#Drawing indoor backgrounds is so fucked up. how am i meant to make this look like anything

[laugtherhyena]

Baby stuff lmao

While Akira was ecstatic to meet a kid her age that didn't bully/pick up on her it took a little while for Beni to consider her a friend. Not because she disliked her, it's just that having only been around people way older than her for as long as she could remember Beni also didn't had friends her age before, so she didn't realize right away that Akira considered her one.

[niksixx]

America’s Most Wanted

Requested: Kind of :D 

Pairing: Duff McKagan x Fem!Reader 

Description: While you and Duff are lovers, you’re also killers. A modern day Bonnie and Clyde love story. 

Warning: Mentions of murder, blood, stabbing, guns, etc. I tried not to make this fic graphic, but please read at your own risk if you believe this piece will trigger you. 

A/N: I am blessing you all with a Duff fic because I know how much you lovely humans wanted me to write something for him!! It’s a different type of fic, I consider this ‘horror’ but again, I tried not to make it super graphic that way you can still enjoy it! 

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.* 

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

The streets of Los Angeles are uncharacteristically quiet at four thirty in the morning. Normally buzzing with crowds of inebriated young adults who spill out to the sidewalk after a night at the Roxy, they have become calm and eerily so. Illumination from the lamp posts provides the only source of light throughout the city in the late hours of the night. Stores and clubs remain closed for the second week in a row. Workers and customers alike are suffering, but the safety of the LA citizens is at stake.

The police and the FBI are frazzled. Patrolling the streets is too dangerous. One by one the death toll increases, with each murder more gruesome than the next, always unprovoked. Media outlets across the country keep the American citizens informed. The mugshots of the murderers are on every news channel, and posters are hung on every telephone pole. The two killers are wanted dead or alive, and they are Bonnie and Clyde resurrected.

Sitting at the base of a tree is one of the killers, the more experienced of the two. He goes by Duff. Long leather clad legs are splayed out in front of him as he cleans the fresh blood from his knife with a towel that has seen better days. Beside him hidden in the grass is the lifeless body of a twenty-nine year old man who had made the mistake of stepping outside his home. The scent of blood is strong, but Duff’s used to it. After brutally ending the lives of thirty innocent civilians up and down the west coast, the pungent odor is rarely a bother. In fact, Duff finds it comforting.

At first glance, Duff appears just like any other man in Los Angeles. That alone makes him deadly. Tall, blonde, and adorned in leather assets from head to toe, he’s intimidating. But it’s not the kind of intimidating that urges people away. He possesses an allure that pulls them toward him, draws them in. And then, when they least expect it, he strikes. One and done. Swift and clean. No remorse.

With his back against the base of the tree, Duff scans the empty streets, looking for any sign of life that is foolish enough to leave the safety of the indoors. He knows the police are doing everything they can to locate him without putting themselves at risk. He is aware that cities all across the country are terrified that they’ll fall victim to his murder spree. And yet there are still people who choose to enter the outdoor world, exposing themselves to potential harm. There is always the option of breaking the glass windows and terrorizing the people who choose to stay inside, but that isn’t the name of the game. Duff waits for his victims. He never goes looking for them.

Heels clicking against the cement pavement grabs his attention. Turning his head toward the sound, a petite woman in a red peacoat has a bit of hustle in her step as she pulls the jacket tighter to her body. The naive little thing is alone, checking over her shoulder once, twice, before exhaling a breath into the air.

From his pocket, Duff digs out a cigarette. Holding it between two gloved fingers, he lights it and casually blows a ring of smoke into the night. “You know darling, you shouldn’t be out here all by yourself.”

The clicking comes to a halt. Caught in the midst of her venture home, the lady stops and turns, worry lines etched in her forehead. Duff sighs. Poor thing doesn’t know what’s coming for her. “I know. I’m coming from a friend’s house. My apartment is just down the street.”

Duff heaves himself to his feet, brushing off the dirt and grass from his body. Shockingly, the lady doesn’t budge, but her eyes watch his every move. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he lets the cigarette dangle from his lips. A few steps forward and he’s standing in front of the young woman who squares her body defensively. She doesn’t recognize him, another shock, as his face has been plastered all over the 11 o’clock news, but her guard is high.

“At four in the morning?” Duff asks incredulously, playing the part of an intrigued stranger. He uses his charm for an advantage. The woman smiles a little, relaxing her shoulders. Duff notices. “What were you doing?”

He doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t have to pretend to care, to warm up his victims before the hunt. But killing is a game, and games are meant to be fun. “I was planning on staying over, but I have trouble falling asleep in homes that aren’t my own,” Her eyes travel the length of Duff’s body before settling back on his face. She has trouble reading him. “What’s your excuse for being out so late?”

A few feet away, a shadow emerges from behind the cars parked along the street. Straining his neck to get a closer look, Duff recognizes the shadow and snickers to himself. Curiously, the lady turns her gaze just as the shadow disappears behind a different car. “I have trouble sleeping. Past trauma,” Duff lies casually, eyes downcast at the cigarette in his mouth. “Fresh air and a smoke usually calms me down.”

“I’m sorry to hear that…”

“Duff,” He answers back with a slow smile. “And you are?”

“Linda.” A wary smile surfaces on her lips. The rise and fall of her chest is normal, not as panicked as it was before.

The shadow in the background slithers around the cars, inching its way closer. It’s on the hunt for its next prey, but Duff shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. He looks to Linda again, who stares back quizzically. “Well, Linda, it was very nice to meet you. It’s late, though, and you should head on home.”

With a curt nod, Linda tugs her purse higher onto her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you too, Duff.” Linda attempts to step around him, but Duff sidesteps and blocks her path. Linda straightens, the muscles in her face tightening.

“One more thing,” In the shallow pocket of his leather jacket, Duff runs a thumb over the tip of his blade, leaning toward her with a smirk. Linda recoils, and he deadpans. “Don’t scream.”

For a split second, Linda’s fight or flight response is activated, only to be cut off by the sharp pain of a blade wedged in the side of her ribcage. A gloved hand covers her mouth, suppressing the soft whimpers of agony. Cocking his head, Duff stares into her eyes as tears spill over the apples of her cheeks. With a quick, slick motion, Duff pulls the knife from her side before penetrating the skin just above her collarbone. Lightning quick, the shadow emerges from the darkness and hurls itself at Duff, knocking him against the brick wall of a building just a foot behind him. If only the shadow had been quicker, not as hesitant, then it may have claimed Linda as its victim.

Now under the light of a lamppost, the shadow appears in its true form. The second killer. Dressed head to toe in black garments, the boxcutter held tight in its grasp, it takes one step forward, lips curled back in contempt.

“Fuck you, Duff. I had that.”

The anger in your voice turns him on, the opposite effect that it should have on his body. You were right. Linda was your kill, but she’d been alive for far too long. Things didn’t always have to be planned. Excessive planning, while it worked in most cases, could end up being a weakness. Sometimes, you just needed to go for the quick kill.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart,” Feigning innocence, Duff gestures to Linda’s lifeless body as he blows a cloud of smoke into the air. While he’s positive Linda is as good as gone, there was always the chance she was grasping at life by the skin of her teeth. And if she was indeed just another lifeless body bleeding out on the concrete, Duff would enjoy the sight of you exploding in anger right in front of him. You were always more beautiful that way. “But her apartment was down the street. You were just a bit too slow, darling. She would have made it home alive.” Your eyes fall downcast. Duff sighs. “Tell you what. Check her pulse. If she’s still breathing, I’ll let you finish her off.”

Crouching down to the pavement, you slip your hand into the collar of Linda’s peacoat, two fingers positioned on the side of her neck. Blood trickles onto your hand, the pungent liquid dripping down the side of her neck to her ear. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on finding a slow beating, but the only pulse you feel is the one flowing through your fingertips.

Eyes narrowed to slits, you watch as Duff chuckles from his place at the wall, taking drag after drag of the cigarette. He knew she was dead. He was toying with you. Teeth clenched together, you find yourself pressing his back further into the bricks, snatching the white cancer stick from his lips, and crushing it under the heel of your boot. You hold the blade against his neck, applying just a bit of pressure to make him slightly squirm under your touch. Neither you nor Duff are strangers to rough play.

He blinks in pure astonishment before curling his lips into a sly grin. Your fingers twitch, itching to wipe the smile off his face, but he’s caught your wrist far too many times in the past when you’ve tried. “Someone’s a little angry, aren’t we?”

Linda’s blood smears over Duff’s lips as your fingers graze over his face. With your lips by his ear, you reply breathily, “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

Pulling away, you let your hands drop by your side, curling and uncurling your fists as a way to release the tension in your body. It was your kill. How were you supposed to get better if Duff claimed the victims for himself?

“Maybe you need more training.”

Your blood boils, eyes shifting back to Duff’s smug face. If you needed more training, it was his fault. “Maybe I need a better teacher.” It was easy to get under each other’s skin, although most of the time it was playful banter that morphed into sexual tension. From the bulge in his jeans and the hazy look in his eyes, you knew Duff was dangerously close to claiming you on the sidewalk.

“Temper, temper,” Duff taunts, pushing off the wall with the sole of his boot. The way he eyes you is how he gazes at his victims, like prey, but there’s a side of Duff only you’ve seen. Despite his primal instincts and the nagging urge to have his way with you whenever and wherever, you meant more to him than that. “You have a sharp tongue, sweetheart,” You tilt your head confidently upward, not breaking eye contact as he towers over you. Trailing a gloved hand over your exposed collarbone and up the side of your throat, his fingers slide around to grip the nape of your neck. With untamed hair, crazed eyes, and lips smeared with the blood of the fallen, he’s a madman, a killer. And while the feelings between you aren’t rational, you can’t deny your love for the wild criminal. “Show me what else it can do.”

His lips draw you in like a magnet. Many kisses have been shared between you and Duff, but your heart still beats wildly like it did the very first time. With his hands on either side of your face he keeps you still against him, lips moving in a frenzy before biting down on your lip. He’s rarely gentle, and it drives you mad.

The taste of blood floods your tongue as his tangles with yours, hot, heavy breaths fanning over your face. Your body tingles with fervent need, stomach twisting in passionate knots. As much as you want to enjoy the kiss, the taste of him, you pull back reluctantly, the thoughts in your head overwhelming the rest of your senses.

Duff’s hands cradle your face with a gentle touch. He eyes you with a hard look, a look that warns not to lie. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

The words spin around in your brain. Did you really need more training? In only six short months, Duff taught you everything he knew. You followed his lessons, mimicked his every movement, practiced until your muscles ached from the pain. “Am I disappointing you?”

Duff’s eyebrows furrow. His hands fall to your waist, tugging your hips firmly against him. “Disappointing me? Hardly. Sweetheart, you amaze me.”

“But you said I need more training.”

He chuckles softly. “And you do. That’s not a bad thing. But you’ve already come so far. Just a few months ago you were a dainty little thing who loved watching romance movies and baking cookies on Friday nights. Now you can shoot a gun with your eyes closed.”

“And you were just getting out of prison,” Snaking your arms around the back of Duff’s neck, you pull him closer to you, noses brushing tenderly. If it weren’t for Duff’s inmate taking the blame for the murder, he still would have been staring at the prison walls. How they were able to fool the system into letting Duff go was unfathomable, but he was here with you now. They had let a man guilty of first degree murder walk free, and that man turned into one obsessed with death. Along the way he found you, recruited you as his companion, and now couldn’t picture a world where you weren’t by his side. “I was smitten with you from the moment we met. And I knew you were trouble. I just didn’t care.”

“And look at us now,” Duff grins, stealing a quick kiss. Tendrils of wavy blond hair tickle your cheeks when he dips down to your lips. You never understood why he felt the need to steal them. Anything he wanted, you gave willingly. The rest of the world saw his demented and damned soul. You were fortunate to know every complex piece of him, but not all of them were rooted in evil. His love for you was genuine, unwavering, quite possibly his only redeeming quality. “America’s Most Wanted.”

Your head snaps over to the sound of an apartment door closing. Jogging down the steps and onto the pavement, a man untangles a green leash before hooking it onto his dog. The word screams in your head. Target.

Duff is already smirking when you look back at him. He gives you an encouraging nod; You dig into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out the boxcutter with a sly smile. “Go get ‘em, sweetheart.”

[sulevinblade]

OC Interview Meme

Tagged by: @mocha-writes (hopefully it tags you properly this time? But still, THANK YOU!!)

I’ll tag: @gremlinquisitor ofc, and anyone else who wants to do it! I don’t know who all among you may have already done it for your OCs but I love reading these!!

Since I did Ghilanel here, this one will be with Varevas. I’m... sorry, about him.

1. What is your name?

“You’ve lost my confidence with the very first question.”

2. What is your real name?

“Varevas, First of Clan Lavellan and Lord Inquisitor. I should make you use the entire thing for the duration as penance for not doing the least amount of background research.”

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“The end of it is just titles, of course, and I’m called those because I earned them, more or less. My given name is a variation of one given to at least one child in every generation of our clan in order to ensure someone carries our freedom forward. But no pressure.”

4. Are you single or taken?

“I am taken, frequently and to great mutual satisfaction.”

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“I love hearing them called powers because the implication is I went to bed one night unable to conjure a great fist of stone out of the loose Fade energy pouring from the rifts and then woke up able to do so. Maybe that’s how it looks to people who don’t possess magic of their own. I have many abilities, learned and honed through time and training. I have one power and that is closing rifts. I had nothing to do with that.”

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“I have no idea who that is.”

7. What’s your eye color?

“Green, light green.”

8. How about your hair color?

“Dark red. I’m thinking of growing it out.”

9. Have you any family members?

“My mother was killed by human bandits but my father is still alive, and I have one younger brother and a cousin with whom I’m quite close.”

10. Oh? What about pets?

“No, but recently we were in the Emerald Graves and I found a handful of caterpillars all climbing on some sort of communal nest or cocoon site. I didn’t really think anything of it and no one there knew what kind they were or if they were dangerous, but they did seem to respond to the sound of our voices. It was as though it startled them, but it looked like they were dancing, so I spent a few minutes teaching them different rhythms. I don’t think they cared for it but I never said I was good with animals. Bull thought it was hilarious.”

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

“I don’t like having my ancedotes dismissed. If we’re looking on a larger scale, I really don’t like that there’s an ancient magister threatening to destroy the world and start over and some people’s greatest concern is still how the ears of the person leading the fight to stop that are shaped.”

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

“I enjoy reading. My clan didn’t have many books and what we did have were focused on our history and written by other elves, which is very effective if you don’t ever plan on interacting with anyone other than elves ever. I can understand why many in my clan would have preferred that but I’ll take Skyhold’s library any day.”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Oh yes, it’s a running joke. If you asked Dorian what my hobbies are, he’d tell you it’s indiscriminate murder, but I think I’m very discriminating.”

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

“I got ahead of myself with the last one. Well, asked and answered, but again, it’s not indiscriminate.” He looks unusually serious for a moment. “I learned my history and I know what indiscriminate murder looks like. What Corypheus intends is indiscriminate. What I am doing, as a representative of the Inquisition, is as thoughtful as it can afford to be. I don’t expect the families of people on the other side to thank me but I am doing what I feel has to be done.”

15. What kind of animal are you?

“A bear. Please ignore all follow up commentary from Dorian should there be any.”

16. Name your worst habits.

“I enjoy reading but I’m very bad at finishing books. There’s a stack of them beside my bed, all with bookmarks in them just waiting for my attention span to resolve itself. I don’t spend as much time here [in Skyhold] as I probably ought to but I’m not comfortable here. I interrupt Dorian’s research on a daily basis, though I can’t say that’s really all that bad since he still gets an impressive amount done.”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“It’s disappointing to me that our differing opinions on the sovereignty of mages keeps Vivienne from giving me so much as the time of day because she’s achieved a kind of power and status that defies all expectations I have ever held for myself as a mage, and I was going to be Keeper of my clan. She’s competent, powerful, self-possessed, and a dazzling conversationalist. Many of those same things can be said of Solas but he also hasn’t kept himself apart in the same way so what admiration I may have for him is tempered by familiarity. We’re friendly, though I do still look up to him and now that he knows we share an interest in manipulating the energy coming from the rifts I think we’ll become even closer. Vivienne, however, is a class apart.”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

“Gay. What a strange way to follow up your previous question.”

19. Do you go to school?

“And yet another unexpected turn! I began a mentorship under my clan’s Keeper as soon as I came into my magic. She ensured I studied other subjects as well but the main focus was history and lore; that’s a Keeper’s function, after all, it’s... it’s literally the name. Keeper.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“I haven’t really thought about it. I want to spend the rest of my life with Dorian but marriage is complicated for a lot of reasons, and frankly I can’t imagine anyone who takes the threat our world faces right now seriously daydreaming about raising a child. I want to make sure we have a world where raising families is still a possibility at the end of this but for myself, I don’t know.”

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

"I pay for my drinks at the Herald’s Rest just like anyone else. I really don’t care for being recognized even though I realize it’s inevitable. Except with you, though, you didn’t even know my name.”

22. What are you most afraid of?

“Fucking it all up. Absolutely just ruining everything. I like to keep my fears general so I’m always just a little terrified, it’s very motivational.”

23. What do you usually wear?

“I prefer light clothing that allows me to move easily. I need to ground myself in order to cast but I need to have my arms and body free.”

24. Do you love someone?

“I do. I never imagined that being an outcome of all this but I’m also lucky enough that he loves me back.”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“Have you ever been gripped by the wrist and hoisted like a wet rag doll by a twelve-foot-tall creature made of red lyrium and avarice who wanted nothing more than to snap your hand off and kill you, knowing all your back-up had fled because you sent them away and the only outcome of this encounter was your death? You’d pee a little too, trust me.”

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he made me piss myself again, but this time I’ll be ready.”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

“Being the First of the clan meant I enjoyed certain privileges but our clan was not a wealthy one. My life here in Skyhold is an improvement in a lot of ways over life with the clan in that regard, and I suppose I am a lord now.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“More than six but less than ten. Draw your own conclusions.”

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Surprisingly difficult to make but worth it.”

30. Favourite drink?

“The water in Skyhold is the cleanest, freshest tasting water I’ve ever had, and it’s often bitterly cold too, so cold your teeth ache when you drink it. The castle is too cold to really enjoy that but I do enjoy it. Dorian thinks I’m mad but it’s the only cold thing I like.”

31. What’s your favourite place?

“My quarters, with all the doors closed and curtains hauled over them, a fire on and my lover close at hand. It’s the only way I can thaw out.”

32. Are you interested in someone?

“Keep. Up.”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

“I've received no complaints.”

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

“Dorian tells me in Tevinter they have great indoor baths for swimming in. Given the option, one of those.”

35. What’s your type?

"Fire and Rift.” He pauses and sighs. “I don’t know that I could ever be with someone who wasn’t a mage. It made life in the clan very isolating because even as the First you were still seen mostly as competition for younger mages who wanted to keep their place in the clan. Having a ‘type’ never occurred to me. It still hadn’t when I ended up here. I don’t know that I have one. I love Dorian. I don’t need a type.” 

36. Any fetishes?

His eyes flash and narrow and Varevas leans forward in his chair. “Whenever possible, I try to convince Dorian to keep his clothes on when I go down on him. I get off on the smell of the leather and the jingle of all those ridiculous buckles and clasps keeping him bound up while I try to make him explode.” He maintains eye contact the entire time he speaks and there’s not a hint of color on his cheeks. “Dorian is an incredibly private man who would be profoundly hurt if I revealed anything factual in a situation like this, so do with that statement what you will.”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

“We’re done discussing this.”

38. Camping or indoors?

“Indoors. Who doesn’t like being warm and dry?”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

“If that’s what it takes to end these questions about my private affairs then yes.”

40. Now it’s over!

“Brilliant. You can show yourself out.”

[wills-writes-stuff]

A case of Treason - Part 3

Fandom: Supernatural Cas x Reader

Words: 2345

Summary: After a lot of eavesdropping, Y/N starts to understand his last memories might not be as trustfull she thought they were. Warnings: angst, shouting, violence, panic attack. Not happy, but we’re getting there, I promise.

A/N: As usual, big shoutout to my twinsie @supernaturalfreewill for the proofreading and corrections. Love you tons!

Part 1 - Part 2

Tagging those who asked for it: @x0andie0x @akoya-pearls@allinhishands @splendidcas @busybee612 @willowing-love@markesharke @mrswhozeewhatsis @growningupgeek I know its been like 2 years, I’m sorry. 

Under the warm embrace of the shower, you thought about everything that had happened in the last hours since you woke up.

Dean and Sam’s worried faces, the lack of pain, the lack of wounds, the lack of tears.

If you were right, and they said you were, it had been several months since that night in the barn, along with the angels, and Zacharias, and Cas…

“Castiel, angel of the Lord” you muttered to yourself, remembering his words clearly.

You thought of happier times and better days, when you two were an item, ready to die for each other in the blink of an eye. Hearts and souls over the table and all the pieces in the game. You thought of the crinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiled at you, and the way his eyes would light up whenever you entered the room. You could still feel the touch of his hand in yours and feel the warmth of his kiss on your knuckles when you got distracted.

And still, you could not drop a single tear for him. For you.

How many times had you cried over him during the last few months? “Well… not exactly, but yes,” that had been Sam’s answer about you being in a coma. That meant you were having memory loss? How many months had it been? How many times had the brothers needed to tell you what happened?

Your heart sank in your chest at this thought. What was going on?

--------------

“So you’re telling me,” Dean was repeating everything over and over just to make it clear, “that we can’t break this curse.”

He was sitting in the chair nearest to the hallway, looking into the war room, you could see the top of his head.

“We can’t,” Sam said, an exasperated tone in his voice.

“But it could be broken,” Dean said.

“It could.”

“But for that we need a witch.”

“Dean…” Castiel’s voice was weary and broken and it made your heart skip a beat when your heard it.

“No, no, Cas. Please, let me finish this.” he looked at Sam “We need a witch.”

“Yes.”

“A powerful one.”

“Yes.”

“A witch that has knowledge of the ancient arts and has already worked with angelic spells.”

There was loud sigh followed by a very low “Yes.”

“Fuck it! Why can’t you do it?”

“I’m not well versed enough in the mystical arts.” said Castiel.

“Dean…”

“No, Sam. I refuse. I’m not doing it. I just won’t go through with it.”

“Well, then I will,” said Sam with a defiant tone, and you could hear the sound of furniture against the floor. Dean was out of sight now. He had clearly stood up as well.

“Sam, nothing good ever comes from working with Rowena.”

“Well, I’d rather have her lurking around than to have to…” his voice broke. “Dean, I can’t face her anymore. Neither can Cas.”

There was silence in the room for a bit, but you didn’t wait for them to resume the talk, instead you went back to your bedroom and sat on the bed, thinking. After a while, you decided you were just too hungry to think and stepped out again, heading for the kitchen.

As you walked down the corridor, with shoes on this time, you realized there was a sudden stop to a conversation, and by the time you entered the war room, only Sam and Dean were there. You said nothing.

“Hey!” Sam said, pulling his sight from a book. “Good shower?”

“Long and warm, as every shower ever should be,” you answered with a smile. “I see you didn’t sleep.”

“Dean did, though…” he nodded to a couch in the library and you had to suppress a smile. You knew he was awake only moments before. They were setting this up.

“Good. Let him rest. I’ll make some dinner.”

“Y/N, you should…”

“Rest?” you crossed your arms on your chest and gave him a very meaning and pitiful look. “How long has it been since you let me do anything at all? Right now, I can tell you two are the ones that need rest.”

Sam smiled and shook his head, knowing better than to try and stop you.

“The kitchen’s all yours.” he added, leaning back on his chair and grabbing the book again “Just don’t break anything, Dean organized it yesterday”

“HA!” you exclaimed happily “Perfect chance to show him I’m finally back home!”

On the corner of your eye, you saw Dean flinch on his chair. On a regular day, he would’ve followed you up into the kitchen, begging you to let him cook, but today he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare let you know he was not asleep. They were hiding this curse from you, and you needed to know why.

-----------------------------

You engaged on the personal mission of hearing everything that needed to be heard in the bunker without being discovered, and it became a reflex to walk barefoot while indoors, always hoping to catch some piece of conversation.

One day you heard the rumbles of a fight and when you got closer you realized they were still arguing about going to Rowena for some curse.

Another, you peeked at Sam’s book when he took a bathroom break, and saw he was researching mind control and implanted memories.

But then, one morning, before even the sun was fully risen on the horizon you woke up from a nightmare you couldn’t remember, all covered in sweat and panicking. Remembering about the panic attack back then, you focused on your breathing, and tried to find a noise, something steady like a clock or… was that someone crying?

The sound coming from the library distracted you and the moment of terror passed. Slow and quietly, you pulled on some pants and walked like a shadow out of your bedroom, heading for the main part of the bunker. Why would he be crying at such an hour? Maybe one of the boys had a nightmare? But what kind of nightmare could frighten any of them enough to cry?

It wasn’t any of them.

It was Castiel.

You froze in the doorway. The angel hadn’t seen you, or at least that’s what it seemed like. He was sitting on the sofa, bent over and holding his head in his hands. You had never seen him cry. You didn’t even know he actually could.

A sound coming from the kitchen caught your attention and you stepped back into the shadows of the hallway before Dean, who was now coming into the library, could see you.

“Here,” he said, laying a cup of something hot on the small table in front of the couch. “It’s one of Sam’s herb-y thingies. The package says it’s good for ‘calming nerves’”.

“I’m sorry, Dea,.” Castiel said without pulling up his head. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I barely sleep these days anyway.”

There was a pause between them, and you could tell this was not the first time Dean and Cas had had this talk.

“It’s not getting any better, is it?”

“No,” the angel said with a sigh, and finally took the cup in front of him and smelled it. “What’s even in this?” he asked.

“No friggin’ idea. I’m drinking Irish coffee, with no milk, or sugar… and minus the coffee.”

“You mean you’re drinking whiskey in a coffee mug.”

“HA. Yup! I sure am!” Dean exclaimed and put the mug up in the air and Cas, with a reluctant smile, put up his own in a sad toast.

“We’ll come around this, man,” Dean said reassuringly. “We’ll solve this as we’ve always solved everything. And she will remember.”

“I don’t care about that anymore, Dean. I just want her to live normally. I’m not sure she’ll be able to remember or forgive me… But I can’t stand seeing her in pain anymore.”

Your heart broke in a million pieces. The tears you had thought were gone for good had came back and were refusing to stay inside your eyes.

As quietly as you could, you ran back to your bedroom, and crying your heart out you fell asleep again.

 “Y/N, they’ve found us! Get out of here!” Castiel shouted back at you, drawing his angel blade and making himself ready to fight.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Cas,” you stated as you reached for your gun, back to back with him. “You’re stuck with me.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was smiling, so you smiled as well.

…

There were too many of them. You couldn’t keep up the fight.

…

“CAS!” you shouted as you saw him get beat up to the ground, but a sharp pain in the side of your head made everything go black.

…

“Cas?” you whispered, trying to turn your head to peak at your back, but no one answered. “Cas, are you okay?”

“Y/N, be quiet. It’s Zacharias. He’s been looking for me for ages.”

“Wha…?” but you were cut-off by the doors to the place where you were tied-up suddenly opening. Outside the moon was being covered by clouds.

“Castiel!” A big, bold, and disgusting looking man came in. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were murderous.

“Zacharias…” you could see through the corner of your eye the hateful look in Castiel’s features.

“Oh don’t give me that look! You’re the traitor in this whole case… Sleeping with the enemy!”

“If you lay a finger on her…” you had never heard Castiel so menacing.

“You’ll what, Castiel? I have you under my power, and this night is just beginning.”

…

Thunder.

You were being beat up by someone much much stronger than you. You could hear Castiel calling your name in the background.

…

Lightning.

Castiel is being tortured in front of you. You fight against the rope cutting through your skin. You need to get to him.

…

Thunder.

There’s a guy doing some kind of ritual in front of you. Castiel is tied up against a wall on the other side of the room, calling your name. He tries to smile when your eyes cross, and shouts your name again when someone hits you on the side of your head.

…

Lightning.

“Cas?” you whispered, trying to turn your head to peek at your back, but no one answered. “Cas, are you okay?” “I’m fine,” a growl came from somewhere behind your back, and your heart jumped in your chest. “Oh, thank God! Are you hurt? We need to get out of here…” There was a flash of light somewhere outside. It looked like it was raining now. Odd. “Oh, I’m fine,” he interrupted with a cold tone that didn’t sounded like him. “And I’m getting out of here…” Out of the corner of your eye you could see him walking freely, and someone else was with him.

…

Thunder.

Castiel was still tied up against the wall opposite to you, calling you.

…

Lightning. “So this is her, then?” a male voice asked. “That’s her.” Castiel stated. “And you’re willingly handing her to us.” “I just want to be a free angel again, Zacharias. If the cost of that freedom is handing her over for punishment… Then so be it.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Castiel wouldn’t… he would never… You closed your eyes as a wave of pain filled your head again. “You understand she’s going to die, Castiel.” There was a second of tense silence. “I understand.”

…

Thunder.

“NO! Cas, no! What are you doing!” you screamed, trying to untangle the cords on your wrists, but accomplishing nothing but cutting your own skin. “No, Cas! Why?” you cried, and there he was, standing in front of you. The tears made everything blurry, and the pain in your head in your chest didn’t let you focus on his face.

“Y/N! I’m here, whatever you’re seeing, that’s not me! Y/N!” There were tears on his face and desperation in his voice.

…

Lightning. “My name, human, is Castiel, and I am an Angel of the Lord!” he raged, thunder and lightning filling the barn and making him look imposing and terrifying. His eyes lit with bright, white light and his wings spread across the walls. Tears filled your eyes again and pure terror crushed you, looking at the man you loved, so deeply menacing to you now. Zacharias made his way to you, filling his hand with light and an awful smirk in his lips, and you could barely see Castiel in the back, and though you thought you saw panic and desperation in his face for a small second, the next instant he was gone and you were left alone with the murderous angel. …

Thunder. And at that exact moment, the doors to the barn opened and Sam and Dean rushed in, angel blades shining in their hands, and all the fire of their hearts in their eyes. A second later Zacharias was gone, and you rested in Sam’s arms as they made their way to the car. “She’s lost too much blood!” you hear Sam shouting to his brother “The cuts in her wrists and arms are too deep! We need to get her to a hospital.” “You got it!”

“How’s Cas?”

“He’s seen worse… or maybe he hasn’t,” Dean quickly glancing at you, and hit the pedal.

 You woke up covered in sweat again. Damn bunker. You could never tell what time it was.

That dream… was that what had happened? The images and memories confused you and made your head hurt, and your blood boil, and your lungs tighten.

Breathing heavily you stumbled to the door and opened it, falling outside of the bedroom.

“Cas!” you managed to shout out the hallway, and in a second the angel was running towards you looking alarmed “Don’t let me forget again! Don’t you dare let me forget again!”

You felt the warmth of his hands on your face and the last thing you saw were his cobalt blue eyes looking terrified.