#* SOOKIE STACKHOUSE FT. dean.

[ategods]

she had touched him plenty, caught glimpses of hellfire and horrors unimaginable because of it. while it'd be a lie to try and claim that none of it worried her, that there hadn't been nights where she'd laid sleepless imagining what might come to haunt him next... the truth was that she'd rather stick around for that chance that she could help than leave for the risk that she might one day wind up scorched.

                                                                                        —-moreover, it could be argued that her lack of fear was emboldened by a certain blind, christian faith. 𝙹𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝟺:𝟽; 𝚂𝚄𝙱𝙼𝙸𝚃 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴𝙻𝚅𝙴𝚂, 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙽, 𝚃𝙾 𝙶𝙾𝙳. 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙸𝚂𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙻 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝙵𝙻𝙴𝙴 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝚈𝙾𝚄. an indomitable belief in the power of the lord is easy to keep when there's never been room nor reason for questioning. she'd pray and keep praying until the maws of hell itself opened up to her, and even then. sookie softens for him like a flower to rain when he cants into her hand like a " puppy. " she'd always wanted one, but could never bear the thought of leaving it alone.

she gasps and guffaws in half - amusement / half - offense with the next thing he says, reaching up so that she's got him held between both hands. " a cape, what, and nothin' underneath? i might like that, once i get over the total humiliation. " she knew as well as he did, as well as every gossip in town, that the chances of them lasting were slim to none & yet... she finds herself reminiscing on a certain scrapbook, glued down cutouts from wedding magazines, dreams perfectly out of reach. sookie raises a scrutinizing eyebrow with his closer proximity, but remains firmly in place. snakes her arms around his shoulders, in fact, and tilts her head to the side. " —now. what could have possibly given you that idea? "

he is not unfamiliar with this concept, that of winchesters being synonymous with harbingers, bad omens. of the wild hunt, of the apocalypse, of the coming of lilith, you name it. he's used to people giving them a wide berth, for fear that coming into a close enough radius alone would mar and tarnish them with the brothers' supernatural stain. but it is more than that : like the eye of the storm or the searing heart of a coal, dean knows that there's something ominous that follows them. like a shadow, forever attached. parasitic. it is no myth : he has been the host to many demons, literal and not. they have made a home in his chest, nestle between his ribs and rattle when he breathes. maybe staying away would be wise. the hunter leaves this thought to ruminate on later, disrupted by the flickering of a touch — he leans into her palm despite himself.

dean gleans his intimacies in spoonfuls, acknowledges their inevitable expiry date. takes what he can get, while he can. horribly domestic pet names aside. he'll tolerate it for the rest.

❛ if you've gotta man hittin' on you, you only need to ask. be in there faster than batman. ❜ suave bravado spreads across a surly grin, brows raising in a quick motion of charisma. ❛ cape 'n' everythin', if you're into all that. ❜ part of him is spellbound, so quick to initiate things with strangers, so hesitant once a pre - conceived notion is established with another person. as if he doesn't want to scare them away, wishes to bask in this moment while he has it. prolong it before it goes. still, his body rocks forward of its own volition, nose coming to nudge at hers. his voice lowers to a murmur, as if sharing a secret with her.

❛ —i don' think you woulda stayed away. reputation or not. you're too sweet on me. ❜

that trademark arrogance takes the stage.

[ategods]

there's  always  a  flash  of  something  less-than-nice  after  one  of  their  encounters.  always,  always,  always,  some  disconcerting  feeling  or  another.  when  you  grow  up  in  the  deep  south,  church  every  sunday,   holy  litany  takes  up  space  like  a  haunting  in  your  mind.   it  pokes  and  prods  at  her  now,   whispers  about  how  her  age  and  their  definition  -  less  relationship  didn't  bode  well  for  the  future;   not  by  sookie's  standards,   anyway.   with  her  luck  and  lack  of  a  backbone  she'd  still  be  unwed  ten  years  from  now,   or  even  worse   —   married  and  divorced  not  just  once,   but  twice  over  (  like  a  certain  red-headed  colleague  of  hers  ).

the  guilt  slips  away  from  her  as  the  work  t-shirt  slips  on,     and  his  voice  comes  through,    depraved  imagery  on  it's  tail.      it'd  piss  her  off  if  she  didn't  like  it  so  much,  hot  flush  beginning  to  lick  at  the  skin  along  her  décolletage.    "   well,  yes.  arlene  said  she'd  noticed  the  way  you  been  lookin'  at  me.  "     the  way  they'd  been  looking  at  each  other.   it's  a  good  thing  she's  the  only  one  who  can  read  minds.     moving,     she  turns  just  enough  to  see  him  encroaching  on  her    &     has  to  bite  her  cheek  to  stop  a  stupid  smile  from  making  an  unwelcome  visit.

"     i  guess  it's  a  good  thing  the  people  of  bon  temps  ain't  ever  heard  of  the  winchesters.   or  not.   i  might'a  been  smarter  and  stayed  away  from  you  if  i'd  known.    "     she  flicks  a  finger,   playful,     against  his  chin.   tilts  her  head.

"     keeps  them  from  askin'  questions  i  don't  feel  like  answerin',   is  all.   plus,   if  i  tell  a  man  hittin'  on  me  that  i  got  a  boyfriend  he  usually  stops.   "     a  hand  finds  his  cheek.    "    don't  worry,  deanie.   "     tap  tap.     "    i  told  them  it's  early  stages  still.  said  i  don't  know  if  we're  gonna  last  —  that  you're  a  bit  too  arrogant  for  my  tastes.   " 

❛ i lied and told them we were dating. ❜ — @ategods. ( sookie stackhouse / dean winchester )

PROMPTS FOR FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS. ACCEPTING.

he is drunk with that post - act lust, rose - tinted glasses blurring the bedroom into a dreamy haze. not quite love, but something adjacent : the closest thing hunters like he are permitted. a grin spreads like butter — and it sure wouldn't melt — across a satisfied mouth, propped up on his forearms amidst the sheets. he thinks it a damn shame she's retrieving her shirt already, spares a last forlorn glimpse at the curve of her spine and allows his eyes to lower further with a boyish need. sookie motherfuckin' stackhouse, god rest my soul. the thought comes unbidden, thinks of those raven locks so recently tangled in his fingers and wants to relive the sensation, to tug gingerly until her throat is laid bare—

her words breach his daydreaming, a comical blinking bringing him back down to earth. reminiscence makes way for amusement, a brow raising with interest at this new information.

❛ an' they believed it ? ❜ a low whistle under his breath, play disbelief sweeping his expression. ❛ hate to tell ya, sooks, but you keep company with some chumps. winchesters ain' exactly known for being boyfriend material. ❜ he doesn't fear the word, teasing evident in his tone as he sits up further to close the distance between them, his voice still husky with the remnants of desire for that sweet southern comfort.

❛ what'd you go tell 'em that for ? should i be buyin' a ring ? ❜

ever the jokester, he can never resist the taunt.