rachelladytietjens writes

NSFW fanfic. Expect liberal use of the word fuck.

[brunz]

when the season’s grain yield is good and your family can afford a loaf of bread this week

[triss19]

the comment section is a gift 

[girlariosto-deactivated20230109]

It keeps going

[justinspoliticalcorner]

White House Preparing for Justice Ginsburg’s Possible Departure: Report

A source told Politico the White House has been taking the “temperature on possible short-list candidates.”

The Daily Beast: 

The White House is reportedly preparing for Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s “possible death or departure” from the Supreme Court in the wake of her surgery that removed two cancerous growths, Politico reports. The outreach to allies and conservative activist groups reportedly began after Justice Ginsburg was absent from the court’s Monday oral arguments. A source told the website the White House was “taking the temperature on possible short-list candidates, reaching out to key stakeholders, and just making sure that people are informed on the process” in the event Ginsburg does leave the court. “They’re doing it very quietly, of course, because the idea is not to be opportunistic, but just to be prepared so we aren’t caught flat-footed,” the source said. In late December, Justice Ginsburg announced she was recovering from a surgery that removed two growths from her lungs. If she were to leave, President Trump would reportedly have the opportunity to secure the largest Supreme Court conservative majority in decades.

If Ruth Bader Ginsburg leaves #SCOTUS, then it’ll be a 6-3 hard-right court that will be destructive to what’s left of America. I hope and pray she recovers.

[biologicalstepfather]

If you know who Emmett Till is please reblog.

I’m trying to prove a point to my dad.

[geopsych]

Three years ago today. I love this bit of video. Not sure why.

[dearydeerling-deactivated201904]

Because this looks like a Monet painting or an old watercolour anime background come to life?! I was in utter disbelief until it started moving.

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

A Kiss to Build a Dream On

A Stucky fluff

Story by @rachelladytietjens

Art by @whatthefoucault

Rating: PG

Warnings: Darkness and flirting.

Relationships: Steve/Bucky

Characters: Steve, Bucky, Nat, Clint.

Word Count: 1957

Song I wrote to: Louis Armstrong’s A Kiss to Build a Dream On

Bucky tries to teach Steve to dance...mostly.

Read on AO3 or ....

Steve broke into a trot, trying to keep up with his best friend as they headed for the elevator. Bucky was not happy, calling Steve a disaster and a national disgrace, and growling that he was “going to fix this even if it fucking kills me”

It’s not as if Buck hadn’t already tried to teach Steve to dance, back in their poky pre-war flat in Brooklyn. Steve had struggled to walk the fine line between being so inept that Bucky gave up, and the horror that would have been getting good enough to actually go out dancing.

Because Steve hadn’t cared about getting to dance with some swish dames. That wasn’t the point of agreeing to dance lessons at all.  

The point was being close to Bucky. Young, strapping, handsome Bucky with his shirtsleeves rolled up and suspenders loose. The sheer animal warmth of him seeping into Steve’s bones with every touch. Watching the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex, his hands so sure and confident. The healthy strong scent of him invading Steve’s senses and making his head spin. It had been miraculous that Steve had learned anything at all, he was that distract-

Steve inadvertently body-checks Bucky, all but bouncing off a solid wall of muscle. Bucky gives Steve a worried side-eye because they’re in the elevator, and most normal people tend to at least slow down when that happens. Steve pretends to be fascinated by the ceiling until Bucky rolls his eyes and presses the button for Nat and Clint’s floor.

Even given war and ice and death and seventy-fucking-five years, when it comes to Bucky not a damn thing’s changed.

Unfortunately.

---

Clint opens the door, rumpled as ever, but with only two visible band-aids. “Hey, you’re here.” Clint leads them down a short corridor and opens a door. “She must really like you. Even I don’t get to go in here.”

The room is an airy well-lit space with mirrored walls, a barre, and a sprung floor. A full-size dance studio.

Clint leans on the doorframe and grins at Steve. “Though she probably considers it a public service, keeping those poor women out of Medical. Maria is still furious with you for breaking her toes AGAIN, by the way.”

Steve winces at the reminder. “I did apologise. And I told Tony that weekly mandatory classes with professional dance tutors was teambuilding overkill.”

Clint huffs agreement. “I know, right? I wanted a Wii Deathmatch tournament, but when is Tony ever not sucking up to Pepper?”

Bucky snorts impatiently, beckoning Steve into the middle of the room and glaring at Clint until he rolls his eyes and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Steve turns to Bucky, who says “Preset One”, and the room goes dark.

It’s more than the lights going off; the windows are totally opaque and there are no stray reflections from the mirrors. The darkness is so complete that Steve suddenly feels unbalanced. He throws his arms out to steady himself, and the half-step he takes to widen his stance doesn’t make as much noise as it should, as if the darkness has muffled all his senses.

It takes a conscious effort not to drop into a defensive crouch and prepare for an attack.

“Buck?”

Bucky’s breath is hot on his ear as he whispers, “Steve.”

“Guh.” Steve almost swallows his tongue. “Um, Buck-”

“No, Steve, no talking. You’re here to listen.” Bucky’s voice is quiet in the darkness. “I’m going to teach you how to dance even if it kills us.”

Steve sucks in a breath to protest, but Bucky steamrollers right over him.

“And before you tell me you’ve always had two left feet, that’s just bullshit. I’ve seen you parkour like a mountain goat, learn a new fighting style in hours, and do flips while you fling that damn shield around like a boomerang. So just shut up and pay attention.”

There’s warmth and a presence at his back, then Bucky’s hands land on his waist, dropping a little so that his fingers are wrapping around Steve’s hip bones.

“You live in your head too much, punk.” Bucky’s voice rumbles in his chest and wafts across the back of Steve’s neck. “You can’t think your way into dancing. You have to feel it. Put your hands on top of mine.”

Bucky’s hands were firm and sure under Steve’s. The metal of his prosthetic was warmer than Steve expected, the metal plates feeling almost seamless. It was strangely intimate. Steve and Bucky had plenty of physical contact, what with friendly shoulder bumps and sparring and their traditional post-mission I-know-you’re-not-fine-so-just-hold-still injury pat-down.

But this was different. If eyes were the windows to the soul, hands were its expression in the world. They held weapons and checked for injuries; they grated cheese and sketched people in the park; they clasped in entreaty to a God Steve found more confusing every day and indulged in private pleasures still far too solitary.

Bucky’s fingers were spreading, inviting Steve to interlace his. When he did, Bucky’s fingers tightened slightly, just a gentle squeeze that made sure he wasn’t going to pull away.

With one small step forward Bucky makes Steve’s mental needle skip. Hips pressed up against him. Thighs taunting him with hints of warmth and power. God, his chest against Steve’s back, arms alongside each other, hands still entwined.

Steve can feel Bucky’s body with their every breath, every shift of weight, every tiny movement. This is so much better than learning to dance before the war. So much better and so much worse, all at the same time.

Drowning under the cascades of sensation and sheer need pouring through him, Steve stumbles forward, breaking contact, and Steve can hear Bucky’s displeased huff.

“Don’t step away, you need to feel this. Just stay with me, as smoothly as you can.”

And with that Bucky steps into him again and Steve stiffens.

“That’s it, stay with the tension.” Bucky pushes with his shoulders, chest pressing Steve’s back, and they lean forward. “Leading from your shoulders will overbalance you both, and you’ll run right over her.”

Bucky moves back to where he was, waits for Steve to straighten, then pushes his right foot forward, bumping Steve’s ankle on the way past. “Lead from your feet, and you start breaking toes.” Steve gives an unhappy huff as Bucky sniggers.

“Lead from your hips...” Bucky says, and then full-out fucking grinds on him.

Steve’s world shrinks, his focus on the fingers pulling him back as Bucky presses himself against Steve’s ass. All of himself, because Bucky’s at full salute. Steve short circuits at the possibility that he...that they both...that maybe...

Bucky had continued talking, saying...something...important?...maybe. Fuck’s sake, Steve, pull yourself together.

Steve licks his lips, and has to clear his throat before admitting, “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Bucky’s chuckle rumbles through Steve’s chest, raising goosebumps as the sound of it shoves Steve’s mind back into the gutter.

“I said that they’ll get knocked off balance and the wrong idea. You’re trying to dance, not rub one off on them.”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve says with another cough, glad of the darkness hiding the heat rising in his face and the tightness in his slacks.

“You lead with your body, your feet following after.” Bucky presses forward; chest, torso, and hips all moving as one. Once past a certain point Steve has no choice but to take a step, and he can feel Bucky’s thigh flex as he moves too. The step is small, slow, but something about it feels inevitable. Easy.

Another press, another step. And another. And another.

“That’s it, Stevie. You don’t need fancy footwork or music. You just need to know where you’re going.”

And of course Steve’s traitorous mind takes that statement in a completely different direction.

In the dark there was no sense of time, but, eventually, between one step and the next it clicks in Steve’s head. Steve can almost feel Bucky’s smile when he starts responding rather than being pushed through the movements.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Bucky says, the praise flushing heat up Steve’s spine.

Hands still clasped, Bucky lifts their arms and, fingers loose, spins him. Steve doesn’t falter, and he lets Bucky twirl him out and then back, ending with them facing each other.

Without pause Bucky shifts into a gentle waltz, still leading, and they’re moving together smoothly, like it’s always been like this. Steve laughs at how easy it is.

“That’s it, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs as he lets go. Steve is only bereft for a moment; Bucky pulls Steve’s left hand off his shoulder, clasping it loosely. Bucky’s metal hand is now a warm weight on Steve’s right shoulder. “Now, you lead.”

Steve stops, mind and feet frozen.

“C’mon sweetheart, you’ve started thinking again. Knock that shit off.” Bucky hip-checks Steve. “You were doing so well, following instinct, just letting it happen.”

Steve falters again, mind tripping on the the thought of ‘following instinct’ and ‘just letting it happen’. Bucky must know how that sounds. Or am I just so desperate, I’m hearing confirmation in innocent phrases. Steve’s feet turn to concrete, and he stumbles to a halt.

Bucky stops. “Okay, this is my fault. I didn’t cover how to use your arms. You lead with your body, but it’s transmitted through your arms. Pretend...um... Okay, I don’t have a good metaphor. Gimme a minute.”

Steve tries to relax. He’d been making progress; with the dancing, and maybe something else too, if he wasn’t deluding himself.

“Let’s try this. Put your hands on my chest. Yeah, both of them, that’s it, and I’ll do the same.”

Bucky’s heartbeat is strong under Steve’s hands, the power of it reassuring and frankly a fucking miracle given all that they’ve been through.

Steve’s little finger brushes the edge of the metal arm, and Bucky’s sudden stillness is as good as a flinch. Steve flexes his hand so that the pads of his two outer fingers are firmly on the prosthesis, overlapping the scarred seam between Bucky’s flesh and the arm he still despises.

The tension bleeds out of Bucky, and he returns to the task at hand. “See if you can feel the difference in my arms when I push and when I hold the tension.”

Steve resists the rigidity of the push and moves fluidly when led, easily able to differentiate between the two. Without being prompted Steve takes the lead. Bucky’s response is to shift his hands back to dance position, and Steve follows suit, keeping the lead and slowly becoming more confident.

“Better, better. Smaller steps, punk. When you dance with a stranger, especially a woman, you gotta remember she’s relying on you to keep her safe. Her legs are shorter than yours, she’s on tiptoe, and she’s going backwards. Too big a step will unbalance her and she’ll end up under those clodhoppers of yours. Best to start small and then open up a little once you’ve gained her confidence.

“Or you can keep them close.” Bucky’s voice drops. “Dancing is intimacy; it’s like kissing. You tug to encourage them to step closer. You tilt to angle them against your body and mouth. You press to guide them towards a couch or a wall or a bed. Your breath sets the pace, your arms define the space, you use their responses to guide yours, until finally, finally, your lips brush against theirs...”

Bucky can’t have missed the way Steve’s hands flex, or the shivered ‘fuck’ that escapes him as little more than a breath.

“Language, Stevie, language,” Bucky quietly chides.

His next words are whispered against Steve’s ear. “Besides, that’s a lesson for later. Let’s finish this one first.”

[theashhole]

I just saw the graphic for Winter Canvas. Do you take commissions?

Yes I do! Message me with specifics if you have something in mind for a quote!

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

Rachel writes MCU

I don’t know if this little vignette will fit into my NaNoWriMo project (17k so far, woo!), so I’m throwing it out into the void.

_______________________

Steve x OFC x Bucky (fluff, hinted smut) 331 words

“Now THAT is a Christmas miracle,“ Tony says, nodding at where Bucky and Zoe are dancing. “I’ve seen the man smile more in the last hour than in the last two years combined.“

He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder. "It takes a big man to share the love of his life.”

“Are you talking about Zoe or Bucky?”

Tony frowns at him. “I didn’t realise the question was multiple choice. Are you sweet on Zoe, or are you assuming that I’m hetero-normative?”

“Bucky’s not with Zoe,” Steve says.

Tony’s eyebrow is mockingly incredulous.

Steve waves the dancing couple over. “Let me prove it.”

Bucky’s arm is still around Zoe’s waist as they pile into the space between Steve and Tony, laughing as they body-check Steve in the jostle.

Steve lifts Zoe into his lap before tugging Bucky in for a kiss. As soon as they part Steve turns to kiss her just as thoroughly.

Steve smiles at Tony. “Zoe is with us.”

“You kinky motherfucker,” Tony says, trying to hide his surprise, “I’m so proud of you.” He turns his attention to Zoe. “They treating you well?”

Her grin widens lasciviously. “You have NO idea.”

Bucky and Steve both hum a growl at her tone, exchanging a look that manages to be a question and an answer all at the same time.

“See ya, Stark,” Bucky says cheerfully as he throws Zoe over his shoulder.

Steve is just a little smug as he says, “Sorry Tony, but something’s just come up.” He stands, putting an arm around Bucky’s waist, Zoe dangling between them as they head for the elevator.

“I bet it has!” Tony shouts after them. “Photos or it didn’t happen!”

An upside-down Zoe waggles her fingers in a little wave as the doors close behind them.

“I don’t know who I’m more jealous of,” Tony mutters into his drink.

Clint’s disembodied voice drifts down from the nearest air vent, “Me neither, pal. Me neither.”

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

@bionic-buckyb I heard you read anything.....

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

Rachel writes MCU

I don’t know if this little vignette will fit into my NaNoWriMo project (17k so far, woo!), so I’m throwing it out into the void.

_______________________

Steve x OFC x Bucky (fluff, hinted smut) 331 words

“Now THAT is a Christmas miracle,“ Tony says, nodding at where Bucky and Zoe are dancing. “I’ve seen the man smile more in the last hour than in the last two years combined.“

He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder. "It takes a big man to share the love of his life.”

“Are you talking about Zoe or Bucky?”

Tony frowns at him. “I didn’t realise the question was multiple choice. Are you sweet on Zoe, or are you assuming that I’m hetero-normative?”

“Bucky’s not with Zoe,” Steve says.

Tony’s eyebrow is mockingly incredulous.

Steve waves the dancing couple over. “Let me prove it.”

Bucky’s arm is still around Zoe’s waist as they pile into the space between Steve and Tony, laughing as they body-check Steve in the jostle.

Steve lifts Zoe into his lap before tugging Bucky in for a kiss. As soon as they part Steve turns to kiss her just as thoroughly.

Steve smiles at Tony. “Zoe is with us.”

“You kinky motherfucker,” Tony says, trying to hide his surprise, “I’m so proud of you.” He turns his attention to Zoe. “They treating you well?”

Her grin widens lasciviously. “You have NO idea.”

Bucky and Steve both hum a growl at her tone, exchanging a look that manages to be a question and an answer all at the same time.

“See ya, Stark,” Bucky says cheerfully as he throws Zoe over his shoulder.

Steve is just a little smug as he says, “Sorry Tony, but something’s just come up.” He stands, putting an arm around Bucky’s waist, Zoe dangling between them as they head for the elevator.

“I bet it has!” Tony shouts after them. “Photos or it didn’t happen!”

An upside-down Zoe waggles her fingers in a little wave as the doors close behind them.

“I don’t know who I’m more envious of,” Tony mutters into his drink.

Clint’s disembodied voice drifts down from the nearest air vent, “Me neither, pal. Me neither.”

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

As Yet Untitled - Prologue

This is for the sequel to Even Better Than The Real Thing, set on Earth while Dean, Cas, AND Sam are in Purgatory.

Will be written in conjunction with EBTTRT, so I can write smut over there when the angst over here gets too much.

Dear God.

I hate you.

I ain't done this for years, not since you took Karen from me. But I just gotta let you know, I HATE you.

I always knew I'd outlive my boys.

They're too reckless. Too relentless. Too much at the centre of things. Too fucking brave.

And don't think I don't know you planned it that way, Sam told me what your prophet said about 'The Winchester Gospels'.

They were always gonna go out guns blazing. I knew it. They knew it. She knew it.

But they didn't back down. They saved the world.

AGAIN.

And they paid that ultimate price.

Taking them, I get that. I'm almost okay with it.

You wanna know why I hate you?

You left her behind.

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

Got up at 2 am and just *writer vomited* 1600 words of post-EBTTRT post-Purgatory exposition.

Then looked at said exposition and said to myself, actually, that is a whole freaking SERIES that goes BETWEEN EBTTRT and the stuff I’ve sketched out for post-Purgatory.

FUCK.

[rachelladytietjens]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader, Dean/Reader/Sam Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, Meg Masters (Demon), Leviathans (Supernatural), Becky Rosen Additional Tags: Threesome - F/M/M, Explicit Language, Sex, all the sex, Additional Warnings Apply, Season 7 AU Summary:

Season 7 AU with researcher Reader, lashings of smut, and a twist at the end.

It’s my birthday soon, have some smut ! :-)

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

Arguing, frustration, and Becky the Rapist.

@smalltowndivaj, thanks for asking for more :-)

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

rachelladytietjenswrites

Even Better Than The Real Thing (6462 words) by rachelladytietjenswrites Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader, Dean/Reader/Sam Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, Meg Masters (Demon), Leviathans (Supernatural), Becky Rosen Additional Tags: Threesome - F/M/M, Explicit Language, Sex, all the sex, Additional Warnings Apply, Season 7 AU Summary:

Season 7 AU with researcher Reader, lashings of smut, and a twist at the end.

Six chapters written so far, but it has a mind of it’s own, so….

Shout out to my betas @thewinchestielboys and @thedevilinthedetails :-)

Title image by @saxxxology

People who’ve publicly said they’re OK with being tagged in fics: @notnaturalanahi, @jensen-jarpad, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @just-another-busy-fangirl

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

CHAPTER 3 is up :-)

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

CHAPTER 3 IS UP !! :-)

Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader, Dean/Reader/Sam Additional Tags: Threesome - F/M/M, Explicit Language, Sex, all the sex, Additional Warnings Apply, Season 7 AU Summary:

Season 7 AU with researcher Reader, lashings of smut, and a twist at the end.

Six chapters written so far, but it has a mind of it's own, so....

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

rachelladytietjenswrites

Even Better Than The Real Thing (6462 words) by rachelladytietjenswrites Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader, Dean/Reader/Sam Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, Meg Masters (Demon), Leviathans (Supernatural), Becky Rosen Additional Tags: Threesome - F/M/M, Explicit Language, Sex, all the sex, Additional Warnings Apply, Season 7 AU Summary:

Season 7 AU with researcher Reader, lashings of smut, and a twist at the end.

Six chapters written so far, but it has a mind of it's own, so....

Shout out to my betas @thewinchestielboys and @thedevilinthedetails :-)

Title image by @saxxxology

People who’ve publicly said they’re OK with being tagged in fics: @notnaturalanahi, @jensen-jarpad, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @just-another-busy-fangirl

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

Been working on a little something...almost ready :-)

[rachelladytietjenswrites]

Shark Week

@deanjensengirlmaggie‘s  Dean is Awesome Challenge Characters:  Dean, Sam, OFC Zoe. No pairing Prompt: "Shark week, man, how do you not watch that." Words: 1200-ish Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence. 

Description:  Dean adds to his skills when it comes to women and discovers a new source of entertainment.

Under ordinary circumstances, Zoe's periods went almost unnoticed.

Which was a relief to Dean as he'd never had to deal with 'girl stuff' on a regular basis. Despite his interest in -and appreciation of- women, he'd never actually spent any significant length of time around one. Sam had lived with Jess for a year and a half, which made him the subject matter expert on this particular topic, and at his urging they had both installed period tracker apps on their phones. Being more able to go with the flow (ew, flow), Sam ignored his and was just- Sam. Dean, however, found the technological support invaluable, over time realising that Zoe's periods fell into three main types.

The painful ones were easily identifiable - she moved tentatively, with the slightest hunch to her shoulders. She slept and ate more, trying to ride it out. Strategic application of chocolate, icecream, and hot water bottles would result in a soothed and grateful Zoe. Difficulty factor 2 out of 5 now that he had app set to warn him a couple of days beforehand.

Less common were the ones where she barely seemed to notice it herself. Difficulty factor 0.

But once in a blue moon world war 3 hit. Zoe would be short-tempered, impatient, quick to take offence, and thoroughly fucking vicious with her verbal barbs. Difficulty factor infinity. Immediate evacuation recommended.

Dean had even considered deleting the tracker app, feeling secure that his stash of chocolate and bath bombs could deal with anything.

So it came as a surprise when one day Zoe snapped at him. Sam was out finishing an interview with the victim's mother. An interview that been interrupted when Dean was -ahem- invited to inspect her bedroom. Thoroughly and repeatedly.

"Dammit, Dean, if you don't ask them about the other people in the house, how can we know who else to interview? Now the cousin has spooked and gone to ground, when we could have had our hands on him yesterday! You know better than this, you're not a fucking rookie! If you'd stop nailing every half-way presentable woman you come across, maybe we could get the job done and go home!"

In a chime of divine mercy, Dean's phone went off. Glancing at the screen, he muttered 'I gotta take this' and made his escape. Standing outside the motel room, he swiped to read the notification. "Check chocolate."

"Fuck," he said.

Thankfully the hunt was wrapped up discreetly a couple of hours later.

Dean clapped his hands together. "Zoe! Let us take you out for dinner. I've made reservations at that Italian place on the main drag you liked the look of."

While Zoe got changed, Sam looked suspicious. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"I've got to make up some brownie points." Dean tapped the side of his nose. "I have a plan, Sammy, I have a plan."

Dinner was nice. Decent food at a real restaurant. A bottle of wine that Zoe had picked.

Even so, Sam was surprised when Zoe agreed to go play pool.

"No hustling, just hanging out like ordinary people," Dean promised her.

So they played pool and drank beer, laughing and actually enjoying the game for a change as the boys challenged each other to trick shots that became more and more complicated.

Not letting Zoe get away with just randomly knocking at the balls, Dean went full-on Miyagi, talking angles and force and grips. He manhandled her a little, but there was none of the usual flirty 'here let me show you' schtick. He'd shift her elbow up a little, put a hand in the small of her back so she'd bend right over the table, and then...he'd just move away.

It started to make sense when Sam went to the bar for the next round. A guy on a nearby bar stool leaned over and nodded his head at the pool table. "Your girl over there is getting good. She taken?"

Sam replied automatically, "Uh, no." And then he turned to look at where Zoe was lining up the next shot, stretched over the table with only one foot on the ground, ass in the air and wiggling a little as she positioned herself, Dean nodding approvingly from the other side of the table.

"Well then, I think I'll go introduce myself."

Sam watched him approach, exchange greetings, and accept the other cue stick from Dean. By the time Sam was served and had taken the seat next to Dean, 'Steve' had started leaning in close to give her pointers. Dean was grinning like a loon, and he even winked when he noticed Sam staring. "Every woman wants to feel wanted, Sammy."

But it looked like Steve was getting a bit too touchy-feely. Zoe had stopped smiling and was starting to increase the distance from her admirer, obviously not happy, but Steve was oblivious. When she bent over for her next shot, Steve moved in, pressing himself up against her back. She tried to move away but he had her trapped against the table as he started sliding a hand up her thigh.

Zoe was loud and very definitive when she said, "NO! Back off!"

Sam was surprised when Dean put a hand on his arm, holding him back from the confrontation. "This might be even better than getting her laid," he muttered.

Poor Steve didn't move, his hand creeping inwards as he crooned, "Oh but sweetheart, I want you so bad."

Zoe flung her head back, bloodying Steve's nose and sending him stumbling back a step, far enough for her to swivel and shove him backwards with the cue in her hands like a quarterstaff. "NO means NO."

Spitting blood, he glared at her. "You bitch!"

Dean's hand tightened on Sam's arm. "Stay out of it, she needs to blow off some steam."

Before Sam can respond, Steve has moved in to 'teach her a lesson'. If the lesson was how to incapacitate a man, he did a pretty good job. A jab to the diaphragm stole his breath, then as he bent over Zoe followed up with an elbow to his chin and a knee to the face. Quick, efficient, and effective.

Zoe points at the panting and bloody man. "Do not try that again, or I will hurt you."

Turning, Zoe points at the hovering bouncer and the rest of the bar. "No means no," she says loudly, "anyone who wants to argue with me about it, step on up."

Steve spits on the floor and appeals to the hovering bouncer. "You gonna let her do this to me?"

The bouncer lifts an eyebrow. "Like the lady said, no means no." He nods at Sam and Dean as he hauls Steve away.

Zoe is still staring down the room. After a moment's silence, she returns to the pool table and the shot she had been lining up. As Sam reaches for the dropped cue to continue the game, he can see a small smile on her face.

A waitress appears with another round. "This one's on me," she says as she puts three beers next to Dean.

Dean grins. "Shark week, man. How do you not watch that?"