#it's like a ten minute bike ride away from work

[greppelheks]

I could save him.

There's this little house I cycle past every Friday that I'm absolutely obsessed with. It's completely falling apart but I want to renovate it and live there. There's endless pasture behind it.

[writersdrug]

omg you mind holy wow i love your brain i would never come to lobotomize you omgomg by god i need more bartender!simon you recently mention, maybe abt how they interact and develop? idk i really dont care what exactly you write, i js need any words from you abt bartender!simon

Hmmmmmm I have some headcannons!

You show up for work thirty minutes early because you're NOT risking losing this job.

Simon sometimes lets you bang on the back door for a few minutes, yelling for someone to let you in, until Soap gets tired of hearing it and opens the door. Simon finds it funny.

You think Simon is the owner of the pub until Price comes in one day with cash for your tip payout. You screamed as soon as you saw him walk in through the backdoor, thinking you were being robbed.

Simon barely managed to swing into the kitchen and grab you around the waist before you pummeled Price with an empty beer keg.

Price later told Simon he thought you were a perfect addition to the team.

You do your tips at the end of the bar every night as Simon polishes the glasses across from you. Lets you have one drink on the house.

First floor is the restaraunt/pub, second floor is the pantry/walk-in fridge/office where Price does money work, third floor is the studio apartment where Simon lives (Price discounted it for him).

When it's slow, you and Simon and Johnny all take a smoke break in the alley out back - you don't smoke, but you talk to them while they share a cig, complaining about customers together.

You bring it up to Simon that you've noticed how Johnny always comes to the front of house when Kyle brings the new kegs in, "Simon, need ya to check somethin' - ah, hey, Garrick!"

Simon scoffs at your revelation. "Jus' now seein' that?"

You live ten blocks away from the pub and ride your bike to work. Simon let's you stuff it in the alley for safekeeping.

If you're feeling especially sporty, you pop in your earbuds and take your skateboard. Simon nearly had the breath sucked from his soul when he saw you zipping by the window the first time.

You mop front of house because Simon hates it. Simon restocks the to go boxes because you can't reach the top shelf where the overflow sits.

You tried to pour a lager once when Simon was busier than usual. After watching you attempt it, he banned you from doing it ever again.

You enter Pino grigio in the POS as "peeno greeshio" and Simon hates it, but you love the way Soap cackles from the kitchen when he sees it.

Kyle sometimes sticks around to help you drag the new beer kegs up the stairs, and he shows you how to connect them to the taps.

You're constantly begging Price to set up a Karaoke machine in the corner of the bar. He says when you can afford it, you can buy it.

You broke the soda gun once; you and Soap were frantically filling container after container with tonic water while Simon was on his back under the bar, cursing and trying to turn the water off.

Monday mornings are deep-clean days, and everyone has to participate. You're all wearing sweats and bleach-stained shirts, pulling out the stove, sweeping behind the kegs, dragging the mats into the alley to clean them, emptying the fridge and scrubbing the entire thing.

Simon doesn't like to think too much about how hot you look in your sweatpants, ratty t shirt, and sweaty, flushed skin when you're exerting yourself.

You're constantly thinking about how those sweatpants hug his hips, those muscles in his arms flexing, and the grunts he makes when he's shoving the stove back into its place.

Simon gives you full permission to return any nasty attitude the customers dish at you.

After you go home for the night, Simon often finds himself lying on his bed, one arm behind his head and the other hand on his chest, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day - and they're all centered around you

[fatehbaz]

In just eight blocks of sidewalk in quiet neighborhood, walking through the not-quite-rain of a sunshower, today I encountered four missing shoe soles. Little pieces of plastic and rubber, detached from pedestrians' shoes, now lonely on the concrete, with the weeds.

No such thing, really, as a "weed", though. "Weed" is not a botanical term. Instead, describes perceived pests, at the discretion of the observer. At the discretion of the authority. Designated as weed by the one with power over that land. The agronomist, the rancher, the plantation manager. The weed wastes space that could otherwise be given to a monoculture cash crop, an "economically significant" plant. The weed interferes with the productivity of the plot of land. The weed interrupts the extraction. The weed diminishes the value. The weed doesn't belong in this place.

People are made to be weeds, too.

Some cities will designate you as a weed, and then they'll take action to pull you out. They'll uproot you. But it's not always explicit, like "we're outlawing loitering" or "we're outlawing taking a nap in the park" or "we're defunding the library". Sometimes it's quite clever, it's written into the physical landscape. Self-congratulatory "progressive" cities learn to co-opt language, to obscure the violence, to use and abuse space.

Thinking about things you might encounter, you might perceive, after you've been destitute, broken, lived at a homeless shelter, for years. Little signs of other peoples' misery. Indicators of desperation that some might overlook. And the way that environment shapes, and is shaped by, these miseries.

A friend asks "why is there always an unusual amount of scuffed detached missing shoe soles on this particular stretch of sidewalk? There are hardly any homes around here, it's all asphalt and empty lots, so where are all these be-shoed people coming from?" Because even though this is a wide expanse without either home residences or any kind of commercial or recreation space someone would want to visit, these blocks are the straight-line direct path between a low-income apartment complex and the cluster of corporate big box stores, and there's no bus line that runs between the two areas. "But don't the vast majority of customers of shopping malls and box stores drive vehicles, hence the obscenely massive parking lots?" Sure, customers drive, but guess who actually has to work at those places? An underclass of people living at that apartment complex with harsh restrictions and cheap amenities, who can't afford car insurance or who might be too physically disabled to bike. And so that apartment complex is a de facto "company town", the residents are essentially in confinement. It is written into that landscape. It can be read. "Why is there always debris, wrappers, coins, etc. in this particular quiet couple of blocks of the boulevard?" Because these blocks are between a thrift store and a same-day drop-in clinic, so many impoverished people will routinely be walking between these two locations. They attend their appointment, and then have forty-five minutes to kill before the bus comes back around, so why not check out the thrift store? The city and county collaborated and placed all the low-income assistance offices on the far side of town, which conveniently forces the poor and disabled to both stay away from the luxurious downtown district and also to waste their time making a four-hour commute, catching various connecting buses or else riding the bikepath, across the city just to attend a ten-minute-long appointment.

Then this spatial layout, this city's physical environment, will shape the physical body. This violence writes itself into the flesh. The way the denim is chafed and discolored on the left shoulder of someone's jacket from carrying a small backpack around by foot, day after day after day. The way someone's heart rate increases when they see a white and black vehicle in the periphery of their vision, subconsciously recollecting institutionalization and institutional abuse, or fearing what a ticket fee would mean for their budget (they might not be able to afford rent). The way someone develops a painful limp, maybe occasionally depends on a cane, because they had to walk great distances every day to get to work and their shoe sole fell off on the sidewalk, but they can't replace the shoes because their employer is underpaying them, and they're forced to stand all day at work anyway, and they already had some modest nerve damage in their foot because they've been rationing their insulin and can't afford their prescriptions, and federal medical insurance keeps denying them because their physical letters in the mail always show up too late or not at all, and groceries are too expensive so it's hard to get good nutrition to heal, but the diabetic nerve damage has by now damaged their digestive tract too so they have a strictly limited bland diet and can't enjoy the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal (if they can even afford a home, at this point), and all those "little" miseries add up, and now they're hungry, and in pain, because they were forced to walk kinda funny for a long time over all those decaying sidewalks with all those other weeds.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes Chapter 7 part 1

in which the bats start to suspect that something is going on with Jason

Masterpost

“No, I'm at Jason's place,” Dick read out loud. “Have fun without me.” He put his hands on his hips. “I think I'm offended. Are you offended?” 

Damian shrugged, cheeks hollowed around a juice box straw. He had under eye wrinkles from a long day of being a small child. Dick felt vaguely tempted to squish his cheeks, but the bites were still healing from last time and he needed dexterity to grapple.

“I'm deeply offended and think you should remind Jason who is the alpha older brother.” Tim didn't stop his keyboard mashing, splayed upside down on the back of the sofa. His neck was squashed at an uncomfortable looking angle. “Go get Duke and give him fundamental childhood memories. Now is your time to shine. Teach him how to ride a bicycle or Jason will do it for you.” 

Dick hummed skeptically. He paced a little. “Duke probably knows how to ride a bike. But still.” He took a couple of steps while he wrestled with himself. “I know that you’re trying to encourage the worst in me.” He tapped his fingers against his hipbone rapidly. 

It wasn’t going to work. He didn’t need to be competitive about this. Duke wasn’t really picking Jason over him, he was just- choosing to be with Jason instead of Dick. No big deal.

“Are you really going to take Jason take a W over you?” Tim didn’t even look over at him. 

“He’s not winning anything.” Dick frowned at the distance, out the window. It was just that usually these few hours in between Duke’s patrol and bedtime lined up well with his free time after work, before patrol. He liked having the family together. He liked that they hung out in the TV room and fought for control of the TV. It built character, and he wasn’t saying that just because he usually won.

“He’s winning,” Tim said darkly. “You’re letting Duke get away from you.” 

Dick ripped away Tim’s DS player and scowled down at him. “Stop trying to rile me up,” he demanded.

Tim gave him a shitty smile. “You’re right. It’s probably better if Duke hangs out with Jason. What’s one more bird who avoids the Manor? We can be a family from a distance. You don’t really need to see Duke grow up.”

“You suck.” Dick let go of the DS and stalked out of the TV room. He ignored the instant scramble behind him as Damian and Tim fought for control of the TV. Tim was probably doomed to two hours of Animal Planet, but Dick felt no mercy as he grabbed his riding jacket and jogged to the upstairs parking garage. He passed Bruce and they exchanged a silent nod. 

Jason’s place was annoyingly far away from the Manor. Dick steamed inside his motorcycle helmet for the first ten minutes and then decided to be a better, more cheerful person, and also to do some recon. He called up Roy on his headset. “He-ey,” he sang with the line picked up.

“Dickie McDickface,” Roy said evenly. “Fancy hearing from you.”

“Oh please, McDickface is my father.” Dick swerved around a car that was merging without a turn signal and then gunned the engine so that he could get even with the driver and show them his middle finger. “You can just call me Baby.”

“Will do, sweet cheeks.” Something snapped in the background and then a humming started up. Microwave? “What’s up? You calling just to flirt or do you need to see my face?”

“Just thought of you,” Dick lied breezily. “Since I’m on my way to see my little wing and he’s tried so hard to subsume my place in your heart.” He tightened his grip on his motorcycle handles.

“You really don’t need to compete with him.” Roy said blandly. “You’re different people. I can have friendships with multiple people without one of them being the alpha friend.”

Dick made an unconvinced hum and took a sharp left turn onto the freeway. “If you say so. I’m not arguing with a man with beautiful brown eyes.” 

Roy sniggered. “You’re terrible.”

Dick grinned. Gottem.

“I don’t think Jason wants my heart,” he said wryly. “You can relax.”

Dick got much tenser. “Oh?” he prompted. Say what you know! Reveal Jason’s secrets!

“I think he’s got someone else in the picture, he deep-cleaned his place again and last week he sent me pictures of him in three identical black leather jackets asking which gave off more of an air of careless sophistication.” A pan clattered.

“I’m sure they weren’t identical,” Dick said, a little distracted by how hopeless Roy always was about these things. “What were the lapels like?” 

A few cars ahead sirens blared and then there was a momentous crash. Glass sparkled high in the air and someone skidded across the pavement while Roy chattered on.

“Anyway, I’m actually making dinner right now. Right, sweetheart? Wanna say hello to Uncle Dickie?” Roy cooed, voice going slightly unfocused as he moved away from the speaker. 

A multi-car pileup crashed into place ahead of him.

“Oh, Lian is there!” Dick hit the brakes hard and safely settled to the side of the mess. “Hi, princess!”  He puttered through the scene at a low speed, checking everyone out. “How was your day? Did you kick ass on the bar at preschool?” Fender bender, fender bender, angry woman obviously calling the police- seemed fine. Dick hit the throttle and passed the wreck on the side.

A faint childish voice spoke in the background, utterly incomprehensible. Roy translated after a second, deadpan. “Boy Wonder, she says that she conquered like a roman general. She was as powerful and beloved as the second- no, sorry, she said the first emperor of the Chin dynasty. Lian, I corrected- I said the first!”

Dick winced. “Yeah, the first emperor was better,” he said. Massive understatement.  “So proud of you, Li-Li!”

“I better let you go. Take care, Dickie. Hope Gotham doesn’t treat you too mean.” 

“Gotham is a sweetheart,” Dick said cheerfully. “Enjoy dinner!” He cut the call and grinned to himself, thinking over the new information.

His first thought was that Roy was off-base and Jason had cleaned his apartment because Duke was coming over. But Roy was right about the jacket– Jason wouldn’t be worried about his clothes to impress a sibling.

‘What does this have to do with Duke?’ 

He turned that part of the puzzle over in his mind as he approached Park Row. It could be a coincidence, sure, but he could smell something more interesting here. It made more sense for there to be a connection than for there to be two changes to routine in a short time frame.

The only thing to do about it was to let himself into Jason’s apartment building, hoist open the staircase window on the floor below Jason’s apartment, and free climb up the wall to let himself onto Jason’s balcony. Jason’s door was only accessible by code, and he was aiming for stealth this time. Dick hunkered down to listen closely.

Duke was definitely in there. He could hear the faint music of a boss battle coming from inside.

‘...That’s definitely weird,’ Dick noted, getting excited about it. ‘Jason doesn’t own games. What’s Duke got on him? Is it blackmail? What do I have to do to force Duke to tell me?’

[tojisun]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8aRe9ag/

biker!simon sending you this…

IM CRYING AT HIS SCREAM HELLO no because whys this kinda cute and funny to imagine dhfbwhbf 😭

biker!simon mlist // star divider by @/plutism <33

just. imagine looking out of the window, frowning in worry at seeing the snow gathering strength – unstoppable in the momentum, blanketing the streets with fluff. any other day you would've grabbed your jacket and slid into your boots to go outside, or perhaps melt into the soft cushions of the couch with a soft music playing in the background until you are reduced to this moment – soaking in the tenderness that comes with winter; a certain nostalgia that waxes and wanes.

but.

simon's still not back, and his only ride home is his bike. he was the one in charge of closing up the shop tonight, and you're certain that he's working alone late today – john's out of the country for a vacation, johnny called in sick, and kyle's visiting his parents – so it's not like someone can drop him off.

(although you know that if johnny or, god forbid, kyle were with simon, they would've brought their bikes too. bunch of hopeless fools, the lot of them.)

you nibble on your bottom lip, playing with it in worry, before snagging your phone from the table to shoot simon a message. you pray that he's not on the road yet.

but before you could type up anything, you receive a message from simon. it's just a little five second video, with a tag-along caption that reads, "i fell."

your heart lurches into your throat, lodging there as worry creeps up and engulfs you. you play the video, not realizing just how hard you are biting on your bottom lip until you had to gasp, blood beginning to rush back into the muscle. still, you ignore the muted throbbing, busy cataloguing simon in his video.

he's staring up at the camera, eyes furrowed, and you're sure he even got his lips pinched in disdain under his balaclava. you note how he's no longer wearing his helmet, and that feeds your rising worries even more. he shows you the snow-filled streets right after, then he pans towards his bike, showing you how the little thing is tipped over and crusted with melting snow.

the video cuts out just at the apex of simon's scream.

the apartment is filled with stagnant silence, not even your heaving breaths could puncture through, before a snort scratches at your throat, the sound creeping up unconsciously.

holy fuck.

you replay the video again just to hear the inhumane screeching at the end, giggling to yourself, before finally replying to him, "send your location pls. gon pick u up."

simon responds instantly, sending you his location – a stretch that's only ten minutes away from the shop – and adds, "my hero."

you send a kissy-sticker. simon sends you the thumbs up emoji and follows it up with the snowman emoji.

what a dork, you think with fond huff.

this aint much n im so sorry its too short :< // taggin: @babygirl-riley @teehee-47 @comeonatmebruh <33

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Won't Let You Go, Belle

Biker!Bucky Barners x afab!reader smut

Summary: A flashback to Bucky and Belle's first date... and to fulfil some of Bucky's longstanding thoughts.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, porn with plot, kinda long, mentions of previous shitty boyfriend that i've referenced before, Bucky is bad at dates but good at sex, daddy kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, praise kink, p in v sex, i think that's everything

Notes: bringing anon (and my) dreams into reality. It did end up a little sweeter than expected but its because im a SAP. More Biker!Bucky content here

You stared at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom. You had put on makeup in a way you never did for other dates. You were usually very internally strict about what you did to make a date go well. Something about Bucky though... After he had ensured his extra helmet was strapped comfortably across your chin and your feet were in the right place, so you didn't burn your calves, it had felt uncomfortably natural to wrap your arms around his thick chest. You were sure he could feel your heart beating overtime in your chest when you leaned forward. You just hoped the rumble of the bike made it impossible to feel it.

Bucky was an experienced biker. He knew that. His friends knew that. Every piece of his instinct that came from riding across the country, in war zones, and across the city all came in handy as soon as he felt your hands tighten around him. You chest against his back made his heart beat so loud he thought there was no way you wouldn't hear it over the rumble of the bike.

"I've never been on a motorcycle before," you said quietly when you stopped in the driveway of the garage. The hum of the bike stopped made everything sound quiet in your ears. You understood Steve's loud projection which had startled you earlier.

"Well, I'm glad you had a good trip. Steve should be here soon," Bucky said gruffly, taking the helmet gently from your hands and stowing it away. He led you into the office of the shop. There were a few people sitting with bikes and chatting or working on cars inside the garage, who watched passively, but you followed into a closed office and Bucky left the door open behind you before sitting down on the other side. You felt awkward, but sat in the seat across from him. It felt odd after being so close to him for ten sweltering minutes. You could feel it between your legs.

"Steve'll be here soon." Bucky looked down at some papers and pulled open a binder.

"You said that already." His blue eyes flickered to you and you tried to take a full breath, but it ended up being loud and strange. You tried to stifle the expression you wanted to make out of your awkwardness.

And now you were standing in the bathroom of this steakhouse, feeling exactly the same way. Bucky had been nothing but sweet, interested in what you did and ordering what you wanted. It felt good, but there was a barrier between you that you hadn't felt when you sat behind him on that bike, chest to his back.

"Get yourself together," you muttered to yourself, carefully wiping away the dark lipstick you had opted for. It had felt appropriate when you thought about the biker the man was, and the vibe of the bar he owned next door. You only had it because of a Halloween costume. You felt a little bit more like yourself when you stepped out of the bathroom and took your seat at the table. Bucky was taller than your ex and you knocked your knee against his thigh as you crossed your legs.

His head tilted, scanning your face before his blue eyes focused in on your newly glossed lips. He chose not to comment.

"Dessert menu?" He was sweet for asking, but it had felt like the night flew away despite how physically uncomfortable you had felt the whole time. It felt natural.

"Of course! I love chocolate." Bucky smiled, reaching for his scotch and taking a long sip. You tried not to stare at his lips.

Bucky stared at the letters, but they felt like they were swimming on the page. He flipped the binder to a random page. He could still feel where your thighs had sneezed around his hips when he turned a corner too quick.

"I have to take a look at the car before I can give you a quote. The restaurant-" he looked at his watch, "-the bar next door is open and we'll come in and let you know when we have a diagnosis on the car." You blinked at him before nodding and slowly rising from your seat.

"Okay, uh, could you-" Bucky stood rapidly and nodded, showing you out the side door and into the Howling Commando Bar and Grill. Sam gave him a little smirk when he left you at the bar, and Bucky bared his teeth before heading back to the garage to wait for your car, and maybe take a few deep breaths and resolve the issue in his pants.

"And a dessert menu?" You blinked, trying not to think again about Bucky's warm hand at the small of your back when the waiter had led you to the table.

"Yeah, and a coffee for me," Bucky said.

"Me too," you chimed in. Your eyes met again as the waiter walked away. You second guessed the want in his eyes. Maybe it was just- His knee brushed against the middle of your thigh, then the other from the other side. He leaned forward, dangling his empty scotch glass from his fingers. His lips were wet again. You thought it should be illegal.

"Do you..." he took a quick breath, "I think you should come home with me." If it had come from anyone else, you thought you probably would have rolled your eyes and left him with the check, but you swallowed.

"I know I should." You stared at each other, Bucky's other hand resting on the side of your knee waiting for the waiter to arrive. When he came back you stuck out your card, which caught Bucky by surprise.

"We actually decided to skip dessert if you could take this for the check." The waiter looked shocked, but she walked away quickly.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I figured it would be quickest."

The two of you walked out into the humid air, and Bucky slid his extra helmet on your head, carefully strapping it below your chin. His tongue stuck out between his lips just slightly as he made sure it was tight enough. He put on his own helmet and then stepped over to sit astride the bike. He had now driven you on the bike four times, and it had gotten easier to use his shoulder to lever yourself onto the back, your feet naturally sliding onto the little foot rests. Your knees knocked his hips and he reached back to squeeze one of them.

"You're getting to a natural," he laughed, the bike starting over thought and drowning it from your ears. It wasn't a long drive, and you saw that he lived within spitting distance of the garage and bar. He let you get off the bike first, and then got off himself, helping you pull off the helmet again. He smiled sweetly at you as he pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. You were sure it looked a mess, but you couldn't help but stare a little moon-eyed up at him.

"I owe you back for that dinner," Bucky muttered as he unlocked the door to his apartment. You bit your lip, considering if you should let the statement out of your mouth before you decided it was the correct choice and said, "I was hoping maybe coming back here would do exactly that." Bucky's blue eyes were dark with... something when the door swung open and he pushed you in before him.

"I think I could make it worth it, depending on how badly how you want it, pretty belle." His voice was raspy, focused. You couldn't help but feel the heat between your legs growing. The nickname was warm and wrapped in affection that should have sounded out of place from this man who was a stranger only a few days ago.

"I want it very badly." The door shut behind you two, plunging you both into darkness, the only light coming from the streetlights through the window. You thought maybe you ought to be scared, but Bucky's arms were suddenly around you, his hot mouth on your neck, mapping its way up to lips against yours. The kiss made you breathless, the first in years, and you were at his whim.

"What do you want, pretty belle?" His lips continued on what felt like a natural path back down your neck and following the hem of your shirt.

"I want you, Bucky," you whined, your head lolling back as your fingers found purchase in his hair. He made a sound of displeasure in his throat, despite his hands pushing restlessly against your shirt, fingers skimming your now bare waist.

"I want you, daddy," you groaned again, knowing your fingers had gone still against his scalp. There was a stillness between the both of you for a moment, before Bucky moved, his hands tight against your thighs, pulling. You jumped and suddenly your only tether to the ground was him.

"Fuck belle, I want you too." It was dark, and you had no idea how long you were kissing down Bucky's lips to his neck before you were laid down on his bed. His jawline was sharp and the stubble tickled your lips and the feel of his pulse against your tongue as your traced the line of his neck was intoxicating. You could feel how wet you were as you shifted your hips against his. His groaned before pulling away reluctantly.

"Sorry, one second close your eyes." You followed his instructions and you could feel the lights turn on. He was muttering to himself and you opened your eyes to see him shooing a gray cat off the bed.

"For fucks sake Alpine, do you really want to ruin my chances," he was whispering as he closed the door behind the cat. He looked absolutely delicious now that you could see him. His blue eyes were entirely overtaken by lust, his cheeks pink under his stubble, and his lips wet. There was hickey forming at the hem of his shirt and you were certain you could add a few more.

"Sorry. Alpine's bedtime was like two hours ago." You smiled up at him, suddenly feeling a sweet flutter in your chest.

"Where were we?" Bucky over you in the light was entirely different and even more enticing than it was in the dark. He was in all black, his leather jacket tossed to the floor, his tshirt showing off tattooed arms that you knew you would be drooling over shortly.

"You were about to entirely fuck me up," you responded, bottom lip between your teeth. Bucky took a breath that read as controlling himself. Not at all what you wanted.

"I mean that," you repeated. His eyes met yours.

"You gotta be sure about that, honey." He was being honest, his arms bracketing your shoulders, halfway to a kiss.

"I mean it," you said again, your eyes refocusing on his lips, waiting for a reply. Instead you got a strong, warm body against yours, lips near attacking yours before they traced down your jaw and throat to your shirt. His hands were tugging at your hair.

"Fuck, belle, I want to see it all." You were happy to oblige as he pushed up your shirt leaving hungry kisses against your stomach and ribs, you undid your jeans and kicked them away. Bucky forced your arms up and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in only the matching set you had put on in the hopes that the night would go anywhere. He stared at you, licking his lips as eyes raked over your near naked body on his bed.

"God, I think you're an angel sent to me," he mused, retuning his lips to yours. Your hands wandered, feeling out of place but very aroused but the fact that he was fully dressed but you were entirely naked. His shirt came off, and you didn't have nearly enough time to stare at the tattoos that covered him. Again you thought about mapping them with your tongue.

Bucky's hand explored as much as his tongue before you managed to wrestle his black jeans came off to reveal more of his tattoos.

"Please, Bucky, I want more," you whined, the slick between your legs making you shift your hips against him. You could tell he was huge in the confines of his jeans.

"How'd ya want it, honey? I gotta pay you back." You wanted to balk at the way he insinuated this was a favor, but you were near gushing between the legs.

"I want all of you," you whined, "Daddy, please. Anything." Two of his fingers ran against your panties, and he groaned at the wetness on contact.

"You are soaking, belle. I bet you taste as good as you sound." Bucky was quick to kiss down your chest, his hands' singular focus on getting your panties off. You groaned at the way he stared at you from where he knelt against the floor.

"Good thing we skipped dessert," he chuckled to himself, his hand wrapping around your ankle to pull one leg over his shoulder before his mouth pressed against your clit. You couldn't suppress the loud whine that you let out, already close as he teased your clit before his hot tongue made practiced motions down to your slit, his nose pressing to your clit. Your hips bucked and his big hands slid up your legs to press you back onto the bed.

"This is my treat, honey, I'm going to make you feel good." The baritone of his voice was a drug and you could feel your mind getting hazy as the feeling of your orgasm built in your stomach. Bucky's tongue moved back to your clit, a sinfully slow pace keeping you satisfied, but not doing enough. Once he was satisfied that you weren't going to try to wiggle away from him again, one of his hands joined his mouth between your legs, a finger pressing into you and providing delicious pressure right where you needed it.

"Oh you like that, huh belle?" Your voice was breathy through your panting, but you managed a, "please, more daddy." Bucky's chuckle against your clit in combination with another finger joining the first sent you over the edge and you came hard. Bucky's fingers slowed, pulling you through your orgasm while he pressed soft kisses to your thighs.

"Was that good, pretty girl?" You nodded and his fingers paused, blue eyes intent on yours.

"Words, honey." You blinked, the demand sending another jolt through you. Bucky obviously felt it based on how he smirked, his sinful wet lips now wet with you. It was the hottest thing you had ever seen.

"So good."

"I bet you could give me another one." It wasn't a demand, but a challenge, and even in this state you were certainly not one to back down from competition.

"Please, daddy." Bucky was back between your legs, another finger pressing into you and his tongue soothed the sting by running smooth and slow figure 8s on your clit. It was clear immediately that Bucky had paid attention to what you liked because after a few moments, his fingers crooked in exactly the right way and you moaned, and thought you might be embarrassed if it didn't feel so good. He leaned back, his other hand taking over the motion on your clit.

"Quiet, belle, we wouldn't want the neighbors to hear how good you sound. They might try to come take ya." Bucky added a fourth finger, an indication of what was to come and you came almost immediately, tight around him as your head threw back, hips moving to meet his finger's thrusts.

"Honey, you are gonna feel like fucking heaven," Bucky muttered as he slowly pulled his fingers away from you, "I'll be back in two seconds." You could still feel the orgasm in your toes when he came back, a towel and condom in hand.

"We can stop there if you want." You leaned up, leaning back against your elbows as he walked towards you. His expression was sincere, but you could see his cock straining against his jeans.

"Absolutely not." The wicked look returned to his eyes as he tossed the items beside you and then bowled you back over onto the bed, his lips finding yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you, quick fingers ridding you of your bra. Your hands found purchase over his strong shoulders and you managed to roll him onto his back.

"Taking control, honey?" He sounded condescending and it was hot. You straddled his thick thighs, focusing your actions on getting the button and zipper off his skinny jeans. Your eyes were wandering across the tattooed expanse of his chest. There was every kind of tattoo, and you were certain you had to ask about every single one when you got the chance.

"Need help?" He asked right before you managed to get the zipper down.

"Move." He laughed, lifting his hips, with you on him, and slid the jeans past his ass, pulling your hips forward so your swollen pussy ran right over the cold zipper and left you straddling the bulge in his black boxers. You both groaned at the contact and you rolled your hips, eliciting a delightfully hot sound from his lips as his eyes closed. He kicked his pants the rest of the way off and his hands were back on your hips, guiding their grinding till both of you were moaning and his boxers were soaked. Your head was thrown back, hands on his hot chest as his fingers left marks against your hips.

"Ya ready, belle?" You nodded fervently, and let him gently lay you down on the bed, leaving an intimate kiss on your lips before reaching to where he had tossed the condom. You stared hungrily as he pulled the boxers down and your eyes widened at how big he was. His thighs and all the way down his v-line had tattoos, which made the contrast of his flushed cock more distinct.

"Please, fuck me daddy." You thought you might be drooling.

"Oh, honey, I will." He rolled the condom down his own cock, pumping once before pushing your knees up so they were rested on his hips. You looked down and couldn't look away as he slowly pressed into you, the burn of his fingers nothing compared to this.

"Fuck, god... belle you feel so good, you're so tight." You wanted to push down against him, force him in faster, but he was gentle and slow and by the time he bottomed out his cock was pressed against just the right spot to make you want to moan.

"You were made for me, fuck." Bucky's right hand gripped your thigh and the other arm leaned on your left so he could press a feverish kiss to your lips.

"Please move, please." You could feel yourself squeezing around him. You were certain neither of you would last long based on the euphoric expression on his face. He took a focused breath and then his eyes opened, blue almost entirely overtaken by his pupils. You licked your lips, leaning up to kiss him. When you shifted it pushed him further and it was as if a dam broke. Bucky pulled away from you till he was up on both knees, the delicious drag of him inside you nothing compared to his first thrust. It was hard, unrestrained, and the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

"Belle, ain't no way this can be a one time thing," he muttered before pushing back into you. He set a brutal pace but he hit right where you needed him every time and you saw stars the first time you came, gushing around him and adding to the chorus of sounds that two of you were making. Bucky pressed through your first orgasm and then one hand slid up and found your clit.

"I want you to come with me, can you do that for me honey? I'm- fuck I'm so close." You nodded, barely able to keep your eyes open.

"Words, belle, fuck."

"Yes, daddy, yes please."

"Good girl." You both came together, Bucky's thrusts getting sloppy till he was leaned back over you, his forehead rested to your shoulder as he pressed one last time into you before pulling out. He grabbed the towel and quickly cleaned you up before himself and tossing it somewhere in the direction of the bathroom he had gone into before.

It was a few minutes before either of you spoke, wrapped in blankets, your head resting on his arm, facing one another.

"So much for being quiet." Bucky laughed, and closed the small gap to kiss you.

"I meant it when I said this can't be a one time thing." His dominating demeanor had dropped to that same sweet look from dinner. You nodded, feeling the sleep sliding across your eyes as you cuddled closer to him.

"I agree." You closed your eyes, getting as close to Bucky as you could. He smelled like sex and sweat and everything you had ever wanted.

"Good, because I don't think I could let ya go now, Belle." You giggled, his arms wrapping around you.

"Wouldn't let you."

[planetkiimchi]

the first drops of rain | k.mg

summary — mingyu's your first love. your first date with him could be described as fairytale like, at least until it begins raining. even then, maybe the rain is a paid actor, teaching you to slow down in your fast-paced student life.

featuring: mingyu x gn!reader, highschool au

word count: 2729 words

a/n: first seventeen work! kinda thought my first svt work would be seokmin or minghao but HAHA we’re here instead with a mingyu work. it’s based off a very precious memory of mine, and i felt like mingyu’s personality was the most similar to the guy i went out with <3

mingyu: we’re meeting at the start of the trail at 9, right?

You react to his message with a thumbs up, pulling up your shoes and glancing outside. The start of the trail is only a few hundred metres away from your house, so you’re not in a rush.

Mingyu asked you out on this date a few months ago, but you were overseas during the winter break, and weren’t able to go out with him. After a few months of discussing where to go, you finally settled on going cycling with him.

The sun rose quite a while ago, and the temperature is rather warm, but you figure that it’ll all be fine.

You check the time again and head downstairs, cycling over to the subway station to meet Mingyu.

You’re a few minutes late, so you expect to see Mingyu waiting there when you arrive, an apology already on the tip of your tongue, but you’re surprised when he’s not.

In fact, you have to wait another ten minutes before he finally arrives, a little out of breath and completely lost, without a bicycle. He smiles sheepishly at you, tucking his hands into his pockets.

He mumbles a “sorry”, curly hair falling in his eyes as he looks earnestly at you, shoulders raised in his nervousness.

Your annoyance at his tardiness dissipates once you see him in this state, genuinely apologetic and well-meaning. You let a soft sigh escape your lips. It’s okay.

Mingyu raises his phone and hesitantly says he needs to pick up his bike.

You’re about to reply when an old lady comes up to you, one hand clutching her grocery stroller. She politely asks if you know where the Flower Market is?

You nod. It’s right next to your apartment block, and you often go there to buy groceries yourself. You point the lady in the direction of the market, turning back to Mingyu.

Once again, before you can speak, Mingyu jerks his head at the stairs that the old lady has to climb up to get out of the subway station and onto the pavement. She lifts up the grocery stroller, and you rush to help her with it.

She smiles at you. Thank you.

You smile back. No problem.

Tilting your head towards the stairs, you beckon Mingyu to follow. The bicycles are located at the lowest level of the apartment block directly opposite yours, so you’re heading in the same direction as the lady anyway.

Once you’ve helped the old lady get her stroller up to the top of the stairs, you wave goodbye to her, prepared to head back down the flight of stairs to get your bicycle.

Fortunately for you, you don’t have to. Mingyu holds your bicycle in his hands, setting it down at the top of the stairs, and your heart warms, just a little.

It takes a longer time to figure out how the bike sharing system works than you thought it would. Mingyu scans the QR code on the back of the bicycle, frowning as he navigates the app, trying to figure out how the payment works. You stand to the side, holding on to your bicycle’s handlebars, watching his eyebrows knit themselves into a knot, before the wrinkles in his forehead slowly iron out when he finally gets the app to work.

All set? you ask.

Mingyu nods. All set.

You climb onto your bicycle, eager to head off, and Mingyu follows behind.

With the sun beating down on your backs, the two of you start off on the trail, figuring out a pace that works for both of you. You haven’t cycled in a long time, and you can’t go too slow, or you’ll be too unsteady for both of you to ride side-by-side on the narrow path.

The greenery on both sides of the trail helps to keep the temperature down, and you’re grateful for the shade it provides in the heat of summer. Next to you, Mingyu asks how school has been. You reply with one of those blasé “school is good” type of answers, but he doesn’t accept that.

Mingyu keeps prodding.

And, with your feet pedalling hard underneath you and the glare of the blue sky overhead, you find yourself opening up.

It’s started drizzling slightly when you reach the bicycle racks, so you chain your bicycles up and head to the nearby subway station to seek shelter. While you’re standing there, you ask Mingyu where he wants to go.

Originally, you wanted to go to watch a movie, but since the date was so impromptu, you didn’t check the movie timings out beforehand, so now you realise that none of the timings are convenient for you.

It’s fine, Mingyu insists. He’ll figure something out.

It doesn’t take long before he’s dragging you down another path you didn’t notice earlier, one that leads to a train station that’s no longer in use. Two carriages of the trains are left on the tracks as a memorial to the old train station, and despite the red tape covering the doors, Mingyu climbs up into the carriage.

You’re standing on the edges of the train tracks, watching him grin at you from inside. He leaps from the seat with a yelp, almost knocking his head, and he quickly exits the carriage.

What’s wrong? you ask.

He lifts his hand to show you that the seat was wet.

You laugh whole-heartedly and he pouts, but the joy in his eyes betrays him. His poorly-concealed excitement only grows when he looks ahead to see a bridge, breaking out into a run towards it.

You attempt to follow him, still balancing on the edges of the train tracks, quickly giving up when he doesn’t show any signs of waiting for you.

He turns around at the start of the bridge, and you grin at him as you step up onto the train tracks. He steps onto the edge next to yours, your feet moving in sync along those parallel metal lines drawn across the wooden tiles, his arms waving wildly as he fails to keep his balance.

Mingyu shakes his head out when he’s fallen three times, running his hand through his hair, glancing at you with the widest smile you’ve ever seen.

Your sunshine. That’s what he is, walking alongside you as you tread across the train tracks, hands carefully tucked into his pockets, watching your every step.

He speeds up when you hop off the tracks, and you follow him into a neighbourhood with two-story houses. Plants line the sidewalks, with overgrown creepers crawling up the walls and trees overhead shading you from the sun.

He points at the sign and tells you he came here once before, after his mother scolded him. It’s dangerously close to his home, a place that contains memories you can’t be a part of, a place you’re not sure you’re ready to intrude into.

You do anyway.

Mingyu leads you to the playground he’s only been to once before, when he was running away from his mother, and you pass by the empty basketball court.

You love basketball, you tell him, your steps slowing down. He whirls on his heel, looking up at the hoops, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand. Really?

Really, you say. You tell him how you used to play basketball during your half-hour long recess in elementary school instead of eating. Even though you were really bad and only played with a group of 5-6 other friends, it was still fun.

He understands.

You teach him how to climb onto the roof of the playground, your hands and feet making holds out of the railings and slides. You show him a view of the world that you loved as a kid, a view that makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. Like you’re unbeatable, invincible, and that the moment will last forever.

Slithering off the roof, you discreetly pull out your phone, but Mingyu spots you quickly enough. Don't film me, he pouts, eyebrows in a knot as his foot staggers around for a foothold.

You laugh and keep your camera pointed at him.

He hops down—ungracefully, you’d like to add; you think you were pretty graceful when jumping down yourself—and beckons you over with his hand.

Mingyu leads you to a sheltered area where the playground floor and gravel gives way to grass and soil, the trees overhead casting so much shade you get the impression that you’re in a rainforest. You can barely see past the crowns of the trees to the sky, which you’re sure is a shade of blue-grey. You can tell that it’s not raining, or the playground would be getting wet, but it isn’t quite sunny yet either.

The creak of a red swing brings your attention back to Mingyu. He smiles at you in warm invitation, and you take it, stepping up onto the swing. Your legs are on the left of his, your knees a fist’s width away from his. Opposite you, Mingyu lifts his eyes to yours and begins to speak.

How’s school, how’s life, how’s that toxic friend group in your dance club? he asks.

Stressful, interesting, shitty as ever, you reply.

He asks things like why, tell me more, is that leadership position working out for you?

You reply with much longer answers than you thought you would. The words flow from you like air leaking from a balloon with a hole. There’s so much pent-up frustration, bottled-up confusion, anxiety, envy, and even sadness you didn’t notice you were suppressing. They find their way out of your mouth in words you're surprised are coherent enough for him to understand, but somehow he manages it.

You’re not the only one telling stories, though. You ask Mingyu questions too, stuff like how’s being drama club president, do you like your juniors, what do you want to do at university?

And he, too, replies with amazing, I love them, I don't know but I’d like to be a counsellor someday.

And you learn.

From his smiles and nervous fidgeting and “um”s, you learn that he’s nervous. From the way he leans forward to talk to you and nods when you speak, you learn that his interest in you is genuine. From the tone of his voice and the smile in his eyes, you learn about his habits of joy and excitement. You pick apart his every move to learn something from it, absorbing a little more knowledge about him each time.

An hour or two passes. As it starts to drizzle again and lunch hour approaches, Mingyu gets up from the swing, not forgetting to hold it while you step off, and goes to the bench to get his tote bag before his things are drenched in the rain.

With a hand above your heads shielding you from the drizzle, the two of you half run-half walk to the mall nearby for lunch, raucous laughter echoing in your ears.

Mingyu offers to pay for your lunch thrice, and you refuse each time, reluctant to let him take money out of his allowance to pay for your meal. He insists you should let him pay for it, telling you that his father will give him more money. Still, you decline.

When he goes to visit the restroom, you quickly take your chance to buy your food before he gets back.

You take a seat successfully and wait for him to return, and he does—not without him trying to slide the bill into your bag first. After a while, he finally gives in, and the two of you settle down for lunch.

Lunch ends at around the same time the sky clears, and the two of you are rushing to climb onto your bicycles and leave before the rain starts up again. The weather has been unpredictable that morning, and you’re unwilling to take your chances. Instead of lingering around the mall, you’re unlocking your bicycle, fiddling with the stubborn lock, and Mingyu waits patiently beside you.

All set? he asks for the second time that day.

You reply the same way, All set.

Then you’re off, legs pedalling furiously, your balance miles better when you’re moving fast. In the morning, you had to keep swerving to avoid knocking into Mingyu at the slow pace you were going, but now you’re just trying to get home before it rains again. Your curfew is pretty early, and if you dally any longer, you’re definitely going to get an earful when you’re home.

Mingyu easily keeps pace with you, following your lead. From time to time, he’ll catch up and ride beside you for a stretch, and then you’ll pedal faster and he’ll fall behind again.

You feel the drizzle beginning when you ring your bell, bypassing yet another jogger on the trail. Cursing, you pick up speed, and Mingyu doesn’t question you as he follows behind.

The rain grows heavier more quickly than you’d expected, and soon there’s a steady stream of water raining down. You wipe futilely at your forehead from time to time, glasses sprayed with raindrops, and Mingyu calls out after you, laughing.

I’m not supposed to cycle in the rain, you tell him. My mum is going to kill me!

He seems to get it, but when you seek shelter under an overhead bridge to wipe your face with the remaining dry part of your T-shirt, he’s laughing at you.

You roll your eyes and point out the bits of water on his face, but he shrugs. You’re going to be cycling through the rain again anyway, so he doesn’t see the need to dry his face.

You clench your jaw, resolved to get home as soon as possible. The two of you climb back onto the bicycle, and start cycling home.

As if trying to deliberately annoy you, the downpour only gets heavier on your way home. It keeps coming down, and you fight to keep your balance and not skid on the watery path. You’re forced to slow down a little, your legs no longer pedalling as fast.

Your anxious heart begins to slow, and Mingyu's calm, sure voice carries over to you, despite the rain falling steadily around you. The sun is still high in the sky, and you wonder if there'll be a rainbow. That would be befitting for Mingyu, you think.

The whole way back, your mind is occupied by Mingyu's questions, his curiosity warming your heart. He genuinely cares about you, and this care distracts you from your fear of reaching home late. All thoughts of what your mother will say go out the window, until he's returned his bicycle and you've parked yours near the subway station, heading to the toilet to change into a new, dry shirt.

Mingyu didn't think to bring change, so he waits for you outside. He offers to help carry your bag, but you insist you can do it yourself. Just the thought that he's there, waiting outside, comforts you.

The two of you walk alongside each other on the way back to your home. You won't stop him from walking you home, especially not when you enjoy his company so much. He mentions something about his future family and you stiffen, afraid that he's jumping the gun. Your commitment issues start to resurface, your mind whirring as your heart jumps into panic mode, but you force yourself to take a few deep breaths and laugh.

He seems too happy to notice how forced your laugh is. Instead, he's asking for your mother's name, repeating it the whole way to make sure he's got it right.

Mrs? he asks.

Aunty, you correct.

Aunty, he repeats, and you nod your head. He asks for your father's, too, and he's still mumbling their names when you come up to the door. You ring the doorbell, and your mother comes to open the door, greeting Mingyu with a warm smile and a hearty welcome.

Come on in, she says. Mingyu shakes his head bashfully.

I've got to be going, he says. See you, Aunty.

You step into the house and wave at him until he's out of sight, your mother watching his retreating figure with you.

He seems like a nice boy, she says.

Oh, he is.

[jobean12-blog]

In It for the Long Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 1,656

Summary: Joel is out for the night and when he returns early and wants you to leave work and come home you know something isn't right.

Author's Note: Just because I love him and missed him and this seems like something that could really happen when you're with a biker. PS our sweet little black kitten Ink is here too- she's getting big and just loves Joel of course! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, little angst sprinkled in here and there, mentions of blood but very light

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Joel just text me that he’s here.”

You look at your friend Jade with worried eyes.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t he going to come in?” she asks.

“He said he can’t come in. He wants to know if I can leave now.”

“Of course you can babe,” Jade says quickly. “Dan and I will be fine tonight.”

“Are you sure…I don’t know what’s goin…”

“Don’t worry,” Jade assures you. “Just go to him. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You nod with a hard swallow and rush to the back to gather your things, texting Joel as you go that you’ll be right out.

Your legs are slightly shaky as you approach the door, a feeling of dread weighing you down with each step.

At first you don’t see him but then you hear the rev of his engine and your gaze is drawn to his bike. He’s parked across the street with his headlights off.

“Joel?” you question when you reach his bike.

He holds his arms out for you and you rush into them, burying your face in his neck.

“What’s going on?” you mumble into his skin.

“Let’s go home,” he says quietly.

You pull back to look at him and let out a gasp.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine darlin.’ Really I am. Just need a little help gettin’ cleaned up.”

Your eyes instantly well with tears and you lift your finger to gently brush it across his bruised cheek.

“Aw angel, no tears. I promise it’s nothin’.”

“But Joel…you’re bleeding and bruised…”

The tears roll down your cheeks, hot and wet, and his hands cup your face, thumbs sweeping across your skin to wipe them away.

“Are you ok to drive? Should we take the car? Do you need a doctor?”

Your questions come out in a rush and your voice is high pitched with worry.

He shakes his head no and the side of his mouth twitches with a smile.

“No. Just need you.”

You study him, your eyes lingering on his face until you whisper, “ok, let’s go home.”

He takes his helmet from the handlebars and secures it on your head before unzipping his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Let’s zip this up. It’s chilly tonight,” he says.

“Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?”

“You always do darlin’.”

He kisses you softly on the side of the mouth and then helps you onto the back of his bike.

The ride home is short, less than ten minutes, but in that time the wind picks up and sky opens up with rain.

As you near the house the headlights from his bike reflect off the growing puddles on the street and you shiver against his back.

He pulls over and kills the engine, holding out his hand for you to hop off. He tucks you protectively under his arm and walks you to the door.

“I hope you didn’t get too wet angel,” he says.

“I’m fine,” you say as you walk in and turn on the light.

You turn to him and fresh tears fill your eyes.

“Let me just get us towels and the first aid kit. Don’t move.”

You rush off to the bathroom just as Ink hops off the ledge of the front window. She meows at Joel and then starts to rub between his legs.

“Hey, you,” he says as he picks up the small black cat.

Her tiny pink nose delicately explores his chin before she reaches up with a paw and softly presses it to his cheek.

“Don’t be worried like your mama. I’m fine,” he tells the cat.

“She knows you’re hurt,” you say when you return and find the two of them standing by the door staring at each other.

You take his free hand and walk him toward the couch.

“You might have to set her down for a minute. I want to get your wet shirt off.”

He puts the cat down on the couch and then grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Wait,” you say quietly. “Let me. Please.”

He drops the material and looks at you with big brown eyes.

“Ok angel. Whatever you want.”

“Lift your arms,” you instruct him as you start to peel his shirt up and off.

Inch by inch his wet skin is revealed, his tattoos along with it and you find yourself inspecting every inch of him for more injuries before gently pressing the towel to his chest. You do nothing to hide your shameless perusal of him and he’s clearly enjoying it, his eyes sparkling and his lips turned up into a boyish smirk.

“Anything else hurt?”

“Nah, but you can keep checkin’ all ya want.”

He winks at you when you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Ok sit and tell me what happened.”

He sits with a plop and extends his arm to pet Ink while you start to work off his boots.

“I can do that angel, it’s no…”

When your eyes meet his he clamps his mouth shut, only opening it again to explain that some out of town biker gang had started some trouble with him and the boys. No of the boys were hurt more than some bumps, scrapes and bruises but the other guys weren’t as lucky.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t any worse,” you sigh. “I got so scared when you said you wanted me to come home and all. I figured you would come in and have a drink…”

“I know darlin.’ I’m sorry I scared you. I knew I couldn’t go in the bar lookin’ like this though.”

“It’s ok. Just promise me you’ll always be careful.”

“Always,” he whispers.

After you have his boots off and dry socks on you stand and straddle his lap, settling your knees on either side of his waist and taking a smaller towel to run through his hair.

You then comb your fingers through the wet strands and give it a slicked back style. He raises a brow when you smirk and drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

“What?” he asks.

“Looks really good.”

“Yeah angel? Even with the blood?”

“Somehow it makes it even hotter…but I’m still so upset you’re hurt.”

“I’m ok.”

“You keep saying that.”

“But I am darlin.’ Honestly, couldn’t be better at the moment.”

His hands slide along your thighs and then settle on your waist. He pulls you closer and runs his nose along the column of you neck to breathe you in.

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp. “I have to patch you up first.”

“Mm hm,” he murmurs as his lips press to your skin and his fingers dance higher.

You flatten your palms on his chest and give him a light shove, giggling when he looks at you with pouty lips.

After a soft kiss you get the first aid kit and start to clean the cut above his eye and the one on his lip. When you press the antiseptic to the wound he winces, leaving his eyes closed as you continue to carefully wipe each spot.

You inspect every area of his face, especially focusing on the skin beneath his beard, lovingly caressing the gray spots as you go. He relaxes into your touch and you let your fingers gently trace his features.

“All clean,” you whisper.

You hand him the small ice pack you got from the freezer. “Hold this on your cheek.”

“But my hands are busy,” he sighs.

His hands graze the skin beneath your shirt, calloused thumbs caressing the softness before they inch higher.

“You only need one hand for this,” you lightly chide.

His eyes pop open and he gives you a stern look. “Fine.”

You bat your lashes at him and wait until he has the ice pack pressed to his cheek.

“Just until I finish up.”

You put medicine on the cut above his eye and one butterfly stitch then clean up the dried blood on his knuckles.

“You must have gotten a pretty good punch in.”

You can see his muscles tense when you press the pad to his bruised knuckles.

“You bet I did angel,” he boasts. “And that’d be plural…punches.”

When you meet his eyes he winks again and throws you a smug grin.

You kiss it right off his lips then smudge some medicine on his knuckles. He immediately puts down the ice pack and places his hands back on your body.

“That could probably stay on a bit longer,” you tsk.

“Later,” he murmurs.

Ink walks along the back of the couch and sits herself down right behind Joel. She blinks at you several times then starts to swat at the curls of hair at the back of his neck.

“She likes them almost as much as I do,” you tease.

“She’s just wantin’ attention,” he grumbles. “Gets that from you too.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare and then give him one more once over.

“Think I did a pretty good job,” you state.

“I feel brand new,” he says as he drags you closer and smooths his hands along the curve of your back.

When your lips meet you’re mindful of his cut but he doesn’t seem to care at all and dances one hand higher until he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you harder.

He moans into your mouth and tugs at the hem of your shirt. Your hands delve into his damp hair and then slide down to his shoulders. His bare skin is warm and when you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers you ease away and battle with the reminder of what happened, your eyes glassy.

His large hand cradles your cheek and he smooths his nose along your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Darlin’,” he coos. “It’s all right. I’m fine…let me prove it to you.”  

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

[sugarlywhispers]

Thinking about best friend, biker!Bakugou, who always goes for you to pick you up in his big ass bike; no matter where, no matter when, he's outside waiting for you sitting in his bike with his arms crossed over his chest, a permanent scowl on his face for whoever looks disapprovingly at him because of his bad boy appearance. Piercing in the right side of his bottom lip, piercings in his ears, black leather jacket, black ripped jeans. You need him to pick you up from work? He's there. You had to stay late doing extra hours? No matter what time it is, he's there waiting for you to take you home. You need to go buy ladies stuff to the farmacy? He's there ready to take you, and then bring you back. You woke up at 3 am and want a snack? He'll call you an annoying pain in his ass when you phone him, but he tells you he'll be there in ten minutes.

One day, he picks you up at work because you have talked about going to see the fireworks show that was going to take place due to some celebration. He takes you to a place closer to where the whole show will be, people already around waiting. You sit on the grass next to each other as you keep talking about the events of your day. He mmhs and ahhs and pffs and tsks to everything you say, smiling and frowning when it needs to.

The show is about to start, and he sees your discomfort. He knows that even though you love the colorful lights, you hate the sounds of explosion; he knows it's a small trigger for your anxiety, so he takes out he's special airpods that he uses when he's riding his bike for longer periods of time and the loud engine actually annoys the hell out of his ears and they cancel every sound from the outworld but the music in them. He doesn't say anything as he gives them to you and you smile thankful at him while putting them on.

The show finally starts, you don't hear anything but the chill song 'Apocalypse' by Cigarettes After Sex as the spectacular shining in the sky illuminates above you.

Bakugou, even half way through the show, can't take his eyes out of you. Your face enjoying it it's even brighter than the lights. Your smile it's the biggest he has ever seen, and he has known you since you dropped a weight next to him by accident at the gym three years ago–you became instant friends since then. He has seen you at your best and at your worst, and vice-versa. But he has never seen such… beauty in your whole demeanor before as he does in that moment. Content. Fascinated. Relaxed. Happy. And your eyes… he can practically see the show reflecting on them, and he thinks it looks much better that way.

That's when he realizes. How relaxed he also is next to you, how he enjoys much more your reactions than the show itself, how the pit of his stomach flutters when you suddenly wooow to a big bright explosion that almost whiteness the whole sky. He realizes how much he wants to hold your hand, to kiss your cheek for how cute you look at that moment. To actually kiss your lips to discover if your taste is as cute and sweet as you look right now. To hold you in his arms to protect you from the world, because it doesn't deserve a person like you walking on it. You're precious.

The show ends, and the shine still glows in your eyes when you look at him, smiling big as you give him back his airpods, talking how amazing the show was and how cool and pretty all the lights were. You're pretty.

And as he can't take his eyes out of you while you speak, he realizes then.

"I'm falling in love with you." He blurts, and he has never said anything as sure as that.

You immediately shut up, completely taken aback. "W-what?"

His vermillion eyes don't leave yours, and he repeats, "I'm falling in love with you. Hard."

You don't know what to say. He can see the surprise and confusion in your face, but if there is something Katsuki isn't, it is a man that backs aways from his own actions or words. But he understands that probably this is too much now, yet he needs you to know.

"I'm not saying this for you to do something about it. I just want you to know it. Because from now on, I'll be whatever you need me to be. A friend, a lover, your driver, your fucking servant if you need me to. But I won't back away from trying to make you like me back. It's on. I'll convince you to let me be yours and you be mine."

Your eyes fill with tears, emotional tears that don't mean something bad but either something good and you don't know what to say, what to answer. But you do realize something…

He's always there. And he will always be. The butterflies in your stomach wake up and start fluttering around.

[oracle-of-dream]

Love 119

Summary: Your best friend Anton has been working on a song project and is dying to share it with you!

Warnings: Male POV, SFW, Kissing, Fluff

Wordcount: 2.1k

It was early, like really, when you woke up. The sun wasn't even up yet, but your desk vibrated rhythmically. It was the third time it had done this. You were okay ignoring it at first, but it didn't seem like it would stop. You looked over at your phone on the desk, lighting up as it shook.

You sighed, rolled out of bed, and answered the phone, "Hello?"

"Y/n! Thank god you answered!" You heard Anton's voice and immediately hung up.

A few seconds later, he called again. "Don't hang up on me!"

"Don't call me at four in the morning! You have ten seconds before I hang up and block you," You yelled into the phone.

"You remember that song I've been working on? I think the song is ready!"

"So?"

"So!? So, you've gotta hear it!"

You rubbed your eyes," Why can't you just post it or send it, and I'll listen to it in the morning?"

"No way, you've gotta come here and listen to it in person. I want to see your face for an honest reaction."

"The trains aren't even running this early..."

"You can drive!"

"Nope."

"Uber?"

"No."

"Bike?"

"You must want me to hang up–"

"Please don't..."

"This will wait until the morning. I promise. I'll come see you first thing in the morning," You started walking back to your bed.

Anton seemed hesitant but sighed, "Okay, but I mean it. First thing! It's super important."

"Yeah, yeah, goodnight," You hung up the phone as you flopped back into bed. You drifted off to sleep, your phone still in hand.

In the daylight, you started getting dressed. A beanie and coat for the cold weather, headphones for the train, and a snack. For your tummy.

You were surprised Anton wasn't blowing up your phone like usual. Almost every morning, Anton would blow your phone up as he waited for you to meet him to go to school together. Since it was a weekend– Anton usually worked on music during the day but must've stayed up all night working on his song. He'd mentioned a project ages ago about a song, but that didn't tell you much about it. He was getting super in the dumps recently, almost depressed. Staying in, skipping class, and not hanging out with you as much. He wasn't usually so secretive and distant, so the song must've meant something special to him. 

The train was cold but less crowded than usual– you could sit today. The ride to Anton's house took about 45 minutes. You set an alarm on your phone for 43 minutes, put on your headphones, and close your eyes. You couldn't help but wonder what the song was about.

A ballad? But Anton liked hip-hop styles, especially from his time traveling, so maybe that. About what thought?

Most hip-hop was about sex, drugs, or money. Anything else has some deep meaning hidden in the lyrics. Anton was the kind of guy to think of deep lyrics like that, so that makes sense for him to go for that. But what kind of message would he aim for?

You wracked your brain the whole time, not sleeping like planned. 

The train stopped at its fourth stop, and you got off. The platform was almost empty in the cold morning. You could see your breath as you texted Anton.

YN: Did you not come to get me?

YN: Hello? 

YN: No way you're still sleeping! After you woke me up so early!?

You started calling him as you walked away from the train platform, headed to his house. Anton had the nerve to wake you up in the middle of the night and demand you see him but not get you from the train station in the morning. He always came to meet you. You started getting nervous. You should've driven over when he called. Why could he not be answering?

You called him several times, but there was no answer, no text.

The nerves in your feet stung as you walked– more like fast-walked to Anton's house. 

He had to be okay, right? He said he was fine seeing you in the morning– there's no way he'd be upset at you for this. Did the song matter that much?

Before you realized it, you were running toward his place. Your coat was open, and your beanie was in your hand. The cold bit at your ears and messed with your hair, and your eyes were dry, but tears were still at the edge of your eyes.

Anton had to be okay.

Finally, you reached his home. You knew the passcode to his door, so you opened it yourself. The house was warm inside, with light spilling in from the windows. It was quiet and still. Anton's house slippers were by the door.

Did he leave home? Where the hell could he go!?

You turned and ran back out the door, phone to your ear, as you called him again.

Fuck! No response.

You turned down the street and moved toward the cafe. Anton loved going there when he needed to get out of his room. You thought about the hours you'd spent there with him.

I should've been there for him.

Inside the cafe, it was quietly playing R&B. It was one of the songs Anton had shown you, Snooze by SZA.

The owner noticed you come in and the expression on your face, "Y/n? Something wrong?" 

"I'm looking for Anton. He's not at home," You approached the counter.

"He stopped by here earlier for coffee. He’d been by a lot recently for double espressos. It doesn't look like he'd been sleeping recently, with the amount of dark circles he had."

Your eyes widened, "Do you know where he headed?"

"No, he mentioned something about the music shop," The owner nodded.

"I'll keep looking!" You ran out the door. Your legs were tired, and your lungs were working overtime, but you just had a feeling Anton needed you.

Where did you go, Anton?

You walked around town, lost and in a daze. You checked all of Anton’s favorite spots, and each place gave an idea that he was somewhere else. You barely missed him every time.

At the convenience store, the owner said, "He mentioned he'd left something at school. Maybe he's taking the train to go there. It should be around real soon."

Your chest heaved, and it hurt to breathe, but you kept running. The train was your best bet since it was on a schedule. When you reached the platform, a train was already waiting.

You ran onboard, looking around, just as you looked out the window.

Standing on the platform in a black coat, Anton looked around as people got off the train. His stupid brown hair blew in his face.

You jumped out of your seat and slipped between the doors as they were closing. One of the train officials yelled out to you, but you ignored them as you ran to Anton.

Anton turned to see you with an awkward smile—a cup of coffee in his hands.

You almost tackled him with how hard you slammed into him. "Jesus, you idiot, don't worry me like that," You hugged him.

"I-I worried you?"

"Yeah! Do you ever check your phone!?"

Anton checked his pockets, "I– where's my phone!?" He patted his pockets before realizing he didn't have it, "I'm so sorry, y/n."

"Whatever!" You pushed past him, storming toward his house.

Anton hurried after you, "Please don't be mad."

"It's too late! I ran all around the area looking for you! This song better be worth it!"

"It is. I know you'll like it," Anton smiled awkwardly at you.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll hate it, and you've wasted all your time."

"Don't say that! You haven't heard it."

"I hate it already– my ears hurt just thinking about it."

Anton suddenly got quiet. He was usually fine when you jabbed at him, but his silence spoke volumes.

"Hey– I'm kidding. I don't hate it. I was just worried, okay?"

Anton nodded softly, focusing on his coffee as you walked the rest of the way silently.

Anton led the way into the house, "can you wait downstairs for a second?"

"Is your room messy?" You raised an eyebrow, "I've seen it messy."

"Please," Anton said with a hard-to-read expression.

Your jaw locked up at his serious tone. You nodded, "Yeah, I'll stay put."

Anton went upstairs to his room, leaving you downstairs with your thoughts.

Is he the one who's mad here? I should be the mad one, not him!

Anton came downstairs, missing his coat, which revealed a white turtleneck, "Come on, it's ready."

You slipped off your coat and followed him slowly up the stairs. The mood was tense, but you couldn't get why. 

Right before entering his room, Anton stopped you. "Put this on," He presented a blindfold.

"Really?"

"Trust me, please."

You decided not to argue and let him tie it around your head. He took you by the hand and led you into the room. He sat you down on the bed, and you could hear him moving some things around the room. There was a faint smell of smoke.

"What's going on, Anton?"

Anton touched your hand, "I made this song to show my feelings. I want you to listen to it fully. I named it, Love 119."

He played the song. It wasn't exactly what you expected from a love song, but the lyrics were deep. You could tell her put in a lot of effort, and he must've had his friends help him with the vocals.

In the end, Anton let go of you and moved, "Take off your blindfold."

You slipped it off to see Anton kneeling with a cake with candles. His face was pinkish as he looked up at you, "Y/n, will you be my boyfriend?"

The words echoed in the room just once. Time froze. You were looking into his eyes as he nervously smiled at you.

He'd prepared the song for you. All those sleepless nights, missing school, the distance. All to find a way to make this song for you without you finding out.

Tears ran down your face, "Is this where you went?"

Anton nodded, "I asked everyone for help to keep you busy so I could set up."

You took a better look around the room. There were records wrapped with bows, a mug with your name on it– with coffee in it, and decorations all over.

"This is all for me?" 

Anton nodded, "You're the most special person in the world to me, and I want to spend it with you. Together. If you want that..." He put the cake up to you.

You leaned down and blew out the candles, "I will be your boyfriend!"

Anton set down the cake and pulled a small box out of his pocket.

"Are you about to propose at the same time?" You joked.

But Anton opened the box, presenting two silver rings.

You jumped to your feet, "Anton! I– We– Marriage!?"

He stood up, "No, no! It's just a promise ring!" 

You smiled, "Why in the world would we need those?"

"To show you I'm serious about you? My Dad said that's what he and my mom had."

You sighed, laughing more, "You're ridiculous. Give me a ring."

"But, I want to put it on you."

"It's for me to put yours on your finger, silly. There's two rings, aren't there?"

Anton handed you one of the rings as he took the other one. You presented a hand to each other and slipped on the rings.

Anton held your hand, admiring the ring on you, "And now, you're mine."

"And you're mine," You giggled, leaning close to him.

Anton looked briefly at your lips, thinking for a moment before getting anxious. "W-We should have cake!" He moved to grab a slice.

"Anton?"

He turned to see you closer than before, making him lean away from you, "Y-Yes?"

"Most couples start with a kiss, right?"

"A kiss!?" Anton's eyes were wide, but he was too nervous to take the first step.

You leaned into him, making him back up until he fell back-first onto the bed. You leaped onto him, pinning him there, "I've got you."

Anton closed his eyes, "I-I wanted to be the one to kiss you."

Your boyfriend was adorable, even when being childish. You rolled over, pulling him on top of you, pinned under his weight, "Then kiss me."

Anton nervously licked his lips before gently bringing them down to yours. The kiss was warm and soft, tasting faintly of coffee. Anton pressed his lips into yours passionately as his hands locked with yours.

Anton’s lips were red, and he blushed more, "I hope I'm not too bad at this. You're my first kiss."

"It's fine, now we can eat cake," You pecked his lips as he slid off you. You enjoyed the day together, eating cake and listening to his song.

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

One - The Hallway

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here

Previous Chapter

The human body is extraordinary. It does so many things like waking you up two hours before your alarm is set. It’s five o’clock in the morning and the last thing you want to be is up. This gives you way too much time to overthink your first day of school. 

The outfit you planned out the night before is thrown over your desk chair. It’s something simple and plain. You don’t want to draw too much attention to yourself. Your usual wardrobe would cause you to stick out like a sore thumb. 

You close your eyes and pray that your body lets you go back to sleep but after ten minutes of tossing and turning you knew that it was a lost cause. You reach over and turn on the lamp on your night stand. It takes your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the change in lighting but when they finally do, you sigh. Of course this had to happen to you. Your usual ten hours of sleep is reduced to eight. 

You can hear the rustle of your parents getting ready for work. They are usually out of the house before you wake up and back home long after you’ve gone to sleep. When you were little, you only saw them for a split second in the day when they came to pick you up from school. In middle school they gave you a bike and expected you to learn how to ride it on your own. It’s been just you and your bike ever since. 

You kill time by watching a movie on your laptop. It’s some new romcom that recently came out. Rom Coms are some of your favorite movies to watch because they move something within you. They make up for the lack of love and support in your life. 

Before you know it, two hours have passed by and your alarm goes off. You rub your tired eyes and finally leave the comfort of your bed. Your new room has a bathroom in it. The cold tile floors shock your bare feet but they soon get used to the temperature. 

You observe yourself in the mirror. Your tired eyes and tangled hair are just a reflection of how you feel inside. It’s only the first day but you are already want to give up. You can already feel the monotony tiring you out. 

Maybe you can join a club or two and make some new friends. It seems like everyone back home already forgot about you even though you left a week ago. Your best friend of six years left you on delivered for two days before making up an excuse as to why she didn’t respond fast enough. 

You splash your face with some cold water and try to think about something else. There was no use in thinking about that right now when there’s another pressing issue at hand. 

Lakeview high school is about a twenty minute walk and a six minute bike ride away from your house. The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you zip through your neighborhood. It’s a beautiful morning but you’d rather a car hit you than admit it. 

Jeeps, Teslas, Toyotas, Subarus, BMWs, Ford trucks, and one Honda fill up the parking lot. Those cars confirm your fears; this is a rich kid school. Your parents are very well off so you’ve grown up around rich kids. From your experience, they’re all spoiled little brats who whine when things don’t go their way. Thankfully, you’re parents never really gave a fuck so they didn’t spoil you. That allowed you to appreciate the things you have. 

You dismount your bike and lock it up. 

Lakeview looks like the school from the Breakfast Club. Everything is inside. Growing up in California, you got used to going to outside schools. No lockers, no roofs in the hallways, and wide open spaces greeted you every time you went to school. Everything inside of one big building? Now that, that was different. 

Blue and yellow lockers line the walls of the hallway. Students lean on them as they chat with their friends, no doubt talking about what they got up to over the summer. People fist bump each other as they walked down the hallway and couples suck on eachothers faces with no shame. You ogle at the people walking with the confidence you wished you had right now. It looked like a scene out of some cult classic high school movie. 

You take out the folded up paper that has your schedule on it and glare at it. Homeroom: Room 702. It would have been lovely to know where room 702 is but with multiple staircases going all over the place and no signs in sight, this started to feel less like public school and more like an agoraphobic person's personal hell. 

You take a deep breath and walk up to the nearest person. Their blue shirt catches your eye. It’s one of the colors that doesn’t hurt your eyes. You tap them on the shoulder and when they turn around, they look at you as if you just sprouted two heads.

“Hi, umm, sorry to bother you but do you know where Room 702 is?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly. 

The person points in front of them and then walks away. You gulp and stare in front of you, confused. No one has ever told you that you come off intimidating so that person's demeanor really confuses you. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter under your breath and lean against the wall of lockers. You close your eyes and hold the bridge of your nose. You feel exhausted and you haven’t even done anything really strenuous. 

“Excuse me,” someone says, “you’re leaning against my locker.”

You open your eyes and catapult yourself off the wall. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize. 

The person in front of you looks eerily familiar. Her honey blonde hair is thrown up in a pony tail but you remember it flowing beautifully in the summer breeze. This time you have a chance to make out the color of her eyes. Her blue eyes remind you of the ocean. They remind you of home. 

“Hey, aren’t you new?” she asks, her hand reaching out to shake yours.

You nod and accept the handshake. “Yeah. I just moved here from California.” 

“Cool. I could tell by your accent. It’s very…valley girl! I’m Abby, by the way.” And then she tilts her head and scrunches her eyebrows together, “are you a senior?” 

You nod again and introduce yourself. Your name flows through her mouth like honey. Only then do you realize that the two of you are still shaking hands. You break the handshake and chuckle a bit. 

“Sorry, I’m a little nervous. I don’t know where my homeroom is and some kid in a blue shirt looked at me like I just grew two heads.” 

Abby takes a look at your schedule. “I’m headed towards Room 702 if you want me to walk you over.”

“Please,” you practically beg her. Your body relaxes when she offers to walk you to class. 

The two of you walk side by side down the hallways and up the stairs. A few twists and turns around the school and you’re standing in front of Room 702. The door is open and you can see that there’s only one more seat left, yours.

You turn to Abby and thank her, sincerity laced in your voice. 

“It’s no problem really. If you ever need anything, stop by the softball pitch. That’s where I am most of the time. It’s nice meeting you,” she says before she turns and walks down the hallway. 

You walk into the class and sit down in the only available seat. The two people beside you were engaged in conversation before you sat down so you felt bad about breaking them up. You chew on your lip, ready for them to scoff or curse you out, but it never comes.

“Are you new?” the girl next to you asks. 

“Yeah, I am. Sorry, by the way, for interrupting your conversation.”

“Oh, please. You did nothing of the sort. I got tired of him a while ago. I’m Dina and the guy next to you is Jesse.” She flashes a million dollar smile and all of a sudden, you don’t feel scared anymore. You are going to be okay.

“How did you know I was new?”

“It's a pretty small school. Everyone has pretty much gone to the same school since elementary. It’s pretty rare that we get new kids,” Jesse says. 

“And because you’re wearing shorts in September. No one here wears shorts unless it’s the middle of July,” Dina adds. 

So much for ‘fitting in,’ you think to yourself. 

Dina can sense your discomfort. “Don’t worry. It’s bold! I like bold.”

After the teacher, Miss. Woods, introduced herself as a first year teacher, you felt good knowing that you weren’t the only new person here. She sat down at her desk and said that for the rest of the class they could just talk about anything. 

You learned that Dina was the co-captain on the cheerleading team and Jesse was on the wrestling team. They both did phenomenal in school on top of being able to manage athletics, clubs, and partying. Everyone you’ve met so far has been kind and gratuitous so maybe the universe wasn’t out to get you. 

At lunch, Dina and Jesse invite you to sit with them. They are joined by Dina’s girlfriend, Ellie, also a member of the softball team. 

“So, wait. You left California and came here?” Ellie asked, perplexed at how someone would leave the dream state. 

“I didn’t have much of a choice but I guess Washington is cool. Temperature wise at least.” You mutter the last part under your breath.

“Well, you’ve met the right people because some kids at this school can be total assholes,” Ellie looks up, “speaking of.”

You follow Ellie’s line of sight and see Abby joined by the guy that was driving the truck. His varsity jacket is thrown over his shoulder in some display of faux coolness as he holds Abby’s hand. Something inside of you twitches with distaste. They don’t look right together, but who are you to judge? You’ve only had one conversation with her. It’s not like you know them or their relationship.

Abby and the guy sit down at the now silent table. He looks you up and down and asks, “who’s the new kid?”

You introduce yourself but this time it’s with a lot less enthusiasm than when you introduced yourself to Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and Abby. 

“I’m Owen, captain of the football team and the coach's son. Pretty sure you’ve heard of me already.” 

You nod your head, not wanting to embarrass him. The truth is that you haven’t heard of him from anyone. You can tell from this very short interaction that he exudes arrogance and everything that you hate. Not to mention the fact that he smells like dirt and cigarettes. 

Lunch flys by, thankfully and now you’re sitting at a table in your history class. History is by far one of your favorite subjects. It’s not too hard but the material is complex enough to keep your brain satisfied and occupied. 

You sit there, clicking your pen mindlessly as you wait for someone to sit next to you. The warning bell rings and the chair next to you scrapes against the tiled floor. Abby flops down in the seat and sighs. 

“I had to run here from the parking lot. Owen made me go get something from his car,” Abby says out of breath. 

“Why didn’t you tell him to do it himself?” “Enough about him,” Abby dismisses any further questions about her boyfriend and redirects the conversation, “how’s your first day been so far.” 

You can manage a “Pretty go-” before you’re cut off by the sound of the final bell. 

The teacher walks in and closes the door behind him. He’s tall, taller than the average man and he’s wearing a blue and white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The black watch on his wrist beeps and his thick fingers go to turn it off. Something about him makes you feel safe and protected, like you can trust him with anything. 

He walks to the front of the class to introduce himself. “Good afternoon, seniors. Welcome to your last first day of public school. My name is Mr. Miller and I’ll be your history teacher for the next year.” 

He takes out a stack of papers from his black leather messenger bag and begins to pass them out. “This is the syllabus. Look over it with your parents and make sure to get their signature. If you turn it back in to me by Friday you can receive extra credit.” 

You’ve become a master at forging your parents signature so you can have it back to him by the end of the day if he isn’t a narc. 

Before you know it, your first day at Lakeview is over and you're back on your bike riding down the streets of your neighborhood. It’s more lively today than it was when you got here. There are dogs barking, joggers running past you, cars honking at you to get out of the way, and children playing in their front yards. 

You come to a halt when you realize that there’s been a car following you ever since you left school. The window rolls down and you are met with the smell of dirt and cigarettes. “Need a ride?” Owen lifts his eyebrow.

“No thanks. I live right here.” You curse yourself for basically doxing yourself to someone you definitely don’t want knowing where you live.

“Oh, nice house. I live down the street so if you ever need anything don’t be afraid to ask. Any friend of Abby’s is a friend of mine.” He winks and then drives off. 

You scrunch up your face in disgust and drop your bike off in the driveway. No one’s going to steal your bike because everyone around here has enough money to buy ten. 

You're greeted by the sound of silence when you enter your house. You hang your backpack and keys up by the door and flop down on the couch. Your parents haven’t gone grocery shopping yet so you order a large pizza for yourself and watch TV until you fall asleep on the couch.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @soupycloud

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Thank you all for reading. 🌻

[thevoidscreams]

For Mating March: what would you think each Primarch specific kink would be?

Gonna stick to one or two kinks each for this also I'm going based on vibes:

Lion: He will often take you where ever you are at the time, even if it's a risky place to do it.He doesn't get off on the idea of potentially being caught. He gets off on getting away with it. Fulgrim: He enjoys painting you and making an absolute mess out of the paint he put on you, by fucking you and then making a print by pressing you to a canvas. He has a collection of these.

Perturabo: He enjoys bondage but with really complicated devices. He also gets off on being praised and feeling valued, during the deed. Jaghatai Khan: What's to do you on his bike while riding. Also he doesn't pull out. You're getting the cream pie.

Leman Russ: Predator/Prey dynamics, he's giving you a ten minute head start to book it into the woods. Better make those ten minutes count cause when he catches you, you're gonna want to be far enough away that no one can hear what he's doing to you. (Unless you're into that)

Rogal Dorn: No guy who makes a full body pain glove is normal okay. He wants you to do your best to make him come while he tries to hold off as long as possible. Also maybe a bit of pain play. Konrad Curze: Blood play, knife play, also predator/prey dynamics but it'd gonna be a lot more dangerous for you when he finds you. He will however give you aftercare if he's in the right mindset.

Sanguinius: Body worship, it goes both ways, also praising. He may get a bit bitey sometimes also. Ferrus Manus: Pretty standard rough sex, a bit of breeding, sensory play involving temperature. Angron: You gotta restrain him, it's not even a kink at this point it's for your safety.

Roboute Guilliman: Breeding, also if you bring him things while he's working to give him little breaks and lots of love that gets him going. He just needs your love and support. That's the biggest turn on for him.

Mortarion: I feel like he enjoys a challenge, and if you tease him throughout the day he's not gonna show it but he's gonna be rock hard till he gets you in bed later. And then you'll get to see his famed endurance first hand.

Magnus: He enjoys having his ego stroked, and when you show off a bit of book smarts. Also rub him down with some body oil. Horus: He is a power top who gets off on being called Warmaster or Master in bed. He's also not opposed to taming you and making you submit to him.

Lorgar: You are his kink. If he's pursuing you then it doesn't matter what else is going on in bed. As long as it involves you. And maybe some genuine sentiments of love.

Vulkan: MATING in all caps. He's also gonna pound you on his anvil the same way he does a new weapon.

Corvus corax: He wants to find you, hide and seek style. Another one where you'd better hope you hid in a place far enough from other people. Also risky business in public, like making you sit on his knee while he rubs you off under the table.

Alpharius: He and Omegon like to share you. Both at the same time. Sex is never a private affair for those two.

[formosusiniquis]

There's something about the idea that every adult that spends more than ten minutes alone with Steve Harrington is instantly enamored with him 

The King Steve era house parties don't get broken up by the cops anymore. Steve is too far from his nearest neighbors for a noise complaint and the cops who would do it like Steve. They know they don't have to worry about any underage drinking and driving incidents after a Steve Harrington party because anyone who doesn't have a DD just crashes at the Harrington place, it's not like they have to worry about getting out of there before his parents get home.

His teachers can't help but let certain things slide. Excusing a middle school Steve's tardiness, the Harrington house is such a long bike ride away from the school and the bus route doesn't reach the grounds of Loch Nora. High School Steve's grades are average at best and his attention drifts, but his questions if poorly worded are insightful at heart and if you catch him away from the friends he tries too hard to keep he's polite and willing to spend time discussing his school work. By senior year they're excusing his tardiness again, they all know he has to swing by the middle school on his way over; and his forgetfulness too, two concussions in as many years it's a wonder he's not worse.

Joyce Byers, who by all accounts should hate this boy who fought her son and belittled her family, already has a snag in her armor thinking about a little boy who used to bike to Melvalds all alone for more milk and the sugar dusted cereal his mother didn't like him to have. Has her walls damaged by Jonathan coming home with a Christmas present they both know Nancy Wheeler even in her middle class glory couldn't afford. Has the adoption papers ready to be notarized when that same little boy, just a little bit bigger, offers to cart her Will around town since he knows she and Jon are busy and he has nothing better to do; really, and Will is the only one that ever says please or thank you.

Hopper, who largely left the everyday police work to the other officers, didn't interact with Steve much until the Upside Down business started. He's ready to add Harrington to the list of kids he'd die to protect the second the bloodstained boy cracks open a bleary eye from the Byers' sofa. Concussed and happy for it since it meant the youngest ones were safe.

Claudia Henderson has decided that the law has little to do with family. She's seen too many young men in the hospital grieving loved ones they can't see while parents who don't care make decisions for the dying. Steve Harrington is hers now has been since he did her Dusty's hair. The Sinclairs only let Erica roam the mall on her own on days they know Steve is working. They know no matter what Erica and Lucas promise the two of them aren't staying together. There's something rotten in Hawkins, and the kids don't whisper as quietly as they think they do. They know there's something they are missing, but they don't need to know everything to know they can trust the boy who put himself bodily in front of their child to protect him. Karen still occasionally mourns the loss of Steve as a son-in-law but the fact that he still drives Mike around even on his surliest days, she couldn't ask for more.

Wayne Munson lasted the longest. A product of night shifts and a powerful wariness around anyone whose tax bracket exceeds his by more than one jump. But he knows the kind of skittish that Steve is, remembers an eight year old boy with eyes he hadn't grown into who used to skitter away from a sharp tongue or raised hand just the same. Even then all it takes is sitting next to Steve on a rare night off, the game fuzzing in and out on the TV, listening to him softly explain the rules of it all to his boy relating it back to the ones of that dragon game Eddie likes so much and he's gone. Steve's a hard worker, a wage slave as much as Wayne these days, seems wrong to begrudge him just cause the house he's kept at is a little bigger than theirs. There are worse boys to have as future in-laws, even if he is a Cubs fan.

The only person who doesn't seem to get the memo is Richard Harrington. So rarely around his own son he isn't swept up in the charm. Richard and Stephanie Harrington make their way back to Hawkins, unannounced on a Tuesday. The sleepy morning hours are still lingering when they make their way into the house, through the foyer, and onto the kitchen; following the sounds of crooning oldies. Richard has long thought his son a disappointment, too lazy to get into college and too spoiled to leave home, catching him dancing around the kitchen like a fairy with some trailer trash punk is really the last straw. He lets the wife he wishes he didn't have make some asinine comment to this freak that's in his kitchen, and turns to the child he never wanted to say, "I want you out, I won't have a queer living under my roof."

Stephanie and that long haired bastard both rear back like they've been slapped. While Richard is forced to watch as the son he's neglected straightens up, every ounce the man every other adult on Hawkins has watched him become, look him in the eye and say, "It's not your house, it never was. Grandpa Otis left it to me. So if you've got a problem with me or my fucking boyfriend, you can get out of my house. Looks like you're already packed."

That empty house gets emptier as Richard, alone, takes the furniture he paid for and the clothes that lingered in the closet; but it's quickly filled with the hand-me-downs of everyone who has ever fallen for that Harrington charm. They're all too happy to help Steve fill what's his.

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Steve Harrington

A/N: aaaahh xD here it is! I honestly had this story for SO LONG! I turned it a dialogue, a prompt, a drabble and ended up here so I hope you like it xD   

Request - Anonymous asked: Well hiii This is so odd. It's the first time I do a request, I actually don't speak english that well soo... but I really like your writing and I love stranger things and I really hope you write about it, I would love something with clingy Steve, he gives me that vibes super fluffy 😍 You are incredible by the way 🙋🏻‍♀️

Warnings: jealous!clingy!Steve :D also, Eddie being a little shit (not in a bad way though xD just messing with Steve) I think that’s it but let me know if I missed anything

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger things :D gif isn’t mine :) 

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Crazy Little Thing Called Love

I gotta be cool, relax Get hip and get on my tracks Take a back seat, hitchhike And take a long ride on my motorbike Until I'm ready... crazy little thing called love

"Steve?" you smiled, feeling his lips on your neck.

"Hmm?" you heard him as you leaned back, trying to stay focused on what you needed to say.

"Love, I have to go" you chuckled as he gave you another kiss.

"No" he said, as he continued his trail of kisses, making you laugh a little.

"Steve, I'm gonna be really late" you said, trying to pull away, even though you didn't want to.

"But I don't want you to go" he pouted, looking at you with his big puppy, beautiful brown eyes. You smiled sweetly at him and kissed him on the lips.

"I know, love but we have to work on this project and I promised Eddie and Jonathan I'd meet them like ten minutes ago" you said, looking at your watch as you finally unglued yourself from your boyfriend.

"Uh... Jonathan... Byers?" he asked, as you started getting your stuff.

"Yeah" you shrugged, fixing yourself up and grabbing your bag.

"And... Eddie Munson?"

"Uh-huh" you said, looking at yourself in the mirror, and then you turned to him again, giving him a peck on the lips. "It's just for a couple of hours, okay?" you smiled. "I'll be back before you know it" you smiled.

"At least let me drive you-" he said, getting up.

"I don't want you to be late, love. You promised Dustin that-"

"Henderson can wait" he complained.

"Steve" you smiled, stopping him when you saw the upset expression on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Mhm" he said, nodding quickly.

"Look at me" you said, cupping his cheek with your hand. You knew he wasn't. He was upset. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just... wanted to spend more time with you" he said quickly, smiling and leaning in to kiss you again.

"I know, I wanted to spend more time with you but look at it this way, it's only for a couple of hours while you take Dustin and the rest of them to the arcade, and then we have the whole weekend to ourselves" you smiled, kissing him once more. It was one of those many weekends when Steve's parents weren't in town so, he had the whole weekend planned for you.

"What if you call them and tell them you're sick" he suggested, starting to kiss you again and then pouting at you.

"I can't do that" you chuckled. "This is like a third percent of our grade, love. And we're almost done" you told him. "I promise you won't even notice I'm gone" you assured him.

"That's not true" he smiled.

"Look, the quicker I get there, the quicker I'm back" you said, kissing his cheek and pushing away from him.

"At least let me take you" he asked again, standing up and walking closer to you.

"Love, the diner we're meeting at is on the opposite way to the arcade, I'll just make you late. And you still have to pick everyone up. I'll just take my bike" you told him.

"How did I even get tangled into taking them to the arcade?"

"The same way you always do" you chuckled. "You can't say no to Dustin" you told him.

"Yes, I can!" he argued.

"It's sweet that you think that" you smiled. "But you really can't" you informed him. "I'll see you later okay?"

"Wait" he said, grabbing one of his sweatshirts and putting it on you. "It's gonna be cold later" he insisted.

"Okay" you chuckled, confused. "Thanks, love" you said, kissing his cheek.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Eddie, for the last time, we're not doing our report as a metal song" you said, rolling your eyes as Jonathan tried not to laugh.

"Why not? It would be so badass! Nobody else will do it!"

"Exactly, because we can't do a metal song" you tried to reason with him.

"Where in the guidelines does it say that we can't?" he complained.

"Jonathan, a little help here?" you said looking at your other partner.

"Eddie, even if we could, we can't play any instruments" Jonathan said pointing at you and himself.

"You sing, sweetheart?" Eddie smirked at you.

"Not unless you want everyone in the room to evacuate the premises as quickly as possible" you said, making him laugh.

"Aw, come on, love, I think you're selling yourself short" Eddie said, just as Steve walked into the diner. "All pretty girls can sing" Eddie smirked, making you laugh.

"You're too nice, Munson" you smiled, rolling your eyes. "But in this case, I think Jonathan might be your best choice for lead singer" you said, making Eddie turn to look at Jonathan as he widened his eyes at the two of you.

"What do you say, Johnny boy? You in?" Eddie smirked at him.

"Uhh..."

"Steve?" you asked noticing your boyfriend had walked into the diner and made his way towards your table.

"Love?" he acted confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I told you I was getting together with Eddie and Jonathan to work on our project" you reminded him.

"Oh, I didn't know you meant this diner" he said before looking at the other two. "Munson" he nodded his head towards Eddie and then he looked at Jonathan. "Byers."

"Hey" Jonathan said quietly before going back to his notes.

"Harrington" Eddie said with an amused smirk.

"M-Munson" Steve nodded.

"What brings you to this part of town? I thought Henderson mentioned you'd be going to the arcade with them" he said.

"Well, not really. I was just... taking them to the arcade" he explained. "And they got a ride home so, I was hungry and I just-"

"Happened to be here?" Eddie smirked at him. "Well, why don't you join us, pretty boy?"

"Um..." Steve said, raising his eyebrow and looking at you, who smiled, nodding back at him. "Sure" he said as you scootched over on the booth to make room for him, a little closer to Eddie. "So, how's the project going?"

"Uh- w-well, Eddie is insisting that we do our report as a metal song" you informed him as Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Oh, give me some credit, sweetheart, I've been more helpful than that" he smirked, noticing the glare on Steve's look when he called you sweetheart but you didn't even seem to notice, so he just smiled goofily at your boyfriend.

"You really haven't, Munson" you smirked at Eddie, who placed his hand over his heart and dramatically scoffed, offended.

"You're breaking my heart, sunshine" he continued before he softly hit Jonathan on his arm, making him look up. "Come on, Jonny boy, back me up here" he told him.

"Okay... Eddie, what is the name of the book that the report is about?" he asked with a small smirk, making you look at Eddie too, amused when his smirk dropped.

"That's not helping, Byers" he glared at Jonathan. "Just because the two of you have your private little book club, and you two nerds didn't want to do our book report on Lord of The Rings, it doesn't mean that I haven't been helpful" he said, rolling his eyes.

"Your what?" Steve asked, with a small scoff.

"Oh, you don't know? Byers and your girlfriend have a private book club, which apparently is very exclusive" he said, mocking you as you rolled your eyes.

"It is not a book club, Jonathan and I just exchange some books that we think the other one would enjoy. We told you we could lend you some books but you said if it wasn't Lord of The Rings or anything related to D&D or Metal history, you were not interested" you informed Steve.

"That's not true! I also like The Shining and Stephen King books" he defended himself. "It's like you've never heard of IT!"

"I'm terrified of clowns, Munson. Why on Earth would I read IT?"

"Aw, you scared of clowns, sweetheart?" he smirked as Steve took a deep breath. "That's adorable!"

"That's adorable" you mocked Eddie's voice looking at him and he stuck his tongue out at you.

"Oh, that reminds me" Jonathan suddenly said before looking for a book in his bag. "I got this one for you" he said handing it to you.

"Oh my God! Love in the Time of Cholera!" you said, excitedly, eyeing the book as Steve and Eddie watch the entire interaction between you and Jonathan.

"Is that a... love book?" Steve asked, confused.

"Yes!" you said, showing it to him. "The author is Colombian and the original book is in Spanish. It's really hard to get a version in English" you explained as you started going through the pages and discussing the book with Jonathan.

"You okay over there, Harrington?" Eddie smirked throwing an arm around you and resting it on the back of your seat.

"Wonderful... never been better" Steve said through clenched teeth before he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him, away from Eddie.

"Hi, love" you smiled, kissing his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Fine" he said, with a firm smile.

"Are you sure?" you frowned. "I know this is a bit boring, that's why I thought you'd rather wait for me to finish-"

"I don't mind" he assured you, pulling you even closer by your waist and kissing your forehead.

"Okay" you still said, unconvinced. "We're almost done for today" you told him. "We all have a free period on Monday so we'll each work a little on the weekend and just finish Monday" you told him.

"It's okay, love. Take your time" he said as you went back to your group but Steve still held on to your hand.

"Hey, sweetheart?" Eddie smirked at you on your other side and you felt Steve's grip tightening on your hand. "I think I need your help over here. You think your lovely boyfriend could... share you for a moment?"

If looks could kill, Steve would have already murdered Eddie by now. He thought he was hiding it well but he squeezed your hand even harder.

"Ouch! Steve!"

"Shit!" he said, letting go of your hand. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to-"

"Could I talk to you for a second?" you asked.

"Uhhhhh" Eddie and Jonathan mocked him, making Steve glare at the two of them before he rolled his eyes and walked away from the table.

"I'll be right back" you told Eddie and Jonathan. "And stop messing with him!" you said, slapping Eddie's arm.

"Ouch!"

You walked over to Steve who was waiting for you, looking upset.

"Love, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I just-"

"Steve, what is going on with you today? And don't say 'nothing' because you've been acting strange" you said, worriedly.

"I just-" he sighed, nervously scratching the back of his head with his hand. He then, without even meaning to, glared over at your table.

"Is it... is this because of Eddie and Jonathan?" you asked, frowning your eyebrows.

"No" he said, unconvincingly.

"Steve" you said, raising your eyebrow at him.

"Okay, fine! I just... didn't exactly love the fact that you were going to spend your entire afternoon with them" he said, grumpily. "And why does Jonathan have to give you books or why does Eddie call you sweetheart?"

"Eddie calls everyone sweetheart" you frowned your eyebrows, confused. "And Jonathan and I started exchanging books because he once mentioned Will wanted to read one book that I had" you explained. "Love, you know I needed work on our project, nothing more, right? I didn't want to blow you off to hang out with them or anything like that-"

"No, I know I just... well, you know I've never really liked either one of them and I just-" he sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't know-"

"Is this because... of Jonathan and Nancy?" you asked. "And... well, Eddie with Dustin?"

"N-no-"

"Honey" you said, your expression turning soft. "Look, I understand that you've never really liked Jonathan because of... what happened with Nancy" you started. "And you don't love the fact that Dustin hangs out with Eddie so much instead of you" you reminded him. "But you don't have to worry about me" you assured him.

"I know I don't. I'm sorry, I didn't want to feel this way, I just... I don't know, everyone seems to leave me for them, and I... I guess I didn't want you to do that too" he admitted, looking down. You softly placed your hand on his chin and lifted his head up.

"First of all, Dustin adores you and he didn't leave you for Eddie. There is nothing wrong with him making a new friend that gets the things that he likes" you informed him. "And secondly, and most importantly, I would never leave you" you insisted. "For Eddie, or Jonathan, or anyone else" you added. "I love you, and I promise, you have nothing to worry about, love-"

"You love me?" he asked, suddenly, feeling his entire heart flutter.

"Of course, I do" you chuckled.

"You've never- um... we haven't... said that before" he said, letting out a sigh of relief with his smile. "W-well, actually no one's um-" you cut him off, leaning in to give him a kiss on the lips.

"I love you, Steve Harrington" you repeated, smiling at him when you pulled away.

"I love you too" he said, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

"Do you mind waiting just a few more minutes until we finish and then we can go?" you said, smiling up at him. "I promise I'm all yours, all weekend" you smirked.

"Of course, love" he said, kissing your cheek. "I'll grab something to drink for everyone, okay?"

"Okay" you smiled, giving him another peck on the lips. "I love you" you repeated, loving the way his smile turned brighter whenever you did.

"I love you too" he said, kissing your head as you came back to your table. Steve went over to the diner's bar to order a few drinks for the four of you, as he was joined by Eddie.

"So..." he smirked, leaning on the bar and looking at Steve. "You done marking your territory on your girlfriend? Or are you going to fight me and Byers outside?" he mocked him.

"I wasn't doing that" Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"Dude, you did everything but pee on her" Eddie laughed but Steve just glared at him. "Look, I get it. Byers and I are probably your least favorite people, but I gotta say, Harrington, this is not a good color on you" he insisted. "You don't seem like the 'badass Steve Harrington' that Henderson is always rambling about" he shrugged.

"What?" Steve asked. "D-Dustin said I'm a badass?" he said, feeling himself smile.

"He insists on the matter actually" Eddie informed him. "And look, for what it's worth, that girl is like ridiculously in love with you, man!" he said, pointing at your table. "She won't shut up about you either. And she didn't even notice me flirting with her, which by the way, I only did to mess with you so, please don't hit me for that" he chuckled.

"Seriously?" Steve asked, glaring a little at him.

"Yeah, man. That's what I do. It was fun to see you all flustered and with a murder glare in your eyes. But, scout's honor, I have no interest whatsoever in your lovely girlfriend. I mean, she's cute and all but she's not really my type" he admitted.

"Really?" Steve asked, intrigued. "And what's your type, Munson?"

"Her boyfriend" Eddie smirked, winking at Steve, who felt his cheeks burn a little and didn't really know what to reply.

"MUNSON! Leave my boyfriend alone!"

The End

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A/N: I hope you liked it! Eddie’s coming up next :) let me know what you think :D

[feeblescholarmyass]

"To Whoever Is Dicking Around on a Motorcycle in the Middle of the Night..."

in which your neighbor, Chuuya Nakahara, stays up too late messing with his motorcycle and it keeps you awake

tags: pre-relationship, pining stage, excessive use of the word "motorcycle", reader does not like riding a motorcycle, ooc? Chuuya (I tried my best babes but I am soo early in the series), this was beta read (rare) so it shouldn't have too many mistakes (ty @ratty-rat-toot 💞), vague hints that reader works in a bakery, I lost motivation at the end so the sections got shorter

a/n: this will not be part of a series, but expect more Chuuya fics in the future!!!

You tossed to your side for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. You'd been attempting to fall asleep for hours. No matter what you did, it just wouldn't happen. You took your medication, made sure to soothe yourself and prepare for bed. Yet, you just couldn't seem to get any rest at all. The grueling summer heat combined with your normal insomnia was not doing you any favors.

You peeled your eyelids open and groped around in the dark to find your phone and check the time. At first, your fingers found nothing but your own bedsheets. Only after a more thorough and frustrated search did you find what you were looking for. You winced as the screen flashed a blinding light when you turned it on, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the invasive light before you could read the time. It was only a few minutes from midnight, meaning you had about six hours left to attempt to go to sleep.

You groaned into your pillow, wishing for summer to be over already. Once the days were shorter and the temperatures lower, you had much higher hopes for finally finding some sort of sleep schedule besides an attempt. Unfortunately, the days were only going to get hotter from there on out.

You rolled back onto your side, wrapping your arms around a blanket and struggled to find a comfortable position that wouldn't cook you in your sleep.

Just as your eyes fluttered shut and the weight of your cat against your legs began to lull you into sleep, the loud sound of an engine revving startled you back awake. You were no engine expert, but it sounded like a motorcycle.

(More UTC)

Is someone really taking their motorcycle out for a ride at this hour? That's ridiculous. Just go away, already! I'm trying to sleep, god dammit! You thought, stuffing your head under a pillow.

However, the noises from your neighbor's garage did not get any quieter. The longer this persisted, the more irritable you grew.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you cried, throwing off your light blanket (much to your cat's protest) and shoved on the first jacket you could find to cover yourself a little. It was too hot for proper pajamas, so you had been in bed wearing the tiniest pajama shorts in your possession and some decently comfortable undergarments.

You marched to your front door, pulled it open, and followed the sound to the mystery individual who thought it was a good idea to play mechanic in the middle of the night. It was dark, but the moon was almost full, so you had plenty of light to find your way around the street. It helped that your eyes were used to the dark from hours of staring up at your ceiling in the lightless expanse of your bedroom.

Just down the street, two houses east and across from yours, you found the culprit, kneeling on the concrete of his open garage, tuning up his expensive looking bike. The motorcycle itself was hot pink, and from the looks of it, a decent model. As much as you appreciated good taste, it didn't excuse the noise at such a late hour.

"Hey, idiot!" You shouted. Was the name calling a little unnecessarily rude? Yes, but it was also unnecessary for him to be so loud at practically midnight, so you didn't feel any remorse.

The perpetrator looked up at you from the task at hand, red hair tied up loosely against his neck, and grayish blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. It would have been pretty, if you weren't so pissed off. Actually, even through your vision that was blurred from exhaustion and blind, sleepy rage, he was incredibly attractive. It was unfortunate that you had to meet like this.

"It's the middle of the night! Don't you think you should keep it down?! Some of us are trying to sleep!" You readjusted your jacket, realizing you must look a little crazy standing in a stranger's yard in only your undergarments, some very tiny shorts, and a very thin jacket. In your defense, you hadn't been expecting to make any late night visits to crazy neighbor boys to make complaints.

He frowned for a moment before his expression relaxed. "Sorry," he called back. He got up from the ground and dusted off his knees. You took notice of his grease covered forearms. He had been messing with the bike. You hoped he knew what he was doing and wasn't just an amateur trying a hand at such expensive upkeep.

"You'd better be," you muttered under your breath. You turned on your heel with a huff and stomped back to your house, all the while attempting not to flash the frustratingly pretty boy who was watching you leave with a dumbfounded grin on his face.

Embarrassing lack of clothes aside, it had felt good to yell at someone. Maybe now you'd be able to sleep with some peace of mind, knowing the sanctity of the night was once again just as quiet as it should be.

After that, there were no more motorcycle engine noises keeping you up in the night. Once again, only your poor habits and unfortunate circumstances prevented you from getting a full night's rest.

It seemed that motorcycle boy had taken your complaint into consideration and decided not to do any more impromptu repairs at all hours of the night.

Sadly, that didn't mean you slept any better. You were an absolute wreck today. One night of poor sleep had turned into a week of hardly getting any rest at all. Currently, you were waddling around like a zombie, hardly able to think as your body performed on autopilot to get all the necessary tasks done. You couldn't even remember what you'd eaten for breakfast that morning, or if you'd even had breakfast at all.

Last night had resulted in a total four hours of fitful sleep, accompanied by the strangest dreams you couldn't even remember. Something about weretigers and detectives, but it was all so intelligible that you didn't bother attempting to unwind the mystery of whatever your subconscious had cooked up for you this time.

You had made your coffee with an extra shot of espresso and hoped for the best. You took another sip, realized it was too sweet for your tastes, but didn't care enough to do anything about it. It may have been the first cohesive thought you'd had all day.

You gave your cat a scratch between its ears and slipped on a pair of shoes so you could go out and check on the garden your father had reminded (read: demanded) you to take care of, since he couldn't keep an eye on what ingredients you were using in meals anymore. As much as you struggled to remember to care for the plants properly, you found you didn't hate the responsibility. It made you feel productive whenever you were able to harvest the results of all your troubles. The fresh taste was an added bonus.

As you watered the flowers that served as ground coverage used to shield your precious darling fruit bushes and vegetable garden from nasty herbivore vermin, you heard the sound of an engine starting up from down the street.

Ah, motorcycle boy is up, you thought. A strange thrill coursed through your veins as you remembered how he had looked in the moonlight. Bad Y/n, now is not the time to get giddy over some stupid neighbor boy. You've got to get to work soon and can't afford time to daydream.

Despite the stern talking-to you were giving yourself, you couldn't help but want to catch another glance of such a beautiful man. You turned and shielded your eyes from the rising sun, glancing at your neighbor. The view did not disappoint.

He straddled the bike as he put on his helmet. His hair was long enough you could still see it peeking out from underneath and curling around his shoulders. Red shone gold in the early morning sunshine, creating a glow around him that made you forget what you were doing just to watch him prepare to drive away.

You set down the watering can with as much care as you could manage (which is to say, very little) and pushed your hair out of your eyes to get a better view. You caught him glancing at you before he started the bike. The look he gave you sent shivers down your spine. Only once he had disappeared from your view were you able to return to fretting over the poor leaves of your radishes. It seemed some bunnies had decided those were the yummiest, and trampled your flowers just to get to them.

Oh, well. You would just have to take more care to try and prevent them from making it that far next time. Luckily, your newest plot to save your garden involved a more forceful method of keeping herbivores out of your plants.

The next time you ran into Motorcycle Boy, you were picking up some seeds to begin your new garden protection strategy. It had been a month or two without any interactions, much to your pleasure. It was a hassle to try to wrangle the butterflies he sent tumbling in your stomach back in their cage.

This time, he seemed to be fussing over the location of some wine. He was small, not much taller than a young teenage boy. For someone with such an unfriendly scowl, he didn't seem all that intimidating at the moment. You held back giggles as you watched him strain to grab the bottle he wanted, hopping up and down and cursing under his breath in frustration.

You decided not to say anything and passed him wordlessly, sticking to the opposite side of the aisle and hoping he wouldn't notice you, or at the very least he would leave you alone. You didn't have the time to play the small talk game at the moment; you had a friend on their way to visit you, and you were keen on being home before they arrived.

"Hey, you!" He called. You winced at the sound of his voice and bit back a sigh. He had noticed you and not chosen to ignore you. It seemed luck was not on your side today. "C'mere," he called.

You turned towards him and put on your best customer service smile. "Do you need something?" You asked him.

"You're the girl who showed up in my yard wearing practically nothing, yeah?" He lifted his head so he could look down at you. You felt your face go hot. Did he really have to bring that up in public? You mentally whined. "Grab this bottle for me and I'll forget about the whole thing."

All embarrassment you had felt previously turned into anger as his words registered in your brain. "Huh?!? Why should I? You really should learn to get better at asking people for help, if that's what you're trying to do here."

His eyes widened as he seemed to realize his mistake. "Hold on," he called, putting his hands up in defense. "I didn't mean it like that. 'Just thought it must have been pretty embarrassing, you know? Let me try again. Would you help me over here?"

You took a second to cool down, then took a deep breath. "Fine, since you asked so nicely," you huffed.

You reached up with a little bit of a struggle and got down the bottle he had been trying to grab, then glanced over the label. He's got good taste in alcohol, too. This is getting ridiculous.

"There, now don't mention that ever again. Please," you muttered, handing the bottle to him.

"Gotcha," he replied without another glance in your direction,, looking only at the wine bottle in his hand. He turned it over and read the labels, then tucked it under his arm and headed for the register.

"Wait!" You called, immediately cursing yourself for acting before thinking. What am I doing? I was almost free to go back to ignoring him!

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. "Huh? D'ya need something?" He asked.

"Your name," you said before you could lose your nerve. "I've been thinking of you as Motorcycle Boy and thought I should probably learn it."

He threw back his head and laughed. Your face flushed hot again and you hoped you hadn't made a fool of yourself, especially in front of the cute boy you had been thinking about constantly for a month straight.

When his fit of laughter subsided, he grinned at you and gave you what you'd asked for. "I'm Chuuya Nakahara. And you? What name should I attach to 'Crazy Motorcycle-Hating Neighbor?"

"I do not- ugh. Y/n L/n, and I am not crazy. If anyone is crazy here, it's you. Seriously, who thinks it's time to play with a motorcycle at midnight?" You folded your arms over your chest and frowned at him. He only grinned at you again.

"See ya around, L/n. Hopefully fully dressed next time," he teased. With that said, you parted ways, each playing with the feel of the newly acquired name in your mouth.

"Y/n L/n, eh?" He muttered, twirling the stem of a lily of the valley from your garden. It was a pretty little flower; it was a shame that it was dreadfully poisonous.

He leaned back until his head hit his pillow. He wondered if you were up or if that had been a one-time incident. He hadn't touched the bike in his garage past ten p.m. since you'd marched so boldly over to his house and chided him for the noise. He briefly thought about getting it out just to see if you would come back.

You'd been running through his mind non-stop for months now. The sight of your bare legs and glimpses of the rest of you from under that jacket had him worried that damned Dazai had rubbed off on him. He couldn't help sneaking looks at you every morning as you tended to your garden before he left for work. It felt dirty every time he looked at you, because every time he would get a vivid image of you giving him a death glare while half naked.

He was no womanizer, unlike that ass. However, he had to admit that he wouldn't mind seeing you in a state of undress again.

He sat up with a start at that thought. What am I thinking? Gross, I am not getting hot and bothered over my neighbor's legs. It's just legs. Pretty, deliciously bare legs. SHUT UP.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the increasingly unwelcome thoughts of your legs and how your skin would feel on his fingertips, or how cute you looked when you were pouting.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. This was not good.

"Turns out he'd been having an affair the whole time. I felt so bad for her! I can't say I didn't expect it, though," your coworker said, waving a hand at you. "I mean, he just seemed like the type, y'know?"

Listening to Raina talk about other people's relationships had gotten boring after the first hour, but today had been a slow and boring day, and she didn't expect you to add very much to the conversation.

"Speaking of types, what's yours?" She popped a sucker into her mouth. She'd quit smoking about three years ago, and she'd started taking them everywhere so her mouth could be occupied whenever she felt the urge. Since then it had become a habit to have a sucker in her mouth at all times.

"I dunno, I don't think about it very often." It was a lie, but you didn't want to get into that just minutes before the day was over and you could finally go home. "I haven't really cared much about boys since I was a kid. It's not that big of a deal."

Even as you said it, you realized that wasn't true. Thoughts of a redhead on a hot pink motorcycle crossed your mind too often for it to be not a big deal. He'd even started showing up in your dreams because of how often you thought of him.

"Liar!" She slammed her hands down on the counter, grinning at you. You jumped at the sudden movement, suddenly feeling too warm for your liking. "You're all flustered and nervous! Who's the boy? Spit it out," she ordered.

"Wh-what?! There is no boy, I don't know what you're talking about!" You felt your blood rushing to your face and put your hands up in defense, but it was too late. Raina has you backed into a corner, and judging from the mischievous smirk on her face, you wouldn't be leaving until she drained every last drop of information from you like a gossip leech.

"Oh, come on! It's written all over your face. Tell me about him! Is he cute?" She clapped, way too excited for a conversation that would make you stay even later for work than necessary.

You looked around desperately for an escape. The ring of the front door's bell gave you that out, even if it didn't help you leave any quicker. Not having to tell Raina about Chuuya was all you needed.

You turned with the biggest smile you could manage on your face to greet the customer. However, the second you saw him, your smile fell. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, you mentally sighed. Even just thinking about him seems to make him appear. And now he knows where I work. Fantastic.

Chuuya stopped in the doorway, taking in the strange situation he had walked in on. His eyes caught on how Raina's arms had caged you in and how obviously out of sorts you looked. "Am I… interrupting something?"

Raina jumped off of you and cleared her throat, returning her sucker to its place on her tongue. "Not at all! What can we help you with?"

Her professionalism once a customer stepped in scared you just a little bit. You followed her lead and dusted off your knees, looking away. The last thing you needed was for him to start teasing you as well.

"I was actually here to pick up an order. I know it's late, but-"

"I'll get it for you! Nakahara. I thought the name was familiar," you commented. Actually, you'd been wondering if the order was his all day long. You hadn't placed him as a red velvet guy, but here he was.

While looking through (hiding in) the back, you tried to think of an escape plan. Anything to stop Raina from teasing you for the next few months. She was already insufferable about boys, and if she knew that you had a stupid crush on that stupid redhead with his stupid motorcycle, she would never let you live it down.

"So are you going to tell me what about you made Y/n hightail it out of here, or do I have to make a guess myself?" Raina leaned forward against the front desk, pointing her sucker accusingly at Chuuya.

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Chuuya raised his hands in mock self-defense, trying not to grin. He'd seen how flustered you'd gotten the second you recognized him. He hoped it was more than just embarrassment of seeing someone you know outside of work walk into your workplace.

"Mhm, sure. How do you know them? Boyfriend? Relative..?" She watched him carefully for his reaction. She was nothing if not good at pulling gossip out of thin air, and your love life was her current muse.

"Neither," he chuckled. "I'm their neighbor. They got pissed as hell at me for being too noisy in the middle of the night and mouthed me off in my own yard. Ever since we seem to be running into each other everywhere."

Raina hummed, sizing him up. After a moment of thinking, she decides you two are obviously in love and she will be involved no matter what the costs. "You know, our shift is about done for the day. Autumn has been coming in quickly and it's been pretty cold lately. Y/n was complaining about walking home in the cold just yesterday. It's a decently long walk to their house from here. Like a whole 40 minutes, right?"

She watched as the gears started moving in his brain. Thank gods, he's not dense. This guy knows what I'm getting at.

He seemed to come to a conclusion just as you reappeared from the back, looking suspiciously more put together than you did just seconds ago. Raina almost wanted to laugh at how obvious you were.

"Your shift is almost over, right? It's pretty cold. I could take you home if you want," he suggested as he took the box from you.

"You would?" You asked, seeming almost stunned by the offer. You blinked at him a couple times before muttering, "I guess that would be nice."

"It's not like it's out of the way of anything." He waved a hand at you as he spoke. "I'll be waiting for you outside."

You nodded and hurried to gather your things into your bag. You carefully avoided answering any of Raina's enthusiastic questions before escaping the building and arriving in the small parking lot.

Your favorite part about the location was how much attention was put into the surrounding scenery. Shrubbery and other assorted vegetation provided scents and colors you didn't get in busier parts of the city. Even walking home, there was very little open area that made you feel like you could be seen from miles away. It was comforting to feel so grounded by your surroundings.

There, in the tiny parking lot that was usually empty, stood your neighbor, who was busy strapping his newly acquired box to the back of his motorcycle.

"You ever been on a bike before?" He didn't spare you a glance as he asked.

"No," you said. "Should I be worried?"

He grinned and didn't respond. He handed you a spare helmet and motioned for you to join him on the motorcycle.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking through all the decisions you had ever made, and after ultimately deciding that this was not the stupidest one, took the helmet from his outstretched hand.

The fact that you would get to hold him had no sway on your decision at all. You swore.

The second you heard the engine start up and felt your weight shift as the bike prepared to move, butterflies erupted in your stomach. The kind that you get before you fall down the stairs or trip on the sidewalk. The, 'oh fuck this is bad' kind of butterflies. But it was too late to get off.

Chuuya tried not to notice how nice it felt when you squeezed him tighter. He could feel your heart racing from where your chest pressed against his back.

He laughed, he couldn't help it. He heard you grumble something from behind him, but couldn't really make out what you were saying. It didn't matter; he had a pretty good idea of what the message was. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing harder as he merged onto the highway.

"Stupid Chuuya, stupid motorcycle," you muttered against his back. Feeling how fast you were moving was not helping the dizziness you had developed. You closed your eyes and held on tighter to the man in front of you, trying to focus on something else, like the texture of his jacket or how nice his hair smelled. You didn't care if it was stupid crush behavior, you needed anything to distract you.

Your heart was beating so fast that you could beat a hummingbird for the world record of beats per minute. Every little movement of the vehicle beneath you brought a fresh wave of panic. You couldn't understand why people would do this for fun.

Eventually you grew used to the constant panic and closed your eyes, blindly trusting Chuuya to get you home without killing the both of you.

When you finally felt the motorcycle stop, you fell off and shakily removed the spare helmet Chuuya had given you. He looked down at you with a crooked grin, obviously struggling to hold back his laughter.

"So, how did you l-like it?" He snickered. The look you shot at him only served to make him dissolve into a fit of laughter.

"Never… again…" You huffed, pushing your hair out of your face and curling up on the ground in front of his house. "Next time, I'm walking. I don't care how cold it is."

"Good luck with that," he grinned. "Oh, and thanks for the cake." He grabbed the box, waved goodbye to you, and went inside.

You stood and watched him leave, placing a hand on your chest. Your heart was racing. You wondered if it was from the terrifying ride or… something else.

reblogs and comments are much appreciated!!!

[skyliv]

THE NEXT BIG ONE! WHO BOOED!

i hate these two with half the fibers of my being. although i do hate some people just a bit more so maybe that weighs out! n e ways.. dumb and dumber week five

05/10/2018

Just at 10:40, a few brisk knocks sounded at Lucielle’s apartment door. Olivia looked out of place in the hallway, just like she had riding her bike to the complex, and walking down the hall.

She ditched the lab coat Lucielle was used to for a dark tan jacket. It was layered over a long, plant patterned high waisted skirt and a loose-fit button up. She pulls a light scarf through her fingers, waiting for a response. She had been there for ten minutes, deciding to get there just at the time she had planned. Maybe going early would’ve been better for Lucielle, she had always arrived early to their appointments, so maybe Olivia putting in that effort would show that she cared.

Although, the doctor was nervous, shifting on her feet and constantly looking around the empty hall every few seconds. Another minute, another knock, she thought she was getting ahead of herself.

But there was nothing, no answer, not a sound. Olivia idly reached out a hand, her left one still tugging on the end of her scarf. She can’t explain how her heart beats quicker, how her mind overflows with emotion. She swallows, her hand on the doorknob almost shaking.

As Doctor Octopus, she’s committed plenty of crimes, dozens worse than just waltzing in to someone’s house with no ill intent. She still worries, though- What if Lucielle never forgives her? What if she was kicked out? Screamed at? She can’t help but panic, even if the last proper crime she committed was two days before she met Lucielle.

Olivia feels frozen, her thoughts running back to her last meeting with Spider-Man. She hadn’t been the one to initiate the fight, rather having to stop him from yet another attempt at wrecking some work. “You’ll only hurt her,” he had said when Olivia let it slip that she was meeting a friend, “It won’t work, doc! It never does.”

Her right hand tightens, and the knob clicks… It wasn’t fully locked, and the dark wooden door slowly swings open.

“God…” Olivia breathes, yanking her hand back like she touched a charged wire. Her brows furrow and her face feels hotter than ever. The cracked door calls to her, one magnet to another, and through the slit she can catch a glimpse of warm colors and bright windows. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever she could see, or whatever could possibly happen.

It was quite the quaint place, a main studio area connected to a bedroom and bathroom. She’s immediately met with vibrant colors and sweet decor, older furniture sets dotting the dark wooden floor. Olivia quietly closes the door behind her, surveying the place like an animal adapting to a new enclosure. She quickly locks onto the open bedroom door and steps up.

“Hello?” The doctor calls out.

Olivia lets her hand brush against a vase of fake white flowers on a table, and enters the bedroom. The faint sound of water splashing can be heard from the bathroom, and she has to tear her focus away from a tall bookshelf and the lightly colored bedsheets and outfit laid out beside piled pillows. A chill shoots down her spine, and not from the coolness of the room.

She runs a hand through her hair, freezing up right before the doorway. “If I don’t have an excuse, Lucielle will kill me,” her mind argues with itself, “I should go, I’m being rash.” But she still enters, and her eyes aren’t drawn to a young woman standing there.

Instead, she stared right at a dark harbor seal napping in an almost full bathtub.

The beast was as large as a retriever, practically motionless as it slept. Its pelt was dark, almost a slate blue, and absolutely coated in black spots. It was familiar, and as Olivia battled through her shock, a hand gripping the doorframe, she couldn’t help but feel excited that she was right about Lucielle’s mutant power.

Long whiskers rose and fell with each breath as it laid its head on the bathtub’s edge. Its back flippers faintly kicked whenever it exhaled, sending small ripples through the water. Olivia’s worried frown shifts into a weak grin. The sweet animal caught her off guard, and she has to bring a hand to her mouth as she holds back her laughter. A thin rug muffles her steps when she finally approaches the tub, and the idea of slipping out her phone to take a picture doesn’t even pass her mind.

She leans down, hands on her thighs as the seal sniffs in its sleep. Once, twice, then like a dog who caught onto a scent, its eyes flicker open. The beast panics, floundering around in its tub at the sight of Olivia, letting out a sharp bark and gracelessly slipping into the water.

Olivia steps back before she can get splashed, and she raises her hands with wide eyes. “Luce! It’s me!” She exclaimed as it tried to regain its footing, “Honey, hi! It’s ok!”

The seal was finally able to hook a front flipper back over the bathtub’s edge. It bares its fangs, out of breath from the sudden scare. It closes its eyes, and in a flash something moves- Not the seal, but something beneath its fur.

Olivia couldn’t see the transformation, no one really could, but in a quick moment Lucielle peeks out her head from under a now lifeless pelt. Her hair’s a bit disheveled, and she’s scrambling to cover up her body, but one thing shines through: shock.

“Liv?!” She barks, her chest heaving with worried breaths. Olivia takes another step back, studying the little lady below her. Lucielle has clearly just woken up, the makeup she had put so much effort into was smudged around her eyes, and it was a miracle that the massive pelt could cover her where she sat in the tub. “What the fu- How the hell did you even-“

Olivia’s eyes soften, and her face falls. Her lips part, and she fights to find her words. “The door- I figured I’d come on time and it was unlocked! So I-“ The women lock eyes. Lucielle had been crying sometime before shifting into seal form. Olivia swallows, unable to get that lump out of her throat.

Lucielle sinks a bit more into the bath’s scarce soap bubbles, pulling her pelt closer to cover herself. She sighs faintly, before mumbling, “I fell back asleep.. God, oh shit I am so sorry.” She doesn’t bring her hands up until she knows the pelt is tied just enough to cover her front. “I mean- You should be sorry, who would do that!”

“I am sorry!” Olivia adds quickly, unsure how to react to her normal cold demeanor shattering, “I didn’t want to be late, I can leave and call this all off, ok? You can go back to your little nap, and-“

“Stay.” The selkie butts in, finally standing her ground. She sniffs, taking a quick breath, “Please, could you just wait in the living room for a minute..? I’ll get ready, we can still go, I still want to go.”

Olivia raises a brow, and a small frown dims her expression. If anything, she was confused- Why hadn’t she been cast out, why hadn’t she been shouted at? Was Lucielle ok?

The doctor takes a small step back, adjusting her jacket nervously to try and keep herself occupied. “Do you want to talk about it here?”

“No, we can-“ Lucielle wrings her hands together underwater, “We can discuss it over lunch.”

Olivia found Lucielle’s small apartment adorable. It was a miracle how she could afford to rent her own, less than 600 square feet, but open enough to feel comfortable. The doctor stood in the main living area, barely leaning on the couch by the door. She could see herself here, sat on that very couch, over in the little kitchen corner, sat by the window with a mutant by her side. She didn’t like to settle, she was barely ever at the penthouse provided by Fisk Industries, but with that inability to leave her work came a yearning for something personalized.

Olivia removed her jacket, folding it over one arm and stretching out the other. The dark metal harness plastered on her back was faintly visible through the white fabric of her shirt. Her gaze trails the wall in front of her: a crowded coat rack, a grand set of bookcases around a quaint television, a taller potted plant, and much more. Apart from the bits of marine themed decor and small figures from movies or games, the place looked like it could be from a magazine. The last thing she picked out from the decorations was a familiar machine, the last functional light beginning to quietly blink in a quicker succession.

Ten minutes, that’s how long it took Lucielle to finally exit. Olivia whirled around at the door’s creaking, eyes wide under her large glasses. Lucielle was in the same outfit laid out on the bed: high rise, loose cut shorts, a simple pastel tank, and a necklace with a dark seal claw on its chain. Even if her curly hair was still damp, she seemed to put on a faint bit of eye makeup, like she felt the need to look her possible best at any time.

“Sorry again.” She begins, just standing in the doorway with the lamplight behind her still bright, “I’m alright, just- A few things went wrong at once last night, and then I got scared I’d be late.”

Olivia notices how the mutant stayed still, so as she turned, she didn’t approach either. “And then it all falls apart,” She muses calmly, glancing to her side and the macine she caught a glimpse of, “It’s alright, I get it.. How about we go for a walk, you can show me the way to that cafe, ok?” She wasn’t used to having someone to look over, let alone someone who looked out for her as well.

Lucielle took a small step back, reaching into her room to grab a little crossbody bag. She finally exits the room when she slings it on, and finally smiles. “That’s perfect.”

They were both silent until they stepped out of the building, and Lucielle is the first to chime in.

“Spider-Man,” She talks slowly, just as she tries not to walk ahead, “He found me last night, and he sounded scared.. Of you.”

Olivia was about to look terrified at the prospect of Spider-Man ‘finding’ Lucielle, but at the rest of the story, she just frowned. “So that’s why you had the Observation Device, I didn’t even notice he took it yesterday.”

“You fought him yesterday?” She turns her head as she walks, nearly hitting her shoulder on a lamppost.

“He broke in.” Olivia corrects, fixing up her posture in a subconscious attempt to seem calmer, “I have no clue what his motives were, but yes, I fought him yesterday..”

“And…” Lucielle pauses to double check the road she’s about to cross, “You mentioned me.”

As Olivia follows, she’s still on high alert. Not for her surroundings, but for the emotions of the woman she’s walking with. Her brows furrow, and her lips purse some. “Not… Really. I said that he was getting between, well- ‘A friend and I,’ I only ever mentioned you were a mutant!”

Lucielle knew where she was going, so she was able to slow down and process at her own pace. “A friend..?” Tears threatened to well in her eyes, she’d be able to make an excuse that the wind made her tear up, but it most certainly wouldn’t work.

Olivia looked to the road, and stopped at the next crosswalk. “Mhm… A friend. I didn’t want him to trash the lab while we fought like usual,” She was usually the one to wreck the laboratory, “Because- Because I like your company, and I don’t want to scare you off.”

Lucielle sighs, rubbing a free hand over her cheek before her fingers brushed through her hair. For once, she was the one studying the other woman’s expression. The nearest traffic light flicked green, and the light across the street clicked to life. She reaches out a hand to tap the doctor’s.

“I’m sure I’ve said this before.. But it’s not easy to scare me,” She reassured with a smile, “I just forgot- I forgot you were on his bad side and I forgot about all the things you’ve done” Lucielle stepped out to the open crosswalk, and Olivia takes a quick step forward to catch up. The doctor’s thinner hand darts out to try and take Lucielle’s, and her attempt is met with success. Her cool skin against the mutant’s warm palm was an odd feeling, but not too uncomfortable.

“But that’s not all I am-” Olivia’s words came quicker after she took the mutant’s hand. As they got just a touch closer, Olivia could see the faint redness around Lucielle’s eyes from her earlier breakdown, could notice the strands of hair that just wouldn’t flatten with the rest of her curls. “It’s for work.. That’s all it is,” She wouldn’t admit the excitement she garnered from the rush of battling, nor the ecstasy of having so little regulations on her work, at least not yet, “Let me make this up to you- I didn’t know he would show up, I swear.”

There really was a corner bookstore within a mile of her home, Olivia would have to keep that in mind for when she stayed in Fisk Tower. There’s a cafe connected to it, and the store itself stretched across two floors. Lucielle is the one to open the door, gesturing Olivia to enter, and smiling when thanked. It’s not the largest spot, but with its connection to the bookstore, it’s more than enough. A few tables and even a set of booths, all lit from a few warm lights and the large windows near the entrance.

They’re seated quite quickly, with two little cups of black tea and a couple of pastries. Neither of them were used to this, Lucielle quietly adds some sugar and creamer to her tea, and Olivia just goes right into drinking hers. Lucielle couldn’t be upset for long, so after she finally takes a sip, she speaks back up.

“I wasn’t even mad about you coming in.” She says nonchalantly, reaching out to a small plate between them to pluck out an apple fritter. “There was just a lot going on, if anything, you smelling like coffee helped me get up.”

“You could-“ Olivia blurts out, “You could smell that?” She leaned forward in her chair, forearms folded on the table.

“Of course! Seal form, clearly.. Plus, it was new, I don’t drink coffee so I know something was up.” Lucielle takes another drink, and finally goes to bite her pastry before saying, “That’s why I got you the bag with the least caffeine too.”

Olivia almost chokes on her sip, before finally getting it down and laughing. “God, Luce- I thought you were devastated this morning!”

Lucielle took a big bite of the fritter, snickering to herself. “I was… But seeing you made it much better.”