#ya know in case anyone wanted to draw or anything -twirls hair-

[pokeymonhearts]

scalean swoobat my beloved

**Scalean Swoobat**

*The Dream Eater Pokemon

*Type: Fairy/Psychic

*Evolves from Scalean Woobat at level 45 when it reaches max affection with its owner while knowing the move "Rest".

Like a number of other regional variants (e.g. Wooloo, Yamper, etc), the power and influence of Dreams present within the Scala Region have influenced its fairy typing. This pokemon is extremely loyal to their trainer and shows its affinity by wrapping their wings around them in order to cuddle. The eyes are the window into their emotions, changing both color and shape to reflect their disposition. Scalean Swoobats have been known to release dust-like particles from the ruffle of fur around their neck that are said to improve the mood of those around it, deterring opponents from fighting.

[archerdaryl]

I’ll Be Delicate

The reader shows Daryl Dixon that there’s still peace to be found in this world with soft words and delicate fingers.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 2.1k (approximately) Tags: sweet and soft with some humour n gloom, sfw Notes: Anon requested a simple hair braiding fic and I had to be extra and turn it into an entire comfort fic. I’m not sorry. 

@bakedcrispss​ @phoenixblack89​ @btsiguess-kpop​

Lanterns burnt low and the smell of sage and tobacco lingered in the air throughout the small but comfortable basement on the far side of Alexandria. In the middle of the room was a large sofa, plush with semi-clean clothes stacked up on one half while a sleepy Belgian Malinois lay on the other, still and complaisant. 

Daryl Dixon, on the other hand, sat at his makeshift desk by the window. In one hand, a sharp dagger, the other an arrow he had been cutting away at for the past hour. His skin was pink and freckled and his hair damp, freshly showered after a gruelling day outside of the walls that ended in blood and tears. 

Losing someone in the community was never easy. He almost felt he should have been thankful it wasn’t somebody he was particularly close to, but that shit hardly mattered since he and Rick had to go back and let the poor bastard’s wife know he wasn’t coming home. 

He couldn’t bring himself to think about it now that he was back within the safety of Alexandria, not with all he had waiting for him there. He didn’t think he could cope with where his mind would take him, so instead he took to working with his hands — carving and cutting until his mind emptied and he didn’t have to think at all.

Eventually the stairs creaked and Daryl glowered to himself, figuring it would be Carol checking in on him again. He loved her, she was his best friend, but sometimes she just did too much. When the inevitable knock on wood came, he looked up ready to grunt in acknowledgment. Instead, his features softened, his chest heaving with relief.

It was you.

The corners of your mouth quirked into a sweet smile as you stepped through the doorway. He noticed it didn’t reach your eyes and he reached out to you, taking your hand and gently pulling you closer to him where he could wrap a muscular arm around the back of your thighs and look up at you with those crystalline blues. 

You placed your arm around his shoulder, fingers immediately finding their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. You played with it absentmindedly, your sole focus on the man before you, eyes so full of curiosity and care. 

“Now how is it you’re cleaner than I am?” 

Daryl smirked in response and squeezed you lightly. You were certainly grubbier than he was, but he didn’t care one bit considering grubby was his default state. The old shirt you were wearing was torn at your midriff and it took him a moment to realise it was one of his. He pulled at the tear carefully, thankful only to find a graze rather than something worse.

“Yer back early.” He finally acknowledged.

You hummed in response, fingers now tenderly raking through the archer’s hair to reveal more of the gruff face you liked so much. You took in his features, tracing every scar and drawing together every freckle. 

“Mich’ radioed through. Hilltop had one too many people to spare anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn’t question it. If Michonne wanted to grant him a little bit of peace after the day they’d had, who was he to say no? Besides, Hell itself would freeze over before he ever turned you away. 

“I like you like this.” You continued, “All soft and warm.”

“Yeah?”

A year or so ago he would have resented being called soft. It was a fighting word, something his idiot brother would use to provoke him into doing something reckless, but when it came from your lips it felt like he was being awarded a Purple Heart. 

Sure, you were talking about his shower fresh skin, but that didn't matter. You reminded him that he had been brave and let you in, that after years of being alone and afraid, he had earned the right to be soft. 

Pulling away from his grip, your hands came to your belt buckle. You unfastened it and slowly shimmied out of the dark blue jeans that were stained with speckles of old Walker blood. That old shirt of Daryl’s you’d been wearing, tucked in at the waist, fell free halfway down your thighs.

“Like a damn dress on you, girl.” 

You shot a playful scowl at him and sauntered towards the couch, moving the pile of clothes to another surface before collapsing onto the cushion with a grunt. Dog perked up and you scratched him behind the ears.

“Not like you to complain.” You sighed. 

Watching you like this, comfortable and free, Daryl felt something building in his chest. It wasn’t panic. Maybe it was fear? He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted to wrap himself up in you like you were wrapped up in his shirt. Anything to keep you close so he never had to worry about you not coming home.

“Weren’t complainin’.”

It was your turn to reach out to him, coax him over from his attempts of escape. You may have been exhausted, but losing anyone from the community was a nasty reminder of how fragile this life really was. 

Daryl stood and mosied over. Dog was comfortable right where he was next to you, though Daryl wouldn’t try to get rid of him even if he wanted to. You shuffled up a bit, angling yourself against the inner corner before tugging on his forearm — a silent plea to give into you and just be. He spent so much of his time looking out for you, making sure you were okay that it also became a way of making himself feel better. You loved him for it, but you desperately wanted to take care of him too.

He finally sat. It was a start. You kept your fingers on his skin, your thumb caressing it gently and he turned his head to watch your hand at work. His eyes soon drifted to your legs. They were bruised but still strong and inviting. You pulled at him again and he finally met your gaze. 

“I’m right here.” You assured him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

But you could. That was what was tearing him apart.

Daryl eventually nodded and shuffled up, taking your legs and placing them over his lap so that you were practically sitting on him but not quite. He loved the weight of you, loved you dressed in nothing but one of his old band shirts so that he could flex his hand against the warmth of your thighs. You were his anchor, keeping him from spiralling just by being right there in your arms. 

With one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, you used your free hand to trace the far side of his jaw with your thumb. He leaned into your touch and you sweetly kissed his shoulder before pulling him in closer to you, the hand behind his head now weaving into his hair again.

“Think Dog is getting jealous.”

A soft snort escaped him then, “I’d be jealous too.”

“Don’t need to be. You got me.”

He adjusted his position, allowing himself to lean into you a little bit more. You continued to play with his hair, twirling it between your fingers. The tension in his body slowly began to melt away, evident from the long exhale that drew from his lips. 

“Still don’ know how the fuck tha’ happened.”

And that was the truth. To this day Daryl had no idea what you saw in him. You could tell him to his face -- in fact you had -- and he’d still question it. He’d grown up believing he was no good but even if that were the case then, again, who the fuck was he to deny you? 

“The world works in mysterious ways Daryl Dixon.” A smirk tugged at your lips, “That and I had to make the first move.”

“Shuddup.” He retorted quickly, “Woulda’ done it eventually.”

It was your turn to laugh. Looking back on your journey together, it was honestly miraculous you’d ended up where you were at all. He was oblivious when it came to women and you weren’t exactly someone that was easy to pin down. Your affection for him snuck up on you, but once it hit you it did so with full force and you weren’t going to risk not knowing.

“I almost wish I’d waited now.”

“‘M glad ya’ didn’t.“ He confessed, squeezing your thigh with his calloused hand, “‘M glad you’re here.”

You pressed a kiss to his temple then wiggled, adjusting your position so that you could angle yourself against him comfortably. You could use both of your hands to play with his hair now. He didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t like it, because he did. He liked all of the attention you gave him. 

“So, how would you have done it?”

“Dunno. Don’ matter now.” His brow quirked as he glanced at you, “I kissed ya first. Don’ that count for somethin’?”

Well, there was that. It was one of few times Daryl had truly caught you off guard. You were pissed off about something, wouldn’t stop going on and on at him even though it wasn’t his fault. 

“In my defence, you kissed me to shut me up.”

“Worked didn’ it?”

“Haven’t gotten rid of me since.” 

Delicate fingers had taken a few thin strands of his hair, tucking them one behind the other aimlessly to form a subtle braid as you both reminisced. You sometimes couldn’t believe how long his hair had gotten, but you quite liked it. You never took too much off when he let you cut it. 

“Wouldn’t ever.” He mumbled shyly, “Ain’t gon’ get luckier than this.”

“Not sure I’d call it luck. Been through too damn much for the world not to pay it forward.” You truly believed your words as they spilled from your lips, “We deserve a bit of good. You deserve it.”

Whether he agreed or not, he wasn’t sure how to respond. If it were true, he had already gotten that little bit of good by finding you. He would be perfectly happy if that was all the good he ever got in this new world of blood and rot. He didn’t need anything more. He couldn’t help but wonder if you felt the same. 

You were partially preoccupied, braiding his hair gently piece by piece and savouring the sweet moment between you both. His hand caressed your thigh, traced circles with his fingers while you leaned into each other’s touch. It set your skin aflame, poked coals in the pit in your stomach, but you pushed that feeling down until when or if he pulled you in.

Truthfully, you didn’t think much about the future anymore. You couldn’t afford to. It put you on edge, made you panic and do stupid things. It was easier to live in the moment and appreciate what you had, and waking up to Daryl everyday was more than you ever expected to have when you were first taken in at Alexandria. Hell, you felt lucky to make a few friends after being on your own for so long. 

You sighed happily as you combed out the loose braid with your fingers and began again, taking thicker pieces of clean dark hair. He smelled like your shampoo which tickled you a little, but you didn’t complain. It wasn’t like he was going to seek out his own. Piece by piece, the braid grew and you could feel him relax further, the circles he was drawing on your thigh growing slower. You bet that if you turned to look, his eyes had closed. 

“The hell you doin’ girl?” He finally mumbled. 

He always called you that. The way he said it made it feel like there was supposed to be a my in front of it. Sometimes if you were being especially irritating he’d slip a lil in there as if that was supposed to deter you, but it never did.

“Shhh. Stay still.” The response came with a soft chuckle. 

As you finished another braid, you admired your work with a grin. His eyes flit open as if he knew you were up to something, brows soon furrowing as he looked at you. It wasn’t long until they relaxed, that smile of yours turning him into putty in your hands. 

“Do I wanna know?”

“Do you wanna know I’ve been braiding your hair for the last… however long.” Your words were dry, bordering on teasing, “No, probably not.”

That infamous scowl of his tugged at his grizzly features, though there was no bark to his bite. You cupped his face, gently coaxing it towards you. 

“This suits you.”

He thought you suited him too. 

[plaidbooks]

Hiiiii love! Can I request a Barba x Reader the first time they meet? And he knows that he wants you???

First Dance

A/N: I...I just keep using Hamilton as my go-to play, and I’m not sure why. I’m ignorant of Broadway, and I apologize. This was also just an excuse to write a gala scene, so I hope you don’t mind! Thanks for the request @infiniteoddball

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Words: 1711

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @ben-c-group-therapy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @whimsicallymad @detective-giggles @dianilaws

For once, everything in Rafael’s life was looking up; he had just secured three tough convictions, with another two looking to be going in his favor. His mother was just granted extra funding for her charter school, and she was able to hire on extra help. The Yankees were going to the World Series and Hamilton was coming back to Broadway, and Rafael had gotten tickets to both. The only slight dim spot was that he had one ticket to those. That he didn’t have anyone to celebrate with, outside of maybe catching a nightcap with Olivia. But now that she had Noah, that was happening less and less. And Rafael realized that with his view from the top of the mountain, he could see how alone he was. With every win, though, that loss sunk further and further into the back of his mind, hidden behind tight-lipped smirks and smartass quips.

He was sitting in his office, going over his final revisions for a closing argument when there was a light knock on his door. “Enter,” he called out, not bothering to glance up.

“Uh, are you Mr. Barba?” a voice asked. He looked up then, not recognizing the voice. His eyes widened slightly as he took you in, but he recovered quickly; you were beautiful.

“I am. And you are?”

“Detective [Y/L/N]…and I’m here to pick up a warrant,” you smiled shyly at him. You had heard all the rumors about ADA Rafael Barba; the good and the bad. He was passionate, quick-witted, wanting justice for the victims. He was also sarcastic, pushy, and downright rude.

Rafael shuffled through some files on his desk. “The Langford’s apartment, yes?” he asked, and you confirmed. He found the correct warrant, pulling it out and glancing over it before handing it to you. Your fingers brushed his, and a jolt ran through him. Smiling brightly once more, you turned to leave with a small thanks.

Maybe it was because of the many wins recently that made him stop you. “Detective?” he called, causing you to stop and turn back to him, hand on the doorknob. Or maybe it was that one loss he still had. “Would you like to get a nightcap with me? I like to meet with the people I’ll be working with.”

Your eyes widened for half a moment before that shy smile was back. “I would love to, but I can’t tonight. Raincheck?”

“Of course,” Rafael replied, a tight-lipped smile and a nod, a clear dismissal. He watched you leave, and he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time; a wanting. A yearning, deep within his heart.

 *******************

The next time Rafael saw you was in the precinct, partnered with Carisi and interrogating a hardened pimp. At first, Rafael was concerned that Olivia was letting the two greenest Detectives go at this guy, simply because he wanted an air-tight case against the bastard. But as he watched you and Carisi work, he was in awe at how you conducted yourself, and he found that the wanting, the yearning, hasn’t lessened at all. His mind wandered as he watched you lean over the table, your pants pulled tight over your ass, and he wondered what you looked like under your clothes, what you sounded like when he….

The door opened, and he pulled himself out of the gutter. “Oh, hello Mr. Barba,” you smiled when you came out of the interrogation room, taking his breath away.

“Detective,” he nodded back, a small smile tugging across his own face, as if he wasn’t just picturing you on your back in his bed. “You did well in there.”

“Did hell just freeze over? Because I think you just got a compliment from Barba,” Carisi joked, elbowing you and smirking. Rafael gave him an impressive glare, and you laughed. The sound was so magical, his glare fell flat, and he moved to the Bullpen with you to hear Rollins’ rundown of what they had so far.

Once he got all the information he needed, Rafael stood, pulling his jacket back on and heading towards the exit. “Let me walk you out, counselor,” you said.

“Please,” he replied, surprised, but not unhappy. You followed him to the elevator, hitting the button and getting into the confined space with him. This close, you got to examine the brightness of his eyes, the flecks of grey in his hair, the intoxicating aroma of his cologne. It made your knees weak.

“I’m free tonight, if you want to turn in that raincheck,” you murmured, unsure of yourself. You were a little afraid that when he asked the first time, it was a spur of the moment question, and that he’d decline now.

Yes, Rafael thought instantly, and he almost said it. Almost. “As much as I want to, I’m…busy tonight.” He cursed himself for accepting a dinner with McCoy, to go over his next re-election.

“Ah, no worries,” you replied, your heart sinking.

Rafael hated the look of sadness in your eyes, the rejection obvious on your face. “There’s a charity gala in two weeks. I have to make an appearance to please my bosses, and I’m sure most of, if not all of your department will be there, too. We could try to talk then?”

The doors dinged, sliding open, but Rafael made no move to leave. “Uh, yeah! As long as I’m not stuck working OT…I’m still the new kid on the block, so I get the worst shifts,” you chuckled, rubbing your arm nervously.

Rafael gave you a grin. “I’ll see you then, Detective.” And with that, he left the elevator.

You watched him leave, the doors closing in your face. “See you then, Mr. Barba.”

 *********************

You were in a floor length, silver, A-line style dress that had golden details. Looking in the mirror, you felt like you were Cinderella. You felt elegant, distinguished, not something that you normally got to feel. You had worked your way up through the Brooklyn patrol office, making your way to SVU detective—it was rare indeed that you got to dress-up in anything that wasn’t a skimpy outfit for an undercover op.

This was your first charity gala; you had gone to little charity events for the NYPD, of course. But until you had your detective’s badge, there was no pressure to go to events. So, your eyes lit up when you saw the decorations inside the building, your mouth dropping open. Now you really felt like Cinderella as you walked in.

“Hey, partner,” Carisi said, making his way to you. Your grin matched his as he linked and arm through yours, pulling you towards the bar. “Can I buy ya a drink?”

“Sure, Sonny, that sounds great,” you replied, giggling as he dragged you over. You were so glad that you were partnered with Carisi; he had made you feel instantly at home at SVU, and he was instantly your best friend.

You had just finished your first drink when Rafael appeared at the bar next to you, wearing a simple black tux, and making the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Hello Detective.” Rafael got the bartender’s attention, ordering himself a scotch.

“Mr. Barba,” you greeted.

“Please, call me Rafael.”

“Only if you stop calling me ‘detective’,” you smirked back. His eyes sparkled mischievously, and he took a sip of his drink.

“Deal,” he replied. “Now, tell me how you got here. Why SVU?”

 *********************

You spent most of the night chatting with Rafael, answering questions and sipping at your drinks. You vaguely noticed that he deflected most questions about himself, focusing more on you. Olivia had warned you that he was a pretty private man, so this wasn’t too shocking to you.

Eventually, Rafael glanced to the dance floor, then back to you. “Care for a dance?”

You felt your cheeks warm. “Uh, sure,” you smiled shyly, taking his offered hand, and letting him lead you to the huge ballroom floor. He kept his hands high on your waist, your hands on his shoulders, as he twirled you around the dance floor.

“So, you said you were going to Hamilton?” you asked idly, swaying with him, his warmth comforting, drawing you in.

Rafael grinned at you. “I am. Have you seen it?”

“I have not. But I was able to snag a ticket before they sold out, so I will be seeing it.”

He spun you around, and he dipped you, making your heart leap into your throat. His green eyes were bright as he pulled you back up. “Would you like to go together?”

“Rafael Barba, are you asking me out on a date?” The song ended, but you both stood there, not leaving the dance floor.

“So, what if I am?” he asked, voice low.

You stood there, dumbfounded, your face on fire. He was attractive, you had to admit. But could you date an ADA, especially one you worked with? What would 1PP think? What would Liv think, Dodds? You were still new; would they fire you for this? Transfer you?

“A-are you sure that’s appropriate?” you asked, voice just as low. The music had started back up, couples moving around you. Rafael replaced his hands on your waist, leading you into another dance, and you jumped to keep up.

“It’s one date—no one needs to know about it. Not yet.”

“And if it becomes more than one date?” you asked, searching his eyes.

Rafael’s eyes flashed, a triumphant smirk on his face, as if he won simply by you thinking about having more than one date with him. “Then we will figure it out. But I’d rather not count the jury before the trial.”

You scoffed at his reference, rolling your eyes. “Okay, theatre date it is,” you smiled at him.

His grin broadened, and he pulled you to him. To the outside world, he was whispering something, probably work related, to you. In reality, Rafael pressed a small kiss under your ear, making you freeze in place, heat creeping up your face.

“I’ll see you then,” he whispered into your ear before he pulled away, leaving you standing on the dance floor. Oh, Rafael loved to win, and he was already planning on how to win your heart.

[cosmiccandydreamer]

Stability Chapter 8

Otis Driftwood x Reader

( I don't own these gifs)

"Hey boss.. the guys are here"

"Alright send them on in"

" Well it's about time you showed up I haven't got all day you know I called you yesterday, anyways here's the list of names I need you to run down for me."

Sheriff Wydell was speaking to Rondo and Billy Ray Snapper. Two questionable characters that one could call a bounty hunter for just someone who likes to walk the line between upstanding citizen and criminal organization. Wydell had hesitated on calling these two considering the fact that they weren't the greatest people but if anyone knew how a criminal thought and acted it was these two.

He handed Rondo the list, he looked over it and pointed at Spalding's name "That's a funny-ass name! Spaulding what the fuck."Sheriff John Wydell sighed "Yeah, look who's fucking talking, *Rondo*. Just tell me if anything connects." "I'm sure it will. Shit always floats our way, don't it? Chief." Billy Ray Snapper replied

Sheriff Wydell rubbed his eyes" You keep your mouth open wide enough maybe you'd catch it all. Don't fuck this up assholes."

Rondo scoffed" yeah well I heard about that chick who got blown up by that semi truck outside of the motel, have fun scraping all their brains up off the road."

"Hey this one's kind of cute" Billy said pointing to a photo of you. "You sure she's one of them? She looks like she'd be one of their victims".

"Yeah I'm sure as shit, She may look like she's soft and innocent but believe me she's just as ruthless as the rest of them I believe that's why the one called Otis calls her Kitty, but her real name is Y/N, You happen to run into her, watch out because anyone who I suspect willingly joins this family can't be right in the head. Unless she's got the worst case of Stockholm syndrome I've ever seen." Wydell adjusted his belt and stood up. "Just hurry up and get it done" he said and walked out.

"I can't believe you're finally moving in! I already felt like you were one of my kids and it's finally official." It was moving in day for you at the Firefly home. Mama was overwhelmed with joy about having another daughter. She loved you as one of her own, you were over almost all the time to her and Baby's delight and well Otis of course ( not that he would show it). "Would ya let her go you're gonna smash her ribs" Otis said crossing his arms and staring at the both of you. "Oh hush now boy, Where's tiny? TINY COME GRAB Y/N BAGS."

Mama turned and shouted to the large gentleman who slumped over as fast as he could." Oh tiny you don't have to do that" you started to protest but mama cut you off. " Nonsense! A lady shouldn't carry those heavy bags now, come on, let's see where your room will be!"

" She's staying in my room…." Otis said with a matter of fact drag to his voice. "No she should stay with me!!" Baby replied, skipping over to you and throwing her arms around you. "It will be a sleep over everyday!". " I said she's staying in my room and that is that!. Otis said with more frustration to his voice now. " Fine fine fine" Baby huffed "always so grumpy, anyways" she tightened her arms around you. "When do you think you'll want to see the basement….." she lightly skipped up and down " now that you live here you gotta see it." " Um I guess now" you said with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. You knew what the family did for the most part and who lived in the basement but to actually see it was another thing.

Otis stepped up to you, towering over you in an intimidating yet arousing way. "If you ain't ready darlin you don't gotta go today, just eventually you do. As part of the family it's important you know all that goes on and that the doctor meets you..". " You don't have to be afraid!!!!" Baby chirped up, " we will go with you!!". You looked back to Otis " you both will go with me?". He leaned even closer and wrapped his arms around your waist.."I would never make you do that alone what kinda man would I be?You stepped on your tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the lips. " I'm ready to face anything else as long as you're with me". You took his hand and looked back toward Baby "let's go see the Dr.".

The trip to the basement actually went way better than you expected. Baby skipped ahead and pointed out different details narrating the entirety of the trip. Otis and you held back as you took in the scenery, he held your hand the entire time, scanning your face for any signs you were uneasy.

"Charlie ain't a bad guy he's just built a little funny but he means well we got ourselves into some sticky situations back in the day and he always had my back" " look nothing you can say can make me trust this fucker and for the record… I STILL DON'T LIKE THIS IDEA". Otis and Spaulding's disagreement didn't cease as they drove up to Charlie's funtown. Baby sighed loudly " I can't fucking wait until y/n is back with us, Otis is so much less of a dick when she's around. She's like his dimmer switch. Without her he's just blasting his shit in everyone's face". " Shut up and fuck both of you" Otis muttered pulling up now to the main building.

The van came to a rumbling hault. Drawing the attention of the people inside. Turning off the van the trip was greeted with the man himself and two ladies. "Well we'll if it isn't my brother Cutter! Hands in the fucking air!" Charlie shouted, pulling out a large gun at the trio. Baby looked at her father in disbelief "What the fuck is this shit?".

Otis angrily threw his hands in the air,"you bring us all the way out here and this prick pulls a gun on us? Nice fuckin' plan, daisy!"

Spaulding to Otis and then to his daughter giving them a reassuring look "Just do it! He's a crazy, pig-fuckin'..."

Charlie scoffed walking closer with the gun "what you call me?"Spaulding's bold nature took over and he walked even closer to the gun and Charlie "Well if you'd give me a chance, I was gonna call you a crazy, pig-fuckin', dumbass, pussy piece of shit!"

Otis grit his teeth together "I know what I know and I know I don't like this fucker! Remember I said that fuck this is stupid! WE SHOULDN'T COME HERE AND.." * spray* A large gust of water shot out of the gun which was revealed to be fake. "Got cha!!!!" Charlie laughed looking back toward the girls cracking up. Baby and Spaulding dropped their hands, joining in on the laughter. Otis however was not amused, Baby shoved him a little "oh lighten up".

Charlie and Spaulding's laughter filled the atmosphere. They both embraced and cracked up at the event that just occurred. "That was funny THAT WAS FUNNY, oh hey do you remember Baby my daughter?" He pointed to her behind him as she jumped up and gave him a big hug. " Look at my beautiful niece you grew up so fast!". He looked over to Otis ``Well hey happy boy you still an asshole?" Otis paused before flipping him off.

Candy who was Charlie's self proclaimed "best girl" focused on Otis, she remembered him from when he used to come to the town. "Hey there Happy boy haven't seen you for a while I was wondering what happened to you, I thought maybe you died or something because I know you weren't disappointed the last time you saw me because I never disappoint" Candy said twirling her hair in a sultry matter. " Yeah well Mama I can tell you that I was not disappointed, heh well because I set my standards pretty low".

He replied already uncomfortable, he shifted a little while standing in front of them. "Actually I am married now so I'm not into picking up whores anymore, no offense". Charlie turned to look at Otis after overhearing that laughing even harder. " No way !!!!! This crazy fucker right here got married!? How in the hell? Is she deformed or something?." "Wow hey so fuck you you pig smelling fuck" Otis replied.

"Oh come on now lighten up like Baby said, You always have a stick up your ass". Charlie said lightly shoving Otis in the shoulder. "Charlie you remember my daughter's best friend y/n?" Spaulding asked him.

"Wait wait That pretty little thing that I used to see run around the house?, I bet she grew up to be so beautiful and she was sharp as a tack. What wait how did you snag that?!" Charlie exclaimed.

Otis just rolled his eyes, "god shut the fuck up". Charlie just laughed again looking around the trio for any sign of you. "Hey where is the little lady? I wanna give her a funtown welcome haha!". Otis spit on the ground and huffed "we don't fucking know and we're supposed to be looking for her but now we are here" he looked angrily at Spaulding while he said this. Charlie looked over all of the three faces of worry and smiled. " It seems like you guys have been through a lot, why don't you come inside and make yourself comfortable and we can talk about it". They followed Charlie inside.

[turtlepated]

The Handbook for the Recently Married (to the Deceased)

Chapter 5:

[PG:13 - some adult language and nudery.]

Awkward night time conversations! Yay!

Tag list: @sapphic-florals , @beetlejuicebeadoll , @do-ya-hear-that-sound , @imtherain , @imsuchahobbit , @pastelnacht , @tialanderrol , @sammyskip , @monsterlovinghours , @allmycrushesaredead , @hoodoo12

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I dithered around uncertainly, trying to put off the inevitable awkwardness of sleeping arrangements. Given his repeated overtures and flirtations, I wasn’t totally comfortable at the idea of sleeping in the same room with him, let alone in the same bed, so my first notion was to fix up the couch for him. Predictably, Beetlejuice balked at the idea. After all, he pointed out, we were married, and I sincerely regretted arming him with that particular factoid. I knew if I didn’t get to sleep soon, tomorrow would be an exhaustive nightmare so in the interest of speeding things along I gave in and agreed to share the bed. “For sleeping,” I spelled out firmly, the look of excitement immediately melting off his face. He pouted, sticking out a trembling lower lip and fixing me with puppy dog eyes. “Aw, c’mon, babes!” he whined. “You’re really gonna shut me out on our wedding night?” I sighed deeply, shoving down the fluttery sensation in my stomach as I pulled back the covers and distributed the pillows more evenly. Also to hide the flush in my cheeks. 

“Some of us have jobs to get to in the morning,” I reminded him. “I need sleep.” Beetlejuice, pacing in no particular pattern or urgency, stopped dead at the end of the bed and rounded on me. He let his shoulders slump and his mouth fall open in a look of utmost dejection. “And you’re gonna leave me all alone tomorrow?” I climbed into bed with a sigh. “You’re breaking my heart, Beej,” I said with a not-totally-unsympathetic chuckle as I reclined against my pillow. “But there’s this little thing called rent? Also light and water and food and stuff? Unless bio-exorcism pays you really, really well in which case I can quit my job?” He frowned, dropping his gaze to the mattress. “I… no… not really, no. Or at all.” I nodded once, the matter resolved. “Okay, then. I’ll keep my job and we can live in a house instead of in a box under a bridge.” Beetlejuice sighed harshly, flopping face down onto the bed. “I guess so,” he said, the words almost indistinguishable because his face was pressed into the mattress. He raised himself up on one elbow, resting his head in his hand as he turned his attention back to me. I stiffened, feeling as if there were a spotlight on me as he studied my face with slightly narrowed eyes. “What?” I finally asked, anything to make him stop looking at me that way. That same slow smile graced his features, a mischievous glint to his eyes. “I was just thinkin about that kiss from before,” he said. “I could be wrong, but you were into it, weren’t ya babes?”  

I rolled my eyes and shook my head at the ceiling, but I felt uncomfortable heat rising again, and this time he noticed. His grin spread wider, flashing teeth and he chuckled. “Ah, your head says no but that blush says yes!” he crooned, pleased with himself, twirling his pointer finger at my face. I kept my mouth shut, unwilling or maybe unable to meet his eyes and only succeeded in giving myself away even more than I had already. Beetlejuice was practically giddy by now, mega-wat grin, dancing eyes, his newly cleaned hair fluffy and messy and vibrant green. I wondered if it might be a trick of the light, but I could swear it was shot through with magenta streaks. “Admit it, babes, you’re curious,” he said, lowering his gravelly voice to a husky tone that made my insides squirm as though filled with live eels. “You’re wonderin what kinda lay I am, aren’t ya? I know what I’m doin in the sack, lemme tell ya.”  

My stomach continued to writhe as I became aware that my pulse was picking up, thumping in my ears, my mouth suddenly dry as Beetlejuice rose slowly onto his hands and knees, his eyes locked with mine as he crawled forward across the vast expanse of mattress that seemed to lay between us. I gulped, feeling my heart pounding against my ribs as he came to hover, not quite on top of me but close, so much closer than we’d been since the enthusiastic kiss at the abbreviated wedding ceremony. I could practically count his eyelashes as his half-lidded eyes roved my face in a heated look. “I can take real good care of you, baby doll,” he promised in the same low, throaty rasp that made goosebumps break out up my arms. I held my breath and watched, frozen, as he leaned in with a self-assured smile on his lips. “Made Ava Gardener squeal more than once, I’m sure I could help ya get a good night’s sleep.”  

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his mouth and judging by his grin he was more than aware of it. I watched it drawing closer until it blurred, pressing against my own. It was different this time, softer, more insistent but without the overbearing crush of lips and teeth. I sighed through my nose, my eyes fluttering shut as he moved his lips against mine. He traced my bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, drawing it gently between his and sucking just slightly, with only the barest amount of pressure. Part of me was furious with myself for getting so worked up over so little actual contact; part of me wanted to sink my hands into his hair and hold him close until we absolutely had to come up for air. Instead my fingers tightened in the bedsheets. Beetlejuice broke off first, pecking his lips against me again before lowering his head to whisper to me, the scruff on his cheek tickling against my skin, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear and the side of my neck. “Whatdya say, babes? Sure you don’t wanna go a couple rounds?” An involuntary shiver ran its way down my spine and he chuckled. “Is that a yes?” My eyes opened and I gasped sharply, my field of vision filled with Beetlejuice’s smug expression and his bare, pale chest covered in fine green hair. I scrambled to get my hands under me, pushing myself upright as stifling heat flooded through me from my scalp to my toes. Beetlejuice pulled back to let me up but didn’t retreat otherwise, grinning unabashedly at me as he knelt on the comforter in all his glory.  

“Where the fuck are your clothes?!” I demanded. He giggled. “Such language, babes!” he teased. “You kiss your husband with that mouth? Would you?” Beetlejuice puckered his lips and leaned towards me and I yelped, scrambling out and away from the bed with my pillow clutched to me like a shield. Beetlejuice was outright laughing now, and had our positions been reversed I had to concede that I would probably be doing just the same. I must look quite the picture, my cheeks flaming, my chest heaving, cowering behind a down-stuffed pillow. Against my will my eyes traveled over his body, taking in the curve of his shoulders and the shadow of his collar bones, the gentle swell of his stomach and the trail of wispy emerald hair that led to his naval and beyond. I swallowed hard and wrenched my gaze back up to his face, which was plastered with the biggest shit-eating grin. “Aw, what’s the matter, doll? You’re not a virg, are ya?” he purred. When I averted my gaze and my blush deepened, his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “Oooh, you are??” He shifted on his knees, looking eager as a kid at Christmas and I raised my pillow to hide his nether regions from view. “Don’t be nervous, everybody has a first time. I swear I’ll be a gentleman about it, so don’t even worry!”  

At that I scoffed, throwing the pillow at him. “Says the horny demon who stripped naked out of the blue!” I snapped, flustered and mortified and resolutely ignoring the tiny voice piping in my head that said to go for it. Beetlejuice caught the pillow easily and let it settle in his lap, much to my relief. “Just… slow it down a bit, will you?!” I entreated. “This has been the longest, weirdest weekend of my entire life and I just…. I need some time to think!” I leaned back against my dresser, pressed my face into my palms and tried to regain some semblance of composure. “Gee, babes, I wasn’t tryin to piss you off,” said Beetlejuice, and he actually did sound apologetic. “I’m not mad,” I said, sighing heavily. “I’m just… a little overwhelmed, I guess. Would you please put your clothes back on?” He didn’t answer, but I did hear him snap his fingers, followed by the creaking of the bedframe. I waited a beat before I dared to look. Beetlejuice, clothed once again, was sitting cross-legged on the far side of the bed, his arms folded around my pillow which he still held in his lap. “Better?” I nodded and tentatively settled back on my side of the bed. “Thank you.”  

Awkward silence lapsed between us for a long moment while I fidgeted with the hem of my nightshirt, debating whether or not to just go sleep on the couch myself. “You’re right, okay?” I said instead. “I’ve never really been with anyone and to be honest, this is not the way I always imagined it would happen. I mean, we’re married, but we don’t even know each other.” He frowned and gave a shrug. “That kinda thing’s never really mattered to me before,” he admitted. “I sorta have to get while the gettin’s good, before they change their minds.” I snorted softly through my nose at his complete lack of filter, surprised again by how forthcoming he was and deciding that I ought to return the favor. “I mean, you kept comparing this whole arrangement to a green-card marriage,” I went on, and he bobbed his head in a so-so gesture. “But just how much like a green-card marriage is it really? Like, will we be able to divorce in a year and then you just go on your merry way?” “What?” I jerked, startled by the tone of his voice: loud but hoarse as if the word had taken him unawares, blasting from him when he didn’t have the air to actively shout it out. His eyes were huge, a combination of fear and anger and despair flickering through them like a slide projector gone ballistic. There was no mistaking it this time as I watched color bleed up through his hair from the roots, blues and purples swallowing the dull green. “You’re already trying to figure out how to get rid of me?”

Whatever I’d been planning on saying next died in my throat as Beetlejuice almost visibly shrank in on himself, his arms curling tighter around the pillow, his hands fisting in the material. Panic flared bright and sharp in my chest as I hurried to backtrack, to explain. I found myself scooting closer to him, my hands itching with the urge to reach out, to touch him, to try and offer some sort of comfort. “No! No, nothing like that!” I assured him, my chest clenching when he held himself back out of my reach. Not wanting to upset him even more, I pulled them back, pressing my fists together in my lap to stop my fingers twitching with the want to reach for him again. “You just said it, though,” he retorted, but there was no bite to the accusation, the words came out hollow and resigned. “Will we be able to divorce in a year? You don’t want me here.” I sighed, angry with myself, pained by how distraught he looked and sounded because he was technically right, that was what I had said. “Beetlejuice, that’s not true,” I said gently. “It’s like I told you earlier, I want you to be comfortable here, this is your home now, too. But can I ask you something?” He wouldn’t look at me, so I levered myself forward, swiveling my head, trying to catch his eye. Finally he relented with a harsh sigh, dropping the pillow from his middle and raising his eyebrows in invitation.

I considered my words carefully, wary of how easily and quickly he might misinterpret them. “If you didn’t have to stay with me, would you even want to?” Beetlejuice frowned deeply, worrying his lip between his teeth at my inquiry. His fingers curled and uncurled in my pillow, his eyes fixed on them as he replied, “You sure do like to ask the hard questions, dontcha?” I chuckled and nodded. “I wanna figure out how this whole being married thing is going to work,” I said. “I wanted to help you and I don’t regret doing it, but… I also don’t want to get invested in somebody who’s just gonna take off the moment the mood strikes? Does that make sense?” He looked up at me for a moment, and I worried that I’d upset him further, but he quickly glanced away again. Now that I’d asked the one question that had been bouncing around in my brain like an errant ping pong ball ever since Barbara asked me a thousand years ago “What’re you gonna do now?” it seemed I might never stem the tide of thoughts and worries.

“Let’s say we decide to really give this a shot,” I rambled. “What if we genuinely just… don’t like each other? What if it doesn’t work? What if we both decide we don’t want to be married anymore? If we split up, what does that mean for you? Do you get to stay alive or do you go back to being dead since we didn’t fulfill the ‘til death to us part’ vow? Will we be stuck together, then? Making each other miserable? And what if one of us dies? Like if a tree falls on me do you get to stay alive then? I’d think so, since you held up your half of the vow, but do marriage vows to demons count as binding contracts? And if it turns out that we can’t divorce, even if we both want to, the only way out would be for one of us to die. If you died, you’d just end up exactly where you started and the whole thing would’ve been for nothing! It would have to be me, right? If I died then you did your due diligence and you’re free and clear? It’s not likely at my age, but after all we never really know, do we? Would it count if I kil-”

I was cut off by a pair of chilled and slightly sweaty palms clapping firmly over my mouth. Beetlejuice was leaning forward over his lap, both arms extended toward me, his eyes wide and panicked, his hair a mottled mix of purple and yellow with pale olive green barely visible in his dark roots. “I don’t know where you were goin there, babes, but I’m gonna stop you right there,” he said, his voice back to its normal gravelly timbre. His tone was more serious than I ever expected to hear from him. “You don’t wanna do that, for a lot of reasons: first is that nothing could be worth it, ‘specially not me. Second of all, if you off yourself up here, when you get to the Netherworld you have to work in Customs and Processing forever as punishment for punching out early. Like, forever forever. No holidays or weekend or pee breaks. It sucks, and I should know!” I reached up slowly and took his wrists, pulling his hands from my chin as I let my arms come to rest in my lap. I didn’t let go and he didn’t try to pull free.

“Is…” I began tentatively, afraid of upsetting him. “Is that what happened to you?” Beetlejuice scoffed good-naturedly. “Nah, babes. I was born dead! But my mom runs the department, so she just sorta put me to work. I was a ferryman.” Intrigued, I asked him what that meant and he only too happily obliged to share. His job, he said, had been to act as a guide to the souls of the recently deceased, directing them to the Netherworld and helping them get their footing on ‘the other side’. From what he said, it was a pretty easy gig and he was a natural at it. Sometimes, though, people didn’t actually want to leave. Beetlejuice himself had no problem with this preference and on the occasion when he met a ghost who, for whatever reason, had no desire to pass over to the Netherworld he would let them linger in the living world. He’d even give them a hand with their unfinished business. Which didn’t sit well with his mother/boss or her superiors. “So just like that, I was banished to the living world and cursed to be completely invisible until a living person said my name three times. I’m the reason why there’s a Handbook now instead of ferrymen. The Handbook always stays on-script.”

At some point during his story Beetlejuice had taken his hands back, sitting cross-legged in front of me so our knees were touching. He gestured animatedly as he talked, like he was giving a performance. Additionally, his hair had returned to its previous shade of mossy green, which I took to be a good sign. There was one piece from his tale that I found myself hung up on. “Wait, so…. Your own mother is the one who cursed and banished you?” Beetlejuice grinned, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yep. My mom’s a barrel of warm fuzzy feelings.” I frowned unhappily and curled my fingers around his without thinking. “That’s awful!” His eyes, laser-focused on my hand lying on his own, darted away as he pulled out of my grasp to scratch absently at his belly. “Yeah, well, what’re ya gonna do,” he said dismissively. “Ancient history, babes.”

I glanced past him at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table: it was almost one in the morning. I groaned internally, knowing that I would be dog tired at work tomorrow. It felt like we had made progress, even with the hiccups, and I thought that maybe we’d at least come to something of an understanding. “It’s really late, Beej, and I have to get some sleep. But before we turn in, I wanna know: are we really gonna take a stab at this?” He grimaced, uncomfortable with the mountain of uncertainty I’d raised. “I don’t really know how to answer your questions, babes. It’s not like there’s a lot to go on, I’m the only born-dead demon there is.” I nodded my understanding, moving my leg just enough to bump his knee with mine and prompt him to look at me. “I’m willing to try if you are,” I said. “Think we could figure it out?” Beetlejuice didn’t answer right away, his eyes studying my face intently as if reading something written across my skin. He seemed satisfied with whatever he saw, because he grinned his devilish grin and thrust his hand at me to shake. “Sounds like a deal, doll face!” I grinned back and took his hand, shaking it firmly. “I’m glad we settled that. I have to get to sleep now otherwise I’ll be a zombie all day tomorrow.”

Beetlejuice sat where he was on the bed, watching me through the open bathroom door as I brushed my teeth. Once we were both settled under the covers, he snapped out the light with a flick of his wrist. I lay on my right side, breathing deeply through my nose, trying to drift off. I was a bit distracted by my bedmate, who kept wiggling, adjusting his pillow, sticking his arms under the covers before pulling them out and then immediately sticking them back under. I sighed loudly and he went still, like a pet who waits until they think you’re no longer paying attention to resume whatever illicit action they’re engaging in. I said nothing, at least partially sure he was drilling for a nerve. He settled down again after a few minutes, and I heard his breath deepen and slow. Silence fell at last, broken only by the steady hum of the fan I kept on just for the noise. I had nestled more comfortably into my pillow, just on the edges of drifting off when Beetlejuice asked, “Just to clarify, sex is like totally off the table for tonight, right?” My eyes opened, glaring at the dark shape of my dresser against the wall. “Correct,” I answered simply, hoping that maybe now the matter was well and truly resolved.

It wasn’t.

“What if we just spoon?” he asked a few minutes later. I sighed again, but I was too tired to muster any real anger. “Just go to sleep, Beetlejuice,” I said. He’d mentioned that his name had power over him. I didn’t know if that would hold true now that he was alive, but maybe just hearing it would convince him to pipe down. I was right, for about two minutes. I felt him shift behind me, and I could almost picture him raising himself up on one elbow to face me. “Don’t I at least get a goodnight kiss?” I let out my breath in a hard exhale and he snickered, pleased with himself to have gotten under my skin. Not willing to let him win this round, I sat up and rolled to face him. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room, so I could see him faintly lying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head. The self-satisfied grin slipped from his face as I leaned over him, his eyes going wide and round and roving my face as I cupped his cheek and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips while lightly scratching the scruff on his jaw with my fingertips. I pulled away smiling, feeling victorious at the look of frozen shock still on his face. “Good night,” I said, rolling back over.

I was still smiling when I finally drifted off. 

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To quote another fantastic Beej writer: “Whoops, I angsted!” 

But hopefully the fluff and banter makes up for it. Coming up next: what does your demon husband get up to when you’re not around?

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, hit me up!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

[bewitchingwitch]

Constellations pt. 16

Hey guys I know it’s been a while I’ve just been going through some stuff so it’s been hard to write lately but I’m better and I’m back now :) so this chapter was fun to write to figure out Newt and Tina’s relationship after they broke it off.

Just so you guys no regardless of this chapter and me choosing to break up Newt and Tina in this story I really do love her as a character and love her and Newt together so please no hate on Tina :)

But anyway I hope you enjoy this part of Constellations and the next part of the Great Gatsby au will be posted next week!!

Word count: 2,341

"Well you are still the dumbest person I've ever met. It's nice to know you haven't changed that much since you became a stuffy ministry worker." Blaine slapped Theseus on the back which caused him to double over in pain.

"Blaine... please don't do that." Theseus’ croaked out with clenched teeth. Newt helped Theseus stand upright while shooting his brother's friend a dirty look.

Blaine winced. "Yea sorry mate."

"Anyway. Where are we going I know we need to get (y/n) back fast." Andrew twirled his wand in his hand. He knew that they needed to get going quickly they were drawing a crowd standing in the middle of the sidewalk like this. Especially with Theseus, who looked like he might pass out any second. And his bandages had began to leak out some blood, never a good sign.

"I know someone who can help us." Everyone turned their attention to Newt. "She's an American wizard."

"Ugh American." Blaine rolled his eyes. Everyone turned to face him. "Americans are always a drag. Puritans in public and perverts in private." Queenie and Jacob scoffed at this and shot him dirty looks. “They are never down for any fun.” He winked at Queenie and she gasped while Jacob looked ready to fight.

Andrew smacked him over his head. "Shut up. We're looking for a tracker, not a bloody shag." Blaine wet his lips and smirked despite the beating he had just revived.

Newt fiddled with his hands not knowing how to continue after the rather uncomfortable exchange of words. He cleared his throat and started up again. "She's American But she's been in Paris lately, and I think she can help us find (y/n)."

“Do you even know where to find her." Diego asked. He had taken Theseus away from Newt and slung Theseus over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Much to his brothers protest.

Newt kept his gaze downward. He didn't exactly know where to find Tina, they had fallen out of touch after she had started dating that auor fellow. But Queenie probably knew where she was, she had tabs on everyone, especially her sister. Newt glanced over at her hoping that she would have a lead on Tina.

"I got ya sugar."  Queenie shot him a wink. "I know where we can find her just follow me."

********************************************

The group arrived at tall run down looking building. It looked ancient and the walls were crumbling. Queenie stood at the head of the group with a big smile on her face, and a confident stance. “Um Queenie are you sure this is the place.” Theseus had turned himself around in Diego’s arms, bridal style, if they weren’t this predicament it would have been almost comical.

“Of course honey I think I would know how to find my own sister better than any of you girls could.” She smiled raising an eyebrow and all feelings of hesitance deceased.

Newt and the rest followed her through the building the wallpaper was peeling off in shreds and ever inch was covered in a visible layer of dust. They climbed up the creaking steps, Blaine grabbed for the rail of the stairs only to have if fall forward nearly taking him down into the darkeness with it. Diego grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back up. Blaine dangled a couple inches off the floor, he kept his eyes cast downward. “Thanks mate.”

Diego sighed. “Apparently you can’t be trusted to your own devices either. Up you go.” Diego slung Blaine over his shoulder, he had moved Theseus back into his originally position.

“Sup Theseus how you doing.” Blaine propped himself up on one elbow and turned to face Theseus.

“I’ve been better. How you doing Blaine.” Theseus slicked back his out of place hair but nonetheless it was still messy.

“You know wife, kids, life is but a drag.” Blaine dramatized.

“Already at the age of 29 I didn’t think anyone could tie you down.” Theseus played along

“Well she’s some girl.”

“Will you two shut up with your pointless banter we have serious business to attend to.” Andrew said as he paused his walking.

“You’re right we’re sorry just trying to lighten the mood.” Blaine shot back.

“Well don’t.” Andre started up walking again but Blaine’s eyes still followed him. A playful smile on his face.

Theseus leaned over. “Someone’s got a crush.” He cooed.

“Shut up!” Blaine whisper yelled back trying to hit Theseus but he moved out of the way laughing. Blaine’s face was bright red.

Queenie shot them all a dirty look and everyone shut up. They walked down the halls of the upper level. Newt gathered his surroundings, he knew this building. He had been here before with Tina when they were on better terms. Nothing had actually happened between them but feelings were very evident between the both of them.

Tina has taken him here one night on a whim. It was late that night, but Newt was still awake in his case working on editing his book. He heard a knock on the case and he opened it Tina’s face peering at him. She didn’t say anything just extend her hand and he followed with question. They had apparated in front of this building.

She told him that this was her dream building. That she had been working in Paris and stumbled across it and some day she was going to buy it. Tina had dragged him through the building telling him what she planned to do with it. And the entire time the only thing he could think of was how he was going to buy it for her once his books went on sale. How he was going to buy this place for her and spent the next couple years renovating it with her and living with each other here.

He shook his head to rid them of those thoughts. He no longer felt that way about her but old lovers never seem to let your heart go. Each one always own a piece, each with its own strength.

They continued down the hall and came to a door not quite at the middle but it wasn’t near to being the last door either. Queenie turned the knob at a painstakingly pace and finally threw the door open. She let out a squeal and ran into the room. Newt found himself entering the room last after the rest had filed in.

Queenie has her arms wrapped around Tina, her hug nearly crushing her. She had been reading a book the pages were now crumpled against her body, her hands pinned at her sides. “I’ve missed you so much!”

Tina’s expression softened as she leaned into her sister’s hug and patted her arm affectionally with her free hand. “I missed you too Queenie.”

The let each other enjoy each other’s embrace for a moment before breaking apart. Tina turned and looked across the group of people that had intruded into her room. Her eyes scanning them all and stopping on newt. They started at each other for a moment, times of affection resurfacing at that time. A sad smile made it’s way to Newt face and a few tears escaped Tina’s eyes. A thought on what could have been.

“Hello Newt.” She wiped at her tears.

“H-hello Tina.”

~*~

Tina welcomed them to sit at the table in the corner do the room and they obliged. She played with the pages of her book smoothing out the crumbled pages. “So what brings you here?”

Theseus was the first to speak up. “We need your help.”

“With what?” Tina answered but her eyes remained on Newt.

“Our friend has been taken back home by her fiancé against her will.” Theseus answered. She turned slightly to look at him. The way he said friend hinted that there was something more. “That this “friend” was more than just that.

“And why is this your concern. “ Tina asked rather coldly. She was never found if Theseus, probably because of the rocky relationship Newt had with him while they were closer.

“Please Tina.” Newt spoke up his voice cracking a bit. “I- we can’t lose her.” Their eyes locked together and in that moment she understood.

“What does she mean to you Newt?” Tina didn’t want the answer, she had never thought of Newt being with someone else as she was now.

Newt wet his lips and glanced over at his brother. Theseus’ eyes were already one him waiting to see what he’d say. Newt glanced downward and played with his hands before looking back up at Tina. “The world.”

She turned away and held her head high. She closed her eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “You know I never thought of you ever being with any one other than me.” She let out an airy laugh. Her eyes were glistening. “I know that’s selfish of me, but I thought you were the one for me.” Newt looked back up at her. “Even though I had left and found someone else I hoped you’d come back to me. But it seems another had filled my place.” She smiled sadly.

Newt felt his heart sink. He couldn’t stand seeing Tina like this, he had thought the same thing when she had mentioned dating someone. He had thought they were destined for one another. But then he met you and everything seemed to be rewritten.

“But if she means enough to you to patch things up with your brother she must be someone special.”

“She is.” Newt reached out and placed his hand over Tina’s. She just kept her eyes cast on them.

She licked her lips before turning to Queenie. She seemed to already know what she was thinking and gave a small curt nod at her sister. “I’ll help you.”

“Oh thank you so much Tina.” Newt stood to his feet and moved over to hug her something he rarely did for anyone. She stood as well and welcomed him into her arms. They grinned tightly on to one another.

“I’m going to miss you Newt.” She whispered into his ear.

“We don’t have to stay away from one another I could visit you more often.” He whispered back rubbing circles on her back.

“No.” She pulled back a bit and cupped the side of his face. “I was a fool to leave you.” She played with the loose strand of his hair. “You were the love of my life and my feelings scared me so I ran. And I hoped you’d follow but you didn’t.”

“Tina I -“

She put a hand up to shush him. “It’s okay it’s my fault. But I don’t think I could ever seen you again knowing someone else has taken my place. That someone else is laying in your bed, that you’re giving your love to someone else.” Her voice cracked on the last part. “I will help you find her and after that I think it’s best we part ways.” She pushed back his bangs. “Love of my life you’ve hurt me and broken my heart. I know it’s not your fault but I wish you well.” Tina leaned forward and pressed on final kiss onto Newt’s lips before pulling away. It was light like a feather gently brushing against him.

Tina composed herself and made her back to where the group was. “Okay let’s get down to business.” The group talked with her recounting the story of how you had been taken away that faithful night at the pub. She asked insightful questions like what you were wearing and if they had anything of yours.

The conversation was but a blur to Newt. He still had his hand pressed lighting onto his lips. He felt tears slide down his face. He had just parted with a lover that could have been. And even though Tina wanted never to see him again and he understood why it still hurt him. Because how do you say goodbye to the person you thought you were going to spend your whole life with.

Theseus saw Newt crying with his hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes red, and he saw how much this had broken Newt, despite never even officially being with Tina. He couldn’t possibly imagine what it’s would d to him if you left him as well either for Adonis or for himself. There’s turned away he couldn’t change his mind now. He had fought for you, he had never been selfish always giving everything up for his brother. And yet he felt himself being torn between a life with you or giving his brother the happy ending he deserved.

Newt composed himself and Theseus turned away as if he had seen nothing.

At this time you stood in the foyer of your grandmas house a wedding dress flowing around you. A seamstress hemmed your dress to make it better suit you. It was your grandmothers, long and Lacey. Your grandmother stood behind you watching the seamstress’ every move and giving input.

Your mother sat down on the couch as she watched you with shame that she couldn’t protect you from this. That you had been doomed to the fate she had avoided and because she rebelled you were paying the price.

Your wedding to Adonis had been something you had looked forward to and now it was what you dreaded. Being in this dress made you sick in your stomach. You stared at yourself in the mirror, hallow eyes an expression of knowing the way your life was going to play out.

You would marry Adonis and he would love you with every inch of his being but you couldn’t not do the same. Your heart hearing for another but still you play along, giving him love that he believes to be real. Having children that were born from commitment not love. And as you took care of them wondering what could have been.

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[kdfrqqg]

Women only

Dean x Reader Word count: 2.1k Summary: The guys call you to help out on a case after not seeing you for a long time. The reader has a secret that she has to tell them. Warnings: description of violence, smut, language, ABO-ish (not ABO though), talk of suicide, the plot is kinda corny but I hope you get a laugh.

A/N: This was written for @impala-dreamer ’s One Prompt for All Challenge. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.”

The next morning, Sam had scheduled an appointment at the Day Spa. You got there and the receptionist said, “Ms. (Y/L/N), your husband has already paid for you to get a mani/pedi, facial and massage.” Your eyes lit up with a smile, “He did!” All the boys said was to have a good time and try and find the source of the ghost’s powers. You had no idea that they were going to have you completely pampered. You walked back to the locker room and slipped on a robe on for your massage when you saw her. Your ESP was on full alert since you turned, the spirit just hung there in the day spa it was heartbreaking. No one else could see her, only you. On display in a shadow box next to the salon were lockets of hair, you only could assume one of those was hers. Someone must have thought this would be a cool hipster thing to do, not realizing what they really did. You text the boys the news and they said to still enjoy yourself. The ghost wasn’t bothersome at all but you knew it wasn’t long before she would become even more vengeful. You enjoyed your time at the spa and that massage was fucking amazing. Later that evening, the three of you broke in and torched the shadow box. You stepped back from the flames; you had forgotten that now you were instinctually scared of fire. You watched as the spirit flamed out before your eyes. “You guys know, you didn’t really need my help on this one.” You sighed. “Yeah, probably but it’s still good to have you here.” Dean admitted putting his arm around your waist.

Dean insisted that he ride with you back to the bunker probably so you wouldn’t try and ditch them. The drive felt like it took forever and his scent was so potent and stimulating. You had been feeling your heat stir in your core since the morning; you had only experienced it once before four months ago. Garth had informed you that they would come once a season and maybe more if you were around someone who you were attracted to. Dean had no idea what was going on but you were starting to sweat and by the time you got the bunker you were ready to go. You practically ran back to your old room trying to hide from Dean. You hadn’t had sex since you turned and you didn’t know what would happen to your partner if you did. After about two hours, you heard a knock. You knew it was Dean you could hear his heart beat, it was so strong and steady and you could smell him through the door. God, you needed him more than anything. You swung the door open, grabbed his shirt by the collar and pulled him into your room like a woman unhinged, your lips crashed against his. You twirled him around while you kicked the door shut, his buttons shot onto the floor as you ripped the front of his flannel. You flung him on the bed, you were anything but gentle, you tore off your shirt over your head, climbing on top of him, he watched as your breasts bounced, he moaned as you ground down on his clothed cock. You shredded his undershirt with your fingernails, you had to feel his chest next to your flesh. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.” He breathed out with a slightly scared chuckle. You hummed, “What a way to go, right?” You said cocking your eyebrow. He smirked, grabbing the back of your head forcefully kissing you, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. “God, you feel wonderful, but what’s gotten into you?�� “I’m in heat!” You groaned. “Heat?” He questioned between kisses. “Yeah, heat like what dog’s go through. I just need you to fuck me.” You informed him. “Ok!” He answered almost shocked by your statement. When you were human, you were so timid in bed and you and Dean only had sex maybe three times before and they were always kind loving experiences and you never took control. You peeled his jeans and underwear off him as he toed his shoes off dropping them on the bedroom floor causing a loud thud. He in turn helped to work you out of your bottoms. His dick was long and beautiful; you were going to ride him so hard tonight. Then your human side took over for a second, you ran to your bag and drew out a condom. “You’re not on the pill anymore?” Dean asked. “The pill doesn’t really work on werewolves. I’d recommend you put that on unless you want little baby wolves running around here.” You educated him. He didn’t argue and rolled the condom down his shaft. You pushed him back on the bed as you climbed on top of him and you sank down on his cock, you weren’t in any mood for foreplay. Your hips gyrated up and down his length. His hands cupped your breasts, tweaking your nipples. One hand moved to your mouth, you kissed his hand sensually. You were moving so fast and he was stretching you out so perfectly. You could feel that you were going to cum soon. “I’m not going to last long if you keep going so fast.” He let out. “I don’t care just keep fucking me.” you yelled. Dean was so good as taking orders. He thrusted even harder up into your pussy; his fingers digging into your skin on your hips. You screamed, “God! Oh God! Yes!” Your breath hiccupped, “Don’t stop! Right there!” His cock kept propelling itself deeper and deeper into you. You had never felt so much passion before, so free. Sure being a werewolf sucked in so many ways but this was not one of them. You felt your body start to convulse, your walls closed around Dean’s dick as you came screaming his name. He found his release as you found yours. You fell on top him, your heat had subsided, and both of you were out of breath and sweaty. “That was different.” He chuckled. “Yeah, it was. I’m sorry for using you like that.” You whispered in his ear. “I’m not. I’ve wanted to do that since last night. I’ve missed you so much.” He kissed your shoulder. “Yeah, me too obviously but I probably should leave tomorrow.” You told him. He ran his hands through your hair forcing you to look at him, “No, no. You aren’t going anywhere. You’re back and you’re staying here. We can talk about us later but I want you here.” You never realized how much you needed him to say that. You fell asleep in his strong secure arms, his scent comforting you as you dreamed of a new beginning with him. Women only Part two

Honestly, I really do want your feedback!! It may determine how I write my next fic.

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Reader insert @jensen-jarpad

[glowstickia]

Detective Guerra & the Missing Heirlooms

Chapter three: Friday - Noon Thirty pm

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [AO3]

Special thanks to @monstrblood for the help pushing me through this.

Isabel’s eyes glanced at her paper again. The address hastily scribbled on the back of an old, faded receipt was smudged. Was that a 2…..or a 5… She sighed and stuffed it back in her pocket as she continued walking along the white wrought iron fencing. She parked her car a couple blocks away, relatively hidden.

She pulled out her phone again. Noon. Wait. 12:28. Isabel shoved her phone back into her jacket pocket just as an arm linked up with hers. The flash of pink and curly blonde hair from her peripheral told her exactly who it was.

“How long were you waiting to do that?” Isabel asked, staring straight ahead. The white fencing stopped momentarily as a large, foreboding, golden gate with jagged bolts of lightning contrasting the curling of clouds at the top of the gate’s arch.

Suzy leaned on Isabel’s shoulder, her pink shades glistened in the sunlight. She grinned mischievously. “Since you parked your car.”

Isabel’s lips thinned. Right, she saw her car last night, course. “And you decided to hang on to me now cause-?”

“Oh!” Suzy let go and twirled in front of Isabel. Her pink floral dress spun, showing off her knees briefly. “We passed the entrance.” She pointed with her finely manicured, glitter pink nail, at the shimmering golden gate.

Isabel stared at the golden gate, then at the numbers on the Greek column like structure on either side of the gate, before pulling out her receipt and sighed. It was a 5. "So, Mr. Rich-and-Famous lives here." Her mouth twitched a grimace.

Suzy waved her hand. "Pff, please, more like his parents are loaded and he's too full of himself to go off on his own and start something." She patted her shoulder bag and pulled out a tube of lip gloss. After a quick smear and pucker of lips, she winked at the detective. “Course, we’ll use that against him.”

Isabel blinked. Her eyes shifted to Suzy’s full outfit. Floral dress, white closed toed dress shoes, her face covered in makeup and glitter. Overdressed. The girl was overdressed. “You’re...gonna flirt information out of him aren’t you.”

Suzy grinned and flashed her eyes. “It worked on you didn’t it?”

Heat rose to Isabel’s cheeks. “Now wait a minute-”

Suzy was already at the intercom, pressing the button to speak. “Helloooooo, anyone want an interview? It’s Suzy from the paper, I called in yesterday.”

Isabel tuned out the conversation as she drank in the estate. The extensive Parthenon like structure felt...out of place compared to the skyscrapers and the other mansions in the neighborhood. Sure, each one had their own style and could use their empty rooms to shelter more than just a small family, but to each their own. The gray clouds above choked out any lasting rays of the sun. She inhaled. Moisture in the air.

Suzy bounced ahead as the golden gate, losing its glittering luster, opened for them. Isabel followed behind, hands in her leather jacket pockets. The gates closed behind them as they followed along the extensive driveway lined with concrete urns and shrubbery. Each urn had two symbols carved into them.  A two pronged spear wrapped in by a bell shaped flowers Isabel didn't recognize. Isabel's eyes shifted up towards movement on the second floor. The curtain swayed, but it was too dark to see anything unusual. Suzy quickly bolted up the stairs at the front entrance before smoothing out the skirt of her dress. She gave Isabel a once over. "I meant to mention this sooner, but what's with the leather?" Isabel shrugged. "My brother had gotten soda on my good jacket, chill, I look fine." Before Suzy could potentially flirt or make a harsh remark, the massive front doors opened.

Isabel had seen rich and snooty people before. The khaki shorts, light blue sweater draped over shoulders, with pastel shirt, yep, seen the preppy look a few times. But, the bright orange hair screamed misused hair dye and god, she could not stop staring at the boat shoes. Crocs, her brother made her tolerate, but...boat shoes.

He grinned, showing off his unnaturally white teeth. “Ah, hello.” He stuck out his hand to Suzy.

She plastered a warm smile on her face and shook his hand vigorously. “Nice to meet you in person Mr. O’Connor.”

He chuckled. Actually, chuckled. "Oh please, Mr. O'Connor is my father. Call me Isaac." That's it, Isabel wanted to gag, but remaining professional took over her body language. She forced a grin. "Hello, Mr. Isaac." She shook his hand. His was limp in her iron grip. Explained why he hadn’t left his parent's estate. Yet. Recognition crossed his face. "Wait, aren't you the detective on the heirloom case? I thought we had that settled already. Where's your snarky partner?" Isabel blinked. "Uh, well you see-" "You see-" Suzy cut in, "I asked her join me along on, for my column. To get some facts about the case and learn more about you of course!" Isaac nodded, released what little grip he had, and motioned them inside. "I see. Come in."

Isabel had been inside the O’Connor manor before but… She couldn't stop herself from staring in awe. The marble grand staircase lead to opposite sides of the second floor. Armor, busts of old Greek gods, some ancient looking weaponry, the golden crystal chandelier hanging dangerously over their heads, it was...classy.

Suzy didn't seem to be swayed by the grandiosity of the interior. Heels clicked on the marble as Isaac lead them to another room. Isabel kept herself from being too amazed by the manor, but seeing ancient artifacts, and cool weapons hanging on the walls as they passed, needless to say keeping a straight face was hard. She glanced down, noticing the sea foam carpet. Waves were lined by a thin  golden line near the walls. Every so often she'd notice a trident, parting the waves down the middle. Isabel looked up and started speed walking upon realizing the other two had left her behind in the hallway.

She slowed her pace, neither seemed to have noticed she was missing. Or, at least she thought neither noticed. Isaac turned, smug as ever. "And this ladies, is our library." Shelves lined the walls, with books upon books placed neatly on every shelf. Various artifacts sat among the books. A black helmet next to the reference books. A large geo full of amethyst sat next to the fantasy books. Someone's baseball in a glass casing resting among the biographies and history of sports. A couple golden ladders rested against the shelves, ready to be moved for epic pirate battles, or to just reach the higher shelves.

Suzy whistled. "Surprised you haven't opened up the ceiling to add another level of library.”

Isaac laughed. "Well you see my sis-sibling wouldn't be too keen on that idea. That'd be their room just above us." Isabel raised an eyebrow.

"So," Suzy rummaged around her bag. She pulled out her notepad and a fuzzy pink pen, "we startin the interview or what?"

Isaac blinked. "OH!" he face palmed but quickly regained composure, "right right forgot what you two were here for." They pulled up a chair at one of the large center tables. Isaac sat across from Suzy and Isabel. He steepled his fingers. "So, what do you need to know?"

Suzy’s finger gently brushed her bag on the side as she laid it on the table. She pressed her pen on a fresh page. " Tell me a bit about yourself." Isaac rubbed the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed red. "Oof where to begin? Uh," he frowned for a moment, "born out of state during a bad storm. My biological father split with Mom when I was real young and she remarried almost a year later." He stared off into space between Suzy and Isabel. "I grew up here. Went off to college. Graduated, and well," he shrugged, "here I am."

Suzy scribbled on her pad and nodded. "So, college huh?" "Yep. Art school." His face grew sour for a moment. "Not fond memories I take it? Pretty hard to find work with art degrees." Isaac sighed, slumping as he did. "Tell me about it. They keep telling me finding a job would be easy. Freelancing isn't as cracked up to be." Isabel folded her arms on the table as she leaned forward. "You freelance? Graphic design? Illustration? Or..." She paused, frowning as the terms Ed threw at her a while back blended together. Suzy threw her a look. Isaac took the cue. "Oh I uh, draw mainly. Wouldn't call it illustrations, but it's uh...cartooning of sorts." His fingers twitched as he began tapping the table. "Mainly commission work is what I do. Paying jobs outside of that are, well, a bit of a joke." He slouched back in his chair again. "No one wants to pay an artist."

Isabel shifted in her seat as she leaned back. Her hands gently resting in her lap. "You know, my brother's having trouble entering the art world himself. Sometimes he'd have me double check some jobs he comes across that seems promising, but there are a lot of scams and frauds that sound way too good to be true. Art elitists feel they're entitled to starving artist's work." Isaac nodded vigorously. "Yeah! You get it! It's like how museums were way back when archaeology was first being picked up. They fought over lost treasures and took them home with them to show off as some center piece." Suzy nodded her head to a golden mask hanging on the wall. "Sorta, like the pieces you have around your house?" Isaac's eyebrows scrunched together. "They bought half the stuff in this place. They're just trinkets to them."

"Heirlooms included?" Isabel asked, her face remaining neutral, yet her hand clenched in her lap. He shot Isabel a look. She's seen worse. "Your parents are taking their heirlooms missing kind of well." He huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I can't read their minds. Those heirlooms have been in the family for a while. How long, couldn't tell ya."

Suzy twirled her pen in her hand. She had already flipped to a new, new page. She leaned forward. "So, what can you tell me about that night the heirlooms were stolen?" Isaac briefly looked to Isabel before giving Suzy his full attention. He shifted in his seat. "I'm sure your girlfriend detective here could tell you all about it. Are we through?"

Suzy glared daggers at him. "No, Sir, we are not through." Isaac ignored her and began standing. She slammed her notebook on the table and stood with him. "Sit. Down. The people are wanting to know what happened and getting the full details from the source is better than some dumb police report." Isabel side eyed Suzy. She looked back to Isaac. "One: She's not my girlfriend. Two, I'd sit if I were you. And three, speak to me if you have a problem with me . She has no jurisdiction over me."  There was ice in her voice that neither had heard before, the two stared at her for a moment before she arched an eyebrow. "Sit." They both pulled their chairs in as they plopped down into them. Isabel smiled briefly, pleased with herself. She cocked her head slightly, face still neutral. "Now, can you please tell us what happened the night the heirlooms were stolen?"

Isaac folded his arms against his chest. His lower lip clearly out as he angrily looked at the floor.

Suzy snorted. "Aw he's pouting." Isabel smacked Suzy's leg. "OW. The He-" Suzy shrunk back as Isabel stared at her with a clear 'do-not-start' glare.

Isaac cleared his throat and slouched further in his chair. "It was late that night." He mumbled. Isabel adjusted herself in her seat, smoothing out the gray skirt of her dress. "Louder for the reporter Mr. O'Conner."

Isaac slouched lower. His knees slightly higher than the table. "As I was saying." He shouted somewhere behind his knees. "It was late at night. The lampposts outside were already on and I was just chilling in my room doing my usual." Suzy leaned over to Isabel and whispered, "Is that even comfortable?" Isabel placed her index finger to her lips. "What is your usual evening Mr. O'Connor?" "Well," he began, before sliding down even farther in his chair. Isaac grunted as he pushed himself up in his chair. His knees no longer being visible above the table. "When no one else is home I eat my dinner then work on commissions on my computer. Did that until I heard a noise." "What noise did you hear from your room?" Isabel asked.

Isaac shrugged. "Thought I heard something break." He paused. The anger in his eyes had faded almost as quickly as he snapped. He stared at Isabel, trying to read her face. "Have you ever been home alone and spooked by any noise you hear? Cause this place...has quite a few unsettling ones at night." Suzy waved her pen around. "We can talk ghost stories later. What broke O'Connor?"

“A window,” he thumbed behind him, “it's on the opposite side of the house from here.”

Suzy gave Isabel a pleaded whimper. Isabel arched an eyebrow in Suzy’s direction.

“No.”

“Aw, what!?”

Isabel leaned back in her chair. “You wanted the story from him. Let him talk, then we might go see the crime scene.” She rolled her wrist, waving for him to continue.

Isaac's eyes darted between Suzy and Isabel a couple times before resting on the table. "Oh uh, right so I grabbed my flashlight. Gotta have one on hand. And went to investigate the noise." "Why did you investigate the noise?" Isabel asked. Suzy's mouth was open. She closed it and chewed on her lip as she pointedly glared at Isabel, who ignored her. "I wasn't sure if it was just the house or if my bro-...sibling had decided to come in, in the dead of night for a late visit. But when I got downstairs I found the window was broken and open. A tall man with a wide brim hat hiding in the shadows as he worked on the keypad with a think a crowbar..."

“Was your flashlight on or off?” Suzy asked, scribbling down a few notes. Isabel raised an eyebrow at Suzy.

Isaac’s eyebrows scrunched together. “...on.”

“So, what did this guy look like?”

Isaac turned to her. “Well, I immediately turned it off when I noticed it wasn’t anyone I knew.” He sighed. “Course, then he noticed me. I froze in fear, dude told me to punch in the code. So I did. And was knocked out by the crowbar.”

Suzy stared at him and turned to Isabel. "How is he not dead?" "I'm right here." Suzy turned to Isaac. "How are you not dead??"

Isaac opened and closed his mouth. "Well, I had a nasty headache when I woke up?" Isabel leaned on the table, her hand propping her head up. "The medical examiner checked him out. Said he'd have some nasty bruising and that-" Her eyes shifted to Isaac, "he's lucky to be alive."

The medical examiner, Dr. Zarei, hummed to herself. "Well, you're lucky to be alive and coherent." She pulled out her small flashlight and asked him to follow it as she watched his eyes. "I'd keep awake for the next few hours. Keep yourself busy. Do not fall asleep or you'll go into a coma." Zarei motioned Isabel to the side and out of Isaac's earshot. "What's up Doc?" Isabel asked. Zarei's eyes narrowed at Isaac. "Something is not right. This isn't the movies. A blow to the head, as he described earlier doesn't match the bruising." Isabel looked to Isaac before shifting back to the doctor. "Well, he did go through something traumatic. Trauma blows things out of proportion." Zarei hummed again as she removed her yellow gloves. "Keep an eye on him Detective."

Isabel strolled down the driveway, eyes staring at the golden gate. Clacking and strangled yelling made her pause. She looked back, watching Suzy hop around on one foot as she replaced her dress shoe back onto her foot.

"This is why I wear boots." Isabel said as Suzy hurried to catch up with the detective. She huffed. "Not my fault my shoe decided to stay behind."

Isabel checked her watch. 1:45 pm. Her stomach rumbled. Suzy shot a grin. "So, where to next? The precinct?"

Isabel stared at her. "No, I missed lunch. Thought it was going to be provided." Suzy leaned against Isabel and winked. "Good, we'll talk shop at The Silver Candelabra.”

"Isn't that place like, really expensive? Did you inhale too much trust fund air in there?"

Suzy laughed, her grin was a little too wide. “Oh it’ll be fine. My treat.”

Isabel raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. I was kinda feeling more diner food to be honest.”

Suzy’s face deflated. “Oh.” She quickly regained composure. “What’s the diner you thinking of?”

“It’s not exactly mom & pop style like most are,” Isabel tapped her chin, “But I know the owners. Ever been to the Corner Diner?”

[al-the-photographer-blog]

Everyone’s Peggy: Threats to Seeing.

This space is static. There is little to no movement. The movement that does occur is directly related to mobile phone usage. Eye contact between patients is kept minimal. Heads are locked onto their phones or on the television screen; fixations are controlled by artificial movement. The only desirable eye contact is between the patient and the nurse that beckons them into the next room. The twiddling of thumbs, texting messages to family or friends, accompanied by an obligatory glance towards the phone’s housing; whether it be pant packet, hoodie pouch, or carry-on bag. Outside of that codependency, the occasional side-ways glance is done in secret. That was my way in.

Animals that Saw Me, a photobook by Ed Panar, is one of the biggest references I could draw off of after completing this activity. In the book, Panar creates a visual narrative discussing the fleeting, face-to-face interactions that people have with animals. I make the comparison, between staring at animals and staring at other people, because I think that it touches on the animalistic inclinations that humans retain. The fight or flight instinct, for example, uses staring as a way of preparation. The person or animal takes in the immediate threat through visual context and acts accordingly. Staring, in this context, is as a natural, animalistic instinct. An archaic inclination passed on from human ancestors. 

While not all of the images could address the concept of staring, I do believe it to be an interesting gesture on how the staree and starer can be swapped. This addresses aspects of the power dynamic, but in this case you’re never quite sure who instigates (starer) the action and who submits (staree) to it. Of the many observations I had while sitting in a waiting room and performing the act of staring, the power dynamic between the two characters was the most obvious. To me, staring is violating and is used only to manipulate the staree into a submissive status. Garland Thompson reflects on the aspects of intensity associated with staring on page 14. 

“We speak of “staring daggers,” “penetrating looks,” “piercing eyes,” “riveting glances,” and “looking somebody up and down.” Such phrases reflect the intensity of being on either side of a staring encounter” (Garland, p. 14).

My observations substantiate Garland-Thompon’s discussion of staring because they exemplify many of the key points outlined in the reading. There are two or more characters being activated in this position. Me, as the starer, have observed the power dynamic at play and the responsibilities that are enacted from that position. After hesitantly establishing an visual confrontation, outside of any consideration for the staree’s comfort or vulnerabilities, I attempted to tame the world with my eyes; jumping innocuously from one waiting room to the next. Of course, this interaction isn’t complete without certain fulfillments. The staree must submit or acknowledge the starers advances through some sort of reactionary impulse. This could be a hand shooting up to cover their face, a surprised jitter, a reluctant smile, or a hostile glare. No matter the outcome, this ballet performs until climax or ceases to provide stimuli. This is where the starer’s role intensifies and his/her duties to the staree become paramount. What goals are going to be met through this? What did I want them to see from me? What did I want them to know from me? How best to communicate this through eye contact alone? The patience of waiting for the right person to sit down and motivating them to talk, none of this should seem foreign to anyone. However, remembering the goals for each conversation once the line has been cast, is both the most difficult part of this conversation and the part with the biggest responsibility.     

The context specific prohibition against looking that I had intended to explore, was photographing in a private office space, but I found myself fighting against the compulsion to stare. So, instead of trading one for the other, I did both; staring and photographing. There are a number of power relationships at play while staring in a health clinic. In the waiting room environment, there is an all-too-often overlooked, but very much so present overseer in the form of surveillance footage. The hierarchy of surveillance is a  prevalent, pervasive threat to the staree and starer. This outlier interferes with the accessibility that a communal stare indoctrinates. The other prohibition, in this context, is the HIPPA agreement made between patients and healthcare providers. HIPPA is a United States legislation that provides data privacy and security provisions for safeguarding medical information. This safeguards against, but is not limited to data breaches, restrictions on access, broadened security measures, and patient interactions within the facility. I was unaware that photography interferes with those measures at the time. 

 What is disturbing about this interaction is that it is one sided, invasive, and mostly unsolicited. After two hours in the waiting room, hearing the names being called into the next room, listening to the medical procedures the television played on repeat, I successfully talked to 3 people about this area. John, April, and Emilio. The fourth and final person I talked to was the one who escorted me out of the building, but not before asking me to delete the photographs on my camera and requesting my full name for their records. Her alias was Peggy, but her actual name, after gathering further information on her immigration, was Ndidi. 

April was the first person I began to have a visual conversation with. She’s a bold, middle-aged women. She wore pink leopard print, unicorn slippers, and had pinkish-purplish semi-permanent hair colorization. She entered and sat at the furthest end of the waiting room, which looked more like a hallway with chairs. April was figgety, so establishing prolonged eye-contact with her wasn’t easy. 

As I stared, I noticed more and more of April’s features. Her skin was a deep tan, almost leathery texture with countless freckles. I took her picture in secret without asking for her permission. Soon after, I asked from across the room,

“What’re ya in for,” this question startled her out of her trance, looking up towards me with an almost lifeless reaction. Her face scrunched up and she replied with a loud and  puzzled,

“Huuhhhh?!”

I repeated my question from across the room. Her response was a waving of her dainty hand and a rolling of her head round in a clockwise direction. She replied, 

“I been comin’ here for months, lady. They ain’t found nothin’ on me yet worth talkin’ bout,” she continued looking downward, “it’s--been a long road, hah.” She chuckled to herself and half-smiled looking back up at me. 

“I’m Alyssa--er, Al for short.” I chortled waving at her with, what I would consider, a long distance handshake. 

“Oh, we’re givin’ names now,” she quipped questioningly. 

“I’m April--don’t ‘ave any nicknames, but I like the one you got. Sounds funky and for a girl with green ‘air, I’m sure that’s was your--ahaha--goin’ for.” She laughed and then I accompanied her. We conversed in segments. I told her about the picture I had taken of her and she laughed again, saying that she would have never noticed. I asked how this made her feel and she said ‘ain’t no harm if I didn’ see no foul’. John walked in about 8 minutes after April. 

John is a middle-age man, but with more seasoning than April. He wore a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black nikes. He had in airpods and didn’t look like the type of person who enjoyed casual conversation. *note* I’m not making these judgements in real time, I’m only including this information to better visualize the character John made little to no eye-contact outside of his phone’s screen. Occasionally, he would glance upward at the television or around at the faculty when they would meander around the sides of the waiting room hallway. I continued to stare at him, without reciprocated fixation, until one of his wandering glances met mine. Then, another latched on to me without lingering for much longer than the first. Frustrated, I took out my camera and took a picture of him looking back down on his screen. Unhappy with the angle of the image on my LCD screen preview, I took another image. John looked up, but not in time to see my camera angled towards him. Enthused by his reaction, I took another exposure and he looked up to meet my stare as the camera pulled away from my face. He pulled out his airpods without looking away from me as I continued to stare back. Once out, he blinked and the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile; the kind of smile you don’t expect to receive from someone who looks and acts so unamused or bored in a public environment. As he smiled, he laughed quietly, and half-whispered,

“Whaaat--are--you doing, aha,” his shoulders drooped over while he leaned toward my direction anticipating an answer of some sort. If the charisma in his voice didn’t prompt me into talking, his body language did. He sat legs open, arms on his lap, and his face jutting out towards me in some comical fashion. 

“I was just--uh--staring at you, but you--well it’s for an assignment in my class, but, uh, you didn’t respond to that. Sooo--”, I replied scatter-brained and eager to get him to talk to me, “I took your picture instead while you were looking around to get your attention. I hope it wasn’t rude or anything. I just, wanted to see what you had to say about everything.” Everything? Really, Al?

John smiled, his head twirled upwards with his eyes as he shook it there. When his eyes came back to mine, he continued. 

“Man, I thought I came into the psych ward or something for a sec. You had me scared!” Me and him both laughed, then I asked him why he felt like he was in a psych ward, how the staring made him feel, and why he averted it so much. He said that staring made him feel paranoid or uncomfortable. He said that he wasn’t equipped to handle that type of conversation on this day and that his brain was more so acting to get him ready for his doctor’s appointment. He was overcompensating and he hated doctor’s visits.

Here, we could begin to discuss some of the points outlined in Daniel Segal’s Can You Tell a Jew When You See One?. Here, Segal substitutes the word stereotypes for typifications, which was originally coined by Alfred Schutz. In the essay, he elaborates on problems relating to prejudice, stereotyping or typifications, and how their social construction delegitimizes sensory perception. Sensory perception cannot be the reason for issuing a typification. Social jurisdiction operates to define the terms that we then give onto people from other cultural background or descent because it operates like a machine; giving titles, descriptions, and names to people, places, and things. To exercise what was learned from this essay, I’m taking precautions not to undermine John’s character.  Now, John is not like me. His skin is olive toned and he is male. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s from African descent nor that his descent effects his character, but his physical makeup does characterize visible attributes. The segment of the essay that I am referring to most directly is on page 238, paragraph three. 

“Take the case of whether a person is or is not “African American.”[...] the facts about this matter of identity, independent of a person’s ‘looks,’ are located in ancestry[...] Consider, in other words, the possible outcomes of discrepancies or incongruities between visual signs of identity and a person’s knowable ancestry.[...] Thus, by social conjuring trick--one that alters who it is who is known to have African-American ancestors-the incongruity of white-looking African-Americas is removed from the world that appears before our eyes. The Statistical correlation is tightened, in this cay by exploiting the instability of the supposedly fixed facts about whether someone is or is not ‘African-American’” (Segal, pg. 238).

As I entered into the facilitation of this assignment, I’ve taken precautions to understand typifications, how they operate and how to avoid them in descriptive narratives. That being said, John was comfortable enough to discuss stereotypes with me. He said that he and his family have felt the effects, but that they’ve been subdued by political correctness, informative outreach programs, and efforts in diversity and inclusion. When asked about micromanagement over the situation--in communities, schools, etc.--he said that perseverance is above all else the most paramount.

 Emilio was received in the waiting room, along with his grandparents and mother, while John and I were talking. 

Proud of my accomplishments thus far, I grew more confident and actively starred at Emilio. I glanced towards his family occasionally, but kept persistent contact on the child. The mother, persuaded by my eye contact, beckoned me over to sit with the family. I asked her about her son. Her heavy, latin accent generated a language barrier, but she still allowed me to interact with the child. He looked to be about 7. Everytime I starred, he unabashingly returned my glances with an assumed childish demeanor. I got his name after many attempts at explaining and gesturing to myself to receive an answer. 

Why are children open to acts of starring more so than adults? Is this exception related to childhood development and the absence of socially constructed expectations? Presumably, the answer relies on the age of the child and their experiences with public or social media environments. 

I was called into the doctor’s office for my scheduled appointment shortly after talking with Emilio and his family. The visit was conducted as usual. My blood results came back normal. The lumbar puncture confirmed that I had an inflammatory disease which would require medication and future consultations. During our intermissions, where the doctor or nurse would leave the room, I would photograph the room. After I received my prescriptions, I was told that I could leave.

The confrontation with Peggy occurred while I was making my escape from the clinic. Peggy found me attempting to make my way out of the labyrinth of halls that made up the facility. Deliberately walking up to me, she told me that the exit was in the opposite direction. 

“Ma’am, the exit is this way,” she said as she pointed in the opposite direction. 

“Oh,” I replied, “thank you, I’m sorr--” she interrupted my apology mid sentence.

“I haff been meaning to ask you where did you get dat camera and what are you doing in this place wit it?” She interrogated me in a foreign accent while pointing at my camera and the surrounding walls. 

“I am a patient here and I was just taking pictures to check my camera’s settings, y’know? Staying loose, that’s all,” I replied trying to sound as genuine as possible. She wasn’t amused by my response at all. 

“Noooooo! You cannot do dat ‘ere. This is a medical facility. That is wrong, very wrong. You cannot do dat ‘ere with other patients privacy. We have people who come in to take pictures for us when we need it...[--]” she rambled on about issues concerning privacy, of which, I was aware of, but didn’t think any of my images infringed upon patient privacy. 

“--So, I need to delete my images. Is that what you’re saying,” I interrupted her, “There’s really nothing too invasive with these images, I swear. I’m aware of privacy laws regarding media, but there’s really nothing in here that could come back to you guys. I’d be more than happy to agree to a release form or some kind of disclosure or no compensation agreement” I pulled out the camera with the LCD screen pointed up to show her the images. In preview, I went through the pictures to show her each one carefully. None of them were impressive. Most of them were still frames of objects found in the waiting room and consultation; a chair leg coming in contact with the ground, a stack of pamphlets on nesting table, a rolling chair, doctor’s instruments, John looking down at his ph---oh no.... Peggy was outraged. 

“See!! That is a patient, that is no good! You delete all of those images right now. You cannot do that! Can’t you see how that is wrong?! Delete everything,” She commanded. 

“Everything?” I questioned, but it didn’t more than a glance to realize her anger and bewilderment. I dutifully obliged and deleted every image I had taken from my duration with her head lingering over my shoulder. Still, I felt determined to question her further. 

“What is so wrong with photographs? The camera isn’t a weapon, ya’know. Besides, there are people taking images with their phones irregardless of privacy standards. I feel like the only reason you’re targeting me is because my camera is ostentatious and unconcealable. Besides, I asked this patient if it was ok after I took the shot.” I continued to argue my point while deleting the images. It only angered Peggy. 

“There,” I said, “all deleted.” 

“Good, but don’t you see how it is wrong to do that?” she, once again, asked. I had already replied to this question twice and didn’t feel like answering it again. I just kept to myself and allowed her to continue. At this point, I felt like a vacuous child being lectured into the ground. Did I feel remorse? Undoubtedly, I felt it, but the fact that I could reconcile with this women plagued me with more, unsurmountable guilt than anything else. What does it mean to be a photographer, to have a degree and uphold certain values, if I can’t convince someone otherwise about its nature? Peggy touched on the small of my back, erging me to exit the facility. Before leaving she had one final question, that I didn’t feel the need to answer after considering the negative connotations involved in the conversation.

“What is name for our records?”

“Oh, I can’t give you that,” I replied solidarily and exited the clinic doors. 

Upon looking back, I realize now that Peggy’s confrontation-in particular-illuminates more on the prohibitions of seeing; as well as legal/moral issues involved. Peggy was obligated to stop and lecture me on the legality of the situation. Her duty, in that respect, was to act according to protocol. When I tried to reconcile the situation-albeit-in a frivolous, panicked manner, I was met with more of the same lecture. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on the situation. In a more diplomatic conversation, I could see the conversation being more successful. However, Peggy instigated her side of the conversation with much more emotionally involved gravitas that it overwhelmed me; it brainwashed me into contrition before I could even begin to build my side of the argument. 

Binding, legal implications have power over ways of seeing just as much as emotional jurisdiction does or even an acceptance of conversation. Communication is a two way street. Both sides have to be willing to receive and contribute to the discourse. I’ve never photographed in a health care facility. I’ve been advised not to and was aware of the complexities involved both legally and morally. Why did I do it? I did it because I thought I could maybe reason with someone if I got caught or share information about the artform that means so much to me, but retains a heavy stigma in the public eye. 

The biggest threat to seeing, in any way, is cowardice. Summoning up the courage to seek discomfort, to be vulnerable, and to be forthright on the discoveries made after the fact, is the key to seeing behind walls; even when you meet someone like Peggy. 

“To see things thousands of miles away, things hidden behind walls and within rooms, things dangerous to come to, to draw closer, to see and be amazed” (Secret Life of, 2013).

Works Cited

Kuku, David. Unknown. n/a.

Panar, Ed. Animals That Saw Me. Vol. 1, Spaces Corners, 2011.

Segal, Daniel. “Can You Tell a Jew When You See One?” Judaism: A Quarterly Journal of Jewish Life and Thought, vol. 48, no. 2, 1999, pp. 234–238.

Stiller, Ben, et al. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Amazon Prime Video, 201th Century Fox, 5 Oct. 2013.

“What Is Staring?” Staring: How We Look, by Rosemarie Garland-Thomson, Oxford University Press, 2015, pp. 13–17.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Tommy

Ali: yo yo yo Ali: i'm back to civilization, using the term loosely there but Ali: what i miss Tommy: hey girl hey Tommy: oh you know several family feuds Tommy: standard Ali: oh the joys Ali: reckon i'm right on time for the next one Ali: soz I didn't have signal, what you want me to do lads Tommy: reckon you have a fair point Tommy: and solid excuse Tommy: if I had someone to do, my phone would be off too, like Ali: i've made the case for not spoiling the areas natural beauty with phone masts but appaz 'not the fucking point' Ali: no chance of getting away with that, city boy Ali: gutted x2 Ali: should be jelly though 'cos 😍 Tommy: Oh honey I am Tommy: Sickeningly so Tommy: much like your socials of late Ali: Haha piss off Ali: its the honeymoon phase Ali: and you can't act like you'd rather witness the death rattle of my last playing out like Tommy: Well yeah, never a more legit word spoken Tommy: Poor Marls Tommy: Bet she took to the heartbreak like a duck to water though Tommy: as for you and Carls, you've been in that phase for bloody ages Ali: I know, I'm evil Ali: not her first, or last, which says it all Ali: Not even Ali: anyway, gotta milk it, you'll see when you're being gross yourself Tommy: Not evil just scandalous Tommy: We've all had our heads turned by the straights Tommy: Can't pretend I'm not thrilled that you got kissed instead of your head kicked in, love that you got lucky there Tommy: Yeah even, you too been circling and flirting since the dawn of summer if not time Tommy: I think not. I'm nothing but fab in all things Ali: More Marilyn than Hitler Ali: one for the bio, thanks Ali: Ha, laughable, no one is immune to my charms also I do the kicking so Ali: coming up roses forever baby bro Ali: Exactly 😏 gonna be vomit-inducing 'cos you're gonna be thinking yours is the greatest love story ever told 🙄😉 Tommy: stick it on your tinder when the honeymoon's over kid Tommy: welcome welcome Tommy: And Marls thought she was so tough. Not immune to a curb stomp were you, babe Tommy: roses are cliche as hell so agreed Tommy: could be, sister, could just be Tommy: surrounded by sapphic role models in you and your boo Ali: could do it now Ali: sooooooo modern like that, darling Ali: omg shut up 😞 didn't mean to and not funny Ali: psh, as if you wouldn't be buzzing your tits off if someone got you roses Ali: umm not telling you you're doing this whole 'gay' thing wrong but you know the girl ones aren't for you, yeah? 😂 Tommy: yeah but will ya or are you too 😍 Tommy: real question is, has Carls taken to her new status like a duck to water or more like water off a duck's arse Tommy: calm down dear I won't mention the ex again, scout's honor Tommy: atm my tits would be pleased if anyone looked their way at all but we ain't on my sob story, here for your love Tommy: 😂 well now it makes sense Ali: only just got back, like Ali: can deffo take a day of recuperation Ali: not asked tbf Ali: i don't need a label on her or what we're doing Ali: poor baby 😥 Ali: wish you'd let me look at your profiles, pimp em up pimp you out Tommy: but she's still 😍 too, yeah? Tommy: not scared her off like Tommy: Oi! Take your own advice and take a day off Tommy: You can come when I hit the town if you're wanting to wingwoman that bad Ali: Oi yourself! Ali: Scared her off indeed Ali: trusted me enough to go into the wilderness alone like Ali: duh Ali: not even a question Ali: though really need to find you a lad there as well Ali: but you can have a hometown holiday romance, special enough for ya snowflake? Tommy: Probs just wanted to stretch. Caravans are well cramped Tommy: Piss off Tommy: You just don't want me third wheeling you and your girl 'cause you reckon I'll make it awks when she finds me more fun to dance with than you Tommy: Gotta take her and get her initiated though 🌈 Ali: yeah a 2 man tents well better Ali: melt 🖕 Ali: oh you gonna steal my girl? okay 😂 Tommy: You trying to say you didn't look at the stars? Get to fuck you lying scrag 😂 Tommy: Could do, she is cute Ali: Am I that predictable? Sigh Ali: Might be modern but draw the line at family 3way Ali: if anything, a step back Tommy: You ain't invited, honey Tommy: Full offense Ali: Finders keepers I saw her first bitch Tommy: Only 'cause I was miles away Tommy: play fair you dirty bisexual Ali: When you get a mans Imma call bagsy then Ali: wanna talk fair Tommy: we'll both be in wheelchairs minus our own teeth by then so I'll race ya Ali: 😏 oh hush Ali: secretly getting all the d and keeping it dl Tommy: 😂 Tommy: I wish Ali: 👀 Tommy: You filthy perv Ali: how did you know Tommy: Carls told us Tommy: we're that close now like Ali: well, that's a stop coming onto me if I've ever heard one 😂 good one, babe Tommy: 😂 Tommy: Get a lot of that, does she? awks Ali: You said yourself, she cute Tommy: Gotta do some kicking, kitten. Have you learned nothing from your previous? Tommy: 🥊 Ali: how not to keep a woman? Ali: harsh but Tommy: legit Tommy: fuckboy free inbox though Ali: yeah Ali: got their uses though, ain't they Ali: don't be too picky like Tommy: Not for me but you do you, darling Ali: 🤷 Tommy: with your luck they'd fall for you anyway tbf Ali: Like you don't remember having to hold Ma back Ali: weren't that long ago Tommy: Blocked that shit way out Ali: those were the days tho Ali: but fine, won't invite ronan to the gay club Ali: imagine Tommy: For you. Aged ma + 25 Tommy: poor bitch Tommy: Probs had to get her roots done Tommy: Which one was he again? The curly haired gypsy Ali: s'alright, marlene still fancied her and carly also said she would Ali: not doing bad old girl Ali: one of Ali: first and worst, some would say Tommy: OMHG REALLY Tommy: get it ma Tommy: oh that cunt Tommy: hit it Celine 'cause it's all coming back to me now Ali: yeah Ali: smug bitch Ali: no one in this family can keep it to themselves, apparently Ali: 😂 mhmm Ali: lives where Carly does, and was kinda her boyf when I met her Ali: official, like Tommy: reckon I'll steal your girls it's that saucy mare you gotta watch Tommy: Disgusting Tommy: You two fucking by association before you got near Tommy: That's some funny shit Ali: Real talk Ali: someone warn Da Ali: not me 'cos awks when I'm fuming at her for running off with my woman Ali: oh honey you don't even know Ali: we have a list Tommy: On it Tommy: Love getting shot in the face myself so I'm well keen to twirl past with that message Tommy: 😂 Tommy: How long a list we talking? Ali: Interpretive dance it out for him Ali: the most vague form of communication Ali: You actually wanna know or? Tommy: I'll get workshopping rn 'cause ma ain't go no chill Tommy: she won't wait and we know it Tommy: You tell me, sister, do I or not Ali: She's a busy woman Ali: if Rock didn't look so much like Da's side I'd question it frankly Ali: You know how I roll, scandalous from the womb to the tomb baby Tommy: When the adoption jokes ain't just craic Tommy: ooops Tommy: that's why we're the irish twins 'cause same girl same Ali: She's got some nerve, us all out here raising the devil child Ali: give him to his real daddy the inn is full bitch Tommy: 😂 Tommy: puts him in the postie's bag like back you go lad Tommy: he's kinda fit bet ma would Ali: oh babe Ali: hate to bring this bad news to you but he left Ali: probs got a modelling contract, eh 😏 Tommy: 💔 Tommy: pissed on my parade proper there Ali: i am so soz Ali: maybe i traumatized him Ali: okay you can get with carly once but that's it, then we're even Tommy: Not gonna ask what you let him see Tommy: between you and JC every sunday Tommy: 🎉 Yes Ali: knock on my door son, gonna get what i give you Tommy: 👏 Ali: idc if you're just trying to bring the bills, SIR Ali: we don't want 'em Ali: liverpool days got us all forever scarred Tommy: Too real to deal Ali: when you back fr though Tommy: Patience 🦗 Tommy: I got scholarship stresses Ali: must suck being talented enough for one, like 😉 Tommy: Says the genius Tommy: what's your IQ again? Ali: check the tinder lad Ali: put that on there too, how i get all the ladies Tommy: 😂

[rubyphilomela]

Too Much is Sometimes Enough Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Prompto X OC Ruby Philomela, and so much more!

Ruby squeezed Prompto’s hand gently, taking comfort from his presence as the both of them hurried to keep up with the others. 

“When we get back, we are definitely getting you a weapon Red!”

Gladiolus announced with a chuckle while Ruby flushed, though smiled gratefully knowing that in a world where the nights were deadly, and the days had creatures like that roaming around it would be foolish to travel unarmed. Looking back at the glass like explosions of rocks Ruby shook her head sadly as Prompto squeezed her hand gently, waves of support coming from warmed her and strengthened her resolve to move forward as best she could. 

Fortune found the group back at Hammerhead before too long and Ruby sighed in relief seeing this little bit of safety and familiarity.

 Prompto looked over at Ruby seeing the pain and tears in her eyes hurt him, knowing that she was losing, but her hand was strong in his and that gave him hope. As much as he hated himself for thinking it, he was glad that for the time being she was there with him, the two were startled out of their thoughts as Cindy came over, a cloth in hand wiping the grease off.

“She’s good as new!”

Cindy announced to the group, 

“Now to discuss how y’all are gonna pay for this, I know y’all are a bit short on Gil so I’l cut ya a deal. Y’all take care of the pack of Reapertales that have been raising hell in the area, and I’l call it even and give ya 1000Gil for a weapon for the fledgling here”

“She don’t need to buy a weapon, the ones here are a waste of Gil compared to what I’ve made”

Shock ran rampant on all the faces of those in the group, Cindy included, as her Paw Paw had walked up surprising the group and spoke up.

“I like to tinker around, when I’m not busy fixing a broken down Regalia..and I’ve got a few pieces lying around and she can have one”

Ruby smiled gratefully bowing deeply in gratitude, 

“Thank you so much, I will appreciate whatever you can give”

Cid smiled at her manners and gestured for her to follow, the group tried to follow as well but he shook his head,

“No room in my workshop for all of you, we’ll be right back”

Prompto and the rest reluctantly stayed behind as Ruby walked forward with Cindy’s PawPaw,

“Names Cid by the way”

He said smiling as he opened the door presumably to his workshop and Ruby’s eyes widened, taking it all in. There were so many weapons her eyes didn’t know where to look, all of them felt so full of power they nearly felt alive. 

“You can choose any that you want, but choose carefully because to a warrior their weapon is a piece of their soul, an extension of their being. Plus, these weapons will only exist when you call for them, so no need to worry about lugging them around all the time” 

Ruby’s eyes widened at the technology needed to make something like that possible! Walking around the room her eyes widened and jaw dropped, before her sat a beautiful silvered longbow gleaming in the light. It was a cherry wood with silver trim and was nearly as tall as she was. Before she could stop herself if the compulsion to pick it up had her and she marveled at how little it weighed. 

Cid smiled at her choice and walked over to a cushion next to where the bow had been sitting and turned to hand you a silver pistol that gleamed from within. It reminded you of Prompto’s though more elegant and you were in love with it from the moment you saw it.

“That is the bow’s sister weapon, always best to have an alternate”

Ruby nodded and glanced around realizing she hadn’t seen a quiver or any bolts nor bullets, remembering the battle earlier she didn’t see any casings on the ground after the battle. Answering her unspoken question,

“Energy is what these weapons use, not your own mind you its kind of hard to explain just know that they charge up, there’s a red glow that will appear when they are reloading shouldn’t take too long though”

He assured her as she marveled at the weapons in her hands, bowing deeply again before rising to show tears in her eyes,

“Thank you so much, I promise to use them only to do good, I won’t disgrace them”

Ruby spoke solemnly as Cid smiled knowing that he had chosen the right person to give one of his weapons to. He showed her how the weapons would disappear if dropped, which took her a second to get used to as well as how she needed to position her hands to use the weapons and they would reappear. Finally feeling comfortable with the weapons after having practiced summoning and releasing them Ruby bowed deeply once more in gratitude before walking back into the now setting sun to show the group. 

Prompto looked at Ruby eagerly wating until he didn’t see any weapons. 

“What happened Red? Didn’t find anything you liked?”

Confusion was evident on her face Ruby almost couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping her lips as she positioned to draw the bow and had an arrow pointed at Prompto’s nose, causing his eyes to bulge in shock and sending Gladiolus and the others into a fit of laughter. Pulling the bow away from Prompto’s face she giggled,

“Sorry, Prompto I just couldn’t help myself”

He chuckled and flushed at how nervous he’d gotten before turning to admire the beautiful silver tooled bow.

“Wow, that is gorgeous!”

His smile was slightly hollow, and Ruby knew it was due to the lack of a gun, whipping your hand out in front of her, her gleaming pistol appeared and she twirled it artfully until she dropped it blushing heavily. Resummoning the pistol she placed it in Prompto’s hands enjoying the way his eyes widened. 

Prompto’s eyes were large as he looked at the detail and craftsmanship, he would have been jealous if it weren’t for two facts: 1. Ruby would be safer traveling with her own weapons and, 2. having weapons was another tie keeping her here and he was finding more and more that he didn’t want her to leave. 

“It’s getting late, let us get settled for the night”

Ignis spoke, and Ruby thanked Cid again, and joined the group going into the RV. Ruby looked back at the fading sunset until Prompto startled her, his head on her shoulder.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Ruby nodded, her hand twining in his, enjoying the contrast between his leather glove and calloused skin,

“I guess we should go inside...”

Prompto nodded, leading her into the RV where she couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of her; Gladiolus, Ignis and Noctis were playing a game on their phones, Kings Knight and it was apparently getting to be very cutthroat. 

Ruby didn’t understand the game and was a bit too tired to care just then, breathing in the air she inhaled a delicious smell. Walking over to the kitchenette she saw a form of Risotto, serving a bowl for each of them before sitting on the couch behind her sighing as Prompto snuggled into her side as he cheered for Noctis. Slowly eating the delicious meal Ruby joined in on the cheering though she didn’t have a clue about how the game worked. 

Ignis looked up from the game eyes twinkling as he saw that the both of them had a bowl of the Risotto,

“Was going to tell you that dinner was almost ready, but I see that you’ve found that out on your own. I hope you find it to your liking”

Ruby nodded blushing softly as she ate another spoonful of the delicious dish,

“Sorry Ignis..I was starved and it looked ready..its delicious”

Ignis shook his had smiling,

“Not a problem, I’m glad your enjoying it.”

Ruby smiled in response before continuing to devour the dish burning her tongue in the process, hissing slightly at the pain but not caring as the taste more than made up for it. 

“This really is amazing, thank you for fixing it for us”

Ignis shook his head,

“I’m glad to do it, It’s whole milk Risotto, a favorite of mine as well. By the way Red, I have a question for you, I noticed that you spoke of Gods in a plural earlier, and I was curious are there multiple gods where you’re from?”

Ruby blushed at the question, religion was a topic that she didn’t often feel comfortable speaking about with anyone back home, but here she felt safe,

“In my world, there are a lot of religions and quite a few have multiple gods or goddesses; Personally I am spiritual, not religious which essentially means that I take beliefs from quite a few religions and incorporate them in my life”

All eyes were on Ruby and Ruby alone as she flushed under the attention until Gladiolus spoke up,

“We have a similar religious system here, we have 6 gods: Shivra, Ramuh, Bahamut, Ifrit, Titan and Leviathan.”

Ruby’s eyes were wide and she nodded interested though she was so exhausted at this point her eyes were slamming shut and she was in danger of dropping her bowl.

 Fortunately, Prompto caught the bowl as she nodded of smiling softly he gently scooped her up and carried her to the bed, using his free hand he pulled the covers back and laid her down gently. He carefully undid her boots and untied her jacket from her hips, taking a second to grab the stuffed animals he spotted in the pocket and placing them in her arms before pulling the covers over her smiling as Ruby hugged them close. 

Ignis looked on at the scene a smile on his face as he saw how close the two were getting,

“Seems to be a good time for us all to get some rest, now that the Regalia is repaired we need to do the hunt for Cindy, stock up and get on the road”

The group agreed though there were some worries crossing their minds, even though Ruby had done quite well in battle today would she be OK when they actively go out on a hunt; and what if the Imperials were to show up? Doing their best to put their fears aside they each settled in for the night in their respective couches and recliner, Prompto climbed into bed stroking a stray hair from Ruby’s cheek as he settled in beside her, smiling as she turned towards him in sleep.

“Goodnight, Red..”

Prompto whispered as he drifted off.

[waywardimpalawriter]

Someone to love part 3 of 5

  Someone to love

Summary: You’d been there the whole time. Maybe now it’s time to let Steve know what he thinks he’ll never find.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Character’s: Steve, Reader, Natasha, Peggy, OC male (Reader’s granddad), Sam, T’Challa, Bucky, mentions of Sharon,

Setting: from Captain America the First Avenger to Civil War.

Warnings: none for now.

Notes: written for my 400 follower celebration requested by @angryschnauzer the song is Somebody to love by Queen. What was supposed to be a one shot grew into a four or more parts cause the idea just stuck with me. Hope you enjoy.

Someone tags:  @spnhybrid @iamwarrenspeace @the-doctor-called-loki

Permanent tags: @winters-buck @angryschnauzer @marvel-lucy @aquabrie @feelmyroarrrr

Marvel tags: @sebbytrash @ek823 @marvelfanfichq @creideamhgradochas

Key: Y/GF/N = your grandfather’s name

Someone to love Part 1 Part 2

Part 3: Confidant

2014 one month after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D

  Pacing, feeling like a caged animal in his apartment, even with all the floors and miles of city below him, Steve Rogers still felt like he couldn’t breathe. So much change in the last month, SHIELD falling, Hydra coming out of hiding, people he thought were friends weren’t biggest of all Bucky being alive. Yeah that one little tidbit had his mind reeling. His best friend growing up, fought alongside, lost to a fall… alive and his enemy.

Something Steve refused to believe. Even with all the evidence to back the claim, files that Natasha procured from old friends in the KGB, spread out over the coffee table. None needing to be gone over since he’s committed each and every detail to memory. Not that it’ll help any, given the fact Steve doesn’t know the first place to start looking and that’s what frustrates him the most.

A harsh knock breaking him from the thoughts running the Kentucky derby inside his mind. Checking the peep hole before unlocking and opening the door. “Hey Sam.”

“Steve,” giving the star spangled man without a plan a nod, eyes surveying the apartment much like his own down the hall of Stark turned Avenger’s tower. “It’s been a month, any word on when we’re starting our little hunt for Wile E Coyote?”

Scowling, Steve runs a hand through his hair, looking from Sam to the file. “You don’t have to come along.”

“I know,” arms crossed, leaning against the back of the couch as if he had all the time in the world. “Doesn’t mean I’m not coming with you Cap.”

“Understood,” stepping towards the kitchen, Steve turns slightly. “We’ll move out in two days. Just need to get a few things straight first.”

A grin spreads across his full lips, flashing pearly whites, “Doesn’t have anything to do with that young writer girl you’ve been talking about?”

“Y/N her name, not writer girl,” Steve tossed back heading towards the kitchen a slight grin forming on his face thinking of you. “And you’re just as bad as Natasha with butting in my love life.”

“My job as sidekick, keeping Captain America on his toes. Besides you need to get laid before you start shooting blanks and you’re too old to get it up.”

Stopping, turning to face his Winged Avenging friend, “I may be 94, but I’m not dead,” shaking his head. “First Nat tries to set me up with every woman she comes in contact with, now you’re take potshots at my soldiers. What friends I have.”

“Hey what about Sharon, if ya ain’t interesting in writer girl, maybe Agent 13 will wet your whistle,” grinning, holding his hands to the side in a shrug. “Worth a shot right?” wiggling his dark brow.

“Out,” groaning, pointing towards the door. “I have things to get ready and so do you. We leave at 05:00 day after tomorrow.”

“Don’t scare me none, remember army man here,” Sam adds while heading towards the door. He’s seen the haunted eyes Steve tries to hide. The pain written in the sky blue orbs that he’s kept bury deep within his being. Sam’s seen it all, tried to help, offering his ear many times. Though he knows Steve rather keep everything bottled up tight, everything separate and emotions in check. Though one thing Sam’s noticed over the short while he’s known Steve, is that after seeing you he seems more at easy almost a different person.

It’s the reason he picks, getting Steve to go see you before they leave on a mission that neither are sure they’ll come back from at least intact. “Piece of advice Steve,” when he looks over at Sam, he continues. “Go see her, just in case, to say whatever you need to,” after which Sam opens, steps out of and gone before Steve can say anything else.

**************

Iced tea, condensation dripping down the glass, a bunch of grapes beside your drink, laptop open, your e/c eyes staring at a blank screen as your mind is elsewhere right now. Almost three weeks have gone by since you last heard anything from Steve a rare occurrence, since that fateful day almost two years ago. Snorting at the thought of fate, pencil twirling between fingers to tap on the table keeping a steady beat to the music playing softly throughout your small apartment. Worried doesn’t even begin to cover what you’re feeling right now, your wanting to pick up your cell and call, text anything to make sure he’s alright. But you reframe, always letting him contact you in case he’s on a mission or busy with other things.

The events of last month still replying in your head, having received word from Natasha, whom you’d met a few times during your stays in DC visiting both Steve and your granddad. Becoming friends with the feisty red head who kept you in the know with how Captain America was doing. Even contact with her is sketchy at best. Though you figured it had more to do with the fact that all of SHIELD’s and there by Hydra’s secrets being dumped onto the net for all to read, compromising so many, Natasha included. Besides it wasn’t like your family or anything more than friend’s right? No matter how many times your heart pounds when seeing him, or just talking on the phone. Though you feel he’d never see you like that. In your eyes, plain and boring, to a superhero with women throwing themselves all over him.

Of course that little thought sent a pang of hurt racing across your heart, one you ignored after all it’s foolish to fall in love with Captain America. Yet you’ve never seen him as anyone other than Steve Rogers, the man who’s voice you missed hearing. Talking about different things, the 40’s, his time during World War 2, relearning how to live in a world so different than his own. Helping him acclimate and adapt, watching the cheesy, the iconic and horrible movies just so he got caught up. Listening to massive amounts of music and books, one thing you’d learned is that Steve Rogers loved to read anything he could get his hands on with a spine and paper between the covers.

The very through brought a smile to your lips and a sigh to escape knowing you’ve fell hard and fast for the man most only saw as a superhero, not a real man. Getting the feeling to pound your head into the table, you think better of such ideas instead focus on the blank Word document trying to churn out at least a few thousand words before dinner time rolled around.

However, the writing God’s weren’t on your side as a knock sounded, drawing you from the half page written, a glance in that direction, “Just a minute,” calling out, while standing, stretching your back to get some feeling in.

Bare feet padding on warm hardwood floor, you glance down at the jean capris and burgundy peasant blouse. Shrugging, you peep through the hole only to drop back against the door hand to heart. Having seen Steve standing there looking so good in a tight grey t-shirt and khaki pants, hands clasp in front of him as rocking on the balls of his feet. For a moment you’re at a loss. But why? It’s just Steve right? Of course that’s the problem it’s just Steve.

Swallowing harshly, smoothing a hand down your blouse, before taking the chain off, lock as well and opening the door bright smile lighting your features. Till your eyes come to rest on the man in question fully, seeing the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders and back.

Going for light and playful, “Bout time you show up. Thought I’d have to send the National Guard out to look for you,” you’re kidding, though there’s an undertone of worry in your voice.

“I’m sorry Y/N I would’ve call…” his words are cut short, much like his progress into your apartment, as you’ve wrapped him into your arms. One hand running the strong, hard length of his back as the other cards through the short hairs at the nape.

Relaxing into your hold, Steve returns the embrace both arms encircle your waist holding you close. “Next time you’re gonna be out of communications range solider do a girl a favor and at least send up a smoke signal so I know you’re alright.”

Breathing in the warmth of you amber perfume oil, his face burying in the crook of your neck, peace finally seems to surround him along with a sense of belonging. “Worried about me were you doll?” voice muffled as your both still wrapped around each other.

Nodding, pulling back before you lost yourself in the feel of being so surrounded by Steve that your heart gives a little flutter at the touch of his hands resting on your waist. “Hell yes I was. How would I explain to Granddad I lost an America treasure when I promised him and Peggy both I’d look after you?”

Resisting the urge to punch him, the last time didn’t go so well and left you with a hurt hand, but it’s there. Because you know something’s up, and major if the haunted look in those sweet sky blue orbs tell you anything.

Taking his hand, you both head towards the couch. “I’m no treasure Y/N.”

“You let me be the judge of that one Steve,” you smile letting his hand go, starting for the kitchen. “Hungry? Thirst?”

“No I’m good,” his answer prompt and short making you stare for a moment.

Nervous for some reason now that there’s space between the two of you, “So how long have you been back in New York City?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, looking from the coffee table that he stands next to, over to the armoire which holds you entertainment system the two of your having watch many of hours on. Finally landing on you, but not straight into your eyes. “I’ve actually been back for about two weeks.”

Shock has your jaw dropping, a pang of hurt slicing your heart, before closing and chewing on your cheek. You wonder if he’d just forgot to call, or stop by, unless it’s something more, like he’s saying goodbye this time. “I know you’re busy, but you couldn’t pick up the phone?”

“It’s not like that Y/N I’ve been busy,” he begins running a hand through his hair.

Nodding but keeping your mouth shut for a heartbeat of three. “So you didn’t think I wouldn’t worry? It’s been three weeks Steve,” voice soft, hurt as tears prick the back of your eyes.

Finally locking eyes with you, Steve swallows hard taking a step towards you. “I’m sorry to make you worry doll, truly I am.”

Wiping at your eyes, nodding slightly, knowing he wouldn’t have willfully left you in the dark. Though it still hurt, “I know you are Steve and I’m sorry to for being mad. When Nat told me what happened, and I’m thinking she left parts out because you look like hell, I got so worried about you. I almost bought a train ticket a half dozen times to DC to find out if you were okay.”

The thought of you being so worried should’ve made him feel regret and angry towards himself, yet it had the opposite. It warmed a part of him that someone would care so much about his well fair, not having felt that since before going into the ice, made Steve appreciate you all the more.

Stepping forward, taking both your hands in his, the two of you walk back towards the couch and sit down. “How much did Nat tell you?”

Puzzled, though enjoying the heat of his larger hands encompassing yours. “Just that SHIELD has been infiltrated from the inside by Hydra and now destroyed. I’d seen the news of what happened on the Triskelion,” gasping softly as realization hits you. “Steve where you on there when the helicarriers crashed?”

Looking closely, through faded now with time and the super serum in his body, you could still make out the bruises on his face. Focusing so hard till he spoke, “Yes, Sam Wilson, who you met the last time you’d came to DC, and I had to take out the carriers.”

“You’re holding something back Steven Rogers. Out with it,” demanding tone to your voice as your eyes lock once more. You didn’t want him to hold anything back from you.

“You remember me telling you about Bucky Barnes?”

“Of course he was your best friend in Brooklyn,” rubbing your thumbs over the veins on the top of his hands. “What does Bucky have to do with this?”

Watching his Adams apple bob while gathering his thoughts, “He’s alive Y/N.”

“What?”

Nodding slowly, pulling his hands from yours, as the simplest touch had become distracting for him. “Seems when he fell, he survived,” standing, starting to pace the short expanse. “Hydra found him, tortured, brainwashed him, turned Bucky into a killing machine to do their dirty work. He doesn’t remember me at least I don’t think he does.”

Watching his footsteps, the way he’s clinching his fists, jaw tense, “Steve,” when he doesn’t stop nor look up at you. You get up, putting yourself in his path way making him stop. Reaching up to brush against his cheek, “It wasn’t your fault Steve.”

Your soft words shatter his resistance and once again he’s in your arms, “I could’ve done something different, went to go look for him, put a stop to Schmidt sooner,” pulling away as if your touch, the comfort you’re giving him, burns like a lighted match against his skin. “I could’ve saved Bucky the pain and torture from all those years, if I just hadn’t asked him to join with me.”

Hands on hips you send Steve a glare that doesn’t do much since the man in question isn’t even looking at you. “Steve stop your gonna wear a hole in my floor,” this manages to get him to stop and look at you again. “What happened wasn’t your fault. You no more could’ve stopped Bucky from joining you then you can Sam or me for that matter. It was his choice to fight alongside you, no one put a gun to his head and made him march out there.”

“I never should’ve asked.”

Remembering the stories Steve told you about Bucky, how he’s always looked after him, you knew without having met the man in question, that Bucky Barnes would’ve always been there to protect his best friend. “You didn’t have to ask Steve,” you began stepping back in front of him, hands this time going to his broad shoulders. “I have a feeling Bucky would’ve followed you into hell and back with no questions asked. Not because he had to, but he wanted to.”

Seeing the resolution in your eyes, the honesty with which you spoke, Steve felt your words hit home and rest in his heart. “I have to find him Y/N, bring him home at least what’s left of him.”

Nodding, chewing your cheek, “Just don’t get killed Rogers, Granddad expects to see you in a few weeks.”

Seeing the tears shimmer in your eyes, Steve’s at a loss for words. He wanted you to say that you expected to see him not just your granddad. He wanted to know if you felt the same, as his heart beats faster in his chest wondering but would never say. Because he’s not this great Casanova, but with you it didn’t seem like he trips over his words as much. “Can’t the Avenger’s would be lost without me,” he tries to smile cupping the side of your face in one large callused palm. “You’ll be here? Visit Peggy?”

Of course it always went back to Peggy, “Always, I’ll book a ticket to DC in a few weeks to go see them both,” pushing the lump down wishing he felt the same way about you that he did about Peggy. “Be safe Rogers.”

“Always Y/N,” gathering you close in a tight embrace, he knows he can’t say what he’s thinking, not now, maybe not ever. He’s lost one to many already and he’ll be demanded if you’ll be counted among those. Therefore he bites his tongue, savoring the feel of your soft body in his arms one last time before pulling back. “I’ll see you soon.”

One nod, his lips on your forehead, warm, slightly chapped and lingering. Steve takes that moment, filing it in his memory, then pulls away without looking back at you. His mission, to find Bucky and bring him home, the foremost in his mind, no matter what his heart keeps telling him.

 Part 4

[freerebelmentality]

For the love of music 2nd version

AN: This version is the same in the beginning just like the other one. This one has a different scenario and ending. This one is all SOA

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Word Count: 2,784

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For days you have been exploring the little town of Charming. Since moving you have made a great deal of friends who lived in your neighbourhood and whom you work with. It was a weekend and you wanted to check out the little cafe that had a patio out front.

“What can I get you to drink?” The cashier asks putting on a fake smile.

You already knew she was having a bag day and didnt want to complicate your order. Luckily the place wasnt that busy either which is a good thing for the both of you. She looked as though she wanted to get away from the till and you just wanted a nice quiet place to read.

“I’ll have the medium roast” You reply while she gives you a genuine smile and places the order for you.

You hand her the money and something extra while she mouths her thanks. You see an empty arm chair by the window and seat yourself as you pull out your book. The cashier turns on the music and thankfully its classical music. Something you have always loved. Its a favourite by Mozart.

“I got to stop here and pick up some coffee. Ran out this morning” Chibs says to his VP while the others follow Jax back to the club after doing some business.

As soon he parked his bike and turned it off is when he saw you sitting in front of him really. He walked into the cafe, his eyes still locked on you while he makes his way to the counter.

“Hey Chibs” The cashier greets the man that comes into the cafe.

You look up from your book and see him. He looked like the type your father told you to stay away from, like the authors depicted as the bad boy or even at times. The villain. Aside from that there was something about him that got your attention, it wasnt the kutte he was wearing or the tattoos that were visible to you but something special.

“Aye Lass. How is yer day” He asks before making his order

“Not so great, a few customers being complete douche bags and after that just been messing up orders all day” The cashier tells him

“The day is almost over. Ye come across pricks again just add in salt in their coffees, they wont know a difference” He says while making the cashier smile and laugh.

You liked the fact he made someone feel better about the day.

“Thanks, the usual?” She asks while getting the cup ready.

“Aye and my special blend” He says while taking his wallet out but the cashier waves it off.

“If I cant pay then I will tip” He says while smiling to her.

You melted at the sound of his voice, his accent, his charm and wondered what else could be unveiled.

“Whose the lass by the window?” He asks leaning on the counter whispering into the cashiers ear.

“I have no idea, she seems nice and she tipped me too” She says with a shrug and a smile.

“I better get going. See ye love” He says to her and looks to you toasting to coffee while you nod.

For the past few weeks Chibs has been seeing you all over town. From the cafe to the grocery store, book store and out of a music store. He got curious in what type of music you listened to, what types of books you read, and he got curious about the sound of your voice.

It wasnt like he was stalking you, he just happen to be at the places you are already at. He liked seeing you around though and how you interacted with people and always leaving them smiling or you always leave a building smiling.

You were walking out of the bank and down the street to go back to work. You noticed a group of guys blocking the walk way. You try excusing yourself but they wouldnt listen or even move.

“Excuse me” You say a little to shakey and they notice

“Whats your rush sweet heart” One guy says while he tries to comb his hands through your hair but you move quickly to try walking forward.

“I just need to get to work” You tell him in a hushed tone wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I dont think you are going any where sweet heart. Come party with us��� Another says blocking your way.

Your heart begins to pick up pace and getting incredibly scared they were going to pick you up and force you some where.

“Dont be rude, he asked nicely” Another said

Chibs, Jax and Tig are driving up the street while Chibs notices you in a crowd of guys looking incredibly uncomfortable. He stops while the others stop as well.

“Whats wrong?” Jax asks looking to him

He points with his head to the group of guys and Jax sees a woman being harassed by the men and something boiled in his blood. Tig looks over and hated seeing guys hovering over a woman like that when clearly she is feeling uncomfortable.

“We can show you a good time” The other says as he grabs you by the arm and twirls you around and pulls you towards him. You try to escape from his grasp but he held on tight while licking the side of your face.

You managed to get your arm free and slapped him. His friends grabbed you by both of your arms and held you there. He nodded to him one friend, he came to you and about to tare away at your clothes when you started to scream for help. He managed to tare your shirt open, revealing your bra and tried to hide yourself but the others were holding your arms.

They marvelled at your body with perversion in their eyes while you are feeling completely helpless and violated. Finally you heard motorcycles come driving in and thats when you got more afraid because you thought it was more of their friends coming to help them with you. You begin to cry while you closed your eyes.

Tig drove by with his leg out and tripped at least three guys, Jax stopped his bike and turned it off while Chibs did the same thing and ran to you right away.

“Get the fuck away from the lady and I wont empty this round into your heads” Jax says as he points his gun to the attackers.

“Same along with an extra” Tig says while drawing out two guns.

“Bitch wasnt worth it anyway” One guy says as he walks away along with everyone else

“Just another biker whore” The other guy says

That pissed off Chibs, he got and went running to the guy who said that. He turned towards him quickly and begin to punch him. Once he fell to the ground is when he kicked him repeatedly. You hear all the commotion and open your eyes to see the people who have saved. Still trying to hide yourself, you peak your head over to see the same guy from the cafe. Tig sees you and he goes to Chibs bike to grab a sweater from the compact case.

“You alright doll?” He asks slowly approaching you.

“Im not gonna hurt ya, I just want to give ya this sweater” He says while you startle and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Thank you” You say in a hushed tone taking the sweater from him and immediately putting it on.

The smell of the sweater made you calm down from the anxiety attack thats lurking at the core of your chest. The sweater smells of cologne, cigarette smoke, weed and hint of motor oil.

“Ye alright love?” The man asks with the accent you grew to love, even the sounds of his voice made you feel better

“Im just trying to calm myself down” Is all you say while looking between the three men who have saved you.

“Im Filip but you can call me Chibs. This is Jax and thats Tig” He says while introducing himself and the other two.

“Filip, Jax and Tig. Im y/n” You introduce yourself as well.

“Well thats a pretty name for a pretty face” Tig says while trying to make you feel better

“I think Im far from feeling better” You honestly tell them while they look to you in confusion

“Im on the verge of having an anxiety attack” You tell them while wrapping your arms around yourself. Covering yourself from the vulnerability that has been caused by the group of guys.

“Close your eyes, inhale deeply and hold it for a few seconds. Exhale slowly while naming five things that ye sense” Filip says while standing right in front of you.

You do just as you are told. Inhaling and exhaling out slowly.

“I can smell cigarettes, cologne, weed, motor oil. And I can hear on going traffic” You reply while opening your eyes and the handsome Scottish man is standing right in front of you.

“I think ye just described my sweater” He says with a smile forming

“Is there any where we can take you y/n?” Jax asks while looking to you

“Home” Is all you say while Filip leads you to his bike. You give him the address.

He pulls into the drive way, kicks the stand into place and turns off his bike. You get off the bike and give him the helmet.

“Ye live with someone to keep an eye on ye?” He asks while looking to you and your house you are renting.

“No, its just me. I’ll be fine” You tell him while looking for the keys in your purse

“If anything happens just give me a call, here is my number” He says while writing it down for you

“Thanks” You grab the piece of paper from him.

“Thanks for everything” You add while walking to the front door and unlocking it.

You turn the knob, push the door open while he starts his bike once more and you walk in to get one last look to the man who saved you from something horrible.

Over the next few days have been skittish for you, work wasnt easy as well and your boss along with your co workers begin to notice. You havent said anything about the attack to anyone. There were times when you wanted to call Filip but always changing your mind.

Chibs had found out where you worked and he always stopped by during your break, picked you up for lunch and even picked you up after work. You thought he was only doing that because he felt bad for you.

“Im doing the cooking. Ye head up stairs, get into some comfy clothes and relax” He says from behind you as he places his hands on your hips and leads you away from the kitchen.

When you came back down, Chibs had already set the table, two wine glasses and he was about done with dinner.

“Smells good and table is set up nicely” You tell him while leaning against the counter beside the stove

“Dinner is done, sit while I serve you a plate” He says while taking the pan with him

“Before we eat, there is something I want to say” He adds while pouring the wine into your glasses.

“Are you breaking up with me?” You ask sarcastically while he gives you puzzled expression then changes to a slight chuckle.

“The first time I saw ye at the cafe, sitting in the arm chair and reading a book. I thought ye were one of heavens most beautiful creatures” He says while placing his hand on yours.

“I couldnt stop thinking about ye after that. Once I saw ye around town coming out of the music shop and book store is when I knew how incredibly beautifully smart ye are” He adds while rubbing his thumb over your knuckles

“I wanted to know what captured your attention from the books, what caught your attention while listening to music because I wanted to know what was in that beautiful mind of yours” He continues while looking deep into your eyes.

“When I saw you being harassed by those bastards, thats when something deep inside me threw me into a heat of rage because a woman like ye shouldnt have to endure that. Ye are the type who has a big heart and that was shattered that day. Ye had this notion on your face that ye couldnt feel safe anymore and thats what broke my heart” He says while trying to hold it together but the tears arent helping

“Of all this time spent together, day after, day and I knew that I couldnt stay away. I knew that I was falling for ye, I knew I wanted to be the one ye call when everything crumbles and I wanted to be the one to pick up the pieces for ye and try to make things better again. Y/n I love ye and I dont see myself with anyone else. I want to know if ye would do me the honours and be my old lady?” He finishes while lifting your hands together and gently places a kiss on your hand.

“Wow, I didnt think when I moved here that I would meet someone such as yourself” You say while looking into tear filled eyes.

“When I saw you at the cafe is when I liked the fact you made the cashier feel better about her day when she wasnt having such a great day. You did and thats what I liked” You tell him with a smile on your face

“After a while when I kept seeing you around town as well, coming out of the grocery store, hardware store and a charity benefit building. Is when I knew that I wanted to be apart of your every day routine because there arent many people who would enter a charity benefit building and drop off donations or volunteer for the sake of their heart” You continue while forming tears as well

“You have this stoic, strong, stubborn yet kind, trustworthy and loyal persona you have. I wanted to feel how it felt like to have someone like you because there arent that many men in the world like you. You arent afraid to show vulnerability at the times you feel the need to and arent afraid to express those feelings either” You add while trying to contain the sob that wants to escape from your mouth.

“I fell for you as well and I have loved you for sometime now. I felt happy, safe and excited knowing you would be there to bring me coffee, lunch and would be there to pick me up from work just so you know I would be coming home safely. I loved you the minute you came to my rescue and I do love you. I would be happy to be your old lady and I would have been disappointed if you didnt ask sooner” You finish while he reaches over to give you a kiss that he has been dying to do for a while now.

The both of you are happy to the extent that everything else came naturally. There was no awkward moments when he started to move in with you. There was always that feeling of being right at home with each other, and when spending as much needed quality time together is when neither of you asked about what to do.

Fridays would be having dinner together or at Gemma’s house. Saturdays would be spent in your music/library room together while he read the morning news paper in his chair and you would be in yours reading a book. In between sat a table that held a lamp and both of your coffees while the piano notes of Strauss played on the turn table. Sundays were spent in bed all day and not wanting to get out because of how loving it was to be in each others arms.

Filip always loved spending his weekends with you and he always made sure he had those weekends off from the club. They didnt mind since they knew how much he couldnt stay away from you and you wouldnt want to spend the weekends alone. He loved how everything was and he wouldnt want to trade this for anything in the world. You wouldnt want this to end anytime soon because its all you have ever wanted and you loved every single moment of it.