#car tune up service near me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceilidho · 10 months

Text

prompt: ex special forces ghost working as a “travel companion for hire” and reader hires him because she’s too nervous to go solo travelling

It’s not the first time you’ve been somewhere on your own, but it’s the first time you’ve realized that maybe solo trips aren’t for you.

It’s in Germany, three drinks in and stumbling back to your hotel room, paranoia gripping you every time you pass a dark alleyway or take a right onto a deserted street. It’s the man walking your way on the same side of the street that has you stuffing your hand into your purse, clammy fingers gripped tight around your keys.

On the flight home, you’re wiped. Beat. Finally untethered from a week’s worth of anxiety slowly reaching a boiling point. You’ve traveled on your own before, but it’s the first time you can remember being acutely aware of your vulnerability. Granted, before this trip, it’s not like you’d traveled all that much on your own, especially outside of the country.

Ghost comes as a recommendation from a friend of a friend. You’d hemmed and hawed about the whole ordeal the Monday after getting home from your trip—working the front desk at an auto-body shop means that there’s no shortage of people to talk to. The guy picking up his car (fender bender, a wicked crack down the front that’s since been fixed) listens to you gripe with an absent look on his face, but you’ve learned to tune those out. People will listen to you even in spite of their indifference when there’s nothing else to do.

“Y’know, I know a guy that does stuff like that,” he says, cutting you off halfway through another half-baked rant about airline fares these days. Your mouth puckers into something quizzical. Tell me more, it says without saying. “Ex-special forces. Left because of some medical thing, I think. Dunno. Anyway, he’s been all over the world—built like a brick shithouse, that one—and last I heard he was, uh, renting out his services.”

“Services?”

“Like, he’d go with you, hang back while you do your thing, but basically the muscle. There to back you up if someone fucks with you.”

You’re just fresh enough off your vacation (an entirely miserable week, lest you explain the whole thing all over again) to give him your number. He promises to put you in touch with the friend of a friend who’ll put you in touch with one Simon Riley. He then gives you shit about the price on his bill and you knock ten percent off begrudgingly because the piece of paper with your number written on it is still crumpled in his palm.

No good deed goes unpunished or whatever.

“He’s not actually in the country right now,” Laswell, the friend of a friend, explains over coffee, Biscoff cookies spread out on a little tea plate between the two of you. “Or the continent.”

“Where is he?”

“For the rest of the month? Indonesia. He’s supposed to be back on the ninth. Should I let him know that you’re interested in his services?”

It’s a toss up at first. The thought of sacrificing your dignity (he would be more or less your babysitter) for adventure is tricky. With the way the dates line up—when you plan on traveling and when he gets back to the UK—you also won’t have much time to make his acquaintance before setting off.

But there are places you want to go, sites you have scribbled down in a pocket-sized notepad folded up in the inner lining of your backpack. So you give her your permission and promise to join her and her wife for dinner sometime (repayment, and also it’s only been a few months since you moved, so you currently have a dearth of friends in your life anyway).

The first time you see him when he stops by your workplace, you can’t help the double take. It just doesn’t seem possible. You know from Laswell and the guy at the body shop that Ghost is ex-military, but you’d been expecting some buzz-cut, slightly smarmy army reserves guy, maybe six-foot and decently muscled. What you don’t expect is the tatted beast that’s near twice your size. Only the top half of his face is exposed, the rest hidden beneath a black mask; you think briefly of asking him about it, but chicken out under his withering stare.

He doesn’t seem impressed when he meets you. “What’s your list?”

“Um…just around Europe. I haven’t thought about it too much.”

He stares down at you. “You wanna hire me just to run around the continent?”

“I haven’t thought about it!”

“Well, best give it a think fast, doll. Haven’t got all day for you to figure it out.”

You do have to think fast. He doesn’t leave until you’ve spelled out exactly where you want to go, until he’s watched you book plane tickets over your shoulder, heavy at your back while sweat beads at the nape of your neck. He’s entirely too intimidating to be looming over you like that.

You watch him whip out his phone and fire off a couple of texts; your phone pings with an email telling you that you’ve been reimbursed for his flight and when you protest, he brushes you off by saying that he’ll invoice you for everything at the end of your trip.

Then what was promised falls into place. Free of burden, free of anxiety or restless energy, new possibilities open up to you: countries where you don’t speak the language; countries where the sites you want to see are spread out across a wide enough area that it warrants having a man packed beside you in a too-small taxi, his thigh a hot line against yours; hiking trips through national parks, where you don’t feel like you might slip down a hill and twist your ankle, stuck without water or cell service.

You only have two weeks worth of vacation, so you use them wisely. A week traveling across Switzerland and Austria, and then a week in Cairo to see the pyramids.

Ghost hangs back most of the time while you traipse around and do your own thing. You can feel him at your back when you approach the stands where the local vendors have set up shop, perusing silver trinkets and jewelry, only returning to your side when someone stands too close to you.

He fists a hand in a pickpocket’s shirt when they try for your purse, giving them a shake and sending them off.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you mutter in his direction as you watch the young man scurry away. Not sure if you’re blushing or sunburnt.

“You hired me to deal with this shit my way. Don’t get mouthy now.”

You think it might be the former because while you might not be the best at reapplying sunscreen, Ghost has been gentle-parenting you this whole trip. He pulls you off into corners and growls down at you while squirting a dollop of sunscreen into the palm of his hand to spread across your face. You close your eyes when his rough hands trace over your face and breathe out heavily when he spins you around, big hands engulfing your shoulders and spreading down your back.

You don’t think it could get worse. It gets worse.

He won’t spring for his own room. You stare at him in disbelief in the lobby of the two star hotel where you’ve booked a room with a single bed. There’s a vending machine in the corner of the lobby that only sells coke (all of the other buttons are broken). One of the ceiling lights flickers on and off, an ominous buzz filling the room. Ghost doesn’t so much as blink.

“You didn’t tell me—I didn’t know that was my job,” you rebuff, anxiety a fist in your throat. You’ve already asked the front desk for another room, but they’ve been sold out for weeks, the woman at the front desk informed you with no small amount of pity. It’s the busy season; even two-star hotels get booked up in the dog days of summer.

He cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Never had to before. My job isn’t to book shit.”

“I sent you my itinerary.”

“That’s not how I work, love. Where’s your room?”

It’s nothing short of humiliating to have him follow you back to your shabby little hotel room. Your hands shake when you unlock the door, opening it to something no bigger than a closet. You’d purposefully gotten a smaller room than you usually would, anticipating the cost of Ghost's invoice at the end of your trip. No good deed goes unpunished.

He ushers you into the room with a hand on your back, shutting the door behind him. You flick on the only light in the room, a bulbous thing hanging from the ceiling. No bedside lamp.

When he settles on the end of the only twin bed in the room, the bedframe groans under his weight. Your hands are already clammy. He’s already making himself at home, unbuckling his belt with a single hand; it makes you almost dizzy to look over at him so you try desperately to avert your eyes.

“At least wait until I’m in the other room,” you hiss, rifling through your suitcase faster to get your clothes for after your shower.

“Quit moping, love,” Ghost scolds, resting back on his elbows and toeing off his boots. “We’ll make it work. Just gonna have to get comfortable together.”

You scurry off to the bathroom with your pajamas clutched tight to your chest, paying no attention to the fact that he doesn’t sound as upset as you thought he might.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod simon riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost/reader #ghost cod

2K notes · View notes

flowercrowngods · 4 months

Text

based on an idea i had about steve getting a bad migraine from the sudden bloodloss after kas feeds from him

post-canon, steddie don't like each other, hermit kas, depressed brain injury steve, kinda gloomy, anxiety & compulsions

Steve cuts the engine with a sigh, feeling heavy and alien, like a lone survivor in a ghost town. He’s not a lone survivor, and Hawkins isn’t technically a ghost town because there’s still enough of them here to build it back up or to watch it crumble and cave in on itself, front row seats to the fourth wave of destruction.

Maybe the real ghost is Steve, actually, floating through his days just waiting for his brain to decide it’s had enough. Just waiting for the perpetual ringing in his ears to rise in pitch and frequency and for his skull to fucking crack open from the never ending waves of the never ending buzz.

Robin asks him about it a lot, notices how he will stop and listen to his body on every inhale that feels slightly wrong, or every movement that’s just a little too fast or just a little too sudden, the blood rushing into his head or out of it, the doctor’s words ringing in tune with the tinnitus: You watch that head of yours, young man, and do not hesitate to call emergency services when the headache won’t stop after a few hours, or when anything feels off, you hear me?

The truth is, he barely heard him then. Blood was roaring in his ears, the tinnitus still quiet, but his hearing still dull from impact and screams and shock wave after shock wave of the world sewing itself back together.

He sighs again, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel and trying to catch his breath. Taking stock of his head, the heartbeat he can only feel in his hands right now and nowhere near his temples, and the quiet little tap tap tap of his finger nails hitting the leather, wanting to make sure he can hear it. Wanting to make sure he doesn’t imagine the sound.

Always fucking needing to make sure.

Soon, he breathes a little steadier, convincing himself that getting out of the car won’t be the last thing he’ll ever do. It’s so stupid, too, that fear, all that anxiety living inside him just waiting to boil and spill over until he does something stupid just to spite it.

The cool breeze hits his face, working in tandem with his calming breaths to alleviate his obsessive thought spirals, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he does nothing but breathe for a minute there.

He’s up. He’s standing. He can walk through the forest to the vamp’s hiding place, it’s fine. It’s fine. Although standing so suddenly makes him aware that he hasn’t eaten much today, too busy hating everything about this town and helping to rebuild it anyway.

Forgetting to eat and drink is another thing that’s new to him. There’s quite a few things he forgets a lot, but those are the worst. Robin is always on his ass about that, but at some point he stopped telling her. It feels like he’s stopped telling her a lot of things. Maybe that’s something else that comes with severe brain injury, young man.

He feels plenty guilty about it at least — but not enough to tell her about all the horrible things that are happening to him, or the horrible things he thinks are happening to him. The Upside Down is gone, Vecna is dead. These bad thoughts, they’re all him. But knowing that doesn’t fucking help.

Pushing away from the car and turning around to lock it, Steve decides to wallow in self pity no longer and to just get on with it. As much as he hates it. As much as part of him wants to just go home and claim that he forgot about that, too.

It’s no secret that Steve never liked Eddie. The boy’s a hypocrite, he’s loud, he’s annoying, and he just likes to shame people as publicly as possible, spitting proclamations of conformity and sticking it to the Man while at the same time turning anarchy into despotism under the guise of rebellion — and he’s the dictator.

Or, he was. And Steve never cared about him or his larger than life attitude that was worse than any of the smiles Steve ever wore to fit in in high school. Steve mostly ever just wanted Munson to shut up and eat his lunch, stop pretending he’s better than any of them just because he liked different things.

Although it wasn’t even about liking other things, it was only ever about disliking. And shaming and denouncing. Steve always wondered what kind of a miserable life that dude must have lived, shaping himself not from what he liked but from what he hated. Creating an identity that left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth because it was so fragile and contradictory and, frankly, so fucking annoying.

Still, he’d never wished for Munson to get involved in all of this. He’d never wished for the man to die. And then to come back only to be turned into some kind of vampire, doomed to live an even worse existence than he did as a human, hidden away in some shabby cabin.

Steve feels a little bad for him now. For Eddie. Or Kas, as the kids like to call him because he never reacts to his name anymore, more monster than human these days, although Dustin is sure they can domesticate him into becoming his old self again.

“Like Dart, remember?”

“Dude, don’t compare our friend to your sick little creature.” That was Lucas, affronted and annoyed. Steve could relate, although…

“You gotta admit, he’s kind of a sick little creature himself now.”

“Steve!” they’d both yelled, and Steve just playfully shoved their heads back before going to grab a coke from the fridge.

And Kas, because vampires are apparently a thing even after the end of the world, needs blood to survive. The forests are void of animals most of the time, like nature has decided to give Hawkins an ultimatum before returning and the day hasn’t come yet. Maybe it’s something to do with electromagnetic fields, or maybe it was something else entirely leading them all to safety while Hawkins was turned into a war zone. Either way, there is nothing for him to feed here.

Kas can’t just stalk around the woods at night and drink up a deer or two. Nor can he go rob the blood bank at the hospital, they’re running low as it is anyway. That left them all with only one option that Mike so disgustedly pointed out back then: Kas needs their blood. And Steve feels just bad enough for him to play along.

So now he is out here playing blood bank for the monstrous version of a guy he never even liked, and his hometown is in shambles, and his head might actually sign the fuck off at any moment now, apparently.

Things are going great.

Saving the world is just… really fucking isolating.

Still he has no choice but to announce his presence with a firm knock on the door, the pattern easy but memorable.

“This is Steve,” he adds as his hand falls to his side, waiting.

Kas always takes a while to come out and open the door, hiding away from any noise like a feral cat. Steve can kind of relate — he and Kas don’t have the best relationship either. He has no idea how sudden vampirism works, but just like feral cats will be able to tell when someone wants to hurt them and when instincts should be kicking in, Kas seems to realise how little Steve wants to be here and help him. How little he wants to have his blood sucked out of his body leaving his limbs to feel numb and uncomfortably tingly.

Eventually, though, the door opens with a creek, just enough for a pair of eyes — too large, too wide, too wild — blink back at him. Steve just lifts his eyebrows, really kind of not in the mood to deal with this barely human vampire and his absolute lack of learning curve about this situation.

When he’s sure Kas has blinked at him for long enough now, he pushes open the door and shoves inside rather roughly, immediately feeling bad when he hears the slight whimper.

“Sorry,” he mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets again and trying not to grimace at the stale, disgusting air in the cabin. “Jeez, you really gotta open a window every once in a while. Thought vamps were supposed to have heightened senses or some shit.”

Kas growls at him, mirroring Steve’s move and shoving past him this time, his shoulder slamming into Steve’s with painful strength. Glowering at the stupid vampire, he rubs at his shoulder before crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Listen, buddy, I can just leave and have you deal with your hunger, okay? No big deal for me, I even get to keep my blood.”

Kas snaps at him, showing his fangs and crossing his arms, too; a laughable copy of Steve’s own stance.

“Or you could just cut the crap and get on with it so I actually can leave again without taking shit from the peanut gallery. Your choice.”

The huff that follows is so indignant, Steve wonders if that could be what gets Kas out of Munson’s body and let the human win over the monster. Maybe indignation and annoyance is what will break the spell eventually, lift the curse just enough for Munson to get back into his old habit of monologising and spouting nonsense out of that big mouth of his.

Steve is half tempted to try, but he really does want to just go home and lie on his large couch with no sensory input whatsoever, tuning out the world and his anxieties that might be about to turn into compulsions just for him to gain a little control over everything again. So he squares his shoulders and takes off his jacket before tilting his head to the side, allowing Kas full access to his neck.

It’s always a little scary but still oddly fascinating, filling him with that same rush that came with witnessing all the supernatural shit over the past few years. Kas is the last remnant of all that, and somehow, buried beneath piles of rubble and trauma and the teenager he had to give up on being, Steve feels weirdly protective of that.

Not of Eddie. Of Kas. Of the monster that lies dormant. Of the last bit of danger in his life, because he doesn’t know how to live without it anymore — so much so that he has to make it up.

Maybe it’s a symptom of his self destructive tendencies, as Robin would call it. But Steve might be as fascinated with the vampire as Robin is with fire; so she doesn’t get to have a say in this.

There is always a strange intimacy in the way Kas approaches him. Slowly, carefully. Like a hunter his prey. Steve doesn’t feel like prey, not really, but a part of him wants to. A part of him needs to be prey again, if only for those instincts that manifest with a perpetual tremor and a restless feeling in his chest to be of use again. If only so he can have a point again. Something to fight that’s outside oh his own head.

Now, his point is standing still entirely and feeling those chapped but warm lips trail up and down his throat a little before Kas finds the right spot that won’t really hurt Steve, the right spot that will make it all go by quickly and without any hiccups.

Still he shivers, like always, and Kas holds him close when he finally bites down. Like always.

He stands motionless as he feels his blood flow alternating, rushing in his ears and his head, his heart thump-thump-thumping, putting up a fight against the strange intrusion. He hardly even breathes at all, focusing instead on his body and burying his finger nails in his palm for five seconds before releasing his hands and repeating the process three times before he gets it right.

But then his head is pulsing, his heartbeat slowing down as his vision briefly blacks out in the same way it does when he gets up too quickly, and his heart falls. It’s too much. Too sudden.

“Kas,” he says, but the vampire doesn’t hear him, drinking more and more of the blood that must be so thick with how little he’s had to drink today — something he only just remembered. “Kas,” he says again, more urgently this time; but still the vampire drinks.

And where before Steve had a clear vision of the door in the dark room — the light of day streaming in through the cracks and framing it almost mystically —, it’s spotty now. Just slightly off. Like something is missing but his brain is working overtime to complete the picture anyway, reducing the blind spot to merely an illusion. But Steve knows what’s happening. He knows what the sudden pulsating of his head means, especially when it’s followed by his vision just going AWOL on him.

No, he thinks as the situation really settles in, and he begins to push Kas away. Not like it matters anyway now; the damage is done. No, no, no, no, fuck!

He frantically shoves at the vampire now, blinking against the blind spot even though he’s painfully aware it won’t help. Kas breaks away from him, wiping his mouth and smearing his face and the back of his hand with Steve’s blood. If he looks just right, he can’t even fucking see it.

Heart falling further, Steve buries his hands in his hair and pulls, hoping that by some kind of miracle he can just pull the migraine out of his head before it can really settle. It’s his only chance. He can’t drive like this, he shouldn’t walk like this, and soon he won’t be able to do anything at all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” be hisses, hearing the edge of desperation in his own voice and caring very little about that right now.

Kas is on him again in a second, and Steve waves him off, tries to shove him away but the vampire is stronger and persistent.

A high keening sound builds in Kas’s chest, and Steve knows he doesn’t really speak, doesn’t really use his words, ever — maybe he doesn’t know how. But the keening sounds more like a whine, and the way he pulls at Steve to look at him is as much an indicator of worry as he’s going to get.

But Steve doesn’t want Kas’s hands on him, wants to just get out and away before the pain comes. So he takes another step back and holds up his hands, hoping that the vampire will just fucking take a hint.

A little too quickly and a little too frantic, Steve shakes his head, his eyes flitting about the room to see if there’s still pieces of it missing or if phase two is about to start. He has about twenty minutes left before his body will be composed of nothing but skull-splitting pain that is only equal to someone ramming actual nails into his head — and even that would be preferable right noe, because at least that pain he wouldn’t need to explain. Or justify.

Another keening sound interrupts Steve's burgeoning spiral, and his eyes land on Kas, who really looks like a kicked puppy right now.

"I gotta go," he says, voice a little unsteady with apprehension and panic, but just as he's about to rush out of the cabin, Kas crosses his path and won't let him move.

A strong hand lands on his chest, and Steve really, really doesn't want to deal with that right now. He tries again, tries with more force to sidestep and push past him, but Kas won't let him budge.

"Let me go." But Kas doesn't let up. "Kas. Please. You gotta let me go, I gotta get home, I—“

The first flash of white in his peripheral vision catches him off guard, moving his focus away from the clawed hand on his chest and toward the flickering line that cuts through the left side of his vision right now.

Curious or worried or maybe just really fucking stupefied at having Steve act so weirdly, Kas inclines his head and ducks to catch Steve's eyes.

"Move," Steve says again, as assertive as he can manage with his brain and body scattered between following the flickering lights that are invisible to everyone else and the pain that is about to consume him, leaving him incapacitated for several hours at least.

Instead of moving out of Steve's space and allowing him to leave, Kas shoves him backwards with that superhuman strength he has now, forcing Steve to stumble back helplessly. Fear rises in him again, and it's a different flavour this time that mixes horribly well with the anxiety and apprehension and all the waves and waves of blinding panic he feels out of nowhere almost all the time now.

His knees buckle when they hit something rather violently, and then he's falling, landing on the worn couch with a breathless gasp, his instincts running wild. He needs to fight, he needs to run, he needs to get home and be safe and get the fuck away from this monster who won't let him go now. Steve doesn't know Kas as someone who will just take what he wants, but, well, he is Munson, in a way. So that tracks.

But instead of attacking him, instead of going for his neck again and sucking the rest of his blood, instead of beating Steve to a pulp to keep him pliant and unmoving and turn him into some sort of personal livestock, Kas just... sits down next to him. Hands in his lap. Worried look trained on Steve, who needs to catch his breath and calm down.

"Hurt."

It startles Steve. Kas has never spoken to him. But what’s more, Steve shouldn't be that obvious. He doesn't want to be that obvious, especially about hurting and being hurt.

So he shakes his head, his hands coming up to press into his eyes, hoping to get rid of the flickering lights even though he knows that once they stop, the pain will come; and it will come badly.

"'M not hurt," he says, lying through his teeth and the heel of his hand. "I just gotta go home."

"Hurt," Kas says again, and it's more assertive this time, less of a question. Like he's telling Steve rather than asking. Like he's making him understand.

He reminds Steve a little of Robin in that regard, and he almost has to smile. He would, too, if he wasn't so aware that it would become a horrible grimace, wavering and pale even by vampire hermit standards.

So he sighs instead, letting his hands fall into his lap and wringing his fingers. There are about ten, maybe fifteen minutes left. Not enough to get anywhere safe on foot, and he sure as hell ain't driving when his vision is halfway through its rendition of a TV without signal, zig-zagging in white and red and green, flickering and flaring and leaving him a little disoriented even when all he's doing is sitting on that dusty old couch.

"Hurt," Kas repeats for the third time, and Steve tenses, ready to snap at him to shut up, that he's not hurt yet but will be any minute now and that Kas should really just shut the fuck up and leave himself if he won't let Steve go anywhere.

But looking at those wide eyes, he doesn't snap. He deflates. His shoulders fall and his eyes close, which only makes the flickers worse, he feels.

“I’m… I’m gonna have a migraine," he sighs, letting that hang in the air between them, letting the words take up the whole room and suffocate him while he knows that they won't touch Kas. That he won't understand. Nobody does.

It's just a headache, Steve, get over it.

They leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and he's just waiting for the huff to come.

But it doesn't come. Instead, Kas just keeps looking at him; same worried expression, same unobtrusive posture, same everything. Right. He probably doesn't know jackshit about what that's supposed to mean.

So Steve explains. “I, well. I kinda can't really see right now, but that'll pass. That's when the pain comes. I won't want to move. No light. No noise. No nothing. And all I can do about it is wait it out, which is why I need you to let me leave..."

It's one of those moments where he hates that he's the only one of their group with a license; that he can't just radio with a code red and have someone come get him no questions asked.

"I just wanna go home, man," he sighs, hating his voice for the weak whine around the edges.

A beat passes between them, and Steve pretends like he's not counting the seconds. Like he doesn't notice that the flickering zigzag line is getting smaller and dimmer, and that agony is imminent.

"Here," Kas says then, and somehow it's both an offer and a command. "You. Here."

Steve blinks, the words not really translating through the tired fog of his brain.

"Huh? Sorry, uh, what?"

"You," Kas says, shuffling closer to him, like that sort of helps him translate what it is he wants to say.

"Me."

Kas nods, then motions around the room and pats the couch cushion, releasing a cloud of dust from it. "Here."

“You—“ Steve frowns. "You want me to stay here?"

The nod is decisive and in another world Steve would have called it eager, with the way Kas is shuffling on the spot.

"Kas," Steve sighs, rubbing his face, not quite sure how to make the vampire explain that it's gonna be bad. Really, really bad. The flickering shimmer is already waning, and phantom pains are already setting in, settling along his skull like little pinpricks of warning.

A clawed hand reaches for his wrist, making Steve flinch away, but Kas doesn't hurt him. He pulls Steve’s hand away from his face almost gently, slowly, and makes sure Steve looks at him.

"Safe." And he looks so genuine about it. He looks like he knows what that word means. "Safe."

With a sigh, Steve accepts his fate. Kas isn't gonna let him go anytime soon, and at this point Steve really doesn't want to face the gloomy weather outside, stuck as it is somewhere between drizzle and downpour and so endlessly grey for days.

Still he feels pathetic about it. Vulnerable. Exposed. Like a last bastion falling, the castle walls crumbling, the fragile house of cards finally falling, because suddenly this agony isn't something he keeps only to himself.

Even if it's only Kas who witnesses it. Kas, who’s endured worse than that, Steve knows. Brainwashing, manipulation, the agony of shaping human into vampire so excruciating his mind has gone into hiding still.

"Okay," Steve breathes at last, pretending that his voice didn't break on that single word. "Okay."

Kas hums, the sound resembling more a gurgle than anything else, and before Steve knows what's happening, cold hands are pulling him up and off the couch.

"Jesus," he mumbles, barely catching his footing and pulling away from Kas's grasp, but following nonetheless, not even thinking about fleeing now. "I'm coming, I'm coming, man, don't touch me."

Miraculously, Kas does stay away, walking just one step ahead of Steve, turning towards him every two steps to make sure he's still following. It reminds Steve of a mama duck herding her ducklings across the street and making sure they're all still there. It's weirdly endearing.

"Why do you even care?"

He doesn't get an answer, but that's no surprise, and he doesn't really mind either. It was more about wondering, about putting that question out there and letting it take up space for future contemplation.

Kas leads him to an adjoining room, the north-facing windows all barred shut, ripped and moth-eaten curtains drawn to block out the last of the light. Right. Fitting, for a vampire's lair.

The bed in the middle of the far wall is surprisingly large, though, and looks surprisingly soft. It's unmade, but that's just as well. There are no belongings in the room otherwis that Steve can make out, the framed pictures on the wall look as dusty as the rest of the cabin, so they can't belong to Kas. Or maybe he likes them enough to keep them, to claim them as his own now.

It’s a heartbreaking thought.

Stupidly and out of nowhere, Steve wonders if he could take care of this cabin. Dust it and clean it and only fill it with things Kas likes. Maybe things Munson used to like — surely the kids would know how to go about that. Or Wayne.

He's about to ask; about the pictures, about the stuff, about Wayne — if he's been around lately, if he's still telling stories to bring back the dormant Eddie parts of his modified and manipulated mind.

But just as he's about to turn to the vampire and ask, the blinding flickers disappear from his field of vision in the dark room, and within seconds something inside his skull bursts, leaving his body awash with pain that nearly has his knees buckling. A whimper escapes him that he tries to steer into a groan, but then his hands are flying to his head and he stops caring about how he expresses this immediate agony to the world.

Kas is on him again with a whimper, suddenly just as fucking tactile as his once-human form.

“Don’t touch me,” Steve rasps, wrenching himself free from the gasp once more. He really wishes Kas would stop touching him. "You want me to lie down here, yeah? Take your bed?"

Kas nods again, looking at Steve with those wide eyes that seem to glow in the dark — or maybe that's his migraine-addled mind seeing things where they aren't, making up for the blind spot and the flickering.

Steve looks away, the motion hurting his entire face, and he closes his eyes as pins and needles are moving along the inside of his face, pricking up against the skin but never breaking through.

"Right then," he whispers, his voice barely audible and still too loud, making his ears click and pressure collect around them, making him wonder if they're going to burst. "'M gonna lie down."

Struggling with the heavy blanket, Steve is close to giving up and just lying on top of it, but Kas is quick to help him once he realises that Steve needs it. He pulls back the blanket, still looking so damn stricken about everything, like he's genuinely worried about Steve. It doesn't make sense.

He doesn't have the strength for a Thanks or even a smile, but he nods just once, just barely, before sluggishly falling onto the bed and fumbling with the blanket once more. Every movement hurts. Every twitch of a muscle is too much, and just moving his pinkie is enough to douse his body in never-ending pain that travels from his skull all the way down.

Something Steve has always wondered is why migraines make his body shut down like that, leaving him in a state where all he can do is lie down and fall into a near-catatonic limbo until the pain has lifted enough to face the rest of the world again. Fighting inter-dimensional monsters and posing as a feast to demonic, modified monster bats was also agony. It also made him lose his footing and almost pass out from blood loss and pain, his back scratched open completely where the bats dragged him across rough stone.

Migraine pains don't really compare to those, though, and it scares him. Because he knows that's all up in his brain. His fucked up, mangled, thrice-concussed fucking brain he never got cared for because the government goons never took them seriously. Never took him seriously.

And now here he is, lying in a stranger's bed in a pitch-black room that's still somehow too bright, unmoving, too weak to even pull up the blanket, and hoping to pass out from it all. Hoping he won't hallucinate again this time. Hoping that he won't throw up this time, his body convulsing because it knows it shouldn't be feeling like this.

Throwing up from pain. There's really nothing more fucked up than that. Or, there is. Throwing up from pain and begging an invisible man to make it stop, only to realise hours later that the most painful migraines can also make you hallucinate.

He doesn't want that. He doesn't want any of that ever again, and certainly not in a strange, dark cabin with a vampire forged from a human he never even liked.

Tears spring to his eyes, but they're not the kind that'll fall and bring relief. They just stay in the corners of his eyes, his only way to express the waves and flares of pain washing over him, wishing he could just pass out now.

Kas tucks him in. Steve didn’t know he could do that. It strikes him as extremely non-vampiric even in this state he’s in. Steve doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as blink his eyes open as the pain travels up to his hairline and settles there, flaring over his forehead to his eyes and down to his cheekbones and then up again, a never-ending motion that he never stands a chance to get used to.

“Safe,” Kas says again, and it zings through Steve’s body with violent force that doesn’t match at all with the gentle tone he’s using.

Scrunching his forehead to stave off more words, Steve hopes that Kas will take the hint and know to shut up.

But he has no such luck.

“Here.”

“Shhh.” He shakes his head minutely, shushing the vampire with a barely there noise, keeping the damage to a minimal amount. “You can go,” he slurs, trying not to speak at all. “Please.”

A beat of blessed, blissful silence, before there’s shuffling again. Kas does walk to the door, but then stops in the doorway. Steve doesn’t want to look.

“No.” Kas sounds surprised about it. Mystified. Like he wants to leave but can’t.

What?

“Stay. Here.”

Whatever you do, just please be quiet about it, Steve thinks desperately. Instead of saying any of that, he shushes him again, hoping that the thump he hears means that Kas is sitting on the floor now. Though he doesn’t understand why.

Why do you even care?

“Safe,” Kas says again, whispering the word into the room, and it doesn’t zing through Steve this time.

With Kas refusing to leave and his pathetic state of existence so blatantly on display, and with waves and waves as his nerves fire signals to his overworked and tired brain, more tears sprint to his eyes. And this time they fall. Silently, and without a sob, without even a sniffle of acknowledgment. But they fall.

And Steve just wants to go home.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @hammity-hammer (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

part 2 here

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #kas eddie munson #dio words #kas takes care of steve fic #still not sure if this is tumblrable but it shall no longer stay between me and the discord thread girlies

486 notes · View notes

b4b3tte · 1 year

Note

Thank you for answering my question earlier! I was wonder if I could get some headcanons for Dwight Manfredi from Tulsa King? And thank you😊

TULSA KING

꒰ ⊹ ˚ Summary — Some Head Canons of dating Dwight Manfredi!

Contains of — Physical touches, Dates, Love languages, Romantic atmosphere, etc. ♡

My note — Hii!! Tysm for this request, very much appreciated! Honestly I didn’t know what type of relationship you wanted with Dwight like lovers or friends so I picked lovers but if that isn’t what you wanted then please let me know I’ll be happy to change it! Otherwise thank you for requesting and reading!!⭐️

— Dwight can be sorta complicated, being in prison for over 20 years has definitely left him touch starved but he will always stick to his Old-School manners.

— Which leaves you like “ should I touch him or no “ but you notice that behind close doors he will insist physical contact, while in public he’ll tone it done a lot by just a kiss on your forehead and his hand on your waist once in awhile!

- it gets obvious that his love language is Touch & quality time together, As much as he loves holding you while you are on his chest, he also adores just being in a room together and reading without a word being said

- But again he loves having you hold his hand or show him any sign of physical affection although he won’t verbally admit it. Speaking of that, he can be stubborn and won’t admit when he likes certain things at least affection wise

- For a second let’s retract to the first head canon, His “ Old School Ways “ dating someone in their seventies is completely different than dating someone in their twenties, not that you mind but let’s look at those differences

- He is an absolute courteous man ( gentleman ) and will always pay attention to your needs and wants. He loves to be a man of his word so whatever he tells you or promises you, he will do it without a doubt

- He believes that you deserve the highest of treatment, He will always pull out your chair and push it back in when you’ve sat down, Open all the car doors and doors to places for you, Pay for almost every meal, give you massages whenever you are stressed or tired, Make you coffee or tea when you wake up and whatever else you can think of!

- damn he is setting the bar high for me 💀 anyways😓

- For date nights it will always be incredibly romantic and seem like something straight out of a romance novel. The most regular and common one you guys would have is a Fancy Candle Lit dinner at a high end restaurant with top notch service and food that always manages to amaze you

- Another one will be a lovely night at a small cozy book store somewhere near downtown it can just be you two reading for hours while drinking caffè latte or latte macchiatto with tunes of piano in the background

- Lastly it can be around the afternoon maybe sunset, you guys will have a picnic at a beach or park and have a couple of books with you, eat while reading , maybe talk about the plot/authors and after take a stroll on the beach or park after the lunch and just talk for hours until night

- he adores spending large amounts of money on you, he understands money might not be everything for you or isn’t as special as quality moments but he still wants you to have nice things wether it’s jewelry or the newest skincare products you know?

- Whatever you add to your shopping car, whatever you stare at longer than 5 seconds, Whatever you talk about, he will manage a way to buy it, he believes giving you whatever you want has no price and he sometimes takes it quite literally

- One time you were upset your favorite artists album sold out quickly and Dwight being Dwight he found a way to get one, one with a personal signature of the artist he says no harm done but that’s obviously a lie.

- Another time you were eyeing a new food item on your phone that looked delicious, you never spoke about it but Dwight being observant and sometimes not intentionally, he picked up on it, figured which restaurant had it, picked it up and surprised you with the meal!

- when you were ranting about your friends new Vivienne Westwood necklace he quickly searched up where and when he can get it as soon as possible and it didn’t take long for you to receive a fancy package outside your door

- He loves seeing your reactions to romantic dates or expensive gifts he randomly gives you or even the random acts of service he does for you but nothing beats it better then your smile in the morning when he asks you how did you sleep 🤍

Hii!! Thank you so much for reading and liking this I truly appreciate it!! Stay disciplined and be consistent do the hard work especially when you don't feel like it, love you🫶🤍

85 notes · View notes

look-at-the-soul · 2 years

Text

The Photoshoot -Part 39

Series master list 2014 , 2015

Cillian Murphy x OC

Sorry! I’m a little behind my usual writing schedule, hoping to get there soon :) I think this part got a bit longer than usual or perhaps it’s we have lots of things happening! (The last part of the story runs towards August, 2015 when they finish filming the movie).

Special thanks to @heidimoreton for the Prague ideas 🔐♥️ and @forgottenpeakywriter for the chapter Anthropoid cover 😍

“Daddy huwgy up, mummy won’t stop kissing me.”

Cillian couldn’t hold the smile while looking at the screen. Scout was probably the most photogenic dog in the world.

He was almost there, almost home.

After being away for a while, all he could think of was hugging his wife, taking his dog to the beach, prepare some pasta for them, have a quiet time.

As the plane landed, he was glad he only brought one small bag, so he wouldn’t waste a lot of time at the airport.

Walking past the crew, he thanked them for their service during the flight, one of the flight attendants offered him an upgrade to first class, but he politely declined it. It was ridiculous to try to get some kind of advantage for his work.

Waiting in line to show his documents, someone tapped him on the shoulder; a man a little bit younger than him.

“Hey mate, didn’t want to bother you during the flight, just wanted to say I’m a big fan, incredible work you make people look at Ireland, you make us proud.”

Cillian gave him an awkward smile, not knowing what to say back.

“Thank you, appreciate that.” Cillian offered his hand to the man, who had another question.

“Any news on Peaky?”

“Ugh I don’t really know… sorry, but stay tuned.”

“Will do, thanks.”

Walking away, he moved the strap of his bag from one shoulder to the other. After all this time, it still felt weird being stopped at the most ordinary places, but at least that man didn’t ask for a photograph.

“Back home Mr. Murphy?” Leonard, his driver asked.

“Yeah, just for a couple of days though.”

Starting the engine, the man drove away.

It had been three long weeks since he saw his wife, he had been very busy filming and Yael had been working really hard on her second photography workshop, after the first one had been a success, now she had the double amount of people signing up. He felt extremely proud of her work and the story behind every photograph she took.

But she had also been alone when there was a mechanic problem with his car while she was using it, luckily the vehicle was parked when the battery died, but she had to deal on her own with the tow and the service, there was nothing he could do for her when he was so far away.

He just wanted to make it home already.

“Scout look! Who’s here?” Yael woke him up after reading Cillian’s text that he was about to arrive.

The black lab immediately tilted his head to the side and stormed to the window, moving behind the curtains, tail wagging in excitement.

“Daddy’s home!” Yael beamed opening the door to stop his cries.

As she opened the door, Scout ran straight to Cillian, lifting himself on his back paws.

Holding his dog with one hand, Cillian passed the other one around her.

“Hello beautiful.” He gave Yael a short peck on the lips while she squeezed his shoulder.

“Hi stranger.” Cillian saw his wife smiling at him, his eyes running down her body, mouth watering.

“Call me when you need to go back Mr. Murphy.” The driver handed her the small carry on bag as Cillian tried to handle Scout’s excitement.

His arm went to the small of her back and his free hand to retrieve his bag from her.

“Did you have a good flight?” Yael asked Cillian with a smile rubbing his back up and down.

“Yeah.” He whistled Scout who got busy near a bush. “But this, was all I really wanted.” He pulled her by the back of her neck for a deeper kiss now that the door was closed behind them.

“I’ve missed you.” She murmured against his lips.

This time around they had been apart longer, the Anthropoid project was different from his previous film; Free Fire, filming lasted only one month and she had been able to visit him more frequently because she could stay in Manchester and schedule shootings there, now that he was in Prague she would have to ask someone to look after Scout and she couldn’t change most of her sessions.

It had been lonely nights and mornings by her own, she only had Scout’s company during Cillian’s absence.

Letting out a deep sigh, he assured his wife he had missed her as well.

“I prepared you the bathtub, in case you want to relax.”

He didn’t want to break away from their hug.

“How about we have dinner first and then we both take that bath?” His eyes sparkled in anticipation.

“Sounds like that’s my kind of night.” Yael sealed the deal with a soft kiss, feeling like an ice cream melting in his arms, satisfied just by seeing his smile.

A couple of minutes later, they were both naked in the bathtub, Yael with her back leaned against his chest, his fingertips running lazily all over her thighs.

He had been telling her about Prague and the last sequence he filmed, they had to delay the next scenes a couple of days since some fans made it to the hotel halls and were looking for Jamie, Luckily he was out for lunch that day and the incident wasn’t something bigger, but the production team decided to take a small break to double the security and move the cast to another hotel, so he was able to go back home for a couple of days while they got that sorted out.

“Oh!” She suddenly said scaring him. “Violet asked us to be godfather and godmother of her baby, Noah.” There was a special sparkle in her eyes, her whole face lighted up as she turned around in the tub.

“Yeah? That’s great news!”

“You think so? I told her of course we accepted, but I also wanted to ask you first.”

Moving away a loose lock of hair from her face, he caressed her cheek. “How’s she doing?”

From one of their endless calls, Cillian knew that Yael’s cousin was going through a tough moment.

It was a thoughtful invitation, he knew they have always been close, growing up as the only girls of both families and close to age, Violet spent a lot of afternoons at Yael’s house while her mother was working. He had heard them talking for long periods of time, his wife was Violet’s confident during the hardest times.

It was exciting for him as well, he didn’t have any godson or goddaughter on his side of the family.

“She says she just wants you know, the small ceremony…” Her fingers found their way to his chest, moving in random patterns over his skin, her lips connected on his jaw. “But I was thinking we could organize them a little family reunion at the cottage, just for the closest family and a few friends?”

Cillian laughed suddenly, a deep, contagious sound. “Which given your family members, includes everyone.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned against his body pressing her breasts against his chest. “Sorry that we are a lot of people!”

“Yeah you guys are a lot.” His lips got lost in her collarbone while his fingers found her wet folds under the soapy water.

***

The following day after a quick stop at a café for a small breakfast, they drove to Cork for a family birthday celebration, it was Sienna’s birthday and everybody were headed to the grandparents house.

“What did we get Sienna?” Cillian asked at a stop sign and looked at his wife behind his Raybans.

Yael laughed, she knew the last thing of his worries was the present. “A doll house for her Barbies. It’s adorable!”

“Are you trying to blackmail a little girl with presents?”

Yael gave him a fake displeasure look. “Of course not!”

Taking the steering wheel with one hand, he moved his free one casually to rest it on her thigh.

“Easy cowboy.” Yael stopped his hand from going under her dress.

A mischievous smile appeared on his lips and a deep laugh escaped his mouth, he didn’t even try to hide it.

“Busted.”

“Behave Murphy.” She asked in a playful tone. “We’re going to your parents house.”

“We could sneak into my old bedroom.” Yael blushed at his words but shook her head. “We could be really quiet…”

Arriving at their destination saved her from his fingers going further.

“I could give you a little hint.” She could play the teasing game too.

“Do you like my nails?” Cillian studied her manicured hands, it was a pale lavender color.

His confused expression made her laugh. Why was it related?

“When I was younger, my mum told me my shoes should match my purse…” his confusion grew bigger, but he waited patiently for her explanation. “Now I decided to match my nails with my underwear.”

It took him several minutes to comprehend her statement, enough for Yael to help Scout down from the car and carry the dollhouse inside. And still Cillian didn’t have enough time to recover from it.

“I brought a special guest, hope you don’t mind.” Yael informed Orla and Kathleen as she hugged them, right before Cillian showed up at the door.

“What are you doing here!”

“Uncle Cilly!” Sienna ran straight to his arms.

“When did you arrive?” His mother asked in surprise, looking between her son and Yael.

“Come and see my cake!” Sienna pulled him by the hand twirling in her Snow White dress.

It was an unexpected visit since they all knew he was away filming, but also a lovely surprise and Yael was more than happy with the company.

Since they arrived early, they were able to use Cillian as the official mover, his help was requested to help them rearrange the table for the presents and cake.

“Did you bring your swimsuit auntie?” Sienna asked moving away her bangs.

“I’m afraid the pool is only for the kids.” Yael smiled and adjusted her red ribbon.

“Can I open your present now?” Sienna gave Yael her best puppy eyes.

“Trying to blackmail your aunt?” Cillian appeared behind the girl and started tickling her ribs. Sienna squealed and tried to move away from her uncle but her laugh made it impossible.

“What are you doing here dickhead?” Pad put his sleepy son down to hug his brother.

“Missed ya shithead, that’s why I came.” Cillian patted him on the back so hard that his mother had to intervene.

“Don’t be so rude.” His mother had to intervene.

“Ah, yes because he’s going to break.” Cillian rolled his eyes, his mum was always so protective of Pad.

“Come and help with the grill.” Evan, his brother in law asked.

Sipping on her lemonade, Yael took some chips and lemon, then added some spicy peanuts to her plate.

Orla looked at the food Yael picked and even that she tried to hide it, she chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just a weird mix.”

Yael shuddered. “I used to eat these chips with lemon since I was a girl, I love it!”

Orla made a face, but she said nothing.

“The food is almost ready.” Cillian groaned and took a seat next to his wife, stealing some chips in the process. “Mmm this is good.”

Connor approached him in silence. “What do you got there buddy?” He saw the kid moving his eyes towards his wife and then hiding behind his arm. “You want to say hi to your auntie?”

The kid nodded, and Cillian finally saw the small flower his nephew was hiding between his hands.

“Oh! You want to steal my girlfriend.” He added in a louder voice, turning to see Yael.

“Leave him alone. Hi.” She looked over Cillian’s shoulder.

“Seriously? Flirting with my woman right in front of me?” He added a dramatic sigh and a disappointment look in his face.

“Stop!” Yael blushed and accepted the small flower Connor was giving her. “Thank you! It’s beautiful.”

Leaning down Yael kissed his cheek and laughed out loud when Connor turned red, the other women at the table cheered him.

“You like her?!” Cillian asked in shock.

The child nodded and tried to climb on Yael’s lap.

“Oop, let me help you.” Lifting him up, she crossed one leg over the other as he touched her hair.

“Guess I don’t stand a chance then.” Deflated, he got up and walked back to the grill where his brother in law was preparing the hamburgers.

“Sorry, he can be a little clingy.” Elise, Connor’s mum apologized and tried to get her child, but he shook his head and held onto Yael’s arm.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” Yael smiled at Elise while Connor was focused on her bracelets.

As the women at the table complimented the birthday decoration and specially the chefs in charge of the food, Cillian balanced a couple of plates on his arms, walking over to the table.

Looking at her husband, Yael waited until Cillian was close enough to hear her whisper; “I want one.”

“Babe, I just brought you your hamburger, you want anothe-”

Moving her foot a little, she tried to catch his full attention.

“No!” She then moved her head towards the toddler sleeping on her lap. “A baby.” She mouthed with a small pout, beating even Scout’s puppy eyes.

A warm smile spread on his lips, as he watched his nephew with his wife.

“My offer is still on the table,” he arched his eyebrow, “my old room is upstairs…” he added in a flirty tone.

Locking their eyes on each other, the sparkle was ignited. Pure adoration towards the other.

“Think of something to leave early.” Yael suggested running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, why lie? I’m just a horny man.”

Scandalized, Yael tried to cover his mouth, just in time as his mum approached them.

“You’re going to feel your arms numb in a bit, Yael.” Kathleen offered to take her grandson in her arms as he was completely asleep, he was totally relaxed and had warmed up to his aunt in seconds.

As she took the kid inside, to put him in bed, Orla couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself.

“You know I was just like that in the beginning, it’s called the womb’s calling.”

“The what?” Yael squinted her eyes.

“Baby fever, some people call it that way, and then boom, you get pregnant.”

Yael smiled nervously towards her sister in law.

“It happened in my group of friends, first one got pregnant then another and another…” Elise assured them.

“Maybe there’s something in the oven, I mean you were the perfect step mom while it lasted.” Orla added.

Looking at her glass, Yael remembered the time when she prepared to be a good step mom, but it was all taken away from her. “I hope so.” She added quietly.

“No onion, no pickles for you.” Cillian arrived with her food, taking the previous one he left and asked what they were talking about.

“Oh just about the photos I will take of Sienna later.” She hoped her eyes wouldn’t let him know she was lying.

“That’s no surprise, you wouldn’t let the girl have a bad photo.” Leaning in, Cillian kissed his wife’s lips softly.

Quietly, Yael hoped her sister in law was right, so she could get some news like that soon.

———

“Ready man?” Jaime asked after sipping on his coffee.

“Yeah.” He locked his phone and Jaime saw his lock screen of a black dog and a woman in a kitchen.

“Everything alright back home?” He asked, patting Cillian’s shoulder.

Cillian nodded and folded his script. “Yes, it’s just today’s my wife’s birthday and I can’t be there with her.”

“Hey, tell her I said congratulations!”

“I will.”

But Jaime wasn’t known for respecting privacy. “What did you get her?”

“She couldn’t travel, so my sister is taking her for brunch and I flew her parents over, they arrived yesterday.”

“Seriously? No flowers, present…”

“Of course I got her all that.” Cillian chuckled rolling his eyes. His other present wasn’t ready, it would take a couple of weeks since there was a mistake with the color he chose.

At least Yael wasn’t alone on her birthday, and he had another surprise planned for later.

“I know it sucks to be away from home sometimes man.”

As they were requested to a small meeting for the following scenes, Cillian got a photo on his cellphone, bringing a genuine smile to his lips.

“Thank you so much for my presents Cill! It’s almost as if you were right here.”

“I’m glad to know you like them sweetheart.”

“They kept coming during the entire day.”

Cillian picked on the fake newspaper they had on set, he asked Isla to give Yael the small presents he bought during the day, each one with a handwritten note he left the last time he was there. “I wanted to make my wife feel spoiled.” He could imagine her smiling at the other end of the phone. “I hope you have a fabulous day.”

“I am, thank you for all the details you organized for me, you made me feel special.”

“Oh the day is not over yet, there are a couple surprises left for you.”

“More?!” Yael asked in confusion.

Chuckling, Cillian walked behind the cameras and lights. “Go to the basement.”

He heard his wife moving around the house, other voices in the background.

“There’s a black box.” He instructed, listening to the sounds of surprise she was making.

Seconds later, a loud squeal was heard.

“Seriously baby? Thank you!”

“You like it?”

“Are you kidding me? This is the best present ever.” Yael assured him as she read the note.

Photography is the beauty of life captured. All my love, Cillxo.

It was a new Cannon camera, the complete set with different lenses, the new autofocus did a marvelous work, the resolution of this model would make her shots really stand out.

Yael kept thanking him over the phone, unfortunately he had to start filming soon.

“Why don’t you come over, we can celebrate your un-birthday, even if it’s late. I’m about to finish my scenes next week so we can stay and get to know Prague.”

“I’d love that! Can’t believe the movie it’s almost done.”

“Happy birthday again baby, can’t wait to see you, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Cill don’t worry, it’s fine.”

“Have to go, but call me tonight after you come back from dinner.”

“But I’m not going out?”

“Shit… guess your mum didn’t tell you yet.” He felt sorry for messing up the surprise. “Well, your parents are taking to you out to Wilde.”

“Wilde?!!!” She couldn’t believe he planned her birthday dinner at the same restaurant they went the first time she visited him in Ireland. It was a beautiful place.

“Enjoy the rest of the day my love, I’ll call you.”

———

She had been up early since he went to set to film, she was out to watch the sunrise at Charles Bridge, after some time enjoying the view she walked to a local café for some breakfast and then ventured around Prague on her own.

Old Town held magnificent Gothic architecture and sighting, it offered a lot of history and important places, and of course, romance.

Going through the photographs she captured during her stroll, she smiled showing Cillian a small gingerbread shop that looked out of a fairytale.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have some rest?” Yael asked as Cillian adjusted in his seat. The metro was the best option to move around and it wasn’t too crowded.

“I don’t.” He smiled touching her nose.

She knew it was an emotional final shot for Cillian, but he was determined to enjoy their time together. Jump back into his usual self after a demanding role, he was craving his routine.

“You made the reservation for tonight right?” He rolled his neck a bit, thanks to a recommendation he found an incredible place to have dinner for her belated birthday.

Yael shot him a look. “I thought you would do it.” But immediately smiled, suppressing a laugh and smooching him. “Of course I did!”

Cillian tickled his wife playfully as they walked out of the metro, announcing he would get his revenge later.

Stepping into the municipal library, Yael looked around as a kid who walks into the biggest toys store.

“Did you know that the project is called idiom and not the books tower as is usually named?”

He pulled her by the waist as someone was posing for a photograph and Yael was kind of in the middle. Shaking his head, he admired the installation.

“Eight thousand books.” Cillian read the card of facts.

“Oh! It says there’s a mirror at the top and bottom to make it look like it’s infinite.”

“Hmm.” Cillian hummed while Yael went to pop her head by the breach and Cillian took the opportunity to playfully do a little push on his wife’s back.

“FUCK.” Yael got scared and tried to grab onto something, of course Cillian wouldn’t push her, but her scream earned them a couple of looks as he was hugging her.

Cillian had to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes and cleared his throat as he felt Yael laughing in his arms.

“Now we’re even.”

“Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Throwing back his head from the laughter, Cillian pulled his wife against his body.

“Damn, I’ll try to earn my side of the bed back then, come on.” Holding her hand, he stopped a taxi.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

And indeed, it was a surprise when they arrived walking to the famous love lock bridge.

Having a chance to see the spot they heard so much about was something magical, love was palpable. And to think of the million love stories in each lock, made them constantly squeeze their hands or lean against the other.

“This is absolutely beautiful, I’ve no words.”

Kissing her hair, Cillian took his time to reach inside his pocket.

“Let’s add ours.” In his palm Yael found a lock and two small keys. Cillian took the marker from her hand.

“Do you remember our wedding date?” She teased.

“I think you’re sleeping on the couch.” He made a funny face.

Showing the lock to his wife that he not only remembered their wedding date, but also the date they met for the Photoshoot they did together back in March, 2014.

***

Next part

A/N: Ahh! Lots of things happening ☺️ I hope you like this, remember your comments help me to keep going, sorry for the time it took me to update, I’m trying hard to not let this happen.

Lots of love! Mar ♥️

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @lespendy @onlydeadcells @peaky-cillian @shelbydelrey @cutecurly-hair @kittycatcait219 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @alessioayla @esposadomd @queenshelby @heidimoreton @winchestergirl22 @ange-thoughts @the-forest-witchh @sloanexx @babaohhhriley @forgottenpeakywriter @hyperfixationsonshuffle @yrli8 @shaddixlife @gypsy-girl-08 @itsilvermorny @moral-terpitude @stevie75 @paprikabadger @elenavampire21 @mrkdvidal1989

#That’s what Cill said #Cillian Murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fan fiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #Cillian Murphy x oc

81 notes · View notes