icky-rickyy

[icky-rickyy]

Joy Ride

Motorcyclist!Logan x Motorcyclist!reader

I am currently obsessing over street bike tik tok. Taking a short break from my multi part I am writing to supply this beauty.

Rated: E for everyone.

Should I do a part2

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Marissa, your roommate spoke from her bed. She was laid in snuggly under the covers, chin tucked to her chest and cell phone resting on her abdomen as she dedicated the first half of the day to ‘doom scrolling’ as she called it.

“Yeah why not? I never meet anyone, and I never get to show off. I haven’t gone on a joy ride in months.”

You were tugging the zipper of your armored pants up, making sure they were fastened tightly to your body.

“You’re going to go cruising into a bike meet? A male predominant space and expect to get treated like one of the guys? Your tits are out!” She inched up in her bed, resting her back against the headboard.

“The last time I went to a bike meet was with Ethan. And I went as a backpack. I didn’t even have my own bike to show off, I was just eye candy while riding bitch and holding on to him.”

“And I look better on a bike when my tits are out anyways!” You looked down the front of your white cropped top, tugging the bottom hem down.

“Are you going by yourself?”

“Well….. no. I was going to ask Ethan to meet with me. Buutttt, if you wanna play backpack then I won’t invite him.” You were pulling on a thin zip up jacket, zipping it only a quarter of the way.

“I am so sorry but this is my only Saturday off all month, I am not getting oogled at and then being scared for my life while you drive recklessly.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Kay fine. Don’t be mad when I come home with some biker hottie and we’re knockin boots all night.”

You grabbed your helmet from the end of her bed, tucking it under your arm with a firm slap to the top of it.

“Don’t die, and don’t get any STD’s!” She cheered after you as you headed through your apartment to the front door.

You dialed quickly on your phone, tucking it between your ear and shoulder as you pulled your keys from your pocket. It only took two rings before it answered.

“Uh hello?”

Ethan was on the other side, asking pensively.

“Are you going to the bike meet at the abandoned Jiffy on 10th?” You hung your helmet on the handle bar of your bike, swinging your leg over to mount it.

“Yes. How do you even know about that?” You could hear him shuffling on the other line.

“You’ll see. I’ll be there in 20.”

You hung up the phone quickly, locking it on to your phone stand and reaching for your helmet. You pulled it on over your hair, tucking the loose strands up in the back before fastening it tightly around your chin.

The bike roared to life beneath you, and your heart settled happily in your chest. You were excited for the evening, ready to see what the rest of the day could hold.

You weren’t even sure where to park.

The abandoned parking lot was already half filled with bikes of all shapes and sizes. Riders stood talking to one another while others stayed perched on their motorcycles simply observing or scrolling on their phones. There were at least 30 people stood waiting, and the meet wasn’t meant to actually start for another 10 minuets.

You tried not to shy away from peering eyes as you rolled into the large group of people, looking for an open spot to put the kickstand up on your bike and put it in park.

There was an open spot next to an older model Harley, the owner stood leaning against his bike puffing a half smoked cigar as he looked to the others suspiciously.

It was a stark difference, your bike next to his.

His classic looking motorcycle next to your lilac purple crotch rocket. Dark black leather next to pink and white accents and flashy rims.

You pushed the kickstand down, staying mounted on your bike as you fiddled with the helmet strap. Your hair fell from its tucked in position, setting your helmet on the gas tank and pulling your gloves off to run your hands through your messy helmet hair.

You tried not to look at the man next to you, watching his eyes scan as his large chest huffed with each inhale of his cigar. He had a leather jacket folded on the seat next to him, clad in a white beater tank top and bootcut jeans help up by a large silver belt buckle. His arms were big and muscular, covered by a vast sea of body hair. A tickle of the dark hair peeked up past the neckline of his tank top and teased at the base of his throat.

He looked many years you senior, and hot as fuck.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You stuck your hand out to him sheepishly, introducing yourself.

“Logan. Like your bike.” He nodded down, eyes narrow with a stern look on his face. His words were curt but friendly.

“Right back at ya.” You chuckled back, pausing your next sentence when your phone began to ring in your pocket.

“Sorry.”

You dismissed yourself, answering Ethan’s incoming call and pressing it to your ear.

“Hey. Yeah. I’m next to an all black Harley. It’ll be hard to miss me. Yep. See you here.” You pushed your phone back into your pocket after ending the call, adjusting your seating on your bike.

Logan was still looking around, watching people walk past and nodding to the few that gawked openly.

A group of girls still wearing their helmets were walking by, whispering and squealing quietly to themselves at the sight of your bike. They all came by to swoon with you, asking where you got it and identifying questions you weren’t unfamiliar with answering.

You could hear the signature roar of Ethan’s bike as he approached, the girls standing near all making a clearing as he pulled in behind you and parking his own bike. He dismounted, swiftly pulling off his helmet.

“Wow. I’m impressed. You might have just out done me.” He stood with his hands on his hips, watching as you pulled your leg over your bike approaching him with a hug.

It had been nearly six months since your breakup that you had last seen Ethan. You tried a few times after the initial ending of your relationship to rekindle, but it never seemed to work out.

“I didn’t even know you got a bike.” He held you proudly by your shoulders, stepping back and putting his hands to his side when the group of people around the two of you finally registered in his brain.

“Well I was tired of being a backpack, what can I say? This is your fault though. You started this addiction.” You laughed open heartedly to him, watching him nod with a smile.

“Well I have a few buddies here to catch up with, but I’ll cruise with you when we get going later.”

You nodded as a quiet response to him, smiling as you watched him walk away and into a group of guys that all hugged and high-fived him happily.

“Boyfriend?” Logan asked from next to you.

You had almost forgot he was there, looming quietly from his bike.

“No.” You laughed to him. “Ex. This is actually the first time we’ve seen each other in months.” You pulled your phone from your pocket again, sending Marissa a quick text that you had arrived safe and sound.

“His loss.” Logan muttered quietly, pulling a final drag of his cigar. You looked over with a flash of shock, watching him smirk as he flicked the tobacco to the ground and stomped it to ash.

All you did was nod with a shy smile, looking to your street shoes and kicking a loose pebble around.

The entire group of bikers waited for another 10 minutes before everyone loaded up. You pulled on your gloves and helmet again, tugging the strap tight and hopping back on to your bike. Ethan mounted his behind you, you both shared an excited glance before you flicked down the visor of your helmet. Logan pulled on his jacket, climbing onto his bike without any protection. He smirked over to you, you blushed behind the darkness of your helmet.

Your whole body was vibrating in excitement when the group of bikes roared to life. There were at least 50 of you. It was too hard to count when the front of the group sped from the parking lot and out into the street.

Ethan replaced Logan’s spot on the side of you, keeping steady pace as you all began to race down the pavement. Logan followed shortly behind.

Passer-bys in their cars all gawked at the lot of you, heads swinging on a swivel as the singular headlights went by in a flash.

The group was picking up speed, going through main traffic until you took enough turns and ended up on an open paved backroad.

Evening was dwindling down, and the traffic was decreasing by the minute. This left the wide open pavement to the entire fleet of motorcycles to cruise in and out of the two lane road.

People were synced up to each others helmets, talking joyfully through about their lives while others shared music with each other in a collective jam session. You typically would enjoy far too loud music while riding, but you left your ears open to hear the herd of rumbling bikes race down the streets and to pick up on any important or urgent comms messages.

Logan managed to squeeze in between you and Ethan, his classic bike groaned and rumbled deeply as he yanked on his throttle in show. You laughed aloud at his ego display, looking between him and the road as he smiled brightly.

Logan leaned over as much as he could from the distance between you, sticking his hand out in invitation. You veered your bike closer to his, placing your hand in his open palm. He clasped his hand around yours, pulling your gloved knuckles up to place a soft kiss upon them. He squeezed your hand before sending you a wink and letting go.

You put your hand over the mouth of your helmet, tilting your head to mock grace at his chivalry. He threw his head back in a laugh, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

When you both quit giggling you watched Logan’s eyes flash dark with mischief. He scanned the area quickly, locating and calculating the closest bikers before he yanked down on his throttle.

His bike was absolutely screeching, hollering in a deep grumble as he pulled down harder and shifted gears. He was flying through the group, weaving in and out of everyone as he accelerated through them all.

You were almost shocked, watching him navigate the group with ease. You watched a few people flash back to you with confusion. You decided, why the hell not, and yanked down on your throttle just as hard.

The wind was whistling against you as you leaned down into the tank of your bike, feeling yourself accelerate even faster with the aerodynamics. It was a flash of headlights and rainbow colored modifications as you passed each biker swiftly in urge to catch up with Logan who was now coasting freely at the front of the group.

Your comms system was catching nearby voices, hearing them whisper in confusion or holler in excitement.

Logan was looking back as often as he could when he heard your bike accelerating behind him, a wide smile on his face when you finally caught up. You flipped up the visor of your helmet.

“You tryna race?” You yelled over to him.

He shook his head from side to side. “Not tonight doll, just wanted to show off a little.”

“Maybe next time?” You inquired with a smile, watching him roll his eyes playfully.

“Yeah, maybe next time.”

It was nearly 10 pm when you all returned back to the abandoned parking lot. Many of the bikers wished a good night as they broke up from the group to head home, the others followed back and were now parked in the meeting spot. Most were walking around in the light of the street lamps engaging in conversation or perusing the parked bikes in admiration.

You’d mainly went back to bid a goodnight to Ethan and then head home, to thank him for showing and for inspiring you to chase this particular fulfillment in your life.

It’s was hard to ever consider a time when you didn’t have a bike. From the moment you met Ethan and you began riding tandem with him, you were obsessed. The adrenaline, the quick feeling of flying through the open roads, the deep contentment that settled your soul and helped you sleep at night.

“Thanks again.” You confirmed to him, seeing his bright smile underneath his helmet. He held your shoulders kindly and his bright blue eyes shimmered down in pride.

“I’m proud of you. I hope you know that.”

You could have teared up at his endearment. Sometimes you wondered what it would have been like if this managed to work out with him.

“Thank you. Let’s plan another time to meet up, maybe without the other seven million people.”

Ethan nodded in confirmation with a laugh, pulling you in for one last tight hug before separating to head to his bike parked nearby.

He waved to the group and his friends as he drove away on his bike, peering out into the road before he filtered into the straying traffic and was gone in a flash.

Logan had still loomed by, leaning against his bike and finishing another cigar. You were ready to leave and head home, but felt compelled to talk to him.

“Thanks for the fun tonight. This was my first ever meet solo and you, uh, you just made it a lot better.” You stuck out your hand as a formality.

Logan reached out and shook it, his large hand wrapping around your gloved one like earlier.

“Thank you for playing along. Recklessness can get boring.”

You chuckled in response, nervously tucking your hand into your pocket and looking to the ground.

“Hey?” Logan asked, tentatively reaching for the bottom of your helmet. He tugged you closer, tilting your head up to look up at him.

“Let’s do this again, just you and I? Next week on Tuesday work?” He puffed a cloud of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

You nodded wordlessly.

“Meet here? 10 am?”

You nodded again.

“Perfect. Good night, and get home safe doll.” He released his grip on your helmet, watching you stay frozen in shock. He stomped out his cigar like he did earlier, mounting his bike swiftly.

You watched in awe as he rumbled it to life. He sent a flirty wink before pulling up his own kickstand. Logan flew out of the parking lot and into the street.

“Oh fuck me.” You groaned, flicking down the visor of your helmet and mounting your own bike to head home.

[icky-rickyy]

Just a snippet of what i’m working on😌

please be patient for a multi part loganxreader i am desperately trying to binge write in my free time

[icky-rickyy]

The Bell

Aziraphale finally returns from heaven, and Crowley is less than pleased

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A bell sounded above the door as he swung the painted wood open. That's new  he had thought. He'd never remembered the bell being that loud. The rusty hinges of the old bookshop door always welcomed him and signified his entry and the bell became background noise. He turned lazily on his heels as he walked in, looking up to a brightly polished brass bell attached to the door frame.  There was a pang of disappointment. Things were finally starting to change, and he wasn't a fan.

Thankfully, It still smelt the same inside as it always did. Dusty, dry old books and leather polish for the upkeep of the angel's most prized literature.  Crowley's eyes scanned the walls of the bookshop, a few shelves and books had shifted from their regular spot, the rings of dust changing places.

"Hello! We're clo- Crowley? What are you doing back here?" Muriel wandered into the middle of the room from some far off corner. She'd changed her clothes since he'd last seen her, but she was still adorned mostly in white.

"Visiting. Am I not allowed?" His snark was purely jest, and as naive as Muriel is it flew directly over her head. He'd wandered to the floral armchair sat in front of the desk. Caressing the wood furnishings before turning around swiftly and sitting down promptly in the chair. He looked over the secretary for a moment, its door had been closed since he had left. He's sure the key to open the desk was somewhere hidden in a hollowed out book.

"No, always. Of course you're allowed. Can I do something for you?" She bounced happily on her heels with her hands clasped behind her back.

Crowley scoffed. "Nng. Now that I'm here I can watch the shop. Why don't you leave me to it?" He looked over the frame of his dark glasses with raised brows.

"Well, where might I go?"

"Ah. Take the stairs, at the top there is a room to your left. Go sit in there until I ask of you otherwise."

Muriel hummed happily with a curt nod of her head and her feet swept her quickly towards the stairs. Crowley listened to her feet against the metal spiral stairs until she reached the wood floor of the landing and he let out a deep breath. His whole body condensed into the creases of the armchair, and he felt the spirit of his Angel embrace him within the fabric. He didn't often indulge in the comfort of Aziraphale's floral chair, in fact it had been quite some time since he'd been back in the shop to begin with. 

He peered across from his seat to the leather lounger displayed properly with pillows and throw blankets. Crowley had stayed up many nights on the sofa with Aziraphale. Limbs crossed messily, drunk on the Angel's finest of wines as they slurred their words together and held their glasses loosely by their stems.  The throw pillows never stayed on the sofa, and once Crowley had managed to spill an entire glass of rare wine on the carpet as his lips mingled messily with Aziraphale's.

The floral chair made his throat choke up, and the leather lounger made his yellow eyes fill with tears. There was a reason he stopped coming around the shop.

Crowley was shocked back to a focused mind when the doors of the shop opened and that damned bell rang loudly. Muriel probably installed it. Damn Muriel.

Crowley's spine had been shaken straight and his hands prepared to push him up at his knees. That was until he stopped frozen in the floral armchair as his ears rang and his blood ran colder than it normally does.

"Muriel? Where are you? Oh how dearly I've missed that bell!"

A voice as smooth as the most beautiful songs carried its way through the dusty bookshop air, and Crowley wished hell would drag him through this damned floral chair and far out of sight.

He'd considered hiding for a moment. Quickly ducking behind a nearby shelf of books and staking out until Aziraphale had left. But the quicker his steps sounded, the more mesmerized by his voice he became, the slower his heart started to beat.

There was only a few more brief moments Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see him. A large stack of books on a chest made a wall between the door and Aziraphale's desk, and at his height he'd need to round that corner to see him.

Be cool.  Crowley attempted to condition himself. To regulate and prepare

"Muriel?" Aziraphale rounded the corner just as Crowley gathered enough strength to fully stand, wiping his hands off on his tight black jeans.

They both stopped for a brief moment. Crowley could feel the world spinning, his stomach churning in discomfort and confusion as his heart seemed to expand three sizes in his chest. Aziraphale's mouth fell open, and his lips seemed to move on their own as he inaudibly babbled like a fish out of water.

Crowley didn't remember him being so short, and his hair seemed to get lighter and a dash longer. He was dressed in stark white like all proper angels of heaven are, and there was something about that Crowley hated.

Aziraphale noted Crowley's darker hair. He'd remembered it being a flaming red, standing tall like his confidence. Now it was almost pitch black, only a sheen of red when he shifted his weight in the light, and it was swooped off to the side to stay out of his face.

"Crowley? What are you doing here?" Aziraphale spoke breathlessly. He was almost too afraid to move. His heart longed for Crowley every day in heaven, and to see him now in his home on earth, his heart pounded out of his chest.

"Eh, just leaving actually. G'dbye."  Crowley gave a curt nod and took a swift swing of his leg to side step and begin walking out of the bookshop.

"Crowley. Hold on. Wait!" Aziraphale's body turned with Crowley to follow him towards the door. He had stopped abruptly, turning on the heel of his snakeskin shoe.

"Wait? You want me to wait? I'm bloody sick and tired of fucking waiting." His words seethed from behind his teeth and his snake tongue chattered in his mouth.

"I don't-What do you mean? I've missed you." Aziraphale's forehead ached from how tightly his brows are knitted together and his breath is shaking in his throat.

"Do you actually not know how long you've been gone?"

Aziraphale's head shook slowly as he quietly babbled again. "I was busy. I'm in charge, I had a lot of things to oversee." He defended.

Crowley scoffed, rolling his serpentine eyes behind his glasses. "Three and a half years, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale." He spat loudly. "You've been gone for three and a half goddamn years. I've waited around long enough."

He could feel every molecule of broken heart and rage rumble up his throat, he could feel the heat boil in his stomach, and he was just about to explode. Aziraphale standing there, mouth hanging open with sadness in his eyes only infuriated him further.

"Ya know, at first it was hope. I waited around down here in your damn chair for half a year waiting for you to realize you made a mistake. Waiting for you to finally realize you made a mistake leaving me here. Then I moved to our- your room." Crowley's heart stuttered in his chest. "I laid in that bed for three more months waiting, until I finally slept for 10."

He was blistering. Like that one day in the street where the heat of hell rose to the surface of his skin and it burst through like white hot rage. Crowley could feel his eyes bulge, the dry constriction at the back of his throat. He knew what this was.

He was about to cry.

"Then, I finally decided to fuck off to any place but here. I wasted three years waiting for you. I thought you would come back, and you never did. So, damn you to hell! And damn you and waiting any fucking longer." Crowley reached out with a rough hand and shoved Aziraphale in the chest. He really felt it now. The shiver of his chin, the heat of his eyes, and the running of his nose.

Crowley couldn't hide his sniffle or of the waver of his voice, and hot tears managed to spill past the frames of his dark glasses. As the huff of his chest caught up with him, the more and more pathetic he felt.

And Aziraphale's face.

He was in the middle of attempting to process. Words floating around in his brain and rearranging themselves into their correct order. It showed on his face. An empty stare and that same open mouth. Like he looked lost.

"Please, Crowley. I- Please?" That's all he could manage now, as the words swam loosely in his head.

"I already flew too close to the sun once, you know. I can't believe I was stupid enough to do it again." Crowley finally finished, defeated.

His lungs rattled in his chest and his yellow eyes burned from the tears. He attempted to turn back around to leave, the squeak of his faux snakeskin boots and the sound of the waxed hardwood floor seemed to be amplified.

Aziraphale's brain still pinged around in his skull, the lightning round of information separating and gathering and compartmentalizing. He didn't have anything to say, but there is one thing he knew. He didn't want Crowley to leave.

"Stop, don't-"

Aziraphale stepped forward quickly and reached out with both hands, capturing Crowley's face. His mind thought to that day he left, and every day after where he mulled that kiss over and over in his head. He should have done more, and said more. He can, here and now.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer by his face and pressed his own angel soft lips to the demon. It had that same desperate energy as the other kiss. The begging to hold on and stay, the longing and pleading.

Crowley wrapped his arms around the waist of his Angel, pulling him closer. He wanted this embrace to mean so many other things than it truly did. He knew Aziraphale was begging him to stay and to talk, to figure it out and fix it. He only wanted it to mean one thing. I love you.

For the brief moment they embraced, their hands moved just as desperately as the kiss intended. Trying to pull each other closer than their corporations allowed.

When they pulled apart, there was a shared short gasp for air until Crowley completely separated himself.

"Crowley, I-"

The demon shook his head, straightening out his mangled outfit as he began to turn around.

"Crowley!" The angel finally shouted as he was heading towards the door.

"Please forgive me?" Aziraphale hiccuped his own sob as he started to cry.

"Maybe, Angel." Crowley kissed his teeth with a shake of his head as he pulled the doors open.

The bell rang as the door opened and rang as it had left, and Aziraphale had never damned that bell faster than he did now.