#i’m obsessed with hunters being hunted. and love to torture him by knocking him down a peg or three LOL

[collegeoflore]

i just think there’s no point if he’s not a little scary is all. he just needs to be kind of freaky.

[souvenirsofsurgery]

monty’s horror movie list

no one follows me for this but i’m back in my horror movie obsession era so here we go. some of them are good, some of them are bad (but I love them), and some of them are kind of unacceptable, like, morally tbh, I’m sorry

anyway, in no particular order:

mother!: I just watched this one today so it’s on my mind. get ready to be stressed out by deeply uncomfortable social situations for like, the first hour and a half and then genuinely disturbed for the last twenty minutes. i finished this and then sat in my room mouthing “what the fuck, what the fuck”. v good, 10/10

Orphan: What if you adopted a kid but they sucked?

Absentia: I was really impressed, cause this was like a low-budget, crowd funded movie but it’s so so good. This one is about a woman whose husband went missing years ago, a creepy tunnel, and family relationships. V quiet and sad

Possum: Not very much happens in this movie for a long time but the atmosphere is so good, and it’s genuinely creepy. The ending also made me so uncomfortable I almost couldn’t watch it, so there’s that

The Wolf House: Incredible unsettling stop-motion animation, and I’m a sucker for good animation. Makes more sense if you know a little Chilean history, but it’s interesting even without that context

Amityville: It’s About Time: Jumping right from that foreign arthouse film into cheesy schlock, what if a clock made people evil and fucked up?

Hell House LLC: More! Schlock! This is a fake documentary/found footage movie about people trying to make a haunted house in an old hotel... but what if it was haunted for real??

Host (the 2020 shudder original): Unfriended if it was good

Hereditary: Made me sad :( This was one of the first movies to genuinely scare me in a while, and my sister-in-law won’t even let anyone talk to her about it. The story about a family dealing with grief and complicated relationships is also just so interesting to me, this one’s in my top 10

Anything for Jackson: Reverse possession movie: they try to put a spirit IN someone! Hell yeah. So many good, weird ghosts in here, I love some good, weird ghosts

13 Ghosts: (the early 2000s remake) Speaking of good weird ghosts. What if your estranged uncle died and left you a house but there was a ghost jail in the basement? I just rewatched this movie with my little brother and remembered how much I love it. Very schlocky, Matthew Lillard’s acting is off the fucking walls and I love it, why does he act like that??

Kindred: One of the only “is it in her head, or is it real?” movies where I actually really wasn’t sure. It’s about a woman whose husband dies right before she’s about to give birth, so she ends up staying with his family and slowly starts to question their motives

Parents: What if you were just a little kid and you started to suspect your parents were eating people?

Basket Case: I’m not crying over a B movie, I’m not crying over a B movie. In this one, two conjoined twins are surgically separated against their wills, with one of them getting thrown in the trash. As adults, they start hunting down the doctors who did it to them

The Poughkeepsie Tapes: Very depressing fake documentary about a serial killer. Just fucked up and sad

The Taking of Deborah Logan: One of the few found footage movies that I think is actually good. A small documentary crew goes to film a woman and her aging mother who’s suffering from dementia, but they start to think that... huh, maybe this is something a little worse than dementia...

Ju-On: The Grudge (the original Japanese one): this movie just freaks me out, I don’t like how Kayako moves around, I don’t like the sounds she makes, and I don’t like her weird little son

The Ring (the American remake): I saw this movie when I was like 8 bc someone recorded it over the Willy Wonka VHS I’d gotten from the thrift store, and I’ve been fucked up ever since. In it, a woman sees a cursed tape that will make you die in seven days, and has to try and figure out how to save herself before then. GREAT atmosphere, very creepy

Sadako Vs Kayako: What if the girl from the Grudge and the girl from the Ring fought each other? Hell yeah. Plus, love that a ghost hunter comes to help with the situation and he’s got a random mean little girl with him. People are like “why is she here?” and he’s just like “she’s my associate” okay?? Where did she come from??? I’m obsessed with this movie

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: A classic. Rancid, nasty atmosphere, just feels gross, 10/10 

Society: Rich people suck so so bad and are very fucked up

House of 1000 Corpses: I love this movie and I’m sorry, its just some disgusting, campy fun. Like, what if your car broke down the night before halloween and ended up in a house with some terrible (but very entertaining) people?

Oculus: The idea of being a little kid, stuck in the house while your parents are slowly losing it, or potentially being possessed by something evil, is really scary to me. This movie does it so well. It moves back and forth from the main characters going through that in their childhoods, to them as adults, back in the house where it happened, and it’s so so good

Hellraiser: You tell me it’s about the blurry line between pleasure and pain and I watch it. The designs for the cenobites are so good. I like this first one a lot, but I also really enjoy the second one bc the torture dimension looks like MC Escher designed it and it’s sick as hell

The Others: This is one of my favorite, like, classic haunted house kind of movie. A mother keeps her kids inside an old mansion, with all the curtains drawn, because they have an illness that means they can’t go in the sunlight. Very, very creepy

The Blair Witch Project: This one just feels so real, I’ve never seen another found footage movie that reached this level. The actors knocked it out of the park, how am I so freaked out just by a couple of people wandering around the woods? It’s the blueprint, honestly

A Nightmare on Elm Street: You guys know this one, he gets you in your dreams! Probably my favorite of the classic slashers, I love some good old practical effects. my brother actually just bought me the WHOLE box set for my birthday so I’m gonna start working though the ones I haven’t seen yet 

Jennifer’s Body: What if your best friend, who you have a very homoerotic relationship with, started eating dudes? Iconic. No, but seriously, this movie has a lot more going on than you might think 

House of Wax (the 2000s remake): Bad, but so good. It’s really got that uncanny valley thing going on, love that fucked up wax museum

Ichi the Killer: Pretty unacceptable, I can’t in good conscience tell you to watch this movie, but it’s definitely an experience. Very very very violent, like super violent, but in the wildest fucking ways. Basically, what if you were a masochistic Yakuza member with a weird joker mouth and you just wanted a sadistic vigilante to beat the absolute shit out of you? Anyway, I think there’s something wrong with Takashi Miike and probably also me

Black Christmas: This is one of the og og slashers. It’s about girls getting killed in a sorority house, but surprisingly it’s like, not really an exploitation film, and I really like the characters. Good, unsettling killer, too

The Baby: WEIRD. Weird and uncomfortable. I’m not trying to kink shame anyone when I say this, but it’s probably definitely a fetish thing. In it, a social worker takes on the case of a family with an adult son who they’re claiming has the mind of a baby. This one’s probably kind of unacceptable too, to be honest with you

[lokigodofaces]

list of variants/timelines i want to believe exist (and probably canonically do now)

this got long so i'm putting in a cut

a world where all of the events that happened in the Framework are real

bonus if the Framework world has their own version of the Framework that is like the real world in aos

Steve fell off the train, not Bucky. bc of the crap Zola did to Bucky, he survives in ice and well, and everything happens the same but Steve and Bucky's roles are reversed

Coulson doesn't bother to keep it a secret that he's alive, and the mcu is mainly just aos but with all the main characters as well (in other words, there's mainly good writing)

also in that world Steve and Bucky love Lola

Steve doesn't go back in time to live with Peggy

to all the people claiming aos isn't canon: Sylvie just made everything canon y'all. aos absolutely happened, and while i will argue that it happened in the main timeline, if you don't want to believe that it still happened in a timeline

Bucky didn't remember Steve soon enough, not until he killed Steve

Steve killed the Winter Soldier and didn't know who it was until he removed the mask

Hydra didn't hunt down Jiaying and by extent Daisy, so Daisy was raised by Jiaying and Cal who are not crazy bc they didn't have the same experiences they did in the main timeline

Thor never takes the others to Jotunheim, so Loki never learns he is Jotun

Fitz didn't survive almost drowning

Ward wasn't recruited by Garrett, but by literally any non-Hydra agent so he is a good guy

Coulson and May listened to the agent telling them to not send May in at Bahrain, heaven knows what happens there

the government gives the Avengers more than a week to go through the Accords, so they all get to the enhanced-people-have-to-wear-trackers, giant-underwater-prison, enhanced-operatives-can't-investigate-politicians, no-trial-for-enhanced, no-investigation-for-enhanced, etc sections so they all decide to not sign and just don't care what the government says

this is random, but i feel like Bucky as Ghost Rider would be a cool aesthetic.

the Avengers meet Robbie bc he keeps assassinating their targets bc they're targets of Ghost Rider's

Daisy dies instead of Lincoln

Daisy kills Lash before he can save her

Loki never "dies," so he is sent back to Asgardian prison after tdw

Radcliffe never reads the Darkhold, he just gave it to AIDA, so most of s4 doesn't happen

Dreykov comes after Natasha between Avengers and CACW, leading to the Avengers beating his *ss (like Yelena said, the god from space doesn't need an ibuprofen after a fight)

everything's the same but no Joss Whedon going on and on about Natasha not being able to have kids

whatever ship scenario you have is canon now

Loki gets all panicky after the Hulk beats him to a pulp, having now realized what he's done. Thor believes him, and this leads to Thanos being killed in 2012-13

Deadpool sits in the back of everything, shouting comments like "Yay! Superhero landing! But don't do that, it's bad for your knees!"

Peter Parker's parents never die

the Cavalry is an Avenger

Yondu brings Peter Quill to Ego, causing the universe's destruction

Gamora and Nebula get along their entire lives

Gamora and Nebula switch roles (Gamora becomes the cyborg, Nebula the guardian and Thanos's favorite daughter)

Heimdall actually bothers to look for Loki, seeing if they can find his body for a funeral, to find that he is being tortured by Thanos. Odin refuses to send anyone to save him, making Thor realize just how awful he is. Thor, Sif, and Warriors 3 go with the help of Heimdall to save Loki

Odin and Frigga are actually good parents, creating the most iconic trio ever

tw suicide for the next bullet point

Bucky commits suicide between TWS and CACW (Sebastian said in an interview once that Bucky was suicidal)

Loki keeps coming back as DB Cooper for fun or bc he keeps losing bets

the Eternals did interfere

the shrapnel kills Tony

this one thing i made about Mr Rogers adopting Loki

Robbie is part of the Avengers in 2012, but when he sees Loki he immediately says that Loki isn't the issue and goes off to fight Thanos single handedly (and wins)

for whatever reason Coulson and May do legally adopt all the Bus Kids

Hunter and Bobbi both go to break Fitz out of prison, and they stick around for the rest of the season

Fitz and Jemma never meet (saddest of sad days)

Loki for some reason is in FFH and he sees Mysterio's illusions and just laughs bc he's such an amateur

everything's the same, everyone's just obsessed with classical music and it's constantly playing so i get happy watching it

Asgardians are like the elves in LOTR (books, not the movies), so they're constantly singing and dancing and all

Loki is shown playing a Norse flute-like instrument (we know they exist, we've found them, they're different than your typical flute and we don't really know how they sound but i want Loki to be a flautist and no i'm not not projecting (note the double negative) and yes i headcanon Loki to be a flautist i don't care what anyone says)

everyone gets therapy

someone (Monica or Jimmy) hits Hayward on the head, knocking him out (the same way Gandalf knocked out Denethor in ROTK when Denethor told everyone to flee) and the rest of SWORD works with them because clearly Hayward has issues

Stephen commits to not texting and driving

somehow Luis becomes He Who Remains just for one timeline so the entire story is told like how he tells his flashbacks

Coulson doesn't help Fury and Carol escape

T'Challa does not survive and M'Baku becomes Black Panther

the suit in Iron Man 3 is not garbage the entire movie

Tony doesn't find a way to save himself in time

Ross dies in Incredible Hulk

Loki has a pet flerken he just always carries around

by the same logic, Bucky has a kitten he meets between TWS and CACW that he always carries around. said kitten attacks people when they attack Bucky

Bucky becomes Captain America instead of Sam

when Thor goes back to 2013 Asgard, he drags Loki with him back to 2023

Clint tests the time travel by going to Sokovia and drags Pietro back with him

Steve comes back an old man, but they use Bruce's attempt at time travel to turn him back into the 30 something Steve he was

literally anything happens other than Thanos killing Loki bc Loki only used knives when he isn't even tall enough to reach Thanos's neck

Sam and Bucky straight up kill Walker

Daisy never goes through terrigenesis

Loki somehow ends up a tutor for Daisy

Bucky joins the aos team after they find him on the run from Hydra

Bucky plays baritone saxophone bc bari saxes are awesome and it adds nothing to the plot but he spends at least half an hour in each movie playing bari sax

everything's the same but John Williams is the composer

S.H.I.E.L.D. uses GH-325 to revive a bunch of composers (Mozart, Dvorak, Beethoven, Bach, Bizet, Holst, y'know, all my guys) because they for whatever reason have their bodies because of some wack mission. and now they have a bunch of classical composers alive who insist on writing more music. and what are you going to do, tell Bach to stop composing?

by that same logic, someone working at the Guest House decides to steal Freddie Mercury's body so that they can revive him bc he just loves Queen that much

Thor realizes how awful Odin is and makes it his goal to get revenge for what Odin did to his little brother

Thor meets a bunch of Loki variants (most notably gator Loki) and just decides to stop questioning anything ever

Mobius teaches Loki how to ride a jet ski

Loki arrives at S.H.I.E.L.D. and informs everyone he wants to go to school and learn about politics and run for president and S.H.I.E.L.D. is like "okay whatever just don't tell anyone you're a literal god" but have no way to stop Loki from telling anyone

y'know the "shot heard 'round the world" thing from the Battle of Lexington (first battle in American revolution, if you don't know what it is, we have no clue who made the first shot & both sides were telling their troops to not fire. once that shot was fired the battle broke out)? yeah well that was Loki i'm pretty sure

Loki comes to Earth and becomes an Avenger and all but only ever introduces himself as DB Cooper. Thor doesn't ever come to Earth, so everyone just thinks DB Cooper found the secret to not age and just showed up to save people. he disappears for stretches of time & everyone stops being confused bc he was in hiding for decades of course no one's gonna find him (he is actually on Asgard)

[tae-cup]

Cat & Mouse | Tata’s Spookytober 2020

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (not romantic, definitely not)

Summary: Run away, little mouse, you have 5 minutes. 

Genre: Horror/Thriller, Angst

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Spine tingling, blood, scary!tae

Word Count: 2k Words

A/N: Hey y’all, welcome to the first installment of tata’s spookytober where I try to crank out as many spooky (or not so spooky) stories this october! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my future updates!

Other: 

Masterlist

Spookytober 2020 Masterlist

             The basement wreaked of death and decay. The ever present smell of blood and bile coated the walls in its foul stench. The wood of the chair creaked as you dug your palms into the unforgiving surface. Ropes of wire and barb were bound to your wrists and ankles, making it impossible to move without adding your blood to the mixture of red swirling the ground. Sweat beaded on your forehead. It was no use. 

            Your captor’s heavy boots thumped down each step. There was the distinct drag of a body behind them. A girl, one you’d never seen before, was thrown limply to the side. Her body was still warm.

           The man stretched his fingers in his leather gloves, the tug of the fabric giving a familiar squeaking sound. It was a sound that reminded you of your father, or his driving gloves, of a warm summer’s day, of a place you could never visit again. 

        The man turned around after surveying his work and looked you in the eyes. He had on a white mask, one with a polished surface, a pristine finish that was much too clean for the environment. He tilted his head at you and then crouched in front of the chair. 

“Hello, little mouse.” His voice was a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “I bet you’re wondering why you’re here.” He stood and began to pace slowly.

 “You see, I want to play a game, you and I.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “A game of...hide and seek, of sorts.” The man stopped and turned to you. “I will be the cat, and you will be the mouse.”

“W-why?” You choked out hoarsely. Behind the mask, his eyes were familiar.

“Now now, what you should be asking is ‘what are the rules?’.” The man’s voice was muffled against his emotionless mask.

 “The rules are simple. You hide from me for three hours, you win. I’ll let you go, and I’m a man of my word.” He displayed his fingers to show he wasn’t crossing them. “Any questions?” 

Your eyes slid over to the body in the corner. “And if you catch me?” 

He chuckled darkly. “Don’t get caught, mouse.” Then he undid your restraints, pulling you roughly behind him as he went up the stairs once more.

 “Run, little mouse, you have five minutes.” 

            Your heart was pumping, your legs were shaking, and worst of all, you couldn’t make a sound. His heavy boots stomped against the floorboards of the old house. The entire place was dusty and decrepit, the wood rotting and spiders in every corner. You were sandwiched between two jackets and a few old pairs of pants.

           The broken slats of the closet showed through the slightest sliver of moonlight. You tried to slow your breathing as the footsteps drew closer to the room. Then they stopped. The creak of the door was the only indicator that someone had entered the room. His presence was almost silent. 

            He was a trained hunter, he was loud on purpose beforehand. It had only been an hour. He didn’t seem too impatient or in a hurry to finish the game. Your captor seemed to be the type to enjoy toying with his prey. You slapped a hand over your nose and mouth, not daring to breathe. The footsteps advanced closer and closer to the closet. 

          Then his shadow covered the moonlight and you were plunged into darkness. You blinked a couple times to adjust your eyes. He was standing in front of the closet. In his hand, you saw the glint of steel. This was it. This was how you were going to die, soaked in your own blood. 

          You hardly breathed, your heart pounding uncontrollably. You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable. A few moments passed by. You could still feel his presence. Then you slowly opened your eyes.

           Immediately, you scooted backwards a few steps and your hand muffled the noise of surprise. The white masked face was leaning against the slats of the closet. His dark eyes met yours. You could have sworn you heard him chuckled. Your wide eyes stared at him as he stared back. 

            Slowly, he straightened and walked out of the room loudly, his boots thudding against the old wood. He whistled a small tune while he went about it. 

           He had found you. And he had let you go. Now he was toying with you, truly. You needed to start thinking smarter, not harder. Through all your fear and timid anxiety, you found clarity. He knew the house better than you, most likely knew every nook and cranny. The place was surrounded by woods for miles, there were no roads nearby. He was a tracker, a hunter, he’d find you instantly. 

         Your head ran the numbers, your ears listened for him. He seemed to be downstairs. He underestimates you. Your father used to always say, ‘When someone underestimates you, you use that to your advantage, got it?’ 

          You hesitantly opened the closet, cringing at the slightest of squeaks. Your plan needed to be quick and easy to execute. You needed to move fast, not sparing a second, because that’s all it would take for him to catch you. He gave you a second chance, and you planned on using it well. 

         Think smarter. You crept out of the closet and looked around the dilapidated room. The walls were peeling and the dark corners of the room trickled into your peripheral. Thump thump thump went your heart. Your toes curled inward. You tried to be quiet, but the dust on the floor showed your bare footprints. Down the hall you went, the shadows looming in. 

         You were more concerned with the man hunting you downstairs than the darkness of the house, because nothing could be scarier than another human being right now. You were going to find another hiding space. Where has he already checked? Then it hit you. It would be tricky and wildly dangerous, but it may be your best bet. 

        You could hide in the basement. You almost scolded yourself for such a stupid idea. It would never work. How would you even get down there? But he would be expecting you to stay in the main floors. You reached the railing that overlooked the first floor. There were murmured voices. 

“I’m in the middle of a game, hyung...yeah, I’ll be there soon, let me just finish this up.” Then there was the click of a call hanging up. 

          You scrambled to your stomach as your captor’s head came into view. He was no longer wearing his mask, instead it hung limply in his hand at the side. You could just make out his profile in the low light. He had a defined nose and wide lips.

           You recognized him. He was the weird kid at the back of the class in school, the one who always watched the cheer practices with an unreadable gaze, the one who disappeared every so often. Taehyung had always struck you as an enigma and it had become your strange obsession to find out more about him. 

          Then one night you had been walking home and a masked figure had knocked you to the ground. You could imagine it now. Your body dragged to his car, thrown into the back, tied up to a chair, and watched. Taehyung always watched. 

          You felt sick, but that was only to your detriment. He glanced upwards. You only saw the slight twitch of his lips before he slowly raised the mask once more. Then started making his way to the stairs. A low whistle split the silence. 

          You scrambled upwards, trying to remain quiet as you darted down the twisting hallways. His heavy boots lazily went up the stairs. You made your way around the rooms. Then you raced down one direction, slammed a door shut, and then quietly made your way the other way. You flew into the laundry room. 

         Old and broken tiles littered the floor. The broken machines sat in the corner of the room and two different hatches stuck out from the wall. You opened one, holding your breath as you saw the darkness of the chute below. The rusty metal latch squeaked quietly as you moved the next one. You took a deep breath, mustering up what little courage you had. Then you stuck one leg into the chute. 

          The footsteps echoed down the hallway towards where you slammed the door. The low whistle continued. The man dragged his knife against the walls of the house as he went along. The silver cut easily into the wallpaper, tearing it away to reveal the underside. 

“Mouse, mouse, where are you?” He crooned, turning back around and reaching what he knew to be the laundry room. 

           Taehyung liked a chase, but he was getting impatient and Namjoon was waiting for him at home. He heard a rustle from inside and a sadistic grin plastered onto his face. 

“Found you, mouse.” He threw open the door with a bang. 

           You scrambled out of the chute, the spiderwebs tangled in your hair. There was a loud bang upstairs as the door was flung open. You stepped lightly into the downstairs hallway. You heard an anguished shout from the floor above. 

          The cocky grin slipped off his face. There was no sign of you. He shouted in rage and kicked the softened metal of the laundry shoot with his foot. Then Taehyung turned on his heel and stormed down the hallway. His knuckles were white as he gripped the handle of the knife.

          The thing is, he loved to watch people, but when people began watching him, he needed to stop it. That’s why that girl who was flirting with him earlier was dead in a ditch, the reason his professor was strung up downstairs, and the reason you were playing a little game. 

          All his life, he’d been watched. His own parents wouldn’t leave him alone for a second, always taking him to doctors, trying to figure out why he was torturing animals, why he smiled at horror movies. So he had taken care of them of course, and now he’d take care of you. 

         The last sentence would be wonderfully romantic if it was out of context. Sadly, this was a cat and mouse game, and you were the unfortunate mouse. There was a door slammed downstairs and he followed instinct. His heavy steps thundered down the stairs and down the hallway. 

“Little mouse, come out and play. You can’t hide forever.” He seethed. 

           You ducked into the basement, the darkness throwing you off. You waved your hands wildly around the darkness like a blind man. The sliver of moonlight wasn’t much to go off of. You tripped over something, tumbling forward onto several squishy things.

          You felt around, then your hand came into contact with strands...of something. You held it up to the sliver of light. You gasped loudly, heart thumping, disgust moving up your throat. It was hair and that hair was attached to a head. 

          You backed away until your back hit the concrete wall. There was safety in the sturdy material. You took deep breaths as the footsteps pounded up and down the hallways. 

“Mouse, get out here, right now.” His low growl shot through the house. 

           No no no. His steps stopped right outside the door. You pushed yourself into the corner, concealing yourself in the dark. Taehyung walked down the steps, his heavy breath the only sound. You were as still as a mouse, and a mouse you were indeed. 

          He stopped at the bottom of the steps. Then he slowly whistled a stilted tune strung together by his lips. The twisted notes made your stomach curl and your head spin in anxiety. 

“Come out my mouse. I know you’re down here.”

        You let out the smallest breath. Taehyung had always observed, always watched. A cheshire cat smile made its way onto his face. 

I have you cornered, little mouse. 

[aliypop]

Amongst The Butterflies

Wordcount: 4,583

Character Count: 24,811

Warning: Murder

A/N: This is part 4 to Empatia I hope you guys enjoy it! 

"My wife can't find out anything about this.." a man who appeared to be in his '40s said covering the mouth of a young girl who seemed to be no younger than maybe 16 at most, it was a full moon in Baltimore a chilly wind blowing and a particular psychiatrist was on the prowl to hunt for his latest snack, nothing too heavy for palet just something that was easy to catch, but next to him in a tree was a distinctive woman, not too tall and not too short where she would miss her aim,

Drawing back her bow, she could already hear the torturous screams while she envisioned the ripper running after him like the suckling low life pig he was. While in her head, he was just another sinner to be crucified. Letting go of the arrow watching it soar had always made the hunter feel good as if they were playing god, but this time something was different,  "Run rabbit, run.." she mumbled under her breath aiming for the man's ankle. Without a moment due, their rabbit was, sure enough, running for his. Running from tree to tree the hunter, followed the lead of the ripper until they had him front and center where they wanted him to be.

"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me plea-" the gut-wrenching sound of the arrow being lodge between his temple and his skull seemed to have pleased the ripper enough to bring a smile on his face, one the hunter knew all too well. Taking the sedative out from her shoe, she lodged in his neck, giving him enough time to stay alive for the ripper to work his post mortem magic,

"Would you do me the honors?"  he pointed towards the body, watching the hunter evaluate with her grotesque tongue, " Go for the lungs, and leave him open, no stitching him up." She ran off, chasing the 16-year-old girl attaching sedative needles to her arrows. She knew something was off about this girl, from the way that she ran to the way her body language showed that this wasn't her first rodeo. Dropping a chloroform gas bomb in the area, the hunter vanished without any trace left hearing the snap of her neck, while the other body placed next to the young girl remained open, the hunter went to work sewing the teen's lips shut placing a butterfly over it.

"Doctor Lector..." Shanel said in a passive tone, walking towards her office, an ivory necklace around her neck, custom made byLector himself.

"Ms. Mahone," he nodded, watching her walk by in the designer suit he had picked out for, even though he trusted her to make her dissuasions. It was still keen to have a little doll around that he could dress into her image rather than his own, "May I offer you tea, coffee," her heel attached to the door.

" Perhaps during our session.." he smiled. Walking into his ever so bleak office space, library books at the top fireplace behind him, and the knocks of "Franklyn Froideveaux.. please come in." sitting where he always would the leather seat nearest to the window, Franklyn at the most had an obsession with Hannibal to the point that it drove him crazy,

"I hate being this neurotic." he sighed, placing his crumpled tissue on the table next to him, Hannibal, who had the look of disgust plastered on his face, tried to hide it quick enough.

"If you weren't neurotic, Franklyn, you'd be something much worse." he nodded. Watching the way he moved even annoyed him, it made him want to rip Franklyn apart tendon by nerves, to get him away from his office, but for now, obligations came first whether he liked them or not. Shanel, on the other hand, was faced with her favorite person. Big red curls blocked the view of her desk as the smell of whorish perfume wafted into the law firm, it was none other than the Tattler Fredrica Lounds, or Freddie for short, she wasn't one for ethic's which Shanel could excuse, but personal space, however, was a work in progress for the young girl.  

"I heard you were on the Hobbs case, her lawyer correct?" she smiled, sitting on the edge of the desk. Her caked-on making Shanel even laugh,

"Correct, but may I ask why you're here?" Shanel glared, covering up her cases.

"Got something to hide.." she smirked, trying to pry her nose into something else yet again. "If I had something to hide,

I wouldn't have it out in the open.,"  Shanel growled, as Freddie  saw a picture on the lawyer's desk,

"Your mother was aristocratic who later married a mobster, " leaning in closer towards Shanel, she placed a hand on her shoulder, " And gave birth to you a rape victim. How was that, by the way?" Freddie then jumped, hearing the collision of Shanels fist and the desk collide.  "Carl, can you show Ms. Lounds out before I do.." she looked at the intern catching her breath and counting her breathing,

"Everyone has something to hide Mahone," she shouted, Carl, slamming the door in her face as she sat there huffing, and puffing walking down, "She will pay for this.." sporadic curls leading her down the hall to exit. Shanel, who sat at the counter in their shared kitchen with Hannibal, was quiet than usual. "Something the matter," he asked, as she broke her concentration,

"It's that Lounds woman, she's rude and she thinks she knows every thin-" her phone dinged with a text from Will and a link to the latest issue of the Tattler, "If it's about me there will be no promises that I will be kind when I rip her LIMB FROM LIMB!" Hannibal sat down next to her, "I assure you it can't be so bad.." the pair both read the article tears welling in her eyes from sheer anger,  Shanel Mahone, a lawyer, a mob doll, the love toy," Hannibal readout chuckling at the caption,

"She doesn't know you as I do.."  his hand rubbing against hers, calming her down, her head snapped back at him as her eyes gave him the impression for 50 words for murder and she was every one of them, " How long has it been since you've had fava beans and a nice Chianti ? " she asked him watching his eyes glow in joy,

"Since the census taker tried to test me,"

"Wouldn't you like to have a nice meal out of Lounds.."

she whispered in his ear, " Her heart paired with a nice glass of chianti, "

"She would be more useful to us alive than dead... but her time will come, love," plating the dish of Fettucini Alfredo, though it wasn't lavish to him, it did tend to cause comfort to Shanel. Something that he cared much about ever since they had gotten a bit closer and fonder of each other, twirling the noodles with her fork and spoon she moved the pile to the right of her plate uninterested, "We do not play with our food.." he watched her poke at it some more,

"When you do it, however, it is a work of art.," she mumbled, looking away from him, Shanel wasn't one to take pity on liars, but she supposed that for Hannibal her hatred for Lounds would have to subside, for now, the night had only gotten dark and the moon more mysterious. Sitting in the round black marble tub was Shanel, her hair pinned up a glass of wine sitting beside the tub, with a beautiful view, "Must you tease.." she laughed watching the moon reflect in the calming water, watching him untie his tie slowly looking at himself in the mirror almost as if he were in love with himself,

"You almost look like when Narcissus discovered himself," she snickered,

" That makes you the nymph Echo," he turned to look at her. He then smirked, "Are.. you trying to flirt with me?" she asked him, eyes reverting down to look at the slow ripples caused by her fingers. If he were flirting, this would have gone against every wall she had put up against these such things. The three don'ts, don't date, don't fall in love and especially don't kiss back, but clearly, she'd already broken one of those rules, his hands rested on her shoulders as he took in her scent, roses with a hint of chocolate and a smokey desire.  "And if I were, how would you react.," he asked. Feeling a knot of stress on her shoulders massaging it out, he had been warning her lately to be less harsh on her body, but as always, she was very hardheaded.  

"I wouldn't know how to react.," Shanel responded, her lips on the wine glass, "Right there ... that spot has been troubling me.. could be my mattress or the Chiliton.. the other pain in my side." she shrugged, soft lips leaving gentle traces on her back.  Causing her to shiver as she felt more at ease, her guard wall slowly melting away feeling, his hands rub down her arms, collecting the access soap around her fingertips. She looked up at him eyelids fluttering, shut, as she began leaning into his embrace,  into a kiss, the taste of wine swirled onto his tongue like the taste of blood on hers.

"We can't.. we shouldn't I.." she fell back into the grasp of his lips. She did it, broke rule number three, one more strike, and she could never turn back.  

"The original story of Pandora's Box reminds all of man to look into their own, to find the spirit of hope that still shines," he said, handing her a towel.

"As a moral, we can find happiness even during the darkest of times, provided that we look back into the box."  

"What are you getting at .."

"Perhaps i'm your pandora's box," he kissed her hand, watching her march off into his bedroom where she proceeded to get dressed. " We are partners I help with the legal papers, and you tamper with their psychic, there's nothing else between us... " she got in the covers of their now shared bed,

"I do believe you're wrong," he held up a pillow, "Though you hide your emotions very well around others, you're quite messy with them around me... why is that Shanel. Taking the blanket and pillow from him, she shook her head in the way he chose to open the can of worms which was the topic of emotions,

"Well," she sighed, getting closer towards him between the covers "As a child growing up, I was silent and reserved. The perfect child, who never wanted anything and therefore got sent away to boarding school when mommy just wanted a normal LIFE!" she ripped the pillow in half.

"Breathe." he removed what was left, "It's a touchy subject I just wanted .."  

"To make your mother proud of you.." he nodded,

"Have you ever had someone that you wanted to make them so proud of that you'd give your life up to make them understand-"

"That everything I do is for you.." he finished her sentence, Hannibal knew how she felt all too well, especially when it came to sister Mischa, who he loved dearly. He had been in Shanel's shoe's all too many times, he knew what pain was, but he also knew how to hide and be numb to it. Like a monster in a very well-tailored person suit. They hadn't uttered a word at each other just a few conversations with their eyes, and head nods something that they had been doing since they first met. Morning rolled around and, as usual, Shanel had already left out for work. There was a breeze a bit of sun and Jack Crawford sitting in her office chair nearly fuming it seemed.

"Ms. Mahone.." he looked at her, his glare was a look that could kill millions, "You wanna tell me what this is about?" he asked holding the issue of the Tattler in hand.  She rolled her eyes getting him a cup of coffee,

"Is this what you came to my office for?" she slammed the cup on the table agitated at only 8 am, "I'll be asking the questions here," he growled, Jack had the temper of a needle if you pushed him over ever so slightly he'd blow his fuse and be ready to fight god if he came knocking at his door.

"Do you or don't you have ties to the mob," "I have the right to remain silent." she smiled, handing her finished files to one of her interns to file for her,

"That didn't answer my question.." he began gritting his teeth.

"I'm not invading any taxes and cleary you like my work you keep coming back.." she rolled her eyes, handing him the finished decree for Abigal Hobbs.

" I suppose you're going to want to find your next copy cat killer the info's on page three,"  she smirked. Her phone yet again vibrating. "Seems I'll be going your way.." she mumbled, taking her keys from off her desk as Crawford only grew wearier of her. Everyone was a suspect at this point after all, and he was swaying his options. The ride down to the forest was soothing something, that she'd always loved was the beauty of nature. Her mind kept wandering to the night of the crime, the way the victim's faces looked, and how they were after the three days of decay.  

FBI was scattered everywhere on the scene of the crime, cop cars parked, and the two bodies becoming a new color. The foul stench went past everyone's nose, but what they had seen didn't go beyond their eyes. Standing over the bodies were Will Graham, who had his eyes closed envisioning the scene.  

"I follow Howard back to his house.." he said, walking towards the two-story house, "I make sure not to leave any traces of footprints .." he began walking on his toes hiding behind a bush, "he leaves with his next of prey, " picking up a rock as he threw it towards a tree causing them to get distracted, "When the times right I run," the sound of his feet leaving the ground was barely even heard going miles per minute as he soon climbed into a tree,

" I take my bow and arrow I puncture his Achilles tendon."  he smirked, "I then find the girl I  lodge an arrow right between the artery, with a sedative." he sat there watching them die as he placed the butterfly on her lips, "This is my design."

"How'd they do it this time champ," Beverly asked, standing next to Will, "A bit of hunting," he looked at her,

"Seems our killer has a type.." Jack sighed, walking up towards him, Shanel and Hannibal by both sides, Shanel smirked, handing Will over his criminal record, "And what would that be sir," Beverly asked, watching Shanel and Hannibal's reaction.

"Seems your copycat has access to criminal records.." Hannibal suggested taking a glance at Shanel who held the file, "This is the original copy of his records, he was a high school teacher who was.."

"A pedophile... I know." Jack glared at Shanel and her eagerness to help on the case which never used to bother him before, but it was the fact that she had been so pristine and detail-oriented that it scared him,

"As well as a trafficker, there's no telling what his wife doesn't know," Beverly responded looking, over his record. "Maybe this copycat is a vigilante."  she shrugged,

"Batman is a vigilante.. but this.. this is a vendetta a..a sign. His cry for payback." he looked at both Hannibal and Shanel, he knew in some sense that they understood him he never questioned why but the secret would come out one day,  Shanel looked at her watch then at Hannibal,

"I have to get going,"  running towards her car, as she heard the sound of a camera flashing she knew that it had to be nobody else but Lounds. Looking directly towards the clicks, Freddie seized the camera a shiver down her back as her memory went blank. " You didn't have to do that.." she mumbled under her breath, getting inside her car.  " It's getting rather dull eating Alfredo." Hannibal smiled, closing the door for her.  

She smirked, "I agree, your, sauce is a bit dry." pulling out and leaving him there to pout like usual. Walking back into her office she could sense chaos, mostly because Carl jammed the printer, and to top it off one of Hannibal's clients walked into the wrong room,

"You must be Franklyn Doctor Lector should be down the hall..at any moment." she winked at him.

"I just really needed to see him, I got so much in a hurry that I must have panicked, " he said in one breath, being handed a cup of tea. Watching him take a sip from it made the realization as to why Hannibal would come home from sessions with him and want to blow his brains out, Franklyn hadn't shut up about his prestigious crush on Hannibal and how it upset him so that he had to pay to see him, it made her sick and green with envy hearing the way he described him as if he were a god when in fact he was more than just that,

"And then there's Tobias." he blushed.

"Do you like him?" she asked out of curiosity.

"We're best friends."  he looked at his watch, seeing that he practically missed his appointment. It had been a much longer day in the office then what she had anticipated. Hearing the clock tick-tock back and forth nearly drove her insane as her phone began to ring, the sound of a concerned Hannibal on the other line. She had completely forgotten about the sheer fact that he had gotten tickets to the opera, he figured that since he heard sing a little that she'd enjoy it.  "Go on without me." she smiled, phone to her ear as lose hairs came out of her ponytail.

"Are you positive about this?" he asked her, hearing a bit of trouble in her voice.

"I'm sure, trust me .. though be weary trouble lurks." she hung up the call, hearing footsteps come behind her taking, a pen and lodging it in the neck of the unfortunate soul, hearing it stab through the skin as veins and blood gushed around the ballpoint pen.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, hearing her breathe hard.

"On a second note,  I think I'll join you." walking towards the bathroom as she changed into a dark sparkling blue gown and heels to match walking out of her office as she felt something tug her arm, "I'll see you downstairs." she took her razor blade from out her pin curled bun slicing his hand off of her using her nails to gauge his eyeballs out while never spilling any blood on herself, Hannibal waited outside listening to his soothing classical music trying to find the missing piece for something he had been working on with his harpsichord, whenever he did he thought of Shanel sometimes falling deeper into her pool of love and other times how deep her throat was to cut,  

Coming towards him like a dream was Shanel, a dark blue dress matching his tux. He had never been, so breath taken before until he saw her an angel.  Shanel tucked a loose hair behind her hair, sapphire earrings dangling from her ear lobes the sight of her in that very moment made him go completely weak. "Well, don't you look appetizing ." Shanel blushed taking his hand as he ushered her inside the car, "I could say the same for you." she looked at him, his hair slicked back the way she had liked for a gentleman's hair to be when in a tux, he looked like what she daydreamed him to look like,

"First time I've seen you in something that isn't your usual suit." he laughed, closing her door for her driving off. "First time I've seen you in a tux.." she smirked, staring out the window watching the stars pass by in the night sky, reminding her of the things she never did in her childhood like camping or star gazing unless she was with her mother and Milo who at the time was very important of her. He stood as the father figure she had only wish to have. The opera house had been carrying a full house of guests as both Shanel and Hannibal looked at each other. The pair had both seen people that they knew and detested, but when in doubt, personal appearances came first holding onto Hannibal's hand to complete him,  walking through the crowd of his dinner options and her next masterpiece he could smell the rudeness almost radiating off of the big names in the room,  

" Doctor Lector."  a familiar looking lady practically wrapped herself around him.

"Mrs. Walter.." he tried to remove her from his being,  "When are you throwing another dinner, you know I just love the way you cook, it such art!" she squealed a bit pre-show drunk. As she leaned in closer to Hannibal, coming from behind her was Shanel, who looked as prideful as a lion ready to bite her meal.

"Hanni, my love shows going to start." she took him by the hand, giving him a wink.

"Hanni?" the other woman said falling off his arm like a slug to salt, she had seemed so surprised that a woman like her pulled off the definition of a man like Hannibal.

"My Fiance."  he smiled, pulling her close to his side, hearing a short gasp come from her mouth.

"Your Fiance.." Mrs. Walter had looked shocked incredibly broken even, hearing him say that "Pleasure to meet you.." she said almost in a jealous rage. Shanel, who had the grace of her mother, extended her hand out, the one with a ring her mother had given her.

" Shanel Mahone, charmed, you know as Hannibal, and I always say we'd love to have you for dinner.."  she then smirked at Hannibal getting an ingenious idea to embarrass him. Besides she had no idea, he would call her his soon to be bride most men usually went for fake girlfriends in that type of situation, " My darling ." he took her by the hand as they began walking off,

"My Hannikins just loves his opera." she winked, watching him crumble inside from the pet name, "You're welcome by the way.."  she whispered to him a bit upset as to how he didn't act like he appreciated what she had just done for him, "You'll get your thanks soon my dove," he kissed her forehead smelling the pure stench of jealousy radiating off her,  

Sitting down in their seats, Shanel couldn't help but think of the way the music made her feel. The melody of the song always reminded her of herself full of suspense and deadly, but she knew surely things were changing for her, and maybe it was time for it.  Hannibal who like Shanel had too enjoyed the melody until he looked over and saw Franklyn, the man who would stalk Hannibal to the ends of the earth, Shanel felt him stiffing up beside him as she then looked over and saw him,

The other man who they both presumed to be Tobias was also staring, but this time only at Hannibal, looking at each other as the two then, sighed.  "He's staring again," she whispered to him, "I know.. I can feel his wandering eyes from here." he then looked at Shanel, placing her hand inside his own.  He had never appeared to be so uncomfortable before almost vulnerable in a sense.

When the show had ended, the pair tried to rush out as quick as they could, but they didn't make it, both Franklyn and Tobias had spotted them like two flies on the wall with nothing else better in their lives to do.

"Doctor Lector you're here, I mean I didn't think you like opera, but then I guess you do well would and, Tobias this is my psychiatrist and Hannibal Tobias." he smiled, the two men merely staring at each other as Shanel and Franklyn looked at each other and then at Tobias,

"Do you play?" she asked, seeing the calluses on his hand.

"I own a violin shop not far from here," he said, looking at her hands, "Seems it been a long time since you've played.." he smirked a  psychotic look on his face,

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow !" Franklyn grinned.

Sitting downstairs in the living room was Shanel, her chin pressed down on her chin rest as her left hand held the instrument and in her right the bow. Strumming her instrument, she had begun to remember childhood, and the first time she had played Mozarts Lacrimosa, her favorite dramatic piece. As the melody continued to play through, she could hear the sound of a harpsichord joining her, "You play?" she kept her eyes closed knowing. Who was in front of her.  

"I could ask you the same thing," he smiled, keeping up with her violin playing. He was no longer uncertain about what to do with Shanel. At this moment, she was his equal the missing half to his melody that he had been trying to find. She was going to be his symphony, and he would be her conductor.  If only he could get the right melody to pluck the harp of her heart.  The music had stopped playing as stood behind him,

"Bad posture doesn't look good on you.." she commented with her hand on his back, fixing his posture, "Neither does jealousy look good on you." he turned his head to look up at her. She was as radiant as the stars, an ethereal woman a universe. She was the missing venus in the Botticelli painting in his memory palace that he could only hope to find,  motioning for her to sit next to him he scooped her in his arms, "You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love." he whispered tilting her chin up placing a small kiss right under the skin that made the curve of her lips. He wanted to let it linger let her know that he would be willing to care,

"You're falling hard and so sudden," she whispered back, cupping his face feeling his hands pull her closer towards his body as she gave him a quick peck on the lips. He had wanted to share a moment like this for so long, and he could tell she did too. Leaning in once more their they had met in a tender kiss the type you couldn't say anything to a friend about because it meant you had found the missing happiness in your life.  

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you." he pressed his forehead against her own, the two smiling at each other as if they had once more killed someone,

"If music be the food of love play on.," she smirked, giving him a chuckle.

[waywardrose13]

My Girl

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has always been closed off with her emotions, until she meets Dean Winchester. Three months he’s due in hell, and she watches as Dean goes through woman after woman in each town they roll through. However, it just so happened that in one particular town, Y/N runs into an old friend; one she may not have known as well as she thought she did.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Characters: Dean, Y/N, Sam, OFC Brandy, OMC Danny, unnamed OCs

Word Count: 2,971

Warnings: TW: Attempted sexual assault, drugging, non-consensual touching, mentions of past assaults by OMC character; Angst, language

Written for; @badthingshappenbingo (Square: Tampered with food/drink) @spndarkbingo (Square: Obsession), @spnclassicbingo (Square: An old friend)

A/N- Please heed warnings. This was a quick fic I wrote up so I could get something out to y’all and fill up some squares. I want to be able to write more shorter one-shots so I can get things out to y’all and actually finish what I start. I don’t know how much I like this but... we’re gonna go with it.

I watched with a heavy heart as Dean Winchester’s arm slipped around another woman’s waist, her long blonde curls tickling his skin and plump, red lips pursed seductively at him. His eyes, the forest green that had become my favorite color within the last year I had been hunting with the Winchesters, were staring into hers, periodically flickering down to her mouth, his own curled up into a smirk.

He had three months left. Each day was a new kind of torture, with the thought of losing him on top of the heartbreak of watching him lay with someone new in each town we rolled through was almost too much to bare.

But I’d rather bare it than not see him at all.

I could feel Sam watching me curiously. I was usually pretty good about hiding my feelings for the eldest Winchester. But with the way my eyes weren’t leaving Dean, and the way my fingers curled around the beer bottle a little too tight, I knew Sam must have been putting it together.

“Hey!” Dean dropped into the seat beside me, a smile on his face as he nudged my shoulder. “Brandy.”

“Brandy?” Sam asked, scoffing. “You actually got her name this time?”

“Oh shut up,” Dean said, mood not breaking. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, am I right? Have some fun?”

I rolled my eyes, tipping the bottle back and emptying the rest of its contents into my awaiting mouth.

“I need something stronger.” Sam sighed, slumping in his seat as I slipped out of mine, making my way over to the bar.

“What crawled up her ass?” Dean asked, not really paying attention. His eyes wandered back to where Brandy was swaying her hips near the jukebox.

“Wow, you really are a dumbass,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean said. “How am I a-”

“Hey, sexy!” Brandy called. She held up a pool cue, wiggling her eyebrows. “Wanna teach me how to play?”

She emphasized her words by bending down over the table, and Sam’s eyes just about rolled out of his skull as Dean jumped from his seat.

“Nevermind,” the green eyed hunter muttered as he marched over to the table.

“Whiskey,” I said, squinting at the shelves behind the bartender. “On second thought- make it tequila.”

“Sure thing,” he said, turning to grab the bottle. I dropped my head into my hands, elbows resting on the top of the bar. I didn’t know how I allowed myself to get roped into falling in love with someone. I closed myself off for as long as I could remember, staying away from relationships in high school. I knew what would happen if I opened my heart, so I kept it closed, not allowing anyone to break through the walls I had built for yourself.

“Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N?”

I raised my head from my hands, looking up into a pair of chocolate eyes.

“Danny?” I asked, looking him up and down. “What the hell?”

“Hey!” He smiled. “How have you been?”

“Damn, I haven’t seen you in years!” I said, bringing him in for a hug, his black curls brushing my cheek. “Look how long your hair is!”

“I know, it’s gotten crazy, huh?” He laughed, smile as bright as ever. “So, how have you been? Are you still working that private investigator gig?”

“Yep, still working it,” I said. “I’ve got a few partners now so I’m not always alone.”

“Any boyfriends I should worry about?” He teased, sitting down. I scoffed.

“Um, no,” I said shaking my head. “Being on the road makes it hard to meet people and you know… this job can get dangerous and I wouldn’t want to drag someone else into it.”

He was silent for a moment. “So is that a no?”

“Yes that’s a no, you idiot!” I said, shoving his shoulder. “What about you? Are you and what’s-her-name still together?”

“Who, Veronica? No, that ended a few months ago,” Danny replied. The bartender set a couple shots of tequila and beer down. I thanked him and picked up a shot. “I’m living the single life, baby.”

“Here’s to that,” I said, raising my glass. He did the same, and we knocked them back, wincing only slightly at the burn.

“Hey, Y/N, who’s this?”

I jumped, turning away from Danny to face Dean, a confused look on his face.

“Oh, hey, Dean. I thought you were with Brandy,” I said a little too harshly.

“I just wanted to see who you were talking to,” he muttered, giving Danny a cold look. His eyes met mine, and the intensity in them nearly made me flinch.

“He’s an old friend of mine from high school. This is Danny.” I turned again, gesturing towards Danny. He looked up, slightly startled at the sudden confrontation, but composed himself, holding out his hand.

“Hey there,” he greeted, giving his smile to a very unimpressed Dean.

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Oh, Dean! Don’t you wanna hear the end of the story?” Brandy called from across the bar. Dean sighed, giving me a look.

“You know, I thought this was going to be fun.”

I snickered as he turned and made his way back to the blonde, and I spun around in my chair to face Danny.

“Where were we?”

It was nearly a half hour later when I began to feel it.

I drank my beer and shots, but I never got this loaded this quick. As soon as my limbs began to feel heavy, and my head grew increasingly fuzzy, I knew something was wrong. Danny was saying something, but it sounded muffled, like a scream underwater. I squinted my eyes at him, trying to swallow the cotton feeling in my mouth.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nodded weakly, bracing my arm on the counter top.

“Yeah I… I just need to…” My words slurred together as my world increasingly became blurrier. My brain felt sluggish, and I tried as hard as I could to focus, but I just felt so sleepy.

“Hey, okay. I’ll take care of you,” Danny said, nodding. He glanced around for a moment, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me off the stool. I stumbled, my legs feeling like jello beneath me as he guided me from the bar. As my feet dragged, my eyes fluttered, and the only thought in my mind was sleep.

I barely registered being led into a motel room across the street, or being laid on the bed. The room spun as my vision dotted, and it was hard to keep my eyes open. I saw Danny over me, his hand coming to rest on my cheek before moving to his belt.

“No,” I slurred, trying to roll away. He gripped my ankle, tugging me down the bed as his other hand moved to the button on my jeans. “Stop.”

“Shhh,” he murmured, slipping the denim from my legs. “Don’t fight it, Y/N/N. You’ll be out soon, anyway.”

“No,” I repeated, trying to squirm away. I wanted to fight, but my limbs wouldn’t cooperate. My body felt like it had been filled with cement. Tears sprang to my eyes as his hand covered my clothed mound. I felt completely and utterly powerless against him, and I wanted to vomit when his fingers dipped under the cotton to feel along my private area, and my stomach lurched as his fingers prodded at my opening. “Stop it.”

“It’ll be over soon, honey,” he said. “I just want a taste of the thing that’s unattainable.”

The last thing I remember was the sound of my own heartbeat, and the absolute gut wrenching sound of his jeans hitting the floor.

“Hey, where did Y/N go?” Dean asked, sliding into the seat across from Sam.

The hazel eyed hunter looked up from his tablet, glancing over at the bar where she had been sitting mere moments ago.

“I… don’t know,” Sam said, brows furrowing. “Did she leave with someone?”

“That’s not really her MO, Sammy,” Dean muttered. “Although, she met an old friend of hers at the bar. They seemed pretty close.”

“Oh, maybe they went out,” Sam suggested.

“She wouldn’t just go without telling us,” Dean said. “I didn’t trust that guy.”

“You don’t trust any guy who talks to Y/N,” Sam said. “Not even her own brother.”

“Okay, I trust him. I just don’t like that he doesn’t stand up for her, that’s all.”

“That was five years ago, Dean. They were teenagers.”

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. “Okay, whatever. We need to find her. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Sam scoffed. “Okay. Fine.” He shrugged, laying a few dollars down. “Let’s ask the bartender if he saw where they went.”

The brothers made their way up to the nearly empty bar, a few stragglers left, but aside from that, the bar itself had cleared out. The bartender was wiping down the counters, and reached over to turn up the volume on the speakers, humming along to the tune.

“Excuse me?” Sam said, leaning against the counter. The bartender looked up.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Yeah, you remember the woman who was sitting here? H/C hair, flannel shirt?” Dean said.

“Oh, yeah. She was with the long haired fella,” the bartender told them. “They left not too long ago. He’s been coming in here every night for a week. He’s staying at the motel across from here. Kinda weird, but nice enough.”

“She left with him?” Dean asked, clearly confused.

“Yeah. She seemed pretty drunk. He said he was gonna help her to her room. They were old friends, I guess,” he said. “To be quite honest, things seemed a little fishy.”

“And you didn’t do anything?” Dean hissed. Sam laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, I don’t have any proof. Besides, they were reminiscing about old times for two hours. I figured they were friends,” the bartender said, shrugging.

“You just-”

“Do you happen to know what room number he’s staying in?” Sam asked, cutting off his brother. Dean shot him a glare, teeth mashed together as he seethed.

“I dunno. There aren’t many occupied rooms. I know he drives a truck but that’s about it. Maybe check the room where it’s at?” He suggested. “Hope you find her.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Dean sneered. Sam tugged on his arm, pulling him towards the door.

“We’re wasting time, Dean. We gotta find her. Now.”

“I wonder if you’re still a virgin,” Danny said, his hand steadily pumping himself. “Man, I would love some virgin pussy.”

She was unconscious, but Danny didn’t know how long it would last. It was different with each of his victims.

She was special to Danny. All through high school he wondered what it would be like to have her on his arm. He was the freak; the nerd; the outcast. But she was always so nice, and she welcomed him into her small friend group with open arms. His crush on her never relented, but she never liked him back, nor did she really like anyone. She was guarded and mysterious, and was invisible in high school. However, all he saw was her. After graduation, he never thought he’d see her again.

Danny knew there was something wrong with him. His mother always said he’d turn out this way. But it was an addiction, and each time he’d come across any woman with any similarities to Y/N, he’d prey on them.

And now that he had her in his grasp, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let her go.

He hovered over her, her body so small compared to his wide stature. He ran his hands over her soft skin, positioning himself between her legs. Kneeling between them, he brought his hand up to her clothed breast, his tongue flicking over his lips as he massaged it, pawing at her chest as he grew achingly hard. He slowly moved his other hand down to her mound, moving her panties aside. He glanced up at her, a sickening grin on his face.

Just as he was about to position himself at her center, a loud crack rang through the room. He flinched, head whipping towards the door just as it splintered open, a furious looking Dean Winchester standing in the doorway.

“You son of a bitch!” He growled, stalking across the room. Danny blubbered like a fish out of water, scrambling away from the unconscious woman and falling onto the floor. Dean reached down and gripped Danny by the collar, lifting him up like he weighed nothing and slamming him against the wall. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Get the fuck off me!” Danny cursed, shoving against Dean. But the hunter wouldn’t relent, and he pressed his forearm into Danny’s throat.

“What the fuck did you do?” He growled again, and Danny’s eyes widened.

“I-I-I didn’t do anything yet,” he stuttered.

“Yet?” Dean scoffed. “She’s unconscious and half naked on a bed. That’s not nothing!”

“Look, I just wanted to be with her and-”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean reared his head forward, bashing his forehead into Danny’s nose. He cried out, a spurt of blood running in a stream from each nostril.

“Dean, we gotta get her to a hospital,” Sam said. He had wrapped Y/N up in his coat, covering her bottom half. She was lying limp in his arms, and Dean felt sick. “We don’t know what this fucker gave her.”

Dean’s jaw strained as he seethed. He let go of Danny, whipping his gun out from his belt.

“Woah!” Danny screamed, cowering against the wall. “Hey, now!”

“How many other women have you done this to? Huh?” Dean asked, cocking the gun.

“I-I don’t know! I don’t keep count!” Danny lied. Dean’s hand shot out and curled itself in Danny’s shirt. In one move, he clocked Danny over the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him out cold.

“I’ll take Y/N, you call the cops on this motherfucker,” Dean hissed, spitting on the man below him.

“Okay,” Sam said. Dean turned, face softening at the sight of Y/N in Sam’s arms. “You got her?”

Dean nodded as Sam placed the sleeping woman in his arms. “Yeah. I’ve got her. Always.”

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

My body ached as I came to, a pounding in my head refusing to relent. Taking a deep breath, my eyes fluttered open, squinting at the brightness of the lights above me.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a voice said. I turned my head, brows furrowing.

“Dean? Where am I?”

“You’re in a hospital,” he said softly. He took my hand, fingers lacing with mine. “What do you remember?”

I opened my mouth, trying to conjure up some sort of memory. I closed my mouth with a soft “humph,” and looked away.

“I… I don’t remember anything…”

“Yeah, the doc figured you wouldn’t,” Dean said sadly. “Um. You were drugged, Y/N.”

My head whipped towards him. “What?”

“Danny, he-”

“Danny drugged me?” I asked, eyes widening.

“He brought you back to his hotel and…” He trailed off, and I suddenly had the urge to vomit.

“Oh god… please don’t tell me he…” Tears sprang to my eyes at the thought, and Dean quickly shook his head.

“No. They did tests and they confirmed that he hadn’t done anything yet. We got there just in time,” he said. I relaxed a bit, swallowing back the bile that threatened to come up.

“How close was he?” I asked.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Too close.”

I bit my lip, looking down. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Hey, no, no. Why are you sorry?” He asked, squeezing my hand. “This isn’t on you at all.”

“I put you through all this trouble and I ruined your night. You don’t… you don’t have long left and I-”

I gasped as suddenly he was leaning forward, his lips pressing against mine. My eyes nearly popped from their sockets in shock, and he pulled away before it began.

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have done that given the circumstances,” he muttered, a blush creeping up his neck.

“I… why did you?” I asked dumbly, cringing inwardly at myself.

He gave a short laugh. “I dunno. I guess I’ve always wanted to. I don’t know why I chose right then to do so but-”

This time, it was my turn to lean forward and kiss him. A small gasp slipped past his lips as my hand squeezed his, and he raised his free one to my neck, thumb running gently along my cheek as my mouth molded to his.

“Ahem.”

I jumped away, world tilting a bit as I did so. I looked up at the door, face no doubt like a deer caught in the headlights. Dean just chuckled, bringing my hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss to my knuckles.

“Excellent timing as always, Sammy,” he said, nodding at his brother.

“Sorry, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Sam said. He held a small bouquet of flowers. “I got you these since I know hospitals kinda freak you out.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Sam. And I’m ok. I have you two to thank for that.”

“Actually, it was really Dean. He was worried and just had a hunch. Knocked the bastard out cold.”

“What?” I said, looking over at him. He shrugged, and I grinned.

“He was trying to hurt my girl. I’d never let that happen.”

I smiled at him dumbly, and he kissed my hand again.

“I’m your girl?” I asked, and his face softened, the sweetest of smiles crossing his lips.

“Always.”

Forever Lovlies:

@jennalyncarrigan1230  

@mogaruke

@kittyk26  

@waywardsepticeye  

@luciferslucille

@cookiecakeslive  

@wheres-my-cheese  

@supernatural-strangerthings-1980  

@sunnysaysbookreviews  

@nyxveracity

@raining-murder  

@just-a-supernatural-sister

@hi-my-name-is-riley

@thehufflepuffblog

@donnaintx

@pisces-cutie  

@waywardnerd67  

@alexwinchester23  

@jotink78

@sandlee44

@blackcherrywhiskey

@ain-t-bovvered

@witch-of-letters

@supernatural-crazed-girl

@gh0stgurl

@choosemyname

@1800-fandoms

@spnskinnyballs

@kcrews74

@adoptdontshoppets

@x-waywardaf-x

@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes

@natura1phenomenon

@deanandsamsbitch

@heyitscam99

@thewinchesterchronicles

@thegirlsadventuresinwonderland

@shortbty14

@frozenhuntress67

@arses21434

@squirrelgirl67

Jensen/Dean beans:

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@polina-93

@mirandaaustin93

@akshi8278

@sasquatch5

@adoptdontshoppets

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@fangirl-forevers-world

@rawritsmolly

@frozenhuntress67

@reginaphalange2403

@x-waywardaf-x

@jessieray98

@thewinchesterchronicles

@cookiechipdough

@tryn25

@yesfictionalboysarebetter

@angelessquirrel

@ackleholic-hunter

@weepingwillowphoenix

@analisespn

@dolans-lover

[missdreawrites]

Far Cry 5, and How I Feel a Week after Beating It

@weekend-writer, here we go. Hold on to your butts.

I just recently finished Far Cry 5, and mid-way through the playthrough, someone asked if I thought it was worth the 60$ USD and I had originally said yes. Now, having completed the game, I’m rethinking that stance. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sorry I bought the game for full price, but I’m definitely a bit - sad over it. So I’m going to go through the game point by point, in a somewhat blistering, disappointed review.

Obviously, beyond the cut, there are SPOILERS ahead.

Let me start this out by saying I enjoyed seventy-five percent of this game. The graphics were amazing, the outposts were all unique, the characters were priceless (fucking Hurk Jr, man, I love him so much and dude, I ran around with a bear named Cheeseburger). The music was fantastic. I loved the theme, and the battle music, and even the scary uber-Christian hymns that played on Eden’s Gate Radio.

Now, for those of you who are looking for a bit of a rundown, the game is about a Rookie Deputy Sheriff - hereby known as Rook for the rest of this review. You play the Rook who goes to Eden’s Gate, an uber Christian cult in the middle of Hope County, Montana. You, Deputy Hudson, Deputy Pratt, and a US Marshall go to arrest the leader of this cult, Joseph Seed.

Like in Far Cry 4, you have a choice in the very beginning of the game. You can choose not to arrest Joseph - though you have to loiter for ten minutes or so as your partners and boss get increasingly angry with you, but eventually the Sheriff decides you’re right, this is not a battle we want to fight, let’s just go. Credits.

However, if you actually want to play the game, you have arrest Joseph and bring him to your chopper, wherein all hell breaks loose, and you crash because of course you do. Joseph Seed tells you that arresting him was breaking the first “seal” and anyone who has watched Supernatural within the last thirteen years knows what that means.

The rest of the events in the game are not all that important to this review, only that Joseph Seed has several siblings that you have to defeat to get to him after you escape and are set loose on the region.

There’s John Seed, a torturer who has Deputy Hudson. He’s obsessed with cleansing people of their sins. There’s Jacob Seed, a war veteran who has so many PTSD issues I can’t actually list them all, and he’s a manipulator who believes the weak should be culled from the herd. He brainwashes you a la Bioshock, only he uses a song to do it. Then there’s Faith Seed, and she’s not actually related to them. She was a junkie who came to Joseph for help, and ended up helping him create Bliss, this hallucinogenic drug that stretches the bounds of reality just a bit too much.

There. Now.

You have to liberate each region (John, Jacob, and Faith respectively) in order to unlock the final confrontation with Joseph. Each region has a bar that has little bubbles on it, once reach those bubbles, those are essentially check points of “pissing off a Seed sibling” and they send Hunters out after you.

1. Mechanic I hate number the first one: the Hunting Party

So you’ve pissed off a Seed sibling! They send a Hunting Party after you. The party arrives - even if you fast travelled to a different region, or even the other side of the map. Or like me, you’re a stealthy snipery jerkface and you kill the entire party undetected as they yell about finding me and “use the Bliss Bullets, John/Jacob/Faith wants ‘em alive!”

I kill all eight of the hunting party, and breathe a sigh of relief. There are no more red markers, Boomer says no one else is around. I venture out of cover.

Blam.

Screen goes wavery, then sparkly. Then Rook falls unconscious. Despite having killed the party, or left the party or hidden, these are scripted events, so I literally can do nothing to save myself. I have to get kidnapped by the Seed sibling, for Plot Reasons.

Annoying but manageable.

2. Mechanic I hate number the second one: The Rook

Unlike in the rest of the Far Cry series, you are not a person. By which I mean, you’re not like Jason Brody or Ajay Ghale, or even Jack. You’re still the Rook, of course but you’re not voiced, you have no personality. You can be male or female, and the only person in the entire game that mentioned my gender as female was freakin’ Hurk.

Your character makes noise - when you’re hurt or falling, you grunt and groan and cry out, but you don’t talk. You don’t emote. You are just a blank canvas. What’s worse, is they didn’t bother recording two sets of dialogue like Bethesda did in Fallout 4.

So all the cultists just call you by a gender neutral sound. “Get ‘em!”/”I saw ‘em over there!”/”I got eyes on the sinner!”

Y’all. Y’all come on.

This is especially hard to stomach when the characters are spewing just the most ridiculous nonsense at you. There’s a moment after you get kidnapped by Jacob, and Joseph is there. He goes on this - truly awful and ridiculous monologue about how he used to be a different person, he was married, a baby on the way. How happy he was. Then there was an accident. His wife died, and the doctors saved the baby but the baby was sick, probably premature, and they said he had to be strong for his baby daughter.

TW: he is not strong for his baby daughter.

The rook doesn’t say a damn thing to this horrible man who admits he killed his baby daughter instead of taking care of her. The rook just watches him, from behind bars. Yo, I was livid. I was like WHAT THE FUCK YOU MURDERER HOW DARE YOU PREACH PEACE but nope. My character was totally silent.

Y’ALL.

3. Mechanic that I hate number the third one: the Ending (collectively)

WARNING: Here be spoilers. If you don’t care about me spoiling the entire ending confrontation with Joseph, keep on reading. Otherwise, feel free to skip down to the conclusion, which I’ve helpfully put in bold.

SO THE ENDING.

After you liberate each region, gather all your Roster, finish your side quests and helping each person you find, Joseph Seed contacts you - he offers to open up his compound so you two can finally have it out. Now, I’ll take this moment to say that I put it off for a bit. I ignored Joseph so I could finish side quests, and my partner, who beat the game two days before I did told me no, go do it, you won’t want to keep playing after. Why waste that time?

I was thoroughly alarmed by that statement. So even though it was almost seven in the morning and I’d stayed up all night to play it, I drove my ass to Joseph’s compound and in a mirror of the very beginning, walked up to the church.

Immediately, I am placed in a cut scene. This has happened a few times throughout the game, Whenever John Seed implored you to say “yes” to whatever tortures he wanted bestow on you, to talking with your allies. However, the length of this cutscene dragged on, until Joseph is done preaching at you.

He says he’ll give you an offer. That despite all you’ve done, despite the fact that you’ve killed his flock and family, he’s going to offer you peace. He’s going to do the “right thing” and offer you peace. You hear something behind you - still in a cutscene - and turn around to see all your friends. The roster you helped out, minus the animals, all Blissed out of their minds (as noted by the glowing cloud around their faces) and leading tied up people into the compound. They aim their guns at Deputy Pratt, Deputy Hudson and the Sheriff, all of whom have been recaptured by the people you thought were your friends. Joseph tells you if you resist, if you don’t choose peace, then you can kiss your friends goodbye.

Then you’re given the ability to choose two options: Resist or Accept.

IF YOU CHOOSE RESIST:

He knocks over some Bliss barrels, and everything gets all kinds of fucked up, and your friends attack Pratt, Hudson and the Sheriff. After you fight off Joseph for a second or two, you’re able to revive them (not a new mechanic, you can revive anyone during the rest of the game) and all four of you start fighting Joseph. You have to fight your roster as well, but once they go down, you’re able to revive them as well - which puts them back on your side. However, Joseph will also try to revive them, which leaves them your enemy.

I guess “killing them” and reviving them is like cognitive recalibration? Either way, once all your roster-friends are revived an on your side, you turn your attention to Joseph and shoot the fuck out of him. It’s real cathartic… until you beat him and are immediately locked into another cutscene.

While Joseph monologues at you, the Sheriff (your boss, essentially) comes up behind him, declares him under arrest, and handcuffs him. Joseph proclaims that another seal has broken, and then the entire screen shakes with some kind of impact. The cutscene shows you, Hudson, Pratt, and the Sheriff a giant mushroom cloud, not too far away from where you are, across the lake.

There’s a moment of shock, and Joseph declares it the end of the world, just like he predicted. He was right, and the end is upon us, etc, etc yadda.

We all run toward a car, with Joseph in tow, and then you’re given control back just long enough to drive helter skelter away from the shockwave, as shit is getting set on fire, until you’re suddenly locked in another cutscene just in time to slam into a falling tree.

The screen goes black and red, as you come to, realizing that Pratt, Hudson and the Sheriff are dead. The car door opens and you fall out, blacking back out. When you wake up again, you’re in a bunker - the same bunker you woke up in before being set loose on the county after the prologue, and who should be with you?

Joseph. Seed.

He tells you that everyone in Hope County is dead, and it’s all your fault, why couldn’t you have just picked peace? But hey, it doesn’t matter - we’re family now and one day, we’ll walk through Eden’s Gate together.

“I am your Father,” Joseph Seed says, leaning back in his seat, and staring at you with those wide eyes. “And you are my Child.” He locks eyes with you, never blinking, as the screen fades to black.

Credits.

I was in fucking shock. According to my partner who was awake on the couch and watching me play through this, I kept clicking my mouse like I was trying to pull my guns to shoot him. Why couldn’t I just shoot him?

Now, I’m willing to admit that a lot that might have been a hallucination - the cutscenes make use of the Bliss (which is hallucinogenic) a lot - even though when you aren’t in a cutscene the drug only behaves that way in the most minorest of ways. I’ve been running through fields of Bliss for ages, and all you get is weird sparkling on the corners of your screen. Sometimes you hallucinate Faith Seed, or animals that aren’t there.

However, ultimately, whether or not it was a hallucination doesn’t matter. Because the credits roll and the game is over. Hope County is gone, your friends, your allies, they’re gone. Your only companion is the man you failed to kill, the man you failed to arrest, and you’ve lost.

You lost.

So, utterly livid, I reloaded my save just before choosing Resist, and instead chose the other option.

IF YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT PEACE:

Joseph lets you go. He monologues a bit more, but he lets you, Hudson and Pratt, the Sheriff, he lets everyone go. You retreat to the edge of the Compound, get into the same truck you’d get into if you chose to resist, and start driving away. The Sheriff talks to you a little and ultimately what he says isn’t important, because the radio turns on, as you drive away.

Remember how I said Jacob Seed brainwashed you.... With a song?

The screen goes red as your character starts screaming, and then the screen goes black.

Roll credits.

The game is over. The last time that song played, when you did Jacob’s Region, you killed one of your allies because he brainwashed you into doing it. The entire lead up to killing Jacob is one big brainwashing suckfest, and you do things you don’t think you’re doing until it’s over.

It’s very, very clear that you’ll kill everyone in that car with you.

You lose. Everyone in that car knows how bad Joseph Seed is, they’re your survivors, your witnesses. The people who could have helped you get more manpower to come back and get rid of Joseph with more than a song and a prayer.

But you kill them. You lose.

Both of these endings mean that the ninety hours I spent playing were useless. Nothing I did mattered. Either the world fucking ends, or you murder the people you spent the whole game trying to save. Nothing you did matter, you made no difference, and you lose.

I have nothing against games where you don’t win. I have nothing against games where the ending message is you lose. I have serious issues with being plot railroaded via cutscene into endings I don’t want. Why couldn’t I shoot Joseph? I shot Faith, and Jacob and John. Clearly due process wasn’t important THEN, so why are we arresting Joseph? He’s a dangerous man who knows how to use a dangerous drug to mind control people - but yeah sure, let’s arrest him.

CONCLUSION:

Am I disappointed I bought the game? No, not really. I’m glad I played.

However, I was left with this - bad taste in my mouth, a little. The endings were lackluster, I feel like a require closure to move on with my life - especially because I beat it a week ago, and I’m still stewing over the ending.

Like the original ending of Mass Effect 3, where I was left in shock, I hope that Ubisoft hears how disappointing those endings were and gives us a miniature DLC (to go along with the three weird ones they already have) that gives us a better option.

To the anon who asked me if it was worth the 60$ USD, I originally answered your ask saying yes, because I loved the game.

I hope you see this, and note that my answer has changed. If you’re a hardcore fan of the series, like me, sure - spend the 60. But if you’re not? If you’re a casual player who just liked the idea of the plot - give it a miss, until the next Steam Summer Sale or Xbox Gold Give Away.

This is a little disjointed, I started it while I was at work and then slept before finishing it but I am free and available for any questions via ask/message system. Anon hate about loving the endings will be added to the fire and will fuel the heating for my house. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

[supernatural-fanficuniverse]

Heart Hope

Title: Heart Hope

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam (friendship)

Word Count: 3,776

Warnings: Fluff, ANGST, drunk angry dean, self-harm, depression, cussing, suicide attempt. 

Summary: You had known the Winchester brothers for 3 years and had grown to love them as if they were family. You had started to think you were a burden and that the boys were better off without you. What happens when one night you decide to act on those thoughts?

Inspiration: Heart Hope by Oh Wonder 

A/N: *I am in no way trying to romanticize self-harm and/or depression.* I struggle with these as well, and just used this work of fiction as an outlet. If you ever need to talk, I’m here. This is my first Supernatural fanfic, so please let me know if it was any good or not.

Y/A = Your age

You were laying in your full size bed that lied in your bedroom in the bunker. It was 2:48 in the morning and you couldn’t sleep. You knew that wasn't a good thing because your thoughts are always relentless, and they bring things up from the past that you wish you could forget about forever.

You had known the Winchester boys for about 3 years now. They rescued you from a Rougarou. It was a hunt you had been waiting for, for nearly your whole life. After all, it was the Rougarou that killed your parents and your little sister, and that’s what got you into hunting.

To this this day you couldn’t forget the sound of your little sister’s screams. It’s like the sound was burned into your brain, and the devil played it on loop day and night just to watch your pain being relived over and over again.

You had to admit, it was taking a major toll on your mental health. You became obsessed with tracking the damned thing down. You wanted to torture it, to make it feel pain, the same pain you felt every day by not having the people you had loved the most next to you. You wanted to hear it elicit the same gut wrenching scream that you could never forget. You just wanted the fucking thing to die. You wanted revenge, as simple as that. At least it should have been simple, somehow you’d found a way to fuck that up to.

You got a lead and had finally narrowed down its next targeted hunting ground, Smith County Kansas. You had prepared for the long trip (you were currently in Minnesota) and did as much research as you could, all the while trying to hurry. You caught whiff of a few news articles. Fuck. A few missing bodies here and there and you knew it had already struck. You thought you were too late but you went anyways, there’s no way you’d miss the chance to slit its throat, even if there was a chance it wouldn’t even be there. You had talked to the local townspeople and had finally figured out that the Rougarou’s nest was in an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town. By the time you had gotten there and snooped around some,something hit you on the back of the head and your vision went black. Long story short, you were tortured until the Winchesters came to save you. You would always be eternally grateful to them. 

You found out that Smith county was practically their backyard seeing as how they lived in Lebanon (one of the cities in Smith). They said they could use a fresh set of eyes, and someone to help do some research, kinda take the load off of the boys, so you gladly and happily obliged to tag along. You had grown so attached to them within the last 3 years. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for those two goofballs. You looked up to them as if they were the older brothers you never had, and you were pretty sure they loved you like a little sister. It was the closest thing to family that you’d had in quite a long time and it was a nice change in pace. But you started to think you were a burden to them. You knew they loved you, and you knew they’d never intentionally let you think anything less than that. But these days and with everything that had happened in your past, it was all just beginning to be too much to handle alone. Yeah, you could count on the guys always being there to protect you on the hunt, Sam or Dean always rushing in to save the day. But this was different. You didn’t need to go laying your problems on them, they handle enough on their own, much less the heavy weight it would be to add your plethora of issues on them as well. You were just getting so sick and tired of being so alone. You gave up on the idea of sleep and sat upright in the bed, carefully setting your feet on the cold floor. The sheer coldness sending a shiver up your spine. You quietly padded down the hallway to the kitchen, passing both Sam and Deans doors. By the sound of it you could tell that at least one of them was snoring heavily, but hey at least they were getting some shut eye. Good sleep is something very few hunters can get often, so you knew they relished in their off time, even though they were always searching for the next case. You went to cabinets and pulled out a mug, along with supplies to fix a nice warm tea. Maybe a chamomile infused tea will give you just the right amount of comfort to be able to shut your mind off and finally fall asleep. God knows what you would give for a hug right now. But as always you were left to console yourself, tightly crossing your arms and drawing what little solace you could out of their pressure on your chest. The microwaved beeped bringing you of your thoughts, you reached in to get the mug and as you pulled it out you realized it was much much hotter than you were anticipating. The mug slipped out of your hand, the hot liquid splashing against your arm and your leg, as the cup made its way toward the ground. That’s when your heart sunk to the bottom of your stomach.

It wasn’t just any mug, it was Deans favorite mug, the last one that he had kept from his Mom’s personal china collection. He’d either lost or broken them throughout the years and this was the last one. The mug collided with the ground and produced an almost ear shattering sound that echoed throughout the entire bunker that was so quiet, that you could hear a pin drop from a mile away.. Before the mug had hit the ground you had instinctively reached down trying to save it. When it splintered in 6 huge pieces of porcelain one of them came up a jabbed you in the soft skin between your thumb and pointer finger. Your eyes instantly welled up in tears, and it wasn’t even because of the astounding pain you felt in your hand, it was because you knew how angry Dean would be at you. And you never wanted Dean to yell at you. To look at you with those pretty green eyes of his and see anger and disappointment reflect back to yours. You heard two sets of footsteps stomping down the hallway as fast as they could. “Y/N?!”, you heard Sam yell. You stood there shaking, tears in your eyes clutching your injured hand, and fearing what was about to happen in the moments after this one. You thought Sam was going to round the corner first, but you were surprised when you saw Dean instead. “What the hell is going on?” Dean questioned in a not so nice voice, his tone gruff. You noticed he slightly slurred his words, fuck. That means he had been up late drinking and he probably hadn’t sobered up yet. You just stared at him, for fear if you were to open your mouth that you would lose your shit right then and there, but you couldn’t let that happen no matter what. You can’t let the boys see you weak. Sam stood there just taking in everything as well, he looked a little dazed. “Did you not fucking hear me or something, Y/N?! I said what the hell is going on in here!” Dean’s voice boomed. You hated when he got like that (which he had only ever done once before). He looked at the ground and you knew he was about to explode. “Wait. Hell no. Hell no! Is that my moms fucking mug? Did you break the last item that meant so much to me?!” Dean practically yelled. You could smell the whiskey on him from here. “Dean,” Sam said warily. Dean turned around and angrily looked at Sam. “No Sammy! You don’t fucking understand! You never have! That was the last possession of our mother that I had, and what!? She gets a free pass to just destroy my personal items!? Huh Sammy!?” You knew you wouldn’t be able to take much more of this. You had never meant for any of this to happen, all you wanted was to make some tea. I guess you fucked that up too, just like everything else. “And the big kicker is, she’s not even family!”, he turned on his heel to look at you, your heart breaking in two. “You know that you have caused nothing but trouble since we found you?! I knew the day that Sammy begged for you to come along that I would regret it sooner or later and boy was I right.” He laughed but it contained no mirth. “He said he pitied you, hell, even I did too. But only a little bit, what can I say? It’s a hard knock life, get over it. We put our asses on the line for you all the time! And you don’t even appreciate it!” Dean continued his voice getting louder and louder with each sentence. “What about that time you almost got Sam killed because you messed up the Latin during an exorcism?! Or maybe the time when I almost got shot because you forgot to clean your damn gun?! Do you ever fucking think? Or are you too stupid to even handle that?!” The malice that dripped off of his voice was so heavy you could physically sense it. You couldn’t take this anymore. This was just too much, all the insecure thoughts that you had been thinking had just been expressed by someone you loved more than anything. You took off towards your room, practically slipping in the small puddle of blood from where you cut your hand. You hadn’t even noticed it was bleeding until now. You’re so fucking stupid, Y/N! You just couldn’t keep the one good thing that had happened to you huh? You shouldn’t be surprised, you fuck everything up so what would make you think this time would be any different? You should just die. It’s not like anyone would miss you now. Dean certainly wouldn’t. He would probably be happier. You slammed your door shut behind you, quickly locking it. Your breathing was erratic and your heart was beating out of your chest, hot tears streaming down your face. You could faintly hear Sam and Dean arguing with each other in the kitchen. You can’t ever do anything right and this just proves it. You were a waste of space from the start and should have just given up when your family died. If they were still alive today they probably wouldn’t even love you either, you just made people feel that way about you.

It was true, no one ever checked in to see if you were okay, no one ever cared to ask how you were doing. Nobody is this whole damn world fucking cared about you. And you knew it down to your core. You were never someones first choice.

No one needed you nearly as much as you needed them. You thought back to the last time you had cut and swore to yourself that you’d never do it again. That was 3 years ago. The Winchesters had helped you out a lot. Had being a keyword. You were pretty sure you were going to break that clean streak tonight. And the sad part is, is that you didn’t feel any remorse about it. You fucking deserved this. You took your back off of your door and ran to your dresser, rummaging sloppily through the drawer until you found what you were looking for. The razor blade that you used to self-harm. You had tried to get rid of it, but never could. Guess that decision had come in handy after all. You rolled up your sleeve on your left arm and glanced down at your wrist. The scars had almost completely faded, sending a pang of guilt straight to your heart. You ignored it, and cut a deep but short cut in the top of your wrist. You let out a strangled sob slash cry of pain. This was deeper than you’d ever dared to cut before, the blood immediately coming to the surface. Sure it hurt like hell, but you deserved this and so much worse. You know if you cut deep enough into the vein that runs the length of you arm, this could finally be over? “Shut the hell up,” you muttered trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts that were invading your brain. If you take the razor blade and cut vertically instead of horizontally that- “SHUT THE FUCK UP,” you yelled at the top of your lungs. You started attacking your wrist and arm with the blade not even caring where it cut, nor how deep. You could hardly see the cuts because the blood was pouring out so profusely. You heard someone (maybe even two people) banging on your and screaming your name, but you could care less. You started to feel lightheaded, but continued to cut into your sensitive skin anyways. You heard the door open with force and slam into the wall, the lock failing. “NO!,” Dean yelled, concern and fear etched onto his face. It made your heart break even more. In an instant his strong arms were around you, but you still had one thing on your mind and that was putting your lights out forever. Dean took off his flannel and gingerly wrapped it around your arm as he whispered things in your ear, taking the blade away from you before you could do any more damage. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it”, “It’s going to be okay”, “You’ll be alright”, “Stay with me sweetheart.” The last thing you saw was Sam’s shocked and concerned face come around the door frame before the peaceful blackness overtook you and you gladly let it. You prayed to God you’d never open your eyes, or take another breath again.

You suddenly regained consciousness, your brain coming back to life. You looked around the dark room, hoping that you were in heaven and you just hadn’t gotten there yet (and it certainly didn’t look like hell).

The pounding in your head (not to mention the pain in your heavily bandaged arm) and the steady hum of the air conditioner told you that you were in fact not in heaven, but in the bunker.

You felt halfway disappointed that you had failed, but there was a small part of your subconscious that was happy you’d be able to see Dean and Sam again. You felt the familiar cotton sheet and the fluffy bedspread and knew it was yours. You were in your own bedroom.

You wondered where Sam and Dean were, and somehow as if reading your mind, you heard a click and the light from the lamp on your bedside table flooded the room.

You had to squint your eyes before you could open them fully. It was Dean, your heart restricting as you noticed how puffy and bloodshot his eyes were. It looked like he had been crying for days straight and Dean never, I mean never cried. You had only seen him cry once since you’d known him and that was because Sam had scratched Baby’s passenger side door in a narrow parking garage.

Guilt flooded your heart as you stared back at him, hardly even noticing Sam in the rocking chair in the corner of your room. He was still fast asleep but his eyes looked about the same or maybe even a little worse than Deans did.

A single tear, that stung almost tangibly with accusation, slid down your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” You were scared your voice wouldn’t work properly so you just whispered. It was almost inaudible, but you knew he had heard it.

“It’s okay. I just wish you would have told us you were hurting this badly, Y/N.” Dean replied solemnly, sounding as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He handed you a glass of water, but you were shaking so he ended up holding the glass up to your lips and helping you drink.

“Thank you.” You said even quieter than the first time you had spoken, your throat feeling a lot better but you still didn’t want to test your voice just to have it fail.

“You know I didn’t mean a single word I said right?,”Dean said breaking the silence.

“I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking straight. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You’re the closest thing to family other than Sammy that I have. I will not lose you. Especially not when I can help you, which I can, and I will. I will do everything in my power to get you better, no matter what it takes.”

“Deans right, Y/N.” You heard Sam suddenly speak as he got up from the rocking chair and made his way to the foot of the bed, setting his hand on your blanketed leg. “You mean so, so much to me and Dean. You’re like our little sister. We don’t want you to have to go through this alone. Like Dean said earlier. I really really wish you would have to come us. If not me then at least Dean. We care about you.”

Hearing them reassure you like this almost made you break down, but you couldn’t yet. You still had all those horrible thoughts bouncing around in your head. Maybe you’d feel better if you expressed them out loud.

“I think I’m starting to be a burden to you guys,” you blurted out, drawing them to look at you with concerned and confused faces. You continued nonetheless, “I love you both just as if you were my blood brothers that I had had since birth. I just feel that sometimes I’m too much for you to handle. I feel that I’m not worth fooling with. I want to make your lives easier, not complicate it by me being there. You both have your own problems and issues and you don’t need me adding to that, y’all have a hard time carrying it all by yourselves. The least I could do was keep it to myself. I tried to ignore the thoughts, I truly did. It’s just hard when they tell you that you’re both better off without me. I agree with it too and that’s what kills me. I know that I slow y’all down and it makes it more difficult on hunts. I’m also not as experienced as you are at hunting. Sam is the best at research and can find out anything in a matter of hours and Dean can gank any son of a bitch that tries to mess with him. What am I good at? Making a sandwich? Doing a load of laundry? I’m only good at stuff that’s unimportant and it adds no value to hunting. I just feel that it was better all the way around if I were to check out. Maybe it would be better for you guys.”

You looked up from your hands that were sitting in your lap and both Sam and Dean were just looking at you. You suppose they were contemplating what they wanted to say next. You just felt so vulnerable under their roaming eyes. You had never told them any of this, for all they knew you were a happy go lucky girl, certainly not one struggling with suicidal thoughts.

“Y/N,” Dean said, drawing you from your unwelcome thoughts. “I’m the one that is sorry. You have no right to be apologetic. I do. Sammy and I obviously haven’t done our job well enough. We should have noticed you were hurting.” He was remorseful when he said it.

You looked over at Sammy and he nodded his head in deep agreeance with his older brother.

“We should have noticed when you started to pull away from us. When you started eating more meals in your room and when you stopped coming to us with your views and opinions. We care so fucking much about you Y/N. I care so much about you. You are the little sister I never got to have. You do so much for us. You may think it’s little tiny mundane tasks but if you weren’t here to do them, Dean and I would be lost. You and I both know that I’d starve if it was up to Dean to cook a meal every now and then.” Sam smiled at you and laughed softly.

You smiled back and laughed lightly as well. It was very true after all, Dean was a terrible cook. He’d tried to bake you a cake for your birthday one year and practically burned the whole bunker down.

Dean decided to chime in, “Sammy’s right Y/N, but that’s not the only thing you’re good at. You’re a badass hunter. There’s not one Y/A year old girl that I can think of that has the guts to do what you’re willing to do on a daily basis. We will get through this together. We will help you. Sammy and I are right by your side, and we will stay here with you until you get better.”

You were in tears now, the hot liquid flowing earnestly at their words.

“What if it takes forever?” You asked quietly.

Sam responded immediately, “Then I guess we’ll be here forever.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Dean added.

They both leaned in and engulfed you in a big warm Winchester hug. You cried and cried, their grips on you never wavering, not once, until the tears finally resided. You finally had hope that maybe you get actually get through this.

Dean pulled back and looked you in the eyes before speaking.

“Promise me and Sammy one thing.”

“What is it?” You asked softly.

“Promise us you’ll Always Keep Fighting.” Dean pleaded, unfallen tears brimming his eyes.

“I will. Just for you and Sam. I will. I love you guys.”

“And we love you too, Y/N.”

For once you had hope, real hope. Heart hope that ran so deep, you could feel it to your core. With Sam and Dean Winchester by your side you could get through anything.

Tag List: (Shoot me an ask if you want to be added)

@supernatural-jackles @samanddeanmyheroes

[nemesyis]

Moon Child

This was written per the request of @helvonasche

Thank you @seoulofakwonjiyong for the lovely moodboard.

@sleeping-koya

Werewolf Jungkook x Reader

Fluff, Angst

Jungkook woke up and glared at the sunlight streaming through his window.  He stretched and sat up. Padding over to the window, he looked through the curtains and saw a moving van parked outside his apartment complex.  A pretty girl directed a group of guys moving boxes out of the van and into the apartment across the breezeway.  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced his way.  She smiled shyly and ducked into the doorway of her apartment.  

Kookie felt his predatory instincts kick up a few notches.  He hadn’t been a Moon Child for long… and it had been against his will.  He was now forced to obey the call of the moon and change into a beastly form.  In this form he would hunt and he would kill.  No one was safe from his savagery.  

He was getting better at controlling it.  Locking himself away in chains or escaping into the deep wilderness during the height of the full moon so he could hunt the wilds without the possibility of harming any humans.  

His new neighbor however drew him like a moth to the very attractive flame.  She seemed quiet and unassuming.  Keeping largely to herself.  Occasionally he would see her peeking out from behind her lace curtains at him as he passed by.  Her very presence inflamed his senses and drove him to distraction.  He was always aware of where she had been, her scent lingering in the passageway long after she had gone.  She smelled of roses, it drove him wild.  

He attempted to make small talk with her when he caught her one day in the apartment laundry room.  She merely smiled at him as she passed by.  Her arm brushed his and he felt a jolt where their flesh touched.  Heart racing, he stammered an apology.  She giggled and offered her hand.  

“I’m Y/N, what’s your name?”

He was entirely tongue tied. Eyes wide and blood racing decidedly south, he quickly situated his laundry basket in front of his crotch and awkwardly took her hand.  “J… Jungkook.”

She smiled sweetly at him grasped his large hand warmly.  “It’s nice to finally meet you Jungkook.”  

He smiled awkwardly at her as she took up her basket and walked out of the laundry room.  “Stupid, stupid, stupid…  what kind of adult gets a boner from a handshake” he muttered to himself as he angrily thrust his clothes into the washing machine.  

Later that day as he was walking back towards his apartment he sensed the presence of another of his clan.  As he went up the stairs, he saw Jimin leaning against his front door.  His hyung was staring intently across the breezeway at Y/N’s door.  “Hey Kookie, thought I would drop by to check out your new digs since you decided to leave the pack.”

Jungkook pasted a smile on his face as he reached the top of the stairs.  Glancing at Her door, he trained his eyes on Jimin once more. “Yeah… okay.  Come on in Hyung.”

Jungkook opened his apartment door, followed closely by his former packmate.  He had always felt wary around his other packmates.  Being the youngest and most recent member of the pack, he never quite felt as if he fit in with them.  The first several years after his change, he stuck with them.  Now he wanted to be on his own.  

Jimin sprawled across his couch smiling at him.  “You have a pretty nice setup here Kookie.  Almost makes me want to leave the pack too.”

“What do you want Jimin” he sighed as he dropped into his favorite chair and stared evenly at the other man.  

“I’m worried about you Kookie, you left us so abruptly.  There are reports of Hunters in the area.”

Jungkook scoffed “Like you actually give a fuck about me.  You only feel responsible because you turned me.  Against my will as a matter of fact.  I'm fine, don't worry about me.  I am perfectly capable of surviving on my own.”

“Look, i'm sorry I forced the gift on you.  But it's done now and you need to get over it Pup.  I’m worried about you.  Besides it wasn't all bad with us was it?  And Jin misses you.”

This made Jungkook pause.  Jin had always treated him gently and as an equal instead of like an Omega.  Jimin stayed for another hour.  Jungkook steered the strained conversation to other things.  When he left, he saw Her watching them through her curtain.  

The next day jungkook left his apartment on his way to the gym.  As he rounded the corner he came face to face with Y/N as she slammed into his chest.  She started and stared at him with wide eyes.  His nostrils flared as he caught her subtle rose scent as it wafted up from her hair.  

“I am so sorry Jungkook, I didn’t see you there.  Are you okay?”

Jungkook reflexively grabbed her shoulders to steady her as she nearly toppled over backwards.  “Hi Y/N, yeah I’m fine.  Are you okay?”

She smiled and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.  He found this unconscious gesture of hers endearing and distracting at the same time.  He felt his territorial and protective urges rising at her closeness.  Stepping away from her he stammered “I’m sorry, I am late for something” and quickly left.

Jungkook spent more time than usual at the gym.  Doing his best to distract himself from his thoughts of her.  She was beginning to invade his every waking thought, and in some cases his dreams.  When he arrived back at his apartment he found a note taped to his door.  Unfolding the paper he saw neat handwriting.  The paper faintly smelled like her and it made his pulse race.  

Jungkook,  Give me a call sometime if you ever want to get coffee.  

-Y/N

He stared at the note for longer than necessary as if he was committing the simple sentence to memory.  A slow smile spread across his features.  Turning the note over in his hand, he saw that she had included her phone number on the back.  As soon as he entered his apartment and dropped his gym bag, he immediately input her number into his phone.  He sat on his couch and stared at her number, thumb hovering over the option to dial.  Should he call her now?  Would it seem to desperate if he called?  Maybe he should text her.  Should he wait and text her in a few days?  If he waited too long, would she think he wasn’t interested?  

His internal monologue went on for several minutes.  Sighing at himself in disgust he dropped his phone onto the cushion beside him.   Jumping to his feet he angrily tugged off his shirt and strode to his bathroom to shower after his workout.  He became even more upset with himself when his thoughts drifted to inappropriate thoughts of Her and he felt himself become aroused.  He cursed himself and immediately turned off the hot water tap.  As the temperature of the water cooled and became frigid, he stood under the stream trying to reign in his raging hormones.  

He slept fitfully that night.  When he awoke the next morning he kicked off the blankets and resolutely started to get dressed.  Deciding today he would take the plunge and send her a text.  Once he pulled on his socks, he dropped back on his mattress and pulled out his phone.  Pulling up her contact information, he began a text.  He typed it out and deleted it seven times before he finally hit send.  He hit send entirely by mistake, but it was too late to take it back.  The next several minutes were pure torture until his phone notification chimed.  

Diving for his phone he frantically punched in his unlock code.  Breathing a sigh of relief that quickly became intense trepidation when he saw it was a text reply from her.  She had agreed to meet him for lunch that day.  Exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in, he quickly typed a reply.  Confirming the time for 11am at the little deli around the corner.  

He arrived early and sat nervously, his leg jiggling as anxiety washed over him.  He was about to bolt when she walked through the door.  She was wearing a simple cotton sundress and looked like the epitome of wolf bait.  She sat in the booth across from him and smiled sweetly at him.  

“Hi Jungkook, you look nice today”

“T.. thank you Y/N.  You look beautiful today”

She blushed prettily, color rising to her cheeks.  She ducked her head in apparent embarrassment as she once again tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.  The waitress came by to take their order.  He ordered his usual sandwich loaded down with tons of roast beef.  He figured eating a protein heavy meal would help keep his baser urges in check.  They sat in awkward silence for a few moments after placing their orders.  She broke the ice by telling him about her job.  It turned out she was a veterinarian technician.  She talked for several minutes about how much she loved puppies and kittens.  Especially large breed puppies with floppy faces.   

This information made him smile.  His inner puppy was bouncing around excitedly with the prospect of tummy rubs and ear scratches.  Inwardly shaking himself, he suddenly blurted out “I really like you Y/N.  Please go out with me again.”

She smiled and responded “I was hoping you would say that Kookie.  I like you too.”

Over the next several weeks they went out often.  Before each date, he did whatever he could to make sure he could keep his secret in check.  He ate meat rich meals.  Went hunting in the forest on a couple of occasions, and ran as far and as fast as he could to burn off his extra energy.  He called her and invited her for a date the following night for a late showing of the newest horror movie.  He had discovered her love of horror movies soon after they had begun dating.  He never quite understood her obsession with them but indulged her all the same.  

The evening of their first movie date, he dressed carefully.  Putting on the shirt that she liked and pairing it with his favorite black jeans.  He spritzed himself with the cologne that she bought him as a present on their fifth date.  He knocked on her door and smiled widely as she opened the door.  She was wearing galaxy leggings, a simple black tunic, black chucks, and a slouchy beanie.  Her natural rose scent was enhanced by the bath bomb she used earlier that day.  He recognized it as one he had bought for her.  

She stepped from the door and took his hand.  They talked all the way to the movie theatre.  He splurged on popcorn and drinks.   Once they were seated, he brought out a small box he had smuggled in.  She took it from him and when she opened it she let out a delighted squeal when she saw it contained macaroons.  She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his.  

He immediately stiffened at the contact, having decided to take things slow with their relationship.  He drew her against his chest and tilted his head deepening the kiss.  She surprised him when she ran her tongue along the seam of his mouth seeking entrance.  As the movie progressed, they didn't watch much of it.  Kissing leisurely for the two or more hours of the film.  

She clung to his arm when the finally left the theatre.  “I had a nice time tonight Kookie.  I really enjoy spending time with you.”

Jungkook stopped and pulled her into an embrace.  Burying his face into her hair.  He let out a contented sigh.  It seemed that finally everything was beginning to go right in his life.  Tilting his head back with a silly smile on his face.  His smile dropped as he watched the clouds part exposing the full moon.  How could he have been so stupid. He felt its power take hold of him.  He thrust her away from him and began to stumble down the street away from her.  If he could just keep it under control till the clouds covered the moon again, he could hide his monstrous nature from her.  

“Jungkook?  What’s wrong?”

“Stay away from me!” he growled when he felt her gentle hand caress his brow

“What’s wrong Kookie, please let me help!” she wailed frantically.

“Run Y/N.  I don't want to hurt you.  Please get far away from me”

“I won't leave you Kookie, please let me help you”

He pushed her away again, she tripped and fell to the ground.  Her hands scraped by the rough pavement began to bleed.  The smell of it increased his blood lust further.  

He could feel the fur pricking his flesh as his fingers began to elongate into claws.  His cries of pain from his transformation turned into snarls.  He felt his teeth elongate into sharp fangs.  Thrashing on the ground as the change began to take hold.  He could hear Y/N sobbing in the distance.  All he could think about was getting as far away from her as possible.  Forcing himself to his feet, he tried to keep hold over his moon addled thoughts so he could keep her safe.  

He couldn't bring himself to look at her and see the horror in her eyes when she took in his lupine form.  Hot tears streamed from his eyes as he felt his entire world crashing down around him.  She cried out his name as he stumbled away from her.  He allowed himself one last look at her before he left her forever.  He knew deep in his heart that it was for the best.  

As he turned to look back at her, he felt an impact against his torso.  Looking down in surprise he saw a silver handled dagger protruding from his chest.  Her hand was still tightly curled around it.  He felt the effects of the silver beginning to course through his veins as he fell backwards.  She went with him and hovered over him.  His transformation began to recede as he stared up at her in bewilderment.  She stared evenly at him, without emotion.  He reached a hand out and tucked that same stray lock of hair behind her ear tenderly.  This was the hunter Jimin had tried to warn him about and he had been tricked cruely.

“Why, Y/N?”  he coughed a bubble of blood leaking from his lips.

She said nothing and twisted the dagger, digging it deeper.

Jungkook groaned in pain and coughed again.  

She leaned over him and whispered into his ear “I knew exactly what you were the whole time Kookie.  It was fun while it lasted though.  Too bad you never took the initiative to fuck me.”

As his vision clouded over he murmured “Thank you Y/N.  You’ve set me free.”

Staring down at the dead Moon Child.  She sat back in amazement.  Never in her life as a hunter had her quarry thanked her for ending his existence.  It was really too bad.  She had liked this one.  

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

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AN: More gory than typical canon. Torture. Takes place a week after chapter 30 and GND 11.

Chapter 31: Christmas on the Hellmouth

Dean pushed the cracked door open and caught Sam lying in bed reading A History of Slayers, Volume I. How the Slayer came to be and what fueled her was his latest obsession ever since he learned she was a vessel.

Dean didn’t like this track at all. They’d argued about it weeks before. “God dammit, Sammy! Why won’t you let me be happy for once?”

“I’m just curious, Dean! This has nothing to do with you and Buffy.”

“And if something stinks, what then?”

But it was Christmas Eve, and Dean didn’t want to have that fight again. He pulled the bedroom door closed and knocked so Sam could pretend he was reading something else.

“Come in.” Now Sam held one of the battered Goodwill paperbacks he kept stacked on his dresser.

“Can I grab one of your extra blankets? Dawn’s cold.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Sam’s girlfriend, Jada, was always freezing, and had filled his bedroom with what Dean estimated to be a hundred different blankets, each for a very specific temperature.

Dawn, who had been livid when her sister said she was spending Christmas Eve at their apartment, was nested on the Winchester’s couch staring at the small Christmas tree on the coffee table. “I still can’t believe you decorated,” she said, adding the purple fuzzy blanket to her pile.

Dean leaned against the arm of the couch, shifting his weight off his broken ankle. The tree, small and squat with little red balls and enough light to speckle the walls with stars, was very pretty. “Jada decorated before she headed north. She thought it would cheer us up.”

“I’m glad. I didn’t think I’d get a tree this year.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. Santa ain’t leavin’ any goodies under there.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. Buffy, an expert-level eye-roller herself, found this annoying and disrespectful, but he delighted in getting a rise out of the girl. “Dean, I’m sixteen. I don’t believe in Santa.”

“Got everything you need?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Dean hobbled back to his room, already fantasizing about finding a naughty Mrs. Claus in his bed. Not that he was in any condition for sex. Moving from his bed to the bathroom meant the agonizing choice of putting pressure on his foot or his ribs. Moving his arms hurt. Laying flat hurt. Broken bones on top of Buffy’s busyness with the Potentials meant their sizzling sex life had started to fizzle.

Dawn called after him, “Hey, thanks for letting me come! Buffy was just a big wall of no.”

“You’re family, kid. Why wouldn’t you be here for Christmas?”

A flush rose to her cheeks, and she pulled the blankets up to her shocked eyes.

Waiting on his bed was something better than a vixen in red lingerie. Buffy, with a smile on her lips and sleep creeping into her eyes, had made herself comfortable in his red plaid shirt and nothing else. By her side, was a green box topped with a white bow.

“That took longer than I thought,” she said.

“Your sister wanted another blanket.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You have a broken ankle! I could have gotten it for her.”

Crawling into bed beside her, he planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “You said no presents.” The phrase boyfriend test flashed in his mind, but she didn’t look at him like he’d failed.

“No presents. Not really. This isn’t for you to keep. I just thought bows were festive, and I sort of need the distraction.”

His lingerie dream revived, he unwrapped his not-present. “A book?” It was burgundy with a stamped gold trim.

Buffy removed it from the box as he leaned against his pillow pile. “I ask you to tell me stories all the time, so I thought I’d tell you some of mine.”

It was a photo album. On the first page, an orange-tinged Polaroid of a young woman with large, deep set eyes and blonde, deflated Farrah hair in a hospital holding a baby. Beneath it Baby Girl Jan 19, ‘81. “My parents fought over what to name me, but the hospital wouldn’t let them leave until they decided. Dad wanted Jennifer, but mom said I was too special to have the same name as every girl on the block. Mom got Buffy on my birth certificate while Dad was out celebrating.”

“Smart woman.”

“She was.” Buffy grinned. “She would have liked you.”

Dean had been caught off guard when Buffy said she loved him, but the idea that her mother would have liked him was shocking. With his heavy drinking, gambling, scars and tattoos, he didn’t think of himself as the take-home-to-mom type; but then, he’d never been a there-in-the-morning guy before Buffy either.

The next few pages were a blur of a blonde baby, usually smiling, often in ruffle-butted tights. Dean secretly loved babies. They were innocent and joyful. The end of the world meant being hungry or needing a change. Suit their needs, and they’re laughing again. He tried to suppress the now familiar blonde-haired, green-eyed girl who met him in his dreams.

The baby gave way to a toddler. In every picture, she gazed at her father with complete adoration. Soon, little Buffy was ice skating and dancing. Blowing out birthday candles, heading off to school, and holding a baby sister. The Summers family went to Disneyland, had barbeques, and stuffed presents under the Christmas tree until it overflowed. Once the round-cheeked, homecoming queen version of the Buffy he knew appeared, the album ended.

“We, uh, moved to Sunnydale a little after that.” That’s when monsters became real.

“What do you think Buffy Anne Summers would be doing if she hadn’t moved to Sunnydale?” he asked.

“I don’t know. She’d be entering her last semester of college. Probably would have spent too much time partying. Sorority for sure. She’d probably be dating some popular guy because he was popular and everyone said they were cute together.”

“Doesn’t sound like you,” he said, knowing how much brushes with the supernatural changed a person.

“Popularity is a strong drug,” she said.

Burning down her high school’s gym had no doubt ousted her from her typical social circles. Much as Dean hated Buffy being tied to the Slayer until it killed her, he was grateful it had put her in his path.

“And what would Dean Winchester be doing out of Sunnydale?”

He rubbed her leg, not wanting to confess that had Cas never brought him here, he’d be drunk and scared in a no-tell motel trying to plan a Hail Mary against Heaven and Hell. “You know me, darlin’. I’m gonna be hunting evil sons a bitches wherever I am.”

“I guess you didn’t have a lot of time before...” Her voice trailed off.

“I remember a few things,” Dean said. “I played t-ball. Dad coached. We lost every game. I was pretty obsessed with rocket ships and war games. Dad always made me the general and he was a sergeant.”

“Sounds tough,” she said through a smile.

“Tough as nails. I mean, I fell down, didn’t even cry until I got home.”

He opened his nightstand and pulled out a brown, leather book. Tucked under the journal’s jacket was Dean’s entire collection of family photos, creased and foxed from being touched so often.

“This is before the fire. I think Sammy was only a month old,” he said, holding up a small picture of four happy Winchesters in front of their blue house in Lawrence.

Buffy stared at the picture, hovering her fingers over Mary. “Your mom was very pretty.”

“Yeah, she was. Sweet woman. Total badass.”

“That’s your dad?” John smiled in the picture, his arms encircling Mary and Dean, nothing on his mind but family. “I think you take after your mom.”

He only had a few pictures from his childhood. Some with his mother. Some with his father. A couple with Bobby. All of them with Sam.

“Whatever happened to those pictures we took in San Francisco?” Buffy asked.

“They’re still on my phone.”

She blushed. “Not the sexy pictures. The other ones.”

The disposable camera was in his dresser, images of the two of them enjoying themselves still trapped inside. “I haven’t gotten them developed yet. It’s been a few years since that was a thing.”

“You should. We need more happy pictures.”

Christmas evening, most of the Potentials were piled among their pillows and blankets, watching It’s a Wonderful Life on a small television while self-appointed snack-fetcher Andrew popped a third batch of popcorn.

Dani leaned against the kitchen counter and tapped Willow’s foot with hers. “Wanna join us? It’s a Christmas tradition, and what’s more traditional than a couple of lesbians heckling Jimmy Stewart?”

“Rain check,” Willow said, taking another wet cup from Buffy. “We officially have more people in the house than dishes.”

“Your loss,” she said, biting her lip and walking away.

“She’s friendly,” Buffy teased.

“Yeah, she is. But this has already been my most Christmasy Christmas. Don’t feel like topping it off with more festive,” said Willow as she refilled the cabinet with cups.    

“Sorry!” Buffy cringed. The madness from The First had started in the middle of Hanukkah.

“It’s okay. My parents went out of town to visit old college buddies anyway, and Xander even lit the candles for me while my eyes were covered. I just tell myself everything’s closed because it’s Anti-Capitalism Day, not the celebration of Santa’s birth.”

“That’s festive?”

But the look on Willow’s face as she stared at water droplets on the tumblers was anything but celebratory. Last year for Winter Solstice, she and Tara had celebrated by holding hands in the pitch black house and willing the hundreds of tealights they’d spread around to spring into dancing flames. It was beautiful, like the floor was covered in stars. This December, she’d been in and out of the hospital with her own injuries and those of friends, close to losing her best friend less than a year after losing her girlfriend.

“How are you doing, non-holiday wise?” Buffy asked.

Willow rested her head on Buffy’s shoulder. “The other day, I caught myself longing for a simple vampire patrol, like how we used to with just you, me and Xander. It seemed downright quaint, and vampire patrol quaint? I’ve gotten so nostalgic for not-now that you could sprinkle a little snow on a fresh corpse and I’d find it all Norman Rockwell.”

“Picturesque. Why aren’t you making the decisions about holiday stamps?”

“I know!”

Squabbling rose in the living room.

“They can’t stay here forever,” sighed Buffy. “Either we all die horribly, or we save the day and have a dance party at The Bronze, the three of us, like old times, less the high school drama.”

“I’ll take high school drama. Getting shoved in locker is majorly preferable to nearly being blinded by an ancient evil.”

Buffy dried her hands and drew her friend in for an embrace. Willow wasn’t alone in wishing for simpler days, and time with friends -- the close friends a person could be quiet with for hours -- was sorely needed.

They released each other as a clamor of footsteps filled the house. Molly, Andrew, and Vi, a spacey redhead in a perpetual beanie who’d arrived the prior morning, searched the kitchen for snacks. “Why are all the good Christmas movies so depressing?” Vi asked. “Jimmy Stewart’s trying to kill himself. Then there’s the one with the mountain goblin invading everyone’s homes and robbing them blind. Don’t get me started on Rudolph--”

Buffy’s cell phone rang. Since everyone but the Winchesters was at her house, she headed toward her room, hoping to hear Dean’s deep voice on the other end asking what she was wearing.

Instead Dean screamed, “Buffy! Sam! They took Sam!”

Giles sped toward the Winchesters’ apartment, as Buffy called out directions. “Turn left!” she cried, causing him to squeal around a corner.

They took Sam. Dean had said nothing else before disappearing from the phone. She had no idea who took Sam or if they’d taken Dean too. He’d just stopped talking. Buffy’s heart was trying to climb out her throat.

“Stop!” she screamed, opening the door before Giles could slam on the breaks a few blocks from the apartment. On the sidewalk, a bloody, nearly naked Dean stumbled away from them.

“Dean, I’m here!”

Not seeming to see or hear her, he pressed on.

Buffy stood in front of him and shook him by his blood-slick arms. He was sweating yet cold to the touch. The gashes on his arms looked painful, but survivable. The gushing stab wounds on his shoulder and stomach made her dizzy with worry. “Dean, stop!”

He kept walking. Staring at something on the ground, he muttered, “Took him. They took him. Gotta get him back.”

“Leave that to me, okay? You’re going to freeze to death!”

He kept walking, his gait uneven with his cast foot. Losing Sam was Dean’s biggest nightmare. As with other times when he couldn’t shake his nightmares, Buffy drew back and slapped him.

Dean looked at her with tear-filled, frightened eyes. “They took him, Buffy. The Bringers broke in and took Sammy.”

He didn’t resist as Giles placed his jacket over his shoulders and directed Dean to the idling car.

“I was in my room, and I heard this big bang. Before I could even get up, Bringers were crashing through my door and window. I could hear Sam screaming. Oh God, Buffy, he was screaming and fighting, and I couldn’t get to him. I could-I couldn’t--”

“Shh! I will get Sam back. Let’s get you stitched up first.”

They retraced Dean’s bloody footsteps to find his apartment door in splinters. A dead Bringer lay nearby, a broken bookcase on top of him. By Sam’s bedroom door, another Bringer, pieces of its head blasted against the wall. As she escorted Dean to the bathroom to sew up his wounds, she glimpsed two more bodies in his bedroom.

“How many of them were there?” she asked as she wiped the blood off his chest.

“Seven? Eight? I think Sam was sleeping. Hard to stay awake on all those drugs.”

“What would they want with him?”

Dean shook his head.

“Babe, I think we need to take you to the hospital. These stab woun--”

“No! Fuck! We have to get Sam!”

Buffy had seen people in the throes of loss, but this was the first time she’d seen someone out of his mind with grief.

“One of them is alive!” Giles called.

Dean bolted from the bathroom. The Bringer under the bookcase was still twitching. Dean yanked him from under the rubble and slammed him against the wall. “Listen up you filthy fuck, you’re gonna tell me where my brother is, or I’m gonna cut it out of you.”

The Bringer coughed, spraying Dean with blood. It smiled a twisted red grin.

Scooping a dagger off the floor, Dean dug it into the Bringer’s shoulder, letting its weight hang on the blade. As it opened its mouth to scream, they saw its tongue had been cut out.

The wound in Dean’s own shoulder gushed. His eyes were dark with hate, a snarl on his lips. He looked like a stranger.

Buffy tugged on Dean’s arm. “We’re not going to get anything out of him,” she said softly.    

With one swipe across the neck, Dean finished the Bringer. He stumbled back, slipped in a smear of blood, and crashed to the floor with a cry. Pale and sweaty, he began to shiver.

“Call 911,” Buffy barked at Giles.

“God dammit, Cas! Where the fuck are you?” Dean muttered.

“He’s stuck at the wrong airport. Travel’s a bitch.” A handsome middle aged man with black hair just starting to grey stood by the kitchen, a know-it-all smirk on his face. “Hell, I don’t think I could have snuck over to this fun new playground if it wasn’t for you two, always leading the blind, doomed charge.”

“Who--?” Giles didn’t need to finish his question.

Though she knew it was pointless, Buffy scanned the room for weapons. The man in front of her was dead, memorialized in Dean’s tattoos, which meant the man was The First, who they still didn’t know how to hurt.

Dean’s breathing turned short and sharp. “Dad?”

The apparition scowled. “Don’t blame me for your existence. I wanted all you muck-monkeys wiped out.”

Dean’s eyes went wide with fear. “You!” 

“Finally!” The First said with a clap as Dean tried to crawl away. “You know, I’m surprised little Sammy hadn’t figured it out yet. You? Well, everyone knows you’re an idiot skating by on good looks and charm.”

Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. She couldn’t do anything about The First, but Buffy wasn’t going to lose the man she loved. Wrapping Dean in a purple blanket from the couch, she picked him up and started to head downstairs.

“This is adorable, by the way,” said The First. “Never thought I’d see Dean Winchester in puppy love. So cute. I’d root for you two kids if I wasn’t planning on torturing and killing you. For his sake, it would be kinder to let him die now.”

“No one’s dying today, asshole.”

“Dirty mouth! I see why he likes you. Well, I have go try on my new suit. You keep vainly trying to save everyone,” He raised his hands in a mock gun and fired at her with a smile, “and I’ll keep knocking them down.”

 After finishing his interview with the police, Giles rubbed his temples and joined Willow, Xander, and Dawn in the hospital waiting room. He opened his eyes at a rattling sound. Willow handed him a bottle of aspirin. “Can I use the entire bottle?”

“Save some for the rest of us,” said Xander.

They looked about the room blankly, needing to focus on something other than the reality of being in the hospital again, of nearly losing Dean again, of being attacked again.

The faint sounds of Buffy arguing with a nurse drifted down the hall. Despite her insistence, the doctor wasn’t going to let anyone see Dean for a few more hours. He had a collapsed lung, and had nearly bled to death. As soon as those pressing concerns were attended to, the doctors wanted more x-rays to determine if they would need to put pins in his ankle.

“Merry Christmas,” said Dawn.

Pouring himself a cup of spoon-eroding tar from the waiting room coffee stand, Giles downed four aspirin and mulled over the situation. First Spike, now Sam. The former had been The First’s pawn. Abducting him may have been a simple matter of keeping him quiet, though he didn’t doubt Spike was being used for more nefarious purposes. But Sam? Other than their fight over a week ago, he should have been unknown to The First. And why would the Bringers take only one brother, when It had left a bloody message about both? Judging from his desire to flee, Dean recognized The First as something beyond the image of his father. How did It know their father?

“What does The First want with Sam Winchester?” Giles asked.

They turned their tired stares to him.

“I’ve not been around them enough to earn their confidence, but there is something about the Winchesters they aren’t telling us. Have they disclosed anything about their more bizarre interactions with the supernatural?”

Xander, his unsure eyes darting to the girls, started, “One time there was this cursed rabbit’s foot--”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Okay, another time a ghost just wanted someone to come to his birthday party-- ”

“Dear God, what have they been filling your head with?” Giles asked.

“In defense of all the guy-folk, we were usually pretty tipsy when these stories came out, so I may be hazy on the details.”

Buffy, her coat still smeared with blood, stormed into the waiting room. “Give someone a medical degree, and they think they know everything.”

The pounding of her pacing punished Giles’ throbbing head. “Please, sit down.”

“I can’t! I hate waiting like this! I need to either be with Dean or out saving Sam, but I don’t even know where to start!”

They didn’t know how to save Sam either, so they surrounded their friend with hugs. The edge in Buffy’s countenance softened as she drew strength from her friends.

Unfortunately, Giles could not spare her the moment of relaxation. “Would you like some coffee?”

She shook her head and slumped into a chair beside Willow.

“We were just sharing stories about the Winchesters,” Xander explained.

“Like how they’re wonderful and have made my life a thousand times easier?” Buffy pouted.

“Heaven sent, you could say,” Giles encouraged.

“Well, yeah, an angel brought them here,” said Dawn.

“And an angel brought Dean back from the brink of death.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Does no one find it odd that angels are so interested in them, and yet offered no protection against this attack?”

“Mysterious ways sure are gosh darn mysterious,” Xander said, clueless as to what Giles was driving at.

“It’s not just angels.” Willow’s eyes darted between Buffy and Giles. “I, um, I had a spell go wrong a few months back. It let me see in people, and there was something weird in Sam. Inside, he looked almost like Spike, a soul wrestling a demon. When I confronted him about it, he said the demon that killed their mom was, uh, it was feeding Sam demon blood.”

This was news. This was progress. Giles leaned forward. “Feeding demon blood to a baby. That could only be for a ritual of some kind.”

“That’s what I said, but he didn’t know anything else.”

“He doesn’t have voices tell him to do bad things, does he?” Xander asked. All three of the girls glared at him.

A chess board formed in Giles’ mind. On opposite sides, Sam and Dean, one moved by the forces of Hell, the other the forces of Heaven. Whatever the game was, it was still in play. “Buffy, I need to know the circumstances surrounding Dean and Sam’s deaths.”

“I told you: it’s private.”

“Dammit, Buffy! This isn’t about betraying privacy. It’s about saving Sam,” Giles snapped.

“How could anything that happened over there matter over here?”

“Because I think whatever was after them, followed them.”

Buffy fixated on Giles, her loyalties wrestling inside her. Finally, she whispered, “Sam was murdered right in front of Dean. Stabbed. He died in his arms...”

 Dean kept his eyes closed and took stock of his body. A dull throbbing in his ankle. A stronger pain in his side. It didn’t feel like his body. It was distant, like it was floating slightly to his left. Someone was rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with their thumb. He squeezed the hand and tried to open his eyes, only catching a flash of blonde before closing them again.

Sam. Sam surrounded by men in robes. Sam screaming, the bandage on his stomach blooming red.

A far away voice. “Hey Dean, your Girly’s here.”

The Bringers. A flurry of knives. He still slept with his .45. Shot the one who broke through the window.

The voice again. It was sweet, familiar. “I’m going to fix everything.”

Another one burst through the door. Took two bullets to the chest before going down. Sam was screaming. A crash. Sam was fighting back.

“Baby, I need your help. What’s after you?”

In the living room, he saw them carrying his brother out. Couldn’t shoot or he’d hit Sammy. White hot pain. He threw a Bringer off his back. More pain ripping through his body. Head shot. Quiet. Sam was gone.

Dean could barely keep his eyes open, but he knew he was in a bed. He couldn’t save Sam from bed. He tried to get up, but something pulled at his chest. Two hands pushed his shoulders back into the mattress.

“Dean, you can’t get up, okay? You need to rest.”

“Gotta get Sammy.”

“I know.”

He tried to get up again. Buffy shoved him back into the bed. He glared at her.

“Saving Sam is my number one priority right now, or don’t you think I can do it?” Buffy asked.

He knew she couldn’t. She could kill any beast Hell threw at her, but this wasn’t a hellbeast.

“You recognized The First, didn’t you? I need you to tell me how to kill it.”

They’d broken up, in part, because of lying. Since getting back together, they’d tried to be as upfront as two monster hunters could, but there were parts of his world too crazy to share. Rather than lie, he avoided them. Steered her away whenever she got close. The questions now sat under a glaring spotlight, and he couldn’t get away. “You think I’m keeping secrets.”

She looked away, biting her lip until it turned white. “It’s what you do.”

Buffy’s eyes usually sparkled with curiosity and fire when asking him questions. Not now.

“Go get Giles,” Dean said. “I only want to say this once.”

As Dean sipped his water, Giles examined him, looking as annoyed as Buffy did concerned. “Just say it,” Dean said.

“Who are you, and how do you know The First?” Giles demanded.

All of Dean’s anti-authority snark rose up. Were Giles a cop, he’d delight in giving him the run around. But he wasn’t. He was someone who also cared about Buffy, and they were both in harm’s way because of him. “Back home, we’re going through the Apocalypse. Not one of your generic baddies trying to end the world apocalypses, a bonafide four horsemen, seal-breaking war against Heaven and Hell.”

“Revelation?” said Giles in shock.

“Bingo. It’s just skirmishes now. But when the players are big enough, skirmishes wipe out cities. The angels ain’t doin’ so hot. I think they bit off more than they could chew when they triggered the whole thing.”

“The angels started the Apocalypse? I thought they were supposed to be on our side.” Buffy so wanted allies. After his miraculous healing, she’d asked Dean daily questions about Castiel.

“With a few exceptions, angels only care about angels. Right now, Heaven’s biggest concern is bringing God back.”

Everyone’s eyes went wide. “God?”

“Story is, he went awol after Lucifer tricked Eve. Left the archangel Michael in charge.”

Giles removed his glasses and slipped into a nearby chair, his face buried in his hands.

“Thing is, they can’t really settle the fight until Michael and his brother Lucifer have a brawl.”

“Lucifer, like, the devil?” Buffy asked. “We’re talking about a red, horned guy with bad facial hair?”

“Lucifer, as in the fallen archangel with a grudge against humanity,” Dean grumbled.

Giles took a deep breath. Part of Dean thrilled at seeing the Watcher so spun by the news. “What happens if this ‘brawl,’ as you call it, takes place?”

“If Michael wins, the angels are guessing half the planet dies. If Lucifer wins…” Dean shrugged, confident they could imagine that outcome.

“What’s stopping them? They’re archangels. Can’t they do whatever they want?”

Dean set his cup back on the side table and tapped his fingers before continuing. “Remember what I told you about demon possession where we’re from? To carry out any work on Earth, angels need to possess someone, but angels are different than demons. I mean, these are beings you can’t even see without losing your eyes, and that’s just the bottom rung. They can’t possess just anyone or they’ll blow their vessel.”

“Vessel?”

“The person they’re possessing. So only a few people fit, and those people have to give the angel permission.

“Archangels have an even rougher time finding someone who’ll fit. Essentially, they have to use the Cupids--”

“Cu-cupids?” sputtered Giles. “You mean with the,” he mimed a bow and arrow.

“I mean fat naked guys who trick people into falling in love, yeah. See, they get two people who can be possessed by angels to have a baby, then make their kid fall in love with other possible angel vessels until they breed an ultra strong, dishwasher-safe, microwavable kid to keep on standby in case they want to sully their holy feet with Earth muck.

“Heaven was patting itself on the back, ‘cause they got two vessels for Michael.”

Buffy, her eyes unfocused, silently dropped into the other chair.

“Dear God,” muttered Giles.

“Only Hell wanted a vessel for Lucifer.” Unable to bear Buffy’s response, Dean stared at his hands. “They snuck into Sam’s nursery. Fed him demon blood. Claimed him and several dozen other kids for Hell. But they took a special interest in Sam. Couldn't resist the whole brother versus brother angle.

“Whatever Cas did to get us here left enough room for the Devil to squeeze through. So I gotta save Sam as soon as possible. Who knows what hell they’ll put him through to get him to say yes.”

 “Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP, SAMMY!” Cold and stiff, Sam opened his eyes to see Dean standing over him. Sam was lying on the stone floor of a fire-lit chapel, his feet and hands in shackles.

“Dean, where are we?” he whispered as he tugged at his bonds.

Unbound, Dean crouched beside him, a satisfied grin on his face. “We’re in my playroom, little brother.” Then Dean shoved his hand into Sam’s chest, setting of a small, painful series of shocks to his heart.    

Trembling, Sam pushed himself away, but his irons prevented him from a comfortable distance.

Dean’s warm, familiar face -- the face that had calmed Sam’s fears his entire life -- morphed into a man with deep set eyes and blistered skin.

“Lucifer!”

“I would say, ‘In the flesh,’ but I’m having a teensy problem there, Sammy. See, this world, whatever it is, is short of even inadequate vessels. All I can do is appear as the dead, which ironically includes you and your brother. I’ve had to recruit minions.”

Lucifer whistled, and two Bringers dragged in a barely conscious Spike leaving a trail of dark blood from the stump at his knee. Following close behind, was a Turok-Han. The Bringers dropped Spike at his feet and bowed before leaving.

“It’s nice to find people who share your vision for ending the world. This one,” he said as the Turok-Han kicked Spike in the ribs, “was the first creature I found here. He was stumbling through the street whining about his soul. I offered him purpose. I offered him his heart’s desires, and he didn’t deliver. He is the only creature I’ve found here that I could use, and he refused to be my vessel. Couldn’t kill your brother or the little souped-up whore he’s fucking. Spike’s still useful though.” One by one, the Turok-Han bit off Spike’s fingers while his screams filled the cave.

“Either of you say ‘yes’ and it stops.” Lucifer grinned.

Spike laughed, spending a spray of blood from his lips. “My exes are better at torture.”

“Isn’t it hilarious?” Lucifer said. “As long as we keep his head attached, the parts just grow back. He’s like an etch-a-sketch of pain. Get comfy and soak in the show, Sammy, because when my pet is finished learning the vampire’s limits, it’s your turn.”

Yes, Amends. Addressed in a future chapter.

Read Giles’ dossiers on: Dani    Molly    Vi

next chapter

[impala-dreamer]

Fix You - Chapter Five

SPN FanFic

~ After being gone for months, Y/N has returned home to the boys with no memory of their life together. ~

Reader x Dean

2,813 Words Warnings: Super heavy on the Angst. Mentions of torture and rape. Just sad. All the feels.

A/N: This is it folks. The End. Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! Huge thank you once again to @idreamofhazel who read this part over for me and helped me find the ending. 

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MY MASTERLIST

Chapter Five - Coming Home:

The first few days you had spent fighting back; kicking, punching, biting, doing anything you could to your captor, desperate to repay just a tiny bit of the pain he was inflicting upon you. You’d been caught on a solo hunt, like a helpless victim, and you hated yourself for being taken so easily; acting like a damsel in distress instead of the tough as nails hunter you knew you were.

You had fought with Dean before you left. He’d refused to let you go alone. He didn’t understand even though he said he did. This was one you had to do alone. This one was on you. This was revenge, at long last, for Matt. Once this was over, once this demon was dead and gone forever you could finally let him go. Let go of the pain, let go of that tiny bit of you that still wished for him at night. You could finally let yourself be with Dean fully, wholly, forever, knowing that Matt’s killer was defeated.

He wouldn’t let you go, so you had to do the worst thing you could think of and sneak out once he was asleep. You waited, lying awake in bed next to him for hours until you recognized the telltale signs of his slumber. You felt his arm slacken around you as his muscles relaxed. You heard his breath slow. It wasn’t until he let out a soft, low snore that you dared move, sliding slowly out from underneath his touch to run away into the night. You hated yourself for doing it; you’d promised never to leave him like that, but he’d given you no choice.

You grabbed your bag and took off; not even leaving a note.

It didn’t matter that Sam knew where you had gone. The starting point was moot since the demon moved you around every few days; sometimes driving for hours with you passed out in the trunk of his beat up silver Hyundai. How strange that he’d want to keep you alive; you had been sure as soon as he’d gotten the best of you that he’d end your life. But he seemed to like to play, liked to torture you slowly; beating you until you lost consciousness only to wake you with his hands and mouth on your sore body. It was Hell. But it was your fault for going. Your fault for not listening to Dean, for not letting him help.

In the beginning you’d kept track of and space, just trying to keep yourself sane; you counted the days and miles obsessively, using all your memory tricks to lock in details of your various surroundings. But after a while, it seemed pointless. The more he moved you around, the more times he took you against your will, the faster your hope began to fade. You couldn’t escape; you were too weak, too tired. You clung to your belief that Dean and Sam would find you.

In the quiet moments between attacks you could close your eyes and imagine Dean bursting through the door and running to free you. You saw his green eyes cast over you with worry and love; you could feel his hands free your wrists from their shackles, his lips pressing against your cracked lips. Over and over you dreamed of him coming to your rescue; but he never came. The door would open and you’d see your tormentor, not your lover. You’d feel his hands on you, not Dean’s. You’d struggle to turn away from his hard kisses and scream as he defiled your body over and over, all the while praying for Dean.

As the weeks went by, your faith began to fade and you no longer waited for your hero. Time had pulled him from you, erasing any hope of deliverance, replacing it with complacency and nothingness. You gave up; this is how you would die. When the demon tired of you, when he’d had enough of his games, he’d end you. As simple as that. You longed for it, begged him to let you die. But again, just as your rescue, death never came.

You stopped counting the days and the roads you traveled; stopped looking for clues as to where you were. You stopped fighting; no longer caring what became of you. You slipped away from yourself, finding comfort only in the jagged cracks of the cement walls around you, or the damp stench of each new place you were dragged to. You would drift in and out dreamless sleep, waking only when the stab of cold metal pierced your flesh or rough fingers pinched your tender skin.

You ran down the hallway, your sneakers squeaking on the hard floors as you made your way to Dean’s room. You stopped in front of his door, fist raised to knock, and took a deep breath. The door opened as you brought your hand down, and you jumped, startled by Dean’s sudden appearance. His face was red, his eyes sad as he looked at you.

“How did…?”

“I heard your shoes. You’re not exactly a ninja Y/N/N,” he answered with a sad laugh. “What’s up?”

You stepped forward to enter, but he didn’t move. “I was hoping to talk to you,” you pushed past him, sliding sideways into the room. Dean hung his head and shut the door.

“Please, come in.”

“I’m sorry Dean,” You turned and sucked in your lip, giving yourself a moment to form your words while you chewed.

He turned and smiled, letting you know that it was OK. He looked exhausted, just as ready as you were for this all to be over.

“I’m sorry,” you said again since nothing else came to you. You had been preparing a speech on your way over, but now none of it seemed right. You didn’t want to yell at him, you just wanted him to want to tell you.

“You keep saying that. You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quietly and sat down in the chair at his desk, spinning it towards you.

You sat on the foot of his bed, just a few feet away, and rubbed your hands on your jeans, trying to push away your nerves. “I do though, I’m so sorry I’ve put you through all this. You didn’t need this.”

“Y/N, I did this. I let you go, and I couldn’t find you. This is on me. Not you.” His jaw clenched and he looked away with wet eyes. “We tried everything to find you. We did, he was just…” His voice was low and strained, fighting to go on when all he wanted to do was stop and let the tears come. “I thought you were dead. I gave up. I’ll never forgive myself for that, but I did. And suddenly there you were, and we had you back but… but not all of you.” He pressed his lips together and looked down at his hands. The hands that had failed to save you, the hands that had scared you when you returned. Hands that once gave you comfort and love.

“Dean, this is not your fault. You don’t have to carry this...please…” You went to him, rising slowly and closing the space between you with a single step. He didn’t look up, didn’t move. He closed his eyes and a single tear fell, rolling gently down his cheek. You reached out and wiped it away with a swipe of your thumb, not wanting it to fall, not wanting him to cry anymore; you couldn’t stand it, seeing this strong man break because of you. It pulled at you, your heart strained in your chest, wanting so to comfort him and knowing the only way was through your blocked memory.

You sank to your knees, your hand still on his cheek. He looked at you then, casting his emerald eyes on your face, the lines by his eyes prominent in his pain and questioning. You gave in, doing the only thing you could think of that you hadn’t tried yet. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, closing your eyes and bracing for the flash. Dean froze, his breath stopping as his heart paused, waiting for a sign.

The pain didn’t come, but it didn’t matter. It felt right; you wanted him. You wanted his lips and his tongue and his hands and every bit of him. You kissed him hard, your hand moving from his cheek to his neck, begging him to respond. You felt him move again, his breath falling against your face, and he kissed you back finally. His hands rose from his lap and closed around you, pulling you closer to him. You slid between his legs and pressed your chest to his, feeling his pounding heart beneath his shirt; calling to you, beating in time with yours.

The heat rose between your legs as he kissed you with passionate hunger, his hands flying over your back and sides, tugging through your hair. It was strange, it was your first kiss and his last; he clung to you, not giving you enough time to breathe as he savored every bit of your mouth, touching you as if he’d been waiting a thousand years for this. As if he’d journeyed the desert for months and you were the water he’d been craving. You parted your lips for him again, letting yourself melt against him as his tongue danced with yours. Your fingers slipped down his chest and hooked around his belt, tugging at the leather. His chest heaved as you quickly opened the clasp, your hands moving to fumble with the brass button on his jeans. With the zipper open, you slid inside, your fingers gently grazing his length.

Dean gasped and pulled away from you, his hands pushing at your shoulders. You stumbled backwards, rocking onto your heels as you stared at him in shock.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” You set your hand on his leg, but he stood up, turning away as he closed his pants. “Dean?”

“I can't…” his voice was weak. It cracked as he struggled to calm himself. “We can't do this.”

You climbed to your feet, the pain of his sudden rejection turning in your stomach. “It kinda seems like we can. Don't you want me?”

You heard him laugh. That deep, breathy laugh that carried all of his sadness behind it. “Sweetheart, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything.” He turned to face you, licking his lips and shaking his head. “But not if… not if you can't remember.”

The fire in your stomach grew, filling you with hurt. It had become the standard lately, to feel like this, to feel like everything was wrong and be constantly in pain. This one hurt more. This one kicked you from the inside. He was pushing you away after you fought yourself to go to him. You were willing to take the leap, but he refused, keeping his feet planted on the ledge.

Your eyes darted around the room as you tried to think of something to say, some way to argue with him, but there was nothing. He was right. You took off, bolting from his room, heading up and out of the bunker. It was a path you'd taken many times, when the recycled air and musty scent got to be too much for you and you needed out. You never went far, not wanting to lose yourself in the dense forest that hid the lair. You sat now in your usual spot atop the stairs, swinging your legs between the bars of the metal railing and looking towards the old factory across the way. What a strange place to hide a fortress, but then again, no one would notice a seemingly abandoned door cut into the side of a hill. You wondered just how many people drove past over the years, never once realizing the treasure trove that lay beneath them.

The night was cold, the sun having set many hours ago, taking with it the last dregs of autumn warmth. The air nipped at your face and bare arms, but you ignored it. It felt good, felt like something other than pain.

The door behind you creaked open and you listened as Dean approached, wordlessly coming to stand beside you, resting his arms over the top rail.

“I didn't mean to hurt you Y/N, I'm sorry. This is just really hard.”

You shook your head and climbed down from your seat, standing next to him, hooking your hands around the metal beam. “Look, we can do the apology circle or we can just move past it. I'm tired Dean. It's not fair. It's wrong that I should remember every cheeseburger I've eaten in the last three years but not the first time we kissed.” The blood rushed to your face as you ranted, barely stopping to breathe as you spoke. “How can I remember the smell of the library in Topeka, but not our first night together? It's not fair. I need it back.”

“We’ll get it back. We’ll fix you.” Dean’s voice matched yours, filled with frustration.

You shook your head as the tears took over, “We have to do it now. There has to be something, a spell, a deal, anything!”

“No, Y/N. No.” He pivoted and grabbed your shoulder, pulling you to face him. He placed his palm against your cheek, gently lifting your eyes to his. “Not like that. It’ll be OK. I don’t care anymore if you don’t remember me. We’ll make new memories. We’ll do it together. I can’t lose you. Not again.”  

“You promised you would fix me! There’s so much I don’t know. How can you be OK with that? How can you look at me the way you do and not care that I don’t know why?” You beat your fist against his chest, angry and tired, falling apart after your long ordeal. He grabbed both of your arms and pulled you close.

“It doesn’t matter.” He ran his hands through your hair, smoothing it down, whispering into your ear to calm you. You let it out, cried harder than you had all week; bawling against his chest, your tears soaking the cotton.

He held you for a long time, standing quietly in the cold while you cried. Eventually you calmed, sucking in a deep breath and pulling back enough to look up into his face. He brushed your remaining tears away his big thumbs and smiled. It was sweet and gentle, touching you with a glimmer of hope.

“You OK?”

You nodded, and rubbed your arms, shivering as the chill overtook you. “Yeah, thanks.”

Dean noticed your shiver and quickly took off his plaid overshirt, shaking it out and tossing it over your shoulders. “There you go,” he said with an easy smile. His hands met your shoulders, tugging the flannel into place around your neck. You reached up to take his hands, wanting to thank him. The moment your fingers touched his it happened; the final flash you had been waiting for. The pain was nothing compared to the joy you felt as you watched your entire life with Dean pass before your eyes. A myriad of late night snacks and hours spent by the record player. Days spent bickering and teasing, only to end with heated kisses in the dark. Long drives in the Impala, beers on the hood; hustling pool and conning law enforcement. Hunts and adventure, down time and rest. Three years of passion and longing; comfort and release. Every moment came back to you; every feeling and thought you’d ever shared with him, now back where it belonged.

You grasped his hands, gripping them tightly as the wave of pain flowed through you and out into the night. It was the last piece, the last holdout; and when you opened your eyes once again you knew: you were home.

You looked up into your favorite green eyes, the ones that held you enthrall every time you spied them, and smiled. You didn’t need to say a word, Dean knew. He could tell by the curl of your lips and the way your shoulders relaxed, he had you back.

He kissed you then, his warm lips pressing to yours gently. It was calm and sweet; there was no need to rush. Your hands found their way to his neck, pulling him down to you like you had done a thousand times before. The thousands of kisses before were nothing compared to this one. No other moment before or after could rival this in your heart. The moment when Dean Winchester, whether he meant to or not, with a simple gesture of kindness and love, had fixed you.

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