Cupid's Masquerade

Cupid's Masquerade

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación sáb, nov 8, 2014
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Ficción
Romance
Dean never truly know who he was. He doesn't like what he sees in the mirror when he looks at it. But the death of his father instead of his mother had a huge impact in his life, something he never understood. More like things. Like maybe the monsters in the corner of his eye, or the private room his mother always kept. Whatever it was, he didn't know. He felt like his life was wrapped inside a veil of mystery, and that was his view of things before the twist consumed him. Will Dean finally get what he wants, or what his mind is itching about, the knowledge that might kill him with just one word?
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Ever since Dean Winchester got the Mark of Cain on his arm, his world has been turned upside down. His humanity is slowly dwindling away from his grasp and something entirely different takes a hold of him. Something foreign, monstrous even. He barely has control of his actions and every gut feeling inside of Dean is telling him to kill. In a tale that follows the story line of season 9 and 10, Dean must battle the demons taken residence inside him or be swallowed whole in the process. The only person, besides his brother, tethering himself to the ground would be Cas who won't seem to give up on Dean, no matter the acts he commits. The story of unlikely love. The Righteous Man. The Fallen Angel. And broken humanity. Only one will make it out alive. "I don't want to forget," Cas said, reaching over to grab his hand in his. "Then don't." He leaned in and placed his lips on top of Cas's, lingering in the state of things, wanting it to never end. This was timeless. This was forever. For every waking instant they were together, an eternity could fly by and merely feel like seconds. They say when you are at the verge of death, your life flashes before your very eyes but in this moment all he saw was Cas. His messy black hair that no matter the amount of brushing couldn't make it go down. His blue eyes that sparkled even if the sun was nowhere to be seen. His trenchcoat, red in some places, brown in others but still seemed to smell of his musk. All of it was him. He was his life."

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