#bike training academy

[nolaridingacademy]

Riding Academy in New Orleans

Join our premier riding academy for comprehensive motorcycle training and education. Our certified instructors provide personalized instruction and hands-on practice to help riders of all levels improve their skills and confidence.

[giuventus]

The boys in training🥰

[tartt9]

once again thinking about jewish roy

[oldermenlvrgrl]

Filthy animal

Logan doesn’t regret much in his life but pushing you away is his biggest mistake.

Logan howlett x human! reader.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: hella angst to cry to, swearing, excessive drinking, loss & grief, his fighting era, dark themes, he’s an alcoholic, stalking, insecurities, depression, anxiety, memories of sex & sexual themes, kissing, talk of breeding/pregnancy, hormones, ovulation, mentioning of self harm, a/b/o themes, he eats raw meat like a feral animal.

A/n: to the one person that wanted me to write this, between when origins end and x-men begins era. He has a bike in this before he goes to the academy idc he’s hot when he’s on a bike

The house is too quiet. The log cabin stood on a mountain top overlooking the vast earthly landscape below. His fingers trace over the wooden bannister of the front door. Feeling every crevice and panel. His mind is numb to the feeling of longing. He doesn’t even know why he did it anymore. The pain in his chest that never yields is too unbearing. He sighs, locking the door and leaving it behind him, like he did with you. Locking away the love he had for you in a cage and leaving it behind.

He goes to the bar, the only place known to give him comfort is at the end of a whiskey bottle. A fat stogy lit between his fingers. The smoke dancing in the air. He doesn’t care that he’s told to not smoke. He nurses the glass, hunched over the bar. Aggression flaring up his face. A hungry dog with food aggression bowed over lapping at liquor. He clenches and opens his hand, feeling the metal under the skin gyrate.

For weeks this is all he has known. Lumber yard (when he shows up), fighting cage, bar and home. It wasn’t even home without you there. You were the only thing that was home to him. Now that you were gone he didn’t have a home.

“Now introducing…the Wolverine!”

Logan gets up staggering along the sea of people. Putting the head of the cigar in the drip of whiskey that resides in his glass. Shedding his flannel and his tank to his bare chest. His veins pulsing and his vision impaired. They open the fenced gate and his head is hung down as he focuses on walking straight. He never planned to win this fight. He didn’t want to. He wanted to get the shit beat out of him so he can feel something other than grief.

The man before him is about seven foot, a mutant with the way his skin is stretched. The bell rings and they size each other up. Walking around the cage. They don’t speak and he prefers it to be that way. He raises his fists and cowers his head behind them. The abomination swings and hits him in the side of his head where his ear is. The hit wasn't normal, the hit felt like he got his head run over by a train. He smiles knowing that this beating was exactly what he lusted after.

He staggers up against the side of the cage. The coldness of the metal burns his hot skin. His drunken eyes look at the crowd and he faintly imagines that he sees your silhouette. Another hit to his abdomen. He holds his arm over his stomach and holds onto the fence. He stares out with unsteady eyes to where he sees a mirage of you wearing his dog tags around your neck. Your pretty neck, your pretty hair, your pretty face. His pretty girl. He starts to smile wider, white bloodied teeth. The blood poured behind the crevices in his mouth. Down his chest. Speckling his skin with rogue.

His head rears back as the abomination throws his fist into his nose. Blood starts flowing down his nasal passages. The square part of his chin where it’s shaved is covered in fluid. Another, another, another. He’s surprised he’s not missing teeth as he’s sprawled down on the white plastic floor in a splattered bloody pool. His torso, bruised and battered. He’s laughing. It’s taxing as he feels his broken ribs poke into his lungs. He watches the man parade around him in a victory lap, money starts being handed to and fro. Cradling his ribs as he continues to laugh. He laughs at himself, at how much of a joke he is. How he doesn’t have any restraint or respect for himself. He’s a mockery of who he once was. He looks to the crowd once more to see your face and he doesn’t.

The usher lifts him up and shoves his balled up clothes into his chest. Telling him that he’s banned from the establishment. He’s a joke to the fighting scene and to the bar. Logan isn’t sure if it’s the concussion or the liquor that makes him hear “come back tomorrow.” So he pats the man on his shoulder with a bloodied grin and goes back home.

He drinks himself to sleep that night. If he doesn’t drink, he can’t forget and he’d rather go bankrupt with all the liquor he buys than to remember you. There’s a part of him that desperately latches onto your memory. The bits and pieces that were domestic.

He doesn’t even bother going to the yard. Deep down he knows he’s fired, he couldn’t care. He sits in his big empty wooden cage and just watches the sun change into the moon and stars. Fighting off war flashbacks and memories of you. The only cure is whiskey, and he hadn’t eaten in days. His hunger only grows with each passing day. He can’t eat anything after remembering those home cooked meals you made him.

Nothing suffices. His house was destroyed after he purged it. His couch was torn to shreds, his clothes, and walls. Everything. He didn’t have a television or radio.

So he sits in a leather chair overlooking the mountain in the loose boxers that hang loosely around his hips. His legs spread wide and out, his arms lazily laid over the rests. His bicep only flexes as he sips from the lip of the bottle. A lit cigar he lethargically puffs on occasionally, feeling the burn in his chest simmer down his stomach. The tendons in his neck bulge as his heart rate rises. Fuck, he thought about you.

He thought about the times he’s hurt you.

Once it was deep in his sleep, you cradled against his broad sweaty chest. The sheets scattered in the dark. One of your legs kicked over his torso. His arm around your back, pushing you closer. His body is rigid and tense. His body feverish as he perspires. Sweat drips along his brows and temples.

His face winces as he watches his brother dismember innocent people before him. The hopeless desperate yearning he feels in the pit of his stomach grows. He feels nauseous as his face twists in agony. He shouts and shouts to no avail. The metal between his knuckles, pushing out. He grows anxious.

He feels you shuffle and that’s when he slices your upper arm. Your breath staggers as you jolt awake with fearful eyes, he’ll never forget you pulling away from him. He stands from the bed, watching you with horror, stricken across his pale face. He watches your feeble hand touch the blood that welts from the wound. The sheets draped over your torso as you stood and walked to him. He doesn’t look into your remorseful eyes as your soft red painted hand comes to touch the hair on his face. Cradling his jaw in your palm. He doesn’t welcome your warmth, he doesn’t deserve it. As your touch lingers, his claws retract.

“It’s just a scratch.”

You whisper softly. He doesn’t listen.

“It’s just a scratch.”

He mutters to himself as he takes another drink from the bottle. It wasn’t just a scratch, not to him. That single cut meant that he couldn’t even protect you from himself. How was he supposed to protect you if he contributed to your harm? He thinks of another memory.

He was close. His abdomen tightening and his balls drawn tight. He feels your walls constrict around the thickness of his cock. Pulling and tugging with each bounce of your hips. His head thrown back into the pillows as he grits his teeth together, thick eyebrows furrowed as he concentrates on feeling your wet slick coating his wide thighs. The smell is brutalizing him. The smell of your cunt weeping for him.

He peeks and watches your breasts bounce and your nails dig into his hairy chest. The hair on his lower stomach glistening with your slick. He bucks his hips up into your core, hitting that spot deep inside your womb. He feels your heated breath on his neck. Your nipples brushing against his own as you lay on top of him, the metal of his dog tags pressed between each of your chests.

Allowing him to bury himself inside you. His strong hands hold your hips in place, your legs widening to let his aggression grow. He pours everything he has into breeding you. His heart hammers against his chest as he hears your whimpers. The silent cry of yours to breed you full of his pups.

He growls deep in the back of his throat. Jackhammering his thrusts, the filthy sound of your squelching cunt is music to him. The sweet smell of your ovulation makes him drunker than any whiskey. He can’t control himself anymore. He ruts and ruts against your puffy pussy as you squeal for him to slow so you can breathe. He doesn’t and continues to pound into your pelvis, rocking your entire body against his. It’s painful how hard and fast he’s pulling you down. His legs half bent as he pulls your ass down to touch his thighs with every thrust. He growls as he pushes all the way inside and releases his seed into your weeping cunt.

The pain from his bleeding knuckles is excruciating but not as much as the quiet squeak from your little mouth. He pulls his head up and sees the little slits he made on your thighs. He lays his head against the pillows with a long sigh. Knowing that he couldn’t bear hurting you anymore. He couldn’t have you baring his pups and risk hurting you.

He couldn’t even get hard anymore without you. He couldn’t smell your hormones, couldn’t smell how desperate you wanted him. It wasn’t the same without you. He drinks. The cigar burns the inside of his index and middle, he doesn’t care. He lets it scorch his tanned skin. If it burnt the entire cabin he wouldn’t care either. He remembers the night he ended it with you.

He was drunk to the point where he was a vegetable on his leather couch. Shirtless and only in his dirtied torn blue jeans. He waited until you got home after work. He made up his mind a couple days ago and he didn’t have the courage to do it sober minded so he drank himself to it. He smelled you before he watched as the door knob wobbled and you stepped forward. He hated how beautiful you looked and his stomach twisted. You had groceries and a pretty smile on your face. It turned into a frown as you saw him with the bottle.

You asked him if something happened at the yard and he said no. You took the groceries into the kitchen after kicking the door closed with your foot. You started taking the groceries out and putting them into the cupboards. The raw meat you had to get from the local farmers was bloody as you put it in the fridge. You turned to get another item and were met with his glossy eyes. His mouth turned into a snarl. His eyes glanced over your confusion and his heart weakened. He desperately wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t in his nature to. His chest heaved as he looked at the inscribed dog tags around your neck.

“I want you out of my house.”

His words were heavily slurred, but he knew you understood them as your brows pinched together and you stopped looking for things to put up.

“What?”

It was weak and it killed him. He stared at the wooden floor, taking another swig. He raised a thick eyebrow and looked down the curve of his nose at you with blurry hazel eyes.

“You heard me.”

You shook your head and placed your hands on the counter, trying to ground yourself. Your world was falling apart in front of you.

“You’re drunk.”

You say meekly, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t reply. That was true, but the saying drunken words are sober thoughts still apply. A wave of emotion hits you, and your eyes water. You sniffle and turn to him. Your Logan wasn’t there. His eyes were glossed over and he was a shell.

“You don't mean that.”

He watches your bottom lip wobble and tears fall down your face. His heart drops and he drinks. His lips polished over with alcohol. The tension is thick and restricting.

“What happened to our future together? Where you wanted me to be your wife and to have your kids?”

You look down at your feet as you cry.

“When you said you’d never leave and that I’d always be your girl?”

He doesn’t speak and resentment grows in your heart.

“Is there another girl?!”

He doesn’t know why but you insinuating that he’d be able to love another woman than you angers him. His snarl grows and he shakes his head.

“Answer me!”

You push his chest and he stumbles back. That enrages him, his claws push out. He puts the bottle on the counter and pins your hands together and pushes your hips against the wood. You try to move and get his grip to loosen but it doesn’t. He pins you with your hands together behind your back and his body pushed against yours. His hands pulled into fists as he attempted to control his anger. He smells like liquor and his musk. He smells your fear and sees the same sorrow he feels.

“No. There’s never been and never will be. If you come back to my house and if I ever see you again..”

He trails off and looks to the bottle of booze, not wanting to admit it but deep in his heart he knows it’s for the best.

“I’ll kill you.”

You frown and choke out a sob as he lets you go. He stands in the middle of the kitchen with his head downturned. He hears you weep as you gather your things. Dreading the sounds of hearing the wheels of your suitcase trail down the wood. He hears the door open.

“You don’t mean that.”

He listens to the door close and the scent of you leave. Fury rages through him as he destroys everything around him, it doesn’t matter if it’s handmade or expensive he ruins it. He destroys his entire house trying to defile the thought of you. Destroying everything you’ve touched or reminded him of you. He wanted to destroy himself.

He decided later that night he had to see you. Had to breathe in your smell and that’ll fix him, put his mind on track. He was still scared as hell to hurt you, but the agony of being without you is greater than the risk of hurting you. Logan was selfish and all he wanted was you.

He sat outside the building where you worked on his bike and waited. Perched like a predator waiting for prey. He was surprised that he was steady enough to even get there unscathed. He sat on the side of the road, not in the parking lot. The engine turned off and he listened to the birds chirp. He made sure to not let you see him. Digging into his pocket he takes the fat cigar out and places it between his lips. Taking the lighter and cupping his hands around the flame as he puffs it to life. The embers burn and the smoke swirls around his head. The evening slowly dying into night.

Raising his nose to the air and sniffing as he smells your hormones. Your car pulls out of the lot shortly after and passes him. He sees the side of your face through the window and his heart burns. Your face is puffy and gloomy, completely contrasting the sunshine you exude.

Chewing on the end of the cigar, he starts the motorcycle and turns behind you. A good couple cars between him and you to separate the distance. He follows you down the familiar path down to your parents house. The long pine trees and barren fields full of crops. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he’s doing or what he’s going to do. All he knows is that he needs to see you, something primal deep inside him tells him that.

He pulls into an open field, overlooking the farm house. Staring with foggy eyes as you pull in. Gazing at your car door as it opens and you step out. He leans forward to fully look at you as much as he can from the distance. Whistling low at the pretty sight. Then as if you were never there you leave his sight and enter the house. He sighs, leaning back on his bike. Looking to the sky he determines that night shouldn’t take no longer than an hour. He waits.

He waits with a cigar between his plush lips. His hands flexing on top of his thighs. Clenching and opening, enticing the burn of his knuckles spreading open. Observing with eager eyes as each light in every window turns dark, except yours. A wishful smile spreads on his face. Knowing the next thing you’re about to do before going to bed is cracking your window open, and without fail he sees your little hands opening the pane. His heart soars as he’s proud that you’re still his girl. Still, having the same habits and quirks he’s grown to admire.

With that, he takes the cigar from his lips and pushes the end into the palm of his hand. Snuffing the smoke and flicking it into the field. He swings one of his long legs over the bike and starts his trail down to your window.

Begrudgingly, he comes to terms with having to climb up the side of your family's house to your room. The ivy woven into the side provides a grip for his climb. The poor gutter he tried to climb groaned and cried as the hinges unscrewed from the roof as he tried to pull his body weight up it, so the ivy would just have to be adequate. As he climbs, your scent grows stronger and his head starts to get fuzzy. The toes of his boots stuck between some panels. The broad pads of his fingers stuck on the window sill.

Propping his head up, he watches you lay on your bed watching television. Some movie played that you weren’t too keen on paying attention to. If you looked over you’d be able to see his wild hazel eyes and his tufts of hair poking far above his head.

You move to lay on your other side and he wishes to see your pretty face again. Without fail and as overplayed as it is, you truly were a sight for sore eyes. He listens eagerly to your mother’s voice beckoning you to dinner. Like the good sweet girl you are, you obey. Getting up from your bed and walking over to your door. A hand outstretched and touching the knob, but hesitantly, you pause. Logan’s heart drops and the hair on the back of his neck perks up. Can you see him? Your beautiful eyes wander over to the window screen and he ducks his head. Almost losing his grip and falling into the grass below. Your mother yells your name again and he doesn’t pull his head back up until he hears the door close.

He takes one of his hands and summons the metal between his knuckles to grow out. Cutting open the side of the window screen, he pulls it to the side. Hoisting himself up and over into the other side of the window ungracefully.

He’s not as nimble as he once was. He falls on his hands and knees with a loud thud, similar to a cat. He stills, anxiety rushing to his face as he listens for a reaction. Only hearing the chatter of common conversation between your parents and you, he stands. Reality hits him with a rush of adrenaline. He’s in your room. What the fuck is he doing? Guilt crawls up his spine and he flicks his head, ridding the fear. He needs this. His fingers trail over various objects in your room. Wooden dresser, mattress, vanity. His slow saunter stops as he looks at your vanity closer, his dog tags nestled with a Polaroid tucked under the chain.

The weekend your parents took you both camping. He was supposed to propose to you on that trip but got cold feet.

You’re sitting in a little dress on one of his spread thighs in a lawn chair. The neck of a beer bottle was between his fingers over the side of the arm rest. You’re wrapped behind one of his big burly arms. The veins and muscle in his bicep flexed. Caging you to his strong chest as he holds you close. He’s only wearing his white sweat and oil stained tank. He just got done working on the bike, trying to figure out why it’s making a funny noise and arguing with your father about something. It’s evening time and the sun is shining between the maple trees. Everyone waited eagerly as your father grilled dinner. Your cheeks are rosy with a big precious smile as his face is shoved in your neck, pressing kisses into the tender area making you giggle. Your mother took that picture.

He swallows thickly as he sits with that feeling deep in his chest. Logan knows what he did was wrong and he feels like a reformed prisoner in his own mind. The duality is that he is also the police officer always beating him with a bat, constantly repeating the same behavior that has caused him to get in the prison. He loves to self sabotage and he fears that this fatal mistake was the end of it all. All he was and ever will be is an animal.

A strong aroma hits him all at once, he lifts his face and sniffs the air. Oh, god. It’s your clothes. Your smell is on all of them and it's surrounding him. Suffocating him. Something spurs him to start opening drawers. He pulls out various clothing, shirts, and jeans are too faint.

Pulling out another drawer, he goes to his knees. Panties. He grabs a handful, one of them being a devious pair of white cotton that has your name embroidered on the top and shoves them into his leather pocket of his jacket, closing the drawer. Stealing one of your dainty shirts that had your scent on it the strongest and holding that to his chest. He holds it to his nose and takes a long breath in, holding the smell deep in his chest. He almost moans as he exhales. He feels the front of his jeans tightening and his metal belt buckle poking his abdomen. He groans and adjusts the crotch of his jeans, trying to ease the discomfort, but it only makes his fervor grow.

He stares at himself long and carefully in your vanity mirror. An animal is all he sees, stealing your clothes because he can’t bear not breathing your scent. A pervert even. He smiles at the names, pride swelling in his chest. The pride is shot with a steady arrow as he hears a set of footsteps coming up the hall. Looking frantically for somewhere to hide, he figures your closet would be as best as he’s going to get. He makes sure that everything was in place as he first saw it and barricades himself inside your wardrobe.

This great and powerful Wolverine had fought in many wars and witnessed things that not even the most seasoned veteran can survive. Yet, he’s scared of the judgment of a woman he’s in love with. He’s sweating bullets, fat dwallops of sweat rolls down his hairline and neck.

Through the slits in your door he watches eagerly as the towel wrapped around the bust of your breasts falls. His breath stutters and he balls the shirt up and presses it against his mouth to stifle his hurried breaths. His almost green eyes roll back in his head, watching your bare breasts contort along with your body as you bend over to find clothes in your dresser. The smell is unbearable, the fresh scent of your dewy skin. The warmth of the water falling into every hidden crevice that only he can see.

His stomach growls. His starvation is growing worse. He palms his hard length. Raising your arms you put on one of his old hockey jerseys he gave you. He groans and his head thumps against the back wall. He can’t bear it. What if he jumped out and ravaged you? Would you be upset? He’d never forgive himself for it, but the need for release is far too much for him to withstand. You’re just a little woman, he couldn’t do that to you. Defile his sweet girl and breed her, only in his thoughts he entertains the thought. Stepping into some of his old boxers too. He’s been wondering where those had gone. Maybe he and his girl weren't too far off. Cut from the same perverted cloth.

You crawl into your bed with a deep sigh. Cuddling up with some childhood teddy bear. He watches your heavenly face twist as you cry into the fur of the bear. His heart breaks. He’s defeated, he hates to see you cry and it’s even worse when he can actually feel the sorrow fill his heart. He stands there for what seems to be an eternity watching you break down into a helpless little girl. Broken and distraught. In that moment he knows that you’d never love him the same.

He waits until your puffy eyes close and the soft snore falls from your parted lips to leave your closet. Closing the door behind him, he stands before your sleeping beauty. Admiring your face from afar. Logan is a hated man and he’s never cared, but he cares all too much that you do. He goes to his knees, quietly. Tucking your shirt into the waistband of his jeans. He tucks a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and kisses your nose gently. As gently as an animal like him could. Pulling up your blanket under your chin.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispers. He stands to his feet again, marveling at the memories he’s had with such a dream of a woman in the glow of the moon. Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the wiggle of the door knob and your mothers breath of your name. He twists his body and jumps out of the window. Again, he lands on his feet and he runs. He runs on all fours. Dirt getting under his fists as the claws give him leverage to run faster.

Your mother places a gentle hand on your shoulder as she sits by your feet. Blinking your eyes open, you look at her with blurry vision.

“Logan?”

He’s panting and his eyes are wild as he flies down the road on his bike. Feeling as if he just robbed a bank. He’s a wanted man. You know that he was there. You had to. The deep pit in his stomach is too expensive for you to not have.

As soon as he’s up the mountain and parks haphazardly in front of the cabin, he’s stripping off his clothes. He’s burning alive. He’s left only in his tattered jeans. His stomach twists and turns and before he knows it, he’s pulling out every single meat he has in his fridge and tearing it open. He feasts like a wild animal. Tearing the plastic open and the blood dripping down onto him. His chest and jaw slathered in dead animals. Pork, poultry, cow it’s everywhere. He doesn’t care if it’s not cooked, his hunger is far greater than his rationality. He doesn’t even breathe as he devours. His hands were coated in blood like he murdered someone.

When he finishes he stares at his destruction. Only bones were left in various places. His torso was even coated in red. He groans, chewing the fat of some animal and swallowing with a gulp. He finds whatever beer he has in the fridge and pops the lid off with his claw. Taking a prolonged gradual swig. Your shirt, surprisingly, still hung sloppily and pure under his belt.

He roams to his trophy case, full of all his war memorabilia and opens the door. Taking the wooden case full of cigars out and putting one between his bloodied lips. He sets the bottle beside the case and lights the cigar. It’s almost as good as an orgasm. For the first time he feels full. His needs were almost completely met. The only thing missing was you. He walks sluggishly to his open front door, leaning his shoulder against the frame. Switching between smoking and drinking as he listens to the night's ambiance. Listening to the wild animals howl.

Just a game of hide and seek was all it was. It was Fall. The leaves were scattered like a carpet on the floor of the woods. It was a random day where both of you were off and rather going into town, he thought it’d be fun to teach you how to fish. After multiple failed attempts of you becoming bored, he decided to play a game with you.

The game was completely rigged. Who would’ve thought the man with insane primal senses would be great at finding things that didn’t want to be found. The adrenaline was catching up to you both as you sought after him. The widespread woods were winding and confusing, but you were determined to find the animal. The cold nipped at your face as you kept your perseverance. Suddenly, you stopped. Realizing that instead of you finding him, and him staying hidden he reversed the game and was trailing you. A peculiar feeling arose, the thought of him following you without you even knowing coiled your stomach.

All of your theories were proven right as his big arms wrap around your torso and pulls you down into the leaves. He laughs heartily against your neck as you push up, straddling his waist. You hit his chest softly.

“You filthy animal I was supposed to be hunting you!”

He shakes his head with a small smile, squeezing your hips as he stares up at you with childish eyes.

“Maybe you’re just not that good of a hunter.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open.

“Hey!”

You hit his chest again, and he sits up. Kissing your nose.

“It’s okay, lil’ bunny.”

It sincerely unnerves him how unobservant you were. How oblivious you were to the world, but that same reason is why he loves you. He loves that you’re different, even if you were human you understood what it felt like to be a mutant. He flicks the end of the cigar down into the asphalt and closes the front door. The blood on his body is dried and caked on him. Stripping the rest of his clothes in the hall as he goes to the bathroom. His house is still trashed and he doesn’t care to clean it until his life is put on track again. Until you’re in his life again.

He turns on the faucet and lets the water warm. Looking at himself in the mirror while he waits. He looks righteously like an animal. His hair wild on his head, the blood goes from his mouth down to the v-line of his hips. It’s brutal and chaotic. He wonders if this is what life is going to be like for him for the rest of eternity. Nature made him a freak, man had made him a weapon, and god is making it last too long. The water blurs the mirror and he no longer sees himself in the reflection. He steps inside the scalding hot water and his thoughts don’t slow.

All he’s thought about is you, all he can think about is you. You’re the last thing that’s keeping his humanity. Without you he turns into this beast of regret. He watches the blood pool around his feet. The blood mixed down his chest and face and down the drain. He wishes to drown but knows he can’t. He wishes to die but that’s too humanly for him for it to be possible. Maybe even love was too human for him to obtain. He thinks about calling you and then it passes. He thinks about his mother for a minute and that passes. Every wave of emotion, feeling and thought passes through him as he cleanses his body. He stays in that sauna of a shower for an hour.

When he gets out he pats his skin dry from one of the towels you bought out of the cupboard and ties it around his waist. Pushing his wet hair back it slicks back and stays. He knows he’ll wake to the two tufts being straightened on his head in the morning, he doesn’t bother. Bending down, he picks your shirt up off of the hallway floor and holds it to his nose. Closing his eyes and breathing in your intoxicating bodily perfume. He can already smell it fading. It’s damp from the water still clinging onto his chest. He sits down on the leather couch that he’s shredded. Contemplating if he should call, it’s late and he knows you have work in the morning. He shouldn’t bother.

The smell of you gives him motivation. What if? What if she does misses me and wants me as much as I want her. That’s blasphemy, he thinks. Yet, he ponders it seriously. He breathes in your shirt once more and finds the phone he’s thrown against the wall a couple weeks before. He dials your number apprehensively. His nerves shot to hell as he holds the phone to his ear. The buzzing and monotone hum of service sends his perturbation to his chest. His stomach clenched tight with bated breath. He hopes that you don’t answer, but his soul wants you to. He almost thinks about hanging up and it continues to ring. What is he even going to say? He doesn’t know. He never knows. His eyes widen and he doesn’t breathe as he hears your sleepy voice.

“Hello?”

You whisper into the phone and he doesn’t say anything. He’s internally panicking, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Hello?”

You whisper again and he doesn’t speak, his head is in a frenzy and his hand is shaking.

“Logan?”

When you say his name he drops the phone. Trepidation strikes him. He hadn’t heard you say his name for weeks and the sleepy softness of your voice sparked something in him. He’s scared of that feeling, petrified even. Logan Howlett’s only fear is love.

He fell asleep with your shirt cradled tight into his chest. The morning’s sun is the only thing that awoke him. He didn’t fall asleep that night until dawn. He was too paranoid and scared to fall asleep, the anxiety of possibilities kept running through him. He sighed and the feeling he felt was worse than any hangover. He knew he was broke in every way possible, he didn’t have any money, he didn’t have anything. He didn’t even have you. He groaned and cursed himself as he saw last nights doing in his kitchen. He honestly doesn’t remember anything after what occurred at your house. He didn’t have any food left nor any liquor. He had to do one of the things he hated the most, grocery shopping.

His strong anxiety was almost numbing to him now. He’s felt so high strung the past few weeks that he’s used to it. He strolled through the store with a shopping cart that had one of its wheels broken and he almost thought god did it purposefully to mock him. He wandered helplessly through the aisles, grabbing miscellaneous food. Knowing most of it wasn’t going to even last him the rest of the week, but he needed something to get by.

Most of his cart was filled with strong liquor. He wanted to forget you and move on, and maybe finally kick the bucket with alcohol poisoning. He’s reaching into the fridge to grab another case of beer when he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. His stomach drops. It couldn’t be. He stands and looks over his shoulder and sure as shit, there you are.

You have a little smile on your face and your cheeks are dusted red by embarrassment. Looking to your feet, you see a pair of cotton panties peeking out of his jacket pocket. Your cheeks grow a darker red as you see that your name is embroidered on the top.

“I- uh, I-,”

You shut your mouth tight, cursing yourself for the hurried stutter and if he wasn’t so nervous himself he’d think you being flustered was cute. You look up at him through your lashes. He takes notice of the flint of his dog tags around your neck and his heart soars.

“I’m cooking dinner tonight at my parents house and was wondering if you’d like to come,”

You scratch the back of your neck, uneasily. Beaming timidly.

“You don’t have to come of course! And it’s just if you’d like if you’re not busy, I’m cooking steaks and I know you like-“

“What time?”

Your rambling stops and you give him the best kid going to Disneyland look he’s ever seen.

“Six.”

He nods and you smile. The trajectory of his life seemed to be on track again. This was the right timeline.

“I’ll be there at five.”

You smile wider.

“Thanks, Logan.”

He gives you a small smile and nod of his head in response. You start to turn to leave before turning back, looking both ways before you whisper to him.

“If you wanted a pair of my panties, you could’ve just asked.”

You give his cheek a quick kiss and walk away with a bounce in your step. Leaving him blushing and blinking at the case of beer in his hand, trying to figure out what actually just happened. Those small moments that are just so humanly indescribable makes him feel much less like a filthy animal.

[imbored1201]

hiii!

could you write something where teen r lives w ona and is always attatched to her but then lucy moves in with her and now r is upset bc she has to actually use her own bed and ona ends up buying a new bed or something.

:)

Ona’s Follower

Lucy x Ona x Teen Reader

Word Count: 2k

Yours and Ona's bond ran deep; the two of you had played in Manchester together. You were just 15 when you started playing with her; it was your first season coming from the academy, and she convinced you to move to Barcelona with her.

She always took care of you, and you practically followed her everywhere. She enjoyed the company though, teaching you everything, like how to cook her favorite Spanish dishes and even trying to teach you Spanish.

You feel the moment you really got attached to Ona was when she comforted you because of your frequent nightmares.

The two of you ended up being roommates when staying at a hotel with the United girls. 

You had hoped you wouldn't get a nightmare. That didn't go your way, considering you had one. 

You were woken up by Ona, who held you that night, and the next night, you had another one. 

Back at the apartment, you continued to sleep in Ona's bed. You realized sleeping with Ona helped you a lot since you stopped having nightmares, and it turns out Ona hated being alone in a bed to the point she had a lot of stuffed animals on her bed while she slept so she didn't feel alone. 

It was a huge win for both of you. 

————

You noticed something was going on between Ona and Lucy. Lucy was coming over every day now. You would always find them cuddling on the couch, and she would even pick you guys up to take you to training and games. 

You liked Lucy; she was funny and always brought you candy, and you always destroyed her in FIFA, so it was fun. 

————

Then the next step happened. Lucy moved in. You were panicking, to you, that meant you and Ona couldn't sleep in the same bed anymore. That made you disappointed, even sadder, watching Lucy unpack all her things. The good thing about it was that you were able to see Nala every day now. 

"Want to help me build this?" She was referring to a new dresser she had gotten. "Sorry, Luce, I need to go riding around." Lucy grinned, happy you were actually using the bike she had given you.

Ona was always complaining that you spent too much time in your room, so Lucy got you a bike, hoping it would motivate you to get out and go around the city.

That bike ride took a little bit longer than you intended. You did get caught up in your own head because, by the time you knew it, it was nighttime. Way past your cerfew. 

————

"Ona, calm down; she's fine; she probably just got caught up." Ona's eyes widened. "What if she got caught up doing something she isn't supposed to?" Lucy sighed, regretting her word choice. 

"Ona, she's a good kid; she knows not to do anything bad. She'll be back soon; you're tired; come on." Lucy led her to bed. Ona continued to stare down at her phone, waiting for any little text from you. 

She spent a couple of minutes lying down in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. "She has a key, Ona. Come on, you have to let the kid do her own thing at times. She'll be back soon; if it makes you feel better, I'll stay up and wait for her." Ona sighed and nodded. 

By the time you got home, Lucy had already fallen asleep. She did wait an hour though; she was worried too, but once she finally received a 'I'm okay' text from you, that worry went away, and she fell asleep spooning Ona.

Once you finished your routine, you went to Ona's room. It was just a habit of yours at that point, and when you saw her and Lucy sleeping cuddled up in bed, something burned up inside you. Jealously and sadness. Tears started to build up in your eyes

You know it was probably childish, but it was just something you were used to. Ona had been your anchor; every time something went wrong, you went running to her. With Lucy there now, you felt like you couldn't do that anymore. 

You gently closed the door and walked to your room. It was weird sleeping in your own bed for once. You hadn't done that in forever; you grabbed one of Ona's hoodies that you stole and laid down, using it as a pillow. You hoped you wouldn't have a nightmare and fell asleep. 

————

Lucy was the first to wake that morning; she hated to admit it, but she completely forgot she didn't see you come the front door; she got lost in admiring Ona's beauty to remember. 

When Ona stirred, the first thing that came to her mind was you. She thought about last night and quickly sat up, not needing any time to fully wake up. 

Lucy noticed Ona's panicked expression when she looked at her. "What?" She asked, getting up. "Where's Y/N?!" She was panicky, walking out of the room to search for you.

Lucy quickly got up and followed her as Ona checked the living room and kitchen. Lucy checked your room, and there you were. Using Ona's sweater as a pillow and holding onto a stuffed teddy bear, Lucy won you at the fair. She even won Ona one, then bragged about being too good at everything. 

"Ona, she's in here," she quietly said, gently closing your door. Ona was about to barge into your room, but Lucy gently grabbed her. "She's sleeping." Ona sighed in relief and went back to the kitchen to make apology pancakes for you. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" Lucy put her hand on Ona's hips. "Fuck Lucy, we shouldn't have slept in the same bed. I'm sorry. Y/N, she always sleeps with me; the poor girl gets these bad nightmares, and they stopped when she started sleeping with me" 

Lucy looked understanding and thought for a little bit. "You know, we need to get a bigger bed anyway; it would be beneficial for everyone and maybe even encourage a little more action," she smirked. Ona raised her eyebrows. "Lucy, we are not talking about sex while there is a child in the bedroom."

"Of course not; that's why we send her to Mapi and Ingrid's. What I'm trying to say is, let's get a bigger bed so she can sleep with us."

Ona's face lit up, and she immediately grabbed her car keys. "I'm going to look at bigger beds," she told Lucy, and left. Lucy quickly took over, smirking to herself for being a genius. 

————

That whole day, you only came out to eat the pancakes and for dinner. Lucy took control and barged into your room. You ended up crushing her in FIFA again.

It was now 10 p.m., and you were thirsty, your eyes hurt from playing video games all day, and you had done nothing productive all day. Mostly trying to get used to the fact that your room was actually going to be your room for once. 

————

"What's wrong?" Ona asked noticing your frown, you jumped, almost dropping your water. You weren't expecting Ona and Lucy to still be up at this time watching their romantic movies. "Nothing, just thirsty."

"Come watch the movie with us." Lucy made room between her and Ona. You shook your head, "I'm going to bed." Lucy didn't give up, though; she got up and threw you over her shoulders. 

"Luce," you whined. She threw you on the couch, and Ona was quick to hug you, so you couldn't get up. You sighed, paying attention to the movie. 

You were exhausted by the end of the movie, the comfort of Ona being next to you made it harder to keep your eyes open. You let your head fall against Lucy's shoulder. 

"How about you two snuggle in tonight? I'll take the couch. Then we'll go get the thing tomorrow." Lucy winked at Ona at the last part. You were confused but too tired to argue. The bed was being delivered tomorrow morning; it was just up to Lucy to bring it in on her own and build it. 

Ona led you to her room, where you collapsed on her bed. “Did you have any nightmares last night?” She asked as she got in beside you. You shook your head, rolling into her body and cuddling into her chest. She wanted to apologize for making you sleep in your own bed that night, but you had already fallen asleep. 

————

Once again, you woke up to no Ona. You huffed and got up, stealing a sweater that you were pretty sure was Lucy’s. “Ona?” You called out. 

You heard the front door opening and someone grunting. Nala started barking at whatever it was, so you made your way to the noise, thinking it was Ona. You let out a sad sigh when you saw it was Lucy. You loved her, but all the woman made was eggs in the morning, and you wanted Ona’s special pancakes again.

"Where's Ona?" You asked Lucy, who was struggling to bring in a mattress. "Store," she spoke out of breath. 

"What are you doing?" You asked. It was pretty obvious, but your brain was way too confused right now, and you had to ask questions. She let out some deep breaths before speaking. "Putting in the new mattress"

"Can I help?" She shrugged. "Sure, pull it," you grunted as you did what you were told. Ona wasn’t actually sure if the mattress would fit through the door; she just hoped it would. "Finally,” Lucy said, when the mattress finally got past the door. 

You were Lucy’s helper, playing with the tools, giving her whatever she needed, completely forgetting about your hunger. She proudly patted your back when everything was finished. 

"This calls for ice cream." She put a hand on your shoulder and led you out. You looked at her confused, but just went along with it. "I haven’t had breakfast," she shrugged. "It's fine.”

————

"Kid, you know I'm not going to take Ona from you, right?" You paused from where you were eating your ice cream and nodded, but you weren't actually sure how you felt. 

"Ona adores you; trust me, in a house fire, she would save you over me." You smiled at that. “But it’s fair; I would save Nala before the both of you."

"You promise you'll take care of her?" She nodded before adding, "I'm going to take care of both of you, I promise." She put out her pinky finger, which you took with yours. 

"That's why we bought the new mattress; it's bigger so all three of us could fit on that bed," you had a confused look on your face again, "Won't you be uncomfortable?" Lucy shook her head and let out a little laugh.

“Of course not; at this point, you’re my stepkid, you’re my favorite stepkid, and Nala is my favorite kid." She smiled proudly at that, and you appreciated it in a way. "Thanks, Lucy; I guess I understand why Ona fell for you now." “I’m just charming, ain’t I?” "Nevermind"

————

You still didn’t believe Lucy was actually comfortable with you being there, which is why you got ready to sleep in your own bed again. Lucy broke into your room once again, a rare stern look on her face. 

“What are you doing?” Lucy asked, her arms crossed. “I don’t want to disturb.” Lucy once again threw you over her shoulder and carried you to the bed. 

She set you down close to Ona who smiled at you. 

“Sleep bebita,” Ona spoke, spooning you. Lucy got into bed, leaving you squished in between them. Lucy got closer to you, making you push her away. “You have all that space over there."

“Shut up and let me cuddle you." You rolled your eyes and squirmed away from her, but she felt you relaxing after a couple of seconds. Your eyes were closing, and in a couple of seconds, you were out.

“Thank you for making an effort with her, Lucia.” Lucy nodded as she stroked your hair. 

“I’m just the stepdad that stepped up, ain’t I?” Lucy grinned, Ona rolled her eyes, holding you tighter. “Buenas noches Bronze”

[hihomeghere]

Hello my new favorite creator! I just saw your response to my last request (the soft y/n dom one) and I'm deffo going to formally request you turn it into a story (if you're not doing that already) I've been reading more of your content and it's quickly becoming an addiction 😅 any way I'll be a big supporter from the shadows <333 -🧛 anon (Naming myself lol)

Routine | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 2.3k Summary : After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. Aged up!Five Warnings/Tags : Smut, handjob, masturbation, piv, cursing, fluff at the end, this is filth enjoy <3 ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters )

If Five was anything, he was a creature of habit. His father had ingrained that in him from a young age. Chores, training, studies, hell even his meal times were scheduled. His entire life was based on routine. 

Then he was stuck in the apocalypse, and even though there were millions of things Five could be mad at his father about, he had to appreciate his sense for routine. It kept him alive, he still had a set time to eat (if he had anything to eat), but instead of training he was scavenging. Picking through a wasteland for anything edible, along with trying to find a sustainable source of clean water. While picking through for food, he would also collect anything to help conserve his energy. Things like his bike or wagon, etc. His definition of ‘resting’ was mainly anytime he could sit down. During those periods he would work on equations, trying to find a way out of there and back to his family. And although it wasn’t strictly in his routine, mental breakdowns always seemed to weasel their way into his day. 

Thankfully, both of those routines were a thing of the past. Now his routine consisted of reading up on case files before going into the field. He’d kill whoever he had to and afterwards he’d reward himself with fucking his fist until he fell asleep. Did it make him feel a bit disgusted with himself, yes, but masturbation had been the only stress relief he’d ever had. Again, just another one of his constants throughout the years. What he hadn’t accounted for was you. At first he had marked you off as a nuisance. Like the cockroaches that somehow managed to survive alongside Five, although you were much nicer to look at. 

Five knew he was in trouble when he started subconsciously adding your routines into his. You would start getting hungry around 11:30 every day, like clockwork. So he had started planning his lunches for around 11:30, not because the thought of you eating alone made his heart seize in his chest, just to make his work more efficient. It aggravated him to have to wait for you to be finished with your lunch, only for him to get hungry once you returned. So out of convenience, he started eating lunch with you. Little things like that.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. You were always one to throw wrenches in the works. Although he didn’t account for a deviation of this size into his plan. When he kissed you, a silent confession on his feelings, he knew there would be no going back. You were it for him. He loved you and you seemed to share those feelings. Your lips crashed against his as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room. You giggled into the kiss, something so sickly sweet. His hands were back on you as soon as the door swung open. Pulling the key out of the lock and throwing it onto a side table as he kicked the door close behind you. His hands were everywhere, touching and squeezing. Your breasts, oh god, your tits. He couldn’t get enough of them, his hand flew under your blouse, pinching your nipple through your  bra. You gasped softly, your hands threading through his hair. He stopped, admiring your flushed face as he kicked off his shoes. Your lips parted slightly, hot breath fanning across his face, a light splattering of blood across your cheek. 

You pulled away, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. What was happening to him? Did you really have such a hold on him? He was taken back to his younger years, when his father would read from Homer’s Odyssey. He had never paid much attention to the sirens, that was more of Diegos and Luthers interest. He wished he had listened to Circe’s warnings like Odysseus, now he was sure he had met a siren in person. He was bewitched by you, drawn to you like iron to a magnet. Five was sure you were more beautiful than Helen of Troy, hell even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” You smiled, pushing him back onto the bed before kissing his cheek. Another one of your routines, always showering after a mission. You made a show of undressing yourself, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Then shimmying out of your trousers. You hooked your fingers under your bra strap, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. You unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the chair. Five’s eyes never left your body until you were behind the bathroom door. He gulped, his cock painfully pressed against the crotch of his slacks. He hurried to pull himself free, the buckle of his belt clinking metal against metal. He started to get frantic in his movements, unzipping his pants and kicking them off along with his underwear. His cock sprung up against his stomach. He let out a sigh, spitting into his hand. He grabbed himself, lubricating his dick with his spit. At times like this he wondered if was seriously fucked in the head. But normally once he ran his thumb over the slit on his head any negative thoughts would be tucked away. He arched his neck, letting out a shaky breath as he started to stroke himself. His mind wandering to you, always you. “Fuck,” he sighed squeezing the base of his cock. Your flushed face, a blush painting your cheeks. That slutty fucking skirt you wore, tight around your hips, he didn’t know how you got that little thing over your ass. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace. How your lips felt against his throat as you ordered him to cum, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. His hips jolted up into his hand, he craved more, his other hand gently cupped his balls. He was close, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Y/n.” He whined, his eyes fluttering close.

“Starting without me?” You asked leaning on the doorway to the bathroom. Clad in only a towel, tightly wrapped around your body. He froze, caught red handed with his pants down. Fuck he was so close. He tugged on himself, chasing after his high as it slowly slipped away. You stopped him, swatting his hand away from his dick. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, your arms crossed above him. You stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. You grabbed his face, your fingers pressing his lips together, his skin dimpling under your grip. His breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He said through squished lips.

“You started without me.” You repeated, a wolfish grin spreading across your face. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You turned his face so he was looking at you, his green eyes wide. He let out a surprised sound, “Now, would you like to finish?” You asked with a commanding voice. His eyes flicked all over your face. 

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go of his face, walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the plush chair. You sank down onto the chair, slowly undoing your towel, letting it pool around your body. 

He stared at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled to yourself, his expression taking you back to the first night you spent together. So unsure of himself, his hands twitched against the sheets. His dick stood at attention, brushing against his white shirt. His angry red tip made a wet spot on his shirt. 

“Take off your shirt first,” you said, leaning back in the chair, spreading your legs. It was like he had been frozen until your command. His eager fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons quickly. He tore it off of him, throwing it onto the floor. He turned to you for his next instructions, a newfound glint in his eye. “You can touch yourself.” You cooed, immediately his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself with fever, he wet his bottom lip, his hips jolting against his fist. Five was so pretty like this, not that he wasn’t a gorgeous man, but he was so vulnerable. Pride bloomed in your chest knowing that you were the only one allowed to see Five like this. His head fell back, giving you a gorgeous view of his neck. He let out a strangled whine, his lips parting. You sat up, unable to help yourself. You stalked towards him, your hands holding his shoulders. Your lips attacked his neck, nipping and sucking on his neck. Dark spots adorning his pale skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning into your touch. You reached down, pulling his hand away. He let out a frustrated whine, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes. You smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek over his two freckles, before squeezing his shaft. You began to pump him harshly, sucking a deep mark on his collarbone. His hands flew to your hips, holding them with a vice like grip. “I’m gonna cum.” He said through his gritted teeth, “please let me cum.” He squeezed your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You can cum baby,” You chuckled, licking a stripe up his neck. He cried out his hips jolting against your hand as ropes of cum shot out onto your fist. You grinned, working him through his orgasm. A pained expression painting his features. As he came down from his high, he softly rubbed circles onto your hips. 

“That was…” He trailed off clearing his throat, his hands drifting upwards on his body. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against your body.

“Never would have guessed Mr. Five Hargreeves would be so obedient.” You laughed, kissing him. He pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me y/n?” He said, cocking his head slightly. A smug smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. You felt like the prey instead of the predator under his gaze.

“I would never dream of it.” You smirked, feeling him get hard against your stomach. “Already?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

“I can’t help that I have the most gorgeous girl in front of me, naked.” He mused, raising his eyebrows. You pushed him back, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. You crawled on top of him, setting yourself over his waist. He leaned his head forward, his lips covering your right breast. You lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he pushed through your opening. He let out a pained cry against your breast. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, stalling your movement.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping your hips, stilling any movements you would make. “Just sensitive, tesoro.” He chuckled looking up at you through his heavy eyelashes. You grinned, you wanted nothing more than to have Five under you a blubbering mess. And you were gonna have it. 

You rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. He let out a choked gasp, his head falling back against the bed.

“You like that baby?” You asked, dragging your hips up and down against him. 

“Fuck yes.” He whined, arching his back off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your chest. You rocked back and forth, Five’s fingernails dragging down your back. You moaned, pushing him back against the bed. You leaned back, propping yourself up on his thighs as you jutted your hips forward again and again. That familiar coil tightening in your stomach. “F-fuck.” He cried, his hips jolting against your pelvis, his pubic hair rubbing at your clit. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

“You feel so good, you make me feel so good Five.” You huffed, struggling to keep up your pace. He whimpered a tear falling down his cheek. Suddenly his body jolted, his hands gripping your waist holding you down onto his hips as he came with a cry. You grinned against him, reaching your own orgasm. You moaned, high pitched and breathy as his cock twitched inside you. His cum painting your walls as you clenched down on him

“Christ woman.” He sighed, his arm covering his eyes. You pulled away his arm, wiping away a stray tear.

“Glad to be of service.” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips. You slowly got off of his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you. You laid down beside him, lightly trailing your fingers over his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. Your head laying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear. 

“I love you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” You tease, staring up at him through your lashes. 

“No.” He says, rolling his eyes feigning annoyance. He sits up, you prop yourself up on your arm. “I’m serious,” he cups your face, “I love you so goddamn much.” He says kissing you. You were sure you had died and gone to heaven. His hand against your face, with his soft slightly bruised lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling like a love sick teenager.

“I love you.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you, I love you.” You kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He chuckled softly, as you met his eyes. “I love you Five Hargreeves.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

“And I you.” He smiled. Five would happily add anything pertaining to you into his routine any day. 

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 794: The culmination race

Pag 1

1: “There are people who you don't meet often, but when you do meet them you get along really well”

2: I heard that from a classmate a long time ago

And I thought “there's no way that there are people like that”

4: There's some strange people

5: It's funny, if they asked me now

Pag 2

1: I'd answer “of course there are”!!

Pag 3

1: “One of them lives in Chiba”, I'd say!!

2: One day, that guy was collapsed on Hakone and I helped him

3: Unexpectedly, he also rode a bike

4: We met again at CSP

5: Like me

6: he's a climber

Pag 4

1: We rarely meet

but when we do meet

2: We laugh

Pag 5

1: at the same silly things

2: Sakamichi-kun!! It's you!!

Pag 6

1: They passed the 1km left point!!

Manami and Mountain King!

Just a few minutes until they reach the mountain line!!

Soon!

Goo Hakogaku!!

Take it, Chiba!!

Pag 7

1: They're still neck and neck!!

Amazing, neither of them is yielding!!

It's a race of willpower!!

2: Until the mountain line

3: 800m left!!

4: My hands

5: are becoming numb

6: But I'll keep doing my best!!

Pag 8

2: Wh-wh-what do I do

My heart is pounding in my chest....

3: They're arriving!!

Huh!? They're arriving!? Wait, my heart isn't ready

Not yet

Not yet!? Not yet!!

4: Why am I so nervous....

Even though I'm not the one running

Pag 9

1: Even though the one who's running and having a hard time is Sangaku...

2: I'll drink this lemon tea the old lady at the ryokan gave me, and I'll calm down

3: Ohh, you're going to cheer at the Inter High?

Oh, and you come from Kanagawa!?

Yes, well

That's amazing

4: It's delicious

5: But

6: I'm stuck on one thing

7: Was it really a good thing that I came here to cheer?

Pag 10

1: One month ago

2: Kanagawa Prefecture, Hakone Academy

3: Ah

4: Class rep

5: Huh? From above!?

Huh, where is this voice coming from!?

The boys' toilets

Ah!?

Pag 11

1: Wait a moment, there's something I wanna ask you

Toi... ah!?

2: Huh!? Wait!? What!? Directly!?

Use the inside stairs... be caref....

2: Hop

Okay I get it, I get it, I'll come there

4: You know the other day... while I was running... a butterfly was flying,. And then I thought “oh, it's gone?”

And then when I went home and took off my jersey, it came out of it fluttering

What- you just came down the second floor so smoothly and started making conversation!!

Pag 12

1: Am I not amazing like a magician!?

Boys are strong...

Ah, yes yes, that's true

2: Is that all you wanted to tell me? I've been asked to go to the audiovisual room to bring these documents

3: Are you coming to the Inter High?

5: Huh

6: “Something he wanted to ask”

This year

Ah

7: “Inter High”

Pag 13

1: You came to the Inter High every year

I didn't know you liked road racing so much, Class rep

I...

2: I always thought

You even passed me a drink on the mountain last year

I thought

3: After last year's Inter High ended

4: I kept thinking about it even on the train home

5: that it was because I went to see him that Sangaku...

6: lost

Pag 14

1: I know it's unrelated... but, at the same place, screaming the same words

This year it'll be in Kyushu thought, so it's far...

2: It's small, it's a small thing, but if it gets in Sangaku's way

Hakogaku is going by plane, so it's easy

3: If he was even just a little distracted because of me and that made a small difference

(Win, Sangaku!!

Win, Sangaku!!)

4: Then I think it's better if I don't go this year

6: Because I want him to win

Pag 15

1: Ah, as expected Kyushu is too over-budget

That's not... ah... uhm

2: …. yeah, sorry

3: Well, I'll tell you the highlights

There'll be a camera, so you can watch videos

4: Watch it

The first day's mountain

“The first day's... mountain”

5: I think Sakamichi-kun will probably there too

“Sakamichi-kun”... the guy with the round glasses

6: We'll probably fight there

I think

Pag 16

1: It will be the culmination race of these three years

2: “Culmination”!!

3: “Of these three years”...!!

4: Such heavy words... this is Sangaku being serious

Culmination....!?

Pag 17

1: We have to fulfill our promise, so I'm sure Sakamichi-kun will come

2: “Sakamichi-kun”... they must be... close friends....

3: I think it'll probably end up being our best race

4: A... are you close friends!? You.. you and that Sakamichi-kun!?

5: Hahaha

Well, I guess

6: Even though we only contact each other two or three times a year

And that's being close friends!?

7: I lost against him during our first year... Hakogaku ended up losing, so I resented him

But I was blaming the wrong thing, because after all it was because of my lack of ability, wasn't it?

8: Now we often talk after races

Is... that so

9: But why don't you send more texts to each other? Is- is he really a close friend!?

Of course!!

Pag 18

1: After all we both “like hills”

Pag 19

2: Come see me if you can save money

Ye... yeah

3: Sangaku's smiling face that day was incredibly persuasive

I really wanted to see you race

4: So I came

to Kyushu!!

5: But

7: I really don't want to move forward, after all

It's enough if I can just see him a little... from behind here

Pag 20

1: What are you doing

2: Hyaa I'm sorry!!

I'm sorry for not paying attention to who was behind me! I'll just lean down a little!

Why don't you move forward?

3: Huh

4: Isn't he

5: a close friend of yours, and you used to always listen to his nonsense?

To... Toudou-san!!

[scrollonso]

Part Of The Family — Bearnelli

Vale and his sons had always been a tight-knit family, bound not only by blood but by the bond on track at the ranch. The academy wasn’t just a place to train — it was a sanctuary, a home where riders, blood or not, became family. Whether you were an old friend or a new face, you were welcomed with open arms, but that didn’t mean you were free from scrutiny. Trust was earned, and everyone who stepped onto the ranch knew that you had to prove yourself, not just as a rider but as someone who understood the unique bond shared by Vale and his boys.

When Ollie first started hanging around Kimi, it wasn’t long before the academy boys began to notice how seamlessly the two fit into each other’s lives. It wasn’t just that they spent a lot of time together; it was the ease with which they did it. The way Kimi would light up when Ollie was around, the comfortable silences they shared, the subtle, unspoken understanding between them — it was obvious to everyone. From the outside, it seemed like Ollie had slipped into Kimi’s life as if he’d always been there.

It didn’t take long before the academy boys began to exchange knowing glances. To them, it was clear as day. Kimi and Ollie weren’t just friends — they were something more. Maybe they hadn’t realized it themselves yet, but to the rest of the group, the signs were all there. Kimi’s laugh was just a little louder when Ollie cracked a joke, and Ollie’s gaze lingered just a little longer when Kimi walked by. The way they worked together during training, almost in sync, seemed too natural to be purely platonic.

Still, in typical academy fashion, no one said anything outright. They just watched, waiting for the inevitable moment when the two would finally admit what everyone else had already figured out. The scrutiny was subtle at first, but as the days passed, the protective nature of the academy boys kicked in, and Ollie found himself on the receiving end of a series of increasingly pointed comments and warnings.

Pecco was the first to pull Ollie aside. It was during one of their post-training sessions, when the rest of the academy was scattered around the ranch, cooling down from the day’s work. Ollie was wiping the sweat from his brow when Pecco, who had been watching him for a while, walked up with a determined look on his face. Crossing his arms, Pecco stared at him, his eyes narrowing in a way that made Ollie feel like he was about to be grilled.

“Don’t hurt Andrea,” Pecco said, his tone firm, almost like a protective older brother issuing an ultimatum.

Ollie blinked, completely taken aback. His mind raced, trying to figure out what Pecco meant by that. Why would he hurt Kimi? Where was this even coming from? He opened his mouth to respond, but the words came out in a stammer. “Why would I—?”

Pecco didn’t let him finish. “Just don’t,” he cut in, his voice final, leaving no room for argument. The warning hung in the air, and Ollie was left speechless. Pecco gave him one last pointed look before walking off, leaving Ollie standing there, utterly baffled.

For a while, Ollie convinced himself that maybe Pecco was just being overprotective, maybe even a little paranoid. But then, a few days later, Franky caught him alone. It was during one of their routine training drills, and Ollie was focused on his bike when Franky appeared, his expression unreadable. He didn’t waste time on small talk. Instead, he got straight to the point, his voice low and serious.

“You better treat Kimi right,” Franky said, his tone carrying the weight of someone who wasn’t just offering advice — he was delivering a warning.

Ollie, once again, found himself at a loss for words. His brain scrambled for a response, but he could only manage a nervous stammer. “I— I don’t know what you’re—”

Franky’s expression didn’t soften. He simply gave a nod, as if to say the conversation was over, and walked off, leaving Ollie more confused than ever. What was going on? Why were they acting like this?

It seemed like everyone had some unspoken knowledge that Ollie was completely in the dark about. Each warning felt heavier than the last, and Ollie couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was happening right under his nose — something he hadn’t figured out yet.

Before long, it felt like Ollie couldn’t go anywhere without running into one of the academy boys, and every encounter seemed to end with some form of cryptic warning or veiled threat. Bez, usually the most laid-back of the group, caught him during a rare quiet moment by the garage. With a grin, he slapped Ollie on the back, but his words were anything but casual. “Andrea's important to us, man. Don’t screw it up.”

Ollie blinked, caught off guard by the comment. “Screw what up?” he asked, but Bez just walked away with a knowing smirk, leaving Ollie even more confused than before.

The next day, Cele found Ollie grabbing a drink by the track and leaned in conspiratorially, his tone more serious than usual. “We’re all watching you, just so you know. Kimi’s family. You better not mess with him.”

Ollie stared at him, dumbfounded. “I’m not messing with anyone!” he protested, but Cele had already given him a pat on the shoulder and walked off, his message delivered.

By the time Mig cornered him during one of the cool-down sessions, Ollie was already on edge, bracing himself for whatever strange advice or threat was coming next. Mig, ever the quiet one, didn’t say much — just gave Ollie a long, appraising look before muttering, “You know how much Kimi means to us, right? Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

At this point, Ollie was utterly baffled and increasingly paranoid. It felt like everyone had some sort of hidden agenda, and he was the only one out of the loop. Every interaction left him more confused than the last, and by the end of the week, he was at his breaking point.

“I don’t even know what’s happening!” Ollie finally burst out, throwing his hands in the air in frustration while he and Luca were walking back to the house after training. “Every time I turn around, someone’s telling me not to hurt Kimi or warning me to treat him right. What the hell is going on?”

Luca, who had been quietly observing the whole situation for ages, smirked knowingly. “They think you’re dating,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They did the same thing when I first brought Lance."

Ollie almost choked on his own breath. “What?!” he sputtered, stopping in his tracks. “No! Kimi’s like a brother to me! Why would they even think that?”

Luca raised an eyebrow, shrugging as if it all made perfect sense. “Well,” he started, “you two are always together. I mean, you spend practically every second at the ranch with Kimi. And he’s… different around you. More comfortable, you know? Plus, you fit right in with the rest of us. It looks pretty obvious from the outside.”

Ollie shook his head, still in disbelief. “We’re not dating,” he insisted, rubbing his face in exasperation. “How do I get them to stop thinking that?”

Luca shrugged again, a casual smile tugging at his lips. “You could try telling them,” he offered, his tone playful. “But I’m not sure they’ll believe you.”

Ollie and Kimi decided it was finally time to sit everyone down and clear up the ongoing confusion. They'd been hearing whispers and side comments for a while now, and it was starting to get out of hand. So, they gathered the entire group in the dining room, preparing themselves for what they knew would be an awkward conversation.

With everyone seated around them, Ollie nervously cleared his throat and began. "So, uh, we’ve heard some things," he started, his voice faltering slightly.

Kimi, who was sitting beside him, rolled his eyes at Ollie’s hesitance and decided to cut straight to the point. "Everyone apparently thinks we’re dating."

Ollie quickly nodded in agreement, glancing around at their friends. "Yeah, but we’re not," he clarified, hoping that would put an end to the rumors.

But before they could say more, the entire group burst into laughter. The teasing smiles on the others' faces made Kimi and Ollie even more defensive, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"What!" Kimi blurted out, his voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "He’s like another brother to me. What are you guys even talking about?"

Ollie was quick to chime in, nodding vigorously to reinforce Kimi’s point. "Seriously, we’re just friends."

But the laughter didn’t stop. Bez, leaning back in his chair, let out a chuckle and shook his head, clearly amused by their flustered reactions, he was the same when Vale confronted him about him and Marc. "Whatever you say," he said, his tone light and teasing.

The rest of the group groaned, half-joking and half-exasperated. It was obvious they weren’t entirely convinced, but after a few more jokes, they let the subject drop — for now, at least. The tension in the room faded as they moved on to other topics, but Kimi and Ollie exchanged a look, knowing that this probably wasn’t the last time they’d have to deal with this particular misunderstanding.

About a week later, during a particularly large family meeting at the ranch, Kimi found himself standing up in front of everyone, his face flushed and his hands nervously clasped together. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he tried to muster up the courage to speak. "So, um… I’ve been thinking… And I may-or-may-not-be-in-love-with-Ollie."

The room fell into an expectant silence. It was as if time had paused for a moment. But instead of the shock or surprise Kimi might have anticipated, the reaction was quite different. Pecco let out a long, exasperated groan that was quickly echoed by the rest of the boys, who seemed almost exasperated by the whole situation.

"We know!" Cele muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Seriously, it took you this long to figure it out?" Luca chimed in, rolling his eyes as he gathered his things to leave. The other boys followed suit, their steps echoing with a casual familiarity.

Kimi stood there, frozen in place, his face a mask of disbelief and confusion. He turned to look at Ollie, who was blinking in stunned realization. "Wait, so… everyone knew except us?"

"Obviously," Bez called over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips as he walked out of the room. The rest of the group followed, their laughter and chatter fading as they left Kimi and Ollie standing in the middle of the room, completely dumbfounded and caught off guard.

As the last of the footsteps receded, Kimi and Ollie exchanged a bewildered glance, their minds racing to process what had just happened. The realization that they had been the last to know about something so significant left them both speechless, adding a new layer of awkwardness to their already complicated situation.

Kimi and Ollie remained in the center of the room, the weight of the situation settling heavily between them. Kimi stared at the empty doorway where the others had just exited, trying to process the wave of information that had just crashed over him.

"How… how did everyone know?" Kimi finally managed to ask, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

Ollie, still grappling with his own shock, shook his head. "I have no idea. I thought we were being subtle."

Kimi let out a disbelieving laugh, his eyes scanning the now-empty room as if expecting an explanation to materialize out of thin air. "Subtle? Everyone knew we were dancing around something, and you didn’t think anyone would notice?"

Ollie’s face turned a shade of pink, a mix of embarrassment and frustration evident in his expression. "I didn’t think it was that obvious. I thought we were doing okay."

"Well, it wasn’t exactly a secret," Kimi said, trying to force a sense of humor into the situation to ease the tension. "I guess we just didn’t see it."

Ollie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, what now? Do we just… go with it?"

Kimi took a deep breath, his gaze meeting Ollie’s. The awkwardness of the situation seemed to dissolve as they stood there, confronting the reality of their feelings. “Maybe it’s not about just going with it,” Kimi said softly. “Maybe it’s about acknowledging what’s been there all along, eh?”

Ollie’s eyes searched Kimi’s, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt. “Yeah, I guess we should actually talk about this,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Kimi nodded, feeling a surge of courage. “Agreed. But before we dive into all of that, maybe we should just—” He hesitated for a moment, then took a step closer to Ollie. The distance between them felt charged, and he could sense Ollie’s own nervous energy.

Ollie’s eyes widened slightly as Kimi got on the tips of his toes and gently cupped his face with both hands. The touch was tender, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Kimi leaned in slowly, giving Ollie ample time to pull back if he wanted to.

Ollie’s breath hitched as their faces drew closer, and before he could second-guess himself, he closed the gap between them. Their lips met in a soft, hesitant kiss that gradually deepened as they both gave in to the moment. The kiss was a mixture of relief, affection, and unspoken understanding — a confirmation of the feelings they had both been trying to navigate.

When they finally pulled away, both Kimi and Ollie were breathless, their eyes locked in a gaze filled with newfound clarity.

“I guess that’s one way to handle it,” Ollie said with a small smile, his hand still resting gently on Kimi’s cheek.

Kimi chuckled softly, his heart still racing. “Yeah, I think it’s a good start.”

As Kimi and Ollie stood in the middle of the room, still processing their kiss, the door creaked open. Kimi’s brothers, who had been lingering just outside, peeked in with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Luca, with a smirk on his face, was the first to speak. “Well, this is a surprise,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he took in the scene before him.

Pecco, with a more puzzled expression, stepped into the room, glancing between Kimi and Ollie. “We didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

Ollie and Kimi quickly pulled apart, their faces flushing with embarrassment as they realized they had been caught in the middle of their little intimate moment. Kimi looked at his brothers, his cheeks red with a mix of shame and frustration. “Guys, seriously? You couldn’t knock?”

Luca chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “We were just coming to see if you two were okay. And, well, it looks like you are.”

Marco nodded, a knowing smile on his face. “Seems like you two had a lot to talk about.”

Ollie rubbed the back of his neck, trying to regain his composure. “Yeah, we did. But now we’re, uh, a little thrown off.”

Kimi’s face softened as he glanced at Ollie, then back at his brothers. “Well, now that you’re here, I guess you’ve figured out what’s been going on.”

Luca shrugged, his smirk widening. “Yeah, we figured it out a while ago. But it’s nice to see you two finally acknowledging it.”

Franky stepped forward, offering a supportive smile. “If you guys need any advice or just want to talk, you know we’re here for you.”

Kimi and Ollie exchanged relieved glances, their tension easing slightly at their brothers' acceptance. Kimi gave a small nod, appreciating the support. “Thanks. We’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As Kimi’s brothers left the room, still chuckling and exchanging knowing looks, Kimi turned back to Ollie, taking a deep breath. “Well... at least it’s out in the open now.”

Ollie smiled, squeezing Kimi’s hand. “Yeah, it is.”

[freesia-writes]

Ch 24: Unmoored

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.2k

Song: Staind - Outside (Lyrics) (youtube.com)

.

“Come on, babe!” Luciana teased, looking over her shoulder as Hunter puffed behind her, hair pulled back from his face as he jogged along the path. He’d been trying to keep his eyes on the rocky trail, although he kept getting distracted by her toned form in her sports bra and bike shorts. It was an internal battle at first – he shouldn’t be looking… or should he? She offered herself so freely, literally and metaphorically, and there was something incredibly refreshing about her unadulterated enjoyment of life and her simple authenticity that invited him to let go more and more.

“I’m coming,” he panted, wondering why he’d agreed to go on a run with her in the first place. He was also painfully aware of just how out of shape he’d become, although it had been apparent a few times before when he’d helped with drills at Echo’s training academy. So this was a good thing, he reasoned. Even with his enhancements, which allowed him to retain an above-average stamina and strength, he could feel the difference after months of neglecting his regular routines. 

“Race you to the Square?” she invited, slowing to a walk beside him. The glimmer in her green eyes gave him a little spark in his chest, and he took a deep breath, stretching his back for a moment as they walked. He grinned at her, the fresh air and sunshine doing wonders for his attitude when he’d felt an inescapable weight for a while now. 

“You’re on,” he said, giving her a playful push before taking off down the path. 

“Cheater!” she squealed, laughing gleefully and sprinting after him. He braced his core, focusing on the terrain, and gave it all he had, reveling in the strain on his muscles and the burn in his lungs. He felt alive, the blood coursing through his veins, and regained his balance quickly after stumbling over a rock. Luciana was right behind him, her runner’s physique on prime display as she overtook him on a curve, blowing him a kiss as they rounded the final bend. 

Narrowly missing a vendor cart as it wheeled across a street, they sprinted into the Town Square, collapsing against the stone wall at its edge at the same time, red faced and panting, flushed with exhilaration. Luci stood up, both hands over her head, and paced in a little circle, puffing out her cheeks as she looked at Hunter in admiration.

“Alright, you’ve got some legs on ya,” she said. “We’ll have to work out together more often. Do you lift weights? Wait, hang on,” she continued, drawing close and squeezing his bicep. “Yeah, I bet you do. Or are you more of a calisthenics type of guy?”

“I… uh…” He had regained his breath much more quickly, secretly glad that he still had the perks of his engineering. “I do it all,” he answered, with a waggle of the eyebrows that earned a delighted laugh from her.

“Oh do you? We’ll see about that!”

They walked to a nearby cafe for some smoothies, sipping them on their way down to the cliffs where they sat on the soft grass and watched the activity of the island stretching out before them. Luci pointed out the surfing currents, the way the swells were rising in certain areas and how they would break, and described what made each wave good or bad to ride. Hunter was impressed by her knowledge and experience in such a wide variety of random things above and beyond bartending and having fun, and he found himself gazing at her with a small smile on his face as she described one of her first times surfing. She finished her story, looking back at him and catching his profound look, and tilted her head, suddenly inquisitive. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Hunter said, shaking his head with an innocuous expression. 

“No, your face is all soft or somethin,” she poked, scooting closer and elbowing him in the side gently. “And your face is rarely soft.” 

“I mean, I feel like that’s not something a man would strive for…”

“You know what I mean,” she laughed. “But alright, keep your secrets.” She fixed him with a mockingly scrutinizing look, and the way her eyes sparkled and her cheeks curved in an adorable smile was supposed to make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He looked down, swirling the remaining smoothie in his cup, and she leaned into his side gently with a contented sigh.

* * * 

“Alright!” Wrecker exclaimed as Luci slid an extra basket of fries across the bar counter to him. She gave him a wink, then disappeared into the hustle of a busy night. Elbowing Hunter beside him, Wrecker shared his gleeful approval, “This whole girlfriend thing is workin out just fine!”

“She’s not–”

“Give it a rest,” Crosshair snapped from Hunter’s other side. “Call her whatever you want, but it’s a thing.”

“A thing?” Hunter echoed blandly. 

“A relationship, no matter how well- or ill-defined,” came Tech’s explanation, helpful as always.

“Alright. Anyway. What’s the plan for Benduday?” Hunter pivoted, looking down the counter at Echo. They’d come to the tiki bar on the usual family dinner night, since Omega had just left for an internship on the island of Plata and Phee was off-world on some “solo business, but don’t worry, Brown Eyes.” It was a busy night for the rest of town, with rowdy patrons enjoying the end of the work day and gearing up for karaoke that evening. 

“It’s an all-day seminar,” Echo answered, nearly yelling over the crowd. “Kind of an introduction to the whole academy training program, but also a stand-alone class for those who just want to brush up or learn the basics.”

“I think Hunter just wants to know if he’s going to be beaten up or humiliated again,” Crosshair clarified, reveling in the tiny slump in Hunter’s shoulders in response. 

“We retire and you all decide I’m the blaster target, huh?” he said, rolling his eyes before brightening considerably as Luci reappeared, adjusting her apron strings below her loose black crop top. They’d been working out together regularly, and she made a silly face as she flexed her stomach at him from behind the ice machine, proud of the hint of a “two pack” below her ribcage. Hunter winked at her before catching himself and quickly glancing at the others to see if they’d caught it. 

“You just make it so easy,” Echo said with a smirk. 

The conversation continued, the boys relaxing on their bar stools over some food and drinks as the stars appeared in the sky above. Luci popped in every now and then with refills and playful banter with each of them, and when she had an extra minute, she’d lean over the counter to share a quick chat with Hunter, tracing her fingers along his knuckles and gazing at him with unabashed admiration. 

“You gonna stay for karaoke night?” she asked, speaking to all of them but directed mostly at him. 

“Only if you want everyone to leave immediately,” Crosshair deadpanned, and she lifted her chin, regarding him with an odd familiarity as she remained unphased by his snark. 

“I’m sure you’d be a fantastic crooner,” she said, doing her best to keep her face serious, then relaxing into a smile when Crosshair softened the tiniest bit and smirked at the thought. Satisfied, she turned back to Hunter. “You know, I’m somewhat of a singer myself.”

“Yeah?” 

“Mmhmm,” she purred, making eyes at him again. “If you stick around, maybe you’ll get a little love song dedicated to you.” She snorted, inviting him into a chuckle of his own. “But really, if you want to hang for a little bit, I’m feeling a little adventurous tonight. Let’s have some fun?” 

“Alright,” Hunter agreed, a hint of a smile on his face . Sometimes he felt as though he were on the outside, looking at himself as he interacted with Luci. It had only been a few weeks, but her refreshingly free-spirited take on life had coaxed out a side of him that he’d never have anticipated. She never forced, never insisted, just genuinely enjoyed living vicariously through the experience of all the island had to offer. They exercised together, ate out frequently, played in the ocean, and she’d even talked him into taking some dance lessons with her; she hadn’t mentioned until they arrived that she was actually the one teaching them. But, in keeping with much of his life of late, he’d been able to relax into it fairly quickly, as she made it easy to fall into step. After the first class, she’d raved about his natural ability, or as she put it, “I knew those hips could move!”

Luci lived her whole life “inside out”, in her own words, sharing every thought and feeling she had, which created a sense of weightlessness for Hunter in the assurance that there wasn’t a bunch of mystery brewing beneath the surface. She had an affinity for all creatures, swimming alongside the colorful fish in the bright blue waters and trying to touch the sea rays that ventured near the shore every now and then. The first time she’d met him on the beach, he’d been rendered momentarily speechless when she took off her cover-up, revealing a string bikini that cupped her perky breasts perfectly. He’d had to sit awkwardly for a while after she asked him to “oil her up” for some sunbathing, where he’d gently stroked the thick oil across her back and shoulders, down her sides and up her arms. 

At times, a nasty voice within would come to the surface with accusations and disbelief, the same struggle he’d had since arriving on the island: he was living a lie. This wasn’t who he was… This was some pathetic attempt at normalcy. But it was so tinged with the regrets of the past that it was now met with strong indignation and downright denial. He had seen where the constant vigilance had gotten him – he’d been unable to protect his family and even his own heart. So now it was time to let go. To try a different strategy. 

So he stayed for karaoke. He hid his chuckle at an overly-dramatic performer as Luci giggled next to him. It was all in good fun – half of the singers were thoroughly inebriated and having the time of their lives, laughter and all. He felt the familiar flush of embarrassment when Luci took the stage, riling up the crowd before dedicating a song to him, which she embellished with some dance moves that had him feeling quite a few things at once. She finished to raucous applause, taking a bow with a flourish and blowing kisses to the audience before bounding back to their table, flushed with excitement. It was infectious, and Hunter rested his arm across her shoulders, increasingly at ease. 

A couple of girls approached from another table, laughing as they clumsily teetered together. One of them shook a drunken finger at Luci, grinning ear to ear.

“Look, this ishalong shot,” she slurred. “But have…werrrryou ever with a dude, s’name’s Draig?”

Luci threw her head back gleefully, shaking her curls out of her face before nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh man, we tore it up! He was awesome. You a friend of his? Or luckier?” Her red lips curved into a suggestive smirk.

“Thislilhussy banged him affew times,” the girl grinned, jostling her friend whose arm was slung heavily over her shoulders. “He neffffer let her knowwher he lived though… Neffffer lets anyone knowwher, issa secret.”

“And it’s cause of ‘a crazy red headed bartender named Luciana’!!” her friend yelled, finding her voice, which apparently solely consisted of hollering at the top of her lungs.

“Ahhh, yeah. He’s the best!” Luci giggled. “You guys live here?”

“No!! Back to Coruscant tomorrow! Just had a week on Plata! Thought we’d finish strong!! Haha!!” The deafening volume of her voice, stronger even than the cacophony all around, was too much for her friend, who flapped her hands in front of the loudmouth, making drunken shushing noises, and the two of them shuffled away.

Hunter raised an eyebrow, inviting Luci to fill him in on what seemed to be a memorable story… for this “Draig”, at least. But she just shook her head and shrugged, playing with the straw from her drink.

“Crazy times,” she laughed easily, resting her hand on his. He felt a flicker of suspicion, but she quickly put his mind at ease. “I’ll tell you the story, but it’s not very exciting. Dumb kids. First relationships. You know.”

Hunter very much did not know.

And, to his surprise, he didn’t really care.

.

* * * 

Hunter plunged into the water again, tumbling beneath the wave as it passed by, then came up for air, the surfboard jerking back toward him on its leash. He’d nearly gotten it that time, and his muscles burned as he pulled himself back onto the board, turning to paddle back out to where Luci straddled her own, rocking gently on the waves as they rolled past. 

“You’re getting the hang of it!” she encouraged, wispy red curls fluttering in the breeze where they had escaped the messy bun atop her head. 

“I’m getting trashed out here,” he panted when he reached her. 

“I’ll give you a massage later,” she said with a waggle of the eyebrows.

“Now you’re talking.”

“Did I tell you about my masseuse job on Pashvi? Oh man, I learned some of the wildest– Hang on!” She’d caught sight of a particularly appealing wave, turning her board and beginning to paddle as it approached. Hunter watched as she caught it effortlessly, disappearing behind its curl as it raced toward the shore. She shot out the other side as it broke, skimming to a halt before dropping back to her stomach to paddle back out. He marveled at her ridiculous skill set, which seemingly had no end. She’d traveled everywhere, tried everything, and had an authentic zest for life paired with an undaunted optimism. They sat on their boards for a while in quiet companionship, watching the waves come and go as the sun sank low on the horizon.

Hunter collapsed into his bed that evening, thoroughly exhausted from an afternoon of surfing, playing and splashing and wrestling in the waves, as well as a long, deep massage from Luci that had put him into a trance. His mind ambled pleasantly through his recent memories: laughing at her as she put two halves of large tree nuts over her bikini top, strolling through the town with a picnic lunch until they found the perfect spot along the cliffs, relaxing on the beach without a care in the world… He felt a lightness about it all that was strong enough to stave off the old doubts that had plagued him so ruthlessly before. Almost.

.

Previous Chapter ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

.

SHOUT OUT TO @dystopicjumpsuit for coming up with a fun way to have some crossovers between our stories! You’ll be hearing more about her incredible OCs in the future, but for now check out the post about Draig (and her amazing art!!) and the rest of his family (especially Mic who I’m in love with). 🙈

Join the tag list by commenting for the discord server link or filling out my form.

@solstraalaa @skellymom @photogirl894 @youreababboon @anything-forourmoony

@reader6898 @moonstrider9904 @hipwell @lamiliani @catoo

@ilarria @padawancat97 @yve-barr @lucyysthings @flowered-bicycles

@maddiedrmr @techhasmjolnir @arctrooper69 @spicy-clones @ezras-left-thumb

@cw80831 @dreamie411 @meagmcc12 @waytoooldforthis78 @hunter-lvr

@baddest-batchers @yunggoblin @sweeticedtea @imperfectxprincess @ivyyyyy

@callsign-denmark @leotawrites @carlislecullensadilf @ivyyyyy

@thetechturn @burningnerdchild @galaxyofthoughts99 @salaminus @goldy-lots

@littlefeatherr @thiswitchloves9904 @subbing-for-clones @heidnspeak

[nolaridingacademy]

Race Bike Rental Services

Race bike rental services provide the opportunity to rent high-performance motorcycles specifically designed for racing purposes. Whether you're participating in a track day event, a racing competition, or simply want to experience the adrenaline rush of riding a race bike, rental services offer access to powerful and well-maintained machines. Renting a race bike allows you to enjoy the thrill of speed and performance without the long-term commitment of ownership.

[amarachno]

Gotham City can be a terrible place to live but at least it has a nice skate park. It wasn’t always that way but ever since Bruce Wayne started his free space repair program all kinds of free activities for city kids had opened up. In Tim Drake’s opinion, the skate park was the best. Conveniently placed near Gotham Academy AND in the direction of Tim’s house? It was perfect. The best part? Sometimes, Jason Todd showed up with his older brother. What’s cooler than one Robin? Two!

Not that either boy knew Tim existed, of course. Tim Drake was fantastic at getting peoples eyes to glance right over him. Janet Drake had trained him to become invisible, after all. But really, it was too cool to watch. if a little funny at times. Dick Grayson was a wonder in the air, but finding your balance of skateboard is a bit different than finding your balance on a beam. Jason wasn’t much better about it but hearing him laugh at Dick falling on his butt after attempting a kickflip always brought a warm feeling to Tim’s chest.

Sometimes, Tim was tempted to go over and try to teach them, but he always chickened out at the last moment. He settled for helping out the seven year olds who always fell off their scooters. There had been a few times where he picked them up and out of the way right before they could get run over but it was all in a days work.

Tim usually managed to visit the skate park for an hour or two after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the other days he had extracurriculars Or had to be home in time to check in with Mrs. Agnes, the house keeper. Heaven forbid he gets home even a minute too late. Her pointy fingers always left his arm sore when she marched him up to his room.

where was Tim going with this again? Oh yeah, school is finally out and it’s time to visit the skate park. He had debated bringing his camera this morning, but ultimately decided that it wasn’t something he wanted to carry around all day.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he would see Jason and Dick there that day. Usually, they went around every three weeks after school. One of the nicest parts about seen him there though, was a heads up that Nightwing would be out that night. Nightwing was so fun to take pictures of. he was an entertainer after all. His movements fluid and quick. Once, Tim had gotten a picture of him falling from one of the higher buildings in a pose that almost perfectly made it seem like he was flying through the air. Arms spread, feet together, and chest out. A stark contrast to the way he windmilled and gracelessly fell at the skatepark, though Tim was pretty sure he only let himself fall because it made Jason laugh. The ride from school to the skate park wasn’t long, thankfully. It would be such a hassle to have to bike to the skate park and carry his board too. upon arriving to the park, he glanced at who was present that day

The good news, was that Jason was there! Not so cool news, Dick wasn’t. Jason seemed to be in a bad mood either way. Usually, Tim wouldn’t butt in. Usually he would’ve just made sure that Jason got back safe. But… Tim had a bad feeling. He hadn’t seen Robin out with Batman the day before. or the day before the day before that. Tim knew he couldn’t just leave this alone.

“So, where is your older brother?” Tim blurted out as soon as he was next to Jason

Jason blinked, looking mildly shocked before furrowing his brows. “Who’s asking? And why d’ya wanna know?”

“Uh” Tim said unintelligently. “I see you around here a lot and usually you don’t go by yourself.”

Jason stared for a moment, looking conflicted.

”Oh! I’m Tim, Tim Drake. We’re um, we’re neighbors.” Tim’s palms felt sweaty. This was painfully awkward.

“I guess that makes sense. Not that it’s any of your business.” Jason said hesitantly, taking a deep breath and then speaking again. “So, you skateboard?”

“Yeah, I guess, a little” Tim stuttered out. “You never answered my question.” Before clapping both hands over his mouth. he did not mean to say that out loud.

“He’s out of town for the month, ya nosey little shit. He lives in Blühaven.” Jason gave a wry grin. “He’ll be back soon.” he opened his mouth as if to say something else, but closed it again and looked away.

let it be known Tim is just as stupid as he is smart. He knows that once he starts talking, there’s no stop. It’s why he never talked to Jason or Dick before. Despite that, he opened his big, dumb, mouth. “Hey I’ll raise you to that ice cream place around the corner. Whoever loses has to pay.”

Jason grinned maniacally, “Alright short-stack, you’re on!” And then Jason shot off like a blur. Tim yelped out a “Hey! No fair!” before running after Jason.

Tim lost, not that there is really any competition, Jason’s legs were longer anyway.

One Neapolitan bowl and one Superman cone later, (courtesy of Tim’s wallet, of course) Jason and Tim headed back to the skatepark. they wound up wandering around, talking about anything and everything, laughing at the college kids who fell on their faces and the pigeons who attacked some guy for his fries. (The random dude was fine but he seemed creepy anyway so Tim couldn’t bring himself to feel bad.)

One hour turned into two and two turned into four. Soon enough, it got late and it was just about time to head home. The older kids were showing up anyway, and usually it wasn’t a good idea to stick around.

Tim was about to mention this, but when he turned to look at Jason, he paused.

“Not sure why I’m tellin’ ya this. But, you seem to have a good head on your shoulders.” Jason murmured, “I was gonna run away tonight.”

“Oh.” breathed Tim.

“My- I found my bio mom. I’m um- I was, that is, staying with Bruce Wayne.” Jason turned to stare out towards where Tim knew Wayne manor was. ”But, he thinks I did something I didn’t. something I would never do.” Jason swipes furiously at his eyes. “I found my birth certificate. The woman I called my mom all this time was actually my stepmother.” He turns back, making eye contact with Tim, a determined look on his face. “Her name is Sheila Haywood. I was going to fly to Ethiopia to meet her.”

Tim inhales sharply, “Alone?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yeah.” Jason replies guiltily. “I didn’t think Bruce would believe me.”

Tim pauses, thinking it over. “And, how much research have you done on this?”

Jason tenses, “Enough.” he snaps defensively. “I found a way there and back. I have enough to find somewhere to stay for about a week. But, if everything goes well then I should be able to stay with my mom.”

Tim laughs a little, a short exhale through his nose. “Oh no, I know you can take care of yourself. I’m talking about how much you researched into your mom. it would be smart to know why she moved. I don’t think a lot of people move to Ethiopia just for a change of pace. What if she were involved in some kind of-“

“She would never!” Jason exclaimed. “She’s an aid worker there.”

“Okay, I believe you.” Tim reaffirmed “ it was just an example. my point is just that, having all the facts is an important part of every plan.”

Jason relaxed at Tim’s reassurance, “Oh. That makes sense I guess.”

“Maybe I could help!” Tim squeaked out nervously. “ you could come to mine I’ll get my laptop out and we can look into her public records. Maybe we could do a little bit more digging and see if there could’ve been an outside situation.”

Jason considered it for a second, tilting his head back.

“If you sleep over at my house tonight, you don’t have to see Bruce.” Tim added quickly.

Jason whipped his head to look at Tim, nodding vigorously. “Yeah that would be great. Um, maybe we can stop by really quickly though just to tell Alfred and pick up my clothes for tomorrow.”

—>

With Tim’s help, Jason found evidence that Sheila was involved with the Joker. He never went to Ethiopia, he does tell Bruce about his bio mom. Batman goes to investigate it, finds out about the Joker’s plot, and stops it in time. Jason Todd doesn’t die. But he doesn’t see much of Tim anymore either.

Tim Drake saves his favorite Robin. Who knows what would’ve happened had he actually gone to Ethiopia? Especially since the Joker was there. Nothing good obviously. Jason and Tim stay friends for a little while, but don’t stay that way for long, only occasionally seeing each other in the hallways at school. Jason was busy with personal matters anyway, not much time for the skate park. Or for Tim. Eventually, Dick and Jason show up again, bringing Cass, Steph, and Damian along to teach them how to skate. Tim keeps his distance, content to watch.

Sometimes. Sometimes he wishes he could join them. Not that he’d ever say that out loud, of course. It’s the same way with their nightly activities too. It’s selfish. Tim has everything he could ever need. A roof over his head, food in his pantry, and two living parents. Even though they aren’t around. he has his hobby, chasing shadows around Gotham, taking pictures. That’s what Tim was meant for. He wasn’t meant to be a brother, or even a friend.

[celinin-archive]

Celestino Vietti, I’m one with the bike 

From the Piemonte Alps to Moto2. Interview to the SKY Racing Team VR46 talent 

“The most beautiful memory I have of my childhood is tied to a three wheels bike. My dad had built it for my older brother, using the engine of a grass trimmer. I used to look at my brother going around on it in the backyard, then one day I asked to try it: once I got on it I irremediably fell in love with engines. Once I got down from that first trial I immediately asked my dad to buy me a two wheels motorbike. “To have a bike without training wheels you first have to know how to ride with them”, was his answer. So I started training and at eight years old I found myself riding in my first italian championship...” 

Celestino Vietti is lightness, a youthly lightness, a mature lightness, a fast lightness, cheeky to the right degree. Not yet twenty, he’s approaching his first Moto2 season, wearing the SKY Racing Team VR 46 leathers on Marco Bezzecchi’s side. 

Leathers that ‘Celin’ paints with the colours of his region, Piemonte. Right in Coassolo Torinese, small settlement wedged between the Valli di Lanzo, two wheels racing had started indelibly marking his life. An atypical place, Alpi Graie, to be the natal place of a world championship level rider. A place that becomes typical as soon as you open wide the doors of the Vietti’s home. 

“My uncle and my dad have always been big enthusiasts. My dad even did some uphill races when he was young. I lived all my childhood in a motorsport enviroment. My relatives had and still now have an agricultural machine repair shop that rapidly became a mandatory stop of my summers. There I used to take apart chainsaws and everything else I could find. Now I realise that the time spent in the repair shop gifted me a better feeling with the engine, with mechanics. My dad also gave me a lot of tools to read and understand the bike’s problems: thanks to him my bond with the bike got to a superior level. It’s as if I feel more merged with what I have under me, I listen to every single sound, I know how to decipher and manage it...” 

A management that for this young promise of two wheels racing hasn’t been and isn’t limited to the technical side, overflowing in the character, human one. Sat in the shades of the WITHU paddock, what immediately hits you of Celestino are the lucidity in the self-analysis, the ease in communicating, in summarising the different steps he took in such a short, but already so full, life. 

“To follow my dream I had to move out of my home during adolescence. The first months were so fast, everything was new, new experiences, new acquaintances. Once you settle you start thinking that once you get home from training nobody is there to wait for you. Relatives, friends, everybody is distant, everything starts getting hard. I had to grow on a personal level and, consequently, as a rider. Situations like this teach you how to manage yourself on the emotional side: sometimes I tend to get angry easily, being this much on your own helps you to reflect, to remain lucid” 

Vietti’s growth was mainly through the motorsport Academy for definition, that two wheels paradise build by the tarmac’s ‘Doctor’. A restricted cenacle reserved only to those who are destined to make an art form out of racing. Disciples, students, riders waiting to see their own boundless talent explode. 

“Getting into the VR46 Racing Academy was a turning point. It's important to realise your luck, the privilege you have to train every day with the best riders in the World Championship. Every time you get on track it’s an enormous challenge, there’s always somebody faster than you. I try to look at everyone, we’re many, we’re ‘colourful’, everyone has a certain characteristic to learn from: I have by my side two World Champions and then Vale, my idol, I think there’s nothing else to add...” 

He slightly moves his hair out of the way, Celestino, when he talks about topics he’s particularly sensible about. He smiles, a sincerely emotional smile, when he gets asked what the bike means for him, for his being. A question that strikes way higher chords than the sports one. 

“When you go really fast you become one with her, you find a magic harmony. Whatever she wants to do, you do it too, you become one thing. When she wants to do one thing, and you want to do another one instead, you struggle. True struggle. You can feel the separation between the two bodies. For me the bike has some sort of life of his own: it’s something difficult to explain” 

Difficult to explain, evocative to listen to. There’s dept in the words of this barely more than teenager rider of the Sky Team. On him also weight hopes and expectations of many italian fans, charmed by his results in the 2020 Moto3 season and the two first places obtained in the Styrian and France GP. 

Celestino is lucid in his analysis of the big jump to Moto2, a natural jump, even though initially complex. The piemonte rider need a settling period, an adjustment phase that now appears completed, processed. To demonstrate it, an always growing confidence in placements and continuity of performances, an exponentially growing mental and sensorial presence. 

“The impact with Moto2 was difficult. It’s a very particular category, unlike Moto3 it rewards constancy, precision, the bike doesn’t want to be assaulted, you can’t afford to do ‘crazy’ lap and feel satisfied. You have to curate the rhythm, you need surgical attention. Now my goal is to get as high as I can in the standings, to continue with the positive feelings of the last races and to keep building up unity with the bike. The future? Everybody’s dream is to become world champion, it’s useless beating around the bush, I’ll work hard to be able to make it” 

[masochistartt]

okay fuck it jamie self perception post

jamie has been signed to city since he was a child. this is how the academy system works - they recruit players (children) from local grassroots leagues and bring them into their club system, hoping to raise them up to play for their club in the future (or sell them off to other teams for profit). these players are typically between the ages of 9 and 10 when they're first recruited, but can be younger/older. they're evaluated every year, and players can be cut at any time.

i think jamie joined city when he was around 9, solely because of the fact that he said his dad started showing up when he got good at football, and georgie my beloved would not let jamie go on a trip abroad with a complete stranger to him when he was 14. i think james started coming back around when jamie was somewhere between 11 and 12, playing for city's u14 team, and his skill at that age level is how james heard about him (it's not uncommon to hear about great players who are that age. city recently signed a like. legendary 14 year old and i've heard about it (young boys should not be having their egos inflated like that at 14 but that's beside the point)).

that's a whole lot of rambling before i even start touching on the original point – the contract jamie's had signed since he was ~9 that dictates what he must and mustn't do. this is the idea that he's had of himself in his head from that very young age.

screenshots are provided from the 23/24 premier league youth development forms bc honestly i cba to go back and find anything older (i've tried looking and it's not working so you're getting this) but

the scholar here is the academy player. 5.1.3 and 5.1.4 are what interest me here. jamie was obligated to not only train & play to the best of his ability always, but he was obligated to maintain a high standard of physical fitness at all times from the age of 9.

think of the thoughts that might put in a young jamie tartt's mind. he had to be at his peak always. if he wasn't at his peak, he was disobeying his contract. he was owned by his club, and he knew that if they sell him, they'll make a whole lot of money off of him (there's a certain base fee x number of years the player was trained + extras = total homegrown player transfer fee algorithm but i don't want to do math rn so im not touching on that). i don't think jamie ever wanted city to sell him, so i think he put pressure on himself to be at his best always, to never let his standards slip, and when james came back into the picture, that pressure only grew exponentially.

it's also interesting looking at the "the scholar shall not" section of the contract. 5.3.1 is interesting bc like. if the club (city) didn't think his house on the estate was safe they could've fully just. Moved Him. but 5.3.3 is insane to me. especially the beginning. "the scholar shall not indulge in any activity or practice which might endanger his fitness". this means no fun roller skating birthday parties. this means jamie probably knew how to ride a bike before he was 9 bc if he "indulged" in learning when he was with city that might have endangered his fitness. no rock climbing. no tree climbing.

and if jamie took things as seriously as i think he did (boy really wanted to play football, that was his dream in life, i don't think he would've purposely done anything to endanger that dream), i think he missed out on some fun in his childhood solely bc he was Keeping His Body In Full Fitness For His Club.

which brings us to Adult Jamie. bc he was raised in this environment, raised with the mindset of My Body Belongs To My Club, My Body is an Asset for my Club, it makes even more sense why he'd put up with the auction at the gala without starting a fight (even if the whole manipulate keeley & possibly bribe bex thing happened behind the scenes).

his club (even though he was on loan, it was his club for the season), was auctioning off Its Own Asset (jamie's body) to the highest bidder for a night. jamie's body, from a very, very young age (does jamie remember much before he was signed to city? i don't think so) has always Belonged to His Club.

this is also part of the reason that i headcanon jamie doesn't like driving - driving is, in his mind an Activity Which Might Endanger His Fitness.

also. for the record. this stuff is also in the professional player's contracts too.

the player agrees to maintain a high standard of physical fitness at all times and not to indulge in any activity sport or practice which might endanger such fitness.

3.1.6 is another reason i think jamie went along with the stuff at the gala too. the player agrees to comply with and act in accordance with all lawful instructions of any authorised official of the club. rebecca/higgins/whoever put on the gala is an authorised official of the club. he kind of. had to by contract not put up a fight with them about this

the player agrees that he shall not undertake or be involved in any activity or practice which will knowingly cause to be void or voidable...policy of insurance maintained for the benefit of the club on the life of the player or covering his physical well-being including injury.

he still can't do anything that might get him hurt. i ignore that he engages in kink practice both in canon and in my own headcanons bc i think the heavier kink stuff really only comes in later seasons' timelines and even then he's engaging in that kink stuff with someone(s) who knows that this stuff is in his contract. they know his limits.

anyways something something jamie's body is an asset for his club (city and then richmond) and i think that says a lot about the way he views himself. you know ?

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 792: Witness

Pag 1

1: I told you before, too

2: I believed I'd get to see Mountain King's race!!

You're kidding!

It's a cheering message written with chalk on the road!!

You wrote this in a hurry?

3: Anytime now, they'll come here soon!

We can see Manami-kun running from the first day!

Amazing, a serious battle between those two...

4: “History” needs “someone who sees it”

Pag 2

1: “A witness of the history”!!

Pag 3

1: They passed the 2km left point and it seems that now the mountain stage is narrowed down to them two

It narrowed down!

They're coming!

I'm so excited!

2: It's quite a long wait

3: I was looking forward to it during last year's second day's mountain stage

4: And before that, during winter, I purposely organized a race between you two, but in the end it didn't count because of the snow

Pag 4

1: Right now Hakone Academy's Manami is ahead

Sohoku's Onoda is following

Manami

2: Four-eyes

3: You bet your whole soul for this climbing race

4: You finally did it

Congratulations

5: You really chose this mountain on the first day ad your fight's place, huh?

Pag 5

1: And I, Toudou Jinpachi, Mountain's God, will make sure to see it with my own eyes!!

Pag 6

1: After this curve, the wind's direction will change!!

Pag 7

1: The trees are becoming lower!!

5: Ah-

Pag 8

3: The wind's direction will chamge!?

After this!?

4: You noticed

But it's already

Pag 9

1: too late!!

Pag 10

1: Manami-kun did a full acceleration in curve!?

2: Sooooo

3: reeeee!!

4: Spread....

Pag 11

1: your wings to the maximum!!

Pag 12

1: Hakogaku's Manami did a super acceleration!!

The distance between him and Mountain King-

What a strange acceleration!!

What was that just now?

Did he ride the wind?

2: -is spreading!!

3: I saw a pair of huge wings on his back!

Pag 13

2: Me too

3: 1700m left!!

Mountain King noticed the timing of Manami's acceleration, but was too late and is being left behind

Mountain King, do your best!!

Pag 14

1: Amazing, Manami-kun

He read the right place to attack...!!

2: His back is becoming smaller

3: He got stronger since last year

4: And even since that time he came on the Minegayama!!

5: For an instant, when Manami-kun accelerated, I saw “wings”....

6: and they looked three times bigger!!

Pag 15

4: You're amazing

5: Manami-kun!!

Pag 16

2: Huh

Mountain King was.... smiling... !?

Pag 17

1: Hum hum hum ♪

I've prepared too

Hum hum hum ♪

2: The anime I highly recommend, “Love Hime”... this year started its third season!!

Hum hum huum ♪

3: Yes ♪

“Love Him third season” opening song

4: Mitarashi in the afternoon ♪ It's a common story ♪ The princess has kinako* and brown sugar syrup ♪

“Morning princess scramble”

*(NdT.: roasted soybean flour)

5: What's going on with Mountain King...

He's saying something... he's speaking to himself!?

He's humming a song!?

6: Somehow his pressure suddenly grew!!

7: We met a long time ago ♪ you extended your knees and looked up ♪

I listened carefully to it and watched the PV

Pag 18

1: Definitely rise!! Love Hime ♪

'Cause you're the princess ♪

And I memorized both the lyrics and the melody!!

Pag 19

1: Look at Mountain King... what's with that cadence...

2: While singing...

3: he accelerated and went!!

4: I'm breathing hard... my legs hurt... but

5: Manami-kun...!!

6: During the training camp on our first year

I couldn't catch up to you

Pag 20

1: I always feel like I'm chasing you like this

2: Your cool white bike

Your figure from behind, running so happy and confidently

3: I've always been fascinated by your attitude

4: So.... wa... it

I still want to catch up to you

Pag 21

1: Wait, Manami-kun!!

[alexbkrieger13]

Double vision

Partners on and off the pitch, Bayern pair Pernille Harder and Magdalena Eriksson have firm convictions on all the big topics facing women’s football in an era of exciting growth and mounting pressures

In a room at Bayern München’s training ground, Magdalena Eriksson and Pernille Harder are talking bicycles. One of their favourite things about Munich, the place they have both called home since making the switch last summer from Chelsea to Bayern, is the ease of travel for cyclists in the Bavarian capital.

Eriksson: “Now we live quite centrally so we can use our bikes to get anywhere.”

Harder: “It is a bit easier to bike here in Munich than in London.”

Magda: “We even took our bikes to Oktoberfest once.” 

Pernille (laughs): “We were biking straight!”

This is the beauty of an interview with the pair (even one conducted over Zoom, as this one is): you raise a subject and they bounce it around between them, their insights and reflections interspersed with lighter moments and laughter. And, as arguably their sport’s highest-profile couple – Harder is a two-time UEFA Women’s Player of the Year, Eriksson a Sweden stalwart – they have plenty to say. 

Both care deeply about matters on and off the football pitch. They are members of UEFA’s Football Board (of which more later), they support the Common Goal project – pledging one per cent of their salaries to support football charities – and on top of that they are advocates for the LGBTQ+ community. 

But, first, back to finding their feet in Munich, where the duo bring serious know-how to a Bayern side with big ambitions, despite an early exit from the Champions League in January. In Harder’s case, the Denmark forward knew German football already from her three years with Wolfsburg between 2017 and 2020. For Eriksson, after six seasons in England with Chelsea, this is an entirely new experience – which is exactly what she was hoping for.

“I think that’s how we are as people,” says the former Blues captain. “A reason why we moved is I am really curious about a new culture and a new environment.” From the sounds of things, that decision is paying off too. Away from the pitch, she is enamoured of the local coffee shops; on it, she has been impressed by the way “a lot of the girls take responsibility around the dressing room and with how things should work around the team. There’s quite a clear structure of different responsibilities, and the players take ownership of that. That’s something more like how it was in Sweden, and not at all in England. It makes us take responsibility and it’s something I appreciate.”

As for Harder, she elaborates on the unique culture of Germany’s biggest football club – one which attempts to marry sustained success with humility. “It really is a club where you have to work hard, be humble but also know your worth,” she says. “It’s a bit weird. There is no arrogance: we know we’re good, we know we are a big club, but we know we also have to work hard. There’s a lot of respect for each other, and it’s not only in our team. When we go to the campus and meet the academy boys or some of the other staff, you have the respect. You treat others the way you want to be treated, and that’s a really good value which aligns with my values.”

Now both in their thirties – Eriksson is 30, Harder 31 – they knew the women’s game before its lift-off moments of recent years. Thus, they bring a helpful sense of perspective to any discussion of its development, and how it might evolve in years to come.

If female footballers today have opportunities beyond the dreams of previous generations, they face pressures unknown by their predecessors too, as Eriksson explains. “I think there are two sides to every story. Maybe, when we grew up, there wasn’t that much pressure, but with a growing platform [and how] the women’s game is growing, there is also growing pressure. The fans are growing, social media is growing, so there are two sides to it.

“We can really help the younger generation of today to deal with that kind of pressure, which you have to be able to manage as a footballer,” she adds. “You have to find what you need to focus on and what you should really just shut off and not focus on. You need to find the people that you talk football with and the people’s opinions you shouldn’t care about.”

Harder picks up the thread: “When we were younger, there was only one focus and that was football – to get better and to win. It was just football: that was the thing we played for. Now, there is so much more and, with social media, it’s also about a lot of individual awards, individual recognition, when the focus should be on the team. And I think it’s easier to be distracted [from] having that right focus. That’s something important to think about…”

“And to remind yourself about on a daily basis,” Eriksson cuts in. “And also to spread that within the team – that it’s a team sport and the team wins, the team loses, the team scores, the team concedes. All of those things.”

“Except when Magda scores!” adds Harder with a laugh, teasing her partner over a goal she scored in the week of this interview.

Jokes aside, the pair obviously think a lot about the game, which makes them natural choices to sit on UEFA’s Football Board, the body set up last year to draw on the knowledge of current and former players and elite coaches in the shaping of women’s football. For Eriksson, it’s “inspiring to know you get a direct line to some really big decision-makers”, and the welfare of players – “the football calendar and making football sustainable” – is something both women are keen to highlight.

“We all want a long career, but sometimes if you have to play all the time and have no break, that will shorten it,” says Harder. “Often, we have tournaments in the middle of summer or late summer, so we have four or five weeks before the tournament for our summer holiday, but then we don’t really have that time off because you train to prepare for the World Cup. And then, after the World Cup, [Magda] had ten days and I had two weeks off, and then you just go straight back into it. So, you have to put the tournaments earlier so you have at least four weeks after when you can really, medically, relax and be ready for the new season. Everything else is just too hard mentally and for the body.”

“It was the same last year with the EURO and the amount of injuries we saw after,” says Eriksson, who, ironically, just days after our interview, suffered a metatarsal fracture in her left foot. “Again, [it was] a couple of weeks off for a few, even less for others, and then you are straight back into a high-performance environment where you immediately have to play games. Finding a balance in the calendar where you get the breaks at the right time and don’t have too many games in short spaces of time is the most important thing.

“The fact we are starting now to do research on women’s bodies and women’s players is the first step. With the way we train, the way we train conditioning, everything is based on research on men’s football players, men’s athletes. We don’t know if it’s the same for us. Should we train more or less, or in a different way?”

From Harder comes further food for thought. “When you think about it, we use the same football as the men. It isn’t that I want to change it, but it’s also the same size of pitch and we don’t have the same body; we don’t have the same strength in the muscles. I don’t know the impact from every time I shoot or make a pass, if that’s actually a bigger impact on my muscles than it is on a man’s. That’s something I think it would be quite interesting to look at. I don’t know if it’s something we want to change and have a lighter ball. Maybe it’s just small percentages of how heavy the ball is that could change it.”

“There is rivalry in women’s football, but respect, love and joy always come first”

It’s fascinating to hear this to and fro on the physical side of the game they love, and it’s not the only challenge they see. We talk too about misogyny and what Harder describes as “a mindset of some people who don’t want to change [and see] that women can also play football, women can also be commentating on men’s football, that they also have knowledge about football. They have their mindset and their values about it and it’s really difficult for them to change.”

What is not in question is that women’s football has taken giant steps already in terms of status and recognition. As the commercial opportunities grow, however, neither woman wants to lose the things that make it different from the men’s game. Eriksson recalls the celebratory atmosphere in Australia and New Zealand during the last Women’s World Cup; she cites too the friendly fan dynamics in the club realm.

“We are coming off the back of a fantastic World Cup where there were only positive emotions connected to the games. Of course, some teams win, some teams lose – that’s part of football – but the way the tournament was held and the fan culture, that was amazing. So much positivity, so much joy, and that’s everywhere in women’s football fan culture right at the moment. That is what we want to keep. In women’s football, that rivalry is still there, but the respect, the love and the joy is always what comes first.”

The last word comes from Harder, ever the finisher. “It won’t be easy to keep it like that, but that at least is the aim.” 

[nooripoori]

baby cele

~vr46 academy

Baby Cele randomly appearing on the doorstep of the ranch while everyone is training. Migno finds him and brings him inside, they call around the neighbourhood, call the authorities and ask around the ranch but no one knows whose baby it is. Bezz tried asking baby Cele but all he got in response was his curls being pulled which made him tear up so Luca had to hold the baby. A few minutes later and baby Cele has already made home on Luca’s lap. Vale says they should give baby Cele to a child care community cuz 6 men can’t take care of a child, but they just shove baby Cele in Vale’s face and one look at those big brown eyes is enough to change his mind. So they decide to keep the baby for god knows how long. The whole day is spent with them showing baby Cele around the house, Bezz trying to secretly ride his bike with him(thank god Pecco saw him trying to leave the room with baby Cele and immediately put a stop to it), trying to get him to eat something(which went rather successful as he ate anything and everything) and then put him to sleep(which he refused to do unless someone laid down with him, so they forced Vale to sleep with him cuz they had to go get baby stuff).

more baby cele