#fast and furious!au

[rose-gold-radiance]

Brian O'Connor

Aquaman AU

For anon

[crabs-brencil]

honestly we were so deprived of a car chase

also 80s cop au or whatever just any excuse to not draw connor in his cyberlife clothes lmao

[pizzaapeteer]

speed dating

mattheo riddle x fem! reader. week 1 of @acourtofchaos festivalofau event!!

street racer!mattheo can't take his eyes off you even when he's driving, especially when you bring his heart to life by impressing him with your own skills.

an: big thanks to my love leigh for proofreading <3 I don't know anything about cars - this is very much inspired/uses fast and furious scenes, and I look forward to eventually writing a full fic for this au. ty for your patience as always <3 wc: 1.9k

"Okay, so next time, we're definitely dancing," you say with excited exasperation, the two of you exiting the rowdy Cuban restaurant and into the heart of street life. It's nearing 11pm on Friday, the beat of the night is picking up pace, like the rhythm of a song, the lively chatter blending into the roars of cars flashing by you.  

He laughs, shaking his head, "oh sweet cheeks, you won't catch me dancing," sliding his hands from his pockets, he places one on your lower back, gently guiding you respectfully. "Or at least not till the fourth shot of tequila."

The sound is so deep and rich; a low hum like a car's engine that makes your insides squirm with delight, and then he smiles like he's been doing all night. His lips curling up on the edges in a way that if his eyes weren't matching its sincerity, he'd have you queasy in an entirely different way. 

The way he looks at you, brown eyes that glimmer with warmth under the glow of the amber streetlights, as if light is blooming out from inside him. It's hard not to get attached, and that's the last thing you need right now. You've only known him a week. But there's something enticing, though dangerous about him, like a shot of whiskey knowing it's going to burn on the way down but overall spreading a fire of heat in the pit of your stomach. 

Offering him an infectious smile of your own playing on the challenge presenting itself. "Sounds as if you're encouraging me to get you intoxicated." Ardently, you raise a brow at his inquiry. "Is that something that interests you?" 

"There are a lot of things about you that interest me." His eyes sparkle with mystery, as he grins boyishly like he knew the affect those words would have on you.

You play it cool and collected, smiling back at him, the two of you strolling side by side, the silence isn't uncomfortable, and it hardly seems quiet with your heart becoming erratic, thumping around inside your ribcage like a hummingbird's wings. 

You pass by distinct smells of nicotine, a cigarette shared by couples couped in the alcoves of their doorways. Clangs and rackets of neighbourhood cats, balancing along fences, chasing one another. There are bopping beats of music heard from the thriving clubs and bars further down, invitingly attracting groups of young people from all over town. 

"So, this is me, my ride." Mattheo comments, as he stops you outside a parked bright orange car. He's offered to take you home, for a multiple of reasons. Some are selfish, wanting to show off his baby, not that he thinks you'll be highly interested, but it's his ego and pride, and it's worn just like the paint and wax shining proudly on the exterior. 

Other reasons, safety and protectiveness. He's always cared about women, and while he's only known you a week, he's grown extremely fond of you. He doesn't want you catching the bus like how you got here. And well, third, he just can't take his eyes off of you. He's never smiled so damn much on a date, the unfamiliar feeling of it beginning to make him nauseous. But it will be worth it, if it means he gets to see more of you.

"Woah, no way! You drive a supra turbo MKIV? That's so sick." The sudden and surprising exclamation from you makes his heart pound faster. Your jaw is practically touching the concrete, unable to pull your eyes away from the beast before you, a glimmer of awe in your eyes.

That is before you remember you're actually trying to impress Mattheo and not come across like a psychotic car fanatic, clearing your throat and tucking your hair back timidly. "I mean it's, um, a pretty colour." 

He laughs heartily, amused by your quick and terribly obvious action to hide your knowledge of cars. He flashes you a charming smile, feeling in wonder at the woman beginning to unravel, fishing his keys out. "You know cars?”

Pulling your eyes off of his car, you nod, admitting your fascination with them with a wide grin, "Yeah, a thing or two."

“You wanna take a spin?"

Flabbergasted, you speak, "What, seriously?" When you realize stupidly, this is your only way home you're clambering into the vehicle with buzzing excitement. It's so beautiful, the interior's sleek black seats lined with soft leather that have you sinking right into them. 

The dashboard illuminates, lighting up a neon orange, and the roar of the engine comes to life. It’s loud and powerful and makes your heartbeat full of adrenaline, a smile gracing your lips with excitement.

Mattheo's expression matches yours, his eyes blown a little darker, revving the car again, the deep rumble vibrating down to his bones. He flicks on the radio before he shifts the clutch into drive, taking off down the road and merging into the mainstream flow. 

It's busy, the night awakening with charged energy as Mattheo swerves in and out between gaps of cars, the wind blowing through your hair, the summer warmth of ocean breezes. "Where do you wanna go?"

You look over at him, only to find him already looking at you. The contact makes your pulse spike just like the kilometers increasing on the dash are. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, matching the roaring of the car. You don't even know him that well, and yet you have full trust in his ability to maneuver through the thick onslaught of traffic without looking.

He’s clearly got an edge of cockiness to him as his eyes continue to flicker back and forth, always taking the extra time to focus his gaze on you just a little longer. "Up for ice cream?"

The casualness in which he asks makes you laugh, "Might wanna keep your eyes on the road, pretty boy."

“Why you think we’re gonna crash?”

Flashing him a playful grin, you shrug. "Not sure yet. Should I be making a bet?"

He grins, enthused by your lack of worry, his hand shifting up the gear and pressing his foot harder onto the acceleration, the two of your eyes staying locked in contact. Mattheo's eyes no longer resembled that cool tone of warmth he exerted in the restaurant.

They shine brightly with a glimmer of exhilaration and a hint of darkening mischief. His smile is full and broad, expressing the thrill and joy he felt, like a boy with his favourite toy. 

The car zips with smooth control in between gaps, as flashes of vehicles pass in a blur on either side. The steady hum of vibrations continues drowning out the radio completely. All that's left is the wind, and the intense atmosphere shared between the two of you, making you wanna stay in the car forever.

A wave of disbelief cascades out of you with a breath of relief when he finally breaks, slowing down for the nearest stoplight. His eyes finally break their contact from you, and he relaxes his grip, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel. Taking the next right, he pulls up to the sidewalk, outside an adorable ice cream shop.

He tousles his dark curls, gazing at you with admiration he can't help but feel a sense of pride for your reaction to his flirtation. "How this?" Your body feels electric, the familiar dopamine rush fuelling every nerve. It's been so long since you got in a car this fast, you're craving more. "Not bad show pony." Grinning, you run a hand through your windblown hair, detangling the newly made knots.

"Driving or the dessert?" Mattheo asks, offering a toothy grin, angling his body towards you, resting his arms along the tops of the steering wheel. He's eager to impress. It's not often Mattheo wants to put real effort into his dates with pretty ladies. His mind constantly set on autopilot, a two-step routine. 1. Rev the beast and blow her mind and 2. rev his beast and blow her mind. 

And now he sits, admiring a beautiful woman, sitting in his passenger seat, looking like she's stepped straight out one of Enzo's automobile sex magazines. Excluding the lack of clothing, though, his mind has already gone there.

But there's something more about the way you're looking at him, a burning blaze of wildness that lights your face. It's radiant and alluring and he feels the pull, the magnet attracting him further in, something you're offering he didn't know he wanted.

You huff, amused, and don't answer yet, letting his question linger in the charged space between you two. "Both."

Pleased with your answer he begins to exit the car when you spit out the proposed suggestion, an itch that's dying to be scratched. "But! may I counter a second opinion?"

He sits back down at your polite protest, shrugging, he doesn't mind what the two of you do as long as you're enjoying yourself. "Yeah, sure just tell me where you wanna go."

"Actually, is it cool if i drive?" With a flutter of your lashes, you give him your best adorable smile full of sweetness, a known trick of yours to make a man concave in a heartbeat.

He raises an intrigued brow, wanting to make sure he's heard you correctly. "You want to drive?" The genuine smile on your face melts his heart, and he's suddenly stammering around like a dickhead, "Ah-I mean yeah alright."

As the two of you switch places, he can't help but think what the hell he's even doing, letting some random chick drive his baby. But it's that look in your eye, the sense of belonging and ease in which you sink into the driver's seat, that makes him relax with full faith you won't crash his precious car. 

Gripping the soft leather of the steering wheel, you immediately feel at home in the right seat. Familiar goosebumps of excited nerves prickle at your skin, turning the ignition, awakening the car back to life. Pressing your now bare foot hard onto the acceleration, you veer off, merging back into the nighttime flow of traffic. The prodigies breathe, blasts through the vehicle as you turn the speaker up, giggling with comfort. 

Mattheo watches bemused by your infectious happiness, how comfortable and free you appear. The wind fanning out through your hair, as you grip the wheel with a sense of familiarity glancing at him every so often with full-blown bliss. The car cruises into downtown Miami; zooming along the roads smoothly and Mattheo starts up the conversation again.

"Not bad-" his words halt on his tongue as the car swerves, swinging around wide, cutting across the next lane spinning in a 180, positioning the car backwards. That contagious laugh fills the car once again, as blares of horns honk from left and right at the sudden commotion.

His sweet brown eyes widen in surprise, and you giggle again at his reaction, snapping your head behind to see where to go. The car waltzes in and out of spaces, maneuvering skillfully between the lanes. 

He’s never believed in a god above, or soulmates or true love for that matter, but in that moment as his heart threatens to jump right out of his body he’s sure destiny has thrown him a bone and landed the most perfect woman in his lap. With everything he's learnt about you in the last couple hours, this knocks it all out of the park. How can a woman be this hot? His body is tense, including his cock that he swears is spurring to life faster than the miles on the dash are pushing. 

He's frozen, mesmerized at the scene, stuck in a state of pure astonishment and awe. His pulse is rising as he looks at the window, watching how the car swerves sharply. Repositioning itself facing forwards, to take the next right onto the offramp, leaving behind the sounds of tires screeching and another round of horns blaring behind.

Glancing at him, another free-flowing giggle escapes catching his bewildered stare, the car coming to a halt outside a charming sorbet parlour. Cutting the engine, you slip your shoes back on and exit the car.

He's still a little dazed comprehending the fact he wants to skip the rest of the date and drive you straight to bed the keys landing in his lap. You offer one of your famous shit-eating grins already on the pavement, “come on, keep up, Bambi.”

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ mattheo masterlist. ⤷ dividers. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2025. ty for reading!!!

[nialovessatoru]

Redline Hearts

streetracer!gojo x mechanic!reader

ft. rival!sukuna

mdni!

content: smut, fast and furious!au, gojo x reader, tension, teasing & flirting, jealous!sukuna, slight angst, illegal street races, fluff, explicit sexual descriptions, piv sex, dry humping, oral m & f recieving, car sex

synopsis: Retired from street racing, you opted to tuning cars, only test driving them all by yourself, in peace and safety. Until the star of the streets crashes straight into your heart. You can’t help but keep meeting him, despite the danger of him finding out you work for his biggest rival. And god forbid the chaos that would ensue, if said rival found out you like to sneak around behind his back with the Gojo Satoru. And if it came down to it, were you able to sever ties with with an old friend to pursue the one who makes your heart race?

word count: 12k

archive

It is a few minutes past midnight in Tokyo when the streets are almost entirely empty, save for people occasionally heading to the train station to catch the last train for the night. That aside, the streets felt alive regardless of their desolateness as you were sitting in the dark red Mazda rx-7 that you had finished modifying by 2pm and decided to take a nap before you took his new weapon on a test drive.

Which is what you are doing right now, as your foot presses down on the gas pedal and the monster of a car you had brought to life, speeds through the streets of Tokyo. Racing past all the brightly coloured neon lights that make the city feel alive, you can feel the adrenaline soaring through every vein of your body. Spreading out from your hands on the steering wheel and up from your feet at the pedals, lighting up every artery which carried the rush through your body, reaching your heart and filling a void that had been infesting your body long enough so you had become almost entirely numb to it.

This was merely a test run. Just you and the car you’d spend over the past month on, dedicated for it to turn out perfect. No flags, no stakes, no crew, no bets.

You drive fast, able to see what’s in front of you just fine, but if you’d look out of the windows at the side of the car, you’d only see a blurr of colors. Yes, this is the way you liked it best, only you and the car, alone and in peace.

Or at least, so you thought.

A few streets away, driving into your direction, is an almost equally fast white Nissan gt-r. Inside of it, a driver with a spiky head of hair in the same, pure, bright shade.

He didn’t plan on racing tonight. Only bothering to drive through the city at this hour to scope out a rival build. And it’s not just any rival’s build. It’s the one that never plays fair, the only one who could challenge him enough to try and sneak a peek into his garage at night, the only one he’d lost to in the past 3 years. Ever since he was 25, he’d won any race he participated in and even before that, he rarely lost.

Until he raced Sukuna.

They always seemed to be eye to eye on races, one winning over the other, just to have the results turned around in the next race. But he was an adrenaline seeker at heart, so it’s not a surprise that when he sees your car speeding through the brightly illuminated streets of Tokyo under the dark night sky, he accelerates the speed of his car to catch up with you.

You hear the faint sound of another vehicle approaching yours from behind at rapid speed. Looking through the rearview mirror, you see the the icy white gt-r coming up right behind you, threatening to overtake. Your eyes narrow, you know this car— who it belongs to.

Satoru Gojo. The star of the streets, so they say. His name circles around like the smoke in every lane with each drift. He is the reason you sometimes have to spend day and night, listening to Sukuna rage, while you tune the fuck out of his car, convincing you to implement dangerous mechanisms in order to reach the car’s highest potential.

You did with this car. He insisted despite all your concerns. You weren’t too keen to try it out yourself. You’d quit street racing for a reason.

And yet, when you see the white gt-r approaching, you can feel the thrill of a real race come back. You love tuning and are content with only test driving all on your own, in peace, at least you kept telling yourself you didn’t miss racing that much.

And you don’t, for the most part. But he is a real challenge. The star of the streets racing you completely unprompted? You couldn’t turn away from this unspoken race, even if you wanted to. So you accelerate your car’s speed even more. A silent battle between your cars begins, with him almost overtaking multiple times, he kept you chasing him and you let him chase you. You both are playing a game. Racing through the streets, fully aware that you both are teasing eachother.

Until he speeds up significantly, rounding corners with an incredible trust in his abilities and his car. Your drifts are clean and precise, though your car isn’t as fast as his. It could be. Due to the mechanism you installed. As much as your rational mind tried to hold you back, you use it to almost it’s fullest potential, racing past him, engine roaring. After having proved to yourself and him that you still got it, you brake behind an old supermarket and bring your car to a stand. Getting out and leaning your back against the cold surface of the car to calm your racing heart. Of course, he’s right behind you, pulling up a few seconds later and getting out of his car. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He’s freakishly tall and relaxed. With a cocky grin on his face despite having lost to you, although it wasn’t a real race.

“Didn’t think i’d find somebody else dumb enough to hit those turns at that speed, with nothing but risks at stake at that.”

“Especially not someone so gorgeous.”

You half scoff half laugh at that. Turning to look at him. You’d known he was hot, seen him from afar at races before. But standing here before you, you truly notices just how much of a pretty man he was. His light eyes and hair shining under the low streetlights as he walks up to you. And then there was his voice, that carefree, cocky and somehow gentle tone that soothed the racing thrill in your mind that made you tilt your head at him and ask,“You always chase someone halfway through the city then?” His voice although still teasing is more intense, like his gaze that’s fixed on you. “Only when they’re worth chasing.”

Repressing a smile as you seize up his car to avoid eye contact, you decide to add “You’d be even faster on your right turns, if you got your suspension rebalanced and dropped a few pounds off the front end.”

Eyes widening slightly in awe he steps closer to you, “Oh? You tune?” and inquiring more when you nod, gesturing to the rx-7 “That’s also your work?” Which you confirm and he steps closer to admire it further, although his admiration for the car is short lived as he focuses his pretty eyes on you. One hand that was trailing over the hood of your car stopping dangerously close to where your hip rests, standing right before you, voice deeper and measured but it keeps it’s teasing edge. “Wanna take a look at mine next?” Somehow, with the unsubtle way he is checking you out, you get the feeling he isn’t talking about his car.

Any other day you probably would have just brushed him off, he’s the biggest rival of Sukuna and his crew. The people you usually tune for, if Sukuna knew you are even entertaining the idea… you don’t even want to think about what he’s do, much less risk finding out by chance.But with fresh adrenaline still running through your veins and the way his warm hand rests just a little too close to the hem of your skirt overrides all rational thought. “I guess maybe you could come by sometime.”

“Maybe? You need some convincing?” And his fingers trail over your hip at the hem of your skirt. His touch is light but it ignites a fire within you. Still, you don’t let your guard down and gently take his hand from your hip, though with hesitation, your warm hands lingering on his cold, soft but strong ones for a few seconds too long. “Bring your car, and cash. Not your hands. And you can come by.” The sound of his laugh followed you all the way back home, after you’d given him your number and said, you’d give him a date (one where you knew neither Sukuna nor one of his acquaintances would be around).

You are ripped from your sleep the next day by your door slamming open and a gruff voice, “Why the fuck are you still asleep?”.

Better question. Why the fuck had you given him the spare keys to your house again??? It may have been around 2pm, but you didn’t appreciate being woken up like this, no matter the time. Opening your eyes, you see his pink head of hair and as usual, a scowl tugging at his face. “I need my car.” Hurling a pillow at him, which he catches effortlessly with an amused scoff, you turn your head back into your spare pillow and muffledly respond something about five more minutes.

Your phone kept ringing as you explained the car’s mechanics next to him, until it got on his nerves and he went to grab it. “Can you tell whoever that is to fuck off?”. Quickly, you snatch it out of his grasp before he can look at your screen, snapping back “Can you mind your fucking business?” He grunts irritably, the glare on his face deepening and turning back to the car. You repress letting out a sigh of relief as you notice the messages you prevented him from seeing. It was Gojo. The very same man he was bragging about beating with this car not even five minutes later.

Really, you don’t know why he bothers to act this way over you when he’s literally the one taking another girl home every race—scratch that. He probably doesn’t even wait until they’re home and just fucks them in the car that you tuned. It’s not like you care who he sleeps with but his hypocrisy gets on your nerves. You’d already explained to him multiple times you were cool with whatever he’s doing, but you want no part of it, if he’s not all for you. He didn’t understand that. Not that you expected him to. But there was this weird tension whenever you two were alone and the focus wasn’t soely on cars or tactics. Or when a guy would hit on you and Sukuna would go intimidate him, but every time you asked what that was about, he’d just tell you they’re all shitty assholes.

Like he isn’t one himself.

Safe to say, you feel like a weight is lifted off your shoulders the moment he gets into -your- his newly tuned car and drives off.

You’d been ignoring Gojo while he was here, too scared of the risk of Sukuna seeing who texted you. He was already weirdly angry everytime a guy would even hint at flirting with you— you don’t want to know experience the way he’d act up if he found out you were meeting up with his biggest rival behind his back, while driving his car.

Oh, and he was ecstatic when he saw your name on his screen. He’d expected a snarky text back but your call was a nice surprise. “Heyy sweetheart. Already miss me?”

“I’m free now. If you wanna come over and have me check out your car.”, you try to sound indifferent to seeing him again.

There’s a pause on the line, not because he’s caught off guard but because he’s savouring it. Leaning his head back and cheesing, you can hear the grin in his voice. “Ahh, didn’t think i would hear from you so soon. And so eager too— should i be flattered or worried?”

“Don’t read too much into it. I just don’t have any other plans today.”

He grabs his keys and you can hear them jingling faintly over the line. “Guess i should just count myself lucky you decided you want me to fill your time.”

Letting out a sigh, you don’t know if you’re going to regret this or have a fun time with -him- his car that you’d dreamt about working on. “See you then.” Hanging up before he can answer, you text him your address and decide to put on an outfit that’s cuter than your oversized, stained shirt. Twenty minutes later, you can hear tires screeching on the street in front of your garage. You walk outside and wave him into your garage. Inside he gets out of his car, whistling as he looks you up and down. “Heyy gorgeous.”

“You don’t need to call me all that.”, you turn around to hide your blush, fumbling with some tools, but he walks up behind you, his voice vibrating in your ear. “You haven’t even told me your name. What am i supposed to call you?”

You turn around to face him and almost blush again at his closeness. You… hadn’t?

“Weren’t you bothered you that you don’t have a name to put to this handsome face? I know i was— am.”

“You think really highly of yourself.”, you look back into his eyes and give him your name, which he repeats a few times as if savouring it, then leans closer, chuckling. “The name’s Gojo Satoru, but you can call me Satoru.”

“I know.” Fuck. You and your big fucking mouth. You had a reasonable explanation that he seems to already be piecing together, but…

“Ahh i see, my name precedes me, as a mechanic, you’d know the name of one of Tokyo’s biggest street racers. Well, now i’m really flattered.” …you really don’t need to inflate any man’s ego.

“It’s not a big deal. People talk a lot all the time.” Putting a hand on his chest, and letting it linger on him for longer than it needs to because— damn he’s ripped as fuck, you shove him away to escape the hot, suffocating distance.

You let go and turn to his car, it really was a beautiful car -beautiful car belonging to a beautiful man-.

One of your hands trails over the hood of his nissan gt-r, crouching down to examine the front bumper, you try to focus, shuddering as you remember how solid his chest had just felt under your palm.

“Looks clean for the most part, but your left tire is under inflated, you’re loosing speed on your right turns and risk delaying them if it deflates even more.” You absentmindedly speak, while examining his car, adding, “and if you really wanted it to gain speed, you could switch the bumper to a lighter one, but that’s really just me being petty.”

Gojo is utterly impressed by your meticulousness, his mouth slightly agape, stunned as he watches you examine his car, it doesn’t help that your skirt had ridden up just the slightest bit. He swallows hard, regaining his composure before laughing, “So you’re saying i’m a pretty amazing driver for winning left and right, despite being handicapped?”

Well, yes, pretty much exactly that. But it’s not like you’re going to give him the satisfaction of saying that aloud. Glancing back at him over your shoulder with a raised brow, you reply, “I’m saying, you need to take better care of your car and run your mouth less, if you don’t want to crash into a ditch in your next sharp turn at high speed.”

When you stand back up and fully look at him, he almost looks like he’s… pouting? With his bottom lip pushed out, pretty and glossy from him probably running his tongue over it. It made you wonder what else he could do with it, if he would kiss you gently and slowly run his tongue along your mouth, or if he would plunge it right in, kissing messy and needy. -You could bet a hundred dollars that you could make him beg.-

“I’m treating her veryyyyy well.”

You snap out of wherever your imagination was running and tilt your head at his insistence in full confusion. “What? Who?”

He nods his head towards his car. “Her.”

“Her..?” you sceptically raise one of your eyebrows. “You really refer to your car like it’s a woman?” Not being able to bite back the urge to tease him, you stifle a giggle with one hand. “So desperate you need to project your lack of a love life onto your car? Do you kiss her goodnight too?”

Unashamed, he walks closer to you, winking. “Only if she’s been good.”

“Oh, so your love is conditional? Tsk tsk… she deserves better.”

He rests his hand against the side of his car, caging you in, just like when you first met. He gives you space to move away— you don’t. “No, my love is unconditional but I believe in… performance based rewards.”

You force out a chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice your blush. “Wow. Lucky her.”

He leans down, his face hovering only inches away from yours, “Jealous?”

A scoff escapes your mouth, it’s weaker than you want it to be, “Of your car? You’re ridiculous…” And yet, you lean in too, only slightly but it gives him enough confidence to place the hand that was on his car on your waist. Barely, but enough to let you know that the desire in his eyes was burning just for you.

“Are you sure? You’ve been eyeing me like you want me to take you for a ride instead.”

Your breath hitches, his lips brush yours and his low voice sends an evil flutter down your stomach, making you core spasm and coat your panties with sticky arousal, when he adds “Or would you prefer i leave the riding to you, princess?”

This time, he’s definitely not talking about cars. And you’re glad he isn’t. You lean in, your hands fisting his shirt as your lips lock onto his and he deepens the kiss almost immediately. His lips are soft and the kiss is slow, but passionate. He tightens his grip on your waist, pushing your back against the surface of his car. You gasp when he shoves one knee between your legs, putting friction on your aching clit, “Gojo—“

“—Satoru, baby. Call me Satoru.” He’d been teasing you with nicknames, but the way he called you baby so naturally, so confident, made your head spin. “Fuck, okay. Satoru.”

He humms against your jaw, between kisses he plants on it, “Hm?”

“W-what about your car?”

Chuckling, he picks you up, both hands on your hips as your legs wrap around his waist and he places you on the hood of his car.

“My car? She’s not going anywhere.”

Rolling your eyes at the female connotation he forces onto his car, you pull away a bit, “No, seriously. Didn’t you come to let me tune it?”

“That can wait.” And he’s kissing you again, more hungrily, hands on your thighs, kneading them and pulling you flush against him. His clothed, hardening cock brushing against your core and he lets out a soft moan as he starts grinding against you—a loud crash and the metal echoing from the fall breaks the moment.

He pulls away and you do too, standing up but holding onto the side of his car, knees still weakened. You let out a sigh of relief as you see that it was just a wrench, you’d placed carelessly on the edge of your table. Meanwhile Satoru lets out a groan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he stands behind you, “Not your shop trying to cockblock you.”

Not being able to repress a small laugh, you push his head off of you and pat his cheek, stepping away to pick up the wrench and put it where it belongs. “Good. Maybe it has better judgement than we do.”

After mutually agreeing that he’d come back in a few days where he’d get lighter bumper for his car, since you had none that specifically fit his car, you fixed his tires and tell him goodbye.

He’s lingering on the outside of his car door, fumbling with the keys in his hand as if he’s nervous. “Um. I’ll see you.”

Your eyes narrow a bit at his behavior but you shrug it off, “…Yeah, just make sure you tell me before you plan to come ov—“

And he hugs you goodbye, his strong arms only encircling your body for a short moment before he slips into his car and drives off.

You’re left dumbfounded, with heated cheeks and a racing heart.

Suguru is leaned under the hood of his black ccxr, the garage smelling like burnt rubber and metal as Satoru walks in, sunglasses pushed back on into his soft hair.

“Thought you wanted to go for a drive?”, Suguru’s voice echoes from beneah his car.

“I am.” Satoru circles his car and taps the front bumper just in time for Suguru to see as he slides out from under his car. “Figured i should swap this to a lighter one though.”

Raising an eyebrow, the raven haired man questions, “Lighter? Seriously?”

The former shrugs, “Every millisecond counts, right?”

With a sigh, Suguru gets up and wipes his hands on a rag, muttering, “Overambitious but sure. I’ve got time right now. I’ll help you put it on.”

Twirling his keys around his finger, Satoru’s

already opening his car door and shaking his head, “Nah, i’m good.” He grins. “I’m taking it to an actual professional.”

Suguru’s brows knit together in confusion. They always tune their cars together. Always have.

“Seriously?”

“Yup. She’s a real professional— real pretty too.”, Satoru leans against his car with one arm, internally swooning over you.

“Uh-huh.” Assuming he’s trying to find a euphemism for a hookup because why else would he suddenly get his car tuned by someone else, when they’ve been doing it together for years. “…so…. it’s not actually about cars?”

Confused, Satoru’s nose scrunches up. “Ehhh? No no no, it is. She rebalanced my suspension last time, my car runs smooth as hell now.”

Now that makes Suguru deadpan. “I’ve been telling you to get your tires fixed for weeks, Satoru.” And he’d always brush him off.

With a silly pink flush on his pale cheeks, Satoru just sheepishly chuckles, making Suguru prod further. “Are you gonna tell me who this actual professional is?”

Satoru only grins and gets into his car, waving at him cheekily, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

After he drove outside, Suguru was left standing there, staring at the empty space where his car had been. And then his lips curl into a sly smile as he recalls the times he’d caught him smiling at his phone or sneaking away to make a call…

You’re currently stirring the pasta you’d made yourself for dinner and were very much looking forward to eating. It’s been three days and you haven’t received a single text from Satoru. Maybe he just had a lot to do, or maybe he hasn’t been able to get a lighter bumper yet. There are other possibilities you don’t want to consider because you realize that you really barely know him. You suppose, maybe it’s different because you’ve known of him beforehand, while he’s met you for the first time a few weeks ago. Still, it felt weird. He’d been spamming you with texts and calls before he’d been to your garage, but now? Does it have something to do with what you did—or almost did, in your garage? Maybe it was about that awkward goodbye you’d had. You shake your head vehemently. Stupid stupid stupid stupid thoughts. It really isn’t that serious.

Or maybe it is, because the doorbell rings only a few seconds after and instead of your fear of Sukuna coming over becoming reality, It’s the white haired fool.

“I thought i told you to call, or text me before you come over!”

God, you don’t even want to think about what if Sukuna actually was here, if he’d been the one to open the door… A shudder runs down your spine but you snap out of it when you see his eyes on you, and instead of the usual teasing, carefree look, he seems concerned. About you? Why?

“Hey… Sorry about that.” He slowly steps inside when you automatically move to the side. “Are you okay?”

Luckily, you recover quickly from your overthinking habits and are able to smile, “Yeah yeah, just…” you smack the back of his head with your palm, “don’t show up unannounced. Do you even know that you look like a major creep?” You also wondered why he didn’t bother texting you, but you weren’t about to bring that up, when you just decided that it isn’t that serious.

He ruffles his head where you smacked him, not because it hurts because he’s grinning like that just made his day. “Sorry, sorry. I promise, i won’t forget again.” adding a quieter, “Are you gonna kick me out?”

You did contemplate it for a moment but you don’t actually want him to leave.

“Depends. Are you hungry?”

He blinks, confused. “Huh? Like what— like, for you? Hell yeah! You know, i’ve actually been dreaming about—“

You interrupt him with another smack to his head, before he can finish that sentence. “I mean actual food, dumbass. I made pasta.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh.” For a moment, he’s actually flustered but that quickly switches back to his usual attitude, “So we’re eating together? Like a married couple? Are you going to feed me too?”

You grimace as you turn off the stove. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Chuckling with that casual tone of his, he leans against your fridge, “so… you’ve been thinking about me?”

Your hands pause, hovering over the pots. “What?”

“Weeellll, earlier, when you opened the door, you looked like you’ve seen a ghost. But not in the bad kind, more like ‘oh wow, i’ve been totally imagining this moment but i’m not prepared for it’ kind of way.”

You snort a laugh. He wasn’t all that wrong, you were thinking about him more than you wanted to but this scenario was just so ridiculous and outright cocky.

“Have you ever considered that i just wasn’t expecting anyone? Don’t flatter yourself too much.”

He shrugs, “Ehh, yeah, sure. But of course i prefer the version where you’ve been fantasising about me.”

You’d definitely put double chilli powder in his portion sauce.

After deciding you’ve felt enough satisfaction from seeing him suffer and squirm, lips red and puffy from the spice, you even told him and agreed to switch plates because you can handle spicy food. And then he was actually able to enjoy the food you made.

For a while, you two eat in comfortable silence, but then he asks a question that’s been on his mind ever since he first met you.

“You know, you’ve got hella skills behind the wheel. But i’ve never seen you in a proper race, or heard of you and i sure as hell know you’d be talked about if you’d participate in bigger events.”

“Not everyone cares for that.”

He pouts, with his slightly reddened and plumped lips from the spice, he looks cute. “Sure but… i guess i’m wondering. Why don’t you race?”

To which you pause, stirring the pasta on your plate around, “Ah… long story, i guess.”

Satoru rests his head on his palm, “Not like i’ve got somewhere to be.”

Placing your fork down with a sigh you relent, “Okay, it’s not actually a long story.”

He nods, waiting for you to continue.

“I kinda had an accident.”, you mumble almost under your breath.

“Like a bad one?”

You shrug, “I dunno. Don’t remember.”

Leaning forward on the table, he prods, his blue eyes soft but seemingly piercing right through you, “So you’re afraid?”

“No.” Your answer comes out a little too quickly, more like a reflex, so you add, “I mean, maybe, a little. But mainly… someone else sort of made me.”

His eyes widen, “Someone made you?“

Shaking your head you exhale deeply, “Not really but kind of. He just kept saying that i’ll get myself killed and made a fuss, so i just…”

Satoru stays quiet for a moment, not judging you but thinking, trying to understand. “And you let him tell you what to do?”

“I wouldn’t say that… i just-“ you trail off, fixing your thoughts for a second. “since i can’t remember the accident… i guess he wasn’t too far off, i may have been reckless, i was younger. So after i recovered, i stuck to tuning and as you know, occasionally test drive, but not real races… it’s just safer that way.”

Putting your last tools away after having attached the lighter bumper to his car and checked all of his tires again, which were fine now, curtesy to you, you lean back on your workbench and face Satoru— who’s eyes are surprisingly trained on you instead of the car you’d tuned. You were explaining something about his car, rambling even. Showing your nerdy tendencies when it came to cars and their mechanics, though when you notice the way he is staring, you trail off and your cheeks flush the tiniest bit. “What?”

He smiles, looking at you the same way he had after he realized you were seriously asking him to eat dinner with you earlier. It wasn’t a cocky, relaxed smile, it was soft and genuine, his eyes fixed on you in a way that makes you feel seen. You weren’t used to this… gentleness, to someone being so attentive of you.

“Nothing, nothing… i just think you’re really cute like this.”

Yous stomach flutters dangerously, the way it has been with him. He keeps getting to you in a way no one ever has before. It scares the shit out of you because you’re not used to being vulnerable. But you find yourself not wanting to run. You aren’t sure if you want to take the risk of being hurt for him, although deep down you know that you do. You let him in time and time again, almost involuntarily because it just came so easy, so naturally with him.

Yous stomach flutters dangerously, the way it has been with him. He keeps getting to you in a way no one ever has before. It scares the shit out of you because you’re not used to being vulnerable. But you find yourself not wanting to run. You aren’t sure if you want to take the risk of being hurt for him, although deep down you know that you do. You let him in time and time again, almost involuntarily because it just came so easy, so naturally with him.

“Cute..? Really?” Brushing hair out of your face that was messy, sticking up and to your forehead, desperately needing a shower, stains on your shirt and you were rambling about car mechanics—and he thinks you’re cute??

He nods, looking unfazed on the surface but in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him pick on his nails and the redness that was more intense than usual while he stepped forward also doesn’t escape your attention. Until the teasing edge in his voice comes back and he grins boyishly, “Yeah, i mean, you were so focused, putting your all into my car and then you’re nerding off about mechanics… Like whew, are you trying to seduce me?”

You bite your lip, returning his grin, “So it’s working?”

You don’t notice that he pulled a stack of cash out of his pocket until he takes your hand and places it in your palm, eyes widening at the fact that it’s far more than you’d ever charge for exchanging the bumper and fixing his tires, you were about to protest but he winks at you and reassures you before you can. “A bit extra. Consider it a thank you for uh… everything. Dinner too, it was great. Though, i’ll take you out properly next time. I mean… if you want?”

Almost immediately, without even thinking about it, you reply, “Yeah. Of course.”

He squeezes your hand with both of his. “Great. And don’t worry about the Cash, it’s fine, really.” Then he adds, in a confident, cocky tone, “I’ll get it back in at the next race anyways. I’ll go all out, i promise, it’d be a disservice to the work you put into my car.”

He says it as if you did anything special. You barely did anything at all to his car but he’s so appreciative, it’s heartwarming.

Though it doesn’t last long because internally, your mind is screaming. The race in a week. He told you about it while you were working on his car earlier but you were too focused on what you were doing to put the pieces together until now. And you feel like an idiot. The race. The stupid race. It’s the same one Sukuna’s been telling you about. The one for which he convinced you to install a multi staged nitrous kit for and rid the car of all limitations that were there for safety. Thinking about the monster you’d created in doing so, made you nauseous already. But realizing that Satoru will be there, racing against that? The possibilities of everything that could happen make your throat close up.

You don’t even notice that your breathing has slowed and you are trembling until warm, strong, calloused hands squeeze yours and you look up to see blue eyes piercing through you, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. He says your name a few times and you blink. At his hands on your trembling ones, the door to your garage, the ceiling lights, his car and at him. He’s saying your name, with a softness that makes you want to curl up into his chest and cry.

But why are you so vulnerable now? It’s fine. It’s okay. Whatever happened at races had never been your business. You never cared. Never cared that Sukuna would be racing against Satoru, until you got to know him and he was everything. Offered you everything Sukuna never could in his wildest dreams. Seeing you— caring about what he sees in a way Sukuna would never even dare try.

He places one hand on your shoulder, and rubs your back comfortingly, his voice so assured and kind, “I’ll be safe. I promise you. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

He interprets your reaction as a sign of the lingering fear of your accident you’d mentioned earlier.

“That’s not what i’m worried about.” You reply, steadying your voice.

It isn’t the car you are worried about, your tuning is, despite the mechanism, safe and secure enough to last. Neither are you worried about Sukuna playing dirty. He is too cocky for tricks.

Satoru tilts his head, still rubbing your back, “You sure? Because it’s totally fine if you are. I get it, it’s scary. You may not remember the accident but that doesn’t mean you can’t be scared.”

Taking a deep breath, you silently wrap your arms around him. Hoping that he’ll remain this sweet to you after the race. Hoping that nothing will change.

You’re worried because essentially, you’re betraying him. Betraying both of them.

And you don’t think Satoru will see it that way, you know he’ll try his best to reason and be understanding the same way he is now. But Sukuna? He’s a ticking time bomb and it makes you sick thinking about what he might do when he finds out. He’s big on loyalty. Incredibly so.

Pushing these thoughts away, you are grounded to the present moment by Satoru’s warmth. The way his chin rests on the top of your head, his strong arms around you and tones chest against your cheek. Inhaling his scent, you’re calming down. In this moment, everything is alright. So you stop worrying and focus on the now.

Eventually, both of you pull away and you’re calm again. At peace and safe, as you always seem to be with him.

After he is sure you’re safe he says his goodbye, opening his car door, but before he can get in, you grab his chin and kiss him. It’s a messy kiss when your lips meet and you pour all of your worries and affection for him in it. He tugs you closer by the waist, fingers digging into your skin beneath the shirt and moans breathily when you bite his lower lip, sucking on it.

He pulls back slightly, eyes darkened and wide with need, his voice rough and low,

“If you keep kissing me like that, i might have to drop down on one knee and put a ring on your pretty fingers.”

Gently swatting his chest, you gasp, cheeks flushed, “Don’t… don’t just say stuff like that.”

He nuzzles his forehead against yours, “You’re right, by the time i actually do, i won’t spoil the surprise like this.”

“You’re insane.”, you breathe out as your hands slide from his cheeks to the back of his head, closing your eyes for a second.

“Do you know what’s actually insane?”, he pulls his forehead away to look down at you, hands gripping your hips and pulling your body closer against the hard, hot planes of his chest. Your heart pounds in your chest as you wait for him to continue.

“That i haven’t properly tasted you yet.”

Before you can properly react he lifts you up with his hands grabbing your ass, making you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

“You’re so beautiful.” He places you down on the hood of his car. The sleek metal of the car cools the heated skin of your bare legs beneath your shorts.

Your hands are still clutching his shoulders, head spinning as you reply to him, “Wait, but i’m all gross after working on your car—“

His hands caress your thighs almost reverently, “No- god, no. I swear you’re the sexiest woman ever. You could never be gross to me.”

His hands on your thighs slide dangerously high, barely slipping beneath your shorts but so so close to where you need him most as he keeps talking with a low, breathy voice, his eyes almost hungry. “Please, just let me eat you out. Right now. You don’t need to do anything. I’ll take care of you if you’ll let me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, frozen for a moment as your legs wrap around his waist tighter to keep him close.

“I need to taste you, just this once… —or maybe a hundred times more but please let me do this right now.”

He keeps mumbling, planting soft, deliberate kisses over your neck.

And fuck, you need him probably just as much. So you cup his face and kiss him again, whispering against his lips, “Just shut up and do it.”

That’s all he needs because he immediately drops to his knees in front of you, tugging your shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere neither of you care to look.

He spreads your legs and places them on his shoulders, his face between your thighs, which he places messy, wet kisses all over.

You’re about to tell him to hurry, tugging your hands in his fluffy white hair to pull him closer, when his tongue licks a long stripe over your already wet folds.

A strangled gasp escapes you when he sinks his tongue into your pussy immediately after. His hands are gripping your thighs, as he thrusts his tongue into you. “Fuckkkk, you taste so good…”, he mutters against your skin, his low voice vibrating against your core.

Breathlessly, you whine, “Satoru, please… more…”

And you don’t need to tell him twice because he’s eating you out, licking, kissing, sucking on your clit like a starved man.

You keep him in place as he sucks on your clit, his teeth gently pulling on it, making your legs tremble around his head as you feel the pressure building up even further in your lower stomach. “Oh, fuck! I’m so close.”

That only makes him suck on your clit harder, more desperately. By the time he slides two fingers inside of you, you’re falling apart in his mouth, over his hand, on his car. He gently places kisses around your cunt, looking up at your glazed over expression through white lashes, while he slowly thrusts his fingers inside for a few more times to prolong your high.

He pulls them out after a bit, sucking your slick off of them, but instead of getting up, he stays on his knees for a bit, rubbing your thighs while looking up at you.

You tiredly tug on his hair, wanting him closer, so he stands up and wraps his arms around you, lifting you up and kissing you softly. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you hum into the kiss.

He carries you into your house, letting you point the way to the bathroom and he showers together with you, his hands all over you, caressing your body sensually, keeping his eyes on you as if he’s admiring you.

Later in bed, he’s laying next to you, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and you can feel him hesitate— see the question forming in his head as he speaks, “Do you want me to leave?”, his voice is gentle and low. He’s not asking out of insecurity but out of respect for you, giving you the space to pull away if you wanted to.

Your brows furrow and you shake your head, taking his hand and placing it on your waist, shifting closer to him, “What? Don’t be stupid.”, you pull him into a kiss, slow and needy, tongues meeting and you suck on his bottom lip to hear that whiney sound he makes when you do.

He pulls you closer by your waist and deepens the kiss. One of your hands trails over his bare chest, taking in the hard planes of his muscles under your fingertips, sliding down over his v-line, to the hem of his pants. He trails his hands upwards to tug off your shirt, his lips trailing down from your jaw to your neck, to your collarbones and now exposed breats. “God, baby, you’re so gorgeous.” And you feel him shift to hover above you, his hands kneading the flesh of your breasts, popping one nipple into his mouth and sucking on it, tongue flicking over the bud, making surges of pleasure shoot through you.

Your own hand tugs down his pants, freeing his hard cock. Wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly, you feel just how big he is. He gasps and releases your nipple, going back up to kiss you, wet and sloppy, whining into your mouth as you stroke him.

One of his hands slides down into your panties, running his fingers over your already dripping cunt, “You’re so wet for me”, he mumbles into your skin, sinking two fingers knuckle deep into you. You squeeze his cock harder in your hand when he scissors his fingers just right and both of you moan in unison.

You release his cock to take off your panties but he’s already pulling them down with your free hand, tossing them into a corner for the second time that day.

His hands grip your thighs and he lines himself up with your cunt, sliding his tip through your wet folds, making you whine,

“Satoru, fuck me already.”

He chuckles breathlessly against the skin of your neck, tingling you there.

“So impatient… i’m on it, sweetheart, don’t worry.” A loud moan falls from your lips when he finally sinks his entire length inside of you, pausing and gripping your thighs as if to compose himself.

He starts thrusting in slowly, shallowly, one hand cupping your breast and squeezing. When he sees your pretty eyes looking up at him with need, he picks up the pace, bottoming out until only the tip remains inside of you and slamming back in. His hips snapping against yours, stretching you out so good. Your legs wrap around his waist but he takes one and lifts it up over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to reach even deeper. “Fuck, you’re so tight..”

Your nails rake over his back, leaving red lines all over, and that only seems to turn him on more because he rubs your clit with one hand in response. “Oh yes, just like that!” You moan and clench tighter around him, his own hips stutter slightly but he holds himself back, pushing you over the edge first. Your eyes are locked on his, mouth open in silent, breathy moans as the tsunami of pleasure crashes over you, clinging onto him.

He keeps thrusting into you, hand releasing your clit and tangling in your hair, lightly pulling on it, “I’m gonna— shit— Should i pull out?”

Your arms only wrap around his back tighter in response, shaking your head, “Want it inside.”

He looks at you with need and keeps rutting into you, replying with a breathy voice, “Fuck, okay.”

And he thrusts deeply inside of you, hips staggering, pressing against yours as you feel his warm cum fill your belly.

He rides out his high by shallowly thrusting into you a few more times, stuffing his cum inside of your cunt, his forehead resting against yours, savouring the moment of being connected to you physically.

After a moment of letting you both catch your breath, he pulls his head away to look at you, his hands cupping your face and capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

He rolls his softening cock for a few more times, still nestled inside of your cum filled cunt, whispering your name against your lips.

When he pulls out, he lays his head down on your chest and you caress his hair. You’re both silent for a moment until he looks up and places another kiss on your lips, like he can’t get enough of you, “You’re so perfect.”

He says it so earnestly, like it’s nothing, it makes your stomach flutter and cheeks heat up.

“And you’re ridiculous..”

“Ridiculously hot.” He smirks and you giggle tiredly, “Sure sure.”

You settle properly into bed, nuzzling against eachother after he cleaned you up, tiredness overcoming both of you, he sleepily rubs your back, your eyes closing and you only nod against his chest when he speaks, “I meant everything i said.”

And you believe him.

A few days pass and the time span leading up to the race gets shorter. Satoru and you stay in contact, calling sometimes but often texting eachother. It’s easy with him, you can feel your affection and care grow for him day by day, no matter how much you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach whenever you see his name light up your screen. You barely even think about the conflict that you knew was bound to come when they— especially Sukuna, find out about you having been tangled up in them both.

Until reality snaps back in.

Currently, you’re eating dinner with Sukuna and his crew after coming over and doing some last check-ups to ensure his car was flawless for the upcoming race. And you’d stayed over to eat dinner, like you always did before a bigger race. Just with the difference that earlier, when you and him were closer—when he wasn’t a complete asshole towards you—you’d stay the night and he’d often fuck you till sunrise.

But ever since he started entertaining more and more women, while you were around and he’d see you less whenever you said you didn’t feel like warming his bed, you broke it off, the entire weird-whatever-exactly-it-was friends with benefits thing. You didn’t have feelings for him like that, but it sucked being treated the way you were and okayyy, maybe you liked him a little more than you’d wanted to admit, or else you wouldn’t have longed for him to be all over you outside of bed too.

You are over it though. Have been.

Shots are being passed around, which you refuse, you’re more in your head than usually. Sukuna is an asshole but he’d been your friend… or something… for years. Did he really deserve that you fucked his biggest rival, one that he’s told you countless times that he despises, behind his back?

When you bring your plate to the kitchen after dinner, he’s there. Studying you with his usual scowl, but his eyes seemed more brooding than sharp. Before you can ask him what his problem is, he asks, “You good?”

You blink. Since when did he care?

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Hm.” He tilts his head at you, his voice so… unusually gentle. “Stay the night.”

Not a question, a demand. Just how you knew him. And so casually too— you don’t know if you want to yell at him or pretend you’re nor fazed at all. You don’t have the chance to do either, when your phone vibrates on the kitchen counter. A call. If this wasn’t some insurance scam, then it could only be one other person calling you after the sun had long set. Sukuna glances at it, and your hand moves quickly as you grab it, scared he’d see. “Give me a sec.”

You step away and try to keep your voice down, hushedly talking into the speaker, “Hey… you know, you probably picked the worst possible time to call.”

“You in trouble or something? Everything okay?”

Biting your lip and glancing back over the shoulder, hoping Sukuna is far enough away to overhear anything and exhaling when you notice that he probably is. “All good, just bad timing, as i said. But i am glad you called. I’ll call you back?”

You can hear the grin in his voice, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

To which you lightheartedly roll your eyes, repressing a smile and ultimately hang up. It’s funny how quickly you can go from almost spiraling in the pain you’d been through due to Sukuna, to feeling wanted. With Satoru you feel grounded, like you’re not just an afterthought or there out of convenience. He makes you feel like you’re his priority in a way that seems so natural that it’s easy to forget how little time you’ve actually known him, if you don’t keep reminding yourself. Despite all the adrenaline and thrill he brings, it just feels easy with him, comfortable and reliable.

Stepping back into the kitchen, it feels as if the balloon of bliss was popped with only a snarl. “Who the fuck was that?”

“Mind your business. Don’t you have a ton of women to call back instead of bothering me?”

He sighs, exhausted, as if you’ve been the one who was pushing his limits. “Just answer the question.”

His tone, which seems genuine enough catches you off-guard, but it’s not enough to undermine the fact that you’re over his antics. “I don’t owe you shit.”

Instead of getting angry, he seems to try to figure you out, “You don’t. But you’ve never hid anything.”

Yeah, maybe. But you don’t reply. You don’t want to yell at him. You want to give into him even less. You’re over it. You want Satoru, even if it made you feel guilty.

“Don’t tell me this is about a guy.”, he scoffs a disbelieving laugh, almost as if the notion was too ridiculous to be true. But when you still don’t respond, he looks conflicted between repulsed and… offended? “You’re kidding. And i always thought you were too cold for some shit like that.”, he mutters, the insult sliding out because he’s confronted with something he doesn’t want to face. A defense you’d witnessed and experienced more times than you can count.

Too cold? Does that asshole even know you?? Too fucking cold???

No. You were loyal, unwaveringly so. Available too. To warm his bed and cool his temper like— and you were there.

Until it started to feel like standing in traffic, waiting to get hit.

You inhale sharply, you’re too tired to argue and you know it’s meaningless too. “Just drop it, Sukuna. I’m going home.”

Grabbing your things, you walk towards his front door, he doesn’t follow. You turn around, eyes softening the slightest bit. Even you don’t know why, you suppose you’ve known his hardened shell enough to be able to tell when something managed to get through. And somehow you also knew, that you not screaming at him, cut through him harder than any yell or hit ever could.

“Get some sleep. And don’t be reckless.”

Then you’re out of the door.

Almost instinctively, you call Satoru after driving a few metres away from Sukuna’s house. He picks up after the second ring, voice light and happy, “Heyy, gorgeous. That was quick. You missed me so much?”

“Yeah yeah…” you swallow, “um, are you home and have some time by chance?”

You try to keep your voice even but he picks up the tightnessin it and his own tone gets more serious, worrying.

“Yeah. Always for you.” he says quickly, “Are you okay? Do you need me to come pick you up from somewhere or something?”

“No, no, i’m in my car.” You hesitate, you didn’t only call him because you said you would, it was like an instinct, a subconscious gesture because you know he’d comfort you. “Do… do you think i could come over?” Biting your lip, you almost regret asking, feeling vulnerable and weak but his response is— as it always is, safe, assured, comforting and natural. “Of course. I just have a friend over right now but if you need space i can tell him to—“

You shake your head as if he can see it and interrupt him, “It’s fine. I don’t want you to send him away for me or anything, that’s really not necessary.”

A small pause and your phone vibrates, “Okay, if you’re sure. I sent you my address. See you soon, sweetheart.”

When you arrive, his garage is open and you see a tall man with silky, long, black hair tied into a half up half down, turning around to look at your car as you park it in Satoru’s driveway.

Satoru is already walking towards you as you step out of your car, his expression softens as soon as he sees you.

“Hey.” You murmur, looking at him, your hands fiddling with your keys.

He doesn’t hesitate, opening his arms for a hug with a soft, “Come here.”

And you let him embrace you, wrapping your arms around his waist, his firm, warm muscles surrounding you, inhaling his cologne.

“Bad day?”

You shrug in his hold, already having calmed down, “Something like that.”

Both of you pull away and look eachother into the eyes for a moment, until Satoru clears his throat and gestures to the man in his garage, “This is Suguru, he’s an old friend, the oldest, really.” Then he gestures to you, “And this is…” he hesitates before grinning, “the best and prettiest mechanic i know.”

The raven haired man’s lips curl into a sly, knowing smile, “Ahhh, so this is her.”

“Her?” You tilt your head questioningly at Satoru, but before he can respond, his friend clarifies, “Nothing. Just didn’t know who he kept running off to see or smile at his phone.”

Satoru chuckles and pushes you towards the door that connects his garage to his house, chuckling sheepishly, “Yeah yeah. Come in, i’ll make you— uh, whatever you want.”

The evening passes comfortably and the atmosphere is relaxed, harmonic. Despite Suguru being a stranger, conversation over dinner flows smoothly between you three. You didn’t feel excluded, despite them being best friends since elementary school and you… just being there, essentially. You found out that Suguru also races and that they’ve been into cars since forever, started racing in high school and gotten into tuning together.

You were surprised, “So you’ve known eachother for that long and were friends the entire time?”

“Unfortunately”, Suguru said with a small smirk.

Satoru threw a dish towel at him in response.

Eventually, Suguru said his goodbye, told you it was nice to meet you and teased Satoru about behaving around you.

Now, you’re laying in his bed, in his shirt, next to him in only loose sweats. He absentmindedly plays with your hair and pulls your head onto his chest, you drape your leg over his in response.

“You’re okay?” he murmurs for the nth time today, to which you nod against him.

A comfortable silence stretches over you. There’s so much you could say.

So much you probably should say.

But for now, it feels easier to just be with him. You’d like to think he feels the same, nothing indicates that he doesn’t and almost everything indicates that he does. You’re still cautious.

But you do want him to know at the same time, “I liked today.”

His hand keeps caressing your hair, more deliberate now, “Me too.”

You’re stirred awake by the slow, rhythmic brush of a warm chest behind you and soft breaths on your neck. You feel something hard press insistently against your ass. Blinking your eyes open, you shift a little under Satoru’s arm that’s hugging you close to him by your waist.

The movement earns a low groan from him, his arm pulling you closer and his hips twitching forwards just slightly, but enough for you to feel the entirety of his hard length.

“Morning, gorgeous.” He mumbles with his raspy, sleepy voice.

“You’re hard.”

He humms against your neck, keeping you close, “Mhm. Can’t help it. You’re so warm and soft.”

You try to turn around to face him but he’s holding you tighter, only making you rub your ass against his erection. “Stay.” He rolls his hips against your ass, burying his face in your neck, “Just a little.”

“Satoru…”, you mumble and press your ass against him harder, making him hiss, “Fuck, you feel so good… just stay like this…”

The friction of his hard cock grinding into you from behind makes you clench your thighs together and you whisper, “You’re unbelievable..”

“You make me like this.”

One of his hands slides under your shirt, warm against your skin, splaying out over your stomach. The other hand on your hip, keeping you close against him. He rolls his hips against you in slow, firm grinds, breath hitching against your neck.

The friction of it sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you ache for more.

“Satoru, more…” Impatiently, you try to turn around in his hold again, “Let me on top.”

He stills his movements, letting out a groan against your neck. “Fuck, baby, you can’t just say that and expect me to stay sane.”

You manage to turn around, thighs sliding over his hips to straddle him, His hands immediately flying to your hips as he shifts his own, bucking up slightly to adjust.

“God, look at you.” His eyes are trained on you, filled with want. “Prettiest thing i’ve ever woken up to.”

And so is he, with his white hair sticking up, messy from sleep, cheeks flushed and looking at you, with his beautiful blue eyes like you’re the only girl in the world.

You grind your hips down over his, feeling the friction of his hard, clothes cock against your clit. Every slow roll of your hips, every impatient thrust of his, sends shivers down your spine and pleasure up your core. Soaking through your panties and his boxers as both of you keep moving against eachother.

It doesn’t take long for your dizzy, sleepy selves to come, simultaneously finishing in your underwear as you keep rolling your hips, more desperately now.

He pulls you down to his chest, “I don’t think i can wake up any other way from now on.”

If it was up to you, he wouldn’t have to.

You settle for kissing him sweetly and falling back into his arms instead.

A breeze of wind cools Satoru’s face as he rolls own the window of his car, eyes narrowing as he looks out to assess the other contestants, looking for someone who can challenge him, looking for Sukuna, with whom he had an ongoing rivalry and who never failed to put up a good race.

When the next car pulls up, his head turns towards the sound and he has to do a double take at the car in question.

It’s not just a car. It’s the car, a dark red Mazda rx-7.

The car that you drove when he first met you and raced him through Tokyo’s streets with.

But instead of you being inside your car, it’s a pink haired man with face tattoos and permanent scowl. Sukuna.

Something in his head clicks into place.

Leaning his elbow out of the window as he drives up next to him, he whistles, “Nice car. Where’d you get that tuned?”, His lips turn into a dark, smug smile, “Looks like whoever worked on it must really know what she’s doing. Must be a pretty amazing mechanic you got.”

Sukuna’s eyes immediately snap to him, jaw tightening. He hates that tone, all too cocky, all too knowing. Knowing about you. You know Satoru. Is he the reason for your distant behavior? Is he the one behind the calls and texts you’ve been hiding? His hand tightens on his steering wheel, forcing his eyes back onto the road. He can’t afford to snap before the race, it could start any minute now. “Watch your mouth and worry about yourself.”

He rolls up his window and focuses onto the guy giving the signal for the start of the race. But the tension hangs thick between them.

This rivalry isn’t just about who crosses the finish line first anymore.

Now it’s about you.

The start signal is given shortly after.

Engines roar and they’re off in the blink of an eye.

Tires screech, rubber burns against pavement.

The other contestants far behind, Sukuna and Satoru racing for first head on.

The world blurs past in streaks of light and sound. Every turn is precise, brutal. Every second is a battle. Sukuna gains on the straight. Satoru steals it back on the curve. They’re neck and neck, barely a breath between them.

And in the end, a millisecond decides.

The difference between fury and victory.

Satoru won. Sukuna came in second.

You didn’t even want to come here today, but Sukuna had insisted on stringing you along, in case he needs your skills.

But now he lost, came in second, barely missing first place and makes snarky side comments like you intended for this.

You don’t know why he is so pissed off at you like it was your fault he only came in second.

Snapping at you over something you didn’t care to listen to, again. you’ve seriously had enough of his attitude.

“Sukuna, what the fuck is your problem?”

His eyes snap to you and he walks closer, towering over you as his voice sharpens, “What’s my problem? Do you think i’m stupid? You’re really fucking around with that bastard behind my back like it’s nothing, like i—“

A familiar voice cuts through the tension.

“Back the fuck off of her!”

It’s Satoru. Striding over to you with determination and a fierce look of disgust in his eyes, but not directed at you.

That’s all the confirmation Sukuna needs. You really know that bastard. Had been meeting him behind his back— probably fucking him too. It’s not his business but you were apart of his crew. You tuned his cars, helped him strategize for years. All of that just to turn to his biggest fucking rival of all people? That’s a betrayal he’d never expected from you.

His glare snaps from Satoru to you, “You’re such a disloyal little whore, playing for both sides like you didn’t belong to me— my crew for all this time.” voice lowering, he adds, “for a moment, i thought something was genuinely going on with you, was worried too,” he laughs cruelly, leaning closer with a patronising tone, “but apparently it is about someone else. you really just can’t keep your legs closed like a—“

The seething tone makes your stomach turn, but before you can respond, can defend yourself, can explain to him how he treated you like shit for this to happen and you just got too tired to tolerate it for longer, that you never fucking belonged to anyone—

A sharp sound cuts through the air as Satoru’s fist collides with Sukuna’s jaw before he can even finish his sentence.

The force of it sends him stumbling backwards, Satoru now standing right next to you, eyes narrowed in disgust, “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

You’re frozen in place, staring at Satoru not hesitating to step in to defend you, until Sukuna charges at him, “You’re really going to fight for her? As if she’s worth it?”

His fist swings back at Satoru, who doesn’t flinch but meet his advances. “Oh, she’s worth far more than that, even you know that she is. Or else, why are you swinging back?”

A commotion starts to form from the remaining people who’d came to watch the race, now intrigued by the fight between the notorious rivals, surprisingly not about the race, but about you.

“You don’t know shit about her. She was mine—“

But you’ve seriously had enough, throwing your shoe, hitting Sukuna’s head with it, you snap, “I was never yours. I was never anyone’s. I never belonged to you nor your crew, not the scene. I stuck by you but i got too fucking tired of you treating me like shit. And i’m not sorry for choosing me first this time.”

You feel like you’re in some stupid tv-show with the people having formed a circle around you. The fight has died down and Satoru gently puts his hand om your lower back in concern for you.

Sukuna scoffs harshly and turns away, “You made your choice, picked a side. Just hope he’s worth it.”

Satoru leads you away from the people, who started to dissolve when the fight ended, some disappointed, some still curious. His voice is soft, nothing like the angry tone he had moments ago, “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t need anyone to fight for me, you know.” You nod and get in as he opens his car door for you, “but thank you for doing it anyways.”

He gets in on the other side, “Of course not. I just couldn’t listen to that bastard speaking to you that way.”

You nod, placing a hand on his thigh as he starts driving, asking you if you want to go with him to his place or if he should drive you to yours, to which you agree to go with him.

Unable to keep your eyes off of him, you assess the way he looks, hair ruffles and partly sticking to his forehead, light bruises forming on his jaw, some on his arm, and his knuckles split.

You can’t help but think the way he swung at Sukuna for disrespecting you, without a second thought, was incredibly hot and he looks so sexy like this too.

“You’re staring.”

“Can’t help it.” You shrug, caressing his thigh with your hand, “It’s unfair how hot you look right now.”

He chuckles, glancing over at you, “Yeah? Didn’t know you were into beat up men.”

Placing a small kiss on his cheek, you shift your hand upwards, “You didn’t get beat up. You did the punching. For me.”

He exhales sharply, glancing down at your hand that’s creeping dangerously close to his zipper. “Are you trying to make me crash the car?”

Unzipping his jeans slowly, you shake your head sweetly. “Just wanna show you my appreciation properly. You’re a great driver, you know, you’ll be fine.”

His breath hitches when you pull his cock out and lean down to lick a stripe up against it. You can feel it harden as you wrap one hand around him and swirl your tongue over his tip. Above you, he’s muttering curses under his breath, eyes focused on the road, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel.

You take his cock into your mouth, slowly taking him in, inch by inch and hear a low groan from him.

Bobbing your head up and down around his shaft, you can feel him twitch inside your mouth already. “Fuck, fuck, baby, you’re killing me.”

You’re swirling your tongue around him, feeling every vein against it.

When you hollow your cheeks and suck him off faster, you feel his car swerve to the side, stopping on a secluded area of the road. “Oh, fuck… C’mere.”

He pulls you up by your hair and crashes his lips against yours fervently. His eyes are lidded, voice thick with need, “Backseat?”

And you nod, climbing into the back of the car, he follows and pulls you right into his lap there.

You’re both breathing heavily when he pulls your panties to the side and lines himself up with you, letting you sink onto his length.

But you need him too much to go slow.

You bounce up and down on his thick shaft, to which he grabs your hips tighter and bucks his own up into yours, meeting your thrusts.

The windows of the car fog up as both of you moan and pant in pleasure. your hands tangled in his soft white hair, tugging on the strands as he kisses all over your neck, mumbling curses and praises under his breath, “Fuck, you’re so unreal. Making me feel so good, baby.”

You keep up the pace, your hips stuttering as he rubs your clit with his fingers, messy and fast. Your vision goes blurry and you feel him twitch inside of you as you clench around him, falling apart over him. He’s spilling inside of you, gripping your hips tightly and letting out a loud moan into your ear before stilling entirely.

A few minutes of sitting in his lap, basking in his comforting warmth pass and now you’re both gathering your clothes, so you can drive back to his home. While doing so, you notice something missing. “My shoe…”, you’d left it where you threw it at Sukuna.

Satoru laughs, full of genuine mirth and something akin to pride for you as he remembers the moment and ruffles your already messy hair. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He pulls you into him with an arm on your waist, his voice shifting to something more serious. “I want to. I’ll buy you anything else you need or want too. Because you’re the most amazing woman i’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

You blush, stomach fluttering with joy and he cups your face, “I know it may sound crazy but when i’m with you, everything just makes sense and feels right.”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re silent for a moment, hesitating slightly. But it just feels right— exactly like he said, here in his car under the nightly lit streets of Tokyo, and most importantly with him.

“What he said isn’t true, by the way.”

“Huh?”, his brows furrow in confusion for a second, before he nods, taking your hand in his reassuringly. “Oh, no of course not. I never thought you were any of these things—“

You squeeze his hand and shake your head, “I mean, about you, that you don’t know me. I feel seen with you. Really seen. Like you get me.”

There’s a pause and you steady your breath, mustering up the courage to confess, “I think i’m falling in love with you. Maybe i already have.”

His pupils are blown as he looks at you, his hand still cupping your cheek, gently stroking it. “I’m glad. Because i already have.”

You lean into his hand, looking at him with your lips slightly parted and he chuckles lightly.

“Don’t be surprised. How could i not love you?”

For the first time since you stopped racing, the growing hole that has been eating away at your heart has been fixed. Patched and filled with Satoru.

You aren’t numb to it anymore. You feel everything, you feel him.

And you allow yourself to.

art by _3aem & divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[iikobsukekun]

Trios Fast & Furious 2000s sprites 🏎️🏁

[numberonetribble]

Babysitting Shenanigans Part 2: Piston gets rowdy at Hot Rod's house!

Bonus:

[crowlixcx]

Broadchurch | S2EP3 | Alec Hardy’s Wettest Moments (Part 47)

[lavampira]

if you see me I'm assuming that it's only in my rearview

fast and furious au corisande + d'alia for @scionshtola's birthday <3

[greatunironic]

the first chapter of the fast & furious steddie au has dropped; i had a blast writing this for this year’s @steddiebang2024 + can’t wait for y’all to read it! art from the talented @redlegumes coming soon!

summary + tags below the cut

summary: Eddie Munson is a mechanic at his uncle’s sunny SoCal garage during the day; at night, he’s one of the most highly sought after mechanics for the street racing community as they race for pink slips, cash, and glory. He works on all the winningest cars, makes a killing in his bets and cuts with the racers for his work, and is generally just a top dog in this underworld scene — until some new hotshot out of Miami shows up, allegedly tight with racing legend Joyce Byers (or maybe that ex-cop squeeze of hers), and starts sniping wins from Eddie’s guys. He wants to hate him, and the suped up, hot pink Honda S2000 he rolled in on; it’s just too bad that he’s also just Eddie’s type: pretty, mean, and lethal behind the wheel.

He’s desperate to keep his wits about him and to keep this grudge going, but it’s fucking near impossible when it seems like him and Harrington can’t keep their hands off each other whenever they end up in the same darkened clubs to save their lives. And it’s maybe even worse than just a shitty crush, because, all the while, someone is causing trouble for the whole racing community when a trio of white Honda Civics start robbing eighteen wheelers of their cargo, bringing the heat down on all of them...

tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Street Racing, Enemies to Lovers, (Or Rather: Rivals to Lovers), Rivals With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Mutual Pining Even While Boning, Misunderstandings, Fast Cars, Dumb Boys, Car Chase, Injury, Service Top Eddie Munson, Beefcake Babygirl Steve Hours, Brat Steve Harrington, Shades of Power Bottom Steve Harrinton, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Car Sex, Hand Kink, Spit Kink, Panty Kink, Feminization, Oral Sex, Rough Sexm Semi-Public Sex, Injured Sex, Anal Sex

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

2 Shingeki 2 Kyojin ₊˚☆༻*

Jean/Fem Reader/Eren - 40k+ words on ao3

Chapters 1 & 2 below!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a street racing, fast and furious inspired college AU set in the 2000's, romantic and angsty love triangle with plot!! + some smut

a/n: this fic is gonna be a year old this month and I wanted to give it some love here on tumblr by posting the first two chapters, hopefully to compel some new readers :) the first two chapters don't have smut, there's not a ton of smut in this fic overall though there will be more soon. (don't use AI on this or repost anywhere) (i also made some minor edits because back when i started this fic i didn't edit as much and had more fun being less anal about things, in turn it was sloppy lmao)

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The night air was warm, the unmistakable scent of summer and cigarettes. Everything was infectious, the excitement and tension was as thick as the humidity. A crowd started to leak onto the quiet street and then it became anything but— cars pulled in recklessly along the sidewalks, emitting colorful neon light from their interiors and undersides, various engine noises and thrums of conversation thudding in your ears.

You were wary of being dressed like this in the industrial district, the empty construction equipment and cranes looming above you on the walk to the spot. As soon as you’d gotten closer to the address and you approached the buzzing crowd, your mind was put slowly at ease.

You clutched the strap of your purse, keychains clattering lightly as you quickened your pace to catch up with your friend Mina, who despite her shorter stature, was a few paces ahead of you as she almost ran towards the center of the crowd in excitement. 

You used to live in Shina, which wasn’t too big or small, though still not as busy as a college town like Trost. You’d just moved in to be Mina’s roommate, since you were good enough friends in high school to warrant giving it a shot. 

Mina wasn’t the adventurous type, unlike her boyfriend Thomas who had started going to races in the southern part of the city. Initially he and his friends went for the cars and drinks, and he was shocked to see the types of crowds they’d attract. It seemed to be exactly the type of energy you and Mina were looking for. Maybe it would bring you two closer as well. 

There were all kinds of people in the throng of onlookers, along with a surprising number of girls your age, all fabulously dressed for a night out—short skirts and baggy pants, finger-less gloves and fishnets and cowboy hats and big earrings. Some groups would be completely color coordinated with the car they stood next to, like a designer pit crew. 

Now you wish you owned go go boots.

“I can’t see Thomas,” Mina said, tugging at her pigtails nervously. “He mentioned he was here with the Jeep, but I don’t think there’s one here. None of these are Jeeps, right?” 

There were probably eight or nine cars out, some on the road and some parked off to the side, blaring dubstep or hip hop while showing off their engines and lights and wheels. They were all just cars, you didn’t know much about them in general, but you definitely didn’t see a Jeep logo amongst any of the machines.

“Are all of these guys racing?” You asked. You didn’t know how these illegal meets worked, but that didn’t sound right.

Before she could reply, Mina gasped and tugged on you, running then stopping in front of a hot pink car with glittery decals. 

“Your car is so cute!!” She practically squealed. “Oh my god, this is so stunning!”

A blonde girl in a pleated miniskirt turned from her spot next to the driver's window. She gushed a bubbly thank you. “It’s my first race tonight!” She waved a gloved hand with excitement. 

She had a little crowd of hot pink groupies that gave her a little cheer.

“Good luck! I love the glitter,” you said brightly and bopped your head a little to the techno music she blasted.

“I painted it,” a tall, tan girl in an olive tank top said smoothly. “I’m Ymir, this is my girlfriend Historia.” She stepped right behind the driver, resting her hands at her girlfriend's hips.

Ymir wore a pink bandanna on her wrist that matched the rest of the car, and a tool belt at her waist.

“I’m Mina, and this is Y/n,” your friend said, looking a little surprised at the harshness in Ymir’s tone. “This is our first race too— watching I mean–sorry, I feel so out of place,” she laughed nervously.

“No, don’t apologize! It can be intimidating for sure–I hope you guys have a good time!” Historia said. “The race should start soon, we’re gonna move the car to the street for the lineup!”

“It’s really cool to see other girls at something like this,” you said earnestly.

“Who do you guys know here?” Ymir asked, stone faced. 

“Oh, my boyfriend Thomas invited us,” Mina said.

“Yeah, but who invited him?” She pressed, sizing her up.

“Ymir!” Historia laughed and swiped lovingly at her girlfriend. "Don't mind her, she means well. We've had some rude folks at our past races."  

"Of course," you nodded. Things like the phrase “who invited you” usually meant the same thing no matter where you were--are you sure you’re in the right place?

You averted your eyes, looking across the street at the cars that you hadn’t gotten a full view of yet.

“It was nice to meet you both,” you tried to give Ymir a smile, and she seemed more relaxed.

You lead Mina away and hang at the edge of other groups as you walk around, absentmindedly wandering. 

“How did Thomas get invited?” You ask her above the noise. 

“His new roommate!” She yelled back. “They wanted to get to know each other before the semester started and I guess he comes here all the time. Thomas said he’s friends with the actual guy that hosts and holds the bets or something.”

Music of every kind pumped from every other car, and the smoke in the air from cigarettes and blunts and burnouts was thick enough to get a decent contact high and a sore throat.

Mina offered you her hand as you two squeezed into the crowd—somehow all very fashionably dressed. There were so many attractive people here. Your stomach churned at the idea of meeting someone. 

As you approached the cars, the mixture of smoke and alcohol assaulted your senses. You managed a decent view, not quite at the front but able to see some by peeking between the gaps of shoulders and backs and elbows. You were glad you wore heels. 

The bass from someone’s super jacked-up stereo system pounded in your ears and you closed your eyes, feeling the music in your skull and hum through your veins. Some car was revving for show, and the noise drowned you. You were new to Trost, but you’d never felt more at home right here.

It was irrational and disappointing in your parents eyes, that you put off college for almost three years, instead choosing to work and make money until the time was right. 

You’d bounced between retail and food service for a while, until you landed on being a barista. It was fun and you liked it enough for a job, it paid well enough for you to rent your own apartment in Shina, but your parents would visit so much it felt claustrophobic. They technically owned and paid for your car. It was conditional. 

Still, you’d spend your non-work time going clubbing, partying, buying weed and dinners with your friends, and then going back to work when you had to— and just taking it day by day in between it all. 

You got sick of it, just a little bit. You needed something different, scenery and people and air, especially now you’d like to spend more time really trying to be happy. It felt like a ridiculous goal, but it was your truth. It’s not the partying that got tiring anyway, it was the mindless bullshit, really. Obviously you’d work to pay rent with Mina, but maybe you wouldn’t burn out so easily this time. Work was less daunting than school for you, and that's just how it's been for a while. You knew---or hoped---that Trost would be a fresh start. 

It’s been only a week of unemployment–but you’d already put your deposit and first month of rent down on your new place with Mina, and you were here tonight—in the summer heat with your mini skirt and surrounded by hot young people like you. The job applications would still be there in the morning. 

There was a loud honk as a red Jeep rounded the sharp corner behind you, and the crowd shifted, creating a gap.

“Baby!” Thomas waved from the driver's seat when he made eye contact with Mina. 

Next to him was a boy with black hair in a brown leather jacket. Perched atop the seats, necks sticking out from the sides of the door-less vehicle, was a short, very drunk boy with a near-bald buzz cut, and an equally intoxicated girl with a long brown ponytail, waving a bag of fast food like a mighty flag. 

The Jeep's riders hopped onto the ground. 

“Mina, y/n,” Thomas approached you both, and gave your friend a quick kiss on the cheek. “This is Sasha and Connie, they needed a designated driver for setting up roadblocks. And this is Marco. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting, sorry love.”

“We steal traffic cones a-and construction signs to redirect traffic,” Connie slurs and shouts a little. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows–who wears sweaters in the dead of summer? “It’sss so we keep the cops away from the race.”

“Rooaaad work aheeaad!” Sasha whoops before shoving a handful of fries in her mouth. She was dressed more casually than the other girls here, in a fitted tee, baggy denim shorts and a pair of large sunglasses.

She eyed you immediately and moved her sunglasses atop her head. “You! Do you smoke?”

“Oh–I brought a j to share,” You open your little purse. 

“Yeah, you look the type!” Sasha waves a fry in front of her eyes. “I’ve got a lighter, we can–”

“Racers!” A sharp, charismatic voice pierces through the crowd. “Onlookers! Enthusiasts, friends, foes…”

You turn your head towards the voice, holding the joint between your index and middle finger, straining to see. 

You had no trouble spotting Historia’s pink bedazzled vehicle flash from the other end of the lineup, but you craned your neck to see the others. 

“Here, I've got a lighter,” Sasha whispers as she pulls one from her pocket, and you offer the first hit from your joint. She sighs when she exhales and hands it to you, and you nod gratefully before you take a hit. 

“Our prize has come out to a cool twenty thousand dollars…” The man said dramatically, and you see a hand wave a thick stack of bills as if he were fanning the air. “I’ve got some very special things planned for you all this evening!” 

The crowd oohs and ahhs. 

“The racers put down some money,” Thomas whispers from your left side, in between you and Mina. You pass him the blunt and he hits it before he continues. “The winner gets it all. They usually give the host, Jean, a cut too. He runs all the money and a bunch of other stuff for these things. Sasha and Connie and Marco are all friends with him.”

The car closest to you was sleek and black, with a bright green lightning bolt criss-crossed on the doors, coming together to form a wicked smiling face on the hood.  

“Returning, of course,” Jean sounded sarcastic now. “Is our two time winner, Eren, in the Attacker!” 

You watched Jean suppress an eye roll. He was definitely not enthusiastic about introducing that guy. 

The driver in the black car rolled down both his windows, and stuck his middle fingers out. He laughed at the chorus of cheers that showered him. 

You could see it clearer now, “Attacker” in green script on the side of the car door. 

The green interior lights of his vehicle lit Eren’s face well enough from where you stood—he was all sharp angles and brooding eyes. His long dark hair was pulled back in a neatly gathered topknot, and a mischievous smile played on his face as he revved his thunderous engine over and over. Some onlookers in the crowd whistled in response.

“He must be a favorite,” you hear Thomas grumble.

Between Eren and Historia’s cars, was a vehicle with a metallic bronze finish all over, like armor. Its headlights were a bright red, and a tall, gangly boy stood next to it, talking to whoever was in the driver's seat.

“As you can see we have some new racers with us today–” He yelled. You still couldn’t see Jean in between the shoulders and necks of the people in front of you. 

You turn and lean forward, away from Thomas’ eyeline, to give Mina a look—and she must’ve been thinking the same as you. She put her hand on Thomas’ chest and whispered in his ear.

You hear an eruption of shrieks and whistles and assume Historia and the driver in the bronze must’ve already been introduced. God, you couldn’t see at all.

Thomas nodded to his girlfriend and guided you both to the front of the crowd, Marco appearing suddenly on your other side and establishing some space for you. 

“Thank you,” you said gratefully and Marco gave you a small nod. 

“No problem. First race, right?” He said, taking a swig of beer.

“Yeah, is it always this crowded?” You asked. You just now saw Sasha and Connie again, still drunk and now standing closer to Eren’s posse of admirers.

“Kind of. It’s gotten more competitive lately. Jean hates Eren’s guts but he attracts one hell of a crowd– probably 50 people on a bad night, really.” Marco shakes his head and laughs. He handed you the joint you had passed to Thomas, you’d almost forgotten about it.

You took it and inhaled deeply, letting your smoke spin into the summer air. 

You had a much better view now. You felt betrayed by how your heart fluttered when your eyes finally landed on Jean when he spoke again. 

“Simmer down,” Jean laughs and places the money back into his suit pocket. His hair is a sandy light brown, a little long in an untraditional-mullet sort of way, swept behind his ears and gathered at the back of his neck. His jaw is covered in stubble, and he wore a few buttons open at the top of his white collared shirt. He was tall, and his presence was commanding and magnetic. 

The other cars that were being shown off earlier fade their music slowly down to silence, and the humid air catches the electricity of the crowd as everyone hangs onto Jean’s every word.

“We also welcome a driver with something to prove tonight-” He said in a calmer voice, directing a finger to a silver car with blue swords along the side doors and wings on the hood. “The Captain!”

The silver car revs its engine, blue light glowing underneath the vehicle. The driver doesn’t reveal himself. 

Marco lets out a low whistle. “1999 Nissan Skyline GT-R R34. One hell of a ride.”

The crowd is a mixture of applause and low whispers.

“God, listen to that Skyline purr. Goddamn!” Thomas says. “I think I heard Connie say that this guy’s a little older.”

“The Captain?” You ask dubiously. “How could anyone call themselves that?”

“Racer names can be cornier than car names,” Marco shrugs. “This guys shit is fucking souped. You should look at the exhaust pipe when the race starts, just keep your distance in case it gets dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?” Your eyebrows pinch together. You didn’t understand shit he was saying.

He laughs and pats your shoulder. “Dangerous for them. The worst odds here are with the guys going over 100 miles an hour down a shitty dark street. Or the gamblers betting on that bronze Mazda tonight. Don’t sweat it.”

You bite your lip nervously, but try to believe him. Marco seemed genuine, and nice. 

“Now back up! Back up, off the streets–let's go!” Jean shouted, clapping his hands together. “Back up! Get away from the engines, come on-”

The crowd stepped back and hurriedly dispersed onto the sidewalk. Others made their way further down the street to see the cars whiz by.

“Racers!” Jean barked, and chills went down your spine. “Ready?”

Eren’s car revs, impossibly loud. 

“READY?” Jean yelled again.

The bronze car revved its engine, its windows all the way down. You could see a burly guy with white blonde hair grin and salute at the crowd.

“READY?” 

Historia revved hers twice, windows down as well, and you hear Ymir cheer her on. She blushes, you think, her face lit by pink interior lighting.

“READY?” Jean raises his arm in the air, eyeing the Captain, still anonymous, and the silver vehicle revs his engine in response. 

All four cars were roaring thunderously now, smoke coming from their rears, and you felt the crowd’s energy shift, you were all on your toes. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, heart thrumming in the suspense. 

“Go!” Jean’s hand cuts through the air in a downward motion and tires squeal as the four cars jet forward.

You glance at the Captain’s exhaust pipe, and bright blue flames dance along them before he speeds past his adversaries.

Ch. 2

It was as if the vehicles were dancing, the way the racers would align and switch lanes, spreading out and falling into place, desperately trying to get ahead of each other. The neon glow of the city zips through the window, leaving trails of light and color. 

Eren’s fists clenched around the wheel, and he pressed his clutch to downshift, revving his engine and shifting gears.

The racers met their first turn on the road, and somehow the Captain descended upon them after previously hovering behind—now smoothly making his way to the front. He was right next to Eren, who glanced over, hoping he’d lower his window, only to see the Captain’s exhaust release a fiery boost and zip out of sight. 

“Dammit,” Eren slammed a fist against his wheel. For even a fraction of a second, the accidental distraction from the zooming Skyline was just enough. All he could see now was Reiner’s license plate, “MUSCL3,” taunting him in the street glow. 

Eren pushed just a little bit further, and couldn't help but smile as he tapped the bronze Mazda’s rear bumper. 

“Shit-” Reiner hissed as he lost control of the wheel for just a moment, car swerving. What a dick. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Eren’s smug look and flipped him off. 

Tires squealing, Historia zipped ahead of them both, pink flames trailing behind her, the powerful bass of her speakers pounding in her ears. Her heart thrummed in her fingers as she gripped her gearshift and screamed with delight as her blonde hair whipped in the wind, her car boosting forward. 

“Later boys!” She called, barely audible above the noise.

“God, I want that woman,” Reiner groaned under his breath as he watched the blonde girl jet ahead. His engine roared in response as he abused his gas pedal in an attempt to keep ahead of the Attacker. 

Eren’s thumb smashes the NOS injection, and his car shoots forward and ahead, like a bullet. Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he watches the speedometer run up to 120, 125, 130mph.

He shifts lanes, tires screeching as he takes advantage of the next ten seconds, and Historia slowly comes into view. He grips his clutch again and prepares to pass her. 

He cuts the wheel sharply as he approaches the construction cones and signs Connie and Sasha used to mark the edges of the “track,” drifting beautifully and recovering quickly as he zooms down the dark street. His tires squeal as he overtakes her. 

“Shit!” Historia hisses and turns the best she can, nearly knocking over a line of traffic cones. She eyes her pink glowing rearview mirror, with Reiner approaching quickly, and fumbles with her stick shift—how did Ymir say to do it again?

Eren’s engine purrs as he speeds away from his fellow racers, he grips the wheel as he approaches another sharp turn. He exhales with satisfaction when the pink S2000 glitters far away in his rearview mirror.

“Doesn’t fuckin pace himself, that one,” Thomas said. His arms were sling casually over the windshield of his roofless, doorless Jeep. 

“Relies too much on his NOS,” Sasha agrees. 

You hand the binoculars to Sasha. “NOS?”

“Nitrous oxide. It gives the car a temporary little kick,” she explained, shoving her sunglasses away to hold the binoculars up to her eyes, before hitting your joint again. “Depending on the engine and tank size you can get up to an extra 150 horsepower on a good NOS injection. It just lasts like ten to fifteen seconds. ” She coughs, stretching her arms far behind her back with a look of boredom. “I wish I could’ve gotten as drunk as Connie. He’s such a lightweight.” 

“Are you into cars too?” You ask, surprised. 

Sasha shrugs and passes you the joint. “You hang out with these guys so much, you pick up on the basics.They didn’t come tonight, but sometimes Jean gets some damn good food trucks here before the races!” 

“Did you want a hit?” You ask Mina with the j between your teeth, blowing smoke into the air. 

“Yeah,” she took it before she could change her mind. You smiled a little, knowing she must’ve been feeling as adventurous as you did.

“They’re getting close, just a few more minutes,” Thomas said, eyebrows furrowed. “Where the hell is he?”

You were sent with Sasha and Thomas and Mina to accomplish an “exciting task,” according to Jean. You hadn’t gotten a chance to really speak to him, only that he wanted you all to help out with the big finale, while he and Marco would herd the crowd and keep monitoring police activity over the scanner. 

Your chest leaped when Jean had slipped a walkie talkie onto the belt of your mini skirt. 

“Don’t leave me with any dead air, hm?”

Mina was pretty anxious the whole ride there, and you didn’t blame her. You weren’t the “breaking and entering” type either, but your fears were allayed as you made it to the control room of the drawbridge by the Southern Trost River.

A blond guy with a friendly smile finally arrived at the rendezvous point, and picked the lock to the building with ease. You were surprised by his warm and unassuming demeanor, that he of all people would be spearheading your little mission. 

“Armin’s a tech at the garage,” Sasha ruffled his hair before turning to you, eyes low and red while she chattered. “Smartest guy I know. He and Connie and I go to Paradis State.” 

“Jean’s plan is a little ambitious, but I prepped Eren’s Supra for it tonight.” Armin takes his seat in front of a control panel, pressing buttons and flipping switches. He inserts a card into a slot by a big switch. “We were worried the tires would blow out. I’m sure the others will make it just fine if they play their cards right.”

“Hey hey, bridge team. This is Mr. Big, come back.” A cocky voice came from the walkie talkie at your waist. 

“Tell him I’m ready,” Armin gives you a two finger salute, one hand resting on a lever in the middle of the panel. 

“Oh,” your fingers slip and you almost drop the walkie on the floor. “Bridge team ready to go.”

“First one’s coming your way,” Jean’s voice crackled with excitement. “Hit it!”

Armin takes the lever into both hands, clicking it into place and pushing it forward.

The light in the control room flashed a dim green, and a buzzing sound erupted through the speakers. 

You all run to the window looking out over the bridge, and your stomach churns when you see the Captain arriving first—at least 400 yards ahead of the Attacker, and the other two racers even further behind. 

Your breath hitches. “Am I high, or–”

“Holy shit!” Sasha cackles at the sight. 

The beams of the bridge creak and groan as they lift slowly, disconnecting one side of the road from the other. It tilts a little then all at once, until they’re fully lifted, creating a triangular ramp with a large gap of open air in between. 

The Skyline doesn’t hesitate as it approaches, the bridge beams high in the night sky, the empty space above the water ominous and quiet. The engine growls as the driver switches gears, and you watch the Captain accelerate, before another round of blue flames erupt from the rear. He soars in the air, almost floating in mid air and over the gap.

Armin lets out a shaky laugh as he watches the Captain’s Skyline land safely on the other side, recoiling a little from the impact, and the whole control room erupts into cheers. 

“That was so fucking cool,” Sasha doubles over, laughing.

“Here comes Eren,” Armin points over your shoulder.     

The Attacker’s neon green underglow is all you can see before it approaches the well lit bridge, and for a moment you wonder if you saw it swerve just an inch.

“Come on,” Armin says under his breath. 

Eren accelerates with his foot flat on the gas pedal, speeding towards the bridge. He almost said a prayer as he injected his NOS at the last moment, just before the incline on the beam started, and he shot forward, green flames erupting from his exhaust as he flew over the gap–less graceful than his predecessor, but covering more distance, landing about 70 yards past the bridge with minimal recoil. 

He didn’t pause for a second despite the ringing in his ears and the anxious thudding in his chest— he accelerated again, finally closing in on the Captain.

You couldn’t help yourself, you moved to the other window outlooking the other side of the bridge, watching Eren’s car speed away with another NOS boost while the others watched Historia and Reiner approach, neck to neck.

You purse your lips in disappointment when the Attacker and the Captain reach a sharp turn, their glowing green and blue suddenly out of sight. You turn your head to see just in time, that Reiner had refused to make the jump, Historia’s glittering pink car soaring through the air alone, and swerving as soon as she landed, the front bumper crumpling as she fought to gain control. 

“Oh shit,” Mina gasped.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Armin popped up by your side as the rest of the group ran out of the control room. 

You loaded into Thomas’s Jeep, Armin in front, you and the other girls crammed into the back. You had no time for your seat belt as Thomas sped towards the sharp turn past the bridge. You couldn’t find Historia, just the crowd of cars you saw at the meet earlier, even some people on foot, all speeding to meet the winner.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Mina’s eyebrows were pinched together as she tugged on a pigtail anxiously. “That must’ve been a terrifying first race.”

“If she crashed, we would’ve seen it, smoke and everything. I’m sure she’s fine,” Sasha rubs her shoulder.

Thomas screeched to a stop on the same street where the race started earlier, a bright orange line was spray painted on the ground. You jumped from the lifted Jeep, helping the other girls down. 

“I think Eren lost,” Armin observed with surprise as he joined you.

The Captain and the Attacker were already parked, Eren looking disgruntled and leaning against his car, puffing smoke into the air. He wore a dark cotton henley and sweatpants, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

You see glitter in the corner of your eye, relieved when you see Historia outside her car, Ymir inspecting the unrecognizable bumper. Her tires looked blown out completely. Despite the state of her vehicle, Historia had the happiest look on her face as she babbled to her girlfriend. 

You point them out to Mina who gives you a grateful smile. 

You all approached the crowd that formed around Eren and the Captain. Thomas leads a path for you all to follow as you and the other girls push your way to the front.

Eren held an elastic hair tie between his teeth as he redid his topknot, and you blushed as you make eye contact. His eyes are intense as he looks you over, and your gaze is only broken when the Skyline’s door opens.

The driver stepped out of the car, running a pale hand through his dark hair as he sizes up the crowd. An old, faded scar runs from just under his eyelid and down his face, and across his lips. He wore a brown leather harness over a dark gray shirt, arms crossed as Jean approached him. 

“Excellent race,” Jean laughs, clearly pleased with the outcome as Eren steams by his Supra. 

The crowd cheers and whistles, jostling against your shoulders as Jean lifts the Captain’s wrist in the air like he’d won a boxing match.

“I thought you all were supposed to be Trost’s finest,” the driver says with a lazy smile. He takes the wad of cash, peeling away a thin stack of bills and giving them back to Jean. “It was a pleasure mopping the floor with you kids.”

“That’s a damn fine Skyline,” Eren offers his hand and the Captain shakes it. “I’d love to see what’s under the hood sometime. It’s nice to have a real challenge for once.”

“I think it’s nice to see someone besides this asshole win,” Reiner calls as he approaches the huddle, towering above the crowd, a lanky dark haired boy trailing behind him. “Sorry, I took the scenic route.” Reiner rubs the back of his head, the sleeve of his shirt straining against his bicep. 

“Jesus, are all the guys into cars this beefy?” You whisper to Mina and she giggles. You were only half kidding—all these racer types were just ridiculously ripped, it was stupid. Hello Trost.

“Should've made the jump, Braun,” Eren shakes his head and leans against his car. “If Historia could learn how to double clutch, the least you could do is fuckin’ grow a pair.”

Reiner rolls his eyes and offers his hand to the Captain as well. “Reiner Braun. You handle yourself well out there.”

“Levi,” he said, the other man towered over him almost comically. “Nice rims on that Mazda. Where the hell can a winner get a decent drink around here?”

“HEY!” Marco bursts from the edge of the crowd, a half-awake Connie draped over his shoulder. “Cops are five minutes out! Let’s go!”

People groan and curse as they all book it to their cars. Everyone sprung into action, a chorus of engines and slamming doors and heels clicking against the pavement. As if on cue, sirens erupted in the distance.

Levi hopped into his Skyline, peeling away from the street, with no thought for the slow pedestrians too dazed or drunk to move with urgency. 

“This is the best part!” Sasha grips your arm, tugging you as she runs. You try your best not to trip over your own feet as Thomas and Mina rush ahead of you both towards the Jeep. 

“Armin, you with us?” Thomas calls over his shoulder, you didn’t realize the blonde boy was still trailing behind.

“Do we have enough room?” Armin's voice cracked as he jerked his finger to Jean running next to him. The latter was quick and agile, but stayed at a steady pace at the rear, glancing over his shoulder. 

You all piled into the Jeep with swift urgency–Thomas and Armin in front, Mina and Sasha in the back. You were too slow to realize now that you and Jean had no space. Maybe your ears were ringing from the noise, or maybe the police cars were getting closer. You stand hesitantly next to the door, too high to respond to the frantic looks on everyone's faces. 

“Shit, um-” Thomas was sweating, the engine was already running, and the street was now empty. Everyone else was gone, and he cursed himself for parking so far away. “We can, I’ll just–”

“There’s no time,” Jean’s knuckles were white on the door handle, glancing behind you as the sirens got louder and louder. He hopped into the last seat, and offered you his hand. He pulled you up and swiftly onto his lap, slamming the door. 

“Drive!” Jean’s voice was certain and authoritative.

Thomas slams on the gas and speeds away, tires squealing. The Jeep thuds and jolts as Thomas weaves in between half-toppled road signs and traffic cones.

You had to be stoned out of your mind, you thought you could smell Jean and his subtle cologne, and tried hard to act normal. He smelled so good, though—through the notes of whiskey and something else you couldn’t place, you really thought that maybe you smelled him. You felt lightheaded and tried not to shift too much. Could you tell if someone was sniffing you? What does smelling look like? 

Thomas hits a pothole, and you almost slam into the back of Armin’s seat before Jean catches you at your waist. His hands are strong and you wonder if your facade of normality crumbled. 

You can’t turn and look at him, you couldn’t handle it. You felt strange with your back turned on him, perched on his thighs uncomfortably. You swallow and mumble an apology, averting your eyes. 

God, this guy. Who wears a suit jacket to a street race?

“Take it easy Thomas, no more crashes tonight.” He says smoothly, his hands hovering but not touching your back, just in case you fall again. “Some of us prefer jail to a hospital.” 

“Some of us,” Mina amended nervously.

“Sorry,” Thomas said, but he wouldn’t go under 60 until you were far far away from the industrial sector. Sasha was giving directions to some address while Armin directed them both through the lesser known side streets, and you tuned them all out. 

You were tired and your feet ached, all the adrenaline from tonight was catching up with you. Still, your whole body tingled with anxiety as you become extra aware of the mini skirt riding up your legs. The walkie talkie digs into your stomach and you unhitch it from your belt, awkwardly handing it to Jean wordlessly.

Eventually the sirens faded away, and the new silence of the drive burned in your ears. You gripped the back of the headrest for support, stomach lurching. The road is riddled with potholes. 

[rose-gold-radiance]

Jesse and Leon as brothers AU

For @blackheart-beauty

[jakekazansky]

The newest fic in my Juvenile Delinquent Jake Au is posted!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64067011

[pizzaapeteer]

Fast and Furious AU

In the downtown streets of Miami, street racer! mattheo works hiding out from the hot sun, a local mechanic tinkering away in the heart and soul that is Teo’s garage. He’s perfectly charming when it comes to a pretty thing; but be sure not to mistake his flirtatious personality and generosity to his friends as someone to double cross, for he’ll be sure to make you pay your dues one way or another. A man who bleeds loyalty, fiercely protective, and not afraid of a little danger.

For when the sun sets, awakening the street lights and the roar of the city life, he’s out on the road in seek for his next dopamine fix. The call of adrenaline that is sitting in the drivers seat pushing onwards 130km whether to win the cash prize in the race or the lottery that is you. A shit eating grin unmoving from his face, with a little craze in his eye. Can you handle the ride of your life, because there’s no getting off once you fuel the machine that is Mattheo Riddle.

10000% inspired by fast and furious and the lovely @redeemingvillains Mattheo driving hc 🏎️ can’t wait to put these ideas actually onto the page but here’s the synopsis ✨

[nialovessatoru]

update about the fast n furious gojo au

i’m at around 5k words rn and i’d say it’s maybe like half of it..? it’s hard to tell because i need to write the scenes to know how detailed i want them to be buuut anyways, i’m really satisfied so far with what i’ve written

i might post a teaser beforehand, if i feel like it

in general, i think i’ll be done next week<3

[xoxorealitygalore]

Fast & Furious: The Mother

Luke Hobbs x OC

Summary: An assassin comes out of hiding to rescue her daughter, whom she left earlier in life.

Fast & Furious presents The Mother: Family runs deep. Vengeance runs deeper.

Part One

The Call

The shrill ring of the phone sliced through the quiet of the night, its sound jarring and insistent. Veda Burgos, former U.S. Army operative turned private contractor, sat upright in her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. She reached for the phone with a practiced calm, her fingers brushing against the cool metal before lifting it to her ear.

"Veda," the voice on the other end was low, gravelly, and unmistakable.

"Luke," she replied, her voice steady despite the rush of emotions the mere sound of his name stirred within her. "It's been a while."

"Too long," he agreed. There was a pause, a hesitation that spoke volumes. "I need your help."

Her heart skipped a beat. "What happened?"

"Samantha's been taken," he said, the words heavy with urgency. "By Dante Reyes."

The name hit her like a physical blow. Dante Reyes, the son of Hernan Reyes, the criminal mastermind whose empire had once threatened to engulf them all. She had crossed paths with Dante before, during a mission that had nearly cost her everything. She had thought him dead, a casualty of their last encounter. But now, he was back, and he had their daughter.

"Where is she?" Veda's voice was sharp, her mind already shifting into mission mode.

"Cap-Haitien, Haiti," Luke replied. "I have a team ready, but I need you to lead it. You're the only one who knows how he thinks."

Veda closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The weight of the situation settled over her like a cloak. She had left that life behind, the life of danger and constant peril. But family, her daughter was a line she would never cross. She had trained for this, lived for this. And now, she would return to it.

"I'm in," she said, her voice unwavering.

Veda clenched her jaw, her voice calm but steel-laced. “Send me the coordinates. I’m coming.”

The next few hours were a blur of activity. Veda moved through her home with precision, gathering gear, reviewing intel, and contacting old allies. She hadn't anticipated returning to the field, but the urgency of the situation left no room for hesitation.

Her home, once a sanctuary, now felt like a staging ground. Maps of Haiti were spread out on the dining table, red pins marking known locations of Dante's operations. Satellite images flickered across her laptop screen, each one scrutinized for any clue that might lead her to Samantha.

She donned her tactical gear which was black combat boots, cargo pants, a fitted shirt, and a vest equipped with various tools and weapons. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her face was set in a mask of determination. She was ready.

As she prepared to leave, her phone buzzed with a message from Luke: Meet me at the airstrip in one hour.

She nodded to herself, grabbed her bag, and headed out the door.

Her flight was silent. Charter jet. Off-grid.

She read the intel Hobbs sent which was brief, encrypted, clinical. Samantha had been targeted because of her bloodline. Dante Reyes was continuing the legacy of his father Hernan, using violence and vendettas to break those who destroyed his empire. Hobbs had crossed him.

Now Dante wanted blood.

But he made one mistake.

He took a mother’s daughter.

The Airstrip

The sun hung low over the Haitian horizon, casting long gold streaks across the tarmac. A private airstrip carved out of jungle and salt-worn stone buzzed with quiet urgency. Two Falcon aircraft idled nearby, their engines humming like thunder on standby.

The crew which consisted of Dominic Toretto, Letty Ortiz, Tej Parker, Roman Pearce, Han, Gisele, Tess, and Ramsey stood in a loose semi-circle near the cargo hold, double-checking their gear and loading crates of weapons and tech.

The stillness broke as the black SUV tore across the dusty runway. It skidded to a stop near the group, and Hobbs stepped out of the driver’s side, towering as ever in tactical gear, his jaw clenched tight.

He rounded the vehicle and opened the passenger door. And she stepped out. Fierce. Dressed in matte-black fatigues. Her brown eyes were sharp, scanning the team in an instant. She moved like a soldier, quiet and precise. The air shifted with her presence.

Everyone straightened.

“Damn,” Roman muttered, under his breath. “Who’s the queen of shadow ops?”

Hobbs raised a hand. “Listen up.” The murmurs died. All eyes turned to him.

“This is Veda Burgos. She’s ex-Army Spec Ops, classified black-tier contractor, and she’s saved my ass more times than I can count.” He turned toward her, his voice softer, but still heavy with weight. “She’s also my wife. Or... was.”

Veda gave a slight nod. “Let’s not get distracted by titles.”

Letty arched a brow, folding her arms. “So you’re the one we’ve heard absolutely nothing about.”

Dom, calm but observant, extended a hand. “Welcome.”

She took it. Firm grip. No hesitation.

“We’re going after my daughter,” Veda said, looking from face to face. “Samantha. You all know what we’re up against. But I need you to understand something, this isn’t just another mission. If we don’t get to her in time, Dante Reyes won’t just use her to get to Hobbs. He’ll break her to get to me.”

The team nodded, silently absorbing her words. Hobbs stepped beside her. “She’s the best there is. And I trust her with my life.”

Roman cleared his throat. “Okay, but real quick—how come we’ve never heard of her before? Like, never? Not even in a 'back-in-the-day' story?”

Tej elbowed him. “Because that’s what real ghosts do, man. They don’t leave stories.”

Veda gave Roman a small, deadly smile. “Let’s just say I wasn’t on the party circuit.”

Ramsey clicked her tablet, bringing up a holographic 3D map of the compound.

“Glad you’re here. We need every hand we can get,” she said. “Dante’s fortified the site with military-grade tech, infrared sensors, heavy weapons, and a kill-switch on the prison floor.”

“Then we go in silent,” Veda said. “We ghost the perimeter, neutralize the guards, and extract the asset, my daughter. No noise, no mistakes.”

Letty smirked. “I like her.”

Han stepped forward, nodding. “So do I.”

Hobbs looked at them all, then down the runway toward the rising heat waves.

“Gear up,” he growled. “We leave in fifteen.”

Veda turned back to the Falcon jet, walking shoulder to shoulder with Hobbs. For the first time in years, they moved like they used to do. One rhythm, one mission.

Hobbs slightly turned his head to her, his eyes scanning her form before settling on her face.

"You look the same," he said, his voice tinged with something she couldn't quite place.

"Time hasn't been kind to you," she replied, her tone teasing but with an edge of sincerity.

He offered a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Let's get to work."

As she climbed the ramp, Veda paused and looked over at him. “Of course,” she said. “This is about bringing my daughter home. And I’ll burn the world down to do it.”

He didn’t doubt her.

And as the Falcon lifted off the runway, slicing through the Haitian dusk, they followed her lead into the storm.

Cap-Haitien

The jet touched down in Cap-Haitien under the cover of darkness. The humid air hit Veda as she stepped onto the tarmac, the scent of saltwater and earth mixing in the night air. She adjusted her gear, her senses sharpening as she surveyed the surroundings.

Luke joined her, his presence a steadying force. "Intel suggests Dante's compound is about five clicks from here," he said, consulting a handheld device. "We move out in ten."

Veda nodded, her mind already calculating the best route. She trusted Luke's information, but she would verify it herself. She always did.

The team assembled, a mix of seasoned operatives and local contacts. They moved out swiftly, navigating through the dense jungle underbrush, their movements coordinated and silent. Veda led the way, her instincts guiding her through the terrain.

As they neared the compound, the sounds of the jungle faded, replaced by the eerie quiet of the enemy's stronghold. Veda signaled for the team to halt, her eyes scanning the perimeter.

"Two guards at the entrance," she whispered. "We take them out silently, then breach."

Luke gestured for the team to spread out, each member taking their assigned position. Veda and Luke moved in tandem, their actions fluid and precise. Within moments, the guards were neutralized, their bodies hidden from view.

They approached the compound's main building, a fortified structure that loomed ominously in the moonlight. Veda crouched beside the door, assessing the best way to gain entry.

"Explosives?" Luke suggested.

Veda shook her head. "Too risky. We go in quiet."

She produced a small device from her belt and attached it to the door's lock mechanism. Within seconds, it clicked open. She pushed the door slightly ajar, peering inside.

The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of mildew and decay. They moved in, their footsteps muffled by the worn floorboards.

They navigated the labyrinthine hallways of the compound, each turn bringing them closer to their goal. The tension was real, every shadow a potential threat. Veda's hand hovered near her weapon, ready for anything.

They reached a reinforced door at the end of a narrow corridor. Veda signaled for the team to halt. She approached the door, listening for any sounds from within. Hearing nothing, she placed her ear against the cold metal, her senses straining.

A faint sound like a muffled sob reached her ears. Her heart clenched. It was Samantha.

She turned to Luke, her expression hardening. "She's in there."

Luke nodded grimly. "Let's move."

They breached the door, weapons raised. Inside, the room was empty but there was a monitor playing a video of a crying Samantha.

“You really think I would make this easy for you, Hobbs,” Dante’s voice crackled over comms. “And hello, Veda, nice of you to come out of hiding. I look forward to meeting you again,” He chuckled.

Veda's fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles whitening. Anger surged within her, hot and fierce. But beneath that anger was a cold, calculating resolve. Dante had made a grave mistake. He had underestimated them.

They boarded the jet once more, the engines roaring to life as it taxied down the runway. Veda settled into her seat, the familiar hum of the aircraft grounding her. She pulled up the mission parameters on her tablet, reviewing them once again. Dante Reyes was a dangerous adversary, a man who had orchestrated chaos and destruction with a twisted sense of justice. He had taken their daughter, and for that, he would pay.

Luke sat across from her, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The silence between them was thick, laden with unspoken thoughts and shared history. It was a silence that spoke of battles fought and lost, of promises made and broken. But it was also a silence that spoke of unity, of a bond forged in the crucible of adversity.

"How has she been?" Veda asked, her voice breaking the stillness.

Luke's eyes softened, a flicker of warmth amidst the storm. "She's been strong," he replied. "Just like her mother."

Veda smiled faintly, her heart swelling with pride. Samantha had always been resilient, a trait she had inherited from both of them. She was their daughter, their flesh and blood, and she had the strength to endure whatever Dante threw her way.

But Veda knew that strength alone wouldn't be enough. They needed more. They needed the full force of the Hobbs family.

"We need your brothers," Veda said, her tone brokering no argument.

Luke's expression hardened, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Absolutely not," he said, his voice low and firm.

There was no way Luke was involving his eight younger brothers: Jonah, Mateo, Kal, Timo, Enele, Enoka, Laki, and Fetu in this. They had their own lives, their own battles. This was his fight, his responsibility.

But Veda was unyielding. "This is about Samantha," she said. "We need more people to rescue her."

Luke met her gaze, the weight of her words sinking in. She was right. They couldn't do this alone.

With a heavy sigh, Luke relented. "Take the jet to Samoa," he told the pilot.

As the jet soared into the sky, heading toward the distant islands of Samoa, Veda allowed herself a moment of reflection. The path ahead was fraught with danger, the stakes higher than ever. But she was ready. They all were. Dante had made a grave mistake. And they were coming for him.

Part Two

[mangostarjam]

bragging rights opener — haikyuu, street racer!au, the miya twins x f!reader (sorta), part of ignition!verse, 500ish words

Sound. Lights.

The multi level parking structure pulses with a heady, electric beat, its top floors momentarily home to Japan's finest drivers as they laugh and heckle and admire. Shiny chrome and bare skin as far as the eye can see, cars neatly parked amidst the teeming crowds, hoods propped open to showcase engines and mods that cost more than you dare to imagine.

And above it all, the screech of tires. The roar of spectators.

The steady thrum building in your bones, pitching higher and higher as the racers head for the finish line at the top.

Your mechanic catches your eye across a souped up Toyota and beckons you over.

"This is not what I intended when I said I liked these cars," you say once you're within earshot, but Aran just grins.

"I told you they look better out of the shop," Aran says, nodding at the cars on either side of the little group. You're smiling, caught up in the crackling adrenaline surging through the crowd, your eyes bright and pretty. The little group is looking at you, clearly connecting some dots, but before you can introduce yourself, Aran names everyone in the group and then does it for you. "— and she's the one who got stranded with a flat spare. Remember that story?"

"Shoulda called us," a man with bleached blonde hair and a dark undercut drawls. He nods towards his twin, an equally hot man with hooded eyes. "We're fast."

You laugh. The sound should get lost in the crowd, but the twins step closer to flank you, all dense muscle and easy grace, heads tilted in your direction and an edge to their smiles. "Why would I need two of you?"

"She's right, 'Tsumu," Miya Osamu says, smirking at his brother. He leans back against the souped up Toyota, arms crossed. The sleeves of his black tee strain with the flex of his biceps. You lick your lips. "We'd be long gone before yer sorry ass made it to the freeway."

The blonde scowls and shoves a hand through his hair. Your fingers twitch. In spite of the dye job, his hair looks soft… and easy to tug. "Shut up, Samu," Miya Atsumu says, "Ya can't even make it to the top floor here, what makes ya think you'd get there first?"

"Bold of ya to lie," Osamu shoots back easily.

"Looks like Kita-san is done," Rintarou interjects, barely glancing up from his phone. "Why don't you just race?"

You bounce a little on your toes, eyes shining. Now that's what you came for — some excitement for the weekend before you return back to reality as a salary worker. "A race! What does the winner get?"

Aran and Rintarou turn towards the newcomer, Kita Shinsuke, so none of them see the way the twins give you a long, lingering look that sends prickles of heat sweeping down to your toes. Your smile goes crooked.

"Bragging rights," Osamu answers you, his voice low and sure. You raise an eyebrow.

Atsumu flips his car keys around and catches them in his hand, the movement practiced but smooth. "And first dibs on a chance with you."

"Just a chance, hm?" You tilt your head and bite your lip, fighting back a grin. "I guess we'll see who makes it to the top first."

WHO WINS THE RACE:

Osamu OR Atsumu