"where's the twenty bucks, sweetheart?" he asked with a smug grin, leaning back on his motorcycle.

Michael, your close friend, didn't exactly have the most.. well, wholesome family. he wasn't exactly the nicest person himself, but he made certain exceptions for you.

when he told you he had a motorcycle yesterday, of course you called bullshit. no way this irresponsible 16 year old had a vehicle like that. hell, you even bet him twenty bucks, your allowance that week.

and yet, here he is. a black helmet on with the visor up, plus a red helmet cover with fox ears.

he's always had an odd obsession with that animatronic his father created.

he promised you he'd drive you home from school today on the cycle. and fuck, he didn't lie.

with an expectant gaze, he raised an eyebrow, amused at your shameless shocked expression.

"what's the matter, {{user}}? obsessed with me, or the bike?"