#and he blasts shitty music at all hours of the day

[unadulteratedkr]

if you hear tell of a person breaking down their neighbor across the hall's door and throwing their speaker system into the GODDAMN FUCKING OCEAN, that definitely wasn't me

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines

Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst

A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)

“Need anything?” Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. 

“I’m good,” you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead. 

“You wanna come in with me then?” 

You shook your head– the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. “No, I think I’ll stretch my legs out here.”

“Okay,” he said in a tone that indicated you’d be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” you assured him. 

He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, he’s opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face. 

You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadn’t ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritable– just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.

You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stifling– thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadn’t broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truck’s AC didn’t work as well as it used to. 

The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crew’s RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window.  

You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale air– like even they were desperate for some reprieve. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings. 

Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you. 

Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that you’d known about their existence had been more painful than the last. 

Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansas– their feud only grew each time their paths crossed. 

Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gaze– hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. 

“There she is,” he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driver’s seat. 

“Now what're you doin’ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didn’t need two uni drop outs on their team?” he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm. 

He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tyler’s skin. 

Tyler’s biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strength– but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the diner– hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to you– you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly. 

“Anderson,” you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tyler’s truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. “So lovely to see you, as always.”

You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker. 

Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. “You guys go ahead,” he instructed his crew. “I’m gonna spend some time with my friend here.”

They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone. 

“You should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.”

You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” you lied (it was absolutely on purpose). 

Anderson chuckled. “You know– I don’t know if we’ve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. You’re much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.” 

You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his words– but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chest– currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up in– but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel. 

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze. 

“Oh, hey now darlin’, don’t cover up. I’ve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action I’ve gotten all summer.” 

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerk– and he’d definitely make you uncomfortable… but you couldn’t imagine that he’d ever actually do anything to harm you.  

Then again, you’d never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didn’t care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness.  

You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tyler’s gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for that– all you caught was the glare from the sun. 

“You know I’m not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually you’re all covered up,” Anderson whistled. 

As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tyler’s truck– preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your ground– to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful. 

Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. “God, it’s true you don’t know what you’re missin’ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.”

You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yell– to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain weren’t connecting. 

“C’mon, where is she?” he taunted. “You know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer ‘em a little spicy.” 

He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like you’d originally planned. 

“Why don’t you come on back in my van with me,” he winked. “I’m not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.” 

Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldn’t move– your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly. 

“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fight– to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear. 

Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. “And don’t be afraid, baby doll. I don’t bite… too hard. Owens ain’t gotta know–”

“Anderson!” 

Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice… Not just any familiar voice– Tyler’s voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on you– undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage. 

“Here he is!” Anderson taunted. “Her douche bag in shining armor.”

You couldn’t help but notice Anderson didn’t step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tyler’s wake– all coming to your rescue. 

In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Anderson– forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tyler’s T-shirt for good measure. 

“Easy, Rambo,” Anderson sneered. “I was just tellin’ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidin’ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hangin’ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for something–”

But Anderson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Anderson’s nose. 

The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tyler’s shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face. 

Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils. 

“Damn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if she’s worth all this,” Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didn’t back down.  

Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up. 

“Easy, T–” Boone said. 

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Boone’s shoulder. You’d never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.   

Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. “It’s okay,” she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaos– like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. “You alright?”

You nodded, flustered.  

“Next time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,” Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone. 

“Yeah, and he’d deserve it. But he’s not worth catchin’ a charge,” Boone said. “It’s been a slow season and we don’t got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.”

“Take a breath, T,” Dani said. “He’s walkin’ away. Take a breath.”

You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breath– his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him. 

As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned around– his attention landing on you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of you– his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didn’t sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word. 

Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didn’t quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didn’t ask more. 

“I gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,” Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“What’d that asshat say to you?” Lily asked. “You looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyone’s eyes on you. Anderson’s previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourself– like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin. 

“Just the usual shit,” you tried to brush it off.  

You felt grateful when they didn’t push. 

Eventually, the crew disassembled– everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didn’t reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you didn’t take your eyes off from where it was parked– like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation. 

You remained hidden from the team– feeling so awkward and uncomfortable– like you didn’t want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Anderson’s words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldn’t find any shirts in your duffel bag that weren’t disgusting. And currently you didn’t have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat. 

“Everyone else is riding in the RV, it’s just us,” he said, eyes lingering on you. 

“Okay,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that you’d feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines.  

Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. “Baby, what’d he say to you?” 

You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. “I mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there… Just a lot of that.”

You heard his loud exhale. “Just say the word and I’ll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.”

The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. “I just want you to stay here,” you admitted. 

He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirts– like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirt– the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind. 

Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes. 

You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word. 

…

It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once you’d grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out. 

Tyler found you sitting on the curb once he’d passed out everyone else’s room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour. 

“You ready for bed?”

You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile.  

“C’mon,” he motioned his head to the left. “We’re upstairs.”

Tyler led the way to your room– and even though this was a dingy motel, you’d never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name. 

Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, he’d laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was… Still reading between the lines. 

You’d spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasn’t that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerk– of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldn’t have been a surprise– and yet, you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words he’d said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves. 

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tyler’s clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he must’ve grabbed for the two of you. 

“Better?” he asked, handing you one. 

You nodded and cracked it open. “Much.”

Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I-” you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tyler’s hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak. 

“It wasn’t even anything that bad–” you admitted. “I meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it… I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross… and dirty, and…” And, well, you didn’t quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight. 

“Oh, baby,” Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead.  

It wasn’t until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he assured you, only squeezing tighter. 

“I don’t know why this bothered me so much–” 

“Because Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,” he answered for you. “You’re allowed to be upset by that.” 

You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt. 

“I’m the sorry one,” he said. 

“What?” you shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry–”

“I should have been there.”

“You were there,” you reminded him. “Unless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the nose…”

Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chest– instantly soothing you. 

You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth. 

“I just–” you paused again. “I–” 

“Hey,” he said. You looked up at him briefly. “It’s just me.” 

That was the problem– it was Tyler. And you didn’t want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened. 

“I didn’t fight back,” you said quietly. “I just froze up– it was like I couldn’t even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood there– taking it.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “What are you talking about?”

“It just felt like…” your voice tapered off. 

Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, “Like what?” 

“It just felt like I didn’t do anything to stop it,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. “Like I let it happen.”

“Baby,” Tyler sighed. “Baby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldn’t have mattered what you said–”

“But I could have told him to get the fuck away from me–”

“You were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we can’t control how we react when we’re scared. It’s fight or flight–”

“Or freeze,” you mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Or freeze. I’m pretty sure fawning is one too, now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter– what matters is you can’t control that you froze. Just like–”

“Just like you couldn’t control punching him in the face?” you asked. 

You glanced up just in time to see Tyler’s lips tug into a smile. “Exactly,” he said. 

“I just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,” you pouted. “Freezing didn’t do much.”

You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,” he smirked. 

“Thanks for protecting me,” you said quietly. 

“I’ll always protect you, you know that,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. “And thanks for punching him in the nose.”

Tyler snorted. “Anderson’s had that coming for a long time.”

[justlemmeadoreyou]

a misfortune | (mechanic!harry part 1)

Okay, so here is my version of the grumpy!harry x sunshine!yn trope. I had midterms so this got a bit late! Sorry! I don't rhink you waited for my shitty writing, but here it is (forcefully)

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Summary: Harry is a grumpy asshole, but he is also a mechanic that you are in desperate need of. Sunshine!reader x Grumpy! harry trope

Word Count: ~2k

8 hours.

That's how long you've been in the backseat of your car, and chewing on your already swollen nails. All your belongings, from clothes to your oversized makeup bag, toiletries, blankets, bedsheets, and even your electronic gadgets, are crammed beside you on the backseat. Your life has spiraled into chaos because your landlord has kicked you out.

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you recall the moments that have led you to this bleak situation. It isn't fair, which is something you think. That isn't true though. You haven't paid your proper rent in nearly six months, frequently stumbling home at obnoxious hours, blasting loud music when you were drunk and high, and you hadn't even bothered to check the 15-day eviction notice that arrived almost 20 days ago. So, yes, your landlord had every right to kick you out.

You were irresponsible, reckless, and didn't give two cares until you became homeless. With your car serving as an unwelcome shelter, you realize you should have been more responsible. You should have cared more about your living situation before it all came crashing down on you. If only you had taken your life more seriously, you wouldn't be stuck in your car on this cold, lonely night.

It was the beginning of November, and you had so many plans about decorating your small apartment. You had fetched out the Christmas lights too, planning on hanging them out the following weekend. The memory of those festive plans, the warmth of the holiday spirit, now feels like a distant dream.

You wipe away your tears, but they keep flowing. You shift some of your stuff down on the floor of the car to make some space to sleep in. You curl up into yourself in the small space, and after a few more tears, you're finally asleep.

You're woken by harsh knocks on your window. You try to open your eyes, but the sunlight pouring in through the window is so blinding that you have to squint and shield your face with your hand.

It's a man, who looks angry at you. You roll down the window a bit so you can hear what he's saying.

“Could you move your car out of here, please?”

You rub your eyes and finally get a look at your surroundings, and you see that you've basically parked at the entrance of a house.

“Yeah-yeah. I will. Sorry,” you grunt with a raspy voice, and he goes back inside.

You quickly fix your clothes and your hair, and grabbed the car keys from your pocket. Opening the door, you got out of the backseat and got back out front.

Pushing the key in, you turned it, but the engine didn’t start. You tried it again and again, biut all in vain.

Great.

Just fucking great.

Now even your car had given up on you.

You felt like crying all over again, this was all so heartbreaking. You had to get the car checked almost two months ago, when the check engine light had started to blink first.

You pulled out your phone and searched for a nearby garage. Hopefully, there was one that was 2 blocks away. But that meant you wouyld have to push your car two blocks.

You could also call a tow service, but that would take money, and money was something you were running short on.

With a loud sigh, you switched the handbrake on, and got out of the car.

Rolling up your sleeves, you started to push it. The car was so heavy, and you managed a good 200 meters, before you were sweating profusely, and almost gave up, putting your hands on your knees and breathing loudly.

A kind man offered to help, and thank lord he did. With lots of struggle and a good 15 minutes, you were finally able to reach the garage.

Quick Fix Auto

You read the garage name, before lockiong your car and walking in. It was still 8 pm, so you doubted getting any help at this hour.

“Hello?”

You called out tentatively as you entered the garage and walked further into the shop, past the cars and vehicles scattered out front. Hopefully, a second voice would call you back, or you would have had to wait for someone to come in.

“Yeah, I’m a bit busy. Be out in a minute,” the voice replied. It sounded British and thickly laced with an accent. You couldn't help but think that now a gorgeous British guy would see your horrible car, which was also your home, all wrecked up and messed up due to negligence. Bonus points to you for not even washing your face after waking up.

You briefly contemplated running away and finding another garage with an old mechanic. However, you realized you physically wouldn't have been able to do that. So, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the embarrassment and potential humiliation.

After a few moments, he came out, and boy, was he gorgeous. A white headband held his thick hair back, and below that was a beautifully shaped face with green eyes. His tan hands were covered in a bit of grease, and he had tools hanging from his upturned waistband.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and you gulped hard, snapping back to reality from admiring his physique. Boy, was he pretty.

“Oh, um... I tried to start my car this morning, but it won’t start.”

“And what’s the issue? The battery is out, fuel is down?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.”

“Jeez, your breath smells terrible. Alright, let me have a look at it. Keys?”

He extended his hand to take your keys while looking into your eyes. You squinted at him for his rude remark, then handed him the keys.

“You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

He kept walking, ignoring your comment. As he reached your car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw your belongings inside it. He turned back to look at you, and you frowned. Eye bags, dark circles under your eyes, a sad face, and you hadn't even washed your face; you had to rush to get your car fixed. You were in bad shape.

He decided to draw a line and not throw questions at you. He opened your car and took a look inside, noticing that the check engine light was on.

“How long has this been on for?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, about... 2 months?”

He slumped his shoulders and came back out, walking to yhe front and opening the hood of the car. As soon as it went up, a big cloud of smoke escaped.

“Fuck. What did you do?”

He coughed a bit, taking a step back to let the smoke dissipate. You felt even more humiliated than before, but he seemed more focused on the issue with your car than making further remarks about your condition.

“Alright. So, this is not going to get fixed in a short while. It’s going to take atlest 2 days.”

“No! Where will I live?”

You exclaimed loudly, and his eyes widened.

You could book a hotel?”

“I don’t have money.”

“A motel?”

“How will I reach one? Most of them are out of town.”

“Right, so you could still sleep in it at night, but I lock the garage at 11. So, you will have to park it outside.”

She nodded her head, and he still felt bad for her.

“I’m Harry, by the way”

He extended the same grease-stained hand again, and she complied, shaking hands with him.

"I'm Yn." she said.

"There’s a bathroom at the back. You can clean up there if you want to. My staff comes in at 9, so you still have about half an hour."

She smiled at his kind offer. He might be rude and grumpy, but he wasn't a bad person.

"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it."

"Oh that's okay. But, you do have money to pay for your car, right?"

You did a quick calculation in your mind, and quickly came to the conclusion that you didn't have even that money.

"No, but- listen to me! My payday is here, so I'm gonna get paid soon. I have to buy few supplies first, and then I promise I will pay you as soon as possible. I'll borrow money from my friends."

"As long as I get paid, I don't care where you get the money from."

And the grumpiness was back.

"Okay! Can I go in?"

"Sure. Be my guest."

You got some stuff from the car and went inside the garage. walking all the way to the back, and finding the washroom. You locked the door and cleaned yourself up.

Meanwhile, Harry took a look at your car.

It was in a bad condition. it hadn't been serviced in over two years, and the engine oil hadn't been replaced in so long. The battery was old too. A lot of work had to be done. and he had no idea how he would manage when you literally lived in the car.

Meanwhile, you were happy to have gotten a place to brush and bathe. Initially, you thought you would have to go to a cafe or restaurant, and brushing and bathing there would’ve been embarrassing. Even though embarrassment and humiliation were your best friends now.

You walked out in clean clothes a while later. and saw your car standing at the same place, with no sign of Harry. You searched for him again, and found him at the back, working on the same car he had been in when you had arrived.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't you working on my car?"

He slid out from the bottom of the car, before replying, "I have other jobs too. First come, first serve. Plus, this one paid me in advance."

You frowned and flared at his words, and decided to deal with him later.

"So, can I take it, then? I have to go to work."

"No, I will work on it in the afternoon."

"Then how the hell am I supposed to reach work?"

"Many options, by foot, take the bus, order an Uber, Oh! Sorry! I forgot you didn't have money."

He mocked you once again, and this time, you seriously wanted to punch him across the face. Maybe you would, once your car was done. But right now, you have priorities.

"Alright, fine. But my stuff is in the car."

"Chill. Nobody's gonna take it. They might give things to you, though."

You rolled your eyes again, and went back to your car. Why did he have to be such a dick?

Gathering your bag, you stuffed your valuables, leaving only clothes and heavy articles behind. You shifted it to one corner, and draped a huge sheet to cover it.

"Okay, I'm leaving."

And once again, that grumpy asshole ignored you.

(next part)

divider by @firefly-graphics

okay, sorry if this sucked, i really don't know how to write l literally finished this at 2am, so really really sorry

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @whoreonmondays @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[notmazikeen]

No Space | Toji Fushiguro

 ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

‧₊˚✧[chapter 1]✧˚₊‧     

"He's a what?"

 ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The music in your car was loud, the bass vibrated your seat with each beat. Today starts your first day of work, without having a supervisor watching you. You were working the nightshift… so naturally you were a bit nervous being alone.

Your phone screen turns black as you reach your new job. Pulling carefully into a parking spot. There were so many people in the parking lot, all wanting to build muscle or lose weight. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t even worked out at this gym yet, even though you were given a year long free membership. There had been tons of people coming up to the front desk asking if there were any open positions. Feelings of doubt and shame crossed your mind. The day hadn’t started like you’d hoped it would, and working your first seven hour shift was shitty.

The gym was blasting a rock music playlist, the same playlist on repeat all day. At least you were the front desk receptionist, you could clean some stuff and then sit around and chill. 

As the hours painfully went by it was now sundown. Only a few more hours to go. Then you could lay back in the comfort of your bed.

Your job was to help the customers with memberships, purchases, greeting them, and cleaning. 

It was pretty laid back honestly. There was no rush to get things done, and the members seemed to be really kind and respectful. 

A truck pulled into the parking lot, blasting loud music, it made you groan internally. You liked playing your music loud but that was just obnoxious.

Finally the truck shuts off and the man in it walks through the front doors. A tall man entered your view. He was rather stout, he wore a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, but from the sight of his biceps filling in the sleeves of the shirt, you could tell that underneath that he was massive. 

His hair was black and his eyes were almost an unreadable deep blue color. A scar was draped over his lips as well. He had a confident and menacing aura to himself. Maybe he used to be in the military?

The man struts up behind the front desk and waves. “Hey, I’m Toji, we haven’t met yet but I’m a personal trainer.” He gave a soft smile. Maybe this man just had a resting bitch face, because he sounded a lot sweeter than he looked.

You gave him a smile and he reached out his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.” Your voice is soft and sweet, contrasting against him. You took his rough hand in yours and shook it gently.

“They throw you to the wolves, Eh?” His biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt as he set his backpack down. You swear you just felt freezing, and suddenly you were burning up.

“Yeah. Aha it’s officially my first shift.” Trying to bring your focus elsewhere you began to search through the computer, aimlessly looking for something, anything to distract yourself.

He gave a nod and chuckled deeply. “If anyone bothers you, come and get me, yeah?” He glanced over in your direction, his attention turning back to the computer he was checking his schedule on. 

You couldn’t help but smile and nod. “Of course, thank you!” And with that, he waved again before strutting off to go work out. He seemed really sweet, maybe the two of you would become closer.

After going around and wiping off the machines in the back of the building a man offered to help you move one of the benches back to its original spot. “Do you need some help?” You quickly shook your head and waved your hand in dismissal. A nervous giggle escaping your lips. “No, 

I got it!”

He nodded and you turned your attention back to the seventy pound bench, but yet you could feel the stare from him burning into your head. You had an amazing sense of reading people before they had even spoken. Something felt off. 

Getting to the last bench into the correct position, a strained huff leaving your lips. “You go girl.” The man said with a grin, ew.

Honestly you weren’t sure if that was what he said, it was kinda hard to hear, but nevertheless it was icky.

After some time you went back to the front desk, spinning in your chair impatiently. Only one more hour until you could finally go back home. It was nine o'clock, only one more hour.

Toji strutted up to the front counter and said his farewell before leaving. You hoped he’d talk to you some more but there was always tomorrow. And would you have a story to tell him tomorrow…

Suddenly you bring your head up and spin slightly to your right. The man from earlier standing on the other side of the counter. “Have a nice night.” You politely smiled.  He didn’t budge. “You as well, also you’re really pretty by the way.” He gleamed. An overly confident aura emitting from him, deep down you knew he was most likely a dickhead.

A nervous laugh erupted from your throat, you felt a little flustered. Not everyday do you get a compliment and it had been so long since you had heard one. One from a random person made it all that more meaningful. 

“Oh, thank you aha!” You tried to stay calm, something just felt so off… 

The man smiled back at you before walking towards the door, you heard his footsteps abruptly stop before he spun back to you. “Do you have a boyfriend by the way?” In a shocked state, you blurted out, “Yes, haha.” Rubbing the back of your neck and looking away.

He was in no way attractive to you. 

His douchebag aura, his voice, his looks, his odd outfit. Everything was a turn off.

“Well he’s a very lucky guy!” The man added before finally walking out the door.

What the hell. That was honestly so weird. You knew he’d say something just from the way he looked at you, but you didn’t know he’d be so forward.

After the hour had passed, it was finally time to go home. All of the inside lights were off and it was quiet.

The dark scared you, and any normal person would have shit their pants at the sight in front of you. 

Peeking out of the garage door glass, there was a truck parked right outside the door you needed to go out of to leave. The truck was turned off and the cabin lights were off as well. Giving you no idea if someone was inside the truck or not.

Your skin raised in bumps and you felt a twisting knot in your gut. Your intuition was spot on almost every single time, so naturally you factimed your mom. 

“Mom… someone is outside the door and I’m scared to leave. Their lights are off and I don’t know…something feels off.” You whispered. Scared that the person outside may hear you.

Your mom comforted you and told you to stay on the phone, you stayed on facetime with her for forty minutes before the truck finally peeled out of the parking lot. Your gut told you that if you went outside, something bad might have happened.

After that unnerving situation, you finally got into your car safely before driving home.

The car ride was quiet, the music was loud coming from your speakers, but your brain blocked it. The hair on your neck still raised in anxiety.

The next day was quick to approach. You made it to work and basically fucked around for a few hours before Toji came in two hours before close. You brought up the events of last night and he showed concern across his face.

“If something like that happens again, and I’m here, come get me. I don’t want anyone messing with you.” His tone was hinting a protective aura from it.

You nodded and he gave you a weak smile. During training a few weeks back, you had seen him around but never took note of his name or anything, but he interacted with your coworkers differently. 

This made you feel safe and comforted. In all honesty, it was a little silly to freak out over such a small thing, but the thought of the man who was flirting with you, waiting outside to confront you, was terrifying. 

You made your way to the women’s restroom to restock some items and mop the floor. This was one of your least favorite tasks because women would always walk in and dirty the mirror, after you had already cleaned it. 

Toji made his presence known, trying his best not to frighten you. He stood at the entrance of the bathroom. The door was propped open so as he said hey, his rough knuckles tapped on the wood. 

Hearing his voice made you smile. You were quick to turn around and come into his field of view. “Hey.” You smiled and gave him a smile. A tired smile.

“I’m leaving, but let me put my number in your phone, just in case something happens.” You nodded and wrote his number down in your contacts. His eyes watching your every move intently.

“Okay there.” You saved his number and closed your phone before looking back up at him. He leaned in close and gave you a small side hug. A rather odd gesture, but comforting?

“I’m serious. Call me if someone is giving you trouble, I live down the road. I’ll come to you.” His lips curled into a toothy grin and it almost sounded like he smelt your hair. Maybe he was just inhaling.

With a small nod and a farewell he left the gym. Your stomach feeling all giddy, and your shift ending, you felt like the night ended perfectly. To be fair though, you’d never actually want to call him if something did happen. Regardless of how much he made it known that he’d protect you. 

The end of your week was rather slow, Toji hadn’t come in for a few days. There were some other guys whom you’d catch staring at you, but no more interactions like the first guy. The days passed so slowly. Your favorite person to see at the gym made your days more enjoyable, and with him gone, it was agonizing. 

As the week finally ended, you had a break in your schedule. A few of your friends from college asked if you could come out for drinks, of course you couldn’t say no. Except the bar you were going to was in the same town as your work. And the thought of somehow seeing Toji there made you all that more excited to go.

You slipped on some jean shorts and a low-cut baby tee, your hair down, and your makeup subtle but very noticeable. You looked stunning. Compliments from your friends made that known to you.

Your group met up in the parking lot, talking away about this and that. Nobody knew about Toji and you wanted to keep it that way. He was a few years older than you, and you didn’t want to risk getting lectured over that.

As your friend group walked into the bar, the place was bustling with music and people. A very lively scene. It made your spirits high and your excitement higher. 

There was a big round booth in the corner of the bar and your friends decided to set up camp there. This made you able to see almost every part of the bar, besides the alcohol counter. The bar was set up to where the booths lined the walls and the dance floor was in the middle of the building. The drink counter was located on the same wall as your booth, and your back was turned away from the counter. 

Everyone ordered some kind of drink before making their way onto the dance floor, while you stayed behind for a moment to fix your lipstick. You had hoped a guy would ask you to dance, so you needed to touch up your makeup. Deep down you had really stayed behind because you were nervous all of the sudden. What if Toji really was here for some random reason. 

You finished your lipstick before sipping down the last few sips of your drink. You decided you weren’t all that tipsy, and you needed to get another drink in your system before feeling confident enough to dance. 

As you made your way to the counter, there were a few men beside you, girls fawning over them. You glanced around and you swear you saw a larger man walking through the crowd. Butterflies filled up your stomach. Was he really here?

The stout man made his way to the bar beside you, but it wasn’t Toji. Just some other random person that had black hair and muscles. You didn’t even realize a sigh escaped your throat before the man cleared his.

“Rough night?” He grumbled. His voice sounded nothing like Toji’s but you guess it was attractive.

You nodded and gave a very weak smile, but then squinted your eyes in remembering you were here to have fun. “Sorta.”

He nodded back and chuckled deeply. The bartender strutted over to the two of you and you placed your order, but the man beside you paid for your drink. You smiled and stepped a bit closer to him. “Awe thank you!” You giggled softly. 

“Of course, pretty lady.” His hand reached out in greeting. “Names Shiu Kong. When you finish your drink, want to dance?” You shook his hand generously and introduced yourself. “I don’t see why not.” You tilted your head with an eye squinting smile.

You quickly downed your drink before making your way to the dance floor, Shiu in tow. 

The bar seemed to play actually decent music, the building was filled with voices singing and bodies dancing against each other. Now that you had a good amount of alcohol in your system you were feeling free.

Shiu made some small talk with you as you danced against him. A smile never leaving his lips. 

You closed your eyes and really drank in the vibrations of the music. Feeling Shiu’s hands graze along the sides of your waist, swaying you along with him. For a moment you felt a weird gut feeling, like something was off. You opened your eyes and were met with a handsome sight. 

Toji was across the bar, sitting in a booth by himself. Staring intently at you and Shiu. It made your skin crawl the way he stared. You turned your gaze elsewhere and hoped he didn’t notice you gawking at him.

You made Shiu spin you around so that his back was now facing Toji, hoping to create some space between Toji’s gaze.

After a few songs and Shiu meeting your friends, you felt absolutely plastered. Your friends just kept ordering shots and you were drunk. Shiu also got progressively more drunk as well, and as he did he became more touchy. Which you didn’t mind all that much.

The two of you sat at your booth alone, you sat on his lap and sloppily made out with him. The alcohol fuzzing up your brain. He had hinted at taking you home but you insisted you didn’t do one night stands unfortunately. Shiu understood that though, and was polite enough to not pester you about it. 

As your night out began to come to an end, he asked for your number before he left. You said you’d text him soon, but honestly would you remember to? You could barely even see straight, maybe drinking so much was a bad idea. 

Your friends said they’d want to leave in about an hour, so you were soaking up the enjoyment with them while it lasted. Every now and then, your eyes would catch Toji staring at you. A cold blooded stare.

You wanted to go over to him and say hi but maybe you shouldn’t. He had just seen you sitting in a guy’s lap and his tongue down your throat. It was slightly embarrassing, but nothing too bad.

One of your favorite songs began to fade into the speakers, making you and your friends squeal with excitement. “House Of Balloons - The Weeknd” started to blast in your ears. The music enhancing the tension between you and Toji.

You danced in a rather sleazy motion against your friends, your gaze catching his as the lyrics spat out “You belong to meeeee.” A small grin escaping your lips as his eyes narrowed slightly. You could barely see the same smirk plastered on his face.

The Weeknd always knew how to capture an attractive moment so well. You ran your hand through your hair and closed your eyes again as the song faded into the next. This song was more fitting towards your situation and it made you become flustered.

“Older - Isabel LaRosa” 

You sang the words and opened your eyes again as you felt a presence close to you, and they didn’t smell feminine. 

“Older, huh?” He scoffed slightly. Your friends backed away giggling and letting out a few wolf whistles.

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah, and?” A challenge in your voice. 

Toji let out a chuckle and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Shiu is like twice your age, y’know.” You felt a little taken aback, he knew Shiu???

“Wait, how’d you-” You were cut off by another deep chuckle from him. “We’re business partners. Not at the gym though.” He said slyly. You could tell he had drank, his rough voice dripped with the intoxicating smell of whiskey. 

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “What can I say, older guys have their shit together.” You shrugged before turning to walk away. Your head turning over your shoulder to glance at him one more time. 

“Bye, Toji.” You smirked subtly before making your way towards the exit of the building. Your feet trying their hardest to carry your body weight. Fuck, you drank more than you had thought. 

Toji bit his lip as you walked away before sighing loudly, his feet dragging after you. He really didn't know why he was following you, it was like his body was out of his control.

“Wait, uh let me walk you out.” He grinned before aiding you in pushing past the sea of bodies. His tall figure made people move out of your way, he looked terrifying from first glance.

You felt his hand find its way to the small of your back, acting like he didn’t think you’d notice. His fingertips rubbing small subtle circles against your spine. 

As you reached the stairs outside of the building, your foot caught the edge of the concrete stairs and you tumbled forward. Except you didn’t hit the ground.

Instead your back somehow felt something rough. Toji reacted fast and grabbed your waist tightly, pressing your back against his chest. With a huff of embarrassment, you tapped his hand to signal he could let go now. 

Your skin was raised in goosebumps now, and your heart fluttered. His grasp was protective over you. “Watch yourself.” He mumbled before giving you some space. His hand going back to its place on your back. 

Finally you found your friend's car, a few of your friends in the backseat, all gawking at the man behind you. 

“Thank you, see you at work?” You smiled and turned around to face him. You face turning a deep shade of red as you could hear your girlfriends giggling in the backseat.

He chuckled and gave a toothy grin. “See you at work.” His thumb rubbed up along your spine before he turned to walk away. He stopped and angled his head just enough to where you could see his menacing eyes. “Good night, panther.” His chuckle is almost hoarse. 

You playfulled rolled your eyes at him. “Good night, Toji.” And with that he walked off, and you got into the front seat. 

“Oh my gosh! Who was that?!” Your friends began to bombard you with questions around this mystery man.

You sat happily in your seat and smiled giddily. “Toji. We work together.”

You wondered how this was gonna go down at work. Hopefully it was kept a secret between you two. 

You knew that in a few days when you worked again, you’d have something or someone to look forward to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

@catobsessedlady @yuuuumii

[mystwrites]

I'M BACK HELLO :D the lee tanizaki thing you wrote was so cute, i have to request another fic 🖤

this time hmm- could you maybe do lee geto and ler gojo with 💃 and 🥥: "oh come on, loosen up a little!" please?

again, no worries at all if this doesn't speak to you or you don't wanna write it for whatever reason, i hope you're having the loveliest day 🖤🖤

My 200 Followers Event will close in 7 days!

“Oh sweet!! I love this song!!” Gojo cried, jumping out of his seat and starting to dance. “C’mon Suguru! I need a dance partner!”

“No thanks. I like watching you dance.” Geto replied, amazed at the moves Gojo had. “Damn dude! Since when could you move like that?”

“What do you mean? I always had these killer moves!” Gojo shot back, wiggling his arms.

Geto snickered as he watched his best friend do the most ridiculous dance moves. Maybe blasting music in the dorm at this hour was a bad idea but he didn’t care. As long as Gojo was being silly, he’d willingly suffer the whack to the head Yaga would give them.

“Suguru! C’mon!” Gojo urged, doing the moonwalk over to him. “Dancing is so much fun! I need a partner!”

Geto laughed, watching as Gojo tried to go up onto his toes and do the Michael Jackson classic pose. “Sorry man, I don’t have the same…slick moves as you.” he replied, laughing harder as Gojo fell over holding his feet. “And you know you’re no ballerina, Satoru.”

Gojo frowned and stood up, continuing to dance as he approached Geto. Now slightly nervous, Geto scooted back until he felt his back press up against the wall. That specific look Gojo got when he intended to stir up some trouble was present.

“Suguru.~” Gojo purred, yanking Geto up and spinning him.

“Hey! Dude, cut it out! I don’t wanna dance!” Geto squeaked, finding himself dipped and Gojo’s hand supporting his lower back. “Okay, you’re on thin ice, Satoru. Let me go!”

“Oh come on! Loosen up a little!” the white haired teen chuckled, pulling him back up only to poke his sides. “Plus, it’s just the two of us. Shoko and the others can’t tease us.~”

“S-still!” Geto argued, a wide grin on his face. “The music is too loud! Turn it down! We might get in trouble! I’m not even supposed to be in your dorm after the last incide-AAAHA! Oh my gohohosh, dude! Knohohock it off!!”

Knowing this would get a reaction from the dark haired teen, Gojo continued to poke his sides. A slight blush formed on Geto’s cheeks and when Gojo lobster pinched his sides, Geto jerked away. The funniest part was that he jerked away at the exact moment the beat dropped, Gojo dancing as he sauntered over to give him another jab to the tummy.

Gojo only followed his every move, poking, prodding and squeezing the ticklish spots he had memorized. He knew that Geto would break down and submit. It was just a matter of consistently poking Geto’s weak spots.

“There we go!” Gojo exclaimed, continuing to tickle his best friend and watch him dance around to avoid him. “But now actually move to the beat of the song, you silly goose! Let loose! Hey that rhymes!”

Geto jumped around the room, trying his best to avoid Gojo’s tickling fingers. “Ihihit was a shitty rhyme! HEY! No!!”

It became a little tango, Geto laughing and trying to stay away while Gojo tried to get as close as possible to him. After a few more minutes of forcing Geto to move to the beat of the song, Gojo decided that was enough and tackled him to the floor, the two a pile of flailing limbs.

“Hey! Dahahammit Satoru!!” Geto growled, raising his hand in an attempt to bonk his friend on the head playfully. “You’re reheheally getting on my last ne-AAAAHAHAHA!! QUIT IT YOU AHAHAHASS!! SHOKOOOOOO!! HEHEHELP!!!”

“Wow! Calling me names now, Suguru?~” Gojo teased, pressing his cheek against Geto’s. “I’m hurt! I thought you loved me more than you loved Shoko!”

“IHIHI TAHAHAKE IT BAHACK!! MY LOVE FOHOHOR YOU HAHAHAS BEEHEHEHEEN REVOKED!! AHAHAHAA!!” Geto spat, slapping at Gojo’s wandering fingers.

“Oh hell no! That won’t happen! I’m gonna tickle you until you take it back and say that you love me!”

“YOU AHAHARE A PAIN IN THE AHAHASS, SATORUUUHUHUHU!!” Geto cried, finally submitting to the tickles.

Gojo snickered as he drilled his thumbs into the dips of Geto’s hips. Screw dancing, getting Geto to dance was a lost cause from the start. Maybe all Gojo wanted was to hear his best friend’s incredible laugh.

And maybe, just maybe, Geto enjoyed the silliness as well.

A/N: Thanks for another great request Rey! I hope you enjoyed some Gojo and Geto silliness😆

[alimaybankkk]

gut-wrenching

summary: jj begs you to stay at his house to prevent his father from hurting him before a breakdown. when you’re there, you help him understand sympathy. the next morning, jj feels the same sympathy you described and also feels guilt.

warnings: mega mentions of abuse, jj’s shitty dad, MEGA ANGST, a bit of fluff but honestly mostly angst

pairing: jj maybank x kook!fem!reader

as you walked into his house, you regretted agreeing to jj’s protests for you to stay with him for the night. hours earlier, your blonde haired boyfriend had kissed you all over your face trying to convince you to come and sleep with him for the night, and you had eventually agreed.

“would be so nice. ‘m not allowed to come to your house no more because dad doesn’t let me. but i want to.” he’d cried, kissing your nose.

the hot tub bubbles surrounded you and you sighed. “jj, who cares what your dad says? he’s a dick. be a dick back.”

he frowned. “you don’t get it, do you, baby?”

you knit your eyebrows together, and eventually shook your head.

he sighed. “he said he’d break my nose if he heard ‘bout me being on figure eight again.”

you sighed, petting his wet hair. you felt terrible. the feeling was gut-wrenching. “you work there, though, right? at the country club?”

“yeah, i do.” he said, massaging your back. he turned on a jet and let it pound on your back. he knew it had been hurting a lot the past few days, and he’d been doing whatever he could to make you feel better. “he don’t care about me being on figure eight, to be honest. he just is mad ‘m dating the prettiest kook there is.”

you scoffed. “is that so?”

“yes, baby,” he kissed your cheek. “y’know, princess, he wanted me to rob you the other day.”

you gasped. your head felt like it was spinning. “what?”

“i didn’t—i didn’t do it, though, baby.”

“good,” you muttered. he kissed all over your face.

“he only cares that i don’t sleep your house. ‘cuz if i ain’t gonna steal, why go over at all?”

“oh. so he’s fine with you dating me?”

“yeah,” he said. he kissed your shoulder and sat up. “but he’s mad ‘cuz i didn’t rob you.”

“what?”

he chuckled. your heart dropped. you knew what he was about to say. “i haven’t been home in days, ‘cuz i know he plans to hurt me. but if you’re there, he ain’t gonna do it. gotta keep his reputation up, ‘m i right?”

your heart at the bottom of your stomach, your mouth open, and tears filling your eyes, you pulled him close into a hug and kissed the back of his head. “yes, j, you’re right.”

you felt the flutter of his adam’s apple when he let out a sob. he started crying tearless cries, holding onto your body like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “i hate it, i hate it!”

you cried with him, almost feeling the pain he felt. not almost—you did. you felt every bit of it. “i know. i know, j.”

“why won’t he stop?” he cried. you felt his tears coming down his face when they slid onto your back.

“jj, it’s okay. i love you so much. i’m coming over tonight, okay?? i’ll stay with you. i’ll do it. for however long you want me to.” you cried. tears slipped down your face, too.

“i love you. i love you. i love you, so much.” he sobbed. you tilted his body weight down, so you sat down together and you held him in your arms.

* now, you opened the door to jj’s house. it smelt like beer and weed. jj did both, but he never smelt like it. he was always able to clean it up and smell like some sort of tropical paradise or something.

so that way you knew it was luke. luke had contaminated jj’s air. you even heard coughing. but that wasn’t the worst thing you heard. it was definitely the loud music and the yelling. the floorboards creaked as you moved forward, praying jj wasn’t hurt.

music up to full blast, luke telling jj he was nothing but a disappointment, and jj’s cries and yells were the only thing you could hear. and so your breaths grew heavier and louder, faster and more panicked. you stepped into the hallway, watching the fight go down. you stayed quiet.

“SHUT UP!” yelled jj, his voice sounding like nothing but boyish cries. you only wanted to take him into your arms and kiss him until he felt better.

“you’re momma knew about you,” luke said, pointing his finger at jj. “if i woulda known you were gonna be like this, i woulda left with her. maybe then you would have shut your mouth in an orphanage, boy!”

luke went to swing at him, and jj sobbed. before luke could go any further, you cleared your throat.

they turned. jj’s eyes were droopy. it looked like he had no reaction. he just stared at you.

but luke chuckled and turned to you. “well, well, if it ain’t the kook princess!”

“mr. maybank,” you muttered breathlessly.

“you should be ashamed of yourself, girl,” he chuckled. jj got up quickly to protect you, but luke still hadn’t moved. “why would such a rich young lady want to date a bastard like him?”

you bit your lip. “i wouldn’t call him that, mr maybank.”

he bit the toothpick that had been in his mouth. “and why not?”

“your son, mr. maybank, is the sweetest boy i’ve ever met. i would say you raised him well but i’d be lying.”

he looked infuriated. jj shoved you out of the way so you wouldn’t get hurt, but even then luke hesitated.

“go on, now,” said luke. “i don’t wanna hear nothin from you two.”

“yes, sir,” you answered. you made sure jj was on the opposite side of luke as you followed him to his room.

jj immediately collapsed onto the foot of his bed, crying quietly. he didn’t want to anger his dad. besides, he knew that when you left he was going to hurt him anyway. he just didn’t wanna make it worse.

“j?” you said quietly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “are you okay?”

“get off of me,” he said quietly. you jerked your hand back quickly and sighed. you stood, grabbing your pillow and setting it next to the one that belonged to jj at the top of the bed.

“j, did he hit you?” you asked in a gentle voice.

he shook his head. “he was gonna. but you saved me. you stopped him. see what i mean? thank you, baby.”

you nodded, really wanting to hold him. but you didn’t want to touch him and scare him. “i didn’t do it just for you, you know?”

he looked up.

“i did it for me, too. every time i see you hurt, i feel your pain, too.”

he gave you a glare that suggested you were pushing it and you shut your mouth. when jj was vulnerable, he was ashamed of himself. he didn’t want to feel any more of the pain, so he shut down anything that might let him feel happy for sympathy.

“jj, you know i care about you, right?” you asked, placing your hand on his. you expected it to jerk away, but he only flinched slightly and sank into your touch.

“i know.”

you nodded, swallowing. “so you have to let me care about you. you need to let me hold you. you got to let me be honest with you.”

“honest, how?”

“j, if i let you get hit out there i honestly would have made him hit me, too. i promise you, jj. even my own injuries hurt less than what i feel knowing you’re hurt. can you understand that?”

he took a deep breath but finally nodded. “thank you.”

“i love you, okay?” you said, crawling closer to him. he nodded and kissed you, sighing right after.

“ ‘m sorry. it’s just, ‘m so scared that ‘m gonna be like him.” jj said. you felt your heart break.

“no,” you said. “you could never be like him. wanna know how i know that?”

he thought for a moment, then he said, “how?”

“because if you could treat someone important to you that way, you would have done it to me already.”

his frown turned into a smile. he sat up and kissed you, taking his time to lay down and cuddle with you after.

“when we have kids, i won’t do nothin’ to them. right?” he asked.

“right. i know you won’t.”

he looked you in the eyes, a glare shining like no other. “can you make sure i won’t?”

“i don’t have to.”

* the entire night had been the best feeling ever. knowing jj was safe and in your arms after waking up every hour to make sure of it relieved you like nothing before. the relief that flooded through you was so great that you almost cried, petting his hair and kissing his head for ten minutes straight before going back to bed. thankfully, he slept soundly through the night without your touch waking him.

jj was still asleep, buried deep in your chest with his arms around you when the sun shone through the windows and onto your eyelids, making them an orangish pink for you to wake up to.

you sighed of happiness, trying your best to wiggle out of bed without waking your sleeping boyfriend.

you creeped into the kitchen, hoping to find something you could cook for jj and have him wake to a good breakfast. you looked through the cabinets and the drawers, but almost everything was filled with beer.

and weed.

you sighed, knowing the beer was luke’s. you were looking through the last drawer when you heard footsteps, immediately regretting the fact that you had woke jj.

“jj, go back to sleep, i’m just gonna find something to eat for you, okay?” you asked, standing. when you stood, you saw that it was not jj, but luke. “oh, um… good morning mr. maybank?”

“i saw you going through my drawers and shit, girl, what do you want?” luke asked, coming closer.

you backed up to the counter, gripping it. “no, sir. i was just looking for something to make jj. he can get hangry if you know him. anyway, if you had other plans i can go back to bed.”

mr. maybank shook his head. “i don’t got no plans. wasn’t plannin on feedin him anyway. ‘sposed to punish him.”

“mr. maybank, sir, he has to eat. he hasn’t eaten in two days.”

“that’s his own fault. maybe he shouldn’t stay away from home for that long.”

you shook your head. “he has the right to eat. he’s starving. i heard hi stomach this morning.”

“you’re on his side?” luke asked, clenching his fists.

“no, sir, i—”

but you were punched. luke punched you over and over again, dropping you to the floor. blood sprayed on the floor and he kicked you in the gut.

you gasped for air but nothing came up. “mr..”

he stomped on your gut, punching you over and over again. there was a puddle of blood on the floor when he reached to punch your nose, but he was stopped.

jj had come in with a plastic foldable chair. “what is wrong with you??” he cried, kicking luke over and over again. first, he hit him with the chair, and then he grabbed a glass of beer from the table and poured it on top of him, smashing the glass right next to his face. he was sobbing, kicking and punching his father.

he drew his fists back, bloody and white. he cried, holding you tight. you could hardly move, but it was enough to drag jj’s foot away from luke, signaling not to fight anymore.

he cried more when he picked you up from the ground and carried you to his room. he sobbed on his bed, not only blood staining his sheets, but now also tears.

you could hardly talk, but it was enough to say, “i’m sorry, jj.”

he cried. “i know what you mean. i feel it. it’s gut-wrenching.”

“huh?”

“the—the feeling. like i feel your pain. but it feels worse.”

you nodded, just looking into his eyes with no emotion but pain. “jj, can we fix this, it… it hurts. am i going to die?”

jj broke at that, punching the wall. he hated luke so much. what kind of monster of a person would do that to someone?

he carried you to the bathroom and placed you on the counter. he lifted your shirt and gave you a tissue for your bloody nose. he disinfected your wound first and then cleaned it with water. you were not bleeding anymore, but he still had to patch you up.

there was another wound on the other side, so he copied the process and tenderly kissed it when he was done. he wet a rag in the sink and cleaned your face off, and soon you looked clean with a few cuts and a black eye, but you were no longer bleeding and you looked beautiful to him. he looked at you with eyes of nothing but love and a tear slipped from his eye. “i’m sorry. so sorry. i know i said i’d be safe here, but i didn’t think about you. well, i did, but i thought you would be safe, too. i’m moving out of here. i don’t care about my dad no more. i’m leaving and i’m moving into the chateau.”

you winced, suddenly feeling the pain once more. “move in with me. my parents love you. and i do too. i love you, jj.”

“i love you, too, pretty girl. i’ll never let this happen to you again.”

—————-——————————————————

a/n: bro. almost cried while writing this for some reason?? lots of angst.

part two here!

[skzhua]

BESTIE SJSJSJ FIRST IMMA SAY YOUR ANGST WITH THE HAPPY ENDS? ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL LIKE IVE READ PLENTY AND NEVER COULD FIND ONE THAT SCRATCHED MY ITCH (or whatever they say)😭 SOOOO I SAW UOUR REQUESTS WERE OPENED AND I RAN HERE😭😭😭 i don't have a very ... Particular request like idk the exact word but it's basically just a smol thought you can write if you like💀

So basically stumbled upon a video of Binnie talking about how memebers are when angry and him sayin all it takes for him to calm down IS ANY SORT IF PHYSICAL TOUCH

Simply shakes me to the core every time I think about him being putty in my hands 🫦🫦 (no calling me out for being delusional i will police and jail)

Idek know how to base an entire one shot around just this tiny thing so let's just pretend i was gushing if you can't either 💀💀💀

The Three Times Changbin Got Mad, and the One Time He Didn't

MASTERLIST

Pairing Seo Changbin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff.

Word Count: 1,777

Warnings: Swearing. (not proofread yet!)

A/N: Like you said, extremely hard to base off an entire imagine just from this so I'm sorry if this is shitty. I tried real hard for inspiration to come but Changbin is such a soft person in my mind that I genuinely can't wrap my head around him getting angry lmao. I hope this does the trick!

In the few years you had been dating the man, Changbin liked to consider himself as a calm person. In fact, he only got angry a few times. But those few times were intense.

one.

JYP criticized his song. By then, it was no surprise to anyone that Changbin had some dislike towards his big boss. However, it was not the first time he got some harsh reviews on a demo. So why did this one in particular made him especially pissed? Because he wrote it about his lover, you.

When he wrote it, he hadn't seen you in days and missed you terribly. He gave his all to this song as he arranged and composed it only a few days after writing it. Once you finally found the time to see each other, he was so proud to show it to you. Of course you loved it and almost cried because, come on, how sweet is it that your boyfriend loves you so much that he makes a song about you?

Apparently, it was not enough to be released as an SKZ-RECORD.

"Is it the melody? I could change the hook for-" Changbin started, but Chan put his hand on his shoulder as to stop him from speaking any more.

"It's not just the melody. The lyrics are very explicitly directed to a significant other and some fans might react poorly to it. Plus, it doesn't sound like the kind of music you'd release. Your tone is too soft unlike usually."

Changbin was baffled. "Too soft? What about it? Do you expect me to sing about the love of my life while growling?"

Chan felt the tension growing. "Bin, it's not-"

"You think it's bad too?" he scoffed.

"I didn't say that but-"

"No, I get it." he cut him off again. "Thank you both for the feedback."

And just like that, he stormed out of the room, heading straight to the gym. It was the only he thought of letting out the build up rage his coworkers had caused. Music blasting in his headphones, doing his nth squat, he still couldn't calm down. As he dropped his dumbbell in front of him, his attention was drifted to the door opening to his left. Jisung stood there with a small smile. Changbin removed turned off his music and greeted the younger man with a wave. Jisung dropped his things in the corner of the room where the lockers were located before he joined him.

"You started without me?"

Changbin nodded, sweat dripping on his face. "I left the company early."

"Chan told me."

Not wanting to discuss about what had happened, he turned his music back on and went on with his workout. Jisung got the message and didn't bother him any further. They exercised together in silence.

An hour later, they left to go back home. It was no surprise for anyone when Changbin didn't take the time to greet Chan when he walked in the dorm as he went straight to his room. He pulled out a bag and then dialed your number.

On your side, you were doing nothing but watching a movie. Not having gotten the proper sleep for a while, you were dozing off easily. The ring coming from your phone woke you up immediately. Recognizing the contact picture of your boyfriend, you wasted no time to answer.

"Hey." you answered with a yawn.

"Hey." Changbin said softly. "Did I wake you up?"

"No." you chuckled. "What's up?"

He sighed in hesitation. "Can I come sleep at your place tonight? Something happened at work and I can't seem to calm down."

"Of course you can, but I might be already asleep when you come."

"It's fine with me, I just need a break from the guys for a bit."

Although he couldn't see, you smiled sadly. If he needed a break from the boys, it meant something really bad happened. Otherwise, he would try to fix things instead.

"Alright. If I don't answer the door, just come in, okay?!

And that's what he did. He did argue a bit with Chan whether it was a good idea sleeping at your place when they had an early practice the next day. Still, he left harshly and went to your apartment.

As you had predicted, you had fallen asleep already. His heart did get lighter at the sight of you, but he still had this knot inside of his stomach. In silence, he slipped under the covers and closed his eyes.

two.

Changbin was already having a bad day. Not having slept much the night before, he was most definitely exhausted. So when Minho pointed out that he did not do a move the right way, it only fed his anger.

"We've been doing this choreography enough times, you should be able to do it properly." Minho sighed. "Can I see it again?"

Changbin suppressed any sign of annoyance and did as told. And he made the same mistake again.

Minho shook his head. "Try again."

And again, same thing.

"I'm sorry." he apologized in a small voice.

"We have a showcase tomorrow, you are supposed to master the choreography." Minho exhaled. "Again."

And it was the same. Maybe having called you until late at night was not a good idea after all.

"What is it with you today? Stop think about Y/N and focus."

That reached Changbin's limit. He would take any criticism or even insults, but he would never accept someone bringing you up for no reason.

"You know I can do this move normally, can't we just move on?"

"I'm just saying if you weren't so distracted with her-"

Changbin scoffed. "Don't go there, Minho."

"Am I wrong, though? I get you have your own little adventure with her, but I still expect you to be doing this properly."

"We're only practicing."

"And we visibly need practicing here."

Chan walked to stand between the two men. "Alright, I think this is enough."

"Tell that to him." Changbin nodded his head at Minho.

"I'm sorry for wanting us to be at our best."

"So the best would be for me to break up with Y/N and miserably work non-stop here?"

Minho's jaw clenched, Changbin could see it. The lack of answer was his cue that he had enough of the day. With a decided walk, he took his belongings and didn't forget to slam the door behind him.

He would have called you, but you had gone back to your parents' home for the weekend and he knew how much you missed them. So he went to the studio and drowned himself in his music. Oddly enough, he had enough inspiration to write a song. It was mostly spiteful so he would never actually put it out, but it did help. Still, even after hours submerged in sound mixing and some recordings here and there, he could get rid of the anger Minho had grown in his core.

He really wished you were there.

three.

Jeongin stole his protein shake. For anyone else, this was not an issue at all. However, Changbin took his workout very seriously. So much so that it was almost to the point he'd pass it before the members. In this case, it was definitely that.

"It's half empty." he said through the phone.

The younger man having left to start his day already, he tried his best to justify his action from afar. "I stayed over last night and woke up late, this was the only thing I could digest quickly for the day. Anyway, you told me you'd make me one at some point."

Changbin scoffed. "I told you I'd make you one on the day you stop being a little shit."

"Hey, I have been nice for quite a while now."

"Congrats? What do you want me to say? Jeongin, this was perfectly mesured for me to get through the day and I was running out of protein powder so I was kind of counting on this one for my diet."

"Sorry, I didn't know."

"You could've asked at the very least."

"I said I'm sorry, really."

"Yeah right."

And he hung up, steam coming out of his ears as he stared at the shaker.

four.

The slam of the hotel room's door made your heart stop for a second. When your eyes laid on your boyfriend coming in, you calmed down immediately. Still, the look on his face didn't scream happiness and that perked some worry in you.

"Hey, baby." you said softly while he was taking his shoes off.

"Hi."

He didn't speak any more and dropped down on the chair opposite to where you were. You knew him better than anybody else but the expression on his face was unreadable. It was negative for sure but you couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.

"How was the concert?" you finally broke the silence.

"The usual." he answered boringly.

"The fans?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "The usual."

Something was off and it annoyed the shit out of you. "Alright, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"I'm not taking this as an answer."

He sighed, already feeling defeated. He couldn't hide anything from you, even the slightest thing. He went up to you and sat on the bed.

"It's not that big of a deal but my mic was cut and I missed a whole rap verse."

You let out a breath. "That's a shame... They fixed it at least?"

"Yeah but I got nervous after and messed everything up. Chan was on my back for the rest of the night and it pissed me off. Like, I don't know, I was trying."

You shushed him quick by stroking his hand with your thumb. Instantly, you could see his whole body relax a little. You didn't need to ask for him to crawl next to you, allowing you to engulf him in a cuddle. Rubbing the sides of his body, you kept quiet as your sole goal was to comfort him.

Changbin felt his heart pound less and less as he melted under your touch. Affection has always worked on him as a way to relax but you were a special one. Your presence could be enough for him to forget about anything remotely frustrating. You were his safe space and he felt so much love for you, no shit he would calm down so fast.

"Thank you." he whispered with a smile.

"It's nothing. Now, how about I order us some food and we go to bed?"

He moved around so he could see your face and smirked. "Are you paying?"

"Don't push your luck, Seo."

@lenilla15 | @muddy-waters | @nanaspalette | @nattisbored | @popcatx0 | @vanblack95 | @aestheticsluut | @thanxxskz | @minhoino | @taetertotsv | @luvscrazy | @lethallyprotected | @foxinnie8 | @jisuperboard | @jihanlovic | @soobin-chois | @jinxwhore28 | @purplelandsworld | @yeojoongiee | @smugrogerina | @jaehyunicecream | @urmomlikeslinotoo | @syprosight | @thesassy-mia | @chaotic-world-of-the-j | @heartsforlevi | @miyakoa | @seungincore | @skzsilentcryy

Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

[fillsta]

Les Amis as events that have occurred since I went to uni

I moved to a different town for studies 6 months ago and I recently relapsed on my deranged Les Mis obsession so here you go

Enjolras

The 2-3 month takeover of nearly all uni departments that aimed to prevent a new law from being voted (it failed)

Combeferre

Students protesting while blasting rap music right outside a theatre in which an examination was taking place

Courfeyrac

Me and my friends prank calling the student council's president while drunk and ending up going for drinks with him half an hour later.

Grantaire

Someone calling the cops on everyone's favourite shitty bar one night and some drunk bystanders hitting the police car that showed up, with empty glass bottles

Jehan

A friend telling me he found out that the university has, apparently, its own olive oil brand.

Bahorel

The uni offering free Capoeira classes.

Feuilly

The bus ticket prices going 0.10€ up, which had everyone outraged (me included)

Joly

Someone posting a thirst trap of the carnival parade's paramedics on tiktok.

Bossuet

A guy falling off of a chariot during the big carnival parade in front of everyone.

Marius

Many theatres in uni getting a termite infection and they had to shut everything down for a few days

Gavroche

The tiktok of a gypsy boy roasting our town for no reason going viral.

Eponine

The two students publicly arranging to meet for a blind date outside of a supermarket on the university's anonymous confessions Instagram account, only for everyone else who saw the post to show up to see how their private meeting will go down. Only one of the two students ended up coming.

Cosette

A beauty salon opening in the campus for no reason.

Musichetta

That one lecture during which a stray dog walked in the theater and began chewing on a girl's puffer jacket

Bonus Montparnasse

Some Engineering students creating an illegal makeshift cantine out of an unused room where you can get coffee of questionable quality for 0.70€, and they host barbeques every once in a while.

[mercymermaid]

i need to get my thoughts out there just stay with me

insane amount of sister location headcanons incoming!

the sister location animatronic cast is one massive extremely dysfunctional family

first of all, fuck ennard, this is pre michael's appearance, so he doesn't exist yet <3

ballora is the overall mother figure (i wonder fucking why) and the oldest and most calm, acting as the peacekeeper and trying to keep the rest of the cast calm enough to get shocked to help and back

baby is the little sister (mindblowing!), following ballora around like a little duckling, and is The Main Character (out of the cast, she has the most emo depression moments because she's the only one properly possessed) she's actually pretty shy and skittish at first, but opens up pretty quickly once you crack her shell

the bidybabs and minireenas have the comprehension capacity of literal toddlers, and waddle around all day, being feral creations that will follow anyone's command if they reward them with cuddles afterwards.

now. my favorite demons. the funtimes, the bons, and lolbit.

first of all, funtime foxy and funtime freddy are dating (funtime frexy for life, i can and will die on this hill), my favorite gay man ship ever. ft. foxy and lolbit are.. cousins? nobody knows what exactly they are, but they're similar enough to be directly related, so they roll with it. bonbon and bonnet have some complicated, old couple drama, and are constantly bickering, much to the annoyance and amusement of the rest of the cast. bonbon and ft. freddy are friends till the end, though, they are each other's ride or die (same with ft. foxy and lolbit)

lolbit is also the fucking psycho prankster. being a non-performing character, and having complete access to the location's networks, he has every opportunity ever to cause chaos. he likes to mess with the night guard, for one, but his favorite thing to do is to ruin ft. foxy's performances by changing the light and overall show cues completely, and instead of playing whatever music or audio that should be on, blasts rick rolls. this went on for a solid multiple months until management finally figured out the problem, and poor lolbit lost his overpowered admin access, leaving him very sad and helpless against the oncoming revenge by ft. foxy.

ballora, baby, the minireenas and bidybabs, bonnet, and ft. foxy have killer girls' nights where they give each other 'makeovers' (they're robots, there's not much they can do besides try and apply shitty makeup) and play a poor mockery of dress up with old night guard outfits, and talk trash about the night guards and the other animatronics, along with starting their Evil Plotting (i lied, that's all you get of ennard)

ft. freddy, ft. foxy, lolbit, and bonbon have the equivalent of middle school boy sleepovers on steroids. they steal workers' phones to try and record tiktoks like they've seen "the modern youth" (- lolbit) do, and cause overall destruction to the location. they just do the stupid stuff you'd think of when you hear the saying "girls live longer than men for a reason," because they're accidentally setting stoves on fire and struggling to operate the fire extinguisher, and at one point, lolbit accidentally turned every single light in the entire building into a non-stop strobe light for a solid two hours, until the system had to be restarted (thanks, handunit.)

yeah they're all deranged and silly and totally not killer machines at all thank you for coming to my ted talk

[oncasette]

eddie on cassette

eddie munson x gn!reader

summary: five songs and how they relate to your relationship with eddie, drabble/head canon style

warnings: suggestive at points, these are shitty little drabbles. i promise i’ll have better fic later <;3

masterlist | taglist

TOUCH TOO MUCH - ac/dc

too much for my body, too much for my brain

this damn woman’s gonna drive me insane

eddie’s always got music playing when you’re over. he’s got it going when he’s alone, too, but it’s always going when you’re over.

this song, specifically, reminds him of you. and those nights that wayne’s out of the trailer and he can have you in any way he wants.

he scrunches his nose up as he sings along, dramatically pointing at you as he crosses the bedroom to kneel at the foot of the bed.

you know when he’s got this going on the player, it’s gonna be a long night.

I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN’ YOU - kiss

and i can’t get enough of you, baby

can you get enough of me?

eddie’s got this going on the cassette player he keeps on his night stand.

you’d been over at his place for a couple hours, already having shuffled through your usual music picks when you see eddie shuffling around in his tape box and pulling out this kiss one.

“whatcha doin’?” you ask as he makes the most amount of commotion humanly possible to swap out the cassettes. it takes a few seconds, but you already know what’s coming when the opening riff bubbles out over the tiny speakers.

“tonight, i wanna give it all to you,” he sings. “in the darkness there’s so much i want to do.”

it forces a laugh out of you, how earnest he looks. he’s got that look in his eyes, that goofy one he always gives you when he’s about to get all sappy and heart-melty.

“‘cause girl i was made for you. and, girl, you were made for me.” the air guitar starts then, too. His fingers plucking at the non-existent strings, leaving him to stare longingly at the real one hanging above your head only once.

EVERYBODY WANTS YOU - billy squier

everybody leads you

needs you, bleeds you

this is one that eddie only listens to when he’s in your car. on the rare occasion he lets you drive him around, he’ll let you pick the music, despite how terribly “un-metal” your taste is.

he thinks it’s cute, though, watching you blast the speakers the way he usually did. watching you sing to him.

“you give it all away,” you drop your head back on the headrest as you drag the car to a stop before you dramatically turn your head to look at eddie, who's already got his eyes locked on your frame. “everybody wants you.”

CITIES ON FLAME WITH ROCK AND ROLL - blue öyster cult

my heart is black and my lips are cold

cities on flame with rock and roll

he’s not the biggest fan of blue öyster cult, but you’d gotten the album for him on sale at the drug store so he keeps the cassette out on the table beside his player. he plays it on late nights when you’re not able to come over, the nights when he’s been away from you for days and he just needs something to tie him over until he can see you again.

sometimes he’ll pull sweetheart down from the wall and try to play along to the riffs, just because he’s bored enough.

CUM ON FEEL THE NOIZE - quiet riot

come on feel the noise

girls, rock your boys

eddie’s got this blasting in the van when he’s picking you up. you’re not even going anywhere special, just back to his place to hang out for a while until curfew.

you can see him slamming his hands against the steering wheel as he mouths—or sings, probably, it’s hard to tell with how loud he’s got it—along to the speakers.

you have you bang on the window with a full fist for him to unlock it, spinning the volume back a couple dials so that you can hop in without popping a blood vessel.

“hey, baby,” he says. “you ready?”

humming, nodding, you smile back at him as he pulls out of your driveway.

[starmybrainrot]

Fluff!Bang Chan Imagine

Genderless Y/N has a rough day and gets overstimulated at work. When they get home, Chan is there to help calm things down. (I don't write fluff or Y/N stuff, so don't be mean lol) word count: 1786 cw: pretty detailed depiction of overstimulating situations ______________________________________________________________ As the big hand on the clock joins its partner, the work day is officially over. That’s normally good. Especially today. 

It's been a particularly stressful day at work. Nothing insane had happened- it wasn’t as if someone had a stroke in their office. But little things had piled up all day. 

For example, you’d woken up late. Not having time to stop and get coffee from the shop near you, you decided to get some at work. You took a crowded, stuffy metro ride all the way to work, just to be met with a broken coffee machine. It was like that all day. Someone coughing too loud and far too near you. Having to rush through your lunch. A meeting running just ten minutes too long. Nothing particularly unbearable, but the overstimulation sank in fast. It was like your skin was burning but only on the inside. Every sound too loud, every smell too strong. It was unbearable. 

So, usually, 7:00 would be a relief. But today it’s a new worry. Rush hour traffic. Everyone’s going to be on the train. It’d be just like this morning, except people would be even more annoyed this time. Pushing, snapping, more teenagers running around outside the stations. 

Your hands tremble with mounting anxiety as your train speeds towards home. Three stops left. You think to yourself, white-knuckling the pole on your left. The train lurches to a halt. Someone steps on your toe and the pain is amplified, swimming up your leg like neurotoxin. The man mutters an apology and bows his head a bit before hurrying off.

Two stops left. The person next to you is blasting their music too loud. Someone keeps swinging their foot- it’s clipping against the ground. Yet another person coughs too loudly. You swallow harshly and screw your eyes shut. The train stops. More people get off, more people get on. 

One stop left. You think, biting the inside of your cheek. Just one more… A baby starts crying at the other end of the car. Someone forgot to silence their phone- the tone is blaring from mere feet away. More coughing, sneezing. What if you get sick? Oh, God, you’re going to get sick- 

The train stops and you practically throw yourself off. There’s no time to stay still. You make your way off the train, tap out of the station, and make your way up the steps in almost one fluid motion. Your legs speed up faster and faster until you’re practically running up the stairs to your building. Fingers still shaking, you manage to get the key in the door, turn around and try not to slam the door as you shut it.

You take a deep breath, and immediately a small sense of calm fills your lungs. The neurotoxin that’s wrapped its tendrils around your bones is being fought off by the faint, sweet smell of your boyfriend’s apartment.

“Y/N?” Chan’s voice creeps around the walls of your house. “You finally home?” It’s slow, calm. It sounds like he’s been relaxed for a while. You don’t have the energy to wonder when he got home or why. All you know is that he is. 

Instead of responding, you take your shoes off and place them on their designated rack. While you’re fussing around with them, slipper-muffled footsteps creep up behind you. 

“Y/N?” Despite being sing-songy, Chan’s saying your name still makes you jump. You turn around to face him, unsure of how to react. He knows what to do, though, and hugs you. It’s a happy hug, one that continues fighting off the blackness in your stomach. He kisses the top of your head and pulls back, holding your face in his hands. He smiles to himself, running his thumb across your cheekbone. 

“Hi.” He says, the smile on his face widening to a grin. You can’t help but smile back. Despite how shitty you feel, it’s impossible not to. That pretty dimpled smile… It's contagious. It’s as if the gods took all the stars from the sky and put them in his eyes, where his teeth are. So warm and bright, no matter how big or small it is. So you smile. 

“Hi,” You manage back. You don’t have much energy to talk, but there was so much love in that single word you couldn’t help but return it.

“You’re gonna wash up, right? After work ‘n’ everything?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Cool. I’m gonna go back to our room.” He pauses, as if he's thinking of something else to say. When he can't find anything, he just kisses you again. 

His lips feel perfect yours. Pillowy, soft, still tasting of the cherry Vaseline he applied hours ago. He holds the kiss for a second longer than most gentle kisses are. His hand stays holding yours for a moment later. Even in such small movements, he’s clinging to the softness, the innocence. 

He can sense the anxiety that’s mounted in your chest, your throat. He doesn’t want to rush you into talking, he just wants his baby better. So he holds it. He clings to the calmness for just a second longer. 

You pull back and smile at him. He nods and turns around, fingertips skimming the door frame as he walks back into your bedroom.

Washing up is fast but is in no way fun. Your soul still feels like it’s scratching to get out. The smell of steam is the only thing in the bathroom, and without Chan’s smell or the soft touch of his skin, the toxin is back in your bloodstream. You can feel each individual jet of water from the showerhead, each drop of soap, each plume of steam rising off your skin. You don’t stay in that shower very long

You’re able to bundle yourself in pajamas. Safe fabric, finally. Something soft, familiar. That worn out t-shirt you stole from Chan. The shorts that are a bit too stretch out but you can’t bring yourself to toss. Nothing too tight, too smooth, too rough. Everything’s safe. 

You run your fingers over the hem of the shirt as you walk into your bedroom, the cool fabric slipping between your fingertips.

Peering into the bedroom, you just sit and admire your boyfriend for a few seconds. It’s clear he’s going to go to sleep early. Despite it only being about 8:00 or so, he’s already shirtless and partially under the blankets. He’s lazily scrolling on his phone, a thousand-yard stare painting his eyes. And yet that bright, joyful smile hasn’t left his face. It’s more tired now. Much more gentle. Much less upturned. But there’s so much peace in his face. The faint magenta light that glows against his walls has painted his skin a beautiful mural of pinks and purples. He looks like something you’d find in a prodigy’s photography portfolio.

You take a deep breath and walk in, clambering on top of the mattress. Without a second of consideration, you lie face down on his torso. Resting the side of your face in the middle of his chest, you slip your arms under his back, holding him close to you. He’s smooth and warm, his typical gentle, warm smell filling your nose. You take a deep breathe, letting your lungs fill with him. 

Without a second’s hesitation, Chan rests one hand on your back and the other on the back of your head. He looks down and kisses your, his lips brushing ever so faintly across the top of your head.

“Why, hello there, my pretty baby.” He muses, his voice high and playful. He may be tired, but he’s overflowing with happiness at the mere sight of you. Being able to see, touch, smell you. Each sense activated is another damn bursting with golden light. 

Hi. You think. You don’t respond out loud. You want to. Really, you do. But there’s no energy. WIth the overstimulation fading away, all you can feel is how tired you are and how shitty you feel.

Chan strokes your head lightly with his fingertips, trying to lull you into a calmer state of mind. It’s working, thankfully, and he wants to make sure it stays working.

“You okay?” He asks you, his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Mm-mm.” You manage, unmoving beneath is soothing hands. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Mm-mm.” 

He sighs. You can’t see it, but he nods. 

“That’s okay.” He assures you. “You don’t need to if you don’t want to.” He kisses your head again, this time longer. He holds your head a bit firmer, pressing you into his lips. “I love you so much, my baby.” He sighs. 

With that, he doesn’t say anything else.

You stay like that for a while. The only sounds are the pitter-patter of an approaching storm against the window and the breaths of Chan beneath you. His warmth leaks into you, that golden love inside of him infecting you yet again. Sticky sweet honey that holds the two of you together. 

Each breath you take in unison, every small circle of fingertips on skin, all the tiny kisses you press into each other. With each and every miniscule act of love, you’re pulled closer together. Closer to each other’s souls, closer to sleep. 

Eventually, the overstimulation and anxiety has completely leached itself out of your body. His fingertips no longer feel like hands. You’re able to snuggle deeper into his chest, he’s able to hold you tighter. He buries his face in your hair as you bury yours in his skin. He smells good. He smells like home. 

Despite sleep dangling above your head like an anvil tied with twine, it’s yet to knock you out. Your eyes are shut, your body is still. Yet you still haven’t passed out. No matter if you have or not, it’s comfortable. It’s sweet. It’s safe.

After a half house of this wake-sleep silence, Chan speaks up again. His voice is raspy and deep, indicative of someone about to pass out themselves. Still, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking to you again.

“I know you had a bad day, and I want you to remember that tomorrow’s going to be better. Even if work is worse, I’ll be waiting right here when you get home. I promise. I’ll be waiting right here for you. I’ll always be here to make sure you’re alright. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I can’t just let you feel like shit.” He takes a deep breath. “I love you, Y/N. Sweet dreams.”

He presses one final kiss onto your head, and as his lips leave your skin, you’re finally pulled under.

[inlap]

offer of ass-istance (ao3 link)

pairing: pato o'ward/alex palou wordcount: 1.2k summary: It’s just such a shame. Alex might have a decent ass, but it’s obvious he has no clue what to do with it.

Alex’s ass isn’t too shabby, all things considered. It’s taut and toned, as you might expect from an athlete of his caliber. It fills out his khaki shorts nicely. 

Pato sighs, slumping down so dramatically he threatens to upend the wobbly canvas folding chair he’s sitting in. Because it’s just such a shame. While Alex has a decent ass, it’s obvious he has no clue what to do with it. 

“You’ve got terrible taste in clothes, man,” Pato announces. 

Alex startles, peeling off from the plastic palm tree he’d been leaning against for the past couple minutes (conveniently situating his backside right in front of Pato.) 

Alex is ostensibly at the post-race party, but he’s even less engaged in it than Pato himself. Up until Pato bothered him, he was scrolling through his phone, looking at what appears to be the weather app. He’s had maybe a couple sips of his beer, not even enough to reach the label marking it as a shitty American light beer that Pato personally can’t get enough of, but Alex is probably a bit too refined to enjoy. 

Alex’s eyes widen as he angles to face Pato. He points at himself in a whole, slapstick  Who? Me? routine. 

Pato can’t help but to allow a crooked smile to lift the corner of his lip. 

“Yeah, you. With your fucking—” Pato gestures at Alex’s clothes with his own nearly empty beer bottle “—Old Navy-ass shorts. What—are those, like, ten-inch inseams?”

Alex gapes at him for a moment. 

Around them, the post-race party is in full swing. Drivers and their wives and girlfriends agreed they’d all needed to get tipsy and relax after such an exhausting, sweltering day in the sun. 

People had dragged out folding chairs directly from their buses to the asphalt of the drivers’ lot. Some guy with terrible taste in music has had an indistinguishable slush of modern pop-country blasting through his janky Bluetooth speaker for the past half hour. Kirkwood’s teaching the Europeans how to play cornhole by the light of the streetlamps overhead. 

It’s the closest thing to heaven you can get in the Midwest, but Pato can sense that Alex is feeling a little out of place. 

“I… don’t know,” Alex confesses. He looks down, extends a leg to survey the length of his shorts more closely. The ambery lamplight highlights the planes of his defined quad muscles and Pato polishes off the rest of his beer without ever fully quenching the sudden dryness of his mouth. 

“Maybe?” is Alex’s conclusion. "When it comes to inches... I'm not sure."

“You gotta go shorter, man,” Pato says, a touch hoarse. “And tighter.”

Alex looks up, a polite crease forming between his manicured brows. Everything he does is so polite, measured, and perfect. Pato kind of just wants to see him lose it, just once. He’d hoped that maybe that would happen after Pato beat him but—no dice. 

“Tighter?” Alex sounds dubious. 

Pato takes pity on him. Poor, hopeless guy. Pato has to set him straight. 

“Hup.” Pato launches out of his chair and right into a demonstration. 

“Like this,” Pato tells him, turning around to stretch into an easy pose, perfect for showing off the goods. Some (read: Rossi) might argue that his shorts are ‘too’ short or ‘too’ tight but, in Pato’s humble opinion, there’s no such thing. 

“Wow, yeah, that’s…” Alex clears his throat. “I mean, it’s a little in your face?”

“What?” Pato turns back around, aghast. It? As in, his ass?

Alex blinks owlish, innocent eyes at him. 

“Uh,” he says. He’s clearly panicked, genuinely worried he’s somehow said the wrong thing. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, bright pink, leaving a spot of shine behind on his bottom lip that Pato has difficulty drawing his gaze away from. 

“I mean, you pull it off, clearly, what with all the… But I just don’t think I could?” Alex ends his incoherent ramble with a wince and a, “Sorry.”

Pato can’t think of the last time another driver has come off so helplessly flustered, especially one like Alex. Alex is at the top of his game, the pinnacle of Indycar racing. He’s a championship-winning, trophy-toting fiend the entire grid can’t help but look on with envy and respect. And he’s blushing. 

Oh, man, Pato thinks, with a bright little light dawning in his chest, cresting a previously untold threshold horizon and warming him up from the inside out. He’s a total weirdo. 

“You, my friend—” Pato declares as he saunters forward to whisk Alex’s mostly-full bottle from his hand. Once he’s taken a drag, he swings his arm around Alex’s stiff shoulders. “—are in desperate need of my help.”

“Am I?” Alex asks, his voice so quiet Pato can hardly hear it over the faux-country twang of what has to be Rahal’s music. 

He allows Pato to steer him to the coolers, where Pato’s sure the drivers’ wives have some drinks more suitable for his tastes. Some nice wine, maybe, or some tequila for a mixed drink.

“Yeah, I’m thinking we need, like, a movie-level makeover for you.”

“Movie… makeover?” 

“Oh, c’mon, you know movie makeovers,” Pato pesters him, giving him a knowing look. “I know you’ve seen a rom-com or two. Don’t even fucking lie and say you haven’t.” 

He gets to see up, close and personal, as his sudden increased proximity sends Alex halfway into hysterics. Alex’s eyes skate away from Pato on a heartbeat delay. The streetlamp lights warm his skin, giving it a golden cast as he first pales, then flushes a more vivid pink. 

Weirdo, Pato affirms, fond.  

“Like… 27 Dresses?” Alex whispers. 

“See? You know your stuff,” Pato says, turning away, allowing Alex to breathe. And—huh. He wonders if that’s his heart thumping double time in his ears, adding a lovely staccato drumbeat to drown out the terrible country music. 

“But also, no, dude,” he clarifies, “Don’t worry, I’m not putting you in a dress. You’re in good hands with me. Let’s get you something to drink first. Yeah?” 

Alex draws his lower lip in between his teeth. For a moment, Pato thinks he might say no. But, just before Pato flags McLaughlin’s wife over for help locating the ingredients to make a margarita, Alex releases his lip. 

He nods and says, “Sure. Why not?”

“Awesome,” Pato grins, already flush with the possibilities this is going to open. 

He presses a red plastic cup of tequila-heavy margarita into Alex’s waiting hand before slapping Alex’s chest with perhaps a touch more force than Alex is used to, with whatever classy guys he normally spends his time with. Alex doesn’t stagger back from the force of it, but that might only be because of Pato’s arm around his shoulder. Instead, he winces behind his cup as he raises it up to his lips. 

Pato rushes to apologize, “My bad. You’re gonna thank me later, though, I swear. Man, I’m gonna make your ass look fantastic.”

Afterwards, when Alex sprays margarita out from his lips all over Pato’s face, Pato recognizes that he might have deserved that. He could have held back on the ass talk for a drink or two, at least.

[threewaywithdelusion]

Ronan/Adam Cheating Fic

Ronan always hated how casually Declan treated love. 

He watched his brother go through a dozen relationships with girls who didn’t mean anything. He watched as Declan showed them off like arm candy without learning anything real about them. As Declan dated for sex, or appearances, or whatever else ticked a box on his to-do list that week. He couldn’t understand how Declan could be with those girls without loving them. How he could use them, dismiss them, cheat on them. 

Ronan swore he would never be anything like his brother.

He looks down at the arm around his naked waist, tan skin against white sheets.

It’s not Adam’s hand pressed against his skin.

***

Adam is working when Ronan comes home. He’s sitting on the couch, laptop in his lap, looking through a database for reliable sources. He’s on his second cup of coffee even though it isn’t quite 9 am yet and he’s been trying to sleep in this summer. But the paper is due on the first day of class and Adam has spent most of the summer working at Boyd’s, jumping into the swimming hole at the Barns, and going on long drives where he and Ronan make out over the gearshift and then fool around in the back of the BMW. He told Ronan to go spend time with Gansey — back from traveling the world and staying in Henrietta for the month before he heads to Georgetown — this weekend so he could get started on the paper. He needs to impress the professor if he wants to get offered a research assistant position, which means he needs peace and quiet, and Ronan is much too tempting a distraction.

Adam is listening to music in one earbud, trying to motivate himself for several hours of sitting in the same spot and digging through obscure peer-reviewed papers, when the door opens. Adam shuts off the music. 

Ronan is quiet as he comes in, excepting the moment when he knocks into the table in the entryway and curses up a storm. 

Adam looks up from his computer when he hears that.

Ronan enters the living room a moment later, a disgruntled look on his face.

“The table hasn’t moved,” Adam says. “You could try walking around it one of these days.”

Ronan’s supposed to flip him off and say something about the ugly-ass table being too big for the hallway and how Adam should allow him to dream up a nicer one that won’t attack Ronan every single day.

Instead Ronan just says “yeah okay.”

It doesn’t even sound sarcastic.

Adam frowns. “Are you okay?”

Ronan tenses. “Yeah.”

“Hungover?” 

Ronan knows that Adam doesn’t like it when he drinks. They’ve reached a sort of unspoken compromise; Adam doesn’t complain if Ronan drinks and in return Ronan keeps the drinking in their apartment to a minimum and goes out when he wants to get shitfaced. It’s not unusual for Ronan to creep in early in the morning, nursing a bad hangover and grumbling over-dramatically, though it has become less common recently.

“Fuck off, Parrish, you’re not my babysitter.”

There’s real venom in Ronan’s voice, which takes Adam by surprise. Ronan doesn’t usually lash out so badly anymore, especially over something as innocuous as this line of questioning. 

Adam gives Ronan an unimpressed look and turns back to his laptop. If Ronan’s acting this shitty because of a hangover, he’ll regret it later. Adam will let him go chug some water and nap for a bit and talk it over with him when he’s in a better mood. 

Ronan does go into the kitchen. But instead of emerging quickly with a water and some Advil, the way he does when he’s hung over, he stays in there. Dull thuds echo all the way to the couch. Adam can picture Ronan slamming down plates and cups too hard, closing cabinets with all his strength just because he can. 

But he has to imagine it, because Ronan never acts like this. He’s loud and destructive, yes, but not like this. He drives too fast and blasts his music too loud and comes up with stupid game ideas that end up with them both getting road-rash, but he’s careful to only engage in a particular kind of stupidity. The dumb teenage kind that feels a bit like freedom, even as it’s wild and dangerous and occasionally angry. 

Ronan knows Adam doesn’t like slamming cabinets or plates being set down aggressively. That’s probably why he’s in the other room right now, trying to hide whatever aggression this is from Adam. 

It’s still really unusual for Ronan to be this careless, so Adam goes to check on his boyfriend. 

Ronan is standing over the sink, his head bowed down between his shoulders. All Adam can see is the back of his leather jacket, the tense line of his posture. 

There’s a plate of eggs on the table, with a cup of water and a coffee, but they’re all untouched. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Adam asks. 

Ronan spins around, startled, and Adam is surprised to see tears on his cheeks. He immediately softens, stepping further into the room. “Ronan?”

“Shit,” Ronan says, wiping aggressively at his cheeks. “I didn’t realize you could hear that. Shit. I’m sorry.”

He looks genuinely remorseful, no defenses or snarky attitudes to be found. He doesn’t say anything about the tears, though he must know Adam has seen them. 

“Ronan,” Adam says. 

“I thought you were listening to music,” Ronan says, still explaining the wrong thing. “Don’t you have a nerd paper due this week? You always listen to music when you do research.”

“I turned it off to say hello to you before I realized you were so cheery this morning,” Adam snarks. “But we can circle back to how to close a cabinet like a normal person. What’s going on?”

Ronan looks pained. “Just go do your paper. I’ll keep it down.”

“Lynch,” Adam snaps. 

“Parrish,” Ronan snaps back. “Just leave me alone. I have a killer goddamn headache and I can’t do this right now.”

Adam eyes the full glass of water on the table. He strides to the nearest cabinet, grabs the bottle of Advil, and pours two into his palm. He slams the cabinet shut a little harder than he needs to, trying to ignore the hypocrisy, and slaps the pills into Ronan’s palm. 

Ronan stares at the little red pills like he’s never seen them before. Then he sets them on the counter beside himself. 

Adam expects him to move to grab the water but he doesn’t, he just keeps standing there. 

Oh. This is Ronan punishing himself. 

Adam takes a deep breath. He’s trying to do better. He and Ronan don’t fight as much as they used to before they started dating, and a big part of that is because they’re both trying to unlearn their shitty responses to things and actually understand each other. 

Adam wants to scream that Ronan has fucking name-brand Advil and that he can get rid of his headache quickly, that he doesn’t have to suffer the way Adam did when he used to get stress headaches and not be able to afford the medication to fix it. 

But that would be Adam throwing his own shit at Ronan and that’s not fair. Ronan’s problem has never been access to things. Ronan’s problem is that he thinks he doesn’t deserve things, or distracts himself in dangerous ways, or hurts himself because he thinks he should. 

“What happened?” Adam asks. 

Ronan scowls. “I’m trying to be a considerate fucking boyfriend and let you finish your paper before everything goes to shit, so just fuck off, okay? We can talk later.”

“No,” Adam says. “I’m not putting up with you angry or moping or whatever until I finish, so tell me now.”

“Fuck you,” Ronan says, the way he only does when he has no better defense. 

Adam crosses his arms. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because you’re going to break up with me!” Ronan snaps. He looks like he regrets it a moment later, but the words are already out. 

Okay. Ronan is feeling vulnerable and lashing out. That makes sense. 

What Adam can’t figure out is why it’s happening now.

“If this is some bullshit about me going back to school-”

“No, it’s not that,” Ronan says. Then, more darkly, “you should leave me.”

Adam huffs. Thinks of Ronan, who brings him breakfast in bed every time Adam comes home to him. Who pays attention to what Adam needs and gives him gifts, but always in ways that don’t push the boundaries Adam has set, even when Ronan doesn’t agree with him. Who dreams brothers and baby mice and magical forests and still thinks he’s nothing good. 

“What?” Adam says, “You had a nightmare or a bad night and you decided to punish yourself by tearing down our relationship?”

“I cheated,” Ronan says.

There’s a heavy silence. Ronan leans against the sink, staring at the ground, looking defeated. 

Adam’s brain feels like static. There’s nothing there, no Adam Parrish, no Cabeswater rustling in his ear, nothing. Adam plays the words back in his head, once, twice, but they still don’t make any more sense.

“You don’t cheat,” Adam says. A truth he knows down to his bones. Ronan doesn’t do casual. Ronan hates cheaters. 

“I don’t lie either,” Ronan snarls. “I’m telling you the truth. I slept with someone else last night.”

Adam stares at Ronan. 

He wishes he had listened to Ronan and gone to write his stupid paper. He wishes he wasn’t here, in this sunlit kitchen, feeling frozen and cold. 

“What?”

Ronan just shrugs at him, like he doesn’t know what else to say. He finally looks up and he looks absolutely miserable, new tears in his eyes. He looks defeated, like he’s just waiting for Adam to start yelling. To dump him. To break his heart. 

Adam thinks that’s really fucking unfair, because Ronan doesn’t get to be heartbroken. Not when he broke Adam’s heart first. 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan croaks. Adam’s never heard so many apologies from him in his life, never mind in one day. “I don’t know how it happened. I was really drunk and really fucking stupid. When I woke up this morning and realized what happened and that I wasn’t with you, I regretted it immediately.”

Adam feels like there are two of him, standing in the same spot in the kitchen. One Adam is burning hot with righteous fury. This is the Adam that kicked a box once in the attic of the church, scaring Blue away. The Adam that wants to scream and rage. The Adam whose anger feels like fire, feels like Ronan’s, feels like his father’s.

The other Adam has gone cold. A little numb, except for the tight ball in the center of his chest. This Adam wants to cut Ronan down with words, use every soft point Ronan has shown him to make him feel as bad as Ronan has just made Adam feel. Wants to make him feel even worse than that. 

Adam hates both versions of himself. 

He stands there, shaking, and forces the fire to melt the ice. 

 Ronan is staring at him, waiting for a reaction, but Adam can’t focus on him yet, needs to get himself under control first. 

It turns out that when the fire and ice consume each other, all that’s left is water. 

Adam blinks away tears. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this information. He knows Ronan, as much as he wishes right now that he didn’t. He knows Ronan hates hookups and casual relationships and one night stands with every fiber of his being. He can’t figure out what would make Ronan go against such a deeply held belief. 

Was it Adam? Was he not good enough? Too cold, too scary, too unknowable?

Or was it the stranger? Did Ronan somehow find someone so alluring that he couldn’t resist?

Was it just because Ronan was drunk? Was he too drunk? Did he know what he was doing enough to make the decision to climb into some guy’s bed?

Adam starts there. Ronan has a tendency to blame himself even for things that aren’t his fault, and Adam needs to figure out if he’s actually guilty before he escalates the fight. 

“How drunk is really drunk?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” Ronan says, looking surprised by this line of questioning. “A couple beers. Enough to make stupid fucking decisions, I guess.”

“But it was your decision?”

Ronan stares at him for a moment, brow furrowed, before he gets it. He turns red and looks away, ashamed. “Yeah. I was sober enough for that.”

At least that’s one worry out of the way. 

“Okay. Explain this to me then, Lynch, because I don’t fucking get it. You went out last night, with Gansey. To a straight bar, I presume. And you decided to forget about your committed relationship and all your ethical hangups to hook up with some guy you met on a night out?”

Ronan’s face twists. 

“Well?” Adam demands. 

“Jesus, shit, give me a second,” Ronan says. “I’m trying to figure out how to say this without making it worse.”

“How could this get worse?” 

Ronan tips his head back, looks at the ceiling. Like this, his throat is exposed and Adam can see a faint hickey on one side of his neck. One Adam didn’t leave. 

It hits Adam like a punch to the gut. 

Proof. 

This is real. Ronan cheated.

It’s not like Adam really believed Ronan was pulling a long, unfunny prank, but part of him was hoping there would be another explanation. That Ronan was confused about what had happened or was blowing things out of proportion. 

Ronan really cheated.

“It was Gansey,” Ronan says. 

Adam blinks. “Gansey… set you up with a guy? Or egged you on?”

That doesn’t sound like Gansey at all, but it makes more sense than the other option. 

Ronan shakes his head. 

“You slept with Gansey,” Adam says, flat. The only other possible meaning to what Ronan just said. 

“Yeah.”

Adam doesn’t know what he’s feeling. There’s no betrayal, only disbelief.

“Gansey’s straight,” Adam says dumbly. 

Adam would know if Gansey liked men. He used to watch Ronan watch Gansey, back when they first forcibly became part of the same friend group, pulled together by sheer force of Gansey’s determination. Used to see the way Ronan’s eyes tracked over Gansey in the mornings, when Gansey was still sweaty from crew practice. Used to see the way Ronan lit up a little extra when he managed to make Gansey laugh. Used to see glimpses of a better Ronan, a less grief-stricken, less angry boy, in the way Ronan treated Gansey. 

Adam likes the Ronan who tells crass jokes and curses like a sailor and snarks in a way that borders on mean. But he never would have fallen for him if he hadn’t also seen the Ronan who lived underneath, the Ronan who loved so hard that it was killing him. 

The first time Adam had ever seen that softer Ronan, it had been directed at Gansey. 

Ronan had been so obvious, bleeding his crush all over the place. 

But Gansey had never looked back. Adam knew, because he’d been watching Gansey too. Because before Ronan was anyone who mattered, Gansey had been there, fumbling and earnest and unfairly handsome in his stupid rich-boy clothes. 

Ronan huffs. Shrugs. Says, “I don’t know what to tell you, man.”

Now, Adam feels the betrayal. But strangely, he’s more angry at Gansey. 

Gansey, who is supposed to be his friend. Gansey, who looked Adam in the eye and told him not to hurt Ronan, like this wasn’t a relationship that mattered to Adam. Gansey, who then turned around and tried to wreck it himself. 

Gansey, who has a girlfriend. 

“What about Blue?” Adam asks. 

Ronan winces. “Gansey is talking to her now.”

Shit. Blue is scary when she’s mad. And she holds grudges when she knows she’s right. It took her and Adam months to get over the awkwardness of their breakup, and that was a teenage relationship that had never felt quite right. 

What is going to be the fallout of this? Will any of them ever be friends again?

This is what Adam gets for trusting people. Depending on them. Building his life around the belief that they would be there. 

“She’s going to kill him” Adam says. 

“Maybe,” Ronan says. “Maybe not. Gansey says she’s the one who brought up the idea of non-monogamy months ago, but he turned her down. He wanted to stay exclusive or whatever. So. Could go either way.”

Jesus. 

Adam isn’t even sure how his own breakup was going. 

Is it weird that he feels better knowing it was Gansey? He’s angry at Gansey for going through with it, but at least he knows that Ronan didn’t decide to throw away their relationship over some guy he’d met last night. It isn’t because there’s anything wrong with Adam. 

It’s that Gansey is Gansey and Ronan is Ronan, and their relationship has always been deeper than an ordinary friendship.

“Did you kiss him?” Adam asks. “Or did he kiss you?”

Ronan clears his throat, blushing. “He kissed me.”

“Goddamit.” Adam pushes off the door, taking a seat at their kitchen table, across from where Ronan’s breakfast sits. 

“Sit down,” he says. “Your food is getting cold.”

Ronan blinks. “What?”

“Eat,” Adam says. “I need to think. And take your damn Advil. It doesn’t give me any satisfaction to see you in pain.”

Ronan sits tentatively. Adam watches as he takes the Advil then starts on his cold eggs. 

Adam… is not as angry as he should be. 

When he thought Ronan had slept with a random man, he’d been furious. He’d thought he was losing Ronan, or that Ronan was throwing them away because he’d decided Adam wasn’t worth it. 

But this feels different. It doesn’t feel like he has any less of Ronan that he’s always had. 

Adam has always shared Ronan with Gansey. 

Of course he has. Gansey had been there first. Gansey had shaved Ronan’s hair and held him through his grief. Gansey had fought to keep Ronan safe, to keep Ronan happy, to keep Ronan alive. Gansey had believed in Ronan’s goodness when no one else had. 

Adam has seen his boyfriend dream up dozens of epipens, a new one every week, because his love for Gansey is subconscious and ever-present. He’s seen the soft smile Ronan gives only to Gansey, different from the one he reserves only for Adam. He’s known about the nights Ronan and Gansey stayed up, talking over the model of Henrietta, two insomniacs baring themselves in a way they couldn’t by the light of day. He has found them, asleep together on Gansey’s mattress in the middle of Monmouth, on the nights when they hadn’t fallen asleep until sunrise. 

He has known all along that Gansey is important to Ronan. Equally as important as Adam, just in a different way.

He also assumed that Gansey’s heterosexuality was the reason Ronan had never tried to make a move on him. 

But if Gansey had kissed him first… yeah. Adam doesn’t blame him for kissing back. 

He doesn’t see how Ronan could have done anything else. 

That throws out all the questions people usually ask when they’re cheated on. “Why?” and “how could you?” are pretty useless when Adam already understands the answer. 

Adam doesn’t doubt that Ronan loves him. Has never been able to doubt it. Not when Ronan had wooed him so carefully. Ronan had made his intentions clear from the beginning. He’d seen the ugliest parts of Adam and stayed. He’d let Adam see him vulnerable, let Adam see the worst sides of him. 

Adam knows he’s seen parts of Ronan that Gansey has never seen. 

But he also knows Gansey has seen sides of Ronan that he’s never seen. 

Ronan loves them both. Ronan loves them differently. Ronan loves one of them more?

There’s his question. 

“You said I was going to break up with you,” Adam says slowly. Ronan looks up from where he’s poking at the eggs. “Does that mean you’re not breaking up with me?”

Ronan stares at him. “Why the fuck would I break up with you? The fuck did you do wrong?”

“So you’re staying with me because you think it’s the right thing to do,” Adam says. 

“I’m staying with you because I love you,” Ronan says. “I know you’re going to break up with me, and I know it doesn’t look true, but I don’t lie. I love you.”

“More than Gansey?”

Ronan looks pained. He doesn’t answer. 

“Do you love Gansey more than me?” Adam tries. 

Ronan pauses for a long moment. Then he shakes his head. 

Okay. So he doesn’t love Gansey more than Adam. 

But that isn’t the right question. That isn’t really what Adam has been wondering. 

“What I mean is,” Adam says. “If I break up with you, are you going to try to date him?”

Ronan’s head snaps up. “If?”

“Not the question, Lynch,” Adam says. “If I broke up with you, would you date Gansey?”

“I don’t know,” Ronan says. “Maybe. If he wasn’t with Blue. Or if you were already never speaking to me again.”

“And if I was speaking to you?”

Ronan swallows. He’s crying, silent tears running down both cheeks. “If you broke up with me, and we stayed friends, and you wouldn’t be my friend if I dated him, then I wouldn’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

This is a lot of very straightforward honesty from Ronan. Adam almost doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s used to Ronan hiding behind barbs or sarcasm, especially when he’s being honest. 

Maybe this is what Ronan acts like when he feels guilty. Or maybe this is Ronan when he’s scared. 

Adam taps his fingers on the table. “If I didn’t break up with you-“

Ronan perks up, looking hopeful and Adam holds up a hand, “I haven’t decided yet, Lynch. But if I didn’t break up with you, would you regret it?”

“I already regret sleeping with him,” Ronan says.

“No. Would you regret staying with me?”

Ronan looks shocked. “What the fuck? You think after everything I would leave you for him?”

“I think you thought he was straight,” Adam says. 

“Well, yeah,” Ronan says. “But you’re not like, a fucking consolation prize. You know what I thought the first time I saw Gansey? ‘That man has the stupidest shoes I’ve ever seen.’ You know what I thought the first time I saw you?”

Adam shakes him head. 

“Please.”

Adam arches an eyebrow. “Please?”

“I prayed, Adam. I saw you and I just…”

Ronan runs out of words, like he can’t explain everything he had felt in that moment. 

Ronan had seen him and prayed. 

Ronan — who goes to Mass every Sunday, who is reverent about his God, who treats his church like it’s sacrosanct — Ronan had seen Adam and prayed. 

Fuck. 

“So if you were with me, you wouldn’t be thinking about Gansey? Wishing things turned out differently?”

“Never,” Ronan says. He looks so serious that Adam can’t doubt he is speaking the truth. 

“Would you do it again?”

“If I could go back in time-“

“No. This isn’t a hypothetical. I’m asking, if we stay together, will you sleep with Gansey again?”

“No,” Ronan says without hesitation. “I made a mistake. But I don’t want to be a cheater. And I don’t want to cheat on you.”

Adam holds his gaze for a long moment. Ronan looks honest and desperate and all logic in the world dictates that Adam not believe a cheater who is still sitting there wearing hickies from someone else, but God help him, Adam believes him. 

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he decides, making Ronan’s eyes go wide with surprise. “You get a one-time pass because it’s Gansey. But Ronan-“

He makes sure Ronan is looking at him. 

“If you ever cheat on me again, with Gansey or anyone else, we’re done. No more second chances.”

“I won’t need another one,” Ronan swore wildly.

“And I’ll make you regret it,” Adam promises. He meets Ronan’s eyes and lets him see the anger and cruelty he’s capable of. 

Ronan knows how dangerous he is. Ronan has seen the vile nightmares Adam can dream up. Has used them to his benefit, to destroy Greenmantle, and been a little horrified at the darkness in Adam’s brain. 

He chose Adam knowing he was choosing a monster. 

“I would deserve it,” Ronan says, somber understanding and Catholic guilt. 

Adam could never bring himself to hurt Ronan too badly. Part of him hopes Ronan knows that. The other part, the part that’s still smarting at the image of Ronan in Gansey’s bed, hopes Ronan doesn’t know how horribly vulnerable he has made him. 

Adam feels like a declawed cat. He’s never had any problem hurting others to protect himself, but he doesn’t know what to do when the one person he can’t bring himself to hurt is the one causing him pain. 

Is this what Ronan felt like when Adam strangled him?

They look across the breakfast table at each other and Adam wonders if this is what love is. Does it always involve so much guilt and pain and hope and forgiveness? 

Adam remembers thinking that of all the options in the world, Ronan is the most difficult version of any of them. 

He wasn’t wrong. But he doesn’t think he was wrong to choose Ronan either. Despite everything that has happened, he can’t bring himself to regret them.

Ronan makes Adam feel special. Makes him feel daring, makes him feel young, makes him feel awake. 

It’s all Adam has ever wanted — to feel awake when his eyes are open.

“I love you,” Ronan says, like it is the barest and most intrinsic truth of his soul. 

Adam stands, rapping his knuckles on the wooded table. “I’m going to write my paper. Drink plenty of water and go sleep off your hangover. I’m furious with you right now and I don’t want to look at you.”

He turns to leave the kitchen and stops when Ronan calls out, “But we’ll be okay?”

Adam doesn’t turn around. He can’t look at Ronan if he’s going to say this. “We’ll be okay. You’re a fucking asshole. But. I love you too.”

It hurts to say. But it’s nothing but the bitter, hopeful truth. 

-----------

Coming soon to an AO3 near you! But first...

[corrodedcoughin]

Modern no upside down AU where Steve becomes a firefighter because it’s self indulgent and I need it. fair warning I have no idea how to become a firefighter

After his senior year of high school, Steve’s parents cut him off. They’d graciously let him live at home still, but since he didn’t get into any of the fancy colleges his father wanted him to study business - he’d have to get a job. Learn some work ethic. Learn humility. Learn this his father provides, and his father can also take away. His mother looks at him sadly, but doesn’t say anything.

Him and his coworker Robin stay late doing inventory and cleaning before they lock up when the mall catches fire. They were supposed to have done it during the day, taking turns manning the counter. But Dustin bursts in with an “emergency” and it successfully distracts Robin and him enough that they have to stay late. If they don’t get it done they’re done. No one knows that they’re there. They were supposed to have cashed up and left hours ago. The only people in the mall should be security and the people at the movie theatre.

And then the building’s on fire and the alarm system isn’t working as it should and someone needs to take charge and get them out and he guesses that it’s him. Steve doesn’t think about it, he just knows it’s an emergency and knows people need to get out. Robin’s trying not to panic and sort of failing, so something in Steve switches and he takes charge. He’s calm. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing in check.

He saves Robin. He protects Dustin. He makes sure Erica is safe. He gets them all out and uses his lifeguard first aid training to help the wounded. Billy dies. Hopper gets hurt. Bad.

One of the firefighters asks him if he has any training. He says just first aid. They tell him he has a real knack for this. Has he ever thought about being a first responder? So he goes through EMT Training, and the fire academy and then he’s a firefighter. Working in a big station in Indianapolis, living in an apartment with Robin while she continues to study and research and write and do whatever she wants to do.

Eddie grew up in Indy. Moved there with his Uncle Wayne after all that shit with his dad went down. He dealt, he got into trouble, he tried to help Wayne as much as he could. Eventually he got a real job, working in a hole in the wall music store, performing with his band whenever he can. Moved into a shitty apartment with Gareth, Jeff, and the unnamed band member; where they blast metal and eat pizza and stay up late playing xbox and playing DnD.

They know he’s gay, so for Christmas one year Gareth gets him their local fire station’s sexy firemen calendar. 12 full months of local hot firemen posing shirtless with puppies and kittens from a nearby shelter. Gareth jokes about how Eddie’s so single, maybe this can help give him a helping hand. Eddie glares at him as Gareth laughs his ass off. Eddie threatens to put the calendar up in their kitchen. It takes a couple of drinks before he admits that Mr July is Exactly his type. Hot as fucking hell.

Styled and swoopy brown hair, strong jaw, plump lips, thick chest hair; and holding a tiny black kitten. He doesn’t know whether he wants to hold him down and lick his chest, or let Mr July pin him to the side of the fire truck and kiss him senseless. Or both. Definitely both.

Steve’s fellow fire-fighters wolf whistle at him when they find he made July. Everyone knows the hottest people get the hottest months. He buys Robin a copy for Christmas who fake gags but supports him endlessly (and he decidedly does not mention the sexy photoshoot and calendar to Dustin and his Nerd Squad, who promptly find out anyway.) They request a copy so they can make fun of him (and support the station, I guess.). Dustin says its weird seeing his Brother all sexy and shit. Max, and El look at each other and giggle. Will gets all shy.

Time passes, and months later the Sexy Fireman Calendar is in fact up in Corroded Coffin’s kitchen. It’s slowly become their main calendar for keeping track of shows, DnD games, vacations and other random apartment shit. One evening they’re fucking around at home doing not much at all. Jeff is plucking out tunes on his bass. Gareth and the other one are playing the laziest game of Go Fish on a ratty deck of cards. And Eddie is scrolling through Tinder. Fucking sue him.

He falls off the couch when he sees who pops up. Thrusting his phone in the guys faces because fuckiNG LOOK HOLY SHIT. And it’s Mr July himself. Steve. They all hunch over Eddie’s phone to look at his profile together. There’s a photo of him outside in some garden, sunglasses on his head, wearing a summery button up in a pastel pink colour. It has tiny ice cream cones on it (Robin bought it for him). His eyes shine when he smiles and there’s a perfect swoop of hair falling into his face. A photo of him and some teen with curly hair, him wearing a soft yellow sweater as they smile into the camera. A photo of him wearing a worn grey tshirt that has the Indianapolis Fire Department’s logo over one pec. He’s posing next to the fire truck itself.

Eddie swipes right and it’s a fucking match.

MOMO!!! COME BACK!!! I actually got really sad when I got to the end of this. I really was so completely absorbed and was ready for a full on story. Regardless of if you want to continue this, I absolutely adore it. I’m posting instead of if answering privately becuase I NEED other people to see this and fall in love with it too

[moonshinemusings]

This blog *-* Can I have a headcanon for Price ? The ones for Soap and Alejandro are ghgffhh <3

Hello there! I'm really glad you like my blog, thank you! Here are some headcanons about our favourite Captain :)

---

General John Price headcanons (Pt.1)

Warnings: slight mentions of PTSD, depression (?), smoking, canon typical violence

A/N: This turns pretty grim by the end, but I hope you still like it!

• This man watches football whenever he can and he's been at matches quite a lot in his life. He took Gaz with him a few times, even Laswell once

• Sometimes he snores like a dad and Gaz needed several days to get used to the sound in order to sleep when they started working together

• Tells horrible dad jokes all the time and he knows most of the guys hate them, but won't stop

• Coughs like his lungs will collapse but somehow he's healthy

• His knee always crunches like it's about to break

• He's mostly unperturbed by all the carnage and violence by now, but he saw a baby being born once and almost fainted and threw up

• In full honesty he doesn't mind cheaper cigars, but he likes to fuck with everyone by acting like he hates them

• The smell of the smoke on his breath/clothes is really noteable but he doesn't care

• Has a high alcohol tolerance. The only way you will know if he's getting tipsy is by noticing the subtle change in his accent to deeper and more slurred words. If somehow he's really gone, then you will know by the little red tints on his cheeks (which are mostly hidden by his facial hair, but you can see it up close)

• Not an early bird. He tends to be grumpy in the mornings, but if you give him coffee it's gonna be fine

• Which reminds me: his preferred drink will always be a good whiskey, but he usually downs anything he has to (coffee, tea, those horrible protein shakes, vitamin mixes and so on)

• Occasionally reads, mostly classics or novels

• Prefers salty food over sweet

• The secret of the facial hair? Patience and genuine care about his appearance. He shaves for like an hour every time because he doesn't want to ruin his mustache/beard (Alex is the same damn way I swear)

• He likes jazz music and 80's rock. Sometimes he blasts those horrendous English raps too because he knows the others hate it (sorry if I insulted anyone lol)

• Thinks pineapple on pizza is hideous (Soap loves it lol)

• He's had so many broken bones in his life, he has no idea if there is any in his body that he didn't destroy at least once yet

• He doesn't really like action/military based movies because of the unnecessary violence in them. They remind him of things he doesn't want to remember too much. He'd rather watch shitty romantic movies or even comedies, but he won't be caught dead while laughing at them. He also tends to laugh while watching horror movies, but the heavy gore can remind him of bad memories

• He doesn't care about social media or any of that stuff really. Sometimes Gaz shows him stuff like cat videos because he loves them. Everything he knows he got it from Kyle tbh

• He has no fashion sense whatsoever. Outside of work he either looks like a dad on vacation, or still wears too much stuff similar to his gear that he seems to be going back to work in 10 minutes

• He likes fuzzy socks btw

• Adores big dogs, he can just wrestle with them and when they lay on him it makes him feel centered and comfortable thanks to their weight

• Unreasonably good at poker and he has the highest record with like 2 wins behind Laswell (who he just can't beat)

• He can handcraft a bunch of stuff if you give him a piece of wood and a knife. He made little figures for Gaz and the guy kept them as lucky charms over the years

• He doesn't fuss around too much about food and he's not picky. Whatever he gets, he gets, and that's fine by him (he used to live off worst stuff anyways). He loves meat though, a nice steak always puts him in a good mood. Also probably makes mean bbq

• Drinks beverages like orange juice or even milk straight out of the carton

• He's a man who always keeps his promises. Not one to lie or feed half truths, he always straight up says everything he has to

• Has a collection of weird/dumb looking beanies he has received over the years from his team

• He met Kate's wife once and she made him feel like family in the best way possible. He was glad his best friend had such a great person in their life that they could go home to

• Very protective of his men. He has lost too many friends and doesn't want to lose anyone else

• His biggest fear is ending up alone, watching everyone he loves die

• Every man he has lost weights heavy on his shoulders. He remembers their faces, but not all their names which makes him feel even more guilty

• Tends to bottle up his emotions and act like everything is fine. Sometimes he breaks down seemingly out of nowhere, but only when he's alone

• Kate is his closest friend and when it gets really bad, she's the one he seeks out

• He has occasional nightmares just like everyone else, but feels like he's dealing well with them (mostly he does)

• He has a watch he got from Soap as a birthday gift once. He only wears it outside of work because it's too important for him to get it damaged in any way

• He rarely has free time or time away from work, but he gets the most out of it. He has a few safe houses, but prefers to spend his time in one in particular because it has all his personal belongings he has left

• At first he thought the "you're everyone's father" was a joke, but then he realized how genuinely they meant that and he kind of broke down. He didn't think he deserved that amount of deep affection and what came with a title such as that, but it made him feel unexplainably happy at the same time

• He's not sure if he ever wants a family. He knows the military is his life and would never leave it behind, unless he has to retire because he can't keep up anymore (even then, only if they force him). The idea of having someone who loves him waiting at home brings warmth to his chest, but he's not sure if he deserves it. He doesn't want to taint anyone with his hands that hold so much blood on them