#professional road bike

[saintobio]

⊹₊ ⋆🏍₊˚⊹ ON TRACK.

when being the WAG of a rookie MotoGP rider earns you the front-row seats to a thrilling race and... an unsightly amount of groupies.

▞▞ pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ genre. fluff, established relationship, biker boy au, motogp rider au

▞▞ tags. biker!sukuna, motogp rider!sukuna, sukuna rides for ducati, WAG!reader, ooc, profanity, mentions of reckless driving, jealousy, insecurities, accidents, mentions of injuries, sukuna gets a little touchy in the end

▞▞ notes. 1.8k wc. do we miss biker!sukuna? i think we all miss biker!sukuna !! bahaha the influx of biker!sukuna fanarts made me write this. and also bcos i watched motogp clips on tiktok. rbs and comments highly appreciated! :D

Have you ever imagined Sukuna as a MotoGP rider? 

Well, his passion for bikes didn’t just stay confined to the open road. He knew he was destined for more than just the city’s freeways and the thrill of 1000cc machines. He was, as a matter of fact, made for the track. 

Yes, the scary, dangerous, exhilarating world of high-speed competition.

When he had first told you about competing in MotoGP, you were thrilled for him. Truly, because you knew that the series had been his lifelong dream. Before, he was just a little boy who collected bikes for toys, and now he had the chance to make his dream a reality. So, who were you to stand in the way of that?

In fact, you were incredibly supportive—always present at his races, always cheering for him from the stands. It didn’t matter if you’d lose your voice the next day. You had to be his biggest supporter. And today was just another one of those days where your duty as his #1 fan called for you to be there and root for him with all your heart. 

Today’s MotoGP race was in full swing, and your heart pounded in rhythm with the thundering bikes tearing down the track. They all passed by in a resounding zoom! where your eyes could barely keep up from their otherworldly speed. From your vantage point in the VIP section, you watched intently as the riders navigated the circuit, your eyes never straying far from one rider in particular—Sukuna, your longtime boyfriend, riding a Ducati Desmosedici GP24.

“I’m so nervous,” you murmured, hands clasped together as your eyes remained glued to your lover. 

Sukuna was a sight to behold on the track, and he always told you that his bike was an extension of himself as he maneuvered with precision and aggression. Honestly, it must be scary to be the one riding such powerful superbikes, especially when the roar of engines alone was a symphony of speed and power that sent chills down your spine. And while you were filled with anxiety watching your boyfriend on the circuit, the red and black Ducati eventually flashed past, neck and neck with the Aprilia rider, and the two bikes locked in a fierce battle for the lead. 

You could imagine the commentators keeping a close eye as they narrated the race on live television.

But you trusted in Sukuna’s talent. His ability to escape from cops with his old R6 back in his college days was proof enough of how ridiculous he could get with his speed. He didn’t get a single ticket because he managed to outrun them all. Though, of course, that wasn’t something you should be mentioning to anyone. He wasn’t actually proud of notoriety and history of reckless driving before, especially when he recalled having endangered your life once before while you rode with him as his backpack. 

And since Sukuna upgraded to being a professional rider now, you had your fair share of an upgrade, too. That manifested in the form of being part of the so-called WAGs—or wives and girlfriends of the racers. Life as a WAG wasn’t drastically different from your previous one, except now your boyfriend was a huge global sensation in the biker community, and you had become somewhat of a fashion icon yourself. That wasn’t even an exaggeration, because every time you were seen with him publicly, people would soon be talking about your off-duty looks and outfits all over social media. 

But going back to the main star of the show, your hands clenched around the railing, knuckles white, as the race progressed. It annoyed you that the Aprilia rider was pushing him to the edge but never quite managing to overtake. Tailing the two were the riders for Honda, Gresini, Pramac, and KTM among the few.

Cupping your hands around your mouth, you cheered for your boyfriend. “Go, baby! Let’s go!”

The giant screen above the track zoomed in on Sukuna, his Arai helmet fitting the aesthetics of his big, red bike. The effortless way he handled his bike sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd. There were lots of cheering, screaming, roaring, and… well, squealing. Your head naturally turned to the group of girls nearby who were the very cause of the high pitched noises, their squeals of delight making the other WAGs around you shake their heads in amusement.

“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” 

“Look at him! He’s perfect!” 

“Sukuna, marry me!” 

“I’ll give you my number later!” 

“God, I wanna hook up with him.” 

“Girl, me too!” 

“You think we should wait outside his hotel later?” 

“Count me in!” 

Groupies. You felt a surge of pride mixed with a twinge of jealousy as you watched their frenzied adoration for your boyfriend. Literally. Your fingers were itching to gouge their eyes out. You wondered if he had ever been tempted to cheat, that when you were busy with your own corporate life outside of being his girlfriend, he might have rewarded himself by sleeping with an influencer or two. Probably models, too. Those tall, gorgeous women who often get partnered with him on ads and photoshoots.  

But the thing was, you couldn’t blame them—yes, your boyfriend was undeniably handsome, and his chiseled features and intense gaze made him a magnet for attention. A true eye-candy if you may add. Not to mention, he had the most attractive tattoos you had seen in a man. Ever. 

But he was yours, and that knowledge filled you with a sense of triumph over the hundreds and thousands of girls that were fantasizing about him.

Then, in the middle of your trance, an accident struck.

It was a blur of red and black as Sukuna’s bike suddenly wobbled after the rear wheel slipped on a patch of oil left behind by another rider. You held your breath in, praying to every saint that he remained safe, as you watched him struggle to regain control while the bike fishtailed dangerously. 

“Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh.” Your brain rattled with anxiety as you gripped onto the railings. “Baby, no. No, be careful! You got this!” 

For a moment, it seemed he might manage to stay upright, but then the inevitable happened. Sukuna went down in a matter of seconds, and his bike skidded out from under him in a shower of sparks.

“Oh, shit!” 

A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and your heart was lurching in your chest as you saw how your lover hit the tarmac. The medics immediately rushed onto the track, while you were still awestricken as you stared at the screen displaying his fall. 

“Please be okay, baby! Please,” you muttered under your breath again and again. 

A fellow WAG eventually placed a hand on your shoulders, rubbing you comfortingly. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Their gears are made for this.”

She spoke like true champ, and you knew you could put some trust in her words since she was a seasoned WAG. She had probably seen worst accidents that her husband had gone through while on track.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself. What if Sukuna sustained really terrible injuries? What if he broke a bone or two? What if he experienced a concussion? And if he did, what if he’d no longer remember you when he wakes up? Oh, Jesus. Your overthinking was the true culprit here. Yet there was nothing you could really do but wait for good news and hope that nothing too serious happened. Seconds felt like hours, and you were almost about to faint until you saw Sukuna finally standing up between the medics that surrounded him, waving to signal that he was okay albeit limping a little.

“Thank fuck!” 

“See? I told you he’s fine.”

Relief flooded through you, but unfortunately, such joy ended up being short-lived. Sukuna had lost precious seconds in the fall, seconds that allowed the Aprilia to pull ahead. And by the time he got back on his bike and rejoined the race, the gap was already too wide. 

He crossed the finish line in fifth place, a position that felt like a heart-shattering defeat after having been so close to victory.

As soon as the race was over, you didn’t even think twice when you made your way down to the paddock, pushing through the crowd and the throng of zealous fans just to reach your boyfriend. Your heart was still racing, almost akin to the superbikes that were speeding on the track moments ago, as you desperately looked for the love of your life. Only when you rounded the corner did you finally see him, helmet off and leathers dusty from the fall, talking with his team.

“Lovey!” you called out, face full of worry.

Sukuna was quick to turn at the sound of your voice, his expression softening the very moment his eyes landed on you. With long strides, he removed hi’s gloves and closed the distance between you two, and before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms, the scent of leather and motor oil enveloping you in a comforting hug.

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling back just enough to search his face for any signs of injury. “I was losing my mind back there!” 

As if he didn’t just experience a dangerous fall, he had a mischievous smile displayed when he looked at you. “I’m fine, baby. Just a little bruised ego.”

“It’s not a joke,” you whined, arms crossed at his lack of seriousness to the matter. “I was so scared when I saw you go down."

Very sweetly, he cupped your face in his hands and nuzzled his nose against yours. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m still alive, right?”

That’s true, you thought. But also… “You came in fifth,” you said, letting out a quieted sigh. 

But the Ducati rider himself was merely chuckling. Not even an ounce of heartbreak was shown on bis face. “Fifth place isn’t the end of the world, babe. I can live with that.”

You shook your head, not understanding how he could be so calm. Really. “But you were so close. You could have won!” And you’d blame it on your hormones, but you remembered the group of girls who cheered him on and decided to bring it up. “By the way, you had all those girls ready to throw themselves at you earlier. One of them even suggested waiting outside your hotel to hook up with you.” 

“Really? Where are those baddies?” he joked, looking around and trying to spot the girls until you flicked his forehead. “Ow! I was just kidding, babe. You’re the only one riding this dick day and night.” 

“Not funny.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re jealous.” He started attacking your cheeks with squeezes. 

While you, you tried your best to swat his hand away. “I’m not. Stooop—! You’re so annoying!” 

“Okay, okay!” He let out a deep chuckle as he raised his hands in surrender. “Anyway, I don’t care about them. I’ve already won the most important race of all."

You blinked twice in the same second, not comprehending his words. “What do you mean?”

Sukuna’s eyes soon softened into a teasing gaze. “I have my beautiful girl in my arms right now. That’s the only victory that matters to me.”

As much as you tried to contain it, a smile eventually broke across your face. “You’re such a sap!”

“Only for you,” was his elfish response, pulling you closer. 

The celebrations continued around you as the media and the crowd swarmed into the paddock. Sukuna held your waist tightly the entire time, all while acknowledging the people that greeted him and asked him for signatures. While in his arms, you realized that he was right. Winning or losing on the track didn’t matter because he already had you—and that was his true and greatest victory.

As cringe-worthy as that may sound. 

“I do have a request, though.” Your boyfriend focused his attention back on you, giving your bum a playful squeeze in front of everyone before he moved his face closer to your ear. “Make me feel like a winner in bed tonight.”

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Three-hour Drive in Two

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, cursing, overstimulation,

Summary: You call Daryl over the radio and tell him you're tired of the games, and want to finally have sex. Daryl drops everything he's doing to get to you. 

Notes: The idea of Daryl wanting to have sex with someone so badly that he literally just gets on his bike and rides hours to do it????? It's just so hot????

There was the sound of creaking, shuffling, paper or boxes. You're breathing louder, and closer to the mic, he could almost feel your warm breath tickling his ear if he closed his eyes. 

“I wanna talk to you.” A soft and breathy tone, it sent a freezing chill down his spine. He knew what that sound meant. 

He raised his eyes from his fingers in his lap, glancing around the room. No one was paying him any attention. Maggie still looking out the window, Glenn still upstairs, and Michonne digging around in the kitchen.

“Yeah?” He responded, his voice coming out much lower than he intended. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, and he could hear the same creaking sound. You were in a chair, moving around, restless, he could hear that now. “As hot as this is, what we've been doing…” 

You and Daryl had been playing this game for a few months. 

It started with caught glances, red cheeks, and then all of a sudden you were showing off for each other. Subtle, but obvious to anyone who'd caught sight of it. 

You would be walking around Alexandria in those Bobbie Brooks shorts you and Daryl loved. Daryl started dressing nicer, swapping those long sleeved shirts for his older cutoff button ups, his biceps as eye-catching as a big red circle, a handful of arrows lit up with little gold neon lights, blinking and flickering ‘hey, look at me, all for you, look, please’. 

Then came the flirting. Daryl was absolutely awful at it. You seemed like a professional compared to him, with your bedroom eyes and lip biting, that sweet sly grin you'd have after teasing him. 

Daryl started with what made him hard when he'd catch you'd do it, which was staring shamelessly. He'd go out of his way to check out your ass when you'd walk in the other direction and give a simple smile when you'd look over your shoulder and catch him. 

You always looked to see if he looked, and he always did. 

“Daryl?” 

He cleared his throat, blinking away the memory of your ass in those sinful jean shorts. He turned down the volume on his radio and raised it closer to his face. “Hmm. M’here.”

“How fast do you think you can get back?” 

The question and what it alluded to had his dick twitching in his jeans. “Three hours.” He answered immediately, avoiding the curious look Maggie gave him from across the room.

“Think anyone's on this channel?” The sound of you humming was accompanied by footsteps, boots against the hardwood floor of your house. 

“Shouldn't be.” He muttered, picking up his gun and bag and making his way to the front door. 

“Everything okay?” Maggie asked, watching Daryl as she kept a lookout through the downstairs windows. They were on a supply run, going further out than usual, most places near Alexandria had been wiped clean. 

“Yeah. S'fine. Got somethin’ to take care of. How much longer y'all gonna be?” Daryl slipped his shoulder through the strap on his crossbow, his radio still clutched tightly in his other hand.

“Gonna check a few other houses down this road, then the factory.” Maggie nodded. “We'll be back before sunset.”

Daryl offered a returned nod, unable to meet her eyes, the excitement of knowing he was about to have his dick in you making him jumpy. 

He thought he was gonna have to be the one to ask, you'd always seemed so composed and patient, content with blue balling him and leaving your panties in his room. 

“Be safe.” She called out after him as he walked down the concrete pathway, and he raised a hand in acknowledgment.

“You still there?” Even though he turned down the volume he could still hear you over the sound of his heavy boots over the concrete, and he raised his radio back to his face. 

“Yeah. M’on my way.” He couldn't remember a time he'd felt so excited about something. No fear, no anxiety, no dread, just heart hammering anticipation. 

His mouth watered as he fished out the keys to his bike from his pocket. 

“Don't get a speeding ticket.” 

Daryl chuckled, and got on his bike. 

If cops were still a thing, he'd get a lot more than a ticket for the way he drove back home. He and the others took three hours to get to that town from Alexandria, and he made it back there in two. He hadn't had a ride like that since he was young, maybe back at the Greene farm or in Atlanta. He drove like he had a helmet, hell, like he had a full suit of armor, and gas was readily available at any of the gas stations he passed by. 

You were standing in your closest when he finally tried to reach you.  Standing completely still, biting your bottom lip to keep from giggling. 

“Where?” You had to turn down the volume to keep from being found. 

“You gotta find me.” You breathed, your cheeks aching from the smile on your face. He'd come through your room twice already, the second time confused, and now he was no doubt checking his room. 

“Gotta find you?” He repeated, the image of his bewildered face was easy to imagine. 

“Mhm. See if you can find me before I come.” You whispered, your smile fading the lower your hand slipped down the front of your shorts. 

“Oh, shit.” You mumbled. Your fingertips grazed against your clit, finding that you were already soaking. You hadn't touched yourself before then, but it felt like you'd been going at it for hours. 

Daryl's muffled grunt came through the radio, either annoyance or something else. Maybe hearing you make those noises was enough to get him hard. You didn't know he'd been hard off and on since he got on his bike. 

“I don't, I don't think you've got a lot of time-”

Heavy boots sounded coming up the stairs again, quicker than your racing heartbeat. The sound sent a bolt of excitement through your chest, knowing he was ready to start flipping over tables just to find you, just to touch you. 

“Warmer.” You stifled your moan, moving your fingers quicker against your clit. He paused for a second, you could hear him at the end of the hall. He walked into Michonne's bedroom and you had to fight away the laugh that threatened to give you away. 

“Cold.”

His footsteps echoed down the hall as he came back to your room once again. You held your breath and slowed your movements, watching through the cracks in the closet door. 

God, the sight of him standing in your doorway looking for you was enough to come to. He looked so… dedicated, fueled by the motivation to get you in his hands and make you regret teasing him like that.

“Hot.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched, your wide eyes illuminated by the daylight through the lines in the door. He walked into your room, looking under the bed, getting on his knees. 

He stood, flicking his head to get the hair from his face. 

He flipped the comforter of your bed and it almost made you giggle that he thought you could somehow be hiding under it. 

Your heart stopped when he turned his head to look at the closet door. The only other place you could be.

His boots sounded like they were weighed down with bricks as he approached the door, each step sending your heart racing faster and faster. You pulled your hands from your shorts and unbuttoned them, the sound making him let out the scoff of a man very pleased with himself. 

You turned off the radio as he slid the doors open, greeting you with a lopsided grin.

“I win.” His proclamation was almost innocent, proud of himself and eager to make his accomplishment known. 

“Yeah.” Your fingers worked to unbuckle his belt as you grinned up at him. “What happened to three hours?”

“Light traffic.” 

You laughed as he went back to shut and lock your door, turning on your speaker in the process.  He didn't want to risk anyone hearing the sounds he intended on dragging out of you, and ruining the moment. It was a sweet gesture. 

He was back in front of you in a few short seconds to continue the game of undressing each other, something that could've been done quicker if you just did it to yourselves. That would be a lot less fun. 

His hands on your face caught you off guard. Gentle fingertips graced your lips, the scent of hand soap filling your nose, and you smiled. He'd washed his fucking hands. 

“God.” You shook your head in disbelief, unzipping his pants as you slowly walked him backwards to your bed. “You're something else.”

He snorted, slipping his thumb between your lips. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. You washed your hands.” 

“Course I did.” 

He sat down on the bottom of your bed, his hands moving from your face to slide down your sides, resting at your hips. “Been wantin’ to feel you inside. Ain't gonna do that with dirt and blood on my fingers.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, from his words and the feel of said hands tugging your shorts down your thighs. “Somethin’ else.” You repeated. 

Although Daryl looked absolutely breathtaking covered in blood, you were grateful he'd been so thoughtful. UTIs in the apocalypse were no joke. 

You worked on the buttons of your shirt as he pushed his pants down, and you'd be lying if the sight of him pulling his cock out didn't make you swoon.

His hands were clean, but he still looked like he'd been through hell and back. He was sweaty, his biceps gleaming, the crevices of his muscles made darker from the dirt and whatever else he'd been rolling in out there. His hair messy and ruffled from driving god knows how fast on that motorcycle. 

The feeling of his hot breath on your bare stomach had you sniffing in surprise. You opened your eyes and looked down, letting out a soft whimper at the sight of the top of his head. He planted a kiss between your ribs, keeping his hands on your sides to keep you steady as he worked his way down your stomach, every other kiss his tongue would slip out of his lips and trace deep circles in your skin. 

You watched him bury his face in the front of your panties, nuzzling his nose against the fabric before breathing in like he was smelling flowers. You couldn't help but grin at the comparison, your fingers now in his hair and brushing the tangles out. 

“Smell-” he muttered through kisses to the fabric, “-so good.” He kissed up to the waistband, moving from the front to the side where your hip bones sat. He opened his mouth and bit down, his teeth grinding your skin between them, causing you to let out a rather loud whine of surprise. 

“C'mere.” He didn't wait for you to respond or even acknowledge him before grabbing hold of your ass in his hands, lifting you and bringing you into his lap. 

Being manhandled like that was another thing that drove you crazy. You whimpered and shifted in his lap, sucking in a sharp breath when you felt his heavy cock brushing against the crotch of your panties. 

He groaned, the sound muffled from the way he grits his teeth. He must've been caught off guard by how embarrassingly wet you were, he could feel all of it against his bare dick. Warm and wet, fabric catching and grinding on his length, he had to focus on his breathing to avoid coming right there and then. 

“Here.” He muttered, his fingers looping in the sides of your panties and urging you to maneuver your legs so he could pull them off of you. Once he did he shuddered, the breath vibrating in his chest. 

The sight of you, wet and on partial display, sitting right on his dick, it could've killed him. He pulled himself together and moved his hands between your thighs, wasting no time in touching you like he'd dreamed of for months. 

“Hmm.” He grunted, his jaw visibly flexing from how hard he was clenching down. 

You could barely keep your eyes open. It was a lot. He moved his fingers the same way they felt, rough and forceful. He tried to be smart, circling your clit, lightly pinching it, but he lost his patience fairly quickly and began moving all four of his fingers in flat circles over your entire pussy. 

“Mmmm, god.” You shuddered, grabbing onto his shoulders which felt massive under your hands. He was being sloppy and impatient, but god it felt amazing. He was enjoying touching you like this almost as much as you were receiving it. 

He looked up at you and you lost it. Seeing those eyes on your face had you gasping, trembling, your thighs trying to close around his hand but his waist prevented it. You forced yourself to look at him, your eyes flickering from his eyes, wide and attentive, doing the same thing yours were, to his parted lips. His fingers were relentless on your slippery cunt, growing more rough and fast, sliding over your clit and quickly overstimulating you. 

You tried to crawl off of him and get away from his hands, but he kept you in place with his free hand and dipped a slick finger inside you. 

“Nn-” you gasped, your hips jerking in his lap. He held you tight against him, his finger too thick and too hot, it was too much, you tossed your head back and whined like you'd been stabbed. 

“Fuck.” Daryl whispered, his eyes still on your face, filled with awe at the sight in front of him. His dick twitched under you and his hand, precum oozing from the slit in his tip. Your cheeks looked like you'd been slapped, red and hot, and tears beaded at the corners of your wet eyes, which couldn't decide if they wanted to stay closed or look back at him in something akin to horror. 

He curled his finger, a simple experiment, and the way your hips ground down against him led him to continue, his middle finger digging deeper and deeper inside you, curling and twisting until you actually begged him to stop. His thumb rubbing quick and deep circles against your clit was more intense than anything you could ever dream of doing to yourself.

“Stop, s’too much.” You slurred, pushing on his shoulders. 

“Alright, alright, shh.” He cooed, drawing his fingers from between your legs and wiping them against your trembling lips.

“Gonna,” you shivered against his chest, fighting to catch your breath. “Gonna show you what that's like.” 

He grinned and nodded. 

Once you gave him the nod to continue, he grabbed onto your waist and laid you down on your back. The cool air felt amazing against your throbbing cunt, but that relief was soon replaced by Daryl's hot mouth. 

“Oh, god, Daryl, wait.” You laughed, a mix of nervousness and excitement. If he was as sloppy and eager as he was with his fingers then you'd be in for the filthiest oral of your life. 

“Shh, c'mon.” He breathed, his breath tickling your clit. “Lemme taste.” His eyes flicked up to you and chills ran down your entire body. “Jus' a taste.”

You breathed, looking down at him over your torso. The image of him between your thighs had a tired smile spreading on your lips and you nodded, earning a wicked grin from Daryl. He was a whore for winning, that was for sure.

He lowered his mouth back on you, keeping his eyes on your face as he tried different movements. His gaze had you fucking stunlocked. You couldn't look away, couldn't close your eyes or move from your position, propped up on your elbows, watching him watch you. 

You were right, he was just as primal as he was with his fingers. He licked you like you were the inside of a chip bag, digging his tongue into every crevice and fold, determined on making you cum on his lips.

He was doing a damn good job at it. 

You groaned and took in a trembling breath. Your eyelids grew heavy and it became hard to watch him. 

“Oh my god.” You wailed weakly. Your thighs started twitching, bumping against the sides of his head. You tried to sit still, but your orgasm came and your hips took on a life of their own, bucking and grinding up against his fervid mouth. 

He grunted, grinding his own hips into the mattress. He panted as he watched you cum, having lost his breath giving you the best head of your fucking life. 

“Like the way you do that.” He crawled up your body, leaving wet kisses up your torso, giving special attention to the nipples he neglected earlier. “Never seen somethin' like that b‘fore.” 

You moaned in response, grabbing his hair. Your heart was breaking a goddamn record, it had to be, it never raced like this even when running from walkers in the woods. 

He took a nipple between his teeth, rolling and biting the same way he bit your hip. You whimpered and gasped, trying to regain your bearings, but he made it so, so hard. Especially when he tortured your nipples like he was trying to pierce them with his teeth. 

“Never thought you'd be so…” You were cut off with a yelp when your other nipple was pinched, making you suddenly extremely grateful that he didn't pinch your clit like that. 

“What?” He muttered, his teeth still clamped around your nipple, and rolled his hips against you. His bare dick pushed through your folds, quickly becoming soaked. 

You groaned, low and deep. 

“Aggressive.” You finished. 

“Wan’ me to stop?” He pulled his mouth off of you momentarily, now looking down at your poor messy face. It made him feel proud, knowing he was the reason you looked like such a mess. Hair already wild and frazzled, eyes still wet and cheeks even darker in color. 

“I can be gentle.” He drawled with a sick grin, and ground his pelvis into you again. 

Another groan dragged through your raw throat. “Nnn, no.” 

He snorted, and snaked his hand down between your bodies. 

You drew in a deep breath. You felt the tip of him drag through your folds again, just as much of a tease as his voice, up to your raw clit and your aching hole. 

Now Daryl was the one shuddering against you. You could hear his teeth grinding together as he lined himself up with you, his shoulders heaving above you, and finally, he pushed in. 

He was too rushed and too forceful, so his head just slipped back up your folds and drove against your clit. You whimpered at the sharp tingles, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth to muffle the noises.

Daryl muttered a curse and lined himself up again, learning from his mistake, and pushed in slower. 

Your body trembled. Your back arched, your jaw dropped, and your eyes rolled back into your head. It was indescribable. He was so thick and you were so sensitive, one would think all the foreplay would've made it easy for him to slip inside, but your walls pushed against him in desperate protest. You tried to relax but it was all so much, your cunt was spent and fought against you and his dick.

He won, again, and bottomed out in the first thrust. 

The sounds that left both of your mouths were ten times better than any song your stereo could play. Daryl choked on a gasp, the sweet sound melting into your name. 

You could've sobbed. You almost did, your moan bubbling against your lips, low and whiny. 

Again your name was whimpered, and you responded with a strangled whimper of your own, your fists curled around his leather vest with all the strength left in your hands. 

You could tell he was trying his best to treat you right after the torture he put you through, dragging his dick out slow and gentle, but each time he pushed back into you his exhale came out ragged and raw. 

It was funny, how you were begging him to ease up on you earlier but now you were about to beg him to fuck you until you couldn't breathe. You supposed that's what your body wanted the entire time, his mouth and fingers were amazing, but your greedy walls wanted his cock more than anything. 

“More, Daryl, please-” 

You barely got the words out before he was obliging, snapping his hips forward like he'd been waiting for your permission. The blunt force of the thrust knocked a crude moan from you. 

You got what you wanted, he started fucking you until you literally couldn't breathe. His chest had fallen against yours, and his arms slipped under your back to hold you tight against him. 

He buried his face in your neck, his teeth and lips making the skin there wet and red. It was incredibly hot how much he enjoyed biting, it was so animalistic and primal, something he didn't think too deeply into before doing it. It wasn't that he wanted to mark you, claim you, he just wanted to bite, bite, and bite. 

The way your moans changed to sobs of ecstasy sent a jolt of pleasure through his dick. With a deep growl, he pulled your hips up hard, pelvis rolling down to meet you with a swift and forceful motion, sending a surge of pleasure through your walls and lower stomach. 

You moaned something, a mix of about seven different words, your core fluttering and flipping each time he rammed his hips into you, forcing his dick as deep as possible. 

He clamped his teeth around the skin where neck meets shoulder, another way to keep you in place, as if his arms and legs weren't doing a good enough job. He'd twisted his legs around your ankles, something you couldn't picture or comprehend, but your feet were rendered immobile by his thighs and it was sexy enough for you not to question it. 

“Fuck!” He growled, slamming his pelvis into you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. 

“God oh, hnn-Daryl!” You whimpered with your eyes squeezed shut. He was hammering into you like you were paying a goddamn debt, knocking your headboard into the wall so hard you were sure Carol or Rick would burst in with their guns drawn, thinking a walker had you fighting for your life. 

“Shit.” He choked, and came without any further warning, his hands moving from your back to grip your hips and yank you up on his cock. You cried out, wriggling your feet free from his legs to twist around his waist. 

He blurted your name into your neck, gasping and panting. He rolled his hips with quick and frantic movements, fucking his cum deep inside you. He ground down into you until his body shook, and then his muscles relaxed. 

“Turn over.” You breathed, and he did. 

He was expecting you to climb off, maybe fall down beside him and share the mutual blissful exhaustion. 

You kept his softening dick inside you as you settled on top of him, managing a weak smirk when you saw the sleepy confusion on his face.

Your hips rolled, and he whimpered.

You savored the way confusion bled to regret, his eyebrows relaxing and his lips parting. 

His hands grabbed onto your hips, wanting to hold you in place and prevent your walls from dragging up his sensitive dick, but he knew he deserved it. You told him you'd show him what it was like. 

“How's it feel, hmm.” You moved your hips back and forth in his lap, biting your lip at the many stages of guilt and pleasure that went through his sweaty face. 

He couldn't speak, so he just settled on a nod, his eyes falling closed as his throat bobbed with a dry swallow. 

You went on for another minute before you physically couldn't anymore. You gave one last roll of your hips, making sure to clench down on him, and lifted up until his dick was dragged out of you. 

“Goddamn.” He mumbled. 

It felt amazing to be empty and bare, it was enough to make you moan, your body falling to the side to lay next to him. The silence was welcome.

"Daryl?" You breathed, using the back of your hand to push your hair from your face.

"Hm?" The sound was gravelly and sleepy, he was clearly only seconds away from sleep.

"You ever drive like that again and I'll tell Carol."

"Not my fault ya' decided ya' wanted to fuck me now."

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[astonmartinii]

head over handlebars | lance stroll social media au

pairing: lance stroll x fem cyclist reader

some can be described as head over heels for their partner, lance just loves to go the extra mile

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, estebanocon and 493,607 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: note to self, do not take lance to olympics training

view all comments

user1: MY HEART STOPPED I THOUGHT IT WAS Y/N FOR A SECOND

user2: for real i need my cycling queen in tip top shape that gold is calling her name

lancestroll: THERE WAS A ROCK ON THE ROAD I SWEAR I AM NOT COMPLETELY INCOMPETENT

yourusername: you don't need to explain yourself to me sweetie

lancestroll: are you sure 🥺

yourusername: yes honey i know you just wanted to keep up

lancestroll: i didn't want to hold you back 🥺

yourusername: it's okay babe, just focus on recovering, you are also a professional athlete, remember?

lancestroll: oh yeah....

user3: bro so down bad he forgot he's a whole formula one driver

user4: i need my man like this and nothing else

estebanocon: okay you've been nice enough now, how much did you laugh?

yourusername: I DIDN'T LAUGH

mickschumacher: he's fine!!! you can admit it this is a safe space !!

yourusername: he's got two broken wrists dude?

mickschumacher: and? he's already had surgery we're legally allowed to laugh

yourusername: okay fine... IT WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY ... obviously when i realised he was actually hurt it wasn't funny but like objectively it was funny

lancestroll: i guess it was kinda funny

yourusername: ALSO THE SOUND HE MADE WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY

user5: i mean yeah objectively it is funny that the boyfriend of an olympic cyclist fell off of his bike

user6: anyone wanna bet there wasn't a rock?

lancestroll: ...

lancestroll

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, estebanocon and 634,290 others

tagged: yourusername

lancestroll: i think i'm going to stick to four wheels ... good luck to the love of my life at the olympics, you're going to kill it !! xx

view all comments

user8: move over lance, we're ALL y/n's wag for the olympics

user9: every four years i become appropriately feral over this woman

lancestroll: every four years is rookie numbers pal

fernandoalo_oficial: WHERE ARE MY TICKETS LANCITO ???

lancestroll: excuse me ?

fernandoalo_oficial: i am bicycle enthusiast where are my tickets

fernandoalo_oficial: also i need to support my daughter

yourusername: i have acquired another father?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes and a supportive one so CHOP CHOP CANADA BOY WHERE ARE MY TICKETS ???

lancestroll: god fucking damnit i'm getting them old man

fernandoalo_oficial: thank you 🫶🥹

user10: well... that was something

user11: at least it means we'll get both lance and nando olympics content

yourusername: thank you baby !!! once i get that gold, we'll put that cardboard bed to the real test

lancestroll: 🤭🤭🤭

mickschumacher: IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING SALAD

yourusername: you're not invited ???

yourusername: also don't say you haven't thought about it

user12: VLOG? VLOG? VLOG?

user13: you people are nasty (please please please)

yourusername

liked by teamgb, fernandoalo_oficial and 609,204 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: dreams do come true, never give up. thank you for always supporting me baby xx

view all comments

user15: i think i died and went to heaven

user16: i'm not even british but i felt so patriotic watching her fly around that track

user17: singing god save our queen but for HER ONLY

lancestroll: SO FUCKING UNBELIEVABLY PROUD OF YOU

lancestroll: i would say i can't believe it but i can you are the most talented person i have ever met and you can do anything you put your mind to

lancestroll: i'm so glad you wanted to share this moment and your life with me xx

yourusername: awww baby you're going to make me cry again 🥹💗 i'm so so so happy you could be there because i wouldn't be here without you and this gold is just as much yours as it is mine

lancestroll: NO!!!!! this is your gold and yours alone, you earnt it with your own blood, sweat and tears. just being in a relationship is the real win for me here

yourusername: i love you 🥰

lancestroll: i love you more 🩷🩷🩷

user18: now THAT is a man who loves his girl oh wow

user19: like it's cute when athletes say that their wins are for their loved ones but it's nice when their partners tell them that it's THEIR win

user20: i love them so much

mickschumacher: THAT WAS FUCKING SICK

estebanocon: HOLY SHIT I'M STILL SO FUCKING HYPED

fernandoalo_oficial: THAT'S IT YOU'RE MY FAVOURITE NOW

yourusername: ahahahaa thank you guys !! thanks for coming to support me xx

user21: this little group and their olympics adventures is so dear to me

user22: we better see more of y/n in the paddock after the summer break now

lancestroll

liked by estebanocon, mickschumacher and 832,013 others

tagged: yourusername

lancestroll: i'm head over handlebars for you (quite literally) and i'm so proud of you, you deserve everything and more

view all comments

user23: bro won gold and is going to marry into one of the richest families ever, does she know how to lose?

user24: she needs to tell me her secret FOR REAL

yourusername: i love you so much lance, thank you for being there for me always

lancestroll: and i'll be there for you forever, if you'll have me

yourusername: there's no man i'll ever want again

lancestroll: and i don't want to be with anyone else ever

yourusername: we're so sappy i love us

lancestroll: why wouldn't i be sappy? i love you and it makes me mushy

mickschumacher: IT ALSO MAKES YOU LATE HURRY THE FUCK UP WE'RE TRYING TO GET DRUNK ON BEHALF OF Y/N

user25: thank the lord mick because i love these two as much as the next person but this level of loneliness as well as jealous towards people who are good at sports is CONCERNING FOR MY HEALTH

user26: so so so valid

user27: literally why didn't my parents push me into a sport when i was a toddler

estebanocon: first of all, fuck you for making us stand outside your hotel room while you banged. second of all, HURRY THE FUCK UP FERNANDO SAID HE'D COVER THE TAB AND WE NEED TO GET A COUPLE OF DRINKS BEFORE THE OLD MAN HAS TO GO TO BED

mickschumacher: i think they're still busy

estebanocon: ....

yourusername: WE'RE SORRY WE'RE COMING

mickschumacher: you sure were 🤨

lancestroll: okay we're finished you guys can stop being perverts

user28: okay so like this is proof these people are fucking insane even after things like WINNING A FUCKING GOLD MEDAL ???

user29: and they're queens for that i don't care

fin.

note: i am so so busy, i kind of hate this but i hope you guys enjoyed it!! xx

[ms-demeanor]

Hi. I've followed you for a while and your advice to others always seems pretty good. You seem very knowledge about therapy and driving. This may be a bit out of your depth, feel free to delete this ask if so, but if you have any advice I would greatly appreciate hearing it. I've got a problem: the field I'm studying for and love doing will require frequent trips to places I cannot walk/bike/bus/fly to, and I'm terrified of driving. My father decided the best way to start teaching me was to put me behind the wheel on a small road in a big city with pedestrians and bikes on the road, and tell me to drive. It's been 4 years and I can't even think about getting behind the driver's seat without bursting into tears. Riding in the front passenger seat is fine. I want to get over this fear and finally learn to drive, with paid therapy if necessary, but I don't know what terms to search for to find a therapist that can help me with this. Any ideas?

So I think pretty much any decent therapist will be able to help you with this fear, just like any decent therapist will be able to help you figure out how to approach any fear that you've got.

But I'm also not sure this is something you need a therapist for so much as some very good friends and a lot of time. If you don't have your learner's permit I'd recommend getting one, and from there I think I'd say to ask some good friends, who you know are good drivers, to help teach you the rudiments of driving.

I think that you should do this by starting on a closed private property where there aren't people or pedestrians or anything else, and just put the key in the car, put the car in drive, and drive up and down a driveway until you are capable of doing so without panicking. From there, have your safe trusted driver friend take you someplace with no traffic of any kind but that does have some kind of lane markings (school parking lots on weekends, shopping center parking lots late at night, etc) and begin practicing things like stopping, turning, and acceleration. Do that until you're comfortable driving around empty parking lots, at which point I'd say that you should look at enrolling in a driving school with a closed course.

You were put in a very stressful situation that frightened you a lot, but there are ways that you can build up that should help you to see that it doesn't have to be stressful like that. Sit in the driver's seat of a parked car. Turn the car on without putting it into gear. Drive it back and forth just to get used to the car being in motion at very slow speeds.

If you want to work on this with a therapist you're probably going to want to be looking for someone who specifically discusses dealing with phobias around driving or accident-related trauma and recovery; cars can be terrifying and there are a ton of people who have had bad times with cars so there are lots of professionals who have dealt with getting people comfortable around cars as a necessity of our car-centric culture. That's the kind of stuff I'd be looking for, is people who talk about vehicle-related or accident-related trauma.

But also I think that's just a good thing to say out front if you're shopping for a therapist. "I am scared of driving and want to learn to drive, that is my primary current interest in therapy and I'm looking for a professional to support me while I work through this." Say this out loud as you call offices, and DO make calls, don't just look for reviews. People may not advertise this kind of thing specifically because it may just be taken for granted that it's something that their office can help equip you for.

Though, again, I think that you can likely do a lot of that yourself with the help of a good friend or a patient family member who is willing to respect your boundaries and work within them, but you need to think about what your boundaries are and what your goals are before you get to work.

[zayneshottestgal]

Sylus dating a girly badass🐦‍⬛

Having a similar darker clothing style

Tries to suddenly match with you. If he sees you’re a fan of a certain brand/designer he will buy a few items that also suit his taste. If you point out how he didn’t seem to own pieces from that designer before and accuse him of copying you , he’ll tease and ask if you own the brand and can control who can wear it . he of course also buys you all the pieces you want from new drops and tells his henchman to keep a look out on any vintage pieces you’ve been struggling to find.

He thinks obvious matching outfits are too cheesy but also still has the desire to have that obvious sign that the two of you are together when out in public . Matching jewelry seems to do the trick. Matching rings and necklaces. If you have lots of ear piercing , and tattoos and tease him about the lack of his own . He would consider letting you pierce his ears. Tattoos he said he would think about ( he forgets).

“That designer you like is having a show here soon , is their space in your work schedule to go?”

“ do I think that jacket is too similar to your other one? I don’t see anything wrong with having a jacket that detailed if you think you don’t have enough clothes to go with it , we’ll go buy more”

“I left a gift on the desk in your suite consider wearing it tonight”

Having a detailed beauty regime

Most nights Sylus leaves you alone during your night routine but some nights he gets curious….. (*cough* clingy) . He seems like the type to have a effective but small skin care routine so your pamper nights look a little foreign to him

He teases you for it , calling you a true princess, a beauty rocket scientist , a professional beauty queen anything that flusters you and gets on your nerves . But honestly he’s happy to see you taking such detailed care of yourself and that you can still have your relaxing nights even at the n109 base.

He makes sure to keep all your things stocked and take notice of your preferences , which scents you like for soaps, which lotions you prefer to use , What goals you have for your skincare etc. he’ll read up on the methods you use and their benefits ( ex.dry brushing and milk baths) . He doesn’t want to ask and bother you but still wants to be informed.

If you suggest certain methods and products to add to his routine he will consider them sincerely. 9/10 he will implement them ,the 1/10 is if the method takes to much time or he just doesn’t like the product . But he trust your judgment full heartily and even comes to you for advice .

If you try to pamper him one day he will try to resist it but not for long . He thinks he should be the only one to spoil you but since you really wish to return the favor he cannot say no to you. I think he would be quite relaxed during the whole process, he doesn’t get to sit back and truly relax often ,so he’ll take advantage of it. He’ll try to thank you in a special way after especially since he has so much “extra” energy now.

“Is the beauty queen almost done with her routine?our flight in the morning is quite early.”

“Someone’s skin feels extra soft today ,any spare tips for a guy like me”

“What does this do? Hmm…that’s certainly interesting,they sell other varieties of this too right, do you only like this one ?”

Driving a motorcycle and having a sports car

Sylus likes that you also have a motorcycle it makes you more comfortable when riding on his . He also appreciates that if a deal goes bad you can drive the both of you home if he’s unable . He still keeps a helmet at his place so you don’t have to consistently take yours from off your bike just to ride on his. He makes sure your helmet is the highest quality and that your bike is in top shape .

If you have a sports car that you like driving around Sylus would have his men clear the roads in the east side of the N109 zone so that you could drive as fast as you wanted without traffic . He wouldn’t mind sitting in the passenger as you had your fun. He loved that you had that thrilling and adventurous side of you. He was proud that he had the resources to fuel that passion.

When you guys are parked for dates he has mephisto watch over your car . He never bothered doing that for his own car he didn’t care much if it got stolen/damaged he could buy another. But he knew your car meant a lot to you and was protective over it . “Your baby” as you call it. If it ever broke down and needed new parts he had the mechanic and new parts at the house within the next hour . He would not track you or have mephisto follow you around , all he ask is that you text him when you get home especially on those stormy nights . If you are leaving late at night to go back to linkon he insists on driving you himself just to make sure you get home safe . He’ll have one of his men follow you guys so that he can get home. The peace of mind is more then worth the trip.

“no one will steal your baby sweetie I have my men watching over it relax and enjoy the meal”

“ the mechanic said the new part was a perfect fit and that they can have it done within in an hour”

“No eating in the car because it makes a mess ? Sweetheart we’ve made worst messes in this car then just ketchup, I’ll hire a cleaner”

Caring for mephisto and the twins

You’ve grown to like mephisto and he seems to be warming up to you as well. Since he’s a mechanical bird you can’t really give him treats like you would a regular bird. But you still kiss the top of his head when he lands next to you and you thank him for watching over you when sylus can’t do it . Sylus will never admit but he is a bit jealous of his little crow . He made mephisto a custom bird stand for when he’s at your house so that he doesn’t have to perch on any old available surface . Sometimes mephisto lets you put bows on him. When he returns to Sylus to report to him ,Sylus slightly laughs at the bird with the big pink bow . “You’ve gone soft mephisto “ ( he’s projecting).

As for the twins sometimes when you’re back home at linkon or out on vacation with Sylus you bring them back souvenirs. They always appreciate them . They’ve gotten into the habit of waiting at the door when they know you and sylus are on your way home from the airport. You always hand them their gifts right away.

When you’re at sylus house and he’s busy with whatever ,you usually play with the twins. If they ever need any advice from a women’sperspective they always go to you . Even if they don’t need a women’s perspective just another perspective in general and it’s something they might be too shy to ask sylus they go to you. They truly see you as another leader and respect you just as much as sylus.

“ if I didn’t know any better I would think the twins were your henchmen”

“What were you and the boys talking about earlier, it’s a secret? Alright then”

“You want to take the twins AND mephisto with us on vacation. I guess since there’s room on the jet but don’t run back to me when they get you off track to see all the places you wanna go too”

(A.N) longest post I’ve written for love and Deepspace and it’s for sylus lol . I’ll make one for zayne too it’s wrong to abandon one husband for another . Let me know if you enjoyed it in the comments and what I can improve on . Thank you for reading .

-do not repost , translate my work (copy into A.I ) on to other websites . Please and thank you

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card:Whats Next in your Love Life? Pick a Guitarist

Left to Right Top Row- Pile 1->Pile 2 Left to Right Bottom Row- Pile 3-> Pile 4

[Bonus: Keanu Reeves Gifs for each pile]

=============================

Pile 1: The Lovers, The Magician, The Star

Drawing The Lovers suggests that aligning yourself with the energy of love is crucial. This card signifies not only romantic love but also harmony and balance within yourself. It's essential to cultivate self-love and embrace your own worth. By loving and respecting yourself, you naturally attract similar energy from others. The Lovers also hint at making a significant choice in love, suggesting that being clear about what you want in a partner and relationship can draw the right person into your life.

The Magician card indicates that you have the power and resources within you to attract love. This card is a reminder that you can create your reality through focused intention and action. Utilize your skills, talents, and personal power to manifest the love you desire. The Star, as the final card in this pile, offers hope and reassurance. It suggests that by staying optimistic and keeping faith in the process, you can attract a fulfilling and beautiful love into your life. Healing past wounds and maintaining a positive outlook will set the stage for new romantic opportunities.

The Adventurous Partner

Loves Travel and Exploration: Always ready for the next adventure, whether it's a weekend road trip or an international journey.

Spontaneous: Enjoys making last-minute plans and trying new activities.

Outgoing and Sociable: Thrives in social settings and enjoys meeting new people.

Active Lifestyle: Prefers outdoor activities and physical challenges, such as hiking, biking, or water sports.

Optimistic and Open-minded: Approaches life with a positive attitude and a willingness to embrace new experiences.

==============================

Pile 2: The Empress, Two of Cups, Ace of Pentacles

The Empress card represents abundance, beauty, and nurturing energy. To attract love, embody the qualities of the Empress by nurturing yourself and others, and by creating a warm and inviting environment. This card encourages you to tap into your feminine energy, regardless of gender, and to focus on self-care and personal growth. The Empress also suggests that you might find love through activities that involve creativity, nature, or caregiving.

The Two of Cups signifies the possibility of a new romantic connection or deepening an existing relationship. It is a card of partnership and mutual attraction. By being open to connections and putting yourself in situations where you can meet new people, you increase your chances of encountering someone special. The Ace of Pentacles indicates a new beginning in the material realm, suggesting that practical steps towards building a secure and stable life can attract love. This could mean focusing on career or financial goals, creating a solid foundation for a future relationship.

The Intellectual Partner

Highly Educated: Values learning and often engaged in intellectual pursuits.

Curious and Inquisitive: Always eager to explore new ideas and deepen their understanding of various topics.

Excellent Communicator: Enjoys deep conversations and can articulate their thoughts clearly and thoughtfully.

Ambitious and Goal-Oriented: Driven to achieve their professional and personal goals.

Thoughtful and Analytical: Makes decisions based on careful consideration and analysis.

=============================

Pile 3: The Hermit, Queen of Cups, Knight of Pentacles

The Hermit card suggests that attracting love into your life might require a period of introspection and solitude. This time alone is meant for self-discovery and understanding what you truly want and need in a relationship. By gaining clarity about your desires and values, you can attract a partner who aligns with your true self. The Hermit encourages you to be patient and trust that the right person will come when you are ready.

The Queen of Cups represents emotional depth, intuition, and compassion. Embracing these qualities within yourself can help you attract a partner who appreciates and reciprocates them. This card encourages you to be open to expressing your feelings and to nurture your emotional well-being. The Knight of Pentacles emphasizes the importance of patience and consistency. Attracting love might require steady, deliberate effort, such as gradually building a friendship that can evolve into something more. Focus on creating a stable and dependable environment that will naturally draw a like-minded partner to you.

The Nurturing Partner

Empathetic and Compassionate: Highly sensitive to the feelings of others and always ready to offer support and comfort.

Family-Oriented: Values close relationships with family and friends and prioritizes these connections.

Patient and Understanding: Exhibits great patience and a deep understanding of human emotions and behaviors.

Loyal and Reliable: Extremely dependable and trustworthy, always there when you need them.

Gentle and Kind: Treats everyone with kindness and respect, creating a warm and loving environment.

=============================

Pile 4: The Fool, Page of Cups, Ten of Pentacles

The Fool card suggests that attracting love into your life might involve taking a leap of faith and being open to new experiences. Embrace spontaneity and be willing to step out of your comfort zone. This card encourages you to approach love with a sense of adventure and a fresh perspective. By being open-minded and willing to take risks, you can attract exciting and unexpected romantic opportunities.

The Page of Cups represents new beginnings in love and emotional openness. It encourages you to be playful, creative, and receptive to the messages your heart is sending you. By embracing a youthful and optimistic attitude towards love, you can attract positive and heartwarming connections. The Ten of Pentacles indicates that focusing on long-term stability and building a strong foundation can help you attract love. This card suggests that envisioning a future filled with abundance, security, and family can draw a partner who shares these values. Creating a vision for your ideal relationship and working towards it can manifest the love you seek.

The Creative Partner

Artistic and Imaginative: Possesses a strong creative streak, whether in the arts, music, writing, or other creative fields.

Passionate and Expressive: Lives life with passion and isn’t afraid to show their emotions and express themselves.

Innovative Thinker: Comes up with unique and unconventional solutions to problems.

Appreciates Beauty: Has a keen eye for beauty in the world, from nature to art and design.

Open-Minded and Flexible: Welcomes different perspectives and adapts easily to change.

=============================

[creativewritersposts]

driving lessons - Lando Norris

summary; Lando Norris x f!reader.

Lando wants to teach you how to drive, but what if he's not as good as a professional teacher?

warning(s); maybe grammar errors, fluff, angst

author's note; loved this request!! had so much fun to write. ♡

--------------------------------------------------------------

It's not like you're afraid to drive, it's more you never needed it. You lived in a city and could order a taxi or take the train. When you met Lando, he couldn't believe you didn't know how to drive. He annoyed you for months to learn this. So here we are, in your little fiat 500.

"Are you ready?", Lando steps inside the car door and groans like a grandpa. "You need a new car, it's a playmobil!", he talks out of his mind. You roll your eyes, he's driving fast cars and is formula one driver. Of course your little fiat is not his favorite, but you love it. It's small like you are.

"Yeah I'm ready", you begin to sweat. What if you mess it up? What if you crash into a tree? You would hurt your boyfriend!

He promised this morning; 'you don't need professional driving lessons because i can teach you'.

Lando touches under your seat and pushes the seat forward.

"You're a minion, make sure you can depress the accelerator pedal without getting back pain, baby", he explains, completely focused on his job to be the best teacher you ever had. You try to depress and it works. You nod, ready for the next step. "okay,car mirrors are ok for you?", he checks on it and leans more into your lap. "Yeah", you look inside all sides.

"Ok try to accelerate and change gear into the two", he crosses his arms, leaning on the window next to him, totally relaxed. You're a smart brain so he doesn't worry much. You learn fast. But when he looks in your direction, his opinion changes fast.

You're afraid, he can see it. Your leg is shaking, your breath stops for seconds until you do it - and you messed up to start the car. "Try again, baby", he giggles. Such a rookie mistake.

You try again, messing up again.

"Oh my gosh what are you doing?! Drepress with your foot and let's go", he gets impatient. "I try, Lando!", tears are forming in your eyes. You're not stupid but it could happen so many things. It's your first time in a car and don't know what to do.

"Do it!", he argues. You try and it worked. It actually worked.

You drive through the empty car park and grin like a winner when you drive to an actual road, "babe I'm better than you!", you laugh. Lando shakes his head, hiding the smile behind his hands, "sure, you're winning a race with 5kmh". "Can you overtake?", he annoys, seeing how you slowly crawl like a turtle behind a motorcycle. "No", you press your lips together, happy a bike drives before you. You can drive in peace and not too fast.

After some time he tells," now drive in reverse and park in", he shows you the space for lengthwise parking.

Oh no. It's not much place. "Lando I can't do it!", you sweat, fingers are clinging into the steering wheel.

"My whole house could park here! You can do it", he wants to support you. "to park lengthwise is easy plus your boyfriend is professional racer. Nothing can happen", he touches your tigh.

You tip on your car turn signals and drive reverse. "STOP!", Lando screams his lungs out and grabing after the wheel. Something crashed because it was loud. "Oh fuck!", he steps outside and touches his neck. "You crashed a car mirror!", his face turns red. "Oh no", was all you could tell in shock. You can't believe you are in trouble.

Tears are falling down, you're a loser. Lando is mad. Ready for some trouble with him you look in his face.

"It's the funniest thing i experienced as a driver", Lando laughs his ass off. He really does, happy tears in his eyes and his squeaky laugh. "Baby the whole car mirror is away!", he cries even more, hands between his nose.

"Stop laughing! It's not funny!", you are disappointed about yourself.

"I'm gonna call my manager and then I'll drive home, babe, everything will be alright", he smirks, walking on your side and opens the door. He knees down and hugs you. You can feel the vibration from his laughing. "I think you need professional driving lessons.", he kisses your lips under laughter.

"Damn my girlfriend is a savage".

[mw4n]

Should ¥XX,000,000 Make Fushiguro's Shit Worth It? - ch. 1

༄ synopsis - Being Toji Fushiguro's in-house private solicitor may pay well, but recently you're reconsidering if the pay makes all the stress (read: Toji himself) worth it. At this point, with all the less-than-legal actions Toji commits on the regular, you're practically a certified mob lawyer. [ full synopsis ]

༄ series tags - toji fushiguro x reader; lawyer! reader; no curses; yakuza/organised crime; violence; explicit content; dilf! toji; tags to be added

༄ wc - 5.8k

<< teaser || ch. 2 >>

( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── \(˚☐˚”)/

“You know, you really shouldn’t smoke.”

High-heeled shoes clicked against the floor of the rundown bar, a sagging tote filled to the brim with court documents unceremoniously plopping onto the barstool next to Toji Fushiguro’s lone frame. The bartender didn’t even greet you, knowing you weren’t here to drink but just to fetch Toji. 

A hand intercepted the fresh cigarette in Toji’s hand. So fresh, he hadn’t even had the chance to set down the lighter. 

He turned to you, raising a brow. The incredulous look on his face increased by two more points at the sight of the cigarette now in between your lips. You inhaled the nicotine, tugging the cigarette from your parted lips to blow the haze out with a tilted head. The tenseness in your face relaxed as the sensation of the drug entered your system. 

You rarely, if ever, smoked, but the recent events really did call for it. 

“You’re smoking my cigarette.” You had been working with Fushiguro long enough to know when he was actually annoyed, and this was nowhere close.

You rolled your eyes, snuffing the cigarette out on the ashtray next to Toji. “With all the stress you give me, I need it more than you.” A pause. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. “And you shouldn’t smoke anyway, you’re the one with the kid.”

“I could put a kid in you, easy enough.” Toji smirked.

Externally, you looked as unperturbed as ever, ignoring his quip to rifle for his document in your tote. That was what you were here for, afterall. Externally, you were the image of a perfectly professional lawyer. 

Internally, you had just creamed your underwear. 

--

The first time you met Toji Fushiguro, it was through the second encounter with his son: Megumi. You say second, well, because you’d met Megumi before when his bike had crashed into the side of your parked and stationary car on Sugisawa Lane.

Given that the meetings were only a week apart, it wasn’t too difficult for you to recall how the events had unfolded. 

“Motherfucker-!” Someone cursed, almost in tandem with a jostling abrupt impact at the side of your car. It was moments like these where you were reminded that in times when most people deliberated between flight and fright, you were an outlier and chose to freeze. 

You tear your eyes away from where they had been fixed onto the mirror, carefully focused on navigating yourself into this tight parking spot, and slowly turn your attention out the window. Just nestled underneath was a teen sprawled disgracefully over the road, legs all sprayed. 

He was dressed in the uniform of the local middle school nearby: a white buttoned shirt, a jacket, black pants. With hair that spikes out in every direction, he has an uncanny resemblance to the sea urchins your grandmother used to bring from the wet market. The urchins that you would watch split orange-tinged liquid all over the sink. Hmm…

As the student rubs said spiky hair, wincing all the while, your vision slowly pans towards the banged up bike next to him. No doubt the culprit behind a fresh dent in your car. 

Wait- middle school uniform? Your mind catches up to the observation you made. 

The stream of expletives from his mouth finally clarify into real words in your mind, now morphing into a variety of legible curses ranging from ‘motherfucker’ to ‘dogshit piece of shit’. Privately, you thought, the last one lacked creativity. Really? Dogshit piece of shit? But you had more pressing issues. 

“Watch your mouth, kid,” you frown, unclipping your seatbelt. If he’s in middle school, that puts him at thirteen, at the very oldest. 

Almost instinctively, he retorts a petulant, “make me.” Then, realisation that he’s the one in the wrong here dawns on him and he flushes. “I mean- sorry, miss.”

You sigh. From the sound (and the feeling) of the crash, you would have to inspect the damage on the side of your car yourself.

Your new car! 

There’s an all-too familiar little wail in your heart. You’d heard it when you paid your law school tuition, you heard it when you found out that your tuition hadn’t covered your graduation gown or other expenses, and you heard it when you had put the down payment on this brand! New! Car!

Admittedly, ‘brand new’ might have been a stretch. The car was comfortably second hand. But you had just acquired it! It had barely been two weeks and a kid scrapes it up with his bike? It was brand new to you!

“You alright?” You have the dedency to ask. The car door clicks as it opens, prompting the pre-teen to shuffle out the way. He’s grimacing. “Crash sounded bad.”

At this point, you’ve tuned out his minor hisses. You assess him as you step out of the car and, aside from a couple scrapes and a smudge mark of… something on his cheek, the kid looks fine. Your focus of attention pivoted onto the state of your car.

He mutters darkly to himself, something about a shitty bicycle ripoff seller, before answering you. “I’m sorry about this, miss.”

You finally gauge the damage, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off the incoming pressure in your sinuses at the sight of the accident. A comical sound effect of coins clinking plays in your head as you imagine the damage your bank account could take. 

There’s a rippling crater in the side of your new, albeit, second-hand car, and a long gouge. A part of the bike had caught onto the metal as it used your car as a veritable crash cushion. The damage either said something about the strength and tenacity of this kid’s bike or the fragility of your car.  

You close your eyes.

This was as clear cut as a case as it gets. You were peacefully and calmly exiting your parking spot, checking both mirrors and making sure there were no obstructions. You had done your duty. It was this kid who came out of nowhere and slammed into your car with his bike. 

Good thing you had car insurance. Though you had nearly bit through your lip when you paid it, words couldn’t describe how relieved you were now. 

“Where are your parents, kid?” You turned to him fully, crossing your arms.

He takes in your whole one hundred seventy centimetre self. Your tight pencil skirt, flats, and buttoned blouse. You look every bit like the office slave you are.

He’s also trying to estimate how amenable you would be towards eating his bullshit, and judging by your unimpressed pursing of the lips, you don’t look like you’d take it with a spoonful of sugar.

You stare down at him, waiting. 

But still, he gives it a try.

The teen pulls out a phone, punching in some numbers. It’s the newest model. The phone rings for a bit and a cheerful voice picks up.

You hear a cheery “Megumi~!” through the tinny speaker before the kid starts speaking, still sprawled on the road floor. 

“I need some help. My bike accidentally bumped into someone’s car and now she’s asking to speak to my parents. Probably about the damage. It looks pretty bad. Can you sort this out with her?” For someone who had caused such hefty damage, he seems relatively nonplussed by the whole situation. 

A beat goes by, clearly the person on the other side asking a question. The kid - Megumi - makes a ‘mhm’ in response. Then he hands the phone over.

You don’t even reach out to receive it. 

“That’s not your parent.”

He blinks up at you. “It’s my dad. He’ll handle this.”

You look away. “Call your actual dad.”

The likelihood of someone manually hand-dialing their dad’s number when asked to instead of selecting from contacts on your phone was way too unlikely for you to believe that Megumi had just called his dad.

Your eyes had caught that little action. Coupled with the fact that he hadn’t called the person on the other side ‘dad’ once, only added to your suspicion.

Megumi scowls. Without even saying bye to the person on the other side, he hangs up. 

This time, he taps the phone app and selects someone from speed-dial. Satisfied, you lean back on your car and wait. 

In no time, someone - a deeper voice - picks up. 

“Megumi?” 

A sharp contrast from the first person. Megumi stays silent for a bit, and then speaks. 

“Hey dad,” he says in a resigned manner. “I hit someone’s car with my bike by accident-”

His dad says something. Megumi pauses. He shakes his head and then seems to remember that his dad can’t see him. “No, I’m fine.”

Another question.

“Yeah. Yeah. She’s asked to talk to my parents-, I called him but…” Megumi rolls his eyes now, “he’s a bit unreliable. So in the end I still called you.” 

His dad says something and then Megumi hands the phone over to you. His eyes dart to you, almost nervously, and he bites his lip.

Finally, you receive the phone, flicking your hair out the way. 

    “Hello?” His voice is deep, the kind of deep that must reverberate in his chest, and stern against your ear. At such close quarters… meeeeoww!

You perish the thought. 

“Hello, it’s as your kid said. I was parked when his bike slammed into my car.” There’s a thin veneer of professionality that you’re gripping with the edges of your fingers, but you’ve played the game long enough to know others can’t tell that. 

Megumi’s father is rather cooperative, providing his insurance details and his number for any further inconveniences. You expected there to be some resistance, maybe some blame from him onto you, but there was nothing.

During your conversation, Megumi busies himself with straightening out his bike. The front wheel is busted. The spokes? Busted. You have no idea how the crash had actually happened, having only caught the aftermath of it, and not enough knowledge on bikes to know how the wheel spokes can protrude and bend like htat. 

He’s still inspecting it when you conclude the conversation, thanking Megumi’s father - Fushiguro, going by his minimal introduction - and hanging up. 

“It’ll be sorted now,” you hand the phone back over to Megumi. 

The teen tucked it into his pocket. His spiky hair looks less energetic, noticeably drooping and reflecting his dejected demeanour.

“I just got this bike too. I got ripped off.”

Judging by the state of his bike, it’s unusable.

Maybe there’s some sympathy in you for that. You too had also just gotten your car when this had happened.

Looking away awkwardly, you run a hand through your hair. I better not regret this.

“Kid… you want a ride?” You ask hesitantly.

-

You’d actually just meant a drive to the nearest train station, but somehow Megumi seamlessly manipulates you into driving him pretty much all the way home. Which is annoying, because after a long day of work, there’s nothing more you want than to be at home, showered and in bed. 

But instead, you have to deal with your itchy pantyhose for thirty more minutes. 

Whoever made your piece of shit workplace dress code was a demon. Who makes heels mandatory? A small curse goes out to your ageing, withering male-dominated management who care little for female comfort and more for female eye candy. 

If you keep thinking about it actually, you’ll get too worked up. 

You distract yourself by driving through the unfamiliar suburbs. 

“A lawyer, huh?” He says, impressed. “What kind?”

You hmm for a bit. “I’m early enough in my career where I’m kind of still figuring out what I want to settle in. Ideally, something that uses a mix of everything, but I’m not sure.”

“What about criminal law? Locking up murderers or whatever,” Megumi stares out the window. “Left.”

You shrug, turning left. “Could.”

The area around you slowly transitions towards some expensive looking apartment complex. It’s gated for goodness sake. There’s little decorative glass lanterns for goodness sake.

The black gates stay closed as you approach, but when Megumi rolls open the window and sticks his head out, the gates open. 

He doesn’t even speak. 

A deep seated envy in your heart!

Wasn’t being a lawyer supposed to rake in the big bucks?

And here you were, ferrying a kid in a busted second-hand car. 

Another reason to hate your current boss. He’s definitely underpaying you. 

Despite the gate being open, you don’t drive in. Honestly, you’re too embarrassed to have the people who live in this apartment complex possibly seeing the state of your car. But you don’t tell Megumi that.

“This is as far as I’ll take you,” you insist stubbornly. “And it’s more than what you deserve, running into me like that.”

He nods at that. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for the ride though.”

You watch the kid struggle with getting his banged-up bike out of the trunk of your car through your rearview mirror, and then you drive off to your mechanic. At least you can invoice it to Megumi’s father. 

But taking the metro to work tomorrow! Another wail in your heart goes off at the thought of that. You can already imagine how packed it’ll be during peak morning time. 

--

The second time you encounter Megumi Fushiguro, it’s on the train, and you’re on the way home. Having had to stay behind for an hour or so to catch up on last minute added work, the usual intense numbers brought on by rush hour has ebbed a significant portion. 

Originally engrossed in responding to an email on your phone (can your piece-of-dog-shit boss really not see that you’ve attached the relevant document sixteen hundred times for him in the previous emails?), your thumbs tapping a mile a minute, a shout by the end of the car draws everyone’s attention - including yours. 

As a rather low-presence member of society, you’re quite surprised that you recognise one of the participants in the altercation. Still, you feel no desire to intervene, content with maintaining your bystander status.  

A middle-aged man, puffy and red-faced, appears to be the main instigator. Shouting abrasively, he’s manhandling the collar of a familiar looking spiky-headed student.

Though there’s an easy two meter gap between you adnd them, you can make out the white knuckled hold he’s got on the student’s uniform, speaking volumes about how much strength he’s putting in.

He’s so angry, you can hardly understand what he’s saying, an undercurrent of a gai-jin accent protruding too much from his words.

Interestingly enough, despite the numerous gaze concentrated on them and spittle flying in his face, the student looked almost bored by the whole situation. 

You’ve already identified him via the unique hair he sports, but the expression locks it in. 

Megumi?

He’s so carefree from the situation that his wandering eyes make contact with you, flickering with recognition. 

You mean to raise a hand up in greeting, but a sudden jolt of the train over a rough patch of track forces you to grab a nearby pole for stability.

You flail, stumbling, causing the person next to you to look at you with alarm. By the time you’re balanced and looking up, the situation’s reversed.

Instead of Megumi being gripped by the man, you manage to catch the tail end of a new student - his friend, you presume - socking the man squarely in the jaw. Gasps fly up in the crowd, and even you can’t help but blink in shock. Dumbfounded. 

“Get your hands off him, you creep!” 

Compared to Megumi, his friend appears foreign, sporting lighter tawny coloured hair and strange birthmarks on his face that make him stand out from the homogenous crowd.

 He’s not even breathing heavily, frowning as he stands  defensively in front of Megumi. The latter of which has placed his hands in his pockets and settles into a near-mocking slouch. He’s clearly not even taking this seriously. 

“Why you-!” The middle-aged man bulges like a frog. You have no idea what caused the conflict, but when the man starts rolling up your sleeves, that’s when you start looking around. No one’s intervening.

You feel your conscience twinge.

It’s true that in between three guys, you really shouldn’t get in the middle of things, but you know Megumi’s only in middle school. He’s just a kid! And as a law abiding member of society, you feel it’s kind of your moral duty to at least try and dissuade the conflict from escalating any further.

Suppressing the urge to cast a powerful stink eye at the cowards remaining silent, you step forward and approach the man cautiously. 

Differentiating from the crowd makes you nervous, but who cursed you with a bleeding heart? 

“Sir, if this goes any further, I’m going to have to call the police.” You say calmly, brandishing your phone. The numbers 110 are stark against your screen’s light-mode. 

The man turns to you, and you suddenly feel like a matador standing in front of a bull in an enclosed area. Sweat starts to prickle down the nape of your neck, though your expression remains as stony as ever.

“He punched me and started it! Go ahead, call the police, see what they say!”

Megumi’s friend looks faintly surprised to see someone intervening on their behalf. Megumi doesn’t. 

“Please step aside, sir. You need to calm down.” In the corner of your perception, you can see the announcement that the train is approaching the next station roll by on the panel. Perfect, there’ll be staff there. You can just hand it o-

???

Stars flash by your vision from the abrupt pain shocking your system. The man lunged at you, shocking everyone and sending you crumpling towards the floor.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

He probably meant to get your face, but he tripped over someone’s briefcase on the floor and the fist swung lower. 

You have mixed feelings. On one hand, he’s punched you. On the other hand… at least it wasn’t your face?     

Apparently watching an older man beating up two middle-schoolers isn’t anything to fuss about, and people are generally content to let it all play out. But when an older man tries to pummel a defenceless, beautiful woman who’s just trying to be a good citizen? That’s what gets people to fly up in a frenzy.     

“Hey, that’s too much!”

    “Back off her!”

    A whole bunch of white knights. 

    You’re still dizzy with the force when you’re pulled out of the flurry. With the posture of pulling a drowning man ashore, arms under your shoulders, you look up to see Megumi’s friend holding you.

    A (this is estimated) thirteen year old easily lifting you? 

    You feel a little flattered by the internal thought that you’re so light (though, of course, Megumi’s friend could just be really strong, but you dismiss that consideration). Just a dust mote, you are. People should be careful not to brush you off their clothing next time you go out. 

    He’s looking all concerned, staring down at you. The birthmarks along his cheekbones catch your attention, but you have the sense not to gawk. 

“Are you ‘kay, miss? Sorry you had to get all mixed up in this.”

    Using his solid, stalwart stance as a support, you stand on shaky legs. The dull pain across your collar compounds with the ache in your heeled-feet, and you just wish you were home again. 

    Really, who gave you such a bleeding heart? 

    That was less of a rhetorical question, and now an annoyed query to the divine up ahead. 

    “I couldn’t just watch things get worse for you and Fushiguro without doing anything. You’re just middle schoolers,” you sigh. Your imposing manner against the man is nowhere to be seen now. “And who would’ve expected he would be so crazy that he would just lunge at me?”

    Megumi finally speaks, arms crossed over his chest. “I could’ve handled it without your help.”

    You shoot him a glare. “This the thanks I get?

    He looks away but the tips of his ears pink. “Thanks.”

    You’re reminded a little bit of your first meeting, when Megumi had been similarly embarrassed but repentful all the same.

Heh. 

    “Eh? You know Fushiguro, miss? That makes more sense.” His friend scratches the back of his head, looking friendlier. You’re reminded of the dumb looking golden retriever your childhood neighbours used to raise. The round one that would press between the bars of the gate, fat fur spilling out through the gaps, and whimper for pets as anyone walked by. “I was wondering why someone like you intervened.”

    The words ‘like you’ shoot into your heart like two arrows. 

    What does that mean?!

    “Like… me?” You say slowly, despair leaking into your voice.

    “!!!!” He waves two hands, shaking his head concurrently. “No! I meant, why an office worker like you stuck your head out!”

    “Like… me?” Your eyes look empty. 

    Am I getting old? 

“!!!!!!!!! Because you’re dressed so neatly, I didn’t take you for someone who was so righteous! It would be one thing if it had been a big, tall guy, but you know, you’re just a frail miss!”

Frail! 

A third arrow pierces into your heart. At least he didn’t call you aged or withered or decrepit or-

“Alright, enough, Itadori,” Megumi claps a hand onto his panicking friend’s shoulder. “You’re making things worse.”

The friend deflates.

You don’t look much different. 

    The train doors slide open, finally arriving at the station, and you’re taken off guard by the two policemen standing in front of the incoming passengers.

Clearly someone during the whole ordeal called the police, and during the conversation with Megumi and Itadori, the crowd has long subdued the rampaging man. 

Disgruntled, he’s thrust over to the authorities to be taken away. Megumi and Itadori get singled out, and follow after the arrested man to have their statements taken.

You watch them leave with mixed feelings, but shake your head in the end and head towards your exit.

At least, you would’ve been heading towards your exit if it hadn’t been for the policeman stepping into your path.

    With a serious face, he blocks the path - undoubtedly preventing you from leaving. Passengers waiting for the next train watch unabashedly.

    Your eye twitches.

    “Yes?

    “Miss, the other passengers said you were involved in the altercation. Unfortunately, you’ll have to come with us.”

    Then the thought occurs to you.

If Megumi hadn’t crashed into your car, forcing you to bring it to the mechanic, you wouldn’t be on the metro in this situation in the first place! Did you owe the Fushiguro family in your past life? 

    Oh, how the chips fall.

Regretting that you had intervened after all, you ended up following the policeman with undisguised annoyance. 

    You hate cops.

--

    It’s at the Kanekaburo police station where you finally meet Megumi’s father - the man financing your car repairs and cosmetic tune-ups - Toji Fushiguro.

He arrives when you’re in a stare-down against the middle-aged man’s lawyer, crossing your arms, Itadori and Megumi behind you. The policemen sweat nervously.

“He might be a minor, but he still punched my client. Everyone saw it!” The other lawyer sneers, his client - of which you had learnt was called Mr. Nakamura - stands with a puffed chest. 

“It’s self defence,” your lip curling. “With your client as the aggressor. Honestly, they’re just middle schoolers. It’s unnecessary for him to have been laying hands on them in the first place!”

Mr. Nakamura puffs even more. “That’s only because they had been so rude with me!”

You don’t know what happened before so you ignore that. “And what do you think you’re doing, punching me? That’s battery, and if you really want to escalate this, section 47 assault.”

The lawyer glances at Mr. Nakamura but then looks like he’s made up his mind. “Do you really want to bring this to court?”

You hesitate. To be honest, you’re not really sure if this is really worth the trouble, and you’re not too clear on the situation of why Megumi had been in the altercation with the man in the first place. Settling might be better. 

Opening your mouth, you’re cut off from answering by a third party entering the scene.

“Megumi,” a familiar voice drawls. “Get over here.”

The tone, though dulcet and lazy, sends your back straightening and hair prickling. You furrow your brow, turning to see the new entry that even the police couldn’t stop from waltzing into this area.

Dressed in a tight black shirt that does nothing to conceal hard muscle lines and loose grey sweatpants that hang off his hips, you can’t help but let your eyes wander appreciatively down his broad frame. The contrast between his tight upper clothing and baggy lower clothing only draws more attention to his taut waist. 

He thumbs at a pale scar at the edge of his lips, like a subconscious, absent-minded habit, and his other hand runs through his ink-black hair with a troubled sigh. 

“You’re such a troublemaker, Megumi. I only just get home, when I get called in for this?”

It’s only then his voice registers. 

You had heard his voice before, albeit filtered, so it doesn’t take long for you to put the two and two together and realise this is Megumi’s father.

Your eyes dart to his huge hands, where two observations promptly wrap around your thoughts. One, he hasn’t got a ring. (You don’t know what that says about you, noticing that.) And two, his fingers are huge and, almost as importantly, long.

Something indescribable paws at the edge of your thoughts but you don’t even think twice before punting it decisively to the recesses of your mind. 

Your travelling gaze makes eye contact, and a spark travels up your spine. 

!!!

His arms cross over his chest. 

Holy mother of biceps, you think, almost in pious prayer.  

“Who’s this?” He smirks.

As his stare connects, you squash the quivering in your knees at his full undivided attention crashing onto you. The image of a lost tree trunk in the ocean, buffeted by tempestuous stormy waves, fizzes into your mind. 

There’s just something about the air he exudes.

Like a black panther lounging on a branch, one wouldn’t dare relax from the feline’s lazy flicking tail or careless posture. You just know instinctively that every single muscle is coiled tight and ready to pounce at the scent of weakness. 

    Megumi saves you, stepping forward and taking the heat. There’s a furrow that manifests in his brow that you haven’t seen at all today. 

    “Stop that. This is Y/N, she got roped in because of us.” 

    Peeping from behind Megumi, Itadori beams and flaps a hand. Out of all three of you, he seems to be the most unbothered by the appearance of Megumi’s father.

    “Heyyy~ Mr. Fushiguro.” 

    “Yo, Itadori,” Megumi’s father raises a palm. Tilting his head, he thinks to himself for a bit. “Y/N? You wouldn’t happen to be the reason why that invoice from Chezai Mechanics of-“ he spits a series of numbers that, for your mental health, you immediately filter out, “-is sitting on my desk, would you?”

You raise a brow. 

“I think we both know that the reason for that invoice, Mr. Fushiguro, is really because of your son.”

An indescribable sense of pressure leverages onto you, but you just scoff and turn to the side. Your thin nonchalance barely conceals the tenseness in your posture.

Then he snickers, and the feeling is gone.

“You’re right. It is because of Megumi.” 

Megumi grumbles. 

    Everyone relaxes.

    It’s at this moment that the huffy middle-aged man seems to have had enough of the spotlight taken off him, making another fuss.

    “Now that the father of the one responsible is here, you should know to educate your son! I’ll- I could take this to court, you know!” He swells, tinting pink in the face. His lawyer looks mildly panicked. Clearly they hadn’t discussed this. 

Megumi’s father narrows his eyes and the power in the room shifts invisibly. The airflow almost stagnates. As if subconsciously aware, everyone seems to hold their breath. No one seems to take heed of the fact that the police have literal guns strapped to them, least of all the policemen, who stay silent with wide eyes. 

    Then, just as quick as it happened, the moment passes, and Megumi’s father is chuckling.

The colour leeches from Mr. Nakamura’s face, the red fading to reveal a fear-conjured white that only serves to highlight his greasy skin texture.

“Oh, really? For what?”

In hindsight, this should’ve been your first sign that Megumi’s father wasn’t just anyone. How could a regular person hone that kind of presence without spilling some blood?

“F-for- for-“ 

You cut in. “For the two counts of assault and battery you’ve committed against Fushiguro’s son and me, you mean.”

The bluster flies out of Mr. Nakamura just as fast as it had accumulated. 

In the end, all that heat that Mr. Nakamura had mustered faded once Mr. Fushiguro smiled a bit more at him. Even the hotshot lawyer who you had been butting heads with felt like he had tamped down.

You had received Mr. Nakamura’s number and details for any injury-related bills incurred, and were rather satisfied.

As you leave the police station, dreaming again of your shower but knowing you’ll have to get on the metro and jostle again, both the Fushiguro’s and Itadori are right behind you.

“I’m so~rry, Megumi,” Itadori sheepishly says behind you. Megumi harrumphs in response. From this snippet, you can tell that whatever the reason is for Mr. Nakamura’s anger, Itadori was most likely the primary member behind it. 

Though you can’t see it, you can almost hear Megumi rolling his eyes.

Heading towards the bus stop - because you really can’t stomach incurring more transport costs - you’re a little taken back by the extra set of footsteps behind you. In the reflection of the shiny bus stop advertisement, you can see Fushiguro looking at you.

“Y/N, right?”

You pause. “Yes.”

He doesn’t say more than that, just looking at you thoughtfully.

A premonition… 

“It was nice meeting you and your son, Mr. Fushiguro. Itadori.” You nod at the trio. 

Mr. Fushiguro opens his mouth but you’re already skating off. Who said your heels hurt! 

--

You think it’s all behind you, casting the series of events from your mind. The injury on your collarbone has deepened into a gross yellowish-green bruise that pangs every time your blouse even brushes against the skin, but you’re actually regretful it wasn’t worse. 

With little else but a bruise ointment from your nearby convenience store to bill Mr. Nakamura with, you can’t help but feel you’ve lost out.

It’s not like you advocate hurting yourself to hurt your opponent, and a pyrric victory isn’t a true victory… but… some part of you is miffed that you hadn’t been able to take a bigger chunk out of the man who punched you. 

You should’ve fought harder.

Still, you’ve got bigger fish to fry.

Your boss has just ripped into you for about thirty minutes- well, you and the rest of your team - for work that he definitely had just lost by himself and not because none of you guys had emailed it to him, so you’re slumped over your office chair in a defeated manner.

Uncaring of your image, you cover the back of your eyes with your forearm. Your skirt crumples against the chair and you kick off your heels under your desk. 

At least in your private cubicle, no one can see you like this. 

That’s when you get two identical notifications to both your private email and your message inbox. The alerting vibration against the plastic table buzzes. 

You don’t recognise the string of numbers and most of the message is cut off by a line break, but you don’t open it - pressing onto the notification to enlarge the whole thing.

Y/N, 

What do you think about working for me? 

You’re a bit curious as to why this number had reached out to you in this manner rather then just through your L**kedIn, but that curiosity is outweighed by the fact that someone has your personal email (it’s not really hard to guess that one), your phone number, and your name.

Your thumb moves over to the block button when a second message rolls in, again pinging into your email inbox and your phone messages.

Of course, annual salary negotiations start at ¥XX,000,000. 

HOLY SHIT- Before your mind can catch up to your actions, you’ve opened the message, read it, typed, and sent a response.

Sorry, who is this? 

The mysterious person doesn’t respond for a couple minutes. You’re just about to turn off your phone, dismissing this as a cruel prank on an office slave when another message pings - just in your messages, this time. 

…Fushiguro. Megumi’s father. 

I did give you the correct contact, no?

Ahhh…. a searing sound akin to steak on a grill rings in your head. 

You’re embarrassed that he’s caught you in the act.

In truth, he had indeed given you his comprehensive details but it wasn’t like you actually saved it into your contacts. You had just written it down onto your notes app and handed it to your mechanic to be processed.

You weren’t good with numbers.

You don’t respond, but he doesn’t push the topic, continuing.

What do you think about being my own private solicitor? 

There’ll be an exclusivity fee, of course. To ensure you’re not busied by other potential clients. 

More?!

The calendar app opens on your phone in a heartbeat, and you strike out the upcoming ‘private’ meeting with your boss mercilessly. You might get an annoyed shout for that, but you’ll probably just gaslight him into thinking he scratched it out himself. He wasn’t the best with tech, afterall. 

I’m free at 16:30 today to discuss.

You refrain from adding an exclamation mark at the end. It would be bad to come off as too eager, would it?

Fushiguro stops responding and your momentary passion ebbs, leaving you overthinking. Was it too much? Maybe he wasn’t even free today. Maybe he was just probing your interest. 

You turn off your phone, feigning disinterest - only to pounce when the screen lights with another notification.

This time, there’s no words, just a location pin for a nearby cafe. 

You check the time. 

If you rush the scrapped document, you can make it!

Your fingers fly over the keyboard immediately. With this motivation, even the tedious work that you had agonised over is nothing. 

Unknown to you, you’re biting at your lip, filled with anticipation. 

¥XX,000,000.

In a couple months time though, you would be lamenting your decision. 

---

next chapter link here

(Years later…) Megumi: actually this was all masterminded by me when I was twelve years old- Reader: !!!! You were twelve?! Itadori: ...you're ignoring the mastermind portion?

༄ A/N - whewwww! chapter one of this series out! i hope everyone likes my tumblr jjk writing debut (シ_ _)シ and my writing style !

(♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) please feel free to interact w me in any way shape or form, I'm always excited for new friends new mutuals~~~ shoot me an ask or a like or anything hehe

[lxndonorris]

cycling adventure - Carlos Sainz Jr

Y/N x Carlos Sainz Jr Theme: Smutish, Teasing, Touching going on a cycling trip with Carlos x word count: 1010+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

Under the warm sun, you embarked on a cycling adventure with your boyfriend, Carlos. The refreshing breeze carried the promise of an exhilarating ride. Dressed in your cycling gear, you pedal side by side, the rhythmic sound of your wheels on the pavement creating a harmonious melody.

As you cycle through scenic paths and empty roads, you feel Carlos' gaze on you. Turning your head, you catch him staring at you. You cannot see his eyes underneath his pretty sunglasses; however, his mischievous smile tells you everything you need to know.

Still side by side, you exchange teasing glances, adding playful energy to the air. A tingling sensation sparks inside your belly, and you can't resist challenging him to a short race.

With a playful smile, you propose, "Race you to that tree?" You motion toward a large tree a few hundred meters in the distance.

As a professional racer, he is very competitive, and you use that to your advantage. An impish smirk forms in the corner of his lips as he lifts his head slightly. "I can't say no to that." Carlos smirks, and without hesitation, you surge forward, wheels spinning in sync.

The race is tight, your breathless grunts carried by the win as you push yourself, the thrill of competition adding a burst of excitement to the sunny day.

In the end, you manage to inch ahead, crossing the imaginary finish line with a triumphant grin.

Choosing a serene spot, you guide your bike to a stop beneath the sprawling branches of another large tree, its leaves creating a refreshing shade.

You get off the bike and turn around to find Carlos leaning against the handlebars of his bike. Both of you are breathing deeply, trying your best to catch your breath.

"You're so fast," he admits, dismounting his bike with a genuine smile and extending a congratulatory hand.

"Learning from the best." You shake hands—a shared moment of true sportsmanship.

In that moment, he closes the remaining distance, and your lips meet in a sweet and spontaneous kiss. The taste of victory mingled with the refreshing breeze.

You enjoy the way his stubble tickles your skin, and the faint scent of his cologne hovering in the air all around him. Such a familiar, yet alluring taste.

As he kisses you again, you slightly give in to him, closing your eyes for a few seconds, which feels like a blessing. Steadying yourself against his well-formed chest, you stroke his firm chest, enjoying how his chest bulges against the palm of your hand with every breath he takes.

"Mhmm." Carlos purrs right into your mouth, enjoying your gentle touch.

As he pulls back, a subtle shift in focus occurs, and you can't help but notice how well he looks in the cyclist's gear. The snug fit accentuates his athletic form, and the play of sunlight highlights the contours of his physique.

Guiding his bike, you watch him lean both bikes against the tree, granting you a good look at his back, his arse, and his thick thighs. All of his muscles are hard, as adrenaline is still pumping through his veins.

You can tell that the same excitement is rushing through your body as well.

A quiet apprecation lingers in your gaze, a realization that goes beyond the playful competition—a silent acknowledgement of the allure he carries in every moment, even in the simplicity of cycling gear.

In one swift motion, he takes his helmet off and turns around, tilting his head teasingly as the mischievous grin reappears on his lips. You follow his lead and take your helmet off, and you shake your head slowly, letting your hair fall freely around your face.

Drawing near, he moves with a confident ease, the playfulness of the day evident in his approach. You love the way he carries himself—a mixture of self-assurance and genuine affection.

Carlos reaches for your waist, and a spark of anticipation flickers between you. His touch was both gentle and firm, pulling you closer in a dance of shared closeness.

Your lips meet once again, the kiss carrying a blend of sweetness and desire.

At the same time, you feel his hands encompassing your body, running along your waistline, touching your butt and stroking the small of your back.

With every move of his fingers, you feel sparks of electricity rush down your spine—a sensational feeling.

"Carlos." You breathe into his mouth, placing both of your hands at his chest, returning the favor by stroking s´him too.

Swallowing hard, you pull away, your eyes wandering down to his chest, his clothes barely able to contain his hard pecs and abs.

However, you also spot a bulge forming inside his tight pants—his desire and lust building inside his body are showing.

Carefully, Carlos lifts your chin with two fingers as he watches you through his sunglasses. While you can still feel his other hand now firmly holding your butt, you grind your hips against him, teasing him some more.

"We should race more often." He growls deeply, his voice even deeper and rougher than usual.

"Anytime, babé." You raise an eyebrow as he traces your jawline with his thumb before he caresses your cheek tenderly.

"Next time, I'll win." He smirks, leaning in for another sweet yet longing kiss.

Unable to contain your cuirosity, you let a hand glide down his chest, right to his crotch, feeling the excitement filling his body.

Carlos purrs in response before he lets out a breathless moan right into your mouth.

This sends shivers down your spine, and you grab him firmly- the way he bulges against your hand makes it even worse.

Then, a car rushes by, snapping you out of this blissful moment of intimacy.

Both of your faces flush with color, and you giggle under your breath.

"We should... get this home," you propose, tracing the outline of his length once, and he nods in agreement. Even though he cannot hide the excitement this would pose, this is not the right time.

With your bikes nearby, you reach for the water bottles, refreshing sips cutting through the crisp air.

Exchanging more teasing glances, you watch each other, and together, you get ready to get on your bikes again to resume your tour.

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Formula 1 / MotoGP Fusion - Prologue (Prestory)

Summary: You are the first female MotoGP rider ever. You race for KTM Factory Racing, leaving Jack Miller your teammate, and one of your main sponsors is Red Bull. You grew up with most of the riders but your best friend is the multiple MotoGP Champion Marc Marquez. After your horrific crash the year before, you are ready to start the new season and probably a new love?

A/N: This is my first Social Media Story, so please go easy on me :) It's a mix between "Breaking News", Instagram posts, Twitter reactions and Insta-Stories :) My OC in this story is Jamie Murphy and she is the first woman to accomplish to drive in MotoGP. It was easier to have a face for this ;) Oh and this is like the "Pre-Story".

Ship: Not telling yet (Marc Marquez, Carlos Sainz or Charles Leclerc)

Warnings: Major accident

Terrifying Crash Shakes MotoGP World: Y/N Y/L/N Hospitalized After Horror Accident at Silverstone!

August 7, 2022

In a Heart-Stopping Moment, Y/L/N's Life Hangs in the Balance as Fans Pray for Her Recovery

Breaking News: In a shocking turn of events at the Silverstone race, Y/N Y/L/N, the trailblazing MotoGP rider, has suffered a horrific accident that left her unconscious and in critical condition. The accident, which occurred during a high-speed collision, has sent shockwaves through the racing community and has fans anxiously awaiting updates on her condition.

Eyewitnesses report that Y/L/N's motorcycle made contact with another rider's bike, causing her to lose control and crash violently. The impact was so severe that a part of her motorcycle became lodged in the side of her stomach, resulting in immediate medical intervention.

Emergency medical teams quickly arrived at the scene, providing urgent assistance to Y/L/N. Due to the severity of her injuries, she was airlifted to a nearby hospital, where she underwent emergency surgery. Medical experts worked tirelessly to remove the foreign object and repair the damage caused.

Further examination revealed that Y/L/N also sustained a small fracture in her neck, requiring additional surgery to ensure her long-term well-being. Despite the complexity of the procedures, the medical team remains optimistic about her recovery.

Y/L/N's condition is currently listed as stable, and she is being closely monitored in the intensive care unit. Her family, friends, and fans around the world have rallied together, sending their thoughts, prayers, and well-wishes for her swift recovery.

The racing community has been deeply affected by this harrowing incident, with fellow riders expressing their concern and support for Y/L/N and her family. The accident serves as a stark reminder of the dangers faced by these incredible athletes every time they take to the track. 

As the MotoGP world awaits further updates on Y/N Y/L/N's condition, one thing is certain: her strength and determination will undoubtedly play a crucial role in her recovery. Fans worldwide join together in sending their love, hoping to witness her triumphant return to the sport that she has dedicated her life to. 

Stay tuned for more updates on Y/N Y/L/N's condition as her fight to recover from this terrifying accident continues.

🌟 Inspirational Comeback: Y/N Y/L/N on the Road to Recovery After Terrifying Crash 🏍️💥💪

October 10, 2022

✨ Defying the Odds: Y/L/N's Remarkable Progress Amazes Doctors as She Embarks on Rehabilitation Journey 🏥⚡🏋️

Breaking News: In a stunning display of resilience and determination, MotoGP rider Y/N Y/L/N continues her remarkable recovery following a horrifying crash at Silverstone. While the road to recovery has been challenging, Y/L/N's strength and unwavering spirit have astounded medical professionals, providing hope for her return to the track in the near future. 💪🏁

After undergoing multiple surgeries to address the injuries sustained in the accident, Y/L/N's progress has been remarkable. Doctors have confirmed that she will not suffer any long-term injuries, a testament to her strength and the excellent medical care she received. Visible on her neck is a bulging scar, a reminder of the ordeal she endured, and it is believed that a scar on her stomach serves as evidence of the motorcycle part that became embedded in her side, narrowly avoiding potentially life-threatening damage to her lung. 😱💉

Y/L/N's recovery journey now enters the rehabilitation phase, where she will undergo intensive therapy and training to regain her strength and mobility. Physiotherapists and specialists will work closely with her to ensure a safe and efficient return to her athletic peak. 💪💙

While the road to recovery will require time and patience, Y/L/N remains optimistic and focused on her ultimate goal: returning to the MotoGP World Championship. However, it has been confirmed that she will not be able to compete in this year's championship, prioritizing her health and well-being above all else. 🏆🏍️❤️

Fans around the world have rallied behind Y/L/N, flooding social media with messages of support and encouragement. The outpouring of love and admiration for her bravery and determination has been overwhelming, reaffirming her status as an inspiration to many. 🌍💕

Y/L/N's journey serves as a powerful reminder of the risks that professional athletes face and the strength required to overcome adversity. Her story resonates not only with the racing community but with individuals worldwide who have been touched by her tenacity and courage. 🌟🙌

As Y/N Y/L/N continues her rehabilitation, the entire MotoGP community eagerly awaits her return. Her absence from this year's championship only intensifies the anticipation for her comeback, as fans eagerly anticipate the day when she will once again grace the track with her unparalleled skills. 🏍️🎉

Stay tuned for further updates on Y/N Y/L/N's rehabilitation progress and the inspiring journey that lies ahead for this extraordinary MotoGP athlete. 📣💪✨

🏍️ Revving Back to Life: Y/N Y/L/N Returns to the Track with Unstoppable Determination! 💪🌟

December 12, 2022

💥 An Unbreakable Bond: Miller and Marquez Stand Strong as Y/L/N Embarks on her Thrilling Comeback! 🤝❤️

Breaking News: In a triumphant display of resilience and unwavering determination, MotoGP sensation Y/N Y/L/N has made her highly anticipated return to the track after months of intense rehabilitation and hard work. With the support of her teammate Jack Miller and her best friend Marc Marquez, Y/L/N is proving that nothing can keep her away from her passion for racing. 🏁🔥 

Witnesses have spotted Y/L/N spending an increasing amount of time at the KTM headquarters in Munderfing, Austria, immersing herself in the world of motorsport once again. With each passing day, her dedication and commitment to her craft become more evident. 💪🏆

The heartwarming sight of Y/L/N back on a test track, straddling her bike, has ignited excitement and joy within the racing community. Her infectious enthusiasm and indomitable spirit have not only inspired fans but have also captivated her teammate Jack Miller, who has been a pillar of support throughout her recovery journey. Miller's unwavering presence by Y/L/N's side speaks volumes about their unbreakable bond and the camaraderie shared among teammates. 🏍️🤝❤️

Furthermore, the ever-supportive Marc Marquez has stood shoulder to shoulder with Y/L/N, offering encouragement and guidance as she regains her racing form. Marquez's own remarkable journey of triumph over adversity has uniquely positioned him to empathize with Y/L/N's challenges, making their friendship even more profound and inspiring. 🌟🙌

As Y/L/N continues her training and testing on the track, her presence is a powerful reminder of the indomitable spirit of athletes and their ability to overcome any obstacle. The racing world eagerly awaits her official return to competition, where she will once again showcase her extraordinary skills and tenacity. 🌍💨

Stay tuned for more updates on Y/N Y/L/N's remarkable comeback, as she proves that setbacks are merely fuel for her relentless pursuit of greatness. With Miller and Marquez by her side, the future looks brighter than ever for this remarkable MotoGP star. 🌟🚀💥

Next Part >>

[sunnycanvas]

Hello, could you make one where Balwin's girlfriend is from the future and due to destiny, she is in Balwin's time and they both fall in love and she manages to take Balwin to the future where they both get married and spend Christmas with their in-laws and they want it.

It was late evening in the city with snow beginning to fall. "Darling are you sure you will be able to handle it" "The Christmas tree is too tall". Baldwin enthusiastically said"Don't worry, I am strong now thanks to you" "I can now easily handle manual labour" I smiled and shaked my head. Baldwin loved to do manual labour. Especially since he got his strength back but I couldn't help but look concern. "There" he said smiling. "Now quickly switch on the light" . I quickly ran towards the switch not before yelling a warning "Be careful with wires" Baldwin frowned and said "I know love, besides they aren't that dangerous" . "I guess you are the one who needs a professional help" "What do you say shall we hire professional helper and lie to them saying that you need learning about surroundings since you have amnesia" Baldwin IV smirked teasingly. While I flushed in embarrassment remembering our earlier days. Just then a memory striked me and I began laughing. Baldwin IV confused asked "What's so funny". His confused expression reminded me of earlier days and I laughed even more. "Remember how you used to be scared of cars and bikes" "It was cute how tightly you held my hand insisting we cross the road together and how you would try to sheild me with your body as if ready to fight for me whenever the vehicle was approaching it was cute". Baldwin IV shocked and embarassed that I would bring up the memory quickly got down the ladder and chased after me. He almost succeeded in catching me until the door bell rang "Must be my parents let me open it quick"

I had been setting food on the table with the help of my mom. As I put down the Christmas pie I thought of calling my husband, Baldwin IV for dinner but decided to change my mind once I saw him staring outside the window sadly. My heart pained knowing how much he longed his home. To ease his pain I promised to take him to Jerusalem for our next upcoming trip. I can still easily recall Baldwin IV 's face how he was shocked and fascinated when he got to know current situation of his homeland.

"So that's it, that's how the story ends" "What did I fight for, to everything to go in vain" "I wish it didn't end up how it has"

I quietly put down the Christmas pie as I watched him staring outside the window. Making note to myself to call him bit later afterwards. My mother who bought freshly cooked turkey while placing it on the table noticing my pain decided to distract me by conversation said "You know our family has a history of time traveling" "Some of our ancestors take your grandma for example had also fallen in love with someone from past but this is the first time some one was to future" "People in our family tree who refused to leave their significant other settled in past with them" "Not all had happy ending of course" "Some severely regretted their decision and came back to future"

I closed my eyes sadly and recalled how my grandma fell in love with a king and married him but he cheated on her and expected her to endure so she left. Luckily she found grandpa and has been happily married since

"You know dear please don't take offence but I am suprised, how much your significant lover was willing to fight for you" "It's rare to find someone who would be willing to go this far" "Make sure not to loose him"

I smiled and said "I know mother" "I too love him very much" "I am glad I was able to cure him thanks to medical treatment here".

My mother looked at my husband and saw him sadly staring outside the window said "He seems to miss his home"

"He sure does"

My mom patted my shoulder and went to call my husband. Baldwin IV smiled moment our eyes met. "My love" he said. I smiled and proceeded to kiss him but he said"Stop your mother is here staring at us". Both my mom and I laughed at his bashful expression. As we settled down Baldwin IV asked about my father

"He will be late and asked us to proceed without him" "By the way you both have done marvelous job in decorating the house". Baldwin IV smiled and said "Couldn't have done without your daughters help". Suddenly Baldwin IV expression became sad again as he said"I wish my nephew was here though, he would definitely love being here, I miss him so much". "Things have changed a lot, except for the snow which remains same" "It's good that I have something with me from the past " I put my hand on his hand squeezing it to reassure him. Baldwin IV noticing my expression squeezed my hand back and smiled at me to reassure me that I am fine.

"Siting on dinner table without switching on the Christmas lights". My dad yelled as he quickly sat down on table holding bottle of wine. "And completely forgot about wine, no Christmas celebration is complete without wine". "I see my daughter has done marvelous job in worsening you" I scoffed at my dad's playful remark as Baldwin IV laughed. Baldwin IV smirked and teasingly said "She sure has"

"Hey" I retorated as I playfully punched him. My parents smiled as they watched our banter. "I couldn't ask for a better son in law" said my dad proudly. "Me too" commented my mom happily. Baldwin IV grew shy after hearing this and I took a chance and kissed him on the cheek.

"Hey"

"This is payback". I happily retorated. "Now" my mom commanded sternly. "Eat your food or else it will get cold". Baldwin IV hearing this said "First let us pray and thank our lord". My parents and I immediately closed our eyes. Baldwin IV gently leaned toward me and whispered "and thanking him to bless me with such a beautiful wife" and slowly kissed my ear lobe making me blush. After we were done with prayers. Baldwin IV raised his glass and said "To my homeland and for my dear nephew, sister and mother who couldn't join me here today , Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas" We cheered back and clicked our glasses happily enjoying our food. With the snow getting making it dark quickly. Glowed our beautiful house in yellow during Christmas filled with cheers and laughter

[miloformula123fan]

300 followers celebration

okay wtf guys im actually gonna cry :). thank y'all so much for all the love you have given me.

im gonna start by apologising because I have not been that active. i went and saw challengers, started watching ted lasso and got into professional cycling, and my exams are just about to finish and im gonna be honest i have been just reading fanfiction based on those. (because my ADHD hyperfixation has hit this point)

also small apology to the people waiting on the bachelor fic, i've rewritten the first chapter twice, but rest assured once i get the first chapter out of the way, the next few will come in quicker

But I am getting back into the hot men of f1, thank god, and initially this celebration was going to be closer to july, but here we are, and so this event will run a while.

Basically to explain it's an f1 x olympics!reader :) because i have a hyperfixation on the olympics

Rules:

Pick 1 letters, one for the person and one number for the reader's sport - i will then make a moodboard AND A small blurb :) (cause i need to get out of the writing slump)

my guidelines are here

i am only writing for the drivers and related people listed (but if you really want another driver, chuck it in my inbox and ill probably make it anyway)

this is only for moodboards and short blurbs, however my requests will remain open through the celebration so if you're inspired by this but want something else instead feel free to head to my inbox :)

please be patient - it may take me a few hours to do yours, but depending on how many requests I get, it could take a few days

please specify gender, else i'll probably make it gender neutral

for now no limit on how many requests 1 person can submit, but if i get overwhelmed I will

i will take description requests, face claim requests, blurb requests, country requests, whatever you want to specify BUT all I need is 1 letter, 1 number and a gender for reader :)

the event will close on the 11th of august (when the olympics end) (and also so i have a little bit of a time before a birthday celebration!)

NOW TO THE CELEBRATION:

PICK 1 LETTER - ONE FOR DRIVER

AND PICK 1 NUMBER - ONE FOR READER

drivers!

A - Alex Albon

B -  Ollie Bearman

C - Charles Leclerc

D - Mick Schumacher

E - Esteban Ocon

F - Fernando Alonso

G - James Vowles

H - Liam Lawson

I - Peter Bonnington

J - Jack Doohan

K - Kimi Raikkonen

L - Lewis Hamilton

M - Max Verstappen

N - Lando Norris

O - Oscar piastri

P - Pierre Gasly

Q - Logan Sargeant

R - Daniel Ricciardo

S - Carlos Sainz

T - Yuki Tsunoda

U - Lance Stroll

V - Sebastian Vettel

W - Mark Webber

X - Paul Aron

Y - Toto Wolff

Z - Jenson Button

reader!

breaking

boxing

volleyball

golf

rhythmic gymnastics

tennis

modern pentathlon

weightlifting

equestrian

bmx cycling racing

football/soccer

basketball

archery

diving

shooting

handball

triathlon

water polo

judo

swimming

hockey

wrestling

marathon swimming

3 x 3 basketball

trampoline gymnastics

sport climbing

mountain bike cycling

rugby sevens

track cycling

road cycling

sailing

sprint canoe

beach volleyball

badminton

taekwondo

bmx freestyle cycling

canoe slalom

fencing

rowing

surfing

skateboarding

artistic gymnastics

artistic swimming

athletics

table tennis

taglist of people who i hope are interested (if not just ignore :) ):

@barcelonaloverf1life, @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m, @fate-posts, @evelyn-4034, @jupiter-je-taime, @redcrescentmoons, @youraveragebritishamerican, @v3lnys, @thatonesblog, @seventeendevotee, @annegrey, @pear-1206, @alchemxx

[inspector-m3]

A short snippet of that fic

i did a poll ages ago for what kinda story i should do....the results said the majority of you wanted street racing au (car) Ghost x male reader (motorbike)

it's probably gonna take me a bit since i want to do some proper research into what cars and bikes but here's a little snippet, this might not make it into the final draft though.

The white light from the streetlights illuminate the road while the thunderous sounds of engines fill the air. One one side of you there's your fellow biker, her electric blue streaks popping in the dark of the night, on the other side of you there's a car. You glance over curiously which is when you notice....it's ghost...the fucking masked bastard who always wins, well not for long if you have anything to do about it. You grin under your helmet as you lean over, tapping the window of his car. He looks over and for a moment you think he has no eyes. bloody hell, his eyes were almost soulless. You shake that thought away, grinning under your helmet as you raise your hand and make a 'professional' and 'mature' gesture (you made the wanking gesture)

The flag girls begin their countdown.

"THREE!"

" TWO!"

"ONE!"

theres a pause

"GO!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

let me know if you wanna be tagged or if there's any mistakes :]

[itsohh]

Stay For Me

A/N: Female reader, kiwi reader. So this is what I ended up just writing on the way to MCR tonight. Great concert, Gerard wore this suit with a pencil skirt and pantyhose it was pretty great. Goodnight Nurse opened which was insane as they had been split for like 14 years and got together again purely for this concert, both sounded amazing. Anyway rip to my r6 babes uh ✌

Summary: After fighting tooth and nail you find yourself at Alejandro's safe house. Finding that you're not alone, you're reunited with your lover who patches you up.

Word count: 2221 

Warnings: None

AO3

Exhaustion consumed you, or perhaps it was the acute blood loss. A tight bandage on your thigh made transport possible but didn't stop it from hurting like a real right bitch. Pain spiked with every vibration of the motorbike, a constant thrum that constantly reminded you of the bullet's location as your adrenaline wore off.

Eyes on the road, your mind finally had the peace to wander. Thoughts of the last few days ran back to you. The missile. The one that had been in Oceana air space. Its target had been unknown, most likely Sydney. Luckily that their anti-missile programmes shot it down before it reaches its destination. The new, you could recall it clear as day. Everyone at the base watched as reporters tried to get a glimpse of the wreckage.

The call. Within two hours they had you packed up and ready to go. A representative as ordered by the ANZCTC. You had always been good at international problems, yet the pressure was on, two counties waiting in breath to find out who attacked. Who wanted to start a war? Only a select amount of people knew the discovery that the missiles were of American design.

While the wind continued past your face your mind continued to wander. The landing, your mistrust of PMC involvement. The familiar eyes of your lover. Professionals, that's what you were, only ever romantically communicating with the flash of an eye. It made you wonder, had you been comprised? If it wasn't you there but someone else in your place, would they have noticed or seen any signs of Grave's betrayal? You certainly didn't. While you didn't trust PMCs, you didn't expect them to gun down families in the streets. Then again, you were always the optimist of the two.

A small crackling tinking sound came from the bike when you eventually stopped at the end of the gravel road, the bike turned off. Lights were on inside, you certainly weren't the first to reach it and you only hoped that everyone else was already there. Without a working radio, you weren't surprised that they left you behind. It was the right call, the hard call. But the right one.

The lights cracked off and you heard the most subtle of moments while you pushed the bike onto its stand. Too tired to care about any other immediate danger, you swung your injured leg off and plopped to the ground with a hiss. Gravel crunched under your weight as you attempted to steady yourself.

Eyes shut, you winced as you started to drag your leg. Its pain had solidified its presence and every move made it ache. The soft sound of your name has your head look up. Your name, actual name. Not the dumb nickname that you could never get rid of, but your actual name. The sound soft from Ghost's lips as he approached you. "You're alive." A statement, one of relief.

"For now. Is everyone else okay? Or is it just you?" Your voice became gruff as he approached you.

"Rudy and Soap both made it. Haven't heard anything from Price or Laswell." His gentle touch came beside you before he wrapped your arm around his shoulder. With the added support he helped you walk towards the entrance of the safe house.

"Thank god you guys are alright. Fucking terrifying being alone and not knowing if anyone else had made it." You hissed each time your foot walked.

"You never replied to coms. I only heard from Johnny." There was guilt buried deep down in the back of his throat.

"I'm not blaming you, Simon. You kept John safe, it was the right call to leave without me. My coms got slabbed." He tilted his head slightly to see the mess of wires attached to your chest.

"How?"

"Leg had me far slower than usual. I had hit my head when I rolled down that hill three of them had found me. Trust me, they got it a lot worse than I did. Fucking cunts." You mumbled the last part under your breath as Ghost pushed open the door with the flat of his hand. There Rudy and Soap were on the edge of their seats, guns ready but stopped when they saw your frame which clung to Ghost.

"Quest!" The pair of them both spoke in unison. A chorus of the nickname you had originally despised, a sound you had never been so happy to hear.

"Another patient for nurse Ghost huh?" Soap's eyes flashed to your leg before he started to prepare a chair for you. The health kit had already been brought out and you couldn't help but wonder who else got hurt.

Ghost helped you onto the chair and the second you felt down the weight of the world seemed to wash away from you. "Good to see you two boys still kicking."

"How did you know we were here?" Soap asked while Ghost went off to wash his hands.

"I didn't. Alejandro told me of this place when I told him of my mistrust of the Shadows."

"You thought something like this would happen?" Rudy cocked a brow while you shook your head a little.

"To this extreme? God no, I just thought it was fishy. American missiles and an American PMC. I would be lying if the possibility of them firing it hadn't crossed my mind. My superiors agreed with me."

"Your superiors?" Soap asked and your eyes glanced at Ghost who had returned, no doubt hearing everything from the room's echo.

"She is an investigator for her military." Ghost informed them. "Finds out what happened when shit hit the fan."

"Normally have to clean up too." You mumbled under your breath.

"Oh, so that's why people call her Quest, short for Questions right? Cause she asks lots of questions."

"Close, had the first part right Johnny. You will get it eventually." Ghost hummed as he neared. He grabbed a chair near you and started to cut away your bandage.

"He's never going to get it, Ghost, don't be mean." Your partner did little but gave you a small wink behind his mask. Ghost's eyes found the decently sized hole in your thigh and where you had cut around all your fabric.

"Did you get it out?" It was obvious you had certainly tried. In the process making more of a mess of the wound.

"No. Hand was too shaky." Ghost found the disinfectant still on the table and his eyes flashed to yours.

"Why don't you tell him about how you got it then, since he's never going to find out any other way." A distraction from the pain, something else to focus on. That was Ghost's goal.

"Back when I was a little recruit, fresh and new in the Military-" The sting of the liquid had your voice choke for a moment and you made sure to keep your eyes focused on John or Rudy.

"I always knew my place, knew not to talk back." The sting changed to a small throbbing pain which spiked while he started to poke around with tweezers to find the bullet. "But one day we are doing a mock assignment, the group of us. Our Sargent then barks 'any questions?'" A hiss came from your lips as Ghost located the bullet and started to get a good grasp on it.

"And me being the dumb recruit I was, put my hand up and he calls on me. So I ask 'why are we doing this way?'" Ghost let out a small chuckle under his breath and you heard the clink of the bullet on the table.

"So my Sargent responds, royally pissed mind you, 'do you think you have a better plan? Are you undermining me?" You suck in a breath as a needle penetrates your skin.

"So I'm shitting bricks here but reply 'No Sargent, I wish to know how you think and decide on such matters so I can learn to do so." Soap leans in at this while Rudy tilted his head slightly.

"Mentally I'm preparing my funeral but my Sargent takes a step back. There's something in his eyes and he huffs. 'If you make it out of this you will report to me in my office, understood?' Then he walked off."

"I'm surprised you're still alive. What happened when you went to his office?" Rudy asked.

"He was really calm and well not shouting at us. Then he went in thoroughly on how they would come to such a plan and conclusion. But after that, I was on his radar and god that man pushed me harder than anyone else."

"For a good reason." Ghost mumbled.

"Mmm, it certainly paid off. That man is certainly the reason why I love regulation so much."

"Don't think I've ever heard someone be a fan of red tape before." Soap's brows rose and he leaned back on his chair.

"Rules are there for a reason. They keep us safe and prevent fuck ups. Someone always has to pay the price of someone's cut corners."

"You must have seen a lot of shit hermana." A puff of air left your mouth as Ghost lift your leg slightly to give access to the roll of bandage.

"Too much."

"Suppose this is business as usual for you then?" Soaps eyes fell on Ghost for a second as he started to clean up.

"To a degree. Graves won't get away from this. Not to be that guy but if something happens to me a lot of alarms are going to be raised."

"Couldn't he just lie? Say you got killed by Hassan's guys?" Soap asked and you shook her your head.

"Either way it will trigger another investigation in the matter."

"They were fucked the second this became so international." Ghost's hand brushed against yours for a second and the pair of you made eye contact. A small sign of comfort.

"A lot of eyes on them now." You agreed. "Have we heard anything from Alejandro?" With your wound now fixed, Ghost was in a better position to answer your questions.

"He's caught up in an old prison. Alongside the rest of our men." Ruby informed you. You stood up from the chair and started to walk around the room, getting used to the feeling. Now that you were patched up, it was far easier and less painful to do so.

"So got a plan to bust 'em out?" Before Soap or Rudy could reply, Ghost cut them off.

"We do. You're too injured to." There was a fire in his eyes that demand you not to argue.

"I've fought on worse. You need all the people you can get." Rudy and Soap glanced at each other and Ghost let out a sigh.

"Outside. If you can even walk that far."

"I'm fine now." He followed you out the door and into the cool night air.

"Simon, I'm fine to fight." Yet he didn't say a word. You followed him around the corner and he turned to face you.

"I know."

"I can help get them back. I care about them too."

"You coming would be more of a detriment than anything else."

"Excuse me?" You took a step towards him, offence written on your face.

"You're compromising me." His words had you pause and your lips parted. Simon pulled off the mask from his face and you were met with his sweaty and grease-paint-covered face. "I won't be able to focus properly knowing that you're with us injured. I know you're strong, I know you can do it. This is why I'm asking you, not as a lieutenant but as your partner. Stay here. Don't push yourself. Heal."

"Oh, Simon." Your face softened at his expression and your hand graced his face.

"It killed me inside losing you. If Johnny hadn't been there… His voice trailed off as he broke eye contact. "I would have torn that city apart." His eyes snapped back to yours, voice low.

"I'm glad you didn't. Keep John and yourself safe." Your thumb stroked his face and a second later his face leaned into yours, lips soft against your own.

"I can't lose you." Simon numbered against your lips, a beg.

"You won't." A promise. "I'll stay here, only if you come back."

"I will." His slightly dry but soft lips once again graced yours. A slow kiss turned passionate as your arms wrapped around his neck. Simon took a step towards you which forced your back. The cool material of the building behind you came into contact with your back. His hand slapped against it for support and he lift your injured leg. He was gentle in the action, supporting it while he fit so perfectly in between your legs.

"Simon." Your voice trailed off as he kissed down against your jaw. "You kiss me like a dying man."

"I am a ghost." His dead voice had you choke out a laugh.

“In all seriousness, don’t kiss me like this is goodbye. It better not be.”

“It’s not goodbye.”

“Good because if you don’t come back, I’m going after you.” He didn’t react and your hands slipped down to the front of his chest.

“I better come back then.”

[writingfics-passingtime]

Omg the mixtape requests!! I love the idea!!

The song: like a tattoo by Sade with Bucky Barnes! Specially from the min 1:35 to 2:03 I think you’ll love it x fem reader

The Scar of Age

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Like a Tattoo

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (romantic, no pronouns used)

Word Count: ~2350

CW: Talking about death and killing, reader has killed people on a mission, kissing, allusions to rough kissing/six (consensual), overwhelmed response that could be interpreted as a panic attack (but isn’t intended to be one)

Note: Thank you for your beautiful request, anon !! (I wrote this for a female reader and then realised no pronouns/gendered descriptions were used, so have tagged it accordingly) When I heard this song the image I instantly had was riding a motorbike through a snowy mountain road, and what was supposed to be a steamy little safe-house number turned into something a little more heavy. I was so inspired by the lyrics of this song, thank you for sharing 💜

The war is still raging inside of me // I still feel the chill // as I reveal my shame to you // I wear it like a tattoo

It’s been growing for months. This budding, rising magnetism alive between you and him. Still unspoken, still untouched, now unfettered.

It started not long after he returned from Wakanda. The attraction was instant, the pull soon became hard to resist but, by the gods, you resisted it with all you had. You kept a respectful and professional distance where possible. He’d been through a lot.

But the breathing room has seen it grow beyond control and now, for the first time in forever, you and Bucky are going to be truly alone.

The frostbitten air bites at your leathers as you snake up the icy switchbacks, giving and taking on the throttle, gently guiding the electric motorcycle through the snowy mountain roads towards somewhere out of the way. To the solitude you had been gifted.

He's sitting behind you, and though he’s an anchor of his own his hands are on your waist. It distracts you more than once and you're sure he knows it because he firms his touch when the bike slows from your wayward thoughts. If he dared to broach the subject, you'd blame the ice on the road. Or would you?

The night had been long and rough. Snowcapped mountains begin to glow as you ride to one of Stark's more isolated houses. The beauty of the new day only makes you feel worse after the events of the night; three enemy guards, dead by your hand.

They will never see another sunrise.

Sure, you had an important job to do to keep the public safe, and sure, they were trying to kill you, but damned you'd be if every life ended by your hand didn't eat away at you.

The dirt feeling that gnaws at your gut is your only place of solace because it still hurts. If it ever stopped hurting, you'd walk away for good. Steve promised to help you disappear if that day comes.

Steve. A wry smile threatens to burst under the helmet as you finally see the house in the distance. Steve is the one who rostered this assignment, knowing where it was, knowing the airspace would be tightly monitored the days after your mission, knowing whoever was assigned to it would need to be under the radar until extraction would be less risky. A few nights at least.

He had arranged all of this in front of a room full of highly-perceptive people. No jibing comments were thrown from the other seats, which was so unusual that awkwardness rushed into the void. The panic of perception started to sink in your bones but when you met Bucky’s eye, you stilled. You ceased to wish the ground would swallow you whole the moment his usually stony glare was soft, almost apologetic, as if he was afraid you’d think he’d done this to get you alone. You didn’t smile, hyperaware of the eyes all around, but the look you returned to him seemed to smooth his frayed edges.

Now, there are no prying eyes. Your quickening heartbeat becomes the score of your final stretch towards this unusual hollow of privacy. The house comes more into view. It’s at the end of a straight stretch of road. You tilt your wrist and roll the throttle. As the bike picks up speed, Bucky’s hands slide from your waist down to rest at your hips. It makes your toes curl inside your boots, and you have to hone your focus on the house you’re fast approaching.

The sharp and grey abode look harsh yet at home nestled into the snow-covered bedrock, and the unforgiving structure looks strange bathed in warm pink sunlight. It’s one of those boxy houses made of cool concrete and glass that looks as if it should always be shrouded in cloud cover, but the windows are alive with the rising sun and it pulls a sad smile to your lips.

You ease the bike to a stop when you reach the gate. Both yours and Bucky’s right feet meet the ground to hold the bike as you punch the code into the gate, which opens along with a hidden garage door beneath the house towards which you slip through the fenced doors and quickly guide the bike down a ramp.

The lights gradually flick on as you slow the bike to its final stop next to a few others. You dismount with haste and pull your helmet and gloves off, blowing hot air on your fingers as you rub your hands together. Bucky swings his leg off the bike and removes his own helmet. Strands of his chestnut hair come loose from the knot at the nape of his neck, striking something real and imperfect against his cold-flushed cheekbones. You steal only a quick glance at his rugged tired eyes before he nods his chin towards a staircase that goes up. “Go warm up. I’ll unload.” All you can do is nod, thankful that you can skip off to find a hot shower. The cold is turning painful and the house, though industrial and cavernous, is already pleasantly warm. It isn’t ridiculously large though, and it doesn’t take you long to find a bedroom.

Earlier on in your career, the preparedness of these houses used to haunt you. Somehow, they always had fresh clothes in your size ready and waiting in the wardrobes. Now, you’re desensitised to it all. It’s just another part of the job.

The hot spray is soon welcoming you to your place of rest, easing that chill that had set into your bones, reminding you that you are now safe. Alone. Your pulse drops to your stomach, you breathe through it, and hope you’re not emanating something less savoury than contentment at being here alone with Bucky.

You’re soon dressed and in an industrial-styled kitchen that overlooks a sprawling, picturesque landscape. The floor is warm beneath your socked feet, a feature of the house, and the fridge is stocked for you to begin preparing some food to tame snarling stomachs. Somewhere in your field of sound, the spray of another showed subsides. That pulse picks up again and you focus on cracking some eggs into a white ceramic bowl.

Bucky needs a lot of food, that much is obvious, with the super serum cranking his metabolism, and a lot of protein at that. You’d just finished off breaking the last of the dozen eggs into the bowl when your companion enters the kitchen without a word.

You look up at him, because it would be weird not to, and give a brief, tight smile before opening a drawer in search of a whisk. His brief and welcome hand meets the small of your back as he passes behind you, making his way to start cutting the vegetables you put on the bench. It sends a surge of abashment through your nerves. You curl your toes against the smooth, strangely warm floor.

“I don’t mind cooking.” Your fingers close around a whisk and you close the drawer with your hip.

His head turns in your peripherals so you meet his eye. His stare is soft, framed by the drag of a sleepless night, but not by a hopelessness they once held. He shrugs with one shoulder and almost smiles. “It’s nice to do something normal.” He turns back to the counter and picks up a mushroom, and your eyes roam over him.

The African sun had been kind to him, tinting his skin with pinprick freckles and a tan that had almost faded. His hair holds the summer too. He keeps it pulled back but the shorter pieces frame his face and are laced with tiny threads of gold and the beginnings of grey. You can see the hues even through the post-shower dampness clinging to his waves. The colours are beautiful, you think, because they're signs of life lived after the stolen decades. Of all the scars, age is the only one he deserves. Maybe if you were a different person in a different life, you would've said it out loud. Romanticism doesn't seem to befit you. It feels too soft and too good.

He speaks again as soon as you turn back to the bowl.

“I should’ve got to them first,” he sniffs back the cold. “The guards.”

Your twirl your wrist to beat the eggs and keep your tone level. “I handled it just fine.”

“Yeah, well… I can see-” He lets a breath out and collects his thoughts. “I know y’don’t like it.”

You release your own deep breath through your nose, whisk stilling in your hand. “No one likes it, but it’s part of the job.”

He puts the knife down and turns his head towards you again. “I’m just saying… I can-”

“I don’t want you to do that for me, Bucky.”

Your voice is measured and the whisk doesn’t stop. You smooth a hand against side of the bowl and stare into the milky yellow mixture as it spins and spins and spins. He spent too long taking lives because other people couldn’t do their own dirty work.

“It’s not fair to you.” You sighed once, quickly, almost in a huff, before slowing the whisk again and correcting yourself. “It’s not fair to either of us, but that’s the way the world works.” Indecisive, you put down the utensil and turn your head towards him, shifting your eyes to his chopping board. His body heat skims your left arm. “I don’t want you to protect me from what has to be done. I don’t want you to see me as-”

The words die at your lips and Bucky’s head tilts. “As what?” He prompts in a gentle nudge. His hands are against the counter.

You close your eyes and smile involuntarily, so you force out a dry laugh to cover it up with a shake of your head. Every bit of air in your lungs is screaming out for him to come closer, to rid you of this mounting feeling inside, to break through this barrier of professionalism and fear that you wouldn’t be good for him.

“As one of them,” you can’t meet his eye. “As someone you have to kill for.”

You refused to be the reason he took a life. You weren’t going to do that to him.

You’d be no better than HYDRA.

He responds with something pained, something just above a whisper. “You know how I see you.” It’s not a question, nor an answer. It’s pure honesty simmering just below the horizon.

A strand of his hair is the first thing you feel as he draws closer. It ghosts along your cheekbone and catches the breath in your throat, only for a second though. Your eyes flit upwards, your chin lifts and turns ever so slightly towards him. You soften, to say yes. To say please. And it's all he needs.

His kiss is the opposite of what you expected. It's warm, and gentle.

It's a passion like you've never known.

There's this expectation, with passion, that the intensity should feel like a bolt of lighting or a supernova. Tension builds and builds and it's supposed to break. And sure, it's breaks, but so does the day over the darkness.

If the sun can pour dawn over the horizon, giving a gentle wake to the earth with rosy hues and still remain as powerful, who's to say something as good and inevitable surging through you at the speed of light has to explode. Why couldn't it fill you to the brim and stay full, keeping you bathed in a vivid sunrise.

Everything about him has been severe and guarded, until now. For the first time, while feeling the tenderness of his kiss, you consider that he hadn't built his walls so high because he wanted to keep others out but to keep himself in. You take note that his open palms are still on the counter. His hands were used for so much destruction, perhaps he didn't feel right putting them on you.

Your younger self would have resented his restraint. You would've goaded, chastised, pushed him away until he could meet you with a power you deserved. Why shouldn't he? You can take it; the fingertips sinking into you skin, storm-coloured bruises levied from fun, the gentle ache that pulses through your back from being pinned rough against a wall.

But you’re tired. Exhausted, even. Drained from tensing and flexing and always having to show every ounce of strength. Always a solider, silent and stoic. Always with a job to do. But maybe here, you were just a person.

He pulls away after several moments, still close enough for his breath to graze your lips. You don't look for his eyes because you know he won't meet you there. His tongue peaks out for half a second and he releases a breath before he lifts his head. The gentle warmth of his kiss lingers and emanates.

There's something inside you clawing to get out. A confession, maybe, or a sigh of relief. Or a declaration that you don’t deserve anything as good as what just happened. Whatever it is, it cuts through the air in a haggard little breath.

Sleep deprivation hangs like a thick chain around your neck, your hands are still numb with the lives you ended, you’re filled with an overwhelming warmth that you don’t feel worthy of. It all hits. Every fibre of you aches with the impact.

Bucky turns to steady you before you slouch against the counter.

Maybe he didn’t have to kill for you to make you feel okay. Because more than you could ever know, he gets it. He’s felt it, lived and bled it. All the shame and fleeting doses of heroism that make it all seem justified.

He holds you close. You bury your face in his shoulder with breath heavy and conflicted. His fingers curl against the base of your neck and his arm tightens around your waist, his sure breath is hot above your ear, his heartbeat loud in his chest.

His body say it so his words don’t have to:

I know.

[thoughtportal]

Official measurements have found that Paris is rapidly becoming a city of transportation cyclists. The survey of how people now move in Paris was conducted with GPS trackers by academics from L’Institut Paris Région, the largest urban planning and environmental agency in Europe.

The institute’s transportation report was published on April 4. It found that the way Parisians are now traveling from the suburbs to the city center, especially during peak periods, has undergone a revolution thanks in part to the building of many miles of cycleways.

Those cyclists now on the streets and roads of central Paris are not Spandex-clad professionals as seen on the Tour de France but everyday transportation cyclists.

L’Institut Paris Région carried out the survey for a consortium of fourteen public and private partners, including local government and rail companies.

Reporting on the institute’s survey, French TV channel 20 Minutes told viewers that the “capital’s cycle paths are always full.”

Between October 2022 and April 2023, 3,337 Parisians aged 16 to 80 years old were equipped with GPS trackers to record their journeys for seven consecutive days. In the suburbs, where public transit is less dense, transport by car was found to be the main form of mobility. But for journeys from the outskirts of Paris to the center, the number of cyclists now far exceeds the number of motorists, a huge change from just five years ago. Most of the journeys recorded were commuter trips.

The city’s socialist mayor Anne Hidalgo has pushed through a great many anti-motoring measures during her two administrations—such as reducing the number of parking places, restricting access by SUVs, and closing some major roads to motorists—and the latest survey will be validation for her policies, none of which have caused the kind of protests that the French capital has long been famous for.

In short, culling cars has been far more popular than her petrolhead critics predicted, with Paris becoming cleaner and healthier to boot.

Notably, and without the spread of conspiracy theories common outside of France, Paris is also putting into practice the home-grown concept of the “15-minute city,” creating urban areas where access to amenities is close and hence there’s less need to drive. {read}

Carlton Reid

I was Press Gazette’s Transport Journalist of the Year, 2018. I’m also an historian – my most recent books include “Roads Were Not Built for Cars” and “Bike Boom”, both published by Island Press, Washington, D.C.