#wash a mountain bike

[youwerethedefeated]

Been seeing a lot of interesting conversations over on Twitter about how class difference is portrayed in Haikyuu, and in contrast, it made me think about those shit ass "hinata would have grown more in another school" tik tok takes and why they make me so mad.

Like no shit, Sherlock, ANYONE would be able to thrive more in a richer school, with a properly funded volleyball club and everthying that comes with it. Schools like Shiratorizawa, Fukurodani, Inarizaki and etc. that are regulars at Nationals.

And that's the whole point of the story. I'm Hinata Shouyou from the concrete. Karasuno is literally portrayed as a garbage dump. Before Takeda takes over and convinces Ukai to coach the team, the vb club was literally in shambles

(And even before, during the glory days of Old Ukai, it seems like the school still didn't make a heavy investment in the club)

Anyway, Karasuno isn't a rich, renowned school. It isn't the best school. It doesn't have the best coaches or a bus or a whole ass cheer squad. And yet it's exactly the school Hinata wanted. He was willing to bike half an hour over a mountain, back and forth, every single day just to be able to attend it.

THE WHOLE POINT is that he still managed to climb his way up to the top despite not having a strong base and not being able to attend one of the best schools in the country. He who would climb the ladder must begin at the bottom. The whole point is that Karasuno- the team as a whole- managed to claw their way to Nationals despite everything.

(Also, I've seen people call Ukai a bad coach, and let me just say: WASH YOUR MOUTH. Ukai is an overworked likely underpaid 20 something dude who probably doesn't have a degree in any sort of teaching position. He agrees to coach the vb team despite having a store to run and helping out at his family's farm. This man is flying by the seat of his pants, working solely with his intuition and the knowledge he gained from watching his grandfather coach - which was almost TEN YEARS ago. The fact that he managed to take the boys to Nationals and get them as far as he did despite being inexperienced actually says a lot about Ukai's intelligence and potential.)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Black Metal and Bourbon (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, smut, NSFW, sex & intimacy, praise kink, brief thoughts of exhibitionism, p-in-v, fingering, hand job, some sub/dom dynamics, sub!Simon for a bit, soft!Simon, property damage, bike crashes (wear helmets everyone), violence, past toxic relationship, sabotage, attempted murder, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your fingers tighten around Simon’s waist, the helmet you’d been given pressed into his shoulder as the both of you slice through wind—an engine roaring below you from the Honda Rebel 500. The fit was a tight one, Simon not having a proper second seat beside the passenger kit he’d been quick to install not a few hours before when you’d hesitantly asked for a ride into a neighboring town. Your body was directly above the back tire, and Simon had been firm in his words when he’d been adjusting the back suspension in the bustling shop.

“You’re not lettin’ go until we get there, copy? I feel your grip loosen, I’m pulling over.”

You had begrudgingly agreed, needing the high-quality art supplies a twenty-minute drive away. The stores here didn’t have what you needed, and, not owning a car as this town was entirely walkable if need be, this was your only option. 

Once you’d gotten on that bike though, Simon hadn’t needed to reiterate himself about holding on—you did that all on your own. Yet, that wasn’t to say you weren’t enjoying this.

Lips peeled back into a smile, your eyes stare out across the unfolding hills and mountains in the distance; fields of verdant grasses and trees. The vibrations of the Rebel left your head jittering, but this view was the clearest you’d ever seen. 

Chuckling, the driver under your rib-cranking hold blinked at the nearly missed sound, only able to tell from the movement of your chest at his spine. Simon’s sunglasses glinted over the thin sliver of flesh that would otherwise be the only piece of his face visible, and his fingers twitched as he stared ahead at the open road. The man had given you his leather jacket, taking a spare of black coloring like an all-dark cat, his boots and pants matching the theme that carries over. 

You shout above the whipping of the airways. 

“This is amazing!” Simon puffs a laugh at that, though his heart patters ever faster like a dog at the turn of a key. He doesn’t answer, even if his lips itch into a smirk to tell you he’s appreciating the spinal re-adjustment you’re giving him. 

Your laugh echoes out through the scenery, and your heart has never been more full. 

It had been a decent amount of time since Simon and the others had come into town—three weeks since you’d been hired on your off days to go and paint the mechanic’s shop. A base coat had already been applied, then the secondary and the final with the help of a very animated Soap saying that no one could get to the tops of the walls better. Gaz had seen him hit himself with the soggy paint roller not five minutes later after trying to flip it, and that had been the end of the interference on your work.

All that was left was to start the mural.

There hadn’t been a peep from Graham or his goons—they’d even left you alone on your walks back home. As much as you wanted to be elated about it, there was a brief stint of paranoia in the days that had followed the party. Graham Whitaker was a coward, but he didn’t…let things go. 

But holding onto Simon Riley as he pulled into the nearby town made that sharpness at the back of your mind flee in an instant. The mountains and fields dissipate to tiny houses and long stretches of connected businesses—sun-washed bricks surround you as Simon shifts the tires to dodge potholes. 

His head moves slightly to the side, and you hear the call through your borrowed helmet. 

“Where am I headed?”

“East side!” You rest the bottom of the helmet on his shoulder, seeing a sliver of his October browns through his sunglasses as he rips his eyes back to the road. “Look for the rose bushes!” 

“Makin’ me go deaf,” Simon mutters to himself, but he does as you instruct. Parking in the street outside of the art shop, he moves out the kickstand with one foot—the other resting on the ground so you don’t tip. He gives you a look over his shoulder to get off first as the engine cuts and the jungle of keys comes to silence inside of his pocket.

Giggling, you let go of his hard waist and step out to the concrete of the sidewalk, turning around and fixing the strap of your carry bag with a hidden grin. 

“I think I just found a new form of transportation.”

“Then you can forget about it,” Simon smirks, taking off his sunglasses and sticking them to the neck of his compression shirt. “Helmet, Sunshine.” He reminds, looking around for a moment. 

You slap your hands to the side of the item around your head as you continue to giggle like a child, elated and feeling the throws of wanderlust—you’d never felt so alive than when watching the world pass by at your sides. How quickly you can form a routine of boring days, one after the other. You felt…light again. 

A finger grabs at the visor, flicking it up as your crinkled eyes come into view for the gruff man and his raised brow. 

“You drunk?” Simon stares, tilting his head as he looms closer, studying you up and down. 

“No, Brown-Eyes,” you roll your eyes teasingly, waving his hand away as you unclip and pop the helmet off before it’s leveled back to him. He takes it and holds it loosely in one grip, blinking at you slowly. “I’m excited. Can I not be excited, then, huh? Not happy seeing me enjoy your company?” 

“Let's get this over with, yeah?” Simon shakes his head but his amusement is heard, slipping past as you eagerly follow after, expression airy. 

You hum, leaning into him and smirking. 

“C’mon Simon, you’re completely taken with me—I can see it.” There was no question that the two of you had become close. There was rarely a night when he didn’t come to visit you at the bar; had even taken up walking you back home too, though there was little need to. Simon had said it was because he had nothing else to do, but you doubted it. Since the shop had opened, there had been no shortage of work.

The man grunts as he opens the door for you with a shoulder, sending you a blank eye. “Taken aback.”

“Fucking jerk,” you grin at him as you slip inside, face loose with banter. Simon chuckles lowly and follows, standing behind you as his boots clop to polished tile floors. 

This place was exactly how you remembered it—holding an old feel with the beams in the ceiling and the raw brick walls. There are tables with paints and brushes, all neat and orderly with unique looks and designs to them, even the wall has shelves of old wood holding hidden nicknacks and unique wonders. 

Simon gazes around with a glint of interest in his eye, understanding now that the painting was better off in your hands. He has to wonder how you managed to find a place like this. 

“Over here,” you say. Walking to the very back, your hands are already reaching for the quality brushes you’d need for the mural. Simon’s hands slip into his pockets, stance casual in a way he’d thought he’d lost a long time ago. 

It was no secret that Simon trusted very few people. It wasn’t just because of his past military experience, it was his life in general—each turn led to something that could go wrong like a gun in the hands of a criminal. But you had been nearly sly in the way you’d grown on him. 

The quick-witted comments, the way you spoke and carried yourself; your light and unapologetic attitude. He was ashamed to admit how many times he’d stared at the bar from his shop’s garage—under the body of some car with grease up to his elbows, legs dangling as his back was on top of the creeper. Brown eyes that can pinpoint your form before his mind blanks and sweat pools at his collarbone. 

It was something that Simon was afraid to name.

“Bloody expensive,” the man mutters in the present, fingers pushing at the price tag of some paints nearby. “You sure you need this shit?” 

“It’s not shit, Riley,” you scoff, grabbing two large brushes and three smaller ones from wall buckets, pointing one at him. “But I have to agree on the expensive part. You should see how much I would spend when I was really into art. You’d puke your blackened guts up.”

Simon hums, giving you his attention as you peer at a table of rich paints in smaller cans a few feet away.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks, the soft tinkling of piano music coming from somewhere in the back. 

You pause, your back turned to him as you look at the label of a small aluminum container of enamel paint for vehicle detailing. Licking your lips, you clear your throat and ease out a nonchalant, “Graham,” and end the conversation there with less blood spilled. 

Your Ex had almost sucked all of the individuality from you—you’d barely made it out as you are. 

Simon’s eyes darken, clenching his jaw after a moment as looks away. It's only when you put back down the enamel paint can that he speaks again. 

“He wasn’t worth your time,” he eases out, giving firm advice like orders. As if he wants you to believe what he’s saying to the fullest degree. “You know that?”

You snort, turning back around. “Yeah, I know it. Why do you think I threw the guy out? He ran through women like a damn kid with a stack of new playing cards.” 

Simon blinks from over his mask as you walk to the counter, putting down your brushes and adding in a few containers of nice pigment. As your fingers ding the bell up front, your free hand digs for your wallet. 

Before you can pull out the wads of cash that you’d need to pay, smelling of booze and all, a credit card hits the table. You stare at it in silence for a moment. 

“Simon?”

“You’re putting it on my wall,” he rolls his shoulders to dispel tension from the previous conversion as the employee comes out from the back. “M’not going to make you pay for the tools to get the job done. Not a fuckin’ heartless bastard.” 

“Heartless? No,” you tease, though your face burns and crashes with a fiery inferno of adoration. Inside of you, your stomach flips and your throat tightens. Oh, it was coming on bad, wasn't it? “A bastard…?”

“Shut it,” Simon glares from the corner of his eye as you raise your hands innocently. 

“Alright, alright. A very handsome and generous bastard, better?” You hear a hum, a huff of breath. 

“Getting there.” 

The ride back was much the same, but it still filled you with awe. Your hands were looser now, even with the added weight from your filled bag, but that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of Simon’s presence. Once more your helmeted head was set at his shoulder blade, resting as your lungs pulled in fresh air even if it was a bit heated from the barrier. Simon had pushed the thing back onto your head the minute your leg was about to straddle the bike, firmly grabbing your chin and tilting your face forward as he shoved it on.

“Safety first, Sweetheart.” You had sworn you nearly went weak-kneed at that. 

But the sturdy presence before you made a very comfortable headrest even if the longer ride was beginning to make your legs ache and give you a migraine from the noise. 

Your hand was flat to the man’s covered flesh, the oversized jacket around your frame, and in that moment you discovered that you were almost entirely submerged in Simon Riley until it became impossible to remember who you’d been before him. You were drowned in his scent—his presence an ever-present weight of purpose and prospect. 

Blinking over the view and feeling Simon’s pulse under your fingertips, you realize with a start that Graham had never made your stomach fill with butterflies over a simple word; never made you pause or have to re-think your thoughts because you’d entirely lost them when he entered a room. 

With so much going on, and at the same time so little happening…what exactly were you supposed to make of it? There was no question you liked Simon—there was no question he liked you, either. It was obvious by the looks Price would give the two of you when you came by with lunch for them all; free drinks. 

How the both of you would sit and talk, exchanging stories while Simon showed you the adjustments he had made to his bike. The issue was that you and Brown-Eyes were stubborn. Pigheaded.

Emotionally constipated.

Your eyes drag along the view, but they always shift back to the body that’s stuck in your grip; how his heat moved through his clothes, warming your wind-beaten hands. You’re right there at his back, hanging off him and you feel…good.

There just had to be something to make one of you snap.

Entering the garage, Simon once more parks his bike and lets you get off first, and you unclip your helmet and slip the object from your head with a puff of air. 

“Thank you, Simon,” you breathe, watching him stand. “Drinks on me tonight, okay?” 

“No need for that,” his brows pull in, confused. “If I didn’t want to, I would have told you.” 

Your hands pass the helmet, which he takes as your fingers brush one another's lightly. You repress a sharp inhale, scoffing playfully at him as your eyes soften.

“I’m not going to leave without saying thank you and you taking it, Brown-Eyes.” 

“Well, then I just took it, Sunshine.” Simon motions his head outside. “Now get going ‘fore I come to my senses.” 

Laughing, you shrug and take your leave, all of your items safe in your bag for a time when you could use them next. 

“I’m already gone,” you breathe, and a soft brown gaze sticks to your form as you cross the street and slip inside to clock in. 

A truck parked down the street has its window glinting in the sunlight. It seems to agree.

—

Simon tipped back the last of his bourbon and sighed, putting it down on the bar top as you polished glasses. 

“Anything happen today?” He asks you as you put the sparking material to the light, tipping it to try and find smudges before it passes your acute inspection. 

“Nothing interesting,” you respond, humming. “Had to kick a few guys out, but it was nothing big.” 

Simon’s interest makes his eyes shift to you like a wave, head tilting to stare as the warm light cascades over your figure. He waits for you to continue, but when you don’t, he prods with a slightly concerned undertone.

“Why?” Your lips twitch as you turn to look at him, exasperated. 

“Put a cork in it, Big Guy, it was just a few who had too much to drink—I cut them off and sent ‘em home.”

Simon grunts, “That’s a girl.” 

You ignore the way your heart jumps to your throat and the tingling of your arms. “Anything with you?” Your voice is higher than it should be. “Beat off any bartenders from your property?”

“Can only think ‘o one,” he speaks slowly, his voice wafting about as the both of you were the only people here. Your chuckle makes his heart constrict in on itself.

“Oh,” you tease, face pulling in with mock confusion. Your body moves closer as it leans into the wood. Simon’s lips twitch from where they're visible, the fabric of his balaclava pulled over his nose. “Tell me about her.”

“Yeah?” He speaks in a low murmur, eyes half-lidded in that dead-and-buried kind of way—only he could pull that off and still look so handsome. You had said once that he felt like danger, and you suppose that had to be true. Simon Riley was danger, and you had taken those snake fangs and put them directly in between the cross-hairs of your neck and your pulse, waiting, wanting for that fatal strike. 

You had bet that the sting of those fangs might just be the best pain you’d ever felt.

Simon Riley was unabashed freedom.

 “She likes to think that she’s the bloody boss o’ me,” Simon grunts, scars, and tattoos on full display; there’s blackened grease on his fingers, under his nails. You listen with bated breath. “Comes ‘round all the time now, hangs like she’s under a noose. I can’t figure her out. Not for the fuckin’ life of me.”

Simon doesn't know what he’s saying, but he can’t quite help himself when you’re looking at him like that. Your eyes going wider, your usually snappy and quick tongue silent as you take his words in like law. It was addictive to see you gobsmacked—the man has to stop himself from thanking Graham Whitaker for being such a fucking fool even if the thought of ever being near that man again made him want to clench his fists.

“And?” You push, trying to force your mouth into a playful smirk, but anyone can see it for what it is. Your faked emotion falls short, leaving behind only that which Simon can claim to be the sole owner of. 

Astonishment. Admiration down to its base form—a woman gazing at something that should not be, and yet is here among the ashes and ruins of broken earth and open roads. A sliver of sky between the rain clouds.

“And?” Simon mirrors, that numb mock. 

The both of you are closer now, puffs of air hitting the other. Everything in this bar became a backdrop, shifting colors and images like some dream. The dart in the ceiling was nothing to you—the tables that needed to be buffed, the bottles restocked; even the trash that you usually took out at this time was only a shape in the corner of your vision. It all blurred around him, and while you spoke again, Simon understood that he had left the city for something new; something that he could revel in and worship like he had his guns and his duty. 

Your sentence is whispered. 

“Why did you come here?” To this town? There was no answer for that. It was picked at random—even Price knew that. It was nothing special, not even to the bugs. But here…

Simon parts his lips and utters on the lightning of the air particles, all rushing past as if he was still on his motorcycle with you—your hands around his waist and your nails digging into his flesh.

“For a bartender that keeps making my damn head spin.” 

For a long minute, there’s nothing that happens. The AC whirs and the lights outside flicker over the stretch of the empty street. In your chest, your heart hammers with the strength of the Titans. A mechanic, a veteran; a man with broken, October eyes. 

How could he be the one thing you were looking for? 

Your eyes stay locked, those shredded flecks of color holding secrets that you want to know instantly—you want to learn his tattoos and the way he thinks, know Simon's dreams and aspirations. To you, that was better than any physical destination or journey because it was one in and of itself. 

Simon was an enigma. 

“Keep talking,” you mutter, lips so close now that they brush the man’s own. He doesn’t blink as he watches you, his lungs unsteady in his chest as he takes down a deep breath. 

“Why’s that, Sunshine?” His voice is raspy, and his accent makes you shiver. 

Simon’s tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, sneaking back in as your gaze flickers down to watch pupils blown. “Because I like it when you speak to me like that,” you have to admit, a whine trapped in your throat that you won’t let out.

There’s a low chuckle that makes your legs close together, moving like honey through your veins. 

“Can do more than talk.”

This is a game—a test—can either of you go this far? Is it more than lust, is it more than some strange attraction between two people who don’t belong here? A relationship of need rather than want?

You don’t care enough to test it, because if there’s one thing that this town taught you, it's that you don’t need to worry about the future so long as there’s something promising right in front of you. 

And Simon Riley was as promising of a man as you had ever met.

Your lips meet his, and his hand is eager to snap to the back of your skull, pushing you into him as your eyes pull shut and the edge of the counter digs into your guts. Air is exhaled from your nose, mouth heavy, and skin hot as it digs and molds to the rough scrape of Simon’s stubble. His fingers pulse into your scalp, waves of something sawing you open as he stands quickly from his stool and pulls away only to push right back in. 

Your hands move into fists on the counter, stuck in this dance of wet lips and shaky legs. 

Simon groans into your mouth, shifting his head as a purr emanates from his chest and makes you respond with a silent gasp that he takes advantage of. A tongue slips to run over your own as the lights glint outside, pushing itself in before retreating just as swiftly before teeth nip at your swollen bottom lip. Your eyes snap open, locking with deep wells of brown that seem more endless than the depths of space. 

You both breathe heavily, the bar silent to the two souls that seep into one another. Not once do either of you look away from one another. 

The man seems hesitant, and before he speaks, the rasp in his voice is felt as he blinks. 

“These parts in me have been shuttin’ down, Sunshine.” Your brows slightly pinch in for a moment, confused at this turn in tone—cocky had gone to still-stone as if Simon had laid eyes on Medusa herself. 

But you know what he means. You’d seen it in his stature and how he spoke to others; you knew nothing much of his past beyond a handful of stories from his service and none of them had been pretty. And of his childhood, you knew nothing. 

You know it can’t have been good. 

Your head softly tilts, a small, delicate smile forming the words of some long-lost deity.

“I’m sure you have the tools to fix them, Simon.”

He blinks at you, fingers still stuck to your head. “Don’t know if I remember how to use ‘em.” 

Simon’s giving you a way out of this if you want to take it; you know that he thinks you should. 

“...Then you’ll just have to teach me, won’t you?” You whisper, stubborn as always. “I told you I was good at keeping secrets, right?” He hums, eyes the most open and soft you’d ever seen them as he melts—forehead connecting to yours as your smile grows wider, truer. “Then I’ll keep yours closest, Brown-Eyes.” 

You both kiss once more, more delicate as the man takes a deep breath of you. Your smirk pulls along his flesh like a brand as he holds in a quiver. 

“What’s a bartender without a bottle of Bourbon on her shelf?” He growls into you, and not wasting a moment rips his lips from yours and wipes at his face with the back of his arm. 

“Such a mouth,” he mutters, moving as you stand there to push open the half-door to let him get to you. You stand waiting, pulse wild and lips tingling. “Cameras?”

Your head shakes without you knowing it, and a finger is hooked under your chin, maneuvering it as he sees fit. Another grabs onto your hip, kneading it slowly as you melt into him. Your hands grasp into the back of his belt and his eyes spark—hips canting instinctually.

There’s a hard prod at your inner thigh. 

“Only one at the door.” You set your chin to his chest, gazing up. “Back room?”

“Won't have you on the floor,” Simon says bluntly, unphased. Your core pounds, stomach tightens as you have a sudden need to get rid of your pants and touch yourself as dampness pools through your underwear. 

“Such a gentleman,” you’re breathless, voice airy. “Guess I’ll have to be on top.” 

Simon’s breath gets caught as you slip past him, sauntering to the back door and pushing it open as you slip inside. You had already started fumbling with the zipped on your pants as the man pushed on the barrier just before it could close, coming in and letting it slam behind him as the click of a lock could be heard. 

With your shoes off, you can feel Simon’s eyes burning into you as your fingers send the zipper down your navel, the sound of the metal teeth being separated from one another a call to action. When your thumbs hook the top, ready to send the fabric down, you let the man watch before your eyes shift back up to lock together. 

Simon’s gaze was intense—unblinking and unmoving beyond the slam of his heart and the pulse of the erection in his pants, begging to be palmed as you stood only feet away. The man’s hands clenched, knuckles going white. 

While holding eye contact, you let the pants—and your panties—drop to the ground with a whoosh of fabric. Simon tenses, but doesn’t look away.

You smirk, taking a few steps forward.

“I’m surprised.” Your hand captures his waist, one moving to stroke along the prominent v-line that’s hidden by his shirt. Simon’s heavy breath meets your head as his blown pupils make his eyes look black entirely. He’s almost in a trance. “Usually I’d be having to snap my fingers.” 

“Better than that,” he grits out raggedly. You have to agree. 

Your mouth finds his neck as he leans back against the door, letting you do what you wish as his hands settle on your hips once more, rubbing up and down as your own eagerness drips from you. Simon clenches his jaw as you bite down, taking and sucking on the skin as he hisses when you give him hickeys, eyes fluttering. 

“‘Such a mouth’ you said,” you comment, hand falling lower to hear the jingle as you unclip his belt. He stares off as your hand rests and cups him, sharply inhaling when you rub your palm over the large tent. Simon fights the sway of his hips, but the widening of his legs is telling enough, pelvis knocking forward as you groan, a line of slick falling down your thigh. “I’d bet you’d like my mouth, Brown-Eyes, wouldn’t you?” Your joke and your teasing of his dick—your hickeys and your sly eyes—they all at once snap something inside of him. 

You find yourself manhandled with a squeak of shock and a jump in your gut as your legs dangle, moved back, and pressed into the very door where Simon had been moments before. Your feet settle as his figure descends.

“Your mouth, Sunshine?” Brown eyes glint, staring you down from where he taps your legs open to the air, kneeling with an open belt and pre-cum staining his pants. “Want to see what mine can do?”  

There’s no more than a dangerous smirk before his face slots itself into the clutch of your pussy. 

You gasp, hands going down to his covered hair as his nose slides along your clit, making lightning go up your spine as you push down on him, grinding as a long stripe is licked, tongue flattening out at the nerve before a loud groan makes Simon’s mouth vibrate as it attaches itself to you. 

Giving you your own medicine, teeth lightly bite, tongue flicking as your cunt clenches over nothing, fingers grasping guilty as your head knocks back with a loud whine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, toes curling as your hips move back and forth. 

Your body can feel his smirk, your juices leaking out to drip at his chin, falling down his throat as this beast of a man sucks and mewls around your clit like he’s possessed. Hands grasped your thighs, holding them open. Well, one anyway. 

Lost in the movements of his mouth, cursing and gasping as he keeps trying to build you up to the point of rapture with every hard flick and measured nip, there’s no way your dopamine-addled brain can comprehend the fingers at your cunt before they’re already inside and curling outward. 

You moan out his name pleadingly, the pace of your hips instantly increasing as Simon’s chuckle makes your lungs constrict. A separate heart-beat lives in your navel, skin sweaty and slick making its way down his fingers. 

“Being so good,” your voice breaks as Simon’s wide eyes from below meet you as your head lolls forward. He stutters, hearing the wet squelching of your pussy as his movements cease for a moment. You whimper, face pulling in, and he instantaneously gets back to it with increased fervor and ferocity as if he’d never just felt his cock twitch in his pants and his abdomen bunch up.

Your eyes widen, rapturous moans falling from your lips in blown-limpness as his mouth and fingers do sinful things to you.

The sounds coming from below were feral and animalistic at best, sopping wetness and loud groaning—it makes it all so much better. 

“So thorough for me, Simon. Making me feel so good Brown-Eyes,” you babble, tightening your core and palming hands shoving him impossibly farther into you. “Such a fucking perfect mouth—perfect fingers, knew you could make me cum on ‘em, please, Simon, fuck, oh God right there,” you break off of the praise into desperate whines. Your quivering body shakes and ruts faster, Simon’s stubble making it all burn in such a way that leaves you gasping, back begging to arch as everything comes to a tipping point.

Simon can feel it by the way your walls flex and pull in, how their slipperiness gets so loose it’s not even a problem to finger-fuck you even as your cunt bares down like a noose. Your fluids drip past his elbow, falling to his pants as his pelvis involuntarily tries to get friction from his zipper by humping the air in broken intervals. 

He’s breathing heavily, but not as much as you are, broken up by groans, grunts, and his open mouth licking of your engorged clit. He’d never admit to you how much your praise was making him want to bust in his own fucking pants. 

“S-Simon,” you knock your head back into the wall, eyes going glassy as the knot in your navel goes painful, a vile itching so very close as your spine begins to arch for the man’s viewing pleasure. “So close, oh God, so fucking good. Need it, Simon, need it from—”

Your breath hitches, fingers twitching into tight fists of fabric and the hair underneath as your walls clamp down. 

Orgasm ripping through you, your voice lets out broken, airy, moans of Simon’s name like a prayer, hips continuing to spasm and toes curling inwards. Not letting up his assault, the smug man’s tongue and fingers draw the entire experience out until your legs are too weak to hold you, having to be pressed back into the wall by white knuckles and fingers stained with your cum. You hear it drip to the floor and see it when your half-lidded eyes blurrily make out the ragged appearance of an arrogant Simon, clear beads falling off of his chin and his lower face decimated by your pleasures. The bottom of his balaclava is stained—sopping with absorbed juices. 

You both stare—you, lust-blown, and Simon, ready to grasp at himself and stave off the near-painful erection that needs to be taken care of. 

But you’re true to your words.

Not seconds after your release had flooded him, your hands pushed at his chest and shoved him to the floor. Simon grunts but lets your hands quickly fiddle with his zipper and send it down. Not a moment is wasted, and the man’s hands move your hips higher as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough to let his dick spring free and slap his abdomen. 

Your hand curls around it and he groans long, pushing up into your hand as you stroke him quickly and mercilessly with the spread of his weeping tip. Simon’s words come out as a way to steady himself, but the work of your hand is easy to get lost in as his voice is a growl.

“Tase so bloody good, Sunshine, yeah? Be needin’ that every day,” his mouth is taken in a kiss, and you tase yourself on his tongue as he shakes and his fingers flex into your flesh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he says as you lick his lips, panting below you as he quickly loses himself. “Not gonna…”

Simon’s orgasm builds incredibly fast—and not once does your hand slow in its course. He blinks in a blind panic, mouth letting off soft sounds of confusion as he looks down to see his red cock and how you play with it like a toy. You chuckle at him as his sounds get louder, legs rising, and the slapping of skin on skin addictive. 

“You are good with your mouth—and your hands. Should have guessed really, you are a mechanic after all. Got yourself all worked up.” Simon's hand comes up to your head pressing your lips back to his as his abdomen tightens and quivers, thighs shaking as his hips try to meet your break-neck pace but just can’t.

What were you doing to him? Why can’t he last longer than a few mere minutes? 

You break off and connect your forehead to his, brown eyes fighting to not go blurry and his mouth open with fast breaths. You push out as you feel his tip twitch and spurt prematurely, “Be a good boy and cum, Simon.”

He groans loudly, eyes fluttering as they try to stay locked to yours before the wet splatter of his rapid ejaculation layers yours as well as his abdomen sticky and soaked. It keeps going, not stopping until Simon’s eyes have come back down from where they had fled to the back of his head and his small grunted whine lets you know you should stop pumping him so violently. 

You release his member and go to rub along his abdomen, massaging the skin and laying kisses on his clothed chest slowly. His hands loosen on your hips, thumb pulling back to carefully run circles into the flesh as you hum in appreciation. 

Simon's quivering slows to a stop.

“You sure you only work a bar, then? Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Simon hisses, looking down at himself. “Made a fuckin’ mess, yeah?” 

“Only fair,” you mutter, moving up to press your lips together as you both sigh. Simon’s breath hitches as your stomach rubs him. “I like having you under me. It’s nice to see you look confused.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, and a red sheen comes to his flushed face. “Won’t happen again.” 

Your face goes mischievous, head tilting. Simon growls a weak, “Don’t.” You chuckle and hide your face into his neck. 

“Don’t test it?” You ask into his flesh, your body still pulsing and needy at the display you’d managed to pull from the stoic man. Your tongue licks over your placed hickey with a newfound appreciation for the black and blue mark, blowing on it as Simon feels himself harden again. “Or don’t acknowledge that Simon Riley has a praise kink and when a woman tells him what to do he—”

Your spine settles to the floor, hands stuck on either side of your head and digging into the wood. Simon’s eyes glint primarily, and you keen to him as your arms move to wrap around his neck as your cunt tightens.

“Thought you said you didn’t want me on the floor?” He grasps your chin, moving his face to be above yours so he can speak plainly and dead-like. A surge of power takes over his voice, and you yield with a rising of your legs and a shiver as his fluid-slick abdomen slides over top of yours.

“That was before you made me cum in a matter of fuckin’ minutes by just stroking my cock. Now,” he breathes, “now I’m going to fuck you how you deserve.” 

He grasps your legs and pulls them around his waist, locking them as he lines up his half-hard dick and bullies it inside of you, your arching back bends into him, but your shocked moan is cut off as Simon starts to move. The pressure inside of your pussy is tight enough to feel like it could snap—your gummy walls taking the curve of his veins and the grate of his head as the tip curves upward. On girth and size, Simon is the largest you’d ever taken, and your face pulls in with a mix of pain and pleasure before the latter takes over completely. 

“Get me to be your toy, eh, Sunshine?” Simon keeps your chin grasped, not letting you look away as you try to garble words over the heavy slap of wet skin. “Keep me ‘ere so you can play with me like you’ve been doin’ from the start?” 

“So full,” you seem to have lost that edge, staring up into brown eyes as your spine digs into the wood below you, your cunt taking the fast slaps of Simon’s prod as it reaches every part of you that you could ever ask. Every trust makes your legs tighten, clamping down to keep him there and ring pleasure like water. “Such a big cock, Simon.”

He huffs, but his pace increases, panting at you as your lips meet for a sloppy and slobbering kiss of teeth and saliva. Sweat falls from both of you, coating your faces and lower halves with more liquid to make this dance easier—staining already ruined clothes. 

“Splitting you open, am I? So tight,” Simon grumbles, grunting as his elbows shift to stay beside your head. “Gettin’ me off so easily, need ta return the favor for making me feel so good, Sunshine. Bloody perfect cunt, takes my cock like it was made for it. Hear that?” Your skull moves to push into the side of his face as he bites at your neck, ravishing you as the forward and backward motion of his body makes your mouth hold back mewls of raw need. So many sounds—so loud and wet it was lewd, borderline obscene with every pump of the man’s hips that more just spilled out of you, pooling with every back and forth spreading of your hole. 

Simon bites a long whine back and angles himself higher, making you shout and cry as a burst of white light explodes in your eyes.

“Making me want to fill you full of myself. Over and over, make you drip with it—go until you can’t walk. You’d take it too, yeah? You’ve got such a good look on your face, you bloody love it when I stretch you open like this—takin’ my dick so well, Sweetheart.”

You were both animals trying to get fix after fix—drunk off scent and a biological urge. 

At the words, your pussy tightens around him even more, Simon holding back a loud groan and letting your little puffs of air grace his ears along with the ravaging dig of his fucking.

“You like that?” You whine, face burning as a hand descends to play with your clit. You gasp loudly and moan, not hiding the way your hips jump and rut and fight to keep Simon’s cock taking you raw.  

“Simon!” You call loudly. “I like it—fuck I love it, Brown-Eyes. Keep touching me, please, please keep going. Keep talking, love it when you talk like that.”  

“Makin’ fun o’ me,” he scoffs, “but the little temptress has the same bastard kink, eh? It’s alright, then. I’ll just help me get you off—”

The front door of the bar opens from beyond the wall. 

The both of you stop all carnal desires instantly, wide eyes snapping back and locking with each other. A pin could drop, fast breaths and fast hips held back even as you both quiver and your nerves plead to keep going. The need doesn’t last long. Simon's fat hand covers your mouth as your eyes glint with panic before getting right back to it. 

You try to speak, to get the words out that you should go out there, but it’s all cut off by the way he rubs you every right way. Your hand anchors to his back as someone walks around the bar, their voice muffled just like yours is, but this person has no idea you’re getting railed in the back room by the mechanic from across the street. 

Simon’s eyes are dark and urgent, but his hands can't as the slap of skin that’s still incredibly loud, and the wetness that follows all but telling. Your moans and whines are hidden, kept back by a tight palm as he smirks down at you. His hips are bruising yours and you can feel the hard bone of his pelvis as it slots itself fully into yours.

“Good girl,” he whispers, accepting the words with hard thrusts that make you whine like a dog, pawing at his gargantuan shoulder blades. “Keep quiet. I’ll make you feel good.” 

Your heart hammers, walls flexing and clamping at the words. Outside the walking continues, searching for you, no doubt. Simon's hips increase, almost cruelly, and your cut-off cries spill from between his fingers. 

The bastard chuckles and watches, letting your hips meet his as your release builds with the added need to finish quickly. 

It was rabid now your back arched, how the person outside mattered so little to you now, in fact, maybe you even wanted them to hear you like this—being fucked so perfectly to the point where you had tears in your eyes and your body was growing numb; mind blanking to only pleasure and the grating press of a foreign entity all the way to where it digs at your cervix and makes you see starts with every addictive thrust.

You can’t hear anything over the previous sounds, that and rough breathing are the only things in this hot room—the air tense and ready; anticipation a drug of the highest order. 

“C’mon,” Simon grunts into your ear, hand flexing as his lungs burn. He wasn’t far away either. “Let me see it—how your face screws up all nice and pretty for me.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you can only stare at the ceiling as the door of the bar slams shut once more, whoever there leaving. Simon releases your mouth and you fall apart with a spine-breaking arch and a high, feral, keen.

Your release is subsequently followed by Simon’s own, his body spasming as he gives three more violent pumps before the warmth of his cum seeps into your womb with a loud groan and a pound of his fist into the floor. He grinds you both through the aftershocks, the sparks of electricity that make both of your hips jerk just a few more times before you fall limp and useless. 

Simon stays inside of you as he shifts to the side, hooking one of your hips over his thigh as you stay face-to-face as your bodies gasp and pant for air. 

When the two of you come back to yourselves, some delirious minutes later, the first thing that you both notice is the tightness of your clothes and skin. Glancing down at the mess you’ve made of yourselves, you both slowly look back into each other's eyes, pausing.

You’re the first one to snort, before you have to hold your loud laughs back behind your hand. 

“Well, I sure do have some more secrets to keep,” you say through your fit, knocking your head to Simon’s chin. The man is smiling, his eyes crinkled and mouth jerking in a series of chuckles.

“Proper few.” The laughter died down to a simmering emotion of amusement. 

You smile at Simon, and he stares back, a hand coming up to touch your cheek delicately before it traces the lines of your face.

“You know I meant it, right?” You ask him, and those browns blink at you in question. “What I said before we decided to fuck. About keeping your secrets.” Simon’s face gets slightly more serious. Your hand cups his cheek, feeling the stubble on your fingertips. 

“Simon,” you say, “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing, okay?” 

He watches you for any glint of hesitation—of a lie. But there is none.

“Why,” Simon asks. Your answer is simple as you smirk, recalling words from a while ago. 

“You’re just going to have to stick around to find out.”

Simon shoves his lips to yours and drags you back on top of him.

—

You both exit the back room two hours later, clothes ruffled and bodies far dirtier than ever. You have a limp in your step, a pulsing ache between your bruised legs, and yet you’d never felt better. 

Simon presses a kiss into your temple. 

“Walking you home,” is what he says, and you sigh through an adoring look. You were tired, incredibly tired, and you hoped that Simon would share your bed tonight so he could hold you like he did back there. 

“Deal,” you wink, and the man huffs a chuckle, back to that same stoic mechanic that you knew. 

It’s only then that you realize that Celina had never shown up for her shift. Pausing behind the counter, you blink and look around, confused as you flatten out your clothes. Simon catches on quickly, brows pulling in with concern. 

“Something wrong?”

“Celina,” you tell him, “she never showed up.”

A beat. 

“...Probably kept away,” Simon tries to lightly say, implication enough to make you scowl. 

“No,” you utter. “She would have tried to break the door down if she actually came in. She never would have walked away.”

The man hums, pulling down his balaclava and looking about. 

“What do you want to do about it?” It wasn’t mocking—he was being honest. Your lips thinned out in thought. 

“Well…I can’t leave the bar unattended, she needs to be here in order for me to go home.” You motion a hand helplessly, shaking your head and walking forward. Through a sigh you grumble, “I guess I have to call her or I’ll—” A shadow darts from across the street and your head snaps to the dark window. 

Words coming to a swift stop, you gaze outside with blank eyes, mouth open in confusion. Simon stands taller, not having seen the strange event but not liking the shock on your face as he pivots to the view to study it. 

Brown darts over the street lamps and the closed body of his shop, along the sliver of the obsidian street and the tops of bushes in the plant boxes. But there was nothing there and Simon glanced back at you from over his shoulder with furrowed brows. 

“Thought I saw someone in a…” you frown, eyes not leaving the window as your heart tightens. “In a mask.” 

“Mh,” Simon watches for a moment before he grunts and tension seeps into his muscles. “Mask?” 

“Like yours,” you say quietly, suddenly very still. “Without the skeleton.” 

Simon moves back slowly, one foot backing up before he’s behind the counter again and shifting nearer to you—your eyes flicker upward but swiftly return to the view. He pulled out his phone from his wrinkled pants, and no sooner had he put it to his ear that you saw the individual again. This time it wasn’t just one shadow, it was three, and there wasn’t just a flash of black mist and then poof gone again—it was worse than some schoolyard prank. 

There was a bat. There was the swing of a strong arm. The glass explodes with a resounding shatter and the shrill yell falls from your mouth not milliseconds later.

Getting tackled down, Simon keeps your head to his chest as he shifts to hit the ground first, body sliding slightly before you’re forced under him and protected by his bulk. Grasping at him, you clench your eyes shut as large projectiles are hurled through the broken window and make contact with the bar shelf right above the two of you. 

But Simon doesn't move for a second. Not as the bottles shatter and drown him in alcohol and colored glass, not as the bricks fall back from gravity and strike his spine with a loud thump. He holds you to him, curled over your body as if in reverent worship, grunting as he takes the beating without thought to anything else but your safety. Loud shouts and laughter echo in from outside, but your wide eyes only stay and focus on Simon, his fingers gripping across your back and creasing your shirt. You flinch as a spec of glass knicks your arm, slicing through it with a sharp drag of an uneven edge. 

Simon growls into your scalp, but as he attempts to squish you farther into him, the barrage, just as it had come, entirely stops. 

Staying there, breathing heavily and your mind panicked, you have no time to think before Simon shoves himself up and snaps his enraged eyes forward. Like a large beast, his hands are in shaking fists, alcohol dripping from his shirt and glass pinging against the wood. You can smell blood. 

“Simon,” you say in concern, moving to stand up quickly as you try to get your breath back.

What the hell had just happened?!

“Stay there!” he barks, eyes tight as they dart back and forth to nothing until they find something. 

No one was there anymore, but in that absence, the true damage was brought to light. You ignore Simon’s words and shift until you can peek over the top of the counter, fingers shaking and mouth dry. The man beside you is stone-still, his darkened eyes lighting like fire and brimstone as the anger can all but be tasted in the air. 

The mechanic’s shop across the street. Seen through the broken remains of the bar as if a tornado had come through on the dusty air. 

It had been ransacked.

—

The illumination of the police lights takes over everything, pushing the dark away as Sheriff Russel tries to get statements from the two of you. But your attention keeps getting brought back to the stiff-standing presence of Simon. 

He hasn’t spoken beyond clipped sentences, even when he’d called Price, Johnny, and Gaz to explain the situation. 

“Can you explain what you saw?” The Sheriff eases, and your attention is drawn back. 

“It wasn’t much,” you stutter, shaken. “Shadows—men wearing masks. One had a bat and hit the window before they started throwing bricks.”

Simon’s eyes shift over the damage, numb gaze finding more broken glass, thrown paint, and dents in the garage door. The front had been trashed with garbage, and the lobby was ruined—it was by some miracle that the bikes had been left alone for whatever strange reason. 

It didn’t make him any less full of wrath. 

Your hands are still shaking, and your arm still leaking small droplets of blood down your flesh. Simon’s injuries were worse; he’d taken the brunt of it, but he didn’t seem to care at all, even as the crimson liquid stains his wet back.

“Simon needs medical attention,” you speak lowly to the Sheriff, head moving forward. “Can we do this later at the station?”  

“I’m fine,” the man in question grunts, voice deep with anger before turning and walking back to the two of you. Not once do his eyes stop searching the area; on high alert even now and not eager to be out in the open. Those old instincts were creeping back over him, and he wanted to get you somewhere safe so he could handle this situation himself.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who was responsible and while property was one thing, your comfort was another. 

How dare anyone do something like that to you. 

“You’re bleeding,” you explain, eyes tight. A hand brushes over your arm, taking it up and inspecting the small cut that you wear. 

Feet shift, and through a clenched jaw Simon utters, “So are you.” 

“You know what I mean, Brown-Eyes,” you try to make him listen, but it’s fruitless. 

“Don’t worry about me,” the Sheriff walks to assess the damage, letting the two of you speak in hushed whispers and firm looks. 

“You sound stupid,” you hiss, and Simon’s fingers rub your skin softly, his study of your body taking place in a slow sweep. “Of course I’m going to worry.” 

“Need to stop shaking.” Your face creases at the comment. 

“I’m not shaking.” Simon grabs your hand and puts his fingers through yours, raising it between you so you can look. Your eyes shift down, and your limb can clearly be seen vibrating like an engine in his hold; the fingers unable to close fully. 

Not speaking, Simon cups it with his other hand and presses, grounding you as your lungs take a deep breath before you can clear your throat. 

“I’m fine,” your words barely make it to the air. 

“...Now who’s sounding like me?” The man mutters eyes creased as he stares. “Breathe.” 

You listen, taking another deep breath and staring at Simon’s chest.

“Up ‘ere,” a finger moves out to tap under your jaw, making you tilt your head up to lock with his browns. “There we are, then. Focus. M’right here.” 

“You’re good at this,” you grumble, put off by your own separation from your body. 

Simon tilts his head. “Had to be.” 

You spare a strangled huff at that. 

How quickly things could go wrong—you had thought that tonight would be the best night of your life, but now it was just one single instant that things had made sense, the rest a stain on your memory. 

“You know it was Graham and his friends?” Simon nods, still watching you and making sure you’re calming down properly, waiting for that adrenaline crash. He knows. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Right now?” The man pauses. “Nothing. You’re coming down with me to the Bed and Breakfast. Staying there.” 

So that was how Simon shifted his priorities, walking you down the road as more and more police showed up—there would be more talking in the morning, you had given them everything you’d known so far. It was also how you were mobbed by three more concerned mechanics as you entered their temporary living situation until houses were purchased, blue and brown eyes blinking at the two of you quickly. 

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Gaz had asked, but you were much too tired to speak beyond leaning into Simon’s shoulder and grunting. 

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny had muttered, only in boxers as he’d shoved out of his room. “Heard the sirens—what’s been happenin’ without me?”

Price had been the one to finally settle everyone and push out a stiff order to leave Simon and you alone for the night. With various glances and tense looks, you were both allowed into your room with little more trouble. 

It was tiny but clean, and Simon had locked the door with a grumble and moved you over to the bed so you could sit, moving off to run a bath. 

You heard the pipes squeak—the whoosh of water as it entered the tub. 

Your mind has still not entirely caught up to itself as Simon leads you forward and begins undressing you; taking off your top and letting you shift out of your own pants. The bathroom tile is cold, and you wrap your arms around yourself when you’re entirely bare as you can’t find the words to speak. That is, before Simon takes his shirt off and you see the damage that’s been done. 

You gasp, hand reaching out but stopping above the cut skin surrounded by a million bruises and large welts. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper, delicately touching the skin. None of the slices were deep, but the horror was still there. “Simon…”

Brown eyes soften, and the balaclava is removed as well before a kiss is dug into your forehead. The shade of his hair matched his eyelashes, and now with the full picture, he was as handsome as you imagined him to be, though to all others the scars and the crookedness of his nose might be a shock. You hadn’t expected anything different. 

“Just bruises, Love,” he pets your neck, thumb running over your pulsepoint. 

“You’re all cut up,” your eyes water, but your stubbornness holds them back as you try to take everything in from his willingness to show you his face to the events of tonight. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know that he would do something like this, really, he was always a jerk but he was never…never bold like this.” 

Cupping his cheeks, you kiss his jaw, salty water tracking down your face as you hear Simon take in a breath. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly, curling over you as if another barrage of bricks was imminent. 

But there wasn’t going to be any danger here. Not with three other veterans down the hall.

“He ever…?” You shake your head, shakily uttering a quick response to Simon’s trialed-off question.

“No. No, I’d never stand for that.” The man’s broken body loosens, a long sigh exiting his nose in blatant relief. 

“Good,” is all he says. “Deserve better.”

You sniffle, getting a reign on your emotions. “I’ve got better.” 

During the shared bath, you clean the others’ wounds, your back to the wall as you run water over the stretch of Simon’s shoulders, washing away the blood. Your nails drag over his skin as he shivers, not looking back at you as he reaches behind and takes one of your hands into his. The black stain of his tattoos rubs along your bare arm as fingers intertwine, your limb moved and held to his abdomen as you kiss one of the knobs in his spine softly and hum to him. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin. 

Simon doesn’t respond, only leaning back into you more. 

—

Two days pass with no sign from Graham or his friends—Celine, either. Everyone in town was on edge, and in that time you’d been put on paid leave from the bar on account of your involvement and the potential involvement of your coworker. So, you spent most of the time at the shop with Simon, as he’d asked you to so he could keep an eye out.  

You had thought that maybe this was a one-time event, and had believed it, as well. Graham had made a point, and being the idiot that he was, he’d pay for it. If he was smart, he’d be out of the country by now—there was no mistaking Simon’s vendetta now. Price had to reel him back in the day after the vandalism. 

You’d woken up to an empty bed, having been fitted into one of Simon’s incredibly large shirts and sweatpants for pajamas, and heard arguing. Feet padding like a cat, you had pressed your ear to the door and listened with held-back breath, as if only a peep would make the heated conversation stop.

“He made her bleed, Price. He put her in danger!” 

“Get your head on, Simon, you aren’t in the service anymore,” Price had hissed, shadows slinking along from under the door. “You can’t do anything about it.”

There had been a low growl, an aggravated breath. 

“I can’t sit ‘ere when he’s waiting like a fucking robber. This is my responsibility— happened on my watch.”

“Since when did that fucking happen, Simon, eh? What’s been going on with you two?”

A pause. “...It’s complicated.”

“Then un-complicate it—you’re thinking like a damn soldier.” 

So here you are, fixing the streaks of miscolored paint that had been spattered over the mechanic’s shop as Simon comes out, wiping his hands with a rag. 

“Good thing I didn’t start on the mural yet,” you comment to him, stepping back and putting your roller down. The rag is offered and you take it with a small smile while you slide it over your fingers. “Else I would have tracked him down myself.”

“Would ‘ave helped.” October eyes flicker along the drying paint—the marks still visible. “M’sorry.”

“If you won’t let me apologize,” you raise a brow in challenge. “I won’t let you either.” 

Simon’s eyes crinkle from behind a new balaclava, missing the skeleton details. “Cheeky.”

“It’s called being truthful, Riley.” You sigh through the tilt of your head. “But the bad news is that I had to use up the paint, and I’m not even halfway done with this. It didn’t help that they used a darker color than what I wanted as the backdrop.” 

“Want to take a drive out, then?” The question is swift and honest as it's aimed at you like a distraction from the anxiety. Simon motions his head to the garage. “Got a bit before I’m needed, m’sure you could use a break, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” you utter, moving to rest a hand on his bicep. He almost purrs at the touch, leaning in. 

“Want to,” Simon grunts slowly. “Bikes are still good. Bastards knew I’d skin them if they touched ‘em.” 

“I’m sure,” you chuckle, teasing him through a smirk. “Big Bad Simon Riley.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes at that, turning back around as you follow after, laughing. 

You both get onto the Rebel, and the brown leather jacket moves your way along with the helmet, slipping it over your head not seconds later as Simon grabs his spare. 

“Are you sure you shouldn't ask for another helmet?” You had brought it up the first time as well—the prospect of a crash. 

“Only a small ride—I’ll go slow, Sunshine.” Knuckles tap the top of the helmet in reassurance. “Matters more that you’re the one wearing it.” 

Your face creases up, but you sigh and nod, wrapping your hands around Simon’s waist and tightly holding on as the engine starts rumbling below you. Moving your feet up to the rests, you scoot closer as the man pushes off the ground, flipping the kickstand back up before he leans forward slightly and lets the bike do the work.

As before, the two of you get out of town and nature opens up—but as soon as you really start to let your worries slide away and focus on Simon’s pulse and the freedom he gives you, there’s a cold wind from the west. Coming up and dragging along with it, a dark rain cloud sits over you both about a seven-minute drive in.

“Should we pull over?!” You shout in question as raindrops begin to patter off your helmet. The bike makes a strange chirping sound, and you blink over Simon’s shoulder until your attention is taken away by his answer. 

“Soon!” You nod, trusting him to know, and ease back. Your fingers trace the small bulge of scars at his waist, shivering. 

One minute later, you’re about to say you can see the town ahead when that chirping starts again. Brows furrowing, you grunt in the back of your throat and yell, “What’s that sound, Simon?”

He glances back briefly, unable to hear you.

“The sound!” Simon’s fingers flicker, head moving down to the bike below him—the hum of the engine was too strong up here, he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary. 

“What are you—?!” 

There’s a great shriek of black metal, and the Honda Rebel 500’s front wheel breaks off from the motorcycle fork and the bike flips. 

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[one-vivid-judgment]

I feel like Joongi is THE weird guy of the Ichigang. He may look like the most normal, but he is absolutely NOT:

He goes to Hawaii and spends two days wearing thick ass black clothes and a raincoat before someone tells him to go change, but still hates convertibles cause "they get hot when you're at a stoplight". He gets insecure over pimples. He knows he is hot shit and is obsessed with his physique to the point that he sees a chicken and immediately goes 'chicken breasts'. His boss puts him on souvenir duty whenever he travels anywhere. He wants to buy Macadamia nuts for everyone in the Geomijul. He once swam up a whole river upstream. He loves animals. He almost fell for a parrot scam but forgot his wallet so he just smiled and left. He gets super passionate about video games and comics. He once climbed up a whole mountain to get mushrooms for cooking. His hair is silver ash, not white. He thinks building sandcastles is an art and has mastered it. He had an existential crisis cause he forgot to return a DVD before leaving Japan. He can do perfect math. It took him four years to start singing karaoke around his friends. He warns others that the food is hot yet he eats it himself and gets shocked that it is, indeed, hot. He suggested taking out the shampoo and washing his hair in the middle of a gale. He then remembered all the hair care he needs to do and decided against it. He talks to himself at Revolve and goes "People around here are so muscular... You're great Joongi Han! Don't you worry about that!", "I saw some Macadamia nut chocolates on the way here. Man, they looked good. Maybe I should've bought them... No, surely I will find something better. But they looked so tasty...". He once suggested going full power on a static bike to generate electricity. 

TLDR: Joongi is my little weirdo and I love him so much.

[reaper2187]

Asami sato x earthbender reader

Asami Sato loved the freedom of riding her motorcycle. It was the one thing that made her feel alive in the bustling city of Republic City. In a world where technology and bending coexisted, she appreciated the simplicity of the open road.

One sunny afternoon, Asami decided to take her motorcycle out for a ride. She had no particular destination in mind, just a need to feel the wind in her hair and the roar of the engine beneath her.

As she reached for her helmet, a knock on her door interrupted her. She opened the door to find her friend, an earth bender named (Y/N), standing there with a helmet in hand.

'Hey Asami!' (Y/N) exclaimed, 'I heard you were taking your bike out for a ride. Mind if I join you?'

Asami's heart skipped a beat at the sight of (Y/N). She had always been drawn towards the down to earth bender, with her easy-going nature and mischievous grin. But she knew better than to act on her feelings. After all, (Y/N) was not only her friend but also from a different bending nation.

But Asami pushed away those thoughts and smiled. 'I'd love the company.' She took the helmet from (Y/N) and they both headed out towards her garage.

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up at the sight of the sleek motorcycle, and Asami couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. She had designed and built it herself, with no help from the Future Industries team.

Once they were both geared up, they hopped on the bike and rode off towards the outskirts of the city. As they zipped past skyscrapers and busy streets, Asami couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom wash over her.

The wind whipped through their hair as they rode along the coastline, with the sun setting in the distance. The atmosphere was serene, and Asami couldn't imagine sharing this moment with anyone else.

As they reached the edge of the city, (Y/N) motioned towards a dirt road leading up to the mountains. Asami hesitated at first, unsure if her bike would be able to handle the rough terrain. But (Y/N) reassured her with a wink and a smirk, and Asami's heart skipped a beat.

They rode along the bumpy trail, with (Y/N)'s hand resting on her shoulder for support. Asami couldn't help but notice the warmth of her touch, and the little butterflies in her stomach at the thought of (Y/N) being so close to her.

Finally, they reached the peak of the mountain, and Asami couldn't believe the breathtaking view in front of her. The city glittered in the distance, with the lights from buildings and cars reflecting on the water. The sunset was painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, making it the perfect backdrop for the moment.

(Y/N) took off their helmets and shook out their hair, letting it flow freely in the wind. Asami was transfixed by their beauty, and she couldn't help but stare.

'Isn't this amazing, Asami?' (Y/N) exclaimed with a big grin on their face.

Asami nodded, unable to find her voice. It wasn't just the view, but also the company that made it special.

They sat on the edge of the cliff, their feet dangling off the edge as they watched the sunset. Asami was lost in her thoughts, trying to find the right words to express what she was feeling. Before she could say anything, (Y/N) turned towards her and said, 'Thanks for bringing me here, Asami. I never knew this city could be so beautiful.'

Asami's heart fluttered at the mention of her name, and she couldn't hold it in any longer. 'I'm glad you enjoyed the ride, (Y/N). I've always loved exploring the city on my motorcycle, but I never knew it could be this special with the right company.'

(Y/N) turned towards her, their eyes filled with curiosity. 'What do you mean?'

Asami took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to confess her feelings. 'I mean, spending time with you makes everything better. You make me feel alive and free, just like this ride.'

(Y/N) smiled, and Asami could feel their heart rate increase as they leaned in closer. Without any hesitation, Asami closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against (Y/N)'s.

It was everything she had hoped for and more. (Y/N) responded with the same passion, and for a moment, it felt like time stood still. Asami's heart was filled with joy and she knew she had made the right decision in confessing her feelings.

As they pulled away, Asami could see the smile on (Y/N)'s face that mirrored her own. (Y/N) leaned in for another kiss, and Asami knew that this ride would be one to remember.

From that day on, Asami and (Y/N) spent many rides together, exploring every corner of Republic City. And every time they took to the open road, Asami was reminded of the magical ride that brought them together and the love that grew between them.

[jonathanbiers]

a list of liminal spaces/situations where reality feels a bit altered to use as inspiration or writing prompts!

feel free to also use as an ask game if you like!

mirrors in a dark room

playgrounds at midnight

when you're moving out of a house and checking your room when it's almost or completely empty and sorted out

rest stops on highways

a room lit by candlelight only

an empty laundromat at night with the washing machines still on

deep in the mountains

churches at night

abandoned gas stations

hospitals at midnight

abandoned warehouse

out-of-commission lighthouses

empty parking lots

rooftops in the early morning

early in the morning wherever it’s just snowed

trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic

schools during summer

bowling alleys after close

a cornfield next to a long country road

being the last person awake at a sleepover

hospital waiting rooms

airports at night

foggy cemeteries

abandoned prisons

hilltops in full moonlight

empty barns

marshes

a body of water shrouded in fog

hiking/biking trails during winter

winter twilight

back allies between houses

empty roller rink

dirt roads on fall evenings

libraries after closing

the woods during a rainstorm

roads covered in snow

train stations after 10pm

the air outside right before a massive storm

the woods just after twilight

the beach in winter

the bottom of swimming pools

secluded back corner of a library

windy roads at night when you can only see what's immediately in front of you

empty skatepark on a warm night

anywhere immediately after a really bad fight

the lakeside anytime between 2 and 6 am

firework shows when you’re sitting on the grass

being the only one downstairs on christmas  

stepping outside in the early morning when it has just snowed

when its dark and you see snowflakes falling down in the light of a lamppost

that one clear spot in the forest with trees surrounding it

a parked car in a snow/thunderstorm

corn fields with the wind blowing over them

malls about to close for the night

woods at twilight/dawn

being on a train after midnight

theme parks at night

being alone in an elevator for a few minutes

looking down at the trees from up high

the ferry about to take off in the middle of the night

tree houses

4-6 am on a winter morning

the feeling of being chased

condensation coming out of your mouth when it's really cold in the morning

arcade just after close

stepping out on an unfamiliar metro/train stop

greenhouses that have been left to grow alone

biking/walking on the main road when it's dark and no cars are around

foggy swamp

bakery just after opening, everything is fresh and warm and the sun hasn't risen yet

hotel corridors in the middle of the night

foggy mornings in a meadow

flickering streetlights

long, dark hallways

the middle of a park when its snowing

train tracks in the forest

bonfires in the quiet

a little lake in the middle of the forest

lonely swings swaying with the wind

the woods on a night with a full moon

rest stops

empty metro stations that are usually crowded

gas stations on long mountain roads

the old part of a city when you’re the only one in the street

under an old bridge

knowing you're not alone in a space where you can't see anyone around you, like a forest

junkyards

a dimly lit stairwell

empty sidewalk outside of a small venue when you can hear live music through the walls

corner store in a small town

parking garage at night

an empty field with old/out-of-commission industrial equipment/large machinery

graffiti'd train car

[luztoyeweek]

LUZTOYE WEEK 2024 RECS - TUMBLR ONLY FICS

I'LL BE LOOKING AT THE MOON (BUT I'LL BE SEEING YOU) BY @ewipandora

"Don't you worry, Joe, it's an easy job. Just some cows, my horse and acres upon acres of golden grassfields. Easy peasy!" "You'll be alone and miles away from the nearest town. What if you find wild dogs? Mountain lions?" "That's why I have my fancy dandy gun, Joe, it's not for show. You know I can use it."

rated g // 700 words // very beautiful, evocative, and yearning. a beautiful snapshot into the essence of luztoye.

REDDISH RAINS AND WILD WEEDS BY @ewipandora

A cloud of red dust followed them while they rode through the deserted wasteland. The sun fell hard on their clothes, under which they fell sweat pooling already, and shone on whatever metallic surface of their bike that wasn't covered in rust and caked mud. George felt small pebbles hitting his goggles and he was sure it must have been worse for Joe, who was riding. They went on in silence, since the wind whistling in their ears and their clothes flapping were deafening and rendered any attempt at talking useless. Still, George loved every second of their journey. Just a few hours away and out of that hole in the ground. Just a few hours alone with Joe.

rated t // 1.6k // absolutely lovely and beautiful, with lovely running consciousness and beautiful descriptor words. the luztoye, as always, was absolutely stunning.

(S)HE JUST SMILED (AND TURNED HIS HEAD AROUND) BY @ewipandora

The strap of his bass digged into his shoulder harder than usual. He was tired, happy tired, but tired nonetheless. Next concert was in four days and he knew that he should be resting, but he couldn't. Electricity, hot and sharp, ran under his skin everytime he laid down to sleep, a deep current that numbed his fingers. Only way to stop it was playing. Again and again. Until he bled.

rated t/m // 2.4k // so very soft and lovely and painful, an absolutely beautiful fic and a very sweet, short read.

IS IT A VIDEO? BY @ewipandora

[Call Request. ID: 19517403] "Hey, sugarlips!" "Hi, George." "Miss me already?" "The moment we parted ways."

rated e // 2.7k // very very sweet and painful in all the best ways, with such lovely interactions and a beautiful twist on long distance and space aus.

BITTER AND SCALDING BY @ewipandora

Piercing light blinded him and made his brain hurt. He tried to turn away from it, seeking the cold side of his pillow, but it only made his ribs scream for mercy. He could swear they were ok last night. Although maybe the winter's cold made them hurt less after the beating he took. Worth it just to see Joe's face...

rated t // 1.1k // so beautifully domestic and warm, with such an adoring relationship for luztoye and beautiful writing and words.

SO THIS IS LOVE by @ewipandora

Joe was washing his hands to get rid of metal dust when he heard it. A loud cheer and laughing coming from the repair shop, where his coworkers were closing for the day. And he knew exactly why. He dried his hands quickly and limped back to the workshop, stopping on his way to make sure his face was clean and his hair well-combed.

rated g/t // 1.8k // very sweet with lovely writing, as always, and the same with everything from word to descriptions and detail.

[in-ghost-we-trust]

No dew on the morning grass

Chapter 2

Dewdrop x reader

Rain x reader???

A rewrite of twilight new moon

When dew left you crumbled into pieces, you've blocked out everyone

Rain = jacob???

Swiss = mike???

Also so very sorry this is so bad I'm on my phone not my computer, I haven't used my phone to post somthing on tumblr in years and I've completely forgot how to find bold and italics so pleaseeee don't judge I'm working with what I got

You haven't left your room in days, why should you? He's left and there's nothing else for you out of this room. When you do let yourself think, you realize that it sounds mean seeing how you have the rest of your friends, rain primaril. He was your best friend since he was summoned, you"ve been to peas in a pod ever since.

The first couple of days you didn't leave your room, he'd tried and tried to get in or you to come out, just anything, somthing. After you never did he would sit outside your door and tell you about his day, any stunts swiss pulled, mountains new flower beds for spring. He'd never get a reply but he could hear you shuffle out of bed to sit on the other side of the door, head pressed to the cool wood. You listened to him, took everything in. Anything he told you, you'd think about it when your mind wasnt on dew. As much as you wanted to open up that door and see rain, as much as you wanted his embrace, his familiar face, his safety, you couldn't bring yourself to open it. Your room was your salvation, no questions, no looks, you could just sleep, forget or dive into your grief, make yourself feel all the pain again and again. The pain was the only reminder that he was real, when mountain brought you back the pictures you had hanging from a line of fairy lights were gone, the blanket he got you for Christmas? Gone. All the shells he had dived into the lake by the abbey for you? Gone. It was as if wherever he had gone he had tied strings to anything that would directly remind you of him and tied them to himself and walked away.

You were in your bed when you heard it, the lock of your door being wiggled and a soft click, you weren't facing the door, you couldn't see who was comming in. Did you even want to look? You shut your eyes praying whoever this was would think you were asleep. A soft creak at the end of your bed sent a shiver down your spine, it didn't cross your mind it might be a creep or a werido until then. Staying still you heard soft foot steps and some rustling next to you. Your bed was about four feet from the window, you and dew had picked out a rocking chair when you both decided which one of your rooms to stay in when you became a couple. You hear it quietly creak like someone was sitting in it and rocking back and forth. A hand brushed stray pieces of hair away from your forehead, you fought the instinct to shoot your eyes open. The hand was cool and remind you of the smoothness of a rock. The hand left your skin and footsteps lead to the bathroom, the sound of water and more creaks towards you sounded in your ears. Your arm is lifted and a cold rag ran over it, you haven't even noticed you were burning hot, the rag moved to your other arm and the sheets you had covering you were moved away and you could feel the coolness of water run over your legs and stop just above your knee, at least whoever this is, is respectful. You heard a little drip drop of water and felt wetness on your face, gentle and safe, like you would wash a small child after they fell off their bike in the mud. It leaves your face and you don't feel anything else until a small part of your hair is moved, like someone trying to play with it. The rocking chair creeks and sounds like it is being pulled closer to the bed more than the window. You buck up enough to open your eye enough to look asleep and to see whoever it was.

Rain sat there looking at you, fingers fidgeting with the tips of your hair. You shut your one eye again. You relax a little bit but your brain starts to wonder. How long has he been doing this? How did you never notice? You decide to flip on your stomach to face him more, you feel his hands snatch away and a sharp intake of breath. You pretend to mumble somthing. You hear a shaky exhale and him starting to talk "I couldn't sleep again, swiss thinks it's werid for me to be here but I have to know your okay, I miss you so much ______ I mean everyone does but everyone has someone else" your stomach drops "cumulus and cirrus and sunshine, aether and swiss, mountains always been more to himself but me? I don't have you anymore" you feel like crying, you've been so caught up with your own heartache you've caused one "whenever you're okay and come back, I'll be there, as much as you need me" thank satan you had your eyes closed because if not tears would have been running down your face. You don't know what to do, you feel you have to do somthing. You "mumble" in your "sleep" again and stretch a arm out from under your head and let it flop on the arm of the rocking chair. You feel his hand take yours, it was a awkward angle but it was nice to feel his skin on your own. "I miss you so much _____" he whispers and traces your hand with his index finger. You actually do start to fall asleep with his voice as a lullaby. When you wake he's not there, your door is locked and there's no rag by your bed, no water, the rocking chair back in its spot. No evidence of him, just like dew.

Thanks to @the-fem1n1ne-urge for commenting, it really gave me motivation to write

Also sorry for no word count I'm writing this in tumblr and not my normal word docs

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 8, Part 2

Summer is here! Carson enters a new phase just in time for a family BBQ where Kayleigh takes the chance to catch up with her kids that no longer live at home.

After Harvey shepherds Carson to bed he looks around for Kayleigh. Eventually he finds her in Reece’s old room.

Harvey: Hey sugar, what are you doing in here

Kayleigh: Just missing our kids. They’re getting so grown up. You don’t think the watcher could put off Carson’s birthday do you

Harvey: They probably could, but they shouldn’t. All his friends are teens, he needs to grow up and join them. You know, I got a little something extra done at the doctors

Kayleigh: A vasectomy?

Harvey: I can’t exactly expect our kids to give me grandkids if we’re still making some

Kayleigh: *laughs* I suppose you’re right. Come on, let’s get to bed. We’ve got a big couple of days coming up

The next day dawns bright and clear. Summer is officially here and BBQ day is upon us. Traditions include inviting guests over, having drinks, having a BBQ, and general merriment with others.

Carson decides to throw a wrench in my plans by entering a bear phase. Oh this is painful.

He sorts out his washing and after putting it in the machine passes Kayleigh on his way to breakfast.

Kayleigh: Carson why-

Carson: I’m hibernating until I’m a teen

Kayleigh: Sounds like a plan, just don’t overheat and die

Carson: I won’t mum, I won’t

Kayleigh sets up for her third Sulani still life. She has one done at night and one done at dusk. Time to add one done in the morning. After scoffing down breakfast Carson is off. I thought he might bike in something else but he is pretty attached to this bear suit. Watch out Sulani, here comes a bear on a bike.

Better call the family over for BBQ day! I wonder how long it will be before everyone changes out of their hot weather outfits because they’ve jumped in the pool. To refresh memories or if you’ve started reading sometime after the Woods Household, from left to right we have: Harvey Foster (dad), Kayleigh Foster (mum), Charlie Nishidake (eldest child), Kaori Nishidake (Charlie’s wife), Keira Foster (second child), Marta Romero (Keira’s fiancé), Reece Foster (third child), Samir Hadji (Reece’s boyfriend). Down in front we have in the very embarrassing bear suit Carson Foster (fourth child) and Clover Nishidake (Charlie and Kaori’s furbaby).

Carson: Here’s Reece’s copy of the photo

Samir: Okay?

Reece: Hey why aren’t you gifting it to me

Carson: I don’t give gifts to piles of poop

Reece: At least I’m not dressed like a knock off Teletubby

...

Charlie: Who posed good for the camera? Was it you? Was it you?

Clover: *barks*

Harvey: So… grandkids?

Kaori: Ah, we- kids…

Charlie: We’re focused on being able to summit the mountain dad, leave her be

Keira: You good Samir

Samir: *shrugs*

Keira: Don’t worry. People are less stress when you get to know them. Loners unite!

Samir: Huzzah?

Keira: *laughs in surprise* exactly

...

Kayleigh: Now Marta honey tell me all about your wedding plans

Marta: We haven’t planned anything yet

Kayleigh: Great! We can do it together

Charlie: Don’t let her bulldoze you, she tried to get me to wear a dress

Kayleigh: *tuts* Yes but you won that argument

Carson: *grrr*

Reece: That’s the worst growl I’ve ever heard

Carson: I hope a bear eats you

Reece: *sighs* There are no bears in Moonwood Mill, why does nobody get that

Carson: Shove over, I want to get in

Reece: Na twerp, there’s a whole rest of the pool edge. Find your own spot

Carson: I just wanted to tell you, it’s my birthday party tomorrow-

Reece: I know how to read a calendar

Carson: I’m not inviting you! Ha, take that!

Reece: *smiles* Suits me fine, more time at home with my boyfriend

Carson: But- I- You- GRRRR

Carson is not impressed that his snub has been ignored in this way.

Marta: Thanks for being so… welcoming

Kayleigh pulls Marta in for a hug then.

Kayleigh: I want you to know Marta, your blood family may be in the forever save, but as long as you and Keira love each other, you’ll be a part of this family

Marta: I think my mama and padre would have liked you

Kayleigh: Yeah? Did they have any wedding plans for you

Marta: Well now that you mention it-

Harvey: Okay people, Gumbo is up! Come get it while it’s hot

Carson: Last one there’s a rotten egg

Reece: But you’re already a rotten egg

Carson: I’m telling mum you’re being mean

Reece: Do you ever not tattle

...

Samir: Thanks for the food

Harvey: Huh? Oh, you’re welcome Samir

Carson seeks the comfort of his bear suit now that he’s not in the water. Most of the family stay on the deck, chatting and eating. Charlie keeps them occupied with tales from her latest soccer games while Marta and Keira flirt.

Clover however is having a scratch and snooze in the shade. Samir has elected to eat inside. It’s the full moon tonight and he feels stressed about being here. Beyond just talking to people that he wants to think well of him, he’s worried he’ll beast out and scare them. After kicking over the rubbish bin he decides to try relaxing in the water.

Kayleigh: Samir could I speak to you

Samir: Ahh, sure?

Kayleigh: I know Reece doesn’t want to take more money right now but I’d really like to help out. I know you’ve got the electricity and water sorted at your house but can we give you some money for maybe a repaint

Samir: Reece doesn’t want it…

Kayleigh: Yes but would you like it

Samir pulls himself out of the pool and Kayleigh waits, hoping he’ll let her help. Instead he shakes off the water just like Clover would.

Kaori: That’s one way to dry off

Samir: I... if Reece doesn't... no thank you

Still mumbling half to himself Samir heads inside while Kayleigh figures she'll have to go back to the drawing board for ideas on how to get them to take money.

Worried by the exchange Reece follows Samir inside and finds him staring at the family photos.

Reece: Are you okay boss? If you’re not we can go home

Samir: I… this full moon *sighs and kisses Reece’s hands*

Reece: We’ve been here 3 hours already. It’ll be fine if we leave

Samir: I want to make a good impression

Reece: You will, but we probably shouldn't push it if you think you'll be turning soon. I would rather you be comfortable than have my parents impressed with you

Samir: Okay blondie, home it is. Thanks

Reece: Yo dad, we’re off!

Harvey: See you guys, safe loading screen home

Outside Marta is busy serenading Keira and Kayleigh has started on a new painting.

Kaori: What are you working on today

Kayleigh: I never seem to know what I’ll paint until I’m in the thick of it

Kaori: I get that. Sometimes when I snowboard it’s more like the board and the run are telling me what tricks to do

Kayleigh: The process just… is

Kaori: Exactly

After the guests have left Harvey sets about cooking another meal. The family are still full from a big lunch but the food will keep. Carson arrives back from scouts and goes to ask Kayleigh for advice.

Carson: Hey mum

Kayleigh: mmhmm

Carson: At recess last week no one was playing with me. It sucked and I didn’t know what to do

Kayleigh: Dear your friends are all teens, you’ll be one after your next school day. I‘d try to ride it out. If you really want kids to play with ask some if you can join in. If it goes badly, you never have to talk to them after that day anyway

Carson: Okay mum

The family spend the sunny evening doing their own things. Harvey goes for a run while Kayleigh tries to boost her logic skill for promotion. Carson bikes around the island, happy in his bear suit.

Kyle: Yo Mr Foster, can I interest you in-

Harvey: Sorry Kyle, I left my wallet at home

Kyle: Fair enough Mr Foster. Have a good night now

Harvey: Next time I see your boss I’ll tell them you’re working hard

Kyle: Sweet

Harvey sets about making a cake for Carson’s birthday tomorrow. Pink has always been his first favourite colour so strawberry it is. While it cooks he contemplates portraits Kayleigh has done of their backyard oasis. One of the showers busted earlier so Harvey takes care of it before he and Kayleigh head to bed.

It’s barely 6am when Kayleigh and Harvey are woken up by a sad Carson.

Harvey: Hey, what’s wrong

Carson: I don’t feel good

Kayleigh: You do have a temperature

Carson: I thought vaccinations were meant to stop me getting sick

Kayleigh: Not quite, but they help you be less sick. Let’s go see what we can get you from the pharmacy

When they get back home Carson tries some cough medicine, but it does nothing for the chills. Kayleigh gives him paracetamol which seems to work better.

Carson: Can I stay home today

Kayleigh: I don’t think so darling

Carson: But I’m sick

Kayleigh: Yes but the watcher can’t find any way to call in sick, only fake call, so we’re stuck for now

Carson: Stupid watcher

Harvey of course takes time to deal with the garden while Carson goes and has a hot bath, hoping the steam will lessen the pressure in his head.

Harvey: You’ll wait until I’m home to do cake right

Kayleigh: Of course we will

Carson: Bye mum. See you after school. I hope I don’t infect my whole class

Kayleigh: Come on watcher could you really not find a stay home option (I could not)

After completing some paintings Kayleigh heads outside to bring the washing in. There has been reports lately of high winds in the area so she also upgrades the clothesline before heading off to work.

Previous ... Next

[limerental]

ficletvember 2023 - day 24

ciri & her messed up parents modern au ft. yenralt

For the first time in years and with great trepidation, Ciri returns home for a holiday family gathering.

aka I'm pushing my ciri as jenny from thebes agena

Ciri dropped the kickstand of her bike and worked her stiff fingers in and out of fists, regretting her smart-looking fingerless gloves after miles of chilled highway. The driveway and street out front of the little house was full, and somebody had slung lights up on the eaves and chucked a crooked wreath on the door. 

Half the cars she didn't recognize, but then, she hadn't been back for years.

A little tabby hurried up the walk to meet her, tail raised high, and Ciri swung off her bike to drop to meet her. Scratching behind her ears, she tipped up an oversized tag on her collar to read– of course.

Roach nudged at the laces of her boots and purred.

For all the things that did, some things never changed.

When Mama had called to tell her they were doing family Yuletide dinner, Ciri had laughed out loud. Couldn't help it. She couldn't imagine her Mama home-cooking anything without some disaster happening. When she was little, Mama used to peel the label off store-bought jam to give as gifts to her teachers. They’d always gotten takeout on the important holidays. Eaten quiet together washed by the glow of the TV. 

Those were the good holidays. The bad ones were loud.

Daddy home late from a shift he claimed he wouldn't take this year. Mama red-eyed and yelling. She looked like she could call down lightning sometimes when she was real mad, black hair frizzed out and wild, and Daddy usually got that stubborn gleam in his eye and put his foot in his mouth and then–

There were great holidays too, of course. Her years spent with Pops and her uncles in the mountains, bundled up like a marshmallow for hunting trips and coming in out of the cold to a feast laid out by the roaring fire. There'd been times with her cousins from the islands, learning to ice skate and rev a snowmobile.

And there'd been great times with her parents too. Just never together under the same roof. That's when it soured. 

There'd been that year that she and her dad went camping in the middle of fuck-all nowhere. Just them and their bikes and the fog and shitty freeze-dried army rations cooked out of bags. That'd been nice.

And the year Mama took her to the city, bought tickets to a show and let her dress up fancy, a little slutty, and ate takeout in their opulent hotel room after, gossiping and giggling like little girls at a sleepover. That'd been a night she remembered so fondly it ached.

But there'd never been great times in this house. Mama had lived here in Vengerberg forever, and Daddy had lived here in a rotation of years on and off and Ciri had lived here when she wasn't off at school but always done her best to find other places to go. 

The first chance she could, she was gone. That escape came with its own measure of fucked up nights and bad times, but that was another story. Ciri had clawed her way out of several dark places and had figured she'd keep doing that forever.

She'd never seen her Mama's place with Yule lights on the eaves. Couldn't quite remember why no one had ever decorated. Maybe just to be stubborn and miserable. Any time they'd tried, it became a fight. The same as anything.

Ciri made herself go up the front walk, climbing the stoop and just standing there looking at the crooked greenery on the door. She reached out and straightened it rather than knocking.

She wished she'd brought somebody with her. Someone to stand here with a hand at the small of her back and make the decision to go in for her. She'd been told on the phone she could bring a guest, her Mama's voice dipping in question like she wanted to ask who she was with now but had thought better of it. 

Ciri didn't have anybody. Maybe never had anyone.

She knocked on the door and didn't wait for the answer, just pushed in. Roach leapt past her legs, and the gathering in the front room that rambled out into the dining room all exclaimed with joy when they saw her. Some of the people who clapped her on the back or called a greeting were unfamiliar, but maybe she'd just forgotten or they'd shaved their beard or dyed their hair.

The rooms were hung with garland around the doorways, and music swelled from somewhere. The light was warm, and the space was full.

After being released from the umpteenth bear hug, somebody told her that her parents were in the kitchen finishing up dinner. They laughed over the mock-scared face she pulled, but the way her heartbeat kicked up, it was barely a joke.

The kitchen was too small for much of anything. Daddy always said he'd take out that half wall and give it some breathing room, but there'd been hemming and hawing over details and then a bitterness that it never got done and then a grudge and a stubborn insistence it wasn't necessary anyway to expand a kitchen no one stepped foot in.

Now, every bit of counter space was swathed with foil covered dishes. Enough to feed an army. Ciri felt a little pang of guilt that maybe they'd been waiting for her.

Mama and Daddy were standing at the stove together. Daddy with his white hair tied back, wearing a kiss the cook apron, and Mama looking short as hell in her stocking feet stirring a pot of something on the stove. 

They spoke quiet together, heads bent close. Daddy's hand rested at her waist and when she cut the burner and turned to him, he dropped a kiss into her hair. They swayed together, a vision of opposites. Rising up out of Ciri's muck-stained memories like a mirage. 

Mama short and fat and happy. Daddy stooping a little to rest his chin against her cloud of dark hair. 

It didn't seem wholly fair. That after everything, after all those ruined holidays, everything she fled from, her parents should claw their way to something as peaceful and real as this. Something that felt different.

Ciri hadn't believed it when Mama told her. That something was different this time. But she believed it now, as much as she could believe anything at all. 

The tabby weaved between her legs and meowed after a piece of ham, and her parents looked up and turned her way, faces brimming with wet smiles, and when they opened their arms together, she fell into them and held tight to both, hoping someday she'd look back on this year as one of the great ones. Fighting back the bitterness like a cold and solid wave.

[etapereine]

i'll build a fire, you fetch the water

@cycleprompttuesday: "extra"

also on ao3

bring a pot of water to boil.

the window above the sink looks out across the lake toward the mountains, and you watch them as you wait for the pot to fill. there’s no snow, not yet, but already the air is cooler. already you keep your jacket on for your whole training ride, instead of shedding it as the sun rises high in the sky. tadej always laughs at you, when you come back with your nose turned pink from the cold. and they say you are made of ice, he jokes, before finding plenty of inventive ways to warm you up again.

it’s strange, perhaps unnerving, how easily you get used to it, to him. you think of your house in denmark, empty now in the winter. how did you ever survive the cold, before?

here, in your kitchen in switzerland, tadej hums along to the italian song that’s coming out of his phone as he tosses the salad. to set the mood, he says. you wonder how many glasses of wine it will take, to get him to start singing. you have the time tonight, to find out.

cook the pasta until al dente.

there is more pasta in the pot than the two of you can feasibly eat. there is bread on the counter, waiting to be sliced, and a whole bottle of wine that tadej picked out earlier in the afternoon. there is a pastry box, in the pantry. you remind yourself: the season is over. there are no dieticians here, no precise calculations of calories or kilograms or power outputs. when you ride, tomorrow, it will be a different kind of race. tadej will fly away from you, or you from him, but you will both laugh. he will try to kiss you, at the summit, and you will let him, but after you will glance around, mindful of anyone watching. you wonder, often, what it would be like to live the way he does, never afraid of anything at all.

here, as you wait for the pasta to cook, you can make it up to him. you are a good kisser, he makes that very clear. what is this for? he asks when you part for air. he is giggling, and you think it is the most glorious sound in the world.

peel and slice the garlic.

you watch tadej at work, deft fingers stripping away papery thin layers and making a mess all over your pristine counter. it is new, this thing where you cook together, train together, exist in each other's space together. half the drawers in your dresser have his clothes in them, and your spare toothbrush lives in his bathroom in monaco. at first, you had tried to hide from him how much it scares you - not the commitment, not him, but the potential disaster that comes with it. you can flirt with danger while speeding down a descent, but there are other hazards in the shadows that you cannot control with your bike, your legs, your own strength of will. he sees, of course, because he knows you. don’t hide from me, please? he had begged, and your fears aren’t so heavy, when you share them with someone else.

here, in the haze of steam coming up from the pasta pot, he flicks a bit of garlic peel in your direction as you wash your hands. you fling water back at him, and he shakes it off with a wide smile. it’s easy, in autumn, to remind yourself that this is something you can have.

sauté the garlic in olive oil.

tadej looks at the bottle. extra virgin, he says, and you can see the joke on his tongue before he tells it. he is good at making you blush, you have learned, but still you laugh in spite of yourself. he wiggles his eyebrow, tries to look sultry and alluring but only succeeds in looking ridiculous. you kiss him anyway, pulling him in by the front of his hoodie. the garlic crackles in the pan, and his hand trails up your back, under your tshirt. the knobs of your spine are less pronounced, now that the demands of the season are behind you, but his fingers trace them anyway, remembering each one. in madrid he had kissed each of your vertebrae in turn, after sneaking into your hotel room late at night, right under the nose of your team.

here, in the radiant heat of the stovetop, he dances his lips under your jaw and down your neck until you swat at him with the spatula. later, you say, half admonishment and half promise, unable to keep the fondness from your voice. he just laughs, and shakes his hips exaggeratedly as he turns away to set the table.

stir the pasta and cooking water into the garlic and olive oil.

the cashier at the grocery store had not blinked twice, when the two of you walked through. the other riders out on the roads recognize you, but they let you have your privacy, content with a wave and a smile. you like the quiet, and the time it allows you to take, away from the demands of the team and the sponsors and the races. you give the pasta a final stir as he refills the wine glasses. it is a sight just for you: tadej, outlined by the setting sun, preparing the table for a meal you will share together. during the season, you try not to look at him too much, all too aware of your feelings writ so obviously across your face. emotionless, they call you, but you are afraid every time that someone will see it in your eyes.

here, in the fading light of the sunset and the glow of the candles, you can look all you want. he smiles at you and you think: surely you must be struck down, for having dared to gaze on so much beauty. his foot tangles with yours under the table, then runs teasingly up your leg. a promise, for later.

you have the time, after all.

note: let the pasta rest before serving.

[captainbuzzard]

here's adaptability, a comic i made for @waveridden for the blb winter exchange! set during the coronation era's s2 postseason. in which the members of throwkyo make a video call.

the rest of the pages (and the transcript) are after the cut.

Transcript An seven-page comic, uncolored, with black line art.

Page 1 Aya Chartreuse sits by a table as she paints a small vase with underglaze and gestures with her paintbrush as she talks. AYA [ONGOING CONVERSATION]: Would that work? Katy Hermoso crouches on the opposite side of the table as they fiddle with 5-gallon buckets of glaze). KATY: Oh yeah, I'd love to. "Gumdrop" Che Amran walks by the studio's open door, one hand raised in a wave as ne gestures for Katy and Aya to come. CHE: C'mon, you lot! Clean up so we can start the call! KATY, leaning over the table as they raise a hand toward the door: Che! Is it already that time? ...And ne's already gone. AYA, leaning back as she stretches with a smile: Best get going then! Özlem's a busy lady nowadays. Katy washes up at the sink, and Aya stands behind with her paintbrush, waiting to do the same. KATY, continuing their conversation: So yeah, let's plan on Thursday for that. Aya: Great! The two walk down the hall, then arrive by a room in which Che is waiting. CHE, waving from the couch: Come, sit down! Che hands Katy a tablet as she sits down. CHE: And Katy, help me set this up, will you?

Page 2 Katy, Che, and Aya sit crammed next to each other on a couch. Che sits in the middle, holding ner tablet. AYA: Good thing it was Özlem who left, you'd be hopeless at getting the calls up and running without The Kid [referring to Katy, the youngest of the group] here helping. Che turns to Aya and gently bonks her on the head with ner tablet. CHE: Oh hush, you! Aya laughs with a note of indignation. AYA: Haha, hey! CHE: The call's starting! The view shifts to Che's point of view as ne holds the tablet in front of ner. Özlem's face appears on the screen, but is notably silent despite appearing to talk. CHE: Hold on a moment! We can't hear you. Katy! Assist! KATY, as an aside, in joking indignation: What am I to you, Che? A pokemon? Özlem points a finger at themself as they continue to silently speak. KATY: But yeah Özlem, it's definitely on your end. You sure you're unmuted? The screen goes black. KATY: ...And we lost them. The view shifts to show Katy, Gumdrop, and Aya on the couch again. Gumdrop looks up at Aya with a smirk. CHE, sweetly: Aya... AYA, steepling her fingers as she smiles back at Che with a similarly honeyed shit-eating expression: Yes...? CHE: What was that about ME being the hopeless one with tech? AYA: Point taken. Katy snickers. Che once again looks at ner tablet. CHE: Oh! Özlem's trying again. And... Take Two! ÖZLEM: Uh hello? Is it working this time? ALL: Yes! ÖZLEM: Perfect!

Page 3 A view of the three on the couch, from the back, showing that they've propped the tablet on the coffee table in front of the couch. They lean together. ÖZLEM, from the tablet in front of them: Oh look at you all huddled together! I Can't tell if it warms my heart or makes me feel cold not being there with you. Che puts a finger to their face in a mock-thoughtful expression. CHE: You sure you're not just cold because you're out in that horrid weather? Get some sense and get inside? As a faint aside, ne says: And we miss you too. ÖZLEM: Oh it's really not that bad! Besides... I wanted to share the views here with you. It's pretty incredible. Özlem stands aside to gesture at the mountainous Yellowstone landscape. KATY: Any good biking? ÖZLEM: Too much snow on the ground... But I've been told there's some biking trails, so I'm scoping them out on foot for next time. AYA: pft. Already planning your next few losses? ÖZLEM: No way! It's the MAGIC that'll lose. Y'know I'll just float on by to the next team before it happens. AYA: Well... How 'bout you "float on by" to the Lift next season? Che's been talking about your pottery wheel missing you.

Page 4 ÖZLEM: Hah! I was making pots a mother couldn't love! My wheel should be FEARING my return next season. If there is one. CHE: As if anything could prevent it! Better luck stopping the tide. ÖZLEM: Oh yeah, blaseball's not going anywhere. Özlem, who has only been appearing in frame as they'd appear in the camera from their phone this whole time, leaves the frame's focus. Their glasses obscure their eyes, and they become less expressive. ÖZLEM: All I meant was... Özlem pauses. ÖZLEM: Actually I don't know what I meant. AYA, with a serious expression: You were talking about your return. ÖZLEM: Yeah. I just have a feeling a championship will be enough, you know? The frame showing Özlem once again zooms out to show the tablet. They hold their phone out to their side, at enough of an angle to make the trees appear askew on frame. ÖZLEM: I love the new experiences, but...

Page 5 Özlem turns toward the camera once again, with an earnest smile. ÖZLEM: I'd just like to actually have the time to figure out the bike routes, y'know? The view shifts to the trio on the couch. Che and Aya hold hands, and Katy is half out of the frame. CHE: So, are you ready to settle back down? ÖZLEM: Ughh... I mean, I gotta win this thing, first. That's why I left, yeah? I'll figure out what comes next afterwards. Özlem's camera once again shifts to show them in profile, and again it's askew. They have a small, slightly sad, smile. ÖZLEM: Tokyo was--Tokyo's great. I don't think I'll find anything quite like that again. But I'm sure I'll adjust to wherever I end up. Of course, maybe I'm wrong, and I'll be raring to go again next season. An alarm on Özlem's end sounds. They turn to face their phone again. ÖZLEM: Oh?? Sorry, that's my alarm. The view shifts out to show the entire tablet with Özlem on it again. ÖZLEM: And look! We've talked all about me, and it's already time to go. Bad form on my part! The view pans out a little more, to show the trio on the couch, from the back so the tablet with Özlem is still in view. CHE: Not a problem! You certainly have a bit more going on right now. ÖZLEM: Well! I still expect the full download on what you've been up to this postseason, regardless! Does tomorrow evening work? KATY: Not for me. I've promised Vern I'd help him with some two-person repairs, but you all shouldn't wait on my account. Aya'll fill me in.

Page 6 ÖZLEM: It's a plan! Well... It's been lovely seeing you. Katy pulls out her phone. KATY: Hey Özlem, before we let you go... I've been watching the forecasts. Tomorrow's game is a gold eclipse, so you're safe on the Magic. [note: the Magic was a team favored by bard umpires]. KATY, with an insistent and worried expression: But... Please be careful. ÖZLEM: Hah! Of course I will. KATY: Özlem, I mean it. Don't go listening to the umpires again, alright? [note: I had a different comic planned at first, about this subject]. ÖZLEM: No need to worry so much! Everything'll be fine, there's just a few games left until the season ends. I'll be able to visit before you know it, and the pottery studio will quake in fear at my approach. AYA: We'll be holding you to that!

Page 7 ÖZLEM: Okay, okay, I've delayed as long as I can. I gotta get going! The view pans out to show the tablet. ÖZLEM: You know I love you all. See you soon! ALL: See you later, Özlem! The tablet goes dark. The view shifts to show the trio on the couch. Che leans forward and presses something on the tablet. All three sit for a moment, with serious expressions. AYA: They're not coming back, are they. Not for good at least. KATY: Doesn't seem that way. Katy holds one of Gumdrop's hands. Aya reaches an arm over Gumdrop's shoulder to Katy's shoulder. CHE: But they'll be fine. They're adaptable like that. The three lean together in a tangled hug on the couch. CHE: And whatever happens, we'll be fine, too. I'm sure of it.

[localgirlbecomesobsessed]

Leo x Xena x Sho

(Established relationship)

Minors dni~

Alan is third? fourth wheeling?~but he’s the gentle giant kind of best friend so it’s allowed.

The Race

“We need to figure out how strong these anomalies are.”

Alan gestured to the three strange vehicles in front of them, as if that was a perfect or reasonable explanation for waking them up at 6AM. The three other students all stood bleary eyed in their pyjamas as they debated the likelieness of coming out of alive after attempting to murder Alan.

The odds were not in their favour.

Xena was an unlucky victim in Alan’s endeavour being brought into the fray just because she was unluckily in the same place as the desired victims.

she was wearing a black hello kitty pj set, Sho was wearing the white and Leo was wearing the pink. It was Leo’s idea to all be matching, after he and Sho kidnapped Xena on her way home. She had worked a big mission with frostheim but there’s no rest for the wicked and she had to jump straight into helping Thoma with all the paperwork and then Jin with whatever annoying tasks he wanted to set for her and THEN Kaito side tracked her and begged for help with his homework which he didn’t even do instead he attempted to flirt whilst getting flustered as he was unable to read her face something that happens way too many times and that kaito keeps telling her makes him nervous.

She was exhausted so when they pulled up on Bonnie and practically swooped her onto the bike she just let it happen. After that they threw her into the already prepared bath, with a special peach bathbomb and a dozen candles surrounding it. Leo had put a seaweed face mask on her as well as himself and Sho who disappeared into his kitchen. She nearly fell asleep in the bath if it weren’t for Leo chattering away as he washed her hair. She was too tired to even argue about the level of doting nor did she want to complain as calmness overtook her as she allowed herself to be spoiled by Leo.she didn’t even complain when he took the selfie of the two of them in their face mask as she sighed in a state of tranquility which overwhelmed her as she melted in Leo’s hands. She didn’t want to leave the bath but through Leo’s insistence she eventually did putting on the prepared pj set that matched with what the other two were already wearing.

Sho cooked them a feast of all different new sample foods for the truck, which she devoured after Leo dried her hair-she wasn’t used to this sort of treatment and generally felt like crying at the tenderness and kindness as both Sho and Leo sat beside her, she took their hands into her own giving each a gentle kiss as she gave them a tired smile. The two looking down at her adoringly as a light blush dusted Sho’s face and a Cheshire Cat grin spread across Leo’s.

The two chattered away as she curled up between them, crashing out almost immediately as she fell asleep to the sound of their voices.

She was usually someone who woke up at the slightest thing, yet she was out like a light the whole night…that was until Alan came charging in blaring an air horn without realising Xena was there too. She was hidden between the two in a mini blanket mountain as both Sho and Leo curled into her, the two shouting profanities at Alan as they tried to hide with her in the blanket mountain.

The three bleary eyed and ready to murder squad was dragged outside to the quad, Alan was apologetic for Xena but not entirely as it did help with what he needed.In a state of confusion they allowed Alan to guild them there thinking it was an emergency-although Xena and Leo had to be convinced not to kill the captain of vagastrom by a very tired and exasperated Sho.

Thus here they were staring at the vehicles in outstounded fury as Alan looked at them expectantly.

“What the fuck do you mean?what you want us to fight a tricycle be fucking for real you eurgh-fucking himbo.”

Leo’s fury dwindled down quickly as tiredness took over-he tried to repel a yawn from taking over mid sentence but the yawn won the fight disgruntling Leo even further. Xena looked as stony as ever as she deathglared at the ‘vehicles’ before her and Sho looked like he still had no idea what was going on, clearly not in a state of coherence yet.

There was a tricycle, a tandem bike and a scooter.

“They’ve just come in and won’t respond to the normal tests, we have to test on how they deal with having a rider and how compatible they are-they need the information immediately, I got the call from dante.”

All four of them wore deadpanned looks as they stared at the demonic bikes, Alan frowned at them in annoyance as he tried to think of what vehicle to use.

Leo sighed as he brushed a hand through his hair, he was about to chew the captain out even more when a flurry of black ran by him and literally threw themselves onto the tricycle. Xena as stoic as ever held her middle finger up at all of them as a murderous glint sparkled in her eyes. She did not do well in the morning…especially at 6am in the morning.

Alan frowned as he grasped bandanas arm leading him to the tandem bike, leaving Leo with the scooter.

He put his foot onto the scooter with a look of disgust.

“I’m not fucking doing th-“

His foot was stuck.

He literally couldn’t move and by the disgruntled look from Alan and Sho neither could they. He whipped his phone out as he took a picture of the two idiots looking laughably cute on the bike, he swung his phone back over Xena who looked absolutely ridiculous as she pulled the hood up of her hoodie and was sat with her knees up in the air as she awaited to start the race. Her stoic expression made it even more ridiculous as she stared off into the distance.

He then took an insane amount of selfies as he wanted proof of the stupidity that was his life at Darkwick. Maybe this was his punishment for looking into Dante and Alan.

“I guess we sta-“

Before Alan could finish Xena darted off looking even more ridiculous than before as her little legs went into overdrive as she forced her away back to vagastrom dorm. The wheels squeaked as the child sized tricycle sped off ahead of them.

She was tired and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to be back in bed in the next twenty minutes. Leo and the tandem duo looked at eachother in wide eyed surprise as they watched her disappear around the corner, Alan was next to shoot off as Sho still sat there half asleep, he almost fell off as Alan went speeding away.

Leo sighed as he once again tried to take his foot off of the scooter, failing miserably and accepting his fate a

he started scooting back to the dorms.

_____________________

Xena’s fury got her back to the dorm in ten minutes as she wordlessly got up from the tricycle seeming to have met the goals of the anomaly successfully.

She pushed her way into the dorms before collapsing on the sofa of the shared area. She groaned in exhaustion in the empty room as she heard the squeaky wheels of the tricycle follow behind her. She didn’t even bother to look up at the strange anomaly as she slowly fell back asleep.

Alan was next to arrive 5 minutes later with Sho holding on for dear life in the second seat. The tandem bike let them off but seemed almost hesitant in doing so, Alan dragged Sho into the dorms spotting xena crashed out on the sofa, the tricycle sat beside her seeming almost happy as it rings its bell to greet them.

He’ll have to write that down in the report, the tandem didn’t seem to have much of a personality seeming almost grumpy in spirit whereas the tricycle was brimming with a fire. He watched in amusement as Sho collapsed on top of Xena-snuggling into her as she made a croaky groan in response taking Sho’s hand in her own.

Alan enjoyed the peacefulness of the morning, the quiet sounds of Sho snoring echoed throughout the room. He went to grab himself a cold coffee but as he did he heard a loud clatter just outside the door.

“FUCK SAKE.”

Leo’s finally here.

Another loud bang and the whirlwind that is Leo came crashing through the doors. He frowned at Alan before sighing as he searched for his favourite duo, his eyes landed on their sleeping figures and Alan watched amused as Leo followed Sho’s lead and dumped himself on top of the other two.

Both groaned in response as xena finally turned around to make herself more comfortable. She snuggled into Sho who snuggled into her who had Leo snuggling into the both of them. It was a cute dog pile and Alan snapped a quick picture sending the awfully blurry picture to all three of them before going to fill out the paperwork.

Alan sighed as he sorted through the paperwork-It seems only the tricycle was worth bringing into the fold-the tandem and scooter can stay until they figure out something else.

———————————————-

When Xena and sho woke up Leo was already scrolling through his phone, he shoved his phone into their faces as they looked at his new post.

It was an assortment of pictures of Xena with her face mask on, the set up of the bath showing it covered in candles and the bathbomb-Sho cooking up the feast and the three of them eating-numerous selfies of the trio-Xena crashed out between them with Leo and Sho throwing up a peace sign in the selfie-lastly the blurry picture taken by Alan of the three of them crashed out on the sofa.

Spoiling our girlfriend so she lets us use her as a pillow #thebestboyfriendstoeverexist

[fishfingersalad]

Rvb skating hcs, bc I miss skating but I can’t figure out how to put the brake back on my blades, and where I live is rlly hilly so I need it or else I'm trapped in the cul-de-sac.

Putting a break cause its a real long list lol

Skateboards:

Alpha Church (Can’t actually skateboard, swears he can but he's sooo wobbly) Tex (Can actually skateboard, makes fun of church) Tucker (Between Church and Tex’s levels, hes decent at it) Wash (Don’t think I need to explain this one) Niner (I’ve seen a lot of wheelchair niner hcs, shed totally do wheelchair skateboarding) Palomo (Falls over a lot, but hey he just keeps on going.) Bitters (Absolutely holds it over Palomos head that he’s better at skateboarding) Theta (canon)

Rollerskates:

Kai (Dunno if this one needs an explanation, she might like derby ngl) Donut (He seems like he’d use them as transportation, just skatin around) South (She’d do roller derby and get so competitive about it) CT (Seen some videos of people doing sweet flips and tricks w skates) Ohio (She gives me the vibe of someone who’s got cool iridescent pink roller skates) Andersmith (Picked up skating cause the younger lieutenants were into it) Matthews (He’s a bit unbalanced, but he’s determined)

Rollerblades:

Carolina (Speed, blades are faster than skates) Simmons (He is shaky as hell, but he is trying. Won’t skate anywhere that’s not flat.) Kimball (Lina taught her, they race) Dr Grey (Dunno, just vibes) Jensen (Much like Simmons but with more uneven terrain) Epsilon Church (Picked blades so he could skate w Lina, and to be different from Wash n Alpha) Omega/O’malley (I'm just picturing him chasing people around at high speeds, cackling) Eta (Wanted to try something new, and to spend time w Theta)

Iceskates:

Florida (Specifically figure skating) Felix (Honestly idk, he’s cold and sharp like an ice skate) Delta (He’d ramble about why it’s an intellectual sport, but actually just thinks its fun) Sigma (He’d be rlly pretentious about it)

Scooter:

York (Guy has no balance but still wants to be included) Iota (Cheers on Eta and Theta, does sick scooter tricks)

Other:

Grif (I think he’d have a longboard that he rides around) Sarge (Quad bike) Doc (Also a longboarder) Idaho (I think he’d prefer dirt bike racing) Iowa (Quad bike, it’s like a mongoose) Caboose (Mountain bike, no real explanation, just vibes)

Doesn’t skate (or bike or anything):

Lopez (He prefers cars, might've made an electric skateboard at some point but doesn't rlly use it) Wyoming (Can’t see him skating at all ngl) North (Cheers everyone else on and records videos) Maine (First aid) Locus (Tried to skate once and fell over. Now he just broods from the benches.) Doyle (Too nervous, prefers to just watch) Gamma (I don’t think he’d go outside much ngl)

[kuumara]

Wash my hair and tell me I'm pretty

Will is done with this- he's done with Mike. He hasn't been answering anyone's calls ever since his family got home from their vacation. It's been two days. It's time to be impolite a little bit and come visit unannounced, screw what Mike's parents will think.

So Will gets on his bike, and cycles all the way to Mike's house. Something is very wrong with him, and Will is going to help him if he wants it or not.

At the Wheelers' residence, Nancy opens the door.

"Oh, hey Will," she greets and smiles. "You here because of Mike, aren't you?"

Will nods.

"Well, come on in then. He's in the basement."

Will takes off his shoes and almost runs into the basement-

"Wait! Wait, Will," Nancy yells behind him, and Will turns around, impatient. Nancy goes into the kitchen and come back with a plate of spaghetti and a fork.

"Get him to eat this, will you?" She asks and gives him the plate. Will's heart sinks, he hasn't been eating apparently. He nods, thanks Nancy and, now more carefully, goes into the basement.

He hasn't been in there for a while, he remembers. And a lot of things have changed- it's dirtier, messier. He sees Mike laying in front of the turned off TV, between pillows and blankets on the floor, already looking at him.

"Hey," Will greets. Mike just grunts and stands up, nervously putting the pillows on the couch.

Will is about to put the plate on the table, but he sees there's not much room- a bunch of mountain dew cans and candy wraps littering it. He makes a concerned face.

"I'm fine," Mike notices it. "You don't have to worry, my mom's just dramatic..." he continues to try to tidy the floor, now throwing board games to a corner.

"Well, you haven't answered any of our calls."

"I didn't feel like it,"

"You could've told us, we would understand..."

Mike sighs, shakily. "I'm sorry." And takes the plate from Will's hands, purposefully dragging his hands over Will's, making his heart jump. Mike isn't meeting his eyes, instead looking at the ground and turning to sit on the couch. But the plate of food remains sitting on his lap, his hand clenching the fork.

Will comes to sit next to him, and notices Mike's long hair is terribly knotted together.

"It's alright." He whispers, and Mike finally meets his eyes. He offers a reassuring smile, but Will can tell he's not doing too well.

He stands up and starts to open drawers. "Do you have a comb in here?"

Mike looks at him, confused. Then he remembers his annoying hair, and blushes.

"Sorry I'm a mess- I didn't know you'll be coming,"

"So you would've acted as if you were alright if I didn't come?" Will suddenly stops and looks at him with concern. Mike tenses, clutching the fork tighter.

Will sighs, walking closer to Mike. "Y'know you can tell me stuff."

"I- I know," Mike gulps. Will smiles fondly at him, observing how pretty Mike is, even in this state. He wants to brush his hair out his face, and maybe kiss him softly, to let him know he means it- except he can't. He sighs, and turns around to look for a comb in the bathroom.

"It's in here," Mike followed him and is now opening the cupboard above the sink. Will takes it before Mike does, and smiles at his confused face.

"I'll do it, there's no way you can untangle all of that yourself."

Mike blushes a bit, and Will brushes it off. He's gotten used to knowing all Mike does is platonic, and eventually, if he keeps up the good work, it probably won't hurt anymore.

Will steps behind him, but quickly figures Mike's too tall for him. So he sits on the sink in front of him, instead, trying not to focus on Mike's dark eyes too much.

He sucks in a breath, careful not to be too loud about it, and turns a frozen Mike around to get access to the most tangled hair on his head. He puts three fingers on the side of Mike's head, to steady it, and tries to comb the hair in the least painful way.

After some time of working through Mike's many knots and a lot of groaning and hissing, Will notices they've gotten- close. Mike is standing between Will's legs, leaning on the sink with his arms and being this close to lean into him fully, and Will's hand is holding the beginning of Mike's jawline as well as the side his head.

That makes Will's heart speed up rapidly, of course, and he stops laughing at some joke Mike is telling- or rather explaining.

Mike looks over his shoulder to Will, their faces getting very close. Will notices Mike's gaze falls to his lips almost immediately, and tries to stop himself from blushing all over.

Mike is now looking at him with those eyes and that look and Will, the idiot he is, pushes his head to get him to face away.

And continues combing as if nothing has happened, but in reality his heart is beating out his chest and his vision is getting blurry. He might as well be having a stroke, but that would be embarrassing as hell, especially after what had just happened.

He doesn't move away from their close proximity, however.

Next on Will's list of getting-Mike-together is getting him clean. While combing his hair they both realized there's a concerning amount of melted candy-like stuff, at which Mike laughed nervously.

So, after Mike eating the now-cold spaghetti, they head up to the upstairs bathroom where Mike cleans his teeth- with flossing!

Will convinces Mike to go take a shower as well, and after a ton of pleading and puppy-eyeing Mike agrees to go wash his hair.

Will waits outside, until he hear Mike call for him: "Will! Will, can you get me some clothes,"

Will obeys and looks for some clean pajamas in his closet. Mike's room is a big change from his basement, all clean and tidy, almost as if it's a guest room rather than his room.

Will makes sure he won't see Mike naked - even though he wouldn't mind - and after Mike assures him there's enough bubbles and foam in the bath, he comes in and sets his clothes beside the sink.

"Isn't it nice? Having a bath after, what, a week?" Will teases.

Mike rolls his eyes playfully, but he can't object since it's true.

"No, you have some more there," Will warns when Mike is about to rinse the shampoo off.

"Where..."

"Here." Will touches the spot where the bits of caramel are. "Actually, just let me," he says then, feeling bold.

Mike doesn't object, so he wets his hands and settles on his knees, Mike leaning on the side of the tub for Will to wash it better.

Will ignores his heartbeat and how warm he feels, and massages Mike's scalp, trying to get the stuff out.

Will admits, he offered the help out of selfishness, too. Maybe he wanted to touch Mike a little bit more, care for him a little bit longer. Let him know he cares about him.

Maybe even have the thought of Will loving him, romantically, occur him. Which wouldn't be a lie. But Will wouldn't say this out loud- what if Mike reacted badly?

Will knew he was pretty touchy, for he's always been like this. But if Will told him he means this stuff romantically, that he enjoys making Mike happy because he loves him- he doesn't want to ruin their relationship.

Even though Mike had told Will he thinks he's gay too, Will knows very well being gay doesn't automatically make you like every guy. Mike only sees him as a friend, he's made this clear enough with his numerous ramblings to Will about Will, concluding every one of them with "You're my best friend."

His thoughts are interrupted by Mike, leaning his head onto the tub and Will's touch, eyes fluttering closed. Will almost explodes.

"I- I think it's gone," he says quietly, remembering that someone might find it weird they're in the bathroom for so long. Together.

Mike hums, sighs contently and Will leaves the bathroom and goes into Mike's room, closing the doors behind him and screaming into one of Mike's pillows.

Not too long after, Mike comes into the room. Will is reading a comic book, acting all cool and normal. Mike falls onto the bed, almost onto Will, in his dorky Superman pajamas. Will teases him about it, but Mike doesn't budge, just looks at Will with big eyes and a big smile.

Will gives up, shaking his head in fake disapproval. Mike giggles and hugs him- burying his face between Will's shoulder and the bed. Alright, Will is really going to explode this time.

Mike nudges his shoulder with his nose, tightening his grip on Will's shirt and tangling his legs around Will's. Humming, he closes his eyes.

"You wanna sleep over?" He asks, muffled by Will's shirt.

Will swallows and composes himself. "I don't- I'll have to call mom," his voice is shaking. Will curses himself.

But Mike just hums, again, and untangles himself from Will, eyes still closed.

"Hurry up, then,"

And boy does Will hurry up. Launching himself from the bed, he runs down the stairs and asks Nancy and Ted if it's alright he stays over. Ted just grunts, and Nancy nods eagerly.

"I understand he's better, then?" She asks.

"Yes- Yeah, much better," Will replies with a smile creeping onto his face, face definitely red.

He turns around and wants to go back to Mike, but then remembers he has to call his mom- he does that quickly, typing in the wrong number twice before getting Jonathan on the phone.

"Byer-"

"Jonathan! It's me, can I sleep over at Mike's?" he tries to talk slower, with a lower pitch but fails. Because of Mike.

"Yeah- sure, do you need-"

"No, it's alright! Goodnight,"

"-is it Jonathan? Can I talk to him?" Nancy comes into the hallway, and Will drops the phone into her hand before trying to go up the stairs calmly, ending up skipping two stairs per step.

In Mike's room, Mike is reading the comic book Will was earlier, and when he sees him he smiles brightly.

Will returns the smile nervously, knowing he will probably have a heart attack tonight. His heart is not ready for Mike cuddling him more.

Somehow, his heart survived until morning- and longer.

---

grrr fluff GARK GARK

ummm mental illness mike depression arc. will takes care of him 🥰

[pacthesis]

áo dài month - week 2

day 8

off-shoulder sleeve!

áo dài with open necklines were apparently considered controversial in the 50s!

anything thats disruptive or departs from whats been accepted will be seen that way imo!

nowadays there are many many styles of áo dài!

day 9

double layered chiffon!

no embellishments! sleek!

my mom suggested i get a kiềng necklace to really complete my áo dài looks!

her grandma had one but apparently the cops stole it cause it was real gold!

anyway i think this one is made of brass!

day 10

velvet!

round collar!

raglan sleeve!

scenic mountains and rice paddies motif!

one of pizza man’s favs!

my parents also got this one from a nice local!

she casually suggested i do something about my no b00b situation but i like my body!

i still like her!

day 11

knee-length panels!

round collar! (i put a peter pan collar on)

jacquard!

sakura and firecracker print!

i wore this one when i tried hot pot for the first time ever and it smelled tasty the next day!

i washed it in the sink since i was on vacation!

day 12

puff sleeve with ruffles and pearls!

my mom says this headpiece style (khăn đóng) is more southern!

most of mine are around 20-25 rings or 1 ft / 30 cm in diameter!

i've seen some that look 4 ft / 1 meter wide!

the ones for men/kids are usually smaller!

day 13

graphic floral print design!

flared raglan sleeves!

my mom says when she was a kid and rode her bike to school she would tie the ends of the panels together!

white áo dài was/is(?) a common uniform for many schools apparently!

day 14

iconic raglan sleeve and high collar and long panels!

pearls embellishments!

apparently when the raglan sleeve áo dài debuted around the 50s-60s the opening of the panels were also raised higher to expose the skin on both sides of the waist! big fan!

[positivexcellence]

FRĒDA WOMAN: GENEVIEVE PADALECKI

TALK TO US ABOUT YOU.

HOW DO YOU DECIDE ON A PROJECT?

Gosh. I wish it was that easy!  I think to echo what Odette Annable said, “Taking on a new project usually means that I had to work very hard to even “get” the role. The audition process can be grueling with multiple rounds of auditions and each step feels like a victory.”  And that's the truth. I think having the ability to be able to work and play in our industry is pretty extraordinary and I feel incredibly lucky that I have been able to connect with the role bond with the team and find light in the message.

WHAT MADE YOU START TOWWN?

The awful truth is that I am a big waster. I have 3 kids. I used disposable diapers. Bought single-use plastics and easy on-the-go snacks. I did what was convenient and the best for my family.  But I wanted to understand how I could be better for our planet. The resources that were available to me were ones that we doom and gloom or all or nothing. I wanted something that made more sense to me. Where I could have a solution-based platform that was relatable and evolving.

HOW DO YOU SPEND TIME OUTSIDE OF WORK?

Great question. It depends on the day. But it’s either with my family or with myself, but most likely in nature. On a hike or with a book. But definitely recentering and hopefully getting our hands dirty.

WHAT HAS BEEN MOST REWARDING ABOUT BEING A MOTHER?

Knowing that there is an even greater capacity to love that I didn’t know existed.  My heart grew tenfold when I became a mother.  And I had such a deeper and greater respect for my own mother.  She always told me you’ll never know how much I love you until you have a child of your own.  And she was right.  I also love how much I learn from my children. They are so wise and earnest.  I love seeing the world through their eyes.

WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU’VE BEEN LEARNING ABOUT YOURSELF?

I hope that I am always learning. I think when I was younger I  was stuck in a loop of who I thought I was supposed to be. Or how I was supposed to present myself.  Now I enjoy letting my guard down and trying to go more with the flow.  Not sweating the small stuff and trying to be curious every moment.

HOW DO YOU FEEL SUPPORTED FROM THE GROUND UP?

My family. They are my world. And knowing they are safe and sound and feeling centered makes me feel incredibly grounded.

YOUR MANTRA?

I love a quote from my grandfather which is, “You don’t get what you expect you get what you inspect.”  Sometimes I tend to wash over the details and this quote reminds me to pay attention.  That I have to work hard to achieve what I want. It’s not owed to me.

I also always tell my kids that today is a brand new day. And we can start fresh.

TELL US ABOUT A FAVORITE SUMMER TRIP.

I grew up going to a place called Graeagle that was nestled in between mountains in Northern California. As kids, we learned to fish; tying flies, cleaning and cooking our fish, hiking the mountains and finding our way back. These trips encouraged self-reliance. In those summers we tuned out the noise and came together as a family. It was heaven for me. Now I try and recreate that feeling for our kids. This year we are heading on a rafting and fishing trip as a family (with zero cell reception, I cannot wait).

ANY FUN SUMMER PLANS?

Yes! Currently, Jared and I are in Italy.  We have been in Rome for a quick work trip and then we explored (are currently exploring Corsica) and then Sardinia. We are also doing an annual trip with Jared's brother and sis in law. It’s become a bit of a tradition now and it makes me so happy to have this time.  This year we are biking around France. Last year I tumbled ass over a tea kettle in the Dolomites so wish me luck…then Jared and I and the kids head to Idaho to get lost on the river.

TELL US ABOUT A FAVORITE SUMMER TRIP.

I grew up going to a place called Graeagle that was nestled in between mountains in Northern California. As kids, we learned to fish; tying flies, cleaning and cooking our fish, hiking the mountains and finding our way back. These trips encouraged self-reliance. In those summers we tuned out the noise and came together as a family. It was heaven for me. Now I try and recreate that feeling for our kids. This year we are heading on a rafting and fishing trip as a family (with zero cell reception, I cannot wait).

ANY FUN SUMMER PLANS?

Yes! Currently, Jared and I are in Italy.  We have been in Rome for a quick work trip and then we explored (are currently exploring Corsica) and then Sardinia. We are also doing an annual trip with Jared's brother and sis in law. It’s become a bit of a tradition now and it makes me so happy to have this time.  This year we are biking around France. Last year I tumbled ass over a tea kettle in the Dolomites so wish me luck…then Jared and I and the kids head to Idaho to get lost on the river.

THE AUSTIN DIARIES

FAVORITE SHOP: Estilo, Valentines, Maufrais, Hearth and Home, or Alexa James Baby, bygeorge

GO-TO RESTAURANT: Soto, Dai Due, Wu Chow

ALL-TIME BEST BBQ: Terry Blacks

CAFFEINE KICK: I go more for the smoothies and matchas…so Juiceland

SUNDAY ACTIVITY: Gardening, running Lake Austin trail or boating

HIDDEN GEM: I can’t tell you…lol

RAINY DAY DESTINATION: My library

TOURIST ATTRACTION LOCALS LOVE: Probably the bats on Congress Bridge or shopping SOCO

BEST THING ABOUT LIVING THERE: Your neighbors, Austin is an amazing community