#Bike transport Charges

[biketransportbangalore]

Bike Transport service in Bangalore

"Experience hassle-free two-wheeler relocation with our Bike Transport Service in Bangalore. We understand the importance of your prized possession, and that's why we offer a seamless and secure solution for transporting your motorcycle within the vibrant city of Bangalore. Our dedicated team of experts ensures the utmost care and attention to detail throughout the entire journey, from pickup to delivery. With state-of-the-art equipment and a commitment to safety, we guarantee a stress-free experience, so you can focus on your new adventure while we handle the transportation of your beloved bike with precision and care."

[carbikemovers-com]

Hassle Free Car Shifting | Bike Transport by Train | Bike Transport

Experience hassle-free car shifting and reliable bike transport by train with professional services. Ensure safe, secure, and timely delivery of your vehicle across locations. Whether it's car relocation or bike transport, trust expert teams for seamless handling, from pickup to delivery, at competitive rates. For more information kindly visit our official Website Carbikemovers.com!

[paradife-loft]

started using Written? Kitten! again to drag myself over the motivation line of finishing this (second-to-) last paper for this quarter, which has been working pretty well..... except the kitten that just popped up is so charmingly photogenic and precious that I'm getting distracted staring at the kitten photo instead of writing :')

(kitten source for the curious: flickr.com/photos/56461021@N00/50586164307)

[dtcexpressgurgaon]

Haryana Bike Parcel in Faridabad Sector-10

Dtc Express Packers and Movers offer a trusted & efficient solution for Bike Transport Service in Faridabad Sector 10 transporting your vehicle across various locations. Whatever you are moving to a new home, buying or selling a bike, or simply need to shift your vehicle for any reason our experienced team ensures your bike is handled with the utmost care. Choose our Bike transport service in Haryana for hassle free, secure and affordable solutions to get your bike from one place to another.

[shradhacmi]

Global E-Bike Charging Station Market Is Estimated To Witness High Growth Owing To the Increasing Adoption of E-Bikes and Government Initiatives for Promoting Electric Mobility

The global E-Bike Charging Station Market is estimated to be valued at US$ 2754.7 million in 2022 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 4.16% over the forecast period of 2023-2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. A) Market Overview: E-bike charging stations are infrastructure facilities that enable electric bike users to recharge their vehicle batteries. These charging stations can be found at various locations such as public places, residential buildings, offices, and commercial areas. The market for e-bike charging stations is driven by the increasing adoption of e-bikes as a sustainable mode of transportation and the initiatives taken by governments worldwide to promote electric mobility. E-bikes are gaining popularity due to their environmental benefits, cost-effectiveness, and ease of use. B) Market Dynamics: Driver 1: Increasing adoption of e-bikes The demand for e-bikes is witnessing significant growth globally due to the increasing awareness of environmental sustainability and health benefits. E-bikes offer a convenient and eco-friendly alternative to conventional bicycles and gas-powered vehicles. They provide an assisted pedaling experience, making them suitable for people of all age groups and fitness levels. Moreover, e-bikes are cost-effective and require minimal maintenance compared to traditional vehicles. Driver 2: Government initiatives for promoting electric mobility Governments worldwide are focusing on reducing carbon emissions and promoting sustainable transportation options. They are incentivizing the adoption of electric vehicles, including e-bikes, by offering subsidies, tax credits, and infrastructure development support. Various countries have implemented policies mandating the establishment of e-bike charging stations in public and commercial spaces. For instance, the Indian government launched the Faster Adoption and Manufacturing of Hybrid and Electric Vehicles (FAME) scheme, which provides subsidies for the purchase of e-bikes and the installation of charging stations. C) SWOT Analysis: Strength: 1. Increasing awareness of sustainable transportation 2. Government support and initiatives Weakness: 1. Limited charging infrastructure in some regions 2. High initial investment costs Opportunity: 1. Growing urbanization and need for last-mile connectivity solutions 2. Technological advancements in battery and charging technologies Threats: 1. Competition from traditional bicycles and gas-powered vehicles 2. Regulatory challenges and policies favoring other modes of transportation D) Key Takeaways: The global E-Bike Charging Station Market is expected to witness high growth, exhibiting a CAGR of 4.16% over the forecast period. This growth can be attributed to the increasing adoption of e-bikes and the government initiatives promoting electric mobility. Regional analysis reveals that Asia Pacific is the fastest-growing and dominating region in the e-bike charging station market. Countries like China, India, and Japan have a large consumer base for e-bikes and have implemented supportive policies and infrastructure for their adoption. Key players operating in the global e-bike charging station market include Amezeus (HFS Group), Ather Energy, Bikeep, Cycle Works, EV Motors India Pvt. Ltd, Robert Bosch GmbH, RTL Group, Spelsberg, Swiftmile, and Zoov. These companies are focusing on expanding their charging station networks, developing innovative charging solutions, and collaborating with governments and other stakeholders to promote e-mobility. In conclusion, the global e-bike charging station market is poised for significant growth due to the increasing adoption of e-bikes and government initiatives promoting electric mobility. The market offers opportunities for players to expand their charging infrastructure networks and develop advanced charging solutions to meet the growing demand for e-bikes.

[rex-rambles]

➤ YOU ARE HERE | OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing: oscar piastri x soulmate!reader

summary: you and oscar discover that you're soulmates when randomly, once a year, you trade places for five minutes. it goes about as well as you expect for an f1 driver.

wc: 6.1 k

warnings: angst with a happy ending! mentions of minor injuries and hospitalization

➤ MASTERLIST - MAX'S SOULMATE STORY

2019

Waiting to figure out how you're going to meet your soulmate can be exhausting.

For some people, it's simple: a red string around their pinky, a timer on their wrist, not seeing colour until you finally lock eyes, but for you? Since you've turned eighteen, there have been no signs at all. No magically appearing footprints, no mystery injuries to match your soulmate. 

Nothing. 

You had tried to figure out what strange, hidden thing it could possibly be, but nothing made sense. Perhaps your soulmate would be someone else with no symptoms; perhaps you didn't have one at all. 

That's why, when you wake up in a strangers bed, your first thought isn't about soulmates. It's the middle of the night, or at least it should be, yet the sun faintly shines through the curtains, an unfamiliar alarm clock blaring on a nightstand, which, rolling over to look at, is not your night stand, and is not your alarm clock, and this most certainly isn't your childhood bedroom.

It takes a moment to realize that you haven't been kidnapped, whipping off the covers and standing in the middle of the rather messy room, and rather, you've been transported...somewhere. The notepad on the bedside table explains that it's a Hilton hotel, and slowly, picking up the few pieces of dirty laundry scattered about, you realize you must have traded places with your soulmate. 

Swapping locations wasn’t exactly uncommon, but it was a strange thing to wake up to in the night. You quickly move through the drawers of the tables and desks, trying to find something to write down your personal information with before you return to normal. You're not sure if it was a permanent thing, or a matter of minutes, but you're also a bit too tired to care right now. Instead, you write down your name, begin to write the first digits of your phone number, and in a blink, you're standing before your own bathroom mirror. 

Well, at least your soulmate would know your name. Considering the whole swapping thing, your soulmate must have woken up in your room too, luckily much tidier than his hotel room was, but it's still an embarrassing thought, the stuffed animals nearby, the old posters on your walls. Finally recognizing why you're standing in front of your mirror, you realize whoever your soulmate is has tried their best to get a message across, lipstick smeared on your mirror in what you realize are words: 

Oscar Pi

Seems he got cut off by the timing the swap, the lipstick now laying open in your sink, but with a growing smile, you find that you don't really care, because your soulmate does exist. 

Oscar.

It's a good name, you think. 

-

2020

The second time it happens, Oscar is on vacation, and he's not really prepared for it. He'd biked up a cliffside trail, overlooking the small, coastal Australian town where he and his family were staying. He'd stopped to take a break when suddenly, he was standing in the middle of a grocery store in nothing but his bike gear. 

At least, he thinks, you hadn't been standing in the freezer section.

Ever since your first swap, Oscar had tried everything in his power to recreate it, the way he had fallen asleep, everything he had done that same day, but he was starting to think your swapping was a once-a-year type of ordeal, or maybe you were in charge of it. If he could ask, maybe he could know, but it had been difficult trying to figure out how to contact you, considering all he got was a name, and he was travelling so often. At least you'd have a nice view, when you teleport to where he was. If his parents are quick enough up the trail, you might even meet them. 

Oscar stares down at the basket in hand, a rather strange mix of mostly junk food, and without thinking, he turns to the nearby fruit stand and places a few oranges and apples in for good measure. Then, as he moves towards a banana, he realizes he should be trying to get his number to you in some way. There's even less nearby for him to possibly write with than your room, and considering the few people staring at him, he can't exactly walk up to someone to relay the message. 

Everyone had told him he had time to meet you, to get your number, but knowing you existed after questioning it for so long meant that Oscar wanted forever to start now. Finally, an old woman takes pity and offers him a smile, and with a deep breath, he approaches her. "Excuse me?" 

"Riding? In this weather?" The woman says, eyeing him up and down. "You're a brave one, dear." 

"I've just swapped places with my soulmate," He manages to get out, "Could you take a message?" 

"Oh, how sweet! You know, it took me four years to find my soulmate after I turned eighteen. We shared reflections in mirrors, made it pretty tricky to get ready for the day!" Oscar nods along as happily as he can, trying not to rush the poor woman, but also desperately needing to get his message out. "Sorry, what did you want to say?" 

"Tell them I'm from Australia, and my phone number is-" He blinks, and finds himself back on the trail, and he curses so loudly that when his sister rides up to him, she looks rather shocked. 

Hattie pauses, lowering her bike as Oscar forces himself to sit on the ground, bringing his knees to his chest. "What, you crash your bike?" 

"I traded places with my soulmate, and couldn't tell them my phone number, again." Then, he finds his phone in the grass beside him, and for a joyful moment, he thinks you might have left a message, and finds something only marginally better: a photo. You're pretty in a way that shocks him to his core, that you're his, that you're supposed to be together. You're turned to show the distance in the background, a thumbs up as if to show you approve of his vacation location. Then, in the sand beside the path, he finds your number scrawled, only for it to be blown away in the wind. 

When you return to the grocery store, you find yourself in front of an old woman, and far more fruit in your basket than a human should need. 

-

2023

For the next two years, it goes on about the same. You end up outside some racing track in Barcelona, and the workers don't understand what you're drunkenly asking, and Oscar ends up at a bar where everyone's too gone to relay the message. You end up walking dogs in Australia in a snowsuit while Oscar ends up in the middle of a ski hill, wiping out before he can even think of giving out his number. 

You've sort of given up hope, at least for now, that you and Oscar could finally coordinate it. You carry sharpies wherever you go, just in case you end up somewhere you can actually write it down. All that preparation doesn't help, however, when it happens again in the middle of the night. 

You end up in some orange room with nothing but a massage table, and when you step out into the hall, you find yourself among people dressed in orange who look just as surprised to see you as you are surprised to see them.

"What are you doing back here?" It doesn't help, you realize, that you're just in an oversized t-shirt. "Get out!" 

"I'm Oscar's soulmate!" You quickly try to explain, though the few people around don't seem to believe it. 

"Sure, you're Oscar Piastri's soulmate, and you're here like that?"

Piastri. You should probably be more worried about what's about to happen, but you can't really focus on that.

You have a last name. "We trade places. That's our thing. You have to give him my number-" 

"Can we get security to escort them out? I don't buy it." Someone says, snapping their fingers at a guard. "I've never heard Oscar mention trading places with a soulmate before." A security guard, larger than any human you've ever seen before, tries to corral you backwards as you helplessly explain, over and over, but it's not use. 

You're shoved out an emergency door, and with a blink, you're standing in your bedroom. 

Oscar Piastri. 

Never mentioned trading places with a soulmate. You slowly sink onto the edge of your bed, trying to figure out why he'd never say anything, and all the answers don't seem right. Maybe he was just a private person, but still, trading places with your soulmate, potentially at any time, is the kind of thing you mention to people. 

Oscar Piastri. You grab your phone, before realizing that Oscar must have been in your room, must have left something behind, but despite the way you tear your room apart, you find no note, see no number, not even a selfie on your phone. 

Never mentioned you, never tried to give you his number. 

Maybe all this time, he was avoiding you on purpose, and sinking back into your bed, you finally google his name. 

Oscar Piastri, F1 driver. 

Maybe someone that famous didn't need a soulmate. 

Maybe someone that famous didn't need you. 

-

2025

Oscar's pretty sure, after his security team threw you out in 2023, that you had to hate him. He hadn't been able to leave behind a number yet, hadn't been able to find you on any social media, but you must've been able to search for him by now. That night, when he blinked back to stare at a very confused security guard through tears, he realized he'd sobbed his way through your last swap, unable to do anything but stand there. 

It was pretty pathetic, all things considered. 2024 wasn't any better, another hotel room swap as Oscar ended up in the bathroom of some university, surrounded by women who screamed and chased him out and ruined his chance of leaving his number, again. You hadn't left a number or anything on your end, but you had finished folding his laundry, which is the only sign that you might still want to find him.

This year, he had a feeling it wasn't going to be any better. In fact, ever since extending his contract with McLaren, he's had this deep-seated fear that refused to go away. If it was possible to trade places in beds, on bikes, and when skiing, then it would be possible in cars. Not just any cars, either. 

In his racing car. 

And you might die in a fiery wreck before Oscar even gets the chance to meet you, to give you his number, anything. You'll die hating him, and he'll have to go throughout life soulmate-less. 

"You alright, mate?" Lando says quietly beside him from the driver's parade. "You're just...tense." 

"I have a bad feeling today," He says, and maybe because he said it, maybe because he always knew, maybe because the universe hates him, it happens. He's just pushing out into a straight when he blinks and finds himself in all his gear at the front of a lecture hall, and the world goes silent for a moment. 

You're in his car. For what Oscar can gather about you, you're most certainly not trained, you're not wearing any protective gear, and you are in one of the fastest cars on the planet, hurling toward your death at any second. "Well, I can't say I've seen this before." Someone he assumes to be your professor says, "An adventurous soulmate swap." 

Four minutes. He rips off his helmet and the sleeve under it, and trying to calm his breathing, all he can think to say is, "You need to call an ambulance." 

"What?" The professor looks at him in shock, and Oscar gestures to himself. 

"I'm an F1 driver, a racecar driver." What could he possibly say? That a potentially mangled corpse is about to teleport into this room? "My soulmate...oh god, they've been swapped with me, in my car, without protection. If they can't control the car, they're going to crash and end up back here." Finally, what he's waited for his whole life is before him: a pen and paper. He scribbles his information down quickly, phone number, name, address, social media handles, anything and everything. "I need you to be prepared for it to be bad." 

“I need everyone out of the room, now.” Immediately, the students are up and out of their seats, and Oscar pulls his helmet back on and waits. 

You’re a student. He has no way of knowing if you can even drive, and he’s just chucked you into an F1 race, broadcast for everyone to see, and he has no idea what to do with himself. How does he possibly apologize for this? For maybe ruining your life? Who wants a soulmate who kills them before their first date? Tears spring to his eyes before he can stop it, and vaguely, he recognizes a phone being shown before his face. 

“They seem to be okay?” A student says, extending a phone to him as he watches his own car choppily slow down, but it's not enough. You could hit a barrier, you could hit another car, and you'd be dead.

Instantly. 

"What...what university is this?" He says, muffled by the helmet. 

"University of Oxford, England. This is a conference, to showcase student work." Oxford. 

You must be smart, then. 

And he's the reason your brain is going to break. 

-

You knew Oscar was an F1 driver, but it had never occurred to you that you might swap during a race. For a moment, when you open your eyes, you don't really believe it. The steering wheel in hand, feet on the gas, it's like a dream, and then every sense hits you at once that this is not what you're supposed to be doing. 

You try to slow down, but the car isn't like a normal car, the force of it pressing you back into the seat as you force your eyes shut, the sound of it deafening, the weight, the car, the movement, it all spirals into a sensation that you can't control. The gas pedal itself is the hardest thing it feels to push, but you grunt your way through it as the car slows, the feeling of the ground underneath it changing, but you still can't bear to open your eyes, can't stand the thought that you're about to die without even meeting the stupid owner of this car, who probably doesn't even want to meet you. 

You're not sure how long it takes, but finally, the car stops. The world stops. Your chest heaves, your head rolls, but the car is not moving, and you are alive, albeit unable to move, or hear, or function at all, really. Your eyes blink up to stare at a helmet peering over you, your own reflection staring back from its visor. If the driver is saying something, you can't hear. They take off their helmet, revealing a head of curly hair and a very, very concerned expression. 

It's Oscar's teammate. 

Lando, you think. He's quick to try and get you up out of the car, arms coming to undo the clasps keeping you in, and your arms very loosely manage to work their way around his neck. 

As he tries to get you up, however, the world spins and you think you might be sick. He's saying something, you can tell he must be saying something, but it doesn't register. All you see is the dread on his face as you slip back down, hitting the lecture hall floor before you pass out. 

-

Oscar comes to hugging Lando. 

"No no no-" Lando's voice is shrill, obviously scared, and Oscar doesn't want to think of how hurt you must've been for Lando to stop racing and try to pull you out of the car. "Oscar? Your soulmate! Why the fuck wouldn't you tell us you swap places-" 

"Are they alive?" Oscar shouts, ripping off his helmet as he manages to get out of the car, and Lando nods. "They didn't...they didn't crash?"

"Mate, they fucking steered the thing eyes closed." Lando and him stand on the grass for a minute, just taking in the moment before Oscar realizes you're back in Oxford, probably collapsed, injured, heaven forbid dying, and it doesn't take him long to get moving. 

No one really knows what to do, and Oscar doesn't blame them. He never told anyone, until that fateful day, that he and his soulmate swapped places. It would be a hazard, something that would hold him back from F1. He refused to allow anything to stop him from what he'd dreamt of his whole life, but today, all that advice makes perfect sense. Because of him, because he wanted to go farther, to do more, he put his one true love in harm's way, and if you die, he's not sure how he's going to live with himself. 

Passing flashing cameras, he finds that he doesn't care what the headlines say, doesn't care that he just threw the race for McLaren, he needs to be on the first plane to England as soon as possible, because he truly has no way of knowing if you're alive. 

He's not waiting another year to find out. 

-

For the past two hours, you'd folded the paper Oscar left you perhaps a hundred times, carefully into a perfect square before unwrapping it again. It was on the back of your script for your presentation, the contents of it now long forgotten for the frantic writing. 

It begins with I'm so sorry.

It lists his full name, his phone number, his mother's phone number, a man named 'Mark Webber's phone number, his instagram, his twitter, both of which you'd already found. His address in Melbourne, his address in Monaco. Everything to identify himself with, finally in the palm of your hands, but you had yet to contact him. He was probably still racing, you found yourself arguing. Probably busy. It's all excuses that hold you back, but you wouldn't know what to say if you tried in the first place.

Hi, it's your soulmate you almost killed?

"How's the dizziness, darling?" A nurse asks over you, and you're broken from your intense folding of the paper to look up at her, and the room only spins a tiny bit. 

"Better than before, still a little...woozy." She hums, writes something down. 

"I think you might take the cake for patients today. Teleported into an F1 car by your soulmate," She muses, "What a world we live in. And your leg?" 

"Sore, but survivable." Apparently, F1 cars' braking systems take a ridiculous amount of force to push, and while the adrenaline had let you brake, the aftereffect was that your whole left leg hurt, from hip to the tips of your toes. "Are you sure I'm fine to just leave? I'm not going to collapse on the street?" 

The nurse flips through your papers. "You have no concussions, no ear damage from the car, no sprains or tears, I think it was just a mix of exhaustion, adrenaline crashing, and shock that made you pass out. Does anything still feel wrong? Anything out of the ordinary?" 

The paper in your hands folds itself into a neat little square as you think. The world just sort of feels slow, or maybe suddenly too fast for things to make sense, that you were in that car, that Oscar had told them to call an ambulance for you, that you survived it all. That you were barely even hurt.

"There's a madman running through the parking lot." The room of patients turns to look at the elderly man in the bed closest to the window. His pain medication had made him quite the entertainment for the two hours you've been in and out of scans and tests, but this time, he seemed adamant. "Someone stop him. Looks like he's set himself on fire." 

"What?" The nurse is gone from your side in an instant, before quickly sighing and placing a hand over her heart. "He's just wearing orange, Paul. He's not on fire." 

Just wearing orange. 

For the first time unaided in two hours, you rise from your bed and join them at the window, dragging your left leg as you walk, and watch Oscar slide between cars like some sort of action star, standing out amongst the grey weather in a neon orange hoodie before he manages to sprint inside, and the paper in hand suddenly feels so overwhelming that you're not really sure what to do. 

He's here. 

For you. 

You don't know where he was racing, but considering he was here in two hours, it couldn't have been that far, or maybe he had a private jet, or maybe the the world was both too slow and too fast for you to keep up. Without thinking, you move out the hall and into the central area with the nurses desk as the elevator dings open, and for the first time, you see Oscar. 

He's surprisingly dishevelled, considering you're the one who just got transported into one of the world's fastest cars. His hoodie seems a bit too big on him, and taking him in as he quickly approaches the nurses' desk, so are his pants. If you didn't know better, you wouldn't think they were his, and you're not really sure what to do with that information. 

He just grabbed the closest thing to get changed to get to you? "I'm sorry, I can't understand what you're saying." One of the nurses says to him, "You need to slow down." 

"Soulmate," He says between gasping breaths, "Not a car accident, but teleported into my car, hurt-" 

"Oscar." You say before you can really stop yourself, approaching his side, and he just sort of waves a hand in your direction. 

"I don't know if they're alive, or dead, or-" 

"Oscar?" You realize he doesn't know the sound of your voice, like you do his. As gently as you can, you reach out and place a hand on the back of his neck, the closest exposed skin to you. The final step of a soulmate connection was touch, and you had heard so much about it: how sparks fly, how you've never felt more in love, how it changes the world, but it was just Oscar.

It was just you. Gently placing a hand on the back of his neck, to comfort him despite all that you had been through today, was just where you were meant to be. It was right, and it was normal, and you gently spread your fingers into the back of his hair as he slowly turned to you, your hand drifting now to hold his cheek. "I'm right here." 

"You're here." Oscar breathes out slowly, quickly scanning you for any sign of injury, and without even knowing, his eyes settle on your sore leg, staring at it intently. "You are actually here." 

"You're a hard person to track down, you know." Then, without much ceremony, Oscar slumps into you. It's as if all the weight he'd been carrying his entire life had been let go from his shoulders, practically folding over you. He buries his face into the side of your neck as his arms latch around you, pulling you tight to his chest. It's a desperate sort of thing that has you realizing how terrifying it must have been from his end of the swap, of hearing that you were in his car, knowing you would be hurt. You hold him back just as tight, hands gently smoothing against his broad shoulders as if to show that you're here, and you're safe.

"You have no idea." He grumbles softly, and you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the feeling of his lips so close to your skin, now pressed into a smile. "Worst soulmate trait ever." He pulls away slowly, and this close, you take in all the details you never could before. He's almost growing stubble, in need of a shave, a soft spattering of freckles across his face and neck. You find yourself stuck on the fact that he's yours, that he's staring at you, that he's real. "I'm so sorry," He tries to say, and you rush to cut him off.

"You didn't have any control over this." That's the sort of thing, with soulmates. It's meant to be, but you have no control over who it is, how far they are, what you have to do to find each other. The most important thing is that you did find each other, and if you get a ridiculous story to tell out of it, then you don't mind the hardships it took to get him here. Despite it all, however, there is one question that remains in your mind. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" Doubt comes creeping back in, so ingrained in your mind that even when holding your soulmate, you couldn't quite let go of it. "Seems important for an F1 Driver to mention someone else might swap into his car." 

Oscar's eyes don't quite meet yours, returning to stare at your leg. Maybe it's a special soulmate ability to tell when the other is hurt. Maybe he just needs someone else to look at besides your eyes. "I didn't want them to think it was a liability. Not that you are a liability, it's just...you can see why they might not let me race if they knew this would happen." Then, without so much as taking a breath, he begins again. "I'm so sorry-" 

"Oscar." His name feels right, on your tongue, and based on the way his eyes light up, it sounds right to him, too. "It's okay." You can understand why he'd do it. Not the smartest thing in the world, but then again, you didn't need some genius for a soulmate, you just needed Oscar. A small, perfect, ridiculous smile finally grows on his face, and you find yourself grinning up at him. You suppose it's your turn to apologize now for whatever damage you did to his car. "I'm sorry for making you lose the race." 

"Lose?" Oscar echoes with a soft laugh, the kind of sound that makes you hate all the near misses before ten times over. "You didn't crash, you even got onto the grass safely. Ever considered a future in F1?" 

"Well, I’ve considered a future with an f1 driver, does that count?"

-

Curled up in your hotel bed, Oscar begins trying to sort through the information he'd learned today. You were pursuing your masters, in a subject he can't really put his finger on currently, but he has the rest of his life to figure it out. Whatever it was, it was important enough that you were at Oxford presenting about it when you swapped into his car. 

When you swapped back, you passed out, and woke up being brought into the ambulance. It was confusing, they ran a million tests, but you're okay, if just exhausted. 

You were okay. 

You were alive. 

And you were currently taking a shower while Oscar sat on your hotel room bed and tried not to die himself. You had watched his races, kept tabs on him. Now that you weren't just passing by in the night, he had your number, every social media account. He had even introduced you to his mom, who tore a strip off of him over Facetime for not telling McLaren sooner about the soulmate-swapping thing, but that was all over now. 

You were alive. 

You were here. The shower turns off and Oscar stares intently down at Lando's pants, the closest thing he could find before rushing out, where the McLaren team let him use their private jet to get over to the closest airport in record time. He makes a mental note to thank Lando for his clothes, but that all goes down the drain when the door opens and you're standing in just an oversized t-shirt, haloed by the light of the bathroom, and Oscar rediscovers how attractive you are all over again.

You were staying the night together, seeing as Oscar had time, and the jet had already left back to the race. He wouldn't have tried to leave anyway. You needed someone to be here after everything that happened, and Oscar needed to meet you.

You limp slightly as you approach the bed, the only sign of the day you'd had, and the way the left side of your shirt rides up unevenly with your step makes Oscar blush in a way he didn't know was possible. This must have been what you looked like when you swapped into his hotel room for the first time, his. brain supplements as he forces himself to look back down at his lap. He remembers waking up to your childhood bedroom, the soft twinkling lights, the stuffed animals. It was so sweet, knowing you existed, and then he frantically tried to find a way to contact you, and ended up smearing make-up over your mirror. 

Then, it was the grocery store, a bar, a ski hill. Always missing each other to lead to this moment now, and seeing how you're looking at him when you kneel on the bed, Oscar can't even be mad it took so long. 

Because you're here. 

You're alive. "How do you think they pick?" 

"What?" 

"How do you think the universe picks soulmates?" You ask, curling up next to him. Despite the fact he basically refused to let go of you when you first met, he's now hesitant to touch. After all, you were still just getting to meet each other. You hadn't even had a date yet. "Like what makes you my soulmate? How does the universe even pull off the swap?" 

"No one knows." One of life's great mysteries, unfortunately. Oscar's pretty sure there's a science that goes into it, but right now, it doesn't feel like science: it feels like fate. "I suppose the universe just has a way of tying people together who are meant to be." 

You yawn in response, leaning back against the headboard and kicking your legs out, and Oscar's hands rest on the edge of Lando's hoodie. You just sort of nod at him and he pulls it off, not quite able to meet your eye, and you can't seem to do the same, suddenly very interested in the ceiling. "I have another sleep shirt, if you want. But you have to promise not to be weird about it." 

"Weird about it?" You slip from the bed to root through your suitcase, and Oscar quickly takes off his pants before he can think too much about sitting in front of you in his underwear. You toss something at him, and Oscar catches it midair, unravelling it to reveal one of his own shirt designs for the Austin Grand Prix, and his brain sort of breaks. 

You bought one of his shirts. 

You sleep in it. 

And he hadn't even heard your voice until earlier. "Couldn't afford to go to a race to see you," You say softly, standing awkwardly in the dim light of the hotel room. "Got the next best thing." 

"I think," He answers dryly, letting the shirt fall to his lap, "The next best thing is actually right here." 

"Wow," You say, a laugh bubbling out of you that makes Oscar thinks that maybe, just maybe the universe really knows what they're doing. "Really?" 

"All I'm saying," He says as he pulls the oversized shirt over his head, "Is that who needs an Oscar Piastri shirt when you have Oscar Piastri?" 

"That's the last time I spend money on your merch," You answer resolutely. "I get free stuff for the rest of time." 

Then, with a soft glint to your eye, you launch yourself onto the bed, falling backward with another laugh, and Oscar looms over you, giddier than he thinks he's ever felt before. You were all his, and you were right here. You weren't going to teleport away, weren't going to disappear. He had your phone number, and he was debating getting it tattooed on his forearm for good measure. "You can have whatever you want after what I've put you through." 

"That's a dangerous declaration, Oscar." Your voice saying his name still seems so strange, but it's right. He's just going to have to get you to say it a few more times to get used to it. Your hand gently smooths up his chest, waiting right over his pounding heart, and your eyes flicker up to his at the feeling of how fast it's racing. 

It should be weird, really, for two strangers to be suddenly soulmates. There's an adjustment period everyone has to go through, the first dates, the first hundred questions needing to be asked about favourite colours, about life goals, but all of that stress, that awkwardness, slips away with your hand on his chest, your eyes on his, because the chase is finally over. Oscar might be good at racing, but going slow, with you, with the rest of his life, doesn't seem so bad. 

"I think," He finally says, "The universe figures out what someone needs in another person, and picks that way." 

"And what do you need?" Then, as cheesy as it is, as much as he knows the others will groan about it when he tells them every vivid detail, he very gently says, 

"You. Here." Then, to be more serious, "Someone to keep me calm. What do you need?" 

You don't answer him, but rather lean up to gently press your lips to his, and Oscar tries to thank every individual star, every planet, every galaxy that makes up the universe for putting you here, for him, forever. It's soft and sweet and hesitant, the kind of thing Oscar needed this to be. It's you, here, with him, and it's every mile over the speed limit Oscar's ever driven, and it's slow and it's steady like everything Oscar didn't realize he needed in his life. 

-

-

-

2025, Again

It was a very different experience, being on this side of the race.

You had only seen it from screens, and then the grass, but being in the paddock was like its own little world. If you were alone, you're sure you could exist here on your own without anyone noticing, but considering you were walking in beside Oscar, hand in hand, people were starting to pick up on who you were very quickly. 

"You know, that's a first in F1 History," Someone with a camera says, pointing at you and Oscar. "A soulmate swap into an F1 car! We're quite happy you turned out okay, but have you considered ever getting into a car again? Maybe following in Oscar's footsteps?" 

Oscar looks at you, checking to see if you want to answer, and you smile up at him. "I am happy to never set foot in a race car again, actually. I don't know how you do it, or how anyone does it." 

"You didn't do that bad," Oscar says, shaking his head. "You just need the right protection and the right training." 

"The closest I am ever going to get to a race car is here," You joke softly, offering a small wave to the camera operator. "I'm happy to enjoy the comforts of the paddock." 

"Your loss," Oscar says before pressing a kiss to your temple, and it hasn't gotten any less thrilling since your first kiss. It had been four months since you'd finally met, and it had been a lot of strange negotiations to get you here, date nights spent with Oscar flying out to you to get to know you, and in return, Oscar flying you out to get to know him, and see Monaco, and finally, now, his races. 

You were worried it would bring back some sort of traumatic memory, but if anything, it was exciting. You were here with no threat of being shoved in a car or crashing, but rather to watch Oscar in his element. He guides you through the day, stopping into hospitality, meeting people, meeting Lando again. You'd already sort of met, considering he was trying to haul you out of the car, but now you could actually talk and thank him without a racecar in the way. 

Oscar suits up eventually, about to start the race, and he corners you just before he goes out. "If it gets too overwhelming, just let someone know, okay?" 

"Oscar, I'll be fine. I want to see you race." He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, and you choose to grab the front of his fireproofs, pulling him down to kiss him properly. "Now go win so I can finally hold a trophy." 

"That's what you want? A trophy?" He asks with a laugh, putting his helmet on. "Not me getting the points?"

"After my race? I want my participation trophy." Then, because you can't ever truly ignore him, "And obviously I want you to win to do well too. Trophy just comes first." He shakes his head, moving away from you, and thought muffled, you can make out him saying three words neither of you had said yet, something you hadn't known how to. You freeze in the hallway of the paddock, watching him go, and it's a blur as people try to find you a headset and a monitor to look at, but it doesn't last very long.

You were soulmates. You knew that, obviously, but it still felt strange to think about what it really meant, how you really felt, what the future held.

Your mind drifts to those thoughts as easily as Oscar makes his rounds. He's got a second-place start, which is good, but watching the cars goes around and around on the screen isn't what you came here for. You could do that anytime, any place.

So, against all better judgment, you don't stay put with the thoughts of what might be, what to do, what to say. Instead, you make for the stands, and sit and listen to the cars whip by, feel the force and the wind, and it's everything you thought a race would be before you had accidentally partaken in one. It's fast, it's loud, and it's distracting, but it's good, intoxicating as the fans cheer, the cars almost too quick to make out their movements. 

At some point, Oscar gets the lead, and you think you and the McLaren fans around you lose your voices as you scream for him, and despite how hard you try, you find yourself wondering why the universe picks soulmates like it does. Why it would in the first place? Love can be so many things, loving sports, loving family, but with Oscar, it's something so wholly new that makes you think the universe was onto something. 

Because the universe figures out what someone needs in another person, and picks that way. That's what Oscar had said.

When the race ends, and you're ambling down the stands and back to the paddock, it's the universe guiding you. When you get to where they park the cars, and Oscar is standing on top of his, he keeps looking around, helmet already off as he's squinting at the crowd forming nearby of McLaren workers, because the universe figures out what someone needs in another person, and picks that way. 

And Oscar needs to find you, in the crowd, to know you're there, to know it's real. 

And you need Oscar, who's rushing to you like a man on a mission, like how he was that day at the hospital, and without thinking, your hand finds the back of his neck, pulling him in for an indentical hug as his face presses into your neck, and the universe congratulates itself for putting two pieces back together again. 

"I was watching in the stands," Is what you mean to say to Oscar, and you do, but maybe it's the universe, maybe it's him, maybe it's the adrenaline still pumping, but you find yourself adding something to the end before you can stop yourself. "I love you." 

And though you can't hear it, over the sound of the crowd screaming around him, the sound of your own heart, the sound of the fireworks, you feel the way he says the words back to you, and what it really means.

I love you.

You are here.

a/n: returning to my fanfic roots with a soulmate au + my first time writing for oscar!!

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The Obligations Of A Fuck Buddy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 5.2K

Summary: Y/N and Rafe have made it very clear. They are only supposed to be each others' sexual release and that is it. However, what happens to their agreement when the lines start to blur?

Masterlist

Becoming fuck buddies with Rafe was a special choice for Y/N. Her emotions are always on display for everyone around her, so choosing to be with Rafe without any strings attached is out of character for her. However, once she gets to experience the skills Rafe possesses in the bedroom, she is prepared to try to do anything to keep being a part of that activity, including, letting him have his way with her out in the open on his dirt bike. His hand slips down her stomach to her aching core, “Come on, Pet. I know you want this.” He had dragged Y/N away from the bonfire and to his dirt bike hidden from sight anyone. At first, she was unsure about doing anything in public, yet Rafe had a way of convincing her to play along with the game. Her head falls back onto his shoulder, letting out a scrumptious moan. He freezes just within her underwear, “You are going to have to give me what I want if you want me to give you more.” “Please, Rafe. Let me feel your fingers inside of me,” she whimpers. Rafe chuckles and tugs her with him as he leans against his bike. His fingers make contact with her glistening cunt, using her wetness to lube his digits. She hunches forward at the feeling of him plunging into her depths. He begins dragging his fingers in and out of her, causing her eyes to roll to the back of her head.

“You like this, Pet? Being treated like a slut where anyone can see you,” he taunts with his lips pressed against the shell of her ear. Her head bobs, “It feels so good. More, please. Give me more, Rafe.” “My dirty little whore thinks she can tell me what to do. That’s not right. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson,” he tsks. Her eyebrows dip, questioning his words, when his speed increases and he starts to apply pressure to the bundle of nerves at the crest of her womanhood. This helps build a tension within her that is ready to be released. She closes her eyes when she is at the cusp of her orgasm and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe. He removes his fingers from her, bringing them to his lips to taste her. She whines, “No. No. No. Let me come. Please, Rafe.” “I’m sorry, Pet. If that is what you want, then you better get to work. Got to teach you who is in charge,” he warns, eyes flickering to his bugle. 

With his message clear as crystal, she drops to her knees and works on removing his belt. She pops the button of his pants and listens to the zip of his zipper, yanking his pants pass his bum. The tent in his pants causes her to stare at it in appreciation for a second. She knows once she removes his boxer briefs that she’ll be in sight of the thick veiny glory she normally drools over. Rafe grows impatient, “Get to work, Pet.” He hisses at the feeling of her nail accidentally catching his skin a bit. She issues her apology through a kiss to his angry tip. He groans, shoving her parted mouth onto him until he hits the back of her throat. His hands grip the seat of his motorcycle as she removes herself from his length and then brings him back into her mouth. She continues to bob her head on his length until he is spasming in her mouth. He pulls out of her to release himself all over her face and the top of her breasts exposed by her tank top. He yanks her up to her feet by her bicep. Her thumb comes to wipe off the cum on the bottom of her chin and she sucks it into her mouth with her gaze on him. He pulls her lips against his by her chin, “Good job, Pet. I think you deserve what is about to come next.” He spins her around to bend her over his mode of transportation. Her elbows make contact with the leather of the seat and she pops her backside out for him to take what he wants. 

The buckle clangs against itself while he brings the top of her pants and underwear to below her butt. He surveys the environment to see if anyone is around. No one is in sight, so he lines his tip at her opening and slams into her. His balls slap against her bump and his pace causes her to grip onto the seat. Her mouth falls open, letting out into the night her sounds of pleasure. “You are such a slutty girl, Pet. Do you want everyone to know what we are up to? I gotta shut you up so we don’t get caught,” he criticizes. He pulls her up by the hair so her back arches, which allows him to shove his fingers into her mouth. She knows to wrap her lips around the digits to mimic sucking his dick. His other hand stays steady on her waist to allow him to pound into her. 

He feels her tighten around his dick and flushes her against his hips. His hand on her waist drops to stimulate her clit. He doesn’t bother pulling out to just the tip anymore, opting to buck his hips wildly into her. She finally lets the peak of her pleasure roll over her and collapses onto his bike. He continues to thrust into her until he is groaning her name with his release. His DNA stains her inside, oozing out of her as he pulls out. She is on birth control and he always makes sure to send her Plan B the next morning. They aren’t exclusive but have agreed to use condoms with everyone else except each other. Being able to be with each other without any barriers is one of the main reasons they started their sexual relationship. She trusts Rafe to stick to their agreement and she doesn’t care what anyone else says. They get tested on the regular. His fingers tease her entrance to push the leaking substance back into her before hauling her bottoms up her body. “Now, Pet, you are going to go back to that party with the knowledge that only I can make you feel that amazing.” He pats her bum to send her off without any more dialogue between the two. She knows this whole arrangement is a bad idea, yet satisfies every need inside of her and she would be stupid to let him go. 

———

They aren’t a couple. The only obligation they have to each other is a sexual one. It means no feeling, no taking care of each other, and no talking about anything personal while solely in the company of each other. So, technically, she shouldn’t be at his door right now. She had recently heard one of her supposed friends calling her a bitch behind her back and she didn’t know who else to turn to for comfort. Her father won’t care unless it is university-related, she is pretty sure her mother loves her so-called friends more than her, and her brother is living in another state, meaning he can’t provide her with the hug she needs at the moment. She has other friends outside of the two trash talkers, but she isn’t sure who she can trust. So being in his arms is the best solution she can come up with. Her hand shakes as she raises it to the door and lets it rapt against it. She wipes her tears away during a wait for a response. The woosh from the door blows Rafe’s messy hair back. He stretches his arm in the air and curves back before giving her his attention. “Damn, you must be really horny, Pet. We had sex last night,” he grins, reaching for her wrist to draw him against his chest. She jerks away from him with a shake of her head. “I was actually hoping we could talk. Something happened and I need someone in my corn.”

Rafe lets out an annoyed sigh, “That’s not what we do, Y/N.” She notices his shift in what he calls her and second-guesses her attempt. However, she needs this. “I know. But I can’t talk to anyone else because they will be biased and I’m feeling vulnerable, to be honest with you,” she confides. Her teary eyes bore into his. His icy heart is unaffected by the water running down her face. His arms cross, “And that’s my problem how?” Her mouth gapes open in an attempt to find the right words. “We may not be dating, but I at least thought we were friends.”

“Well, we aren’t. So we either fuck or you can leave.” 

She debates the offer in her head. This isn’t exactly why she went to Rafe. Her goal is consolation, not pleasure. She observes the manner in which his muscles flex under her gaze. She trails up to his face and notices how his curtain bangs have fallen in front of his face. It causes her thighs to clench together in want. She answers by smacking her lips against him. He wraps his arms around her, letting him consume her completely. 

———

She doesn’t let herself collapse onto the bed beside him once they’ve both reached their highs. She learned a long time ago that it is easier to leave right away instead of giving herself a moment to recuperate from the bliss. Staying seconds longer would give her the illusion that they could be something more. It’s a delusion to think so. He is always there to remind her of that fact. Today is the epitome of what their relationship is. He doesn’t say anything as she gets off the bed to keep looking for her clothes. He reaches for his phone and scrolls through it. She doesn’t doubt for a second that he is planning his next hook-up for tonight. It takes everything in her power not to let the little bubble of jealousy pop. They aren’t dating. There are no feelings in this agreement she reminds herself. Finally, she is fully clothed and goes to get her phone on the nightstand. She reaches for the doorknob and is stopped by his sharp voice. “Don’t ever come to me again with that emotions shit again, Pet. I won’t hesitate to replace you if you do.” 

———

Cocaine can’t be his vice anymore. He doesn’t know what made him choose to abandon the substance all of a sudden, but a little voice in his head is telling him that it isn’t what he needs anymore. He has been finding himself leaning less and less toward it for months now, so it is about time that he tries to go fully sober. It hasn’t been easy, especially with the consistent antagonizing from his father. “And why should I trust you, Rafe? All you ever do is lie to me,” Ward yells, his face as red as a sunburn and veins bursting from his forehead. Rafe uncharacteristically cowers at his father’s tone, “Because I’m trying to get sober. I promise. I’m hoping it will help me have a clear head more often.” Ward chuckles in a way no family member should at that news. “Like you promised you would buy the generator but actually used the money for your bike. We were without power for a day, Rafe!” Ward criticizes. Rafe runs his fingers through his hair and yanks at the end of it. 

“I’ve already fucking apologized for that! What is it going to take to get you to believe that I’m changing?”

“Going back in time wouldn’t make me alter the way I see you. You are a fuck up, Rafe. It’s all you can ever be. Why can’t you be more like Sarah?”

The shrapnel of his father’s words slits at his heart, causing him to feel betrayed. Rafe storms out of the room and slams the door to his truck shut. His fist slams against the steering wheel with an angry yell. He has to get out of here, yet where would he go? Topper and Kelce would just make fun of him. Sarah and he aren’t exactly close and Wheezie is away for camp. In truth, even if the others were available, there is only one person he wants to be with right now. He takes a deep breath and runs his hands down his face. He starts the car, setting off toward his destination.

———

Y/N is pulled out of her slumber by banging coming from her front door. Her hand darts out to beside her bed to pick up the bat she keeps there for safety. The floorboards creak as she inches her way toward the sound with the bat raised. She can’t hide the slight tremor in her hand as she approaches. “Pet, it’s me. Please, open up. I need you.” She instantly recognizes the voice and rushes to the door. Once the door is open, Rafe is there before her with red eyes. However, she can tell it is from crying and not his normal vice. “Can I come in, please? I can’t be alone right now,” he begs. She brings her lip between her teeth. The petty part of her wants to say no. Wants to remind him that they were fuck buddies, that’s all. Yet, she has heard rumours around town about Rafe trying to get sober and she doesn’t want to risk him relapsing because she isn’t there for him in his time of need. She steps to the side to let him in. She doesn’t expect him to run to her with his arms out. He buries his head into her neck and his arms are around her. She laces her fingers through his hair, “What’s wrong?” She feels his tears hit her skin. “Why can’t my dad accept that I’m not Sarah?” he cries, tightening his hold on her. 

She presses her lips to his forehead for comfort, “I don’t know, Rafe. I want you to know that no matter what he says, you are just as good as Sarah and you matter just as much. Do you want to talk about it more?” She can feel his head shake from side to side against her chest. “No, I really just need to think it all through first. Can I sleep here tonight?” She has never heard him sound so broken before. It is so unlike his confident demeanour. Her response comes in lacing her fingers with his. She leads him to her bedroom and rummages through her drawers for something he can wear. She comes out empty because he is always so stubborn about not mixing emotions in their relationship and leaving a shirt behind counts as that for him. He musters up the ability to laugh, “It’s nothing you have never seen before, Pet.” He doesn’t shy away as he strips off his clothes, leaving him in only his boxers. No matter how many times she has seen his bare chest and toned legs, it doesn’t stop her heart from fluttering. 

She shakes herself out of her shameless stares and snuggles herself under her covers. He slides himself beside her, resting his head on her chest. Her eyes cast downward to see his eyelids are closed. The gentle rise and fall of his chest tells her he is sound asleep. Listening to her heartbeat soothes his aching heart. The steady rhymes remind him that she is looking out for him and he couldn’t be more thankful. 

———

The empty bed beside him makes him panic, except it subsides at the sounds of clatter coming from the kitchen. Footsteps approach the room and she stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips. He has never been here to see the way the morning sun causes a glow to fall on her face. His stomach does a flip at how it accentuates her beauty. The mug in her head lets out the delicious aroma of coffee. “Your clothes are in the dryer and there is coffee in a travel mug for you on the counter. You can return it the next time we hook up,” she announces, turning to go back to the communal area. He didn’t expect her to be so quick with getting him to leave. 

For some reason, the walls of his heart tighten at the thought of her wanting him gone. She follows him out of the room and gets his clothes from the laundry room. After he puts them on, he joins her in the other room. His hand wraps around the purple travel mug, his fingers touch as he brings the cup to his lips. She doesn’t acknowledge his entrance; instead, her eyes remain on her phone that is on the counter. His other hand goes up to scratch the back of his ear, “Do you have work today? I was thinking maybe we can go out to breakfast. You know… So I can tell you about last night.” Her pointed finger freezes over her phone and she doesn’t bother to tilt her head upwards as she looks at him through her lashes. She drops her shoulders and gives her full attention to him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That would involve emotions and you are the one always sayin-” she tries to explain, ahead of him cutting her off. “Saying that emotions aren’t part of the deal. No, you are right. It isn’t in the bounds of our relationship.” 

She gives him a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sorry. I just think it is best to keep to the boundaries we set. Now that it is morning, you can talk about it with Topper or Kelce. They’ll probably be awake by now.” He frowns. She thinks he only came to her because his friends weren’t an option to go to, while it is partially true, another part of him merely liked the idea of being with her. That couldn’t be right though. She is meant to be a sexual release, that’s it. There had to be a different explanation as to why he wanted to be with her. It’s probably because he was thinking about sex to get his mind off of his argument. Yeah, that is why. “Yeah, that is so right,” he agrees, taking a step back with the travel mug still in hand. “I’m going to head out. Ummm… yeah.” He swings around, almost hitting the closed door because he underestimated the distance. He looks back at her with a nervous smile and steps back. The door whines as he pulls it open and shuts it behind her, leaving her to wonder what has the most self-assured and stubborn person she knows acting like a fool.

———

Rafe’s stare hardens whilst the room around him pays no attention to his line of site. They don’t notice the way her hair wraps around her finger. Or the harmonious giggle she lets out that Rafe swears he can hear even from across the room. Or how she is looking at him the way she used to look at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t remember the moment she stopped having that twinkle behind her gaze when looking at him. It didn’t used to matter to him, yet all of a sudden, ever since that night, it is all he yarns to receive. Now, her focus is on Derek. Derek doesn’t deserve her attention. He doesn’t know how to please her. He doesn’t know her favourite flowers are daffodils because she used to plant them with her grandmother. He doesn’t know the pressure she goes through with her dad about school and how most of her friends from the island are more focused on keeping up appearances as a Kook. She thinks he doesn’t listen to her or notice those tiny things, except he does. His brain is moving a million miles a minute until a bump on his shoulder shifts his notice. 

He looks up to see Topper trying to hand him a red solo cup. The grumpy Kook doesn’t take the drink, much to the annoyance of his friend. “What’s in it?” Rafe gruffs, swatting the outstretched arm away from him. Topper’s smile vanishes, “Jungle juice.” Rafe shakes his head. “I don’t want it,” he grumbles, turning his concentration back to Y/N. Anger fills him at what he sees. Derek’s fingers lace hers and he is tugging her toward the front entrance. His first instinct is to go after them, but then he remembers another part of their agreement. There is no exclusivity between them and this causes Rafe to grab the drink Topper offered. He downs it in one go, getting up to get another one. This is going to be a long night.

———

Y/N doesn’t need a summer job; however, she enjoys working the occasional shift at The Wreck. Tonight is one of the nights when Mike needs her help. She expertly maneuvers herself around the table and heads behind the counter to punch in her new order. At the sound of a voice clearing, she spins around to find Rafe sitting on a stool at the counter. She beams, “Hey, Rafe. What can I get for you?” 

“I don’t know, it depends. How long until your shift is over?”

“I work closing, so I’ll probably get off around eleven.”

“Perfect, I’ll have a burger with friends and a coke. Do you have plans for tonight?”

“Not that I know of, so yes, I can come over.” 

He grins like a child, whose parents told him he can get the toy he has been begging for, and lets her get back to work in hopes it will bring them to eleven faster. 

About half an hour later, a new figure enters the restaurant. Rafe recognizes the buzzed, almost bald, head and the dark chocolate eyes, immediately scowling at the man. The last time Rafe saw him, he was taking Y/N who knows where. “Hi, Y/N/N. How are you?” Derek greets, sitting beside Rafe with a flick of his chin. Rafe looks afraid in fear that his jealousy will show and he’ll get into a fight with the new arrival. She turns to Derek and her smile is so bright that the acid in Rafe’s stomach swirls around the pylorus like it is a drain. He has to control his strength so he doesn’t break the glass in his hand. His ears disconnect with his auditory cortex, not processing the conversation going on between the other two. “So are you doing anything after your shift is over?” Rafe finally catches up with the conversation at Derek’s attempt to make plans with Y/N. He expects her to say she can’t hang out with Derek, yet she doesn’t. She giggles, “I’m free. What did you have in mind?” Not wanting to hear what the man has planned, Rafe gets up from his seat, throws a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and rampages out of the restaurant. The clatter of the dishware because of the stool chair being shoved harshly against the counter causes her to notice Rafe’s exit. She excuses herself from the conversation and her shift, running after him. 

“Rafe, wait,” she yells in a pant. She watches as his footsteps falter and he looks at her. “I thought you were going to wait for me to finish my shift.” He scoffs, avoiding eye contact, “I was. Although, I didn’t see a point in staying once you had plans with Derek.” His words drip with hate when he utters the name. She traces the back of her knuckles; her guilt blossoms in her stomach at the disappointment on his face. “You’re right. I did promise to go to your house. I’m sorry. Let’s go now,” she apologizes. His head whips from side to side, “I’m good. I don’t need your pity.” She steps forward and takes his hand. “It’s not a pity thing. I want to go home with you because you are a good time,” she swears, squeezing his palm. He could benefit from being more angry, except all he wants is to tumble into bed with her. 

It doesn’t take long for them to get to his bedroom. The door closes and he steps closer to her, his warm hands cupping her cheeks. The tips of her eyebrows plunge slightly. His gentleness is something new. Usually, their sex is primal. The typical emotion running rampant was desire. His head drops closer to her and their lips meet in a gentle yet passionate fashion. He cradles the base of the school with his fingers through her hair. She has never felt so adored before. No one has ever given her attention intertwined with love. Her parents are always busy with work or each other. Her friends keep her at a distance, even if they love her. This. This is different. He sets the pace, slowly lifting her shirt and unbuttoning her pants. She matches his speed as she sheds off his clothes. They look each other in the eyes and silently agree that foreplay isn’t something that is going to happen tonight. Because tonight isn’t about getting off. It is about the intimate connection they can form by having sex. He walks her back toward his bed while they kiss, breaking apart so he can pull the sheets back. His head gestures toward the bed and she gets comfortable on it on all fours. 

He smiles and steps behind her. She can feel his hand on her shoulders as he twists them so that she is lying on her back. Her head forms an angle. Their go-to positions are ones where face-to-face contact isn’t necessary. Nevertheless, when they do missionary, it is so that he can choke her easier and harder. She is ready for the moment he enters her to have a little sting and is surprised when he eases his way in. She thinks he is going to through her legs over his shoulder to go deeper inside of her. That never happens either. He rests her legs around his waist, thrusting into her slowly and sweetly. His hands find their way back to her cheeks. She loves the heat it provides her. Her hips buck up with his movement to add to their pleasure and he may not be going as deep as he could, yet the intimacy provides all the satisfaction they need. 

They let out small pants as they worked together to bring each other to their climax. He remains inside of her while they both come down from their highs and collapse beside her. She gets up from the bed, ignoring his release that rushes down her leg. Her hand reaches for a tissue as she grabs her underwear off the floor. She steps further from his bed and he doesn’t stop himself from grabbing onto her wrist. Y/N twirls to look at him with curiosity in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she worries, trying to see any visible injuries on him. His eyes can’t meet hers and his thumb fidgets with the bone of her wrist, “Can you stay?” 

“Why would you want that? Wouldn’t that make this too personal for us?” 

“Because I want us to be personal.” 

Silence fills the air, both of them processing what he said. He figures he should add more to the statement and sits up. He doesn’t bother to cover himself after the blanket slides off his lap and onto the floor. “I was crazing to think that I could keep things purely physical with you. Because the truth is… I have fallen head over heels for you and the only thing I want is to be personal with you. I want something personal, and romantic, and everlasting. I can’t keep being your fuck buddy, Pet, because I need more from our relationship. I-.” His rant is cut off by her lips colliding with his. She rests her knees on either side of his waist. Their lips disconnect and her forehead touches his. He twirls a strand of hair around his finger as they stare at each other in soft pants. His other hand kneads at the skin above her bum. “I need those things too,” she whispers. He grins like a child, “So I guess that means you’ll say yes to a date.” “I would love to go on a date with you,” she agrees with a smile. They enjoy each other's hold for a few more minutes until he catches her trying to hide a yawn. He stands up and holds the bottom of her thighs to take her with him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. She doesn’t question when he walks to the bathroom and buries her head in his neck. 

He puts her on the counter and spreads her thighs apart. Her tired eyes watch him wet a wash cloth and clean off the dry cum between her legs, pressing a delicate kiss to her sensitive clit. He straightens to find her a new toothbrush and hands it to her. They brush their teeth together before he gets her a spare shirt from his bedroom. He helps her tug it over her body and carries her back to bed. He lies beside her, bringing the blanket to cover both of them. Throughout the whole routine, seeing her naked body gets him hard again, yet he ignores the rock between his legs and snuggles her into the crook of his neck. She feels how turned on he is and even though she is spent from their earlier round, she offers him a chance of release. “We can go another round if you want.” His head moves from side to side, “No, Pet. You’re tired. Let’s just sleep so you can get your energy back. Maybe in the morning.” She can’t disagree with him; nevertheless, there is something else that they can try that might be able to give him the same sensation he needs and she has wanted to try it. She looks at him with bashful eyes, “What if you put it in and didn’t move? Then we can go to sleep and maybe it will make you not as hard anymore.” 

Surprise flashes across his face and want brews in his stomach. He doesn’t think he has ever heard such a hot request before. He nods and brings the hand thrown over her waist down between their bodies to guide the head of his cock to her entrance. She places her hand on his chest and confirms she is ready for him. His thrust eases himself into her, her hand slightly digging into his skin for comfort. Once fully sheath inside of her, he kisses her and brings her closer to his front. “I love you,” he mutters against her lips. Her eyes are already fluttered shut, except she still hears his confession. “I love you too.”  They fall asleep with him buried in her and a romantic future on their minds.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[overtlydinosaurian]

I love cities skylines (1) so much. They have this DLC for the stock market, where you can invest in your cities industries from the city's budget to allow the industries to prosper and make more money. When the industries do well, you all benefit. When they fail, you all lose money. Jobs affected, layoffs, etc. very very cool dlc, makes the industries even more fun to interact with and all that. Except one thing. There's this glaring exploit that idk if it just snuck through QA or if people just thought it was realistic, but basically... You are in charge of the very industries you're investing in. You can completely abuse the game to make as much money as possible. For example, I could ban gas vehicles and require all citizens to ride bikes everywhere. This would TANK the mining industry, and make stock super cheap because it's doing poorly. Then I can buy a ton of stock in it for dirt cheap, then suddenly ban bicycles and public transportation and make people only use cars anywhere. Suddenly, the mining industry is exploding and I can make millions. This only takes like 10 in game years, which depending on speed played at is like 3 real life minutes.

The game just lets you be corrupt. And you never see punishment for this.

[dtcexpressgurgaon]

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[mossybee-exe]

Solaprunk Worldbuilding 1 - Eco-Cities

I've been working on worldbuilding a solarpunk setting for a slice of life story I'm writing and thought I'd share some of my ideas to maybe inspire other people!

In this world there is no government, no rules, no pressures or bad people. Just society working together after a global crash. A second chance to do things right this time.

(Mind the spelling mistakes)

Although far and few in between, big cities and towns still exist in this universe. However, they've all worked hard to keep it as eco-friendly as possible and still choose to live alongside and work with nature rather than fight it.

Trash and recyclingcans can now be found almost everywhere, giving no one an excuse to litter. Community composters are also a thing.

Skyscrapers, now skeletons of the old world, are draped in thick ivy vine walls, native flowering vines, moss panels, and vertical hydroponics that wrap around the metal and glass bones. These help regulate temperature, absorb CO2, and create habitats fors birds and insects.

Former office buildings and shopping centers like malls have been repurposed into shared living spaces, community markets, workshops, and event areas. Floors have open walls and breeze tunnels to reduce reliance on cooling systems. Those can be shut during colder months.

In taller districts, tree houses extend from reclaimed buildings, blending organically with planted rooftop forests. Rope bridges and wind-activated elevators made if recycled parts help people travel between vertical spaces.

Cities are completely walkable and don't require transportation. Streets are narrow and shaded with plant canopies. Most paved areas are soft permeable cobblestone or moss-tile paths that allow rain to soak through instead of pooling or flooding.

Painted murals double as maps - bold, hand-painted designs show landmarks, walking trails, tram routes, and local art projects. Updated regularly by volunteers.

Giant sculpted trees or mushrooms function ad rainwater collectors, solar lanterns, or even mist sprayers during hot days. Children often climb on them or gather nearby to play. They can also provide shade.

Metal "bike trees" hold dozens if free-to-use bikes, all maintained by volunteers. Bikes come in all colors and sizes, some decorated with flowers or art to reflect the community's personality.

Solar Trams glide quietly on narrow tracks. They're sleek but not flashy, designed with recycled metals and glass. Inside, seats are made from reclaimed wood, each with a small solar lamp or charging port. Solar Buses work in a similar fashion.

Public Plazas now have eco-escalators that are powered by pedaling like on a bike.

Interactive screens at intersections and stops show local events, weather and climate, community votes or messages, and tutorial videos on composting, repair, herbal medicine, or art-making. Digital marketing and advertisements are no more.

Most people carry small, solar-powered devices that have replaced phones called "Data Stones" - slate-like digital notebooks that sync to the city's mesh network. People use them for Journaling, mapping, music, or community messaging, but never for mindless scrolling. Digital use is intentional, not addictive.

The internet exists, but it's localized. Instead of one global net, each town or city has a mesh intranet. Communities upload and share stories, tech guides, magazines, songs, and documentaries- all accessible for free.

At every city node is a "Commons Booth"-a repurposed phone booth now used for small trades, gifts, or lost-and-found. You might find a hand-knit hat, seeds, poems in a bottle, hand-bound journals, or a small bag if dried herbs for tea.

Public parks host weekly workshops: mushroom log inoculation, fixing Guardianers, upcycling old tech, dyeing fabrics with natural materials, and crafting musical instruments from trash.

Fireflies are protected and welcomed into urban life with dedicated "nightlight gardens"- small glowing sanctuaries that bloom under moonlight (usually a mix of regular and bioluminescent plants). People sit quietly here, reading or singing. Festivals are celebrated not with fireworks, but light dances, candlelit parades, or bioluminescent art. It's also a romantic place for a date.

Children and adults alike use "Learning Loops"- open-air circles of benches and tree stumps near gardens and community spaces where mentors teach based on skills, not age. There's no formal school system. Learning is woven into life.

On a certain day each month, citizens volunteer to teach something for free-sailing knots, solar repair, compost chemistry, storytelling, mediation, bird language. The city slows down that day. It's treated like a holiday.

In addition to tire-posted Little Libraries (where people can take a book and leave one in it's place), entire alleys have been converted into "Book Gardens"- free libraries under pergolas or vines, surrounded by reading hammocks and native wildflowers.

Local businesses and shops are still a thing, but are not kept up by money. Money has no use in this world anymore. Businesses upkeep it themselves and will happily trade their wares for something in return. For example, a bakery can trade a cake for something in return like a jar of jam or something else. It's like that everywhere.

Citizens enjoy solar-charged cooking stoves, clean water from centralized purification systems, access to upcycled tech, 3D-printed tools, and digital artist hubs.

Markets overflow with herbs, handmade instruments, mushroom leathers, fermented goods, and hand-bound books from across the region. Some city dwellers specialize in creating high-tech eco-dafe goods to trade with the countryside.

Most people live in co-housing clusters or share entire floors of old skyscrapers converted into lush indoor gardens and social spaces. They might not know everyone, but each block has caretakers and community gatherings.

They're alive with creativity and innovation. Mural projects, street musicians using windows instruments powered by movement, and holographic poetry displays powered by pedals or solar generators.

With more people comes more variety in skills. It's common to find classes in herbalism, robotics, or solar carpentry happening daily in public courtyards.

The ideas are free to use for whatever you want or use for inspiration! All I ask is that you CREDIT ME! And feel free to send me an ask on more details to this lovely world :)

[reasonsforhope]

"A Ghanaian-English entrepreneur has designed an electric bike from the ground up that’s transforming short-range transportation in her home country, proving that problem-solving in Africa can be done in Africa, by Africans.

[Valerie Labi's] company, Wahu!, assembles each bike by hand, and they can travel up to 80 miles [128 kilometers] on a single charge. This means that a delivery rider for Glovo or Bolt can comfortably cover a whole day’s work without refueling.

Anyone who’s visited Accra, Ghana, in the dry season will remember the incredibly poor air quality. Poor roads mean that cars are stuck in second and third gears, and old cars traveling in second and third gears mean plenty of extra car exhaust.

Poor roads also mean exposed dirt, and exposed dirt means fine-grained dust. Combined with a lack of rain, the smog, dust, and car exhaust make the air in parts of the capital unfit for human health.

Wahu! bikes help alleviate all three of these problems, and despite her English nativity [Note: Super weird and unclear way to phrase it?] and education, the bikes were designed and manufactured in Spintex, Accra.

“By introducing electric bikes into Ghana’s transportation ecosystem, we’re not only providing a greener alternative but also offering speed and convenience,” Labi told The Mirror. “Our bikes are a testament to how service delivery can be seamlessly merged with environmental conservation.”

Valerie Labi is a true inspiration, and besides her transportation company, she got her start in the Ghanaian economy in sanitation. She holds a chieftaincy title as Gundugu Sabtanaa, given to her by the previous Chief of the Dagbon traditional area in the Northern Region of Ghana. She has three children, holds a double major in Economics and Sustainability from two separate universities, and has visited 59 countries.

Getting her start in Northern Ghana, she founded the social enterprise Sama Sama, a mobile toilet and sanitation company that now boasts 300,000 clients.

During her travels around the small, densely populated country, she also recognized that transportation was not only a problem, but offered real potential for eco-friendly solutions.

“It took us two years to effectively design a bike that we thought was fit for the African road, then we connected with Jumia and other delivery companies to get started,” she told The Mirror. “Currently, I have over 100 bikes in circulation and we give the bikes on a ‘work and pay’ basis directly to delivery riders.”

According to Labi, each driver pays about 300 Ghana cedis, or about $24.00, per week to use the bike, which can travel 24 miles per hour, and hold over 300 pounds of weight. The fat tires are supported by double-crown front/double-spring rear suspension.

The bikes are also guaranteed by the company’s proprietary anti-theft system of trackers. Only a single bike has been stolen, and it was quickly located and returned to the owner."

-via Good News Network, January 24, 2024

[late-draft]

Some more details for the sci-fi AU, this time specifically for Zuko before I manage to draw more:

He fires lightning in this AU. However it's not very strong, and he has to wear a specifically made suit that allows him to fire it without damaging his body. Electricity is gathered then channeled along the outside of his arms. Visually it's purposefully similar to Aang's tattoos, except only localized to his back and arms. Azula, of course, doesn't need any assistive technology for her lightning bending!

While in canon it's important that Zuko's s1 hairstyle is a shameful one that signifies that he lost an Agni Kai in a terrible way (and I believe this hasn't been touched upon enough in canon), in this AU I'm reversing it. This hairstyle is worn by all the best firebenders-racers. It's supposed to be a point of pride and the gaang (mostly Sokka and Aang) make fun of it.

Zuko's lapels on his suit are pure white, they lack any stripes that signify status in the Fire Nation. Ozai's are (of course) completely covered in a bazillion stripes.

Zuko's entourage of older racers that accompany him oftentimes do NOT want to attempt very dangerous moves while chasing an airbender who makes it look easy. Zuko just hits the gas and survives by jumping and passing through pretty narrow openings or closing garbage press or what have you... yikes. He also tries to race Katara, but once she's on the highway, he's left in the dust. This is why Katara often jumps in with her bike to pick up Aang once he's done with his search.

Firing lightning and fire blasts at fleeing Aang who snickers at him results in a lot of explosions and collateral damage on buildings.

Zuko often gets in trouble by racing on highways and pathways that are held by Zhao, who's in charge of Fire Nation's transport lines. These are not your standard 200 km/h highways, these things have unmanned vehicles going 400 km/h. Again, Yikes.

Music? Yes

Me & You - Dirtyphonix Remix