#featuring: crowley (murderdeals)

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || meme continuation || from here.

you know? he thought that was a pretty good cheesy pick up line. and he tossed it crowley's way just to throw the demon off. make him wonder what the hell was going on. give him a lil bit of topsy turvy for his weeknight shenanigans of fucking around with dean. might as well toss it back. right? without the threats of violence and whatever else might come to mind given the circumstances at hand. yeah, there's a little bit of beer and whiskey that might be fueling the goofiness of it all. add in the fact that dean is..well..not quite himself but, then again, maybe more of himself than he'd ever admit to. but here they are. the two of them. what's done is done and now that COMPLIMENT is hanging in air. letting crowley digest it. like the watery little 'treat' dean compared him to.

green eyes fill with black irises as he's pulled in. yes. his gaze did move from crowley's eyes to his mouth. where it lingers for a sweep of his tongue over his own bottom lip. then jerks up. underneath a set of lidded lashes. a smirk twists in place as the demon pulls away just before their mouths touch. dean's lips still tingle as if they did. and that moment where they almost did flashes through his mind, so fleeting, the memory causes his stomach to clench. hmmm. he'll think on that later. "mmm. lucky me, indeed. so.. when did it hit you? that you were too nervous to linger that close to me for long. much less do anything else about what goes on in your mind when you are."

[lasthymn]

@murderdeals || most cliche lines of dialogue || accepting!

" danger is my middle name. " from Crowley lol

blue eyes narrow in confused thought. lips form around words that don't quite hit them on queue. jack is thinking. mulling this statement. this demon over before he makes any sort of hasty conclusions about whether or not he's telling the truth about this second name of his. a hand comes up. fingers curl towards his palm. one after another. until only his pointer is remaining upright. a gesture that he has learned means hold on a second, as dean would say. or if pointed in a direction means things like go to your room. or sit down right now. or get to this precise spot over here before you're hurt.

which is silly because he could protect the person ordering him around very easily. most of the time. if he is CAREFUL. so careful. like protecting a little butterfly. too much power in that protection could damage their wings beyond repair. beyond fixing. well. yet. he hopes.

oh! or! it could mean a ton of other things that make one single motion of a finger mean so much that it's very hard to understand unless it's accompanied by an order. he's getting better at reading these things, though. much better. because he wants to understand the people he loves. or. even. say. this demon with his strange middle name.

finger up! he has his moment to ask. "i didn't know demons could have a middle name. i suppose there's no reason for them not to. if they want. what is your last name, crowley danger? should i have a middle name? i don't think i do. no one's ever told me. i should ask castiel. maybe he can give me a middle name." finger down?! crowley danger, you can continue.

[safetypinned]

😈

@murderdeals || crowley sends 😈 what does your character do? || this. (feat. @qapsiel)

sms // crowley ::

[unscriptured]

@murderdeals || a meme continuation || from here!

esther laughs at the fair trade offer. he's giving her the cheap little umbrella back. from her own stash? hmmm. doesn't seem like that's a pretty good payment for information digging. but she's going to play along cause he's cute and the most interesting thing she's run into all week. considering her nights consist mostly of kicking out local riff raff that are too drunk to keep themselves on a barstool for long and talking to the same faces she's seen since she came back home years ago? when there's a new one to talk to. with that accent. and that puzzling way of behaving? she'll sign up for an adventure of something new. just give her a few minutes.

as the request of one finger being held up gestures for.

she grabs a beer from the cooler, uncaps it with a twist. a short walk to the end of the bar and it's handed over to an old man in a dirty pair of overalls. then wanders back. "that'll keep him busy and distract him from trying to eavesdrop on us." she puts half her back to him anyway. one elbow cocked up on the lip of the bar as she crosses cowboy booted ankles together. "nosy as nosy can be." pursing her lips as she plucks up the umbrella and twists it between her pointer and thumb, she meets his eyes. "consider this charity because your payment? cute but wow. how'd you ever come across one of these?" a light chuckle that flashes teeth and she watches the umbrella's top spin left, right, left. right. "people are saying it's coyotes. some kind of disease that went through this area way back. happens now and then. i don't know.."

"..raphael down there?" that old guy with the beard and the overalls? yeah that one. she tips her head backwards in his direction. "he says it's worse than that. monsters. ones drummed up for revenge. don't know what the people that are dead ever did. doesn't seem like they deserved that. to me? looks like they were in the wrong place at the wrong time." her face grows sad, the umbrella's sat on the counter. "no one deserves what they got. heard they were torn up bad. really bad."

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals :D

pissing each other off as foreplay

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || inbox spelunking || oh lookie!

“  i’ll be waiting.  when you’re ready to admit you want me.  ” from Crowley

thumb nail digs into its match on the opposite hand. a smirk hovers over the fidgeting. a wrinkle of did i just hear that etched into his forehead. without tilting his head back, he aims a glance towards the demon's eyes. "wouldn't that be something? imagine. me. confessing that. it'd ruin all the mystery. what's he thinking? what's he feeling? when are we gonna run away to some weird island in the middle of nowhere that roasts pigs covered in pineapple and serves daiquiris on a floating bar?" that was oddly specific. hmmm? "then what would i do to keep you and your brain occupied?"

[lasthymn]

@ceocrowley || a meme continuation || from here.

fingers lace together behind his back as jack rocks back and forth on his heels. beaming from ear to ear with a wide smile, he flicks his gaze across crowley's dark eyes with a look of happy expectation. yes! he nods! they are going to go somewhere neat! jack knows just the spot. a little place in vaadhoo island. the sea of stars, they call it. and it's beautiful. peaceful. where he's been for the past month. walking the beach. running his fingers through the water. learning all about the life contained in the ocean there. how it decorates the beach and makes it look as if the sky has dipped down to kiss the sand.

the agreement is all he needs. there's only the briefest of pauses before jack closes the distance between the pair. taking hold of the demon's hand--there's a warmth that floods between the two. and as though the world just falls away and recreates itself in the blink of an eye--they are standing on a boardwalk upon the shores of the ocean. exactly where it came to mind for jack to steal them away to. it's seamless. effortless. a joy that he has perfected in his time alone. to explore this world that he loves and now? he wants to share part of that adoration with someone he cherishes. sea water and night air fill their senses. the old wood creaks underneath their feet but is strong and steady. across the shoreline, bioluminescent plankton glow and blink as the waves ebb and flow. a warm breeze blows their hair about. jack gently lets him go and turns to point over the water. "this is a place they call the maldives. i love it here. have you ever seen something so beautiful?" holidays are forgotten. that's not what this moment is about. it's them sharing something he found. on his own. and loves.

[safetypinned]

@murderdeals || not sure where this came from but i heard his voice so clearly! || always accepting crowley!

" don't make promises you can't keep, darling. " Crowley

desperate times call for equally desperate measures. judging by who sam was reaching out to for HELP? must be glaringly obvious the younger winchester decided that desperate levels had been reached, bypassed and circled back to half a dozen times. the stone steps outside the closed library is home to their secret rendevous. outside of ear and eyeshot of the person he's attempting to help. of course it'd involve saving dean from something. it wouldn't be for himself that sam drew on the attention of crowley for.

"no. i mean it. you help me get this taken care of before he pulls off this idea he's got?" sam's tone. his expression. the way his gaze is locked directly into crowley's dark stare? i mean it doesn't cover his determination. "i'll do whatever it takes. owe you whatever you want. just--i can't have him that close to the edge again. not now. and this stays between us. promise me."

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals -- this could be us, but you playing. love, dean. #crowleyanddeancore.

[bloodsalteds]

@murderdeals || das a spicy inbox || spiiiiiiiicy!

They're playing pool, again. And while Dean focuses on his next shot, bent over the table's edge, Crowley stands behind him. Checks him out. That ass? To die for. Daringest devil you know, he's feeling bold and soon closes the distance. Firm the grip on loverboy's hips. Not even a hair fits between them when Crowley leans over to whisper in Dean's ear: " Spoiler alert; you're not going to make it. " Sink that ball? Win the game? Maintain composure? Talk about vague, followed by a tender bite to an earlobe.

bent over the pool table, dean's eyes narrow precisely on a shot that's going to set him up--on the next round--to take crowley down and end the game as the WINNER. tongue stuck between his teeth--he lines up the cue and--television record scratch noise in his head!!! crowley's gripping his hips--leaning in until he's close enough that dean can feel him press against every spot that draws quick attention to the heat that spread across his abdomen soon as those hands were on him. eyes close. dean breaths in...hips arching towards that grip (on purpose). brushes the curve of his ass right over the front of crowley's pants.

that breath is blown out. goosebumps dance along his throat nearest crowley's mouth. he seems to pull himself together enough--white knuckled grip on the stick says so--to clear his throat. "wanna..bet..oh fuck," he grumbles low as teeth find his earlobe. makes his spine shake. cue drops to the table and he snaps his eyes open scrambling to pick it up. "nah.. still.. gonna kick your ass." and yet? he hasn't done a damn thing to take the shot.

[whisperial]

@murderdeals || meme continuation || from here.

she watches the exchange from a safe distance. green eyes narrowed on the scene as it plays out. this man has a group of infesting parasites attacking him relentlessly. most normal men would've fallen by now. she knows the strength of the monsters with their gaping maws and horrible teeth. they've crossed paths in the woods and, well, she is the one standing here. not them. however. it wasn't with her bare hands that she was able to put them down. it was something else. that part of her that remains tucked away. out of view. out of detection from anyone. unless they come searching.

her fingers twitch at her side--it's then that she notices one of the creatures coming at the other from a blind spot. her heart leaps into action as the blade she now holds in her hand, aged beyond her tears but deadly sharp, glints in the light. she's running forward before either one of them have a chance to see her coming. metal cuts through the air, through bone and skin and sinew. one clean swipe and she's left standing there. into crowley's eyes, red hair falling around her shoulders--her face speckled with blackish red.

birdie steps back allowing him to adjust his lapels and coat. the blade is cleaned off on the hem of a flowing patchwork skirt. she'll get the stains out later. tapered brow lifts. her head tilts to the side. you'd damn near imagine her ears lifting like some bewildered dog. scotland rolls off her tongue. thick. heavy. "you owe me nothing. those? are a nuisance. and have been haunting the woods (my woods) outside of town for too long. it's my pleasure to put a few more out of my misery.." she appears thoughtful.

"are you lost..?" he looks as though he wandered this way on his way into salem. one of the people who'd go there searching for haunted places. magic and lore. (yes. she just wondered if he is a tourist who shouldn't be tourist-ing out this far..)

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || meme continuation || from here.

"what? you think that was me? that wasn't ME." the words are practically spat out. like he'd choke on them if they stayed on his tongue any longer. if the idea stayed in his brain for any more than a passing thought. INSTANT DENIAL. impassioned. teeth bared and face stern. his heart a thundering mess of beats in his chest as he denies in a loathsome decree that any part of himself was gone in those days where he relished in the depths of depravity that swallowed him up the moment his eyes opened pitch black into a world that shifted, changed and welcomed him with a set of arms bearing clawed fingers and a forked tongue that lapped every singled dripping part of him that was still tethered to that place in hell where he tore scream after scream from victim after victim that begged him for mercy that simply. WOULD. NOT. COME.

these are the images he's running from now. to the point where he blinks a few times when crowley's pitch hits a higher note as the demon grows in anger. when his accusations reach a level where they more than hit a nerve. they tear it open raw and expose it like an out of control electrical wire. bouncing around all over the place. deadly.

dean steps closer and a pointer finger is jabbed into the demon's chest. regardless of power balances. regardless of his lack of any weapon pulled at the moment. the hunter's eyes burn into crowley's as they stand there yelling back and forth at one another. there is no way he's being pulled back into whatever plan crowley has. no way he's falling back into whatever DEAL he asks him to make.

"you're saying i was FREE? free from what?! from who?! what exactly did you free me from? and at what cost? just another set of chains? these held by who in the end?" his head tilts, a brow raised--gaze flicks and darts back and forth across crowley's. the questions clear. even though he doesn't voice it. YOU?

[bloodsalted]

dean's gonna use some of that pink icing to write yes under it and regift before they can have cake and a make out sesh. deal? DEAL.

[safetypinned]

@murderdeals (crowley) || big, long gore / horror prompt meme || accepting!

034   ...   red room

took sam a long time to track down where they were stealing away these women to. vampires. providing a service to the sick and twisted rich few. the entire ring was run out of an old asylum/ tuberculosis hospital about six miles out of the city. creepy place. bars on the windows. broken glass on the ground floor and darkened, shadowy mirrors to the outside world on the uppers. marked on a map was a stormcellar door that appeared to have a modern lock. looked like something a random security guard or maintanence would use. like the place was left but not forgotten. nor willing to be parted with.

what sam saw when he, finally, got into the website? and their cameras filled the screen? made him sick in the stomach to the point he almost threw up. women being fed on. torn apart by hungry fangs and claws. tortured and screaming victims. some where alone and trying to scratch their way through walls made of stone and concrete til their nails were ripped off and their fingers bled. voices hoarse from all the screaming. or the gaping holes in their necks. barely healed. some not even bothering to be shut. before, they too, were shredded into bits all for the prying eye of some sick bastards that were getting off on this shit. he blew up dean's phone the minute he had the hard hit on the location. and his alias had an instant messaging offering to come and watch.

sam's thumbnail was turned into a mess as he sat there, chewing on it and waiting for the call back that was taking too DAMN LONG. made him wonder what the hell was going on with his brother. dean don't make me come find you. the longer he sat? the more he decided, fuck it. took him only a little while to jog there from the busstop the cab dropped him off at. three miles into the woods and down a hill into the clearing where the place sat would've been even faster if it weren't for the bag on his back. he almost finished with the code that appeared in his messenger when, just before he hit pound, he heard something swing through the air. his world flashed brilliantly white for a split second. then BLACK.

that was about two hours ago. before sam woke in one of the rooms he saw on the cameras. a little bundle of red lights beamed his way from the corner. the taste of chemicals and rot in the back of his mouth. blood trickled down his nose. a voice told him to hold on. they'd be right with him. and..they were. two vampires. one entered carrying his bag. and one of the vials of dead man's blood in his hand. inspecting it with bared fangs. his cuffed hands provided no shield to the steel toed boot that swung up and caught him in his ribs. a grunt separated his lips and sam spit out the blood he coughed up with a heaving breath. 'we're gonna send you back to your brother in a jar.. that's all that's going to be left.' reddened teeth were bared behind the winchester's pulled back lips. sam spit another glob of blood towards them. anger. rage. long took over fear. he was lured here. he fucked up. is he pissed off more at himself or them and what the hell they were up to? hard to tell. the smell of sulfur fills his senses. doesn't seem to get the attention of his captors as they advance, sam's trying to work his hands free from his bindings. a familiar little cough. the sound spun all their heads around towards the demon standing directly behind them. crowley??

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || different ways to kiss someone || accepting!

[ teasing ] a light brushing of lips against a partner's skin without fully kissing. /from your fave amigo :*

dean's stretched out on the bed (upside down, head hanging off the bottom) of whatever motel room they've booked for the night. on a while chase to hunt down the last pages of a book crowley swears will have a ritual they need to put down yet another group of minions that don't want to die. all on the path to ending the son of a bitch that is a pain in all their asses once and for all, right? after that? they'll deal with whatever. he's got a movie on. texas chainsaw massacre. the old, best one. and a slight dizzying rush from some of the blood rushing to his head. crowley's been talking, but he hasn't been paying attention. nor has he given much mind to how the demon's shifted from the beside to the floor beside him. til he does. then he realizes how close he is.

there's something mentioned about how working together's bringing back old memories. and dean gives the demon a wary look not saying much but he watches when a set of fingers lift and touch along the line of his jaw. "well, yeah. i guess it does." he's reading back and forth across crowley's gaze. trying to get a sign of what he's thinking. what the hell's going through his mind. where this is heading..

..only he doesn't expect it's going the way it goes at all. those fingers curl against his chin. crowley murmurs about owing him. a devilish sorta grin curls itself onto the demon's mouth. so damn smug. so damn SURE. because none of this could've happened without his help. and the word help is punctuated with his mouth brushing against the corner of dean's.

dean's world comes to a pause. like someone took the remote and pressed the button to stop the movie mid-frame. his chest stops. his breath halts. everything stops. there's no smart ass comeback that instantly pops into his mind. no rebuttal that'd send the demon into a frenzy of screams where they can both yell at each other til the sun comes up. he just stays there. lips to the corner of his mouth. breathing in the taste. til all he can move is his tongue. it dips out to catch it, draw some of it in. he can hear his heart beating. it's fast. HARD. why can't he just fucking move?

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || it musta beeeeeen love!

MAKE ME CHOOSE: anon asked deancrowley or deanbenny