Supernatural Imagines, Volume 2

Song of the Heart (KetchxReader)

You adjusted your stockings under the slit that went halfway up your thigh on your midnight blue sequined gown. You stepped into your high-heeled shoes, fluffed your hair for the last time and checked your makeup. You were working undercover with Arthur Ketch at a nightclub with a 1940s theme. The two of you were on the trail of a siren, and had tracked it to the nightclub.

They were looking for a new singing act, so you auditioned and got the part. This allowed you to keep an eye on the club owner, Frank, and his VIP clients to see which one of them was the siren. Ketch acted as your manager, which gave him the opportunity to act as a second set of eyes. He also had full access backstage, so he could communicate freely with you. More importantly, he could keep an eye on you in case something went wrong.

You could hear the band warming up for the song you chose to sing tonight, Why Don't You Do Right?. It was a slow, kind of sexy song, just right for this crowd of high-class men. You knew it was cheesy that you had last heard it in the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit. But your singing would keep the customers' attention on you while Ketch investigated and tried to find the siren.

Ketch came backstage to check on you and make sure you were ready to go onstage. "Everything all right, my dear?" he asked.

"Yeah, oh sure, I'm ready, no problem," you tried to assure him and reassure yourself. "Who am I kidding, I can't do this. I've never performed in front of people before, let alone for something this important," you trembled. "What if I forget the words? What if they don't like my singing? What if I trip on my dress? Then what?" you rambled.

Ketch put his hands on your shoulders and looked directly in your eyes. "Darling, sweetheart, what you must remember above all, is don't panic. Besides, I know you're going to be wonderful. Just get out there and channel your inner sex goddess," he teased.

"Don't have one," you mumbled. You broke eye contact with Ketch and tried to calm the blushing in your face. You were excited to be working with the Brit, but also terrified that he would discover your secret crush on him. His blue-gray eyes held a twinkle that you found irresistible. You longed to run your fingers through his thick, dark hair and confirm for yourself if his lips were as tantalizing as you imagined. His accent only added to his sexiness and made you a bit weak in the knees.

"Nonsense, now don't miss your cue, Love. The band is warming up, the curtain is about to rise. Go take your place onstage. I'll be waiting for you, watching everything from back here," Ketch promised.

You took a deep breath, fluffed your hair again and adjusted your gown. You flashed Ketch a smile, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "For luck," you whispered. You walked out on the stage and took your mark. You turned to the band, who were finishing their warm-up for your number. "Ready, boys?" you drawled, getting into character. In reality, you were singing to a room full of drooling, high-powered and wealthy men. In your mind, your song was directed at one man in particular, Arthur Ketch.

You had plenty money 1922.
You let other women make a fool of you.
Why don't you do right,
like some other men do?

Get out of here,
Make me some money too.

You're sittin' down wondrin' what it's all about.
If you ain't got no money they will, put you out.
Why don't you do right,
like some other men do?

Get out of here,
Make me some money too.

You walked off the stage and approached a man with slicked back hair and a pencil-thin mustache. You placed your hand on his shoulder and got so close you could've kissed him. Before he could move in, you stepped out of his reach and sauntered over to your next candidate.