entranceway | three: video » text attachment.

three: video » text attachment.

[ a little while ago dean brutally murdered one demon king of hell, crowley, and hurt john blake in the process. before that, he murdered both his best friend and brother, and attacked a whole bunch of people once near and dear to him. today, thankfully, finds him doing something entirely different as dean addresses the network with a lazy smile on his face.

he’s looking way too pleased with himself, beer in hand and leaning against a familiar looking car... ]

This place is kinda morbid, right? Murders and fights and scheming going on left and right— leaves your head spinning even on a good day. So I figure I should try to shake things up a little, and offer something… uh, nicer to the public.

The female public, anyway. Here I’ve attached a collection of potential good times, so if you see your name and wanna have fun — which means get laid, for the less savvy people — then lem’me know. No strings attached, no flowers and chocolates bullshit. I’m easy like that.

[ he is a gift from god. and he promises no one will get murdered. unless they try something stupid. ]

do list: Cami - put that mouth to better use than talking Jo - everyone knows she still wants it Elphie - someone needs to check if shes green all over Evie - time for second or third or whatever base Pepper - gotta be a reason for the name Darcy - wants the lightsaber Emma - can’t remember shit she’s said but is super hot Bela - hot face, bad attitude whats not to dig Not-Jess - set her on fire for a night Charlie - no time to convert Lilith - make her be useful for once Meg - desperate times plan b Snow - needs a little melting Cordelia - whips and chains Natasha - wear the costume thanks Lydia - too young Lily - stranger danger but does the carpet match the drapes That one blonde from the new years party with the accent Maxine - lets mix chemicals pity fucks: cas - yeah right

[ he never did say he hadn’t put down a few notes along with the names. ]

Now if you’re worried ‘cause your pretty little name ain’t on the list, fret not. If you’re easy enough on the eyes and old enough to know what fun is, get in contact.

[ s m i l e! and dean cuts the feed. ]

( ooc: note that some threads in this post might include heavy violence and/or dub-con/non-con type elements! read at your own risk. )

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[He's interested in more than impressing you, Sam had said, stressing to her the dangers of being around Dean. He isn't Hannibal. He not's a murderer. He's a demon.

She had listened then, slumping against his bed to sit on his floor, admitting to her recklessness and her rash suggestion. Promising Sam that she would neither provoke nor invite Dean for any reason she responded to his sexual calling card with derision and holds herself to that, was fairly confident that she would be safe with the devil's trap under her rug and the iron knife under her pillow.

Truthfully, she didn't anticipate having to use them.

The minor movement on her bed - rustled sheets, a shift on the mattress - is enough to disturb her, stretching and squeaking and blinking blearily at the shadow obstructing the only light source in the room. A small lamp in the corner she forgot to turn off before bed casts the darkness in front of her into a peculiar shape, warm fingers brushing her cheek and Evelyn's sleepy confusion drags itself into fully-blown terror.

With a muffled expletive she scrambles back against the headboard, flailing for the lamp at her side table and switching it on. ]

Jesus H. Christ Dean!

[ dean's own sleeping habits -- when he indulged or before as a human -- include being overly sensitive to his surroundings, something he finds in evie too as she wakes up the moment the mattress dips. good for her, really, as you never know what kind of monsters might be lurking out and about, looking for innocent victims to harass...

he watches calmly as she scrambles herself against the headboard, eyes on her face as a smile tugs its way onto his face. ]

Hey.

[ a breath, as he's closer to her again, hovering just inches from her face as if he has any right to be anywhere near this close to her, let alone in her bedroom in the dead of night.

but here he is, all the same, voice low and eyes flashing black as the newly lit light eats away at the shadows. ]

Sorry 'bout that, didn't mean to wake you.

[Her pulse jumps as he leans in close, too close and neatly situating her between a rock and a hard place - if he can take a punch anything like the way he did the last time, she would have more luck clawing her way through the headboard of her bed.]

No, no, I'm- um, I'm glad you did,

[comes the breathless reply from a cornered animal that knows its opposition too well to flee. Catching gulps of much-needed air Evelyn's eyes flicker between the blackness staring at her and his mouth, less sinister by far but no less concerning. In her current state, wearing nothing but a silky slip for sleeping, she feels even more exposed. Evelyn quietly tries to tug her sheet back over her legs.]

It still...it still begs the question, of course, as to- [She gathers herself, lifts her chin a bit.] -why you're here.

[ she looks like she wants to run, which a part of him almost hopes she'll try. not that evelyn would make it anywhere in time to do anything, but watching would be entertaining at least. of course, at the end of the day, he still prefers her closer to him like this, where he can breathe in her scent and admire everything about her that makes her so very beautiful. hell, he can almost hear the way her heart hammers away in that slim chest of hers, a hectic drum beat.

the reason for his visit isn't really all that impressive, falling into something simple, or mundane even. ]

I was bored. And I wanted to see you.

[ the black fades from his eyes as he drops them from her face, down to her chest, and even lower. he hadn't realized she would be dressed like this, but it's a nice surprised and dean isn't complaining. ]

Especially after our good text conversation earlier. That was fun.

[Running is dangerous, and while Evelyn considers herself a savant of dangerous situations and the escaping thereof this is one particular scenario that she can see having only a few endings (and most of them aren't pretty). Dean's intentions are not pure but neither do they seem exceptionally volatile at the moment, hovering in her atmosphere as though he were taking in lungfuls of her fading perfume.

As soon as his eyes drop she folds her arms over her chest - as though a woman wouldn't be wearing silky intimates in her own bed, for Heaven's sake - and she bites her tongue from the first snippy retort. All it would take is the smallest of tipping points before he crushed her windpipe, snapped her neck, or-

-or worse.

There is always something worse, judging by his curiousity. Gently, discomfited by the suggestively wandering gaze, Evelyn tilts his chin back up with one hand.]

...You didn't leave me any feet, did you?

[ those slim fingers find his jaw in a surprisingly firm grip that navigates his gaze right back up to hers, and has dean grinning. for a moment after he looks ready to lean in much, much closer -- like what she's done is some sort of invitation -- but in the end dean simply shakes his head with a huffed, self-pleased laugh. ]

Nah, not this time. Been a few weeks since I even sliced anyone up.

[ but seeing as it was the king of hell himself, dean's been feeling pretty good about it. of course, that won't last and sooner or later he'll have to find someone new to carve up, what with the mark demanding it and all. at the very least he already has someone in mind...

dean withdraws some in the next breath, out of evelyn's personal space as he flops onto the much lonelier side of the bed, looking the part of someone who thinks he belongs there. a pillow is fluffed and propped as well before he settles, then dean's eyes are back on her. ]

What a comfy bed. Could definitely get used to this.

Oh, good,

[she mumbles, grateful for the news that his chaotic carnage is not nearly as stupendous as everyone supposed it would be. A few weeks is more than an acceptable amount of time between horrific murders, and this is coming from someone who's experienced three of her own.

Evelyn watches Dean pull away, rolling to one side before making himself at home on the other half of the bed. Customarily she would take considerable umbrage with this breach of her comfort level, but as of yet he hasn't been more forward than "close proximity" and she has the odd feeling that he knows about the weapon under her pillow.

Drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, she appraises him with all the wariness of a woman who has begun to see threats in every shadow and the exhaustion of a trophy that does not wish to be won.]

Try not to, [she says icily, giving him a sidelong look.] You can't just pop over for a kip and an eyeful of my knickers whenever you like.

[ dean watches her for a moment from where he's laid out on her bed, the icy tone getting another pleased sound out of him. that itch to touch her is a low fire under his skin, but for now he holds himself back, simply admiring with his eyes instead of letting his hands wander... ]

Actually, I can. One of the many perks bein' like this.

[ a demon. uncaring. selfish.

call it whatever you will, but it's freeing. a freedom dean has never allowed himself, so now that's it been forced on him, he's going to drink it up for all it's worth. that includes late night visits to evelyn's and making himself much too comfortable on her bed.

he turns towards her slightly, finding it harder not to reach out. ]

You can relax, y'know. I'm not gonna hurt you. [ beat, then thoughtfully: ] Though I'm sure your death would be especially painful for Sam.

[Freeing or not, it doesn't excuse a gross invasion of privacy. Dean never cared about it before and he cares even less now, were that possible, stretched out with his arms folded under his head, looking for all the world as though he was on holiday in the Côte d'Azur.

If she didn't know better she might consider herself the fire to his moth, settled precariously in position as he draws closer. Relaxation only comes after a long moment of eyeing him warily, curling her legs under her and leaning in ever so slightly. Can't have him getting any ideas.]

Don't,

[she murmurs, feeling an anxious twist in her belly at the thought of Sam, only three doors down, accessible and yet so very far away. Her communicator sits on the far table and might as well be the top of Mount Everest while she sits at basecamp without any climbing equipment.

Stranded in a sea of what she can only imagine is the demonic equivalent of affection Evelyn curls closer and allows a distraction to catch her eye, as they are wont to do.]

...what's this?

[Her fingers touch an angry, fresh scar that looks as though it were burned into his forearm, a brand of some sort. Some of her trepidation conveniently swallowed by curiosity she racks her brain for a similar symbol, coming up with a few glyphs and even fewer answers.]

[ don't means do in dean-ism. ]

He has a thing for you, y'know. All small and secret. A little crush. It's kinda cute... in the, uh, squeeze it till it dies kinda way.

[ which is why evie's death would hurt so, so much. it could ruin sam, a part of him, leave it dead and cold for many more years to come. that, coupled with all the other bodies he's planning on dropping would leave his brother a wreck.

it's an appealing thought, but then, her face alive and well is appealing in itself, too.

those slim fingers find the mark of cain from where it's visible just underneath a rolled up sleeve. the curiosity on her face, battling as it might be with whatever else she's feeling, has dean watching her in turn...

her personal space is invaded again as he pushes himself up just a little bit, dean's face dangerously close to hers-- close enough that he could so easily do what he'd done to her in the hallway a month ago. ]

That... is my curse. My gift. Changes dependin' on who you ask. [ and a smirk. ] Cool, huh?

[If do means do, and don't means do, then Evelyn imagines Dean's self-restraint must be astronomically non-existent.

The vague frown she was wearing only moments ago has been replaced by something far more confused, perplexed by the ridiculous allegations Dean is pitching left and right. The idea that Sam is sweet on her. Sam, who has never been anything but considerate and polite, who is one of her closest friends in Wonderland, who has fought and will fight with her? Their relationship has never been anything but platonic save the one or two awkward missteps during events, but she didn't think-

He's trying to fluster her, to slither his way under her skin.]

A hilarious jape, thank you.

[Comes the dismissive rejoinder, sheer disbelief making it impossible to consider. She would have noticed, surely. Surely.]

Um-

[Fortunately Evelyn's pondering is permitted reprieve - Dean is closer now and she steels herself for a new invasion of her personal space and/or privacy, fingertips curling over the mark on his arm. It feels oddly hot, but that might just be the flush she can sense spreading over her cheekbones.]

Not...precisely the word I would have chosen, but I've never seen anything like it before.

[ dean only tilts his head, attention not quite on the words she seems more intent on convincing herself than him. ]

Hilariously true.

[ he's seen the way sam looks at evie, the spark of something that could be there, could grow into something more if sam ever let himself have nice things. before, dean might have supported his brother, knowing he personally didn't have the slightest chance with evelyn, but now-- now it's a weapon.

but fuck sam, he wants evelyn's attention on himself again, and only him. another selfish desire born out of the freedom of being a demon.

with the closer proximity, dean angles his head just right, brings his mouth closer to the side of her face, then lower-- somewhere around her neck. he tugs her closer-- impossibly close. ]

You can look at it all you want, it won't change anything.

[ she can touch it, she could claw it, she could cut it. but no amount of removing the mark of cain would lift the cure; it's in his blood, a virus. the mark pulses under her touch, too, a thing that's more alive than dean, almost sentient in its own right. it drives him, feeds the bloodlust, makes him into the monster he is.

and dean has no problem submitting to it. ]

Cain gave it to me.

[Pressing the issue will bear no fruit and with Hannibal still being untangled from her mind Evelyn doesn't trust herself not to believe Dean's claims, no matter how persuasive they might sound. She opens her mouth to inquire about the mythological origins surrounding his new brand and the words die in her throat, the barest whisper of a breath, startled and sharp, ekeing by.

He hovers in her atmosphere - near her cheek, her jaw, her throat - and suddenly yanks her close, rigid as a board. Heart rate climbing as though she'd decided to suddenly go for a run Evelyn feels the heat of his mouth over her pulse and hates that it makes her shiver, the fingers of her free hand clenching for a weapon that isn't there.

Loneliness has clawed its way into her like a disease with which she willingly infected herself in February, needing space from Will and everything she wanted to hate about him. They have since mended the ties of that bridge but it remains unstable, the sides separated still. Lacking contact has been the most trying part.

It takes Evelyn an embarrassingly long moment to find her voice again.]

Cain as- as in..."and Abel?"

[she asks weakly, swallowing.]

Mhmm...

[ but any interest in telling her of a dumb, old mark fade at the sound of her pulse, beating so rapidly right around where his mouth hovers. it'd be so easy to lean in and taste her skin, to finally get a bit more of what he's wanted since god only knows when, especially as she makes no effort to push him away either.

in a twisted, sick way it could almost be invitation.

sometime later, when all of this is over, dean will scream at himself in disgust for all of this, for ever stepping into her room uninvited, for thinking he had any right to her. but for now the pieces of desire and the power of being a demon make little of everything else, put him in charge of his own destiny--

and it's telling him to take what he wants for himself. ]

That's the one.

[ yet he doesn't.

instead, he lets an arm snake somewhere lower, around her side to the small of her back, just in case she has any ideas about squirming off and away from him. all the while his other hand slides somewhere closer to one of her knees. as much as he'd like to touch her all over, this will do for now. ]

[The part that galls her is that it was all preventable.

She should have set more traps, should have placed more wards, should have assumed the worst, should have, should have, should have. Should have known and planned and prepared. Had she taken more precautions than those recommended by Crowley and Sam this all could have been avoided, she would be safe asleep, not quietly shivering in her nightie while Dean breathes and takes and tastes, sampling her like some kind of buffet chaud.

Evelyn inhales sharply as his arm curls around her waist, his hand slides down her thigh to her knee and hitches it closer. What scares her is not the threat of physical violence, what scares her is being paralysed by his touch because she has but two lives remaining. What would it be to risk another when she's lost one so recently? Whom would it serve to jerk out of his grasp and scramble for her communicator several yards away?

The likelihood of him dragging her back kicking and screaming is so very high - he would silence her in seconds, thrashing and no closer to escaping unscathed.

Having told so many people that she was perfectly capable of handling herself Evelyn's stomach roils at the concern her friends had displayed about her well-being, the finger left at her door. Will and Sam were overprotective.

Perhaps they were right to be.]

I don't make a habit out of this, you know,

[she breathes shakily, as if trying to convince herself of the fact. Wanting warm sheets in a different way, with a different person.]

Lying down with strange men.

Edited 2015-04-22 01:02 (UTC)

[ dean stills somewhat at the words, breath caught as he smothers the urge to growl. ]

Am I really that strange?

[ they've known each other for a year now, with evie having known him before his reset, too. they're not strangers-- dean never wanted to be. even when she hated him. he leans away from her then, voice dipping into something much more dangerous, daring her to tell him how she really feels.

all with a slight tilt of his head, eyes hard. ]

Or are you just upset I didn't prance around behind your back with a cannibal doctor? I mean, I hear that's your type.

[ the type that lies, and lies, and lies-- the type that evie apparently still can't get over. but no, dean's the villain here, he's the one everyone fears, despite not having told a single lie. sad how it all works out, isn't it?

maybe he should see will graham, see what he has to say about all of this, and then bring his head to evie.

she can cuddle with that. ]

[She didn't mean it like that.

Evelyn isn't sure what she meant, but his stillness suggests that her word choice could have been better. She can hear the click of his jaw as it clenches, feel his fingertips tense against the small of her back and what she really feels is better relegated to conversation with someone she trusts intimately. Evelyn slides her arm under his lifted head - it was starting to cramp something awful.

Fixing him with a dispassionate look her fingers rake through Dean's hair, fisting a handful and holding it tightly. Baseless accusations aside her tone is calm, quiet, but in the silence of the room is as thunderous as a storm.]

Do not presume to know my type.

[They all lie, eventually. Even the honest ones. Small lies, white lies, or deceptions so riotous and earth-shattering she is left shaken and betrayed and lonelier than before. The standards she sets for herself are high and she knows it is unfair to expect others to live up to the same level of honesty, integrity. People will let Evelyn down, and her capacity for forgiveness has accepted that.

What she cannot forgive is slander, gripping his chin with her other hand and holding the ire firmly, but carefully.]

You, who lacks delicacy in all things and wants what he cannot have.

[ there's something that writhes under his skin the moment she decides to not take his shit. true as his words might be, dean knows how much they must sting. so as those fingers grip into his hair -- which makes it a fraction harder to concentrate, thank you -- his eyes flash with something daring, for her to go further-- give him a reason to get even more handsy. she knows he's right, he knows it, and he won't pretend for her sake.

this slim fingers cradle his jaw, making dean want to bite her. ]

I can have anything I want now.

[ including her.

he can take what he wants, how he wants. he'd taken sam's life, he'd taken the people he'd wanted in every way that had pleased him, he's unstoppable and she thinks she can just grip him by the chin and tell him things about himself that aren't true? dean won't have it. ]

Especially the things I denied myself before.

[ before when he'd wasted time on everyone else except himself.

it's with the slightest snarl that he presses closer to her, mouth on hers in a kiss much like the one he'd forced on her int he hallway a month ago. it's more teeth than anything, demanding and arrogant in its own way-- pushy and harsh. a hand comes to mirror her own in a way, slipping to the lower jaw, and then even further down and back where he holds her by the back of her neck, though his grip remains oddly light. ]

[No one is coming.

Under different circumstances she would have been more confident about the charade, playing to Dean's desire with the knowledge that not far away people who could help had the ability to trap him. Here, with him coiled around her like a python planning on swallowing its prey Evelyn realises his literal translation leaves no room for other subtext. He can take, certainly, but it doesn't mean he'll get anything in return.

Dean wants an idea, which is all he ever really wanted from her. Reciprocation.

He is aggressive, all sharp teeth and heat pulling at her, his fingers twisting in her hair as he clutches the back of her neck. Terrified of the consequences of resisting but even more terrified of what might happen should her inaction be misconstrued as acquiescence, Evelyn tears out his fantasy by the bloody roots and pushes at him.

Face now freed of the vile assault she glares at Dean, hissing:]

No.

[ it is exactly what he wants. reciprocation.

before, the thought of her seeing him as at least a decent person had been enough, an odd friendship between them that they'd somehow managed to form despite how rude he'd been to her. it had been good, fun, even if it had been born from the betrayal lead by one will graham. still, dean had found his role in all of it acceptable.

then he'd turned into a demon, and taking had become so much easier.

evie's reaction, that hissed out no with her shove effectively shatters that fantasy into a million little pieces. it all comes to a jarring halt, any wishes he might have from her, any-- ideas or thoughts about this whole scenario playing out.

there is no sense in forcing her, it would be a mockery of what he really wants. ]

It's just one mistake after another with you. [ the words are an accusation, snarled out as he's off the bed in seconds, back on his feet and all but pacing-- like he's trying to hold himself back from rounding on her. being free to do whatever he desires apparently doesn't mean he gets everything he wants-- and for some reason dean finds himself caring too much about that.

he should brush this off-- it should be nothing. yet instead it sparks anger in his gut. ]

[The relief of having him recuse himself from the bed is tremendous, blooming in her chest like the morning blue lotus and with it, her confidence swells. Dean paces and tension slices through his frame, an anger as red-hot as molten pig iron and twice as deadly.

Not unfamiliar with danger the hand that had previously inched toward the knife under her pillow remains where it is, and her interest lies not in that fact that she had been correct (of course she was, how could she not have been?), but in his realisation. It is pointless to take what he wants when what he wants is something he physically cannot take.

Evelyn begins to laugh.

Quietly at first, sharp huffs of air that gain traction with uncontrollable giggles and devolve into breathless laughter while she shakes her head and God, God but isn't it a sight to see entitlement so swiftly shot down, to see him falter at his own loophole? The threat of violence is high and should his anger dictate it he could easily kill her and be done with it. It would frighten her, were she actually afraid of death.

Around a pitying grin Evelyn's shoulders shake with mirth, amusement dragging his qualms into the bright light of her scrutiny.]

The only other mistake I could possibly make would be consenting to sex with you. [A whisper, conspiratorial and laced with venom:] I will never give you that satisfaction.

[ the sound of her laughter makes him want to tear apart her head from her shoulders. it's flashes of white-hot anger, and in that moment he's realizing how effectively he's screwed up here-- how none of this is going as it should.

and clearly, so very clearly, she knows as much.

it's the first time anyone's made a fool of him since his return.

dean rounds on her, yet he doesn't reach out to touch, doesn't reach out to strike. all the poison he can muster is in words he throws at her, despite knowing how little any of it can do. ]

Careful, Evie, I hear you're nearing five deaths-- would hate to be the one to push you right off the edge. [ empty threats. empty threats that just bubble out of him out of frustration, out of anger. he doesn't know if killing her will resolve anything-- she'll only come back and truly ruin his chances for good.

now, if only death were more permanent. ]

[Empty threats loaded like shells into a shotgun, a spray of buckshot that is nothing, does nothing.

Had he wanted to hurt her he would have done so, had he wanted to kill her, she would already be dead. When her consent is all he desires it becomes a surprisingly sharp weapon in her hands - sharper than the blade near her fingertips, beneath the pillow, sharper than the ire pouring out of him like volcanic ash.]

You wouldn't, [she grins and her smile is the cat who got into the cream, recognising her advantage.] Not because you can't, but because you won't. You're not going to kill me.

[Pushing herself (and her luck) toward the edge of the bed, Evelyn dangles her legs over the side and crosses them at the ankles, watching him.]

You're smarter than that. [A beat.] Aren't you?

[ is he smarter than that? on a good day sure, but not always.

luckily for her, and maybe himself later on, dean can feel that murderous edge become more and more useless in this scenario, where killing her will prove absolutely nothing. but with that in mind, remaining in her room is just as pointless, and it isn't long until he's turning away from her with a snarl. ]

Screw this. [ it's huffed under his breath, a vicious few words that only get accented with the fist he decides to put through her wall some seconds later. debris crumbles with his skin as he pulls it free, knuckles and skin intact though the wall has clearly seen better days now.

and despite the chaos, dean doesn't seem too intent on looking at her again, choosing to instead storm out with that just a few seconds later, leaving evelyn alone to her bed and newly damaged home. ]

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three: video » text attachment.

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