#he doesn't know what a cell phone is yet but he sure as hell can look at a bookstore and ask for a notebook and pens

[diathadevil]

Do you ever think about how Fakir, after him and Ahiru finally broke everything that kept the town of Goldkröne in the ghostly hands of its writer, after they finally have some air of peace over the town finally being able to live in its intended early 2000s environment, that Fakir still feels at times like it's not real and that for a while he fears that if he closes his eyes it'll be back in Drosselmeyer's control. Like it just doesn't feel real to him during that first year of calm, until he feels the dull pain on his recovering hand injury and Ahiru who follows him without a pendant anywhere to be found.

He doesn't feel it's real, the calm finality of this town, but he makes sure to feel the scar on his hand. And he makes sure to hold the little duck and realize that she is who she has always been. Him and the town are finally living peacefully.

[frostgears]

port leave

the slap rings loud in the half-empty food court. your face smarts, your eyes water, and your handler's other hand, the one holding her cone of frozen yogurt, doesn't even bobble.

"if your audio didn't pick up 'no', pretty thing," she continues, "then maybe we need to get it serviced. it'll be a shame about the rest of your port leave."

you sense movement and then see: the large bearded man at the next table over. he steps between your seats, interposing.

"miss, are you all right? i just saw her hit you. do you need me to call the cops?"

your handler sighs a sigh born of professional weariness. she puts her yogurt on the table.

"sir, you need to step back. step back slowly."

"the hell i will! you just slapped her! right in front of me!"

"sir. seriously. put your hands down. step back. it is not a 'her' like you think you know. ignore the cute little skirt; it is not a person, it is a weapon system…"

she's talking to him the way she talks to you.

"…you've probably never seen one out of its armor, i get it, i'm not in uniform either, it's my day off. but sometimes these things get confused about the difference between cran-apple juice, avgas, and blood, and they need a reminder of where they are…"

sing-song, reassuring.

"…i'm just going to reach for my service ID here. all above board. again, please don't make any sudden movements…"

"you're sick, lady," the man growls, as he pulls something from his pocket.

you don't wait to find out what. by his next blink, your teeth are at his throat.

"shit! stand down!" your handler shouts. "position 4!"

by your own next blink, you are kneeling at her feet.

there's a large blob on the floor, but it's irrelevant. you have eyes only for your handler.

if you were wearing wings, you'd fan them a little bit. she likes that.

you remain in position 4, hanging on your handler's every word. there's a glow of heat kindling between your legs.

"just a cell phone," she mutters. "hell, sir, i told you, no sudden movements. keep this pressed to your neck, it's clean, just bought it, she didn't get deep."

"somebody," she yells at the gathering crowd, "go get mall security or something. this man needs first aid, and we don't want to risk moving him."

you do not move or signal. you are not somebody. you will hold position 4 until given other orders. you remain in position 4 until all the explanations are done, all the mess is cleaned up. there are stares. you're used to them.

then your handler gazes down at you. your eyes lock to hers.

"you need to listen, pretty thing, when i tell you we're not going back to base yet…"

the heat between your legs grows.

"…now i've got to get another scarf. and i still want to swing by that place with the cute bags… the rest of your leave is cancelled, obviously. maybe shouldn't have even tried. but when we're back at base, i'm for sure gonna need to blow off some steam."

her expression flicks from tired to sharp, hungry. it's all you can do not to squirm, until, finally, she says,

"at ease." □

[saltsicklover]

Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part One of Two

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Creepy Dude, Rhett and Jake rescue reader, one use of Y/N, airports and flying, argument, nothing too crazy, angst

---

To all the people that said finding their soulmate was just so easy, and that they didn't even have to look deserve a giant middle finger shoved right into their face. After all, sometimes people's soulmates just fall right into their fucking laps like the divine are throwing them a goddamn bone. 

Most of us have to earn the privilege of finding our soulmates. You would think that the universe would have come up with a better system, some way to be sure that you've found exactly who you're supposed to. But it's truly fucking coincidence.

What a goddamn pain in the ass. 

Those little words scripted onto skin give only a hint, a shred of an idea that comes with far too much hope and no direction. 

In a perfect world, that script would glow when you find your person, or maybe your person would be the one to say them. Maybe there'd be a way to just know that you've found your other half. Maybe the universe could've bloomed with color upon first contact, the whole world coming to life around you. Hell, maybe the fucking ink would itch when you came close, or, maybe it could turn colors, burning like a cinder straight to the skin. 

It could have been a name, or map quadrants, an number even...

But no. 

All we get is the first thing someone else in our earshot says about our other half. It could be anyone, really, family and friends, lovers or enemies. The universe doesn't care, like it's all one big cosmic joke.  

And if you get stuck with something common? You're pretty much royally fucked. 

The amount of sorry souls who are stuck with "oh, he's a great guy," or "she's so pretty!" Have to live with hearing that damn phrase over and over again, just hoping that maybe it will lead them in the right direction.

It's sick, really, the whole goddamn thing. Especially because I want nothing else. 

"Oh, it's just Bob," is etched deep into my skin, the little letters marking over my collar bone like it's laced with disappointment. There's something about the word "just" that make's me clench my jaw. I can feel the muscle tick as I grind my teeth against each other, feeling the ridges catch. 

Whoever Bob is sure as hell isn't just anything. He is everything, and the unlucky bastard who dares say anything different has a swift right hook in their future, or maybe a hard shove, if the mood strikes. Anything that might take the edge off. 

Though I haven't met Bob yet, I feel fiercely protective over him, over the way others see him. After all, his heart is worth more than words like "just". 

The airport is just a little too dead for 3am, a few too few people ambling around half awake. Those who are here wear dark bags under their eyes, snuggled deep into their jackets to keep the too cold air conditioning from hitting their bare skin. Some pull luggage behind them, kicking it at they go, getting more and more pissed off every time their heel catches on their suitcase. Others talk too loudly on the phone, their cell's pressed to their cheeks by shoulders, by hands, others taking through their headsets. 

A sharply dressed man, clad in a brown suit and loafers argues with a woman in a language I don't speak. She is pointing at the board with a well polished fingernail, one that matches her power suit, while the man is shoving his phone into her face. It's obvious they are arguing about their flight, but neither of them seem to budge on their side. 

It's comical, really, how animated they are. I wonder if they are soulmates, if they found each other out if the sheer passion and dedication they are displaying. After all, if one has this much passion for a flight, it would only stand to reason that the business of finding their soulmate would be met with equal fever. They are a good match, too. The universe doesn't always deal out people who look like they should be together. Aesthetics clash, personalities not quite off set. But these two just have an air about them- like they belong; also like they are going to miss their flight.

I pass them as quickly as I can, as the anger rolls off of them. It's much too late, or maybe much too early to witness such an argument, and I have to make it all the way down to gate 93. With each step, my duffle bag seems to get heavier, no doubt taking after my eyelids. 

Whoever designed the Dallas airport needs to be given some sort of medal for "longest hallways that seem to lead nowhere". With every turn I take I feel like I'm headed further away, but the signs keep pushing me forward. 

Almost there, almost there. 

Gate 88 and Gate 89. 

Gate 90. 

As I walk by Gate 91, I catch two men laying on the dirty carpet in front of the lines of chairs. Their forms stand out against the oddly patterned carpet, though they almost look like they belong there. They are waiting in front of a gate that reads no destination. I know I shouldn't stare, but I can't seem to stop the slowing of my feet. I slide one side off my headphones back off of my ear, doing my best to be inconspicuous. I hope to catch a word, a whisper of what they might be saying but their lips are sealed, it seems, neither one saying a thing. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I take in their position on the ground. One has a cowboy hat pulled down over his face to try and keep the buzzing fluorescents out of his eyes. His head is balanced on a small duffle bag, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His hands sit on his stomach, fingers laced together. His skin is golden, one of those tans you get from being stuck outside day after day. 

He doesn't move a muscle. It barely looks like he's breathing, really. There's something a bit eerie about it, the stillness of him. 

The other man, blond with a cropped haircut and equally bronzed skin sits on the ground a few feet from the other. His back is leaned up against the side of a chair, his knees bent. He looks equally exhausted, eyes closed, head leaned back exposing the long line of his neck. 

He shivers a bit, the wholeness of it rolling through his body. Though he keeps his eyes closed, his expression scrunches before relaxing again. He doesn't look even remotely comfortable, unlike his stony counterpart. 

The pair have very different looks about them, the former all home grown cowboy with still muddy boots while the ladder is clean cut and chiseled. The blond has his hands shoved into the large pocket on the front of his hoodie, trying to starve off the chill that hangs in the terminal. 

Not soulmates, that's for sure. Over the years, I have been able to pick out soulmates from just a few calculated but fleeting glances. There's always something about a pair that just reads right, a vibe that they give off when they are finally buzzing together. But one thing is for sure, these two aren't soulmates, the fact that they're even friends feels funny. 

It's not an impossible fact, to be sure. The predestined soul mate, the way it's written into the universe, could be anyone. That's part of the difficulty of it, for sure, but there's always something that seems to click. Souls are like metronomes, clicking away, othering ticking, always out of time; until the right person comes along and you're right on time with each other. With this pair, they are just a little too jagged around the edges, too seasoned in their own rights to slot together. Friendship is different- nothing knit into the weave of the universe, there, though it may have been easier if it were. 

The moment I make it to my gate, I throw my bag down, by body feeling a bit too much like jelly from all of the travel to hold it any longer. The men are just a gate down, living in their own little bubble. I can't fight the smile that blooms across my face. There's that word, about knowing everyone has their own lives, their own loves. Sonder, I think it is, and in this moment it washes over me. 

"Hey," A voice rings out through the quiet of the terminal, over the loudness of my mind. I look up, my eyes meeting a man who must be in his later forties. He's balding on top, glasses shoved awkwardly onto the bridge of his nose. His clothes are a mismatch of dressy and unkempt. A suit jacket thrown over his hoodie, a pair of pajama pants adorning his bottom half. The whole ensemble is wrapped up with the cowboy hat sitting on the chair next to him, crocs on his feet. 

"Hi," I nod more than speak, a strange feeling blooming in the pit of my stomach. This is not a man I care to be around. If I keep my eyes down, hands busy, maybe he will get the message.

"Why don't you sit down and we'll have a chat," There's a sort of greasy smile that spreads across his face. A shudder dances down my spine at the sight, gooseflesh breaking out over my already cold body. The feeling of them breathing to life makes my skin go almost clammy, an uncomfortable feeling under my warm layers. 

"No, thank you," The answer is curt as I push my duffle just a little further away with my foot. It drags against the well walked carpet, the sound it makes echoing the one in my chest. It's a sort of stuck sensation, what it morphs into, one that I feel with my whole body. 

"Oh, come on, what's a little chat going to hurt?" The man tries again, leaning closer to me, sliding to the seat next to him. We are no further apart now than when we started. My foot meets the side of my duffle again, ready to push it once more. Each little move he makes my eyes train on, from the way his hand curls around the armrest to the way he seems to be peering, leering, over the tops of his too thick glasses. 

"Nope," I pop the 'P', waving my hand a bit, "I'm not entertaining this any longer."

I stoop down to grab my headphones from my bag, only to have the strange man's hand appear in front of me as he is reaching too. The step back I take is almost involuntary, more focused on getting away from his incoming touch than my things now sitting in between us. The glare I send the man is lacking due to the bubbling fear popping in my chest. I place my headphones around my neck in a shallow attempt to keep my hands from shaking. 

"Oh come on sweet-"

"Tommy Grace! There ya'are! Ya'walked right past us, girl," An arm is thrown around my shoulder, warm and lean. I shift my eyes over quickly, mind and body shooting from high alert to a sort of easy when I see the cowboy from the gate over, now standing to my side, folding me protectively under his arm. The feeling of being protected shouldn't feel quite so strong coming from a stranger. However, the way he keeps his hand right atop the cap of my shoulder, his heartbeat thrumming against my other shoulder just bleeds that feeling. 

"Oh! Seriously? You must've been hiding," I do my best to play along, instantly feeling a little more at ease as the man across from us looks less so. I can't help but revel in the uncomfortable look on the greasy man's face, as well as the warmth pouring from the cowboy. 

"Is this guy a friend o'yers?" The cowboy asks, looking at the man from under the brim of his hat. I can feel the way the pads of his fingers dig into the muscle of my arm, each finger individually curling into the thickness there. It doesn't hurt. Instead it's a grounding point, from him to me and back again. Two strangers bound together if only for a moment. 

"Oh, no, we've never met before," I tell him, gazing up at his face. The scruff of his cheek is fuller at this angle, the defined slope of his jaw easily tracible with my eyes. He's handsome from this angle, which I bet means he's even better looking from head on. 

"I see, well," The cowboy narrows his eyes, "Your brother'sa waitin' and y'know how Jake gets," 

"Boy do I," I chuckle from the safety of his embrace, throwing a sideways glance to the man who seems to be in some sort of staring match with the cowboy. Their eyes are trained on each other, fighting for dominance over the situation. From the way the greasy man's eye twitches slightly, I know the cowboy must be winning. 

"Go on an' see 'em, I'll grab your bag," He is pushing me towards the other gate, a warm palm between my shoulder blades. It's not a hard shove, but the way his hand is pressed firm to my back gives me a clue on just how quickly I need to get out of there. The cowboy shoots me a wink before turning back to the strange man, his eyes narrowing again. 

I don't want to see the look in his eye when it's turned on the greasy stranger. I can imagine just how dark those blue green eyes could tint given the right amount of rage flowing behind them. So, I keep my eyes forward, keep focused on just where I'm headed. 

Quickly, I make my way over to the now standing blond, Jake. The moment his eyes meet mine he is smiling, the kind of smile that instantly eases my nerves. I wave a bit, my hand not making it any higher than my midsection. I can't help but feel the same tiredness in my limbs that I see in his eyes. There is something weighing us both down, and something tells me it's more than just the travel. More than the overly saturated interactions with strangers and flight attendant served booze. 

The moment I'm in earshot, he's already saying hello, opening his arms wide for me. I step into his space, wrapping my arms around his middle. Carefully, almost too lightly, the blond is wrapping his arms around me. It's one of those hugs- the kind you give that estranged relative at Thanksgiving. It's a tad bit awkward from my end, but Jake squeezed me just a little bit tighter as relax against his broad frame and I can't fight the urge to press my face into the soft fabric of his hoodie. 

"Thank you," I mumble into his sweatshirt. As I pull back, the blond squeezes my shoulders quickly, a quiet "you're welcome" in return. I peer up at the tall blond, taking in the gentle curves of his smile lines, how they frame his headstone like teeth, polished white and perfectly straight. His tongue flicks over the corner of his mouth, eyes positioned somewhere behind me.

There is something in that look of his, something playing behind the sea glass tint of his irises. It's a sort of mirth, if mirth was more gentle than the definition explains. Maybe it's a fondness for the other man, one that's hidden behind layers of faux dislike and teasing. The pair bonded together as brothers are, all bemused, an oath, blood of the covenant, that they don't remember taking.  

As I turn to follow his eyeline, Jake folds me carefully under his arm just as the cowboy had before. Maybe their friendship is stronger than I had originally thought. The way they seem to work in unison to the very clear way they've each folded me into the safety of their embrace. It's different with Jake though. He's more calm, his heartbeat isn't hammering out of his chest. I can scarlessly feel it where our bodies are pressed together. 

"Does he do this kind of thing often?" There's a sideways glance shared between us before Jake's chest raddles with a light chuckle. It awakens him just a bit behind the eyes. 

"Yes, but we usually know the girl," The humor in his voice makes the anxiety in my stomach settle a bit. His voice is too warm, too kind to elicit anything but safety in this moment. 

I can feel the small smile ghosting over my lips, the image of the pair many years younger fluttering through my brain. The cowboy and Jake, rescuing girls in the school hallways, folding innocent girls, with glasses and hair pulled back into tidy braids, into their embrace. There's a sort of teamwork in the way it all went down today, through I missed the progression. From the moment the cowboy tucked my body into his, the intense hammering of his own heartbeat be damned, to the way Jake greeted me with literal open arms. There's so much warmth here. 

"And he'd not your soulmate," It's a statement, plain and simple. That get's him laughing for real this time, his whole face coming to life from how his smile overtakes his expression. 

"Not remotely," The words make it out a moment later as Jake still fights a bit to catch his breath. "We grew up near each other, down the same county road just outside a forgettable town here in Texas," 

"Escaping while you still can?" I chide, nudging him with my elbow. 

"I escaped a long time ago," Jake corrects, a small shrug pulls away his body heat for just a moment before it returns. 

"But you're back?" 

"Rhett and I are headed to California," The explanation comes easy, and for a moment I wonder why he's even explaining it all to me, but I am thankful to know the real name of the cowboy, "He's helping get me settled in Miramar, new permanent station," 

"Station? Does that make you Army?"

There's that laugh again. 

"Naval Aviator," There's no sharpness in the correction, as cocky as it is.

"Wouldn't it be a new port for you then, Sailor?" I nudge him again, playfully. There is something so easy about talking to Jake, his arm folding me into his warmth. Something truly sibling like about it, my place here under his sturdy frame. His protective nature and warm smile, a sort of family for just a few fleeting moments. 

"I guess you're right," There's a tad bit of humor in that sentence, but it's hiding behind the tiredness layered in his voice. 

"Wait, did you say Naval Aviator?" I look up at him so directly, eyebrows pulled tightly together as I fight to keep a smile off of my lips. "And you're going to Miramar?" 

I watch as he pulls his own well groomed eyebrows together in a furrow, his lips curving into a ghost of a frown. 

"Yes, Ma'am," 

I can't fight the laugh that bubbles past my lips, the whole thing sounding a bit too sharp, a bit too loud. Where most men are put off by the sound, Jake just looks at me with curious eyes. His tongue flicks over the corner of his slightly upturned mouth, that grin silently begging for me to continue. 

"What're you lot laughin' bout?" Rhett calls out, his voice filling my ears. 

"Well, turns out my brother," I wink at Rhett now, turning my attention his way, "works under my father,"

If the progression of thought could be clearly mapped through faces with flicks of tongues and furrowing of brows, the pair would have told a whole story in the matter of seconds, of squinted eyes and the pursing of lips. 

"Your father?" The pair speak in unison, accents blending together. I can't help but laugh as I flick my eyes between them. Both wear a sort of confused expression, bemused with eyebrows scrunched together, head tilting just so. 

"Yes, my father. Rear Admiral Simpson?" I offer the name as a sort of clarification, though it comes out as a question. Rhett's eyebrows knit together a little tighter, eyes darting to Jake for assurance, or maybe it's confirmation. Jake's eyebrows are raised, his mouth slightly agape by the time my gaze slips back over him. 

"You're Cyclone's kid?" There's more to it, from the way his mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he catches the tip of his tongue between his perfect front teeth. "Are you Arrow?"

"Oh, hell no!" I can't hold back the laughter, my cheeks no doubt pinking up from the way my smile pushes them out, "That's my older brother, Anthony! He's an Aviator too, hoping to get selected for Top Gun any day now... Though I doubt that they'll send him anytime soon with Dad stationed there," 

Rhett's arms are crossed over his chest, his eyebrows no less furrowed than before. Jake's expression is still scrunched up a bit, but the lines are slowly relaxing with the more information he gets, so I continue.

"My name is Y/N Simpson, but everyone calls me Birdie," I hold my hand out first to Rhett, as I'm still tucked close to Jake, his arm slung over my shoulders. 

"Birdie, is'a pleasure," Rhett removes his hat with one hand, shaking my outstretched one with the other. He gives it a quick squeeze before letting go, a kind smile on his face. 

"Birdie?" Jake asks, tip of his tongue snug in the corner of his lips. 

"Yeah, Birdie. You know, Cyclone, Arrow, Birdie, all things that have to do with wind and flying? My dad and brother both got call signs, but I had zero interest in doing anything with the military, but Uncle Solo dubbed me Birdie when I was tiny and it's stuck ever since." 

"Solo? Is'e Navy too?" Rhett chimes in. He scratches at the back of his head, his hat tipping forward into his eyes a bit. 

"Sure is. Admiral Solomon Bates, goes by Warlock," Jake stiffens a bit at the name, but relaxes a bit soon after. I bump his hip with my own, shooting a wink up his way. 

"Well then, Birdie, it's nice to officially meet you," It's a bad recovery, but he clears his throat and keeps speaking, "I've gotta say, your dad didn't mention he had a daughter," 

"Oh yeah, that's not at all a surprise. You know how Sailors can be, and my Dad is a bit over protective of me. He's big on me keeping men at a distance. And if said man is Military? Ha! Not an ice cubes chance in hell that they'd make it within a hundred feet of me," 

Rhett smirks a bit, eyes flicking from my own glare down towards the floor. I know Jake's arm is still wrapped around my shoulder, just as I know that he is still sparing quick glances over to the greasy man a few yards away. I kick the toe of Rhett's boot with my own, wrinkling my nose at the way he snickers. 

"So no soulmate yet?" Jake asks, tilting his chin down to look me in the eye. The question is so full of genuine curiosity and for once I don't feel terrible answering.

"Nope, not yet. Not even a damn lead, but that's okay. I'm a firm believer that it's going to happen when it's supposed to. I'm not in a rush," That last part may be a bit of a lie. I want nothing more than to finally meet the person that's supposed to be mine, mind, body, and soul. Their supposed to be this sort of connection, one that most people who have met their soulmate have only been able to hint at. It's one of those things where words just don't do it justice, even the great poets seem to have failed to find the words. 

"Tha's too bad, 'cause I'd've jumped at the chance to take ya ta dinner," Rhett shoots me a wink, his blue eyes twinkling under the stark white lights. 

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I jest, sticking my tongue out at him. There's another nudge between boots. 

"Oh, he does, but he sure does have a knack for finding the prettiest ones," Jake interjects, bumping my hip with his own. I push him back with my shoulder, causing him to finally drop his arm he's had draped around me for the better part of the last twenty minutes. 

"Whatever you say," I roll my eyes, "What about you boys, either of you found your better half?" 

The way Jake's face lights up at the question gives me the answer before his words can. Rhett is just shaking his head, mumbling a "here we go" under his breath. 

"I sure have! Rooster, he's an Aviator too," Jake begins eagerly, "We met like eight years ago? Maybe nine? I'm not sure, but it was in the middle of the ocean on a carrier, and we butted heads better than the best of 'em. I had graduated Top Gun not too long before, and he hadn't been yet, though he went shortly after that deployment. I don't think we would've figured it out if we hadn't decided to-"

"Don't even say it, Seresin," Rhett threatens with a point of his finger, aim fixed right between the taller man's eyes. 

"I wasn't gonna go into detail," Jake laughs, though there's a glint of trouble in his eyes, "All I'm saying is that if we hadn't hauled each other into that bathroom stall at the bar and-"

"Flight number 4582, Dallas to San Diego is now boarding Group 1, priority members and military members traveling on active orders,"  A woman voice crackles through the intercom.

"Saved by the fuckin' bell," Rhett comments loud enough for Jake and I to hear. The boys begin to grab their bags, each only traveling with a small duffle bag. Rhett heads for the gate first, his bag slung over his shoulder, hat in hand. Jake follows after him, his bag clutched tightly in his hand. 

"Thanks again you two" I call after them with a little wave. Jake stops in his tracks, turning back around to face me.

"Aren't you coming, Birdie?" There's that cock of his head again. 

"Us lowly civilians have to wait until the next group to board," I joke back.

"Not anymore, you're boarding with me, come on!" Then Jake is all but hauling me through the ticket line and onto the plane. Jake throws my carryon into the bin above the row of seats Rhett has claimed and Jake waved me into the same row with a tilt of his head. Without assigned seating, the pair having decided that I'm going to be sitting in the middle seat between them. Maybe I should be more nervous, sitting between two strange men, but sitting here now the only thing I feel is safe. 

The whole flight my head switches between resting on either one of their shoulders, sleep evading me completely. I went from tracing the lines of Rhett's hat as it sat atop his knee to counting just how many times Jake bounced his knee. 

Part of the way through, he admitted that he's a terrible passenger, had been since he graduated from flight school. Maybe it's a control issue, or maybe it's the surrounding people moving all around the large aircraft. Either way Jake bounces his knee the whole flight. Sometimes he'd wipe his palms down his jean clad thighs to ease the tension and give a slight reprieve to the constant movement. 

Rhett snored gently next to me, though he murmured in his sleep just a little. No words ever slipped past his lips, just half cut off sounds and the ghosts of sentiments. He kept his hands folded across his belly, head lulled towards the small window. I hate to admit it, but I admired the long line of his neck as his head was laid against the wall. 

Neither man listened to any sort of music during the flight, which struck me as odd. My headphones sat snug over my ears through most of the flight, a folk country playlist thrumming through them. 

The flight was fast, in the grand scheme and everyone aboard seemed to be thrilled to get off the plane. This terminal is busier than the last. The early morning traffic of the airport filled with people in suits, both sweat and formal. The boys and I walk side by side by side, making our way through the crowd like a force. Maybe it's the sheer size of the men at my sides, but the crowd seems to part for us. 

The trilling of a cellphone breaks up the sounds of the terminal, following us as we walk. 

"Jake," Rhett flicks his gaze towards his friend, a silly look on his face. 

"What?" 

"That's your phone, dude," I nudge him with my shoulder, our bags bumping together. By the time Jake fishes the device from his front pocket, the factory set ringtone has gone silent. 

"Eyes up, Cowboy," I warn as we approach the tram. Rhett's eyes flick up just long fast enough that he doesn't trip over the gap.  The doors closing behind us quickly, and Rhett bumps into one of the stationary poles in attempt to get out of it's way. 

"It truly amazes me that he's a bull rider, since his sense of personal space sucks so bad," Jake mutters, leaning a bit closer to my ear. I can't help but snicker too. 

"Bull rider?" The question is met with a nod from Jake as he presses the phone up to his ear. 

Jake stands near, phone pressed to his ear with knit brows. The look of concentration on his face is tight, like he's trying to make out a hard to hear piece of information on the other side of the line. He pulls the phone away from his ear as we step off the tram, heading for baggage claim. 

They bracket me between them once again, a tall man on each side of me. We share smiles as we walk in time with one another. A little trio formed because one sleazey dude at the Dallas airport couldn't take a hint. Life is funny that way. 

They say the universe only hand picks soulmates, decorating skin just to prove that point. I, however, think friends are found in the flick of the same pen. After all, there's magic left over in the spaces between the letters, in the flick of the wrist of the universe. There has to be. 

"Long message," Rhett comments, "Who was it anyway?"

"Oh, it's just Bob," Jake informs us. Rhett hums in response, but my feet stop moving. They retreat into the tunnel of my vision, blending in with the other travelers moving around us. Their once recognizable frames, broad and welcoming, melt into the sea of movement. Nothing in my vision sticks out, my brain too busy playing those damn words on loop. 

Oh, it's just Bob. Oh, it's just Bob. Oh, it's just Bob. 

There's a fleeting feeling in my fingertips from where my bag as slipped from them. There's the far off sound of it hitting the tile. My vision buzzes with people but god, those words are in the forefront of it all. 

Oh, it's just Bob. 

This moment may be stillness surrounded by the bustle of the San Diego airport. It may be bodies bumping into my own, shoulders connecting as someone passes. It may be one day be a memory of the way my whole body seems to have gone slick with sweat, far too warm and mildly uncomfortable. It may be a realization, both now and in the future. This moment may be the beginning of the rest of my life. 

I'm not ready. Not for the future. Not for Bob. Not for facing his friends who must have noticed that I'm no longer by their side by now. I'm not ready for any of it. Not even remotely. I guess it sure wasn't a lie when I told them that I wasn't "in a rush". 

The chill of the air hits me as I all but break through the sliding doors, out to the taxi line up. There's shouting, it's far off, covered by those four little words and the beating of my heart. I slide into the back of a taxi, my bag discarded onto the seat next to me. With the slam of the door, the taxi is pulling away from the curb. I press my forehead to the glass of the window, my breath fogging up the sight of Rhett and Jake breaking through the crowd. They stand there, confusion written into their features as they watch the cab pull away. 

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I squeeze them together. A deep sigh escapes me, the realization hitting me. They know my dad, at least Jake does. And we are all going to Miramar. It's only a matter of time before our paths cross again.

Maybe it wasn't even my Bob, I try and rationalize with myself. After all, how many people in the world are named "Bob" anyway? It's shallow in theory, a sort of knowing feeling sitting heavy in my gut. That was my Bob on the other end of that message; the feeling deep in my chest aches in a way that it just has to be true. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It's only a matter of time before our paths cross again. On base, in the commissary as we grocery shop. Eye contact over fresh produce, hands busy but eyes filled with questions. Or in my father's office, Jake dropping by on business as my dad and I sit on either side of his large desk. Words caught in our throats, my father's gaze wandering between us. Maybe it will be at the bar, our eyes locking from across the room. Questions shouted over the music; over the smell of alcohol. 

And maybe Bob would be there too, looking positively like a dream I haven't fully allowed myself to have. He'd be there like the sunshine, glowing and warm and something I just wouldn't be able to outrun. He'd be all smiles and kind hands, wrapping me into his embrace in the same way his friends had. 

It's only a matter of time, but I'll run now. 

[kteezy997]

The Other Man - Part Nine//t.c.

warnings: cursing, toxic ex behavior, mention of physical violence, mention of bruises and blood, gun violence ((mature 18+ readers only))

You didn't hear from Timmy for a couple of days. It felt like deja vu from the game night with Billy. Neither event had been your fault or Timmy's, but both of them had separated you.

You had returned to work and tried to focus on that, but Billy hadn't stopped trying to contact you. You completely ignored him, but he still didn't let up. You blocked his number and hoped that would be the ending of Billy's existence in your life. You did worry that he might find you or show up at the house. You didn't know what would happen if that occurred. You didn't know what he wanted to do or what he was capable of.

"y/n, you've got a phone call." your coworker called out to you.

"Oh," you said, terrified that it might be your ex-husband on the line, "is it a man?"

"No, it's some lady."

"Okay?" you took the work phone from them and put it to your ear, wondering who it could be. "Hello?"

"Y/n? This is Amelia."

"Amelia? Why are you calling my workplace?"

"I didn't have your cell number or any other way to contact you, sorry. I just...wanted to know if we could talk?"

You sat down at a desk, prepared to hear anything that this woman had to say. This conversation could alter your entire life. There was a possibility that you'd be a stepmother for the rest of your life. "Sure." you said.

"Oh, great." her voice sounded sad, but she came across as genuine, " I just wanna start out by saying that I'm so sorry for the other night: intruding like I did. Timmy was right, he made no promises to me, he never showed any romantic interest in me. It was all on my end. I feel so stupid about it all now."

"I understand. You seemed to really care for him. Our feelings can make us do some crazy things." you responded. You wanted to come out and say something along the lines of 'Bitch are you really pregnant? Is it even Timmy's?' But you didn't want to press the issue. You decided to let her give you information at her own pace so she wouldn't hold anything back.

"Yeah, it really does. About that: I have to admit something awful to you."

Your heart sank. She could say anything in the world, and it had the power to determine what your future would look like. You were so afraid that she would take Timmy away from you, whether he was willing or not.

"What is it?" you asked her, nearly trembling.

You heard her gulp through the phone. It was obvious that she was nervous. "I lied about the pregnancy. The ultrasound I showed Timothee was a copy of my sister's. She's having a baby, I'm not."

"Are you fucking crazy?" you blurted out, feeling the blood pumping through your veins. You didn't feel any relief, not yet.

"Yes, in that moment, I was." she admitted, "It doesn't make it right, but I was in love with him. I was out of my mind in love and all I could think about was getting him to love me back. I thought that if I told him I was going to have his baby, he'd want to be with me."

You sighed. This woman was mad. But that is what love can do to people. They can act out in ways that they normally would not. Hell, love had made you cheat on your husband. Perhaps Amelia suffered from this particular madness. She wasn't herself when she told her lie. Oh, your poor Timmy.

"Anyway, um, I won't go on about that anymore. I won't waste your time any longer than needed. So, Timmy has gone to talk to the PR teams. I told him we can just cancel the whole contract. I told him everything and he wants nothing to do with me, and I definitely don't blame him. So, I'm giving it all up, the whole fake relationship. I think he's in love with you anyways."

"Okay. Thank you for calling me."

"Yeah, of course. I just wanted you to know the truth. And I want Timmy to be happy. I'm such a bad person for what I just put him through." Amelia's voice broke.

"Hey, Amelia, you're not a bad person." You couldn't help but empathize with her. You yourself were no saint. Amelia deserved the hurt she was feeling, and she deserved to lose the friendship she had with Timmy, but she wasn't evil, you could tell. "Just...be better. Learn from your mistakes. And take care of yourself, okay?"

She sniffled, "Yeah, thank you, y/n. I can see why he loves you. Goodbye."

"Bye Amelia."

After work, you called Timmy, and it rang several times before it went to voicemail. You figured he was busy, so you left him a voicemail message, telling him to call you as soon as he could and that you missed him.

A couple of hours went by without any word from Timmy. You called him again, and still no answer. You started to worry. Yes, you wanted him to have space, but it still wasn't like him to not answer you after about an hour or so. Two days had gone by since you'd seen him and you now knew the truth about the Amelia situation, so you thought maybe he was ready to let you in.

You decided to go to his place. There was no answer when you knocked. Now you were scared. Did something happen? Did he pick up and leave for some reason? Was your love story over?

Your phone rang and you felt so incredibly relieved seeing Timmy's name flashing on the caller ID.

"Timmy?!" you answered, "Are you okay, baby?"

"Oh hey, baby." you knew that voice, and it was not the voice of the man you loved.

"Billy, what the fuck have you done to him?!"

"Oh, don't worry hon, your fuck buddy is just fine. A little beat up, but nothing too bad. His pretty little face might heal up okay." Billy's voice was chillingly calm when he talked about the harm he'd done.

"God damn it, tell me where the fuck you are right now, asshole!"

"Oh sweetheart, I'm at our happy home. Ya know, the place where you and your boyfriend committed adultery."

"Fuck!" you ran to your car, not even bothering with the seatbelt and sped off to your house. You called the police and told them there was an intruder in your home, and he had your boyfriend as a hostage.

"Timmy!" you yelled as you entered the house, not waiting for the police to get there. You had no idea what kind of shape he was really in, so you had to act fast before it was potentially too late.

"Upstairs, y/n." called out Billy.

You wanted to kill him.

You ran upstairs, finding them in your bedroom. Timmy was bound to a chair, duct tape covering his mouth. You could see bruises on his face and his nose was bleeding. "Billy you son of a bitch!" You could smell some strong body odor and alcohol. There was an empty bottle of whiskey on the floor. You could tell that Billy had been on a bender and hadn't showered or stopped drinking for awhile.

"Pretty talk for a whore." he spat the hateful words at you.

It was then that you noticed the gun in his hand. "Shit, Billy, don't do anything you're going to seriously regret. You've bitched me out, you beat him up, so just stop it there. You've gotten your revenge. No need to take it any further." you trembled, tears filling your eyes. You did your best to maintain a soothing voice in an attempt to calm Billy down.

"No, no. You two have sinned. And for that, you should die!" he screamed, breathing heavily.

The cops are coming, you kept thinking to yourself. The cops are coming. Just keep him talking. Just a little longer.

You looked over at Timmy, he was quiet, but groaning softly and it was muffled through the duct tape. Your heart broke seeing him worn down and completely defenseless. What had Billy put him through? And for how long?

Billy then raised the gun, pointing it straight at Timmy.

Timmy clenched his eyes shut.

You cried, "Billy! No! Please don't!"

"Yeah?" he cocked the gun, not moving, "And why not?"

"Billy, it was wrong: what we did." you tried to keep calm, but it didn't really work, your heart was racing, and tears were running down your face. "I know it was. And I'm sorry. But this...this isn't worth it. Timmy is innocent in this. It was all me. I seduced him, I... manipulated him. Please, let him go." You were desperate to keep Timmy alive.

Billy looked at you, and slowly, he started lowering the gun.

"Police!" a voice called, as you heard the front door being knocked down.

"You dumb fucking bitch." Billy's eyes turned lethal as he pointed the gun at you. You saw his finger pull the trigger. Timmy screamed from behind the tape. You dived to the floor, screaming and hearing the gun go off. Once on the floor, you kicked Billy's feet from underneath him, and he fell to the floor. The gun dropped to the floor as well.

The cops came in yelling and restraining Billy. You regained your breath as they took him away in handcuffs and got up frantically to get Timmy freed from his constraints. You ripped the tape off of his mouth.

"Are you alright?!" he asked you, panting, as you untied his hands.

"Yes, I'm good." you quickly freed his ankles, and moved up to hold his face in your hands. "What about you?"

"I've been better, but I'll be okay. I love you." he said, kissing you hard, pulling you into his arms.

"I love you too." you said in between kisses, wrapping your arms around him, feeling most grateful that you were able to do so.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich

[thenewausten]

Quackity Imagine: Hey There Delilah!

(I recommend reading this one while listening to "Hey There Delilah" by Plain White T's.)

You and Quackity were in a distance relationship for a year and a half, you're living in New York to study and he lives in Los Angeles, sometimes it's hard for you to take a plane and go to LA to see him because of all the work you've been doing, and the same for Alex, he's so busy with all his QSMP project, lives and law school he doesn't even have time to breath sometimes. You guys aren't talking so much lately because of that but he's trying not to disappear from your life, so when you post a picture on Instagram you'll receive a message of him saying:

Alex 💞💞: tonight u look so pretty baby!!

You: you're a thousand miles away, so how could u know?

Alex 💞💞: don't say that, I just know. Times Square can't shine as bright as you

You: I miss you so much, Alex :(

Alex 💞💞: I miss you too, I promise I will visit you as soon as I can

He'd say it to you making you smile a little, you've been so sad due his lack of attention. Don't get me wrong, you understand him as much as he understands you, but it still makes you sad as hell when you remember you don't see each other for almost two months. He promised he'd come to New York the next time and the only reason you didn't take a plane to LA yet is because he's still promising you he'll come.

Today's Saturday and you're in your and your best friend's apartment, she convinced you to go to Times Square tonight with her and some friends and you were now getting ready to go. To be honest, you were just going because you knew that if you stayed at home it would be worse for your sanity, and to make the situation even worse Alex wasn't responding you since this morning.

"Are you ready, Y/N?" Your best friend asked and you nod, taking a deep breath after checking your phone for the thousandth time seeing if Alex sent you something, but there was nothing there. Nothing. You're worried and upset, you already accepted too much of this behaviour, you couldn't take it no more. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Just Alex." You said to your friend. "I don't want to cry so let's forget about it, okay?"

"Are you sure?" She asked you, a little bit worried as she approaches you.

"Yes." You said.

The meeting at Times Square was terrible, you were hating it, all the lights and all the people couldn't take the sadness out of your heart, to be honest, seeing happy couples was just making you feel more down about your own relationship. You hear your cell phone vibrate, your boyfriend's name appears on the screen and you open his contact, ready to see what excuses he'd use this time.

Alex 💞💞: you look so pretty tonight, amor <3

You: ???

Alex 💞 💞: look behind you, Y/N.

You block your phone and look behind you, seeing Alex with a smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You were a little bit chocked but ran to hug him anyway, putting your hands in his neck as you kissed him with passion. "I missed you so much." He whispers in your mouth as you break up the kiss. "What are you doing here, Alex?" You asked him, almost crying as he gave you the bouquet. "I promised you I'd come, princess." You smile, hugging him one more time and grabbing the bouquet. "Are these for me?!" You ask and he nods. "Of course, amor." He smiles as you laugh, admiring the man in front of you for a moment. "I just can't believe you're really here." You whisper, caressing his cheek with your thumb, Alex kisses your wrist and smiles. "Y'know, I'd walk to you if I had no other way, babe."

"I'd do the same, honey." You give a peck on his lips. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too, I'm sorry for taking so long, amor."

"I forgive you this time, 'Lex." Your boyfriend laughs and nods. "Done." He whispers in your ear as he hugs you again, you look at his face, suddenly all the sadness and empty was gone with your boy in your arms, life shined again, just like Times Square, but not more than you.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy the writing! :)

Requests are open!

[cebwrites]

Hi Cev! I'd like to put in a request if that's okay with you. Hear me out? What if some of our fav dilfs (Mihawk, Croco & Smoker) actually had a daughter? And what if one day they got into disagreement with their daughter that escalates, their daughter screams "I hate you," and storms away.

hiii anon~ i left smomo out because i couldn’t really think of anything for him ;w; frankly i don’t see him or crocodile as a father figure either despite their dilf status, smoker in my mind is an uncle at best but i did think of an exception for for you in regards to croco-boy ^^

mihawk is 100% a dad though, perona and zoro were dropped at his doorstep and he was the dad that stepped UP 💕

reacting to their kid saying “I hate you”

gen, familial word count: 0.8k

Crocodile

Like I said, I don't see Crocodile as a particularly parental kind of person - having the capacity to care, however briefly, for another being? Sure, we saw that in the cover story with the sweet lil pug. Children are a different thing entirely, though, so I'd probably wager that they're off the table, as he is now

There was also one where he let baby birds use him as a sand bath, so considering that and his use of bananawani and F-wani, it feels safe to say that Crocodile prefers the company of animals far more than people in general

(He's not the 'big family' type like Doffy appears to be, and considering how warped things on the inside with the Donquixote pirates are, Crocodile finds this idea of a quaint little 'family' dynamic even less appealing even though I am a sucker for Baroque found family shenanigans)

That said, I can imagine something along those lines happening with Marianne, ie Miss Goldenweek; it's possibly something she mutters under her breath over the phone before she hangs up, something frustrates her and it just slips out - less "I hate you," and more "I hate it here,"

It's an action that should warrant discipline, a show of disobedience, or really something Mr. 0 should be above entirely because it's the huff and puff of a child who he has no personal attachment to and doesn't even know his face

Yet it nags at him, to a startling degree once he sits back for a minute to gather himself - why the hell is this brat's emotional state any cause for his concern?

There's something to be said about how this is a kid wrapped up in a scheme far bigger than she is, trying to eek out a little bit of security in this world, and how Marianne's experiences may or may not mirror a younger reptile having his hopes dashed against the rocks and needing to adapt to survive, no matter what the cost

But Crocodile isn't saying those things, he's not paying them any mind and locking them away in a cell in the dark recesses of his mind where any other flickers of vulnerability go to die the moment it even comes into consideration

Still, he grants Miss Goldenweek a little more lenience for a while

While Mr. 3 toils away at whatever given task, she's been ordered for a strict vacation leave, no if-and-or-buts about it

Marianne isn't quite receptive to the idea at first, angry at their boss viewing her as weak and needing to be coddled, but with a little reassurance from Zala that this is the closest thing Mr. Zero will show to actual care for his agents, she eventually warms up to the notion

Mihawk

Hawkeye is a much more cut and dry situation because parenting isn't out of the realm of possibility with him - whether it's poor protection in his youth or something he willingly takes up with a partner now, he isn't as adverse to kids as ol' Croco-boy up there

Mihawk is calm and collected throughout the entire exchange, if not a bit unenthusiastic, even as the light of his life, his little sunshine, the child he raised from birth turns beet red from anger and frustration

He’s taken aback by such a statement enough to lower his newspaper, but by the time Mihawk looks up they’re already gone

Perona floats disapprovingly over head, not saying a world but not looking at him - he’s faced away from the conversation as well, but Hawkeye can feel Zoro keeping his thoughts to himself a little aways in the foyer, too

Mihawk may be the most emotionally intelligent in comparison to his peers by a longshot, but it is also in comparison; he does still have his own gaps in judgement like every other parent out there

He’d come to their room later on after they’ve had some time to cool down with a plate of fruit or perhaps their favorite snack (home made, of course), coming in to kneel by their bedsit or leaving the plate by their door if they still yelled at him to get lost

At whatever point, he’d sit them down and have a mature conversation with them, no matter their age and apologize for his dismissive attitude earlier, for not hearing them out properly

Mihawk doesn’t believe in going to bed angry with his loved ones - as in, of course everyone’s allowed to be a little sour or irate, especially if feelings have been hurt, but he does make it a point to let them know that he still cares about them no matter what, and that he’ll try better in the future to curb old habits

Ideally he’d talk it out with them over the course of the evening and come to a solid decision or compromise, but if it’s a case where they’re still upset even after that, he allows them their space; at the same time letting them know that he loves them and if they never needed help, all they’d have to do is call and papa would be right there

[matsunosan]

Hey there love I just saw that your requests are open <3

And I sse that you write for draken so can we get some fluff with him. Like him falling in love with his childhood bestfried. You know the girl who has always has been by his skde before he met mikey and toman and all of that.Maybe if you want you can make it a bit angsyt. Like him confessing when one of them is seriously injured and he thought that he himself or she is gonna die that's when he is confessing. Or you can leave the angst.

Please don't forget to stay hydrated and don't stress yourself too much. You are loved babygirl 👉🏼👈🏼

HOME - DRAKEN X READER

A/N: Thank you so much for your request lovely! And make sure you stay hydrated too! <3 I hope you enjoy this fic! I also apologize it took me so long to get to your request! Life's been kinda crazy lol. Also you're so sweet omg

Summary: You and Draken are childhood best friends, but you can't help but feel that Draken doesn't feel the same way as you do. What will happen when your life is put on the line from pure bad luck?

WARNINGS: slight cursing, gang related violence, someone gets shot and hospitalized, slight angst but good ending

Word Count: 2,031

Y/N= your name

Y/N/N = your nickname

           Draken always admired you from your beauty, your intelligence, and your courage. He will never forget the days where you ran around the streets of Tokyo as children, chasing one another in a simple game of tag or just running for the hell of it. The way your hair would fly in the wind as you sprinted from him, giggling the entire time with that gorgeous smile of yours. Your laughter made his heart feel whole after he cracked a joke or after your constant teasing of him. Everything about you seemed to make him blush and feel like a thousand butterflies were let go in his chest when you were around. Draken knew he was helplessly in love with you. Yet, it nearly took your life in order for him to confess. 

          You woke up that morning after a peaceful night’s sleep, stretching your arms wide and squeezing your eyes shut as the sun peeked through the bedroom windows. It was a beautiful day in Tokyo, the weather brought the perfect temperature for a sundress and sandals. In Tokyo, rain and cooler weather was most common and the sun didn’t shine nearly as much as you would have liked. But, Tokyo also had Draken. He was the first thing to graze your mind that morning. The thought of Draken made your heart swell and your body feel warm. There was no need for the sun when you could have Draken. 

          You got ready that morning like any other day, taking your sweet time to pamper yourself. You enjoyed moments like these where you could relax and focus on yourself. After long weeks of work and school, finding the time to take care of yourself became a rarity. Draken insisted that you took more time to yourself and that’s how you found yourself creating better habits as such. He was always looking after you, making sure you ate and drank water as well as get plenty of rest. Sometimes he could be a little harsh, but you knew it was just because he cared. But did he love you as much as you were helplessly in love with him? The question seemed to always be at the forefront of your thoughts, but a part of you didn’t want to hear the answer. What if he didn’t feel the same as you? You were childhood best friends, how foolish could you be? Telling him the truth would surely push him away, wouldn’t it? Your anxious thoughts were interrupted when you heard a vibration across the room. You walked over to the cell phone on the nightstand and picked it up. Draken. 

“Hey, Draken!” 

“Hey, Y/N. What are you up to right now?” 

“Nothing much, I just got ready for the day.”

“Can I come pick you up in about half an hour or so? Mikey said there was a Sakura festival on the square with a bunch of vendors. Care to join?” 

“Sure! I’ll be ready!”

“Alright, see you in a bit.”

“See you soon!”

*click*

          Draken picked you up on his bike right on time, your little helmet waiting for you on the seat like every time he gave you a ride. You waltzed over, wrapping your arms around his torso and taking in his scent. Everything about Draken soothed your nerves. He felt like home. 

          “Look at the pink kitty!” you grinned, pointing over to a large cat plush at a festival tent. Draken smiled softly, gently grabbing your hand and leading you over to the booth. The game clerk explained to Draken that he had to throw all the plastic rings around the neck of the milk bottles in order to win the larger prize. Draken smirked triumphantly, knowing that he would win this for you. He let go of your hand, sending you a wink before taking hold of ten multi-colored plastic rings. You watched him anticipation as the game began, hands clutched at your chest as he threw each one. To the clerk’s avail, Draken landed every single throw. You threw your hands out, running over to Draken and hugging him tightly as a token of appreciation. You could feel him tense at the contact, but he quickly melted into your touch. And maybe, just maybe, you saw a slight blush on his cheeks. 

          Draken loved the way you held onto your new plushie for dear life, fearful that someone might take it away from you. You walked side-by-side as the sun set, deciding to head towards the entrance of the festival activities and head home. “Thank you for taking me, Draken,” you beamed up at him, your heart slowly picking up its pace. Was this it? Was this as far as you’d ever go with Draken? The thought made your smile quickly fade, knowing that you couldn’t possibly have Draken all to yourself. “Hey,” Draken stopped in his tracks, stepping in front of you and placing his hands on your arms. “What’s wrong?” You couldn’t let him see you cry. How many hours, days even, have you spent crying over a boy you knew wasn’t in love with you? Tears pricked your eyes, threatening to spill as Draken awaited your answer. You lowered your head, hoping that he wouldn’t see you fall apart. “I-I’m okay,” you spoke softly. “Can we go home now?” “Y/N,” he called your name, placing a hand under your chin and lifting it so that you would meet his gaze. “Talk to me please.” He was always like this. So calm. So caring. So gentle. But you knew that he didn’t love you. “It’s fine,” you stood your ground. “I’m just tired.” “We were having so much fun Y/N,” he pestered, lowering his hand from your chin to rest at his sides. “Did I do something wrong?” Of course that’s what Draken would say. He’s so selfless. He always puts you and your feelings before his. But you can’t tell him. You just can’t. “I had a great time Draken,” you replied shakily, the tears nearing their downfall. “I’m just not feeling great. That’s all.” “Please,” he begged. He fucking begged. “Please talk to me,” Draken said, his voice barely over a whisper. “Draken I-,” you hesitated. Was this the right move? You didn’t think your heart could handle more after today. Your heart couldn’t handle Draken. The way he smiles at you, and only you. The way Draken places his hand on the small of your back when he leads you through crowds. The way Draken comforted you after a heartbreak or after you scored poorly on a test in school. The way Draken was always, inexplicably, there for you. No matter what. You sighed, deciding to give in. “Draken I think I’m-”

*pop*

          “What the fuck was that?” Draken’s eyes nearly shot out of his head at the sound of a nearby gunshot. “It sounded like it hit somebody close.” He held onto your arms tight, bringing you into his chest to protect you. “Y/N we need to get the hell out of here,” he grabbed your hand, beginning to run away but your body wouldn’t move. “I think a fight just started. We have to go!” “I-I’m sorry Draken,” you looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, panicked. But his question was answered when you fell to your knees. “Y/N?” he looked at you for a moment, and then his heart dropped. “Y/N!” Your left shoulder went numb and pain shot through your body. “Dr-Draken,” you whimpered. “I-I got sh-shot.” “Fuck,” he tried picking you up, but you cried out in agony. “SHIT. I’m so sorry. I swear I will fucking kill whoever hurt you. I swear-” His voice was cut off by the sounds of more rounds being shot out. “I’m sorry Y/N,” he apologized, swiftly picking you up as you screamed. “I’m sorry but we have to get the hell out of here.” 

         A fight between two gangs had interrupted the Sakura festival. The dispute ended up having one of the members draw their firearm and the weapon was hit out of their hand. As a result, the gun fired and the stray bullet hit you in your left shoulder. Draken could feel the blood seeping through your clothes and into his arms, but he kept running until he could find a hospital or someone who could call an ambulance. Given that the two of you were downtown, luckily there was an emergency room a few blocks away. Draken swore he had never run faster in his entire life, his heart racing rapidly in his chest. “I’m so sorry,” you sniffled. “I’m so sorry, Draken.” “Don’t waste y-your energy,” Draken said, voice cracking slightly as he began to cry. “I’m going to save you. I promise.” Silence fell over the both of you from the dire situation, but you decided to finish your statement from earlier. “Hey Draken,” you tried your best to smile, watching beads of sweat form on his face. “Earlier you asked me what was wrong.” “Y-Yes I did Y/N,” he said, slightly out of breath as he continued to carry your nearly-lifeless body. “I love you, Draken.” you told him. You finally told him. You could feel your eyelids grow heavy, and your breaths became slower. This was it. You could die happy knowing that he knows how you felt about him. Draken halted, eyes looking into your glassy ones. “D-Don’t say that,” he said shakily. “You aren’t going to die.” He watched you close your eyes and your consciousness left you. “I love you too, Y/N.”

         Draken ran all the way to the emergency room, shocking all of the employees with your blood all over his body. They took you into surgery immediately and luckily were able to save you. The police came and questioned Draken and the gang members were arrested the same night you got shot. After the chaos came to and end, Draken stuck by your side until you finally woke up from your slumber.

         It was just like a couple of days before. You woke up after a peaceful night’s sleep, but your body felt numb in some places. You went to stretch your arms out, but could barely move your limbs. Why couldn’t you move? You felt weight at the bottom of your bed and slowly opened your eyes. The sun was welcoming and lit up the dull room. But, it wasn’t your room. Once fully awake, your head tilted slightly to see that you were in a hospital bed. You felt anxiety wash over you until your eyes fell upon the man at the base of the bed. Draken sat in a chair, body hunched over your legs, fast asleep. “Draken?” you groaned, the pain returning quickly. Draken’s head shot up immediately when he heard your voice. “Y/N!” he jumped out of the seat, rushing to kneel by your side. You giggled slightly, but stopped when the pain intensified. “Leave it to me to get shot at a damn festival,” you grinned. “Life’s never dull with me, right?” Draken sighed before giving in, letting out a chuckle and grabbing your hand. “Don’t scare me like that Y/N/N,” his mood shifted, his tone becoming much more serious. “My heart can’t handle losing you.” “I’m so sorry,” you looked down at your hands, averting your gaze in shame just like you had done that night. “It’s not your fault,” Draken squeezed your hand in his own. “I’m just glad to still have you here.” You sat there in silence for a moment and that’s when the memories flooded back. You had told him you loved him. Shit. “About what I said,” you began. “I know you probably don’t lov-” You were cute off with Draken’s lips against yours. His lips melded against your own, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. You weakly brought your hands to cover his, relief washing over your body. This kiss wasn’t long enough, but you know at that moment that you had the rest of your life to give Draken every kiss you could. “I love you Draken,” you declared. “I love you too,” he held onto you. 

A/N: Request box is still open!

[your-dose-of-obidala]

I just found your blog so idk if you’re still taking requests for prompts but how about #36 from the smut one?

Rating: Explicit

I added some rimming and squirting, because why the hell not? If you don't like this kind of thing in your het romance, don't read it. That's all. There is also some non-con roleplay in the setting of an established relationship involved.

Nonny, this prompt also inspired another fic but it has gotten too long, so I decided to write a short, dirty ditty for you instead and finish the other one next week. Thanks for the prompt, dear.

The prompt was: “YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!”

"Can I come in?" he stands at the door to her office.

She barely looks up and answers distractedly: "Sure. Please close the door, though."

He does and then stands by the door, not coming any nearer.

Finally, she looks up. She wears her hair in a very stylish up-do, her hair is glossy and sleek. Even at the end of the day, her makeup seems more lived-in than creased. Her lips hold an alluring blush. Dior? YSL?

She leans back and smiles politely.

"What is it, Mr. Kenobi?"

It takes him a moment to get his bearing under that gaze. His heart is beating too fast already. His hands that are gripping his cell phone are sweaty. And there is the beginning of arousal filling out his cock.

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!” he blurts it out too loud and fast.

She blinks a few times. But there is a surprising lack of reaction.

"Let me check, please."

She takes up her cell phone and taps on the screen. Nods. Taps. Then says: "Ah, yes. It seems like I send it to the wrong person."

To the wrong--?

"Oh," he says. "Oh, that is--"

"Unfortunate."

There is a sinking feeling in his stomach. Who is that someone the picture was intended for?

"So..." he starts. "You don't want me to lick your pussy until you squirt all over my face?"

He has no idea how he sounds this nonchalant, this suave while repeating the words that accompanied said pictures. She looks away for a tiny moment and shifts in her seat. There is a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

Her mouth opens as if to answer.

"Well," she says. "The... The pictures were not meant for you."

"Ms. Naberrie," he begins. "I came here with the intent of fulfilling my obligation and getting... rewarded." He licks his lips and she watches.

"I--"

"You do know that I could head over to HR right now and have your ass for sexual harassment."

She looks up and leans forward.

"But it wouldn't be the way you want to have my ass."

"You're right, it wouldn't."

They look at each other for an awkward moment.

"If I... Do as you want me to... You will not mention this to anyone?"

He nods, his mouth is dry.

"No one will know."

"Good."

She stands up and pulls her skirt up. She is still not wearing any underwear, just like in that damned picture. She bunches the fabric around her hips and places her forearms on the table.

She makes a gesture that could mean 'have at it' or 'go ahead'. It's so unsexy that it's making him doubt himself. Does she really want this?

He steps behind her and his heartbeat skyrockets. Her ass is round and smooth and perfect. If it hadn't been his plan since he saw that fucking nude anyway he would certainly drop to his knees right about now.

He doesn't touch her. Not yet.

Just steps behind her and takes her in. He has to work against the temptation to simply lean forward and bite into her flesh, so suck bruises into her skin and mark her up bad.

The room is silent, except for both of their labored breathing.

Finally, he lowers himself onto her office chair. It squeaks when he leans forward and places his hands on both of her cheeks. He kneads his thumbs into the flesh and she gives a stifled moan.

He kneads her as if he is kneading bread. Over and over, he works his thumbs into her muscle and he can feel her legs buckling. His thumbs are moving nearer and nearer to opening her up.

"Kenobi." she says warningly and he grins to himself.

He wants to goad her, make her beg because she is always so professional, so fucking untouchable that it's making him a little insane.

Leaning forward he presses his lips first to the right asscheek and then the other. He makes the kisses lewd and open-mouthed to give her a taste of what is to come and there is that tremor under his hands again.

Without further ado, he pulls her cheeks apart and bares her to his hungry gaze.

"Touch your clit." he demands and then starts licking her pussy that is pressed together, fat, and puffed up. He sinks from the chair down to his knees to get the angle right. His knees are going to hate him, but it's worth it, he thinks. It's the only way to really get his tongue inside of her.

Her taste makes him thirst for more of her.

He buries his face in that space that he has laid bare for himself. He fits there perfectly. It's just for him. He can feel how she is rubbing circles on her clit, he swears he can taste her desperation.

Slowly he drags the flat of his tongue over her pussylips up and around the little pucker of her asshole and further up to the flat of her back. The noises she makes make him dizzy, and his cock is straining. He kisses her on the small of her back, chaste and soft.

"Please." she whimpers, but he doesn't respond except for rubbing his bristled chin on her back.

"Obi--" she starts and he pulls back. "Kenobi." she hurries and he rewards her with a reassuring touch. "Mr. Kenobi. Please. I need to come."

"Ok," his voice is gruff. "Ok. Here. How about that?" he asks and slides two fingers inside of her. He feels for her g-spot and rubs it hard.

At this point, she is completely resting against the table and not on her arms anymore. The right side of her face is pressed into a folder. Her right hand is still touching herself, like he demanded, while the left hand is trying to find purchase on the smooth surface of the desk and failing. Of course, he could prolong her pleasure, but he wants her to come. He wants to feel her quiver and let go. He wants to taste her. He loves to hear her unravel. He would love to see her, too, but alas. Next time.

So he lowers himself to her and traces the rim of her sphincter with the tip of his tongue. He can feel the flutter under his tongue, the opening, and closing, opening, and closing. His tongue is working slow and steady, while his fingers are insisting and indignant. His fingertips are rubbing against her g-spot with every thrust.

She gives little uh uh uh noises which sound beautiful and punched out.

"Please." she sobs when his tongue dips into her hole for a mere second and then goes back to lazy circles. "Please, please, please..."

He cannot suppress the smirk and she must feel it because she gives a colorful curse.

"Patience, Padmé." he mumbles and she is so far gone that she doesn't say anything to the slip.

With his free hand, he grips her left asscheek to open her up a little bit more and works his tongue inside of her.

Instead of pumping in and out, he rubs his fingertips over her g-spot. It's all she needs. He feels how she stops working her clit, how stiff she gets under him, coiled up and ready to spring. He knows she is red-faced and straining for air. So beautiful in her struggle.

Then she keens and he begins to thrust his fingers in and out again, her contracting muscles are working hard around his fingers. With one swift movement, he pulls them out of her and she shudders and comes. The splash of moisture is unbearable loud in the office. She sobs his name.

His trousers are a bit wet around his knees, but it's not worth mentioning in his opinion.

He lowers his face a little bit to lap up the drops that cling to her sex. She makes an appreciative noise. She is boneless and soft afterward.

Being careful with his aching knees he stands up before pulling her up and around. She comes to him without a fight, falls in his arms, and melts into his embrace. He pulls her backward and lowers himself into her chair again.

"Are you ok, Padmé?" he asks softly against her hair.

"Hmmm." she answers.

"Was that what you had in mind?"

She nods instead of answering.

"I--" she begins and then sighs. "I just need... I think you broke me."

He kisses her hair.

"Take your time, darling. We are the last ones on this floor. We can go home whenever you're ready."

"Okay."

She buries herself a little bit deeper into his arms and enjoys the closeness.

[deadqueenz]

Eddie Gluskin x Female Reader: The Perfect Bride- Where The Truth Lies

The man kicks a discarded drink can away with his foot as he continues down the sidewalk, cursing at his misfortune while pulling out his tape recorder, turns it off and quickly pockets it once more.

Once again, police refused to answer his questions, and even the friends and family of those who went missing refused to talk to him. At this rate, he was getting fucking nowhere. "Damn it!" Miles growls as he kicks the brick wall with his black boot, continuing on to his cheap rental car, fishing into his worn out blue jeans pocket for a cigarette and lighter.

Once he's in the driver's seat, grumbling about the lack of leads and evidence, he pulls out his burner phone and calls his boss back home. It didn't take long for the man to answer, picking up on the second ring before it could finish out. "Any news?" Miles frowns deeply, hating to report that he ended up with what he despised most, empty handed.

Before he could stop himself, he replies in a blunt irritated tone. "Fuck no, do you think I would be calling you if I did?" Miles mentally kicks himself in the crotch, hearing nothing but background noises; muffled voices, the sounds of papers being moved, multiple phones ringing. He must be at the office.

Miles waits for a response, and after a few heart beats, decides on hanging up, until...

".....Useless."

"What?" Miles questions, wanting to make sure he heard it correctly. The man replies in an frustrated tone, "I've spent money on-" Hearing the start of yet another rant about money and how publicity would've been good for the team, Miles tosses the phone in the back seat with a groan, banging his forehead on the steering wheel.

Why didn't he quit months ago? Why the hell did he stay with the sorry shit and his failing reporting company? Always complaining and telling others off when issues arised and were clearly out of their control. Always going on about money, the company, and finally his reputation; how all of it was on the line if anyone made a mistake.

Funny how the bastard would say that, yet, he doesn't know how hard it is to retrieve information from people, let alone sneaking around and using other resources to get answers. On top of that...Miles frowns deeply, the thought leaving a nasty taste in his mouth, "his boss" would go so far as to falsifying evidence, just to keep people intrested.

But of course, there needs to be a certain amount of truth in it to hide the lies. If you have more than enough truth and evidence, the people would eat up everything you serve them without a second thought.

But Miles refused to go down that road again, he would rather die first. Miles sits up, grudgingly reaching back to get his cell phone and places it in the passenger seat, silently pleased that the call ended. He'll grab a late lunch, go back to his lovely four star hotel and decide on what to do about the case from there. There had, no, there is a logical explanation as to why over about fifteen women mysteriously went missing without and no one fucking knew anything.

Clenching his teeth together so hard that they could break, Miles turns the key in the engine and drives back into traffic. Someone in this damned city new something, they were either afraid to speak up, or needed their hands greased a bit. As long as he kept low and under the police radar, he'd be fine.

And while he's here, why not visit an old friend?

[gypsysoul-20]

Depression Hits Hard

I am not even sure how to explain what the hell has been going on in my life. But I need to get it off my chest and this is the safest and easiest place to do that.. Sooo i am already going to preapologize for the long post.

This has been the most trialing and hardest year that I think I have ever been through. Not a day hasn't gone by that I haven't wanted to pick that bottle up, or even call someone to find me drugs. There have been days that I haven't even wanted to get out of bed.. But yet I still did. I have lost two jobs this year because the older I get, the harder it is to hold a job. I make do though, I get what I need.. But let me tell you, I am glad that I haven't used or drank. For that.. And that alone, i am VERY, VERY, proud of myself.

Relationship wise this year, i have gone through literal HELL and back. I will always love him. I would of laid my life down for this man. I would of taken a bullet for him. There is really nothing that I wouldn't of done for that man. I bent over backwards for this man. This man is literally tattooed on me. I am not one for names on people... But yet.. here I was ready to do anything for him. I was literally going to WAIT two years for this man..

I finally realized that you cannot change someone that doesn't want to change. He didn't even APPLY for the effing divorce till I said something, and it wasn't once, it was MORE than ten times. Like if you say that you love someone don't you think especially would make sure that you would get the divorce to prove to the woman that you supposedly "LOVE" that you would do anything to get her back?...

Maybe I am at fault.. maybe I loved him too much?... Maybe I expected too much out of him.. Mentally, I can't do it anymore.. I felt the dreading of the phone calls because I knew that everything i did, everything i said, everything would turn in a fight. And who wants to fight when all your getting is fifteen minutes a call.. It's not even like he was trying to change in there. LIKE WHAT THE FUCK?! Your drinkning in there once a week.. WHILE YOU KNOW THAT DRINKING IS THE MAIN REASON YOUR SITTING THERE IN A CELL. But your not looking at that as a problem.. How do you not see that as a problem.

Now.. It's time for me to get angry, to be mad, to focus all my anger at him. Which is really hard for me to do and I am not sure why.. It is time for me to take my life back. Sure, I am going to be sad and depressed... Yeh, I miss those phone calls, it took alot out of my day.. now my phone quiet as fuck.. not sure what to do with my mind.. I can try and read but then the memories come back and fuck with me.. no matter where i go everywhere reminds me of him..

This is the hardest and longest time that I have felt like I am losing the battle with depression.. But, eventually this too shall pass.. And then I will have my life back... but.. in the meantime, I am going back into the hole that I crawled out of today

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 25b

*Warning Adult Content*

One Taste - Part 2

- Knox -

Knox enters the clubhouse and takes the stairs two at a time to get to his bedroom.

Unless Hayes has a death wish, Knox shouldn't find him lingering around there.

That doesn't mean the universe doesn't get off on fucking with him.

The distant echo of Hayes' laughter, light and carefree, spurs Knox to move faster.

His boots thunder against the floor as anger pounds in his temples.

He turns another corner and begins crafting an apology to offer Gavin for the inevitable outcome that's about to happen, him killing Hayes on the property for being a horny prick that crossed the line.

Everett belongs to Knox.

Everyone knows this.

And surely Everett told Hayes as such.

Surely he...

"I fucking knew it'd only be a matter of time before you tracked me down," Hayes laughs.

He's leaning against the wall opposite of Knox's closed bedroom door, one hand shoved in his pants pocket while the other holds his cell-phone up to his face.

"Did you know they made pet cameras so you can watch your fur babies when you're not at home? Milo, my dog, just..."

"I don't give a shit about your dog," Knox interrupts. "Why the fuck are you up here when you know this portion of the house is off limits?"

"I really don't understand why he likes you," Hayes says, rolling his eyes. "Everett and I were bonding over our shared love of True Blood when a flying fucking football came out of nowhere and knocked his drink out of his hand. His shirt got wet in the process, so he came up here to change it. I merely followed."

Knox raises a questioning brow.

"Without him knowing? Because that's really fucking weird."

"Hold on, why are you trying to make it sound like I'm some sort of creep?" Hayes asks, offended.

"Doesn't matter how it sounds when it's the truth," Knox walks toward Hayes at a measured pace, his voice steady despite the inferno blazing in his eyes. "If you touched him at any point today..."

"You'll what? Kill me? I don't think Gavin would appreciate that," Hayes smirks. "I'm the best washer on your team. No one can flip money as fast as me."

"You're expendable," Knox replies. "And Gavin knows where to look for a replacement."

Hayes feigns a pained expression while placing his free hand over his heart.

"Why do you have to be so mean to me, man? Everett and I are just friends. I haven't even asked him for his number... yet," Hayes chuckles, purposefully stepping out of line. "Besides, he's too soft for someone like you, isn't he? What ever happened to Scar? Did he finally get bored and leave your ass? Shame it's taking Everett this long to do the same."

Knox cracks his knuckles.

"Oops. Did I go too far?" Hayes continues.

Knox takes another step forward.

"Is this one of your intimidation tactics?" Hayes puts his phone away, trying and failing to look unbothered as Knox enters his personal bubble. "If you try to kick my ass for befriending Everett, then you'll only confirm what he's afraid to accept."

"And that is?" Knox asks, calmly.

"That you're a monster with no self-control," Hayes says. "Hell, you'll actually be doing me a favor. You'll push his pretty little ass right into my arms..."

Knox's patience finally snaps.

He moves with the quickness of a striking viper, delivering a slap so vicious that it sends Hayes crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

The man must be a masochist because he wears a bloody smile as Knox stands above him, one foot pressing down hard on his chest.

The wild expression on Knox's face speaks more than a thousand words.

It's one thing for him to be disrespected in his own home.

It's something else when the disrespect gets thrown at Everett.

"You clearly think this shit is a game, so I'll say it one more time."

Knox shifts his weight, applying even more pressure against Hayes' chest, successfully wiping the smug grin off his face.

"You." And more pressure. "Are." And more pressure. "Expendable."

Crack.

"Oops. That sounded like it hurt. Did it?"

"You m-motherfucker. I think y-you just broke one of my fucking ribs," Hayes screams, both fists pounding against Knox's calf and foot. "Get the fuck off me and fight me like a man. I'll kick your fucking ass, you big son of a bitch. Let me up right now."

"You're more of a joke than a challenge," Knox laughs. "But if you want to die today, that's fine by me..."

He removes his foot from Hayes' chest and immediately snatches him up from the ground.

The man tries to fight back for all of five seconds before Knox spins him around and puts him in a brutal headlock that cuts off his air supply.

"I could snap your fucking neck and end all this right now but you don't deserve to go out that easy, so I think I'll listen to you suffer for a little while longer..."

"Oh my God, Knox, stop. What the fuck are you doing?" Everett appears and grips Knox's biceps, tugging hard and accomplishing nothing. "Jesus Christ, he's turning red. Let him go before you kill him. Knox?"

"I know where you live, motherfucker. This isn't over," Knox whispers near Hayes' ear before releasing him and turning around to face Everett. "Did he touch you?"

"Did he what...?" Everett starts but Knox grabs him by the arm and pulls him back inside the bedroom, leaving Hayes sprawled out on the ground in the hallway desperately gasping for air.

"What the fuck is your problem right now? You almost killed him," Everett yells after Knox locks them inside the bedroom. "And what is this about him touching me? No one has touched me today except for you."

Knox drags a hand down his face, trying to calm the rage still boiling inside him.

"Hayes is a horny little bastard that is out to fuck anything that moves. He went too far and showed me his true colors just now," Knox explains. "He can't be trusted and until I speak to Gavin about his behavior, I don't want you talking to him anymore," and then he quietly adds... "Not like he'll be seeing anyone again after tonight."

Everett blinks, visibly confused.

"Listen, I just came up here to change my shirt because I spilled my drink on it. I had no idea Hayes was even out there. And I don't know what he said to you while I was in the bathroom but I do not want that man. Not in any way, shape or form. I'm with you, remember?"

Knox is silent while Everett reaches out to grab his hands, rage still simmering beneath the surface as Everett slowly links their fingers together.

Their gazes remained locked as Everett takes another step forward, removing the space between them.

Seconds turn into minutes and soon the red haze Knox had briefly succumbed to while arguing with Hayes gradually recedes.

Knox's breathing slows, his heart rate steadying as he focuses on the sensation of Everett's touch and nothing else.

"I'm yours," Everett softly reiterates.

He releases one of Knox's hands to trail his fingers up Knox's arm as a different kind of fire consumes them.

"Now put the beast back in it's cage and kiss me so I can prove it."

Knox obliges.

He rests one hand on the nape of Everett's neck, the other wrapping around Everett's waist as he leans down to press their lips together.

It's an unhurried kiss, slow and deep and explorative.

When Knox's grip tightens on his neck, Everett moans in approval, his mouth further parting.

Knox takes advantage of the moment, slipping his tongue inside to get a taste.

One is never enough, though.

Not when it comes to Everett.

"We're not going back outside. Not for a while," Knox says between licks. "Need to get you naked. I'm done fucking talking."

Everett shivers when Knox grabs a handful of his hair and tugs, pulling his head back to fully expose his neck.

"I can show you better than I can tell you," Knox whispers against Everett's skin before nipping at it with his teeth, not deep but hard enough to cause Everett's nails to dig into his shoulder.

"You still trust me, kitten?"

Knox pulls back to look Everett in the eyes.

"Yes," Everett answers with a breathy moan. "What are you going to show me?"

"That you're mine," Knox replies, his eyes darkening with lust. "I've already told you but I haven't exactly shown you. I haven't proven it. Haven't solidified it. And actions speak louder than words, right?"

Everett's eyes widen as he grasps the implications of Knox's words.

"Please. I-I want it."

"Then say it..." Knox kisses him again, the hand around Everett's waist now moving to unbutton his jeans. "Let me hear you, kitten."

"Make me yours," Everett says. "I want you to fuck me."

[sparklingchim]

Please a drabble of jealous jk (but not jelly of jimin) sometime in their past or something

Jungkook should've payed more attention to the obvious signs.

Perhaps then he wouldn't stand wide-eyed at the doorstep of your bedroom, interrupting the rather fervid make-out session between Taehyung and you.

Your eyes are equally as big as Jungkook's. You're sitting on Taehyung's lap who's leaning against the pillows on your bed. Taehyung - the smug asshole he is - seems to be the only one who isn't fazed by the disruption - his hand on your ass not moving an inch evidence enough.

"Jungkook," you choke out.

"We wanted to study," Jungkook says though his gaze remains fixed on Taehyung.

Your parents won't be home until late today, so it was the perfect opportunity to study for the upcoming maths exam at your place.

"It's 3pm already?" Your plush and swollen lips steal Jungkook's attention and he wonders how long you've been kissing Mr. Cocky.

"I called you, but you never answered."

You look around your room. "I don't know where I put my phone."

"It's okay." Jungkook's jaw tenses as he watches Taehyung's hands move up to your hips. But he doesn't just let his hands rest there, no, he slips them under your sweatshirt and squeezes your bare flesh.

The exhale through Jungkook's nose is loud, but what the fuck? How could he not be annoyed when fucking Kim Taehyung acted like Jungkook was not in the room with them?

"You still wanna study or do you want me to..." Go is the word that Jungkook is leaving out.

"Oh no, we can still study!" you answer, getting off Taehyung's lap. Thank God. You turn around on your feet. "Wanna study with us for the maths exam, Tae?" Wha- no. What the hell?

Taehyung sits up. "Yeah, sure. Why not."

Jungkook feels like he's gonna pass out.

~

Jungkook should've left as soon as you proposed Taehyung to join your study session.

In the category of things not to do "hanging out with a newly dating couple" is at least catalogued in the top three. And he was the biggest fool for ignoring it.

Jungkook will lose all his brain cells if you and Taehyung keep flirting and giggling and being affectionate with each other - or he's gonna vomit, he isn't sure yet.

You're all gathered next to each other around the huge coffe table in the living room, a drama is currently playing as background noise.

"I don't get number 4," you utter in a pout.

Jungkook parts his lips, ready to explain it to you, but Taehyung beats him to it.

Taehyung starts explaining and Jungkook's listens carefully. Jungkook doesn't want to be one of those annoyed smart-asses, but sometimes when he's had a look at Taehyung's sheet he saw hin doing little mistakes and pointed them out to Taehyung.

Taehyung isn't dumb, but the way you and him keep touching each other is probably distracting his. Just like now, while explaining, his palm brushes across your thigh. You lean to your side, cheek softly pressed against his arm and eyes glued to the book on the table.

Jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He can't endure this for much longer.

"That's not correct," Jungkook says after Taehyung's finishes his explanation.

What follows is a 5 minute debacle over the correct solution of number 4. Taehyung is sure that he's got it right and Jungkook knows that his way is the correct one.

The two would've continued to argue if you hadn't chimed in, "I'll just ask our teacher tomorrow. It's fine."

Jungkook huff. "Whatever."

"I'm gonna use the bathroom real quick," Taehyung says, leaving the living room.

Jungkook gets right back at work, types something into the calculator and quickly writes numbers on his sheet of paper.

"What is up with you?" you ask. Jungkook can feel your piercing stare on you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Nothing."

"You've been acting weird, Koo."

"It's just-" Jungkook's looks at you for a second. "I'm hearing more kissing noises than typing on the calculator."

"Oh, uh - well..." you hide a smile. "I just...really like him," you confess.

"Don't have to rub it in my face how lonely I am."

You laugh sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"Next time just you and me again, okay?"

"I promise."

"I actually need to leave now," Jungkook announces. He heard the bathroom door open and realised that under no circumstances could he bear to see you act all lovey dovey with Taehyung like that any more.

It annoys him, yes, but at the same time it feels like rubbing salt in the wound every time you giggle after Taehyung whispers something in your ear. There's this strange feeling clawing at his heart and he needs to get rid of it.

You frown. "It hasn't even been 2 hours."

"I gotta go to practice." Jungkook stands up and starts packing his stuff. "They changed the schedule for this week a little," he explains because you know exactly on which days he has practice or not.

"Oh."

And just because he can, he bends down, tilts your chin up for him and pecks your cheek just as Taehyung enters the living room again.

It's silly, but seeing Taehyung's reaction makes it easier for Jungkook to walk out of your house with a lightened heart.

[bccky]

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 1

Pairing:  Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1405

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: revamped fic of my own // dividers by @firefly-graphics // hope you like it Xx

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

Soulmates are a very weird, complicated thing.

It is said that everyone has a soulmate of their own, but no one knows who they are until they have at least one interaction with them.

Wait, it gets even more bizarre.

How, you ask? Well, the only thing that connects you to your other half is pain.

Apparently, you share extreme emotional sensations, which can only be triggered after you two meet. To summarize it, if one of you gets hurt, the other can feel it just as intensely.

So, it might be a weird and complicated thing, but it's interesting, isn't it?

It isn't like you can share your experience about it though, simply because you haven't had it yet. With all the measures you take to keep every feeling of pain accounted for with every injury, it would probably be hard to miss your soulmate, something that you don't want to happen.

You're too excited to meet them, of course! And why wouldn't you be?

Why wouldn't anyone want to be with the one person that makes you feel whole, who fills a certain hole in your heart?

And it's not just a myth, you're sure of it. Your parents are soulmates too, and seeing them in love is what would make anyone believe in it. Your dad has told you so many stories about every single time that he has realized how deeply he has fallen for your mom. 

She, however, has told you how it truly feels. How in-sync you become to that person that even the tiniest pinches, the playful punches from their friends or even stubbing your toe is sometimes perceived as your own… the last one is what you're least looking forward to.

It's easy to become utterly entranced by the notion, and you're not the one who's going to fight it, of course. You've created a faceless persona in your imagination, someone you've dreamed of and yearned for almost all of your life.

That there is going to be a person who knows you like the back of their hand, and you, them. That you would love each other and grow old together, and look at them to find a happy, content gaze already staring at you while you two are in rocking chairs. 

"Y/N?"

You hum in answer when your mother calls you, breaking your reverie. You glance at her in question. "What?"

"Your dad was supposed to be back ten minutes ago from his grocery run, can you call him and ask where he is?" She says before she focuses back on the book in front of her.

"Sure, just a minute." You pick up your cell phone, quickly dialing his number. But it rings and rings and rings but he isn't picking up, something very unusual.

"He isn't answering," You deem a few minutes later, looking up from the screen to find your mom looking really worried. "Is something wrong?"

"I, uh - I don't know. He has been acting really off lately, saying that he hears barking sometimes or sees a black dog with red eyes when there's nothing -" she cuts herself off when her voice breaks on the last word.

You immediately get up from where you had been sitting on the sofa and offer her a glass of water. She gratefully takes it, but her hands are visibly shaking as she drinks. 

"I'm sure he is fine, mom. We can talk him into visiting a doctor when he returns," you reassure, hugging her before giving her a kiss on her head and she readily hugs you back. "I love you."

As it turns out, nothing is fine, and it never will be.

Your mom starts writhing in agony a few seconds later and everything you try doesn't work, simply because she's not actually the one suffering, but only going through second hand pain. 

She's screaming, clutching her stomach as you tearfully call 911, telling them your address as clearly as you can while you sob as you see the state your mom is in.

And it just gets severe till it stops, leaving her in a state that makes her look as if she's on the brink of death. 

When you start thinking that it can't go any worse, you get a call from the police. 

Your dad is found some hours later in the woods beside your regular grocery store, guts out and body torn to shreds, just enough of his face remained that could be recognized by the neighbors who found them.

"A wolf attack," the coroner declares after inspecting when you identify the body in the hospital later, and you can't do anything but nod. There's nothing to dispute, the attack was surely not done by a human, but there have never been wolves in your town. 

But it's not something to think about now, you've got other important things on your mind, such as, how to tell your mom who you left in her bed. She had told you to go when she had heard the man on the other side of the phone utter your father's name. 

You don't have the courage to say what happened to her soulmate, about why she just went through the excruciating pain, only to find that she had taken her own life. 

And that is how, just one day has changed everything you thought and believed in, forever. 

"The regular?" Jo asks. 

You give her a small smile. "Thanks."

"Don't think you're off the hook," She says as she makes your drink. "Mom is furious that you missed a check-in this week."

As if prompted, Ellen walks right beside her with her jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

"Do you wanna explain yourself, young lady?" Ellen inquires, tapping her feet.

One thing you have learned not to do in the two years since you've known her is to aggravate her more, so you sheepishly say, "I'm sorry. My phone died, you know?"

"Well, the battery was certainly not dead when you messaged Jo if I was in today, wasn't it?"

You glare at Jo in betrayal, who only counters with a shrug, "You know I can't lie to her."

Rolling your eyes, you try to change the subject. "Can I have my drink, at least?" But Ellen just stops her daughter when the latter tries to pass you the glass. 

"You can when you tell me the truth." The older woman who took you in, says, "You went on a werewolf hunt again, didn't you?"

"I did," You confess, focusing your gaze on the beer stain on the counter. "I won't give up until I find the killer who put my family through hell, you know that."

Ellen nods. "If you tell us what happened, we can help you."

"I don't know… It just feels like something I should do on my own."

"But you don't have to do it alone." Jo replies, giving you the liquor.

You thank her, "I'm about to go on a case of a simple salt and burn, how about I tell you everything after I'm done with that?"

Ellen gives you a comforting smile, patting your hand before she goes to serve another customer.

"My friend from high school found her soulmate last Sunday." Jo whispers, leaning closer to you on the counter under the guise of cleaning it. "They met in an ice cream parlour, how cool is that? Do you think we'll meet our soulmates here?"

You freeze, your blood turning cold, "I hope not." You mutter, quickly downing your glass as you put your coat on. "Put it on my tab, please. I think I just found an important clue for my next hunt."

"Sure, dude." Jo waves.

You walk backwards for a few steps as you say goodbye, accidentally bumping into someone.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry. Should've paid attention to where I was going." You say, turning around to look directly into piercing green eyes.

And just for a millisecond, it feels as if you're in slow-motion. 

The guy smiles, shaking his head at your apology. "It's fine, my bad too."

Not thinking much about it, you start walking out of The Roadhouse, feeling weird and fuzzy, and it's as if everything is suddenly different, every sensation more refined. 

You make your way to where you parked your car when you feel your toe hurting like you just stubbed it into a corner or something, but when you look down, there's absolutely nothing. 

Just like that, your life takes a turn once more. 

Part 2

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

Wanna read more of my works? Check out the masterlist linked at the top!

If you wanna be added to my taglist, click here!

Taglist in reblog

[the-cult-of-russo]

I Miss You

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request: idk if you’re taking request but i have a Billy x reader imagine where the reader is being super clingy and Billy tells one of his friends.The reader eavesdrop on that conversation and decides to distant herself from Billy.

A/N: I wasn't really sure what resolution you wanted for this one so this was what I came up with. I could have gone really angsty about it but I don't know, I liked this one.

Warnings: cursing, angst, fluff. 

----------

"Yeah, man… I don't know. It's just a bit much… I mean, she's always here or on the phone with me… I dunno… she's just… clingy, I guess."

You knew you shouldn't really be eavesdropping but you hadn't intended on it. Both you and Billy had been tangled naked in his bed after some good sex when his phone started to ring. He'd slipped into the living area to answer it. You'd only gotten up because your bladder was shouting at you but as you'd slipped on his shirt and gone to the bedroom door, you'd caught the end of the conversation. 

It honestly felt like a smack in the face. You were pissed and hurt that instead of talking to you about it like an adult, he instead opted to bitch about you to a friend, no doubt Frank. You weren't in a relationship, it was just casual sex and it had been for a good few months now. You weren't expecting anything else from him. And sure, sometimes you'd find yourself at his place a few nights in a row after work and sure you'd send him texts during the day or call. But never once had he acted like it was an issue. In fact he always sounded happy to pick up the phone and sometimes he was the one insisting you stay the night. 

It wasn't like you wanted a relationship with him. You went into this knowing what it was. You didn't love him. You liked him, both looks and personality, but you didn't love him. It could be easy to fall in love with a man like him but you hadn't let yourself. But things had just been natural with the pair of you. Easy. A casual intimacy neither of you expected but didn't seem to mind. Except he clearly did mind it. 

You weren't even that upset that he felt that way. He was entitled to his opinions and feelings and you wouldn't take that away from him. The last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable or feel smothered. What bothered you was how he never once made it known and was going behind your back saying things like that. It made you feel small. It made you feel stupid like some young girl with an unrequited crush.

You rushed to get dressed and decided you'd leave, bladder forgotten. If he wanted distance then that's what he'd get. You weren't going to stick around to be made a fool of like this. He obviously wasn't happy with how you were so you'd remove yourself from the situation. 

Just as you were slinging on your jacket, Billy came into the room only in his boxers and quirked a brow at you.

"Goin' somewhere?" He asked, sounding vaguely amused. His laid back attitude made your eye twitch after hearing what he'd said on the phone. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna head home. I've got work early tomorrow," you said casually, closing your jacket. 

"Oh…" he murmured, brows wrinkled. Yeah, didn't expect that did you, Russo?

You gave him a bland smile, squeezing his arm before walking out. You didn't really want him to know you'd heard him and have to deal with that awkward talk but you didn't much feel like kissing his cheek goodbye like you normally did. He'd normally walk you to the door and you'd kiss his cheek, then he'd capture your lips as you traded lazy kisses at the door before you left. Well not this time. Instead you left the apartment and left a stunned Billy Russo standing in his bedroom blinking at the door. 

You threw yourself into work. It was something to help distract you from contacting Billy. You wouldn't say you were clingy but you had gotten used to talking to him daily and you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right. You'd give him the distance he wanted. 

You hadn't text or called him and when three days went by, he'd surprised you with a text at work. 

'Just wanted to check in and see if you're okay. Haven't heard from you in a bit.' 

Your right eye twitched again at his message. This was what he wanted so why bother reaching out? You shot him a short message back along the lines of 'I'm fine. Busy at work.' And that was that. He didn't reply and you didn't really care that much.

The fourth day since you hadn't spoken to him and he called your cell around noon when he knew you'd be on lunch. Your hand flexed with the urge to answer but you resisted. You stayed firm even after it rang a second time. But then it flashed up with a voicemail and you couldn't help being intrigued so you listened to it.

"Hey… uh… I guess you're still busy with work. I just… wanted to make sure you're okay. Hope you're not workin' yourself too hard. Just… call me back or somethin', yeah?"

You rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw. This was what he wanted yet he was contacting you. You hated that you itched to call him back but you still refused. Maybe you were stubborn or maybe you still felt slighted by his words to his friend, either way you didn't call him back. Even if you did miss him just a bit.

The fifth day came around and you were exhausted. You'd hadn't lied when you told him you'd been busy with work but you'd made more work for yourself to keep busy. Not only were you doing your own but you'd been helping others out too just to stay busy and keep your head Billy-free. You'd stayed late the night before and then came in early and you hadn't given yourself a chance to grab a coffee. 

You sat behind your desk as you read an email from a colleague as your office door knocked around noon.

"It's open," you called out as you scribbled a note in your notepad for later. You glanced up when the door opened and were stunned to see Billy standing there with a paper bag and two coffees in a cup holder.

"Hey," he smiled at you. You blinked at him for a second as he shut the door behind him. He'd never once shown up at work before.

"Hey," you replied feeling tense. He hovered for a moment, still clutching what you presumed to be food with the drinks as his dark eyes scanned your tired face.

"I just uh… I know you've been workin' hard these past few days. Wanted to bring you some lunch, make sure you're takin' care of yourself," he murmured with a frown. 

"Careful, Russo. Anyone would think you care," you scoffed with an eye roll. You hadn't really meant to say it outloud but didn't care too much that you did either. He looked taken aback for a moment before he nodded, setting the bag and cups down as he sat in the chair on the other side of your desk.

"So I did do somethin' to piss you off, then… thought I mighta done. Haven't heard from you in days. It's not like you," he said with a bitter smile. 

"Yeah, because I'm clingy, right?" You asked coldly, raising a brow. 

He looked genuinely shocked before he groaned, closing his eyes and wiping a hand over his face.

"You heard that… you… you weren't supposed to hear that," he muttered regretfully. 

"That doesn't make it much better, Billy," you squinted. He blew out a sigh and leaned his forearms on your desk as his dark gaze looked right at you. 

"I'm sorry, I-" he started, but you held your hands up to stop him and he shut his mouth abruptly.

"Look… I'm not upset you felt that way. I'm upset you didn't tell me. I didn't think I was being clingy. You never acted like it was an issue for me to be around so much or to text or call so how can I know it bothers you? I'm upset I had to find out by hearing you bitch about me behind my back to a friend like a goddamn child," you bit out, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. He winced a little, drumming his long fingers on the desk before rolling his shoulders.

"It doesn't… bother me," his vague words earned him a squint from you and he sighed, sitting back up a little more.

"I freaked out… I freaked out 'cause I didn't freak out," he murmured looking confused. Your face resembled the words 'the fuck does that mean' and he rested his forearms back on the desk. He looked frustrated like he couldn't put his thoughts into words.

"This isn't how I usually do things. I'm a one and done kinda guy… unless I'm gettin' somethin' outta it like information or some shit. I don't … I don't usually go back to a girl. But you just… I had you once and I knew it wasn't enough. I wanted more. And… and I liked havin' you stay over so much and I liked your weird little texts in the day or havin' you call me to see how my day went. I didn't mind it. It didn't bother me. It wasn't too much. So me bein' me… I got in my own head and freaked out about it. I tried to convince myself it was you, that you were bein' clingy and needy, but you weren't. And… if these past five days have taught me anything it's that… I like you bein' such a big part of my life and… fuck, I missed you," he rambled, almost black eyes looking at you imploringly. 

You glanced down to the desk as you soaked in his words. You really hadn't expected any of them and you found your anger at him disappearing. When you just stared at the desk lost in your own thoughts and didn't reply, his fingers tapped on the desk again as he inhaled a shaky breath. 

"Did you miss me?" His soft and unsure voice had your eyes snapping to him. He looked so insecure you wondered for a moment who the hell he was because Billy Russo was a lot of things, but insecure was never one of them. And you knew him well enough by now to know what a big deal it was that he spoke to you about his feelings. Feelings he had that you never expected.

"Of course I missed you, asshole," you said softly. His whole face lit up, deep brown eyes shining with warmth as his lips curled into a genuine smile.

"Yeah?" He asked wryly. You rolled your eyes, playfully this time, as you leaned forward on your desk. He wasted no time in snatching one of your hands in his.

"Yeah," you said with a smile. He bit his lower lip, a somewhat bashful smile on his own face as he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to it. You almost melted.

"I don't… I don't know what this is but… I know it's different and I don't wanna push you away," he murmured softly as his thumb rubbed your palm. 

"No more bitching about me to your friends then," you smirked. He chuckled, ducking his head before landing his soft gaze on you once more.

"I mean it though, Billy. You need to talk to me next time. I don't wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable and if you don't wanna push me away… you need to learn to communicate," you said softly. He nodded, squeezing your hand. 

"I know. I'll do better, I promise," he grinned. 

The whole thing had taken a turn you hadn't expected but you were glad for it. It wasn't like you declared your undying love for one another or even decided this was an actual relationship. But it was a step. One you hadn't expected either of you to make. 

"So… you gonna let me have lunch with you? I know you're busy but… I really have missed you," how could you turn him down when he was looking at you with such soft and warm eyes? 

You smiled, grabbing the bag and making a little happy noise to see burgers from the diner you two frequented. He practically beamed, whether from you agreeing to let him have lunch with you or how happy you were by the food choice, you weren't sure. But you loved it when he smiled like that, how his eyes crinkled a little in the corner. He was breathtaking honestly and you found yourself glad he'd hunted you down at work and told you how he felt instead of pushing you away or lying to himself. If that wasn't character progression you didn't know what was  

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (11/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: you know what's coming - the truth.

Warnings: angst, minor violence

Word Count: 2k

A/N: i listened to my favorite saddest songs while writing. be prepared. thanks for your kind feedback! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

JJ snaps you out of your thoughts. There's an expression on her face that you can't find the words for. "Y/N? What does she mean?"

You have to swallow. Your throat is tight and you can barely breathe, so you cling to her to keep from sinking to the floor. You can't take your eyes off the two in the interrogation room.

"What deal?" Spencer sits up straighter than he already does. His whole body is tense.

Cat shakes her head. "I thought you weren't here to talk about her or you."

When Spencer slaps the table with his palm, she doesn't even flinch. You do, the harder, and JJ's hands clench into fists. But you only notice this out of the corner of your eye. "What deal, Cat?" His tone is harsh, leaving no room for Cat's games.

She sighs. "Maybe you should ask her yourself. After all, she did come here with you, didn't she? I don't think she'd skip this dance." Cat looks past Spencer to the one-way mirror, straight through it, as if she knows you'd be standing right there. Her grin is crooked and ugly. "Come on, Y/N. You should know I don't bite. Not without notice, anyway."

You feel JJ's gaze on you as you enter the interrogation room without a word. You close the door behind you and out of the corner of your eye you notice Spencer looking at you. But your gaze is fixed straight on Cat. You stop right at the door.

"It's good to see you again, Y/N."

You don't have to be a mind reader to know what's going on in Spencer's head. It's practically written all over his face. Again?

"Hi, Cat," you reply curtly. You feel like shooting her.

"I always knew you lived dangerously. But I didn't think you were stupid. Yet you were the smartest one on your team. No offense, Spencie." She says it like she's bored out of her mind, not like the whole situation could completely escalate in the next second. Spencer tries not to let on, but you can read the confusion on his face. "I guess I was wrong about that."

"What are you talking about?" you ask, involuntarily taking a step forward. Cat takes it as a sign to keep talking.

"I know you killed my partner in crime. Must have been quite a mess, I'm told. Shot right through the head. Kudos, Y/N. I knew you were smart, but you're also badass. Who would have thought." She raises her hand and inspects her filthy and chewed fingernails. Her gaze drifts to you without her moving her head. She looks at you through her eyelashes, which makes her look crazy. "Quite a pity about him. But he was really just my accomplice's boyfriend. So, not worth mentioning."

Accomplice? Boyfriend?

It only takes a brief moment for everything to come together in your head. Apparently, all emotion falls from your face, because Cat looks extremely pleased. "You didn't play by the rules, Y/N. And now someone else has to pay for it."

In three steps, you've crossed the room and pulled Cat from her chair. Before Spencer can stop you, you push her full force against the nearest wall, causing a gasp to escape her mouth. You press your forearm against her throat and she lets out a hoarse laugh. Her gaze mirrors yours. Fierce and unyielding. The pressure on her throat intensifies and she has to cough.

You feel big hands on your shoulders, yanking you back so that you stagger and bump into the table. For a brief moment, you want to fight back as you leap forward again to put a stop to Cat once and for all, but Spencer extends his arm to allow some distance between you. You don't look at him. Out of anger and out of shame, because this isn't you.

"What's going on here?", he finally asks when you've pulled yourself together a bit and he's sure you won't kill her the next chance you get. "What's she talking about, Y/N?"

Cat's look is challenging and you know full well she's not going to say anything. She's dropped the bomb and now it's up to you to make sure the explosion isn't too devastating. You look at Spencer and tears form in the corners of your eyes. There's no way to get around it. And he better hear it from you than from some crazy psychopath. You owe him that much.

"When you were arrested", you begin, hoping your voice doesn't sound as brittle as it does, "it was clear to me from the start that Scratch couldn't be responsible. When you were taken to Millburn Correctional Facility instead of protective custody, it should have been obvious to the others. It was no accident that they sent you there. It was too personal." You can barely look at him, which is why you stare at the floor. "It couldn't have been Scratch, but there was no one else who had a score to settle with you." Your gaze shifts to Cat, "Except for her.

I had no proof, nothing. But I was one hundred percent sure she had something to do with it. So I talked to Emily. She gave me the day off, and I came here." You suppress the urge to knead your hands, so you shove them into your pants pockets. Your gaze wanders back to the floor, though you'd like to look at Spencer. You want to know what's going on inside him, but you don't dare. "Cat denied having anything to do with it at first, but I didn't believe her. And then she made a deal."

"And that included?" asks Spencer. You have to swallow.

"She would get you out of jail, after all, she put you in there too. I knew you wouldn't make it through jail. And not because you were too weak, but because I knew there were some people there who wouldn't bat an eye to hurt a FBI agent like you. And I couldn't stand that, so I went for it." With each word, your voice grows quieter, though you try to sound as determined as possible. But the pain weighs you down and takes away your breath. You remember the visit then, and what it had cost you.

"And what did she want in return?" Spencer's eyes glisten as if tears have formed in them. He blinks once, and the shine disappears. "What the hell did she want, Y/N?"

You can't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks Your heart is beating fast, like it's about to jump out of your chest. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for what follows. "She - she wanted me to leave you. Cat knew that prison could never hurt you the way I would if I abandoned you. If I left, with no explanation and no goodbye."

Spencer's shoulders sink and his muscles are no longer stretched to breaking point. You don't dare look at him, so you stare at Cat, whose grin has actually widened. Psychopathic sadist.

"Actually, Y/N was never supposed to come back either", she continues the explanation, but Spencer continues to look at you. "That was the deal. You weren't supposed to tell anyone about this and never come back, but you didn't stick to that. You thought if you killed the guy and I continued to be in here, you could go back home and get on with your life." Her grin disappears and suddenly she looks incredibly bitter. "Very reckless, if you ask me. My birdie knows you're back home, and as a warning, she left you a trail of dead married men. Apparently you got the message, after all, you're here. That they are dead is all your fault, Y/N. Because you couldn't stay away from your beloved Spencer." She looks from you to Spencer. "It's tragic, isn't it? She loves you so much that she took on all that pain just so you could get out of jail. How incredibly selfless of her. And I'm pretty sure you weren't exactly kind to her when she returned, were you, Spencie?"

Spencer and you can't look at each other, so heavy is the pain on your shoulders. All the anger, despair, and confusion that had spread through you since you saw each other again gives way to an all-consuming feeling of pressure that you can't shake. The only thing that can give you both some comfort is the clarity that has been created. Spencer now knows what really went on, and you no longer have to keep secrets from him. But the matter is far from over.

You look to Cat, but can't find the words. She's won.

You leave the interrogation room without looking at Spencer or saying another word. What could you have possibly said? JJ looks at you with widened eyes as you rush past her. She has her cell phone to her ear, probably talking to Emily, but calls after you, but you don't stop. The air in the building is stuffy and you feel like you're choking on it. Your heart is racing and you feel sick. You just want to get out.

"Y/N." Spencer's voice forces you to stop. You stop so jerkily that you almost fall. When you turn to face him, he's standing right in front of you. His gaze is hard. He opens his mouth, but he doesn't know exactly what to say either.

"I can't, Spencer", you beat him to it. You want to turn and keep walking, but his hand curls around your arm. At the touch, you're struck by lightning.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?"

You should. Definitely. "She had the men killed because I returned", you whisper. "She killed them because I couldn't take it anymore. Because I wanted to be with you. It's all my fault, Spencer. And I'll take the consequences for that."

"So you're just going to leave? Without explanation and without goodbye?"

You don't want to leave, quite the opposite. You would love to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him and never let go. You want to tell him you love him, but you can't. "I can't stay, Spencer. If I did, she would kill more people. I can't be responsible for that. I'm sorry."

You turn away from him, but as you take a step forward, Spencer pulls you back, making you slam against his chest. Your hands settle on the soft fabric of his shirt as his settle on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His expression has changed. There is deep sadness in his eyes and he tries to blink away the tears that have formed in the corners of his eyes, but they fall down his cheekbones. All at once, he looks so young. "Promise me you'll come back? Back to me?" One of his hands clasps both of yours, still resting on his chest. He holds them tightly, afraid of losing you again.

You smile weakly at him and tears come to your eyes too. Your smile is honest, but sad. "I will always come back to you."

- tags -

@obsssedwithjustaboutanything // @ashwarren32 // @slytherinbth // @rexorangecouny // @candlemouse // @lexymoniqu // @m3sml // @username2002 // @calliecookie // @haylaansmi // @thehuntresswolf // @skyslowalking // @padsfirewhisky // @criminalminds4days // @criminallyoddsocks // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @vladsgirlxx // @justdianaz // @x2moonlight2x-blog // @countingthestarsinfinitely // @box-of-fandom-stuff // @sergeantbuckybarnes // @princesssmooshie // @sassiest-politician // @ littledm2000 // @a-broken-pact // @strawberry-tea // @sassy-hades // @danrad-rdj4ever // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @smell-my-twisted-shadows // @poeticsassandtrash // @wintrrrsoldier // @peaceluvnirvana // @jemimah-b99 // @lokislilslut // @advicefromnixxxx // @panicattheeverywherekid // @my-guilty-pleasures--of-life // @itsdars @pjmjams // @imagine-this-motherfucker // @sasbb23 // @fivedicksinatrenchcoat // @missyoumaybank // @blameitonthenight21 // @s-r-16 // @knee-coall // @hamlewis // @twodirtymindedgirls // @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness // @imdefinitelyfloating // @crazyloca06 // @gardenroses1 // @saspencereid // @enchantedlove90 // @sizzlingclamturtlesludge // @moondustmemories // @bambi-is-my-name // @beg0neth0t420 // @william-shookespeare // @pancake2603 // @ayo-cowbelly // @herbstmelody // @frnks-stuff // @mimischaos // @lilxnvm // @archiveofadragon // @burnin-passion // @oddobsessionbutotay // @chaoticdreamsss // @ghostly-ginger // @knittingstudyblr // @gorbagreb // @biafbunny // @ayo-cowbelly // @ellyseveronica // @saspencereid // @takethee // @ethereal-stark // @shirayuki1204 // @spencerreidspp // @jesuswasnotawhiteman // @stinkykay // @exzidss // @ifuckinghatepinapples // @youhaveabadconnection // @kaseyjohnson04 // @vampiracontessa // @princesssmooshie // @gardenroses1 // @r0s3mm // @willyoulovemeinthemorning // @rrtxcmt // @softpeteparker // @littleiswhattheycallme // @hoeyadoingbitch // @emmariexx // @oops-all-ajs / @reidemandweep // @oliwisstephhh // @g0lden-cth // @measure-in-pain

[christinebloodwrittings]

Briefly Instant (Part seven)

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: Life is complicated, always moving and working in ways we can't comprehend. Between the bubbles and the heartache, an unfortunate encounter left a half-broken heart and a strong connection which separated this soulmates for a long time. Two sides of the story, two hearts that longed for each other painfully. One brief instant was enough to know.

Warnings for this chapter: Toxic ex.

Previous Chapter ___ Next Chapter

TH Taglist: @lucky-foxface @lokisprettygirl22 @criticaltrinket @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss

Your head was a boiling mess, yet no fever, you were hungry, but not of food. Something just changed, soared, when you saw Tom bring his inner fighter out. He scared you, but you also kind of…like it?

That threw you off even deeper.

"We're almost there my sweet" you heard him, but did that line sounded familiar to you?

“What did you say?” he looked down at you, “I said we’re almost there" he had the sweetest look in his eyes. ‘Oh Emma, you brother is divine’ you thought looking at the ocean inside his eyes. But Oscar managed to crawl around your head again.

There were many good things that you loved about Oscar, such as his dedication in the kitchen, the beautiful relationship he had with his mother and his brother Juanito, how cute your brother-in-law was, he was going to start eighth grade, what a brilliant boy.

But bloody hell! There were things he did, now those were clear to you.

Like eating with his mouth open, never opening the door for you, canceling plans at the last minute, or being an hour late for everything. All the "I'm sorry love" and the so horrible "I'm tired now". At some point he not only hadn't come back after work, he didn't answer his cell phone, no one knew where he was and then he showed up at your door wet as a dog, apologizing for disappearing and kissing you like the first day. That's how you realized he was drunk.

Because that's how it seemed to work, sober he was cold and distant, but drunk he was a walking honey bun, sweet and gentle.

He didn't even speak to you during the day sometimes, but he held you by the waist with a smile to show you off to his friends, and you had allowed it, because you thought he loved you.

"How could I be so stupid?" Tom heard you say, "What do you mean?" you wanted to get out of his arms to go up the stairs on your own but he wouldn't let you, "Oscar is cheating on me with another woman" Just saying it out loud hurt, however Tom's eyes shone, he was happy on one hand, but also worried. You seemed heartbroken, but at the same time you looked as if you had already seen it coming, as if you had almost been waiting for it.

He laid you on your bed, making sure you were comfortable, but you didn't let him go. "Darling?" You nuzzled your head against his neck, bringing him closer with your arms around his neck.

"Could you stay a bit?" How could he say no to you and your adorable puppy face? He took your hands off his neck to climb up in bed by your side.

He opened his arms and remained there expectant while you fixed your blouse. When you saw his outstretched arms and warm smile it didn't even took you a second to jump and let him wrap your body with his.

"Y/n, the best that you can do right now it's to relax and enjoy the holidays, he doesn't deserve one single thought in that beautiful head of yours, just breathe and have fun" he tried his best to sound friendly instead of loving, but it was so hard.

"You're right, but it hurts anyway. I can't explain how it feels, but it's like a huge weight has been lifted off my back, but it only fell to hold onto my ankle, so I'll have to drag it along the way anyways" you sniffled, taking in his wonderful scent.

"And then Emma comes with a hammer and smash your chains, and him along the way” giggles filled the room, between the joke and him lightly pinching your sides to make you laugh.

"Yeah, I can imagine Emma opening Oscar's head with a sledge hammer, she never liked him, now I know why” The only thing that Tom wanted at that moment was to have that bastard in front of him to break his jaw, but what he neglected was Tom's gain. At least that worked that way in his head.

"She will kill me if she sees me with you like this" you sadly stated.

“I'm comforting you in your recent heartbreak, I'm not breaking a law”

"She won't see it that way"

"Why are you so afraid of her seeing us?"

"Because she has been my only friend since I moved to live in London, and I'm not good at making friends, so I kinda would be lost without her” you looked so sad, and again he was being an insensitive idiot, 'quickly, fix it somehow' he scolded himself.

"How did you two meet?".

"It was six years ago, she had just got her driving license, she didn't look at the road and almost killed me” Well the truth is that she did hit you with the car, it resulted in a minor sprain in your right leg, luckily she hadn't broken anything important.

"What?! You're joking” he slightly jumped, but managed to make it look as if he just wanted to shift in the bed to bring you closer.

"Nope, she felt so bad about it she invited me to have a drink, it was early in the morning so we went for coffee and cake, and somehow we've been friends ever since" she took you to the hospital and after the doctor checked you and put a splint on your leg, you two had horrible machine coffee and donuts that tasted like carboard.

It was definitely one way to meet someone.

You were barely 29 when you met her, two woman of the same age and generation, of course you had a ton of things in common. It felt normal, because none of you made it weird.

But why was it so strange to be with him?! The feeling that you already knew him and the desire to eat his mouth with kisses rose up your stomach to your smile, which shyly hid the softness of your personality and the bitter poison of the pain that you carried inside.

Your laughter was real and natural with him, his warmth enveloping you comfortably, never suffocating you. His hands never left your body and yet they kept a small space between the two of you.

He wanted to win your heart, but at the same time he was scared of crossing a line and disrespect you in any way.

He then remembered something you said that night, when you searched for him in the sheets not long after he turned off the lights. "Thank you, no one had cared like that about me" your words cut into his heart introducing love and affection, the sense of duty only forced him to help you out of the bar, but seeing the beautiful and brave woman he had found, he couldn't help but feel that he wanted to put his heart in a box and give it to you.

He knew he might be exaggerating, but five years? A woman had him crazy for five years after spending much less than eight hours together? It was so brief that it seemed like a joke.

To top it off, you're friends with his sister, she’s your only friend. He knew her character and warped sense of loyalty, she would just push you aside…but hadn't she already?

Having thrown all the pain against his chest, you jumped when you heard the front door open, the squeak of the hinges echoing throughout the house. His eyes filled with pain at the sense of loss of you.

“We should go” you wanted him to stay like that with you just one minute more.

“Right” he almost said ‘Stay’, but he rather not cause you any problems.

While you and Tom had your little moment, Emma had seen everything. How her brother's demeanor shifted completely, like she was witnessing the man he was five years ago. She saw you were in trouble with Manuel so she was about to intercede, but Tom was inhumanely faster to go to your rescue.

She entertained Viv and Nao so they didn't noticed the situation, and allowed you to go away in the arms of her brother, almost never minding the oddity of the looks of it. But he was just being nice...right?

Banoffee pie was the star of the Christmas dinner you and Emma made. She and Tom were handling the meat and the tofu stuff while you handled the making of the garlic bread and pastries for desert.

“How do you do that?” he asked leaning over your shoulder as you kneaded the bread dough, “Well, I just do it, I don’t really have a technique, I learned by watching my grandma do it” you knew Emma’s stare was piercing though Tom’s head, so you masked your teasing tone with an elusive answer.

Tom was watching your hands squeeze and mold the dough, feeling his pants a little tighter by the minute.

“Hey I need someone to taste this, please?” Tom propped himself next to you like a kid waiting to lick the spoon. “Tell me if it’s too sweet, sometimes I can get carried away” you handed him the wooden spoon with a small taste of the lime custard for the strawberry tartlet you were making.

“A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide! The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love” he quoted Romeo’s dying words from Shakespeare’s tragedy ‘Romeo and Juliet’, earning a playful smack in the shoulder on your part.

He moaned in delight after he tasted it. He even leaned slightly on top of the kitchen isle, making you laugh, “It’s perfect” he repressed the impulse to go and kiss you. There was something similar between you and the taste of it, sweet, delicate and at the same time strong, but that could be the bitterness of the lime. It resembled you perfectly.

‘What the fuck?!’ Emma thought to herself watching the whole thing, she then turned to see her other friends not really paying attention to them, were Nao and Viv oblivious to their behavior?

Whatever that was continued during dinner, Tom and you constantly eyeing each other, laughing at each other’s jokes. It sickened her.

Your phone started ringing during the toast, Oscar’s name on the contact name. “Excuse me one second, I have to take this” you slipped out of the dining room and went straight to the terrace.

“Hello?” you didn’t meant to sound hostile, but your entire mood was ruined with his call, “Y/n, we need to talk”.