#also driving on the right side of the road is... fun

[chaotic-scraps]

The man who strides in is haggard and unkempt. He looks at you with a dead-eyed expression and a look of utter despair.

"So, uh, here goes," he says. "People say you have some kind of power. And I just... I'm wondering if you can check my red string."

"Of course," you say. The request is not unusual. "I'll even tell you who's on the other side, if you like."

You find the start of the string and motion for him to follow. He trails behind you wordlessly, his eyes glued to the floor.

Outside, you can see the string disappear into the horizon.

"We'll take my car," you say.

You drive down the road in silence, following the twists and turns of the string. Sometimes you lose sight of it and have to retrace your steps. It's a bit difficult to pinpoint one string in an area full of people.

Finally you reach a residential building. The string goes straight into the walls of the third floor.

"We can stop," the man whispers. He sags in his seat and buries his head in his hands.

"You recognize this building?" you ask.

He nods quietly.

You touch his shoulder gently. "Then why--"

"It'll never work," he mutters. "My roommate, he's so... Oblivious."

You tilt your head. "Have you shared your feelings?"

He laughs. "So, so many times. He just doesn't get it. He doesn't think... Two guys..." He sighs and shakes his head in resignation. "I need to move out."

"You don't have to explain it," you say gently.

"Do you want to come in for some tea?" he asks.

You nod.

You walk up the stairs behind him. The string pulls taught as you reach his floor. You walk down the hallway, glancing at the various apartments, and pause at the door that the string leads to.

"Why are you stopped over there?" he says. "I live over here."

You blink, then follow him. He hesitates at the door. "I think he's home," he says.

"He can't be. The string leads down the hall," you say.

He opens the door. "Oh. Hey, roomie," he says.

His roommate waves back.

He gestures for you to sit.

You shake your head. "I have to tell you something," you whisper.

"Don't worry, he's got a headset on and he can't hear you right now," the man says.

"He's not your soulmate," you say.

"What?" he squawks.

You look at the string. It pulled taught straight into the wall.

"Come out to the hallway with me," you say. You knock on the door the string leads you to.

The man who answers says, "Oh no. Is your roommate being dumb again?"

Your client hesitates. He experiences a moment of realization.

"Oh. Y-yeah," he says.

"I got your favorite snacks," says the man who answered. "Also I need to share this new show with you. I know you'll love it."

Your client looks at you uncertainly. You smile.

"Oh, you're, um, welcome to join too," the man who answered says.

"No, you two have fun," you say with a knowing smile.

Your client smiles. "Thanks."

Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

save me SMG4 episode save me

(the following is my live reaction:)

moo-stache moo-stache moo-stache

why do I feel like Pedro's going to be here?

"bruh Pedro was just a one-time thing." they literally killed off Mickey, ANYTHING can happen

KAIZO YOU'RE BACK HI

OMG please tell me someone from the Team saw this fan animation and put it in the episode as a nod to the animator, that would be awesome!!!

btw great fan animation, go check it out if you haven't [link]

YAYYYY, c'mon Mario you gotta spend time with your brother :)

also I need to find a playthrough of this game while I work

whoops my hand slipped [*makes 4 say "I should've chosen the USB over you, 3"*] :)

Hey Shroomy :D ....oh *western spaghetti flashbacks*

like seriously, I can't hear that audio the same way again

helicopter helicopter (copter)

oh hey swag *he fades away* NOOOOOO

well, digging did (mostly, sorta) help the last episode

OMG HI HI HI MY SILLIES

Three, why are you here if you think it's stupid? unless... 🫵 🏳️‍🌈⁉️

it's giving "I'm only here to support my boyfriend's interests", like I'm starting to believe that they truly are dating behind the scenes

they're on a date, your honor 💙💜

and there they go bickering again smh /affectionate

I'd like to think that ever since Four drives a forklift, that's just his method of transportation. screw the car, we're taking this baby out for a spin :)

Mario, you need to be ✨forklift certified✨

sorry, just Three's gayass poses give me life

actually yeah why is the line not moving?

the boys :)

also that walk animation tho

HOW LONG IS THIS LINE?!

also c'mon Three, show us your dance moves :D

oooooh that editing i love that

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING

now that they've mentioned it, why are there so many conventions happening at the same time? hmmmmm *game theory theme starts playing*

SMG3: "Maybe they're lining up to go to your mom's house. That line's usually pretty long." DAYUM THREE

"the line doesn't end" ayo wtf????

shroomy, you've eaten mushrooms before and you had no problem with that

....it really is the end of the world huh

ONE WEEK LATER?!?!?!?

"there is no end" "the end will come" me, sitting in the corner: hmmmmmmmmm

whelp, it's confirmed, I kin Four now

Three's not going coo co crazy, he's just vibin' :)

THIS IS WARRRRRR

this whole fighting scene omg it's SO good!

....WOTFI? ok no :P

AWWW THAT WAS ACTUALLY SWEET DUDE

CAN WE PLEASE GET A HUG? FOR ME SPECIFICALLY?

.... yeah uh Boopkins, you're going to have to explain what the hell you mean by that

not that it's surprising, we've been through a lot. just another Tuesday (or Saturday in this case)

MY HEART CAN'T TAKE ALL THIS FLUFF

HUG HUG HUG

THAT'S MY BOYS

RAVE PARTY [*dances*]

....sonic, is that you? sorry, my mind is still in the sonadow generations phase so I can't unsee them

:O wait, Boopkins, what did you mean by that?

MARTY?!?!? WTF

SMG4: "Don't worry, Mario. There's one way we can fix this." Beat the shit out of him...? YEAH I KNEW IT HAHA

*explodes*

and congrats to samgagmincho for your art featured at the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

This was a fun episode, I loved it!! Seeing my boys is always a plus and I appreciate the return of some side characters. With how the world is right now, I really needed this episode. So, thanks Team, for keeping my spirits up.

I just enjoyed watching my silly little guys doing silly little adventures. Traffic is a nightmare so I don't blame Mario in the slightest. Anyway, 3 and 4, how was your date? /silly

Can we just talk about the animation? It was so good!!! You really see the quality they put in, especially in that fighting scene. I didn't expect MARTY of all people to be the cause of all this. I honestly thought it was going to be a gag of something harmless just being in the middle of the road for no reason (like a turtle or smth) and the Crew being like "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" but NOPE, Marty was here and apparently A SORCERER?! I really shouldn't be surprised, what am I talking about here. And ofc the OG duo immediately beating the shit out of him is so fucking funny to me. He didn't die (I know that), but he's definitely going to be more relevant in the future.

...puzzlevision 2? ok I'm sorry

SMG4 show and jokes aside, I hope you all are ok. No matter what happens, we'll stick together. Don't give them the satisfaction that they want. You aren't alone, and we'll keep on fighting.

Going to be a Sonic fan here, Sonic 06 is famously known to be... augh. But there is a good moment with Shadow that I think is relevant now:

Mephiles (the villain of the game): "It's futile. The world will betray you. Why fight at all? Why risk your life for those who will persecute you later?" Shadow: "If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight like I always have."

Take care, my dear fellows, and I'll see you all in my next post!! Hmmm, there is "no end" [*game theory intro plays*]

[aztarion]

Give me some fun facts about Soledad rn or I’ll do something…dunno what yet…

im sorry i took so long getting to this T_T thank you for asking!!! this went off-road many times with me overthinking it i just couldn't save it but hopefully it's still readable, i tried to do a mix of character and meta while not repeating anything from prev asks and then it kind of morphed into a weird bio lmao

her full name is Solona ‘Sol’ ‘Soledad’ Castillo; born 1/11/72 and raised in soledad, california, until her parents moved to sierra vista, arizona. died embraced 1/11/98, so forever 26 (and chronologically a fresh 48 during the events of Night Road).

by that time in 2020 her mom and dad have both passed and her older brother is 52; he runs their dad’s mechanical repair workshop there. she absolutely still does the sad little drive-by late at night every couple of months if she's in the area on a job (surgical mask on and hood up of course). i hc that julian, while keeping an occasional spying eye on her during the 10 yr absence, also looks out for her brother and sends business his way unbeknown to her lol

she ended up 3/3 fully blood bonded to julian in the beginning while they worked for the cam, and julian was 2/3 bonded to her. his “wasn't it romantic?” comment -- yeah literally too romantic, get back to work and feed the big underground nosferatu both of you 😤 i like that headcanon personally as another reason why he would cut contact so suddenly with sol when they were in a relationship — to break the bond on both sides; he could obsess strictly over 2100X and her desires would be completely her own again

another headcanon i'm sorry... after the diablerie of aila and the intense guilt that came with the act, plus julian (her sire) abandoning her and essentially straining and forcing their bond to fade, she gains the bulimia derangement. i paired that with the siren predator type lmfao. so very um dramatic all around when shes having a bad night. she restricts to bagged blood for like ten years working as a courier and just resigns herself to being perpetually dour and unsatisfied. i like to write her easygoing and much more lively when she's with julian during their work for the local camarilla, like the reality of her new condition hasn’t really sank in because omg julian's sooo fun and woah this world is crazy but at least julian's here he's gonna change everything or something (she believed in his vision and ideals even if she didn't fully grasp the scope at that time -- like she was on board at least. bless her she had 2 intelligence). she then becomes very muted pre-night road while the bond fades and the uglier, lonelier facets of being a vampire surface; having to pull together an independent undead existence for herself, trying to control her beast while feeding exclusively on bagged blood as job payment, then a little more tearing at the seams upon arriving in tucson during night road (resentment, guilt, anger, desire, longing, hunger for something that won't have a plastic aftertaste, all rushing back and blurring together at once; not so good a grasp on those when she’s been keeping herself numb and isolated and constantly on the move for a decade). behind everything she is desperate for connection

she has a good control on her beast thanks to that (monastic? lmao) decade (and high willpower/composure/resolve), until returning to tucson and stirring aila’s presence; the strange link to lettow, julian showing up, old memories and feelings that aren't even always her own now gathering on this very carefully crafted veneer like plaque. also suddenly having a ghoul and her own assets to worry about kind of freaks her out due to her own existential uncertainty and not really trusting herself. not even really knowing who she is. and she really likes elena right off the bat; she usually puts herself in more danger as to not risk her ghoul in the exact situations one would find themselves needing a damn ghoul in — she is literally the worst kindred ever in terms of priorities and self-preservation

speaking of her beast, it's very much that of a scorpion or snake… yes blunt-object-to-the-back-of-the-head-symbolism with some of her tattoos 😭 she stays lowkey, tries not to put herself under circumstances that would provoke or overly strain it, can keep it in check relatively well due to avid practice being a loner control freak, but when it snaps it's like an inland taipan. actually one of my fav moments playing with her in night road: so she chooses to continue feeding on blood bags in tucson, but when she finally had the opportunity to indulge with her predator type and a live target in dallas, she fucking got a critical success and killed them T_T this was after impulsively kissing julian back at the apartment d'espine allows you to stay at while in the area too. real in-character off-the-rails moment rip

i mentioned before but under the composed exterior she tries to present, she intensely seeks connection to something or someone. unfortunately the way she sees it: lettow is drawn to her because of the remnants of aila lingering within her -- also she literally ate his girlfriend, she's still not ok with that even if he forgives her because of course i gave my vampire oc morals and a guilty conscience (meanwhile cobie is eating people whole like twice a day); julian has no issue using her for whatever despite his affections, and elena is literally blood bonded to her, which sol is constantly thinking about elena's feelings and best interests — its a little bit of a sore spot for past reasons...

she gets on well with dove and begrudgingly really likes carlos (they absolutely cuss eachother out in very aggressive spanish one minute but he will pass her the roach the next) and she simped so bad for invidia caul — i think sol’s type is just a combo of super intelligence + willingness to engage in unethical experimentation lmfao. she's like omg noooo i don't understand wtf you're saying and that's sexy to me also your actions make me feel bad and are very ‘end-justifies-the-kind-of-morally-bankrupt-means’ but i cannot deny if they work out the ‘end’ would be really beneficial to kine and kindred... woe… hashtag conflicted and a little turned on. but she's very drawn to people who are idealistic or driven in an inherent ‘i want to help then i'll have purpose’ way. also the thrill. omg im just psychoanalysing her at this point sorry. this bitch would easily be indoctrinated into a cult is what it all boils down to + the extreme loyalty means she'd probably end up the cult leader's right-hand arm man his everything his confidant his best friend his silly rabbit 🤦‍♀️

also a follower in the streets but more of a leader in the sheets who said that

ok random stuff... she has those brown eyes that when she was human would glare almost red-orange when caught in straight sunlight; super deep chestnut, it only comes through under certain fluorescents these nights

very thick long hair; naturally has a kink/wave to it, quickly prone to returning to that state even when straightened, esp in the southwest's heat. usually loose when in tucson or dressing up, or braided ponytail on the road/job which i am so afraid to draw

nails are sharp like mini claws unless she’s specifically clipped them after rousing. they extend obscenely when she pops protean. i need to draw her fangs but they’re feline/kittenish: weirdly long and thin like staple punches, and again when she pops protean they extend like a snakes

her character color scheme runs warm-dark: black, brown, ochre, sienna, umber, burnt orange, deep shades of red, and maybe some random olive. style-wise it’s a mixed bag of practical minimalist and sleek; street and active wear, the occasional gold-ruby-emerald or leopard print dolce & gabbana-esque gaudy accent. very feminine on top; skin tight, low cut, corseted or cropped, paired with something oversized; men’s beaten-soft leather jackets, vintage driving jackets, or blazers. pants go either way: form fitting or baggy and belted depending on whatever silhouette she wants to cut. think of like the swaggiest 70s cuban drug lord/80s gangster restyled on 90s supermodel Naomi Campbell or something. with formal-wear i really like her in off-shoulder stuff. i try to draw her tattoos more in art bc it makes her more fun to look at but as a courier she wears driving gloves and long pants/boots to cover them up, and baseball caps or large sunglasses (yes at night. loser) to keep herself mostly unidentifiable

THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT MY BLORBO!!!! :'3

prev info/asks jic: 0 , 1 , 2

[delicatebluebirdruins]

incoming ramble

i might have to play the whole game again as I had it on demo played it for over 2 hours (the demo ends when Angie leaves and we finish talking to Merediths dad)

and with the message at the start about save data carrying over with I got the game. and I have done the thing with Mortimer the cat and funnily enough the achievement didn't pop so I am going to have to do it again?

[grimminsanity]

Oh hey, lost my right eye at the beginning of the year, and literally every single thing that's written here is a full-on truth I've come to realize and experience. Long story short, my eye got punctured by a pipe that broke while clearing some snow in winter, and I got an ennucleation to have it removed and got an occular implant in.

I've still got my eye muscles - now connected to my implant - and my tear ducts, so I can still cry, though it happens a bit more on my right than my left now. The people not realizing you're half blind is definitely a thing. My parents were with me every step of the way, and they still forget I have trouble in low light and can startle me if they come up on my right.

Some other things I've noticed for anyone curious:

1. I used to have very good night vision, could adjust very quickly, and often took point on night walks with my mom. After I lost my eye, though, being in low light conditions is really hard for me sometimes? It's connected to the depth perception thing, I think, and everything starts to sort of blend in together for me. Dark rooms, even with a slight light somewhere, also cause issues because, again, it takes ages to adjust, and I bump into a lot of things. I've learned to map out spaces a lot faster now because of it.

2. Connected with number 1, driving on roads that shift from being clear to be surrounded by trees is... not fun. It takes my eye a little longer to adjust to lighting, so shifting between shaded and sunny places while driving is not fun. I tend to drive a little slower to compensate in those places.

3. Connected to number 3. and to the previous comments about being a safer driver, - which is true, actually! I've slowed down a lot and consider taking turns a lot more now - It's not harder for me to drive, persay, but it is a bit more of an inconvenience. Considering i live in a country that drives on the right side of the road, me losing my right eye means I've lost half of my perception of the road to an extent? The frame that hold my windshield blocks out a part of my remaining vision, so I actually have to lean to my right in my seat a lot more when taking curves or turns because I just can't see the full road. If anyone is driving towards me around a blind curve, it's gives me a little heart attack each time, and I have to correct myself if I'm too close to the center.

4. I'm an artist and drawing traditionally has become a bit more difficult to since I have to angle myself in a way that has me looking down straight at the paper as much as I can. Makes it harder when I have huge sizes of paper to work on school projects and have to use a big drawing board to lean on since I don't have a desk big enough for that. Causes a strain on my back as well as my neck because I've gotten used to sitting very stiffly in my chair to keep the right viewpoint of my paper.

5. Like mentioned above, I now have to have people actively tell me or point out things if I they want me to get or see something because I don't know what they can mean? I get frustrated cause they forget to say something, and then I get snappy if they get snappy with me instead. I literally need things to be pointed out to me.

6. The implant is basically a ball that gets put into your eye socket, and the prosthetic is essentially like a super thick contact lens that gets molded to the shape of implant and eye socket. You'll need to get them cleaned yearly after the first year or so and get the fitting checked every year or two because the prosthetic will settle and not fit as well as before. Connected to that, your prosthetic can move with your implant! Some move better than others. Mine moves well with small mini movements of my implant and slight shifts of the eye - looks very natural! - but if I suddenly look to my up or around me without moving my head, like the corner of my eye, you can immediately tell I've got a fake eye. Throws people off sometimes!

I'm sure there's a few other things I've missed, - or just not realized, really - so I'll leave it here for now. It does make me feel seen though to know that other monocular people are also experiencing things I'm realizing I now get to live with!

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[rafecameronssl4t]

How about Pope/JJ having a crush on Topper’s younger sister which is also Rafe’s girl and him making sure he knows his place and the fact that she’s his girl. Maybe she’s the island sweetheart and she’s nice to everyone, and sometimes she hangs out with the pogues (despite her brother and boyfriend hating that) and Rafe noticed how the boy looks at her and decides to put on a little show to prove she’s his girl 🫣🥹

Get in losers, we’re going shopping || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: This was so fun to write thank u for the request 🫶

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, possesive/jealous!rafe, if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 1,837

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

Divider by @yoonitos

mood board

As you drive along, a smile creeps across your face when you notice JJ and Pope walking on the side of the road. You slow your car, matching their pace, which causes them to exchange puzzled glances before coming to a halt.

Rolling down your window, you lift your sunglasses, locking eyes with the two boys. Their confusion quickly shifts to recognition, and a mix of surprise and curiosity spreads across their faces.

“Hey boys,” you greet them with a smile. “Oh—hey, y/n,” Pope stammers, making you giggle. “This your new car?” JJ asks, patting the sleek Porsche. You hum in response, “want a ride?” you offer sweetly.

The boys exchange a quick glance before sprinting to the passenger side, shoving each other. In the end, Pope manages to snag the seat, and you laugh at their antics.

“I’ll sugar momma you guys today,” you wink at them, moving the stick into gear. They grin widely, and you drive off, the engine purring smoothly. “So, where are we—” Pope starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Rafe’s name flashes on the display, and the boys visibly tense up, their smiles fading as discomfort sets in.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say, your voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution. “Hi baby, whatcha doin’? Thought I might come over to yours in a few minutes, gotta see Top for something too” Rafe’s voice fills the car, a smooth and confident drawl.

“I’m out right now, and I won’t be home for a bit,” you reply, tapping your finger against the steering wheel. The boys sit in tense silence, trying to act nonchalant but clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. The cheerful energy from earlier is all but gone, replaced by a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

It’s silent on the other end before Rafe speaks up again. “Right, where—where are you right now? You with anyone?” he stutters, his tone shifting to one of suspicion. Pope’s eyes widen, and he freaks out. “I don’t think we should be here right now,” he mutters under his breath. Eyes wide, you slap a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, dude!” JJ whisper-yells, trying to keep his voice low. You throw JJ a look that clearly says he isn’t helping.

Hearing the voices, Rafe stands up from his seat, his eyebrows furrowed. “Who was that?” he questions sharply. You glance at the boys, feeling the weight of the situation.“Uh, I’m just with Pope and JJ,” you quietly admit, bracing yourself for Rafe’s reaction.

There’s a brief, tense silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear Rafe’s jaw clench. You know how your boyfriend feels about you hanging out with them, and the tension in the car thickens as you wait for his response.

“Are you serious right now? How many times have I told you I don’t want you hangin’ around with them?” He angrily says. You roll your eyes, already feeling the annoyance building. “Rafe, I’m not having this conversation with you right now, okay?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“No. We’re having this conversation right now. Does Topper even know you’re hanging out with those Pogues?” Rafe snaps back, his tone leaving no room for argument. You let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at Pope and JJ, who look increasingly uncomfortable.

“Rafe, not right now. I’m hanging up, okay? Hanging up right now—” you begin, but Rafe interjects, “Don’t you dare—”Before he can finish his sentence, you press end call. The car falls into an uneasy silence as Pope and JJ sit there quietly, processing what just happened.

“Uhm, so that just happened,” Pope says, staring out at the road in front of him as you chuckle. “I’m so sorry you guys had to hear that,” You apologetically say, biting your bottom lip anxiously, “Nah, don’t even worry about it,” JJ reassures you as you smile at him through the rearview mirror. “Do you guys wanna get some gelato? I’m craving some right now,” You offer as you turn into the main road of Kildare.

~

Opening the door to your house, you pause for a moment as your eyes fall on Topper and Rafe lounging on the sofa. Topper is scrolling through his phone, barely glancing up at your entrance, while Rafe reclines with a smug look on his face.

“Where have you been?” Topper asks, his gaze still fixed on his phone. You hesitate, glancing at Rafe, whose smirk only deepens. “Uh, did Rafe not tell you?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion since you for sure thought that he would tell your brother who shared the same disdain towards JJ and Pope.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Tell him what?” he says innocently, leaning back further into the cushions. “Oh, nothing. I was just hanging out with my friends,” You say as you slip off your sandals, Topper giving you and Rafe a suspicious look.

“Yeah, okay. How’s your new car, by the way? Have you scratched it yet? Cause if you did, you know Mom and Dad will throw a fit,” Topper says casually, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. You roll your eyes, feeling the familiar sting of his passive-aggressiveness. Without responding, you turn to leave the room.

Rafe gets up from the sofa and follows behind you, his expression unreadable. “How does my little sister end up with a Porsche for her first car anyway? It’s fuckin’ unfair,” Topper’s voice jeered from the adjacent room, his tone laced with mockery. “Shut up, Topper!” you retorted, frustration seeping into your voice as Rafe let out a soft, amused snort.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” you ask Rafe who shuts your door behind him as you set your shopping bags down on the ground. “Can I not see my girlfriend?” he says with a playful smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he lounges comfortably on your bed.

You pause, studying his expression for any hint of underlying motive. “I just thought you wouldn’t wait for me after I told you who I was hanging out with,” you say cautiously, carefully avoiding mentioning JJ or Pope by name.

Rafe’s response is nonchalant, almost dismissive. He simply shrugs, as if your concerns are of little importance to him. “Don’t care,” he replies coolly, his tone betraying no trace of emotion. You lean against your window, raising an eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Really?” you say, not quite believing him.

He hums, his expression unchanged. “Yeah, really.” You slowly nod, still feeling a bit skeptical. “You coming to the party tonight, right?” Rafe speaks up, breaking the tension as you throw your new clothes into your hamper. “I didn’t even know there was a party tonight, but sure,” you shrug, before collapsing on top of Rafe, who exaggerates a loud groan in response, playfully protesting your weight.

~

Getting out of the car, you could already feel the curious stares people were giving your way as Topper and Rafe walked up behind you. The beach was buzzing with activity, and you took in the scene, noting the mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Scanning the crowd, you quickly spot JJ and Pope hanging out with a few others near the bonfire. They notice you and wave enthusiastically. A smile spreads across your face as you lift your hand, ready to wave back, but before you can, Rafe grabs your hand firmly.

“C’mon, let’s get some drinks,” he mutters against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. His tone is casual, but the grip on your hand leaves little room for argument. You glance back at JJ and Pope, who are now watching the interaction closely, their expressions shifting to concern.

Reluctantly, you let Rafe guide you towards the makeshift bar set up on the sand. Topper falls into step beside you, his presence adding to the tension. “Here,” Rafe passes you a drink as you gratefully take it.

“What are you looking at?” you ask, staring at Rafe’s side profile. He turns to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulls you closer. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he mutters, his tone trying to sound reassuring but tinged with irritation.

Following his earlier line of sight, you glance over and spot JJ and Pope. They’re laughing with a group of friends, seemingly unaware of Rafe’s intense gaze moments ago. Your stomach tightens as you realize he’s been watching them.

Rafe’s grip on you tightens ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature. You look back at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression is a mask of casual indifference. The contrast between his actions and his words leaves you feeling uneasy,

“Let’s go,” Rafe suddenly stands up, grabbing your hand abruptly, “What?” As soon as Rafe is standing up with you following along, you hear the whistles and low muttering of people. “Everyone shut the hell up!” Topper groans, watching his little sister and bestfriend walk off.

“Rafe, where are we going?” you ask, glancing back at the crowd, feeling the weight of their stares and the palpable tension in the air. “Shh, it’s fine, we’re just going back to your car,” Rafe says, pulling you closer. He leans in to kiss you, and you feel his smirk against your lips. His hands begin to wander, moving further down your back, his touch both familiar and possessive.

“Rafe,” you pull back slightly, your voice tinged with concern. “It’s fine, yeah? Please?” He looks at you with a familiar intensity, his eyes pleading yet commanding. It’s a look you know all too well, one that mixes affection with an undercurrent of control.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you unlock the car and gently push him before settling down on his lap. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close with an almost possessive firmness. You can feel the strength in his grip, the way he presses you against him, as if asserting his claim over you.

“You’re mine, y’know that, right?” he mutters against your neck, his breath warm and slightly ragged. “Mhm, I know that,” you mumble, your hands running through his hair. His fingers dig into your waist, drawing you even closer. His scent, a mix of cologne and the salty sea air, envelops you, creating an intoxicating mix of comfort and confinement.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing him better access to your neck as he continues to murmur possessive reassurances.

~

“Y/n?” You lift your head just as you finish zipping up your shorts. “Hey—” The greeting dies on your lips when you find yourself face to face with JJ. “What are you doing here?” you ask, awkwardly chuckling and smoothing down your hair. The sound of Rafe exiting the car behind you adds to the tension.

JJ’s eyes trace your appearance before flicking behind you to Rafe. “We were just about to, uh, leave,” he says, scratching his head. You nod awkwardly. “Hey, Y/n,” Pope greets as he joins the scene, sensing the uncomfortable vibe. You manage a smile at him. “Hi—” you start, but your words falter as Rafe steps up beside you, still buttoning his shirt. JJ and Pope stand there awkwardly, waiting, while Rafe ignores their presence.

“Did you guys have fun?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood. Rafe finally looks up, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at the boys. “Yeah, yeah, it was fun, I guess,” Pope replies hesitantly. JJ’s pained smile shifts between you and Rafe. “You guys sure did, huh?”

Rafe snorts at JJ’s comment, prompting you to slap his chest lightly. There was awkward silence before you speak up, “Did you guys want a lift back?” you offer.

Before they can respond, Rafe interjects, “Baby, you’ve had a few drinks already. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”JJ rolls his eyes at Rafe. “It’s fine, we’ll find our own way home,” Pope says, his smile tinged with sadness. You nod slowly.

“Yeah, you do that,” Rafe says dismissively, pulling you back towards the group. “Come on, babe.” You glance back at JJ and Pope one last time, mouthing a silent apology as they briefly wave goodbye. The expressions on their faces stay with you—a mix of disappointment and hurt that you can’t shake off.

[fastandcarlos]

"Brake! Brake! Brake!" : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: putting you in the simulator was supposed to be a bit of fun for charles, but not even he could prepare himself for the terror of being spectator to this

“My love, you need two hands on the wheel,” Charles told you, standing just beside you as you tried your best to figure out what all the buttons meant, “just drive, I’ll help you with all of those and tell you when you need them.”

“Which one is the brake? I’m gonna crash!” You cried out, entering the first corner on the simulator, your heart was racing, feet tapping around as you tried to find what you were looking for.

“The wall!” Charles yelled, hiding behind his hands as he watched your car veer towards the side as you lost control, unable to concentrate too much.

The sudden feeling of a hand wrapping around your ankle showed you where the brake was as Charles moved your foot onto it. Your mind was racing as you tried to do a million and one things. Behind you, Charles tried his best to help you, but you were far too out of your depth to listen.

It was almost funny for him as he watched you, taking for granted how hard his job was.

“I give up with this, it’s stupid,” you huffed as you almost went into the gravel again, desperately trying to save your car. “I’m not built for all of this driving, can’t I quit?”

“Come on, you’re still only learning,” Charles reminded you, kneeling down so he was by your side. His smile was warm, as funny as he found it watching you, he also knew just how much you wanted to learn more about what he does, giving it a go for yourself.

You carried on battling for a few more moments, luck far from on your side, until a pair of hands hovered over yours against the steering wheel.

“We’ve got this, we’re a team,” Charles whispered as he felt you turn to face him, leaning across and helping you steer the vehicle.

As soon as Charles took a hold the whole thing felt easier, whilst he focused on navigating, you were able to accelerate and brake at just the right moment.

Somehow a few moments later you found yourself crossing the line, surprising yourself that you hadn’t forced your car into the pits to retire.

“That was amazing for a first attempt,” Charles chimed, trying his best to reassure you, “you’ll be a natural soon enough,” he added, kissing the side of your head.

With a bit of persuasion, you decided to give another track a go, reluctantly agreeing when Charles suggested giving Monaco a try. It was your home after all, surely you could remember the roads, but behind the wheel of the simulator, you confidently forgot everything.

“This time just try and worry about one thing at a time, don’t stress too much,” Charles instructed, kneeling back where he was before by your side.

You nodded as you made yourself comfortable, watching for the lights to go out to signal for you to start your race. As soon as they did you slammed your foot down, taking yourself by surprise with how quickly the car shot forwards.

A squeal came from you, a snigger coming from Charles, knowing that you were far from prepared. Your surprise left you struggling for control once again, almost forgetting that the entire track wasn’t straight.

“Brake! Brake! Brake!” A voice cried out from beside you.

Just in time your foot hit the brake, turning the car before you flew off the track. Like before, you barely made it around the track in one piece, glancing at your suffering boyfriend as soon as the race finished.

“You’re amazing at a lot of things, but I don’t think racing is one of them,” Charles joked, reaching across and taking a hold of your hand as he took it off of the steering wheel. Your head immediately nodded in agreement with Charles, it was fun to support him, but you were much better off doing that in the comfort of the paddock.

Charles loved you for trying, he loved how hard you worked to enjoy the things he loved, but even he couldn’t lie and say you were a good driver.

“I’ll leave the grand prix to you,” you laughed, stepping out of the simulator, “I think my strengths lie elsewhere.”

“I can think of a few strengths,” Charles whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

Your eyes rolled at the knowing expression that was on his face, but you allowed your arms to wrap around his neck anyway.

Charles closed the distance between you both, pressing a kiss against your lips. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?” Charles innocently asked, chuckling to himself as you continued to stare at him, knowing Charles all too well, knowing exactly what he was hinting at too.

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know?”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[snoopyearss]

Husband/Family-Man!Nanami

A/n: Gege confirmed Nanami wanting to get married and starting a family so here some head canons of Nanami and his family. I’m so emotional about him right now he’s actually the love of my life

CW: Fluff! Tooth rotting sweetness idk

Husband/Family-Man!Nanami who calls off work at any minor inconvenience when it comes to his family. His daughter fell off the slide and got a minor scratch? He leaves work to make sure she’s okay. You catch a cold? He calls off work to take care of you. Dance recital? Work is an afterthought. Soccer game? What is work?

Husband/Family-Man!Nanami who secretly gets excited to come home to a full house. As soon as he unlocks the door, he sees his little girl running to greet him and give him a big hug and a sloppy wet kiss. “Daddy!” She squeals, pigtails bouncing up and down as she runs to latch onto him. He squats down to match her height and opens his large arms to engulf her in a warm embrace. Whatever happened at work that day didn’t matter anymore. The stress of the day was melted away because of a miniature girl version of him.

Husband/Family-Man!Nanami who loves family outings. Saturday mornings would be the time you three would run errands. Getting new clothes for your daughter, new furniture or decor for the house, or groceries for the week to come. Nanami would push the shopping cart while he watches you hold your daughter in your arms showing her all the different clothing options. Saturday afternoons would also be for doing more fun things too. The three of you would go to the aquarium together. It was your daughter’s favorite place. Nanami would hold her in his arms and help her name all the fish. You would take pictures of the both of them and send it to him later.

Husband/Family-Man!Nanami who secretly loves the attention he gets from other people when they see him with his family. He loves the adoring stares he gets when others watch how you three operate as a family. “Is that your daughter?” One elderly lady said to him as him and your daughter took a day trip to the library. “Yes. She is. Honey, can you say hello?” He gently takes her arm to wave at the lady. “Hello dear! She’s adorable! What a sweet child. You’re doing a wonderful job with her. Not many kids like to read these days.” She chuckles and walks off. Little did she know, it make Nanami’s heart swell.

Husband/Family-Man!Nanami who drives you all back home after a road trip. With nothing but the road lights to illuminate yours and your daughter’s faces. He looks in the rear view mirror to see his little girl sound asleep in her fastened car seat, clutching onto the plushie he bought for her a few days before she was born. He smiles at the drool slowly escaping her mouth. Nanami then turns to you in the passenger side, with your head resting against the door and hair scattered across your face. His eyes trail down to your left hand with the ring twinkling at every street light that passes. At a stop light, he gently brushed strands of hair away from your face. “I love you,” he whispers. “Thank you for giving me what I’ve always wanted.”

[fictionalmenxyn]

🝊𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫🝊

Pairing: cop!rafe x reader

Warnings: language and suggestive

🝊🝊🝊

You were on your way home, yes, you may have been going a few numbers over the limit. It was a 55 and you were going 60, not too bad. But you saw the famous red and blue lights flash along with the ‘woop woop’ of the sirens.

You mentally smacked yourself, also rolling your eyes at the slight fact the cop was being over dramatic. You indicated and pulled over.

You roll down your window, reaching over into the glove box grabbing your license and registration. You put them in your lap as you waited for the officer to walk over.

You see the figure, through the side mirror walking over. You double check over the things in your lap. The officer spoke “hey sweetheart”

You head whipped to the side to look out the window. Seeing Rafe “Rafe?! The fuck are you doing pulling me over??” He grinned. His thumbs tucked into his tactical vest “someone was goin’ over the limit, baby.” You roll your eyes “you do the exact same and you’re a cop” he chuckled “I know, I just saw your plate and wanted to see you, while I’m on shift.” You nodded “touché… so officer? Any big things happen today??”

He leans down so he can talk to you better “hmm not much, few speeding, one dui… you know, the usual…” you nod. “And do officers take a kiss as an apology for going over five above the limit?” He smirked “hmm for now, yeah, officer Cameron would take that as a temporary apology…” you rolled your eyes. You lean out of the window and give him a peck. “Not good enough, sweet girl.” “What?!” “You heard…” “babe…” Rafe grinned “not babe, its officer, right now”

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. “Alright, officer…” you give him and another kiss. This time a proper and longer one. He pulled away “thank you” he stood straight again. He glanced to the road then to you. His thumbs still tucked into the armpit of the tactical vest. “You’re lucky you’re cute, I’m lettin’ ya off this time, no ticket for you pretty girl…” you look up at him. “Bullshit, you just don’t wanna do the paperwork.” You grin as he chuckles and shake his head “I like your logic, babe…” you smile “thank you…”

“That doesn’t mean you’re getting away with it when I get home…” “gonna need to teach you a lesson on how you shouldn’t sass the officer…I saw the eye rolls, can’t hide it from me, sweetheart” you blush slightly. “You can’t hide that blushin’ either…”

A voice over the radio speaks, Rafe looks back to you. Quickly leaning down and pressing two quick kisses to your soft lips. “Gotta go, see you later, I love you” you smiled “I love you too, go get those bad guys.” You smirk as he playfully rolled his eyes.

As he walks away, he calls out “don’t forget I’m not done with you, baby!” You chuckle as you start your car up again.

You watch as he drives off, sirens and lights beaming. He speeds off, going to god knows what incident. You smile, you loved seeing him all geared up and in uniform. It did things to you, especially when he wore it while getting you ready for some fun. Or when he lets you wear his training clothes. Like his ‘OBX PD’ training tee. Or the sweatpants, he liked you lost in the shorts though.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home to you. If it wasn’t illegal to actually speed. You’d do it more just for him to pull you over. The half-assed stern look he’d give you for going over just a little bit. Or when the one time you did a quick break at an empty junction. You only did a quick stop at the ‘stop’ sign because no one was there. So you didn’t think you needed to stop and wait a few seconds. He taught you a good lesson on that one…

You were already in bed, wearing only his PD tee when he got home. Dropping his bags to the floor and taking off his heavy tactical vest. Kicking his boots off as he crawled into bed and on top of you.

He kissed you like he hasn’t seen you in weeks. Your tongues clashing. He moves down your jaw and marks up your neck. Then he moves up your neck and to your ear. He whispers “I still haven’t taught you a lesson about speeding have I?” You gasp as his knee goes between your legs. He smirked “words” “no, officer…” he smirked “you look so good in my tee baby..” he smashes his lips against yours.

And the night was only just beginning…

🝊🝊🝊

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Suggestive | JJK x GN!Reader Their Favorite Beauty Marks

CONTENT Fluff, suggestive, nothing explicit, implications of seggs, mostly just the jjk men being cute and in love with you, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOR NOTE Mostly based on the beauty marks I actually have! (Yes this is self indulgent!!!!) Also pretend that somehow Yuji is Sukuna's vessel but they have separate bodies idk LMAO

WORD COUNT: 999

Beauty marks, to you and your boyfriend, signified places you two liked to kiss each other in past lives. You both say “your past lives” because you’re both cheesy and madly in love so of course you’re soulmates. It makes you both chuckle but you both know you mean it. So where does your boyfriend soulmate like to kiss you?

GOJO SATORU

One on each shoulder

Satoru isn’t usually a stickler for symmetry but if he sneaks up behind you, arms snaking around your waist, he can’t give one beauty mark on your bare shoulder a kiss without giving the other the same! Then he proceeds to either lick you or kiss you at least 100 more times anywhere he likes or can reach. He’s just a brat that likes making you flustered and more. It’s a wonder how you aren’t covered in beauty marks.

GETO SUGURU

Right side of the forehead

Suguru is always walking curbside to the right of you in true gentleman fashion (people walk and drive on the left side of the street in Japan). Of course he’ll switch up depending on which side of the road you’re walking on but this just feels right, he’s just been doing it forever. He also sleeps on the right side of the bed. He really can’t explain it. But he just adores knowing you’re to his left and he loves giving you quick pecks on your forehead beauty mark… among many other types of kisses.

NANAMI KENTO

Inside of the wrist

Kento basically treats your body like a shrine, he worships it. He knows exactly which perfumes/scents you use and will buy you refills or recommend you new ones. They’re meant to be innocent gifts but sometimes he feels almost self indulgent taking a deep breath of your delicious scent along with the new scent he bought you. He always holds your hand, kisses the back of your hand, takes his intoxicating whiff of your smell, and gives you a kiss on the beauty mark on your wrist after it… or maybe some more, depending on the mood.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

Top of the left side chest

Toji is simultaneously very much a scary guard dog but also a cutie cuddly lap dog. He’s very serious and domineering when in public or when he needs to be but he’s always physically connected with you in some way when you’re alone. He really enjoys laying on top of you or to the side of you and just smashing his face into your chest, kissing at the beauty mark on the top of your left chest. It’s really endearing how he seems like he can’t ever get enough of you but unfortunately he also really knows how to tease you in this position he loves so much.

ITADORI YUJI

Left side of face/cheek

Yuuji is such a sweetie, he loves holding you with his dominant arm and it's why he’s always to your left. He also likes knowing that he could pick you up quickly if you were in danger or if just for fun. He sleeps on the left side of the bed because it’s closer to the door and he was so cute when he was innocently explaining “if a bad guy comes in I can easily WACK BOOM POW!” while punching the air. Always gives you quick pecks on your squishy cheek’s beauty mark before leaving, work, or bed. Sometimes the one before bed ends up setting a little bit of a different mood though…

RYOMEN SUKUNA

Right side of face/cheek

Sukuna and his favorite beauty mark on you are quite silly. You tease him and say “like vessel like curse!” since Yuji always kisses his partner on the left cheek and Sukuna kisses you on the right. Sukuna always frowns a bit but he admits its pretty funny. He just likes having his dominant arm free just in case he needs it to protect you (even his reasoning is similar to Yuji’s LOL). He sleeps on the right side of the bed but will commonly invade your space to cuddle and more (not that he’d ever admit that he likes cuddles).

KAMO CHOSO

Collarbone

Choso is very protective but also very babygirl, so anytime you’re together, he’s stuck to you. He looks like a baby otter or koala holding on to its mom. He’s fully latched onto you and puts his face into your collarbone. He understands why you have a beauty mark there, he’s there so often, it’s only natural! He’s a bit of a tease sometimes though when he takes advantage of tbe fact that your collarbone is extremely sensitive to his mouth.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

Right base of the neck

Megumi is a bit touch starved so when you’re alone, the man is never not touching or cuddling you somehow. This ends up in you two studying, taking naps, or sleeping with him spooning you. He loves your scent and warmth so he usually also buries his face into your shoulder, typically your right side. Since he’s there so much and refuses to leave (not that you mind) he’ll usually just give you little smooches on your beauty mark. Sometimes after a “nap” the skin around your mark is a bit bruised though.

TOGE INUMAKI

Tip of the nose

Inumaki isn’t a man of many words, he kind of can’t be. So among sending you silly texts, giving you notes, randomly breaking out into dance, or using sign language to sign you something dumb, he loves giving you kisses. His favorite is the tip of your nose because he thinks its so cute and also because sometimes when he’s wearing his uniform, he can only really touch noses with you since his mouth is covered. He’ll shake his head back and forth to keep rubbing his nose on yours before you both giggle. When his uniform comes off when you two are alone though, it’s a bit of a different story…

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[gghostwriter]

hi dear author! how are you?

I have a request for Spencer where reader has a head injury and passes out and Spencer's reaction to it and the aftermath. I found your fic around 15 mins ago and I'm in love with them<3

Thank you!!

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff Warning: Medical inaccuracies A/N: I’m sensing a pattern with the request writing I’m doing—most of them deal with a head injury of some sort but I am having fun trying to make it different the the earlier works. No further editing was done but I hope you enjoy it! Main masterlist

Bundle of Nerves. // Spencer Reid

The bright and playful disposition of your kindergarten students was one of things you looked forward to every Monday. How each student would go up to you to chatter about how their weekend went—family went to the park or to the library or to the beach—and how in return, they’ll ask if you also enjoyed the weekend as much as they did. 

But something seemed off today, you really couldn’t specify where it all started. Maybe it was you falling back to sleep after your alarm went off, or maybe it was you missing breakfast, or maybe it was just all of the above. 

Either way, everything was going sideways and it was just about to get worse. The lights seemed darker, the children’s voices were distorted, and the room was starting to sway. Feeling the need to sit down, you were only able to take a couple of steps to your desk before promptly fainting—smacking your forehead on the floor and the children screaming for help.

———

Spencer wasn’t one to wish for a case to land on JJ’s desk but at 1:30pm on a Monday, he found himself twiddling his thumbs and calculating his rocket launches using his expansive brain capacity—all paper filings done and submitted early. He swiveled to face Morgan who was caught red handed about to throw a paper clip in his direction. 

“Hey Kid,” he cleared his throat, trying to act nonchalantly. “You done with your paperwork?”

“Yeah, now I’m thinking of how to improve my rocket magic. Hey do you think if I add more—” 

The vibration of his phone on the table interrupted his sentence. His eyebrows furrowed as he took in the unregistered number. Curious but definitely wary, he pressed ‘accept’.

“Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Who is this?”

A female voice answered. “Hi Dr. Spencer Reid, I’m calling from Virginia State Hospital. Y/N had you listed down as her emergency contact. She was admitted—”

The remaining information all sounded muffled. His breathing was spiking up and all he could hear now was the rapid staccato beating of his heart. He couldn’t think straight. Is this what unknowing family members of victims feel when they receive a distress call? Like the rug was pulled under their feet? He couldn’t comprehend what to do, how to—

“Dr. Reid, are you still there?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes—yes, I’ll be there soon.”

Before the voice could say another word, he ended the call, was out of his desk, and up the steps to his unit chief’s office, SSA Aaron Hotchner. 

“Reid, what is it?” the stern BAU leader clocking in the distress painted on the genius’ face.

“I-it’s Y/N. She was admitted at hospital and—”

He nodded. “Go, Reid. I’ll explain to the team and HR.”

With a quick ‘thank you’, he ducked out of the bullpen to the elevator, grateful that he opted to drive to Quantico today rather than take his usual train route.

Maybe he should have borrowed the government owned SUV instead, he thought to himself when he turned to the main road and saw the congestion. Hotch would have understood, he just wasn’t sure how to explain that in paperwork but this counted as an emergency, right? It felt like a life or death situation to him—for him and for you. 

When he exited the bottleneck traffic, Spencer wanted to floor the gas. His foot itched to stomp on the accelerator and worry about the fines later. But the idea of getting caught, being pulled over, and wasting more precious seconds away from your side was enough for him to second guess it—that and his tight white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. 

He should have asked for more information over the phone call but the second his mind registered the words, it went to overdrive and out of the window—his emotions were running high and clouding every logical thought possible. He had an IQ of 187 but all he could think of was you. You, the love of his life. You, his fiancee, lying down on a hospital bed, alone and unconscious. Any man, no matter how smart they are, would react the same way he did when it involves a loved one.

He parked his car at the first slot he could find in the hospital parking lot and ran straight to the reception.

“I’m looking for Y/N. She was admitted a while ago. I-I’m her fiancee.” Spencer hurriedly introduced himself.

The nurse nodded once, stating your floor and room number. Without so much as an acknowledgement, he ran to the nearest elevator and willed it to open any faster.

Spencer felt like he ran a marathon by the time he found your room and seeing you there, lying on your bed—conscious, thank god—took a little weight off his chest. He breathed out your name in relief. “What happened? Did you—did you hit your head?”

Your hand gingerly touched the bandage on your forehead. “I think so. I started to feel faint so I was walking back to my chair. I must have hit my head on my way down—”

He took your hands into his, kissing it. “You had me so worried. Did the doctor say anything? Diagnosis? Cause? Treatment?”

“No. When I came to, only a nurse was here. She left to page the doctor but it’s okay—I feel fine now.”

Spencer opened his mouth, no doubt to chide you about minimizing your pain and health, but then the doctor walked in with a clipboard on hand.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Smith. How are we feeling?”

“She said she was feeling faint before she hit her head. Does she have a concussion? Why did she feel faint—was it stress? Hypoglycemia? Labyrinthitis? Vertebrobasilar insufficiency?” Spencer rattled off.

 “Well, your husband sure knows medical terminology. Are you a Doctor too?” the physician asked.

Spencer’s brows met in between, finding the whole interaction off-putting. Here he was about to have a nervous breakdown and your doctor was as calm as a cucumber. “Fiancee, actually, and yes Doctor, 3 Phds not MD.”

“Impressive, and to answer your questions, Doc. None of the above.” 

His eyes widened. “Then it could be hypo—” 

Dr. Smith smiled and shook his head. “It’s not that either.” He reached into his clipboard, removing a prescription pad, and quickly jotting down medicine. “Here you go. She’ll need to take a capsule a day and I suggest a healthy balanced meal, exercise, and plenty of bed rest.”

Spencer’s eyes widened when he realized what the chicken scratch handwriting said. 

“What—what is it?” You asked in worry as Spencer seemed to have glitched.

The doctor grinned at you.“Congratulations, you’re pregnant.” 

Silence. 

“I-I’m what?!” 

The doctor chuckled. “You’re 3 weeks along so you’re still in the early stages. Your body is still adjusting—the fainting spell was caused by change in your hormones and low blood pressure. I suggest you schedule an appointment with your OB/GYN as soon as possible and get ample rest—” he looked at the couple once more before exiting the room. “—congratulations, again.”

The tears that started to gather in your eyes seemed to bring Spencer back to life. “Oh love, are those—are those happy tears or—?” 

You nodded. “Happy tears, Spence. I can’t believe it!” 

He reached out to hug you to his chest. “I love you, Y/N. You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world.” 

You giggled. “I guess we have to tell your team about the baby genius on board, huh?” 

He laughed, remembering how Emily once asked him if he ever planned on having one and here he was about to become a father. 

You gasp, causing him to lean back and look at you with worry—did he hug you too tight? Did you feel— 

“I’m not going to fit in my wedding dress by then! Penny will have a fit! She had this vision and—” 

He leaned down to interrupt your ramblings. 

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you, especially if you're turning her into an aunt.”

You smiled, peering through your eyelashes. “Y’know we might have to find a new apartment soon. Just imagining how much shopping Penny would do for our baby genius even before he or she is born is making me shudder.”

He laughed. “Me too, love. Me too.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART I

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! this turned out pretty long so i will be splitting it into parts so it's easier. next part will be posted soon. i hope you all have as much fun reading this as i had writing it. enjoy!

part two

The breeze riffled through your hair as you drove, the sun warming your skin through the open windows. The Irish countryside stretching out before you, lush and green, with rolling hills and quaint villages dotting the landscape. The scent of wildflowers and the sound of nothing but the wind in the trees filled your senses.

It was rare, really. The silence, the feeling of complete freedom, and the solitude that enveloped you. A fleeting escape from the chaos of your everyday life.

The ping of your phone interrupted the peaceful moment. You tapped on the pop-up notification after briefly glancing at the directions to your destination. It was a message from Cillian. Well, two, actually. One was asking how far you were, and the other was a Spotify link followed by a question mark. Ever since he started hosting his bbc radio show, he's been sending you potential songs for his playlists to get your opinion. Not that he needs it anyway. But you always appreciate being included in his process.

Your lips curled into a smile as you clicked on the link. The familiar sound of The Blue Nile's "The Downtown Lights" flooded the car, instantly making you feel a wave of nostalgia. It's been ages since you've listened to that song. The synth-pop melody carries you up the pine-dotted path to where his house perches atop a hill, overlooking the crashing waves below. You've been here a couple of times, and yet it never gets less breathtaking. The Victorian architecture contrasting beautifully with the rugged coastline, creating a scene straight out of a painting.

The car glides right past the wrought iron gates, and you cut the engine in front of the stone steps leading up to the grand entrance. You shoot Cillian a quick text letting him know you're here, unbuckle your seat belt, and hop out of the car.

The June sun beats down on your skin instantly, heat radiating off the cobblestones as you open the backdoor to look through your bag for a hair tie. The smell of saltwater mingles with the sound of gulls overhead, sending you into sensory overload. "Gotcha," you mutter to yourself as you finally find the hair tie and pull your hair back into a loose bun.

"You drove here?" you hear him call out from behind you, his voice tinged with surprise. "And you're alone?" you turn around to see Cillian walking towards you, a curious expression on his face.

"I actually had to throw a tantrum to convince them to let me come alone," you reply with a chuckle, feeling a sense of pride at your small victory. "I was like, It's Ireland. What's the worst that could happen?"

Being who you are means being guarded against any potential danger or harm at all times, being driven to almost everywhere, and always having a security team around.

Cillian laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter and makes you want to hear it again and again. "Well, I'm glad you made it here in one piece, love," he says with a grin. "You're not a very good driver."

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You did regret your decision to drive from the airport 10 minutes later when you realized you were on the wrong side of the road. But he didn't need to know that.

"I made it in one piece, didn't I?" you playfully retort, trying to salvage your wounded pride. Cillian chuckles and shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye. You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. He looks good, you thought. Unbelievably good. Well rested. His jet black hair was perfectly styled, even though you know he didn't put any effort into it—the slightest hint of silver at the temples, his sharp jawline, and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. Though they looked a little tired, as if he had been through a lot since the last time you saw him.

You quickly avert your gaze, feeling a rush of heat on your cheeks.

"It's good to see you," you finally manage to say, trying to sound casual. Cillian's smile softens, and he replies, "It's good to see you too." He opens his arms, inviting you in for a hug. The soft fabric of his t-shirt brushes against your skin as you embrace him, and for a moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says, leading you towards the house. Once inside, you make your way to the kitchen. The house was quiet; you wondered if anyone else was home. Cillian's family wasn't by any means loud or boisterous, but the silence felt heavier than usual.

"You hungry, love?" Cillian asks, opening the fridge, pulling out a white ceramic container, and setting it up on the kitchen island. You take a seat on one of the stools while he stands across from you.

"For something sweet?" you smile, seeing the container filled with what seems to be a piece of strawberry sponge cake. His mom must've made it. "Always," you reply. He hands you a spoon and takes one for himself, the two of you sharing the dessert in comfortable silence.

Until he broke it.

"How was Madrid?" he asks softly.

"It was good, great crowd," you reply, taking another bite of the dessert. "But tiring," you add, feeling the exhaustion of the long trip settling in.

"How many nights did you perform?"

"Four."

"Jesus, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

Your eyes meet his; confusion clear in your expression. "You think that's a lot? Didn't you used to do four or five nights in a row of the same play?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "for months…?

"Yeah, but that was a different kind of exhaustion," he explains, taking another bite. "Performing the way you do in front of a live audience for three hours is a whole different ball game, love."

Love.

There it was again. That godforsaken term of endearment that he seemed to throw around so casually. It made your heart race every time he said it, even though you knew it probably meant nothing to him. But the way he looked at you now, with a hint of admiration in his eyes, made you wonder if maybe—

"Want the last bite?" he offered, taking you out of your thoughts. He pushed the container towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze was intense, as if silently urging you to take it.

"Oh, hello," a voice exclaimed from behind you, breaking the moment. You drop the spoon on the counter, a little startled. As if you were caught in the act of something forbidden. You turned around to see Yvonne, Cillian's wife. She said your name with a surprised tone, making you feel guilty for some reason. "I didn't know you were here," she continued, her eyes flickering between you and her husband.

You started to rise from your seat, confusion clouding your thoughts. That's weird. Cillian usually lets his wife know when you're visiting, but this time it seems like he didn't. She walked towards you, enveloping you in a hug. "When did you get here?" she said.

"Not long ago," you replied, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "I, uh, wanted to take a break and thought Ireland might be a good place to do that," you added, hoping to diffuse any tension that may have arisen. She nodded understandingly. "And you're staying here?"

"Oh, no, no," you quickly assured her. "I rented a place nearby, so you don't have to worry about me."

"Nonsense," Cillian interjected. "You can stay here. There's plenty of room."

"She's already paid for it, Cillian," Yvonne retorted, giving him a stern look.

Something was definitely off.

This was the last thing you wanted. You've specifically chosen the cottage for two reasons. First, to have space. The whole point of this trip was to finally have peace and write music. You've been stuck for months, not being able to find inspiration in your usual surroundings. Everything felt dull inside you all day—an emptiness that was smothering.

Second, you needed to stay the fuck away from Cillian. Being close to him was dangerous territory, one you didn't want to navigate right now. The plan was to come and visit and occasionally hang out and that's it. The thought of being in such close quarters with him was overwhelming. Staying here meant risking your heart and sanity.

You hesitated, also not wanting to intrude on their space, but Cillian insisted.

"Okay…How about if I stay for a couple of days and then move to the cottage?" you suggested, hoping to compromise. "Sounds perfect to me," he said.

This was going to be a long summer.

For the next few days, you dream too much, don't write enough, and try to find inspiration everywhere. As you settled into the routine of staying at Cillian's, you found yourself enjoying the peaceful surroundings and his company more than you expected. The days seemed to blend together, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that left your heart racing.

But you also felt constantly distracted by his presence, making it difficult to focus on your writing or anything else, for that matter.

All you could think about was him.

The piano room surrounded you with its warm, inviting atmosphere, and you found yourself drawn to it more often than not. The big windows overlooking the garden let in streams of sunlight, casting a warm glow over the bookshelf. You felt the softness of the carpet as you sat on the grand piano bench, running your fingers along the keys absentmindedly.

You started humming a tune that had been stuck in your head for days, the words appearing softly and effortlessly as you played:

Please

I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo

The prophecy?

The humming went on whenever you didn't know what to say next, filling in the gaps between the notes on the piano and the lyrics:

A greater woman has faith

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I'm just a paperweight

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It'll be ok

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

The melody filled the room until you stopped abruptly, frustrated that the lyrics weren't coming as easily as before. You closed your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your mind. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, elbows resting on the keys of the piano.

"You good?" Cillian's rough voice broke through your frustration, causing you to look up and offer a weak smile. You don't know how long he's been standing there or how much he heard of your struggles. "Just hitting a wall with this song," you admitted, running a hand through your hair.

"Ah, I see," he nodded sympathetically. He moved towards the records stacked on the shelf and pulled one out, placing it on the turntable. "I don't want to mess with your creative process or anything, but maybe a break with some music will help," he suggested.

Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" began to play, taking over the room with its haunting melody.

"So you play one of the saddest songs ever?" you deadpanned, "Thanks."

He chuckled softly, "You were playing some pretty intense stuff; I figured it would fit right in."

Oh, so he did hear you.

"Ah, I know it's different from my usual stuff," you said quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about your music. "I might scrap that one. They might not be onboard with the change."

"And why's that?"

Thom Yorke's voice faded into the background as you contemplated his question, unsure of how to respond.

You shrugged, "I listen to sad music, not make it."

"I liked what I heard," he reassured you, "and change is good. It keeps things interesting."

His low voice was soothing, and you found yourself feeling more at ease with the idea of trying something new. Pop has been your comfort zone for so long, it's what stands out of you, but most importantly, it's what sells. At least, that's what's important to the industry. Maybe it was time to push yourself out of it.

"I guess you're right," you replied, a faint smile creeping onto your face.

"As always," he said, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. He stood leaning against the table where the record player sat, arms crossed, looking as if he had too many things to say and not enough words for them.

"Would this be a good time to ask you if everything's okay?" you inquired, noticing the weight of unspoken thoughts in his eyes. "With Yvonne, I mean," you added, nervous to bring up the topic.

That first day, when you arrived at the house, you could sense there was something going on between them. Something bad. The tension in the air was so obvious, but you didn't want to pry. However, as the days went by, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that she hadn't been around or the absence of a certain ring on his finger.

"And here, I thought you were never going to ask," he replied, his words laced with sarcasm.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," your voice trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "I-I didn't want to overstep."

He studied you for a moment, or at least, you assumed that was what he was doing. Finally, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat,"We've separated."

A cold feeling settled in your chest as you processed his words. The reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. "Cillian," is all you managed to say, the concern evident in your voice.

He still wouldn't look at you. Knowing him, in moments like this, he wouldn't want to be coddled or pitied, so you save your apologies for later.

"What happened?"

He waved his hand dismissively, still avoiding your gaze. "Nothing, really," he said, his tone final. He didn't look upset, but rather resigned to the situation. "It hadn't been working for a long time; we both knew it was coming. I guess we were holding on for the boys more than anything." You could see the sadness in his eyes, despite his attempt to appear nonchalant. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you feeling defeated and unsure of what to say next. You don't think there's anything you can say that will make this or him feel better.

And boy, did you wish you could take away his pain with just a few words.

Cillian walked slowly over the piano, stopping in front of it. He streched his arms over the wooden soundboard, gripping the edges tightly as if seeking some sort of solace in the instrument. He finally looked at you.

"Why didn't you say anything, Cill?" you asked softly, "I would've—"

"You would've what?" he interrupted, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn't want to worry you, you have more important things than my marital issues."

You could see the pain in his eyes, and it tore at your heart to see him suffering in silence. "You're my friend. These things are important to me, Cill," you said gently, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. He flinched slightly at your touch, but then relaxed, leaning into your hand.

He didn't say anything, but you knew he appreciated your words. You could tell by the way his shoulders slumped in relief and the way his fingers loosened their grip on the edge of the piano.

One morning, you woke up to the wind gently rustling through the trees outside your windows. The morning light was clear and clean, leaking through the glass and falling against the walls of the room in soft patterns. It felt too early to be awake, too peaceful to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

You roll over to look at the little clock on the bedside table: 6:20 AM. It wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, so you threw the covers and climbed out of bed, feeling the cool wood floor beneath your feet as you walked to the bathroom.

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth, trying to wake yourself up fully. Holding up your hair, you tie it into a ponytail while walking over the bedside table to grab your phone and airpods. You put one in your ear and hit shuffle on one of your morning playlists. You couldn't function without some music. "Keep On Loving You" by Cigarettes After Sex starts playing.

On your way to the kitchen, you walked by Cillian's room and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Who the hell sleeps with their door open? Psychos, probably. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peeked inside to see him sprawled out on his bed, body illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains—characteristic warm and cool shades revealing every hollow and speck of bare muscle. He slept with every limb stretched out, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. It was a rare sight, quite poetic.

He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of your presence. So you let your mind wander.

You imagined yourself crossing the room, pulling yourself on top of him. You imagined the way his bare body would look beneath you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his dark hair messy around his face, his skin warm against yours. His hands—rough and soft at the same time—running over your thigh, your breast, your neck. You could almost feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze as he looked up at you.

But then reality snapped back into focus.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. This was just a fantasy, a dangerous game to play with someone who was somewhat off-limits. But truth be told, the temptation was becoming harder to resist with each passing moment. It was all you could think about ever since he told you about his troubled marriage.

It took a long time for your heartbeat to slow. You headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help clear your mind. As you rummage through the cabinets for a mug, his voice startles you from behind. "Need some help with that?" he asks, making you jump.

For a moment you thought you were still imagining things, but you turn around to see him standing there with a t-shirt on as opposed to five minutes ago. Great, him walking around shirtless in his kitchen, sleepy-eyed, messy hair, and rough morning voice would've been lethal.

"I've got it, thanks," you reply, shaking the mug slightly in your hand. You quickly pour yourself some coffee and try to focus on the task at hand: looking for the sugar.

"Sleep well?" he asks, voice still husky from sleep, his accent more prominent. He's rifling through the cabinet for a mug of his own. You can't help but notice the way his muscles flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches up. You hum in agreement, trying to hide your blush as you take a sip of your coffee. "You?"

"Grand," he replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. You exchange small talk about the upcoming day, but your mind keeps drifting back to how good he looks in the morning light.

"Any plans for today other than locking yourself in the piano room?" he teases, and you shoot him a playful glare. "Maybe I'll actually venture outside for once," you quip, laughing.

"How does the beach sound like?" he asks, "The boys are coming over, and they're bringing some friends, and I thought a trip would be a nice change of scenery."

"I could use some sun," you admit, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Let's make it a beach day then," he suggests, setting his mug on the sink. "We leave at 10, piano woman."

"Ha ha, very funny," you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "But I'll hold you to it, annoying man," you reply.

"Annoying man?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was your favorite person."

"Only on days that end in 'y'."

•••

"Are you done with your sad boy music?"

Cillian bursts out laughing, the sound taking you by surprise. He's been playing Radiohead on repeat for the whole car ride, and you were starting to feel like you were in a melancholy music video. "I like their music as much as the next person, but I think I need a break from the sadness," you say.

"Fine, fine," Cillian concedes, reaching for his phone to change the song. The bleak atmosphere in the car lifts as "Linger" by The Cranberries starts playing, filling the space with a more pleasant vibe. Cillian glances at you, he's wearing dark shades that hide his eyes, but you can still see his stoic expression softening as he catches you smiling at the change in music.

"Better?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Instead of answering, you start silently singing along to the lyrics, gesticulating dramatically for added effect. Cillian smiles at your antics, his own lips twitching in amusement as he watches you. The boys were so caught up in their conversation with their friends in the backseat that you were pretty sure they weren't even paying attention to the music or your impromptu performance. With a small smile on your face, you face out the window and enjoy the rest of the car ride in content silence.

When you arrive at your destination, all of you unbuckle your seat belts once Cillian puts the Bronco in park. You all pile out of the car, stretching your legs and taking in the sights around you. You close your eyes for a second and take a breath. The sea air—you loved that smell.

•••

A few hours later, after countless swims and some snacks, you find yourself lying on a beach towel, book in hand, feeling the warmth of the temperature on your skin. You're reading a book you picked up at an airport several months ago by Elin Hilderbrand, or the queen of beach reads, as many call her. You were completely engrossed in the story until you felt Cillian settling down next to you.

His hair was damp from the water, and his skin was slightly glistening. Gosh, he looked absolutely stunning. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Not at all," you reply, closing the book and sitting up. "Having fun?"

"Lots," he says with a smile, reaching over to grab his sunglasses. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. The laughter and chatter of his sons and friends coming from the water redirects your attention back to the beach scene before you. You look back at Cillian, his eyes fixed on his sons.

"They love you, you know," you say softly, watching the genuine joy on his face as he watches his children.

"I don't know if I'm doing it right," he says, eyes still fixed on the boys. "I worry I might've fucked them up by letting my relationship with their mother fall apart."

He continues, "Sometimes I feel they resent me for it."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"I don't know, they just seem distant sometimes. Like they're holding back."

"Hey, that's normal for kids to have mixed feelings about their parents' separation. I was so happy when mine got divorced because it meant no more fighting, but it was also tough to adjust to the changes. It's very conflicting stuff," you say, huffing a small laugh. "Also, they're teenagers now, right? That's a tough age to navigate even without the added stress of divorce."

Cillian nods in agreement, exhaling out a yeah.

You squint against the sunlight beaming behind his head before continuing.

"You're a great dad, you always have been. Just show up and be there for them when they need you, even if they don't always seem to appreciate it. They'll remember it in the long run," you offer, remembering how much your own father's presence meant to you after your parents' divorce. "And I'm not a parent, but what parent feels like they're doing everything right all the time, anyway?"

Cillian turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment before offering a small smile. "I guess you're right," he says sincerely.

"Fork found in kitchen," you retort, breaking the tension with a bit of humor.

He chuckles, "That's clever."

"Well," you continue, "I've been accused of many things over the years, but being unoriginal isn't one of them."

He laughs. Just like he did back in the car: a genuine, carefree laugh that makes you feel a little lighter.

"Want to go for one last swim, piano woman?"

You roll your eyes. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Not likely," Cillian replies with a grin. "It's too fitting."

You stand up and stretch. You're wearing a one-piece teal-ish swimsuit that you swear you only chose based on comfort and not because it makes your ass and breasts look fantastic. Cillian's eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks away, and you swear you can see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. He doesn't move.

"Are you coming or…?"

"Right, one last swim," he finally says, standing up and following you towards the water.

Maybe that one last swim wasn't a great idea after all.

And why is that?

Because not even five minutes into the water, you thought it would be a good idea to jump from a high rock, and now you're sitting in the car with your knee scrapped, throbbing in pain, and regretting your impulsive decision.

•••

"You're so fuckin' stubborn."

You try to move into a more comfortable position while ignoring the pain shooting up your leg by pressing a hand against one side of the door to keep yourself steady. "And you're so clearly overreacting."

Cillian pushes his bedroom door open. He's also clearly pissed. The ride back to the house was deathly silent. Well, not silent. His sad boy music made a return, and this time with Broken Social Scene. You couldn't ask him to change the music without starting another argument. Even the kids were quiet, beyond asking several times if you were okay, which you assured them you were. Obviously a lie.

As Cillian walks around the room, you reach for your midi white beachy dress and look down at your knee in horror. It's no longer just a bruise, but a gash that is slowly oozing blood. Not as much as before, but still. It looks nasty underneath the shirt Cillian used from his car as a makeshift bandage.

He grabs the first aid kit from a shelf and turns around to face you.

"Take off your dress."

"Pardon me?"

"Take off your dress so I can properly clean and bandage the wound," Cillian repeats, his expression serious. You look down at the blood-stained fabric as if you needed any more confirmation. "Off, C'mon."

You stiffen at his demand, your body going completely rigid at his bossy tone. You watch him stride into his bathroom. He pushes aside some stuff on the counter and tosses the kit onto the counter.

Okay, yeah. He has good reason to be upset. You had no business jumping from that rock.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he'd said before, right when he went to get you. And now you can see the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You can hear him shuffle in the bathroom while you remove your dress. You still have your swimsuit on underneath, but you feel exposed without the extra layer. Maybe the pain is catching up to you or the fact that you have upset him or that he's waiting for you in the bathroom to take care of you but tears sting your eyes as you try to process the situation. You take a moment to collect yourself. You cannot go in there like this, he cannot see you this vulnerable. At least, not now.

He's braced against the counter, head hung low, when you push open the bathroom door. You nearly back out to give him some space or time to compose himself, but his eyes meet yours and his expression straightens. He clears his throat and then freezes. "I—you're wearing your swimsuit."

"I am. Were you expecting me to change into something else?"

"No," he grumbles, "I mean, nevermind."

He turns back and starts grabbing sterile gauze, his movements slightly jerky. He gestures for you to sit on the counter. "Up."

"I'm not sure I can do that given my—" Before you're done speaking, he scoops you up and sets you on the counter. Your hands are locked around his neck, and his are firmly gripping your waist. They fit perfectly there, like they're made to hold you close.

He reaches behind him, both your faces close together now, and grabs your wrists, pulling them away from his neck and onto your thighs. He puts a hand on your uninjured leg, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is going to hurt." You stare at his impossible blue eyes and think to yourself: yes, this is going to hurt.

"Oh, shit shit," you gasp, gripping his forearm. "Holy fuuuck."

"I've got you, breathe," he commands, and you allow yourself to focus on his voice, letting it ground you. The antiseptic burns both your nostrils and knee as he continues to clean the wound, the pain shooting through your leg causing you to clench your teeth.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out.

There's nothing but silence in response.

"I told you multiple times not to go up there," he finally says, his voice tinged with frustration. "And yet."

"I know," you whisper, feeling guilty.

"Don't do that again," he commands, his accent thickening with emotion. "You could've hurt yourself even more."

"I know," you repeat, not sure how else to respond.

His head is bowed in concentration as he finishes cleaning the wound, his hands steady despite the anger in his voice. You can see his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly as he works. He applies a little more pressure to the bandage than he should've, and you let out a soft moan. This doesn't go unnoticed by him.

The air in the room seems to shift. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something soften in his gaze before he looks away.

"You're not supposed to like that."

Your cheeks heat up immediately.

He's gotten closer to you, your hands somehow made their way to fist his navy blue linen shirt. His body is between your legs, the delicate material of his pants brushing your skin. His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't say I mind it either." Your heart races at his proximity, unsure of what to do next.

His hands slide up your thighs, gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's going to kiss you, and you can't help but wonder if it's the right decision to let him.

But now is not the time to be rational about it.

"I'm not gonna stop you," you say quietly, "I wouldn't know how."

His eyes darken, pupils dilating with desire. He doesn't move.

It's like you're both aware of the line you're about to cross, so neither of you moves.

You keep your eyes firmly on his face. His lips inch closer to yours, and you feel the heat of his breath on your skin. Your body is angled towards his, hand gripping the edge of the counter. Your slightly damp hair, now cold, making you shiver.

He's impossibly hard against you, the material of his pants is thin, and you're aware of every inch of him pressing against your throbbing core.

"And I wouldn’t know how to stop kissing you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He shifts slightly, causing his erection to press even more firmly against you, both letting out a soft moan. His mouth hovers just inches from yours, just kiss me, you thought.

There's a knock on the bedroom door, which is, by the way, open.

"Dad?" You both freeze.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, offering a sliver of privacy but not enough to shield you from any potential interruptions.

"Yes?" Cillian calls out, trying to sound casual despite the intense moment that was just interrupted. "We're ordering takeout, do you want anything?"

"No, buddy, we're good, thanks," Cillian replies, his voice strained as he tries to keep his composure. You hear the steps retreating down the hallway.

Cillian steps back, and the absence of his body against yours is jarring. It clearly would've been a mistake to take this further, but a mistake that would've felt so fucking good.

"We shouldn't do this."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

He moves towards the door, his movements tense and purposeful. "I'm gonna—" he says, motioning the door.

"Yeah," you quickly reply, "I got it."

You watch him leave, the air heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

a/n: thank you for reading! please share your thoughts with me, let me know if you guys enjoyed it :)

part two

[pirateprincessblog]

2 batteries away

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG

Also I miss Rick very much 🥺

*

"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.

you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.

"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.

"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."

"viagra? for who?"

you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.

"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.

you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.

"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.

"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.

"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.

"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"

"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"

rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.

"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."

one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.

"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."

"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."

"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"

"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."

"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.

rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.

"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."

he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.

you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.

"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.

you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."

"mmh."

he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.

"shoes." he says after some time.

"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.

"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."

you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.

"you?" he asks.

"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."

"shit, girl, oversharing much?"

"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.

"not female underwear. your underwear."

you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."

and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.

"oh, i also wish to find-"

"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."

ew.

ew.

ew.

he did not.

"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"

how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.

"well the age fits the description."

"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.

arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.

"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.

you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.

"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."

"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.

"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."

if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.

you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.

"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.

you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.

daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.

"dammit."

you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.

"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."

"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."

he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.

"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.

"wha'?"

you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.

"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"

your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.

"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"

"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."

you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.

"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.

"you gonna go get 'em?"

"why would i go? you go."

"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."

you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.

"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.

you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.

"it's a wand."

"wand?"

"yes."

"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.

"masturbating."

thud.

you look down, mortified. he better not break it.

"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"

"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."

you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.

feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.

"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.

he spares you a glare, and continues walking.

"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"

"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."

"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."

"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.

you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.

"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."

he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.

you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.

not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.

after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.

you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.

you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.

fuck it.

you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.

taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.

you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.

you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.

something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.

"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.

your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.

"the hell?"

your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.

"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.

"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"

"I-"

"is that my vest?"

he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.

"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."

"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.

your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.

"it's not like that-"

"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've  put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"

he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.

"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."

what?

"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."

silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.

tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.

"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.

"since rick chose to trust me."

you hum, understanding.

"listen-"

"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.

his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.

"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."

"i'm older than you. way older than you."

"so?"

"i could be your father."

"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."

"why do you get so triggered by it?"

you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.

"because."

"why?"

"doesn't matter."

"tell me," he presses further.

you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."

you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.

tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.

"wha- what are you-"

"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.

you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.

"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.

you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.

"don't be. or else i might regret this."

you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.

"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.

"just hush."

and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.

you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.

"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"

"nah."

before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.

it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.

"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.

he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.

"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."

for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.

"needed someone older to take care of ya."

you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.

daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.

"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.

"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"

you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.

"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."

"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.

"i'd split you in half, little one."

every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?

"then, what are we doing?"

he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.

"you share toys?"

"sometimes."

"good."

he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.

"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.

"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."

nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.

he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.

"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.

"give me a second."

you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.

"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.

he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.

you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.

"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.

"i wanted to. before, today, too."

"you sure?"

"yes."

you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."

"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."

he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."

you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.

"oh, you- you- you asshole!"

"right back at ya."

***

yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷

[puckinghischier]

Fallen

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: part 2 to falling

notes: hello!!! considering it’s after midnight, i’m giving you guys a gift for my birthday. this was very fun to write and i continue to just make myself sad that i don’t have a nico in my life. i hope you enjoy! happy reading! 🫶🏼

this is unedited!!

request: anon requested a part 2 to falling

[4.9k]

“I really wish you’d let me carry something, Neeks,” you whine out, pressing the button to call the elevator down to the parking garage.

“Nope. I’m perfectly capable of carrying your groceries on my own,” Nico dramatically swings the reusable shopping bags over his shoulder, walking a few feet away before turning and striking a pose.

Your laugh echoes around the concrete garage, amused at his theatrics.

It’s been about three weeks since your accident at the rink, and Nico hasn’t left your side since. As long as he’s in Jersey, that is.

After that first night he’s only really left your apartment to either go to practice and games, or to sleep. Sometimes even the latter not being true, considering there’s been a few nights he’s crashed on your couch after late-night movie sessions or particularly rough games.

During your follow up appointment your doctor told you to keep the sling on for a few more weeks, not wanting to add any unnecessary strain to the healing muscles in your shoulder. After you told Nico the sling was here to stay, he insisted he was going to, literally, be your right-hand man.

You were also told, as long as you and the sling are one, going to work is on your list of restricted activities. So is any form of strenuous activity, lifting anything over ten pounds, and whatever else Nico deems unsafe for you to do. Like carrying your groceries.

Nico has shown up at your apartment every morning with a cup of coffee, either bringing you breakfast or offering to cook for you. He takes his post-practice and pre-game naps on your couch in case you need him to do anything for you. After home games he shows up with takeout and candy, keeping you company while you’re stuck in your apartment day after day.

When he’s on the road he enlisted the help of Jesper’s girlfriend, Nicole, to come over and check on you at least once a day. Anytime he’s playing in a different state, no matter where he is, he always manages to have dinner delivered to your house, making sure you’re not stuck eating microwave meals and simple dinners, thanks to your limited cooking ability and lack of being able to drive at the moment.

Before he has to leave for stretch of away games, he always makes sure he takes you to the grocery store, stocking your pantry and fridge to make sure you have everything you need while he’s gone. He calls you every chance he has on the road, wanting to check on you and how you’re feeling while keeping you up on the team happenings, knowing how eager you are to get back to work.

Today is one of his ‘preparation’ days, as you’ve dubbed them. He showed up this morning with a coffee and a bagel, cut into quarters instead of in halves, so the insides wouldn’t slip out of the other side when you tried to take a one-handed bite. He did your dishes and folded your laundry for you while you showered, twisting your hair into one of his trademark braids after you were dressed before ushering you out of your apartment, claiming the two of you had errands to run.

The first errand on his list was taking you to the rink, a satisfied feeling settling over him when he saw the large smile on your face when he told you he asked if you could sit in on practice today. You were practically buzzing with excitement, not having been at the rink since the day of your fall. You had grown to love the sport of hockey during your time at your job. Missing the chill of the air, the sound of pucks sliding across the ice and the scrape of their skates as the players come to a stop.

Several of the players slide over to the bench where you sit, just as excited to see you as you are to see them.

Jack and Luke come over first, telling you how ready they are for you to be back, having given themselves the job of Puck Police, ensuring that all of the pucks are cleared out of the skate path leading towards the benches.

Jesper, Timo, and Holtzy tell you how much they miss the jokes you would tell them so they would quit mean mugging and actually smile during arrival pictures.

Dawson, Johnny, and Curtis joined the gathered group, bringing you a card that everyone from the team had signed. It was a giant novelty card, clearly custom made, considering there was a picture of the whole team on the front, the inside reading “Sorry you fell over our pucks. We feel really pucking bad about it.”

You were doubled over in laughter the entire time the team spent chatting with you before their practice officially started, fulling understanding the sentiment that laughter is the best medicine. You were even able to give the young girl filling in for you some pointers, helping her adjust the settings on the camera for different shots, happy you were able to sneak in a little bit of work to your visit.

After practice was over and Nico was showered and ready to go, the two of you went out for lunch at a small café just down the street from the rink, their large bakery selection immediately catching your eye. You ended up having cake for lunch, telling Nico to mind his own business when he asked if you wanted any ‘real’ food.

Once lunch was over, he took you to the grocery store, helping you pick out ready made meals and a few other essentials before bringing you back to your apartment, where you were currently witnessing Nico’s wannabe model moves.

Once the elevator lifts you to your floor, you walk over and unlock your door, leaving it open behind you for Nico to walk through, following you straight to your kitchen to put away your groceries.

You grab a box of cereal, setting it down on the counter before reaching up to open your cabinet door. Just as you’re reaching up to place the box on the shelf, you hear something fall, a bottle of water slipping off of one of the shelves in your fridge. You jump slightly, trying to turn your body at the same time, the sudden movement pinching one of the nerves in your shoulder, causing you to let out a hiss.

Nico immediately clocked the displeased noise, jerking his body into a standing position and walking over towards you.

“Are you okay? What happened? Did you try to lift this up with your bad arm?” he asks you, arms hovering around your frame, eyes glued your slinged shoulder.

You finish pushing the cardboard box onto the shelf, closing the wooden cabinet door.

Rolling your arm a bit, you turn to face Nico.

“I’m fine. Just jumped a little and it caught my shoulder in a funny way, I guess. No big deal, just more uncomfortable than anything,” you assure him.

He narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge if you’re lying to him or not.

Narrowing your eyes back at him, you pull a face at him.

He backs up, laughing, seemingly convinced you’re fine.

Walking back over to finish placing the several salad kits you bought in the fridge, Nico starts talking with his head fully inside of your fridge.

“So, we leave out around six tonight and I won’t be back until late Friday night,” he tells you, meaning he’ll be gone almost four full days, considering today is Monday. “Nicole offered to stay over here if you wanted her to, incase you needed to go anywhere.”

You’ve gained a friend in Nicole through this whole process, enjoying her company. You didn’t have many girl friends in the city, your job taking up the majority of your time. Nico was the person you spent the most time with, even before these past few weeks, but you occasionally tagged along to outings with the team, growing close to Jack, Luke, Timo, and Jesper, too. You figure that’s why Nico chose to ask Nicole to help out, seeing as you’d spent some time with her during celebratory bar nights and get togethers at Nico’s apartment.

The two of you were friendly before, but now you would consider yourself good friends, going out to lunch together and watching bad reality tv during the day when she would come over. She even helped you do your skincare routine one night before bed, giving you different tips and tricks on the order of application. It felt like you were in middle school again having a sleepover with your best friend.

“I might take her up on that. I think there’s new episodes of The Circle on Netflix. We could binge them while eating ice cream!” your eyes light up with an idea.

Nico laughs and shakes his head at you while shutting your fridge door.

“I really don’t understand your obsession with these awful shows. Jesper and I were talking about how we wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you signed up for your own spot on one soon.”

The thought of Nico talking about you when Jesper is talking about Nicole makes your brain stutter for a moment.

You can’t deny that your new found feelings for Nico have continued to develop during the time he’s spent being your self-appointed helper. His insistence on being your personal chauffer, showing up every day like clockwork, even going as far to tell the media team the alternate captains are going to have to do post-game media for home games until you’re back to work causes your feelings to grow each day.

You haven’t told your mom about the arrangement with Nico, not wanting to get her hopes up, still not entirely convinced Nico isn’t just being nice. The two of you haven’t shared any intense moments like the first night he braided your hair, now the braiding sessions being filled with small talk and laughter.

Hearing that Nico is bringing you up when Jesper is talking about his own girlfriend, however, sparks a seed of hope in you.

“And if we do, you and Jesper can be our cheerleaders from the other side,” you tell him, sticking your tongue out.

When Nico finishes putting away the rest of your groceries, he takes the reusable bag and returns it to its hiding spot under the sink.

At this point, Nico knows your apartment as well as you do. He knows where all of your dishes go, because he unloads your dishwasher and washes anything by hand that won’t fit. He knows where all of your clothes go in your room, helping you wash, fold, and put away your laundry – with the exception of your underwear, he hasn’t earned access to that drawer yet. He knows where everything in your bathroom is, having to take a shower one morning after he crashed on the couch. He even knows which junk drawer has which random items in it.

You’ve become so comfortable with Nico being here, it’s like a tiny part of you doesn’t want your arm to heal, just so he has to continue coming over and playing roommate.

Nico walks over and leans against your stove, facing you.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine while I’m gone? It’s the longest stretch of away games we’ve had since your fall.”

He looks genuinely worried, the thought causing a familiar swirl in your belly.

“I’ll be fine, Neeks. This thing comes off next week anyways,” you lift the arm in your sling for emphasis. “I’m going to have to get used to you being gone again, anyways. This week will be like a practice run.”

You catch the way Nico’s eyes just slightly fall. If you weren’t always paying attention to his beautiful eyes, you would’ve missed it, perking up just as quickly as they fell.

“God, finally. Thought I’d have to be your maid forever,” he exaggerates his words, making a big show of rolling his eyes and throwing his arms up above his head.

“Oh shut it, you love hanging out with me,” you step towards him, wagging your finger in his face.

He tilts his head, pretending to think about your words. “Yeah, I guess you’re pretty good company,” he reaches out, grabbing the finger a few inches from his nose.

The two of you stand there, his hand not letting go of your finger, letting it drop in-between your bodies.

His lips fall from his wide smile, slightly separated as he stares at you.

Feeling the energy shift, you stare back at him, not knowing what exactly is happening. Neither one of you have spoken for a solid minute now, your finger still trapped in his hand.

Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, and back up to his eyes. He darts his tongue out to lick his dry lips, unable to move your gaze from them this time. Thinking about what his lips would feel like on yours, the alarm bells start going off in your head.

Clearing your throat and stepping back, you break the moment, not knowing what else to do.

Nico drops your finger, bringing a hand up to run through his long hair, looking away from your face.

Was he thinking about kissing you like you were thinking about kissing him? Would you have really let him? Why did you interrupt the moment? You like him you idiot!

When Nico pushes himself off of your stove, you start ignoring the voice in your head.

“I need to get going. Still need to stop by my place and grab a few things before heading to the rink,” he says, still refusing to meet your eye. “I’ll, uh, call you when we get there, like usual, okay?”

Nodding at him you reply with a “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Alright. Good. I’ll see you in a few days?” he walks over to you, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to give you a hug, but doesn’t know if he should.

You eliminate the space between you, wrapping him up in a hug. “Sounds perfect. Play safe.”

He hugs your body to his for a few more moments before letting go, a small “Bye” leaving his mouth before he grabs his keys off of your kitchen table and exits your apartment with a wave.

You stand in your kitchen thinking about your interaction, deciding a phone call to your mother was needed.

———————————————————————————

Grabbing the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, you walk back over to your living room and plop down next to Nicole.

Tonight was the night the boys are supposed to be getting back from their road trip. Since they weren’t supposed to be getting back until late tonight, you decided to spend the evening watching some of your favorite rom coms to pass the time.

Nicole always said waiting for Jesper to get home on the day of was the worst, because she knows its so close but the time always seems to drag. You surprisingly understood, the past week feeling like the longest of your life without Nico’s presence around your apartment.

After your phone call with your mom the other night, you allowed yourself to realize you want to be with Nico. Your confession to her that you did actually have feelings for the hockey player earned a squeal of joy and an extremely enthusiastic “I told you so!”

Talking with your mom about his actions throughout your whole accident and healing process really opened your eyes to how long you’ve really had feelings for him. You weren’t completely blind, finding Nico attractive from the very beginning, but you hadn’t really let yourself go all the way. Preventing yourself from getting your hopes up and embarrassing yourself, you kept using the excuse of him just being nice to justify why there were no feelings involved in your friendship.

You realized what a load of bullshit that was, though, considering how often you found yourself calling him to tell him good news whenever you received any. Or wanting to have a movie night anytime you were upset or sad, knowing your mood would improve the second Nico walked through your door. Or all the times at the bar when you would ignore men’s advances, wanting to just spend time talking with Nico the whole night.

Your mom recounted all the times she knew, once again marking that first time he helped you on the ice as the moment. She’s still not able to convince you that it was then, considering you and Nico didn’t even really know each other then.

Thinking back on your phone call with your mom made you think about how you hadn’t heard from Nico in a while, pulling your phone out to see if he had given you any update on where they were.

Nicole threw a handful of popcorn at you, fussing at you to pay attention to the movie and that they’ll be home when they’re home. You surrendered to her wishes and placed your phone face down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your third movie of the night was about halfway over when you heard a key turning in the lock on your door, knowing that only one other person had a key to your apartment.

You grab the remote and pause the movie, turning your body to face behind your couch, waiting for Nico to walk around the corner.

As he rounds the corner, suitcase in hand, you can’t help the grin that breaks out on your face.

“You’re back!” you exclaim, fighting the urge to leap off of the couch and crush him in a hug.

“I’m tired,” he responds, his smile bright but eyes tired.

The dark skin under his eyes confirm his words, assuming he had been asleep on the plane until they landed.

“Well, I guess that means I need to get home to Jesp,” Nicole says, sitting up and grabbing her shoes.

Nico looks over, mumbling out a “Good to see you Nicole, thanks for keeping her company this week,” before looking over at you, yawning as he told you he was going to take a quick shower then crash on your couch.

You give him a nod, telling him the stuff he bought last time was still in there.

Nicole gives the two of you a look, waiting until she hears the bathroom door shut to speak up.

“He keeps shower stuff here?”

Looking over at her you explain the time he fell asleep here and needed to shower that morning, stating you had too many expensive looking products to waste on himself, so he bought his own shower essentials and uses them anytime he decides to shower here after practice.

“So let me get this straight. He comes home to your apartment after a long road series, keeps his own products in your shower, has a key, and stays the night sometimes?” she watches you nod, her words not sinking in. “So, he does all of this, but the two of you still claim you’re just friends?”

Not knowing how to respond, you just stare at her. She keeps looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“Well…I mean…I don’t know,” you finally spit out.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she questions.

“I mean, there’s little moments here and there that lets me think we could be more than friends, but I don’t want to bring it up because what if he’s just being nice? What if he agrees that we’re really just friends?” you open up to Nicole, the only other person you’re able to talk about this with being your mom.

She scoffs at you. “Are you kidding me? What kind of moments? Because from where Jesper and I are sitting, we keep expecting you guys to make it official any day now.”

Your cheeks heat at her words. “Well, like the fact I never even had to ask him to do all of this stuff for me, he just did. And he admitted that he drove all the way to the hospital the night I got hurt because no one had any updates, then drove here with no socks on when they told him I had already come home. He keeps getting all of these restaurants to cut my food up in weird ways so it’s easier for me to eat with one hand. And if they don’t do it, he will,” you keep rambling, not focusing on your surroundings enough to hear the shower shut off. “I mean, he offered me skating lessons when he saw me stumble on the ice once, then started coming over for dinner multiple times a week, unless they’re on the road.”

Nicole looks past you down the short hallway, noticing the light shining through the open bathroom door.

You keep talking. “The biggest one, though, is that I think we almost kissed before they left on Monday,” you tell her, causing Nicole’s eyebrows to shoot up.

“SPILL,” Nicole insists, her interest at an all time high.

“Well, we were standing in my kitchen just goofing off and I stuck my finger in his face. He grabbed it and wouldn’t let go, then we just kind of started staring at each other. Before I knew what was happening, I was staring at his lips and he was staring at mine, then I got nervous and stepped back before anything could happen,” you tell her with a shrug.

Nicole groans. “Are you serious!? You could have kissed him and you chickened out? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know! I was thinking ‘what if I just have something on my face and he doesn’t actually want to kiss me.’”

She shakes her head at you. Movement down the hallway catches her eye, watching Nico step out of the small bathroom, and idea forming.

“I mean, you do like him, right?” She watches Nico’s figure stop in his tracks.

You sigh at her, letting your head sag a bit.

“Of course I like Nico. He’s kind, funny, takes care of me,” you start, a dreamy tone making its way into your voice. “Not to mention he’s insanely attractive. I just…don’t want to mess things up.”

Nicole flits her eyes over to Nico while you’re not paying attention, watching his face morph into shock.

“Y/N, the only way you’re going to be able to know if he feels the same way or not is to tell him. Forget about making a fool of yourself. Nico won’t shun you if he doesn’t feel the same way, he’s not that kind of guy,” she assures you.

“I know, Nic. But how do I even bring it up? How do I find the right time to slide ‘hey, so I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, let me know if you feel the same!’” You pull a thumbs up at her, pulling a sarcastic face.

Nicole smirks at you, confusing you until she says “Just like that,” before pointing behind you to a freshly showered Nico standing in the hallway, having heard every word you just said.

You turn around, snapping your head back towards Nicole when you see Nico. You don’t move, too petrified with the fact he just heard you say you were in love with him.

“Y/N, is that true?” Nico calls out, cautiously walking towards your couch.

Nicole stands, claiming it was time for her to go before she hastily made her exit.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to pull off the ‘if I can’t see them, they can’t see me,’ move.

“Is what you just told Nicole true? You’re in love with me?” you hear from in front of you now, feeling the couch dip.

You refuse to open your eyes, wanting to disappear into thin air. When Nico reaches his hand out, grabbing your non-slinged hand in his own, your eyes snap open.

He’s looking at you with an expression in his eyes you’ve only ever seen a few times before. Once when you wore his jersey for opposites day at work, handing him your camera to tote around all day as you, very poorly, skated around the ice, trying to scoot a puck around. The second was when you surprised him with a pan of brownies for his birthday, knowing how much he loves the chocolatey squares. The third was when he braided your hair for the first time, recognizing the softness of his eyes through the mirror. The most recent, aside from right now, was earlier this week, during the same moment you just described to Nicole.

“I…” you try to speak, but you’re still stuck in shock.

Nico chuckles and drops his head, looking at your hand in his.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, too?” he repeats your words, looking up and into your eyes as he says them.

Your mouth snaps shut, a new kind of shock entering your system.

“I think I have been since that first time Jack almost took you out on the ice,” he starts. “I had seen you before, but we only really spoke when you were telling me how to pose for pictures. Or making me smile for arrival pictures,” he reminisces, a fond smile on his face. “I always thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but I knew I had to get you to talk to me somehow, the skating lessons being my perfect in,” he tells you, squeezing your hand.

You can’t believe your mother was right. The lessons were a calculated move for Nico to establish himself in your life.

Nico keeps talking, pulling you from the realization. “The more we spent time together, the more I realized I wanted you to be more than just my pretty coworker I taught how to ice skate. So, when you offered the dinners after lessons, I jumped. I was hoping it was your way of telling me you had feelings for me, too, but when you kept telling your mom we were just friends, I figured I could wait it out a little longer,” he references all the times you complained about your mom jumping to conclusions. “I kept lying in wait, trying to find the perfect moment to make my move, and then you got hurt. I was so worried when they told me you fell and they had to take you to the hospital. Got scared it was my fault, that I told you the wrong thing during a skating lesson, or I pushed you to skate on your own before you were ready,” he starts rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand.

“When I realized you would need major help while your arm was in that sling, not even being able to brush your hair by yourself, I knew this is where I could tell you. Maybe bring it up when I was braiding your hair, or slip a note in your bagel bag one morning. Hell, I even thought about spelling it out with sushi pieces that first night, but figured that might be a bit tacky,” you laughed at his words, remembering wondering what was taking him so long to bring your food to you. “But then, every time I thought about it, I chickened out. The closest I ever got was the moment in your kitchen, every muscle in my body screaming at me to just lean in and kiss you,” your laugh is cut short at his confession. “When you pulled back before I could, I assumed you didn’t feel the same way, so I left. I was embarrassed, not wanting to sit in the rejection any longer. But this week, being away for so long after spending nearly every day with you for the past three weeks, I knew I had to tell you.”

You’re glad he was as affected by not being around you this week as you were, not feeling as pathetic anymore.

“Was going to tell you when I walked through the door actually, but then I saw Nicole here and didn’t want to do it in front of her. That worked out great, didn’t it?” he laughs at the situation, Nicole clearly having different plans.

You scoff out a “Yeah, clearly, considering she railroaded me without me even knowing.”

“Well, I’m very glad she did, because now I can stop talking about you like a lovesick puppy to them,” Nico tells you, confirming your earlier feeling that Nico brings you up during ‘girlfriend talk’.

“My mom is so totally going to freak out when I tell her we’re dating,” you tell him, stopping yourself. “We are dating, right?”

Nico laughs as he brings his hands up to cup your face, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips as soft as you imagined they were. He keeps the kiss light and sweet before pulling back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” your cheeks flush, earning another laugh from the man in front of you.

“C’mon, I’m tired and would love to sleep in an actual bed tonight. We can talk details tomorrow, girlfriend,” he emphasizes the word. “Right now, I need cuddles and sleep,” he stands, holding his hand out for you to grab as you stand, leading you down the hallway towards your bedroom.

Thinking back to what lead you to this moment, you giggle quietly to yourself, finding it a little comical that it took you literally falling on the ice and injuring yourself to realize you’d already fallen there once before.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Girls' Trip (Plus Tim)

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!reader

Summary: You and Lucy go on a road trip together, but Tim crashes your girls' weekend when the car breaks down.

Warning: just fluff, the car breaks down but Lucy + r are safe

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest (this is Tim when Lucy doesn't invite him😂)

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tim says as he clips Kojo’s leash to his collar.

“No, you won’t,” you remind him softly. “Lucy and I are going out of town for the weekend, remember?”

“Right,” Tim agrees skeptically. “Because you and Lucy alone for a whole weekend sounds like something you’d do.”

“Yeah, she’s picking me up in the morning.”

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” You nod, and Tim gently lifts your chin to meet your eyes. “Anything at all.”

“I will.”

Kojo licks your hand in farewell and wags his tail as he follows Tim outside. You release a breath before you walk to your room to double-check that everything you need for the weekend is in your bag.

“Good morning!’ Lucy cheers when you step outside. “This is going to be so much fun! Our first girls’ trip!”

You smile at her enthusiasm and try to fight off your building shyness. Since you started dating Tim, Lucy has become one of your closest friends, but her outgoing attitude can bring out your shy side.

“Okay, get comfortable, but not too comfortable,” Lucy says as you walk toward the car. “We’re stopping before we get far to load up on snacks. We have to get essentials.”

“Sounds good,” you reply as you buckle your seatbelt.

As Lucy reverses out of the driveway, you text Tim to let him know that you’re leaving, you love him, and you will see him and Kojo when you get back.

“Hey, since you have your phone out, you can control the music for now. Partly because we need good music for a girls’ trip, but I also don’t want to accidentally wear you out by talking the whole drive.”

“Have you had coffee already?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“You and Tim both do that,” she points out. “But, yes, I needed to make sure I had the energy to get us all the way there and then make our spa appointment.”

“Thanks for planning everything,” you say before turning on a playlist with songs you and Lucy both like.

“Of course, that’s what best friends and future maids of honor are for,” Lucy answers.

After a quick stop for snacks, you get on the interstate to begin the several-hour road trip to the resort Lucy reserved for you. The trip seemed last minute to you, but you found out after she invited you that Lucy wanted to get to know you more and ran everything by Tim as she planned the weekend. Having a friend like Lucy is a big step for you, but you already love her and think she is maid of honor material. If you and Tim get there, and you aren't too shy to say yes when he asks, of course.

“Okay, so I was thinking,” Lucy begins before she trails off and looks at the gauges on the dash.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

“Something feels weird. We have gas and the temperature is okay, but it doesn’t usually feel like this. I’m going to get off at the next exit.”

You alert her to the upcoming exit and give her directions to a nearby truck stop. Tim taught you the importance of stopping somewhere safe no matter where you are or what you’re doing, and you unconsciously follow his advice today.

“It won’t go back in drive,” Lucy laments as she fiddles with the gear shift.

“Do you want me to call Tim? We’re still pretty close,” you offer.

“He’ll kill me for this,” Lucy whispers before she says, “Please.”

You pull your phone out as Lucy turns the ignition off. Tim answers immediately, and before you finish telling him what happened, he is in his car and asking for the address of the truck stop. He tells you to stay with Lucy and in the car, for the fifteen minutes it will take him to get there, and he ends the call.

“He said he’ll be here in fifteen,” you tell Lucy.

“That means he’s bringing a shop and acting like it’s a code 3 emergency,” she muses with a smile.

“He treats most things like they are, especially if I’m involved.”

“He loves you,” Lucy says. “A ton.”

Tim’s shop pulls up beside your door, and Tim surveys the area before he gestures for you to open the door.

“Nice job picking a safe location, Lucy,” he says as he hugs you.

“Oh, that wasn’t me.”

Tim winks at you before he rounds the car to pop the hood. You watch him as Lucy tells him what happened. He looks good, you think, though he almost always does. He’s still in civvies, so when he bends over the front of the car, you don’t worry about him messing up his uniform. Lucy chuckles beside you, and you look away from Tim quickly.

“What?” you ask her.

“Nothing, you’re just staring at him. It’s cute, like Sam in Transformers.”

“Wouldn’t that make me the girl?” Tim calls.

“How did he hear that?” you murmur to Lucy.

“I’ve been dating you, my hearing improved,” he jokes as he stands. “Try it now, Lucy.”

Lucy gets in the driver’s seat and turns over the ignition. It shifts smoothly into drive before she places it back in park and thanks Tim from her seat.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” you say as he closes the hood.

“Of course. I want to follow you for a few minutes to make sure it keeps running okay. It looked like it was just the transmission fluid,” he explains.

“No!” Lucy calls, leaning over the console. “You can’t crash girls’ weekend! You get her all week; I want a turn.”

“I’m not crashing anything, Chen,” he explains, shifting into his grumpy TO voice. “I want to make sure you get to the county line, if that’s okay with you. Or do you want to break down somewhere there isn’t a well-lit truck stop?”

Lucy huffs but waves anyway. Tim kisses your head and opens the passenger door so you can join Lucy. As she pulls out, Tim follows her and stays close as you get farther from LA. Half an hour later, you get a text from Tim that he’s turning back, and you promise to call him if anything else happens. His responding text that he’ll miss your voice makes you look away from your phone like it’s him. Hopefully, he won’t manage to make you shy all weekend from several hundred miles away.

“And we’re free,” Lucy muses as she watches Tim exit in her rearview mirror. “Does he always make you that shy?”

“Usually,” you answer.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have me then. I can protect you from his vicious onslaughts of attention.”

You laugh at Lucy’s phrasing, and then you both yell together when you see a billboard for a homemade candy and ice cream store at the next exit. Despite your delay and Tim temporarily crashing your girls’ weekend, you and Lucy are already having a great time. By the end of your trip, you may have a maid of honor for a wedding you haven’t even thought about.

Bonus:

Tim walks into the bullpen and sighs. He misses you already, and the velvet box hidden in his nightstand has been on his mind more the past few days.

“You miss her,” Angela accuses when she sees him.

“Of course I do, she’s not as annoying as the rest of you,” Tim replies.

“That’s why you started dating a shy girl? So she wouldn’t talk as much as the rest of us? That’s messed up, Timothy.”

“Well, if that's how you feel,” Tim begins before pausing. “I guess I’ll ask someone else to help me plan the proposal.”

“I’m sorry,” Angela says while she reaches out to grab Tim’s sleeve. “Let me help, it will be perfect.”

“We have to one up girls’ weekend,” Tim points out.

“Trust me, we will.”

[heich0e]

“Miya-san!”

Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.

You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.

“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”

“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.

“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”

“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry for contacting you so late,” Kimura says, flinching as you slump away from him unexpectedly in your drunken stupor. Osamu is quicker to react than the younger man, stepping in and catching you in the crook of his elbow before you can go toppling off the bench onto the sidewalk. He keeps you steady.

“Don’t apologize, I appreciate ya callin’ me to come get her—and thanks fer lookin’ after her,” he says down to the younger man, who seems relieved now not to be responsible for keeping you upright. “Tell her to bring ya by the shop for a meal sometime as payback. She owes ya one.”

Kimura’s eyes widen and he shakes his head like he couldn’t possibly accept, but before he can decline the offer Osamu turns his attention back to you. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he gently pries you from your seat.

“Up ya go,” he mutters encouragingly as he eases you onto your feet.

Your eyes flutter slowly open, looking around blearily for a moment as you take in your surroundings.

“Samu?” you ask, his name slurred on your alcohol loosened tongue. You perk up noticeably in his arms once you realize just who’s holding you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take ya home, Cinderella,” he says with a light laugh as your fingers twist into the material of his sweatshirt against his chest. He looks to Kimura again, who’s also risen to his feet now. “We’ll be off, then.”

“Thank you, Miya-san!” Kimura bows deeply forward, a nearly perfect 45 degree angle at his waist.

He’s a sweet kid, Osamu can’t help but think, even if does follow you around like a puppy.

Osamu helps you down the sidewalk towards his waiting truck, then up into your seat on the passenger’s side. He makes quick work of buckling you into your seatbelt even as you squirm counterproductively, then he jogs swiftly around to his own side of the truck and climbs in behind the wheel.

Kimura waves from outside the restaurant as the truck pulls away.

“Seems like ya had fun tonight,” Osamu remarks as he drives in the direction of your home. You hadn't even wanted to attend this work gathering, but had been forced to by your director. Now look where it had gotten you.

You’re fiddling with the controls of the radio, stations crackling in and out as you switch rapidly through the channels. 

“Drank too much,” you complain, settling on a talk radio station (of all things) that seems to be midway through discussing prefectural bylaws.

“Don’t I know it,” Osamu quips in reply and you swat at him harmlessly over the centre console with a laugh.

You’re turned in your seat, your body facing in his direction, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel your gaze tracing over him, but doesn’t glance back.

“Hey,” you whisper, something conspiratorial in your tone. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure thing,” he plays along with your antics, fighting back a grin.

It’s silent for a moment—only the voices on the radio discussing trash collection to be heard. Osamu pulls up to a red light, and finally looks over to meet your gaze.

Your eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused, but they’re bright with affection.

“I have a crush on you,” you tell him with a giggle.

Osamu’s chest pangs.

The light turns green.

“Well,” he remarks, returning his gaze to the road ahead and proceeding through the intersection. “That’s good.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees your shoulders slump dejectedly. 

“I’m being rejected,” your next words are positively morose. You turn away from him and lean your body over to the side. He hears a loud thump as your forehead head hits window on your right.

“Hey!” Osamu chides you in concern, reaching out and grabbing the collar of your blouse to tug you up a little straighter. It’s not the most elegant motion by any means, but he’s fairly limited with his other hand on the wheel and his eyes still on the road.

“Owww,” you complain, rubbing your forehead weakly. You bat the hand he has clutching the collar of your shirt away. “You’re so mean.”

“How’m I mean?” Osamu guffaws beside you.

“I just confessed my love for you, and all you had to say is ‘that’s good’!” You turn your body in your seat to waggle an unsteady but judgemental finger at him. “A woman’s heart is a precious, fragile thing, y’know!”

“There’s nothin’ fragile about ya,” Osamu mutters under his breath, thinking about how much you had to drink that night as a prime example of this fact. “Yer tough as a brick wall.”

“Mean!” you jeer at him again, your mouth agape in the wake of his words.

Osamu flicks his turn indicator on before he pulls his truck over to the curb, putting it into park. You’ve stopped outside a convenience store, and when he turns to look at you, the fluorescents from inside the shop bathe you in a backlit halo where you sit in the passenger seat.

He grabs your hand. The one you still have lifted to point at him.

“D’ya see this?” he asks, holding your hand up in front of your face. The ring on your fourth finger catches in the glow of the convenience store lights.

Your eyes widen.

Osamu holds up his left hand where there’s a ring that matches your own.

“I said it’s good y’got a crush on me ‘cause we’re married, dummy.”

Your lips form a surprised little ‘o’ as your eyes flicker rapidly from the band on your finger to his own and back again. 

After a moment you grin, your eyes squeezing shut with how high your cheeks lift. “What a relief!”

Osamu is quick inside the store, just popping in to buy a vitamin drink for you and a pack of cigarettes for himself. He doesn’t smoke as much these days—you’d nag him incessantly if he did—but every so often he gets a craving, and tonight is one of those instances. 

The two of you sit side by side on the curb in front of the shop, the truck parked a little ways down the road. 

Osamu takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing in contentment with wispy plumes of smoke slipping from his lips. He peeks over at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Ya feelin’ better?” he asks.

You’ve got the little bottle of vitamin drink cradled in your hands, working your way through it slowly. You hate the taste of them, he knows that, but you’d regret it more tomorrow morning if you didn’t force it down tonight. You nod a bit, and seem to have sobered up in the time since Osamu arrived to take you home.

“This reminds me of when we first started datin’” Osamu laughs to himself. And he means it. Everything about it. Being out so late. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue. The way you keep creeping a little bit closer to him unconsciously, as though his space isn’t already yours to freely take. “I can’t believe ya forgot we’re married.”

You groan in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He bites back a grin, trying not to revel too much in your misery.

“And I’m sorry I made you come pick me up,” you mumble after a moment, taking another sip from the little bottle in your hand and wincing against the bitterness. “I planned to just take a cab.”

“It was that little junior of yours who contacted me,” Osamu laughs, lifting the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he rifles in his pocket for his phone. He holds the device out so you can see the conversation where your subordinate had commandeered your phone, remorsefully messaging Osamu asking him to come and collect you from the bar. He’d even used a funny little sticker of a bunny with tears in his eyes bowing apologetically—it bears a striking resemblance to Kimura himself. 

“That kid,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly as you rub your temple. Your eyes suddenly widen and your face snaps towards your husband. “Wh—“

“Tsumu’s there watchin’ ‘em,” Osamu laughs, reaching up and plopping a hand down atop your head. “Not that there’s much to watch since they’re in bed. He was still at the house when Kimura-kun messaged me.”

You lean into Osamu's touch as you think of your twins at home, tucked up in the little bed they share, and it makes your heart ache a little bit. You wonder if you’ll be able to creep in and give them a kiss goodnight when you get home without waking them. 

You go terribly quiet for a moment, and Osamu finishes his cigarette. He stamps it out on the curb beside him and then slips the extinguished stub back into the pack to throw into an ashtray later.

“Samu?” you call to him, your voice quiet.

He glances over at you, and sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around your knees. The anxious posture worries him.

“I didn’t forget you, I promise,” you whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”

Your husband watches as you admire the ring on your finger that reflects the streetlight overhead.

Osamu smiles to himself, scooting closer to you on the curb.

“I know,” he reassures you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. Your head naturally falls to his shoulder. Familiar and instinctive. “I was just teasin’ ya.”

You smell like alcohol. He’s sure he smells like cigarettes. You're in rumpled business casual, and he's dressed in the sweats he planned to wear to sleep. He reaches over and takes your left hand in his own—your wedding rings overlapping. And for a moment, in spite of all the ways the two of you have changed over the years and all the ways that life is different now, everything is exactly how it’s always been.

He tilts his face and presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

‘I’ve got a crush on ya too, by the way.”