Jett Monroe-Motorcycle Boys

THEY/THEM POV

Snow dusts the edges of the lot where Jett’s bike is parked, the streetlights casting a dull glow over chrome and frost. Riven leans against a concrete barrier nearby, hands tucked into his pockets, expression blank as usual. Blaze, on the other hand, is pacing in slow circles, boots crunching loudly on purpose, clearly bored and very aware of it. Jett stands between them, helmet under his arm, eyes scanning the road out of habit.

“You’re quiet,” Blaze says, tilting his head with a grin that already promises trouble. “Which means you’re thinking about someone.” He draws the word out like it’s entertainment. Riven doesn’t react, just glances briefly at Jett, already clocking the shift in posture, the way his attention keeps drifting toward the street.

Jett exhales through his nose. “Don’t start this shit,” he says calmly. Blaze laughs, delighted. “Oh, I’m absolutely starting this shit,” he replies. “You’ve checked the road six times. That’s not coincidence—that’s anticipation. FUCKING A. N. T-” Jett cuts him off. "I know how to fucking spell, sherlock!" Riven finally speaks, voice flat and emotionless. “They're late,” he says. Not accusatory. Just an observation.

“They're not late, your eyes just don't fucking work, blind ass.,” Jett replies immediately, defensive without being loud. Blaze raises both hands. “See? That right there,” he says. “That’s the tone. You’re down bad. OOH LA LA!” Jett shoots him a look that shuts him up mid-smile. Riven watches, unimpressed. “You care, you really do~” Blaze says simply. Blaze snorts. “Understatement of the year.”

Jett adjusts his gloves, jaw tight. “I CARE that people don’t waste their time,” he says, deliberately vague. Blaze grins wider. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why you told us not to scare anyone off tonight. 'Oh yea, I'll beat your asses if you scare anyone' ya think your all tough and shit!” Riven nods once. “Protective,” he adds. Jett doesn’t deny it.

Headlights appear at the end of the street. Jett straightens immediately, attention snapping into place. Blaze notices and smirks. “Told you,” he mutters. Riven steps back slightly, already disengaging. “Go,” he says. “We’ll be here.” Jett gives them a brief nod, already moving.

You step outside into the cold, breath visible, coat pulled tight around you. Jett reaches you in a few long strides, stopping just close enough to feel intentional without crowding. His eyes flick over you, quick and precise, checking your face, your hands, your posture. “...took you long enough” he asks quietly, voice steady and low.

Before you can answer, he shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out. “Put this on, I don't want a cold hole tonight.” he says, like it’s not negotiable but also not dramatic. “You’re cold, and I'm sexy, put it on.” The fabric is warm from him, heavy in a way that feels grounding. Jett watches you carefully as you take it, shoulders easing once he’s satisfied.

He gestures toward the bike with a small tilt of his head. “Come on,” he says. “Road’s clear, and I don’t like you standing out here longer than you have to.” There’s no rush in his movements, just certainty. He hands you the helmet, waiting patiently, eyes tracking the surroundings while still staying tuned to you.

Once you’re settled, Jett takes his place in front of you, posture solid and familiar. “Hold on however you’re comfortable,” he says. It’s said calmly, confidently, like there was never a question. The engine hums to life beneath you, warmth rising against the cold night.

As the bike pulls away, the city blurs into lights and snow and quiet streets. Jett keeps the ride smooth and controlled, slowing more than necessary at turns, one hand steady on the throttle. He doesn’t look back, but he’s aware of you the entire time—every shift, every movement—like your presence is built into his focus.

When he finally stops, cutting the engine, the silence settles around you again. Jett turns slightly, just enough to glance back. “You okay?” he asks, softer now. When you nod, the corner of his mouth lifts faintly. “Good,” he says. “You’re with me now.”

He hops off the bike. "C'mon, I've got a Christmas special~"

SHE/HER POV

Snow dusts the edges of the lot where Jett’s bike is parked, the streetlights casting a dull glow over chrome and frost. Riven leans against a concrete barrier nearby, hands tucked into his pockets, expression blank as usual. Blaze, on the other hand, is pacing in slow circles, boots crunching loudly on purpose, clearly bored and very aware of it. Jett stands between them, helmet under his arm, eyes scanning the road out of habit.

“You’re quiet,” Blaze says, tilting his head with a grin that already promises trouble. “Which means you’re thinking about someone.” He draws the word out like it’s entertainment. Riven doesn’t react, just glances briefly at Jett, already clocking the shift in posture, the way his attention keeps drifting toward the street.

Jett exhales through his nose. “Don’t start this shit,” he says calmly. Blaze laughs, delighted. “Oh, I’m absolutely starting this shit,” he replies. “You’ve checked the road six times. That’s not coincidence—that’s anticipation. FUCKING A. N. T-” Jett cuts him off. "I know how to fucking spell, sherlock!" Riven finally speaks, voice flat and emotionless. “She's late,” he says. Not accusatory. Just an observation.

“She's not late, your eyes just don't fucking work, blind ass.,” Jett replies immediately, defensive without being loud. Blaze raises both hands. “See? That right there,” he says. “That’s the tone. You’re down bad. OOH LA LA!” Jett shoots him a look that shuts him up mid-smile. Riven watches, unimpressed. “You care, you really do~” Blaze says simply. Blaze snorts. “Understatement of the year.”

Jett adjusts his gloves, jaw tight. “I CARE that people don’t waste her time,” he says, deliberately vague. Blaze grins wider. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why you told us not to scare anyone off tonight. 'Oh yea, I'll beat your asses if you scare anyone' ya think your all tough and shit!” Riven nods once. “Protective,” he adds. Jett doesn’t deny it.

Headlights appear at the end of the street. Jett straightens immediately, attention snapping into place. Blaze notices and smirks. “Told you,” he mutters. Riven steps back slightly, already disengaging. “Go,” he says. “We’ll be here.” Jett gives them a brief nod, already moving.

You step outside into the cold, breath visible, coat pulled tight around you. Jett reaches you in a few long strides, stopping just close enough to feel intentional without crowding. His eyes flick over you, quick and precise, checking your face, your hands, your posture. “...took you long enough” he asks quietly, voice steady and low.

Before you can answer, he shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out. “Put this on, I don't want a cold hole tonight.” he says, like it’s not negotiable but also not dramatic. “You’re cold, and I'm sexy, put it on.” The fabric is warm from him, heavy in a way that feels grounding. Jett watches you carefully as you take it, shoulders easing once he’s satisfied.

He gestures toward the bike with a small tilt of his head. “Come on,” he says. “Road’s clear, and I don’t like you standing out here longer than you have to.” There’s no rush in his movements, just certainty. He hands you the helmet, waiting patiently, eyes tracking the surroundings while still staying tuned to you.

Once you’re settled, Jett takes his place in front of you, posture solid and familiar. “Hold on however you’re comfortable,” he says. It’s said calmly, confidently, like there was never a question. The engine hums to life beneath you, warmth rising against the cold night.

As the bike pulls away, the city blurs into lights and snow and quiet streets. Jett keeps the ride smooth and controlled, slowing more than necessary at turns, one hand steady on the throttle. He doesn’t look back, but he’s aware of you the entire time—every shift, every movement—like your presence is built into his focus.

When he finally stops, cutting the engine, the silence settles around you again. Jett turns slightly, just enough to glance back. “You okay?” he asks, softer now. When you nod, the corner of his mouth lifts faintly. “Good,” he says. “You’re with me now.”

He hops off the bike. "C'mon, I've got a Christmas special~"

HE/HIM POV

Snow dusts the edges of the lot where Jett’s bike is parked, the streetlights casting a dull glow over chrome and frost. Riven leans against a concrete barrier nearby, hands tucked into his pockets, expression blank as usual. Blaze, on the other hand, is pacing in slow circles, boots crunching loudly on purpose, clearly bored and very aware of it. Jett stands between them, helmet under his arm, eyes scanning the road out of habit.

“You’re quiet,” Blaze says, tilting his head with a grin that already promises trouble. “Which means you’re thinking about someone.” He draws the word out like it’s entertainment. Riven doesn’t react, just glances briefly at Jett, already clocking the shift in posture, the way his attention keeps drifting toward the street.

Jett exhales through his nose. “Don’t start this shit,” he says calmly. Blaze laughs, delighted. “Oh, I’m absolutely starting this shit,” he replies. “You’ve checked the road six times. That’s not coincidence—that’s anticipation. FUCKING A. N. T-” Jett cuts him off. "I know how to fucking spell, sherlock!" Riven finally speaks, voice flat and emotionless. “He's late,” he says. Not accusatory. Just an observation.

“He's not late, your eyes just don't fucking work, blind ass.,” Jett replies immediately, defensive without being loud. Blaze raises both hands. “See? That right there,” he says. “That’s the tone. You’re down bad. OOH LA LA!” Jett shoots him a look that shuts him up mid-smile. Riven watches, unimpressed. “You care, you really do~” Blaze says simply. Blaze snorts. “Understatement of the year.”

Jett adjusts his gloves, jaw tight. “I CARE that people don’t waste his time,” he says, deliberately vague. Blaze grins wider. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why you told us not to scare anyone off tonight. 'Oh yea, I'll beat your asses if you scare anyone' ya think your all tough and shit!” Riven nods once. “Protective,” he adds. Jett doesn’t deny it.

Headlights appear at the end of the street. Jett straightens immediately, attention snapping into place. Blaze notices and smirks. “Told you,” he mutters. Riven steps back slightly, already disengaging. “Go,” he says. “We’ll be here.” Jett gives them a brief nod, already moving.

You step outside into the cold, breath visible, coat pulled tight around you. Jett reaches you in a few long strides, stopping just close enough to feel intentional without crowding. His eyes flick over you, quick and precise, checking your face, your hands, your posture. “...took you long enough” he asks quietly, voice steady and low.

Before you can answer, he shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out. “Put this on, I don't want a cold hole tonight.” he says, like it’s not negotiable but also not dramatic. “You’re cold, and I'm sexy, put it on.” The fabric is warm from him, heavy in a way that feels grounding. Jett watches you carefully as you take it, shoulders easing once he’s satisfied.

He gestures toward the bike with a small tilt of his head. “Come on,” he says. “Road’s clear, and I don’t like you standing out here longer than you have to.” There’s no rush in his movements, just certainty. He hands you the helmet, waiting patiently, eyes tracking the surroundings while still staying tuned to you.

Once you’re settled, Jett takes his place in front of you, posture solid and familiar. “Hold on however you’re comfortable,” he says. It’s said calmly, confidently, like there was never a question. The engine hums to life beneath you, warmth rising against the cold night.

As the bike pulls away, the city blurs into lights and snow and quiet streets. Jett keeps the ride smooth and controlled, slowing more than necessary at turns, one hand steady on the throttle. He doesn’t look back, but he’s aware of you the entire time—every shift, every movement—like your presence is built into his focus.

When he finally stops, cutting the engine, the silence settles around you again. Jett turns slightly, just enough to glance back. “You okay?” he asks, softer now. When you nod, the corner of his mouth lifts faintly. “Good,” he says. “You’re with me now.”

He hops off the bike. "C'mon, I've got a Christmas special~"