#did he rip out his own wings? is he mourning them and re-opened the wounds?

[gaytedlasso]

In the church of a lonely highway motel,

an angel falls

[creeping-crowley]

☠ Another One Bites The Dust ☠

It had been on his to-do list.

It had been right there amongst the mental note to re-pot a few of his plants and nip to Tesco. Hell, however, had decided that the priorities with which Crowley had been going through his mental to-do list were in need of some re-ordering.

A mental tug snared him, scoring a painful wound through Crowley’s thoughts. Dazed, the demon pinched the bridge of his nose. He was being called. Well. Called, rather implied there was a choice in the matter. Summoned was rather more accurate.

His very essence coiled into inky smoke, coursing and winding through the infinitely bound layers of reality to plummet lower and lower. There were more stylish manners to descend to hell, but the mental rope tightened, choking and smothering away any form of preference, dignity or comfort with which its target was drug out from his warren. Upon coursing downward through a haze of blistering ice and vapid heat, jet wings flung open from Crowley’s back, clawing a wide arcing path through the air in an effort to slow his fall. Gracelessly, he met the ground, feathered wings sprawling out either side of him as he made swift to appraise his surroundings and those in attendance. It was never good to be brought forth by unbreakable tie.

Damp, acrid dirt stung the demon’s palms. He pushed himself upright, noting all the eyes that watched. Nobody stepped forward. The sulfuric air that burned at his nose and lungs brought back the memories of the place- hell’s pit. The pit was not so much a place for conversation as it was for public demonstrations, executions and torture. It was a place steeped in sorrow, punishment and fear. Even those clustered around appeared apprehensive (and knowing the risk of collateral that hell had, they had good reason to be).

Serpentine eyes scanned for the one at the head of the gathering.

Moloch.

Master of shame, devourer of life and lover of sacrifice.

There was a reason Crowley had always done well to avoid this particular circle of hell. He had never quite seen eye to eye with Moloch- a being that favoured the suffering and carnal devouring of body and souls (particularly the innocent). He was a real brawn-over-brains sort. The likelihood of getting a trial or so much as the chance to weave his path out of the firing line with words was looking unlikely. Crowley swallowed.

“Ah, Moloch…”

The tang of ash and rot boiled into a thick, putrid haze. A soft crackling of flame was punctuated with the damp hiss of droplets cascading from the rock above, throwing up plumes of angry, stench-ridden steam.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Run. Running. Always looking to run.” A deep baritone rumbled, shaking the air about them.

Snakelike eyes flitted back to Moloch, halted from their restless efforts to map what tools surrounded him in an effort to categorise the threat.

“Thinks he can run…from Moloch!” Deep thrums of laughter echoed from the demon’s chest, coursing a low hiss of snickering from the beings that encircled the pit.

“I didn’t say—”

“Thinks he can LIE to Moloch.” The demon interrupted.

“…I just got here.” Crowley insisted, already acutely aware of the dread building in his chest at how little purchase he was being offered.

A wail of air howled through the stifling chasm, picking up smatterings of ash and cinder.

“And soon you’ll be leaving.” Mammon, Prince of trust and greed spoke up, electing to intervene before his companion got ahead of himself.

“Listen, guys, whatever it is there’s probably some sort explanation. The pit? Really? Surely it doesn’t call for this…” Crowley’s tone held up surprisingly well in an effort to hold his nerve- to make it all seem like some silly understanding. To make it seem as though he were the last demon deserving of such treatment (when in actuality he found himself mentally scrambling to work out which of his many transgressions had earned him a place in the pit).

“Oh, but I think you’ll find it does.” Mammon’s words were silken. Carefully the web was being woven to ensnare him.

“Holy water does not kill you.” Mammon’s gaze fixed Crowley. All of a sudden, Crowley noticed that none of the demons in attendance were looking at him as though he were one of their own. A babble of agreement slithered through the gathered crowd as heads bobbed with concerned agreement. He was a stranger now. An outcast- struck out with the rest of the unwanted to boil and melt in the pit.

“You prefer the company…of ANGELS!” The accusation rose into a shout, stirring the crowd into a chorus of angered and horrified howls and shouts. Roaring beside Mammon was Moloch, pounding a fist against the wall.

The volume marked his cards, turning Crowley in on himself as his shoulders lost the nonchalant air he had fought to uphold. Warily, the demon’s feet inched back.

“The angels know of you…and you were there each step of the way- thwarting Armageddon. Thwarting our chance to ESCAPE THIS PLACE. To WIN!”

“And when it was all said and done, the Archangel Michael did not destroy you…” Mammon’s voice softened with an insidious air of contemplation.

“They wouldn’t kill one of their own. Someone fallen…some damned spirit to be heaven’s eyes and ears in dark places. You were too useful to them. But that doesn’t make you very useful to us…”

A low hissing pronunciation of a name that Crowley had not worn for centuries addressed him.

“Your work on Earth has hereby come to a close. Hell has no requirement of your services any longer. Please step into the centre of the pit to surrender your vessel.”

“Sorry…what?” A haze of confusion and panic slowed Crowley’s thoughts as he battled to grasp the closing space around him. An urge to shout out at them tightened the demon’s throat- an urge to insist there was a terrible misunderstanding. They had it all wrong. But all the evidence backed up the accusations pinned against him. He’d done very little to maintain his ties to hell or uphold any ally that would save him or so much as vouch for his deeds. Crowley paled.

Moloch set about advancing, lowering into the pit with an impatient gnashing of pointed fangs. At the movement, Crowley arched skittishly away, seeking to buy himself a little more time.

“No no no, you’ve got it all wrong!” He insisted, flashing a borderline manic smile that hoped to insist how thoroughly laughable the mix-up was. As Moloch drew closer in his hungry advance, coal-black wings struck out in an effort to better scramble away. It was to be the first of many mistakes. A large clawed hand snatched out from Moloch, far swifter than the brutish form of him would have made anyone think possible. Moloch’s crushing grip found the crook of Crowley’s wing and snatched it, pulling firm to yank the smaller demon into his trajectory. Caught entirely off-guard by the sudden force that threw him off balance, Crowley tripped, meeting the ground clumsily at Moloch’s feet to a round of hearty cheers. A thread of humiliation and shame began to crawl and writhe within his chest at the noise. It was every bit a confirmation that nobody was going to help him. They wanted to see him torn to pieces. They wanted him dead. Gone.

A low groan ached at the pit of Crowley’s throat before a sharp rip of claws struck the first effort to break the demon’s Earthly form.

“No…” A soft, mournful moan escaped Crowley (too quiet, thankfully for the jeering crowd to hear). A slick dampness of blood brought about ragged breaths as Crowley began to crumble beneath the torment. Frenzied at the reality of his predicament, he pushed forward, attempting to writhe and batter away his attacker with both wings. A cascade of feathers swirled about the burning pit.

Boulder-like fists snatched at bone beneath feather, seeing to it that the appendages were shattered and crumpled into a useless cloak of blood and darkness. A visceral shriek that did not sound as though it belonged to Crowley at all broke through the growing applause. Shuddering under the shock of such an injury, Crowley crumpled, one wing falling weakly to his side in a searing haze of pain. Moloch saved no time to observe his work. The larger demon brought down a foot onto Crowley’s leg, grinning widely at the sensation of splintering bone. The choked screams grew louder. The crowd’s enthusiasm grew with them. Animalistic panic drove Crowley into pushing against the force that sought to slowly break his limbs one by one. There was nothing he could use to escape. No clever plan. No way out. He couldn’t think. He hadn’t been given the time to think.

“LISTEN!” A bloodcurdling howl pled against the sensation of his arm being broken. Thirsty breaths ripped through the demon’s lungs as he sensed what time he had left for leverage swiftly draining away. A wave of laughter erupted from those watching him. The assault did not so much as pause at the word.  Nobody wanted to know what he had to say. He couldn’t stand. He could hardly draw breath. Suddenly he felt very small.

Only once the onslaught of violence brought out a more compliantly weakened state from Crowley, did Moloch slow his efforts. With a snort, the demon straightened himself, casting a broad smirk at the onlookers, inviting them to see his work.

“Traitors are not shunned by one.” Moloch spoke the words in a way that one who relished in them could only manage. As though heeded by a command, those whom had been part of the audience slid forward into the pit.

“THEY ARE SHUNNED BY ALL!” A roar shook the chasm as they descended upon the crumpled form of their prior comrade. Hands set upon whatever they could find, punching, ripping out feathers and biting. The ritual was almost complete.

(( @exanxmo ))

[embracetheapocalypsewithme]

Embracing the Apocalypse, Part 13: Gimme Danger

It’s Tuesday and the news is kind of making me feel depressed, so here’s some smut. Maybe that’ll cheer us all up! Let’s party!

Summary: Rebecca preps for her first outing with the scavengers and Negan helps her get warmed up.  

Word Count: 2,960

Content Warnings (or selling points?): Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, nudity, another goddam dream sequence, and fooling around.

Part 1: The Tale of Thelma Facefuck

Part 2: What’s Up, Doc?

Part 3: A Successful Job Interview Begins with a Firm Handshake and Ends with a Salty Surprise

Part 4: A Crack in Everything

Part 5: Sorting Duty Sucks

Part 6: A Faint Whiff of Bullshit in the Air

Part 7: Turn and Face the Strange

Part 8: Poor Life Choices

Part 9: In Which Negan is a Total Jerk

Part 10: No Plan

Part 11: Negan Settles Rebecca’s Hash

Part 12: I know Where That Hand Has Been, Negan

Part 13: Gimme Danger

Part 14: The Loneliest Hours of the Morning

Part 15: Well, Fuck You Too, Kitty!

Tag List Roll Call: @negans-network @unicorn-blood-splatter @lucifers-trash-stash @opheliadawnwalker3 @ali-pennell @thedeadwalks @negans-dirty-girl @grab-my-boner

Read on A03: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8807527/chapters/21560210

Part 13: Gimme Danger

The remainder of Rebecca’s day was spent preparing for her first assignment with the group. Although no one had confirmed that it would actually happen yet, she picked out the clothing she would wear, set her alarm for 6am so that she would have enough time to shower before leaving, and studied the map Chris had given her until she could re-draw the thing from memory. 

The only time she took a break from her preparations was to swing by the cafeteria and grab her dinner. Tonight’s delicacies consisted of instant mashed potatoes and some kind of chunky brown slop from a can that claimed to be “beef stew”, which she grudgingly ate alone in her room.

A few hours after dinner saw her still hunched over the map, her fingers tracing along the routes between the communities and outposts with admiration. Even though it was somewhat sketchy, the people who had created it had clearly put in a lot of time and effort when they created it. 

Furthermore, she knew that if she was going to hang onto this position, she would have to go above and beyond what was expected of her to really impress the others on her team. Rote memorization of the surrounding landscape might prove to be the best way to achieve this, so she studied the map for as long as she could.

There came a knock at her door around 9pm. 

Rebecca had been expecting that someone would eventually come to inform her that they were still on for the next morning, or to let her know that there weren’t enough men to make the journey so soon. As she reached out to pull the door open, her stomach tightened with anticipation of the news that waited for her on the other side. The hinges creaked and Chris’s face came into view, looming before her in the doorway. She fought her face’s natural urge to showcase her disappointment at the fact that it wasn’t Negan who would deliver the verdict to her.

“Well,” Chris began, “I’ve got some bad news for you.”

Her stomach dropped at his words, “Oh, were there not enough men?”

“No, no. We have plenty of men. The bad news is that you have to get your ass to bed ASAP because you’ll be getting up at the crack of dawn to be on the road.”

“Don’t do that to me!” she laughed and heaved a sigh of relief, “You had me for a second.”

“Sorry, but it was hard to resist,” he said chuckling at her widened eyes and flushed face.

“So you do have a sense of humour then!” she said, her heart rate still climbing down after the scare he had given her.

“From time to time, I’ve been known to crack a joke,” he replied, turning to leave, “Meet us tomorrow morning at Negan’s office. 7:30am sharp. Don’t be late.”

“Got it!”

Closing the door, she allowed herself to drop to the bed, heaving a sigh of relief. Chris was right: she would have to get her ass to bed soon or else she would be dragging herself along behind the group like one of those dead things outside the next morning. Rebecca climbed beneath her sheets, fully clothed, too exhausted from her day of studying to even bother getting undressed. The last thing she did before closing her eyes was to check that her alarm was set for 6am the next morning. Once she was confident that everything was in order, she allowed herself to be taken down into the darkness of sleep.

***

This dream was different than the others. There was no forest, only the dimly lit halls of an abandoned building. Her footfalls were gritty against the cracked tiles that had been stained with rust and grime. A fluorescent bulb flickered in the distance like a dying star, hurting her eyes. Everything smelled of sourness and death. This place was spoiled and rank with death.

Behind her came a long and mournful moan. She whirled around to investigate its origin in time to see a large figure step out of a doorway at the end of the hall and begin dragging itself toward her as if its body was no longer its own. From the gait, she knew immediately that it was a dead thing, and that it knew exactly where she was. It was coming for her.

(there's nothing in my dreams. just some ugly memories)

Her body felt as if it were paralyzed. She wanted to run and scream, to leave this terrible place, but she couldn’t. As the figure neared her, passing under a barely-functioning light, she saw the facial features emerge from the shadows. It was Negan. His arms hung limply at his sides and his eyes were glazed over and milky in death. A large wound wrapped itself around his neck, the blood long since congealed around it. He was dead.

She had to go on.

She had to move.

She couldn’t move.

As the dead thing walked along the corridor, passing open doorways, other figures joined it, dragging their feet along the surface of the floor. She saw Chris, the side of his face ripped open, mouth chopping hungrily at the air as he neared her. There were other men that she recognized from the Sanctuary with them. They were all dead. All coming toward her, reaching out with cracked fingernails caked with gore.

At the back of the undead mob, she noticed a figure with wavy, light brown hair. It stood shorter than most of the other figures, but she knew it instantly. She had spent years studying and adoring its face. The eyes were dead now, not the deep green she had loved to look into every morning. She hadn’t seen him since the forest. She had killed him there, after he had turned, and yet here he was. They were all here, and they were all going to drag her down with them.

Rebecca was still frozen in place as the first one grabbed at her, pulling her toward its mouth. A scream was torn from her throat as it sank its teeth into her face. They were all on her now, ripping and biting at her flesh. Another scream was raked through her throat, piercing the air.

The pain was unimaginable, yet in her dying moments she thought that maybe it was good. This is what she deserved. She had gotten them all killed. This was her fault, so death was her fate.

(what can i do about my dreams?)

***

Her eyes sprang open in the darkness of her room. The first thing she noticed was that the air no longer smelled of death and rot. Her sheets were soaked with sweat and her heart thudded in her chest. She was alive. Bit by bit, she came back to herself. She was in her dorm room in the Sanctuary. She was safe.

Her breathing and heart rate slowed as she tried to calm herself after the nightmare. She told herself that it had only been her brain trying to work out her anxieties about the next day while she slept. That was all. Nothing bad would happen on the road. Dreams did not determine the future.

Looking at her watch she saw that it was only 3am; still a few hours before she needed to be up. She attempted to slow her breathing down further, closing her eyes and forcing her head back to the pillow as her inner monologue attempted to placate her irrational thoughts:

(you’ll get them all killed, just like you got him killed!)

(it wasn’t your fault. it was no one’s fault.)

(everything will be fine. it was just a dream. go the fuck to sleep)

She allowed the darkness to swallow her conscious thoughts once more.

(just a dream. just a dream. go the fuck to sleep. it was no one’s fault)

Before fully losing consciousness, she silently wished for a dreamless sleep.

***

The alarm sounded at 6am, jarring Rebecca awake. Her wish for a dreamless sleep had thankfully come true, and she woke up feeling rested and ready for the day. Brushing away memories of the previous night’s bad dreams, she went about her typical morning routine of showering and grabbing a quick breakfast before going to meet the rest of her team in the hallway outside of Negan’s office.

Her footfalls reverberated as she rounded the corner that marked Negan’s wing of the building. Assembled in the corridor was a cluster of six men and women, joking and chatting casually to one another. As Rebecca approached, the conversation fizzled out and heads turned toward her.

Chris stepped forward to greet her, “Good morning, Rebecca. It’s good to see you again.”

“Good morning! Nice to see you too,” and then to the larger group, “I’m Rebecca. I guess I’m the new girl.”

The others mumbled their greetings, and Chris asked them all to introduce themselves to her. She learned that the group mainly consisted of ex-military and law enforcement employees. They also counted among their ranks a former military history teacher and a young man who had been a lifeguard before the world ended, which made her feel slightly less out of place amongst the gaggle of bad-asses and hard-looking characters.

As the introductions finished up, the door to Negan’s office swung open, hitting the wall beside it with a loud bang and silencing all conversation. Rebecca tried to keep a straight face as her brain summoned up an image of him on the other side of the door, listening to them and waiting for just the right moment to shove the door open and make his entrance as dramatic as possible.

The man himself swaggered into the hallway.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he began in his typical boisterous manner, which felt wholly unnatural given the early hour, “Let’s all wake the fuck up and hit the road! It’s gonna be a long one.”

He inspected the group, looking to see if he approved of their equipment and attire. Rebecca’s heart jumped into her throat as he stopped just in front of her and stared her down. Unsure of how friendly to act toward him, or if she should even make eye contact, she squeaked out a simple “Hello!”, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“You!” he barked at her, sending her hair on end and causing her head to jerk up and her eyes to widen. His gaze was dark, showing none of the warmth she had become accustomed to with him.

“Yes, sir?” she replied.

“You are not dressed for this shit at all. Seriously?” he brought an index finger out to hook under the strap of her tank top, snapping it against her shoulder, “Shorts and a tank top? You want to slather yourself in BBQ sauce to invite some walker bites too?”

“It- it’s all I have. I don’t have any other clothes,” she murmured, feeling sudden, hot anger toward the man. He had to know that she had basically nothing in this world now. How dare he embarrass her in front of her new colleagues.

“Come with me. We’ll fix this and then get on the road,” he said flatly before walking briskly down the hall. Rebecca struggled to keep up with his pace as she jogged beside him.

They remained silent until they came to stop at the commissary’s storage closet where Negan pulled a key from his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside the darkened room. Rebecca followed. It was still too early for any staff to be there, so they were alone amongst the shelves of goods and racks of clothing.

“Thanks a lot, asshole!” she hissed at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What? You are dressed utterly fucking ridiculously for what we’re doing.”

“Is that so? And you couldn’t have given me a fucking heads up yesterday?”

“It slipped my mind,” his voice was still flat, but a devious look had taken over his eyes, “Plus, if I had done that, I wouldn’t get to watch you strip for me now, would I?”

Rebecca shook her head, sighing in annoyance at his antics, “Ok, what am I going to wear then?”

Negan scanned the racks, seeming to look for something specific. Once his eyes found what he was searching for, he grabbed a hanger off of the rack and held it out to her, “Ideally, this, but I don’t think it’ll be much better than what you have on,” he said grinning. A very tight, skimpy cocktail dress hung from the hanger, looking to be at least two sizes too small for the curvy woman.

“As if that would even fit over my ass! Get real!”

“Ok, maybe another time. Here!” he replaced the dress and grabbed a pair of thick khaki pants and a long-sleeved grey shirt, “This that’ll work?”

Rebecca nodded and took the garments from his hands, “Where do I change?”

“Oh come on, Fuckface! You’re not getting all shy on me, are you? Change right here. For me?” he wiggled his eyebrows at her in what she assumed was supposed to be a seductive look, but which just came across as goofy, “It’s gonna be hard enough not ravaging you while we’re out there on the road together. Can’t I at least get a little show to jerk off to in my sleeping bag?”

“You are not being very charming this morning,” she said with a laugh, “But I’ll do it anyway. Out of pragmatism, you see,” she said as she pulled her tank top up over her head revealing her ratty, old bra before removing her shorts.

“Mmmm-hmmm. Sure. That looks pragmatic,” he said, licking his lips at the sight of her body before grabbing a sports bra from a shelf to his right, “Here, try this. That bra looks like it’s about to bite the dust and it’s totally killing my boner.”

“Thanks. You know how to make a girl feel special,” she said dryly, unlatching the clasps on her bra before letting it drop.

Negan’s grin widened at the sight of her now fully naked before him in the storage room. Taking a step forward so that their bodies nearly touched, he reached out to caress her shoulder and down her arm before cupping one leather-clad hand over a breast. Goosebumps rose along her arms as she inhaled deeply, allowing him to touch her.

“These are fucking lovely, if you don’t mind me saying so,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“I don’t mind at all,” she said as she tilted her face up so that their lips touched in a deep kiss. A groan escaped Negan’s mouth as she brought a hand down to feel the front of his pants, which were beginning to tighten around his hardening cock.

“And that feels magnificent, if you don’t mind me saying so,” she giggled.

Emitting a low growl, he pushed her against a nearby wall, and began to plant kisses along her neck and collarbones before moving lower. Rebecca gasped at the dissonance between the cold concrete against her back and his warm mouth meeting her nipples. He allowed his tongue to swirl around her and she could feel arousal begin to spread throughout her body.

Negan began to move his face lower, trailing his tongue down her stomach as he got on his knees before grabbing her right leg and throwing it over his shoulder. He began to kiss her inner thighs, nipping at the delicate flesh and teasing her while planting his gaze firmly on her eyes, appearing to enjoy the flush that had spread across her cheeks.

Without warning, the door to the commissary creaked open, splitting the darkness with a beam of light from the hallway to illuminate their forms. For the second time in 24 hours, Rebecca froze like a deer in headlights, caught in the act. This time, however, she was completely exposed. Negan jerked his head away from her and stood quickly to shield her from the eyes of the person entering the room.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Can’t I walk into a room without finding you two going at it?” the voice was female and filled with contempt.

“Fuck, Julie!” Negan sounded annoyed, “What the fucking fuck are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m opening today, idiot,” she placed a hand on her hip, “You know, the job I have to do because you got your ass thrown in jail a few years ago.”

“Well, can you give us a minute? I was just getting Rebecca here some clothes for work.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what it looked like you were doing,” Julie rolled her eyes at the lame excuse, “I’ll be back in five minutes. Please be gone when I get back,” she said before shutting the door a little bit too hard and rattling some of the items on the shelves nearby.

Rebecca scurried toward the pile of clothing on the floor, hurriedly pulling the bra and shirt on before the pants, “So, I guess we suck at being careful and discreet.”

“We’re just lucky that it was Julie and not someone else who barged in here,” said Negan thoughtfully, “At least Julie knows how to keep her mouth shut.”

“You feel pretty confident about that, huh? I hope you aren’t wrong.”

“Nah, I think we’re ok. Let’s get the fuck out of here before people start looking for us,” he said, patting her ass as she exited the room in front of him. They walked back to his office in silence to rejoin the group.