#Lore’s “I love you brother” before the previous ‘death’ never really sank in?

[idol--hands]

[winchester-fantasies]

Always and Forever

Summary: You’ve always been insecure, making you feel vulnerable especially when it came to your feelings for Dean Winchester. A particularly rough hunt leaves everyone shaken up and Dean reveals something you never thought you’d hear.

Word Count: 4028

Warnings: smut, fluff, light angst, insecure reader, shy reader, injury to reader, danger to reader, show level violence, death (not a main character), swearing

Pairing: Dean x Plus Size!Reader

A/N: This was written as a request from @rainbowunicorns92 ! Can I request a Dean x plus size reader where the reader is really sweet, insecure and extremely nerdy, when a hunt went really bad and she got hurt and dean goes to patch her up and then he confesses his love to her? Fluffy smut maybe? Sorry if this sounds awkward I’m new to this! Love you’re writing ✨❤✨❤ Thank you so much for your request!! I had a lot of fun writing this one, and my Dean girl really came out in this one. lol Hope you like it! ❤❤

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

     Your stomach was in knots as you pulled your hair back into a ponytail at the nape of your neck. You smoothed the few flyaways at your temples, your hands trembling slightly. 

     A quick knock sounded at your door, and you turned away from the mirror to see who it was. “Almost ready?” Dean asked, poking his head around the door.

     You nodded, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, good,” he said. “We’re headin’ out in ten.” He closed the door again, leaving you feeling even more nervous.

     You went to your closet, taking your heavy Carhartt from its hanger. You slipped it on before taking up your duffle bag and throwing it over your shoulder. You gave your room a quick once-over to make sure you’d packed everything you needed. Once satisfied you had everything you walked down the hall to the garage where Sam and Dean were already sitting in the Impala.

     “Took you long enough,” Dean grumbled, starting the Impala, the engine roaring to life.

     You didn’t say anything as you threw your duffle bag into the back seat and climbed in, closing the door a little harder than you’d meant to. “You okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, looking at you in the rearview mirror.

     You sent him a half-smile and nodded. He seemed to accept your excuse as he backed out of the garage and sped out of the bunker’s driveway, tires kicking up dust in their wake. 

     You leaned back against the leather seat and stared out the window. Your fingers absentmindedly played with a string on your coat, the cold prick of uneasiness in your stomach only growing with each mile Dean drove. 

     Although the Winchesters had trained you thoroughly in both weapons and hunting, and you’d accompanied them on more than one case, your true skill lay in the lore and mythology part of hunting. You’d grown up in the life and while your parents were off on hunts, you’d bury yourself in the books they always kept with them. By the time you were thirteen, you knew more about monsters, gods, curses, and spells than many of the other hunters’ kids you knew.

     When your parents had both died on a hunt, leaving you an orphan, John Winchester had taken you in, raising you alongside his boys as one of his own. He’d seen your passion for learning and your knack for research and had continued to foster it in you. And by the time your eighteenth birthday rolled around, your knowledge of lore and mythology was so broad, you were practically a walking encyclopedia.

     You were always teased by the other kids for being a nerd, but you couldn’t help it. When you were buried in a lore book or researching something knew, you were in your element. Even now, more often than not, you could be found in the bunker’s library, pouring over the Men of Letters books and documents. And you couldn’t help but feel a little elated when those same kids who had endlessly teased you, were now some of the very hunters who called you when they weren’t sure what they were hunting. They knew you’d have an answer almost immediately, the information you’d studied extensively still fresh in your mind.

     But here, out on the road with Sam and Dean, hunting, you were completely out of your comfort zone. Normally you’d stay back at the bunker while the boys worked on a case, calling you periodically if they needed information. But the boys had needed your help on this one. There was a large group of ghouls in Wyoming, and they didn’t think they could go up against them alone.

     You’d tried to make an excuse to stay back, even going so far as calling some of the hunters you knew to go in your stead. But they’d all been busy with cases of their own. You’d finally resigned yourself to your fate, but it didn’t stop the fear roiling in your stomach. 

     Although you were usually somewhat nervous when you’d go on hunts with the boys, this one had hit particularly close to home. Your parents had died at the hands of two ghouls, and the closer you got to your destination, the more you worried you’d wind up facing the same demise.

**********

     You swung your fist hard, slamming your knuckles into the jaw of the ghoul. It crumpled to the ground giving you just enough time to bury your machete into its neck, decapitating it. You leaned heavily on your thighs, your breathing labored. Sweat dribbled down your face and dripped from the tip of your nose and chin. You heard a heavy thud come from outside, and you straightened up quickly before sprinting up the stairs, taking two at a time.

     You hurried through the crypt door and out into the open air. You stopped short when you rounded the corner to find the second ghoul towering over Dean, who lay sprawled on the ground. You scanned the ground around him, and your heart sank when you realized his machete had been flung a few feet away from his grasp. The ghoul raised a dagger, ready to plunge it deep into Dean’s chest. Sam was nowhere to be seen so you did the only thing you could think of.

      “Hey!” you shouted. The ghoul veered around, its face twisting in disgust when it saw you. “Yeah, you! Come on over here!” you shouted, taking a defensive stance even though your legs trembled. The ghoul turned and stalked toward you, its focus no longer on its earlier victim. 

     You raised your machete, getting ready to swing, but the ghoul was faster. A searing pain shot through your abdomen as the ghoul slashed your skin with its dagger. You dropped to your knees, the machete clattering to the ground as your hands clutched at your middle. Blood oozed between your fingers and all you could do was watch as the ghoul picked up the discarded machete and raised it to your neck, the monster’s eyes dark with bloodlust.

     You shut your eyes tight, waiting for the pain. You heard the swoosh of a blade in the air, but instead of the pain, there was...nothing. You gingerly opened your eyes to see the ghoul still standing in front of you, a shocked expression on its face. Tiny droplets of blood began to seep through a cut in its neck and then, without warning, it slumped to the ground with a heavy thud, its head rolling. 

     Your gaze found Dean, standing rigid. His face was hard and jaw set, machete still raised where he had just sliced through the monster. Tears abruptly started streaking down your cheeks as the gravity of the situation finally settled around you. In two strides, Dean was at your side, hoisting you up and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. “It’s okay. It’s over,” Dean soothed, rubbing small circles into your back as you sobbed. 

     Dean pulled away once your sobs turned to whimpers. He frowned and studied your face intently. “You’re as white as a sheet,” he muttered. He looked you over carefully, his green eyes widening in both shock and fear as they settled on your abdomen. Blood was still trickling, oozing through your clothes and dripping to the ground. 

     “Shit,” Dean breathed out. “Sam!” he bellowed, just as his brother rounded the side of the crypt, bloody machete in hand. “We have to get (Y/N) back to the bunker! Now!”

     Without waiting for Sam to reply, he scooped you into his arms as if you weighed no more than a twig and practically ran to the Impala, placing you gently on the backseat. He motioned for Sam to sit with you, quickly shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to his brother. “Put pressure on her wound,” he commanded.

     Sam did as instructed while Dean climbed into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. He peeled out of the graveyard and onto the highway, pushing the speed limit as far as he could. Your eyes grew heavy, and you struggled to keep them open, but it was as if you had no control over anything. Your mind was numb with pain and your body lethargic from all the blood you’d already lost.

     “Dean,” you murmured, your voice quivering. You turned your head towards the back of the front seat, the top of Dean’s head just peeking over the top. He turned, his face nothing more than a hazy image. 

     “Just hold on, sweetheart,” Dean said, his voice sounding far off and distant. 

     You tried nodding your head, but instead everything went black.

**********

     You groaned as the haze of sleep slowly began to fade away. Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked around, feeling slightly disoriented. You started to sit up, but you gasped as pain shot across your abdomen. That’s when everything from the previous day came rushing back to you.

     You jumped as the door to your room opened and Dean walked in. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Glad to see you’re up. I need to change your wound,” he said, holding up and shaking the first aid kit in his hand.

     “What?” you asked, nervously licking your lips as he came closer.

     “I have to change the bandage,” he said. “It was pretty bad,” he continued, coming to your bed and sitting down on the side of the mattress.

     He took out fresh gauze and surgical tape from the kit before he moved his hands to the hem of your shirt. “No!” you barked, causing him to jump and pull away quickly.

     Dean's eyes were wide with shock as he stared at you. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?” he snapped back. “What's wrong?”

     You swallowed hard, not fully trusting yourself to speak. Dean had patched you up many times in the past, but this time was different. Before it was always a cut on your arm or a scratch on your cheek. But this time…. This time it was somewhere you didn't want him to see. 

     You weren't exactly what most would consider a small girl. You were on the thicker side. There was no gap between your thighs; your hips were wide; there was a roll on your lower back every time you wore your bra; and your muscles weren't as tight as you'd like them to be, especially in your abdomen. You'd harbored feelings for the eldest Winchester from the first time you'd come to live with them and the thought of him seeing all your imperfections paralyzed you with fear.

     “I...I, um,” you stuttered, feeling flustered and a little bit vulnerable. “You don't have to do that, Dean. I'll do it,” you offered with a wide grin, praying that he'd accept.

     But you had no such luck as he shook his head. “You're not gonna want to do it, sweetheart. Trust me,” he chuckled. “It's a gnarly wound. Plus, it'll just be easier if I do it.”

     You were silent, trying to come up with some other excuse. Dean must have taken your silence as acceptance because he reached for the hem of your shirt again. 

     This time you shoved his hands away from you before you could stop yourself. Dean jerked back with an exasperated huff. “Seriously, (Y/N),” he said in irritation. “Why don't you want me to change your bandage?” he asked with a quick shrug and shake of his head.

     You averted your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks. You didn't want to tell him how insecure you felt so you crossed your arms over your abdomen, being careful to avoid the wound that was now throbbing. You hoped he'd understand as you looked back up at him with pleading eyes.

     He seemed to finally grasp what you were too nervous to say as his eyes softened. “Sweetheart,” he said, gently placing his hand on your arm. “You don't have to be afraid of me seeing you.”

     You swallowed hard, darting your eyes back and forth between his green ones, gauging whether or not you could fully trust him. Finally you sighed in defeat. Removing your arms from around yourself, you gingerly lifted your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You dropped your gaze, too afraid of the disgust you knew you'd find in his eyes. 

     “Beautiful,” Dean breathed out. You jerked your gaze up to find him looking over your torso with something akin to reverence. He caught your gaze and you blushed before looking away again.

     Dean cleared his throat as he busied himself with taking a few more supplies from the first aid kit. Once he had everything laid out, he moved his attention to your wound. He carefully pulled back a corner of the gauze that was taped to your skin before removing it completely, his fingers gently gliding across your flesh, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

     You gasped as your focus was momentarily diverted when your eyes landed on the wound. It was about an inch and a half long and ran straight across your lower belly. The boys had stitched it up, but the edges were red and inflamed. 

     “Told you it was bad,” Dean said, taking note of your shocked expression.

     He took the bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured a bit onto a cotton ball. “This might sting a little,” he warned before dabbing along the wound. You hissed, but Dean was fast, making quick work of cleaning it. 

     Next he took some antibacterial cream and rubbed a few dabs of it across the irritated skin gently. You could feel your heartbeat pick up at his touch, and although it hurt, you didn't want him to stop caressing your skin.

     Finally he unrolled a long strip of the gauze and cut it before placing it carefully over the wound. He cut some tape off as well, placing it along the sides of the gauze.

     “You know,” Dean said quietly. You looked up, but his focus was still on the job at hand. “I really thought we were gonna lose you.”

     He went silent as he continued to work, and you thought he was done when he suddenly spoke again. “I really did. But the thought of losing you, of not seeing your smile, not hearing your laugh, not coming home to homemade pies and all the other sweet things you do. Not finding you buried deep in a lore book,” he chuckled. “It was too much.”

     Once again silence fell between you. Your head was spinning, and your heartbeat was beating wildly against your rib cage at his words. You never knew he noticed all those things about you or even cared about them.

     “I'm not much of a praying man,” Dean said, his gruff voice breaking through your thoughts. “But I prayed. I prayed harder than I ever have in my whole fucking life. I begged God to save you; to just keep you alive, even if it was just a little while longer.”

     Dean placed the remaining tape over the last piece of gauze, running his fingers along the edges to make sure it would stay secure. He finally sat back, his eyes locking onto yours.

     “Just so I could look into your beautiful eyes one more time and tell you that I love you,” he whispered. Your eyes fluttered and butterflies filled your stomach at his admission.

     He reached for your hand when you didn't say anything. He smirked, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your knuckles. “Say something,” he murmured.

     You swallowed again, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “I...I love you, too,” you said, your voice tiny.

     Dean's face broke into a wide grin and before you knew what was happening, he leaned forward, grabbed your face and planted his lips on yours. You felt yourself blushing again once he pulled away. “Sorry,” Dean said sheepishly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “I didn't mean to get so carried away. It's just that I've been wanting to do that for a long time.”

     “How long?” you asked quietly.

     “Since the first time we met,” Dean admitted, his cheeks growing a soft pink. 

     It your turn to grin, and with a surge of confidence you didn't know you had, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into another kiss. Dean's tongue slid over your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him as his tongue found yours.

     You were breathing hard once you finally broke the kiss, and you were startled to find that somewhere between the start of the kiss and now, Dean had settled between your thighs. 

     However all thoughts flew out the window when Dean started peppering your jawline with kisses. You moaned as he kissed down your neck and over your collarbone. 

     He reached for the hem of your shirt, and you sat up as he carefully removed it from your torso and pulled it over your head, tossing it over his shoulder before unclasping your bra and adding it to your discarded shirt. He leaned down, continuing his ministrations. He littered your breasts with open-mouthed kisses, his tongue gently caressing each nipple, causing you to moan and arch your back into him. He left your breasts once your nipples were taut, leaving a trail of soft kisses down your torso. 

     He paused for a moment when he reached the wound, glancing up at you with lust blown eyes. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss to the edge of the gauze, his eyes never leaving yours. “So,” he whispered before placing another kiss a few centimeters away. “Fucking,” he said with another kiss. “Beautiful,” he growled with one last kiss on the other side of the bandage.

     By now a mixture of desire and love was coursing through your body, and you reached out for him, needing to have him close again. His lips met yours once more in a passionate kiss. 

     He settled between your thighs again, the pressure of his bulge settling perfectly against your clit, causing you to roll your hips. He groaned at the friction, and he pulled back, meeting your gaze and searching your face. 

     “I wanna continue this,” he finally said. “But I don't wanna push you into anything you're not comfortable doing especially with you being hurt. We can wait until you're better and….”

     You cut him off with a crash of your lips against his. He was panting hard when you finally pulled away.

     “I want to,” you said, rolling your hips again. Dean groaned and shuddered, his eyes closing tightly.

     “Fuckin’ eh,” he growled. “You tryin’ kill me before we even get started?”

     You giggled and Dean chuckled, leaning down to give your nose a quick peck. “Let me take care of you,” he implored, his earlier mirth now replaced by a hungry look of desire.

     You nodded and gave him a shy smile. He leaned down again, giving you a soft kiss before leaning back onto his knees. His fingers slid into the waistband of your sweatpants, but he paused glancing up at you for permission. You nodded again, and he continued, sliding both them and your panties down your legs. 

     His eyes roamed over your naked body appreciatively and you blushed, fighting against the urge to cover yourself with the sheets. Dean seemed to sense your apprehension because he hummed, a smile on his plump lips. “I've said it twice, and I'll say it a thousand more…. So beautiful,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper.

     You shivered and the backs of your eyes stung. You'd never had someone look at you the way Dean was. He was looking at you as if you were a precious jewel. Like a treasure he'd spent his whole life searching for.

     Seconds later Dean had completely undressed and was crawling back up the bed towards you. He stopped once he was eye level with you, his forearms on either side of you, holding himself up. He stared into your eyes, a small smile on his mouth.

     “You ready?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb gently over your cheekbone. You nodded slowly and bit your lower lip. Dean leaned down to peck your lips before lining himself up with you. 

     “Dean,” you moaned. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you shut your eyes as he slowly slid into you, giving you the time you needed to adjust. It felt so right, being with him. Here. Like this.

     He groaned once he'd bottomed out, and he buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and lightly nipping at the skin. When you were ready, you raised your legs around his waist. He took the hint and started moving.

     You were sure he'd be rough and set a fast pace. But you were pleasantly surprised when his thrusts were slow and deep. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hands gliding over his toned back, his muscles contracting with each rock of his hips. The realization of this strong man who could take down an entire nest of vamps alone or who could hit a man so hard his jaw would break was on top of you, dawned on you. But it didn't frighten you. He was being careful with you, showering you with love, and holding you like precious china.

     “Dean,” you breathed out as the first wave of pleasure assaulted you. 

     “I know,” he whispered in your ear, his breaths hot and labored. “I've got you,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. 

     He scattered kisses along your neck, one arm leaving you to run his hand down your side, over your hips and down to your thigh. He kneaded the flesh gently before bringing you leg over his waist, affording him a different angle.

     You gasped, your hands running up his neck and curling into his hair as he hit your sweet spot. His kisses continued, but he stopped abruptly and groaned as your walls began to softly clench around him.

     He snaked his hand between your bodies, finding your swollen clit. You arched your back as he rubbed small circles over the bundle of nerves, bringing you nearer and nearer to your release. With two more thrusts from Dean, you came, his name tumbling from your mouth.

     He wasn’t too far behind. His hips stuttered and with a deep grunt and breath of your own name on his lips he came, too, washing your walls with his seed. 

     He laid on top of you for a few moments, your sweaty bodies plastered together, trying to catch your breaths and come down from your highs. He pulled out gingerly and rolled to his side, pulling you with him. He wrapped his arm snuggly around you while you threw yours over his waist and rested your head on his broad chest.

     “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, too,” you whispered shyly.

     Dean’s grip on you tightened and he breathed in deeply. “Why did you never say anything?” he asked.

     “Seriously, Dean?” you asked with a laugh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly the forward type. Plus...I never thought I’d be someone you’d want.”

     It was Dean’s turn to laugh. “(Y/N), how could I not want you?” he asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, fuck! You’re the smartest hunter I know - you know your shit. You’re a badass hunter even though you don’t go on many cases. Not to mention you’re drop dead gorgeous.”

     You giggled, feeling the heat return to your cheeks. “You’re not half bad yourself,” you said, too nervous to say much else. “I love you,” you murmured, nuzzling your face into his neck and kissing the underside of his jaw.

     His hand ran up and down your side in rhythmic patterns. “I love you, too,” he whispered, his voice gruff and throaty. He smiled before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always and forever.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If like what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

Everything:

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Dean Girls:

@weepingwillowphoenix​

[breakingsomething]

the fall

the second this idea came to me, i had to write it. also, this is NOT CANON IN MY LORE. at all. please heed the warnings, as this fic is. very heavy. lotta bad shit. enjoy.

trigger warnings: torture, blood, gore

the only sound to be heard was a silent click, click, click. perfectly continuous, never faltering. heavy boots tapping the floor as they marched down an empty corridor with gently flickering lights until they reached a door. a gloved hand tapped buttons whose piercing beeps shattered the silence, and the door was opened to reveal a much shorter hallway. at the end was a thick steel door, which required several codes and fingerprint scans to open. this place was clearly very deliberately made. eventually the door made a hissing noise and the man that the pair of boots belonged to stepped inside, swinging it shut behind him and slowly walking into the middle of the room.

it was very small, and very dark. there was only one light, just above the doorway, but it was bright enough to show what was inside, which was - nothing. nothing apart from one man, handcuffed to a pipe against a wall with a cloth gag in his mouth, and a wooden bat next to the door where the man in gloves and boots stood. he paused as he sauntered in, casually picking up the bat and swinging it from hand to hand. the mask over his face creased with an unseen smile as he came forward, looking down on the man beneath him.

for a moment they were both silent. then the standing man yanked his hood from his head and removed his mask, revealing wavy brown hair and pale, scarred skin. he grinned, showing off gap teeth and sparkling dark blue eyes. he tilted his head, tapping the bat against the floor.

"hello, hello, hello," he said slowly, dragging out his words as he clicked his boots against the floor. "sorry it's been a while. i've been… busy. you understand, i'm sure. i know you were a very busy man too, once."

the man on the floor said nothing, of course. his expression was blank, but his eyes were burning with rage and hatred and defiance. the standing man felt a twinge of pride at that, revelling in how weak he looked, how sick, how human.

he raised his eyebrows dramatically, putting on a babying tone. "oh, oh! pardon my forgetfulness, bro." he crouches down to be at the other man's level, not breaking eye contact. "it's hard to remember things that are so unimportant. i'm sure you understand that as well. see, we get each other, you and i. do we not?"

he suddenly yanked the gag from the other man's mouth in one ferocious motion, causing him to cough and splutter from pain. the gloved man tossed the gag behind him, biting back a giggle at how the other quickly regained his composure and growled softly, his eyes going from soft brown to green to blue to white to fully black. even without his pupils visible and his greasy curls falling into his eyes, his gaze seemed to bore into the man, pure anger bubbling in it. the gloved man laughed out loud at that, sitting back and smiling.

"nothing more to say, anti?" he said cheerfully. anti only made a rumbling sound deep in his throat, staring. he was very still, the only sign of life being his chest rising and falling and the twitching of his right eye.

the man chuckled and shook his head. "this is - wow. seeing you reduced to this… it brings me an immeasurable amount of joy, seeing you looking so pathetic, so helpless." he gripped anti's face in his hand, squishing his cheeks tightly. anti should have learned not to try and bite him. he did it anyway, earning another laugh from the other man as he slapped him, three times in quick succession. anti reeled, blinking rapidly before returning to his previous position of simply staring, still growling lowly, static humming weakly.

"ah, you ought to learn!" the man exclaimed, tutting and wagging a finger in anti's face. "this is just sad, come on. do you not have any dignity left, aiden mcloughlin?"

it was that that caused anti to snap. "speak that name one more fucking time and i'll dig your eyes out with my bare hands and shove them so far down your throat i'll make you choke on them." he spat, voice incredibly hoarse from disuse. and to his credit, he kept up the glare as and after he spoke, his gaze never once wavering. the man wondered how he managed to keep it together so well when he could smell the fear radiating off him.

the man's face split with a wide smile. "oh, do keep threatening me. it's the highlight of my day." he ran his fingers through anti's hair, noticing how despite his uncaring demeanor, his breath hitched at the contact. "really, all my time spent here is just wonderful. just sitting here, admiring my work. it's wonderful. just wonderful. you, i have to say, are the greatest thing i've ever made."

his fingers gently traced anti's scalp, and anti's eyes fluttered shut for just a moment before they snapped open again, his rage returning. "you like this?" the man said with a mocking smile. "poor little anti. been without human contact so long, how sad. when was the last time someone played with your hair, or touched you at all this gently? surely the last time you were with your brother, before he left you? was that then? or even before that, when you were just jack's little pet and a single kind act from him made your day?" without warning, he gripped anti's hair tightly, yanking his neck back hard. "i can't believe i used to be afraid of you."

he leaned in close to anti's ear, despite how he uselessly struggled to pull away. "now i see you're no scarier than the rest of us. just a sad, angry, lonely little human with a desperate need for affection and validation. can you agree with that, anti? nod for a yes, shake your head for a no."

"what happened to you?" anti rasped, wincing as the man pulled his head further back, his hair brushing his shoulders. "you were one of jack's boys. i will admit, out of all of you, i had you pinned for least likely to go fucking insane."

the man let go of anti's hair, and anti wheezed as he tried to get a breath. the man just watched, smirking, until anti had calmed, steadying himself. he already appeared to be at the breaking point, poor bastard. most likely wouldn't stay conscious much longer. a trail of red blood dripped from a reopened wound on his head under his hair.

"i am many things," the gloved man said to anti calmly, hands resting on his thighs. "but i am not insane. i can just see things so much clearer now. i can see how weak you are. i can see how powerful i am. i can see how my brothers perhaps always needed me to be more like this in order to protect them."

despite it all, anti grinned crookedly, his lip busting open again with the movement. "but your brothers don't know you have me held here, do they?" he said, and the man felt his expression slip for only a moment before his cool rage returned to his face. "your brothers don't know where you are at nighttimes. they think you're - ha, they think you're out protecting the city, don't they, hero? don't they, red? you mock me for my weakness, but you can't even face telling your little brothers that you're a sadistic -"

he struck anti again, noting in grim delight the cracking sound of his nose breaking once more. this time, he didn't stop until one of anti's eyes was swollen shut, his nose dribbling a waterfall of blood. even with that, he couldn't seem to wipe the smug grin off anti's face.

"that one strike a nerve?" he giggled, voice slurred with the amount of blood in his mouth. "are you imagining the look on little jinx's face when he finds out what big brother red has been doing? when he looks at you and sees the blood on your hands? or when the doctor sees your face but only sees his old captor, not a brother in sight? or when dear kitten -"

the man stood, breathing heavily. he held his bat up threateningly, cursing how his hands shook. "one more word and i hit you with this and i will not hold back."

anti threw back his head and roared with laughter, only stopping to cough wildly, red spraying from his mouth. "what's wrong, jackieboy man? can't handle a -"

jackie stayed true to his word. after three violent strikes, anti's head fell to his chest, unconscious. jackie didn't stop there, however. he bent down and grabbed anti's throat, lifting him up as high as the thick handcuffs and chains would let him. anti groaned, still almost completely out of it.

"you think you can just fucking talk to me like that?" jackie screamed, shaking anti and slamming him against the wall. anti was just aware enough to whine in pain, his eyes flickering. "i keep you alive, i give you the privilege to keep breathing when you should be long fucking dead and this is what you do?"

"not asking you to keep me alive," anti mumbled, limp against jackie's hold. "kill me if y'must."

"no!" and with that, jackie let him go, leaving anti to slump to the ground again. "no, no, you don't fucking deserve to die! not after everything! not - not after - you don't deserve anything as good as death!"

anti made a noise, sitting up and spitting blood to the floor. the wound on his bare neck had reopened, the crusted dark blood being replaced with new, brighter red, a wave dripping down his chest. still, anti laughed, and jackie howled with rage, his vision blurred with pure hatred towards the man in front of him. "shut up!" he screamed, voice breaking. "shut up, shut up, i'll tear your fucking tongue out!"

"do that then," anti giggled. so much blood. jackie almost gagged. through the redness, anti's brown eyes glittered with amusement. "i'd love to see you do that, i would. i really would."

jackie pulled his knife from his back pocket, holding it to anti's mouth. "don't fucking make me!" he cried, voice audibly trembling. "one more goddamn word and you'll never fucking speak again, i swear to christ!"

anti smirked, and jackie's heart sank.

"do it," anti challenged. he didn't flinch as jackie brought the knife even closer, scraping into his skin. "fucking do it."

and jackie did.

later that evening, he sat in the shower for close to an hour. just staring at the wall, letting the red rinse off down the drain. just letting all the gross wrongness go away, letting all the evidence disappear. letting himself disappear. this is what i have to do to keep my family safe, he told himself. this is necessary to make sure no one ever hurts them again.

that wasn't true. and he knew that.

when had he lost himself so badly? when had he become so cruel, so angry? when had he become what he hated the most in the world?

anti never spoke again. but that defiant look never left his eye. and that was what scared him.