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drabbles-mc · 2 years

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Safehouse

Steve Murphy x F!Reader

Gift for the Narcos Fanfiction Exchange 2022

Warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, angst with a hopeful ending

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: We love putting Steve Murphy in situations. It’s good for him.

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @thesandbeneathmytoes @bruxasolta @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @alm0501 @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @bport76 @marrianena @ashlingnarcos @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was late when the phone on the other end of his apartment started ringing. If his apartment had been a little closer to the noise of the street, he probably would’ve slept right through it. The first couple of rings didn’t really rouse him, but as the sound persisted, his brain forced his body to stir.

He grumbled, not saying anything particularly coherent as he stumbled out of his room and made his way towards the phone that was tacked onto the wall. His eyes were still only half open as he lifted it off the receiver, lazily pressing it to his ear.

“Murphy,” he answered, figuring the only reason someone would be calling him at this hour would be work-related.

“Steve?” the relief in your voice was noticeable, but the nerves were hard to miss too.

He blinked hard, trying to wake himself up a little more. He thought he knew the voice, but you’d never called him before, “Y/N?” he took a deep breath as he wiped at his eyes, “That you?”

“Yes,” your hands were shaking as you held the phone.

“What’s going on?” he hadn’t seen you in weeks, he was surprised that you even still had his number.

You had given he and Javi some information, but they could both tell that you weren’t cut out to be a long-term informant—one and done would be enough for you. Still, though, Steve had given you his number in case circumstances changed. He wasn’t expecting you to use it for a late-night call.

“I, um, I need help.”

He was fully awake at that, “What happened?”

“I don’t,” you lip started to tremble, “Please, just,” you tried to take a deep breath to even out the shaking of your voice, “Come get me, please.”

He knew that it couldn’t be good. He also knew that it could be a trap, but he wasn’t going to take the risk. He gave you his number for a reason—his soft spot for informants in tough situations manifesting a little differently than his partner’s.

“Where are you?” he asked, listening intently as you described your location to him. He took a deep breath, “You’re safe?”

“For now,” you couldn’t be sure how long that would last.

“Stay there, alright? And stay…stay outta sight. I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” your voice was quiet.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Steve did his best to sound reassuring. He wasn’t sure who he was reassuring more, you or him.

Putting the payphone back down on the receiver, you looked up and down the street before scampering across it towards the abandoned house you’d been staring at for the entirety of your phone call. There wasn’t much left to the building anymore, it certainly wasn’t something that could be lived in or even salvaged without knocking it down and starting fresh, but it would serve as a decent enough spot to wait for Steve to come and get you. Truthfully, you weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do, how you were expecting him to help, but he was the only person that you could think to call.

After you shut the door, you stepped and shed your tiny backpack before you slumped down against the wall until you were sitting on the floor. Whatever the flooring had been to start with, all that was left was the stone underneath. It was cold, soaking through the fabric of your shorts. Pulling your legs up, you wrapped your arms around them and rested your forehead against your knees. Taking a few shuddering breaths, you fought the urge to cry. There would be time for that later, but you weren’t out of the woods yet. You weren’t sure how long it was going to take Steve to get to you, but each minute seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

You fought the urge to pick at the torn skin on your knees, the blood mostly dried now, the grime solidified against your skin. A shower was going to be heavenly and painful at the same time. Assuming you would make it to one. Every time you heard footsteps outside you held your breath, even though you knew that there was no way someone would see you unless they came into the building as well, and why would they do that?

Your nails were digging into your palms, the crescent marks left behind dangerously close to leaking blood as you tried to keep yourself together. You didn’t know how long it had really been, but your mind was telling you that it had been too long, that you should give up on the hopes of Steve actually showing up, but you didn’t want to believe that. He’d seemed genuine back when he first told you that if you needed help, he would do what he could, and despite his exhaustion from being woken in the middle of the night, you could hear the urgency when he said he’d be there. He had to show up. If he didn’t, you weren’t sure what your next move would be, or if you would even have a next move.

You were gnawing at the torn skin of your lip when you heard a car roll to a stop outside, the sound coming in through the busted windows of the house. You held your breath, listening intently to the sound of the ignition cutting out, the door opening and then being slammed shut behind whoever was getting out. You knew who you hoped it was, but you knew better than to get up and take a look. If it was Steve, he’d let you know somehow, and if it wasn’t, it was better to pretend that you weren’t there to begin with. You held your bag tight to your chest in anticipation.

Then there was a light series of knocks against the door. You held your breath, although the gesture did give you hope. Most of the men you were trying to get away from weren’t going to waste their time with a formality like knocking, not anywhere but especially not against the door of a dilapidated house.

Trying to keep your breathing as quiet as possible, you waited for some other type of reassurance, a guarantee that it was really who you hoped it was. The only problem was, was that he was waiting for the same type of reassurance from you, something that told him he wouldn’t be walking into a trap, into a firing squad or worse.

Then you heard it. It was soft, easy to miss and yet you hadn’t the faint sound of your name from the other side of the door, his drawl evident even in his whisper. You let out a sigh of relief so loud you were surprised that he didn’t hear it.

“Yea?” your voice was weak, suddenly you couldn’t get your body to cooperate, couldn’t get your legs to raise you off the floor.

He immediately pushed the door open at the sound of your voice, gun held tight in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the doorknob. He saw you huddled down next to the door immediately, and despite the urge to drop down next to you to make sure you were alright, he still scanned the room, gun at the ready just in case.

When he was sure enough that it was just the two of you, he holstered his gun and knelt down next to you, immediately looking you over to see if you were hurt. You were bruised and scraped up, but for the most part, you were physically fine. Nothing that happened to you warranted a trip to the hospital. Still, his hands hovered over your legs, like he wanted to make sure you were alright but was too afraid to touch you.

He had a million questions, but it wasn’t the time or the place for them, “Can you walk?”

You nodded, although you weren’t sure if that was true anymore with the way your legs felt so locked up, “Y-yea, I, I can walk.”

He nodded as he got back to his feet, grabbing your bag for you and holding his hands out in an offer to help you up. You slid your hands into his, and you hadn’t noticed how clammy your palms were until now. He grasped your hands firmly, but not enough to hurt, and carefully pulled you to your feet. His arm instantly slid around your back, supporting you in case you started to wobble, and you did, causing you to lean completely onto him.

“I got you,” his voice was soft, reassuring, “I got you. C’mon."

He opened the passenger door for you, helping to gently lower you onto the seat. He set your bag down on the floor and made sure that you were tucked safely inside the vehicle before shutting the door and quickly making his way to his side. He hopped into the passenger seat, putting the key in the ignition as he looked over at you, still trying to see if you were alright, trying to see what you needed.

He was about to put the car in drive when he realized that he didn’t know where he was supposed to be bringing you. You hadn’t told him what happened in the first place, let alone where you needed to go now in the wake of it. Still, he didn’t like the thought of just idling there like sitting ducks. He decided that he would start making his way back to his apartment, and if he had to switch directions at some point he would just do that.

“Can I ask what happened?” he knew that asking to ask was a bit pointless, but it at least gave you an out if you really weren’t in a space to talk about it.

You let out a shuddered breath, “I, um, I just,” you shook your head, “things got a little rough, a little out of hand. They were all so angry,” you paused, thinking back on it, “I just took off before it got any worse.”

He gestured towards your scraped-up knees and elbows, “What happened there?”

You stared out the window, fighting back the tears, “They’re not easy men to work for, Agent Murphy.”

The use of his title and last name caught him off-guard. Your tone was so different than when you’d originally reached out to him on the phone. He wondered what he’d said to make you backpedal like that, he wondered too if drawing attention to it was only going to make it worse. He tore his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you, lips turning down into a frown at the sight of you trembling in his passenger seat.

“Where do you want me to take you?”

You still didn’t have a real answer to that. Part of you had been hoping that he would show up and already have a place in mind, somewhere they took people like you to keep them safe. You couldn’t go home, if they were after you it was the first place that they were going to look. You managed a shrug, “Somewhere safe?”

That caused an ache in his chest that he hadn’t been expecting. He nodded slowly, trying to pick his words carefully, “I can, uh, you can stay at my place tonight if you want? Figure out a better plan in the morning.”

You hesitated, not sure if that would be putting either or both of you in danger, “Is that…is that okay?”

He glanced over at you for a moment, “If it’s okay with you.”

You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to actually feel reassured by the prospect of it, “Okay.”

He nodded, focusing back on the road in front of him, “Okay.”

The rest of the ride passed on silently. You could tell that he wanted to ask more but wasn’t going to. Part of you wished that he would talk anyway, just to give you something to think about besides the ordeal that you’d gone through leading up to this. It could’ve been worse, and you knew that. The things that those men did to people, it could’ve been much, much worse. You weren’t used to getting knocked around, though, usually flying far enough under the radar that they hardly noticed you at all let alone enough to do that.

Even though his attention was on the road, Steve was still watching you out of the corner of his eye. He saw the anxious bouncing of your leg, the way you were picking at the hem of your shirt and your shorts. He felt bad that you were just sitting there stewing in whatever had transpired before you managed to call him. He didn’t want to make you relive it all but it also felt like changing the subject to something menial was a bit disrespectful given the circumstances. Before he could put his foot in his mouth, he reached and turned the radio on, cutting the silence that way instead.

It wasn’t too long before he was pulling into what you assumed was the parking garage for his apartment building. Time passed so differently when you weren’t waiting for him to show up—it felt like you had made it to his place in no time at all.

He parked the car, looking over at you as he pulled the key from the ignition, “We’re, uh, here,” he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to say to you at this point. He’d never felt so close to someone who was essentially a stranger. He didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

“Okay,” you nodded, grabbing your bag off the floor and pushing the car door open.

Before you could even try to step out all the way, Steve was there, offering you a hand. It was an offer you gladly took, leaning on him again the way you had before. The walk this time was much longer, but the two of you managed it.

You leaned against the wall next to his door as he fumbled with his keys, finally managing to slide it into the lock. He pushed the door open before holding his hand back out to you again, but this time you shook your head, doing your best to set your shoulders back and walk on your own. The adrenaline was wearing off and you were moving slower than you would’ve liked, but at least you were moving.

“Here,” Steve pulled out one of the chairs at the table just outside of his kitchen, “Sit, I’ll get you some water,” he quickly strode into the kitchen, reaching up and getting a glass from the cabinet. He looked over at you as he filled it under the tap, “You want aspirin or somethin’?”

You weren't sure how much good it would do, but you also reasoned that it probably wouldn’t hurt. You nodded, “Sure. Thank you.”

He walked back over with the glass in one hand, and the tiny bottle of pills in the other. He set them both down in front of you before pulling out the chair kitty-corner to yours. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. He clasped his hands and rested his chin against them, watching you and clearly deep in thought about everything. You tried not to think too much about his staring as you dumped a couple pills into your hand and tossed them into your mouth, taking a large gulp of water to wash them down.

You paused, not able to look him in the eye so you stared at your glass of water instead, “What happens now?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Hm?”

“Now that…that I’m here,” you tapped your pointer finger against the table, “what happens now?”

He took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. He shook his head for a moment before looking at you again, “You can stay here tonight. Tomorrow,” he took a deep breath, “we’ll deal with when it gets here.”

It got a tired chuckle out of you, “Is this how all of your plans go, Agent Murphy?”

His lips tweaked into a tiny smirk, “Most of ‘em, yea,” he saw the way it got a bit of a smile out of you and it made him feel a little better, “It’s worked so far, right?”

You nodded before finishing off what was left in your glass, “Right.”

There was a beat of silence before he said, “You, uh, you can keep callin’ me Steve, by the way.”

Confusion flashed across your face, “What?”

He didn’t know why he felt so nervous about saying it, “Don’t gotta call me Agent Murphy. Hell, most of my coworkers won’t even do that,” he punctuated the statement with a chuckle.

“Because you ask them not to? Or…?” your tiny smile let him know that you knew the answer already.

“Not because I ask them not to,” he shook his head with a soft laugh. He paused for a moment, fighting the urge to fidget with his hands, “I know you’re probably exhausted. If you wanna shower, you can. You can, um, you can just take my room. I’ll crash on the couch,” he gestured to the living room.

You shook your head, “No, I can’t make you—”

“You’re not,” he cut you off but his voice was still gentle, “You’re not making me do anything. It’s alright. Besides,” he stood up from the table, “I usually end up passing out on the couch anyway.”

You let him take the empty glass and the medicine back, waiting until he was done putting them away before standing up and letting him show you where the bathroom was. He grabbed you a clean towel and then left you, closing the bathroom door behind him as he went. You let out a deep sigh as you sat down on the closed toilet lid. You dropped your bag to the floor and put your face in your hands. You felt tears stinging in your eyes again, and this time you let them fall. You let yourself have your moment before standing up and turning the water on, pulling the curtain so that it wouldn’t splash everywhere.

Stepping underneath the showerhead, the hot water stung but you didn’t shy away from it. There was something reassuring about watching the dirt and blood and everything else swirl down the drain and out of sight. It took much longer for the water to run clear than usual and you tried not to think too deeply about that, but you let it run its course, letting the soap bring out the burning sensation as it cleaned your wounds.

You felt like you had overstayed your welcome beneath the showerhead. Reaching forward, you begrudgingly shut it off, left only with the thick blanket of steam that now coated the small bathroom. Peeling the curtain back, you grabbed the towel Steve had gotten you and started to dry yourself off, careful as you dried where your skin was torn. You shook your head slightly, wondering how wounds could somehow look worse when they were cleaned out and no longer covered in grime.

Digging into your small knapsack on the floor you pulled out a fresh t-shirt and pair of shorts. You didn’t remember when you’d started keeping extra clothes on hand all the time. Somewhere along the lines of having to see too many people fleeing for one reason or another and you decided that it couldn’t hurt to be too careful. You were glad for the foresight now.

When you finished drying off and changing, you hung the towel on the back of the door and finally stepped out of the bathroom. The rest of the apartment felt so much chillier in comparison to the sauna you’d just created, goosebumps prickling over your skin for a moment as your body adjusted. You heard the sound of the television from the other room and started to make your way towards it, leaving your bag just outside the door of the bedroom.

Steve was sitting on the couch, eyes looking at the TV but you couldn’t tell how much he was actually paying attention to it. Walking over, you sat down next to him, not saying anything to him as you pulled your legs up so they were bent, curled beside you as you leaned back the way that he was.

“Better?” he asked, looking over at you.

You nodded, eyes still fixed on the television, “A little.”

“Anything else I can…you know…?” he had no idea what to offer you, what you would need.

You didn’t know what you needed either. You shook your head, still not looking at him, “I’m okay.”

He didn’t say anything to you for a moment, instead just watching you watch the television. He could tell that you weren’t really paying attention to the show that was on either. You folded your arms over your chest, tucking your chin down. You looked almost as small as you had when he’d found you in the abandoned house. He saw the way that your eyes were welling up with tears, and he wanted to try and comfort you but didn’t know how.

He reached, resting his hand gently on your shoulder, “Hey, you—”

The slight pressure from his fingertips broke the last bit of restraint you’d been trying to cling to. A choked sob slipped past your lips as you buried your face in your hands. You heard the small, whispered curse that Steve let out under his breath as he moved to hold you, and if the circumstances had been different, you probably would’ve found it almost a little amusing.

He wrapped his arm tight around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He might not have any answers for you, but he could at least give you this. You wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest as you cried. He wasn’t expecting you to have so much strength left in you, to be able to hold him so tightly. He could feel each hitch in your breathing as you cried, and out of instinct he shut his eyes and rested his chin against the top of your head.

When you finally got your breathing under control you pulled away. You wiped to get the last of the tears off of your face, immediately feeling bad when you saw the tearstains on his shirt. Sniffling, you shook your head, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, a sympathetic smile on his face, “It’s alright.”

As the two of you sat there looking at each other, each disheveled in your own way, you felt the embarrassment that had previously been plaguing you beginning to fade. You weren’t the only one who was a mess out of the two of you, you were just the most obvious one. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the stress. Whatever sleep you woke him from before must’ve been the only sleep he got that week, and for that, you did feel a bit bad.

“Steve?” you forced yourself to take a deep, steadying breath.

“Yea?” he was trying to casually pull at his shirt, the fabric stuck to his skin from your tears.

“Thank you.”

He shook his head, “You don’t gotta—”

“No,” it was interesting, the difference between the softness of your tone and the action of cutting him off, “I mean it. Thank you. I…I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t pick up the phone tonight.”

“I didn’t think that you even kept my number,” he replied honestly.

You chuckled, sniffling a bit, “Figured I might be able to get a favor or two out of you if I was lucky,” you shook your head, “Guess this counts as it.”

His lips were almost curled into a smile, “This isn’t,” he shook his head, “In the world of favors, this doesn’t even rank. You can still cash in if you need to.”

You gave him a tired smile, “Good to know.”

He could see the way that your body was fighting sleep. He knew what that looked like because that’s how he was all the time, “You should get some sleep,” he nodded back towards the bedroom, “I put clean sheets on and everything.”

You desperately wanted to go and lay down, but you still didn’t feel right taking his bed from him. He saw the apprehension on your face, and he reached over, resting his hand on your shoulder, “It’s fine, really. I got to use it earlier—‘s why it took me so long to answer the phone,” he half-joked.

After a long moment of hesitation, you finally nodded, “Okay.”

He stood up, once again holding his hand out to you, “C’mon.”

You allowed him to pull you up once more, almost stumbling into him. He chuckled softly as he braced his hand against the small of your back, making sure you were actually steady. He let his hand drop as the two of you walked back down the hallway towards his room. He flipped on the light as you both walked in, and you had to admit that you weren’t sure what you were expecting his room to look like, but this wasn’t quite it. It was clean, but so empty, which was curious to you since he seemed to have been there for a good amount of time.

He walked over to his dresser, opened the drawer, and pulled out a clean t-shirt. Despite the fact that his back was to you, you still found yourself half-turning away as he peeled off the one he had been wearing, tossing it into the hamper before slipping the clean one down over his head.

Making his way back towards the doorway, he lingered for a moment, feeling like he should be saying something to you but not quite knowing what. Something was stopping you from crawling onto the bed and under the covers while he was still there, so you just sat down on the edge of the bed while you waited for him to excuse himself, although you weren’t sure how comfortable you were going to feel in his room alone, either.

Pulling his hand down the bottom half of his face, he said, “If there’s anything else you need, I’m, uh,” he chuckled, “I’m right down the hall.”

You smiled through your exhaustion, “Thank you.”

“Yea, no problem,” he gave you a small nod before stepping out of the room, leaving the door ajar as he headed back towards the living room.

You waited for a minute, wondering if he was going to come back. When he didn’t, you finally moved and slid down underneath the comforter on his bed, your head sinking into the pillow. It was the most comfortable you’d felt in a very long time, despite the fact that it wasn’t your house. It took no time at all for your eyelids to finally grow too heavy to keep open. Sleep came for you before you could even try to do anything about it.

Steve had been sitting on the edge of the couch, hands resting on his knees as he replayed the night over and over again in his head. He didn’t know what was going to happen in the morning, what he was going to be able to do for you.

After a few minutes of feeling restless, he stood up and started back down the hallway. He lightly tapped his knuckles against the bedroom door. When he didn’t get an answer one way or the other, he slowly pushed it open, light from the hallway slowly trickling in.

He was halfway through saying your name when he saw you passed out on the bed, arm dangling off the edge of the mattress. He laughed quietly, shaking his head as he stepped into the room. Walking over, he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your expression was so peaceful, relaxed, and your breathing was so even. Even in the times before tonight when he’d seen you, you’d never seemed so relaxed. Reaching, he gently put your arm back on the mattress so that it was no longer dangling off. He smiled, letting his hand rest on your arm for a moment longer before giving it a light squeeze and getting up, silently making his way back to the living room to get what little sleep he might still be capable of.

#narcos #narcos netflix #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy x you #narcos fanfiction #narcos netflix fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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Emoji ask 🥺💖💞

Also you’re more than likely going to get this in the morning so I hope you have a good day 🤍

<- fanfiction writers ask meme ; accepting

Ahhh thank you so much for this bestie! I'm having a great day so far. Hopefully, you're having a great day too!

🥺Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Listen I am a hopeless romantic. Give me mutual pining and throw in a side of awkward cuddling for body heat and/or sharing a bed out of necessity and I will loooove it.

💖What made you start writing?

I've always kind of done it, I think first it was poetry, my own weird original shit and then I started fanfiction... What made me start writing fanfiction was me being annoyed with a lot of things happening in both my own life / needing the comfort of my comfort characters + either Harry Potter or Twilight pissed me off and I wanted to change things up....

💞 Who’s your comfort character?

I have a list actually, Tim Speedle, Juice Ortiz, Lip Gallagher, Fred/George Weasley, Frank Castle, Daryl Dixon, John Bender, Billy Loomis, Connor/Murphy Macmanus, Gareth Emerson, Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan, Ryan Wolfe, Greg Sanders, Jacob Black, Embry Call, Sam and Dean Winchester, Opie Winston, Tim Riggins, Pietro Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Jimmy Darling, Xavier Plympton, Penelope Garcia... I probably forgot a few but these are most of them.

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writingfortoomanyfandoms · 4 years

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3K Joe Mazzello Day!!!

So I hit 3K followers!!! And to say thank you I’m doing a blurb week to celebrate!! Every day will be dedicated to one person or collection of people who I write for!! And today’s day is Joe Mazzello and his characters!! So send in some blurb requests for Joe, Gardner, Eugene, Pat and adult!Tim for me to write!!

Click here for the full post and prompt list!

#courts3kblurbweek #joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfiction #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello blurbs #eugene sledge #eugene sledge fanfiction #Gardner Langway #gardner langway fanfiction #Tim Murphy #tim murphy fanfiction #pat murray #pat murray fanfiction

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enthusiastic-sarcastic · 5 years

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One Entirely Haphazard Arrangement (Tim Murphy x Reader) [Pt. 1]

A/N: Ok so this is longggg overdue and I apologize for taking so damn long to post this. I think I said I would write this in early July but I just got so caught up in the story and turned it into a whole three part fic...oh yeah, and I sort of moved to college so that took away some of my time 😂 but it’s finally here! I sort of struggled with this one because I haven’t creatively written anything in so long but it was really fun to write and I'm looking forward to writing more in the future! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this silly little friends-to-lovers Tim fic! Parts 2 and 3 will be up within the next few days. Again, sorry if this is trashhh

Words: Roughly 3.9k

Warnings: cursing, stress/anxious habits, cringeee writing?, I guess a Jersey Boys reference if for some reason you resent the jukebox musical or Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

You have always had this infuriating habit of excessively scratching at the back of your hand like a cat attacking a toy laced with catnip whenever you become particularly anxious about the current state of your life.

And working at your newly appointed job as co-director of the art department at the museum has certainly proven to be more than stressful enough over these last eight months.

Whether it has you tumbling out of bed before the sun rises to make sure that that damned office projector is working in time for a 6 o’ clock meeting that your boss decided to throw together at the last minute or facing certain embarrassment upon being woken up by the night-watch guard because of a silly intention to stay after for only a few more minutes to finish editing one of your interns’ research reports, you had completely sacrificed any regard for your own basic health at this point for the sake of your job and its lingering promise of a future promotion.

A promotion that could potentially be awaiting you at the other end of your boss’ door in just under half an hour.

A promotion that could finally lead to the publication of the passion project that you’ve been steadily working on since your early college days.

A promotion that has you relying on old habits again as you scratch at the back of your hand under your cluttered office desk and stare down the hands of the clock on the wall across from you like your life depends on it.

Tick. Tick. Ticking away among the plethora of familiar noises that make up the busy atmosphere of your department. Drowning out the occasional flutter of footsteps stumbling down the hallway or the quiet laughs of your coworkers walking out of yet another dreadful planning session or even the absurdly shrill screeching sound that the copier down the hall likes to make every single time someone dares to use it.

Swiftly swallowing up all signs of life that surround you as your throat starts to feel like it’s closing in on itself and your breathing turns into something that more closely resembles gasping.

You’re just too good to be true...

Can’t take my eyes off of you...

And then so suddenly, a voice breaks through the numbness that has almost paralyzed you and reality starts to bleed back into place—a beacon of hope.

You’d be like heaven to touch...

I wanna hold you so much...

It takes a while for you to place the source of the voice as the all-to-familiar sound of your Jersey Boys ringtone blaring out from your phone across the room, but once you finally bring yourself back into a state of complete clarity, you rush out of your chair and stumble towards the singing object, desperate for a distraction.

Without bothering to glance at the name flashing across the screen, you answer the call and bring the phone up to your ear, eager to listen to whatever will take your mind off of that ticking clock.

“Hello?”

“Uh—Hey (Y/N), it’s Tim…”

A smile instantly rises across your face as you recognize the voice of your cute neighbor, Tim Murphy.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something...I know how busy you’ve been with work lately”

“No—no, it’s fine...you’re fine,” You chime in awkwardly, attempting to reassure him as a familiar fuzzy feeling begins to spread across your entire body.

To say that you had practically fallen hopelessly in love with the paleontologist ever since you accidentally attempted to break into his apartment at 3 a.m. in a half-asleep daze that led you to believe that you weren’t just one door off would be an understatement. That was an embarrassing introduction, to say the least.

“So...what’s up? Is everything alright?” You honestly hadn’t expected Tim to call you at this time of day...or really ever, seeing as how both of your work schedules are so chaotic that you only ever really interact with each other in the dead of the night, so this was a pleasant surprise.

“Yeah, yeah—everything’s great—It’s just...well, I don’t want to startle you or anything but when I got home from work, I found Stevie prancing around outside on my balcony again and—”

Your heart instantly drops into your stomach and you’re suddenly met with the urge to bang your head against a wall from the sudden embarrassment,

“Ah shit! I’m such a clumsy idiot! I probably left my bedroom window open again…”

“No, it’s okay! Don’t worry! Stuff like this happens to everyone. Stevie’s perfectly fine now! I actually just brought her inside my apartment. Poor thing was shivering so I gave her some food and that pretty much cheered her up instantly” Tim chuckles into the phone, causing your cheeks to flush a light shade of pink.

“Oh god, she’s gonna be so mad at me!” You groan as your head begins to feel like it’s spinning from all the guilt and nerves overwhelming you, “I’m so so sorry, Tim. Thanks for rescuing her from my clumsy antics”

“No need to apologize,” Tim laughs again, which doesn’t exactly help with your lightheadedness, “It’s the least I could do. I mean, especially after all those times you’ve looked after my house plants while I was away on a dig”

“You do have a point, Tim Murphy. What would you or your precious house plants ever do without me?” You tease lightly, attempting to calm your nerves, and pulling another angelic laugh from the other end of the phone.

“No, but in all seriousness,” You continue, “I’m going to make it up to you somehow...No ifs, ands, or buts, Murphy!

Tim groans playfully from the other end of the phone and you shake your head with a smirk before a sudden voice cuts through the uneasy silence of your office and the endearing moment abruptly ceases.

“Miss (L/N), Dr. Vaughn has requested that you head down to his office for that meeting now”

You let out another disgruntled sigh before nodding to the kind intern peeking his head through your office doorway,

“Ugh sorry to cut this short, Tim, but I have something kinda important to discuss with my boss right now and I really can’t afford to screw it up...” You trail off with a sigh, not wanting to end the call so soon.

“Oh...alright—yeah...that’s totally fine—I understand...” Tim rambles, sympathy laced within his voice,

“Good luck! I’m sure everything will go smoothly. I believe in you!”

You let out another nervous laugh, your cheeks now entirely red as you take in his words of encouragement, “Thanks for the kind words...and for taking care of Stevie! I’ll stop by to pick her up whenever I get out of this place”

You say your final goodbyes and end the call, shakily placing your phone back down onto your desk before finally making your way towards your boss’ office, scratching at the back of your hand again.

——————————————————————————————————

“I’m sorry...Are you serious?! This has to be some sort of sick joke…right?” You gawk at your boss, your body shaking in aggravation and utter disbelief.

However, he just simply smirks at you and shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as his eyes switch between you and your...colleague.

“Dr. Vaughn, don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?!” You groan in exasperation, shifting your eyes to take a look at your fellow co-director: the one coworker that just so happens to also be your ex.

Yes, your ex, Charles.

The one that abandoned you while you were away on a business trip, moving out of your shared apartment overnight all for his new blonde assistant...cliche and all.

The reason that you’ve worked so hard in this job for the past year of your life.

Not to win him back or follow through with some crude form of revenge—you weren’t at all that type of person.

But to gain back the sense of integrity that he had so swiftly stomped on and finally prove him wrong: to prove to yourself that you are, in fact, good enough.

“I don’t see anything inherently wrong with a little healthy competition, Miss (L/N)”

Your boss speaks up, calmly, the smirk across his face only widening as he looks up at you from his enormous office chair.

“I’m just not particularly fond of the idea that one of us ends up completely jobless by the end of this!”

“Oh please, (Y/N), calm down”

Charles finally speaks up from beside you, causing you to roll your eyes and dig your fingernails into your palms from the sheer rage that now seemed to be pulsating throughout your entire being,

“I’m sure whoever gets the short end of the stick in this...arrangement can always turn to the other for a raving recommendation letter after they track down and apply to whatever museum establishment that’s desperate enough to hire them after this”

The shared dark laughter that escapes the both of them at his sad attempt to reassure you only makes your stomach curl in disgust. How can he just be okay with all of this?

“Honestly, all you have to do is write an introductory speech that addresses the latest contemporary art exhibition for the museum’s annual winter gala next Saturday. That gives you both the same amount of time to prepare your material and secure dates for the event, so I think this whole competition sounds pretty fair to me”

“But Dr. Vaughn—“

Your boss abruptly cuts you off, again, “I will allow you both five minutes. Mr. Sterling, you’ll go first before introducing your fellow co-director to the stage, then Miss (L/N) will give her speech before calling me up to the stage. Whoever gives the best speech in reference to the new exhibition will be promoted to head director of this museum’s contemporary art department...and the other will unfortunately be let go from their current position”

You let out an aggravated sigh, which prompts Charles to smirk in your direction,

“And that’s final! Now, get the hell out of my office!”

——————————————————————————————————

The journey home couldn’t have been more painstakingly difficult.

First, you missed your usual train and had to wait a whole 45 minutes for the next one. Then, it began to rain as soon as you started walking down the street towards your apartment and just as your doorman graciously greeted your shaking figure as you scurried into the building, you remembered that the stack of paperwork that you had planned to finish up was locked away...in your desk...back at the museum.

And now, as you trudge down the hallway of your apartment floor, soaked head to toe from the rain, your heart begins to race as you make your way in front of Tim Murphy’s door and muster up the courage to knock.

It only takes a few minutes for the door to open, but once it finally does, you’re met with the sight of an adorable, half-asleep paleontologist that makes you feel like you could melt into the floor at any given moment.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming”

You chuckle halfheartedly at him, a tired smile making its way across your face regardless of the pounding sensation in your head and the ringing sounds in your ears. Tim always seems to have that effect on you.

“Sorry, I had a long day” You mutter, cheekily.

Tim hums amusedly before moving to the side to let you in,

“I was fully prepared to take Stevie in as my own, actually. I have an extra cat bed and everything. I’m sure she’d get along just fine with Lydia”

You enter the apartment and spot your beloved cat sleeping cozily under the breakfast table near the kitchen, curled up right next to Tim’s orange tabby.

You smile at the sight, taking your wet shoes off before plopping down onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter, exhausted.

“Honestly, you make a better parent than I could ever be” You chuckle, glancing towards Tim as he sets down a glass of water in front of you. His disheveled hair and slightly pouting mouth causes a blush to grow across your cheeks again as you’re reminded of something,

“Sorry if my late arrival woke you up”

He shakes his head at you, a sleepy smile spreading across his face,

“It’s okay, I wasn’t exactly...asleep. I had to finish up some last minute research in preparation for an excavation in Arizona next week”

Next week. Fuck.

You chug the water in front of you, abruptly, before placing the cup back down onto the counter and burying your face into your hands. Your mind spiraling with thoughts about the impending winter gala and him.

“So...I’m assuming that that conversation with your boss didn’t go over very well”

You groan in acknowledgement, before glancing back up at the attentive paleontologist,

“You could say that,” You laugh, sarcastically, “Hell, I may not even have a job by the time next week rolls around”

This seems to get Tim’s attention, because he leans closer to you from the other side of the kitchen counter and your breath hitches in your throat when you notice the way his biceps flex from underneath his sweatshirt.

“Well now you have to tell me what happened” He exclaims, with a tone of genuine curiosity.

You almost can’t formulate a response when you realize just how close your hands are from each other, so you muster out a weak cough and casually begin to play with the empty glass in front of you.

It’s just a hand, (Y/N). Just a nice, particularly soft-looking hand that just so happens to belong to your incredibly brilliant and handsome neighbor, Tim Murphy. Calm down.

“Well, my boss has always been one to enjoy watching people suffer before rewarding them” You sigh in frustration as you recall the last few hours of your day,

“I thought I was walking into his office to finally receive the promotion that I’ve been working day and night over for the last eight months,” You continue, running a finger across the rim of the glass repeatedly, as anxiety starts to rise within your chest again,

“And I suppose my suspicions were right” You chuckle, sadly, “but he ended up making the so-called promotion a competition between my ex and I”

You bite your lip in frustration, the wounds inflicted from the previous conversation still fresh on your mind.

“Wait—you’re not talking about…” Tim trails off in disbelief and you nod your head in confirmation.

Tim Murphy was well acquainted with the sheer emotional damage that Charles had put you through. In fact, after the break-up, it was Tim that so graciously convinced you to get the hell out of bed and resume the rest of your life after coming over to your apartment due to another mail mix-up. While you took a well-needed shower, Tim prepared a nice spaghetti dinner and put on some comedy show for the both of you to watch aimlessly as you attempted to catch up on what the rest of the world was doing after it had seemingly crashed all around you. That night definitely didn’t do anything to alleviate your growing feelings for him.

“Wow” His head tilts in slight surprise, “That’s so unfair!”

“Right! That’s exactly what I said to my boss but he wasn’t having any of it” You scoff as you recall the aggravating image of your boss’ smirking face.

“And now I have to work my ass off trying to write a decent introduction speech commemorating our latest exhibition for the winter gala. Oh! And I have to find a date to the stupid thing with only a weeks notice! Where in the world am I going to find a date to this event with only a weeks notice in this city!?”

You were starting to freak out now, pulling on some strands of damp hair that you had somehow managed to wrap entirely around your fingers as you tried to make sense of your unfortunate predicament.

“I could be your date.”

The words fall from Tim’s mouth so abruptly and effortlessly that it takes a few seconds for you to register their meaning.

“What?”

“Well...I think I still have a nice suit lying around here somewhere from my last work event. Plus, I’ve been to my fair share of museum galas, so it won’t be much of a hassle. I could be your date.”

“Tim, you really don’t have to do this! I mean—What about the excavation to Arizona? You can’t miss out on that! I would feel so bad if I made you miss out on that trip all because of this stupid arrangement” You’re blushing now at his offer and suddenly the wall next to his head is very captivating.

“When exactly is this winter gala anyways?”

“Saturday at 6 p.m.”

A smug, satisfied grin stretches across Tim’s face as he leans even closer to you and the redness across your cheeks grows when your eyes meet,

“I get back Friday night. It’ll be fine.”

You sigh in guilt, not wanting to overstep, “Are you absolutely certain about this? I guarantee you’ll be exhausted once you get back and I don’t wanna drag you into another tedious social event right after a week of strenuous excavation work”

“I mean if you want me to memorize some cue cards, I’m all for that...but I think I have enough experience under my belt from high school theatre group to properly wing it”

You chuckle at his lame attempt to humor you, but your resolve remains undeterred,

“And you’re 100% positive that you’re okay with staying by my side all night, in formal dress attire, chatting up a storm with just about any and most likely all of my colleagues over strictly art related stuff? It’s an exhausting experience.”

Tim shrugs his shoulders, the amused, stubborn grin never leaving his face,

“Like I said before, I go to museum galas all the time, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

You let out another exasperated sigh in defeat, standing up from your stool at the counter and walking towards the fridge to fill your glass again. A shiver runs down your spine and you want to blame the wet nature of your clothes but you know from the shakiness of your fingers carrying the glass and the heat radiating off your cheeks that it’s because of the close proximity between Tim’s face and yours just moments ago.

“Fine. You can be my date. But I seriously cannot thank you enough for what you’re doing for me, Tim Murphy. I really have done nothing but complain to you all evening and now you’re swooping in and saving my ass again. What—Do I have to sell you my soul this time to properly repay my debt?”

Tim chuckles, turning around to look at you again.

“Luckily for you, I’m feeling generous enough to let you keep your soul for just a little while longer. But seriously, don’t feel pressured to repay me.”

You open your mouth to protest but the words are silenced by the sound of thunder rumbling from just outside the apartment, shaking the floor beneath your feet.

“Shit! I completely forgot that it’s raining,” Tim gestures towards your clothes, his eyes wide with concern, “You must be freezing!”

You blush again as you glance down towards your damp clothes, “Oh no! It’s fine, I sort of forgot about it too...I’m not—”

You trail off when you realize that Tim is no longer standing right in front of you, only to hear the sound of him rummaging through his laundry machine.

You grin widely as you’re reminded of just how insistently kind and compassionate he can be.

He sort of stumbles back into the kitchen from a clumsy attempt at speed-walking, and before you realize it, he’s wrapping a warm bath towel around your shoulders and rubbing the material up and down your arms to help you dry off.

The grin on your face only widens and you lock your eyes onto the floor, hoping to hide the now stark red state of your blushing cheeks.

“Jeez, Tim, you really didn’t have to go through all that trouble, but thanks” You mumble, trying to keep yourself composed.

Tim only laughs in exasperation at your comment, “What kind of host would I be if I let you freeze to death?”

You glance back up at him, attempting to ignore the way that your breath hitches when you notice the close proximity of your faces again,

“Well...technically I forced you to invite me when I stupidly left my bedroom window open this morning…” You trail off when Tim gives you a pointed look, as if to say: You’re always welcome here, regardless of the circumstances.

Your gaze drops to the floor again as another rumble of thunder shakes the whole apartment, and the grin returns to your face when you make out the smallest detail of a mini brachiosaurus on the bath towel,

“Why am I not surprised that you have your own personalized dino bath towels, Tim Murphy”

He laughs bashfully and you glance up to take in the sight. His eyes meet yours and you smile back at each other for what feels like a lifetime, your heart pounding in your chest as the space between the two of you almost seems to get smaller and smaller until...you’re interrupted by the feeling of something fluffy brushing across your feet and the familiar purring sound of your cat, Stevie.

“I should probably go. You need your rest and I need to get started on the first draft of my speech. I gotta get a head start on that asshole, at the very least.”

Tim chuckles understandably and the towel leaves your shoulders, taking the warmth that had so swiftly flooded your body with it.

“Yeah, you’re probably right, I should go to bed and you should start writing a very important introduction speech at one in the morning”

Your eyes widen and Stevie lets out another loud purring noise, as if amused by your blatant clumsiness,

“What the fuck?! I swear it was just 11:30”

Tim only shrugs again in amusement and you promptly lean down to scoop up your cat from the ground in an attempt to hide the blush that seemed to now be permanently etched across your cheeks, desperate for a chance to leave before you could embarrass yourself any further.

“Thanks again, Tim...for everything! I guess I’ll see you next weekend...” You mumble out the words quickly, flashing Tim an awkward smile as you put your slightly damp shoes back onto your feet.

“(Y/N)...”

“Oh right, and good luck with your Arizona excavation...I just know you’ll discover something truly spectacular this time!” You’re shuffling towards the front door now, silently praying that the sound of your heart pounding against your chest isn’t loud enough for Tim to hear.

“Thanks, I’ll see-”

But you don't even let him finish before you promptly shut the door behind you, feeling equally elated as you do terrified about the week ahead of you and the absurdity of this entirely haphazard arrangement.

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joe-mazzello-archive · 3 years

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the year is 2018. you’re selected to be part of a team of experts returning to the infamous isla nublar, abandoned for twenty-five years as a result of the incident. your task? determine the status of the island on behalf of its mysterious new owner. sounds easy enough....now if only the team wasn’t being led by your arch rival, tim murphy.

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

she’s baaaaaaaack.

what: an enemies to lovers, jurassic park fix-it fic all in one!

who: tim murphy x fem!reader, plus some ocs

when: coming soon!

details: this fic takes place in a universe where only the first movie happened (no other sequels, tv shows, novels, etc) and explores what would happen if the island were completely abandoned for 25 years.

let me know if you would like to be tagged!

regular taglist (let me know if you’d like to be removed): @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @mrhoemazzello @sadhwstudent @johndeaconshands @stardust-galaxies @rogerfuckintaylor

tagging some others who may be interested: @deacyblues @six-bloodyminutes @hijackmy-heart @imcompletelylost

#joe mazzello #jurassic park #tim murphy #tim murphy x reader #joe mazzello x reader #jurassic park fanfiction

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cosmic-giraffe · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic Park Original Trilogy (Movies), Jurassic Park Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Lex Murphy & Tim Murphy (Jurassic Park) Characters: Alan Grant (Jurassic Park), Tim Murphy (Jurassic Park), Lex Murphy (Jurassic Park), Ian Malcolm, Donald Gennaro Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dinosaurs, spinosaurus - Freeform, Canon Rewrite, Isla Nublar (Jurassic Park), Psychological Horror, Heavy Angst, Animal Attack Summary:

It was gripping the fence.

The previously-electrified fence posed no threat to this behemoth, as it held onto the cables with no fear of electrocution. A deep, reptillian rumbling made Tim’s blood run cold, and he slowly raised his head. Higher, higher, higher than the branches of the mangrove trees.

A huge crocodilian head was silhouetted against the night sky on the other side of the Paddock fence; long, slender jaws gaped, revealing sabre-sharp teeth set in a cavernous red maw. A crack of white-hot lightning briefly lit up the sky, and the Spinosaurus’s hideous form was illuminated for the horrified onlookers. Its scaly flesh was mottled grey and brown, with menacing red markings running from the crests above its beady green eyes, down its muscular neck, and along whatever hulking body was obscured by the trees.

The dinosaur threw its head back, and the remains of the goat plummeted down its throat; the animal was swallowed in a single gulp.

Then, the Spinosaurus turned its attention to the Cruisers floating in the river. Rain and blood poured in rivulets down its jaws, and its piercing stare was enough to scare Tim and Lex to death.

#jurassic park #jurassic park 1993 #alan grant #tim murphy #lex murphy #ian malcolm #donald gennaro #spinosaurus #rewrite #au #ao3 #archiveofourown #archive of our own #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #my post #my thoughts

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borhap-au · 4 years

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Joe Mazzello: the fluffy chronicles.

Joe Mazzello - Scars.

When your kisses became more intense Joe put the laptop away, stopping the movie. Then he got up from the bed and went to turn the lights on.

“Leave the lights off. Please,” you tried to give him a glimpse of a smile. You knew Joey wanted to make love to you, and you weren’t comfortable with him seeing your body in its full glory. You had some scars you were ashamed of and you didn’t want Joe to notice them.

He sighed quietly. It wasn’t the first time you asked him for a favor like this, in fact, you never let him turn the lights on, and when you were intimate during the day, when the sun was still high up, you used your dark curtains to make the room darker. You said it was to make the atmosphere in the room more intimate, but Joe started to figure out your reasons.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, almost whispering, while sitting on the bed next to you. “What is it? Why do you always insist on having sex in the dark?” he gently pet your leg, wanting you to feel his touch, his closeness, and his affection.

“It’s for the atmosphere,” you used the same excuse again, but this time it just couldn’t work on him.

“I know it’s not. Please tell me the truth. Did I do something wrong?” he looked at you with concern in his eyes. He wanted you to feel just as good as you always made him feel.

“No, of course not. Come on, let’s forget about it. We were in a middle of something,” you put your hand on his bare chest, and then moved it to the side of his body, trying to bring him closer to you. He was shirtless from the foreplay you two already started that was interrupted so that Joe could turn the lights on and have a good look on you that you weren’t planning to allow.

“No, I mean it. Did I hurt you somehow? Did I touch you the wrong way? I always asked you for permission. Did you give me consent without meaning it?” he started to come up with all those different theories or why you acted the way you did towards him.

“No, no, Joey. It’s none of your fault. You were always very good to me,” you reassured him, petting his cheek. You never wanted him to feel bad, as he never did anything to deserve it. He was a very sweet boyfriend and a generous lover, you had hardly anything to complain about when it came to him.

“So don’t I deserve the truth? Why do you hide it from me?” all of his questions came only from the fact he was concerned about you. He wanted to make sure everything that wasn’t alright, would soon become nothing but a memory.

“Because that’s my thing. I try to hide things so you like me better,” you muttered quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“What?” he looked at you in disbelief. “What are you trying to tell me right now?”

“I hide my body from you, so you don’t see it, at least not that well. I just don’t want you to notice… The imperfections and all,” you muttered, still looking down. He got up, and you thought he was leaving, but when you looked up, he turned the lights on.

“No, please,” you immediately hid your body under the quilt. “I’m not ready. Please.”

“Girly… You saw me. My entire body, with all the imperfections. And do you really think I’m so materialistic to care about some minor imperfections? They don’t define your value. It’s your humor, your charisma that make you who you are. Your intelligence. There’s so much more to you than some imperfections that only you notice. Please. I love you for who you are, and not for how you look like, even though for me you’re gorgeous inside out and I feel lucky to be with someone so smart and beautiful. Can I?” he asked, sitting next to you, and gently pulling the quilt. You looked at him for a while and then sighed quietly. You knew you couldn’t hide your body forever. Eventually he had to see it. So you let him put the quilt away.

To your surprise, he didn’t immediately start to look for the things you tried to hide. On the contrary, he smiled to you and focused first on your lips, kissing you passionately. He was so tender that it made you smile to yourself, while prolonging the kiss.

Then he started kissing your jawline and quickly moved his kisses to your neck. You held your breath when he began to take off your shirt, and soon after, your bra. Only then he looked at your chest. There were a few scars here and there. Some of them made on purpose, some of them accidental, and all of them made you persuade yourself that you weren’t perfect, when in Joe’s eyes you were the exact opposite. You were his perfection.

You had most of your scars on your forearms, mostly around the wrists. You always wore long sleeves, bracelets and wristbands, so that nobody could see. But today your hands were naked, and Joe could finally see everything that you’ve been hiding. He began to plant small kisses on your hands. You looked at him a bit surprised.

“You aren’t… Disgusted?” you asked unsure. He smiled to you, petting the side of your body with his thumb.

“Of course not. I would never be disgusted by you. You’re stunning,” he softly kissed your stomach and you immediately pulled in your belly. “No, don’t do that, please. I love your body the way it is. All of it. And I’m really happy I can finally see it in full light.”

He then began to take off your trousers. Legs were also a frequent victim of your razor blade. He moved his hand on your hip, feeling the uneven skin where your scars were.

“Can you promise me you’ll stop?” he spoke softly, not trying to patronize you. It was all out of care for you and honest, deep concern for your mental health.

“I’m already done with this. Those aren’t fresh. I did them all months ago. Definitely before I met you,” you reassured him. “But it doesn’t change the fact I feel awful about them.”

“All the scars are your journey. It’s what you’ve been through in your life. I don’t want you to hurt yourself, I want you to know and feel that I will always love and protect you. But what happened in the past happened, and you shouldn’t feel bad about that. It’s what made you. It’s what brought you to me. I don’t mind your scars, just like you don’t mind all the imperfections on my body. You don’t look at me counting all the things that are bad, you look at me with love. I can see that. So why can’t you see that it’s exactly how I feel about you too? This body, your body, brings me so much joy and satisfaction. Why would I hate anything about it? Your body is you. And I love you,” he started kissing your thighs, especially the places you had scars on. His lips were warm and they made you feel hot inside, because despite the conversation that has been going on, it was still Joe fucking Mazzello kissing your body. And he could’ve had anyone in the world, but yet, he wanted you, and- Exactly. He wanted you.

“And you’re going to stay…? Even though I look like this…?” you muttered quietly, unwilling to stop his kisses.

“You mean gorgeous? Wonderful? Stunning? How do you look like, girly?” he looked at you smiling. “Because you look like all those adjectives to me. I’m not going to leave you because of some imperfections only you see in yourself. I don’t care about them. I care about you, and you’ve always been good and caring towards me. You made me feel loved. You made me feel like the best, most handsome guy in the world, even though I know I’m not one. But that’s the power of your love. And I want to give you exactly the same. I want you to believe me when I say that to me, you are perfect. You’re kind-hearted and funny and you bring light to my life. You’re my sunshine.”

“And you’re my moon and stars,” you smiled and kissed his head, leaning towards him. He smiled too.

“Where you see scars, I see hands that pet my body, make me feel good, give the best handjobs I ever had and trust me, I mean it,” you blushed when you heard that, but you couldn’t hide a smile. “You see scars, but I see stomach that I lay my head on when I felt bad, and you moved your fingers through my hair, calming me down. You see scars, but I see the legs that are not only sexy, but also strong enough to make you walk miles with me on our trips. I see not only the body that turns me on and gives me incredible pleasure, but also the person who this body belongs to. I see kindness, love, friendship. And no, I don’t love you despite the imperfections. I love you because of them. Because every single part of you makes you who you are, and that’s the person I fell in love with. I understand you may feel insecure, but I really hope I’ll be able to help you overcome your problems. Please, don’t ever think again that I’m shallow enough to break up with you because of any of those things you see when you look in the mirror that made you unsure of yourself. I’m sure of you, and I’m sure of us. You should feel like a strong, confident, badass woman that you are. And I want to do anything that’s in my power to make you feel that way,” at the end of the sentence he took your underwear off.

His lips soon wandered around your labia, kissing them, licking, and taking care of your clit with his tongue and lips. While he was doing all of that, his words resonated with you. While your body was filled with enormous pleasure, your mind revised his message. While his hands gently wandered around your body, while he was softly petting your body, your scars, you felt more loved and cared for than ever before. Only then you realized that this situation was exactly the opposite of what you thought would happen. Your fear made you unable to see how much Joe loved you, how much he wanted to make you happy. You felt better about your body now than ever before. Because you saw him treating it with such love and worship, because you realized he doesn’t mind all of the things you managed to convince yourself were too big and hideous for him to see you as sexy. You tried to hide from him, but actually, if he was able to see you long ago, your journey toward self-acceptance would have started long ago. And of course, it was not the end of it, it was just the beginning. But it was the first time you ever felt that maybe you aren’t that bad, that maybe you can be loved exactly for who you are.

Joe was being extra gentle with you. He made sure to kiss and touch every part of your body, so you were aware of it, but not ashamed of it. Of course he was worried about your mental health, because he wanted you to feel happy, and to never again feel the need to scar yourself. But the scars in itself were nothing he couldn’t live with. Actually, he didn’t mind them at all, as long as they were a memory of the past, not fresh signs you’re unwell again. He wanted you to feel good and safe with him.

You didn’t want to be on top, not that night. You already felt exposed, it was definitely enough for one day. But you felt really good when you two did it in the missionary position, with him being on you, protecting you, as if you were under his wings (after all, he was your guardian angel). He pet your cheek and smiled, admiring you. His thrusts were slow and gentle, he was being very careful with you that night, almost as if it was the first time you two ever had sex together. You didn’t mind that at all actually. You felt appreciated, especially when he planted kisses all over your face, making you chuckle. After sex, when he lay down next to you on the bed, he let you hide your body under the quilt. It was enough for one day, he didn’t want you to feel too exposed. But for you it didn’t feel like a necessity anymore, you didn’t immediately cover yourself up like you used to. That night you covered both of you, and simply hugged him. He smiled and kissed your head. That night you went to sleep without clothes on, and you let him pet your body under the quilt. It was just a beginning, but it was a step in the right direction on the journey of self-acceptance.

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undraftedd · 4 years

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You’re The One That I Want

——————————————————————————

It was the middle of April, dark clouds and cold air loomed over the city as you gazed out the window, but you didn’t mind. You gave a soft sigh as you turned from the window and took a sip from the warm mug in your hands.

You and Joe had been stuck inside under quarantine for nearly a month now, so naturally you two were constantly trying to find things to do to fight the boredom. With both of you being out of work, most of your days together were spent binging movies, attempting to bake, and engaging in some very heated Mario Kart tournaments.

“Babe, popcorn’s ready! Let’s get this movie session going!” Joe called from the kitchen, waltzing into the living room with an abundance of movie snacks and treats.

You smiled fondly at your boyfriend and swallowed the last bit of your tea, reveling in its warmth as you sunk down into the plush couch.

“Alright, what’s first up in the Mazzello Movie Marathon?” You asked, pulling a large woven blanket around your legs.

Joe, being the ever-theatrical man he is, turned around from the TV with a flourish and slowly brought the DVD case into your view, with a wink and a comical eyebrow waggle.

“Joe, oh my GOD, we’ve watched this movie three times already this month,” you chuckled as you rolled your eyes. If not anything else, Joe loved having a routine.

“I cant help it baby, it’s a cinematic masterpiece!” Joe exclaimed as he shimmied down on the couch beside you, pulling the bowl of popcorn off the coffee table along with him as you piled some of the blanket across his legs as well.

“You’re an idiot, Mazzello,” you said, playfully punching him in the arm.

“Mmm I may be an idiot, but at least I’m your idiot,” Joe replied while flashing you some serious puppy dog eyes and pressing play on the remote. The TV bloomed to life and the word GREASE faded onto the screen.

You scoffed and mumbled a noncommittal “Whatever,” while shuffling a bit so that you were pressed flush against Joe’s sweater-clad side. He sighed in content and wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you in even closer.

After about an hour and countless musical numbers into the movie, the snacks were gone and you could feel your eyes growing heavy. After yawning loudly, you pulled your legs back from over Joe’s lap and pulled the blanket up around your shoulders.

“Baby, you CAN’T fall asleep before my favorite part! If you do, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you,” Joe huffed as he crossed his ankles on the coffee table in front of you guys.

“Joey, you’re acting like we didn’t just watch this last week, I KNOW what happens,” you say as you rest your head on his chest. “Besides, if you’re really that upset about it, I suppose I’ll just have to make it up to you,” you punctuate with a soft boop to his nose.

Joe groaned and settled his arm back around your shoulders, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Y’know you cant just say things like that while we’re trying to watch John Travolta strut around in those pants. I may just have to leave you for him.” Joe jokes. “I bet HE wouldn’t fall asleep during his own movie.”

You laugh and sink down further into the couch and breathe in the sweet scent of the man you love. Your hand snakes up to rest on his cheek, softly and mindlessly stroking through his beard, another great product of this godforsaken quarantine. Your thumb and forefinger danced across his cheekbone and down his jaw, making nonsensical patterns on the scratchy surface as Joe hummed along to one of the songs playing from the TV.

As the movie progressed, so did your fatigue. You continued to draw the invisible patterns on your boyfriend’s skin, moving from his jawline down to his arms, finally coming to a rest as you intertwined your fingers with his own. His warm skin pressed against yours made you feel safer and more at peace than you had ever known before.

Joe’s thumb picked up where you left off with your own ministrations and he began tracing light, soothing circles on the back of your hand. Breathing a sigh of content, you gave Joe’s hand a firm squeeze and closed your eyes as you felt the throes of sleep finally pull you under.

Any weight you had been carrying from the week was instantly lifted as you felt Joe pull you closer with a protective grip around your body. Just as the waves of sleep crashed through you, you could hear Joe softly singing along to the end of the movie as his hand moved up and down your arm, repeating the same calming pattern over your skin. Joe glanced down at you with eyes full of love and was left with one last thought before he drifted to sleep alongside you. Maybe this quarantine isn’t going to be so bad after all...

#THIS IS MY FIRST EVER FIC SINCE MIDDLE SCHOOL PLS BE NICE #IM HAVING MANY SOFT THOTS #joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfiction #blurb #movies #quarantine #joe mazzello x reader #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #jurassic park #tim murphy #pat murray #my writing

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

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MASTERLIST

Welcome one and all, to the shitshow MASTERLIST My requests are always open! Currently I write for Queen, the BohRhap cast, Six Underground, Jurassic Park, Until Dawn, Labyrinth, and Night at the Museum. Don’t see your fandom on the list? Hit me up anyways, I’ll happily try my hand at writing for other fandoms!

Smut = 💋 Angst = 👀 Violence = 🦴

Brian May x Reader

He’ll save every one of us -In Progress- Summary: “If you want to kick something, feel free to kick our van, Roger’s been pissing me off all week.” Came a deep voice from behind you both. “I’m sorry Mister, but I have a strict no kicking stranger’s cars policy. You’ll just have to kick Roger’s car yourself.” “Is there any particular reason as to why Roger’s car should be the victim of such abuse?”

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five 👀 Chapter Six 👀 Chapter Seven

Is this just fantasy? -Time Travel Fic In Progress- Summary: "Want me to bring back some ice-cream, and you can bitch about how horrible you day was?” The idea of ice-cream had never been more appealing. “I believe Ben and Jerry’s is on sale at the moment, I could really go from some chunky monkey.” “I never understood why you like that one so much!” “I try to convince myself that because it’s banana flavoured then it must be healthy.” “As a dietitian in training, it is my duty to tell you, that that is not by any means true.” “For a dietitian in training, you eat an awful lot of instant mac & cheese.” “Whoa now, there is no such thing as too much mac & cheese!”

Chapter One Chapter Two

It’s strange but it’s true -One Shot- Summary: It’s 1984, Queen are filming the music video for I want to break free, though Brian hasn’t told his girlfriend about the whole cross dressing aspect of the shoot yet. What happens when she decides to show up to filming one day? “Roger…. What the actual fuck are you wearing right now?”

Chapter One 💋

Roger Taylor x Reader

Love of my life -One shot- Summary: Roger Taylor's girlfriend is heavily pregnant, one night they decide to pick the perfect name for their unborn child, Though Roger has some seriously terrible suggestions. (Domestic Roger is my spirit animal)

Chapter One

Dining at the Ritz we’ll meet at 9 -One Shot- Summary: “I’m telling the truth! I know what – Who I saw!” “Brian, just because the waitress and Roger’s friend have the same name, does not mean they are the same person.” “Friend? I think she’s a bit more than that.” “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean." “A friend who you will not stop talking about? A friend who you couldn’t stop grinning after she agreed to have dinner with you? Shall I go on?” “Freddie, I will kill you if you don’t shut up!”

Chapter One

Crazy little thing called love -One Shot- Summary: “Turn around! Get your arse back in that fitting room right this second!” She yells, waving her arms above her head wildly. “Mary? What on Earth are you doing?” “Roger! The boys! They’re outside, they saw me and are coming in!” “Get rid of them! I don’t care what you have to do, but they cannot be in here!” You plead.

Chapter One

I’m in love with my car -One Shot- Summary: We all know Roger Taylor is in love with his car, but who is the song really about? Who do the metaphor's relate back to? "I’ve only just convinced myself not to walk back to London to see you after realising how long it would take me.” “You were going to walk back to London, just to see me?" “The thought did occur to me.”

Chapter One 💋

John Deacon x Reader

A permanent deal -One Shot- Summary: “Right, just promise me this isn’t going to become the new look for the band alright? I mean, Brian’s got enough hair already, and I’m not entirely sure Roger can even grow facial hair.” John shrugs. “I don’t have that much hair.” “Bri, we could shave you and have your hair turned into costumes for the entire cast of cats!”

Chapter One

Joe Mazzello x Reader

Everybody walk the dinosaur -Halloween One Shot-

Chapter One

Gwilym Lee x Reader

King of the pumpkin patch -Halloween One Shot-

Chapter One

Ben Hardy x Reader

Let’s split up gang! -Halloween One Shot-

Chapter One

Jet Lag -One Shot- Summary: “I use a different name when travelling. One that’s less likely to have people catch on to it being me.” “What name do you use?” “Probably something stupid, like Dinkleburg Flapjack.” “I like to go by a name literally no one will ever now. Joe Mazzello is one of my favourites to use. Shockingly, no one’s ever heard of him?”

Chapter One

Four x Eight (Reader) -Six Underground

Four Eighths -Work in progress- Summary: A tech genius turned freelance hacker, turns to a life of crime in order to make ends meet, and to pay her bills. But what happens when she robs the wrong man? “You’re lucky I only shot your arm, I was half tempted to aim one at your leg too!” “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Do you expect me to thank you for only shooting me once?” “You’re sassy, I like you.”

Chapter One 🦴 Chapter Two Chapter Three 👀🦴 Chapter Four 👀 Chapter Five 👀 Chapter Six 👀💋 (Both are minor) Chapter Seven 💋 Chapter Eight 💋 Chapter Nine 👀 (Very minor) Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven 👀

Ahkmenrah x Reader - Night at the museum

I am flesh and I am bone -Work in progress- Summary: At seven years old, you find yourself lost in the American Museum of Natural History. The magic of Ahkmenrah's tablet unfolds around you, and you find yourself living growing up amongst the people you had only ever read about! “Can I ask how old you are?” “At the time of my passing, I was nineteen. Though if you count my age by the years I have experienced, then I am a few thousand years old.” “So that means in twelve years, I’ll be the same age as you!” “Technically you are correct. There will come a day where we are both nineteen.”

Chapter One Chapter Two

Josh Washington x Reader -Until Dawn

I say no -Work in progress- Summary: Set after Hannah and Beth's disappearance, but before the return to the mountain.Straining your ears, you tried your best to pick up on what some of the surrounding people were talking about, though you were only able to pick up bits and pieces. “Washington sisters…” “-Police didn’t find any trace.” “Think Josh will come back?” “Hannah and Mike got cosy….”

Chapter One 👀 (Minor) Chapter Two 👀 (Minor)

Tim Murphy x Reader - Jurassic Park

Time of your life -One shot- Summary: “Come here for a second.” “What’s up?” “Well, we never got a photo of us on our first day here, but I want to remember this. It’s a big deal ya know, the whole moving out of your family home and all that jazz. So, let’s get a photo now, we can show off my artistic ability in the process too.” “A perfect idea, I’ll grab my camera, and I’ll get the photo printed next time I’m in the mall.” “Welcome home Tim.”

Chapter One 👀 (Minor)

Jareth x Sarah - Labyrinth

Absolute Beginners -Work in progress- Summary: “Remember that chat we had the other day?” “You mean the one where we discussed whether pork was really a type of vegetable?” “No, not that o- Wait, when did we have THAT conversation?!” “Perhaps that was with my advisor Garret, not matter, please continue.”

Chapter One Chapter Two

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gotboredwrote · 5 years

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Six Questions // TM!JFM

Pairing: Tim Murphy x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.7K Style: One-Shot (prompt: based on this amazing post by the lovely @love-me-a-good-prompt) Warnings: Angst (my first genuine attempt so go easy on me), fluff, mentions of intimate situations (in reference to art) Summary: Y/N works as a muralist at Tim’s museum, and he loves watching her work. After working up the courage to speak with her, they strike up a partnership neither one expected. After days and days of work, one extremely involved mural forces Y/N to stay late, and Tim offers to keep her company. A game of sorts ensues. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: I’m really on a Tim kick, huh? Who’s complaining, though, because it ain’t me.

Masterlist

What started as just a job to help kill some free time while finding a job that earned you money had become something you could genuinely say you looked forward to every single day. Originally, the offer from the museum included a grand total of zero dollars, but after completing two larger projects for them, they decided they wanted to keep you. Then the offer became something you would have to have been idiotic to refuse. Not to mention the money, the people you worked with were genuinely happy-go-lucky people, clearly in love with the work they do. It was also nice to see tons of people, big and small, young and old, light up when they saw an exhibit they particularly liked. You got to do this all from the sidelines, not having to deal with any anxiety from meeting people. One day, though, you could feel eyes peering into the back of your head. It almost felt familiar, to a degree, like the eyes had looked at you before. Except this was the first time you really felt it. You were up high on a scaffold, so you carefully turned around to see if what you were feeling was really the case. That’s when you saw him; the auburn-haired boy with a visible scar on his cheek who was destined to become your personal confidant, standing there, shy as a mouse.

You really were not sure what to do. One option was lower the scaffold down to get to the ground, but that would take a minute and the descent would be awkward. Not to mention, he could just walk away at any point, which would have been a waste of time to move halfway to the ground to just have to move back up. Another option was to simply return to your work and act like he was not staring at you. A third option would be to call out to him, see if he responds at all, or if he is simply just caught in thought. You have been there, so you did not have a reason to judge him for it. You decided on your third option, risking embarrassing him and yourself, but not wanting to feel the intense gaze on yourself any longer. You wanted to ask him ‘can I help you with something?’ but something in his gaze made you pity him. It was not a sad expression, but one filled with almost a yearning sensation. The seriousness of his expression changed what your brain allowed your mouth to say without even realizing it until the entire sentence had escaped your lips.

“Are you alright?”

Clearly taken aback by your sudden question, the boy blinked rapidly at you and his cheeks flushed with color. You felt terrible for making that happen, but it was not like you could take it back at this point.

“Oh… y-yeah! Sorry. I… I was just watching you work…” With every word he spoke, realizing how what he said might have come across as stalkerish, he got quieter and quieter. Something you would come to learn was a habit of his. He had an intense sense of doubt whenever he spoke to people, not thinking that his words were worth the time of anyone or anything but his own brain. “I’m not good at art, and it kind of… mesmerizes me when I see people paint. How it works. I’m no good at things that involve the use of my hands. So—” As he continued to talk, he realized the look on your face was one of pure shock and confusion. He assumed that it completely stemmed from the fact that he was rambling on and on about himself, something that you clearly have no reason to care about. Your eyes had gone wide, and your eyebrows furrowed lightly in the middle, raised up high. Your body still stiff as a board turned around, not moving once while he spoke.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, I need to shut up. I’ll just go—”

“Wait, please!” You never meant to sound that desperate. “Um… it’s okay, you know.”

“What is?”

“Watching me work. Kinda makes me feel validated.” You chose your next words carefully, wanting to make sure of two things; one, you wanted to make sure you did not insinuate something that you did not mean, and two, you wanted to ensure that the boy would come back and see you again. “I wouldn’t mind having company the next time you’re free and I happen to be working. If you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, um… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y-yeah!”

Never had someone reacted the way the boy did to your work. Not even your family. They knew you were a fantastic painter, but they were not ones to really express it. When the museum offered your part-time, paid position, it was with a slight bit of enthusiasm, but nothing more. Just business. This boy… clearly different.

The next day, you had come to work early, to make sure you were working when the boy showed up. It is not like the two of you set a time to meet, it was not a date or anything. Heck, you did not even know his name. You just wanted to be thoroughly engrossed in what it was you were doing so you could see the admiration on his face again. You craved that validation after not getting it for years. Then you smelled it. The smell of a burger and fries from the food truck that always liked to park at the museum. It was always so good. How did it get inside, though? Then you heard him.

“I, uh, brought you some lunch, if you want to take a break.”

You whipped around on your scaffolding, him scaring you with his words, and him clearly flustered by the whole situation.

“Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you! I just figured… you’ve been here for over five hours and haven’t had anything to eat, so… I hope you like that food truck. Wait. Sorry, I only know you’ve been here that long because I walked in behind you. I just didn’t say anything. God, I’m a wreck, sorry.”

Now you were smiling sweetly, holding back a small laugh that would have made the boys eyes sparkle with joy had he gotten the chance to hear it. You started to lower your scaffolding while he walked a little bit closer, not knowing where your boundaries were. Once the scaffold was all the way down, you hopped lightly to the floor, walking the small distance over to the boy. You reached out to grab your bag of food and smiled lightly at him.

“Honestly, you’re such an angel for bringing me lunch. I completely forgot to pack one today. So, thank you. How much do I owe you?”

“N-nothing. My treat.”

“I can’t possibly let you get away with that. I…” You chuckled breathily. “I don’t even know your name!”

“Tim. Tim Murphy. Doctor of paleontology.”

He spoke so fast you hardly made out what he was a doctor of. But it was endearing, to say the least. He sounded bashful, even about an accomplishment as good as his.

“Well, Dr. Murphy, I really appreciate the gesture. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m no doctor. More of a dunce, really. No degree or anything, just living my dream as an artist.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Officially.”

“Yes, it is.”

Tim could feel his heart swell. Never in his life, especially not since the incident, had he been this confident around anyone outside of his family. He never even treated the people on his dig team that way. But something about the air around you made it easier for him to breathe. Easier for him to be himself. Your presence was like an ice-cold canteen in the middle of an August day in the Sahara for him. He could not even explain why.

“Te-tell you what. I insist you don’t pay me, but how about you join me for lunch instead of eating while you work? We can go sit in my office. If you’d like, of course.”

“That’s a deal, Murphy.”

Ever since that second day of interacting with you, the two of you were practically inseparable when you were working at the same time. Lunches, and sometimes even dinners were spent together, just talking about nothing or simply enjoying the sounds of museum creaking away or the buzz of bugs if you ate outside. Sometimes Tim’s coworkers would see the two of you together and make some snide comments, but neither of you paid them any mind. You were too wrapped up in the way the other spoke and held themselves to really care. It was blissful, something neither of you had really experienced previously. For Tim, it was a normal day at work, so he expected the same from you. He had promised to make homemade quesadillas and bring them for the two of you to share, and he held up his end of the bargain. He made his way over to the enormous mural you had been saddled with working on and saw that you were feverously painting away as if your life depended on it.

“Lunch is served!”

He called up to you loudly, but not loud enough to disturb the museum-goers. Except that somehow, you never heard him.

“Y/N?”

Still no response, just intense painting. Tim started to almost feel like you were ignoring him, feeling his chest deflate a little bit. Afraid that after all this time, you started despising him and his ways, just like everyone else he encountered and befriended. He made his way over to where you had been propped up on the scaffolding, nowhere near as high as the first day the two of you had met. You had told him one time that you start at the top of your murals always because if paint would ever run down before you had a chance to catch it, you could always paint over it. If paint ran down onto completed work, you would have to do it all over again, and it would be an endless cycle of a waste of time and supplies. He waited until you stepped back for a breather, which took close to four minutes, and then he knocked on the metal scaffolding, as a last resort to catch your attention. When he knocked, he earned himself a startled reaction.

“Wha—! Oh, it’s just you, Tim. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been calling out to you for almost ten minutes, you know.”

“You… you have?”

“Yeah. You’ve just been really wrapped up in whatever part of the mural this is. Everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah… it’s just that… I don’t think I am going to have time to take a lunch today.” Tim felt the sinking feeling in his chest again, which had gone away when he finally got to look in your eyes. “And I know that today was quesadilla day, and I was really looking forward to it. It’s just… look, I’ll never get this project done on time if I keep taking half hour lunches with you. Believe it or not, I am on a deadline. Please don’t think I’m angry at you if my tone makes it seem that way, I’m just overwhelmed with how big this one is and I’m doing it completely on my own, and having to buy my own materials is barely being covered by what they’re paying me. I want to spend as much time with you as we have been,” and you never even noticed Tim had pushed the ‘down’ button on the scaffold to bring you to his level, “I just need this job more than I need a delicious quesadilla and—”

“Y/N.” He cut you off with the sound of your name, the sternness in his voice, and a hand on your wrist. “Now you’re the one who’s rambling.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.” You could feel the tears threatening to fall down your face.

“Look. You need to eat and take a break. You’re going to eat lunch with me, and then work through the night if you have to. And guess who will keep you company since they have a set of keys because they’ve stayed so late in the past that the janitors just made him a set of keys?”

“You’d do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve put up with me all this time.”

“I figured you’d be sick of watching someone paint by now. Someone who doesn’t have a bunch of cool stories from adventures they’ve been on. Sick of… me.”

Tim felt that sinking feeling return for the third time, but this time it felt different, somehow. This time it was like a pang of guilt, because he truly did not mean to give off the impression that he was sick of you. Far from it.

“I don’t understand how you could think like that. I could never get sick of seeing which part of your face is going to have the paint splatter on it each day.”

You smiled sweetly and proceeded to invite Tim onto the scaffold to eat with you, that way you could get right back to work afterwards. The two of you had lunch like it was any other day, and you could feel some of the tension leave your shoulders as you ate, Tim’s presence calming you down. Once both of you were finished, Tim lifted his hands in the air beside his head as if to say ‘okay, I did my part, you can keep working’ and you got the message. You cleaned up your plate and immediately went back to working. Once Tim had stood up and started to walk away from the scaffolding, you turned around and yelled over to him.

“Thank you for lunch! And… thanks for keeping me company. See you for dinner?”

“Of course.”

A smile was exchanged, and you moved the scaffold back up to where you had been working while Tim walked away. Despite being completely invested in your work, you could not wait for dinner to come around.

You completely lost yourself in your work again, failing once again to realize Tim’s presence. Heck, you did not even notice that the museum managers had locked the doors when they left, Tim informing them that the two of you would be staying late to meet some deadlines and that he could let you out when you were done. You had managed to get to a spot on the mural where you could have the scaffold at its lowest point, so anyone could take a small step upward and be on it with you. He did not want to scare you because he was afraid you would jump and then streak a color across the mural that was not intentional. So, again, he waited, this time with a bag of warm and fresh Chinese food in hand, until he knew that it would be safe to get your attention. Except that this time it took over ten minutes, and your body language gave off the indication that you were not in the mood to stop. He just stood behind you, watching the intensity on your face. It was laced with something else, though, and he could not place it right away. He moved his eyes back to the portion of the mural you were working on, and after looking at the art itself, he looked to your hand that held the brush. And he knew it was time to intervene, not just because the food was going to get cold, but because he could see the effects of exhaustion taking over. He knew them all too well. He would constantly have to be told by his dig-mates that he needed to take breaks and get some water because he would become so invested in the site he was working on that he would go hours without drinking anything. That is not something anyone should do, which is common knowledge to everyone else, but it was not easy for Tim to pry himself away. So, he knew where you were coming from in terms of loving what you do so much that you never want to stop. He quietly placed the food down next to him, and carefully took a few steps to close the space between the two of you, so as to not alert you to his presence fully. He squatted down and lightly laid his hand on your shoulder in an effort to calmly halt your movements. It worked better than he planned, so he continued his efforts to pry you away from the wall. You had not made a noise, had not turned to look at him, but you knew by the gentle nature of the movements that it was Tim behind you. You confirmed your suspicions when you saw a set of hands reach for your own, the one holding the brush. Scarred and beautiful. One of the hands reached to grab the brush, lightly squeezing the metal part situated between the bristles and the wood handle so he avoided getting paint all over his hand, and to leave room for his other hand to take hold of the one which held the brush. While placing the brush in the warm water you had laid out, his other hand gently wrapped around yours, easing the shaking. But he could still feel you trembling underneath the one hand, so he brought his other hand to clasp around yours and you could feel him start to massage the cramping muscles in your palm. Then he would take each finger one by one and work out the tension. Alternating back and forth between wide-scale massaging and focused attention on a small muscle that was clearly overworked. Eventually the shaking subsided tremendously, and Tim reverted back to wide-scale rubbing on the back of your hand and your palm. He spoke just above a whisper so as not to startle you and to let you know that it is okay to relax a bit.

“You need to take a break. You’re gonna end up breaking your hand if you keep going at this rate. Sit down with me, okay?”

Reluctantly, you let yourself start to lower to the ground, Tim not letting go of your hands once, and still massaging them. The feeling was soothing – so much so that you actually started to feel the exhaustion Tim knew you had to have been feeling. He was not trying to lull you to sleep, it was just beginning to happen naturally. He had not taken his eyes off of you, wanting to make sure that you knew he was there for you to help you through the stress and exhaustion. You were finally feeling like you could relax to the point of tears slipping down your face because you had not felt this calm in weeks. Your newly relaxed natured ushered a question out of your mouth without you even realizing it.

“Wanna play this weird game I saw on the news the other day?”

“Depends on how weird your definition of weird is.”

“Basically, I saw this thing on the news that said there is a game that can bring two people closer than a marriage of fifty years. It’s really simple… maybe, considering the state of being I am currently in, the game would not be the worst idea.”

“How do you play?”

“Well, basically, there is one rule for the game, and it’s 100% honesty. Each person gets to ask the other three questions of their choosing, and the other has to answer in their complete truth. No holding back from either party. It’s a test of someone’s willingness to be vulnerable and open with someone, even if they haven’t known them more than five minutes.”

“Would it keep you from stressing over this job?” You nodded your head slowly, making eye contact with him. “Well, then I’m game.”

The two of you move so you are sitting face to face, and still close enough together so that Tim could still massage your hand, since he can tell what effect it was having on you. The two of you both thought in silence for a moment, before you quietly spoke up, asking your first question.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you on a dig?”

“Oh… that’s easy. Hard to admit, but easy to answer.” You were still just blankly staring at him, and he was determined to get a smile on your face, even if it meant embarrassing himself in front of the most magnificent girl he had ever met. “This was… years ago. One of the first digs I ever went on as an actual PhD board-certified paleontologist, so probably about six years ago or so. I was prepared for everything, right? Like I had changes of clothes, a toothbrush, a tent. I was prepared. Then one day, in a desert that rain hardly ever touches, the sky just opened up. There were mudslides everywhere, but thankfully no equipment or things in tents were ruined. The sites were, though, and I happened to be working on one when it started pouring. And my ‘seat’ became one of those mudslides. I slid down a hill about thirty feet, completely covering my one side.”

He could see the sternness in your eyes die down a little bit, sparkling a little bit brighter than before. He knew the story was working. “So, after I managed to pull myself up from the ground when the rain finally stopped, I made my way over to the shower, honestly a little surprised that no one was using it. I stripped down behind the door, needing to feel like I wasn’t a man made of mud. I started to shower, like I normally would, and didn’t catch the noise of the door hinges moving. I had just finished getting the shampoo out of my hair when I turned around to turn the water off and then I saw her.”

The light in your eyes continued to remain, but the calmness in your face faltered a little bit at the word ‘her.’ You could not explain why, but thankfully Tim did not catch it. It was not like the two of you were dating, and this story took place years ago. You did not have anything to worry about, at least that is what you told yourself.

“One of the only girls on the dig that year had gotten herself into a pretty similar situation as me, and was so determined to wash the mud off herself that she failed to notice the water running. She swung the door open and stared just long enough so I knew who she was and she recognized me, but we both had the same idea right after; shut the door. I leaned forward, trying to grab the door, and she slammed it. Hit me right in the face, hard enough to knock me down to the ground. Had to reshower and everything. I couldn’t even bring myself to forgive her on the grounds of her looks or personality. She was not my type in the slightest.”

You were stifling back a giggle at this point at Tim’s exasperated manner of storytelling. It also had something to do with the fact that he admitted freely that she was not his type, giving you hope for something that you could not explain. He was still massaging your hand, too.

“Well, at least I got you to smile. I’d say that makes the story worth telling. Now it’s my turn. I want to know… What’s the most intimate thing you’ve ever painted and why?”

You had to think about it for a minute, because you had been painting seriously since you were about fourteen. It had been a long time since you considered yourself fully dedicated, and as commission work would come in, requests became more and more intense. Realistic. After about a minute of thinking while feeling Tim’s hands still press on yours, you realized what it was.

“It was a commission… for this guy. He had recorded himself, and he made a rather hefty request of me.”

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“How did you know this guy?” It almost seemed like Tim was feeling the same way about the word ‘guy’ as you did about the word ‘her,’ but you did not make much out of it.

“Personally, I didn’t. It was an online commission. Basically, he had recorded something and wanted me to watch it. The specific request basically said ‘watch this entire thing and I want you to paint us,’ referring to himself and the girl in the video, ‘in what you consider to be the most erotic moment in the video.’ I had a basic idea of what I was going to be watching, but when I saw that the video was over twenty minutes long, I really didn’t want to continue with the request. But, after I told him that I would be charging him extra because of the absurdity of the request and he didn’t decline the price, I was committed. One of the biggest commissions I have ever gotten to this day, actually more than the first check this museum gave me. But I guess I still have to tell you what it was, huh?” You swallowed, remembering the video more so than the rendition you did. “He… him and the girl… I assume they wanted a painting of them while actually having sex, but he told me to paint what I considered the most erotic. There was a part before they actually hooked up where she was… um… straddling his lap, and he was sitting up, head level with her chest. They were really in the moment, both still wearing their underwear though, if that matters. But at one point she held his face and he looked up at her like she hung the stars in the sky. It was one of those moments where, at least for now, all that mattered in the world was each other, and that was what I ended up painting. So… yeah.”

Tim was looking at you with such an intensity that you could feel it in your chest, how fast your heart was beating. You could not tell if the image of the painting in his head was doing that or what, but it was a look on the boy’s face that you took a mental image of for a sketch later down the road.

“Oh… wow. That’s, um… quite intriguing that you chose that part. I, uh… gosh, it got warm in here now that everyone’s gone, huh? That’s not it should… work…”

“If the idea of my painting is bothering you that much, how do you think I felt watching that video, huh, Murphy?”

That calmed him down, hearing you revert back to your normal self after talking so quietly. It was like you were not tired anymore, lighting up in the presence of the smartest and dorkiest paleontologist the museum could have thrown at you. He loved having this effect on you, because never in his life, or his wildest dreams, could he imagine doing that for someone like you. Someone perfect.

“I think it’s your turn to ask me question two.”

“Ah! Right… let me think. …I almost don’t want to ask this, but before I do, you should know why I’m asking. I think they’re incredible and tell a story unlike any other, and I think they’re beautiful.” As you spoke your preface, you reached up with the hand that has been free this whole time to stop Tim’s motions on your hands to place his in your own and lightly stroke them with your thumbs. Clearly grazing over the pale white lines on them. “What’s the worst thing someone has done to you or said to you regarding your scars?”

You were still holding his hands, and you could feel them tense and get a little sweaty. In fact, you could see that his posture had changed, like his whole body had stiffened. It was not out of fear or remembrance of painful memories. It was disgust, which meant that there was a particular instance that came to mind, and it almost made you want to retract your question. Tim spoke before you could, allowing you to hear the real answer.

“I was having a sleepover with people who I thought were my real friends, yet I woke up to a room that smelled like sharpie.” You shot him a confused look. “I got up to find that no one was in my living room with me, all of their belongings were gone, and I could see a note on the floor where their bodies should have been. It read ‘look in the mirror, freak.’ I went into my bathroom and noticed a couple of black lines on my face and neck. Then I noticed them on my collarbone, my arms, my hands, my legs, and even my feet. They had found a sharpie and marked every single scar that I had while I slept, pointing out every single flaw that I have. Every single one of my insecurities, and called me a freak to top it all off.”

You could see the tears starting to form, and you despised yourself for wanting to ask that question. You hated yourself for a number of reasons; you had made Tim remember something he clearly did not need to, you had almost made him cry, you had made him admit his biggest insecurity, all of it because you wanted to play a stupid game.

“Tim… I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean…”

“But you know why I’m okay? You know why I’m not going to cry?”

You just looked at him, tears threatening to slip from your eyes, now.

“Someone has recently taught me that people like that don’t matter. They taught me to ignore the snickers we heard at work because they’re just jealous. And that same person just told me that they think my scars… are beautiful.”

“…”

“You really think they’re beautiful?”

“Is that your second question, Murphy?”

“No, but I have to know that answer more.”

“I couldn’t lie to you if my life depended on it, so yeah, I do.”

He let a single tear slip from his eye, wiped it away quickly, and proceeded to ask his next question. No preface other than a serious expression painted onto his face.

“Have you ever thought that maybe you will never make it as an artist?”

“Every single day.” No hesitation. No pause. No stopping to think. It was a question that plagued you from the moment you got your first commission, shockingly enough. “Not a single day goes by when I wonder if the commissions will ever stop. Painting for myself is great, don’t get me wrong. But I have no other skills. No backup plan. That’s why I fought so hard to get this job. They have me booked to paint the whole museum at some point, and once the unchanging exhibits are complete, they will give me advance notice about the ones that do so I can come repaint the walls. But that’s the only stability I have. Another museum may come and scout the work and hate it, making sure that I get no other museum recommendations. Plus, not too many people send in personal requests. I have to hope that I get long term contracts, or… I’m just done. Penniless. Homeless.”

Tim was looking at you with a melancholy expression. He had something in his heart he wanted to say, but it was not like the two of you were together. His offer would even be weird for people who had been dating for over a year. He held back, as hard as it was.

“Is my answer okay?”

“Oh… yeah! I mean… in the sense that you told the truth. Clearly. But… can I tell you something? It might be weird.”

“I’m the one that suggested this weird game, so obviously go ahead.”

“If the museum ever lets you go, and no commissions are coming in, and your strapped in more ways than one, come… stay with me. I have enough space. I can help you. The offer will stand, even if you marry someone and have kids with him. My home will always be open to you, okay?”

If the tears were not threatening to spill earlier, they sure were now. All you could do to hold back a choked sob was grab onto his hands and squeeze. A way of saying thank you without having to actually say it. He completely understood. Then it was time to move onto the final question for each of you, and both of you had known what you were going to ask when you first agreed to the game. They were both loaded questions, but for completely different reasons. Based on his reaction to the previous one you asked, you mentally braced yourself for the worst with this third one. He was doing the same.

“Tim… I want you to tell me about Jurassic Park.”

And he did. He told you about the giant t-rex that ate a guy in a latrine. He told you about the fact that his parents were going through a divorce and that was the only reason him and Lex were there. He told you about being constantly rejected in the beginning by a man he looked up to. He told you about Lex’s screams and how they kept him up at night. He told you about being stuck in a functionless car while a t-rex was stomping around it and knocking it around. He told you about falling many feet in a metal car, to be suspended for God knows how long with no help. He told you about how he threw up. He told you about falling through the tree and almost being crushed by the car. He told you about being trapped in a kitchen with velociraptors that were four times his size and eight times his weight. He told you about being electrocuted by a fence and falling almost ten feet. He told you about the rain.

He was sobbing. Hyperventilating. You regretted it completely. You wished you could have taken it back, but there was no turning back. There was no erasing the memories for Tim. Nothing could ever take the trauma away from him. But there was one thing you could do; be there for him in this moment. You reached over and attached your hands to his face, forcing him to look at you. To make him aware that you were there and he was not back there. There were no more living dinosaurs. That he was alive and breathing. That he had you there to help him. You used your thumbs to wipe the streams of tears rolling down his now red cheeks. It was like he had opened a faucet, and he was having trouble breathing. Once he realized that you were wiping his tears, his breathing slowed, and so did the tears. You kept wiping them away, somewhat uselessly since you did not dry your hands off in between. Then your hands stilled, the two of you just watching each other. And you noticed a stray, single tear. The last one. You did not wipe it with your hand, but instead leaned over to him to kiss it away. You tasted the tang of the salt within it, but did not mind one bit because all that mattered was making Tim feel better. To take him away from the place you forced him into. You kept your face pressed against his so he could feel the warmth of your lips and face, but you could feel him pull away from you a little bit. Just enough so he could look you in the eyes. He manages to steal a glance into them, and he realizes that you are crying just as much as he is, you are just a lot better at being quiet about it. It causes more tears to slip from his own eyes, but he could not care less. All he cared about was taking care of the desperation he felt regarding the human contact and love that he had been deprived from for years. In a very unlike Tim move, he crashed his mouth into yours and kissing you with such a fervor that you started to feel lightheaded. Once the two of you pulled away from each other, he could see that he had made your lips swell lightly, making them redder than before, and he could also see the shocked expression adorning your face. He thought you hated him now. He was an emotional nightmare and felt that the right thing to do was kiss you? He could not imagine how this scenario played out well for him. He started to inch his body away from yours more, starting to relentlessly apologize for making you uncomfortable. Except that was not how you felt. Not at all. You wanted him to keep going.

“Please… don’t pull away from me.”

With the speed of a bolt of lightning, his mouth had found yours again, kissing you like there was no tomorrow and these were his last moments with you. While his kiss was passionate, it was safe. Just lips. You wanted more. With all the effort you could muster in that moment, you tried nibbling at his lower lip, wanting his lips to look just like yours by the end of it all. Pulling apart because there was no air left between you two, he pulled his head far enough back where he could look at your entire face, and tilted his head gently to the side like a curious puppy. And it was time for him to ask the final question of the game.

“Do you think you could ever fall in love with someone like me? Someone broken?”

You looked back at him, completely sure of your answer instantly. You just had to be brave and say it.

“I think I already am.”

After having let out all the pent-up emotions and putting on a show for the security guard’s cameras, you went back to working, no longer worried about the deadline, no longer trembling. You stayed seated on the scaffold, working at the bottom of the mural. Tim nestled himself into your side, resting his head in the space of your criss-crossed legs, feeling completely at ease. He leaned the back of his head against your stomach, and felt the muscles in your torso move with your arm as you painted. Eventually, you saw the warm, yellow glow of the sun through the high-up window to your right, and you looked down to see that Tim had fallen asleep, head now facing your stomach, nose pressed right above the hem of your pants. You could feel both of his arms lazily around you, an effort to make himself comfortable since he wanted to make sure his head stayed right where it was. You had stayed up all night, not panicked at all, working on some of the smaller detailing that took longer. You placed your small brush in the water for a moment, though, to look down at the sweet boy in your lap. You did not have the heart to wake him up, considering the museum employees still were not scheduled to arrive for an hour. So, you decided to gently run your hand through his hair, but not hard enough to wake him up, earning yourself a small groan from the boy in his sleep, who then nuzzled his nose more into your stomach. A feeling you could get used to.

Permanent Taglist: n/a

Tim Murphy Taglist: @gardnerlangway @drtimmurphy

// If you want to be added to either taglist mentioned above, or the one for another character I’ve written for, send me an ask here! //

#tim murphy #tim murphy x reader #joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joseph mazzello #joseph mazzello x reader #jurassic park #six questions #fanfiction #fanfic #art #artist #artist!reader #palentology #mural #struggling artist

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