rocky's one true mate

Driver shook his head minutely, and you understood. He hardly ever wanted to talk about what he did at night. But you always asked. Always allowed him that space if he wanted it. Your hand lifted away from him momentarily while he took off his shirt, but you didn't get the chance to return to your slow, sleepy petting of his back.

Instead, he turned his head only slightly to look at you over his shoulder. Eyebrows pinched together. A curve to his pink lips. Blue eyes glistening with something only you had ever been able to read.

He didn't need to talk. He didn't need to sleep.

He needed you.

You laid back against your pillow and eased your loose tank top to the side, revealing one of your breasts. Driver breathed a sigh of relief at the sight before completely crawling into bed beside you. Nestling himself against your side, he came face to face with your pebbled nipple, licking his lips in anticipation.

"Go on," you encouraged, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Driver attached his mouth to your tit instantly, giving a few long sucks of your nipple that made your breath hitch and your nails scratch at his scalp. He instantly relaxed beside you, body physically slumping as his free arm curled around your waist. He continued to suck for a moment more before he stilled, completely content to just have you in his mouth, nuzzling closer to you.

You smoothed out his hair and kissed the top of his head. "Just relax, sweet boy. Get some sleep."

ryan gosling taglist part 1 -

@electronicheartpersona @rommies @anixszci @leahuzumakisblog @scarlinrouge @penquinsarecool @toddthebitch @stormyparker @loganskittycatears @mercyismymom @yourfavpersonalityhire @downsobadforthatoneguy @caitsmissinglefteye @taycepascal @toneystank-3000 @tinnygems @mrsandorbby @daniiibananiii @acidwhiskey @munchkin1923 @lastwandastan @ladybirdbeetle7

@bbeadyeyes @mcmjsts @100percentlazybonez @eimethyst @jackiebabieee @flwer555 @unknownplayr @caramelsugarcookies @miaaaoa @deadlymistress24 @justatiredhuman @fyodorslave @scoredlobster68 @ailishmgk @gneepgnrop @alaniuser @mak-in-cheese @mothhballl @ghostslittleprincess @loki-kinda-scared-chat @leonkennedyslefthand @laurasenchantment

∘₊✧ Sierra Six

Six holds you down with his big, strong hands. He talks you through it, firm but quiet, his whispered voice cracking under the strain of how turned on he is — but he won’t pay any attention to his own needs when you haven’t experienced this before and he gets to be the first to show you such pleasures. There’s something about the responsibility of it that thrills him endlessly. No one will ever do it as good as him, and he wants to make damn sure you know that. He makes you feel completely secure, but also like there’s only one way to end this, and that’s you cumming over and over on his tongue and fingers until he’s satisfied he’s taught you enough of how good it can feel. He doesn’t even care whether you’re coherent enough to see to his needs after, that’s unimportant right now — he just wants to make you feel good.

∘₊✧────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Holland March

Holland smirks when he finds out you’ve never been eaten out before. Not because it’s funny, but because he’s smug. And why is he so smug, you might ask? Because this is where Holland really gets the chance to shine. He’s very good with his hands, but depending on how much he’s had to drink or how distracted he is by a case or how his grief is hitting him that day, his dick doesn’t always work the way he wants it too. It’s complicated. But he still always wants to satisfy you, so get his head between your legs, with a last puff of his cigarette for good luck, the smoke swirling over your glistening folds, and he goes to town. And he won’t stop until your fingers are tugging at his hair and your thighs are clamped around his head for at least the second or third time. You’ll never feel anything like Holland’s tongue. It’s magic.

∘₊✧────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Lars Lindstrom

Lars is nervous, because it’s his first time, too. But he’s glad you’re on this journey of intimacy together, and the trust he has for you surpasses any worries he might feel about getting it wrong or simply not being good at it. More than anything, Lars wants to please you, so when he dips between your thighs, careful fingers brushing over your slicked skin, he uses his fingers to expose your clit and leans in, starting slow. But god is it heavenly. His tongue is so delicate, so precise, he has you gripping the bedsheets in tight fists, crying out his name as he laps carefully but perfectly at your bundle of nerves. Your back arches as he changes pace, tries different pressures and directions… oh he’s a natural and you would beg for him to do this again — only you won’t need to because Lars gets a real taste for making you squirm for his tongue and his touch.

∘₊✧────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Ryland Grace

Ryland considers your inexperience with receiving oral sex carefully before he makes a move in that direction. He doesn’t consider you an experiment, but he likes to keep track of exactly how to please you, and experiment with what works, and therefore what else might satisfy you. He’s obsessed with your pleasure. He knows you love his fingers, that you’d have him pumping his thick middle finger into your soaked pussy knuckle deep every single night if you could, and he always obliges when the time comes. So he starts there, fucking into you with those precise fingers, using exactly the right formula to get you off so good. But just as he gets you going this time, he stops. Expecting your protest, he nervously brings his slick coated finger to his mouth and sucks it clean, moaning around it, his eyes sliding shut. ‘Mmh… please can I taste you?’ he begs, long eyelashes fluttering under your surprised gaze. ‘I’ve done the math and I think you’ll like it...’ And really, how could anyone say no to that? 

∘₊✧────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Colt Seavers

Making out with Colt is always messy. Sex is messy. When he’s lost in kissing you, it’s sloppy and needy — and while sloppy would usually equate to gross, this is anything but. Colt’s handsy and passionate and his hair is always a mess by the end of the night (as is yours thanks to him), he licks and he bites (gently), and there are clothes strewn all over multiple rooms. You can’t even remember half the positions you’ve been in because it’s so fluid and free with him; he finds it exhilarating to pleasure you and just lets all the tensions of life go when he’s buried inside. So the thought of being the first to make you unravel with his tongue has him particularly excited. He’ll take you for a romantic drive, finding somewhere to demonstrate a few donuts, park up looking pleased with himself and kiss you fiercely, then check it’s okay before eating you like a starved man. You’ll have one foot on the steering wheel, the other leg hooked over his shoulders, underwear lost somewhere in the footwell that he’ll find tomorrow. But right now your pussy is all he’s interested in and he’s starved of it.

∘₊✧────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Driver

As if his kisses aren’t sensual enough, Driver’s oral skills don’t stop at getting you both close to orgasm  (or in some cases for him, reaching orgasm) with just his tongue brushing against yours. So imagine his face when you’re making out, hot and heavy, and he begins to press his lips to your neck, unfasten your shirt, push lower… and as you realise where he’s headed you breathe out, ‘Wait- I’ve never done this before-’ Driver freezes, tilts his head up at you, and his sparkling eyes widen for a moment. He tilts his head and you know it’s a silent question; Do you want to? You nod. He resumes. And let’s just say he’s not the only one cumming hard while his lips are on you tonight.

∘₊✧────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Henry Letham

Henry takes his time. He’s in no hurry. He asks casually if you’ve ever cum on somebody’s tongue before and when you say no, he just looks away, thoughtful. ‘You wanna?’ he asks after another drag of his cigarette, still not looking at you while he waits patiently for your answer. And when it comes, affirming that you do want to, with him, he huffs out some vague acknowledgement, stubs out the remainder of his cigarette, faces you, and with the most gentle hands, lays you back. He removes your clothes like he’s making a work of art just by revealing your body, and his lips on your bare skin are hungry and desperate and filled with passion for this particular piece. He fingerfucks you first, preparing you as he watches your pussy take his slim digits, licking his lips before leaning in and finishing you with the most thorough strokes of his tongue. He slows as you breathe through the aftershocks, and then he sits back in his previous position against the wall, pants feeling a little tighter, leaving you to recover beside him as he lights up again. You’re dying to know what he’ll ask you next.

∘₊✧────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Luke Glanton

Luke wants you to feel special, as special as you are to him. He wants you, of course, but he also wants to make sure you feel ready. So after riding around on his motorbike, legs and arms clamped around his hips and chest, the vibration of the engine hitting your core in a way you didn’t expect, he can sense you’re turned on. He pulls over somewhere desolate, kneels beside his parked bike and pulls you around to face him, perched on the seat, before spreading your legs with his rough hands, pushing your underwear aside and burying his head under your skirt. It’s not long until you’re rutting back against his tongue, one hand tangled in his bleach blonde hair as the other grips the seat of his bike that you’re only half sitting on now, to keep yourself tethered. He comes up to kiss you when you’ve come undone for him; you taste so good he can’t keep it to himself. And then you ride back off into the night together.

“W-well, st-statistically speaking,” You smirked at the sound of his voice being a little higher than usual as you set another deliberately sensuous pace. “H-Human male anatomy follows a no-normal distribution curve---!” Ryland nearly yelped at the sensation of your walls tightening around his hard cock, pressing into places he wanted to memorize. You can’t help but smile breathlessly as his hands come to rest on your hips, helping ease you into a more leveraged position, feeling the tangled entrapment of your thigh muscles spasming. 

“T-technically, someone has-has to occupy the upper percentiles… It’s just…” He drew a deep breath in and fluttered his eyelids open to make eye contact with you when you swirled your hips once again, the friction almost too much for him to handle. “Probability, really.”

Ryland managed to growl out those last two words as his hands loosened enough to allow you to continue bouncing as you scientific compliment came rushing in and out of his brain, trying to cope as it mixed tediously with the pleasure running through his entire body. “B-but um…” He added, fingers digging into the fleshy skin that rested right above your hipbones and helped lead you into a better rhythm.

“T-thank you. I-I think?” He was not thinking, in fact. How was he supposed to when you were… Well, doing what you were doing?!

A gasp escaped your mouth as Ryland’s hips came to meet yours half way, the head of his cock pressing against the spongy part inside of you that made stars blister momentarily behind your eyes as you tossed your head back with a moan that sounded suspiciously like his name. “J-Just making an observation.”

“Yo-you’d be a great scientist.” The blonde man let out a shaky laugh, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as you captivated his gaze, hands daring enough now to come up along the scape of your curves to grasp your chest. “I-I suppose it’s one variable th-that’s working in my favor.”

“I think i-it’s working more in mine.” Your voice was nothing more than a low purr.  

Something about that caused Ryland to snap, and within moments, your back was against the bed and he was perfectly slotted between your open legs, your feet tucking into the fleshier nature of his lower back. He guided himself, eyes locked between your bodies and watching the stretch his cock gave you. The analytical scientist gave way to the man who was clearly pleased by your compliment even if he didn't know quite how to handle it. You lifted your hips up slightly to give way to a different angle, the slow drag of Ryland’s cock against your inner walls making you both gasp as he sunk back into you to the hilt. 

The room was nothing more than a hazy mess with cigarette smoke clinging to the open air and the dim glow of a single lamp on your lover’s bedside table. He was above you, his usually clumsy grace replaced by a focused intensity as he shoved your leg up, relishing in the sensation of your other wrapped lazily around his narrow waist. Holland’s hand grasped at the muscle of your calf, pulling you infinitely closer with each thrust of his hips, his breathing coming in ragged pants as his pink lips planted a heated, saliva stricken kiss to your leg.

You were completely lost in the sensation of his cock relentlessly pounding into you until you felt him shift, the mattress rippling as a new angle was introduced, the head of his shaft now hitting a spot that made you thrash your head back. 

“Fuck, Holland!” You moaned, one of your hands coming to grasp at his wrist, fingernails digging slightly into the skin there. He hissed into the moan that left his smirked mouth. “R-right there.”

“You like that, baby?” He responded with a guttural sound, picking up the pace and driving into you with what felt like a renewed purpose. You were getting close, your entire body was shouting at you. The tension in your stomach, your leg tensing around his waist and urging him even closer, your walls tightening around him to the point where Holland had the feeling you were going to milk him for all he was worth. More than okay in his book. “O-Oh, you r-really like that.”

“G-God, you’re so deep.” You squeezed your eyes shut and chomped onto your bottom lip, but that was pointless as another groan tore through the air. Irrationality was winning, as it so often did in the throes of pleasure. “You’re so fucking big, Holland.”

The blonde above you seemed to catch for a moment at that, a slower reluctance being placed into his thrusts as his breath caught in the hollow of his throat in a sickeningly sensual way for your eyes to feast on. You can feel his cock twitch inside if you, he must have been replaying your words again and again as a stuttery laugh escaped his lips, his upper half careening down so he could place a messy kiss to your mouth. 

“Jesus,” He murmured against your lips, tongue pressing against yours for a moment. “Y-You can’t just say…. Shit like that when I’m trying to concentrate.”

Holland let your leg go, instinct taking over and within moments, it joined your other around his slim hips, his forearms coming to trap you to the bed as his cock grinded into you. You moaned, “W-why not…? It’s true.”

His rhythm faltered the second you tightened around him intentionally, bringing your hips up to meet his before Holland found the willpower in himself to proceed. Deeper, harder this time. He needed you to cum on his cock. “B-because it makes me want to…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into nothingness as you clenched around him again. 

“To what?” You teased despite your tone being incredibly breathless. 

“T…To fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” Holland forced himself to finish a coherent statement, dark, pupil blow eyes meeting yours in a heated frenzy. “Make you feel every,” He deliberately grinded his cock as hard as he could inside of you, “Inch.” He did it again, the compliment clearly going to his head and there was now a set pace as Holland was determined to prove your words right, over and over again.

Lars was always so careful with you, as if you were something too precious for this world that might break if he wasn’t paying enough attention. And as he shifted his hips, pressing into your warmth, earning himself a soft gasp from your lips, nothing screamed as aggressive or overdone. It was just you and your boyfriend, the evening light filtering through the curtains of his bedroom to cast warm glows to juxtapose against the Winter air outside as his cock stretched you in an almost overwhelmingly absurd way.

Your inner walls fluttered, spasming around his girth as he settled a bit more between your legs, letting them case around his larger body and easing his chest against yours as the dark blonde let a whimper leave his parted lips.

“L-Lars.” You whispered, your hand coming up to cup the side of his face, his eyes squeezed shut in focus as he himself was in an adjustment period. Common for him, you let Lars work it out the way he needed as you traced your thumb along his cheekbone. He couldn’t handle those dual sensations and a moment later, his head collapsed into the crevice of your neck as he gave an exploratory shuffle of his hips a few centimeters out before plunging back into you. 

“T-That feels really good.” You moaned softly into his ear causing a shiver to blister down his spine. 

“I like… I like when you ma-make those sounds…” He admitted, his voice strained and barely a notch above rationality. “It’s… It’s really nice…”

A smile tugs onto your face slowly as you tuck your fingers into his thick hair, seeking to motivate and calm him down from the prospect of overstimulation. “I like making those sounds for you…”

Lars’s cock twitched at that, the motion so minute but you could feel it inside of you as you shifted just a bit beneath him, readjusting on the pillow so you could look up at him properly when he pulled his head back. “A-And I like the way you feel around me…” His blue eyes drifted along your expression before they locked onto your lips as a sole point of concentration. “It’s… Tight but in a good way… A really… Good way…”

Your boyfriend's words made you clench around his heavy cock, causing him to gasp out, his eyes widening at the new sensation. “Oh-oh, that’s… That’s something…”

You nod in agreement as a blush overcomes your entire being, urging him down so you could place a gentle kiss to his lips. He had been asking silently by staring at your mouth, a whisperless thanks being given as his moustache tickled you as you muttered, “Y-you’re bigger than I expected.” There was that breathless laugh of yours that Lars thought was so cute. “Y-You feel so good in me.”

And for a moment, the man above you didn't respond. There was no motion from him until you felt the sting of a very deliberate drag of his cock against your walls that made you tremble. He pulled back from your neck, your skin immediately missing the heated sensation of his breath against it, Lars’s brows furrowed in minor confusion. 

“R-really?” He asked, and there’s something so genuinely surprised in his tone that it made your heart ache a little as you brushed your fingers through his hair as your words settled into the air and into his mind. Something shifted in Lars’s expression. The shock of your compliment slowly melted into something warmer, more confident. A shy smile tugged at the corner of his plush lips, his mustache lifting with it.

"I-I’ve never really… thought about it like… that…” Lars trailed off, his cheeks flushing a deep red against his pale skin, only minorly disrupted by his facial stubble as he inched out of you before sinking back in as far as he could reach.

Your back arched off the bed slightly, pressing your taut chest against his as you let a low moan out. “Is… Is this okay?” Lars asked after a few moments, repeating his thrusting motion that sprinkled the best sensation along your core. “I do-don’t want to hurt you…” His voice was straining to keep itself contained and not delve too far into the pleasure. Yet. He would once he knew you were good to go. 

You nodded wordlessly, your mouth slightly agape as you sucked a breath in as Lars shuffled his hips against yours. “Y-You’re perfect, Lars.”

The cheap mattress of Colt’s trailer bed dipped beneath your knees, the worn sheets cool and contrasted against your palms, stark compared to the heat of the desert outside. Being on all fours was common now, it’s what the blonde stuntman liked as you arched your back to display the fleshy bounce of your ass for his hungry eyes.

His cock was so hard it felt like one little bit of attention made to it was going to make him cum as he positioned himself at your entrance, a small hiss leaving his mouth as he gripped his needy hard-on with one calloused hand, the other grasping with a possessive strength at your hip to get you in the most optimal angle. You were surely going to have bruises there in the morning, but it was all worth it. “Ready?” Colt asked, his voice low and rough, incredibly different from the charming demeanor he showed the film crew when performing stunts. 

You could only nod, your breath catching in your throat aggressively as he pushed in, painfully slow. The head of his cock disappeared as you were given time to adjust to the stretch. Even after all this time, the initial penetration was enough to make you go crazy, your head dipping as you urged your body not to shake prematurely as your toes curled. Colt watched his cock bury itself so deep inside of you that he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than that point of primal contact.

“Fuuuuckkkk.” You gasped as air finally met your lungs again, his cock filling you up completely, his taut hips pressing against your ass and conforming against him like a puzzle piece. “Y-you're so big.”

“What was that?” His hands tightened on your hips, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Your cock.” You clarified with a huff, pushing back against him and causing the large man to stumble a bit before he regained composure. “It f-feels even bigger in this position. Like I-I’m being split in half.”

What a visual. Colt responded with a low chuckle as he began to move. It was slow at first, too slow for your liking as you grasped at the sheets with a tiny moan before it increased into a set rhythm. Enough to get you both going for now, but not enough to cause anything to be over too soon. If there was one thing Colt was good at, it was teetering on that very line.

“Yeah?” He grunted, a hand coming down to grasp at your ass and urge you to grind into him as the other wrapped delicately around your neck to keep you arched instead of letting your body falter. “Tell me more, baby.”

“So thick.” You moaned hoarsely as Colt picked up pace, jutting his cock into you as best he could, the sound of skin slapping skin seeping into the air of the small trailer, the controlled movements he was known for giving way to something far more urgent. The bed groaned loud under your combined weights as Colt drove into you, your body reacting as best it could as you met him thrust for thrust, pushing back to take him deeper as his long fingers exploded against your neck and held you. You needed every inch of him, and he had to know.

“I-I’m going to cum a-all over y-your big cock, Colt. Fuc… Fuck… don’t stop.”

Colt's rhythm faltered for a moment as he processed your words. "Fuck," he muttered, his voice strained. "You say things like that and I'm not going to last."

"Don't last then," you challenged, looking back at him over your shoulder. "Just fill me up and show me what a stuntman can really do."

Lazy mornings seemed rare with your lover. Even more so when he came home at the early hours of the morning, unexplained but always willing to tug himself into your bed with the favor of stress release. And this early Tuesday morning was no different, the predawn light filtering through the small blinds of your apartment, casting faint, gray stripes across the rumble sheets that were close to being discarded.

The air was cool on your exposed skin, raising goosebumps and hardening your nipples only to be soothed by the solid wall of heat pressed against your back. Driver was behind you, his chest a firm plane against your shoulder blades, one arm curled possessively around your waist and keeping you against him. His other hand was holding onto the base of his cock, teasing your entrance, urging you to prop your leg up so he could enter.

Not like it was even a question as you did just that, sleep still tugging on your movements as the blonde pushed into you with an inch by inch stroke that made a shudder explode down your spine, felt in Driver’s sternum as he pressed his chest more ardently to your back, lips barely ghosting against the shell of your ear as a silent moan cased there. Driver’s movements were always economical and precise, somewhat tearing more into the idea of performing a function rather than fucking but that’s just how it was.

There was an intensity to him that both thrilled you and unnerved some part of your rationality, but it made you only want him more as he focused behind you, shifting his hips against your ass and pressing deeper. You gasped softly, the hand around your waist dripping between your semi-open legs. 

Driver’s rhythm didn't change at your sound, but his blue eyes which has been closed, fixed on some obscure thought of his nice it was to be with someone like this, opened and slowly came to focus on your face. He watched you, his expression unreadable in the dim light but there was a crack in the facade as you moaned again, his mouth twitching. 

“Mmmmm… Y-You’re always so much bi-bigger than I remember, Driver.” You panted into the air, your voice barely a tangible whisper for him. But, he heard it. And for a moment, nothing changed. He continued his steady, measured pace of railing into you as if he didn't hear your compliment at all. “You feel incredible.” 

That was the nail he needed. You felt it - a subtle shift in his fingertips, the way he moved behind you before giving you a slightly deeper thrust forward. You groaned at that, feeling him stretch you like it was the first time, head tilting to the side. Driver’s gaze met yours immediately and you’re both frantically searching for something. 

“Y-You’re being awfully quiet.” You observed, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face as he thrusted deeper into you, his free hand coming up to grasp your thigh to keep your leg from rebounding and clamping shut. Driver didn't bother responding verbally, but you were in for a treat as he leaned his face in to capture your lips in a tired kiss, languid and bustling with the affection he so often chose to ignore because it was easier in his line of work. His lips brushed against yours before captivating down your jaw to your ear. 

“I’d rather listen to you than listen to me.” He moved behind you once again, the bed frame creaking a bit with that as his cock hit that spot inside of you that made you grasp at the side of his face in desperation, his thrusts becoming that much more purposeful, more attune to your reactions.

The compliment that had gone vaguely unnoticed, at least in your perspective, was driving him crazy to the point where Driver became irrationally focused on your pleasure, determined not to understand every nuance and sensation. He needed this more than he could tell you, so he was going to show you.

• he tries sooooo hard to impress you. not because he needs to, but because he loves the look on your face after when you're hitting him on the shoulder with a poorly contained smile and asking what the fuck is wrong with him.

"whattt, you can't tell me that wasn't a good shot! come on, i did, like, three rolls in that car and barely have a scratch! that's *got* to get some sort of recognition." colt wraps an arm around your shoulder, peering down at you with a much-too-excitable expression for your taste. it made pretending to be annoyed with him pretty hard— his ultimate goal at the end of the day, you knew that by now.

"yeah, that's ignoring the bruise on your side the size of texas, you adrenaline junkie." you snarked back, barely managing to push down a smile at his antics. it didn’t matter, colt knew you well enough to sense your amusement no matter how well it was masked.

"you, my friend, need to get new insults." he huffs playfully. "do you know how many times i've heard that? it's practically recycled material at this point—! i didnt take you for a plagiarist.." he leans in closer to your face with a proud smile before pulling back moments later. you notice a flush spreading to his ears, and silently avert your eyes with a small grin of your own.

"you know you've got about three minutes to meet ryder in his trailer for a stunt revision, right?"

"...shit—" is all he colt says before taking off, leaving a small cloud of proverbial dust in his wake.

• being a crew member constantly surrounded by moving parts and very loud, very demanding split-second decisions made it hard to get any real socializing done, but somehow colt had found a way to worm himself into your routine. it was like he'd just showed up on set in front of you one day, all messy hair and a teasing glint in his eyes, leaning down to smirk "watch this" into his walkie talkie.

• you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it.

• thats why when he glances at you for a little too long, or smiles at you when he thinks you won't notice, you dont mention it. not the way he always seems to be hovering around you the second he's got a moment away from the scene, nor how his voice cracks when he says your name more than anyone else's (okay, thats a lie, you do mention that last part, but if only to tease him for the momentary high note).

• theres a part of both of you that is afraid to take the next step. to push your playful arguing into something more serious: more unexplored. not to mention the amount of explaining you'd have to do to your parents around dating a stuntman— rather than some secure, tight lipped businessman like they'd always imagined. and god, the paperwork surrounding workplace relationships alone was enough to have you retreating back into that old rhythm of push and pull with colt... never too much to break the seal, but never enough to satisfy the ache in your chest. you were sure he felt the same way, but it was better to stick with what you had. the both of you knew that.

• er, at least, you did. colt's search history said differently. "movie themed pickup lines," "love song playlist," "best food in town," "cheapest food in town," the list went on.. modern problems require modern solutions, okay?

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇

• get ready to have a grown man pinning after you like a middle schooler, because holland march is a force of nature with a penchant for stupidity, and then some.

• how on earth you captured his attention is beyond me. there are simply too many places you could have caught the detectives eye— promptly saddling himself up by your side with a five o'clock shadow and a grin that screams trouble. that's almost assuredly what happens.

• the minute you ignore him to greet holly instead, holland knew it was over for him. someone who didn't roll over at his shit and liked kids??? label him as successfully whipped, for he just found his favorite new thing to daydream about. and a little more, if you know what i mean.

• god he wants to look cool in front of you so bad. boasting about cases that he's solved (and ones that he hadn't..) is his favorite way to pass the time around you— at least until holly calls him out for it, grumbling that "no self respecting adult wants to hear about the time you lost a suspect in downtown traffic."

• he neglects to mentioned failed cases from that point forward.

• when holland is sober, he's far more easily riled up by you than anything else. he has penchant for calling you his "secret weakness," even if its anything but a secret with the way he's practically tripping over himself to catch up to you at any point.

• on the rare occasion that he had enough money to spend on something other than food, bills, or booze, holland takes a trip down to the local radioshack in order to make a mixtape. whether or not he realizes it, a lot of the songs he puts on there are ones that bring the thought of your smile to his mind. holly notices a change in the type of music playing the next few times she's in the car, but she doesn't say a thing.

• drunk holland is a different story, but when is he ever not?

• healy can barely stand to be around him when he's drunk after you enter the picture. if he had to sit through one more drunken, hiccup-y monolog about how goddamn beautiful you are, he swore that he would give up drinking (a boldfaced lie, sure, but that's how fed up he had gotten with holland's blubbering).

• you definitely get more than a few payphone calls from holland, the detective doing his best to sound coherent as he giggles into the receiver how sweet you are, and that you should come over to... whatever street he happened to be standing on that night.

• on the rare occasion that you show up its always to get him back home safely. not that he remembers much other than the smell and interior of your car

"y'er sho good to me. i ever told y'that?" holland mumbled into the upholstery lf your backseat, face smooshed against the fabric unabashedly. you were sure there'd be a drool puddle by the time you got to his place.

"yes. almost every time we do this actually." the sight that follows your sentence carries a feeling of pity with it. mostly for holly for having to deal with them when you got him home, but also for holland. things had been starting to make more and more sense ever since healy let it slip about his wife (rest her soul).

the car makes a slow right turn into a cul-de-sac as holland shuffles around in the backseat, fighting with a seat belt for a moment before leaning up into the front seat.

"you smell like a bar." he giggles as your nose scrunches up at the scent, and despite yourself you feel your heart seize a fraction. "sit back and buckle up before you fly through the windsheild, march."

"y'sound sho nice when you say my name." he either ignores you or just doesn't register your words; either possibility could be true when he's in this state.

"sit back." you twist briefly to shove holland into your backseat, cheeks flushing with heat when you accidentally make content with his exposed chest instead of his shoulder. since when did he take his tie and jacket off?

"button your shirt up before we get inside." you demand, killing the engine and slipping out of the car to walk over to the door holland was currently using for support. your expression remained unchanged as you opened it, watching his frame spill out onto the sidewalk below.

"hi." came a toothy grin as he looked up at you from his spot on the floor. you had one hell of a time trying not to smile down at him.

"just— get indoors before the neighbors see you ass."

"whatever y'say partnerrr."

• god he was a mess. unfortunately, you happened to like that

𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐌

• ohhhh baby you're in for a treat... a very sweet, very awkward treat in the shape of one lars lindstrom.

• you probably met him through work or karin and gus. new to town, more likely than not, and new face for the rural wisconsin residents to welcome and usher around. it's almost like being surrounded by excitable toddlers in elderly church-going bodies— every one of them more excited than the last to show off their home (and, apparently, a few matchmaking skills of their own).

• besides visiting the chappel every sunday (sometime wednesdays!) lars doesn't really make much of an effort to show up around town. bianca helped with that some, but it's still a slow process. it's not impossible to get ahold of him, per se, just very... rare. even rarer to capture his attention longer than an initial meeting— at least according to his family, the likes of which had practically begged the two of you to meet just a month into your move.

• lars can't remember what he liked about you at first.

• no really, he couldn't even if you asked. he was too busy trying to turn in the opposite direction of the diner at the time. unfortunately, karin's bruising grip on his parka had long since decided his fate.

"they're nice lars! everyone has been telling them about you since they've got here," came karins encouraging whisper as she comandered lars into the warm embrace of a diner "they're excited!"

her crackling voice, while normally familiar and comforting, was instead sending lars' brain into overdrive. he'd been promised a nice calm trip to the thrift store, not an ambush.

he blinked in rapid sucession, doing his best to look he wasn't literally being dragged into a nightmare scenario. the intense fidgeting of his mittens and self-soothing sway to his stature broke that illusion almost immediately.

a desperate look was tossed gus's way, but his brother returned it with a sigh and a shrug as if to say "what can you do?"

"a lot, actually." lars' mind whispered back traitorously.

"lars.. just give them a shot." karin's tone sounds heavy with something he can't place, so he turns around to get a better look. he's unsettled to find that she's using her pleading face. she knows how lars feels about that.

"please, buddy?" gus finally steps in, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. he looks at something over lars' shoulder. "just this one time, okay?"

lars swallows thickly.

against his better judgement, he nods, and that's that.

• maybe it was your unabashed smile or the way that you included him in nearly every conversation, waiting patiently for lars to put in his (brief) two cents before speeding along, that has lars sitting in the booth longer than just a few minutes. whatever the case, he found himself unable to look away from you, even if his line of sight was fixed on the slope of your nose rather than your own cheerful gaze. baby steps.

• gus and karin did most of the talking on lars behalf that day, but by the time the two of them had driven lars home from the diner and said their goodbyes, he couldn't help but feel like your attention had been on him the whole time.

• he could be imagining things...

• ...but he could be right. and that thought was more exciting than anything else.

• hope you're ready to have a shadow. any chance he gets to cross paths with you from that point on, and lars is nervously asking you to visit, always for a new reason or another.

• it starts out with helping him collect firewood while he hacks away— innocent enough, even if the thoughts running through your head as you watch him are anything but —to coming over anytime karin and gus had leftovers, taking walks down by the lake for "vitamin d", and, eventually, borrowing extra sweaters that lars just so happened to have "lying around." the both of you know that's not really the case, but you wear them anyway, and come back smelling like him the next day. a fact lars can't seem to handle without a few dozen blinks to reset his brain.

• he knows it's a crush. you know it's a crush. karin and gus know it's a crush. hell, lars wouldn't be surprised if his local office creep and cubicle buddy kurt knew he had a giant, head over heels crush on you. the photo of you smiling at him behind the camera sitting on his work desk was proof enough. he really was just that obvious; especially when his ears happen to turn fire engine red at the mention of your name. every. single. time.

• one day he'll ask you out, theres no doubt about it in lars mind. mostly because he knows if he doesn't do it, the rest of the town will for him

• but for now, lars is content enough to take you to his tree house and help you up the ladder every step of the way— even if you don't need it. he's content to send you home with a sweater smelling like detergent and firewood, especially when you lean forward to whisper your thanks like its a cheeky secret between the two of you, breath ghosting across the shell of his ear like a phantom touch.

• yeah, lars lindstrom is content alright. as long as he has you to look forward to.

𝐑𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

• depending on the situation, he's either the most obvious man on the planet about it, or avoiding everything to do with his feelings. possibly a fine mixture of both.

• part of ryland grace is alight with excitement at the tell-tale signs of a crush (rapid heart rate whenever you're around, an increased flush to his cheeks, and severe loss of speech capabilities, just to name a few), but another, much louder part of him, wants to ignore it completely.

• he was afraid, simple as that. it's stupid, sure, but what if you didn't like him? thought his interests were dorky? what if he said something embarrassing?? or worse, cringe (as ryland's class so often described him). there were simply too many variables for his scientific brain to handle.

• unfortunately, avoidance wasnt an option when he happened to run into you at his diner nearly every week (well, not his diner, but it may as well have been with how often he showed up every morning, wallet already set out and stomach grumbling).

ryland always took the booth in the corner of the room. he liked to made sure that he could peer out the window at san francisco's rolling fog while he waited for his coffee— same as every morning. it was soothing. familiar.

so why was he currently sitting on a rickety bar stool at the counter, anxiously bobbing his knee up and down?

simple: you.

"nice shirt."

the force of ryland's knee hitting the underside of the counter caused a nearby salt shaker to spill over with a clatter, turning a few heads his way.

"uh— what?" his voice came out higher than usual, a breathy laugh tapered onto the end that sounded far too nervous for rylands taste.

"your shirt—" you had turned from your spot two seats down, fork poised in front of you with a bite of egg teetering on it. he'd noticed you by now, of course he had, but the sudden conversation had caught him severely off guard. he hoped you couldn't see how sweaty his palms were.

"i said it was nice. very science-y." the last bit of your sentence was punctuated with a playful wiggle of your fingers

ryland looked down at his chest, past the knit cardigan drapped over his shoulders. the cheery words 'i wear this shirt periodically!' stared back at him.

"thanks." his laugh is full of nerves, glasses sliding down his nose unhelpfully as he desperately tried to pretend your attention isn't pinning him to the spot. "my students say they're cheesy, but, uh, i might be the only one keeping the science pun buisness in tact so..." he trailed off, unsure how much more he should say.

"not the only one." you cracked a smile, tilting your head slightly. you'd set your fork down at this point, and ryland felt a jolt of electricity run through his spine at the knowledge that all your attention was on him. "i'm pretty sure my cousin has a whole collection at home of geology themed shirt-puns. not the same as—" you squinted closer at his shirt before pulling back, thankfully unaware of the flush spreading across ryland's neck. "—chemistry, but still!"

"well, good to know someone out there appreciates a good joke just as much as me." ryland gives you a boyish smile of his own, gaze meeting yours for a second too long before flitting away nervously.

you hum at him happily and turn back to eggs, spotting the approaching waitress by his side before he did.

"coffee?" she asks helpfully, and ryland does his best to sound thankful at the delivery instead of grumpy that she'd inturrupted a very rare moment for him. if only she'd come a few seconds later, maybe he would have built up the courrage to ask you more about yourself.

by the time the coffee had stopped pouring and his server had left to attend to someone else, you were gone. he hadn't even heard you get up and leave.

"darn it."

• the next time ryland sees you, you're wearing a science shirt with one more coffee than usual in hand. you seem to be just as nervous as him, if not more. it has a small smile tugging at the corner of the middle-school teachers lips as he approaches you, sitting down for what he hoped was another conversation.