utilitarian kitchen

Angel Rising: Part Ten

Title: Angel Rising: Part Ten

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2 540

Reader Gender: Female

Warnings: Violence, blood, there’s a fight scene.

Summary: Continuation of part nine.

Author’s note: I can’t believe Angel Rising is almost done! There is going to be one more part after this, but it’s going to be like an epilogue, so all the main exciting story stuff is finished. And just a heads up, I know in a recent episode they implied that Lucifer still had his wings, but when I outlined this story I was working under the assumption that he didn’t, so let’s just pretend that’s true! Enjoy! -xoxo Katie

You can read the rest of Angel Rising here:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven| Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Eleven

*Gif is not mine, all gifs used on my blog are from Google Images.*

         Adrenaline flooded your veins and your mind was completely void of all rational thought as you barreled towards the cage as fast as you could, the sound of Sam’s scream still ringing in your ears. You flew along the bottom of the chain closest to you and followed that all the way down to the cage, only hesitating for a moment when you were hovering right above it. Then without letting yourself think about it a moment longer you dug your hands into the holes in the roof, peeling the ceiling back with load groans of protest from the metal, as you forced the surprisingly malleable material to submit to your manipulation.

        Once you’d made a hole big enough for you to fit through you slowed the beating of your wings and dropped down into the menacing metal box, feeling the ground move slightly under your feet as the cage swayed under the suspension of the chains, and then you saw him.

         Sam was right in front of you.

         He was beaten and bloody, cuts all over his face, and had a massive bruise that completely surrounded his left eye, but he was alive. That’s all that was important. Sam was alive, and you were going to save him.

        You immediately sped over to Sam, not even bothering to turn around and look for Lucifer, and threw Sam’s limp arm over your shoulder to help him up. You ignored Sam’s confused question as you hauled him to his feet and … and …

         “Y/N, Sweetheart, are you okay?” and you were back at the bunker.

         “Dean?” you asked while squinting at your boyfriend, “How did I get here?”

         He looked confused. “What are you talking about? We’ve been here all night.”

         “What? No, I – I don’t remember that.” You felt your stomach churn, what did you remember? The night was a blur and you had no memory of spending said blurry night in the bunker, or with Dean. “Something’s wrong,” you said, looking frantically around the bunker’s utilitarian kitchen. Everything looked normal, so why did it feel so wrong?

         “Okay, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink,” Dean said while moving closer to you, reaching for the half empty glass of whiskey in your hand. You didn’t even realize you were holding that. “Why don’t we go finish the movie?” Dean asked as he set the glass on the counter.

         You stared at the ripples on the surface of the amber liquid. “Yeah, okay … let’s um, let’s finish the movie,” you whispered. Maybe you were just drunk. You let Dean lead you out of the room.


         You were walking down the hall towards your and Dean’s shared bedroom when you heard an eerily familiar voice whisper Angel.

         “What?” you asked, looking at Dean. Again, he looked confused.

         “I didn’t say anything.”

         “Oh, I – I thought I heard something,” you mumbled.

         “Heard what?” his voice sounded urgent, it made you wince.

         “I don’t know, it – it was probably nothing.” His eyes softened.

         “Okay, maybe we should forget about the movie? I think you could use some sleep,” Dean said as he gave you a kind smile, which would have been comforting, except the smile wasn’t his. It was his face, but it wasn’t his smile. How drunk were you?


         Dean’s unconscious body was lying on the bed beside you as you sat in your dark room and tried to fall asleep, but you couldn’t keep your eyes shut. For some reason, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, really wrong, you just didn’t know what.

         After sitting in uncomfortable silence for almost an hour you’d finally decided to go to the kitchen to get a drink of water, and that’s when you heard it, you heard the voice again. Angel, please, snap out of it! the voice begged. You almost dropped your glass.

         “Who said that?” you demanded as you spun around, scanning the room for anyone who could be talking to you. You were suddenly hit by a strong rush of déjà vu.

         It’s me Angel, you’re not safe. You’re in the cage with Lucifer!

          Angel. That word, he’d said it before too – the voice sounded like a man’s, so you assumed it was a he - but you hadn’t known what it meant. This time you did. Recognition suddenly pulsed through you and your breath hitched, your mind flooding with memories of dark clothes, broken wings, and ridiculous smiles. Your mind flooding with memories of Barry. How could you have forgotten him? Your own personal peanut gallery, your guardian angel, your friend. You felt your gut twist, what else didn’t you remember?

         Hey, are you still there? A pause. Y/N? Barry tried frantically. Hearing your name – your real name – shocked you out of your confused daze.

         “Don’t call me that,” you blurted out without thinking about it. At first you’d never liked the name Angel, but after learning why he called you that and just spending time with Barry in general, you’d grown to love it, and just now found out that it made you sad when he didn’t use it. It made you feel like he was rejecting you, abandoning something the two of you shared.

         Whatever you say, sweet cheeks. More déjà vu. Sweet cheeks, that’s what he’d called you the first time you’d told him not to call you Angel. The name still caused you give an irritated groan in response, but you felt an unexpected warmth at the thought of him remembering the day you met – well, the day you met him.

         Listen to me, Angel. That’s better. You’re in danger! That’s not. You’re in the cage with Lucifer, he’s messing with your head, you have to snap out of it!

         “Lucifer? What are you talking about?” You were confused, you wished you could see Barry’s face.

         Yes, Lucifer. You’re trying to get Sam out of the cage, remember? Lucifer, Sam, hybrids, it all came back to you. You did remember, and now you were panicking.

         “What’s he doing? How am I supposed to get out of it?” you asked desperately, talking fast enough to give The Flash a run for his money, saving Sam the only thing running through your head.

         I’m not sure. You could tell not knowing bugged him. Just try focusing on Sam and the cage, focus on reality. I know you can-

        “Who are you talking to, Y/N?” Dean – no, not Dean – said from the hall, talking over Barry. What were you supposed to say? “I woke up and you weren’t there.” Fake Dean drawled, what shred of mock concern that used to be there completely gone from his voice. Now he sounded cold and threatening. And when he finally stepped into the room you saw the face of the man you love disappear and be consumed by a menacing smile, his own facial features then morphing into another’s. Morphing into Lucifer’s.

        Fear gripped your chest and you staggered backwards, reaching out to Berry with your mind, hoping for some kind of guidance, any kind. But for the first time since you’d met him, Barry was completely silent.

        “I hope you’re not waiting for your new angel friend to save you,” Lucifer sneered, as he stalked towards you. “He can’t get to you up here, no one can, and you’re either going to let me out,” his eyes flashed red, “or you’re going to stay up here with me, forever.”

        You suddenly felt the ground disappear from under your feet and you were falling, falling, falling. You tried to get your wings to open but they wouldn’t budge, like they weren’t even there. You frantically clawed at the area around you, desperately trying to find something to hold onto, but your fingers only met air. You felt a scream rip from your throat as the wind rushed through your hair, the darkness of whatever hole you’d been thrown down blinding you as you tumbled out of control. And then you hit something solid, hearing a resounding thud ringing through your ears as your body made contact with the cold metal floor of the cage.

        Your eyes flew open with a gasp and it only took you a second to figure out that you were still in the cage and you were slumped in the corner, leaning against one of the hole-filled walls. You quickly sprung to your feet and immediately sought out Sam, then felt your chest tighten when you found him. Sam was on the other side of the cage, his head bent at an awkward angle as Lucifer held him in place, ready to snap his neck at any moment.

        “Ah, Y/N, so kind of you to join us,” Lucifer mocked, a sickening smile plastered on his face. “Sam and I were just having a nice little chat about what we’re going to do once we get out of this hell hole.” You saw Sam flinch as Lucifer’s grip tightened on his chin. “I mean, it was nice for a vacation, but I wouldn’t want to buy a condo here. I think it’s time for a change.”

        “I’m never going to let you out of this cage Lucifer,” you spat, summoning all the confidence you could muster and hoping you came across even slightly as confident as he did. His face fell and his plastic smile quickly faded to a look of unrivalled rage, a look that sent shivers shooting through your body. If looks could kill, you’d have hit the floor by now.

        “You will let me out of here,” Lucifer threatened, “because if you don’t, I’ll personally make sure that you spend the rest of eternity watching Sam suffer. You’ll go to sleep every night listening to his screams. You’ll wake up every morning to the smell of dried blood. I WILL MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING NIGHTMARE!” Lucifer shouted, beads of spit flying from his mouth. It was so loud that you swore you felt the vibrations of his voice.

        The thought of his threats made your heart pound against your chest and your eyes dart quickly back and forth between Sam’s face and Lucifer’s, while you hastily tried to decide on the best way to get Sam away from him. But all of a sudden, before you’d come to any kind of decision, Sam’s body came tumbling towards you as Lucifer cried out in pain – or more likely, in anger – as he turned around to find Michael standing behind him, a crazed look in his eyes. You hadn’t even noticed he was there, and now, you were immensely grateful for his presence.

        You took advantage of Lucifer’s brief distraction and sped over to Sam, grabbing a hold of his hands and flying him out of the hole in the roof, then gently draping his broken form over one of the massive chains.

        “Hold on,” you instructed. He gave a nod in response, you really hoped he had the strength.

        After you were confident that Sam wasn’t going to fall you turned your attention back to the cage, where there was still a gaping hole in the roof that needed to be closed. You flew back over and grabbed the metal that’d been bent out of shape, and then heard an agonized scream come from below. You guessed it was Michael, because just a few seconds later Lucifer started climbing out of the still-open hole, blood spattered on his face and his hands such a deep red color that that you almost couldn’t see them in the dark.

        You hurriedly tried to close the gap before he could get out, but it was difficult to move the metal, even for someone like you. Before you’d managed to block the hole, Lucifer had pulled himself out of the cage and was now crouching on the roof.

        You needed to get Lucifer back in the cage so you quickly abandoned your current task and sped over to push him back in the hole, but he must’ve known what you were going to do because the second your feet started to move he stuck his arm out and knocked you down before you got to him. You lost your breath as your back hit the hard metal roof of the cage, and before you knew what was happening Lucifer had you pinned to the ground, the blood on his hands seeping through your sleeves.

        “So here’s how this is gonna go,” Lucifer growled, his hot breath making you recoil. “You’re going to put those pretty white wings of yours to work and get me out of this place,” he ran his fingers along the edge of your wings, “and in return, I won’t kill you.”

        You could hear your pulse beating in your ears and you were stuck by a sudden bout of helplessness, you knew you were stronger than Lucifer, but clearly not by much, which you just now realized as you struggled against his iron hold. But then, you threw a quick glance towards Sam and felt all your courage come flooding back to you and said, “Sorry, but that’s not going to work for me,” with new incentive driving you forward.

        You swiftly brought your knee up into Lucifer’s stomach, making him double over in pain and giving you enough time to get out from underneath him. Then you ran around behind him and tried to push him back in the cage, but he dodged your hands and then turned around and grabbed one, flinging your body to the other end of the cage like you were a ragdoll. But you hastily dug your hands into one of the smaller holes in the roof and caught yourself just before you fell off the edge, then pulled yourself up with incredible ease and landed right in front of Lucifer.

        His eyes were filled with a kind of primal rage you never knew a normal human face was capable of emoting, and then he attacked. He swung on the left, you dodged, he tried the right, you ducked. Then once you finally got your opening you brought your elbow into his spine, hard, and sent his body tumbling into the hole beneath you. You watched from above as Lucifer tried to scramble to his feet, but by the time he got up it was too late, you’d closed the gap.

        You were breathing heavily and you felt waves of heat hit your face as the metal glowed red along the seams, mending itself before your eyes, and then you collapsed onto the roof of the cage, taking a moment to recover before going to get Sam.

        After about a minute of listening to Lucifer produce empty threats about death and pain and the fiery wrath he would rain down upon you if he ever got out of that cage, you pulled yourself to your feet and flew over to Sam. You grabbed both of his hands in your own – figuring that would be the best way to do it because he probably didn’t want to be carried bridal style – and started to navigate your way through the chains and darkness, focusing on one thing: Down.


Angel Rising: Part Eleven

anonymous asked:

what would you change about hannibal (the show, not the character. also besides making it not cancelled lol)

I would have an entire episode dedicated to Hannibal doing everyday tasks, but each one of them goes wrong somehow.  Maybe he’s putting toothpaste on his toothbrush and plop! a glob falls and marrs the pristine surface while Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor plays and the camera slowly zooms in on Hannibal’s horror-stricken expression, essentially creating an “Mmm, Whatcha Say?” moment. 

 I would have this happen with increasing frequency throughout the episode until every 30 seconds, Hannibal’s carefully-constructed world is coming apart at the seams.  He goes to pour himself a cup of tea to soothe his nerves, but somehow a single drop manages to spill as he’s taking a sip and leaves a small-but-still-insulting stain on his crisp white shirt.  The music plays even louder and we see the teacup slip from Hannibal’s grasp and shatter on the floor.

The screen goes dark for three seconds.

The episode ends much like one of Hannibal’s famous cooking montages.  A light, airy piece of music is being played.  A cabinet of dried spices is opened, and the camera zooms up close on their contents.  One of his bone china plates is laid delicately on his stainless steel kitchen counter.  Hannibal’s hands fold an off white napkin in slow motion.  We catch a glimpse of Hannibal’s reflection bustling about in a shiny red apple from its place in a bowl of fresh fruit.

The doorbell rings, and the camera zooms out dramatically and disorientingly to catch Hannibal’s face, almost in profile, as a slow smile unfurls across his lips.  The front door opens to reveal an intimidated young man who is practically shaking in his shoes.  Hannibal is stone-faced as he nods.  

Back to the food montage.  A white box of some sort is being opened– it’s difficult to tell what it is because of the extreme close-up.  Tendrils of steam dance as they rise up against the blurred background of Hannibal’s utilitarian kitchen.  A white-yellow substance bubbles and is pulled apart– cheese, warm and tacky, being stretched into a network of thin strings as it’s pulled apart.  A close up of Hannibal’s open mouth.  

We zoom out slowly from Hannibal’s mouth and we finally have the full picture: Hannibal Lecter, dressed down in a worn-out t-shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants, closes his eyes in ecstasy as he bites down on a slice of pizza, covered in various meats and a slick layer of grease.  The zoom continues and we see a 6-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer cans to his left and a pack of Double Stuff Oreos to his right.  The music swells, and Hannibal offers a small smile after he swallows.

Sometimes, even Hannibal Lecter just gives up.