Numinous

Numinous is ran and monitored by a godless heathen. The content of this blog may be sensitive to some viewers and is meant for a mature, adult audience. Numinous offers multi-fandom fiction as well as original content. I do occasionally take requests if something I write catches your eye.

[wildeheathen-blog]

Grave Robbing - Chapter One

Warnings: None for this particular chapter. Perhaps brief mentions of having a gun in ones face?

Summary: Reader gets in over her head when taking a midnight drive for ice cream.

Pairing: Sam | Plus Sized Reader

Word Count: 2,741

Chapter: 1/??

“Call 1-800-SLI-MNOW to try a thirty-day free trial of EVER SLIM Tea!” 

“Ugh…” Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the remote from your bedside table and hit the power button, the screen fading to black and the babbling of the infomercial going silent. Late-night television was always a mixed bag of bad soft-core porn, diet ads and infomercials for erectile dysfunction. You had been watching reruns of Law and Order SVU but after those had ended you’d gone down a rabbit hole of bad TV. It was nearly eleven pm now and most of the ‘day time’ television channels had been replaced with order-by-phone ads. You were surprised they were still around, honestly. On a night like tonight, when even the TV was reminding you of how ‘big’ you were, you had decided that enough was enough. You were either going to commit a crime or pig out on ice cream and it didn’t take long for you to decide which.

Rolling off of your bed, you hiked the penguin printed leggings you wore up over your hips with a shimmy, huffing under your breath as a result of the action displaced one of your boobs from the too-big tank top that you wore.  “Girl just can’t win, can she?” Your words were muttered under your breath as you pulled your top off and grabbed a sports bra off of the top of your hamper of clothes that were clean -- and had been for almost a week if you were being honest with yourself. Picking the shirt you’d been wearing back up, you sniffed it and then shrugged. You’d showered that morning and it wasn’t like you’d done any strenuous exercise unless you counted running across the lawn after your cat who had wormed its way out the front door earlier that afternoon. 

“I’m just going to get ice cream, I’m not even getting out of the car.” You reassured yourself and pull the tank top back over your head, your car keys snatched off of your dresser and a quick check done in the mirror to adjust the messy bun that sat atop your head. It’d been a few days since you’d brushed your hair, but if you were being honest, the lion’s mane had a mind of its own, even with the best of discipline. “There and back. No getting out of the car. It’ll be fine!” You muttered the words once more as if to scold your anxiety into submission. You’d never liked going places on your own, especially this late at night but something had you craving ice cream from the twenty-four-hour drive through that was five miles down the road. 

Bending to give your cat a kiss on its head, you cringed as it sneezed, painting your features with saliva and cat snot. “Gee… thanks a whole lot, Gouda, I appreciate it.” 

The ten-year-old cat that was a few pounds overweight (much like yourself) simply rolled over and exposed its belly with a languid stretch. A certain trap, to be sure. Still, you took the bait and ruffled his fur, the mainecoon in him giving him enough hair that by the time you were done it looked as if he’d been electrocuted. 

“Alright, be good! Don’t be going into Olivia’s room and bothering those ferrets! You know she’s allergic to you!” You whisper-scolded your cat and gave him another pat for good measure before standing up and leaving your bedroom, a hoodie grabbed from one of the hooks on your wall on your way out. 

Making your way down the stairs of the shared townhome, your roommate (who was your exact opposite in both looks and habits) peered at you from the kitchen. She was up late meal prepping and often offered to teach you, though you would rather watch paint dry than plan any meal that involved eating kale willingly. “(Y/N)? Where are you going? It’s almost eleven-thirty. Don’t tell me you’re going to that skeevy drive through again.” Olivia’s voice was worried, and while she had always looked like she had walked out of a fitness magazine she never once judged you for your habits or your appearance. She had been your friend since middle school and while she had grown into her body, you had simply grown into your ‘baby fat’. 

“I’ll be back in like… thirty minutes tops! Promise!” You called from the entryway of the small home, your eyes scanning the various ‘live laugh love’ messages that dotted the walls. It wasn’t your idea of decor but you didn’t own the place so who were you to judge? Hearing a heavy sigh from the kitchen, you groaned and leaned against the wall. You were waiting for her to scold you about your late-night drives. Counting down in your head, you reached ‘one’ right as she appeared from the kitchen, her arms crossed over her slender chest.

“(Y/N) you’ve been going out a lot recently. I don’t really care what you do with your time as you pay all of your bills on time and keep yourself safe but it’s late out, and there was that story on the news about that girl who--”

Holding up your hand, you smiled when she paused. “Livvie, I promise, I don’t exactly fit the profile for being kidnapped. My thigh is bigger than your waist, those creeps would have a hell of a time getting me into the back of a van, especially considering my social anxiety. Puppies or candy aside, they’re not going to fool me. Besides, I’ve got my mace. Like I said, twenty minutes tops.” You knew you had won the argument when she sighed and waved a hand. 

“Fine, but if you get snatched up--”

“If I get snatched up, I promise I’ll ask the bad guys to let you know so that you can bore them to death with your top ten favorite avocado recipes, alright?” You offered her a smile when she rolled her eyes. You always had been sarcastic and now wasn’t any different. 

“Alright, alright, go, just… keep in touch if you’re going to be gone longer, alright? Cute leggings, by the way.” 

Nodding and mumbling something that sounded indicative of confirmation and ‘thanks’ combined into one word, you opened the front door and took a deep breath. Sweet freedom. You loved Olivia but you would have been lying if her health-conscious mannerisms didn’t weigh on your patience occasionally. 

Making sure the door was closed tight behind you, you jogged down the stairs and onto the cracked sidewalk that stretched out between a small, but neatly managed yard. There were garden beds to either side, raised and lush with different herbs and flowers. On either side of the chain-link gate were lawn flamingos, atop which were garden gnomes holding cats. They had been your idea and after much pestering, Olivia had relented. 

Pulling the gate shut behind you as you exited, you hit the button on the fob for your car, sighing disdainfully when the red light blipped but did nothing. The damn thing had been broken for years and yet every time you left the house you still tried to make magic happen. Manually unlocking the door to the 2001 banana yellow Toyota Celica you pulled open the door and dropped into the front seat. Fall was just around the corner and it had the nights a little frostier than usual, which meant when your ass hit the seat, you hissed and shivered.

“Dammit, Larry…” The name slipped between your teeth and you grinned, remembering where the nickname had come from. Your ex had called the car hideous and had abhorred the fact that you had named it. After your breakup, you’d gotten a custom license plate that said L30N4RD so that every time he saw you in town he’d be forced to remember you. It was spiteful, sure, but he’d cheated on you with your ex-best friend and you’d walked in on it; karma was a bitch though, and he’d ended up getting an STI from the girl he’d done the dirty with. 

Shoving the key into the ignition, you said a silent prayer and hit the gas as you started the car, a sigh of relief as the engine sputtered to life. “Thank you, Larry, for once you do something right the first time.” Backing out of the driveway you were careful to avoid Olivia’s Prius, the yellow headlights from your car basking the quiet suburban street in a dim glow. 

***

Ten minutes later you and Larry were putting down the road, the drive-through was at the other end of the small town you had lived in for the past five years and it was the only thing open this late. While the town was quiet, it was boring and it had made ‘McKreevey’s Drive-Thru” the only place worth going. Tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you tried to ignore the way Larry clanked and whirred as you drove. A few more miles and you would be there and ordering your favorite sundae -- you just had to drive passed Saint Christian’s Cemetery in and you’d be home free. Ever since you had lived there the place had given you the creeps and tonight was no different. 

Turning up the radio as you drove by, you hummed and bopped your head, doing your best to ignore the way the street lights had disappeared, leaving you in the dark save for the soft glow of your car’s headlights. Another clank, followed by a shattering pop and finally a whir as your car sputtered to a stop and died on the side of the road. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now…” 

Your voice was a quiet murmur as you looked out of the windshield to see smoke rising from beneath Larry’s hood, a groan leaving your throat. “Great, this is fucking perfect. I just wanted some god damned ice cream. Pulling out your phone, you squinted as the screen lit up and then rolled your eyes as the single bar of service flipped over to roaming. 

“Really? Goddess above I hate this fucking city.” 

Pushing open the door, you shoved the seatbelt away from you and slid of your car, the flashlight on your phone illuminating the ground at your feet and showing off a thick, sticky puddle of fluid that trickled out from under Larry’s beat and battered frame. 

“I have no idea what that is Leonard, but you should be ashamed of yourself! That is disgusting!” You scolded your car as if it might suddenly become sentient and realize the mess it left you in. Instead, you were left to look around for any sign of life. On the right, there were fields upon fields of corn that swayed in the breeze. To the left, the cemetery. 

“Great. I feel like I’m in a horror movie. I’ll bet I’m about to get murdered by some hobgoblin hiding in that damned corn. Walking around the front of your car, you quickly decided on the graveyard with the reasoning that you might be able to find a live-in groundskeeper or something to at least let you borrow a phone for a cab. Using the flashlight on your phone to light the way, you stopped halfway across the sprawling plot when an orange glow of light caught your distance. 

“Oh! Maybe there is someone. Digging a grave I’ll bet. Jeez, what a shitty job. Shittier for the person going in it, I suppose.” You snorted as you caught yourself talking to yourself. It happened frequently and most of the time it was someone else that caught you, the look on their faces often worth the awkward silence. Creeping slowly closer, you were maybe ten yards away when a figure jumped out of one of the graves, his toned frame tossing a shove to the ground. 

“Figure they’d at least use a backhoe or somethin’.” You whispered under your breath and leaned against the tree. Maybe it was best to wait until they were done, as they seemed to almost be. Squinting and killing the flashlight on your phone, you watched as a second figure stepped out of the shadows, a canister of something in his hand. 

“What the…?” 

Watching as the taller figure poured something into the hole followed by the smaller one (the one who had jumped out of the hole in the first place) squirting some sort of liquid, you watched as one of them struck a match and dropped it into the grave. 

“Okay what the-- OH MY GOD!” 

Your voice rose three octaves as a plume of fire shot from the hole in the ground, followed by what could only be described as a wraith from some b-horror movie that screeched louder than any cheerleader at a pep rally who’d just seen her friends ever could, it’s spectral body engulfed in flames before disappearing into the night sky. 

“Whatthefuck?! Oh god, what the fuck… shit… fuckity shit!” 

At this point, you had forgotten all about the people by the grave and had instead focused on what had just come out of the grave. 

***

“Well, at least that’s done. It’s nice to have something nice and easy for once. Can we get out of here now? It’s cold.” Sam shivered and rubbed his hands over his bare arms. He hadn’t thought to bring a jacket. Beside him, Dean shoved the lighter fluid and salt back into the duffel bag, picking it up and slinging it over his shoulder a few moments later. 

“Sammy you’re the size of a literal moose and you’re bitching because it’s cold out? Bring a jacket next-- wait, shhh.” Dean lifted a hand to his mouth when something in the distance cracked, followed by a high pitched wheezing. Looking to his brother, who shrugged, Dean pulled his gun out and stalked forward, having passed the duffel off to Sam who followed close behind. 

***

Wheezing quietly, you cursed the fact that you’d decided to get ice cream. All you wanted was something sweet and now here you were, stuck in a creepy ass cemetery with grave robbers that had just lit a corpse on fire for the fun of it! You weren’t sure what had come out of the grave afterward but you were willing to convince yourself that you were seeing things for the sake of your sanity. 

“Oh cheese on a tortilla, Gods of the gobstoppers and Nephilim of nerds ropes I swear I will never leave the house again if-- click”

Freezing solid when a very familiar sound clicked behind your ear, you slowly stood from behind the three you’d hidden behind and turned; only to come face to face with the muzzle of a handgun held by a man that looked about as happy as a hare in a field of copperheads. Swallowing thickly, you screamed as loud as you could -- a technique taught to you by Olivia. When the scream did nothing but make the male furrowed his brow deeper, you struck out with your chuck covered foot and nailed him between his legs, a fist following shortly after to meet his face with a crunch. 

“Hey Woah! Woah, miss!” The taller male behind the gun-toting one lifted his hands in mock defense as the first crumpled to the ground with a groan and a barely audible ‘sonofabitch’ that was choked from between gritted teeth. Lifting both of your hands, you prepared yourself to try and take on the colossus that had come up behind the smaller one, your (Y/E/C) eyes darting to and fro and your heart slamming against your chest. 

“I’ll kick your dick all the way to Fort Worth you creep sonuvabitch! Don’t try me! I’ll… I’ll do it… you burnt a thing and… I…. I think I’m gonna--” 

Your fear and anxiety got the best of you a moment later and you collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, your body having looked none too graceful in your penguin pants and messy bun (now complete with mud stains and leaves stuck into it, respectfully). You had seen plenty of crime shows, but never once had you seen anything about grave robbing, screaming corpses, or being an accomplice to a heinous crime. And to think, all you had wanted was some god damned ice cream.

[wildeheathen-blog]

Cornerstone - Part One

Summary: Reader is forced to confront her emotions concerning a particular King of Hell

Warnings: Mentions of rape/assault

Pairing: Crowley x F!Reader

Word Count: 3,099

You couldn’t believe it had come to this -- it hadn’t been long enough to be subjected to a pair of eyes that looked through you instead of at you, but here you were, slouched in a chair and trying to ignore the occasional bored sigh of the demon in front of you; a demon that Crowley had insisted you speak to.

“You don’t understand. I-I…” 

Your words cut themselves off with a sigh of frustration and once again your hands came up to rake delicate fingers through a tangled nest of hair that looked as though it hadn’t seen a proper brush in several days. 

“I can’t explain how I feel. It’s impossible, don’t you get it? If I could explain how I felt I wouldn’t feel this way!” 

The scratching of a pen over the surface of a legal pad was the only response from the therapist that He had insisted you speak to. It wasn’t even a therapist, it was another demon that had been a therapist when they were human. Did demon’s keep their mortal attributes after going to hell? Your mind chewed at the question but you didn’t bother to ask it, you never got a straight answer from them anyway. 

“Why don’t you try? The King wouldn’t have sent me here if he didn’t think it would help.” 

The demon had a voice like smooth silk but even that made your skin crawl. Lately, you had felt as if a thousand tiny ants were marching under your skin and through your mind and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t cease and it was starting to drive you mad. 

“I…” 

You began, finding yourself at a loss for words until the subtle lift of the demon’s eyebrow -- as if it were tired of waiting -- snapped something like a rubber band inside of you. 

“It’s like having steel wool under my skin, all the time, scraping away at something ethereal, some part of me that makes me who I am and I can’t stop it. My mind feels like it’s on fire, constantly rushing from one place to the next and lately even the medications haven’t been helping. I feel tense, panicked… on edge.” 

You let loose the rush of words followed by a sigh of frustrated anxiety -- one that chattered as it danced through your teeth. It was only then that you realized your hands were shaking. 

“You have no idea what set this off? You just woke up on Monday and felt like the world was going to come crashing down at any moment?”

 Even to you that sounded absurd but that is truly how you’d felt, you couldn’t shake the feeling of not belonging, of being alone, being afraid that every time you turned a corner, something was going to leap out and snatch you away from the only place you’d been able to call home. Not many people would have been able to call an abandoned asylum home, and had the King of Hell not taken up roost there, you wouldn’t have either. 

“Look, I’m not saying it sounds sane but yes, I woke up like that, and I figured ‘hey, maybe it’ll get better’ but it didn’t. Everyone has their day, as it goes, but this is endless, it’s torture and I just want it to stop.” 

“You could always kill yourself.” 

“What?!” 

“Kidding, of course. Anyway, I’m not sure how I could help you, you seem to need something more than a good talk and an unbiased opinion can give you, not that either of us wants to be here getting opinions from the other…” 

The demon sounded dreadfully bored and it was just now that you realized the truth. He was only here because Crowley had demanded it as a last-ditch effort to pull you out of the funk you’d been in since he’d returned from galavanting with the Winchester boys. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure you have better things to do than to cater to--” 

“The King’s personal fuck toy? I sure do. Look, do yourself a favor and at least pretend to be ‘okay’, Crowley isn’t going to keep you around if you’re not good for anything.”

 The demon’s words bit into your skin like a razor and you shuddered. You wanted to pretend that Crowley felt the same about you and you did about him but you knew that was madness speaking. He was the King of Hell and you were just a girl with Daddy issues that he’d scooped up because he liked the way you didn’t tell him ‘no’. 

Thanking the demon for his ‘time’ and his ‘useful’ opinions, you excused yourself and slipped from the room as quickly as possible. Your mind was screaming at you, thoughts racing and voices whispering all the things you knew were true. You were expendable, that’s what he’d said, useless and expendable. You shook your head as the memory threatened to take hold and suck you under like a riptide, walking briskly and sucking down gulps of air as your heart hammered against your ribcage like a bird that was trying to free itself from a cage that was far too small. Like wings against metal bars, it beat against your ribs and subsequently made your chest heave as you walked. Why couldn’t you breathe? Cutting through the courtyard, you made a point to duck your head and avoid conversation, brushing past Crowley himself, who had been on his way to check on the progress of your ‘meeting’. 

“Bloody hell girl! What has gotten into you lately?” 

A hand and a firm grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks and very nearly yanked you off your feet. Pulling you to a halt, Crowley placed both of his hands on your biceps, squeezing them hard enough that you were forced to let out a gasp. 

“I was talking to you, kitten.”

 He purred the words and you recoiled, trying to avoid the piercing peridot gaze that threatened to drown you all over again. 

“I don’t know… I d-don’t fucking know alright can you let me go? I… I want to go for a walk.” 

Your voice sounded weak, even to you and internally you screamed, hating how meek he made you feel with a simple stare. 

“Look at me, darling, now.” 

Crowley’s tone of voice left no room for argument and your next breath was hitched as you shivered, cautiously raising your gaze to meet his own, afraid to witness the irritation that had come to crinkle in the corners of his eyes. 

“Where are you off to in such a hurry? How did your little meeting go?”

 Crowley’s voice was intoxicating, the lilting accent usually made you feel at ease, calm with the world but now it just made the voices in your head scream that much louder. 

“It went alright. I feel better. I just want to walk. I need some air.” 

You rattled off an answer that was as unconvincing as could possibly be and you knew he would call you on it. Waiting for the hammer to drop, you stood there, rooted in place by his grip and the way his evergreen eyes devoured you whole. 

“You know better than to lie to me, girl, it’s been two weeks since you’ve been able to sit still around me and I want to know why. Are you bored with me? Perhaps you fancy another suitor?” 

Crowley feigned a hurt tone of voice and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and for the smallest of moments, anger flared in your stomach, enough so that you yanked yourself out of his grip and took a stumbling step backward. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now. It’s always about you, Crowley, always something to do with you! You wouldn’t understand, you can’t! You’re not even human!”

 Immediately after the words left your mouth, you regretted them and you knew that regret was evident on your face. Crowley however, seemed wounded, the hurt in his eyes quickly disappearing as if it had been nothing more than a trick of the light. 

“If that is how you feel…” 

There was a snap and Crowley was gone, leaving you standing alone in the courtyard, surrounded by plants that had been dead likely longer than you’d been alive. You couldn’t tell him, despite the words pounding at the backs of your teeth every time he asked, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him what had happened. You were convinced now, locked into the reason you were trapped inside of your head. It was all his fault. 

Dean Winchester. 

~*~

You had only met the man once or twice before, and when you had he’d appeared harmless if not a bit annoying with his puns and explosive temper. That had been months ago though and two weeks ago when you’d seen him again, he hadn’t been the Dean you remembered. This Dean was violent, and though his eyes were still that candy apple green, you knew something was off about him, and now that you had been left alone, your mind had nothing better to do but to remember. Collapsing down on the wrought iron bench, you stopped fighting it and let the memory crash over you like a tidal wave, your eyes closing as pictures and voices raced through your mind. 

The bar smelled like cheap beer and sex combined with the overwhelming stench of stale cigarettes. Hardly a place you’d expect Crowley to hang out. He’d been there though and had brought you along for the ride. Music had croaked from somewhere in the corner of the room and it made your ears want to bleed. It was the same old rendition of some 80’s hair band bullshit that Crowley’s ‘friend’ Dean seemed to enjoy a little too much for the current year. Crowley had left you in his company with the excuse that he had business to attend to. He’d reminded you to behave yourself and to avoid ‘poking the proverbial bear’ that was sitting next to you. Dean was different, that much was obvious but you’d thought nothing of it as you twirled the neon colored straws of your drink between slender, anxious fingers. 

“He’s just using you, you know.” 

Dean’s voice had snapped you from your thoughts and you glanced over, a furrow sinking between your finely arched brows. 

“What makes you say that?” 

You had questioned his assumption and remembered the bark of laughter that had erupted from Dean’s chest as if what you had said had been the funniest joke in the world. 

“Crowley doesn’t do things for other people. Everything he does, he does for himself, that includes you, little girl.” 

The way he’d called you that had made you cringe, quickly learning to favor your drink over your words the more intoxicated he got. 

“I can prove it to you, too.” 

Dean’s words ricocheted against your ears and you rolled your eyes, doing your best to ignore the man’s drunken antics.

The memory of that night rushed forward and you felt a sob break from your chest, your eyes squeezed shut and your knees pulling themselves to your heaving chest. Dean had convinced you that Crowley knew and had chosen to do nothing about it, and that was the reason you hadn’t told him. If he already knew and didn’t care, what was the point?

Dean was stronger than he looked, his slender but toned body made of nothing but muscle and for a human, he was deceptively fast. You had gotten back to the hotel that he and Crowley had shared and it was only after you’d gotten out of the shower did Dean strike. You remembered the way the sharp edge of the wobbly table bit into your stomach, you remembered the way his hands bit into your wrists until they felt as though the bones themselves would break and most of all, you remembered the way he’d ripped off your towel, exposing your frail form to his greedy, hungry eyes. 

“No wonder he’s keeping you around, sweetheart, look at you.”

 You could feel his eyes scraping over your body and it made you want to vomit. He was distracted though and so you’d taken the chance to drive your elbow into his stomach, bolting for the bathroom when he’d stumbled back to suck in a breath. He’d caught up quickly though and you felt your fingers rip away from the cool metal of the door’s handle before your entire body was airborne. The weightless feeling ended abruptly though and pain replaced it, exploding through your senses like a sunburst as your body collided with the floor, bouncing against rough carpet before sliding to a stop. 

“Did you really just try something so stupid?” 

Dean’s voice was a growl in your ear as he pulled you by your throat from the floor, your toes scraping for a foothold and your breath coming in wheezing gasps. 

“I-I...I’m… s-so-sorry..” 

You managed to choke out the words but it was clear that it wasn’t going to be enough. Dean had only laughed in your face and the sinister sound had impaled you with a fear that you had no idea how to explain. You remember the look he’d had on his face, the darkness in his eyes. You remembered and you couldn’t shake the dread of what was about to happen next. Before you could blink, Dean had pulled you against his chest, his hand having left your throat in favor of pinning your wrists behind your back, the rough texture of his clothes against your bare body had pulled a shiver from your throat and he took it as a willing invitation, though part of you knew he didn’t believe he needed one. 

“I’m going to prove to you just how little Crowley cares about you, girl. I’m going to take what belongs to me and you’re not going to be able to stop me and then I’m going to tell him, I’m going to tell him what I did and I can promise you, he won’t give a fuck.” 

Dean’s words had sunk into the pit of your stomach and you had dug your fingers into them as he threw you to the bed, your body already aching from its collision with the floor recoiled at the firmness of the mattress.  You weren’t given time to think about that though and just as quickly as the thought had been there, it was gone and replaced by the weight of the hunter that pressed between your bare legs, replaced by the sudden heat of his length that he’d hastily pulled from his jeans. You shuddered and again he mistook it for your pleasure but you knew he didn’t care one way or the other. Turning your head away from his face, your eyes locked onto the scar that had become a permanent fixture on his muscular forearm, it was red and ugly, thick against his tanned, freckled skin. 

You could almost feel the way he’d been inside of you, forcing himself to fit and bruising you from the inside out when he barely did. He didn’t care and it had swiftly become obvious in the way he’d grunted and snarled hideous names at you as he’d taken what he’d come for. It lasted longer than you remembered, the memories, the images of the way he had flipped you over, the way he’d shoved your face into the bed and called you a whore. You remembered sobbing your way through his abuse, through the dismay of your mind as your body betrayed you and gripped him with every thrust. You remembered the feeling of him pouring his seed inside of you, burying it into your body before pulling out and leaving you collapsed in a bruised and bloodied heap on the bed. 

You remembered and it made you want to scream. 

~*~

The second the memory faded from the back of your mind, your lungs filled themselves as full as they possibly could and you held it for just long enough that your brain screamed at you before you exhaled, your shoulders slumping and your entire body tingling from the adrenaline and lack of oxygen. You felt dirty suddenly, your skin crawling beneath invisible hands that grabbed and pulled, that left bruises and promises against your pale skin. Crowley knew and he didn’t care and your anxiety was using that little fact as fuel to a fire that burned inside of you like the depths of hell themselves. Shoving yourself up from the bench, you hurriedly made your way back to the room that the King himself had so designated as yours. Demons had fixed the place up well enough that it looked more like a domicile and less like an abandoned crazy house, and you were quietly grateful that you had your own bathroom. It was one of the few things you’d requested when Crowley had brought you here. You wanted your privacy if nothing else. 

You had always found that when nothing else seemed to work, a shower hot enough to burn the thoughts away did the trick. It was a temporary fix to a more permanent problem, but it was something that would surely allow you to catch your breath, if only for a moment. Stripping your clothes off of your body, you took a second and stopped, staring at yourself in the ebony framed mirror. The bruises had all faded, but even just looking at yourself made you sick to your stomach. It was like you could still feel him, like a parasite, crawling around inside of your gut. 

“Maybe I’m going crazy…”

 Jumping at the sound of your own voice and how shaky it was, you scolded yourself for being so sensitive. Now wasn’t the time to lose control. You had nowhere to go if Crowley put you out and that was the last thing you needed with winter on its way. Pulling yourself away from the mirror before you got the urge to punch your own reflection, you focused instead on taking a shower. It was a simple act, something that could clear your mind and force you to focus on the bigger picture instead of every tiny detail. Cranking on the water, you waited until steam billowed around you like a warm fog. Stepping under the spray, you winced but quickly adjusted, letting the searing water wash away the invisible fingers that still clung to your skin.