boho-freespirit

[boho-freespirit]

Bloodstained, Tear-Streaked, Knowing All Along

Author’s Note: Hey babes 💋—chapter six is a dark one. I warned y’all this fic wouldn’t be soft. Meredith’s spiraling, and certain shadows from her past just won’t die quiet. We're diving deep—trauma, twisted obsession, all that messed-up goodness.

⚠️ Warnings: Abuse (emotional/physical), toxic relationships, past SA (non-graphic), drugged, manipulation, emotional trauma, violence, PTSD themes, and a whole damn lotta pain. If you’re in a soft era, maybe hold off.

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Drugged (bold, just like the trauma 💅) @badthingshappenbingo

Copyright Note: This fanfic is mine. My words, my blood, my tears, my chaos. Characters may be borrowed, but the story? Pure me. Don’t repost, steal, or claim— Now go cry with Meredith. You know you want to. 💔

Early morning. Deathly quiet—except for sweet Meredith, sobbing because she’d shot her own brother. He knew he was still in her veins.

He watched. Silent. The man without a name. She knew it—oh, she knew—but never once spoke it out loud. Not even after he left her for dead.

He really thought she’d die. Drugged. Brutalized. Forced to fight the other girls he threw at her like wolves. But she didn’t break. She escaped.

Maybe that’s why he can’t let her go. Maybe that’s why she haunts him.

Maybe it’s obsession. Pure. Primal.

But hell—he knows the truth.

It’s been more than fifteen years. He searched for her—found her.

She was always the strong one. Never broke like her friend, Hope. Weakling. He keeps her around anyway—out of pity, maybe.

But Meredith? He could never do that to her.

He’s not an animal.

Now?

He’s something worse.

Maybe he's a real predator now.

The ambulance sirens claw at his ears— hell, they always have. Too damn  loud. He’s been sensitive to sound since he was a kid, since before anyone gave a shit 

He grits his teeth, watching them lift him into the back.

If Meredith only knew the truth about her brother, she’d understand why he made her pull that trigger. She’d thank him.

Her mother—what a damn hypocrite. Pretending to care about Meredith, all while shielding that bastard son.

No one cares for Meredith like he does.

His jaw clenches. Fist tight. Pupils blown. Rage simmering like acid in his veins.

They’re all worse than him.

At least Meredith knows he’s a monster.

The rest of them? They’re saints in masks.

He looks at her.

He’s always seen her—really seen her—for the woman she is.

She’s trembling, sobbing.

Hell, those tear-streaked cheeks… always made her porcelain skin glow.

But those eyes—those green damn eyes—

They pierced straight through him.

If he had a soul, she’d be the only one to touch it.

He slides into the cab, trailing the ambulance like a shadow.

She’s gonna need someone—and it sure as hell won’t be Spencer bloody Reid.

Every time he sees that scrawny, overgrown schoolboy, he wants to snap him like a twig.

What the hell does she even see in him?

Meredith hasn’t really responded to those pathetic puppy eyes, not yet…

But he’s seen it—the way she looks at Spencer.

She used to look at him like that.

Just once.

One quiet moment—back when he wasn’t so hardened, so ruined.

She looked up at him like he could save her.

And he did.

Just… not in a hero kind of way.

Following from a distance—he always had a way of blending in.

Even with his deep disdain for people, they never seemed to notice.

They found him polite. Handsome, in that rugged, dangerous sort of way—those dark eyes, the jagged jawline, the beard thick and coarse, hiding more than just his chin.

But the scars? Those were souvenirs from the house he’d once called home.

That woman—meant to be his mother—nothing more than a drunk.

And his father? Ha.

A lunatic. Deranged in a way that made even demons uneasy.

His childhood wasn’t like these soft brats whining online about their feelings.

There was no gentle discipline. No timeouts.

Just screaming.

Shouting.

Fists flying.

Doors slamming.

And closets.

Damn, the closet.

They locked him in there like trash.

At first, it was terrifying—what four-year-old wouldn’t cry, claw at the walls, beg to be let out?

But the older he got, the quieter he became.

Until one day… he stopped being afraid.

The darkness stopped feeling like punishment.

It felt like home.

And the isolation?

It was peace.

He watched her.

Meredith.

Standing there, shaking—bloodstained hands trembling like fragile leaves in the wind.

Trying to explain. Trying to apologize to her mother through broken sobs.

He clenched his fists, jaw tight enough to crack.

She shouldn't be apologizing. Her mother should.

If only Meredith knew the truth.

That the woman crying crocodile tears had known.

She knew it was her precious son who sold Meredith and Hope like cattle.

What no one expected?

He’d be the one to buy them.

Fate's sick joke, maybe.

He hadn’t known then—just how special Meredith would be.

Not at first.

But later… oh, he tried to tell her.

Back when she was still with him, chained in the dark, too drugged to see the light.

He tried.

Tried to explain it all—how it wasn’t his fault. How he saved her from something worse.

But she didn’t believe him.

She looked at him like he was filth. A monster. A liar.

But he’d never lie to Meredith.

Never.

Not her.

He watched as her mother screamed at her.

“Just get out of my way! I can’t even look at you! How could you shoot your brother? My son!”

His blood boiled.

He could shatter every single bone in that woman’s body for yelling at Meredith like that. His Meredith.

She didn’t fight back.

Didn’t scream. Didn’t cry.

She just stood there.

Then turned.

Dragging her feet, each step like it weighed a hundred pounds. Like she was made of ash.

He followed.

Onto the balcony—

Where the cold met her like an old friend.

She clutched the railing with white-knuckled hands, knuckles stiff, fingers trembling.

“Meredith?”

His voice was gravel—rough, low, like heavy smoke curling in the dark.

She froze.

Turned.

Those green eyes. Wide. Red-rimmed. Wet.

Damn, her eyes…

Her voice was a whisper, raw and breathless.

“Y-you’re… you’re here?”

He smiled—

Not the sweet kind.

The dangerous kind.

A smirk sharp enough to cut.

A warning.

“I’m always here,” he said.

“In the distance.”

She shook her head, backing away an inch.

“Leave.”

But he didn’t. He never did.

Her voice cracked—worn and scared and already broken.

“I… I’ll call the cops. Someone. They’ll lock you up.”

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even blink.

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice higher now, trembling.

“You made me shoot my brother, dammit—I hate you.”

He stepped closer, just one step.

Voice low, steady.

“I know.”

She looked up at him, her whole body shaking.

Tears like glass on her lashes.

“W-why won’t you leave me alone?”

His eyes locked with hers—deep, dark, relentless.

“You know why.”

She shook her head, hard.

“No!”

Her eyes snapped up to him.

He towered over her—six foot four and made of shadows and nightmares.

The size difference was suffocating. But she didn’t step back.

Her voice was brittle, breaking.

“You’re not real…”

His gaze didn’t waver—dark and merciless, burning a hole straight through her.

“I’m the most real thing in your life, Meredith.”

He stepped in closer, voice low, cold fire.

“Not your parents.

Not your job.

Sure as hell not Spencer Reid.

Me.”

Shaking her head, “Stop it, Silas. Just stop it.”

The tears were streaming down now, unchecked. He looked at her—voice low, eyes wide.

“You remembered.”

She flinched. The memories hit her all at once. He saw it flicker across her face like lightning.

“Meredith…” he murmured, almost pleading. “Why do you act like I don’t exist? I fed you. Cared for you. Gave you a place to stay—”

“A cage ain’t a home,” she snapped, cutting him off. “And you only fed me when I obeyed.”

He scoffed, darkly amused. “You barely did that.”

Then, softer. Regretful, almost.

“I ain’t perfect, Meredith. But at least I don’t pretend. Not like them.”

Her voice rose, cracked with fury. “Leave my family out of this.”

He stepped forward, growling under his breath.

“Fine. Believe whatever the hell you want. But remember—I never lied to you. Never will.”

She pounded her fists into his chest—small, shaking, but relentless.

“I hate you,” she choked. “I hate you.”

Over and over.

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Then—just like before—he wrapped her in his arms.

And this time? She didn’t fight it.

She broke.

Crying, trembling, collapsing into him like a child. Like that night.

She whispered, fragile and desperate. “Tell me it’s not true…”

His voice was low. Steady. Cruel in its calm.

“What? That you’re finding comfort in my arms—or that your brother sold you, and your parents knew and did nothing?”

She didn’t answer.

Not at first.

Then, through broken sobs:

“Everything. Just… everything.”

Before he could answer, footsteps echoed down the hall.

A voice—Aaron Hotchner—calling her name.

He knew that name. Knew him.

He remembered watching—helpless, furious—as Aaron and Gideon picked her up that day. The day he was going to take her back. Save her. His Meredith.

In some sick, twisted way… he figured Aaron saved her first.

She froze in his arms. Completely still. Like she was made of glass.

She didn’t want Aaron to see.

He felt it in her body—tight, trembling.

So he shielded her. Just enough to keep her hidden.

Aaron walked right past them. Oblivious.

But the second he disappeared—Meredith shrieked. Pushed him hard.

“Stay away from me! Just… just let me go!”

She ran.

Like a sinner from a church fire.

And Silas?

He just stood there.

Staring down the hallway she’d vanished into, like it was some holy place she’d just escaped from.

Feeling...

Was it power?

Or was it something else?

Because no matter how much control he thought he had…

It was her.

Only her.

The only one who could make him feel… So Damn….Human.

[boho-freespirit]

Thick Thighs and Cold Nights

Word Count: 2,674

Type: Smut | One-shot

Note: This is my first smut one-shot, so be gentle… or don’t.

Warnings:

– Explicit sexual content (18+)

– Strong language

– Praise kink

– Size kink

– Light possessiveness

– Fingering

– Oral (f receiving)

– P-in-V

– Soft dominance

– Touch-starved energy

– Mentions of body insecurities

– Soft aftercare

– Consent is sexy and clear

– He’s obsessed with her thighs, and he’s not subtle about it

– Reader-insert implied but can be read as OC

@jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @cutedisneygirl @angelbabyyy99

It was a cold-ass winter night in Chicago. I sat in a tiny corner of the coffee shop, wrapped in an oversized sweater that’d seen better days, jeans and boots scuffed from the salt-stained sidewalks. My hands clutched a hot mug like it was my last lifeline.

The place buzzed—people in and out, rushing like they had somewhere warm and exciting to be. Meanwhile, my laptop sat open, its screen mocking me with a blank page. Writer’s block was a bitch.

Inspiration? Dead.

Romance? Deader. Dry like the damn Sahara.

Then again, maybe that’s on me. I ain’t the type to spread my legs just ‘cause a man flashes a smile. Nah—I’m practically a nun next to most. A good girl, if you want to call it that. Never really had a man make me swoon—you know, weak-in-the-knees, heart-thudding, thighs-clenching kind of swoon.

I shrugged, slouching deeper into my chair. I’ve always been a bit of a wallflower—quiet, observant, hiding in plain sight. Pale skin, freckles lightly dusted across my cheeks and nose like a soft kiss from the sun. Curves for days—thick thighs, soft stomach. Not fat, just... lush, ya know?

Not exactly model material, but hell, I’m okay with that. Most days.

And when I’m not? I crank up that country tune—what’s-her-name, singing “Thick Thighs Save Lives”—and I strut through my living room like I’m on a Victoria’s Secret runway with a goddamn sword. That song’s a damn anthem. Makes me feel like a goddess in worn-out boots.

The little ding at the front door echoed through the coffee shop, cutting through the low hum of conversation. I looked up—habit, really.

And then I saw him.

An African American man stepped inside, probably 6'4", maybe even taller. Hell, I wouldn’t know—at 5'4", everyone’s a damn skyscraper to me. His dark grey jacket was dusted in snow, clinging to his broad shoulders like winter dared to touch him. He looked exhausted. Like he’d carried the weight of the city on his back.

But damn... he was handsome.

Dark brown skin, sharp jawline, a neatly kept beard, black hair tight to his head. And those eyes—tired, but deep. Real.

I bit my lower lip, heat pooling low in my stomach.

Fuck.

If my parents could hear me right now—thinking a Black man was hotter than sin—they’d probably disown me. After all the years they spent drilling in what’s “proper” for a white girl.

Ugh, not like they’re ever gonna find out.

I mean—why the hell would he be interested in me? Especially with a woman who looks like she just stepped off a damn runway already eyeing him from across the room. Skin like caramel silk, legs for days, and confidence oozing out of every perfect pore.

I took a long sip of my coffee and jabbed my fork into the slice of cake like it personally offended me. Chewed it like it owed me rent.

Maybe my best friend’s right. Maybe I am sexually frustrated.

Oh well. The vibrator wins again tonight.

After the hellscape of my family get-together in two hours, anyway.

Can’t wait for the usual lecture—how I need a real job. Something that doesn’t involve “silly hobbies” like writing or painting. I mean seriously, can you imagine me as an accountant? With my wild curly hair, one long feather earring swinging on one side, and a tiny stud on the other? I’d cause a damn HR scandal before lunch.

I giggled at the thought, shaking my head—

And then I heard it.

A voice. Low. Rough. Raspy like whiskey and secrets.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” he said.

Him.

The black man from earlier. The one hotter than sin.

I froze. Blushed so hard my freckles probably lit up like Christmas lights.

“Uhm... o-okay. Thanks,” I stammered, mentally screaming at myself. Great start, girl. Real smooth.

He smiled—

And I’d love to say it melted my insides like some damn Hallmark movie, but nah...

It lit a low heat right in my core.

Dangerous.

Unexpected.

Then came his voice again—low and smooth.

“You always laugh at yourself?”

I blinked, looked up.

“Uhm... not always. Just... I mean, sometimes. I’m funny. I think.”

He nodded toward the seat across from me. “Mind if I sit?”

I stared like he’d just asked me to solve a math equation in Swahili.

“Here? With me?”

He smiled, eyes locked on mine. “Yes.”

I blinked. “Uhm... sure. Alright.”

I looked down at the table, then back at him, fingers fumbling against each other—cold, pink, nervous.

“You, uh... want some cake?” I gestured at the half-eaten slice like it was some royal offering.

Idiot.

Why would he want your leftover cake?

But he didn’t flinch. He just laughed—low and rich like bourbon.

“Sure.”

Then he dipped his finger right into the whipped cream and licked it off.

Licked. It. Off.

I was done for.

Eyes locked on his mouth, the way his lips moved, tongue slipping just slightly over the tip of his finger—my pulse tripped over itself.

My thighs clenched under the table, hard.

Dammit—please don’t notice.

Oh—but he did notice. That damn smirk told me everything.

Then he spoke—his voice smooth, deep, dripping like honey.

“Kevin Atwater.”

I smiled, my voice catching. “H...hi.”

I quickly added my name, and when he repeated it—slow, soft, the syllables rolling off his tongue like silk—I swear, hot damn, it was sinful.

And then we talked.

Not the cutesy little flirt chats.

Really talked.

I told him what I did—writing, painting, trying to make something outta the chaos in my head.

He told me he was a detective—Intelligence Unit.

Yeah, that’s hot.

Before we knew it, it was closing time. He offered to walk me home, and normally I’d say no, but tonight?

Tonight I said yes.

And now we’re on my porch, snow still clinging to his shoulders, breath fogging in the winter air.

He looked at me, voice low, rough like gravel and velvet.

“Tonight was the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

I swallowed, heart thudding. “Y-yeah. Uhmm... it was really nice meeting you.”

I felt like a damn schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher. Awkward. Flustered. Desperate to play it cool.

Our eyes locked. The tension? You could slice it clean through.

He leaned in—and I froze.

My mind whispered no.

My body screamed hell yes.

His lips hovered over mine, teasing. Barely there. I nearly crumbled.

Then—he kissed me. Slow. Deliberate. Just enough to ruin me.

He pulled back, voice husky.

“That okay? I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

I blinked, breathless. “R...really?”

He grinned, eyes dark with promise.

“That... and more.”

I swallowed hard, teeth tugging at my bottom lip.

“O-okay,” I whispered.

His eyes darkened instantly.

“Don’t do that,” he muttered.

I blinked. “D-Do what?”

He exhaled sharply and turned away, jaw clenched like he was wrestling with himself.

“Unless you want me to...”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t.

I stepped back, unsure, my chest tight. “To... what?”

He dragged a hand down his face, voice rough now, like it hurt to say.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but it’s making me want to do something I probably shouldn’t.”

He looked over at me, eyes stormy.

“I shouldn’t feel this way. Not about a white woman.”

He winced the moment it left his mouth.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just—”

But I’d already stiffened.

Something in me snapped—maybe from years of biting my tongue or maybe because I was tired of pretending I wasn’t enough for people.

I turned, yanked open the front door.

“Well fuck you,” I said, too loud, too raw.

He was on me in a heartbeat, stepping closer, so close I could feel the heat of him in the cold night.

His voice dropped, low, dangerous, hungry.

“Only if you’re the one doing it.”

I nearly choked, my whole body trembling—adrenaline? Fear? Lust? Maybe all three tangled together.

“Kevin, I…”

But I didn’t get to finish.

His lips crashed into mine—hot, wild, hungry—and the sound I made wasn’t human. I gasped, and he took full advantage, tongue slipping in like he’d been starving for this.

I moaned against him, tasting him—coffee, heat, something him. We stumbled through the door, still locked at the mouth, hands everywhere—grabbing, feeling, needing.

The height difference was no joke—he had to lean down and I rose up on my tippy toes, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. My fingers tangled in his coat, clutching like I’d drown if I let go.

He growled against my lips, breath hot, “Fuck, I need you.”

His big hands cupped my ass, and—shit… help me—I could feel how hard he was through those jeans. My fingers tangled in his beard, tugging, anchoring, trying to drag him impossibly closer as I pressed up, grinding against him.

He groaned, deep and guttural. “Ahh, dammit, woman—”

Then he lifted me like I weighed nothing, strong arms sliding under my thighs. I gasped as I wrapped around him, shamelessly grinding against that bulge, chasing friction like my damn life depended on it.

My soft moan slipped out, and he growled, “Keep makin’ those sweet sounds, babygirl. Before the night’s done, you’ll be screaming my name.”

I froze. Not from fear—from disbelief. No one had ever made me feel… wanted. Not like this.

I kissed him—his lips, then his jaw, his beard scraping my face in return—and suddenly he pushed me against the wall. A painting crashed to the ground behind us. He looked at it, then back at me.

“Sorry.”

Breathless, I smiled. “It’s okay.”

He smirked, squeezed my ass. “Fuck, I like these cheeks, baby.”

I blushed so hard, my freckles probably lit up like stars. I buried my face in his chest.

One hand still held me, the other gently tilted my chin.

“Don’t hide that sweet-ass face from me. I wanna see you. All of you.”

I hesitated. “I… I’m not as pretty as the other women out there.”

He looked at me then. No, he saw me. And said, low and sure, “You’re right. You’re not pretty.”

I blinked.

“You’re fucking beautiful.”

My lip quivered. I had to swallow down the tears threatening to rise. “T-Thank you.”

His lips brushed my neck, a whisper against my skin. “It’s true. You’re so fucking beautiful. Just took a real man to see it.”

I froze. Every nerve, every thought. Just… silence. Then—

“Kevin?”

“Yeah?” His voice was rough, ready.

With a sudden boldness I didn’t know I had, I whispered, “Then tonight… make me a woman.”

No hesitation. He carried me to the bedroom, laid me down like I was something precious, climbed over me—

And kissed me like he meant to rewrite every memory I ever had of touch

He slowly peeled off my sweater, fingertips grazing the edge of my black lace bra. His voice rumbled, low and dark—like whiskey over ice. “I like this color on you.”

I shivered.

His lips found my collarbone, kissing, licking, dragging heat down the curve of my chest. He palmed my breasts through the delicate lace, and without warning, unclasped my bra with fingers that knew exactly what they were doing.

He moaned softly when he saw me, and I trembled as cool air kissed my exposed nipples. He didn’t hesitate—just leaned in and took my right nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue flicking, while the fingers of one hand rolled the other bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ahhh... Kevin,” I gasped, body arching toward him, hands fisting the bedsheets.

I squirmed, moaning as his fingers teased—too much, not enough. He pulled back from my nipple, watching me, admiring the way it stood swollen and red from his mouth. My whole body pulsed, aching.

Then he took off his shirt.

I gasped. “Fuck.” My fingers traced his abs, slow and reverent, before I sat up with shaky confidence, kissing his jaw, down his throat, across his collarbone, licking a trail down the hard planes of his chest—until I reached the spot where his jeans hugged his hips.

Then his hand moved.

Sliding down.

My breath hitched as his fingers slipped into my pants.

He growled, low and hungry, “So fucking wet for me, babygirl.”

He brushed over my panties and I nearly came undone, my hips bucking into his hand.

And then he pulled away.

In a flash, he unbuttoned my pants, yanked them down my legs, tossing them somewhere behind him. He shoved me back onto the bed, grabbed my thighs, and dragged me to the edge like he owned every inch of me.

He dropped to his knees.

Spread my legs like he was opening something sacred. His eyes locked with mine—dark, hungry, possessive.

He licked his lips.

Then licked over my still-clothed pussy.

I cried out, “Ahhhh—”

He smirked. “Like that, don’t you, honey?”

I nodded, whimpering. Words? Gone.

Then his teeth caught the lace.

He dragged my panties down with his mouth, slow and sinful. When his fingers brushed my clit, I nearly broke. But nothing—nothing—compared to when his mouth finally found me.

Hot. Hungry.

He devoured me like he hadn’t eaten in days—and I was the feast.

It hit me like lightning—fast, blinding, a surge of white-hot pleasure ripping through me. My body trembled as the orgasm washed over me, leaving me gasping, hazy-eyed, completely undone.

He didn’t stop.

He lapped up every last drop like I was the only thing that could quench him. When he looked up, his beard was slick, glistening with my release, and his mouth curled into the most smug, satisfied smile.

“I’ve never tasted anything so sweet in my life.”

His voice—husky, frayed—was pure sin.

Then he stood and unzipped his jeans. My eyes widened as he peeled down his boxers and his cock sprang free—thick, veined, already leaking at the tip.

“F…fuck, Kevin.”

He crawled over me slow, all muscle and dominance, whispering, “You like what you see, babygirl?”

I swallowed, unable to look away. “You’re… you’re so big. I don’t think you’ll fit.”

He positioned himself, eyes locked on mine. “Is this what you want? I’ll go slow.”

I nodded. “Yes. More than anything.”

He kissed me—deep, possessive—then pushed in, slow and steady. My body stretched around him, that perfect bittersweet ache blooming in my core.

He growled, “Damn, you're tight. So perfect.”

My nails dug into his shoulders as he bottomed out, filling me completely. He paused, letting me adjust, and then started to move. Gentle at first. Controlled.

But it didn’t stay gentle.

His thrusts grew harder, faster—skin slapping, my moans unraveling into gasps and whimpers. His voice was constant, grounding me in the storm:

“Good girl.”

“Taking me so well.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re perfect.”

Somewhere between the haze, I looked down at where our bodies met—his rich dark skin against my flushed pale thighs—and something inside me broke. It was too beautiful. Too much.

He slammed into me, finding every perfect angle. I shattered first, crying out as pleasure tore through me like wildfire.

Then I heard him groan—“N-no—”—but it was too late.

I felt him release, thick and hot, flooding inside me.

I moaned louder, overwhelmed, aching and full.

He collapsed on top of me, breath ragged, still inside. We lay there, tangled and pulsing.

“Shit… sorry, babygirl. I was planning to pull out.”

I smiled, dazed. “That was… wow.”

After a moment, he slid out of me, and I felt the warmth of his release trickling down my thighs. He looked down at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Then he turned toward the bathroom, still naked, voice rough.

“Come on, sweet girl… let me take care of you.”

I melted as he scooped me up in his arms and carried me into the bathroom. He set me gently into the warm water, climbed in behind me, and cradled me to his chest.

And in that quiet moment, one thing was certain:

Round two was coming.

[boho-freespirit]

So excited!! 🕵🏻‍♂️🥰⌛️

[boho-freespirit]

Arsonist

Let's stop playing games

Watching as it goes up in flames

You standing there

I'm over here

Our eyes connect

In yours I see a speck

Of something so unknown

Something as heavy as stone

Our life filled with photo frames

And other people's names

Each of us has our own

But it's your heart that I want to know

Her hand in yours

His hand around my waist

My heart is making a tour

Entering that dangerous space

Between right and wrong

The two of us known eachother for so long

Tell me how can this be

Why didn't your heart choose me

All those years ago when both us were single

Why didn't the spark between us lit a flame

A sort of kindle

My heart should have known your name

What if we tell them goodbye

I don't want to lie

Not to myself and not to him, but it's you I want

In my slumber it's your name I chant

How did it get this far

My head and heart is in the middle of a war

Like a wildfire burning a path

Thinking about doing something that I shouldn't have

Do we burn the lives we built to ashes

Seeing the flashes

Of the memories of me and him, you and her,

We could never go there

Breaking the eye contact

My heart just barely intact

I don't want to go closer to you

Afraid of what we would do

Just wanting to touch you once, feeling your lips on mine

Shaking the thoughts out of my head, it's a damn crime

To be an arsonist and light our lives on fire

We simply need to push these feelings down and retire

I can't just sit and watch it burn

So I will return

To holding him, while you kiss her

Watching this event occur

There will be no burning flames

As we stay with the people in our photo frames.

-Denesca van Eck

-21 January 2025

-Part 1/25

[boho-freespirit]

Smoky Old Barrooms, Saving Grace & Guitar Leads - Chapter 5 🐞❣️

A/N: 🐞... Okayz my dearest loves, I hope y'all enjoy this, we get to find out why Dean, ain't really doing so well.. sit back and enjoy.💕🐞❣️

Warnings: *18+ Only* sadness, angst, drugs, drinking, Some light swearing... Anything else let me know...😱

Characters: Dean x OC Grace Tucker,

Words: 2400ish 🥰

Cover & Pictures: Pinterest, Canva, Google

Side Note: Please check out my Masterlist for more, epic stories🐞💕

Thick smoke hanging in the dim lit bar, some bluegrass band playing on a small stage in the corner, the harmonies is a little lost over the rowdy crowd, Dean sits alone at a wooden table, them faded jeans on the worn out leather barstool, paired with those brown stetson boots,resting on the rung, is enough to let the waitress give him flirty smiles. But he sure isn’t in the mood for that tonight. 

Letting out a humourless chuckle, life’s going good right… Music has been picking up, since he started doing shows with Grace, who is practically driving him up a wall, “don’t get me wrong”, he talks to no one really, “she’s an amazing singer and songwriter, but everytime it feels like, ya know something might happen between them, she pulls back, and act’s all holier than thou…” he grunts as he takes yet another sip of that liquid gold, fidgeting in his pocket, shaking his head, his hair falls in messy waves, every now and again obscuring his face, his calloused fingers running through the silky soft strands, his other hand throws the clear packet of white powder on the wooden table, taking his credit card out off his wallet, unwrapping the packet, throwing a little on the table, then lowering his face closing the one nostril as he snorts up the white powder, wiping his nose with his thumb and point finger to remove the remnants of the powder, he rolls his shoulders back to remove the tension, then pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to ease the sting and burn, blinking his emerald orbs a few times as the coke starts taking affect, and he can feel that desired high starting to kick in, taking his glass of whiskey, leaning back in his chair, throwing it in the back of his throat and yet ordering another one.

Tapping his fingertips on his thigh to the music, barely noticing when the cute brunette that gave him his glass of whiskey and her number on the serviette, he smirked, maybe he’d call her to chase the loneliness away. Still lost in his thoughts he feels a small hand on his shoulder, and oh damn that voice of an angel, “Dean, come on, let me take you home?” he turns around, confusingly “Grace?” she nods and smiles “Come on, Cowboy you had enough for tonight” Before he could even find the words he felt the cool fresh air hitting his face, his bloodshot eyes piercing hers “who the hell do you think you are?” she just simply takes his hand, pulls him towards a cab, reluctantly he gets in. She slides into the backseat next to him, giving the driver the address, then turning her gaze towards him, she leans in, her thumb brushing against the stubble, she gasps softly “are you high right now?” He seems surprised.

Her tone urgent but soft, “don’t you dare lie to me Dean,” holding out her thumb, there must’ve been powder stuck in his beard, he rolls his eyes, grunting “Oh get off your high horse, not everyone can be as perfect as you”. Grace huffs a little “I am not perfect”.

Dean crosses his arms over his chest, ‘keep telling yourself that darling” his tone mocking. She locks eyes with him “get your head out of your behind…” she couldn’t continue with her sentence, as he broke into laughter, tilting her head, “What’s so funny?” He could barely speak through the laughter, but once it died down, he let out “you're such a good little girl, you don’t even swear” shaking his head.

She sneers “just because I don’t use swear words, doesn’t mean that I’m perfect” he chuckles “oh please, we’ve been doing shows together for nearly two months now, I haven’t even seen you drink a drop of alcohol.” As the cab comes to a stop, she lets out an annoyed grunt, “I don’t like the taste” of course that was a lie, she just simply couldn’t drink with all the medication she takes.

He laughs as he stumbles out of the cab. He glances up at the house, it must be her place, and he couldn’t help himself “If you wanted to spend the night with me you could’ve just asked” her eyes widens and her jaw drops “Excuse me.. I’m not that kind of woman” he shook his head, “of course not, you're practically a nun” she gives him a glare as she unlocks her front door, helping him to the nearest couch, he plumps down. 

She walks upstairs and comes back down carrying pillows and a blanket, handing it to him “You sleep off your high and drunk behind, we’ll talk in the morning,” he smirks “okay,” patting the couch next to him, “but only if you join me” she shook her head “Goodnight Dean” she walked upstairs again.He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, whispering to himself “Could it be that she cared? And how’d she know where to find him?” It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

Leaving Grace upstairs in her bedroom, her chest heaving a little, trying to breathe in deeply, calming herself, the doctor clearly said, don’t get upset, don’t exert yourself, but when her friend called her tonight, letting her know that Dean didn’t look so well, she knew she had to go and help him. Only because she’s a good person, not because she’s fallen for him, head over boots,sliding down the door, “Dammit Dean Winchester, what have you done to me?” she mumbles to herself, her hand over her chest, he drives her insane with all his inappropriate jokes and sayings, but deep down she knows he’s a wonderful, kind man, who’s just hurting, and she’d be damned if she doesn’t just help him to leave the booze and drugs before she leaves this earth.

After awhile she makes her way to the closet getting into comfy clothes, then she makes her way downstairs, softly she could hear the little soft snores coming from Dean, she made her way to the kitchen, taking her medication, which is honestly just a bunch of pills, so she doesn’t feel pain the entire time, looking down at the bunch of pills in her palm,mumbling to herself, “why do I keep taking it? Not like it’s helping her in any way or form” she threw them back in her throat, quickly swallowing them. Sighing, quoting her Pastor again, “No Gracie, you got to keep the faith.” she looks up at the ceiling, “I’m trying”. Turning around making her way to the living room, covering Dean up with a blanket, making sure he is comfortable, she removes them stetson boots, neatly placing them next to the coffee table.She softly walks upstairs and gets into her bed, letting out a breath, whispering to no one “Please let me wake up tomorrow, and oh if it is Your Will, would you please let me see my sister get married?” with those last few words, like she prayed so many times before she fell asleep.

The orange-yellow glow peeking through the window, feeling extra bright as his emerald green eyes flutter open, immediately holding his aching head, he looks around still a little disorientated, then remembering little pieces here and there, Grace brought him here, to sleep it off, he winches as he sat up straight, remembering the things he told her, his face meets his palms, muttering to himself “what the hell, I messed that up” he takes his boots and pull ‘em on, gets up and find his way to the front door, walking without saying goodbye or thank you. Walking down the street, his head pounding, his hands in his jean pockets, cursing himself mentally for everything he said last night, she’ll probably never forgive him. He walks past the graveyard, stopping in his tracks, he wanders inside, straight towards Kevin Tran’s headstone, kneeling down, his hand running over the black-greyish marble, the surface smooth, but cold, a stark reminder of how he feels some days, cold, empty with a heart as hard as this stone. He starts to whisper, “Hey buddy, I know it’s been awhile and yesterday was your birthday, what you would’ve been in your twenties by now” he chuckles “you could’ve drank a beer with me man” his face saddens “sit man, I went to your mom yesterday, she still blames me for your death that day” he lets out a shaky breath “don’t get me wrong buddy, I don’t blame her, I blame myself, if only I didn’t drive that day” his hand runs over the engraved letters, falling to his knees, thinking about that day, he didn’t drink back then, no it was round about Christmas, there were a thin layer of ice on the road, shining like glass as the moonlight reflected on it, just coming from a show, it was late and he promised Kevin’s mom he’d bring him home safely, oh it was Kevin’s dream to become a famous rockstar, so he wanted to give the kid a chance, everyone has to start somewhere right?  So he gave Kevin a spot as a back-up guitarist. His breathing became ragged as he remembers as the turn came up, the car slid on the ice, making it impossible for Dean to stay in control of the vehicle, oh but he tried his best, but the damn ice were to slippery making it difficult to control as he saw the single guardrail that marked the border between the pavement and thin air, he tried to brake, he tried everything, but before he could register what was happening the car plunged into the darkness over that cliff, he can still hear Kevin’s screams as the car went over that jagged rocks and into the darkness, somehow flipping the car to its side and into a tree, it’s front crumpled like a soda can, leaving Dean and Kevin unconscious for hours.

When he came to, he could hear the sirens of the first responders and he tried his best to wake up Kevin, despite the tree branch that were sticking through his torso, towards his back, sticking out behind the seat, the blood trickling down, but it was like he didn’t even notice, he just tried to wake up Kevin, shaking him, screaming at him, but nothing, later he found out by the coroner that he was dead on impact, and Dean well he was left with an injury so severe that he nearly died, and oh how sometimes he wished he did, because the guilt is such a heavy burden to carry. The only thing he got from that accident, was months of being in the hospital, losing his girlfriend Lisa, and later on as he got out of the hospital, with still a painful back, he somehow got addicted to opioids and later it was cocaine and booze, woman every night, then eventually his own brother Sam stopped talking to him, it’s been years now and he still can’t seem to shake it. He cleared his throat, speaking with a slight gruff “Till next time buddy” he patted the headstone and got up. Walked out of the graveyard, feeling empty, guilt ridden and numb.

As he walked further than the road, he realised that tonight was a big night for him and Grace, they had quite a big show coming up, he inhaled and exhaled knowing he need to be his best tonight, despite his cockyness he knew his sales was down and to be honest music was the only thing keeping him alive. His mind started racing, Grace saw him, drunk and high - is she still going to want to sing with him tonight? Will she ever talk to him again? Is there a possibility of the two of them being something more than just fellow musicians? He shook his head slightly - 'stop overthinking’ he muttered, then his phone got a text from Bobby, his heart sank as he read… “we’ve got a problem boy, a big problem…”.

@jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @k-slla @angelbabyyy99

[boho-freespirit]

“She was a storm. Not the kind you run from. The kind you chase.”

— r.h.sin

[boho-freespirit]

Moonflowers & Werewolves - Chapter Six 🥰🥳

A/N: Y'all it's been awhile I know, but hopefully this chapter will make it worth it...❤️💕 Love y'all and thanks for the support my bugs 🐞🐞🩷

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, violence, fluffy, fear, a little bit of smut.. anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Derek, Maddie, Tom.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva. Also please do not copy my work!

Words:1500😅

Chapter Name: Six 💕

Her hazel brown eyes widened, her voice shaky “T…Tom?” Derek stood there, his hands still on her hips, he didn’t even need his heightened sense, to know this guy is a… he bit his lower lip, letting out a slight growl. Madison didn’t even take notice, he could see the fear written all over her beautiful face. Maybe it was instinct but he immediately led her to stand behind him, his jaw clenching, “Can we help you?”

The slick looking guy came walking towards them, he had this mocking sound in his voice, “Oh did you get yourself a bodyguard Maddie?”

Derick let out a muffled growl, clenching and unclenching his fist’s trying to not turn into a werewolf, he hated this guy already. “No! I’m her boyfriend” 

Tom laughed, “Ha! Please you get out of here buddy, I’m her husband”

Derek felt a stab at his heart, turning to look Maddie in the eyes, almost whispering “Your married?” 

She shook her head, her voice brittle “N…no I filed for divorce, but he wouldn’t sign the papers”

Tom came closer towards Derick, tapping him on his shoulder “listen here buddy…” before he could finish his sentence Derick’s palm meet his chest, picking him up by the shirt, Tom is being lifted in the air, Derek’s voice is deeper than normal “listen to me, Get the hell out of Madison’s house, and if I see you come near her again” now sounding more like a growl “I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth” and with one movement he threw the man on the floor close to the door.

Tom grunted in pain, that man didn’t look so strong, how the hell did he manage to pick him up and throw him like a damn paperweight through the air? He got up, in a barely audible voice “I’ll be back for you Maddie”

Derek turned towards Madison, his voice low and calm when he talked to her, he had a very good idea what happened, but he had to ask “Did your husband abuse you?” The way she looked at him broke his heart, like she remembered every slap, every fist, every kick, every beating he’d ever given her. She started to cry, feeling weak and helpless, her body shaking, her voice breaking “H…he was, no one knew”

He didn't really say anything, he took her trembling body into his arms, her head resting against his muscular çhest, his fingers brushing her long hair, he places a kiss on the top of her head, a faint whisper rolled over his lips “I'm so sorry” in that moment she found solace, a sense of comfort, she never felt, she didn't utter a single word, she just stood there in his embrace. 

It's been two weeks since Tom showed up, but he hasn't visited Maddie's house again as a matter of fact, it's like he disappeared not that it bothered her, but the unknown made her a little anxious, but in the days passed, the bond between Derek and her grew. That's what she's busy with right now, making a special dinner, just to thank him for everything, she's really fallen in love with him, with a supernatural being, did it make sense? No. But when does love make sense? 

Placing candles on the table, the whole scene looked romantic, all that was needed was for her to get dressed into something other than these food stained clothes. Checking the clock on the wall, she has an hour left before he comes, quickly runs into the bathroom, running a cherry blossom bubble bath. Finally with only five minutes to spare she's done, her dark hair hanging loosely, framing her face, a blue summer's dress hugging her curves perfectly, the scent lingering in the air was the cherry blossom from earlier. Somehow she felt nervous, and excited at the same time. Walking up and down checking herself, over and over in the mirror, she felt like a teenager in love, with the most handsome guy. 

He stood there checking his hair, in the window, breathing into his hands, just too check if his breath is as minty as the taste in his mouth, somehow he felt nervous, they are still getting to know each other, but he can’t remember the last time he felt this way, so with one last check in the window, his calloused hands runs through his hair. He knocks on the door, his heart beating out of his chest, and as she opens the door, looking at her in that blue summer’s dress, she takes his breath away, smiling at her, his voice coming out a little husky “Hello Maddie?” the way she smiled when she said, “welcome, come in” he hands her a single red rose, taking it from him, she smells the velvety flower, “thank you” giving him a small kiss on the cheek while standing on her tippy toes.

Her scent, filled his nostrils, cherry blossom and coconut he thinks, she walks into the living room, talking about something, but he couldn’t really focus, he eyes lingered on her perfect body, from her beautiful long hair, the hem of the dress as it covers her legs, and then her barefoot walking on the white tile floor, her calling him “Derek are you coming?” made him shift out of the trans, closing the door behind him, he walked towards the kitchen. “Sorry, what did you say?” she smiled at him, shaking her head “white or red?” Tilting his head slightly “what?” she laughs and it sounds heavenly “the wine, which one do you want?” He snickers a little “Oh” rubbing the back of his neck, “red, thank you” he takes in the view, the effort she’s done, everything looks so perfect, so romantic. “You went through all this trouble, it wasn’t necessary” handing him his wine, smiling a little shyly “I… I wanted to make it special.” taking a sip of her wine.

His eyes darted by the way her lips, touch the rim of her wine glass, and without hesitation he strides closer, taking the wine glass out of her hand placing it down with his, on the countertop, his hands cups her face, her brown eyes glistening, and without warning, his lips crashes against hers, he could taste the wine on her lips, with some sort of lip balm. She moaned softly, and that's when his tongue grazed her bottom lip, seeking entry, she parted her soft lips, and it didn’t take long for their tongues to do a passionate dance. Her palms was resting against his muscular chest, and as his hand got tangled in her hair, as he pulled her closer, her hands roamed up towards his neck, her fingernails slighting grazing his skin, which in return sent shivers down his spine, he lets out a slight growl. Without breaking the passionate kiss, his hands trace her curves till he’s at the back of her thighs, picking her up swiftly, placing her down on the kitchen countertop, he deepened the kiss, it didn’t take her long, she wrapped her legs around his waist, soft moans, falling against his lips, and, was it a beautiful sound. He pulled back coming up for air, after a few seconds she opened her eyes as well, looking into his green orbs, slowly gathering her breath, he looked at her, his voice hoarse from the passionate kiss “damn your beautiful” covering her face with her hands, too hide how flustered she is, sounding more breathy than intended “t…thank you” his hands peeled hers off her gorgeous face, “don’t hide from me, you are gorgeous” sounding husky.But before she could reply, his lips met hers in yet another endearing kiss, the passion and heat coursed through their bodies, hands roaming over the contours of their bodies, Once again he broke the kiss, only too look into her eyes, as if asking if she wanted it too, smiling shyly and nodding, he placed another kiss on her lips, wrapping his arms around her small frame, picking her up, and without breaking the kiss, he carried her too the bedroom, gently placing her on the bed, sharing a look of pure passion, ready to explore depths of each other, making their connection deeper. In that moment nothing else mattered, only the two of them, and the shadows dancing on the wall in heated passion, the soft glow of the moon shining in, making this night even more blissful…

@k-slla @jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @angelbabyyy99 @bookishtheaterlover7 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl

[boho-freespirit]

Hurting Angel - Chapter Five 💕❤️

A/N: Y'all it's been awhile I know, but hopefully this chapter will make it worth it...❤️💕 Love y'all and thanks for the support my bugs 🐞🐞🩷

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, violence, fluffy, fear... anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Crowley, Bridget, Lainey

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva. Also please do not copy my work!

Words:2895 😅

Chapter Name: Five 💕

Concern on his hard face,  he barely kept his eyes on the road, he brushed the hair out of her face, whispering underneath his breath "My love, I'll kill each and everyone of these bastards, no one will ever hurt you again, never my angel!" His voice was laced with so much emotion, anger, fear, and something he hasn't quite experienced yet really in his life, love. 

The range rover came to a stop, he called ahead letting his staff know that they should keep Lainey busy, and away from the entrance and his bedroom, he also demanded that the doctor should come over immediately.

He gets out, walking around the vehicle, opening the door. She looked so small, so fragile, like an angel who's fallen, and bruised a wing. He picks her up swiftly, her pretty little head resting against his chest, he cradles her like a little child. As he walked through the door, some of his staff were there, wanting to help, their faces stricken with heartache and fear, Bridget had crept into their hearts as well. His voice was hushed but loud enough "leave us alone, go! Just go do your work or something" he carried her upstairs, knowing he could have acted better, but if his people start to see this.. well this meek side of him, it will be like he's lost all his power and control.

He walks into his bedroom, placing her down on his bed, the doctor was already there, and in a matter of seconds he was looking at her. For the first time, it feels like he can breathe, he didn't speak, he just watched as his old friend took care of Bridget. 

He then took notice of the blood on his own clothes, his hands were stained with her blood, furious he went into the bathroom, trying to wash off his stained hands, with every single drop of water that was mixed with the blood.  He started to loose control, he's hands were shaking, his own reflection got caught in the mirror, he barely recognised himself, his face was a image of a broken, man, a man who's afraid of losing something so dear to him, something so precious, he clenched the bathroom sink, his knuckles white, he was furious, at those bastards, at this image of a weak man before, he started to ball his fist's and without warning he punched the mirror, he wanted that man before him gone, he shook his hand, blood and pieces of glass in his knuckles.

The doctor came rushing in, took one look at Crowley and knew well enough not to ask, he just led him into the bedroom and started tweezing out the glass. Crowley didn't look at his own injury, his eyes fell on her, the woman he loved but could never tell. He spoke, the sound was low, he didn't even sound like himself "is she alright?" 

His old friend was caught off guard by his voice, but what completely took him by surprise was the look in the devil's eyes, "Y...yes she's going to be okay, little sore for a few days, but she's alright, some bruised ribs, and grazed skin, but she's a tough woman" 

Crowley smiles, glancing over her, underneath his breath "she's a feisty little one". After awhile, the doctor went home and left Crowley in the room, with her, she was sleeping, exhausted and in pain, he walked closer towards her, slowly as if he's afraid he'll startle her, he looked at her bruised face, before he even realised he took her hand into his, it looked so small, with his right hand he traced the side of her face, his voice sounded low, deep, as he whispers "Bridget my love .." he stopped himself from saying what he wanted too. Pinching his eyes closed, he needs to stop this, he needs to not let his feelings show, no way in hell could an angel like her, love a devil like himself. 

Weakly, her voice took him out of his thoughts "... Crowley?"

He is still holding her hand while his other hand traces her jaw, barely audible "love?" 

Her small hand finds its way to his hand, slightly still brushing against her skin, she wraps her hand over his wrist, "your here?" She whispers 

He couldn't hold back the way he felt, her hand on his wrist, the way she looked at him, he said those three words with honesty and truth "I'll never leave" 

She smiled at him, mouthing a thank you, her eyes fell shut once again, and for what seemed like minutes he stood there, wondering if she might.. just might feel something for him too. The silence was broken by the cries of a child needing her mother… "Lainey" his face softened, he walked out making sure to lock the door behind him, she can't see her mom like this. His voice soft, almost fatherly "Hello sweetie, why are you crying?" She reaches her little arms out to him, "Where's Mommy?" 

He picks her up, "Oh sweetie she, had to work late, but she did ask me too look after you until she comes back" she stares at him cheekily "really mommy doesn't like Cowley" 

He couldn't help it, he laughed, "That's true sweetie, but she trusts me with you, don't you want me to read a story to you?" 

Her eyes go wide, she pouts a little "Story and ice cream?"

How could he say no, "of course, let's go get some you can choose which flavour"

She lets out a cheerful squeak , "all of them" throwing her little arms around his neck.

And so he took the little one, both of them tried every flavour, all five of them, she then chose the strawberry, which was her favourite and his well probably the chocolate one. After a while when all the Ice cream was done, he then realised it was a big mistake, that little girl had way too much energy, she was running up and down, twirling around, dancing, laughing, it was beautiful to see, but it was exhausting as well. Somewhere in the early morning hours, the little one crashed, she fell asleep on the big teddy bear he gave her, he picked her up with the teddy, and placed her in her bed, whispering "Good night my sweet little one" he walked out, feeling tired but content, headed over too, his bedroom. Bridget was still fast asleep on his bed, so he opted out for the armchair. As soon as he plunged down, he felt tired, and his eyes fell shut.

It’s been a few days, since she left the house, and got beaten up, her bruising was still evident, but she could cover it with makeup, so that Lainey didn’t see her so beaten up, as she sat drinking her coffee on the front porch, she recalled Crowley’s gentle touch that evening, yes it might be true, she drifted in and out of sleep, but, something about the way he looked at her, shaking her head, knowing that she can’t fall for him, hell who was she kidding, in the last couple of months, she spend some time with him, had her smitten, but that does not mean she’s going to act on it. No! Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice his eyes on her.

She sat there, early morning sun, shining on her face, almost giving her a golden halo. The wind softly blowing her blonde hair, exposing ever so slightly her neckline, she was the type of beauty you'd rarely seen, the way her lips touched the coffee mug, made him want to kiss her right then and there, but how could he, how could he be so selfish, no, he needed to be strong now, he needed them gone, he’ll keep an eye on them from a distance. With that in mind, he clears his throat. “Bridget” she turned her head, looked at him with those eyes of hers “Crowley? Morning” she smiled.

His voice was cold “we need to talk!”

Sitting up straight, she noticed the urgency in his voice “is something wrong?”

“Yes, you two have overstayed your welcome and you need to leave immediately”

For a moment, that felt like a few minutes she looked at him, surprised at what he just said “w…what?”

Harshly he replied “what’s the matter woman, was I not clear enough?”

Shaking her head, her voice brittle “w…what did we do wrong?”

“I’m sick and tired of you two taking over my damn house”

With out a single word, she got up and walked into the house, most of the staff was gone and Lainey was still fast asleep, placing her empty coffee mug in the kitchen sink, thinking of letting it go, and just pack up, but it was not in her nature to let him have the last word, she marched her way to him, raising her voice “dammit what is your problem?”

His eyes became darker “you, your my problem”

Throwing her hand in the air “why? What did I do?”

He glared down at the little women in front of him, he sounded mean, “everything dammit”

Her eyes piercing his “I hate you, you know that right”

He smirked, he was so close to her now, “you hate me? How sweet!”

Scoffing “Your a horrible person” with that being said she turned around to walk away, but before she knew what was happening, he grabbed ahold of her wrist, spinning her closer to his chest, still holding her wrist gently,  his other hand went under her chin, tilting her head, his voice low, “you hate me huh?” he didn’t give her a chance to speak, as his lips met hers, she closed her eyes, giving into this moment, into this desire. The feeling of her soft, warm lips against his, was intoxicating and in that brief moment, the world didn’t matter, their different backgrounds didn’t matter, nothing seemed to matter, the passion grew with every passing second, he pulled back, only too look her in the eyes, both of them slightly breathless. His voice low, almost a growl “love..I..” he didn’t have the correct words so he pulled her into him, for yet another kiss, she offered no resistance, and their lips met again in an enduring, heated kiss.

But their shared kiss was short lived as men entered the house like a gust of wind, guns blazing leaving a trail of destruction in their wake, Crowley’s eyes darkened, as he looked at Bridget and spoke with steely determination, “Go! Get Lainey, run towards the bathroom, lock it and hide in the bathtub” he drew his weapon, a low rumble escaping his lips, “don’t come out unless I say it’s clear understood”.

Her eyes widened, she just nodded as she ran upstairs towards Laney’s bedroom, her breath coming in short rapid waves, she ran to her daughters bed, taking her in her arms, blankets and all, Lainey’s eyes big “mommy” she squealed, grabbing her teddy bear. Bridget ran as fast as she could to the bathroom.

Crowley shot a few of the men, that entered his house, fighting off one man, he saw two men slipping past him, running up stairs, he never feared anything in his life until now that is, he fought the man off, shooting him in the face, he started making his way upstairs,he heard the gunshot from behind, and the pain hit him like a freight train, a burning sensation washing over him, as he realised his been hit, falling to his knees.

In the corner of her eye she saw the two men coming closer, placing Lainey in the bathtub ordering not to come out unless she or Crowley calls her, Lainey’s eyes as wide as saucers, her lips quivering, her small little body trembling, tears running down her little cheeks, her voice barely a whisper “M…mommy don’t leave me” Bridget gave her a kiss on the forehead, “I’ll be back sweetie” she ran out of the bathroom locking the door, sliding the key underneath. Lainey’s little body shook, as she wrapped her arms around her teddy, weeping.

Bridget nearly made it a few inches further when she ran into one of the men, she gasped for air, the large man smiled at her, as he tried to take a hold of her, she ducked, kicking him instead, but he didn’t budge, instead he started walking towards her, and she started to take a few steps back, her back leaning against the locked bathroom door now, “what do you want?” her voice breaking, the fear in her eyes intensified, she wasn’t so worried about herself, more about her daughter. The man just grinned as he punched her through the face. 

Then he took a handful of  her hair, dragging her towards the stairs, she screamed and protested, but nothing worked, her body being dragged down the flight of stairs, she felt the impact of everything beneath her, but it didn’t nearly hurt as much as seeing Crowley laying in a pool of his own blood, she tried to grab ahold of him, but the man dragging her just jolted her further away from him. All the other men gathered around Bridget as they took a hold of her, dragging her outside, leaving the little girl alone, in the deafening silent mansion, the only thing you could hear was her little heartbreaking gut wrenching sniffles as she held onto her teddy bear…

@jackles010378 @k-slla @winchesterwild78 @angelbabyyy99 @bookishtheaterlover7

[boho-freespirit]

Let this be a reminder to us all, even if people think your weird AF, because you choose to be positive - that's their Problem 😅

Also my dearest babes... I hope that when y'all are chatting with me, or see my posts, that it will give you laughs, smiles, or positive vibes, thoughts or energy💕😋😜...

I love y'all so freaking much... 💕❤️

@k-slla @jackles010378 @angelbabyyy99 @winchesterwild78 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @pia-bartolini @bookishtheaterlover7

[boho-freespirit]

So true...🩷

“She didn’t need to be saved. She needed to be found and appreciated for exactly who she was.”

— j. iron word

[boho-freespirit]

“Your naked body should only belong to those who fall in love with your naked soul.”

— Charlie Chaplin in a letter to his daughter, Geraldine

[boho-freespirit]

[boho-freespirit]

@bookishtheaterlover7 😱😅🤭... Maybe a little too good ..🫦💕🤣🤣

Awww thank you, let's do this, hope its gonna be good though🤭

Pssssst ... Y'all, after thinking about this long and hard, I 🤭 started another blog, away, from my 'more decent' blogs 😂 - this blog, is all about being FREE, being able too discuss, and just be in the moment 🌺... I'll be posting some stuff here aswell, various stuff, but I'll be posting *18+* content as well, Yes y'all heard me, some new fics I'll be writing, *Smutty Fics* 🫦 (yes I'm giggling) I want to explore this journey Free, and with my follow wildlings 😋... So if y'all want to walk this journey with me... You know what too do .. Namaste, Nes💕 ✌️

@jackles010378 @k-slla @winchesterwild78 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @pia-bartolini @angelbabyyy99 @impala-dreamer @zepskies @bookishtheaterlover7

[boho-freespirit]

Pssssst ... Y'all, after thinking about this long and hard, I 🤭 started another blog, away, from my 'more decent' blogs 😂 - this blog, is all about being FREE, being able too discuss, and just be in the moment 🌺... I'll be posting some stuff here aswell, various stuff, but I'll be posting *18+* content as well, Yes y'all heard me, some new fics I'll be writing, *Smutty Fics* 🫦 (yes I'm giggling) I want to explore this journey Free, and with my follow wildlings 😋... So if y'all want to walk this journey with me... You know what too do .. Namaste, Nes💕 ✌️

@jackles010378 @k-slla @winchesterwild78 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @pia-bartolini @angelbabyyy99 @impala-dreamer @zepskies @bookishtheaterlover7