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where-does-the-heart-lie · 11 months ago

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ASL brothers HAIKYUU!! AU!!!!!

Day one of Self Indulgent month for me! I love these three, i love haikyuu, i love killer whales!

(The Naval Academy is this au’s version of marines)

For those who dont know, in Haikyuu (and prob in real life too but in my experience its not as important as they make it in the anime) The "Ace" of the team is the person who primarily scores points via spiking. Theyre the Hard Hitter, basically.

Design talk👇

Originally, i was gonna make their school mascot just "The Pirates" but i couldnt figure out a clever pun with the school name so i scrapped it in favor of an animal mascot. I figured I would have a wider range of puns that way.

I landed on Orcas as the mascot because I think they really embody a pirate way of life. Theyre strong, hang out in groups of a mix of found family and their actual family, hate the rich, and theyre fun loving! And also im a bit biased because theyre my favorite animal, but hey, i said its self indulgent month, didnt I?

Their school name is a play on the word for Killer Whale (Shachi シャチ) and the word for 'knowledge' (Chishiki 知識), i just smashed the two words together. I'm very proud of myself for coming up with that given i dont speak japanese at all.

Anyway, with their designs, I was taking inspiration from orcas to match the design themes of haikyuu. Ace's hair is bleached on the underside to look like the underside of an orca's body, I made ace and sabo's eyes look more whale-like, the clip in sabo's hair is meant to resemble to spots behind orca's eyes, and I tried to make luffy's hair look more like it's round and spiking down more than i usually do.

Ace is wearing a ''way of the ace" shirt in the first picture, Luffy is wearing a shirt that just says "VOLLEY BALL" because i think it would be funny if he wore a bunch of those Zero-context-poorly-translated-random-english-words shirts that theres a bunch of in Asia. Sabo dyes his hair like delinquents do, but it doesnt much look delinquent~y because of how soft it looks. He means to do it to make him look like a delinquent though. Sabo still has his scars in this au, but he uses his hair, arm braces, and leg braces to cover them up. LUFFY AND ACE HAVE FUNKY SOCKS BECAUSE NO ONE CAN TELL THEM (or me) THEY CANT. Sabo wears athletic socks though because he's a debbie downer. He defends himself saying “It’s practical” and Ace and luffy call him “practically a Debbie Downer.”

Luffy is very good at receiving from growing up with Sabo and Ace practicing setting and spiking with eachother and assigning Luffy as Ball Boy. So he got the libero position from that cuz sabo and ace put in a good word for him. Nepotism.

I didn't feel like coming up with designs for them, but Zoro and Bepo are also on their team (theyre in the fifth image sitting on the right of the line of students). Koala and nami are student managers, Robin is the teacher manager, and Franky is the coach. all other straw hats/luffy friends, rev army comrades, and whitebeard brethren are in the stands. Im trying to keep the ages consistent with how they are in canon.

I didnt do a very in depth research, but i couldnt find what Japanese schools have as mascot costumes. and given no one wears any costumes in haikyuu for their team, i can kind of assume they dont use them over there. But unfortunately for them, I'm American. And part of the backbone of our schooling system, is Vaguely Unsettling Mascot Costumes. My sister says my design for it looks like its from Club Penguin, and i find that delightful. [moment of silence for my billions of fallen Puffles, taken from me in The Shutdown] Anyway.

I thought I was clever coming up with the equivalent of the Marines in this au being a Naval Academy. And their mascot being Seals, famously the animal that gets the absolute Worst Of It from orcas. Get shit onnnnn

I believe thats about it, thanks for coming to my ted talk :)

#my art #one piece #sabo #monkey d. luffy #asl brothers #one piece fan art #portgas d. ace #sabo the revolutionary #fire fist ace #straw hat luffy #haikyuu au #asl au #zoro and Bepo are there too #gol d. roger #monkey d garp

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lovetei · 11 days ago

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Your best friends are happy that someone is courting you, sure. But they need to remind him who's there for you first.

LUCIFER who even invited him to a dinner with you three, it almost seems like a date, between you and Lucifer that is. Laughing a little louder on your cute comments and even going as far as to put his hand on your thigh in front of him, "You never fail to make me happy, MC." he said as he cupped your face gently, staring at your eyes lovingly.

MAMMON who insisted he's innocent. Dropping you off and picking you up from RAD on his luxury car, incomparable to that jerke piece of junk. He revs in front of you while he's trying to get to know you, "Hey babe. Get in, we have somewhere important to go to. Can I drop him off too? Nah, sorry babe. Not enough space for three." He said with a condescending smirk while looking down at him.

LEVIATHAN who never forgets to get on your suitors nerves, always acting like the weird, creepy best friend you picked up because you felt sorry. Sitting close on you in the cafeteria, stealing away all your attention and giving out non-stop inside jokes to make your suitor feel out of place, "Remember when we went to that festival? Yeah, our matching clothes was totally lit!" He said while scooting even closer to show you the pictures.

SATAN who's just too picture perfect to even compare to that lump of flesh you call a suitor. MC, if you're lonely, all you need to do is call him and he'll give you the best time. Letting this piece of mutated lab experiment think he have a chance against him is too mean! "MC where are you going? He asked you out on a... Date? Oh, MC did you forget? We're supposed to study for your he and curses exam. Let's go." He pulled on your arm, leaving no room for explanation or excuse.

ASMODEUS who acts like the meanest best friend out there, always insulting this suitor of yours. You're surprised, usually, he's so sweet and caring but towards your suitor, it's as if he's the most vile thing Asmo has laid his eyes on. He crossed his legs as you introduced your suitor to your best friend, he scoffed, "Who's this? Another charity work? Oh dear, MC. You're far too kind for him, he's probably just taking advantage of you to sit with us. People of our pedigree are always taken advantage of, after all." He explained softly.

BEELZEBUB who's known as the jock of the academy, and you, you're probably known as his popular-part of the cheer squad-partner. You're basically off limits to everyone else so he wonders where this puny shrimp got his audacity from to even get close and think he has a chance to get you. Before the game, he would always drape his big arms on your shoulder, "Cheer loud for me, 'mkay?" and lay a sweet kiss on your forehead as if your suitor isn't watching.

BELPHEGOR never misses a chance to prove this lower demon who's boss and who you like more. Whenever your suitor is feeling sad and in need of your comfort, Belphie will suddenly feel pain on his abdomen and as usual, you will run to his side with that delicious look on your face, that look that doesn't give a damn about anyone else other than him. "I'm sorry, MC... I'm always ruining your plans... I'm more important? Well..." as it should be.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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pomegranatelifethis · 2 months ago

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I won

The hum of Gotham’s streets was a lullaby you’d long grown used to, a gritty serenade that cradled your reckless spirit. At sixteen, you were the youngest of the Wayne family, a footnote in a sprawling saga of heroes and vigilantes. Damian, your older brother, was the closest in age, but even he seemed light-years away, his world consumed by the mantle of Robin and the weight of being the "true heir." You? You were just… there. A shadow in the Wayne Manor, flitting through its cavernous halls, unnoticed by the family that was too busy saving the world to remember you existed.

It wasn’t always this way. You vaguely recalled nights when Dick would ruffle your hair or Tim would help you with math homework, but those moments had faded into the fog of time. Now, the Batfamily was a machine, each cog turning with precision—Bruce with his mission, Dick with his charm, Jason with his rebellion, Tim with his genius, Cass with her silence, Steph with her fire, and Damian with his blade. You didn’t fit into their puzzle. So, you stopped trying.

High school was a blur of half-hearted attendance and naps in the back of class. Gotham Academy’s teachers had given up on contacting your family years ago; the Wayne name was a fortress, impenetrable and indifferent. You’d skip entire days, sneaking out to the edges of Gotham where the city’s pulse beat wilder. That’s where you found the races.

Illegal car races were Gotham’s worst-kept secret, a haven for thrill-seekers and outcasts like you. The roar of engines, the screech of tires, the electric buzz of danger—it was the only time you felt alive. You weren’t a driver, not yet, but you’d wormed your way into the scene, charming mechanics and betting on racers with the pocket money you swiped from Bruce’s study. You were good at it, too, with an easy laugh and a disarming smile that made people forget you were a Wayne.

Tonight, the air was thick with exhaust and adrenaline. You leaned against a chain-link fence, a cherry slushie in hand, your oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder. The race was about to start, and the crowd was a sea of restless energy—shouts, laughter, and the occasional clink of beer bottles. Your eyes scanned the lineup of cars, picking out your bet for the night: a sleek, modded Supra driven by a guy named Rico who’d never lost a race.

“Yo, kid, you in or what?” Rico called from his driver’s seat, grinning as he revved his engine.

You smirked, tossing your hair back. “Hundred on you, Rico. Don’t make me regret it.”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Never do, princess.”

The nickname made you roll your eyes, but you didn’t correct him. You liked the way the racers treated you—like you belonged, not like you were some fragile heiress. You sipped your slushie, the cold stinging your teeth, and turned to watch the flagger prep the start.

That’s when you felt it. A prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. Not the usual curious glances from strangers; this was heavier, sharper. You scanned the crowd, but no one stood out. Just hoodies, leather jackets, and the occasional drunk stumbling through. Shrugging it off, you turned back to the race, chalking it up to paranoia. Gotham had a way of making you feel like prey.

The flag dropped, and the cars screamed forward, a blur of neon and chrome. The crowd erupted, and you whooped, jumping onto a crate for a better view. Rico’s Supra was holding the lead, weaving through turns with a grace that made your heart race. You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice the figure slipping through the shadows behind you.

☆☆☆☆

Jason Todd wasn’t supposed to be here. He’d told himself he was just scoping out the races for intel, tracking a lead on some smuggler who’d been funneling cash through Gotham’s underground. But that was a lie, and he knew it. The truth was messier, uglier. He’d heard rumors—whispers of a girl who sounded too much like *you*, throwing herself into the kind of trouble that got people killed. He hadn’t believed it at first. You were the baby of the family, the one they all assumed was tucked safely in bed, too soft and sweet for Gotham’s underbelly. But the more he heard, the more he couldn’t shake the gnawing dread in his chest.

Now, watching you from the edge of the lot, Jason felt his stomach twist. There you were, all reckless laughter and bright eyes, perched on a crate like you owned the damn place. You didn’t look neglected, not in the way he’d imagined—starved or broken. You looked *alive*, vibrant in a way that made his chest ache. But you were also sixteen, alone, and surrounded by people who’d sell you out for a quick buck. The thought made his blood boil.

He pulled his hood lower, blending into the crowd as he moved closer. You were cheering for some guy in a Supra, your voice cutting through the chaos like a bell. Jason’s jaw clenched. Did you even know these people? Did you have any idea what kind of danger you were in? He doubted it. You’d always been too trusting, too quick to see the good in people. It was why he’d kept his distance after he came back, why he hadn’t reached out. You were too pure for someone like him, stained as he was.

But this? This was different. You weren’t supposed to be here, in this world of speed and sin. And the fact that no one—not Bruce, not Dick, not even Damian—had noticed you slipping through the cracks? That lit a fire in him he couldn’t smother.

The race ended with Rico’s Supra crossing the line first, and you leapt off the crate, whooping like you’d won the lottery. Jason watched as you darted toward Rico’s car, tossing your empty slushie cup into a pile of trash. You were all smiles, high-fiving the driver and collecting your winnings with a grin that could’ve lit up the night. For a moment, Jason almost smiled, too. You looked… happy. Free.

Then he saw the guy next to Rico, some sleaze with a neck tattoo and a leer that made Jason’s fists itch. The guy was looking at you like you were something to be won, and you didn’t even notice, too caught up in the moment. Jason took a step forward, his instincts screaming to drag you out of there, to lock you in the manor where you’d be safe. But he stopped himself. Not yet. He needed to be sure.

You laughed at something Rico said, oblivious to the eyes on you—both Jason’s and the sleaze’s. The night was young, and Gotham’s streets were hungry. Jason melted back into the shadows, his mind racing. He’d keep watch for now, tail you until he knew you were safe. But this wasn’t the end. You were his sister, and he’d be damned if he let you slip away again.

☆☆☆☆

Back at the race, you pocketed your cash, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the shadows. The night was perfect—loud, chaotic, yours. You didn’t need the Wayne name or the Batfamily’s approval. You had this, and for now, that was enough.

But as you turned to head back to your spot by the fence, that prickle returned, sharper this time. You paused, glancing over your shoulder. Nothing but darkness and the flicker of neon. You shook your head, laughing at yourself. Gotham was just messing with you, as always.

If only you knew how close the shadows were, and how tightly they were closing in.

☆☆☆

The neon haze of the race lingered in the air, a fading echo of engines and adrenaline. You stuffed the crumpled bills from your winnings into your hoodie pocket, your sneakers scuffing against the cracked asphalt as you made your way through the dispersing crowd. The night was still young, but the thrill of the race was ebbing, leaving you restless. You didn’t want to go back to the manor—not yet. That place was a mausoleum, all cold marble and colder silences. Instead, you decided to head to your favorite dive, a greasy 24-hour diner on the edge of Gotham’s Narrows. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions, and the coffee was bad but cheap.

You slipped into the night, unaware of the shadow trailing you. Jason Todd moved like a wraith, his boots silent against the pavement, his red hood a stark contrast to the gloom. He’d watched you all night, his chest a tangle of anger and something softer, something he didn’t want to name. You were so careless, so *fragile* in this world of predators, and yet you strutted through it like you were untouchable. It infuriated him. It terrified him. He’d lost too much to let you become another casualty, another name etched into Gotham’s endless gravestone.

He kept his distance, blending into the flicker of streetlights and the shuffle of late-night stragglers. You didn’t notice, too busy humming a tune under your breath, your hands shoved deep in your pockets. Jason’s jaw tightened as he watched you dodge a group of drunks stumbling out of a bar, your laughter bright and unburdened. Did you even realize how close you’d come to trouble? How many eyes lingered too long on you in that crowd?

You reached the diner, its flickering sign buzzing like a dying insect. The bell above the door jingled as you pushed inside, and Jason hesitated, slipping into an alley across the street. He could see you through the smudged glass, sliding into a booth with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times. You were a regular here, he realized, and that only deepened the ache in his chest. How much of your life had he missed? How much had they *all* missed?

Inside, you waved at the waitress, a tired woman with a smoker’s rasp named Bev. “Usual, kid?” she called, already pouring you a cup of sludge-like coffee.

“Yup,” you chirped, slumping back in the booth. You pulled out your phone, scrolling aimlessly, your other hand drumming on the table. The diner was a bubble of warmth, a stark contrast to the chill of Gotham outside. You liked it here—the chipped Formica tables, the hum of the jukebox, the way no one cared who you were. It was yours, a slice of freedom in a life that felt increasingly like a cage.

But freedom was an illusion in Gotham, and Jason knew it. He leaned against the alley wall, his eyes never leaving you. He was torn, caught between the urge to storm in, grab you by the arm, and drag you back to the manor, and the need to stay distant, to understand just how deep you’d fallen into this reckless world. He settled for watching, for now. But his patience was fraying, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back.

☆☆☆☆

Back in the diner, you sipped your coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. Bev slid a plate of fries in front of you, and you grinned, tossing her a mock salute. “You’re a saint, Bev.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, but there was a fondness in her eyes. “Don’t stay too late, kid. Streets ain’t safe.”

You shrugged, popping a fry into your mouth. “I can handle myself.”

Bev shook her head but didn’t argue. She’d seen you come and go for months, always alone, always with that same easy smile. She didn’t know you were a Wayne, and you liked it that way. The less people knew, the less they could use against you.

You were halfway through your fries when your phone buzzed with a text. It was Rico, the racer from earlier.

*Rico: Yo, princess, you up for another round tomorrow? Got a big one. Double or nothing.*

You smirked, thumbs flying over the screen. *Count me in. Better not choke, Rico.*

His reply was instant. *Never do. Bring cash, kid.*

You leaned back, satisfied, already imagining the roar of engines and the rush of the crowd. The races were your escape, a way to drown out the emptiness that clung to you like damp rot. You didn’t need the Batfamily. You didn’t need their rules or their pity. You had this.

But as you stared at the flickering jukebox, a flicker of unease crept in. That prickle from earlier, the sense of being watched—it was back, stronger now. You glanced at the window, but all you saw was your own reflection, pale and ghostly against the dark. You shook it off, blaming the late hour and the shitty coffee. Gotham was just like that, always whispering danger in your ear.

☆☆☆☆

Outside, Jason’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, a message from Tim lighting up the dark.

*Tim: Patrol’s quiet. You good?*

Jason’s thumb hovered over the reply. He could tell Tim he’d found you, that you were out here playing street rat while the rest of the family thought you were asleep in your room. He could blow the whole thing open, force Bruce to deal with the fact that his youngest was slipping through his fingers. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the way you’d looked tonight, so alive in a way he hadn’t seen in years. Maybe it was the guilt gnawing at him, the knowledge that he’d been part of the machine that left you behind.

He typed a quick reply. *Fine. Just checking a lead.*

Then he pocketed the phone and pushed off the wall, his eyes locked on the diner. He couldn’t keep this up forever, tailing you like some ghost. Sooner or later, he’d have to act. And when he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d be saving you—or breaking you.

Inside, you finished your fries and tossed a few bills on the table, waving to Bev as you headed for the door. The bell jingled again, and you stepped into the night, pulling your hoodie tight against the chill. You didn’t see the figure across the street, didn’t hear the soft creak of leather as he moved. But Jason was there, and he wasn’t alone in watching you.

High above, another shadow crouched on a rooftop, silent and still. Damian’s green eyes glinted in the dark, his katana sheathed but his mind sharp. He’d followed Jason, curious about his brother’s late-night wanderings, and now he saw you—his little sister, the one he’d dismissed as weak, unimportant. You weren’t supposed to be here, in this filthy corner of Gotham, surrounded by scum. His lip curled, a mix of disdain and something darker, something possessive.

Damian didn’t know why you were out here, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit. And as he watched you disappear down the street, he made a decision. You were a Wayne, his blood, and that meant you belonged under his protection—whether you wanted it or not.

The shadows of Gotham were closing in, and you, oblivious, walked right into their embrace.

#batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfam x reader #bruce wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #the neglected reader #batfamily x neglected reader #batfam x neglected reader #neglected reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem reader #yandere jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #yandere damian wayne x reader

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sweetfwr · 2 months ago

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(TEASER!) ROSES & RETRIBUTION ˒˒ sjy

when you are accepted into solstice academy on a scholarship, you seek revenge on the illustrious park family, the very people that took away the life of your best friend. park sunghoon, an attendee of solstice, is sloppy, unaware of his surroundings, and completely out of touch- the perfect target for a clean assassination. the only problem? his irritatingly loyal best friend jake, who happens to be student council president, the son of one of the 7 families pulling strings in the academy, and the man you would later refer to as your greatest love.

pairing) jake sim x f!reader

tags) revenge story, old money themes, enemies to lovers, academy au, angst, love triangle

wc) SOON

now playing) slow down - chase atlantic

fast cars, daddy's rolex, private jets, chauffeurs, and all the damn power they could ever want. the rich kids of solstice really do have it all, emphasis on the fast cars.

it’s after midnight when the crowd of invite-only elites from solstice gather around the edge of the old mountain road, the air thick with cigarette smoke, expensive perfume, and the rumbling of engines ready to burn. students laughed together, leaning on super cars and sipping on champagne flutes like nothing in the world mattered– like they were untouchable. maybe they were.

across the lot, jake is sliding into his matte black lotus, the engine purring like a beast ready to pounce. his eyes flicked up once, right at the jacket covering your skimpy outfit, before his helmet went on. you almost scoff. you haven’t spoken to him since that night in his room, and you don’t intend to.

he had grabbed your wirst a little too tightly, warning you of what it meant to go against the park family. begging, pleading with you to stop with a strain in his voice, as if he knew what you could and couldn’t handle.

a sleek silver porsche rolls up next to jake’s car, undoubtedly belonging to sunoo. he steps out for a brief moment, tossing his keys to an underclassman with a smirk as his eyes scan the crowd for something, or someone.

once those hazel eyes land on you, or more specifically, what you’re wearing, you gulp inwardly.

“you wore it,” sunoo smiles lazily, approaching you confidently, but not without the envious stares of his brainless fans. “my jacket.”

“it’s cold,” you say dryly, but that does nothing to quell the fire you’ve stoked. his ego is sky high, and you can practically taste it in the air.

“is this what the rich do when they’re bored?”

“what, you think we play golf?” he snorts, helmet secured at his side. “stay for a while, doll. i’ll make it worth your time.”

it’s then that he saunters towards his car, and it hits you– he would be racing tonight. against jake. you can practically feel his eyes on you from the black lotus across the venue.

why wouldn’t they be? you were standing on his turf wearing another boy’s jacket like he hadn’t kissed you silly a few nights ago, hot and heavy and in the privacy of his student council dorm. it was driving him crazy, and it was no secret to anyone how much the thought of jake sim lying awake at night, incapable of thinking about anything but you, pleased you.

your lips twitch– just a little.

the crowd stirs when the cars roll up to the starting line, engines revving and headlights blazing through all the heavy smoke. music thumps in your ears, and your heartbeat grows faster with every cheer and rev of an engine. you’re positively thrilled, and you can’t say you don’t love it.

and then you hear it. hushed and low, but unmistakable. “they’re racing for her, aren’t they?”

you know better than to deny it.

lee heeseung steps forward and in between the two cars, a cigarette in one hand and a checkered flag in another. with a raise of his hand, sunoo settles into the driver’s seat like a prince on a throne, and jake adjusts his leather gloves from inside the lotus, shoulders tense. his gaze flicks to you once, then forward again, like a man on a mission.

the flag drops.

and then they’re gone.

metal and absolute madness. sunoo is reckless, silver beauty swerving at every curve as jake matches him turn for turn, not quite ahead of him yet but racing like a shadow that can’t be shaken. the cheering of other solstice students is deafening, but you can’t blame them. it’s not every day you see the golden boys at each other’s throats, especially not at the race tracks.

by the halfway point, it becomes clear; they’re racing to wound, not win. sunoo’s reckless confidence is almost dazzling, he hugs cliffs like he’s unafraid of death as he pushes his very limits. jake isn’t far behind, cold and calculated, clinical and furious.

when they hit the last bend, sunoo hits the brakes almost too late. it’s a near disaster, his car skids, but he swerves just in time to avoid driving over the cliff.

jake doesn’t hesitate.

he pulls forward, winning the race and making the crowd go wild. but he doesn’t stop to soak up the praise. instead, he’s stepping out of the black lotus, throwing his helmet to the ground, and storming towards you like a man deprived.

you’re somewhere in between wanting to disappear and hold your ground when he confronts you.

“is this fun for you?” jake says coldly, and the crowd begins to murmur and gasp, some even whispering about a fight. “watching us tear each other apart?”

“you did that to yourselves.” you say dryly, and he scoffs.

“because of you.”

“she never asked us to fight.” sunoo shrugs from behind him, having already rolled up on his purring porsche like he didn’t almost skid off the cliff minutes earlier. ”this is about you and your damn savior complex.”

jake turns to him so fast it looks like he might swing.

sunoo’s still leaning against his car, hands in his pockets like this whole situation matters little to him. “you want to save her from solstice. from me. but have you ever considered that she doesn’t want your help?”

jake turns to you. “is that true?”

you don't say anything because you don't know, at least not yet. instead, you’re caught in between two boys and their unwavering egos like you came to this school to play a part in a twisted love triangle and not your revenge.

you suppose revenge was the plan, desire was the collateral. it was never supposed to be about them— until it was.

slowly, you raise your eyes to meet sunoo’s and they’re twinkling dangerously. as if to tell you something.

i told you i’d make it worth your time.

like 4 tag once released?

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invincibledc · 4 months ago

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Riding Pays

—————————

Yandere!Batboys Highschool AU

Prologue | ii. The Gray Side| iii. Nerdy tactics | iv. Lucky artistic charm

Hearing a bike rev up, you looked up at the gods who had sent you a curse with annoyance.

And here comes the devil with a white strike of hair and full black hair, although you knew he was a natural red head.

Jason pulls up infront of you, heaving as if he had rushed like hell itself. He takes off his helmet for you to see those blue eyes of his. Making eye contact with him always slightly gave you a shiver. And not a good one.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you missed the bus?” He says with a smug tone. He was smirking at you, knowing you were already irritated.

“Did your short little legs not make it for the bus?” You rolled your eyes and flip him off. Jason starts to laugh and flip you off as well. “Well? Cmon leprechaun.” He throws a helmet at you. You caught it and walked over to him, strapping it on your head.

As you sat behind the boy, he pats your thigh. “Arms around me. You know the drill.” He says lowly. You cringed, wrapping your arms around him as he smiles from your gaze. He puts his helmet on and speeds off.

You yelped, grabbing onto him tighter. The boy with the white strike of hair smirks feeling your arms wrapped around him tightly. He revs up his bike, zooming past cars. You grit your teeth as you accidentally squeezed his stomach. But your eyes widen feeling… toned abs.

“Woah…feeling a little handsy are we?” Jason responds as he makes it to a stop on a traffic light.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” You felt your face heat up, you really didn’t mean it! But you can tell this sly bastard is cheesing it up behind his helmet.

“I know, relax. But if you want to,” he puts your hand onto his stomach. Patting it. Your gaze went from his abdomen, to his face as you see those blue eyes behind the visor.

“You can.”

Before you could say anything, Jason rides off when the light turned green. Making it repeat to you grabbing onto him with all your might.

Minutes later of some silence, you both made it to the academy. Jason takes off his helmet after parking his bike infront of the school. You unstrapped the helmet from your head whilst Jason just stares at you. He ran his fingers through his hair before taking the helmet from you and putting it up.

“So what’s my payment for the ride leprechaun?” Jason says, staring at you like he does. But the stare is dark, but hidden with something else. You shrugged, awkwardly looking away from him. Jason could only chuckle as he gets in your face. Blue eyes staring into [color] eyes of yours.

You hated payment.

You gave Jason a kiss on his cheek. There Jason finally smiled a genuine smile and patted your head. “Thanks shorty.” You immediately got off his bike and rushed pass him. Ignoring his chuckles at you sprinting away.

Jason couldn’t help but stare til you were in the building. He lets out a sigh, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and clench his jaw. The feeling of you gripping onto him, the feeling of your chest pressed against his back.

He couldn’t help but love how small you are, and how easy it would be to just keep you in his arms.

Forever.

Making it in the building, you let out a sigh of relief. Ever since elementary, Jason was always the one to be the kind that wants Payment from you. All cause of stupid young you who gave him a kiss on his cheek when he gave you a teddy bear you wanted. And you said “That’s your payment Jay-jay.” You were in 4th grade, he was in 5th grade. You would’ve thought he might’ve forgotten that… but now you know..

He does.

You reached your locker, opening it and putting your phone and other things in it. As you go to close it, you feel strong arms wrapped around you. You let out yelp, a low chuckle reaches your ear before you sighed and turned to face the culprit.

Dick Grayson.

Taglist: @roryroro @elect1z @lil-isha @no-bishes @darkfaethedestroyer @nightblanc @cxcilla @winter-world @cim0nnin @yl90 @enjisthings @gwyneveire @ashleeytrx @nightwinglover101 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @caffeinatedvigilantewriter @red-phantom-0 @iriseros00 @zenyyyluvyuu @xen-blank @obsessedwithromance @loafersrs @devils-blackrose @not-herexo @nyxisdark @chiarasworldd @apelepikozume @bookwarm0-0 @daffy-the-duck @holyfishbailiffpeanut @kaylp-godly @cheriecelestial @helloitsmeeeeeee @khalinda-ev @vodkaredbullsblog @another-one-writer @tenswife @that-creepy-girl-000 @childofman12 @1jieka @tsuniio @melvin333 @lillian-morningstar

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norrisidous · 2 months ago

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I had this as a dream and I woke up all grumpy because I wish it was real 😭😭😭

Basically, reader is a reserve driver for Mclaren but also in f1 Academy, and she and Lando have always been super close. One day, she has to race instead of Oscar, and she ends up leading the race. However, near the end she asks the team to swap with lando (who she kept within DRS to help him out) because she knew he could use the points more than her since she's not an official f1 racer. Lando refuses, and reader wins her very first race. Lando is overwhelmed by how much he loves her and he just marches up to her and pulls her in from her waist to kiss her (could be private or public) and they're both just so proud of each other and so down bad 🥹🥹🥹

In the Slipstream

summary: where a surprise victory, a selfless offer, and a kiss at the finish line—some moments change everything, on and off the track. warnings: none

You never really expected to race in Formula 1—not yet, anyway.

Being McLaren’s reserve driver was already a dream you clutched tightly, and your time in the F1 Academy was sharpening your edge, day by day. You were grinding for the future, for the chance that maybe, if the stars aligned, you’d get that one golden shot. Still, you didn’t expect it to arrive on a cool spring weekend in Imola.

Oscar had come down with a stomach virus—something violent and sudden. When the team principal tapped your shoulder that morning, the pit lane buzzing behind him, you felt your stomach flip in sync with the revving engines.

“You’re up.”

You didn’t even have time to be nervous. It was all a blur—briefings, simulator data, seat fitting, strategy talk, and a surprising amount of people suddenly treating you not like the F1 Academy kid, but like McLaren’s actual second driver.

And then there was Lando.

He was always your rock. From the earliest days at the McLaren simulator to now, he was the constant thread in the chaos. He teased you like an older brother when you first joined, but somewhere along the line, it shifted. Quiet moments in the motorhome, texts that lingered, eyes that held yours just a little too long. The bond between you deepened—unspoken, but undeniable.

As you stood side by side before the race, helmet in hand, Lando bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Nervous?”

You smiled, adjusting your gloves. “Terrified.”

He grinned, green eyes twinkling. “Good. That means you’ll be sharp.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread like fire.

The race began in a flash.

Lights out. Your start was electric. Years of F1 Academy training and sim practice paid off instantly. Clean overtakes. Smart tire management. You quickly moved through the midfield, shock and awe blooming around you like wildfire.

And then… you were leading.

Not by much—but enough to see the papaya blur of Lando’s car in your mirrors, stuck tightly in your DRS range. You’d coordinated perfectly without speaking, both of you playing the strategy game like chess masters. You gave him DRS when he needed it, pulled when it counted, and he protected your tail like a guardian.

But you knew what was at stake.

You weren’t supposed to be here—not permanently. This race didn’t count toward a championship for you. For Lando, it could mean everything. A podium. A shot at the title. Or even just the points to prove himself in a field that always underestimated him.

So with ten laps to go, your voice broke over the radio, steady but full of emotion.

“Tell Lando… he can take the win. I’ll open the door in sector two.”

There was silence. Then the engineer’s voice returned, startled. “Say again?”

“I want him to take it. I’ll back off.”

More silence.

Then a voice crackled in—his voice.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando snapped. “You earned this. I’m not taking it.”

Your throat tightened. “Lan—”

“No. You’re not giving it away. Not to me. Not to anyone. Finish this.”

You blinked rapidly, fighting the sting in your eyes as the turns blurred.

Lap after lap, he stayed on your tail—but didn’t challenge. Not once. Just close enough to show he was there. That he believed in you.

You crossed the checkered flag, engine screaming, heart slamming, and your name ringing through the paddock for the first time in F1 victory.

Race winner: (Y/N), McLaren.

You pulled into the pit lane, overwhelmed, hands shaking. The team was screaming over the radio, cheering like mad. You climbed out of the car and tugged your helmet off, letting the cool air hit your sweat-damp hair.

And then—he was there.

Lando walked straight toward you with purpose, jaw tight, eyes wild. No words. Just energy.

Before you could say a thing, he reached for you, hands gripping your waist, and pulled you flush against him.

Then he kissed you.

Hard, desperate, and real.

The paddock didn’t exist. The cameras didn’t matter. All you felt was him. His hands. His breath. The quake of his chest against yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes still shut.

“I’m so damn proud of you,” he whispered. “And I’m so in love with you.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t stop crying. The win, the adrenaline, the months of quiet longing—it all came crashing down in that single moment.

You held his face gently, brushing a thumb over the smear of sweat at his temple.

“I love you too,” you said softly, voice cracking. “I wanted you to win because I love you.”

He shook his head, still smiling.

“I wanted you to win. Because you deserve the world.”

The press didn’t let it go.

That kiss was everywhere. The headlines blared: ‘MCLAREN’S SURPRISE STAR STEALS HEART AND WIN’, ‘F1’S NEWEST POWER COUPLE?’, ‘Lando and (Y/N): Love in the Fast Lane’.

You didn’t care.

That night, after the whirlwind of interviews and champagne and congratulations, you sat together on the edge of the hotel balcony, legs tangled under a shared blanket. The Italian moon cast a silver glow over everything.

Lando rested his chin on your shoulder. “So… world champion next?”

You laughed softly. “One race at a time.”

He kissed your neck. “Then let’s make it the most beautiful one yet.”

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #f1 #formula 1 #ln4

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cjskribblez · 4 months ago

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So me and @rev-pirate cooked up a RWBY au...

We have SO much for it already but essentially we looked at divorce quartet, said: is anyone gonna make them worse?" And then didn't wait for an answer

Quick synopsis- (and if you have no idea what rwby is, the main things you need to know is weapons have multiple forms, semblances are basically their superpowers, dust is a magical sunstance that can be used to enhance weapons, and they all go to this university and get put in teams of 4 to learn how to fight monsters called Grimm.)

-Martyn-

Nobody expected Martyn to be the leader, least of all him. He doesn't see what the headmaster does, and he won't until it's much too late for his team.

Weapon: electric guitar/axe

Semblance: Attacks are stronger when landed to the beat of music. The longer the combo, the higher the strength (He has trouble keeping rhythm without listening to music, which is why he always has his headphones near.) (Yeah just think hifi rush we hit him with Chai beams)

-Cleo-

The de-facto leader after Martyn decides team J.T.R.B are much funner to hang out with, Cleo is forced to attempt to keep a collapsing team from breaking apart. At least before graduation.

Weapon: staff/nunchucks/twin SMGs

Semblance: They can create decoys of themselves or other living things anywhere in sight. Now usually these would be illusions. But in combination with something called Dust in this universe they can be made solid. Which works really well in conjunction with Martyn's semblance. In that if given the opportunity they can make decoys that Martyn can hit to not break his combo between enemies. or to build a combo before going in for the strike for higher damage off the bat. Unfortunately for them. This team is doomed

-Scott-

As the heir of Aeor dust company, the leading supplier of the world's dust, graduating from a huntsman academy should have been one of the easiest tasks to accomplish. Little did he know...

Weapon: wooden longbow with dust enhanced arrows/staff

Semblance: glyphs (yeah he's basically Weiss LOL) The magic glyphs can spoil different things when infused with dust, like a speed or jump boost, and summon avatars of previously defeated Grimm out of dust.

-Pearl-

Pearl thought the worst thing that could happen was her classmates finding out she's secretly apart of the white fang. Turns out she hadn't planned to be grouped up with the heir of the white fangs biggest enemy.

Weapon: scythe/twin sickles/boomerang

Semblance: Anti-gravity. She can levitate any nonliving thing she's touched and control it. Used with gravity dust enhances this, allowing for her to control her weapons without needing to touch them. (As she grows stronger, she'll be able to control more things)

ALSO THIS POST IS SUPER LONG ALREADY SO have some weapon doodles as a treat, next team post soon

#If you have any questions for me or rev throw them in my inbox!#anyways #hi #this is where ive been ig LOL #mcyt au #double life smp #trafficblr #dlsmp #martyn itlw #zombie cleo #scott smajor #pearlescentmoon #divorce quartet #dlrwbyau #we did not think of a name for this au can you tell #rwby au #and again shoutout to rev i basically just copy/pasted everything he said from discord LOL #mcyt fanart #cj art

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kaeyas-beloved · 3 months ago

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small words, big meanings

Character: Leon S. Kennedy

— Leon feels too much and nothing at all, you're offering what support you can for him

cw: gn!reader, rev. comfort, i imagined more re4r Leon but really any leon post-rc would work <3 not proofread cause i really just wanted to let the words flow

Leon catches himself mourning the young man he once was more than he'd like to admit. For fleeting moments when looking in the mirror, he can see the boy who was much happier, who thought he had the whole world in front of him with so much to see and do and learn. Who was about to have his dream come true, have something finally go his way after pouring so much dedication during his time in the academy.

Leon breaks a little each day he remembers that time has passed and won't ever come back. He doesn't think he'll ever smile like he did when he was 21, won't feel the lightness in his chest when walking the streets of towns and cities he's staying in. While the world changed around him, he felt like a man frozen and unable to move, like his heart beat slower than anyone else's around him, like his body morphed and changed in slow-mo and other's appeared accelerated.

Even next to you this feeling crept up in his chest, and fuck did he hate it. He didn't want to think about all the shit in his life when he had you who made things just a little easier from time to time. But he did, so fuck him he guesses.

You're not entirely blind to this either, but you can admit it's hard sometimes. It's hard to catch the shift because Leon has that stoic look on his face a lot of the time as a default, leaving you to rely on his eyes and subtle movements to understand what he's thinking. It's hard to watch the little light he mange to hold fizzle from his palms like a spark that pops off a roaring fire - there one second and gone the next.

It kills you to know you can only do so much for him.

It's something you tossed around in your mind as you watch him grab what he needs to head to the store, ingredients needed for dinner missing from the pantry. You would've gone or joined him, but he... not so much insisted, but with the way he spoke you knew he needed this. You get it, you've been there, needing a moment out of the house that became so familiar it was suffocating. So, you relented. Anything for him, anything you'd give if it even had the chance of helping him.

You're pulled from your thoughts as Leon addresses you, going over what he needs to grab one more time.

You wonder if he knows you know, if there was an unspoken dark figure standing in the room with you both that's getting ignored, or if he thinks you don't suspect anything.

After reciting the store mental grocery list, Leon turns back to head out the door with a small I'll be back, but before the door even had a chance to open you were on your feet, swallowing in hopes to rid yourself of the sudden dryness in your throat.

Calling his name, you cross the small distance and wrap your arms around him, resting your head wherever you could just to feel a little closer to him. The stiffness of Leon's shoulders eases after a moment and he looks over his shoulder at you, a brow slightly risen.

"I love you," you murmur, soft, but in the quiet room it sounded and weighted so much more. Good, they're suppose to, because there were far too many things you're not saying yet definitely feeling.

Anything Leon may have had to say dies on his tongue and he's left with just looking at you. Things that made up you started to leave that heavy feeling in his chest, twisting before his very eyes - had you changed too? Of course, you weren't always like you are now, but his eyes play tricks and the you now suddenly doesn't feel like you from this morning, or even the you from mere minutes ago, even when he knew deep in his bones you were.

"I hope one day you can see the world as you've taught me to see it, beyond the scary things it shows us everyday," you say next, and all at once that pressure in his chest eases, just a little. He hopes so too.

Wordless, Leon turns, taking your hands into his and pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers before pulling you into his arms. You could feel the tender way his lips then met your forehead, see the tension leave the slope of his shoulders, hear the breathes he took - in through the mouth and out the nose - and in that moment all you could smell was him with every breath you yourself took.

When the man who holds your entire heart and soul pulls you a little closer to him, pressed flushed against one another and his face still resting against your forehead, you knew Leon was still here with you, still fighting.

And when he pulled away after a long moment basking in your entirety, the tiniest of upturns to the edge of his lips and his own few quiet words were said, it solidified he got your message, both the one spoken and unspoken.

"I love you, too."

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #re x reader #gender neutral reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader

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urmum-lovesme · 5 months ago

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Thoughts on JJ Maybank x Kook! Sunshine! Reader...

Sunshine!reader is good friends with Kie (the two of them met at Kildare Academy when Kie's parents forced her to go there for a year)

Sunshine!reader stayed in touch with Kie even after she left and now they go to clean the beach together every Thursday!

Sunshine!reader loves the beach, its her favourite place to be, she loves surfing, swimming, tanning (lowkey pretending to be a mermaid with Kie but ssshhhhhh don't tell anyone)

Sunshine!reader who always has a pair of Adidas Gazelle's on her feet, she's a sucker for colourful things.

Sunshine!reader has an record player she got from her grandma, and she plays all of her dad's old records all the time, her house is never quiet unless her step dad is home.

Sunshine!reader has a vintage yellow bike, with cute white ribbons tied to the handles, and a small brown woven basket attached to the front, where she stores the seashells she's found at the beach when she cycles down to the shore.

Sunshine!reader who is no stranger to the Pogues as Kie is telling her about the gangs adventures all the time, and the brown haired girl invites her to join them all the time, but she's too busy with things at home.

Sunshine!reader's dad was a Pogue, but after he opened a florist in Figure 8, his business expanded and now she lives in a huge house, with a pool in the back yard, a small white picket fence, and her orange cat Cheeto (she was 6 when she named him and her parents tried to change it to Milo but Cheeto seemed to stick).

Sunshine!reader's never really fit in with with any of the kook's in her school, as they don't really see her as a 'real kook', but she could care less because they're all stuck up anyways.

Sunshine!reader who has a grudge against Rafe because he called her a 'prude' in front of everyone at a party when she refused to get with him (she threw her drink at him after he said it and they've been on bad terms ever since then).

Sunshine!reader is friends with Sarah though! but she's tried to convince her to dump Topper, the Cameron girl won't listen to her no matter how hard she tries.

Sunshine!reader volunteers at the sea life sanctuary on the island, and when there's a turtle hatch, she's always one of the first people there (besides Kie of course).

Sunshine!reader who cooks from the heart, and anyone who's ever had her food will praise her endlessly.

Sunshine!reader who drives a clapped up yellow ford cortina, which was her dad's first car, and now she's just too attached to it to get another car.

Sunshine!reader who finds herself regretting her decisions when on a really hot day her car breaks down on her in the middle of the cut on her way home.

Sunshine!reader who just happens to get lucky when a curious Pogue with a head of blonde hair is driving by on his dirt bike and sees her waving her hand around in the air holding her phone trying to get signal.

Sunshine!reader who is surprised at the sound of a revving engine and turns to see a handsome boy who's offering to help her out...

I may have already written the first chapter of this... should I post... ? 🤭

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revelboo · 7 months ago

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just saying I really really love your writings, like the food you served are so good I can't help but checked on your blog everyday

I see you're writing for TFA? Please please I need more TFA Blurr in my life he's so underrated, please I'm so starving of any contents of him please 🛐🛐🛐

I can try. If I remember correctly, he didn’t get a ton of screen time. 18+ 🌶️

A-Ok

TFA Blurr x Reader

• Sometimes it feels like the world around him is painfully slow, everyone else moving at a different pace. That had been the hardest part of his intelligence training, learning patience when it’s not exactly in his nature. Because spy work moves at a crawl. Uncovering secrets, investigating, vetting information. So slow it feels like he’s standing still. When he’d been sent to this young world to investigate rumors of a resurgence of the Decepticon movement, he’d thought there might finally be action. And he was disappointed again. Bored and stuck going nowhere. So when the brightly colored motorcycle blows past him, cutting up the middle of the road so close it almost brushes him, it’s exhilarating.

• Knowing you need to slow down, that there’s no outrunning your problems no matter how fast you go, you still don’t let up on the throttle. Hearing the roar of an engine as the blue sports car you’d just passed tears after you, sliding over into the oncoming lane and keeping pace with your little Kawasaki. Engine revving in challenge. And it’s such a stupid idea, but you cut towards him enough to make him swerve to avoid you. “Catch me if you can, pal.” It’s a distraction, plain and simple. Something to keep you from drowning in worry.

• Nearly laughing as the human on the bike goes up on their back wheel and as soon as the front wheel’s down, they’re gone. And he’s chasing after. Fully aware of how stupidly irresponsible this is, but when’s the last time he was free to do something fun? Well before his academy days. It can’t hurt anything. One little race. You’re fast, but nowhere near as fast as he is. Easily overtaking you and then easing up. Could leave you in his dust, but then the game’s over. And he needs this so bad. To feel alive.

• Blue is keeping up with you. Easily. And that bright, frantic rush of doing something solely for the joy of it spills through you. Because this guy is challenging you. Cutting his own wheels your way to drive you closer to the side in retaliation, easing off before you’d risk going onto the curb. Playing. Who is this guy and where he been all your life? Chasing you to the outskirts of the city near the viaduct. Laughing your head off as you crest the hill and then sobering as you see the truck stalled ahead. Too fast. You’re going way too fast.

• Sees the wreck coming, the way the motorcycle wobbles as you try to stop too suddenly. Knows he can’t intervene, can’t blow his cover. Knows it. And still transforms. Moving so fast he lives up to his name, servos reaching and snagging the back of your jacket. Sees the bike go down and then end over end. Hit the low concrete wall and go airborne. As he slides to a stop, the human clutched to his chassis, their helmet banging against him. And then he’s changing direction, running to find cover from human eyes. Still carrying you.

#transformers x reader #blurr x reader #tfa blurr

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jackalopenecropsy · 1 year ago

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ok i'll indulge myself....

part 1(?) of biker gang!141 and an interesting fem grunge!reader... if u want more

cw; slight mentions of blood

The streets were pretty quiet this time of night. The only sounds to be heard were barking dogs or tires occasionally skidding in the distance. And the teenagers were never out this late in the fall, as school just started or they were working their dead jobs at the gas station or high school graduates pouring the same 5 drinks at a bar.

You liked walking around- even though it was maybe 1 or 2 in the morning- mainly because you had your scary guard dog with you, (who wasn't even a bit scary, he was just a police academy dropout with a fear of cotton swabs and squirrels) but also because the air this time of year smelled the best. It did wonders for your skin and sinuses, so why not? Walking around in the daytime was a lot more of a chore anyways, teenagers skating sporradically with fruity vapes on necklaces or older men just leaving their blue collar jobs for lunch while staring at you with unreadable expressions.

The northwoods, sigh. You'd told yourself that you'd leave it all the time when you were a kid. Over the years, a mix of the economy making that absolutely impossible and an aquirement of taste for small-town life made it a lot easier to accept the impossibility of it. Bartending and eventually being remote in editorial work kept you afloat in the small house you'd been able to buy flat out in the south side of town.

That part of town was just cemeteries and neighborhoods, neighborhoods and railroads, and gas stations and bars. As most south sides were. Another luxury of living where you lived was the copious amounts of streets and drag-worthy strips of old highway that laid for miles in one direction or another.

You used to work as a freelance flag girl for drag racers on some shitty craigslist copy, but quit l because the only racers that wanted you were full of white-claw drunk young assholes rooting for douchebag car modders who compensated for their dick sizes by throttling so hard that the pop of their exhausts sounded like gunfights. It was too loud and to risky and too tasteless.

But in the ends of the summer, it was taken over by the bikers. Not bicycle-bikers, but motorcyclists.

You were absolutely terrible at hiding your drooling depraved stares at every single one of them. The young women in skin-clad leather and red lipstick with matching sleek bikes, the finer-aged older men in their lean-back harleys with bandanas, the cute guys your age in their blackout helmets and their modestly-modded bikes. Oh, the variety, oh the taste. You had once thought about picking up biking yourself, but when you told your friends they all cackled at the idea. You were too absent minded at times; definitely from all the weed you smoked. Only half embarassed, you agreed.

Tonight was no different than the other nights of early Septembers before. Your dog lapped his tongue in the air catching stray dew drops falling from leaves overhead as you took your time walking accross the street. He swayed his tail so hard that you almost got knocked over a few times. The sound of a motorcyle revving in the distance made you slow your speed to a halt, listening intently, shamefully to see if you could get any bit of eye candy while out.

You recognized the sound of the engine, which soon became engines as the sounds came closer.

'Oh... a group of Kawaskis?? No... that's at least two more different motorcyles, but a few Kawaskis.. Do I hear a Harley?'

You blinked to yourself before shaking your head.

'God fucking damnit, you geek. You should NOT be able to tell what motorcyle model someone's riding from the fucking engine.'

Before you can shamefully walk back towards your house, you feel your dog tug harshly at his leash. You try to hold him back, but he yanks with one solid push of his back paws on the blacktop, and before you know it, you're hands and knees down on the hard ground as he's running full speed towards the sound of the motorcycles.

You groan in frustration as you stand up in a small bit of pain, your fishnets torn to shit as your palms and knees are scraped just enough to bleed a reasonable amount for getting launched by a 90 lb dog of muscle.

"Riley!" You shout and run at him, dodging a few trash cans along the street's edge as you do so. "Riley, goddamnit! Come back! Here boy!" Your converse were broken in enough to give you good ground as you chased him, and you almost grab his loose leash dragging behind him- until you trip over your own feet again just before you do.

You stay on the ground this time, unworried for your dog, as he's a big boy who knows how to not get hit by a car or get lost. More focused on the soul-eating embarassment of being outrun by a dog with more anxiety than a war veteran, and tripping twice in the process. You ignore the growing and stalling sound of engines beside- or in front, you can't tell being face down in the gravel- you as you're grovelling.

"Eh... excuse me miss? Are you alright?" You hear a gruff, dark voice mumble from just above you. You whip your head up to look at 5 people in bikers helmets just in front of you, their motorcyles off or stalling as they stand looking down at you on the ground.

"Oh- oh my- uh yeah- don't worry about me I'm great. I just tripped- nothing serious." You wave them off as you try and cover the growing fluster on your face. You stand and shake the dirt off your hands before swiping it off of your zip up, shaking it out of your gloves too. You look up to see none other than Riley, sitting contently behind the man in front of you, eagerly being pet by one of the bikers with a skull design painted onto his helmet and visor.

"Riley!" The biker looks up and your dog wags his tail hard enough to knock the bikers over too, and barks at you. "You are so not going to get any treats when we get home." He whines and continues barking, then twirls in a circle.

"You're dog's name is Riley?" The man in the skull helmet asks- and you suddenly become hyperaware of how all of the bikers are staring so intently at you. And those that have spoken so far have sickeningly thick English accents.

"Ah- yes, yeah. I was just on a walk and I heard you guys from the other street- but he just loves motorcylists so much, he took off on me. Usually he just waits until they pass us by. I'm so so sorry if he got in your way or anything." You scramble to try and seem somewhat normal as you switch between standing like a deer in their headlights, and holding your arms as the wind blew against your back.

"Ain't that a funny coincidence." The biker next to him stated, his accent thicker, and different. Possibly scottish.

"You watch it- It is a good name for a dog like this." The skull-helmet points an authoritative finger at the scot before patting Riley's head again. The man in front of you laughs heartily and takes his helmet off, revealing an older- FINELY aged man with hair in a short, short pulled back light brown and gray spotted ponytail. His mustache pulled down into a scruffy beard by mutton chops, giving him a real grizzly harley-rider look. You swore your jaw dropped when he took it off, and you were quick to cover your mouth when he smiled at you.

"I'm sorry about that miss- You've got a good dog protecting you. My names John Price." He walked up and took your hand from your face, squeezing it lightly. "My boys back there are harmless. You seem to have roughed yourself up a bit." He tilts his head as he leans back and looks you up and down, still holding your hand. Oh how deeply thankful you were that he was blocking the headlights from illuminating your red face.

"Yeah- I'm fine though, really! I just, can't keep up with Riley if I tried." You laugh and tremble a little as the cold air catches up to you. He raises an eyebrow- and fuck it gets to you because it makes him smirk a little bit too.

"Well, no offense but you look like you're in no condition to walk home like that!" A woman's voice comes up from behind Price's. You squint at the light when she comes up, and you see a blonde woman about his age with smile lines and blue eyes that could knock you down to your knees yet again. "My name's Kate, don't let John here scare you, he's just an old man." They banter a bit as you stare into space, begging any ethreal being to show you a sign that this is real life.

'Fuck being bisexual, god hates me.' You curse to yourself as you smile shyly at her.

"We can give you a ride home if you'd want! I wouldn't feel right letting you have to get yourself home with blood down your legs." Price motions with his free hand at your torn fishnets, rocks littering the cuts on your leg.

"Oh- I don't want to impose or anything, and I'll have Riley!" You struggle to keep yourself still as the wind continually stings.

"Lass, you're shakin' like a leaf in this wind." The scottish man shakes his head in his helmet, leaning back against the flat of his bike.

"You ain't getting home with just a dog draggin' you forward." The gruff voice of the skull-head from beside him made you look away in embarassment. They were all right, you were blocks away from home, and you didn't have your phone on you either.

"Um.. If you're sure you don't mind... but what about Riley?"

"He can ride wi' me!" The scott excitedly patted the flat he was leaning on, shuffling a few top panels to show a compartment on the back of it that had a hooking mechanism for leashes. Assumedly he had dogs too, and how greatful you were for it.

You sigh in relief that you wont have to limp home in your misery, as strong as you are, the chunk of you lost twice to the blacktop actually hurt more than you'd ever want to admit.

Before you can take a step forward, you're lifted off your feet and holding the shoulders of Kate. She laughs as you gasp and sets you on the back of skull-head's bike so you can backpack him, right next to Riley in the odd formation their bikes created.

"I promise he's not as scary as he looks- right Simon?"

"I don't bite." He chuckles deeply and you tense against his back as he does so. "You might want to hold on tho', I'm not exactly the easiest ride." You blush, hard as he says it, and the group laughs loudly as they start their bikes.

"Oi, treat her nice Si." A soft voice jeered from the last bike to Kate's right. "Or else I'll have to take her off your hands."

"Nice try Gaz."

"Boys! Quit scarin' her." Price chuckles and lights a cigar as he revs his engine. "Or else she wont wanna see us again. Now where do you need us to take you, love?"

'Ah.' Was all that crossed your mind as you locked your arms around Simon's waist, and you all shot off down the street.

#task force 141 #cod 141 #141 x reader #poly 141 #john soap mactavish #john price #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #cod mwf2 #biker gang 141 #soap x reader #price x reader #kate laswell #laswell x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #oooh indulgence i love indulgence

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aspenmissing · 6 months ago

Text

ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴇQᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 2592 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛ (ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏᴋᴀʏ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱꜰᴏʀ��ᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɴᴛᴀɴᴇɪᴛʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟᴄᴜʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪꜱɪᴏɴ ᴄᴏʟʟɪᴅᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜɴʀᴇꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ. ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ʀɪꜱᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ Qᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ’ꜱ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇꜱᴛ ɪɴɴᴏᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ɪɴᴠᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ—ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ꜱᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

Viktor paced through the hallways of the Academy, his mind a whirlwind of ideas and theories. He had always been captivated by the pursuit of knowledge, but lately, there was something more alluring. Someone.

Y/N had only recently started teaching at the Academy, and her presence had already made an impact. Her brilliance in Advanced Theoretical and Applied Engineering Physics was undeniable, and she had a way of inspiring her students, making them feel as though they could conquer anything with enough persistence. But it wasn't just her intelligence that caught Viktor's attention. It was the fire in her eyes, the spark of determination that fueled her every action.

On his way to the lab, Viktor passed by the academy courtyard, where the familiar roar of a motobike engine filled the air. He glanced over, unable to help himself.

There she was—Y/N—sitting confidently on her custom-designed motobike. Her helmet was sleek, the reflective visor hiding her face, but the pose she held made it clear she was in complete control. The bike was a work of art in itself, a perfect blend of engineering and aesthetic beauty, clearly a product of Y/N's genius. She revved the engine once, the sound reverberating off the stone walls, before she sped off, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.

Viktor couldn't help but smile. She was everything he admired in a person—fearless, driven, and unafraid to push the boundaries of what was possible.

Later that evening, after the classes had ended and the corridors of the Academy grew quieter, Viktor found himself lingering by the lab, lost in thought. The door to his office creaked open, and he looked up to see Y/N standing there, her helmet tucked under her arm, her protective suit still on but slightly dishevelled from the ride.

"I didn't expect to see you here so late," Viktor said, his voice a little softer than usual, though his curiosity was clear.

"I could say the same about you," Y/N replied with a playful smile. "I know you tend to get lost in your work, but I have to admit, it's nice to see someone who shares the same passion for innovation. Even if it means burning the midnight oil."

Viktor chuckled, setting his tools down. "It's the price we pay for progress."

Y/N walked toward him, her steps confident, her gaze sharp. "Is that what you think you're doing? Progress?" she teased. "You know, for someone so focused on engineering, you could use a bit of… innovation yourself."

Viktor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

Y/N's grin widened. "I think you could use a little more fun in your life. A little less time in the lab and a bit more time out in the world. Ever considered taking a ride on my bike? It might help clear your mind."

For a moment, Viktor hesitated. The idea of stepping away from his work was… foreign. But then he looked into her eyes, and he saw something different. She was offering him more than just a ride. She was offering him a chance to experience life beyond the confines of equations and machines.

"Perhaps you’re right," he said, nodding slowly. "But only if you promise not to leave me behind."

Y/N’s laughter was light and full of warmth, and it was then Viktor realized how much he enjoyed her company. She was a perfect complement to him, someone who could challenge him in ways that were both intellectual and personal.

Without a word, Y/N motioned for him to follow her. He hesitated only briefly, then complied, leaning lightly on his cane as he trailed behind her. Viktor couldn’t help but admire the way she moved—graceful, confident, and utterly unapologetic. She had a presence that demanded attention without asking for it.

Soon, they were standing by her bike once more. Y/N handed him a spare helmet, her fingers brushing his as he took it. Without missing a beat, she climbed onto the bike, her movements fluid and practiced.

Viktor adjusted the helmet carefully, taking his time to ensure it fit properly. His gaze flicked briefly to his cane. He exhaled, attaching it securely into to the side of the bike - as per Y/N's order. Then, with measured effort, he swung a leg over the bike, settling into the seat behind her.

The engine roared to life beneath them, vibrating through Viktor’s frame. He adjusted his grip on the seat awkwardly, unsure where to place his hands. His hesitation didn’t escape Y/N’s notice.

With a soft laugh, she glanced over her shoulder. “You’re not going to fall off, Viktor. Here.” She reached back, took his hands, and guided them around her waist. “Hold on tight.”

He stiffened slightly, unused to the proximity, but nodded. “If you insist,” he murmured, his tone tinged with unease.

“Trust me,” she replied with a playful smirk.

Before Viktor could second-guess himself, Y/N twisted the throttle, and the bike surged forward. The sudden acceleration pulled a surprised gasp from him, and his grip tightened instinctively. The wind tore past them, the city lights below blurring into streaks of gold and silver as they sped through Piltover’s streets and winding roads.

At first, Viktor’s focus was on maintaining his balance, his thoughts tangled with the unfamiliar sensations of the bike. But as the ride continued, something shifted. The steady hum of the engine, the rush of the wind, and Y/N’s smooth, confident movements began to weave a rhythm—steady, hypnotic, and liberating.

For the first time in years, Viktor felt untethered from the weight of his responsibilities and limitations. The freedom was exhilarating, and he found himself leaning into the experience, trusting Y/N’s expertise as she maneuvered through the city and up a steep hill outside its heart.

Finally, Y/N brought the bike to a stop atop the hill, overlooking Piltover. The city spread out below them, its glittering lights reflecting off the winding canals and casting a warm glow into the night. Viktor hesitated as he dismounted, steadying himself with his cane as Y/N turned to face him, her expression lit with quiet excitement.

She gestured toward the view. “I thought you’d like this better than the Academy,” she said, pulling off her helmet and running a hand through her hair. “The best ideas come when you can see the bigger picture.”

Viktor removed his helmet, setting it on the bike as he stepped toward the edge of the hill. The sight was breath-taking. Piltover, alive with industry and innovation, glimmered like a constellation brought to earth. He felt a sense of awe he hadn’t experienced in years, his mind unusually quiet.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than usual, “this is… different.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned against the bike. “Told you. Innovation isn’t just about machines and inventions. Sometimes, it’s the people we meet and the experiences we share.”

Viktor turned to her, studying her in the moonlight. She was right. Y/N was a kind of innovation herself—dynamic, unpredictable, and endlessly fascinating.

As the cool night air rustled the grass around them, Viktor realized something profound. For so long, his world had revolved around his work, his relentless pursuit of progress. But now, he’d found something—or someone—just as valuable.

A kindred spirit. A partner in intellect and adventure.

And for the first time in years, Viktor felt something deeper than ambition: hope.

As they raced through the winding streets of Piltover, the wind whipped around them, and the city blurred into streaks of light. Viktor found himself mesmerized—not just by the speed and freedom of the ride, but by Y/N herself. Her precision, her unshakable focus, and the seamless way she controlled every twist and turn—it all left him in awe.

But the night had one more surprise in store.

A figure darted suddenly into the street ahead of them—small and quick, likely a stray animal. Y/N’s eyes widened, and with lightning-fast reflexes, she yanked the handlebars, swerving hard to avoid the obstacle. The motion was swift and fluid, but the tires screeched in protest, losing traction on the slick pavement.

The world tilted violently, and Viktor’s stomach churned as the bike skidded. The pavement loomed closer, the chaos unfolding in slow motion. Y/N’s instincts kicked in immediately. With practiced ease, she threw herself to the side, grabbing Viktor by the waist and pulling him on top of her as they slid. Her protective suit, built for moments like these, absorbed most of the friction as she shielded him from the worst of the impact.

They came to a halt mere inches from a stone wall, the bike lying several feet away, its engine sputtering and smoking. For a moment, the world was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the city.

Viktor blinked, disoriented, finding himself sprawled atop Y/N. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with exertion, her helmet askew, revealing flushed cheeks and windswept hair. She was alive—unharmed, it seemed—and so was he, thanks to her quick thinking.

Their eyes met. A flicker of shared relief, laced with humor, passed between them. And then, as if on cue, they both burst into laughter.

But the night had one more surprise in store.

They came to a halt mere inches from a stone wall, the bike lying several feet away, its engine sputtering and smoking. For a moment, the world was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the city.

Their eyes met. A flicker of shared relief, laced with humor, passed between them. And then, as if on cue, they both burst into laughter.

The absurdity of it all—the exhilaration, the crash, and now lying in a tangled heap in the middle of the street—was too much to contain. Viktor couldn’t help but laugh at how he’d gone from marveling at Y/N’s brilliance to being literally saved by it.

“You know,” Viktor said, his voice unsteady from laughter, “I didn’t expect to end up on top of you tonight.”

Y/N smirked up at him, her voice playful despite her breathlessness. “Well, I’ve been told I make a great cushion. You look pretty comfortable.”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head as warmth spread through his chest. Even in the aftermath of a crash, she found a way to disarm him completely.

With a light groan, Y/N pushed herself up, Viktor sliding off her and onto the ground beside her. She adjusted her helmet and brushed bits of gravel from her suit. “Well,” she said with a grin, “this wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but it’s definitely a memorable pit stop.”

Viktor straightened, running a hand through his hair as he brushed the dirt from his coat. “Memorable is one word for it,” he said wryly. He glanced at her, the gratitude evident in his gaze. “Thank you. You… you protected me.”

Y/N shrugged with a casual air, though her smile softened. “It’s what I do. You’re a terrible passenger, by the way,” she added with a teasing glint in her eye. “Next time, try not to freak out and grab me so tightly.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you telling me to ‘hold on tight.’”

“Touché,” Y/N replied with a laugh, offering her hand to help him stand.

He took it, steadying himself as he rose, and his weight shifted slightly to his unsteady leg. The movement was subtle, but Y/N noticed, her gaze flicking to his stance. A flicker of realization crossed her face.

“Your cane,” she said suddenly, glancing back at the bike.

Viktor froze, a pang of worry flashing in his eyes. “The cane…”

Y/N was already moving. She crouched by the bike, her hands running over the scratched surface until she found it still secured to the side. It was intact—surprisingly unbroken, considering the crash. She let out a breath of relief and unhooked it, turning back to him with a triumphant smile.

“Good news,” she said, holding it up. “Your cane survived the adventure too.”

Viktor exhaled softly, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He took the cane from her, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, but no less sincere.

Y/N straightened, her expression shifting to something more thoughtful as she watched him steady himself. “You know,” she said, her tone lighter again, “this is starting to feel like one of those inventions you’re always talking about—trial and error. We’ll refine the process next time.”

Viktor smirked, tapping the cane lightly against the ground. “Perhaps with fewer crashes.”

“Agreed,” she said with a chuckle. Her gaze softened as she added, “But for what it’s worth, you handled that better than most.”

Viktor met her eyes, his lips curving into a small smile. “Because I had you to handle the worst of it.”

They shared a moment of quiet understanding before Y/N turned her attention back to the bike, now lying on its side with a faint plume of smoke rising from the engine. She inspected it briefly, her hands brushing over the scratched paint.

“Well,” she said, stepping back and placing her hands on her hips, “looks like we’ll have to walk it back. Unless you have a better idea?”

Viktor glanced toward the distant city lights glittering below. A faint breeze ruffled his hair, and the night air felt cooler now after the rush of the ride. “A scenic walk might be just what I need,” he said, leaning slightly on his cane.

Y/N tilted her head, a smile curving her lips. “You’re full of surprises, Viktor.”

As they began their walk back, laughter and warmth lingered between them, the crash already transforming into a shared story they’d both remember. Viktor glanced at Y/N, a feeling of admiration settling in his chest.

She wasn’t just fearless and brilliant—she was endlessly unpredictable, the kind of adventure he never thought he’d find. And as they moved through the quiet streets, Viktor realized she wasn’t just a kindred spirit.

she was an adventure all her own.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #Fluff #Reader Insert #viktor x you

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isacksteban · 4 months ago

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ok listen to me, it's a bit of a silly idea but it's eating away at my brain, Bezz is at the ranch during the break and some other rider asks to borrow a pair of Bezz's pants maybe Celin? and finds a bunch of condoms in the pocket, and is like haha Bezz is a sex machine in front of everyone and Bezz turns completely red as a tomato, days later Marquez posts a dump and there's a picture of a bunch of condoms and in the background of the picture there's a shirt with Bezz's number and the ranch turns into chaos and they have to try to hide it from Valentino but they're acting super weird and Vale is suspicious and someone ends up opening their mouth

anon this was so silly (ignore me flexing ny italian skills)

It all starts innocently enough.

It’s the off-season, and the academy boys are at the ranch, soaking in the rare period of rest between races. Of course, “rest” is relative when it comes to them. Even in their downtime, they can’t help but challenge each other to races around the dirt track, set up impromptu wheelie competitions, and turn casual rides into full-blown battles of skill. The atmosphere is easy, filled with the sound of revving engines, the occasional crash followed by laughter, and Vale yelling at them for being idiotic when they push things too far.

One particularly hot afternoon, after an intense round of practice, a handful of them are lingering around outside the house, lazily sipping on cold drinks and winding down. Celin, still dripping from a ridiculous, completely unplanned water fight that started with someone throwing a bottle at Franky and ended with Mig chasing Luca around with a hose, grimaces at his soaked jeans clinging uncomfortably to his legs.

“Ugh, Bez, fammi un favore,” Cele groans, tugging at his wet clothes. “You got some pants I can borrow? Mine are done.”

Bez, still distractedly scrolling through something on his phone, barely looks up. “Yeah, yeah, check my bag.” He waves vaguely toward his stuff near the couch.

Cele, never one to turn down an opportunity to dig through someone else’s things, immediately goes rifling through Bez’s duffel bag. He pulls out a pair of sweatpants, shaking them out — and as he does, something small and plastic falls to the floor.

Then another.

Then a whole bunch.

For a second, everyone just stares.

Celestino, still holding the pants in one hand, crouches to pick up one of the rogue packets. The unmistakable sight of foil glints in the light. A slow grin spreads across his face as he straightens up, clutching a fistful of condoms like he’s just found buried treasure.

A beat of silence.

Then, with all the dramatics of a man announcing the discovery of a scandal, Cele thrusts them into the air and declares loudly:

“HAHA, Bez, sei una macchina del sesso!”

The reaction is immediate and absolute chaos.

Maro doubles over, wheezing. Franky lets out a howl of laughter, nearly toppling over onto the couch. Even Mig, who was mid-sip of his drink, starts cackling, barely avoiding a full spit-take.

Bez, who had been leaning back against the armrest of a chair, freezes. His face — already slightly flushed from the heat — turns a deep, unmistakable red, creeping up to his ears.

“No, no, aspetta— it’s not— I just— Cazzo!” Bez splutters, scrambling upright, reaching to grab the condoms from Cele, but the damage is already done.

“Mamma mia, Bezz,” Franky gasps between laughs, “quanti te ne servono?”

“Oh, he’s STOCKED,” Cele crows, fanning out the packets like a winning poker hand. “Bez takes no chances, huh?”

“Bez,” Luca chokes out, still breathless, “you planning on supplying all of Tavullia or just yourself?”

Bezz groans loudly, swiping a hand over his face. “Madonna, siete degli stronzi,” he grumbles, yanking the condoms out of Celin's grasp and shoving them back into his bag as fast as possible. “It’s just— I— you never know when— I mean, it’s good to be responsible—”

“Oh yeah, super responsible,” Mig teases. “Enough to supply the whole damn grid.”

Bez knows there’s no getting out of this. Every time he tries to defend himself, someone throws another joke at him.

By the time Valentino walks past, blissfully unaware of the absolute scene unfolding in front of him, Bez is desperately praying the ground will open up and swallow him whole.

Days later, Marc — who, despite regularly fucking Marco Bezzecchi, is decidedly not part of the VR46 circle — posts an Instagram photo dump. It’s typical Marquez content: a mix of training shots, travel pics, and the kind of carefree candids that make his fans go wild.

But one photo in particular stands out.

At first glance, it looks like a random, cluttered table — water bottles, gloves, a crumpled snack wrapper, someone’s sunglasses left behind. But the centerpiece of the image is undeniable: a very visible empty box of condoms.

And in the background, carelessly draped over a chair, is a VR46 training shirt with Bez’s number on it.

The moment the VR46 boys see the post, all hell breaks loose.

“COSA!?” Cele shrieks, shoving his phone in Luca’s face.

Luca nearly spits out his drink. “Che cazzo…?!”

Franky, scrolling through the comments, howls. “Oh, people have already connected the dots. Look— ‘Whose shirt is that? 👀’ ‘Bezzecchi confirmed sex god??’ ‘Not Márquez exposing VR46 like this—’”

Bez, who was not prepared for this level of public humiliation, looks like he’s about to faint. His face is burning, his hands are in his hair, and he’s making this awful, strangled sound. “That fucking bastard.”

Luca, usually the calm one, is furious — it doesn't help that Vale has raised him to despise the Spaniard. “He did this on purpose.”

“Oh, one hundred percent,” Cele agrees, grinning like this is the best thing that’s ever happened. “No way that’s an accident.”

Mig, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, nudges Bez. “So… you and Márquez, huh?”

Bez whips around so fast his hair nearly smacks Mig in the face. “I— IT’S NOT— SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Luca, pacing, rubs his temples like he’s dealing with a major diplomatic crisis. “Vale is gonna see this. Vale is gonna fucking see this, and when he does, he’s gonna start asking questions.”

Bez makes another strangled noise and drops his face into his hands.

From that moment on, everyone is acting weird.

Bez is a nervous wreck, flinching every time Vale so much as glances at his phone.

Luca is lurking behind Vale at every possible moment, ready to distract him if he scrolls too far.

Cele and Mig cannot stop laughing, whispering behind their hands every time Bez enters the room.

And Marc? Oh, Marc is smirking like the smug, insufferable bastard that he is.

The worst part? Vale notices immediately.

“Why are you all acting like idiots?” Vale narrows his eyes at them over his espresso.

“Us? Acting weird?” Luca lets out an awkward, too-loud laugh. “No, no, everything’s normal. Totally normal.”

Bez, looking like he wants to die, chokes out, “I need to go— somewhere.” And bolts.

Vale, watching him leave, takes a slow sip of his coffee. “…Right.”

The thing is, Vale is not stupid. He knows his boys better than they know themselves, and when they start acting like this, it only makes him more suspicious. He’s waiting for someone to crack.

And, inevitably, someone does.

Maybe it’s Cele blurting it out mid-laugh.

Maybe it’s Marc, still feeling petty, making a too-pointed comment during a press event.

Maybe it’s Bezz, buckling under the mountain of stress, breaking down and confessing in the most pathetic, self-incriminating way possible.

One way or another—

Vale finds out.

And the fallout?

Absolute carnage.

#motogp #marcmarc #bezquez #marco bezzecchi #marc marquez #mb72 #mm93 #rpf #fanfic #fic #crack fic #ermmmm #kats motogp blurbs!#anon tag???

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