come-join-themurder: “Sunshine”Chibs x Reader (GIF isn’t mine)...“
come-join-themurder: “Sunshine” Chibs x Reader (GIF isn’t mine) . . . “Jesus….” you sighed as you hung your head, placing it in your hands, your elbows perched up on the bartop as you stared down into the empty glass that sat in front of you. “You alright, lass?” your scottish coworker spoke, bringing you out of your daze to look up at him, red spots where your palms had been on your forehead beginning to form. “Yeah,” you sighed, looking back down, this time, your hands stayed in your lap and you fidgeted with your nails as you avoided his gaze. You were lying, but only to spare him the details of the mundane struggle you had with depression, “I’m fine, just tired.” Chibs pulled the stool beside you closer to yours and sat down, giving you a look that said he knew. Truthfully, he watched you struggle every day to scrounge up a smile to wear on your face, and he cherished the moments he was the one that helped put it there for you. He loved it when you were happy and hated seeing you sad, especially when he had no idea what the cause of it was and had no clue how to help you. “Love, I can see yer not okay. Why lie?” he asked and you took a deep breath, sighing and shaking your head. He chewed on the inside of his lip, trying to come up with a response to your lack of one, “Why don’t ye tell me abou’ it over dinner? 7 o'clock?” he asked, seizing his chance to finally show you how he felt, make you see you weren’t alone. You swallowed, a thousand thoughts suddenly racing through your mind, “Like…. As friends?” you asked, looking back up, meeting his beautiful brown eyes. Chibs chuckled a bit, giving you a good natured smile and looking down before biting his bottom lip bashfully and looking back up to you, “Aye, lass, whatever ye want it to be,” he paused, placing a hand on your knee, “But if I’m honest, I was askin’ ye on a date.” Your eyes widened and your mouth gaped open as if you wanted to say something, but nothing came out, so Chibs spoke again. “I care about ye, I don’ like seein’ ye hurt. Will ye go out with me, let me in?” You felt your heart skip a beat as he squeezed your leg a bit, his palm still resting on your jean-clad thigh. Eventually you’d work up the courage to tell him you liked him too, loved him actually, but for now all you could muster was a nod and a very small, quiet, “Yes.” Chibs stood up and smiled, his hand venturing around your head to pull you to him as he planted a kiss on your temple. “I’ll pick ye up tonight, love,” he smiled as he turned on his heel to strut back out of the clubhouse, the reaper on his back smiling, not menacingly, but reassuringly, back at you. The idea of a date with the Scotsman suddenly able to overpower the sadness in your mind, a grin inched it’s way onto your face. -- source link