simplify love.

I never expected her to come back, if that’s what you’re asking. But I had a plan ready if she ever did, a good plan to take her down, after the way she left me, after what she left for me to handle. I should have had a plan B though. I knew I should have.

She called me one winter night, not too long ago, though it feels like a millennium. Maybe I just want it to be. She said she had something of mine she wanted to return. No price. No bargain. No tricks. She just wanted to give it back. Trust me, I was extremely doubtful about it, because she? She never did anything without a price, or a winning card up her sleeve. At the time, I’d been in a relatively good mood, so surprisingly talking on the phone with her didn’t make me bitter. She talked for less than a minute, from a blocked number. Straight to the point. Said she’d be around sometime next week, and all I had to do was wait around and find out. She hung up after that. No word from on the telephone after.

So I did just what she asked, and I waited. Went to work, socialized, and eventually ended up back home. Seven days, seven entire days it took for her to come around. I was on my toes. Every single day I went home. Went through the rooms. Checked the closets, the basement, the garage. Never a sign of her. Come the seventh day, I went through the seventh routine, quite vigorously, starting with the downstairs, looking through everything. It was odd, because she was never a person to lie about a plan, but it was the seventh day, winding down to midnight, and she wasn’t there. I dragged myself upstairs, angry, frustrated, not even understanding how I could believe she’d douped me like that. I got to my bedroom, and sat down for a moment, hand through my hair, deeply sighing. The god damn manipulative bitch had me going for a second. She wasn’t coming. My plan wasn’t going to work, and that pressure was already pressing hard against my temples. I pulled myself off the bed, walking to the master bathroom, and flipped the light switch on. I turned the water on in the sink, placing some in my hands and splashing it on my face, leaning hard against the ceramic. When I pulled my head up to the mirror, all I saw was a mountain of chocolate brown hair, deep eyes, and those deceitful lying lips. The stupid bitch’s lips, just standing there, smirking. I turned around to yell at her, and she flipped the water on the shower on. Drowning out the sound to the outside world.

Pulling the gun on her had never been my intention, but it was there for backup. If she didn’t want to cooperate. I pulled it on her because of that god damn grin of hers, that ‘fooled you, didn’t I?’ grin. God, I hated that more than I have ever hated anything.

Trust me when I say I’ve never been an agressive guy unless it was her, in the bedroom, because she enjoyed it like that. Hell, she got off on that. Which is probably why I should have stayed calm, because it was only feeding her damn ego more, but I couldn’t. I just kept seeing that grin in the mirror, and I wanted to shoot it off her face.

There was a fistful of hair in my hands, and I yanked her to me, gun pressed against her temple. She didn’t seem shocked or suprised, but spontaneous was normal for her. Situations were never routine for her, none of her life had ever really been routine. She was used to random things happening at the most unbelievable times, so the gun came to no shock at all for her. I turned her around, her back pressed almost against mine, gun to her head, and shoved her against the bathroom mirror. There was a thunk of her head hitting the hard surface, but nothing broke. ‘You’re going to come with me, and we’re gonna go to the police station right fucking now. Right. Now.’ I pressed the gun harder against her head, and pressed her harder into the mirror. And you know what she said?

‘Baby, you should have told me we were playing rough. I need a safe word for this shit.’
 
She always knew how to set me off. Always.

’Shut the hell up. I’m not playing these tricks with you. It’s simple, you come with me, outside my house, and some nice gentlemen will take it from there. And if you do that? I won’t have to shoot you.’

I was staring at her eyes in the mirror, glaring at them with everything I had. I was angry. I was more than angry actually, I was furious. Agitated. Off my god damn rockers with hatred. She looked at me through the mirror, analyzing my eyes. That’s where she gets everyone, and if you don’t look away fast enough, you’re pretty much done for. But I didn’t drop my eyes. Instead, right at that moment? I just stared her down. She didn’t scare me. She needed to know I was serious. It got a quirk of her eyebrow and some more bullshit from her mouth.

’I think you forgot to frisk me for weapons.’

Knowing her, she had a gun, or a knife, or a damn bow and arrow somewhere on her body. At this point, she must have really thought she had me beat. But she’d done enough to me, there was no way I was letting her believe that. I held the gun with one hand against her head, and used my other hand to reach around, check her jacket pockets, Ran down her back, patted her ass, and moved to both legs, bringing my hand with the gun down me, still pressed hard into her skin.

With a hand squeezed around her thigh and moving down, my mind drifted to her raw flesh underneath the jeans, the toned muscle. Bare skin on skin, tasting her, touching her, an image of her body, empty of clothes came to mind. It’s not like I could erase the past, and one grip of her thigh is all it took to get me there.

Maybe I had stopped for a moment too long, squeezing it harder than the other parts of her body, maybe I hadn’t. I couldn’t tell you, but she must have known she had me. I backed away from her fumbling with the phone in my pocket. The shower was drowning out the noise in the room. Nobody knew she was there. Not the FBI I had outside. She had to have known, or she wouldn’t have turned the shower on. For a moment, I was thinking, she wouldn’t have turned me on if she knew they were outside.

My mind wandered for a beat, and she turned around slowly, and forced me to step back into the room.

‘Turn around! Put your hands on your back! I’m not kidding with you, I’ll shoot you, god dammit!’

I yelled at her like I was some kind of officer of the law. I probably wished I had been, but hell. I know that wouldn’t have stopped her. It probably wasn’t my first mistake, but it was one of the most important. If you say you’re going to shoot someone, you have a three second time frame to do so. If you don’t, they know you aren’t going to. If you do, well. No questions there.

She counted three seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

And she shrugged her jacket off.

’Put your hands on your head, christ!’

A thin tank top fitted tight against her body. She pulled her hands up again, pushing them through that brown hair of hers. She was staring at me through the mirror, and when I took a step back, she dropped her hands again, lifting her shirt off. It was just me, a gun I wasn’t going to use, and a body she had every intent on using. I clenched my jaw. The anger was there, even more so, but I wasn’t going to shoot her. I wasn’t going to shoot her but I couldn’t pull myself away from her either. I couldn’t pick up my phone and dial out to the agents in the car across the street.  I just couldn’t do it. If you’ve ever stared into her eyes for too long, you’d understand. Hell, if you knew her body the way I did, you’d understand as well.

Put my hands on my head…like this?

She said, a pathetic pout on her lips. I gritted my teeth, trying to take a step away, but I couldn’t do it. She reached behind her, and the bra was gone. She placed her hands on the back of her head again, staring at me.

Or like this?

A strange guy staring at a naked woman’s body would have freaked them out. I’m sure she wouldn’t have cared even if a strange guy was staring at her, but the point was, I wasn’t a stranger, and she wasn’t freaking out. My eyes dropped to her chest, the cold air in the room more than obvious against her flesh. Staring at breasts like hers, if you try to talk, it’ll only sound like you have a gun in your mouth.

If I even had thought of a plan B, or plan C, or any other type of plan, she’d have found a way around them anyways.

She always did.

ourbodiesremain:

noah and ryleigh, version one.

they dated in high school. they had a really bad breakup because he was going away to school. and it just so happens that after he left she found out she was pregnant. she didn’t tell him about the baby, and eventually she moved away after high school to go to school and get a better job. that, and she wanted to avoid the whole him returning for breaks, her having a child. he’d do the math. so she just lived without him. he lived without her. but they loved each other, without really grasping that concept too much. they went awhile without each other. i believe she had a daughter who was turning six? yeah, that was it. and eventually, it kind of just ate away at her. big oppurtunities missed. they were the couple that went to prom but didn’t spend as much time there as they did in the motel room he rented out for them, because he was such a great boyfriend. they were always happy. alwaysss. and the breakup kind of just. well, it’s actually self explanatory. this was the start of me and annie’s wonderful love for small town, long term jensen ackles and alessandra ambrosio relationships. she went to him (he was in greece) and she told him about the kid. he was dating cate’s jessica alba i believe?! yes. but you know. he was rybear’s. ryles’s. completely. utterly. i just loved them a whole ton. they went to fairs together. he won her the huge stuffed animals that she actually kept for ryan. just as fast as she moved to greece, she planned on moving away because it was too hard to be in the room with him and not want what they had. tension, and not sexual tension. the kind of looks where she’d look away if he looked at her, and vice versa. but he had a girlfriend. he eventually broke up with her because it wasn’t fair to her. he loved fran, but he wasn’t in love with her. and ryleigh was trying to leave, to go home, back to new york, when good old noah merrick pranced in and started dumping out the boxes she had packed up. they were good times. he was romantic. she wasn’t a pain in the ass. that was ryleigh and noah version one. very cute. undeniably cute. but no being a pain in the ass. very romantic. alright, maybe VERY is a stretch but they weren’t the pains in the asses they are today. but i love both version.