a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he's still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he's still left with his hands.
as she manages to regain her balance, she looks up at him and gives him a small smile, wiping away the few drops of coffee that had splashed into her skin with the back of her hand.
❝uh, just a little bit. it’s fine, though. sorry for that, i wasn’t looking.❞
he grimaces, putting ahand out awkwardly in an apologetic attempt to help.
❝ no, no, it’s my fault. i wasn’t paying attention either. ❞
sam smiles sheepishly, shrugging and switching his coffee to the other hand, shaking a few stray droplets off his fingers.
He’s more shy than she would have guessed, a smile tugs at her cherry red lips as he ducks his head and smiles shyly. It was endearing. She doesn’t know he’s the king of hell, how would she? She just thinks that he’s a cute guy at the bar, so when he orders her another drink, her smile widens and she laughs, placing a small hand on his upper arm.
Oh god, the muscles on this one.
The whiskey is placed before them and she raises her glass to his, the glass clinks together and she raises it to her mouth, taking the shot & shivering as it burned it’s way down her throat.
“I’m Autumn.”
It leaves her lips in a coo, slender fingers reaching forward to pour them a second shot.
She didn’t come out tonight to be lonely and sober.
”Here, take this.”
The second shot is pushed into his hand before the first one has even stopped burning, but she was a few drinks in already, high on the music and the feel of this place, the company of a such a handsome man wasn’t hurting either.
She wants him to take her home, she wants to spend the night in his bed, those long fingers of his tangled in her hair, she wants him to make her forget her name and her pain.
And she’s not interested in waiting around this bar all night.
humans are remarkablystupid. demons oftentimes are as well, but stupidity has always been a trait that i r k s sam to no end. it’s unfair of him to hold everyone to his standard, but even before he started exercising his mind, he had been rather intelligent.
he is therefore unsurprised when the girl falls effortlessly into his trap, her tiny fingers pressing softly on his arm. they feel light and delicate, like feathers on a bird. sam likes them. maybe he will let her keep them.
❝ autumn… ❞ he muses, taking the drink she offers and tipping it back fluidly.
❝ it suits you. ❞ sam gives her another shy smile, unable to keep his eyes from roving over her body. she really is quite attractive. he can picture her, black ropes snaking around her wrists, mascara and tears mingling on her cheeks. he buries his gaze in the empty glass, turning it over and over in his hand.
❝ sorry, i, uh… i don’t normally do this – - ❞ he chuckles self-deprecatingly, pouring himself another shot and knocking it back.
the last time i saw that number on this blog was before my hiatus, which last for around three to four months. i lost quite a few followers while i was gone, and when i came back, i really thought that i would never reach this milestone again.
but, here we are, and i can honestly say that i’m so gladto be here. to be back. i forgot how much love came with this blog, but now that i’m here, i’ve never felt better.
i love you all so much.thank you for welcoming me back into your roleplaying lives.
✞┊R U L E S .
▪ you mustbe following me. if you happen to win and then you unfollow me afterward, you will notbe eligible for the prize. ▪ you may like and reblog this as many times as you wish, but please be mindful of your followers! ▪ you mustbe a roleplay blog. ▪ if you win, i will send you a message. you mustrespond to me within 48 hours, or i will give the prize to someone else.
✞┊P R I Z E .
ONE PERSON WILL RECEIVE: ▪ a pack of 20 icons, styled however you wish. ▪ one self promo banner. ▪ one roleplay starter from yours truly. ▪ a spot on my blog as my blog of the month.
Yeah, she sees him, the tall handsome one sitting at the end of the bar. They’ve been eyeing each other all night, though she would never admit to having set her sights on him once she walked in. So she had gone & danced with others, ordered too many drinks, danced alone in the middle of the dance floor before she finally went over and sat near him, giving him a sideways glance from under long lashes, a coy smile tugging at cherry red lips. Autumn Belle knew this game, & how play it well.
”What are you drinking?”
She’s a little drunk already, and he’s hot. He doesn’t even have to try hard to put the moves on her, of course, she wouldn’t mind a little bit of flirting before she lets him take her home. Wow, she was easy. He hadn’t even spoken to her yet and she was already planning to leave with him.
being king of hell is a full-time job, and sam will be the first to tell you that there’s a lot of responsibility that comes with holding so much power. at first, he hadn’t wanted any of it – – – the pain, the torture, the demons. but he has grown to love it. after all, this is what he was born for. this is his purpose. and now, with his work out of the way, he’s ready to have a little f u n .
there’s a pretty redhead girl dancing in the middle of the floor, swaying provocatively. her hair reminds him of flames, of blood, of lust.
he wants her.
she’s the kind of girl that he would have wanted to get to know, [ once upon a time ], but his interest now is more focused on the pretty things she keeps hidden under her skin. she’d look lovely with a ruby necklace, dark and s p a r k l i n g against her alabaster skin.
she makes it easy, this bold young thing, and seals her fate the minute she presses her lithe little body into the black leather barstool at his side. yes, sam thinks, this is the one i want. she’s got life to her, a little spitfire that he can’t wait to extinguish between his thumb and forefinger.
he puts on a shy smile, glancing down at his glass. he loves this game of cat-and-mouse, and he has long since honed his skills.
❝ we’re having whiskey, ❞
he finally says, lifting his gaze just enough to meet her eyes before signaling to the bartender to bring him another glass. he sips at it idly, the warm burn doing nothing to alter his state of mind, and leans back on the stool.
Sleep did not come easy in the back seat of the tiny Camrey. Small as she was, amid the jumble of their possessions, there was not much room for Ezra herself back there. With her head propped against a myriad of books, topped with a bunched up hoodie, the blonde swam in and out of consciousness. Anya and told her to get a few hours of sleep before she returned from her trip, one that would obviously take a few hours to return from. The elder girl had parked near a set of train tracks, just off the road in the shadows before wandering off to God knows where to complete their transaction. Anya had acquired a particularly lethal looking knife that had some supernatural quality, though neither knew what. Ezra was never allowed to accompany her sister on these trips, the older girl forever anxious that something would happen to her if she did. Ezra didn’t mind, per say, but waiting in the car for hours on end was anything but fun.
A gentle breeze slid in through the cracked window, playing across her face as she dozed. She could just hear the chirp of crickets from beyond the car doors, as well as the crunch of heavy footsteps against gravel… Bleary hazel-green eyes slid open just in time to see a shadow pass over her window. With a yelp, the girl sat bolt upright, nearly hitting her head on the seat next to her as she scrambled forward to lock the doors.
❞If you’re a cop I am definitely allowed to park here for emergencies!❞
Though it was still husky with sleep, her voice raised at least two octaves in anxiety, her body ducking below the window so the figure could not see her.
❞If you’re not a cop I am definitely armed and very dangerous.❞
sam really isn't having a good day. first off, his brother is a demon. not possessed by a demon, not killed by metatron, but a full-on black-eyed bastard. and now, to top it off, he’d went and gotten his demon knife stolen. so no, he’s not in the best mood as he burns his way across the country in the impala (which, by the way, is absolutely disgusting due to dean’s latest habits).
at the moment, sam’s jaw is aching from how tightly he’s clenching his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. he’s only praying that the thing who took his knife is here; it’s not like he’s got time to scour the globe. dean’s rotting away in the dungeon of the bunker, cas is off god knows where, and his time is r u n n i n g out.
he pulls over near some train tracks, eyes locked on the car lurking in the shadows. there. it has to be. unless the tracking spell went wrong somehow. warily, sam props open the trunk, sneaking his handgun into the waistband of his jeans and pulling out the angel blade, just to be safe. okay. time to give the thieving son of a bitch a piece of his mind.
sam’s shoes slap softly against the pavement as he stalks over to the car, drawing his gun as he crosses to the driver’s side door. but before he has a chance to pull it open, he hears the locks click and an anxious voice. an inkling of doubt trickles through his resolve, but she hasn’t proven her innocence yet.
❝ look. i really don’t wanna hurt you. tell you what – – – - just give me my knife back, and i’ll be on my way, o k a y ? ❞
he holds out his arms and smiles, but he has to m a k e his muscles move. even to him it feels a little forced, because even now it’s just playing on repeat in his head
[dean is going to hell dean is going to hell he’s going to hell and it’s all your fault ]
