#you in fact can forget how to ride a bike

[drabblesandimagines]

Crash

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship

The sidewalk feels cold beneath your thighs as you stare blankly into your lap, your breaths heavy, struggling through a tight chest. You’re sat cross-legged, like a child - the nice, elderly lady had encouraged you to sit down, said you were looking pale. She’d definitely meant for you to take a seat on the bench a few steps away, but you’d just dropped, seemingly forgetting how to get from standing to sitting in any sort of graceful manner.

She’d smiled sympathetically then, offered you some candy from the bottom of her purse – kept a stash in there for her grandchildren - said you needed sugar for the shock. But you’d shook your head, feeling sick at the notion of eating anything. She asked if there was anyone she could call whilst waiting for the first responders.

You’d put your hand in your jacket pocket for your phone at her question – relieved it’s in one piece, not smashed up like the hunk of metal just out of eyeshot. You don’t remember calling Leon’s number, but you must have because now your phone’s up against your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He answers after only four rings, though his voice is hushed - maybe ducked out of the room to answer. “Can I call you back in 20? Just wrapping up something here.”

“I-crashed-the-car.” You blurt out, the words running into one another. It’s not technically true, you were crashed into but this seems easier for now.

“What?” His volume amps way up and your stomach twists with the change, unsure of the implications – is he mad? Upset?

You were borrowing his car. Yours was in the garage, the brake discs needed replaced and would take a couple of days to get the parts in. You’d planned to take city transport but Leon insisted you take his car - arguing it was winter, that it gets dark so early and the idea of you walking to and from the bus stop on your own isn’t one he wants to entertain. You don’t live in a terrible neighbourhood, but you don’t have to be for monsters to be roaming the streets, after all. Plus, it made sense for him to ride his bike to HQ whilst you borrowed his SUV and he wouldn’t have to worry, have one less thing on his plate… ..or so had been the idea. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m so sorry,” you don’t even take in his questions, really. “They came out of nowhere and…“ Your breath hitches in your throat, a sob building up and threatening to overflow.

“Baby,” his tone is firm, “are you hurt?”

You can hear his shoes slapping against the floor as he begins to run, though it sounds too hard a sole for his boots... No, that’s right, he went out in a suit this morning – leather jacket on top, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, still made the whole ensemble look good albeit it being mismatched.

“No…” That’s not true - there’s blood, and it has to be yours, but you feel numb of any sort of pain. “I don’t know.“ Your voice cracks again. “That’s okay,” he soothes, barging through a door with his shoulder. “We’ll work it out.” Nearly takes a woman out the other side with how hard the door slams against the wall, mutters half an apology as he darts around her. “Are you still in the car?” You turn to look at Leon’s black SUV laying on its side, the under carriage on full display – not the way a car should be. The driver’s side is against the concrete. You’d climbed out the passenger side, somehow, having to fight gravity itself to get the door to open, clambered up and over the leather seats. Should you have done that, or should you have stayed put? You’d just wanted out from the metal box – the windscreen was a spiderweb of cracks, creaking like it would explode in shards at any moment. “N-no, I’m on the sidewalk.”

“Okay, good. Ambulance on its way?” He’s reached the elevator, mashes the down button like it will make it accelerate to his floor any faster than usual. He feels awful that he’s interrogating you, but his training has kicked in - gather as much intel as possible – and he needs the facts.

“Yeah. Police too.” A few cars had stopped after. Someone said they were calling 911, another saying they got some of the license plate, the old lady and her purse full of candy. The other car drove off, tyres burnt with how fast they fled the scene.

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me where you are? What street you’re on?”

“Erm…” You look round, but in the shock nothing looks familiar, though it must be a route you’d driven down hundreds of times before. “I was on the way home from work, so, I’m, erm…”

“That’s all right.” He can hear the tightness in your voice, knows you’re not thinking clearly and so he changes tact. “Is anyone nearby that you could ask?” He hits the elevator button again, swears it’s been on floor 12 for far longer than necessary. Come on.

The elderly lady comes back to mind – she must’ve stepped back to give you privacy when you’d pulled your phone out. “There’s someone.”

“Great. Can you ask them where you are?”

“Yeah…” You pull the phone down from your ear, looking around to find she’s not gone far at all, hovering a few metres away. “Excuse me, where are we? Sorry.” The apology slips out, feeling more of a nuisance to her than you’d already been.

“16th Street, dearie.” She smiles, keeps her tone gentle. “Just near Jack’s Groceries.”

The elevator finally arrives – empty - and Leon positions himself between the doors, aware that his reception might drop when he starts to head down to the garage and he can’t leave you on a dial tone.

“Thank you.” You force a smile in return, hold the phone back up to your ear. “16th Street, near the grocery store, Jack’s - it’s the one with those chips you like?”

He smiles at that – it’s not your usual place to shop, but you go there sometimes to pick them up for him ‘just cos’. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. Can you call or text me if you go anywhere else?”

“Y-yeah.” You take another shuddering breath, dig your nails into the palm of your hand. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

He steps into the elevator fully, double taps the button for the garage before assaulting another to close the doors. He hopes no-one tries to grab it on the way down, cos he won’t be able to hide his irritation.

“Nothing to apologize for. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

“See you soon.”

He hears the beep, signaling the call is cut off and takes a grounding breath, though his foot taps impatiently as the elevator continues to descend. He scrolls down his contacts, thumb poised to dial as soon as the doors open again.

“Leon,” Hunnigan sounds surprised to receive his call, probably cos he’s in the same building as her and usually swung by the office if he was after something. “To wha-“

“I need a car.” He cuts across her, heading over to where the company vehicles are kept. “Any car - I’m in the garage already.”

“Right. Why?” He feels a smidge of relief when he hears her begin to type.

“Please - just give me anything. I don’t care what, I just need to go.”

There’s the clunk of a lock down the line of vehicles, a black estate vehicle’s lights flashing. “Bay C3. Keys in the sun visor as usual. Tell me later.”

“I will. Thank you.”

 --

Leon drives a little faster than he should, but it still feels like hours until he reaches his destination. There’s a couple of cop cars blocking one of the lanes, red and blues flashing, an officer stood diverting traffic around the closure and another manning the perimeter. He pulls up behind the cars and hops out, scanning for you.

There’s an ambulance parked up in the lane and his heart skips a beat when he sees you sat on the steps, a cop on one side, a paramedic waiting behind in the wings. There’s one of those silver foil emergency blankets draped around your shoulders and you look so goddamn small.

He starts to jog over, intent on getting to your side as soon as possible, when the cop manning the perimeter sidesteps in front of him, holding his hands up to get him to stop.

“Sir, I need you to stay ba-“

Leon flashes his ID in his face – it’s not something he likes to do and so he rarely does it, but he doesn’t have time to put on the charm. “Agent Leon Kennedy. That’s my girlfriend over there – I need to get through.”

The cop steps back and Leon feels weirdly grateful for once for the DSO.

As he gets closer, his eyes narrow at the fact that they’re making you blow into a breathalyzer. He clenches his fist then - you’re bleeding and they’re accusing you of drink-driving?! He wants to give them what for, but then he sees the way you’re shaking and knows him storming into the scene ready to blow is not going to help, especially with how apologetic you’d been on the phone.

He forces himself to stop a moment and breathes deeply again. You’re shook up, but you’re in one piece, conscious and that’s the most important thing.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The officer nods, noting down the reading as Leon walks over, catching the tail-end of the conversation. “Nothing to worry about there. I’ll just go update the control room – it won’t be long.”

“Leon,” you stand abruptly at the sight of him as the cop steps off to the side and the foil blanket slips off your shoulders, gauze taped on multiple parts of your arms. You’re trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come here,” Leon wraps his arms around you, coaxing you into his chest. He wants to squeeze tight, to confirm what he’s seen with his eyes, that you’re real and whole, but he doesn’t want to aggravate any injuries so he’s careful, pressing a kiss to your crown. “Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not, but maybe if you say it to Leon it’ll make it real. There’s a horrible burning sensation in your chest. You want to cry, but not here, not in front of everyone.

“Sorry, ma’am, can I get you to take a seat again?” The paramedic interrupts, emergency blanket back in hand. “I won’t be long, sir. I just need to check a couple more things.”

“No, of course.” He presses another kiss to your forehead and guides you back to the steps, encouraging you to sit and takes the blanket from the paramedic’s hand to drape back over you. “I’ll be right over there, okay? I’m just gonna go have a word with the officer.”

“Okay, yeah.”

He steps aside so the paramedic can move in and waits for the officer to come off the radio, approaching and offering his hand. ���Leon Kennedy. I’m her boyfriend.”

“I gathered.” He shakes it. “Officer Jacobs. It was your car she was driving?”

“Mm-hm.” He keeps half an eye on you as he sees the paramedic shine a flashlight in your eyes, getting you to follow his finger. “What happened?”

The cop consults his notepad, flipping through his notes. “A witness stated another SUV-type vehicle went through the red light at some speed. Said it had been driving erratically for a while, so I’m figuring drunk-driver. T-boned, sent your SUV spinning and flipped onto its side after it collided with the lamp-post. The other vehicle stopped for five seconds or so, then gunned it. I’ve got dispatch sending a description out for the highway patrols. Partial registration but it’s gonna have damage, I’m sure, so should be easy to spot if it’s still in transit.”

Leon swallows, taking all the information in.

“How lucky do you think she was?”

“Truthfully,” the cop scratches his day-old stubble, looking between the SUV and you, “I think if she’d been in a different car than that, we’d be having a very different and difficult conversation right now.”

Leon’s fists clench. He’s encountered unspeakable horrors too often in his time, but the idea that some drunken jerk could just get behind the wheel and end your life is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced. His thoughts swirl down a dangerous drain - wonders if Hunnigan can grab the partial registration from the cops, run it through her software and find the culprit, or trawl the CCTV cameras for a screengrab. He’d show up at their door, or maybe wait for them in the parking lot, revving his own engine, scare them the way they’ve traumatized you and-

“Sir?”

The thought extinguishes as he realizes the cop is offering him a slip of paper.

“Case number. We’ve got her details and we’ll be in touch if we hear anything, but just in case either of you want to follow anything up.”

“Got it.” He nods, taking it and popping it into his wallet. “Thanks.”

--

Leon wants to take you straight home – he’s got a substantial first aid kit there that’ll do the trick on the cuts that need stitching – but, honestly, you need a proper check-up and only the emergency room will do.

You’d required a few stitches from where you’d been caught by the glass from the driver’s window and bruises had started to develop, specially from where the seatbelt had jerked at the impact, but the overall prognosis was positive – you’d be sore for a few weeks, that was for sure, but armed with some painkillers and some rest, you’d be fine.

Leon doesn’t think he’s ever driven quite so carefully the way he drove to and from the emergency room. Not that will help against other assholes on the road, but he’ll be damned if he does anything that means he has to slam on the brakes and give you a fright. You’ve been silent most of the time – silent on the drive, silent in the waiting room, answering the doctor’s questions in a quiet, unsure voice, and then silent again on the drive home. He’d placed a cautious hand on your knee, squeezing it in reassurance, meaning to draw it away but you’d placed your hand on top of it, looping your fingers through his.

He pulls into the parking lot, gives your hand one last squeeze and hops out, dashing around so he can help you out the vehicle. Leon can read you like a book, he knows you’re holding it together until you get inside – you know you are too.

The elevator is mercifully sat on the ground floor when the two of you enter the lobby and Leon keeps you close as you ride up to the 12th floor and the safety of the apartment.

“Can we sit?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” He sits down on the sofa first and you drop yourself down onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s only a second before you burrow your head under his chin and, with a heaving breath, finally let out a proper sob - releasing everything you’ve held in for the last few hours. You feel stupid, annoyed, frightened, sore, relieved – too many emotions to keep track of.

He wraps his arms around you in turn, pressing a long kiss to your temple, tears burning at his own eyes.

In that moment, it hits Leon in the gut that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, what he would have done if you hadn’t come home that night. If he’d have to come back to the apartment and not find your shoes kicked off at the door at the end of the long day, the glass with the lipstick smear on the rim near the sink from the water you’d gulp down greedily whilst making dinner.  It’s not like he takes you for granted by any means. He feels lucky every morning when he gets to wake up next to you in bed, and every night when he climbs back in, wrapping his arms around you. He’ll never let the two of you go to sleep or part ways if you’ve had harsh words or a full blown argument as all couples do, not with the risk his line of work brings, the threat that he could be called away in the middle of the night and have to bid goodbye to a turned back.

He rubs his hand gently up and down your back then, tears silently rolling down his face as he takes you all in, relishes your warmth as he cradles you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You hiccup, your sobs eventually ceasing into sniffles, but still you kept your face pressed into his chest, seeking the comfort of his smell – the faint cologne and natural musk that was so uniquely Leon.

“You did nothing wrong, you hear me?” He mumbles into your crown. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Is the car a complete write-off?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He gently lifts your left hand, presses a kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“Love you too.”  

The day after the next – he negotiated a personal day to spend doting on you, breakfast in bed, cuddles on the sofa, takeaway for dinner – Leon goes out and buys a ring.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

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[atarathegreat]

Wearing Their Glasses

ft: Rindou Haitani, Kazushi Yamagishi, Baji Keisuke, Hanma Shuji

Rindou never minded that you knew about his past, he felt that it brought the both of you closer, if anything. He understood that he was hard to readand hard to get along with, and maybe if you knew about his childhood and all the gang bullshit then you could work around who he was now. And for the most part you did. You rarely asked him questions since you knew he would answer them all no matter what mood he was in. He'd been honest about how many men he'd killed, how many hits he'd ordered, even let you go to work with him on days he felt would be calm. But this was crossing a line. "What the hell are you doing with those?" Rindou froze in his spot on the couch as you walked in, a pair of circular glasses perched on your nose. You looked cute in his old glasses, he'd give you that, but he also preferred that part of him stay hidden. Contacts kept him from looking like a nerd and he couldn't bear the idea that you might think he was cute in glasses. Especially those dorky ass wire rims. You smiled and poked them higher on the bridge of your nose, "Found them in the closet. Are they yours?" Of course they were his, and he knew that you were aware of that from the grin that curled your lips upward. The same grin he was glaring at as he slammed into you for another time, your soft giggles making him harder as he tried to forget how you teased him over the glasses. "Rinny, you look so cute." Another soft moan, another gentle touch that moved the glasses back to his nose. Why did he agree to put them on? He knew you would compliment him, and he knew he was a whiney bitch for your praise. Each panted breath and your words of so cute and can't believe you stopped wearin' glasses was sending his brain deeper into the fog. Rindou reached around you, his hands grabbing at the flesh of your ass to lift you with him as he kept burying his cock deeper and deeper. A blush dusted your cheeks, you were always so red by the time Rindou was done with you, and he wouldn't be done anytime soon if you didn't stop calling him cute.

<3<3<3&lt;3<3<3<3<3

Each day was the same. Come in, handle business, leave. Kazushi wasn't anymore complicated than that. He didn't stay over, didn't pick up extra work and he never, never left his work unfinished. If someone else was dumb enough to slack off that was their fault and not Kazushi's problem to fix. Handling things had been made a little harder by the fact that he had left home in a rush that morning and forgotten his glasses, which also meant the drive home was a little slower than usual as well. Kazushi's vision wasn't impaired too badly, but he did like to see what the street signs said before he blew past them. Getting to his destination safely was something you had always jumped his ass for. "Bikes are dangerous, Kazushi!" And you'd throw your arms in the air, "If you don't slow down you could crash, or lose control and the end up smashed under some car tires!" You were a bit on the dramatic side to him. But, this was also the man who'd been riding bikes since he was in middle school, be it he was a passenger or the driver. "Babe, can you grab my glasses?" He called as he stacked his shoes by the door, "I left them this morning." The very last thing he expected, if it could even be on his list, was you trotting around the corner with what he wanted sat on your pretty face. "I wore them a bit today." Had you always looked at him with such big eyes? Kazushi didn't care to try and answer that question, not when your cries were so perfect from him folding you in half. Your breasts bounced in tandem with each of his thrusts as he fucked himself into you roughly. Kazushi chuckled as his glasses slipped down your nose, so he fixed them for you, "Keep these on, pretty girl, and keep those eyes open."

<3<3<3&lt;3<3<3<3<3

"You must be really blind if you need glasses to study." You were making fun of him again as he glared at you over his glasses. The way you laughed was enough to make him take them off. Baji just wanted to get his work done the right way, that's the only reason you were there, to help him since he couldn't grasp the math. He knew he'd made a mistake going to college, especially once you managed to wrap him around your pinky finger so tightly he couldn't breathe. "I'm kidding, Baj!" You whined as he threw the glasses across his bed, only succeeding in making them fall between the wall and bed to hit the floor, "You didn't have to do all that." He cursed at the work in front of him. Baji really didn't want to do any of the fucking work, and he'd risk failing the class again if it wasn't for Chifuyu helping pay for the damn classes. "C'mere." When had you crawled onto his bed? You were bent on all fours with your hand stretched to reach for the lenses. The sight of your ass wiggling in the air as you struggled to grab what you were reaching for made his cock ache. And it certainly didn't help when you dropped them on your face and sat across from him. "Get over here." Baji tied his hair back, kicking the table to the side. "The math-" "Can fuckin' wait. I said come here." He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the sight of you riding him naked, but now he at least knew that it was ten times better when you had his glasses on. "So fuckin' gorgeous f'me." His hands dug into your hips as he made you grind on him, "Don't let those come off your nose, not even for a single fuckin' second." Baji was aware of the fact his voice alone was driving you crazy, he didn't have to reach down and pinch at your clit, but he wanted to watch those pretty eyes roll back into your empty head as his cock bullied your insides.

<3<3<3&lt;3<3<3<3<3

Hanma didn't care to be subtle about what he wanted from you, even in public. You knew you were in for it if he was slipping the arms of his glasses over your ears, his slender fingers being extra careful as he tucked a strand of hair with them. Had you not worn that dress he liked oh-so much, you probably would've been fine. But no. You had to tempt him, had to want his attention that was undivided with everything Tokyo Manji was doing. "Look at you," He drawled, sounding more bored than anything as he lazily pumped only the head of his cock into your sex, "greedy little thing you are. So busy worrying about my dick and not enough about me." You had already fallen apart from his tip alone, your muscles clenching around him each time he moved into you in an attempt to make him want more. He did, and you knew he did from just how hard he was, how swollen he felt moving through your folds. A loud yelp sounded from you as he slapped your clit, "Open eyes, sweetheart, keep sucking me in and I might give you what you want."

[carionto]

Huh? Nah, this doesn't need safety gear

It is horrifying what kinds of deadly activities Humans will engage with without even a mention of safety or precaution. Most alarmingly what their offspring dare to do.

Take, for example, cycling. Already, a vehicle that is literally as minimal in features as you can get, and requires the user to provide all balance. Lacking such an advanced inner ear, operating this device is nigh impossible for two thirds of the Galaxy. But their young manage to get the hang of it very quickly, and we're told it's a skill that once you learn it, you never forget. Even after decades, their "body remembers", which adds another layer of curiosity to how Human "muscle memory" functions and retains this other form of knowledge.

Once their children learn this skill, any skill really, they tend to experiment and go as far as they can with it. One time we saw a whole group of them riding around their school's outdoor gym field at nearly 35 km/h on the straights. I and several other delegates would quite literally die if one were to crash into us. And crash they did, we were shocked and panicked, but before we could alert anyone, the child simply brushed themselves off, stretched a little, spent MORE time in fact checking if their bike was fine, and then got right back on. Seemingly zero lessons learned as they crashed two more times within the next half hour.

As we left, a group of slightly older children on somewhat smaller but tougher looking bicycles with steel protrusions from the wheels. They seemed very energetic, so we followed them at a distance to a large open concrete park with strange geometric structures all around. Before we could question the purpose of this place, the kids were flying, their bikes were screeching, and we were terrified. Jumping off ramps and these half-cylinders, doing frankly impossible feats of acrobatics.

OH MY GOD ONE OF THEM LET GO OF THE BIKE MID JUMP!!!

Oh thank god, they caught it again before landing.

Why did they spin around before doing so though?

...

Stunts?

You... willfully endanger yourselves for... "s t y l e p o i n t s"

My hearts can't take it anymore today, please take me home.

[saintescuderia]

antinal

(written as a coping mechanism for the fact that carlos is sick and might not make jeddah)

also note: this is part of a larger series that you can read here :)

“Please tell me what you were thinking.” 

You walked into the room to see the Spanish driver sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes from the nap you had just woken up him from. Good. You had seen his Instagram story and the bragging of the 50km bike ride around Jeddah. With the Ferrari contract coming to an end, Onoro was working overtime. Carlos’ schedule was now jam packed with all these PR moments, both official in having meetings and dinners, and unofficial and his Instagram was now becoming his CV. 

Case in point, let me show off my athleticism. 

“I wanted to go for a bike ride.” Carlos said simply. His ran a hand through his bed hair, wild from his nap, and then his eye adjusted to you. “Don’t dump your bag there.”

“Then don’t keep your shoes here.” You retorted as, of course, his shoes were right by the door. You two had often argued about it, him haphazardly taking them off as he walked into the hotel and you tripping over them and then nagging him about it as you kicked them to the side. As now, you nagged at him and kicked the white sneakers out of your path. 

However, in doing so, you stopped and bent down to pick up the shoes. You looked at him and then back at the shoe with the Nike swish. A surprised smile found its way on your face, distracting you from the issue at hand. 

“You went out in dunks?” 

“You bought them for me to wear.” He said as if it were obvious. “Girlfriend affect.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute that was. For a second, the whole thing disarmed you and made your forget why you had rushed to the hotel room in a huff. 

Then Carlos reached for some pills on his bedside table and it all came rushing back. 

It wasn’t like you disagreed with all the extra stuff Onoro had his cousin do. Carlos needed to start working now if he wanted to find another seat for next year. You all agreed to it. What you didn’t agree to was Carlos taking stupid risks with his training and doing stuff like a 50km bike ride in Saudi Arabian weather without you. The heat stroke alone was enough to knock him out and prevent him from actually racing that weekend. 

Case in point, right now. 

“Alright kids I gotta get to work, if I don’t input those numbers… doesn’t make much of difference.”

You snorted, immediately tuning into the iconic voice of one Chandler Bing. You look to where the TV was playing one of the earlier season of FRIENDS, the cast looking especially younger. You looked back at Carlos and frowned, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“What? You always say I should watch it.” He said. 

It wasn’t that Carlos was watching FRIENDS. It was the fact that he was in bed watching FRIENDS. If there ever was someone more pedantic about sleep hygiene, it was him. If he had just woken up from a nap, it wasn’t planned. Suddenly, your worry about his wellbeing overtook your anger. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked as you came to sit on the edge of the bed he was still reclined in. You brought a hand to his forehead and noted his temperature. Nothing alarming. Though, he was shirtless and the AC was on. You also noted the green gel of aloe vera he had likely stolen from your own suitcase. At least he was taking care of himself. 

“Better now that you’re here.” He said and reached up to bring the hand that was feeling his forehead to bring it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to your fingers. You rolled your eyes but still couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re not going to get out of this.”

“Out of what?”

“Carlos, I saw your story.” You said. 

“One second mi amor.” Carlos flipped the bed sheets back and then climbed out of bed. He rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. You stared at him confusedly as suddenly there was music playing from inside the bathroom. You were really at a loss with this one. Especially since you recognised the song and wondered since when your boyfriend willingly listened to Metro Boomin? 

Carlos was particular about his bathroom time and if he was playing music, you could only assume he wasn’t in there just to take a piss. Evidently he was going to be in there for a while and that meant you would have to occupy yourself until then. 

There was a coffee machine at the small kitchenette that was calling your name. You had woken up earlier than usual to help Oscar through some drills before the race weekend and the need for caffeine was all too real. As you popped the pod into the Nespresso machine, you realised the spread of half-eaten food Carlos had likely ordered - and dumped into the kitchen sink. 

You knew his diet well since you had been the one to essentially create it. It had been a painstaking process to carefully craft a regime that allowed Carlos to hit his protein goals - and indulge in his love for food. Because man, did Carlos love food. He had pretty much wept at the sight of you poached chicken breast all those many months ago. Since the relationship between the two of you had shifted on from the strictly business of a trainer-driver relationship to becoming a fully fledged romantic couple, Carlos had taken you out to countless restaurants. He had a list in his Notes app of all his favourite restaurants, bars and cafes all around the world and had decided to take you to every one come a Grand Prix weekend.  

You thought it was stupid since he needed to work but one could never be mad at those eyes. It was how he managed to get you to let him eat all that he did. 

So to see that Carlos Sainz, the Spanish foodie Carlos Sainz, had ordered a lunch of plain fruits and plain toast— you were immediately confused. Suspicious even. Carlos eating plain toast was… unfathomable. 

You made your coffee and opted to just wait until Carlos could explain his choice of breakfast. The way you saw it was that he was restricting himself with such low calorie foods in the hope of shedding weight and hopefully then bettering his race. 

The coffee had finished pouring and you huffed as you picked up the cup and went to sit on the bed. 

“I can’t stop smiling.”

“I can see that. It’s like you slept with a hanger in your mouth.”

Sitting on the bed, you blew on your coffee and tried to focus on Rachel and Monica on the TV - and not how Carlos was currently his own worse enemy. It was no use to tell him off now. Reyes had told you how the Junior was like the Senior in the toilet being a sacred space. You don’t bother Carlos on the toilet. 

You had done that once and it was the only time Carlos had ever snapped at you. 

Something buzzed in your pocket. It was likely Oscar asking about lunch and so you went to set the coffee on the bedside table to free up your hands and respond - when you saw it. 

You recognised the Ferrari water bottle with the personalised 55 decoration. 

You also recognised the Antinal box of pills that were half opened beside it. 

Oh. 

Suddenly all the puzzle pieces clicked into place. The plain foods, the lack of forewarning as he jumped to the toilet, the impromptu nap. Carlos wasn’t unfit for Jeddah because he was overworking himself, Carlos was unfit for Jeddah because he had diarrhoea.  

Looking down at the familiar bottle of pills, your only question now was how in the fuck Carlos knew to take it. Sure, Antinal would’ve been your go to if you were hit with gastro or food poisoning or whatever it was that was now plaguing your boyfriend. Your auntie used to have a hoarded stock of the medication in her cupboard above the microwave. You swore that the stuff was magic. It was better than any of the medication you had found in the US or UK. Though, how Carlos had managed to get hold of Egyptian diarrhoea medication was beyond you. 

You looked back at the white dunks by the door and remembered how while you had been training with your brother, your boyfriend had been doing some PR for Saudi Arabia and touring the local streets. 

The door finally opened and out came Carlos, patting his stomach. You said nothing as he came to sit on the bed beside you, not questioning how you took his side. He wordlessly climbed back under the covers and you felt all the anger, all the worry wash out of you. All you felt now was genuine fondness for the sick boy beside you. 

“You tried the local food without me.”

It was a statement but Carlos still curled up beside you and mumbled an affirmative “Yes.” to your side. Your arm came up to wrap around him and start playing with his hair. 

“How the fuck did you find Antinal?”

“I asked Oscar.” 

“Oh, habibi.” You couldn’t help but croon as you had to imagine Carlos going to your brother, someone he admittedly didn’t get along with all too well and asking for help because he had stomach problems. Still, you knew Oscar wouldn’t have said anything or made jokes. No matter his feelings towards Carlos, Oscar wasn't like that. Besides, you had taught the young driver enough.

For example, to always have gastro medication. No matter what. 

Carlos didn’t saying anything and you didn’t feel the need to add anything. Instead, you slowly got up from sitting on top of the covers and came to slide yourself underneath them. You brought your arm back around Carlos and resumed your comforting massage as he rested beside you, eyes closed. You, however, were sipping on your coffee, half your attention on the 90s sitcom currently playing - “I can’t believe you didn’t know it was a line!” - and the blue and grey text bubbles between you and the driver you considered your little brother.

Oscar was now asking if dinner was an option since lunch was evidently now forgone that Carlos was asleep next to you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Or so you thought was asleep. You blinked, looking down at the boyfriend you thought had drifted off again. 

“For what?” You said, dropping your phone and sliding down to bring your face to his. You lightly traced his face and saw the way his frown between his brows eased, his lips lifted slightly. 

“Ricciardo made a joke about my contract in front of Lewis. It’s why I went out for that bike ride and posted about it.” He admitted. You bit back any of the words that immediately came to mind and how you wanted to rip into the stupidity of letting someone like Daniel Ricciardo getting to him. Sure, there was some clear bad blood but you really had hoped Carlos wouldn’t have let it get to him. Danny was just a scorned ex after all.

“If anything, I should be mad that you went to explore restaurants without me." You said lightly. "What happened to us having one couple date a weekend?”

Carlos’ eyes blinked open at that as his smile grew. You felt warmth inside you bloom seeing that beautiful, beautiful smile of his. Your phone buzzed again and you turned over to pick it up and read the message from Oscar. You snorted. 

“What?” Carlos asked. 

“Oscar says he hopes you feel better.” 

“That’s nice of him.” Carlos said, sitting up slightly to reach over you and go for his water bottle. This made you sit up also and now you both had your backs to the headboard, sitting up in the bed. 

“I think he just wants you to race so he can get payback for Spa last year.” You said. Oscar’s next text thread confirmed this and you chuckled and went to pick up your coffee to take a sip. Carlos shook his head and went back to lay his head on the pillow. 

“When does this kick in?”

“The antinal?” You asked, grinning as you still couldn’t believe Carlos Sainz was using your Middle Eastern auntie’s magical cure for anything stomach related. “Maybe an hour after taking it, depending on how bad it is.” Carlos frowned and closed his eyes, shifting a lot as he tried to get comfortable back in the bed. Your grin fell slightly and you brought your hand back to his hair. 

“Sleep it off, habibi.”

“What are you going to do?” 

“Watch FRIENDS.” You said with a shrug. 

“I was supposed to watch it.”

“Not my fault.” You sassed back. “I’ll rewatch it with you again later. You just work on fixing your stomach and I’ll read through race strategies and debrief you later in case you can race.” You paused and took a sip of your coffee. “I also need to convince Lando to come to dinner.”

“Why?”

“Since you and I haven’t had dinner and I was supposed to be with Oscar for lunch but I’m here with you.” You explained. "He's wanting dinner plans."

“He saw you all of yesterday and this morning.” 

Carlos' complaints made you smile. “We’ll go out us four. You two can bond again.”

He only huffed. “When have we ever bonded?”

“When you got over yourself and asked him for antinal because you wouldn’t stop shitting?”

Carlos’ response was to reach his hand up and flick you on the nose. 

[sinfulpanda16]

Love You Too Much to Leave

Takashi Mistuya x Chubby Fem Reader

A little reassurance from ur boyfriend never hurts ^^

You did the stupid mistake of looking at one fitness influencer than another, and another, and now that's all you see in your social media. You didn't mean to but now that's all you're seeing. Pretty and thin girls. You see how they're so comfortable wearing what you wish you could wear and see how they look so good in them. Fuck, you hate feeling this way. Frustrated, you exit the app and decide to call your boyfriend, Mitsuya.

Mitsuya always knows how to make you feel better. He is your safe space You don't even have to tell him what's wrong, he'll help you either way.

After a few more rings he picks up the phone, "Hey sweetheart. What's up?" he asks as he measures the fabric he's working on carefully.

"Are you busy?" you ask a with a shaky voice. You didn't realize but there are tears in your eyes. Damn it, you didn't want him to know that something was wrong.

Mistuya stops what he's doing and asks you, "Darling whats wrong?" with concern in his voice. You sigh, telling him right now was gonna make you feel worse, so you decide to hold it off for later.

You wipe your tears away "Its nothing love. Right now the only thing I want is to meet with you." A day out will help you forget quickly about these insecurities of yours.

On the other end of the phone Mistuya smiles softly, "Of course baby. I'll come see you in a bit." Happy you thank him and hang up. See he can easily help you forget your worries.

He pulls up at your place with his bike. He goes to you and holds your hands "So whats going on sweetheart. Tell me and I promise I won't be mad."

Wait what?

"Huh? Nothing love, I just wanted to hang out with you." you say a bit startled by his abruptness.

He's quiet for a bit and starts to laugh awkwardly. "Oh. Sorry, it's just on the phone you said you wanted to meet up with me while crying." He rubs the back of his neck "I thought you were going to break up with me." He explains with relief in his voice. "I was worried."

This shocked you. You'd be stupid to leave man like him. He truly is one of a kind and the fact that he thinks you might leave him hurt you a bit. You give him a gentle kiss on his shoulder and smile at him, "Aww love. You don't ever have to worry about that. I love you too much to leave." You hold his hand gently.

Mitsuya smiles back at you and goes to kiss your lips "I love you to sweetheart. Now lets go, I know the perfect place to go." He says holding your hand as he brings you with him towards his motorcycle. He helps you on and puts your helmet on for you before you both speed away.

An amusement park.

He took you to an amusement park, where there are so many people. So many pretty girls. You tried ignoring them, but it was so hard when they were just everywhere. Any other day would've been fine but today seeing them just reminded you of the fitness influencers you would see on your phone. To make matters worse, a lot of them interacted with your boyfriend.

He accidentally bumped into one of the girls and they both smiled at each other and laughed, Mitsuya saying sorry and her telling him it was ok. That girl was pretty. Mitsuya being his cute self as he orders your guys snacks with the cute cashier. That girl was also pretty. Or worse, when you walk out of the restroom and saw a girl with her phone in her hands talking to Mitsuya. She was asking for his number and Mitsuya rejected her kindly. She was pretty too, why did he reject her? The girl walked away and Mitsuya kept waiting for you. When you went to him he happy to continue going on rides with you, but he didn't say what just had happened.

So later that evening when you two were on his bike you couldn't push away those mean thoughts in your head. You shed tears and because of the helmet you were wearing you couldn't wipe them off. Having realized this you tried to stop them but all that just caused even more stress so you stopped trying. You were at a point where you just didn't care anymore.

You make it back home and Mitsuya climbs off. Whenever he takes you anywhere on his bike he always climbs off first and then goes to picks you up and sets you down, then removes your helmet for you. So that's what he did, he put you down and then took off your helmet only to find you with tears.

"Baby?! What happened?!" he asks with a worried expression.

You wipe your tears, "I'm sorry love its just lately I've been feeling ugly and..."

He grabs your arms, "Darling when did this happen?" he asks really worried for you. He thought you were enjoying your time with him.

You might as well tell him now. "In the morning. There were so many fit people in my feed and then at the amusement park" you voice starts to shake "there were so many pretty girls. I saw one try to ask for your Instagram." You sniff and wipe those tears away.

He holds you tightly "Darling listen to me. You're the cutest being I've ever seen. I'm so addicted to just having you to look at, whether that be in person or in a picture. Why do you think I have us as my wallpaper?" You look up at him. He smiles softly, "Its so that I can say 'yes she's my gf' and possibly brag about it to the guys. I show us off don't think I don't." You giggle and he laughs, "They get so annoyed. They're just mad you picked me and not them."

You laugh at his words. Mitsuya smiles as he sees your beautiful smile. "Also, I'm sorry for not telling you about that girl trying to get my Insta, I just figured none of that was worth it cuz it was dumb." he laughs cuz he honestly forgot about that.

Yup that's your Mitsuya. Always knowing how to comfort you. You smile up at him, "Thank you love. I really needed to hear that."

He kisses you shoulder and gives you a soft smile, "I love you to much to leave." Him doing this made you fall in love with him even more. You two kiss in the sunset and look beautiful together.

[allyeardepression]

@jegulus-microfic | april 16 embarrass | words: 1,3k

this one is a lighter version of what happened to me during easter lol enjoy;3

tw: blood, hospital, stitches, needles, accident

part two

Regulus went out with Barty and Evan—nothing new.

They drank—also nothing new.

The fact that Regulus had forgotten how to ride a bike, however, was new.

Everyone always says you can’t forget how to ride a bike, and maybe it’s true, but when you do it for the first time in almost two years while drunk, it turns out to be quite hard.

The first few minutes were okay; he was a bit wobbly, but he managed to ride on his own. The problem started as they passed the old shrine. It was placed on a sharp turn, and Regulus, instead of turning left as he should, started turning right. He could see the bike hitting the curb and the pavement getting closer and closer with every passing second. Alright, he thought, I’m going to hit it. He didn’t even try to pull out his hands to cushion the fall; he just flew like a log on his face.

Regulus lay there for a few seconds, hearing his friends laughing behind him, and then started laughing himself. He stood up, dusted off his trousers, and touched his chin. There was a hole in it; Regulus could feel it.

“Hey, does it look bad?” He turned to face his friends, and that’s when he felt a thick liquid rolling down his neck.

“Reg, that looks fucking awful; we’re going to the hospital,” Evan said firmly, taking Regulus’ hand and leading him to sit a bit further from the road.

“Show me,” he said, laughing lightly, because what else has he left?

Barty snorted, taking his phone out and, a second later, blinding Regulus with its flash. When he saw the photo, he just started laughing harder.

“Oh fuck, I look so bad; we should call Pandora,” he choked out, trying to keep the wound closed (he didn’t manage it).

A few minutes later, Panda’s old peugeot stopped next to them. The girl grabbed his face and started cleaning it with wet wipes, mumbling how irresponsible Regulus is.

“Hold it,” she commended sternly. “You had one job, one, and still failed at it,” Pandora turned to address all three giggling boys. “Take his bike; I’ll text when we’re at the hospital.”

***

“Regulus, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up, I will—oh, thank fuck, take him away from me, please,” Pandora said to someone behind him. As Regulus turned around, he felt cured right then and there, because in front of him stood the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, with his messy curls, golden skin, and that stunning smile.

The man chuckled, and that’s when Regulus realised his jaw had gone slack.

“Are you Regulus?” the man asked.

“Are you God?” Reg replied before he could stop himself. Mr. Beautiful started straight out laughing at that.

“Well, I’m your doctor, so kinda? I guess?” The doctor answered, inviting Regulus to the treatment room. “What happened?”

Regulus considered all of his options: tell the truth and sound like an alcoholic who gets himself into accidents, or come up with some lie.

Because he didn’t feel like he could come up with a good one, Regulus chose the first option.

“Oh, I’m going to embarrass myself as fuck,” he giggled, while the doctor, whose name he couldn’t quite read from the name tag on his scrubs, started cleaning the wound. “Wait, can you—can you stop moving for a second?” The doctor did what he was asked to do. Regulus reached for the little piece of plastic attached to the pocket on the doctor's chest and finally got what he wanted. Letting go of the man’s clothing, Regulus continued, “So, James, did your parents teach you how to ride a bike?”

The doctor, James, snorted, “Yes, Regulus, they taught me how to ride a bike; why?”

“Well, I thought mine did too, but today I realised they did a shitty job at it.” James erupted into laughter, taking a step back from Regulus. “What? I mean it! Look, if they taught me better, I probably wouldn’t be here!”

“That, or if you drank a little less,” the taller man huffed, coming back closer to Regulus. He knew the doctor was right, but he still felt the need to roll his eyes.

After a few minutes, James told him it looked really bad and they would need to stitch him up.

“If you're afraid I'll disfigure your face for the rest of your life, I can call someone else,” Regulus heard, and he responded with a dismissive hand gesture.

“Stitch away; I don’t mind. Besides, scares are kinda badass,” another round of chuckles.

“Alright, just don’t make me laugh while I do it, or you really will look bad when I’m done.”

Regulus could hear some metal things clicking against each other and could feel the fear creeping up his neck. He started scraping the nail polish off his nails, waiting for the worst. James must’ve noticed somehow, because he asked if Regulus felt alright.

One moment Regulus was staring at the overhead lamp, and the next there was a blue cloth covering his face.

“What the fuck?” he grumbled, grabbing at it. “Take it off; I can’t see shit.”

He could hear James sighing, and then his face came back into view. Regulus couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“If you weren’t so funny, I would put them all on you,” the other man muttered, throwing away the blue thing. “Okay, since you’re under the influence, I can’t administer local anaesthesia, but you have enough piercings to know the feeling.”

“Yeah, and I certainly do not do them for the feeling,” he mumbled, putting his hands underneath his buttocks.

James grabbed a needle with medical thread already pulled through it. He lowered himself closer to Regulus’ face and looked up into his eyes.

“Ready?”

“I will never be, so just go. Please,” was all Regulus could choke out while looking into those deep hazel eyes that crinkled at the response, probably from the smile hidden under the mask.

James looked back down at Reg’s chin and placed the needle in the wound area. As it went in and out, creating the first stitch, Regulus could feel a tear rolling down his temple.

“You okay?” James asked, looking into his eyes again. This time, only a whimper came out of Regulus. “Don’t worry, just one more,” the doctor said in a soothing tone, his eyes softening.

The second time was the same yet worse—Regulus wanted to run as he felt the needle just near his face.

After that, James cleaned him up again and gave him instructions on how to treat the wound.

“See you in two weeks; I’ll take them off,” he said, handing the discharge from the hospital to Regulus.

I’m drunk, Reg thought to himself. If it goes south, I can blame it on the vodka.

“Why not in two days?” he said out loud.

James looked at him, puzzled. “Excuse me?”

Regulus cleared his throat. “Why wait two weeks when we can see each other sooner?”

“I can’t take the stitches sooner then—"

“Not to take off the stitches, doctor,” he said, smirking slightly.

James eyes went wide. For a moment that felt like hours, they sat in silence, just looking at each other, waiting.

When the silence stretched out a bit more, Regulus decided to abort the mission.

“You know what? I’m drunk; I should just—"

“Does Tuesday at 8:00 sound good?” James said at the same time. It took Regulus a few seconds to register what he just heard, but when it finally got to him, he positively beamed at James.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

[em1e]

⠀ ⠀新一郎 // training wheels ⠀ ༝ ༝ shinichiro sano ⠀ ༝ ༝ 964 words ⠀ ༝ ༝ no warnings :3 cute fluff ⠀ — mikey wants his own motorbike, shinichiro thinks he needs to learn to ride a regular bike first.

it really shouldn’t be as funny as you were making it out to be. 

mikey’s cheeks puffed out, arms crossed over his chest while shinichiro works absentmindedly beside him, purposefully ignoring his younger sibling who was trying his best to not be ignored. 

“holding your breath isn’t gonna change his mind,” emma pipes up from her place in your lap, practically vibrating at the fact that you’re going to braid her hair for her, “onii-san said you have to get rid of your training wheels first.” 

mikey’s eyes narrow at her, unwilling to bow out just yet, but you can tell his 8-year-old lungs won’t last without air for much longer. despite his efforts, your boyfriend doesn’t budge, and it only takes about 15 seconds after this realization for mikey to give in. he lays beside shinichiro (who reaches over him to grab a tool he needs to finish working on his bike), gasping for air and whining. 

“i want my own bike!”

“you have your own bike.” shinichiro says dismissively, nodding towards mikey’s blue bicycle sitting pretty in the garage. the training wheels seem to mock him, and mikey huffs at the suggestion. 

“a cool bike.” he says instead, throwing an arm dramatically over his eyes, “one i can impress people with, like shinichiro.” 

“and who might shinichiro be trying to impress?” you question, game no longer funny while you twist emma’s hair into neat twin braids down her back. 

shinichiro visibly stiffens, and mikey snickers at the idea of his brother getting into trouble. 

“no one!” he assures, turning slightly so you can see he’s serious, “and let’s not forget the topic at hand- mikey, you need to learn how to ride a regular bike before one of these bad boys.” he pats the piece of metal beside him and gives a proud smile. 

it almost makes you forget about mikey’s comment. almost. but that’s an issue for another day, you decide as emma pulls you to your feet and shinichiro helps mikey up. “let’s go practice,” you stretch, “see who can get it down first: you or emma.” 

emma giggles at your suggestion, racing to the garage to drag out her purple bike before mikey  has a chance to argue. 

and that’s how you ended up at the park, shinichiro on one knee while he unscrews the bolts keeping the training wheels in place on both emma and mikey’s bikes. emma tugs on your arm the second he’s finished with hers, wanting to beat mikey in the challenge even though it would be her first time without the additional help. 

mikey, however, looks apprehensively at his own bike when shinichiro rolls it over to him, eyeing it then his brother. 

“i don’t wanna.” he says eventually, and it leaves shinichiro sighing before kneeling down beside him, whispering something in his ear that has his eyes lighting up and practically hopping onto the bike quicker than shinichiro can steady it. 

you raise an eyebrow at what he’s potentially promised, and shinichiro waves it off and helps mikey re-learn how to ride without the training wheels.emma’s pleading soon fills your ears, desperate to not lose to her ‘smelly older brother’. 

they practice until the sun starts to set, you and shinichiro worn down from the hours of pushing and coaching and encouraging. mikey, finally, after much trial and error, manages to bike a few feet on his own, stopping just before the top of where the hill dips down, and shinichiro and you can’t help but cheer at him when he shoots a smile your way, triumphant after many losses. 

that is, triumphant until emma sneaks up behind him, unknowing and unready. she shoves him without a second thought, and mikey yelps at the contact, riding down the hill while screams (of fear? joy? it’s hard to tell) slip past his lips until he reaches the bottom. 

from the top of the hill, you see it clearly. mikey rolling to a stop until the bike can no longer keep itself upright on its own, leaving mikey to slowly, so slowly, fall over. he doesn’t even try to catch himself. 

shinichiro races down to check on him, while you’re left holding back laughter to scold emma. she pleads innocence, assuring you it was for the greater good (‘mikey needs to learn how to control something going so fast if he wants a big bike!’). you can see shinichiro lift the bike off him easily, checking for any injuries and sending a thumbs up when he sees it’s just dirt and grass stains decorating mikey’s clothes. 

with the adventure now complete, you’re left figuring out what mikey was promised- ice cream. 

emma is only allowed one scoop, and has to apologize to mikey before she can receive it. you stay at the park for a little longer after, bikes long forgotten as mikey and emma wear themselves down on the equipment, and you and shinichiro bump shoulders on a bench to the side as a sign of a job well done. 

"you gonna get him a bike?" you ask eventually, last bits of ice cream now gone, the only remains being the paper the cone was wrapped in.

he hums thoughtfully, "prob'ly, if he still wants one in a few years."

"s'gotta learn to go down fast hills, emma says," you giggle, "who taught you?"

"myself," he laughs, "but i'm glad i'm here to teach him. i'm gonna make sure he has the coolest bike ever."

when he looks over at you, he has the softest smile imaginable. you really can't help it, leaning over to give him a peck on the lips, humming at the fact that he tastes like strawberries- the remnants of ice cream emma couldn’t finish on his tongue. 

[writing-the-stars]

Forgotten

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader, Elena Gilbert x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: After seemingly being forgotten by your childhood friends, you seek comfort in a mysterious stranger

Warnings: Angst (Because I’m an Angsty Bitch Who Needs Angst to Survive), Hurt/Comfort, Elena (Because I Know How Most of Y’all Feel About Her). Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hey guys! I’m finally getting around to showing some love to Elijah. I’m debating on whether or not I should turn this into a series or not. Let me know if that is something you all might be interested in! As always, thank you guys so much for reading!!! Please feel free to leave a comment or send in an ask. I love interacting with you all. Have a wonderful day!!!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

4:30 p.m.

An hour and a half past the time Elena was supposed to come home for your girls' day. A despondent feeling washes over you as you finally accept the fact that Elena has blown you off once again. You can’t even say you’re surprised as this behavior has become expected of her as of late. Your heart is just broken. 

Ever since the Salvatore brothers moved into town, it’s been made clear you are no longer a priority in her life. Hell, you’re no longer even a priority in the group’s life— your presence slowly being diminished as they whisper in secret behind your back, conveniently have plans or forget to show up to your scheduled hangouts, or just not invite you to theirs at all. It kills you to watch the people you’ve grown up with— Elena since diapers—  push you out of their lives. The four of you experienced your entire lives together, witnessing and supporting each other through every milestone— first kisses, first relationships, first school dance, first heartbreaks, first times of the month. Seeing how all of those memories— your lifelong friendships— can be so effortlessly rendered worthless with the arrival of two boys tears through your heart, leaving you with the ragged pieces. 

Unbeknownst to you, however, the gang’s intentions were never to hurt you. Instead, they have been trying so laboriously to do the opposite. You, by some miracle, have been one of the few residents of Mystic Falls who has not been affected by the supernatural presence that thrives there. You have remained blissfully unaware of the vampires, witches, and werewolves that coexist with you in the small Virginian town. As far as your friends are concerned, that is exactly how they will keep you safe, even if it’s unknowingly the catalyst of your emotional anguish. 

Hot tears dampening the rounded apples of your cheeks, you gather your things, tired of looking foolish and desperate in front of the people you have shared your life with. You are done fighting for your previous place in their lives which they have clearly refilled. 

Storming out of Elena’s home, you are surprised to see a tall gentleman— arm raised as if he were about to knock— rather than the neighborhood you spent the majority of your childhood riding your bike around. Instinctively, you take a step back, placing distance between you and the stranger at Elena’s door.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you,” the tall brunet speaks— his voice calm and carefully crafted.

You take in the man’s appearance, noticing the tailored suit hugging his frame and your heart begins to race as you start imagining the worse. Surely a man with such obvious distinction did not happen to stumble across the Gilbert residence, he has to have been brought here. Given the recent calamities that have intercepted your best friend’s life, your mind can’t help but conjure the possibilities of trouble Elena or Jeremy could have gotten themselves into. You wonder if you will have to tell Jenna and what would you say given the outcome of the situation.

“Are you alright?” the gentleman at the door inquires, interrupting your racing thoughts and bringing you back to the present moment. You blink, realizing you never answered the man, and begin to laugh— your nervous tick. 

“Yes, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be at the door.”

You clear your throat, “Has something happened? Is everything okay?” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, a visual indicator of his analysis of your words. “That’s what I came here to find out. I had an engagement scheduled with Elena,” he reveals, hoping you could provide him with the reason behind her absence.

A dry laugh escapes your lips— your annoyance with the brunette pushing through the growing concern you had for her seconds before. “Well, join the club. She was supposed to meet me here at 3. If you really want to find her, look for Damon and Stefan Salvatore. Wherever they are, she is,” you tell the well-dressed gentleman— your disdain for the two brothers made quite evident through the bitterness soaking your voice. 

He smiles down at you, beginning to see why you’re the only friend of the doppelgänger he had yet to formally meet, "I guess it’s safe to assume you're not a fan of the Salvatores." You roll your eyes at his massive understatement— your irritation beginning to reach its breaking point. “Don’t even get me started,” you state, knowing you could rant about your semi-undeserved hatred for the two brothers for hours. 

Stewing in your vexation, you miss the way the Original Vampire studies you. He has seen you from afar, of course, when he was gathering the information he needed to procure Elena. But now that he is seeing you up close, there is a curiosity about you— an otherness that separates you from the rest of the group. You seem leaden, burdened by the weight of the world. He wonders how someone so young could be so harrowed— the vampire being out of touch with the trials of tribulations of mortal existence. 

“Well, if you don’t mind, I would be happy to listen,” he offers, his intrigue winning him over. Your eyes widen as you look him over, shocked by his proposition. You can’t remember the last time anyone offered to listen to you talk. Silently, you question the man, wondering why he would waste any of his time listening to you, but the rational part of you is overruled by the intense desire to finally have somebody’s attention— even if it is a stranger’s. 

Walking over to the swing that hangs off the Gilberts’ porch, you begin opening up to Elena’s mysterious visitor and it feels orgasmic to finally have someone listen to you— to acknowledge you and be attentive. For you to not feel discarded, but seen for all you are. That feeling is so intoxicating that you end up sharing far more with the gentleman than you had ever intended— far more than he had expected. You tell him everything— how your mother died when you were 3 and your dad is hardly ever home because of his job as a truck driver, how you spent most of your childhood with the Gilberts because there was no one else around to care for you, how you grew up inseparable from Elena and eventually the rest of the gang. You enlighten him on your hatred for the Salvatores because one by one they robbed you of the only family you ever really had without even possessing the bonds you had built with them. You share with him how you once again feel abandoned by the people you love and how devastated you are by their betrayal. You tell him how you can’t even begin to comprehend how everything you all have been through together can just suddenly not matter, how it feels like they’re telling you that you don’t matter. You tell him so much that you run out of things to say— only able to sob out all of the pent-up emotions that had been brewing inside of you for months. 

And through it all, the vampire stays by your side, intently listening to every word that spills from your lips. When speaking became too much, he pulled you into his side, letting you cry onto him. The more he listened to you, the deeper his affinity for you grew. He saw the young woman broken by the sway of the universe, the lost little girl longing for her place in the world. He saw that flicker of hope for the good of humanity and how quickly it was being snuffed out. As he watched you cry, he knew he had to protect it— protect you. He understood the decisions your friends were making knowing the true cause of them, but that didn’t mean he liked the results. 

You break away from the warmth of the man’s comforting embrace suddenly aware of the embarrassing predicament you have placed yourself in. With a flush to your cheeks, you apologize to the kind stranger for your unhampered display of emotions, but he swiftly dismisses it, reassuring you he was more than happy to provide you some solace.

You smile at the man, marveling at his beauty and compassion. He is so gentle with you— a complete stranger. His warmth and affection towards you is something you know you will be chasing for the rest of your life. He is magnificent and angelic. 

As you look him over, your revere for the man twists into horror as you take note of the stain your running makeup left behind— permanently marring the expensive fabric of his suit. “I am so sorry,” you sincerely apologize, guilt eating at you for the damage you’ve caused. “I’ll help you pay for it. Shifts at the Grill don’t pay much, but I’m sure if I take on enough extra ones, I will eventually have enough money to pay you,” you offer, trying to find a solution to the mess you created, knowing full well you will probably never earn enough to cover even a fraction of the cost of the suit. The Original smiles down at you, amused by your concern over his suit— such a trivial matter.

“I own plenty of suits. Please, don’t worry about this one.”

You stare back at him incredulously, once again baffled by the gentleman’s generosity. You want to protest against his easy forgiveness and kindness, but the arrival of a vintage red Porsche Coupe steals your attention. Elena emerges from the vehicle— confusion coloring her expression. 

“Y/N, what are you doing in here?” the brunette inquires as she ascends the steps to her porch. A scoff escapes your lips as another piece of your heart is ripped to shreds by her negligence of your friendship. 

“Elijah,” the brunette questions, noticing the vampire standing behind you for the first time, “What’s going on?”

“Well, we’ve been sitting here waiting for you because apparently you couldn’t be bothered to show up to any of the events you planned. Remember our Girls Day of Fun?” you question your childhood friend— your anger with her behavior as of late reaching its boiling point. 

Elena’s eyes widen in realization before her face quickly contorts into one of guilt, feeling mortified she’s forgotten about your plans once again. 

"Y/N, I am so sorry. I—"

"Let me guess, you were too busy hanging out with Damon and Stefan to remember that you had plans with your best friend. Which, might I remind you, was set in place to make up for all the other times you abandoned me," you say, cutting her off, venom lacing your voice.

The brunette visible winces at the sting of your words, but you are far too gone in your outrage to care about her wounded feelings. After all, it’s not like she hasn’t been killing yours this entire time. “Y/N, please, you have to understand-” Elena begins, but you are quick to cut her off. “No, Elena, I don’t have to understand. You can not possibly have one valid reason for why you consistently keep blowing me off. You are supposed to be my best friend. I have known you since we were in diapers, so I can not even begin to comprehend why you, and everyone else for that matter, have been pushing me off for the freaking Salvatore brothers. I have been here for you way longer than they have and I have helped you through more than they possibly ever could. I expect this from Caroline, but from you, Elena..." you trail off, the lump swelling in your throat. “I just don’t understand why I’m being replaced,” you finally breathe out, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. 

The Original Vampire inches closer to you, feeling an impulsive need to shelter you from the source of your anguish. He remains quiet, however, understanding the importance of you two having this conversation. But his presence remains nearby waiting to swoop in whenever he is needed. 

Elena’s eyes mirror the same tears decorating your cheeks as she encloses her arms around you. The doppelgänger hates that her actions have been hurting you, but with a supernatural development seemingly emerging every five minutes, it has been hard for her to ensure your safety and spend time with you. “I’m not replacing you. You’re still my best friend. It’s just… things are complicated,” she tells you, hoping that you’ll understand the inexpedient dilemma she’s been placed in. 

Unfortunately, you can’t understand what you don’t know and you find yourself wondering about the possible meaning behind her vague words. But exhausted from the emotionally taxing day, you let the subject drop, opting to accept her cryptic explanation. You want nothing more than to go home and curl into bed. Elijah, whose presence you had completely forgotten in the midst of your confrontation, seems to sense your desire as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder and offers to escort you home. 

Over your shoulder, Elena throws a glare at the Original, not liking the idea of leaving you alone with the vampire. But since Elijah has given her his word that he would not harm her friends, she allows you to leave with him, telling you that she will check on you in the morning. Nodding, you accept the distinguished gentleman’s outstretched hand and allow him to accompany you home. 

Upon your arrival, you turn towards the man who has acted as more of a friend to you in the past hour than your friends have in months and envelop him in a hug of your own. The Mikaelson is caught off guard by the sudden contact but is quick to wrap you in his arms— pleased to be having such an affectionate moment with the girl who has quickly whittled a place for her in his heart. 

“Thank you. So much. For everything. And I’m so sorry you had to see that,” you thank Elijah for his abundant kindness to you, pulling out of the comfort of his embrace. 

“I would happily do it again,” he informs you— a smile lighting up your features. 

“Bye, Elijah,” you part, entering your house and leaving a shocked Mikaelson in your wake. He hadn’t realized you caught his name. 

"Goodbye, Y/N," he whispers, smiling down at his new favorite suit jacket.

Part 2

Taglist: @catmikaelson20​

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask and I will happily add you!

[sandinthemachine]

König Workout HC

@itsagrimm and I were having a lot of fun the other day talking about gym König and this is the result, it definitely got away from me. Probably gonna turn it into a drabble or two at some point

When He's Alone

The gym is definitely a safe space for him. He's had to work out pretty intensely as long as he's been in the military, so the pain and pushing his body is second nature to him. He puts on his heaviest metal playlist and immediately enters his own little world

Find him headbanging and bouncing his leg between sets

When he's really into it he'll even make very quiet humming and growling sounds deep in his throat as he's rocking out. He doesn't notice. Do Not Point It Out, he would never recover from the embarrassment

Man does not spend much money on himself, but he DID invest in really nice noise-canceling earbuds that play the bass tones in his music perfectly

Going off of that point, it is almost IMPOSSIBLE to get his attention once he's into the workout. He's taller than everyone else so he can already completely miss people way shorter than him, add that to the fact that he cannot hear anything with the earbuds in, he is barely aware he is in public anymore. You basically have to physically run into him or he will NOT notice you

He can huff a little when his weights get really heavy, but he doesn't tend to grunt or make many sounds

He gets really hyped and energetic, always pushing himself to lift just a little more and do just one more rep. He absolutely LOVES the burn when his body is protesting and enjoys the soreness after almost as much, it's a reminder of what his body can do and he's intensely proud of that

He never asks people to spot him, if he chooses a weight too heavy he just suffers in silence, usually he's stubborn enough to push through it though

Absolutely TERRIBLE at cooling down and stretching afterwards, when he's done he's done and just wants to move to the next thing. He always tells himself he'll stretch at home and then immediately forgets

When You Work Out Together

When you first start getting close the two of you can't STAND working out together. He likes being a lone wolf and doing his own thing while ignoring everything around him, so he's a bit grumpy at first, and then he tries to be supportive of you but turns into more of a drill sergeant, stressing you out even more than when he'd ignore you

But as you two get closer you decide to try again

And this time it's much better

You realize that everyone gives you plenty of space, even the annoying gym bros give you a wide berth and you get to use any machines or weights you want no matter how busy the gym is. You love it.

He's still very intense, but he's gotten better at being supportive about it.

He spots you and encourages you to add just a little more weight or do just one more rep, even if you're telling him you can't he's arguing right back, stubborn as all hell until you try again and

You do it

And he gets REALLY excited

He might even yell out in the middle of the gym

"Yes! I knew you could do it!" "That's MY girl/guy/partner/friend/etc!"

He isn't usually very verbal but you get all the praise every time you push yourself, he gets very bouncy and keeps smiling at you saying how proud he is

When you take breaks he's making sure you're drinking water and checking if you need anything else, he has a horde of all kinds of workout snacks and makes sure to always bring your favorites

And when you're between sets you get to spot him

You usually don't have to do much work but he makes you do it anyway. He secretly likes watching you eye his muscles or touch them as they flex, he worked his ass off for them and loves when you admire them.

On cardio days you assume the two of you can go for a run or maybe a bike ride together, only to find out he's one of those batshit insane people who loves suicide runs. He convinces you to join him once. Never again. You're happy to watch, though. Even if it terrifies you just a little, especially when he gives you a big toothy smile after every lap even as he gets flushed bright red and struggles to breathe.

He is definitely one of those people that gets even more energy after working out, you'll be walking on jelly legs and he'll be all !!! "Let's go for a hike!" but when you're too tired he's just as happy to go for a drive around town getting all the best food (his appetite is IMMENSE esp. after a hard workout), and while he's on that post-workout adrenaline he's almost a different person, bouncing on his heels and getting really excited at everything, grinning at you and getting you to grin and laugh back until both of your cheeks are sore

After you've both showered you like to sit on the couch together doing your own thing, maybe put a movie on in the background. He tends to still have a lot of energy, stimming and tapping his leg with his hands or bouncing in his seat, very content and happy

Eventually, EVENTUALLY, he'll settle down and crash on the couch, sometimes with his head in your lap, sometimes with you climbing into his

When you both wake up sore he'll be grinning at you all over again, hiding his chuckles behind his hand

[flourbray]

while fixing my flat tire this morning i pondered the question if and who of the cyclists know how to do it. like not only change a whole wheel, but get the tube out, find the hole, put the little sticker on it, get it back in (be so fucking frustrated bc now the brakes are making weird things and when they come back 20mins later the fucking tire is fucking flat again)? what do you think? which of them would feel me?

this is a SUPERB question and one that merits much consideration 🤔

i'm assuming/hoping they all at one point or other, did in fact know how to maintain their own bikes (hmmm. most of them at least.)

however, after many years of being handed a shiny new sponsor bike every January and spending almost all of their time riding a handful of minutes away from a team car/mechanic/NSV for spare bikes/wheels, it's entirely possible they've forgotten. having a crack team of mechanics servicing your bike's every need will undoubtedly lead to forgetting stuff

okay seriousness over let's get silly!

long gone are the days of pros carrying spare tubes over their shoulders (which is a shame because it's hot), but who, given the opportunity, would be capable of fixing a puncture?

direct evidence:

Wout van Aert ✔️

growing up as a teenager in cross without an eminent father and the connections that brings, bikepacker in the off season, wout can 100% fix it himself and wash the bike at the end of the ride

at the opposite end of of the spectrum, G ✖️

after eighteen years as a pro i'm not sure whether g remembers how to change rim brake pads let alone discs. the team give him a fresh pinarello and he rides it. simple. when it breaks a mechanic gives him another one. though once he retires the knowledge will come back to him

distantly justified gut feelings/completely unjustified Visions:

tadej ✔️ he can change tubes but always forgets the left pedal screws the opposite way

remco ✖️ owns at least one unnecessarily fancy multitool that he has never used. aero nerd but basic maintenance eludes him

mathieu ✔️ but it will take a fair while because he has not done it in soooo long and he doesn't remember to check the tyre for embedded sharps (this could be causing your repeated flat or the tube may be caught between tyre bead and rim)

jasper ✖️ forgets shoes and socks on training camp. has never bought his own inner tubes; begs one from someone else on the group ride and then struggles with a tyre lever for 20 minutes before someone takes pity

jonas ✔️ part time carpenter adept at handiwork, has been given the same unnecessarily fancy multitool as remco (BY remco? at the vuelta?) but it's unused in favour of an infinitely more practical one.

tom (pidcock) ✔️

joshy t ✖️ the lad vaguely knows what an innertube is and that you can pop them by putting the pressure too high but has never had to handle one himself

mads ✔️✔️ father (dads pedersen, if you will) runs a bike shop. not only can mads change a tube in under four minutes but he will show others how to look after their bikes and get irritated at poor maintence

matej ✔️✔️✔️ in another timeline it's moho instead of frank herzegh who invents tubeless tyres

[midnightblues444]

Tokyo rev as tropes #2

Cast list: Baji keisuke, Rindou Haitiani,and shuji Hanma

Content warning: smutty themes, harrassment, mentioning of gun fights

Hanma shuji:

Brothers best friend ( note: suggestive af)

"This cant keep happening" you sigh while pulling a bra on. "Mhm" is all Hanma offers in response. He's not paying attention to you, he has an unlit cig resting in his mouth looking for his lighter.

"shuji Im serious." He laughs at you, loud and booming, he comes up behind you wrapping his arms around you. "Everytime you say this cant happen again, it happens again, so can you please stop pretending it won't ♡?" He says in a matter of fact tone. You turn to face him,a tall smug man who is fiddling with the flimsy strap of your bra, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

Your phone chimes, probably a text from your brother .Who would freak out on both of you if he knew the reason you were late to his birthday dinner. You and your brother had  agreed that  friends are off limits and  here you are debating on fucking his best one for the nth time.

The strap slips down your forearm, it's not long before its gone and you hop into Hanmas arms as he carries you to the nearest surface to fuck you. Your phone chimes again with another text from your brother:

"where tf are you y/n?!?!"

Rindou Haitiani:

Rivals to lovers (Bonten timeline, smutty, cursing)

The car ride is tense, the question bouncing through your head;

what the fuck just happened last night?

When you two were first assigned this job together you were equally pissed. I mean it was a known fact that you hated eachother, so why would Mikey do this? Mikey said that you two were Bontens best muscle while Kakucho wasn't around. Which to you was a lame excuse but you took it anyway not wanting to whine like Rindou.

Everything was going well at a point , you got to the warehouse and collected your money from a very *difficult* client. Until the shooting started. A gun fight, 4 people against the 2 of you, how fun right? You obviously dont work well together being all over the place barely surviving it.

When you got back to the hotel the bickering was nonstop the blame being tossed back and forth. He was suffocatingly annoying, and when you asked if he had a permanent stick up his ass. He told you to watch your fucking mouth.

Next thing your legs are thrown over his shoulders, his pace doesn't relent. All that hate all that frustration was fueling his thrusts as he whispered about how crazy you make him while all your able to do is moan in response scraping at his back.

Now the next day, driving back to headquarters you can barely look at the other all you can think is

dont forget to take a morning after pill.

Baji keisuke:

Fake dating (tw, pushy boy ew)

Bajis mom was worried.

"Your surrounded by so many negative influences Keisuke" she says when looking sadly at his report card. Baji never wants his mom to cry anymore because of him. So he has the bright idea to get help. From the top of his class, y/n l/n.

Although it took some convincing you eventually came over to his house for a study session. You sat close to him checking his work both of you surprisingly focused. When his mom came home, her heart swelled at the sight offering you snacks and dinner.

Once you left, she mentioned that you were cute slyly asking if anything was going on with you two, wiggling her eyebrows at her son. The smile on her face was contagious and Baji wanted her to keep that smile. Before his brain could catch up he said "hell yeah there is".

She squealed and went on and on about how good you were for him, and how happy she was for him

Who was he to tell her the truth?

The next day he was casually riding his bike trying to figure how to break the news. Then he saw a guy standing by someone, he realized it was you. Poor thing you looked uncomfortable and once he approached, the guy urgently left, baji wasn't wearing his disguise so he figured he was recognized or something.

You explained that the guy has a crush on you and is being very forceful about it,basically he wont leave you alone . That's when Baji had another great idea.

If you pretended to date each other, the guy will leave you alone and his mom will continue to think you are the good influence in his life.

Win win right?

[welcometololaland]

WIP WORKING WEEK PART 1: THE RING-IN (AGAIN) (not sure if this is 57 sentences exactly but here you go - TK, Carlos and Nancy go to a spin cycle class, and TK and Carlos assess the quality of the restrooms).

The spin cycle class is exactly as TK expects – sweaty, loud and full of middle aged women who are far better at riding a stationary bike than he is. On the upside, he gets to sneak looks at Carlos every thirty seconds and appreciate another perfect part of his husband’s physique: the way the muscles in his shoulders flex as he shifts the distribution of his weight, the tight swell of his ass in workout shorts, the way his skin looks golden in the dim lights, glittering with sweat. 

On the downside, so does everybody else.

Carlos is so distracting that the instructor has trouble maintaining control over the class. Despite their spin bike prowess, many of the women seem to be gradually losing interest in the class as Carlos gets increasingly sweaty. At some point, the music gets turned up, as does the instructor’s mic, trying to redirect attention to the fact that they’re supposed to be changing their resistance every few minutes. On a quick glance, TK suspects a fair few people haven’t gone up a level for half the class.

TK isn’t typically the jealous type. In fact, he feels vindicated by the attention Carlos gets because he finds the man borderline irresistible, and being in love with such a gorgeous creature has made him do some pretty insane things. Even so, there’s a limit to how much appreciation he can endure before he feels the need to savagely stake his claim.

“Stop looking like you want to murder that poor woman in her sleep,” Nancy says through laboured breaths. They’re just about to get back out of the saddle, although TK has sort of lost which part of the class they’re up to.

“Her jaw is practically on the floor,” TK mutters. “Do you think she could pick it up one of these days?”

“You can’t seriously be jealous of Janice over there,” Nancy snorts. “Have you forgotten that your husband is completely obsessed with you? He bought you a pet lizard the other day.”

“Bearded dragon,” TK corrects. “And the fact that Carlos loves me isn’t going to stop me informing the entire class that he’s gay and he’s mine.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, blinking as the sweat from her brow appears to momentarily blind her. “You need to cool down,” she says drily. “Go outside and then come back in when you’re ready to play nicely with the other children.”

“What? And look like I suck?!” TK protests. “I’m not giving Janice the satisfaction.”

“You do kinda suck,” Nancy mutters, “also – and I say this in the nicest way possible – no one is looking at you.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” TK snipes as he stops pedalling and hops off the spin bike, plucking his water bottle from the holder like it’s personally offended him. “Also, you suck.”

“Don’t forget your towel!” Nancy snickers, and then wobbles dangerously on her bike as TK pulls it off with a flourish. He feels like a matador tempting a bull, because the instructor gives him a very dirty look.

TK has to admit, once he’s back in the cool, heavily air-conditioned hallway, he starts to feel a lot better. There’s something about getting sweaty in a room full of other sweaty people that grosses him out a bit and he’s admittedly not the best at being told what to do. Unless it’s at his job, but that’s because he respects his father and Tommy more than he respects most people. A hell of a lot more than he respects any spin cycle instructor, at least.

“Hey,” Carlos says, dropping down onto the bench seat next to him. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

TK takes one look at him and wishes he didn’t, because the concern written into Carlos’ expression combined with his sweat-slicked curls and the big, irresistible brown eyes renders him completely weak.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Just sick of how good you look. Also, I don’t like spin cycle.”

Carlos arches an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yes, you did,” TK mutters under his breath, but loses his train of thought completely as Carlos cups his cheek in one hand.

“You don’t like getting sweaty with me?” he asks, and although it sounds innocent, the wink that accompanies is anything but.

“Careful,” TK warns. “The restrooms are less than twenty feet away and I’m very frustrated.”

Carlos drops his hand and looks over his shoulder, before turning back to TK with a coy smile. “Think there’s anyone in them right now? The class is fully booked and it looks like the reception area is empty.”

TK stares, mouth watering. “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

“Well,” Carlos replies mildly. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

“I’ll show you something else I can rub off,” TK smirks, before taking Carlos’ hand and tugging him towards the door.

[dominimoonbeam]

Practice Makes Perfect - 7

the college au. from the start on ao3.

haha this fic started off as pure smut but has turned into complicated as hell relationships and emotions...

David/Asher, Milo/Sweetheart, Gavin/Huxley

Practice Makes Perfect - 7

Somewhere between the locker room confession and getting out of the showers, most of the team had decided they all needed breakfast.

Asher tried not to sneak glances at David… or outright stare at him. He’d said he liked him. In front of everyone. And as much as Asher’s mind tried to convince him he meant it as friends or was trying to patch up the awkward situation between them… he knew that wasn’t what David had meant.

Asher was pulling his hoodie from his locker, the team already talking food and carpooling to the diner. David came up beside him, their lockers side by side like always. He palmed the back of Asher’s head, ruffling his wet hair before sliding his hand down to give the back of his neck a subtle squeeze that sent chills through Asher’s whole body. “Ride with me?” he asked.

Asher almost bit his damn lip, nodding. He liked the public affection, subtle but somehow screaming loud. They’d always been touchy, but this was different.

They needed to talk but right now, this was nice. This was fucking perfect. Maybe Asher didn’t want to talk. Maybe talking would ruin it. Asher tended to ruin shit by talking…

They all made their way out of the locker rooms, into the morning air, spilling toward the parking lot.

He stopped, forgetting all his own shit when he spotted Huxley and, of all people, Gavin talking just up the path. Hux had taken off quickly. He did that sometime and Asher still hadn’t figured out if he should stop him or not. Maybe he needed to get away from the crowd? Maybe he didn’t want to hang out? As much as Asher would respect that, he just wasn’t sure that was it.

There was something awkward about Gavin and Huxley’s conversation. Hux was twisting the strap of his back and edging a step back, to the side, like he didn’t know how to get around the man in front of him… who was half his fucking size.

“Huxley!” Asher shouted, smiling and peeling away from the group. “There you are! Fuck, you left in a hurry.” He stopped like he was surprised to see Gavin. “Hey, Gav. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up this early…”

Whatever strange nervous look had been on Gavin’s face was gone, replaced by the smooth flirt Asher had known for years. “Oh, I think you have…”

Asher grinned and leaned up to throw an arm over Huxley’s shoulders. “We’re going to get breakfast. You coming with, Hux? I’m trying to get a pancake eating contest going.” He nudged his chin at Gavin. “You want to come too, Gav?” He was already turning Huxley toward the parking lot and the team.

He was more than a little surprised by how Gavin hesitated. He even asked Huxley if it was okay. What the fuck was going on between them? And when did that even happen?

Milo spotted Gavin and the team was soon cat calling and begging the notorious art major to join them, some offering to win the pancake eating contest in his honor and others trying to talk him into joining. Gav flourished under the attention, even pretending he couldn’t figure out Milo’s helmet, getting him to put it on for him.

Asher still had an arm over Huxley’s shoulders, but didn’t catch any signs of jealousy. In fact, it was Gav sneaking peeks at Hux, not the other way around. What the hell was between them? “If you really don’t want to hang out, we can drop you at the dorm, but you should come! This place has the best pancakes.”

Huxley nodded. “Sure. Yeah, I mean if you guys don’t mind,” he said.

Asher grinned, steering him straight for David’s truck.

Darlin was pitching a mock fit about Gavin stealing their ride on Milo’s bike and asking why he never buckled their helmet on for them.

“If you don’t move your ass, you’ll be walking!” David warned, hitting the button to unlock the truck just before he reached the driver’s door.

Darlin whined but sulked to the back seat.

They all climbed in, Hux in the back and Asher sitting shotgun.

David waited pointedly until the last of them, Darlin, buckled up, and then pulled out of the lot.

Milo zipped around the truck, earning a hard scowl from David for dangerous behavior that Asher just knew would come up later and already laughed about.

“So,” Darlin spoke first. “What’s up with you and Gav?”

Asher twisted around to look at them, torn between scolding Darlin and really just fucking wanted to hear the answer.

Huxley shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”

Darlin laughed. “Nothing? Are you serious? Because it looked a lot like he’d been waiting for you to get out of practice to talk to you.”

Huxley’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? No, he wasn’t.”

David tipped his head, focus still on the road, but Asher saw it. David definitely thought Gavin had been waiting too.

“When did you two meet?” Asher asked, making it sound casual rather than the fucking interrogation Darlin was launching. They had the subtleness of an avalanche. “Do you have a class together?”

Huxley shook his head. “We talked at that party last night.” Another shrug.

Darlin waited for more.

David repositioned his hand on the steering wheel. He knew something…

“Well, you must have made an impression,” Asher said.

“He wasn’t waiting for me,” Huxley said again.

“You just talked?” Darlin asked, still hung up on that detail.

Asher laughed.

David nudged his shoulder. “Sit forward,” he complained in a low mumble.

Asher was still laughing when he dropped back onto his ass in his seat, facing forward again. David had a thing about car safety and though Asher was inclined to laugh in the face of safety rules most of the time, this was not one of those times.

“Are you not into…art students?” Darlin continued to puzzle out the situation, grinning around their words.

Huxley blushed, Asher saw it in the rearview mirror. “It’s not that. It’s not… anything. I just… He wasn’t waiting for me,” he said, always in that chill, deep voice, making Asher think he might actually believe it.

Darlin sputtered, ready to argue.

“I’m starving!” Asher whined.

David scoffed. “That’s not new.”

“Your hook up last night didn’t give you breakfast?” Darlin asked, attention shifted, they grinned at him in the mirror.

Asher smirked back through the glass.

“So, who was it?” Darlin leaned forward, against the back of David’s seat to look at Asher, waiting for the story, daring him to tell it. Darlin had a real shit starter streak.

Asher shrugged, ready to take that attention to give Hux a little respite.

“Oh, come on! You can’t all be this tight-lipped.” Darlin froze, a little smirk pulling at the corner of their mouth as they tried to come up with a joke. It was there in “tight-lipped” waiting to be found.

They pulled into the diner parking lot and before the truck was off, Darlin’s door was open. The team was gathering on the sidewalk, Miguel trying to negotiate waffles instead of pancakes for the challenge.

Darlin practically dragged Huxley out of the truck with them.

Asher waited, expecting David to be grumpy now or ask him about the guy last night. Nothing had happened, but it wasn’t like he knew that.

David turned off the truck and looked at him, eyebrow raised in a silent question of why they were still in the car.

“You’re not going to ask?”

David unbuckled. “Ask what?”

Asher smiled, the moment alone growing until he realized it was the first time they’d been alone since last night…since everything went to shit. “So, we’re… okay?”

David looked at him, surprise flaring behind his eyes. “Ash…” He reached out and touched the side of his neck, thumb stroking under his jaw. “I meant what I said. I like you. You’re my best friend and…more.”

Asher bit the inside of his lip to try to stop the creeping smile and the urge to ask dumb questions. Questions like, “are we dating?” which might land him right back where they were last night—in a state of awkward nothing.

David frowned at him. “You’re quiet.”

Asher blinked, realizing David still had his hand on the side of his neck, even with the team right there on the sidewalk roughhousing and laughing with each other. He was suddenly afraid to say anything because it was definitely going to be the wrong thing.

David’s frown smoothed out, serious but no longer scowling. He dropped his hand, like he just realized it was there. “If you’re uncomfortable with PDA—” he started.

Asher laughed, surprising them both. “Sorry. No. What?”

David went back to frowning but it looked like his usual grumpy face, not the real one. “You’re acting weird, Ash. If this was too much or—”

“It’s not too much!” he burst and then felt the heat rush to his face. Fuck. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s perfect. It’s great. It’s… I don’t know. I don’t want to say the wrong thing again or assume too much.”

David stared at him, shaking his head a little. “You never said the wrong thing. I was just surprised. I hadn’t really… thought about changing things between us. Which is stupid because we’ve been messing around and that’s sort of changed things already, only… it didn’t really. It’s always been you and me.”

Asher nodded, his heart pounding in his ears.

David raised an eyebrow. “You’re… Ash, you’re still not talking.”

“Are we dating?” Fuck! The words jumped out of his mouth.

David grinned like he’d won something and nodded. “Obviously.”

Obviously? Asher leaned across and kissed him like he’d wanted to since last night, definitely since he’d been thinking of kissing him since he touched his wrist and said he liked him in the locker room. David groaned when Asher tongued him before breaking the kiss and sitting back—keeping it short and sweet because they were, in fact, still sort of visible to anyone trying to peek.

“So… If I pretend I have to go to the bathroom, will you follow me—”

“No! Gross. A public bathroom? Fuck off.”

Asher laughed and opened his door, hopping out of the truck. “I can pretend to drop a fork under the table and—”

“Shut the fuck up!” David grumbled.

-

Milo and Gavin had been the first to reach the diner, because this wasn’t the first time he had Gavin on his bike and he knew the other guy wasn’t afraid of speed.

Gavin hugged him from behind. Milo remembered the first time he’d given him a ride more than a year ago. Gavin had grinned like a wolf at the bike and Milo offered him the helmet and a ride. He perched on the back with his hands behind his hips and his teeth nipping his lip, unsure but excited. Milo had gotten on and started the engine.

“Don’t fall off,” Milo had told him then.

“I’ve never fallen off,” Gavin replied instantly with that sharp note of innuendo. They’d met at parties but that had been the first time it was ever just the two of them. Gavin’s chest touched his back and then pulled away, trying to figure out how to keep his seat on the bike without wrapping around him maybe? “Um…”

Milo had never heard Gavin hesitate. He waited, ready to turn the bike off if he’d changed his mind.

“How handsy am I allowed to get with you here?” Gavin asked, playing it off with charm but a note of real uncertainty there.

Later, thinking back, Milo knew that was the moment they became friends. He looked back at him and smiled. “As long as we don’t crash and you stay in your seat…”

Gavin beamed, slid that inch forward to press against his back and curled arms around his middle.

Milo parked right in front of the diner. Gavin unraveled arms from his chest, dropping one to give Milo’s thigh a flirty squeeze before sliding off the bike. “I really love that thing,” Gavin admitted, looking at the bike while unclipping his helmet.

Milo killed the engine and got off, taking the helmet from him. “Should I be jealous?”

Gavin sputtered. “Definitely.”

Milo held the door for him, the diner mostly empty as a trail of vehicles rolled into the parking lot behind them. He smiled at the waitress and told her how many they were going to be and that they could take a few tables and booths together since there wasn’t going to be a table that big.

Gavin followed him to the table rather than ducking back out to the sidewalk and the gathering team. He and Gav got along great, but it wasn’t like him to pass up a chance at playing around with that many rowdy jocks.

“So, what were you doing up this early?” Milo asked, sitting next to him on the same side of the booth.

“Hm? Who says I went to sleep?” Gavin countered, sliding in across from him. He looked out the windows, smiling at Darlin’s antics before his expression wavered, serious and uncertain, eyes following Huxley.

Milo blinked. Had he been waiting to talk to Hux? Huxley was nice. Like, really damn nice. He couldn’t imagine there being bad blood between the two. What could Hux possibly have done to upset Gavin?

The doors chimed when the group started pouring in, the tables and booths around them filling up. David slid into the booth across from them, settling into the corner with Ash right next to him. Menus were being passed around, laughter filling the room. David stretch an arm along the back of the seat, behind Asher. It wasn’t really anything he hadn’t done before, but Milo bit back a smile. Those two idiots had been stumbling around each other for years. He was happy to see them finally sorting it out.

Huxley seemed to be one of the last ones standing, looking for a seat.

Milo would normally point out the ones at their table and encourage him to take them, but suddenly he wasn’t sure. What if something had happened between him and Gavin?

“Huxley,” David said, holding out a menu.

Asher scooted in, giving him plenty of room on his other side.

Gavin sat up a little straighter, suddenly interested in his own menu.

Milo had seen Gavin mad at plenty of people and this definitely wasn’t that. He looked across the table to catch Asher’s gaze, something exciting glinting there like he too had noticed something. Milo shrugged.

Darlin practically threw themself into their booth, pushing Gavin into his side. “I’m starving!”

“I fed you before practice,” David reminded, monotone and disinterested.

Milo’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, checking the message.

-It’s not a date. You better show up with ideas for the final or I’m dropping you.

He smiled out of control. They’d texted him first.

-I’ll bring a notebook and an extra pencil.

Dots.

His heart pounded. Had they been up for a while thinking about this or was it their first thought? It was definitely a date.

-I’m not joking.

He texted back. No hesitation.

-Me neither. I’m never going to give you a reason to drop me.

Gavin whistled, low and right next to him.

Milo’s head snapped to the side to see the other man looking at his phone. He didn’t say anything—didn’t point out what he was texting about or to who in front of everyone, he just smiled and nodded and then perked up to order when the waitress came over.

-

Gavin wasn’t sure what he was doing.

He was at a table of jocks, crashing a team outing, and none of that was really out of place. But he wasn’t flirting, not really—not like he might usually. This was… different. Why? Just because Huxley had rejected him? Or because he didn’t understand why?

It didn’t really feel like he’d been rejected so much as it felt like Huxley just didn’t believe him?

Gavin had never been unsure about how anyone felt about him before. He was pretty direct and people tended to either hate him or want to sleep with him. Huxley didn’t hate him… But he wasn’t looking at him or bumping his knee under the table or anything.

“Gavin,” David said after they handed away their menus. “What are you doing for your final? You do an exhibit, right?”

Gavin looked at him, feeling casual attention turn his way as people waited for a reply. He was used to attention and almost grinned and said something about how he regularly does exhibitions and inviting David to come... But those dark eyes were staring back at him, waiting, and seeming to try to convey something in that signature silence and patience.

“Um… Yeah. I’m kind of on the fence between using stuff I’ve got or doing a new series. I’ve got time but…” He shrugged, surprised how self-conscious he felt. Why would anyone care about this but him?

“But what?” Huxley asked, hanging in the answer.

Gavin found him looking back at him, those eyes so open. “I guess it’s an issue of inspiration? And, you know, I know the professors have liked some of the pieces from my last series, I should probably just go with those.”

Huxley nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you could have that to use if you want to, but still try something new in the meantime? Or… is that not how it works? What kind of art do you do?”

The waitress brought coffees and teas. Gavin found himself talking about art and blushing a little when Asher and Milo pulled out their phones to show Huxley pictures they had from his last exhibit. He hadn’t realized they’d taken pictures, let alone remembered them. And Huxley seemed honestly interested, saying he didn’t know anything about art but really liking the pieces with hints of nature in them. Gavin suddenly wanted to paint more flowers…

[a-strange-inkling]

If anyone would like a little jealous Eddie to go along with their plate of jealous Chrissy, here’s a little more of the jealousy one shot:

He knows with every fiber of his being that loving Christina Elizabeth Munson née Cunningham is the single greatest most difficult thing he will ever do in this life.

But she loved someone else first.

What were his past conquests? Why were they a cause of concern. She loved Carver. She was with him for three years.

Three years.

They haven’t even been freaking married for three years.

She was going to marry him.

Not like just move in with him at college or something no, fucking marry him. White dress, spring wedding at Olde North Chapel the next year. He had a ring for her. Chrissy had seen it herself, snuck a peek after her friends told her about it, where it was hidden in his dresser.

Eddie wondered if she pulled it out of the box. Tried it on. He could never bring himself to ask.

He takes her hand and finds his ring, the one he made her in his shitty garage. The one she’s wearing now. The one she accepted. The one she vowed to wear forever. He spins it around her finger, unable to forget that sweet, personal conversation he shouldn’t have heard her junior year when he was a second year senior.

It was a typical day… He’d been smoking with Jeff and Donnie after school in the back of his van when Jason Carver rode into Hawkins High on a motorcycle of all things. The deep revving of the engine was so rich and condescending that everyone had to look. Even he and the boys were unable to stop themselves from peering over as Carver did a full turn around the parking lot, doing a few wheelies before pulling up to the curb around the gym where the cheerleaders were just coming out after practice.

They all gasped and squealed in delight at the show.

All except Chrissy who stood stock still in the center of her squad, gaping in amazement and disbelief. They were all shaking her arm and pointing. Like, oh my God, look Chrissy! Look at your boyfriend! He’s on a motorcycle! Isn’t he just like the dreamiest ever?

Jason pulled off his helmet, gracing the world with his golden head of tousled hair, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight like Robert Redford. His eyes twinkled at Chrissy, grinning at her while she just stood there, too flabbergasted to move. The engine revved down so he could properly beckon her over.

“Surprise.”

“Oh my God!” she cried, shaking herself out of her stunned state as she bounded up to him, ponytail swishing back forth across her shoulders. Jason swung his leg over the seat, standing with the bravado of a man who knew for a fact he was getting laid that night, wrapping an arm around her. “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“Oh my God… please don’t tell me that’s a Sturgis. It sounds like a Sturgis.” Donnie whined beside Eddie, covering his eyes, unable to look over and confirm it for himself. He was even more of a motorhead than Eddie.

“Sure is,” Eddie answered numbly. “1980 FXB with an eighty cubic inch square engine. Pristine condition.”

“Original paint job?”

“Looks like it.”

Donnie sobbed quietly, digging his fingers into his eye sockets. “Stupid lucky little fuck.”

There was no getting around it, it was a fucking gorgeous bike. Seemed like he and Carver had the same taste in motorcycles too.

Chrissy stared at the sheek black vehicle, completely mystified. “Jace, how on earth…”

“My dad let me have it for the afternoon to stretch its legs, just have to get it back in the garage by six or he’ll skin me alive… Nice huh?”

She nodded, her big blue eyes wide and round, something like a daze coming over her.

“How about it? You want that ride?” Jason asked again with a chuckle, holding up the second helmet that was hanging on the upper rider seat behind him.

“Really!?” she asked. “I can? It’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, c’mon.”

A happy little squeak escaped her as she jumped up and down in his arms, tugging on his shoulders so that he would hurry up and drive away with her into the sunset. Eddie had never seen her more enthusiastic outside of a cheer routine. She was always so poised and put together. Right now she could barely hold still long enough for Jason to get the helmet on her head and wrap her up in his letterman so she wouldn’t get cold.

It reminded him of the little girl he met backstage of the middle school auditorium all those years ago.

“Settle down, Chris.” Carver chuckled. “Gotta make sure this is on tight.”

Everyone watched them as Chrissy mounted the seat behind Jason, her arms slipping around him to hold his narrow waist. They looked… perfect together. Even more so than usual.

“Some guys really do get everything.” Donnie muttered with a shake of his head, having finally looked up.

Eddie smirked miserably at that, taking another deep drag. No fucking kidding.

Chrissy’s squeal of nervous, wild laughter could be heard even when Jason shifted gears and tore away from the school, kicking up loose gravel.

Eddie, because his favorite thing in life was to commit self sabotage, smoked way too much afterward and ended up falling asleep in the back of his van. The boys had been nice enough to clean up the scene, lock up the van… and tuck him in on the small cot. Someone even left him a bag of chips and some water. Probably Jeff.

He just laid there groggy as hell, kinda wanting to die, but kinda not. Sorta in this weird headspace that if he did die… that wouldn’t be too bad.

Images of Carver and Chrissy kept swirling in his mind… and he wasn’t sure why it was bothering him… okay, that was a lie… but he wasn’t sure why it was bothering him this much.

He was nothing if not a cynic. He knew how the world worked. Girls like Chrissy ended up with guys like Jason. And that was that. While guys like him drank or smoked themselves to oblivion because all they were good at was making their already shitty lives even more shitty.

His pathetic self pity party was interrupted by the sound of voices outside. He sobered up, quickly scrambling to the front seat, with the grace of a newborn antelope, half worried it would be Hopper swinging by to make sure he wasn’t loitering after school again… but no… God could never be so merciful.

It was the royal couple, back from their tour. Jason was just coming out of the gym with a duffle bag while Chrissy sat waiting for him on the motorcycle.

“You look really good on that.” Jason told her.

She smiled bashfully as she scooched up along the seat, holding the handle bars, eyes on the road ahead, pretending she was going to peel right out of town. “I think I want one now.”

“Oh yeah?”

She glanced up at him coyly, almost like she was waiting for a reprimand. Her smile grew wider when he only came to settle heavily behind her, his strong arms snaking around her waist.“Yeah… will you teach me to drive it?” Oh so bold. Oh so flirty.

“Sure.” Jason leaned forward, pressing his chest to her back, gripping his hands over hers as he spoke into her ear. “You know I love teaching you things.”

Chrissy flushed, a nervous little giggle escaping her. Jason laughed and kissed her cheek. “You really like it huh?”

She bobbed her head. “I love it… We should… we should get one.”

Jason laughed loudly again. “Yeah sure, maybe someday.”

“I’m serious!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining at this idea. “We can both save up the money and after graduation… we can just go.” She shot her hand off toward the setting sun like a rocket.

“Go?” He was smiling at her placatingly, like someone listening to the aspirations of a little kid. “And just where would we be going?”

“I don’t know,” she breathed, leaning back against him, pulling his arms back around her. “Everywhere, anywhere, Chicago, New York, Seattle, Sedona, wherever we wanted… we can, can’t we?” Eddie remembered hating the way his heart swelled at her plea, at the way she came to life for a moment and looked westward toward the future. A future. One that could be her own.

They wanted the same thing.

Jason pondered her question for a moment with a teasing frown. “Well I mean, there is that whole pesky college thing.”

“We’ll still go to IU,” she assured him quickly, as if it were a mortal sin to suggest otherwise. “There’s the summer and holidays… and college won’t last forever.”

“Yeah, but everyone else is here, our whole lives are here.” Jason reminded her. “Won’t you miss your parents and Mattie?”

She hesitated, only for a second. “We’ll come back and visit… there’s just so much out there, Jason… don’t you want to see it?”

“Well, sure but…” Jason shrugged one shoulder, looking a little taken aback by the question. Why leave your own kingdom where everyone hangs off every word you say? Where everyone loves you? He eventually smiled.“What are we going to do? Live like hippies on the side of the road?”

“No,” she shoved him playfully, but the idea seemed to thrill her nonetheless.“We’ll find a place, our own place, just you and me, then we can go wherever we want, do whatever we want…”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he said a little more quietly, his eyes fixed solely on her, while she stared off into the horizon. Solar fire blazing in the deep oceans of her eyes. Crazy, wild dreams in her head. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”

After a little while, she shifted in her seat to look back up at him. “Can we go, Jason? Please say we can go. Say we can go somewhere someday.” She became a little frantic, like her life depended on this agreement. “It doesn’t have to be on a motorcycle, just say we’ll go.”

His hand rose to her ribcage, just shy of her breast to cradle her against him, kissing her forehead. “Alright, alright, it’s a deal.”

Her enthusiasm faltered, but only for a moment. “You promise?”

He grew serious, looking her right in the eye as he stroked her cheek.“You know I’d do anything for you.”

That seemed to satisfy her enough. A slow, bright smile lit up her whole face at the pact. She sunk her fingers into his golden waves and drew him down to her, kissing him deeply. “I love you.”

“Love you more.” He sighed, kissing her back, folding her up into his arms to lift her up. “Come on, we gotta get this back under the tarp before my Dad actually kills me.”

Chrissy nodded, putting the helmet back and climbing around him to the back seat. She held on to him tightly as he kickstarted the Harley.

Eddie watched them as they pulled out of the lot and disappeared down the road, Chrissy’s rose gold hair flying beneath her helmet.

Yeah. Some guys really did get everything.

[mochamoth]

Some silly hcs for my silly little rarepair from a random AOSTH episode!! (Scratch x Henrietta hcs!)

(.. I wanted to write a fic but didn't know what to write about exactly plot wise 🥲 anyways this is probably gonna be cringey so you have been warned! And long! Probably long!!)

So these would all take place after they met up again. Scratch wouldn't be with Robotnik probably by this point and is probably recovering from y'know, actual abuse.

The two sorta meet up and Scratch apologizes for the whole amnesia thing (finally giving him a chance to explain) and Henrietta forgives him. So it goes from there (can ya tell idk what to make the story exactly, aa 😭).

Also I do hc Scratch as a trans lesbian. So um y ea. I use he/she for him usually.

Anyways, the two preen eachother like.. Well birds!

Scratch attempts to help Henrietta out on her farm, but he kinda sucks at a lot of the tasks. He's good with the chickens, though.

Also obviously motorcycle/bike rides! I like to think Henrietta has multiple, cuz I find the fact she's both a motorcyclist and a farm girl charming. She likes to speed through random fields near the farm for funsies.

The two probably move out on their own. Not far from Henrietta's parents (obviously) but like, to their own cottage (haha cottagecore).

Scratch is very awkward when it comes to showing affection. Henrietta will be all OVER her, and she won't know what to do because she's simply not used to it. Scratch does try though! She gives random kisses here and there and occasionally cuddles up with Henrietta first. It's not that Scratch doesn't like affection, she adores it. Scratch just doesn't know what to do cuz she's used to abuse and isolation. (Ofc except Grounder, yay siblings!)

The two do eachothers makeup because cute!

Self indulgent as HELL but both are autistic.

And share special interests.

And will rant about them to eachother for hours and hours.

Scratch and Henrietta both wake up at sunrise. As much as Scratch finds it funny to annoy poor Grounder by crowing at the night owl (or uh.. Mole) to wake up, it's a nice change of pace to live with a fellow morning bird. He still crows though!

Scratch will fight anyone who tries to harm Henrietta. Henrietta insists unless one of them is in immediate danger that the fighting isn't necessary, but Scratch sometimes forgets about that.

Pet namess I mean this is already canon. Henrietta has her cute little pet names for Scratch like dear, darling, sweetie, and ect. Scratch isn't very good at coming up with pet names, but she started to mimic her's which Henrietta finds cute.

They share a nest bed. Because I find Scratch's nest bed in the show downright amazing and incredible.

Henrietta gains comfort weight and is chubby, CRY ABOUT IT!!

Henrietta kinda helps Scratch learn about the world from a non-villain perspective. Scratch is still a little "evil" ofc, I'm bias I adore silly little evil guys (team Skull my beloveds). But not legit taking over the world, endangering lives, and abusive evil! Anyways, Henrietta kinda helps Scratch acclimate into a more peaceful life.

Scratch is secretly a bit insecure about how she looks, but Henrietta helps him love herself a little more.

Henrietta helps put Scratch together if he ever breaks. She's no robotics engineer, but she does know how to fix vehicles. So she has a bit of knowledge plus guides and studies on robots.

I'll probably come up with more later, but that's all for now! Sorry if there's any bad grammar or typos, I am so so tired cuz been busy on remodeling my entire room 😭!

[certifiedbi]

Ok I don't give a fuck that this opinion if mine goes against everyone elses on here but I need to say it

I don't think Di Giantonnio deserves a MotoGP ride.

He's waited until the sun has almost entirely set on his career, despite the fact that it has been known from start of the season he would lose that gresini. I mean no on knew it would be the Marc Marquez that took it from him but it had to be someone.

What pisses me off the most tho is that it should have been too little too late for Di Giantonnio but now he's attempting to steal candy from a baby by taking that VR46 for Fermín Aldeguer, a rider that has already accomplished much more than Di Giantonnio in his junior career.

And I won't forget how everyone else on here (minus a few people that have always been Digga fans) were also happy to see the back of him but have all now 180° on their opinions now that he's actually decided to start riding like a MotoGP rider.

Honda don't want him anymore, Marini is the much better option for developing a bike, he's intelligent and didn't spend the first half of his season writing off Ducatis. I have faith in VR46 to make the right decision and take Aldeguer, he's the type of young talent that should be a priority to these teams. also it will give VR46 the upper hand when they change to Yamaha as it's no secret Yamaha want Aldeguer, so it may help them secure two factory bikes for 2025.

Di Giantonnio already got lucky with an extra year when he was underperforming on the best bike on the grid, and now he's pulled out these results which I would bet my bottom dollar he won't replicate if he goes to VR46.

Everyone else on here can pitty him all you want, but I still stand firm on the opinion I have had on him all season long