ground. Sam watched as the machine grinded and drilled down into the earth’s surface. His brow wrinkled as he watched it work, puzzled by its purpose and questioning why a monster would need such a thing.

With a stern gaze and a rigid pointer, Jo was ordered to stay put and she agreed willingly much to his surprise. Grabbing his gun and a few other supplies, he ran blindly into the fray.

Instead of the hard cold concrete, Dean awakened slowly on the soft memory foam feeling of home. His head was throbbing from the impact with the floor but other than some sore muscles and achy bones, he felt fine. Actually, he felt well rested, the best sleep he had had in years. But then his brain started to think back to his recent predicament and he sat himself up gingerly.

The room was dark and not another soul was in sight. Clearly, no one had expected him to be awake yet because by the numbers on the clock it was barely afternoon. His legs swung gently over the side of the bed and he held his head to keep back the dizziness. When he felt that he was ready to stand without throwing up, he rose at a sloth’s pace. He wobbled for a moment but stood without incident before finally moving toward the door. \

Reaching for the knob, the door opened in. His balance was thrown off and the force of the door knocked him flat on his back. But he was not alone on the floor, for whoever had opened the door on him fell forward on top of him causing them both to groan.

“Glad as fuck you weren’t Sam or this would have been really awkward.” His gruff voice mumbled in pain as he shifted under the blonde. She tried to get her weight off the hunter but his arms encircled her and held her to him. Her eyes lifted and caught the amusement and adoration in the green orbs that stared back.

She couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face. “Someone’s feeling better, I see.”

Dean smiled, a hand raising to comb his fingers through her hair. “God, you’re beautiful.” He breathed out with earnest sincerity.

Jo giggled and moved to brace her hands on the floor on either side of his head. Her hair slid past her shoulders and created blinders around her face. “You bumped your noggin harder than I thought.” She commented with a smirk.

He shook his head as he rested a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her lips down to his. The kiss was soft and she immediately returned it. WHen they came up for air, her forehead rested against his as his hands rubbed up and down her spine. “How long was I out?”

“Bout a day and a half. You had a pretty bad concussion.” She lifted a hand to brush through his hair cautiously, a small frown on her lips at the memory of the blood that matted his hair. “But other than that, you fared pretty well. Can’t say the same about our Orochimaru friend.” His brow wrinkled at the name and she laughed at his adorable confusion. “It’s an anime thing. I’ll explain later.”

“Hmm.” Was his only response before he brought her in for another kiss.

“Hate to rain on your parade.” Another voice broke the moment and lips parted to allow the two to stare up at the tall figure in the doorway. Sam was leaning against the frame, hands in the pockets of his jeans and a massive smile on his face. He kicked his brother’s leg softly before gesturing his head and pushing from the door. “Jack’s made dinner.”

Dean made a face, both of disgust and puzzlement as he watched his brother’s retreating form. Looking back at Jo, she patted his chest and pushed herself up to her feet. “He’s learning. So you will eat what is set before you and you will keep your comments to yourself.” A finger pointed down at him with a firm scowl and a hand on her hip.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her with a raised brow and a crooked grin. “If you didn’t remind me of your mother right now, I would find you very attractive.” Her eyes rolled but she couldn’t help but laugh. She extended a hand to him and grasping her arm firmly, he lifted himself from the floor.

“I told you to stay in the car, Jo!” Sam yelled, lowering the gun he had raised when he heard something sneaking up on him.

“You were taking too long!” She growled and leveled her sawed off at the floor. Sam’s head tilted and shoulders shifted with annoyance. His bitch face was powerful even through the dimly lit building.

Her disobedience would be dealt with later because the loud roar and an earthquake like feeling beneath their feet brought their attention back to the drill. “You go find Dean. I’m gonna find our Miner Forty Niner.” Sam ordered without even catching her eyes before taking off toward the source of the sounds.

If there was anyone to be trusted to find and help his brother besides him, it would be the woman that had always held his heart. With his gun out in front of him leading him through the building, Sam kept an eye out for traps or minions that might be lurking in the shadows. Clearly their monster deviant hadn’t expected anyone to bother him in his abandoned little factory because there was no sign of any kind of warding or security. So it was easy to guess that Jo and Dean weren’t captured by plan nor wanted for anything. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. They stumbled upon something that the monster wanted to keep hidden and since they found it, he didn’t have a choice but to keep them.

The type of monster and the purpose of the drill was still a mystery, one that Sam was now curious to solve. As he stepped into the humid air on the other side of the tall chain link fence, he could see where the Impala was parked which meant that the monster had already more than likely made them. The machine still ran on its own and Sam cursed. He wouldn’t be able to hear his foe and he didn’t know the place at all which gave the monster the advantage.

Jo swung her shotgun back and forth with the movement of her head as she moved through the familiar halls on high alert. It took her a second to find her bearings and remember where her prison had been. She still hadn’t found it when an explosion went off, shaking the walls and she nearly lost her footing. Her arms lifted to cover her ears, the sound causing her ears to ring and her head to ache.

“I should invest in safety earmuffs.” She yelled aloud to herself before she started to move again. She should have been questioning the cause of the explosion and concerned with the safety of the other Winchester but instead she swayed through the halls like a woman on a mission.

When she found Dean, he didn’t respond when she called his name. Her flashlight pierced the darkness and she yelled his name again when the light landed on his motionless form crumpled on the ground still attached to the chair. Running to him, she dropped to her knees and shook him gently. She gasped when she noticed the blood pooling at his hairline where he had hit the concrete. She struggled for a moment to get him back up on four legs, the adrenaline pumping through her veins making it possible with a few heavy grunts.

She sucked in a breath before cupping his face and patting his cheek gently. His eyes flickered opened a bit but she could tell he wasn’t cognizant. Her fingers combed through his hair as she tried to hold herself together. “I got you, Dean. Just hold on.” His head rolled to the side when she released his face and moved behind him to start freeing him of his binds. She let out a yell when he began to fall over once his arms were free.

She caught him but nearly fell in the process. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to carry him out. So all her hope was on Sam now as she rested Dean’s head in her lap. Looking at the burns on his wrists, the gash on his head, the damp and dirty state of his clothes, she hoped and prayed that Sam wouldn’t be long. She kissed his forehead and began to hum as she held him.

Sam hadn’t expected the grenade launcher to actually come in handy one day. But he was glad that Dean always insisted on bringing it along. So when the monster had took off, easily jumping the tall fence and making a run for it, Sam was more than thankful for his long legs. He made it up and over the fence to the car and on his knees with the launcher before the monster was completely out of sight.

The creature was yards away but Sam’s plan was sure to bring the monster to a halt. Sam was nearly thrown backwards with the unexpected forace of the weapon but managed to maintain his balance by the time the explosion went off. A loud ‘whoa’ passed his lips when the grenade shot through the fence like it was butter and made contact with the intricate machinery that powered the drill.

The machine began  to creak and crumble to the ground and a grin played on Sam’s lips. A childhood dream was playing out before his very eyes but of course he didn’t have long to revel before he was pushed forward into the ground, the heavy weight of the monster falling on top of him. Trying to wriggle out from under his attacker, he could feel a wet heat curling past his ear and over his face. He made a disgusted sound as the monster’s long forked tongue invaded his vision.

His face was still wrinkled when his fingers closed around the unnatural muscle, his other hand slipping a knife from his sleeve. A quick slash left the monster wailing and bleeding and the wiggling appendage oozing in Sam’s hand. The monster climbed off and tried to stop the bleeding as his screams were muffled and the giant before him began to rise. The creature’s lime eyes darkened, a red tint seeping in with his rage. In a last ditch effort, he lunged at Sam with a gurgled cry.

Sam jumped when a few shots rang out and it shot the monster back. His forehead wrinkled as the purple being turned his head toward the shots. More shots rang out until the creature finally fell to his knees. Sam’s head turned to see the petite blonde with both hands around her sawed off and a hard look in her eyes. Behind her, their angel friend was holding his brother up. The moment he saw Dean he ran to them, wrapping his arm around his older brother’s middle to help lead them to the car.

After they all piled in, they looked back at the burning mess of the drill and the body of its owner. There was still so many questions that they wanted answers to but instead they drove off. Dean and Jo were far more important than the mystery.

Dean’s fingers were wrapped firmly around Jo’s as she lead the way to the kitchen. Three sets of eyes turned toward the door and every face lit up with a smile when Dean darkened the doorway. Jo looked back at him and let go of his hand as each of the other men moved to hug the eldest Winchester. Dean returned each embrace with a genuine smile as Jo watched with an adoring grin, her arms crossed over her chest while she leaned against the door.

She was fine with watching from the sidelines, watching her family together and happy. This wasn’t what she had pictured her family to be all those years ago. But now as she saw Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack, she couldn’t imagine any place she’d rather be. For months, she had kept them all at a distance, trying to find where she belonged. She had finally come to realize that she did have a place in this world all along.

As the boys talked and laughed, she caught Dean’s eyes. He smiled and waved, making her giggle with a shake of her head. But she waved back anyway. The way the silly gesture made his eyes sparkle only made her blush and her smile grew, her heart fluttering like it used to all those years ago.

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Title: Dean Winchester Is Worried

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7,883

Rating/Warnings: NC-17; This fic has talk of suicide, suicide ideation, Reader character is struggling with a bad case of clinical depression, explicit sexual content, the cure for depression in my story is dick, cussing, shameless objectification of Dean Winchester, unhealthy coping habits, and mention of gore from the past.

A/N: This is actually a reposting of a revised/smoothed out story that I wrote in 2017 when I was having a really rough day. I’m still struggling with depression, but I think my head is above water now. For those of you that are out there fighting to live your life, always remember the message that the Supernatural gang wants us to remember: Always Keep Fighting and You Are Never Alone!

You found yourself staring blankly at the plain, concrete wall in front of you, surrounded by darkness. There were no windows in the bunker, so you had a hard time placing what time it was or how long you'd been sitting here, petrifying in your own thoughts.

The familiar, uncomfortable rush of nerves itched beneath the surface of your skin as your hands smoothed over the tightness in your arms. Most days you could find a way to push forward, but then there were days like this one that had a way of bringing you back down to madness. You were filled with the buzzing energy to do something but you couldn't focus on just one thing. So it left you feeling lost and fidgety.

It had been a few years now, since the Winchester's had offered you shelter here as a legacy. Surprisingly enough, you'd found out that your Father's father had been a Man of Letters. Good ole grand papa that hadn't lived past his 40th birthday. You'd heard your entire life that the man was an alcoholic and crazy to boot, an absent father.

Now, however, you knew exactly why his life had turned out the way it had. That information had made you a little angry with your deceased parents for being so judgmental. You could've learned so much from him, but he was ostracized by his own family and likely died alone and bloody. You could only imagine the pain he suffered.

The hunting monsters schtick had skipped right over your parent's generation, plowing through your perfect life like a freight train. You'd grown up a little privileged and spoiled with an intrinsic drive to never fail. It was just a part of who you had been raised to be. So you could admit now that you were an overachiever and quite the nerd. Your promising future was planned down to the letter and you thought nothing could stop you.

Now, you could finally admit to yourself of the moment your problems really started and it wasn't when most people probably assumed. Your life had been perfect until the year after you'd graduated high school. It had been a transitional year, but you were on the fast track to becoming a veterinarian. You’d spent the summer at home, packing up your room, and dying to go to college already!

The Fall semester was spent making friends and learning your way around the massive but beautiful campus grounds. It meant you were separated from your tightly knit family but you were also at the college of your childhood dreams, studying veterinary sciences. No, going out of state to UCLA was not where your problems began. Unfortunately, it was during that same year of school that your parents were brutally murdered in your childhood home surrounded by suburbia. The authorities told you it had been a rogue bear attack.

Your little family had been close, and the remaining relationship with your twin brother was what had carried you through that time. Your brother was your safety and home and you knew as long as you guys had each other that you could survive.

You'd tried to go back to school and fight your way forward. Remy, your brother, even moved out to Cali with you just to be close by, but your life had been irrevocably changed. What you had seen of your parent's murder had completely derailed all thought of future.

You'd begged and pleaded with the coroner to see them just one more time, and your wish had been begrudgingly granted. That's where you'd met two mysteriously scruffy men from the "FBI" who were at the morgue investigating your parent's death. You'd known immediately that the gashes and tears in their flesh weren't the product of a bear attack. They were also, strangely, missing their hearts.

You remembered the hollow rush that had settled in your bones the minute you'd taken a look under the first white sheet.

"Are you related to the deceased, mam?" The younger of the two had asked after he'd found you leaning against the building outside, an endearing smile stretching his lips. You were falling apart, tears and snot prevalent on your face as you nodded. Your breath kept catching in your throat. There had been very little of your parents left and the images were going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

His green eyes seemed to ooze empathy when he offered you a rather beaten up tissue that looked like it had spent a life time in someone’s pocket and you found yourself telling this... Well, he couldn't have been more than 22 or 23, not much older than you, and probably way too young to be in the actual FBI. However, despite the age thing, you told him everything you knew because there was this ease with which he presented himself that made you trust him.

"That's not from a bear." You whispered through your clogged throat, practically floating in a trance. The vision of your parent's corpses danced behind your eyes every time you closed them. "It can't have been a bear." You felt like you were losing your mind as you covered your face with both hands and slid to the ground. You'd never been apt to public drama or making a scene, but you couldn't help it. Your knees just refused to hold you up anymore.

One thing you did know for sure was that you knew animals and you were knowledgeable in bear behavior. Bears just open the front door, climb the stairs and take your parent’s heart straight from their chests. Bears didn't shred an entire body for fun, either.

"You're right, you know,” was his calm reply after a moment of mentally arguing with himself on whether or not he would actually tell her the truth. The hand that he gently rested on your shoulder was a small comfort as he crouched down to your level. "I'm sorry this happened to you, but I think you deserve the truth." When you finally uncovered your face enough to look back, you realized that his eyes were now filled with a deeper understanding of your grief than you ever could have imagined. "What's the truth?" You whispered, suddenly terrified yet desperate to understand what had happened.

The man in front of you sighed heavily, dragging his free hand over his face with the reticence of a man burdened with too much wisdom. That's when he'd divulged the ugly truth about what was out there. Monsters and horrors beyond imagination that would haunt you for years before you finally believed.

The older agent had met the two of you outside and he'd insisted that they escort you home to be sure that you were safe. They were headed that way anyhow, to investigate the crime scene. The crime scene that was also known as your childhood home. You don’t even remember how you cleaned up all the blood.

The father/son duo you would come to know as the Winchester's had unknowingly inspired you to take up the mantle of hunting. However, at the time, you'd felt like you had some unfinished business at UCLA.

You'd made it through three and a half years of college before you actually gave up and went searching for the things that lurked in the night. You were unable to ignore the strange headlines that showed up in the newspaper and online, anymore. Your brother had tagged along of course, always protective because he was 5 minutes older.

You'd made it your personal goal to do everything you could to prevent what had happened to you from happening to other people. And, after a few rough starts, you finally started to have some success.

You used what you had learned in your few years of pre veterinary medicine to patch you and your brother up when necessary, grateful for some practical application of the information clogging up your brain. So, thankfully, school hadn't been a complete waste on you. However, other than medical skills, you were a complete novice at this hunting thing and it showed.

It wasn't long before the Winchester brothers caught up with you. They had undoubtedly heard tales of a rookie team out for blood that had no doubt been gossiped about through the hunter grape vine. When Dean heard your story and recognized you both he and Sam told you they would've shown up sooner, if it hadn't been for that pesky apocalypse and all.

Firmly back in the present again, you heard Dean enter the room quietly before he spoke a word. Only the soles of his booted feet against the hard surface of the floor alerted you to his presence.

The boys tended to treat you with kid gloves when you got like this, dancing around you like you might shatter, and you were never really sure if you fully appreciated it the way you probably should. Suddenly, a few weeks would be cleared of hunting jobs and they would drag you out to watch movies on the couch. Conspicuously, Garth would up and start hoarding cases or at least that’s what Dean lead you to believe. You knew Sam would tell you the truth but you just couldn’t muster enough fucks to give, so you went along with Dean’s schemes.

They'd tried taking you out on a hunt early on to keep your mind occupied once before, but that had turned out horrendously, and you couldn’t blame them for not wanting to hunt with you then. As it turned out, you have even less self-preservation instincts when you were depressed and missing your brother. Sometimes, a morbid thought would enter your head, completely uninvited, and you would feel like maybe you should just go ahead and join your brother in the afterlife. It was usually only a fleeting moment, but it was long enough to get you into trouble on a hunt. Plus, suffice it to say, you knew if you were ever to go down that route, Remy would meet you wherever you ended up just so he could kick your ass.

"Hey." Dean's voice was filled with more grit than it had been so many years ago. It was also a little gruff from disuse. The bunker tended to go quiet around this time, and you had no idea how many days it had been so far, but most of the time you hid in your room to avoid the deep concern etched into their faces. "You hungry?"

No matter how far down you got, it pained you to hear the cautious hope in his voice, but it always surprised you that his steady tone cleared a bit of the fog that thinking of your past always brought over you. You could focus a little easier with him just being present in the room.

You weren't sure if he actually knew that he quieted the voice in your head telling you what a complete fuck up you were. Perhaps you would tell him sometime, how just a simple touch from him was enough to make your heart race and your problems dim to background noise?

Maybe someday in the far distant future.

He offered you a plate that was loaded with pieces of cut up fruit and some cheese. The snacks warmed your brittle and bruised heart to imagine Dean in the kitchen, with his freshly sharpened knives, cutting diligently into several types of fruit instead of monsters. The caretaker mentality was set loose, and knew no boundaries while Dean was in the safety of the bunker.

You and Sam had even pitched in together to get him an apron that said: 'I drink and I know things,' a la Tyrian Lannister. Mainly, because Dean loved Game of Thrones and he liked to sip scotch on the rocks while he cooked. The man wore it every time he made something that took longer than 10 minutes to put together. It's adorable, actually.

He'd made an obvious effort to encourage you to eat, making a smiley face with the blueberries and pineapple on your plate. It made you feel like some royal that was locked away from the world. The princess in the tower. It was unconventional, but Dean knew what you were like on days like this, and he knew he'd have a better chance of you eating something that you could snack on rather than a full meal. Dean was observant and thoughtful like that.

He liked to pretend that he was just a selfish jerk, but he could remember the brand of your favorite shampoo, without a reminder from you, while out on a supply run. Not that Dean would ever admit to it, but no matter how tight funds could be, he always made sure you had your favorite bubble bath tucked away in your own space in the cabinet in the shower room. Dean had even gone as far as assigning a space to each of us. He’d even added a label with our names on it to make doubly sure we understood. You figured that it also helped that Dean just liked playing with the label maker.

You suspected he also snuck in a bubble bath from time to time, when no one was around to catch him. You also knew that Dean liked the little reminders that the bunker was lived in and domestic. He wanted the signs and proof that his family was close by, living right here with him. You often thought that this was how Dean kept himself from falling apart. You could relate, even after being in the same place for the first part of your life, to Dean's need to call something 'permanent' and 'his' and 'home' was something that normally helped you too.

You accepted the plate from him with a soul sucking attempt at a smile, and you only held it long enough to rest the plate on your nightstand where it would stay untouched for a couple of hours. Even as you turned away from him, you could feel the smile cracking like porcelain heated in the microwave too many times. You imagined the jagged lines and tiny chips at the edges of your lips crumbling away.

On days like this, almost a week would go by without a single bite of food. You were never hungry when you felt this way, which was the polar opposite of your normal behavior. You never passed up bar food and could out eat Dean in junk food without even trying. That was definitely not the case today. In fact, you were mostly nauseated at the very thought of food and you swallowed compulsively a couple of times because of the bile threatening to rise in your throat.

You'd thought about the reasoning behind your lack of appetite a couple of times in the past. As twisted as it might seem, you thought of it as a kind of penance for living without your brother. You would never lack the ability to passively punish yourself in some way.

Because of your erratic eating habits, you'd lost quite a bit of weight. It was easy to hide beneath layers of flannel, but you knew that the boys could tell. You were down a couple of pant sizes just in the past few months and it wasn't because of healthy eating and exercise.

You turned down every request Sam made to get you running with him in the morning. For one thing, you didn't like to run unless you absolutely had to. Two, you couldn't muster up enough motivation to try.

You knew that Dean had felt every detail of your suffering and pain himself, inside and out. He had lost his brother over and over to so many crazy situations, and he'd gone through great, sometimes irrational, lengths to keep him here.

In fact, you knew last year he'd overdosed on purpose to communicate with a reaper. Unfortunately, you had to admit that you would've made the same drastic choice if that option had been on the table. You would've traded places with your brother in a heartbeat, instead of having to go on living without him. But Remy, after learning the truth about sacrifices made just to keep a person with you, made you promise to do no such thing.

So when a poltergeist violently ran Remy right through the lung with a large Cuisinart kitchen knife, you knew that this was the end of the road for him. You'd held him close and sobbed as he bled out in your arms, his voice clicking in his throat. It was only a minute's time but it felt like it lasted forever. You'd held him until he started to turn cold and your world dimmed to shades of blue. It had been Dean, after he'd managed to send the poltergeist packing with the help from Sam, who had told you it was time to let him go. Remy had been long gone, but letting him go was the hardest thing you'd ever done. You hated yourself a little every day you spent without him, but you would always respect his wishes.

You didn’t have any tears left, just an aching numbness, as you'd finally salted and burned his body a couple of days later. Sam and Dean didn't leave your side for many days after, watching your every move. You watched them fumble all over themselves while they tried to fill Remy's place.

They tried so hard to let you know that you would never be alone.

However, you always knew it would come on days like today without a damn thing you could do to stop it. The fog that laid over you and zapped all the light and energy out of your universe would come without fail. Even a couple of years later, the days leading up to and after his death, were the worst days of your ongoing struggle with depression. Every day was a fight, the question of how hard you had to fight was the only variable.

"What can I do,” Dean asked quietly, his tone making it obvious he was worried. This was always his approach, his words smooth, like a well-rehearsed script. He always asked and you always answered back with the same thing.

"Nothing."

He sighed, and you could see the weight settle on him as he tried to shoulder your pain along with his own. You knew this burdened him, but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't make it stop.

"It's, uh... two years today,” he asked softly, trying to start up a conversation to gage just how bad you were doing as he sat on the side of your bed. Even the motion of reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder was done with great care, like you were made of glass. He was terrified to move you, afraid that you might shatter like you had in the past. If you were 100% right now, it would irk you to be treated like a helpless, delicate flower. You wouldn’t be afraid to tell him that you weren't a child and that you didn't need a babysitter. But right now, you couldn't summon the effort. So, you just nodded silently.

No matter how hard you tried, even feeling that maybe you could bleed the dark feelings infused into your bones out through tears, you couldn't make yourself cry. It was like you were incapable of feeling anything but negative desolation. It left you feeling trapped and useless.

You could feel the frustration of being helpless searing your insides right along with that itch of anxiety that wouldn't let you rest. It created a yearning for something that flickered just beneath the surface of your skin, as delicate as a bumble bee’s wings and just as persistent.

When Dean's hand shifted, the buzz became an unexpected spark as his finger lightly grazed your collar bone. Involuntarily, you shivered, finally looking away from the wall to meet his gaze.

You felt your lips part in surprise as you met his verdant eyes flickering with so much emotion staring right at you.

You'd never pursued your feelings for the man in front of you. Fear of rejection and awkwardness kept you from reaching out when his eyes connected with yours. Not to mention the self-deprecation always making a negative, constant static noise in your head. It told you how you would never be good enough. That, you would never be in the realm of what Dean Winchester thought was attractive, much less sexy. Who would want you?

It was distant memory, but maybe you had seen how his eyes had dilated with want when he caught you in the hallway, wrapped in a towel on your way from a shower, and equated it with passing lust. Or even just a trick of the eye because of the fluorescent lights in the hall way.

Now that you thought of it, you might have seen the softness in them when he tried to impart some sort of wisdom or comfort to soothe your pain that was usually communicated through an awkward pat on the back. Those were all excusable, but the way he would thoroughly check you over for injuries any time you got remotely near any trouble should've been your first clue.

But right now, it didn't matter how awkward, or what the consequences would be the next day if you finally acted on what you wanted. You were desperate for a break from the noise of failure in your ears. You needed an escape. You wanted his touch on your bare skin to soothe it and make you forget for just a little while. Even if it was just lust exchanged between two friends.

You watched him study your face carefully as you willed him to touch you again. "Y/N?" His voice was quiet, hoarse like he'd gargled with glass, as he slowly slid his wide palm along the vulnerable skin of your neck to rest against your cheek. Absentmindedly, he thumbed at the sensitive patch of skin just below your ear in a soothing caress.

But, it stoked a different type of buzz, and the anxious feeling was becoming a little less obvious the longer he touched your skin. The sweet softness of his touch the only thing capable fighting off the negativity that held you prisoner. Your eyes fluttered closed as you turned to softly brush his warm palm with ardent kisses.

You whispered ‘please’ as you breathed in deep the smell of gun oil and car grease, hope a strange feeling fluttering in your chest. God, that scent was home, safety, and every good memory that you held onto.

His lingering kiss pressed to your cheek was a surprise, but was done with such tenderness that you could feel the moisture starting to gather in your eyes. The spreading warmth that had started as a tiny spark in your chest was making your heart beat double time. You felt the close proximity of his body, the heat of his skin almost burning you where he touched, the anticipation feeding your new excitement.

You turned your head slowly, lightly grazing your lips against his in a brief touch. The soft push of his lips created a rush of pure pleasure capable of cleansing your entire being when he gasped. Suddenly, Dean's touch was going straight to your head. He was a drug and you needed so much more when he dropped his forehead against yours.

"Why now?" His question was barely a breath against the sensitive skin of your face, but it held so much raw need. "I've wanted you... for years and every time you've..." He tipped his head so he could look in your eyes, his face so close that you had to fight from going cross eyed and maintaining your focus on his every word.

You were surprised to find that Dean looked absolutely wrecked, moisture shimmering in his green eyes. His hand urged you closer and he wrapped his arm around your back, silently giving you strength.

"I was afraid." You confessed, knowing that Dean was your touch stone and if you lost him too, you were fucked. In your old life you never would've made such a hasty decision. But, this mood made you reckless, and you didn't care about the consequences.

He nodded, his nose gently skimming your cheek and you were overcome with fondness. You felt a deep, burning affection for this solid, beautiful hunter that you knew would slay the world for you. The solidity of your feelings caused your breath to hitch in your chest as you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek.

His nose continued to slowly skim the contours of your face with the softest touch along the apple of your cheeks. He followed a lazy, unmarked path across your forehead.

He lightly touched over your eye brows and closed eyes lids, carefully ruffling your eye lashes. Reverently, his lips kissed down the trail of your tear, tasting the salt with the barest touch of his tongue.

The devotion he was showing you through the soft touch of his lips cracked something inside you, the emotions you'd been dying to feel, rushing to the surface. After dealing with the rollercoaster of emotions that depression could bring your way, the manic episodes all the way down to the absolute desolation, it felt good to be cracked wide open.

"You make me feel." You confessed on a whisper of breath, his eye lashes feathering lightly against your skin. His breath was warm as it brushed an alluring rhythm across your mouth, his supple lips centimeters away. "Please?" "Look at me." His voice was thick with deep emotion but it didn’t waver as he leaned back so that you could see him. Your gaze settled on his with matched intensity so that when he asked, "This is what you want?" He was able to see your sincerity when you told him 'yes'.

You saw him allow the desire rush through his entire body, lighting up his face with a flush of blood and a stutter to his breath before his mouth met yours. The kiss was wet and desperate with lots of teeth and tongue. You felt his need as his full lips kissed you on a wavering exhale, his entire body vibrating as he cradled your face in both of his hands. The kiss consumed you, propelling you forward with intensity.

It wasn’t long before both of you began shedding clothes, only relinquishing contact when it was completely necessary. Miraculously, you avoided knocking heads with elbows or legs. Although, you doubted that a black eye would even be able to stop you now.

Soon you were bare, facing each other and laying side by side. Your skin was flush against his as you relished how his hands fervently roamed every available inch. You felt like you were being worshiped.

A rapacious moan escaped Dean's throat to vibrate against your wet lips when you draped a leg over his hip, offering yourself up to him. He was eager, his hand sliding down your back to firmly palm your ass before possessively feeling his way down your thigh to squeeze and follow the same trail back. His hands were calloused and avaricious, creating a prefect drag against your smooth skin. Touching him like this felt like coming home, like you could do just this for the rest of your life. You were soaking wet for him, desire to feel him inside your swollen center burning you up inside.

His freckled skin was warm and littered with several scars where your covetous hands mapped his sweat sheened body. You felt the strong muscles of his back in dips and valleys, the slight bump of his vertebrae against your fingers. You marveled as you felt them contract and relax when he undulated his perfect body against yours.

You were immediately fond of the perfect dip of his spine that lead into the sinuous muscles of his ass as he thrust against you. You couldn't help but squeeze the solid, contracting muscle in your grip, shocking another moan from deep in Dean's chest.

He was pressing hot steel wrapped in silk shamelessly against you, leaving a wet trail in the bend of your thigh. When he finally relinquished your mouth you sucked in much needed oxygen as he began to place ardent kisses along your jaw and down the length of your neck. To you it seemed that Dean’s need to taste your skin was more than he needed oxygen and he panted against your skin as he went.

His warm, calloused palm then smoothed down the flat of your stomach until two fingers teased the lips of your center. When he realized just how wet and swollen you were for him, you both moaned. As he teased you he sucked a patch of skin on your neck, grazing it with his teeth and no doubt leaving a mark. When you pushed his fingers further into your soaking core, he bit down on the spot with a groan.

The pain mixed with pleasure was perfect, the feeling of complete escape from your traitorous mind just within reach. Every muscle was tensed and every nerve awake in your body, dying for his attention.

Warmth spread to your throat and face in a blush as his finger sank into you. It wasn't enough to fill you but you would take this sensation over none at all. You would take whatever he was willing to give you.

When you tucked your face into his neck, you found that it made it a little hard to breathe, but you couldn't bring yourself move. You felt the need to cling to him as the heel of his palm dragged deliciously against your clit as he thrust two wide fingers inside. You wanted the musk of his skin and the lingering scent of his body wash in your nose while the pleasure began to build.

You reveled in the loss of control, trusting Dean implicitly, as your orgasm began to build as an ache in your belly to a full out liquid heat all over. You felt sparkles of pleasure in your chest that made you smile with the rush of happiness it brought you in stark contrast to the way every muscle in your lower stomach was beginning to clamp down.

"Dean!" Your shout muffled against his neck as you tensed against him, his touch no longer grounding you but propelling you forward. "I'm gonna..." Your voice was just a desperate exhale against the salty tang of his neck before you mounded his skin with your teeth and began to suck a deep mark there.

"That's good, sweetheart. You're doing so good for me. Just let go. Fuck-" His voice was an octave lower than normal, the gravel scratch in his voice against your ear finally sending you crashing over the edge. "Yeah, that's it princess. God, that's it, sweetheart. Give it to me. Give me all you’ve got. I got you."

He didn't stop working you through it until you begged as he held you close and you writhed and moaned through the best orgasm you'd had in a long time. You felt completely blissed out as you kissed your 'I love yous’ and 'thank yous' and 'don't stops' into his bruised neck. A feeling of possessiveness coming over you.

You felt the hot, swollen head of his cock as he teased at your entrance. The floating relief of your orgasm giving way to an even deeper need to be filled. In the deep recesses of your mind you could admit that you wanted Dean to claim you and make you his. You wanted him to mark up your neck and for you to make a bigger mark on him. Just so the next time you went out the women that had a homing device for fucking gorgeous men would back the fuck off.

You traced a lazy path slowly down his back, your nails tickling and teasing against his overheated slick skin. As you reached the small of his back, a violent shiver to shake his entire body, causing him to bite his bottom lip in anticipation. As your hands spread across the plump round of his ass, his head tipped back slightly. A gasp and sigh of pleasure leaving his kiss swollen mouth before he pinned you down with his expression.

"You want this?" He was so clearly wound up, panting as he asked, desperate to be inside you, but unwilling to do anything against your will. His other worldly green eyes shimmered with need and something else you couldn’t quite identify, begging for your compliance.

You wasted no time in giving him your implicit consent by squeezing his ass hard in your hand, resulting in pushing just the tip of his cock inside. "Please?" You pressed the plea into his lips, your free hand threading through his hair to keep him close. You dragged your tongue teasingly across the seam of his lips and he granted you entrance with an anguished moan.

Despite his impetuosity, he was careful and controlled as he slowly sank into you in one long thrust. Later, you’ll think about this moment and how no one in your entire life has ever shown you so much care. You’ll feel the freely given affection as he takes the time to lay kisses all over your face as if in apology for any pain his considerable size may have caused you.

He’s a shield against the negative that was slowly eating away at you. This beautiful man centered you and all you could feel was him and what he did to you. He was everywhere. You were surrounded by the feel of his body and the scent of his skin. There wasn't room for anything else and for a moment you forgot what today was and how you felt about it.

For a moment you clung desperately to each other, your tongue lazily exploring his mouth as you felt him stretching you and molding a spot just for him. It was a strange combination as the stretch burned but the throb of his obvious want gave you goosebumps. Never had you taken the time to really pay attention to the way the first thrust feels as your core clutches him inside.

You urge him to move by draping your leg up higher, feeling him sink in just that much deeper. Needing him to move and feeling your toes curl when he finally concedes. When he finally begins to move, it’s a slow and deep rhythm that a metronome would be proud of. To you, it felt like he was taking the time to savor every move and every reaction showing openly on your face.

His grip was tight on your as he pressed into the skin of your back and hip. Like Dean was holding on for dear life as he whimpered hurt, aching noises that were exhaled into your mouth with his every move.

For a long time, you stared right back into the depths of his hypnotic eyes, watching the emotions that he tried to keep bottled up and hidden behind his carefully built walls. You could plainly see the desperation and want in his expressions and his actions, but there was something there that you hadn’t seen before.

How long had he felt this way and been unknowingly denied? Or, maybe more aptly, how long had you been denying yourself?

"Dean?" He never stopped the steady pumps of his hips, but he gave you his full attention. He was looking a little dazed, like his brain might be feeling fuzzy as his breath came in irregular pants of desperate air.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He slid a hand up from your back to cradle your cheek in his palm, blinking his eyes a few times as if he could overcome the mush his brain had become.

"I'm so sorry... I didn't know. Not really..." You sighed with satisfaction as you began to rock into his thrusts even as you still felt contrite somewhere in the miasma of emotion this man was making you feel. "I thought…"

"You thought you were just like… everyone else." He didn’t even assert his words as a question, but as a known fact instead and you could see the flash of hurt at the revelation before he could blink it away. It was exactly like he knew that you would think that you would sleep together and he would forget you when it was all over. Just like all those other women he'd slept with and left behind. His eyes were vivid and clear when he answered, "You’re nothing like them and there’s no one that can hold a candle to you."

You'd never heard so much conviction in his voice and it filled you with the sudden need for more. At this point it was just more anything, as long as it involved Dean. You carefully pulled him out before you rolled onto your back, coaxing him to follow.

He easily blanketed your body with his, wasting no time in following you and thrusting back home. "You drive me crazy, did you know that?" You felt him dig his knees into the mattress, putting more force behind the steady thrust of his hips. It was almost like you could feel him in your throat. You were completely stuffed with him and you couldn't imagine a better thing than being taken by this man as he claimed new territory inside you.

He surrounded you, protecting you from the outside world with his hands on either side of your head as he nuzzled your breasts. You reached a hand behind you to brace yourself against the headboard, putting your breasts at his mercy. They were already tight peaks before he teased them with his teeth and tongue until they were throbbing in time with your enthusiastic heart.

He groaned with satisfaction on a particularly deep thrust and he pulled as much of your breast as he could into his mouth and suckled. The satisfied noises he made in the back of his throat caused everything to flutter and throb with pleasure. You could probably come from just his mouth and tongue teasing you.

However, with him thrusting into you and nailing your g spot with the roll of his hips like his life depended on it, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. He gave both of your breasts ample attention, leaving them wet, raw red and exposed to the air. You weren’t prepared for what he had been thinking about when he suddenly buried his face in the juncture where your shoulder met your neck.

"I. I can't. You." His voice was muffled as he huffed raggedly against your skin and fumbled his words, his body beginning to thrust a little harder with the desperation he felt. "I can't. You can't leave."

The pleading sound of his voice sliced soul deep, a vicious pain lancing through your chest just at the thought of leaving him. You gripped him tightly as he wrapped his arms around you, one of your hands sliding through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I promise,” you responded with a pained whisper brushed against his ear. "I won't leave on purpose." It killed you to make that promise, removing your one last option to see Remy sooner rather than later. You felt every word drag against your chest as if it didn't want to be released into the world. God, it hurt.

He shivered, practically vibrating and wound so tight with his impending orgasm but unwilling to end this just yet. His thrusts finally gaining some speed as he pushed up to lean on his elbows again and watch your face. He kept his thrusts short and fast, burying himself deep inside you, but unwilling to move too far out of your body. The wet noises of him slamming into you were obscene but the feeling of his entire body shifting and grinding against yours caused your pleasure to swell just that much further.

"You're beautiful," he confessed brokenly and you were delighted to see that his expression was wide open again. Your promise quelling his fears for the moment as he confessed what he was feeling. "Always. You just have to open your damn eyes and I can't... I can't look away from you." His eyebrows bunched together as he bit his lip, his eyes wide open and wet. Your name a gasp when you clenched tightly around his cock.

"Oh, fuck. Dean." It hit you like a punch to the chest when you realized that Dean loved you, more than you'd ever allowed yourself to recognize. That this was what had been hiding in his expressions that you just wouldn’t let yourself see. "H-harder." You gasped, gripping him so tightly that you distantly worried that you might draw blood, but it was a fleeting thought.

You were completely flayed open when he whimpered against your mouth and complied with your request. You were undeniably fixated by the tender, open look still there on his beautifully freckled face. You couldn’t help but to be overcome with the love you'd never allowed yourself to really feel before. You could feel his heart beating fast where his chest was pressed against yours. Dean was unable to kiss properly anymore because his breathing was an open mouth pant as he pulled back watched you fall apart.

You finally felt like you could free fall over the jagged edge of the zenithal mountain that you’d been climbing, the buildup making you lightheaded as pleasure began to pulse little shocks through every vein. Then, as you had one leg hanging over the precipice, you looked into Dean’s familiar eyes and the unabashed love you saw there sent an electric current straight to your heart.

"Dean, oh fuck. Dean." You cursed with the startling realization that you loved him, too. That you'd just buried it down deep with the other profound emotions that you hadn’t wanted to feel. Life was a double edged sword. On one side you could feel extreme happiness and the deepest love but on the flip side there was profound sadness and hollowing loss. You couldn’t focus on that thought any further when he pulled you close with both arms tight around you as you shattered, shaking against him as he fucked you through until there was nothing left to drag out of you but satisfied sighs.

You didn't know how long you floated, but you came around to feel Dean's pounding rhythm faltering. You ran your fingers through his mussed up hair before you cupped his face in your hands. He looked like he would crack at any moment, his eyes locked on yours, and he was trying desperately not to come. "I need- I'm gonna-" He bit his lip against a rush of pleasure when you squeezed your walls against him. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna-"

“Come for me, Dean,” you said barely above a whisper and his orgasm slammed into him like a runaway freight train. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open with his air trapped in his lungs. His eye brows bunched like he was in pain before a gasping moan shook out from deep in his chest.

When his arms became weak and he collapsed onto you, his hips continued to thrust lazily as he spent his last pulses inside.

You could still feel the lingering warmth of his come inside you when he found your lips again and kissed you breathless. He cradled your face with both hands, his expression so silently possessive that it caused you to clenched down into another small orgasm. The pressure around his cock caused him to moan, vibrating against your mouth.

By the time you were completely spent you were both a sweaty, shivering mess. Neither one of you were ready to move away or start to clean up when your breathing normalized. It was an unspoken agreement that you guys were just going to lay there for however long it took for your brains to come back online. Currently, they were blissfully fuzzy as the effects of the endorphins and chemicals laid waste to any thought of motivation.

When Dean relaxed, he shifted down so that he could lay against your heartbeat. You both made a sound of remorse when the movement made him slip free. As you waited for either sleep or the endless pit of ‘what ifs’ to take you, your hands traded trailing fingers slowly up and down his back and running them through his short, sweaty hair as he took deep breaths. The way he was breathing made you think he was trying to memorize your scent, before they became rhythmic and you knew he had fallen asleep.

When you woke up and indeterminable amount of time later, it was to the gentle touch of his finger tracing over your features. You couldn't help the smile that it automatically brought to your face. There was a look of pure contentedness that you weren’t sure you had seen outside of the time that he spent in the garage working on his Baby. And didn’t that thought make you smile just a little bit wider?

"Better?" He asked, the timber of his voice still fucked out and well deep.

You did a quick mental inventory at his question even though you knew he wasn’t just talking about what had just happened between you. However, physically, you knew there would be little bruises scattered over your neck, collar bone and chest. There was also a possibility, if the burning in your thighs and ass were any indication, that you would be walking a little funny later. For now, it seemed as if it temporarily out shined the pain that had been living in your chest for days, leaving you with an exhausted feeling of contentment.

You beamed up at him as you completed your assessment, hoping that he could see exactly how you felt written on your face. "Much better."

“Awesome,” he grinned, kissing your nose before he rolled onto his back. He beckoned you with a grunt and his arms outstretched. How could you resist an offer like that?

Clinging tightly to the momentary peace you had found, you snuggled up to his chest, practically laying on him with half your body weight and holding him back just as tight. He didn't seem to mind as he pulled you closer and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

Logically, you knew that this wouldn't be the miracle cure for your problems nor would it bring your brother or your parents back. But Dean’s outpouring of love and affection had been strong enough to clear the suffocating fog when you needed him to. He’d made the struggle to live from day to day a little more worth pushing through the pain as best as you could. Maybe you could survive in this world after all.

Tagging: (Forevers) @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyxx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @callmesatansprincess, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @spn67-sister, @ria132love, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @pretty-fortune, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @weasleywinchester, @akshi8278, @wheresthekillswitch, @tas898, @pansexualmeteorite, @silver9mm, @mandymoiselle1970

[elfnerdherder]

Dread and Hunger: Ch 16

You can read Chapter 16 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 16: Mourvédre

           Will woke with a start that was hampered by zip-ties that strapped his wrists to the arms of a chair. He looked about, his heartbeat tripping before beginning to quake in his chest, his eyes leaping from his bound wrists to his soaked jeans, then about the room that looked like an unfinished basement with random partitions creating small, shabby corners in the dim light.

           Where the hell was he?

           He shook his head, more than just confusion creating a haze that left his breath short and his palms clammy. Just seconds ago, he’d been falling –falling where? Why? The rain, the storm, and a needle that punctured deep and sent a sleep through him that knocked what futile defenses he had down with a merciless talent.

           He’d been drugged.

           “Fuck,” he hissed, and he twisted his wrists against the zip-ties, suppressing a grunt of pain at the way they bit into his skin. His legs were similarly bound, and the longer Will looked at his predicament, the more the haze cleared until a senseless, animalistic panic set in. He was going to die. He was going to die in someone’s basement, and Jack Crawford wouldn’t find him until it was too late.

           It was the racket he made as he tried to tear himself free that finally brought his captor down the stairs, although Will didn’t know that. The chair lay on its side from his frenzy, Will’s head pressed to the cool concrete as he gulped in frantic breaths. He had the dizzying sensation of being lifted, and the chair jerked and slammed to all fours, leaving Will face-to-face with Tobias Budge.

           “The man who sold me the anesthesia said patients often wake with no knowledge of time passing,” he said with an amiable smile. He brushed dirt from Will’s shoulder and arm, dressed like he’d just come from a performance. “Did you experience any time passing, Will? I’m curious.”

           When his hand moved to adjust Will’s shirt, Will wrenched his head down and bit, ripping a chunk of skin from the back of Tobias’ hand. He cried out and jerked away from him, the sensation of skin breaking strange on Will’s teeth as he pulled his head back and held the flap of flesh like a prize, breathing haggardly against it. When there was enough space between them, Will spat it out on the floor, glaring. He licked the blood from his lips, copper putrid on his tongue.

           Tobias stormed over to a small table, hidden by one of the partitions, drops of blood marking his path like a macabre candy trail. The sound of rustling, of quiet hisses of breath filtered over to Will, and he basked in it, gritting his teeth in a feral grin. He wasn’t going to die so easily.

           “I understand that you’re angry, but this truly isn’t about you,” Tobias said as he returned, finishing wrapping a bandage around the spot. “In the grand scheme of things, you’re ultimately nothing.”

           “The Chesapeake Ripper feels the same way about you,” Will said, and his voice wasn’t quite his own. There was something harsher, something hungrier in the way he spoke, and he marked Tobias’ movements like a cornered animal waiting to lunge.

           “He and I have an understanding about one another. We’ve been playing a good game these past few weeks.”

           “He told me that if I wanted you to die, I only had to ask.”

           “Should I feel some semblance of gratitude you didn’t ask him to kill me?” Tobias wondered. His flat eyes assessed Will from his bloodstained mouth and chin to his clothes that still dripped rainwater on the floor.

           “You should be angry. I’m sure if I asked nicely, he’d have made it painless.”

           “Does the great Will Graham truly think he holds that much sway over someone with such finesse and talent as the Chesapeake Ripper?”

           “You were rude, Tobias. He doesn’t like the rude.”

           “And now I have his favorite toy tied up underneath my shop,” Tobias replied pleasantly. “How thankful he’ll be to me when I make you into the most beautiful violin, strings and all, and present it to him as a gift. He’ll be able to play you whenever he likes.”

           “I live and die at his convenience, not yours,” Will snapped.

           “Yes, but when I show him just how well you play, he’ll reconsider the advantages of a partner.”

           They considered one another, Will with blood pooling up around his wrists, Tobias whose blood was already seeping through the bandage. Wounded. Wary.

           “He doesn’t like sharing,” Will whispered.

           “Neither do I.”

           “The difference is that he’s far better at his craft than you are. There’s no place you can run that he won’t find you. When you’re smart enough to realize just how angry he’s going to be, it’ll be too late.”

           “Are you banking on the Chesapeake Ripper to come and save you, Will?”

           “I’m banking on his justice when he sees what you’ve done.”

           “You don’t know him like I do,” Tobias murmured, and it was enough to make Will laugh, an ugly, haggard thing that made his ribs press tight against his lungs.

           “Tasteless,” he said, and a flicker of fury graced Tobias’ face. Will latched onto it, a starving man placed before a mere morsel. “I saw the body you laid out for him, Tobias. I heard your song every time I closed my eyes. You played your heart out for him, and what did he do? He came to me and offered to kill you because of the inconvenience. The disrespect.”

           “You’re nothing but meat to him,” Tobias hissed. “Nothing but a toy to bat around until he’s had his fill and moves to greener pastures with fatter pigs.” At the sound of a creaking stair, his eyes lightened, eager. “…Wouldn’t you agree, Hannibal?” he asked, turning to him.

           In the gloom of the basement lights, Hannibal tilted his head.

           There were many things Will had been trying to prepare himself for –death, torture, mutilation, abuse, starvation –but Hannibal standing at the foot of Tobias Budge’s stairs wasn’t one of them. His stomach clenched, and he felt as though he’d been gutted, the breath leaving him in one large, horrendous whoosh. His mind, sharp and jagged with fear serrating his words, scattered his thoughts until he couldn’t quite grab onto one, floundering for a foothold in the midst of the chaos. This wasn’t happening.

           This wasn’t happening.

            Over Hannibal’s three-piece suit, a strange, fitted, plastic suit rested along the fibers, coming up just underneath his chin. His eyes, black in the light, flicked from Tobias Budge to Will, and his lips pressed into a flat line. His gaze fell to the blood on Will’s lips and chin.

           “Is that your blood, or his?” he asked Tobias, like they were discussing the weather.

           “Mine,” Tobias said sourly. He tucked his hands into his pockets, hiding the wound.

           Will gaped, mouth working furiously as he tried to find enough breath to make words.

           “I missed the overture,” Hannibal said dismally. He studied the blood, and his lip twitched into a smile.

           “It’s still act one, though. He’s been unspeakably rude,” Tobias said. His chin lifted, a proud tilt.

           “Fear makes his mouth sharp,” Hannibal agreed, and he rocked back onto his heels. “Unlike your own friend.”

           “Yes, where is Franklyn?”

           “Dead upstairs,” Hannibal replied genially.

           “I’d wanted to kill him,” Tobias said dismally.

           “After the cat and mouse chase, I couldn’t resist. What’s yours is mine,” he said, and he seemed to note every injury on Will’s person, from his wrists to his shoulder that wasn’t sitting quite right. Will stared back, resenting, furious. A niggling, dark whisper curled around his ear, slithered deep inside: wasn’t it so very obvious? How could you be so blind?

           “And what’s yours is mine,” Tobias agreed.

           “That…is where you’re wrong,” Hannibal said, and he scuffed his shoe on the ground. “That is where you’re very wrong, indeed.” His head tilted, and Will thought of the way the light in Sangre had accented the sharp lines of his face, making him predatory, wolfish. Even now, his moves had a certain lethal glint, animalistic rather than human.

           How could you be so fucking blind?

           “I thought he’d make you a rather beautiful violin. You’d admitted to wanting to learn the trade.”

           “Do you want me to kill him, Will?” Hannibal asked, addressing him for the first time.

           “Do what you want,” Will bit out. He glared at the two of them, his muscles clenching and unclenching against his binds. Blood dripped lazily onto the concrete below with the effort.

           “No, this is about you. I will help you, but only if you ask me to.”

           “You’re not going to kill me,” Tobias said, and he pulled out a knife, the blade curving to a hooked back. Dazedly, Will saw it to be a gutting knife, the kind used on deer and game for field dressing. His heart screamed for release, and he looked from the knife to Hannibal, jerking his wrists against his binds harder.

           “You have to ask,” Hannibal said gently.

           “Fuck you,” Will hissed.

           “He doesn’t appreciate you, Hannibal,” Tobias said, and he took a step closer to Will, watching Hannibal warily. “He doesn’t appreciate your art or your method. Your obsession with him is because he resists you, but that is not what creates lasting impressions. You need someone that can comprehend you, someone that knows your mind as you know theirs.”

           “You create things that intentionally imbalance so that you are the only source of stability when the ground falls,” Will said, ignoring Tobias. He glared at Hannibal, jaw clenched. “You lied to me.”

           “You lied to me, too,” Hannibal replied.

           “You’re just going to let me die, then?” Will asked.

           “Are you going to die when you could have asked for help?” Hannibal countered quietly.

           “Enough!” Tobias shouted and, too fast for Will to track, he lunged, plunging his knife into Will’s stomach and dragging to the side, parting shirt and skin and flesh like a hot knife through butter, like a needle through wet paper.

           Will had never been stabbed before. He’d read enough and seen enough to suppose that it would hurt in an indescribable way, something far-reaching and all-encompassing that no matter the need, no matter the drive, the person would not be able to react. On television, friends had laughed over the action movies where injuries of genuine fatality didn’t faze the heroes as they fought valiantly, somehow winning despite overwhelming odds of too much blood loss.

           This was neither one of those things.

           It was warm first, then hot. Tobias wrapped his arm around Will to really sink the blade in, and as Will’s head fell limp onto his shoulder, the rest of him went cold. He blinked, gaping at Hannibal as the blood rushed from his extremities to his core, and when the knife was removed, he let out a choking, haggard breath. The sensation was a plug releasing in a full tub, and as Hannibal tilted his head, eyes intent on his expression, Will just barely managed to mouth, ‘kill him.’

           That is when the pain came.

           It was with each heartbeat, a pulsing flow like waves washing over, receding. He tried to let out a groan of agony, something to release the white hot poker that pooled blood onto his lap, but there wasn’t enough energy to. His eyesight could only catch glimpses between each slow, heavy blink as his head bobbed once, twice. Hannibal moved. Blink. Hannibal held Tobias, poised over a sink. Blink. The sound of shouting upstairs. Blink.

           Hannibal’s face, too close but too far.

           “Stay with me, Will,” he said, and it echoed oddly, bouncing through the fragments in his mind. Where would he go? He was strapped to a chair, and at the sound of water running, he was confused. Blink. Not water. Blood. His blood was dripping onto the floor.

           “My clever, lovely boy,” he whispered. Blink. A kiss to his forehead. Blink. A palm to his cheek.

           He blinked. Everything went black.

-

           In his dreams, he was suffocated by white oleander. Hands pressed wolfsbane to his stomach, and he bled foxglove from wounds that wept.

-

           In his dreams, he was visited by Hannibal. He was visited by the Chesapeake Ripper, too. In his dreams, they were much the same.

           “Will,” he said, and Will woke with the cool kiss of a hand to his neck.

           “N-no, no-”

           “Sh, sh…” Fingers pressed to his lips, silencing him. “My darling, dear Will. I only wish to know one thing. One thing and you may rest.”

           His protests were muffled, his body so very, very tired.

           “Did you tell Agent Crawford to check Tobias Budge’s shop for video surveillance of me? Just a yes or a no, dear Will. Then you may rest.”

           He lay in a field of poppies. His eyelids drooped, his protests dying as he shook his head. Who was Tobias Budge? Who was Agent Crawford?

           “No.” A sigh, and the hand at his mouth patted it, soothing. “Clever boy. My clever, clever boy.”

-

           He woke to a room filled with flowers, a feeding tube down his throat. At his dazed motions, his heart rate monitor’s beeping increased, and a nurse came in to sooth him. At her gentle ministrations, the feeding tube was taken out, and she worked his jaw for him, helping sooth the ache that’d built at the angle of insertion. Whatever medicine they’d given him, he didn’t fight her. His muscles were suspended in water, too lax to do anything more than accept what was happening around him with a glazed expression.

           He was given pain medicine again, and he went to sleep.

-

           The next time was better. Due to the nature of his wound, they wouldn’t allow him to adjust the angle of the bed, but they did allow him to see people, friends whose worries tumbled out of them like overfilled cups.

           Beverly stood by the bed, gripping the railing of it. Beside her, Alana’s eyes were red from crying, and even Margot looked at a loss with a sort of detached, odd expression on her face. Zeller was left to the task of clearing out old flowers and replacing them with new ones. Will marked the passage of time by the deadest flower.

           “Where’s Hannibal,” he managed to croak. He had to speak slowly, every slight movement sending an odd, aching sensation to his guts that burned.

           There was an exchanging of glances, of eyes that wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. Alana found the words to say first. She was top of her class, after all.

           “Let’s not worry about Hannibal, Will. Let’s focus on you getting better.”

           Will stared at Beverly, and she gave a subtle nod. She’d tell him later. When nurses came in to check up on him, administer his next round of medicine, and shoo everyone out, he managed to convince them to let Beverly stay, as long as she didn’t get anywhere close to the colostomy bag.

           “Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper, Will,” she said as kindly as she could. “Alana said I’d break your psyche saying that, but…” She shrugged. Beverly didn’t mince words.

           Will stared down at the nurse, his hands clenching the sheets beneath him.

           “I guess you sounded off when you called Agent Crawford. He came asking about you, looking for you. When he couldn’t find you, he went to Budge’s place and got him to show security tapes from a system no one knew he even had. It showed Hannibal breaking in and taking one of the string sets, and…well, you received the string he stole. It was enough to get a warrant, and they combed through his place until they found everything.”

           “What’d they find?” Will whispered.

           “He had a basement…my dad knew one of the guys that was part of the search. When he got down there, he…well, he turned in his badge the other day. It was bad. Body parts, surgical tools, bone cutting tools…” At a severe glance from the nurse, Beverly looked to the screen that tracked Will’s now elevated pulse.

           “They found remains of all of the dead?”

           “Flowers he’s sent you, photos he’s taken of you, drawings…you name it. It’s been a few weeks and the news is still hung up on it.”

           “Where is he?”

           “That’s why…they’re still hung up on it. He vanished.”

           Will stared at the ceiling, focusing on not swallowing his tongue.

           “Where’s Jack Crawford,” he rasped.

           “When he went back to Budge’s place, he was attacked from behind, stabbed in the neck by one of the tools upstairs. Got himself locked in a closet and managed to call for help when everything went down. He’s down the hall, out of the ICU.”

           “That’s a relief,” Will said, closing his eyes.

           “I’m sorry, Will. I don’t…know what to say.” Beverly was just as good at handling emotionally compromising experiences as Will was. He would have laughed, if it didn’t hurt so damn much.

           “I’m so stupid,” he managed. “You don’t have to say it; I already did.”

           “You’re not stupid, he’s a creep,” Beverly retorted. “They’ve got a manhunt out for him, and a pretty high reward for any information. We’ve all already been interviewed, like they’re combing through us to find out who knew and didn’t say anything.”

           “Alright, that’s enough,” the nurse said as politely as she could. “You’ve got his pulse at a place I can’t abide, and I’m going to have to say that visiting time is over. He’s gone through something traumatizing to his body, you know.”

           “…Sorry,” Beverly mumbled. “Bye, Will.”

           The nurse ushered her out, wrapped up her work, then gave Will his medicine. He fell asleep, unable to fight the idea of a bliss where he didn’t have to come to terms with reality.

-

           Jack Crawford saw him when it was deemed he could physically handle the emotional duress.

           He sat at one of the chairs, clad in hospital gown just as ugly as Will’s. At his neck, a heavy bandage sat, and he leaned on the IV drip for support as he surveyed Will. His heavy-lidded eyes blinked, looked away. He sighed.

           “Did you know?” he asked.

           “No.”

           “You knew about Tobias Budge.”

           “A man has an eager interest in the Chesapeake Ripper and suddenly starts talking to me? C’mon, Jack,” Will said, staring at the ceiling. The tang of flowers in various states of decay rested on his tongue, heavy. He wondered if anyone sent Jack flowers. “Tobias was obvious. I’d been serving Hannibal Lecter at Belle Bleu for most of my college life –years.”

           “What changed,” Jack pressed, “what happened to make him act out?”

           “I got fired,” Will replied. “That’s when I started getting the letters, and he started killing again.”

           “Getting fired was enough for him to do all of this?” Jack asked skeptically.

           “Apparently.” Will thought about sitting up. Decided against it when he stomach threatened mutiny. “I didn’t know, though. I…I was so fucking blind.”

           Jack nodded in agreement, although he grudgingly said, “To be fair, he wanted you to be blind.”

           Silence. The tulips warred with the scent of antiseptic. Hannibal wanted him to be blind.