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drabblesandimagines · 2 months

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Crash

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship

The sidewalk feels cold beneath your thighs as you stare blankly into your lap, your breaths heavy, struggling through a tight chest. You’re sat cross-legged, like a child - the nice, elderly lady had encouraged you to sit down, said you were looking pale. She’d definitely meant for you to take a seat on the bench a few steps away, but you’d just dropped, seemingly forgetting how to get from standing to sitting in any sort of graceful manner.

She’d smiled sympathetically then, offered you some candy from the bottom of her purse – kept a stash in there for her grandchildren - said you needed sugar for the shock. But you’d shook your head, feeling sick at the notion of eating anything. She asked if there was anyone she could call whilst waiting for the first responders.

You’d put your hand in your jacket pocket for your phone at her question – relieved it’s in one piece, not smashed up like the hunk of metal just out of eyeshot. You don’t remember calling Leon’s number, but you must have because now your phone’s up against your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He answers after only four rings, though his voice is hushed - maybe ducked out of the room to answer. “Can I call you back in 20? Just wrapping up something here.”

“I-crashed-the-car.” You blurt out, the words running into one another. It’s not technically true, you were crashed into but this seems easier for now.

“What?” His volume amps way up and your stomach twists with the change, unsure of the implications – is he mad? Upset?

You were borrowing his car. Yours was in the garage, the brake discs needed replaced and would take a couple of days to get the parts in. You’d planned to take city transport but Leon insisted you take his car - arguing it was winter, that it gets dark so early and the idea of you walking to and from the bus stop on your own isn’t one he wants to entertain. You don’t live in a terrible neighbourhood, but you don’t have to be for monsters to be roaming the streets, after all. Plus, it made sense for him to ride his bike to HQ whilst you borrowed his SUV and he wouldn’t have to worry, have one less thing on his plate… ..or so had been the idea. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m so sorry,” you don’t even take in his questions, really. “They came out of nowhere and…“ Your breath hitches in your throat, a sob building up and threatening to overflow.

“Baby,” his tone is firm, “are you hurt?”

You can hear his shoes slapping against the floor as he begins to run, though it sounds too hard a sole for his boots... No, that’s right, he went out in a suit this morning – leather jacket on top, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, still made the whole ensemble look good albeit it being mismatched.

“No…” That’s not true - there’s blood, and it has to be yours, but you feel numb of any sort of pain. “I don’t know.“ Your voice cracks again. “That’s okay,” he soothes, barging through a door with his shoulder. “We’ll work it out.” Nearly takes a woman out the other side with how hard the door slams against the wall, mutters half an apology as he darts around her. “Are you still in the car?” You turn to look at Leon’s black SUV laying on its side, the under carriage on full display – not the way a car should be. The driver’s side is against the concrete. You’d climbed out the passenger side, somehow, having to fight gravity itself to get the door to open, clambered up and over the leather seats. Should you have done that, or should you have stayed put? You’d just wanted out from the metal box – the windscreen was a spiderweb of cracks, creaking like it would explode in shards at any moment. “N-no, I’m on the sidewalk.”

“Okay, good. Ambulance on its way?” He’s reached the elevator, mashes the down button like it will make it accelerate to his floor any faster than usual. He feels awful that he’s interrogating you, but his training has kicked in - gather as much intel as possible – and he needs the facts.

“Yeah. Police too.” A few cars had stopped after. Someone said they were calling 911, another saying they got some of the license plate, the old lady and her purse full of candy. The other car drove off, tyres burnt with how fast they fled the scene.

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me where you are? What street you’re on?”

“Erm…” You look round, but in the shock nothing looks familiar, though it must be a route you’d driven down hundreds of times before. “I was on the way home from work, so, I’m, erm…”

“That’s all right.” He can hear the tightness in your voice, knows you’re not thinking clearly and so he changes tact. “Is anyone nearby that you could ask?” He hits the elevator button again, swears it’s been on floor 12 for far longer than necessary. Come on.

The elderly lady comes back to mind – she must’ve stepped back to give you privacy when you’d pulled your phone out. “There’s someone.”

“Great. Can you ask them where you are?”

“Yeah…” You pull the phone down from your ear, looking around to find she’s not gone far at all, hovering a few metres away. “Excuse me, where are we? Sorry.” The apology slips out, feeling more of a nuisance to her than you’d already been.

“16th Street, dearie.” She smiles, keeps her tone gentle. “Just near Jack’s Groceries.”

The elevator finally arrives – empty - and Leon positions himself between the doors, aware that his reception might drop when he starts to head down to the garage and he can’t leave you on a dial tone.

“Thank you.” You force a smile in return, hold the phone back up to your ear. “16th Street, near the grocery store, Jack’s - it’s the one with those chips you like?”

He smiles at that – it’s not your usual place to shop, but you go there sometimes to pick them up for him ‘just cos’. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. Can you call or text me if you go anywhere else?”

“Y-yeah.” You take another shuddering breath, dig your nails into the palm of your hand. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

He steps into the elevator fully, double taps the button for the garage before assaulting another to close the doors. He hopes no-one tries to grab it on the way down, cos he won’t be able to hide his irritation.

“Nothing to apologize for. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

“See you soon.”

He hears the beep, signaling the call is cut off and takes a grounding breath, though his foot taps impatiently as the elevator continues to descend. He scrolls down his contacts, thumb poised to dial as soon as the doors open again.

“Leon,” Hunnigan sounds surprised to receive his call, probably cos he’s in the same building as her and usually swung by the office if he was after something. “To wha-“

“I need a car.” He cuts across her, heading over to where the company vehicles are kept. “Any car - I’m in the garage already.”

“Right. Why?” He feels a smidge of relief when he hears her begin to type.

“Please - just give me anything. I don’t care what, I just need to go.”

There’s the clunk of a lock down the line of vehicles, a black estate vehicle’s lights flashing. “Bay C3. Keys in the sun visor as usual. Tell me later.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Leon drives a little faster than he should, but it still feels like hours until he reaches his destination. There’s a couple of cop cars blocking one of the lanes, red and blues flashing, an officer stood diverting traffic around the closure and another manning the perimeter. He pulls up behind the cars and hops out, scanning for you.

There’s an ambulance parked up in the lane and his heart skips a beat when he sees you sat on the steps, a cop on one side, a paramedic waiting behind in the wings. There’s one of those silver foil emergency blankets draped around your shoulders and you look so goddamn small.

He starts to jog over, intent on getting to your side as soon as possible, when the cop manning the perimeter sidesteps in front of him, holding his hands up to get him to stop.

“Sir, I need you to stay ba-“

Leon flashes his ID in his face – it’s not something he likes to do and so he rarely does it, but he doesn’t have time to put on the charm. “Agent Leon Kennedy. That’s my girlfriend over there – I need to get through.”

The cop steps back and Leon feels weirdly grateful for once for the DSO.

As he gets closer, his eyes narrow at the fact that they’re making you blow into a breathalyzer. He clenches his fist then - you’re bleeding and they’re accusing you of drink-driving?! He wants to give them what for, but then he sees the way you’re shaking and knows him storming into the scene ready to blow is not going to help, especially with how apologetic you’d been on the phone.

He forces himself to stop a moment and breathes deeply again. You’re shook up, but you’re in one piece, conscious and that’s the most important thing.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The officer nods, noting down the reading as Leon walks over, catching the tail-end of the conversation. “Nothing to worry about there. I’ll just go update the control room – it won’t be long.”

“Leon,” you stand abruptly at the sight of him as the cop steps off to the side and the foil blanket slips off your shoulders, gauze taped on multiple parts of your arms. You’re trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come here,” Leon wraps his arms around you, coaxing you into his chest. He wants to squeeze tight, to confirm what he’s seen with his eyes, that you’re real and whole, but he doesn’t want to aggravate any injuries so he’s careful, pressing a kiss to your crown. “Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not, but maybe if you say it to Leon it’ll make it real. There’s a horrible burning sensation in your chest. You want to cry, but not here, not in front of everyone.

“Sorry, ma’am, can I get you to take a seat again?” The paramedic interrupts, emergency blanket back in hand. “I won’t be long, sir. I just need to check a couple more things.”

“No, of course.” He presses another kiss to your forehead and guides you back to the steps, encouraging you to sit and takes the blanket from the paramedic’s hand to drape back over you. “I’ll be right over there, okay? I’m just gonna go have a word with the officer.”

“Okay, yeah.”

He steps aside so the paramedic can move in and waits for the officer to come off the radio, approaching and offering his hand. “Leon Kennedy. I’m her boyfriend.”

“I gathered.” He shakes it. “Officer Jacobs. It was your car she was driving?”

“Mm-hm.” He keeps half an eye on you as he sees the paramedic shine a flashlight in your eyes, getting you to follow his finger. “What happened?”

The cop consults his notepad, flipping through his notes. “A witness stated another SUV-type vehicle went through the red light at some speed. Said it had been driving erratically for a while, so I’m figuring drunk-driver. T-boned, sent your SUV spinning and flipped onto its side after it collided with the lamp-post. The other vehicle stopped for five seconds or so, then gunned it. I’ve got dispatch sending a description out for the highway patrols. Partial registration but it’s gonna have damage, I’m sure, so should be easy to spot if it’s still in transit.”

Leon swallows, taking all the information in.

“How lucky do you think she was?”

“Truthfully,” the cop scratches his day-old stubble, looking between the SUV and you, “I think if she’d been in a different car than that, we’d be having a very different and difficult conversation right now.”

Leon’s fists clench. He’s encountered unspeakable horrors too often in his time, but the idea that some drunken jerk could just get behind the wheel and end your life is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced. His thoughts swirl down a dangerous drain - wonders if Hunnigan can grab the partial registration from the cops, run it through her software and find the culprit, or trawl the CCTV cameras for a screengrab. He’d show up at their door, or maybe wait for them in the parking lot, revving his own engine, scare them the way they’ve traumatized you and-

“Sir?”

The thought extinguishes as he realizes the cop is offering him a slip of paper.

“Case number. We’ve got her details and we’ll be in touch if we hear anything, but just in case either of you want to follow anything up.”

“Got it.” He nods, taking it and popping it into his wallet. “Thanks.”

Leon wants to take you straight home – he’s got a substantial first aid kit there that’ll do the trick on the cuts that need stitching – but, honestly, you need a proper check-up and only the emergency room will do.

You’d required a few stitches from where you’d been caught by the glass from the driver’s window and bruises had started to develop, specially from where the seatbelt had jerked at the impact, but the overall prognosis was positive – you’d be sore for a few weeks, that was for sure, but armed with some painkillers and some rest, you’d be fine.

Leon doesn’t think he’s ever driven quite so carefully the way he drove to and from the emergency room. Not that will help against other assholes on the road, but he’ll be damned if he does anything that means he has to slam on the brakes and give you a fright. You’ve been silent most of the time – silent on the drive, silent in the waiting room, answering the doctor’s questions in a quiet, unsure voice, and then silent again on the drive home. He’d placed a cautious hand on your knee, squeezing it in reassurance, meaning to draw it away but you’d placed your hand on top of it, looping your fingers through his.

He pulls into the parking lot, gives your hand one last squeeze and hops out, dashing around so he can help you out the vehicle. Leon can read you like a book, he knows you’re holding it together until you get inside – you know you are too.

The elevator is mercifully sat on the ground floor when the two of you enter the lobby and Leon keeps you close as you ride up to the 12th floor and the safety of the apartment.

“Can we sit?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” He sits down on the sofa first and you drop yourself down onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s only a second before you burrow your head under his chin and, with a heaving breath, finally let out a proper sob - releasing everything you’ve held in for the last few hours. You feel stupid, annoyed, frightened, sore, relieved – too many emotions to keep track of.

He wraps his arms around you in turn, pressing a long kiss to your temple, tears burning at his own eyes.

In that moment, it hits Leon in the gut that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, what he would have done if you hadn’t come home that night. If he’d have to come back to the apartment and not find your shoes kicked off at the door at the end of the long day, the glass with the lipstick smear on the rim near the sink from the water you’d gulp down greedily whilst making dinner. It’s not like he takes you for granted by any means. He feels lucky every morning when he gets to wake up next to you in bed, and every night when he climbs back in, wrapping his arms around you. He’ll never let the two of you go to sleep or part ways if you’ve had harsh words or a full blown argument as all couples do, not with the risk his line of work brings, the threat that he could be called away in the middle of the night and have to bid goodbye to a turned back.

He rubs his hand gently up and down your back then, tears silently rolling down his face as he takes you all in, relishes your warmth as he cradles you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You hiccup, your sobs eventually ceasing into sniffles, but still you kept your face pressed into his chest, seeking the comfort of his smell – the faint cologne and natural musk that was so uniquely Leon.

“You did nothing wrong, you hear me?” He mumbles into your crown. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Is the car a complete write-off?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He gently lifts your left hand, presses a kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“Love you too.”

The day after the next – he negotiated a personal day to spend doting on you, breakfast in bed, cuddles on the sofa, takeaway for dinner – Leon goes out and buys a ring.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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i-ashhart · 2 years

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Little kids having tantrums, there so small and have such big emotions

#god i wish i could full boby flop onto the concret without brakeing alll my bones #i want to beable to just fucking screm #no i have to pretend to me an adult work talvk to peps #fuck i want to screem and cry and show evryone how much im hurting

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upsidedownwithsteve · 6 months

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1K] set after she drives me crazy, steve and hawkin's first 'date' at the diner after camp ended.

Shady Lakes Breakfast Diner was cast in brilliant sunshine.

Just off of the highway that led back to Hawkins, the brick building sat on a patch of brown-red dirt with a concrete parking lot, a red roof and there was no lake to be seen, shady or otherwise. Steve’s car was a shiny mirror next to yours when you pulled into the space beside it, palms sweating and clutching the steering wheel, your brakes applied a little too harshly and you didn’t need to look out of your window to know the boy more than likely laughed.

You’d barely managed to wrestle out of your seatbelt when he appeared at your door, camp sweater still on even though neither of you would need it for another summer. Steve tugged at the handle and you cringed at the squeak of the hinges as he opened the door for you, a smirk on his face that seemed kinder than it had at the beginning of the season.

You looked at Steve Harrington’s pretty face now and you were reminded of the kisses you’d shared, how his lips felt trailing across your throat, down your chest, in the dip of your hip, the inside of your thigh. His mouth held secrets shared and confessions, words whispered in lakes and in vans and cabins and in the dead of night.

You weren’t sure what this was, not quite yet, or what it would turn out to be, but the flip flop of your heart in your chest told you that you were excited to find out.

Steve held out his hand.

You took it.

——————

The waitress was a forty something redhead that sat you both in a booth near the window, the sticky table lit up bright with sunbeams and she handed you each a menu, smirking with a cherry red mouth when you both jumped knees and let out strangled apologies.

“Well, ain’t you two sweet,” she drawled and then left you unattended for too long.

You wondered if it would be awkward, if the silence would stretch on too long and the spaces between words would be filled with doubt and the realisation that nothing more could come from this.

From the two of you, together, and not arguing. That maybe all those years of tension were only good for one night of fun, the release having been and gone, the pent up frustration no longer there.

But then Steve leaned in a little, elbows on the table and he pointed out a burger to you on your menu, voice low as he murmured that it was really good and his fingers brushed yours. That spark was there, the one that made your insides flip, that buzz on your skin, body electric when your eyes rose to meet his. Steve looked how you felt, a little giddy, with pink cheeks and bright eyes, as if he hadn’t been up at the crack of dawn chasing kids from their bunks and hunting down lost shoes and rucksacks.

His smile was handsome, curling at the corners of his mouth all shy like, his hair messy from bed and how Eddie had woken him with a pillow to the head. Curls of it fell into his eyes and when you couldn’t hide the way your breath hitched and got caught in your throat, he grinned, brighter than the entire summer.

“Shut up,” was all you could manage, a scowl on your face that was barely there from trying to hide your smile and it ached, pinching at your cheeks, the corners of your eyes and it made your heart thud too loud for such a tiny, little booth.

You couldn’t decide on a milkshake, so Steve ordered both strawberry and banana, with cherries on top of their piles of cream and neither of you blinked at sharing a straw. And when he pinched some of your fries, you scoffed and tried to kick at his ankles under the table, but he just trapped your foot between his own and it stayed there for the rest of your lunch, your toes pushed into his calf and Steve’s smile got bigger and bigger until it seemed to fill the whole sky.

It was sweet, that hour, that tiny slice of trapped time. It tasted like strawberry and banana, cherries and salted fries, leftover sunscreen and the last little pieces of camp.

And when he slapped some bills down on the table, he waved away your fight before you could even say a word, grabbing your hand like it was something he’d always done and he pulled you out into the sun streaked parking lot with every intention of kissing you stupid.

He did just that, pressing you up against the trunk of his car with his wide hands on the side of your face. Steve cupped your jaw, kept you pliant for him with the sweetest kisses that he trailed over your mouth, teasing and pulling away with a smile and a nudge of his nose on yours every time you protested. The boy couldn’t do much when you replied in kind, your hands winding into his hair and pulling him down to you, gasping against your mouth with your bodies pressed flush, your spine digging into his stupid BMW badge but you didn’t care.

You couldn’t. It felt impossible.

He kissed you slow, like he had all the time in the world now that you were out of camp, now that there weren't kids lurking around every corner. Steve made a soft noise, a moan and a grunt that was swallowed by you, his hips shifting into yours to press closer still and you were greedy, surging up to the tips of your toes and meeting his tongue with your own.

Someone hollered out of their window, a trucker on the roadside that you didn’t open your eyes to see. A horn sounded, a laugh carried on the wind. Steve just kissed you deeper, pulled you closer. It was too difficult to worry about anything else.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve camp blurb

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justgowithitplease · 5 months

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Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, and Tim Drake HCs!!

Dick Grayson:

When I tell you this man would not leave you alone while drunk....

One glass of whiskey and he's fine

Two glasses? You will be stuck to him for the next hour or so

When in public he always has his Arms around your waist, shoulders, hips,

really anything that qualifies as being able to hug you in public without it seeming too weird

expect random wing-dings (his version of the batarang) stuck in the wall next to the bedroom light switch

He's too lazy to get up from cuddling you so he uses his horrible wonderful ranged weapon skills to shut the lights off

Has definitely tazed himself in the balls at least 10 times

Cannot spell 'indubitably' for the life of him, Too many vowels

Failed history as a child and now has a vendetta against George Washington

Spells the British way on 'accident' (totally not to spite George Washington)

Has definitely snorted an entire pixie stick for a quarter

Y'know that scene in ELF where buddy's in the shower and he's to tall for it? That's him

Has accidentally braked his motorcycle too hard and flipped

Corner of the mouth kisses are a must

Would rather stay in than go out for date night

Why get dressed up in uncomfortable clothes and pay for overpriced food when he could cook some reasonably priced and tasting food and wear sweatpants and a hoodie

Has made it a rule that there will be no children in the house

Made this rule purely against Damian

Also has a rule against pets

Which is why he complained for, like, three days after you got your cat, Bacon (see another fic!!)

About a week after, he had fixed his sleeping position so the cat wouldn't be crushed if it slept between you two

Speaking of which, if that man falls asleep, he will not move

Man sleeps like a stack of bricks on leveled concrete

A bit sensitive about his scars, but has learned to love them

Has an allergy to kiwi

Gets flashbacks frequently, and you're one of the only things that can get him to calm down

This man is more whipped than the cream on top of pumpkin pie

DnD and MtG nerd

made a pure crab deck based on the three-card landfall and got smacked by Damian

No other option

Poor sleep deprived man has drunken soy sauce instead of his coffee while trying to cook for you

Has alligator rolled in his sleep then gotten up, just to trip and hit his head

Hates thick sweaters

This man absolutely refuses to fall asleep if you're not home (not like he's gonna sleep anyways)

Secretly loves telanovelas

Speaks Spanish, Dutch, Russian, and Arabic

Wanted to be an astronaut when he was a kid

has slide-on slippers, cannot handle the ones that go around his heel

The only blankets on his bed are weighted blankets

All the covers are purple or taupe

Has a state information book he reads on road trips

Dresses like Eddy Burback/Ted Nivison or Mr. Rogers in his civilian life

No inbetween

#dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #batfam x reader #jason todd #tim drake headcanon #dick grayson

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

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When you’re communicating on the internet, it can be easy to elide details or simply forget important facts that the other person doesn’t know. Even though we have become fast friends, bonding over our shared love of garbage, I have never told you about my neighbour, Ken.

Ken is what they call an average North American male. He doesn’t really exercise much, his car is financed, and he has a passing interest in professional tennis that he won’t admit to unless tortured. If you knew Ken only casually, this is what you’d leave it at. Maybe you also volunteer at the PTA he serves, perhaps you work with him at his something-or-other accounting job. When you’re his neighbour, you’re something more than just a casual acquaintance. For instance, you have to deal with his hobby.

What is Ken’s hobby? Fucking bees is Ken’s hobby. No, I don’t mean he has intercourse with the stinging insects, although I wouldn’t put it past him. Ever since the city has allowed at-home beekeeping licenses, out of a noble-but-idiotic belief that it will help reverse the inevitable collapse of Earth’s biosphere, he’s spent every free minute out in the yard taking care of his venomous flower-molesting micropets. And as a result, I have bees taking up residence in a lot of my decrepit cars. They’re perfect for those little shits to open up an apiary inside, because they don’t move very often, they’re shielded from the weather, and the hollowed-out headlight housing of a ‘69 Imperial has a lot of Art Deco appeal that impresses the other queens when they come to visit.

In practice, this means that I get stung a lot when I decide to finally resuscitate one of those cars in order to drive to work. Lesser men would just hose the place down with brake cleaner, but I don’t really want to kill these tiny dudettes, and also brake cleaner is expensive. I need to save it for starting fluid. Recently, I discovered an alternative method to get them to leave.

I figured it out when I was at the airport, watching a demonstration of old-timey planes. They used a smaller cart with an engine on it to start up an old plane. Since that engine was basically solid-mounted to the cart, it vibrated like a concrete tamper and shook the floor. Hell, I have lots of spare engines and an old front axle from a Jeep, let’s party.

Friends: it worked great. Not only did the bees flee my yard, but all manner of rodents, stray cats, raccoons, and magpies also headed for the hills. I was finally able to work on a shitbox old Dodge without worrying about my hand getting bitten or stung, and all it cost me was permanent tinnitus. Not like you could have noticed before with all the buzzing.

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reality-detective · 1 month

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Was the Baltimore Bridge attacked? 👇

The Baltimore bridge collapse was an “absolutely brilliant strategic attack” on US critical infrastructure - most likely cyber - & our intel agencies know it. In information warfare terms, they just divided the US along the Mason Dixon line exactly like the Civil War.

Second busiest strategic roadway in the nation for hazardous material now down for 4-5 years - which is how long they say it will take to recover. The bridge was built specifically to move hazardous material - fuel, diesel, propane gas, nitrogen, highly flammable materials, chemicals and oversized cargo that cannot fit in the tunnels - that supply chain now crippled.

Make no mistake: this was an extraordinary attack in terms of planning, timing & execution.

The two critical components on that bridge are the two load-bearing pylons on each end, closest to the shore. They are bigger, thicker and deeper than anything else. These are the anchor points and they knew that hitting either one one of them would be a fatal wound to the integrity of the bridge.

Half a mile of bridge went in the river - likely you will have to build a new one. Also caused so much damage to the structural integrity of the bottom concrete part that you cannot see & won’t know until they take the wreckage apart. Structural destruction is likely absolutely.

Attack perfectly targeted.

“They have figured out how to bring us down. As long as you stay away from the teeth of the US military, you can pick the US apart. We are an arrogant and ignorantly - lethal combination. Obama said they would fundamentally change America and they did. We are in a free-fall ride on a roller coaster right now - no brakes - just picking up speed.”

The footage shows the cargo ship never got in the approach lane in the channel. You have to be in the channel before you get into that turn. Location was precise/deliberate: They chose a bend in the river where you have to slow down and commit yourself - once you are committed in that area there is not enough room to maneuver.

Should have had a harbor pilot to pilot the boat. You are not supposed to traverse any obstacles without the harbor pilot.

They chose a full moon so they would have maximum tidal shift - rise and fall. Brisk flow in that river on a normal day & have had a lot of rain recently so water was already moving along at a good pace.

Hit it with enough kinetic energy to knock the load-bearing pylon out from under the highway - which fatally weakens the span and then 50 percent of the bridge fell into the water.

All these factors when you look at it - this is how you teach people how to do this type of attack and there are so few people left in the system who know this. We have a Junior varsity team on the field.

Tremendous navigational obstruction. Huge logistical nightmare to clean this up. The number of dead is tragic but not the whole measure of the attack.

That kind of bridge is constantly under repair - always at night because there is so much traffic and they cannot obstruct that during the day. So concern is for repair guys who were on foot (out of their vehicles) working who may now be in the water - 48 degrees at most at this time of year.

When you choke off Baltimore you have cut the main north-south hazardous corridor (I-95) in half. Now everyone has to go around the city - or go somewhere else.

To move some of that cargo through the tunnel you may be able to get a permit but those are slow to get and require an escort system that is expensive and has to be done at night.

For every $100 dollars that goes into the city, $12 comes from shipping. Believe this will cripple the city of Baltimore at a time when they do not have the resources to recover.

- Lara Logan

The traffic issue was mentioned in this 👇 post

Maybe we have to dig deeper into this Bridge collapse further. Could it be a deeper issue? What's in those shipping containers? Who owns the ship?

Is it for this 👆

It has been 3 years and 3 days since the Evergreen blocked the Suez Canal. Does the number 33 mean anything?

Was this a "Black Swan Event?"

I'm just asking questions? 🤔

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indieyuugure · 9 months

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You know, I just thought: would turtles be uncomfortable with a weak human body? After all, they lived their whole lives as superhumanly strong mutants with strong skin, regeneration, and armor in the form of a shell. And now their bellies and backs are not protected at all. Will there be their first reaction in the comic to being punched in the stomach and falling on their back? One of those falls that knocks all the air out of your lungs and you can't breathe for a few seconds and you think you're going to die without oxygen.

Lol, they absolutely hate it! Raph hates how fragile he feels, he so used to being virtually indestructible, he doesn’t even know how to fight with such high stakes, and same with all the brothers!

I thought the exact same thing when writing this and that’s what I keep alluding to when I mention The Shredder. You guys seemed to be wondering why in that picture of them frantically concocting the Anti-X for Donnie, that Leo looked like he was about to pass out, well, this is why:

Mikey gets knocked out for a bit with a punch to the gut, Raph gets thrown into the concrete floor, braking a couple ribs and completely knocking the wind out of him, and Leo ends up taking a Shredder slice to the back trying to protect Raph while he’s down.

Splinter of course gives them a stern lecture on the importance of adapting to their knew, more fragile bodies. That is as soon as he makes sure they’re not currently dying.

#tmnt #q&a #the mutation situation #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt 2012

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smrsxx · 9 months

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Legends Are Made | Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader

Summary : 9 months after Ayrton Senna's fatal crash , Y/N Senna Da Silva was born in Rome , Italy and was defined by destiny carrying the same talent as her father's . At the very young age of 2 Y/N developed an interest upon her father's job and then entered the fascinating world of F1 . Growing up and moving from F3 to F2 her dream to bring back her father's legacy seemed to finally come true , when she joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team , becoming the first woman on the F1 grid . What she did not expect was that she would fall in love with an 5 times world time F1 champion , Lewis Hamilton .

TW : Mentions and descriptions of Ayrton Senna's fatal crash from the autopsy , Max is super mean upon the reader ( Red Bull is an absolute shit in this ) , anxiety and panick attacks , a lot of angst(y feeling's ) , tears ( both of sadness and happiness ) , Ayrton visit's the reader ( I was crying when I wrote this ) , but extreme fluff towards the end .

This idea came up to me back in May 1 of this year , and while I was listening to the song above Legends Are Made by Sam Tinnesz , I could not help myself and think of all the things that could have happened if Ayrton had a daughter with the same talent . After 3 months working on this I finally finished it .

Just remember that English is not my first language , so if you spot any mistakes just bare with me . ( It is a tw on it's own ) .

PS : I do not usually pour my entire heart and soul on every imagine that I write , but I actually did in this one - and I am proud of it - I hope you like it . I was literally crying the whole time .

Edit : Still crying .

19k words - i got reallyy away with this one

______________________________________________________________

May , 1 1994 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

Lap 7 . . . the car left the racing line at Tamburello and ran in a straight line off the track and struck an unprotected concrete barrier .

He tried to brake down .

He really did .

The car hit the wall at a shallow angle, tearing off the right front wheel and nose cone with 211 km/h .

" Ayrton Senna crashed after the Tamburello corner and smashed with the barrier . Red Flag . The safety car is on it's way . We may need an ambulance for this . " The presenter said with an anxious tone in his voice .

Ayrton tried moving his head but the pain was insufferable .

After that he lost his vision and everything turned black .

" Ayrton Senna Da Silva , a truly staggering talent is dead at the age of 34 years old , after crashing his W16 on the concrete barrier . We lost without any doubt one of the best or maybe the best F1 racing driver." The same presenter said after a couple of hours after the incident .

Ayrton Senna Da Silva - your father - was dead .

_____

January 8th 1995 , Rome , Italy

It was a sunny but cold day when your mother gave birth to you .

Y/N Senna Da Silva . . . the one and only daughter of the F1 champion Ayrton Senna .

You did not know it yet but you would grow up without your dad .

Although you carried something very special within your heart .

His talent was passed over to you , something that your mother tried desperately to avoid .

At the young age of 2 , after watching for the first time a F1 race , one of your dad's , you could not help but wonder about all these fast cars that were racing in big circles .

You were amazed by the colors and the sounds of the engine's .

Your mother did everything in her power to keep you away from F1 and she thought she had succeeded , until one day when she picked you up from the Kindergarten you were crying and sniffling your nose.

When she asked you what happened the only answer you could give was more tears and the phrase " The other kids say that I don't have a dad , because he left me . "

That phrase still keeps you and your mother awake at night .

After that incident she decided to show you one of your father's races.

You loved it .

Little did she know that you had the same talent as your father and she could not keep you away from it .

After a couple of months , you entered the F1 worlds by going into karting .

_____

By the time you were 15 years old , you were able to perfectly drive a F3 car . Your coach said that it would be too easy for you to move from karting to F3 and then F2 .

" You are just like your father . " Your mother said to you on your first big crash .

You had a few big scratches but nothing that could stop you from raicing .

" What do you mean ? " You asked her back trying to convince your mother on telling you more .

After a few hours of you talking you found out more information about your father's tragic death .

" I saw it live on the TV . He was motionless . He had so many injuries ih his head . There was so much blood . You could see it from afar . Thereafter he did not move again . He called me before the race saying that he had a feeling , that something bad will happen to him."

" How ironic " She thought .

__________

' The resemblance is almost scary . ' You thought while you were looking at your debut photo , that the Mercedes AMG Petronas team had published .

It was 100 % sure that you were your father's daughter .

You had the exact same curls at the end of your hair , big honey color doe eyes , that cute little nose and those same full dark pink lips .

You even had the same stance .

Same fashion style . Heck even some clothes of his where now on your closet .

You were practically the same .

But you were not on the same F1 team .

While your father had the best time in McLaren , you joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team in 2015 .

Being 25 years old you became the youngest amongst everyone , but what made it even worse is that you were the first woman on the F1 grid .

The night before your first public appearance you couldn't sleep .

You were worried and anxious .

Thinking about people's opinions made it even worse that it already was .

Getting up you decided to go to the kitchen at take those sleeping pills your doctor prescribed for you .

And before you knew it you entered the dream space - or so you thought .

" You know that you can not go on like this for long right ? " A man's voice spoke from your left side of the bed .

A voice you have heard before but can not pinpoint exactly where .

" This is not a dream Y/N you can answer me . "

Y/N .

He knows my name .

' I know his voice . ' You thought .

And then it hit you right in the face .

" Dad ? " You asked tears on your face while you where slowly turning to his direction .

He smiled .

He smiled to you .

Your dad smiled to you .

Suddenly you felt someone embracing you - a soft kiss on your forehead .

You hugged him back .

Your dad was here - hugging you and telling you he loves you .

" I am always with you , you are safe . " He told you .

By now you were crying uncontrollably .

" I love you so much Y/N . "

" Do not leave me alone dad . Please . " You begged him through sobs.

" Never Y/N . I love you ." He said to you one last time before you fell asleep .

And he was right .

He never left your side .

You woke up after 8 hours of sleeping , with his cross on your nightstand beside the photo you had of him .

You were safe .

__________

One year had passed since you first saw your father for the first time .

Everything was going great with the team - almost .

You and Lewis Hamilton were practically best friends by now .

' The best duo on the whole grid ' . Everyone said .

Fans going crazy on Twitter shiping both of you .

You had become great friends with Daniel Riccardo and Carlos Sainz.

You had a good relationship with Fernando Alonso and Perez although you did not talk much , but you respected each other .

You and Valtteri Bottas became buddy's through Tiffany and you had the best time pranking Lewis .

Sebastian Vettel was something else entirely .

He respected you and helped you in any way possible . Being the oldest one in the grid helping others with his own ways , made him the father of the grid .

The only one who did not speak to you was Verstappen .

Max Verstappen .

He looked at you with such hate .

Did not talk at you .

Even when you had to sit net to him in interviews he always switched seats with somebody else .

Atleast you were thankful that nothing ever happened .

__________

Two years had passed by .

The best two years of your life .

Your relationship with Lewis was stronger than before .

At least that's what you thought from your part .

You liked him .

Actually you liked him even more than a friend .

God you even loved him at this point .

But you desided to keep it to yourself , not wanting to mess up your frienship or even worse jeopardize your partnership .

Valtteri joined Mercedes and for once you though that they would ask you to transfer , but Toto Wolff would never do it . Especially after watching you getting close to Susie an having the best time babysitting their kids .

In the Brazilian GP of 2017 you finished first place earning the respect of Kimi Raikkonen and becoming close buddy's .

You were always sending food posts and memes in each other and you even died from laughter when you first watched Jackass while babysitting his kids .

Everything was going great until the Abu Dhabi GP .

Valtteri finished first , Lewis second , Sebastian third , Kimi fourth , you fifth and in the sixth place Max .

You had overtake him in last possible minute earning your place in your father's hometown - something that Max did not like at all and decided to make it show in the press conference later .

__________

" My name is Joseph from the F1 Magazine and my question is for Miss Y/N Senna . Y/N you were so good today and I am a 100 % that next year you will win the Championship . I can not help but wonder though and it is something that a lot of people are asking - today you came in the grid with some of your father's clothes . Is there a particular reason ? " He asked you .

" I actually do it all the time since some of his clothes fit me and I believe that he had the best style back then and since now Lewis has stolen that place I need to bring it back . " You answered smiling and making a little joke about Lewis that alot of people loved .

Especially him .

" That is great . My next question is for everyone and it is about what cars do you drive . Can we start with Mr . Vettel . " The interviewer asked with a smile .

" Well I have a Golf . " Carlos said and everybody laughed .

" And you Max ? " The guy asked him .

" I drive a Ferrari , not like someone else that drives a Golf or an almost 30 year old car . " Max said hating on Carlos and you .

You drove your father's famous red Honda NSX and actually own a really big percentage of the Honda NSX cars and you were extremely proud about it .

" Okay . See you on Twitter . " Carlos said know full well that Max is going to get so many new haters .

Sebastian was not proud , Kimi was laughing at Max's stupidity , Daniel was embarrassed and Lewis was furious .

" Y/N what do you have to say about this ? " The guy named Joseph asked you .

" First of all I agree with Carlos and second I am proud of driving such a car . Actually you can ask Mr. Mibe the CEO of Honda and he can assure you that my 30 year old Honda's are far more better that just a plain Ferrari . Thank you . " You answered making everyone in the room speechless .

" Well I totally agree . " Sebastian said laughing .

" She owns the division of the Honda Acura , she can buy all the Ferrari's he owns and plenty more . " Kimi said making everyone speechless again .

Carlos was right , because Twitter was going wild after the press conference was published .

__________

To say that you were mentally drained was a statement .

You were currently crying your eyes out .

Lewis and his dog Roscoe were on your side .

" I just wished the season didn't end like this . " You said while Lewis was hugging you .

" It's okay silly , everyone is on your side . Look even Kimi talked after a really long time . " Lewis said and you both laughed .

Suddenly you were both looking at each other in the eyes and before you noticed it Lewis had capped your face in his palms and pressed his lips at you .

You were so shocked that you did not realize that you had not kissed him back .

Your unresponsiveness made him believe that he was getting wrong .

'' I am so sorry Y/N I kno that you did- " Lewis said but you interupted him .

" Why did you stop ? " You asked him making him froze in his tracks .

It is safe to say that he kissed you back again something that went on about hours and hours on end until Roscoe got jealous of it and started to bark in your faces .

You stayed in Lewis hands for a while , until a scared Toto stormed inside the room .

" Next GP ? Imola , San Marino circuit . " He announced for both of you to hear , but was looking directly at you .

Imola , San Marino - where your father had lost his life .

__________

May , 1 2018 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

"Today's atmosphere is heavy . We are in San Marino , Imola circuit where Ayrton Senna lost his life . Now we are waiting for the race to start as we have Y/N Senna Da Silva driving for the Mercedes AMG Petronas team . Toto Wolff specifically asked for the press to not be outside of the Mercedes pit . Y/N is already anxious and worried enough . We hope and pray for the best . In my opinion she is the best driver of this generation . " The same presenter that witnessed your father's death , spoke about you .

' 5 minutes till the race start's ' . You said to yourself .

You were inside your car , wearing your father's famous yellow helmet, his cross on your neck inside of your clothes .

Lewis had begged you not to do it .

Daniel and Carlos were totally afraid .

Kimi had retired .

Sebastian knew that it was dangerous but you wouldn't badge .

Your boyfriend - Lewis - was looking at you , pleading you with his eyes from his car to not do it .

Valtteri did not intervene .

You started from P4 , Sebastian in P3 , Valtteri in P2 and Lewis in P1 .

And the race started .

__________

You don't know how many laps you had done , you weren't counting them .

Everytime you approached the Tamburello racing line until you pass it , your heart was dropping on your stomach , you had trouble breathing .

You were thinking of him .

You thinking about your father .

Your mind was your enemy at this point telling you to 'look at the corner' .

You heart your companion was telling you 'do not look at the corner' .

'What if I lose control of the car and smash into the barier ? '

' What if I die ? '

' Mom is going to be devastated . '

'Lewis . . . oh my Lewis . . . '

' What if ? '

But despite your heart telling you to not look at the corner near the racin line in Tamburello , you did it and what you saw made everything stop .

__________

It is like you were watching the scene unfold it's self from afar .

You were back in 1994 .

Your car was on the other side of the road parked - you standing at the side of it .

Suddenly your father's car ran off the track and was struck an unprotected concrete barrier at 211km/h .

You could hear everything .

You could see everything .

You could smell everything .

Blood -

Your father's blood -

Tears streamed on your face like falls , your hands trembling while you were running to your father to save him .

But Death was far more powerful .

Before you could go and grab him , a hand engulfed your right wrist .

Your dad was standing besides you - his unconscious body still inside the car .

You started panicking , blindness covering your eyes - head dizzy .

" Y/N breath for me come on honey listen to me . " Your dad instructed you .

Trying to concentrate on your father's voice , you did not see his body getting lift out ofthe car , bones broken , blood everywhere .

After a while your father took you back to the side of your car , watching himself being lifted into a helicopter .

" What was the last thing you felt ? " You asked him .

" The taste of blood in my mouth and pain . " He answered calmly .

" I love you dad . " You said to him and hugged him again searching for his embrace .

You cried again .

" I love you too . Stop unsettling your mind with uneasy thoughts and go finish that race . Okay champion ? " Your father said to you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead .

Suddenly you were inside you car racing at 211km/h passing the Tamburello racing line - with your father's voice saying that he loves you watching him with tears in your eyes waiving at you from the corner .

__________

" AND Y/N SENNA DA SILVA IS THE WINNER OF THE IMOLA GRAND PRIX AND THE F1 WORLD CHAMPION OF 2018 " . The presenter scream in his microphone when your car overtook Sebastian's and finished in 1st place .

Your team was screaming , but all you could see and hear was your father saying ' I love you ' and ' I am so proud of you ' .

Only when Lewis hand landed on your shoulder you looked up - at him with tears in your red eyed from crying .

He helped you to get out of your car , took of your helmet and your balaclava , staring at you .

He grabbed your face - " What happened love ? " He asked you .

" I saw everything Lewis . I saw my dad . "

__________

You were currently standing with the Brazilisn flag on your shoulders , trophy on your hands , closed eys and head looking up , while everyone - even the fans - were all silent .

After you rised for your national anthem you asked for a minute of silence for your father .

The wind was blowing - and when something made you shiver but feel safe at the same time - you knew that your father was sitting besides you .

After one minute tears of happiness fell from your eyes .

__________

2023

You are now 28 years old , married with Lewis from 2019 with one beautiful baby boy .

You were still racing .

But today was a special day .

It was your son's birtand he was turning 3 years old .

You've desided with Lewis to go and wake him up , since you've prepared his favourite breakfast and after you would let him open his gifts .

" Goodmorning Ayrton Happy Birthday honey " You both said to your son to wake him up .

Mom's and Dad's and Thank you's could be heard all over the apartment as your son was driving his toy car around the house while holding a cookie .

Chocolate was plastered all over his face .

You were both happy smiling at him .

And then suddenly you heard your son screaming in the leaving room-

" I woak up in a new Ferrari . "

" I swear I am going to kill Carlos and Charles the moment I see them." Lewis said to you while you were uncontrollably laughing .

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

@unimportantbabymilksharkte

@k----a27s

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you

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chuuyascumsock · 7 months

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I’m not horny… BUT— (NSFW Chuuya content below)

Imagine being long time friends with Mechanic! Chuuya who takes as long as possible to fix your car because he knows you like checking him out as he works and seeing his muscles flex through his muscle tank top. Not to mention the fact that you enjoy ogling him when he’s covered in grease and oil as well so you can get as teasingly close as you do to wipe it off his face with a rag.

You feel bad that he takes as long as he does and doesn’t make you pay because of how long you’ve know each other. What’s the harm in offering something other than money?

He’s lying on a mechanic dolly as he checks your brake line. You watch him from across the room, the only thing visible being his baggy, oil stained pants. There’s barely any words being exchanged anymore as you’re more focused on working the courage to make a move before you make your way over to straddle your feet on either sides of his legs.

Chuuya is confused by the sudden silence and slides out from under your car, “Everything oka—“ His breath hitches when he gets a view up your skirt and a sleazy grin from you.

Which leads to him bending you over his work table, pushing your panties aside, and fucking his cock into you so hard that the table’s legs screech against the concrete floor.

The smell of gas, oil, and sex permeate through his garage— skin slapping against skin with your cute mewls and moans echoing off the walls as he watches himself pull away from your tight cunt just to bury himself to the hilt roughly. Your pussy squelches with each thrust, walls clenching around his throbbing cock as his hands grip at the skin of your waist and dirty your skin with car oil and grease.

And it turns him on to no end to watch you cream around his fat cock as he shoots his load deep into your pretty cunt before pulling away slowly to watch his cum drool out of your sweet pussy.

It doesn’t take him long to get hard again either, his length bullying back into your heat— you think coming in you once was enough payment for him?

(I have no idea what came over me or w h y my brain came up with Mechanic Chuuya— but I just wanna see this man GREASED UP— I WANNA SEE HIM GRIMEY— DOWNRIGHT NASTY BRO. AND A MUSCLE TEE?? Creaming my jorts.)

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya smut #bsd smut #mechanic chuuya scenario cause DAMN I WANNA SEE HIM GREASED UP #chuuya thoughts

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nataliasquote · 3 months

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Double the trouble | a day out | n romanoff

Part of the ‘Double the trouble AU’

Summary: a day trip with 2 3-year-olds is a lot to handle…

Warnings: none

Pairings: WandaNat

wc: 2.9k

note: this was a request from anon (my first request!) so I hope I did it justice

- ⧗ -

Isla was always the loudest twin. She had all her firsts before her sister; word, steps, you name it, she beat Y/n to it. Which often left the younger girl feeling behind and unworthy, born to only follow in the shadows of her twin sister.

Natasha and Wanda tried their hardest to treat their girls equally, but with Y/n’s reluctance to try anything new and Isla’s strong temperament, they had a difficult situation on their hands.

Being three years old meant days were filled with trips to the park and fun days out for the whole family. Isla had been begging to go to the zoo, the colourful picture books she begged Wanda to read every night cementing her love for animals. Y/n nodded when asked if she wanted to go too. But what was she supposed to say? She did everything Isla did.

But the zoo wasn’t her thing. Whilst her older sister toddled around and pointed animatedly at all the different animals, Y/n stayed beside the stroller, her tiny hands fiddling with the fabric seat as she stared at the concrete pavement. Natasha tried her hardest to involve her, often picking her up so she could see over the fences and pointing to the monkeys who were chasing each other around the enclosure. But the little girl was having none of it, her fist wrapped around the strap of her mama’s tank top.

“What’s the matter maylshka?” Natasha asked, holding Y/n tight to her body as she lead them both over to a nearby bench. “I thought you loved the zoo?”

The small girl shook her head, flaming hair falling loose from its braids. “Isla like zoo. Not me.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed as she looked at her daughter. “But you said you wanted to go?”

Y/n gave her mother a glare. A very familiar one at that. “No. Isla said go. Not me.”

Natasha shifted so her daughter was now sat on her knee. She gently moved a stray piece of hair from her forehead and kissed it gently, rubbing the soft cotton of her t-shirt. “I’m sorry malyshka. I thought you wanted to go too.”

“It’s ok Mama,” Y/n said, placing her cool palms on her mother’s warm cheeks. Natasha smiled softly at the gesture and booped her on the nose, making the young girl giggle. “Can we get ice cream?”

Natasha pretended to think for a moment. “Ice cream? Hmmm, I don’t know.”

“I think yes!”

“Do you? And does Y/n make the rules now?”

The young girl nodded happily, her whole body moving with the force. “Ice cream!”

“Ok, big girl. Let’s get ice cream.” Natasha stood up from her seat and began to set Y/n down on the ground, but the three year old clung to her front like the monkeys behind her, tiny heels digging into Natasha’s waist. There were many things Nat loved about her youngest, but Y/n’s clingy nature was by far her favourite. It made her feel wanted, important.

With a stroller handle in one hand and a child balanced carefully in the other, Nat set off towards the jungle themed cafe she’d spotted on the map by the gate. Wanda had taken Isla off to god knows where, the young girl unable to sit still with so much happening around her.

The cafe itself was rather busy so Natasha expertly manoeuvred the stroller into a corner booth table and kicked the brake down so it wouldn’t roll into anyone’s way. She sank down onto the cushioned blue seat and allowed Y/n to straddle her lap, soft red hair tickling her nostrils as the young girl lay against her mother’s chest.

Natasha quickly scanned her surroundings before pulling out her phone and punching a quick update text to Wanda, who replied back with a video of Isla at the penguin enclosure.

“Look Y/n,” she turned her phone so the young girl could see but Y/n didn’t pay much attention. She watched for two seconds before her head went straight back to Natasha’s collarbone, finding more comfort there than anywhere else. “You’re really not bothered by the zoo, huh?”

Y/n shook her head lazily, her thumb coming up to brush against her lips, a telltale sign for Natasha who was well trained in motherhood.

“I think someone’s tired?” Another sleepy nod. “You wanna go for a nap, detka?” Talking was clearly too much for Y/n, who only replied with yet another nod. Natasha took her response and pulled the stroller close. However, she was met with some resistance as she tried to transfer a now squirmy three year old into her seat. “What’s wrong?”

“-na stay with you,” Y/n mumbled around her thumb before Nat gently prised it out of her mouth. Y/n’s big green eyes blinked up at her tiredly and Natasha couldn’t help but coo at the sight. Her girls were the most adorable things in her life and when they were tired they were so precious.

Nat moved her body back into the corner of the booth and allowed Y/n to swivel around so she was flat against her chest, cheek resting comfortably on the softness of Natasha’s chest. They may not be fed like that anymore, but the twins still found great comfort from their mamas’ chests.

It didn’t take long for Y/n’s breaths to even out and Natasha couldn’t help but take a quick selfie with her daughter, the moment too precious to capture. She stared at her screen with a blissful expression before posting it to her close friends’ instagram story. Only family and the occasional friend was allowed on there, and Yelena of course was the first to send a reply.

@ yelenabelova7

you better be bringing those munchkins to me soon. I want baby Y/n hugs too

Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed as she replied, flawlessly typing even with one hand.

@ natromanoff

i’m impressed you got the twin right. and i’m not putting them on a plane so you’ll have to come here. I know isla would love that.

@ yelenabelova7

I can’t believe you doubt me Natasha. I know my Y/n when I see her. Besides, she’s always clinging to you. You got the quiet one. Wanda has her hands full with the other monkey

@ natromanoff

They’re both our children, Lena. Wands is just happy to be dragged around a zoo. I’d rather sit

@ yelenabelova7

HA! You’re getting old sestra. You’re a mother, not a grandma. Not yet anyway.

Yelena’s comment made Natasha roll her eyes and place her phone down on the table. She cradled Y/n’s head to her chest and rocked her gently back and forth. A smile broke out across her face as she spotted her wife push through the large glass doors, Isla tugging on her arm impatiently.

Natasha held a finger up to her lips as her favourite girls approached, trying not to disturb her youngest. But her efforts were in vain as Y/n recognised the approaching voices and lifted her head to peer around. Wanda bent down and kissed her head softly, brushing her hair back as she pulled away.

“Hello sleepy head,” she cooed, taking a seat on the opposite bench and pulling Isla onto her lap. “Did the ice cream make you sleepy?”

“We didn’t even get that far, did we?” Natasha laughed, watching as Y/n’s head perked up at the mention of the sweet dessert.

“Can we get it now?”

Wanda looked down at Isla. “You wanna get some with me and we can bring it back for Y/n and Mama?”

“Sure!”

“Me go too!” Y/n squirmed off Natasha’s lap and ran over to Wanda, taking the hand on her other side. “Mama stay?” She asked, looking back at Natasha.

The redhead nodded. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Wanda led the twins away like a mother duck and her ducklings, holding their hands tight until they reached the large glass cabinet. The young woman behind the counter smiled at the precious sight in front of her as the twins stretched up on their toes to peer in.

“Pink!” Y/n exclaimed, pointing to the candy floss ice cream that sounded disgusting in Wanda’s eyes. “Can I get pink?”

“Mommy I want chocolate!”

“What do we say when we want something?” Wanda asked, putting on her best ‘mom’ voice.

“Pleeeeeese?” The girls chorused, tiny toothy smiles dazzling up at their mommy. The worker chuckled and caught Y/n’s eye so she smiled widely at her too.

“That’s better. And yes, you can get whatever you would like. But you have to ask the nice lady politely.”

Isla being Isla spoke up first, puffing out her chest as she took a deep breath. “Please can I have chocolate please?” She pointed into the cabinet, just in case the server wasn’t sure which one was chocolate.

“Of course you can sweetheart. Is that in a cone or a cup?” Isla looked at her blankly and turned to Wanda, a clear cry for help.

“The smallest cone you do please. And just one scoop.” The girl nodded and began preparing her order. “They don’t need too much sugar.”

Once Isla’s order was complete the server turned to Y/n who was staring intently at all the colourful flavours. “Which one would you like sweetheart?”

“Pink?”

“Strawberry?” Y/n looked up at Wanda, tugging her sleeve for help. The mother shook her head and watched to see which one her daughter pointed too. Granted, Y/n could barely point in the right direction but her intention was enough to go off.

“I think she means the candyfloss. The one with the glitter on it.”

Y/n’s was scooped into a similar cone to Isla and then placed on the stand. Wanda quickly sorted herself and Natasha out; two scoops of honeycomb crunch in a cup for herself, and a double scoop of caramel coffee for Nat. Wanda always teased her wife for crunching on the coffee beans that topped her scoop. Natasha sure was a strange one when it came to her flavour preferences.

Ice creams clutched tightly in hands, Wanda ushered her little ducklings back to the safety of the booth where Natasha was waiting, a large grin plastered onto her face that mirrored that of her ice cream laden babies.

Sweet treats were consumed from the safety of the jungle themed cafe and Isla and Y/n swung their feet happily as they nibbled on their cones. Sticky hands and faces were just inevitable and Wanda was soon ready to attack both with baby wipes the second they were done.

“Did you two see everything you wanted to?” Natasha asked, scrolling through the pictures on Wanda’s phone of Isla at various exhibits.

“I saw lions!” Isla bared her teeth and roared, shaking her head like she’d seen the majestic creature do hours earlier. “And the ‘raffes!”

“Giraffes?”

“Yeah!”

Y/n tugged on Natasha’s sleeve and pointed to part of the mural covering the wall to her right. “They have those here?”

The colourful sea creatures were definitely oversaturated; pink sharks didn’t sit comfortably with Natasha. But she followed Y/n finger to a sparkly blue turtle and smiled, noticing how Isla and Wanda also did the same.

“I saw a sign for an aquarium around the corner,” Wanda said. “There could be turtles in there.”

“We go!”

“Now hold on a minute-“ Wanda started, but telling two sugared-up three years olds on a mission to slow down was a fruitless effort. Natasha grabbed both of their tiny wrists and gently tugged them back to the table, earning little angry glares from both girls.

“What did we say about running off?”

“But-“

“Not buts, Y/n. What did we say?”

“Don’t run off,” they said in unison, the floor now much more interesting than Natasha who wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok munchkin, just wait 2 minutes and we’ll be ready.”

Wanda and Natasha packed up quickly and headed towards the aquarium side of the zoo, eyes glued to the two little girls in front of them whose hands were tightly clasped together. They may have their favourite parent and stay glued to their side, but Y/n and Isla’s bond truly was unbreakable. Starkly different, yet inseparable.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #fanfic #double the trouble au

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notbecauseofvictories · 13 days

Note

If gazebo deaths are so widespread, why does anyone ever perform at one? Are they forced? Does the siren song of the gazebo lure them closer until standing under it's awning seems like a good idea? Do they simply not know of the danger, the whole gazebo-eating-peoole thing only known to a few select people? Many questions

I mean.......how do you know that the elevator you step onto won't plummet to earth? How do you know that the salad you order at a restaurant won't give you salmonella? That your car's brakes will go on working, even when you're about to crash into the highway's concrete divider?

How do you know that any part of the world you move through won't kill you?

And then, more troubling---if the people who are tasked with reviewing elevator safety, food safety, car safety, chose to occasionally (occasionally! not all the time, of course not, they're reasonable) look the other way, and let someone hurtle towards their doom....would it be so bad? With that one terrible sacrifice, the inspector ensures that the elevator never breaks, the salad is never rotted, the car will work every. single. time. Or at least, every other time but the first.

This becomes even less clear-cut when the elevator has preferences, when the salad revolts against being eaten with a fork, when the car contents itself with gas every day except the one where it wants blood. Gallons of it.

It's an important precept to remember, in the keeper community. Not every offering laid across a gazebo's wooden planks or iron latticework is accepted. Sometimes, a jazz quartet performs---and despite the keeper waiting with baited breath for the moment of reckoning, the quartet ends their set, packs up their instruments, and leaves. Sometimes, the keeper will find small animals strewn around instead, hallmarks of a gazebo perfectly uninterested in its human audience. (It's uncommon, certainly, but see Leeman et al. 2018 for a longitudinal study on USian gazebo feeding habits.) Not every gazebo wants to swallow a dance troupe whole; some of them prefer stalking prey like loiterers and the homeless, while others will opt for a marching band over a Shakespeare in the Park, for reasons unknown.

Per American Association of Canopy Keepers guidance, unaware victims seem to satiate gazebos for an average period of 2.4 years, compared with knowing victims' 1.87 years; therefore, best practices recommend ignorance. Fortunately for them, at the end of the day, "will this kill me?" is a numbers game, and to borrow a phrase---

Boy, are we bad at math.

#this is very very satisfying.#''what if you could shove all of your feelings about capitalism and families and public programming into one shape?''#this is that. anyway we're going to call it #dark pavillionism #because it's fun and I need something to tag all this nonsense with

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wonderfulwonderrful · 5 months

Text

Season of Love (4/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you told Toto, "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That was the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong. Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader team principal. Genre: Romance, comedy, and some good drama. Author's note: Thank you for all the love!

Dances with Wolff Arc Chapter 4: No brakes, just love!

Austria

When you arrive at the pitlane in Spielberg, you notice a couple of heads turning towards you on your way to the W garage after your long absence.

Toto's eyes look intensely at you as you cross past the Mercedes' garage. Yes, he looks mad. Oh boy, that's one conversation you want to avoid having so bad.

—Did all go well? —Michael asks you as he greets you with a hug once you get in there; he is standing next to Millie's car, and his wording takes you slightly by surprise; you look at him, somewhat alarmed, as a different idea crosses your mind. —Your business trips, I mean —he clarifies as he notices your confused face.

—Oh, that, yes, the business trips, yeah, all good. Thank you! —you change topics as fast as possible, not wishing to lie to Michael. —Have I missed much?

—Well, it got interesting to say so.

—What?

He turns you around and nods towards a hurt-looking Charles Leclerc supervising his Ferrari car, crunched and pointing something while talking to a mechanic.

Charles has his hands covered in bandages, and his face is all bruised. What on earth! You lock eyes with him, and he looks surprised to see you there, then frowns at you slightly. You point your index finger to the left, and he gets your "See you in that narrow corridor where no one will see us."

—WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!? —You rush to take a good look at him when he catches your step, honestly concerned.

—That's what I asked myself! By "See you soon," you meant in four weeks! Good thing you didn't say, "See you in a while"!

—I'm sorry.

—Yeah, you better be! I texted you god knows how many times!

—I know, I'm sorry.

—Yeah, I'm really pissed at you, Y/N!

You look down at the floor, fucking sad. Charles notices it.

—But I'm even more glad and grateful to have you back —Charles pulls you into a tight hug, avoiding pressuring his bandaged hands against your body. —You had me worried.

You take a good peek at those.

—Second-degree burns on each. Something wrong went with my car; they are still investigating it. I lost brakes and control of her; thank god there wasn't a concrete wall or metal barrier and fence nearby, just rows of bumpers and forest beyond; a part at the front of the car caught fire due to the extreme friction, and that burned me.

You look at him, very pale, with your eyes widened.

—I know, I get what could have happened, but it didn't —Charles looks away with watery eyes. —So, let's move on. I'm not stopping racing.

You wipe a tear coming down your face.

—Oh no, no, I'm fine. It will take a minute, but I will be ready for the Dutch GP.

—Like a turkey put in an oven.

—I'll be fully cooked by then!

You both laugh; you missed your silly times with Charles so much. You picture him in a puffy turkey costume, struggling to get inside his car, not fitting.

—I'm glad you are alright; well, you know what I mean. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you when you needed it.

—It's okay, you are now.

Hi, honey! Yeah, no... Hi! Toto!? No! Once more... Hello Tots! Better! Remember that time when we fucked the shit out of each other, and then I disappeared for weeks? I'm back now! How is it going, my love? Yeah, like any of that is going to work.

You wait for the rest of the Mercedes team to leave their garage to slowly approach him, taking your time with each step, fighting your urge to run away.

—A text would have been nice —He tells you as soon as he feels you near, his eyes reading a graph slide on his iPad. Okay, that's a really icy tone.

—I'm sorry. I...

—Uhmju. So... —he closes the tablet's case, gets on his feet, fully upright, his height towering over you, and leans against the control center table, looking straight at you. —Business trips, huh? —he crosses his muscular arms. —Where have you really been? —Even if you are that nervous, you can't avoid peeking at his attractive flexed biceps.

—In Belgium. I had a personal emergency.

—What happened? —he swifts his tone to slightly concerned.

—I can't tell you.

He frowned at your answer, which was not good enough for him.—I see. It's not like it matters that you vanished for a month without a trace or warning and that didn't answer any of my worried calls or my sleepless late-night texts —Toto says.

—Toto, I-

—It's not like you have to explain a thing to me. It's not like I worried anyway —Toto interrupts you with a lot of sarcasm, moving to place his things inside his briefcase. —Well, I do really have a business trip to go. Excuse me —he passes you by, inches away, dodging your body.

He leaves you standing there, alone in the now empty Mercedes' garage. —I'm happy to see you —you say softly to yourself as you watch him walk further away in the distance, feeling you are about to cry.

How can his voice go from soft and sweet to sexy and guttural to authoritarian and commanding to this condescending and cold one? It needs to be studied.

The following day, Toto is nowhere to be seen. Sam notices you glancing around the paddock, looking for him near the Merc area. You don't feel like losing him, and you are there to try again to offer him an apology.

—He is in Germany. He will be here later —she tells you as she reaches you after exiting the Mercedes hospitality. —Hi! We didn't have a chance to talk yesterday; it's been crazy days for this team! How did it go?

—He is so mad at me anyways —you let out very sad. Sam can't avoid feeling sorry for you, which you notice and hate.

—He has been under much pressure lately; we are still in P3 at Constructors and Drivers, and we got disqualified in Canada to add more to his stress.

—What?!

—Tecnicallities and human errors, which had him fuming. Plus, all the drama in his personal life with you missing.

—And the Sussie drama, too, probably.

—Sussie's drama?! —she looks at you perplexed, like a second head had grown from your neck.

—I had dinner at Lewis before Matthew's call. He mentioned at the table that she was staying with him at his place in Monaco; he made it sound like they were still in a relationship but on rocky times.

—Toto is not that type —Sam reassures a slightly insecure-looking you. —I would ask him about it, but he no longer confides in me. By the way, now Toto knows when I lie —that's why Samanta hates letting his walls down; it makes her more vulnerable to others. —You don't know how many times he asked me things; I denied knowing what was going on with you or where you were every time, but not once he believed me. It got worse when he noticed a nervous Niki looking straight at me whenever he came to inquire. So it will be best if you let me out of the loop, but only a bit, eh?

You look stunned at her; wow, Toto did really know Sam; reading her was so difficult. Then you move to answer her previous question, informing her: —The plan is still on track, with no significant alterations. We ran a couple of scenarios with the tactics department, and it all went well; even Pascal joined us to give his input. It felt weird to be back at the manor, like somehow I didn't belong there anymore; I missed my new life and you guys so fucking much!

—Pascal went to the manor?! —Sam's eyebrows go up in the air, stunned.

—No, no, he joined us in a secure call line. You know Matt doesn't allow him there; plus, he is still under house arrest in Hungary.

—Oh yeah, I forgot about that; it's been a while —Sam scratches her head. —Are you nervous?

—Yes.

—I will be there by your side —she squeezes your hand.

—Oh no, I don't want you even near all that.

—And everyone missed you too! The group was worried!

It hits you differently now, by how things turned out.

But you can't avoid thinking that you are in Toto's homeland, which makes your mind wander to the dangerous thoughts you have been avoiding all day.

All those what-ifs?

What if you hadn't left?

What if Toto wasn't mad at you?

What if he had taken you to a romantic dinner in Vienna?

What if he had shown you his favorite places from growing up?

You also can't escape the thought of Toto's family.

What if they showed up?

What if you had met them?

What if you got introduced to them?

Of course, none of this will happen because you two aren't a thing yet. You killed your chances, and now you two are just friends who slept with each other and desire one another, but just that.

Oh god, you pray you two aren't really just that.

You screwed things with Toto so fast, don't you? It happened sooner than you expected to.

It's late. Toto arrives at his remote office straight from the jet in the late afternoon and stays working till dark. He has several papers to read and sign and essential things to approve; he needs quietness and no one bothering or interrupting, which is impossible during work hours. He sees you walk past behind the tinted windows of his headquarters. It is unusual for you to be around at these hours.

The lane is empty, and your heels sound louder than they should. All building facades remain lit, and only a couple of rooms inside them have the lights on for those late stayers, making the paddock feel less lonely than it should as you rush to your car on your way out. It was a tough day and an awful one.

Toto grabs his things and tries to reach you; he is angry and stressed, but it is not all your fault. He closes the door loudly, on purpose. You turn around at the sound, jumping a bit. He is about to crack a joke to ease things and come closer waving a peace flag but notices your red eyes from crying. His expression changes to one of honest concern.

—Shit —you let out softly, under your breath. He is the last person you want to meet in this state.

He comes close and stares at you for a good second. You don't say a word, and he tightly wraps you in his arms. He is warm and smells so good. You bury your head in his chest and meld in his embrace. He rests his chin on the top of your head; the height difference makes it comfortable for him.

—Feel like talking about it? —Toto says sweetly.

—No.

—Okay, it's all good. You don't have to. Can I hold you till you feel better?

—Yes, please —you softly sob; you feel like a little girl in his arms. He makes you feel like that all the time. You are only a couple of years younger than him. But he is such a grown-up in your eyes. And you are a fragile, weak thing on the constant verge of breakdown.

You cry in his arms, and he wipes and kisses your tears away. You melt inside. This man is too much.

He carries you in his arms inside the modern Mercedes building to the unlit, empty lobby; you two cuddle on the floor, Toto's back against the hallway wall, on top of the silver arrows logo carpet, and you lay on his chest, your legs crossing his.

Toto apologizes: —I shouldn't have said those things like that, but I was sore.

—I understand where it comes from. It's okay, I get it. I missed you so much —you let Toto know; he leans his forehead on yours, noses touching too.

And you kiss. You feel Toto's warm and soothing lips on yours, and you two start to tenderly and sweetly make out; it's warm, wet, and intimate, and when you are to caress his neck with your hand, almost out of breath but not able to stop, he suddenly breaks it off, taking you by surprise.

—We should leave; we don't want fines on our way for overstaying. Stay with me tonight.

You nod, agreeing.

It's an exquisite bathroom the one in his hotel suite, with white walls decorated with the French boiserie technique and polished marble white floors with ornamental gold flowers hand-painted on the large tiles. Tall windows let the light enter behind the light curtains. A large frame mirror with gold edges sits against the wall and over the floor.

You two share the white bathtub, a 19th-century piece with gold leaf borders; you are happily placed on top of him inside it in the warm water, rubbing the expensive bamboo mesh loofah on his naked chest while he lets you know every detail about his trip to Germany and the crazy weeks he had while placing small kisses on your shoulders, neck, and mouth every once in a while.

After that relaxing and repairing scented bath, you make it to the bed, and since all your things are in your hotel room, you steal one of his t-shirts as pajamas, both knowing quite well it's too tempting that you sleep butt naked on top his mattress, you both have to wake up early the following morning, and it's been a hectic day. Still, you decide not to wear underwear beneath it.

You make yourself comfortable on his bare firm chest, tracing small circles with your fingers on his pecks; Toto is only wearing tight navy blue and light fabric boxers, which make his bulge look so fine down there; you feel him pat your ass skin softly; and placing his large hand there before falling asleep.

If none of you were this tired and this emotionally drained right now, you would be about to reach an orgasm at this point.

You wake up early and share the room-service breakfast you ordered; you give Toto some of your fruit to his mouth, and he shares with you his salmon bagel; emotions always open the appetite before leaving the room with enough time to arrive at the circuit, you need to make a stop at your hotel before heading to the track.

When the SUV arrives at the drop-off entrance in front of the hotel's baroque facade, Toto pulls you into a kiss in the backseat, leaving you gasping for more before you exit the car.

—We still have free time, so —you whisper against his lips.

He smiles at you. Toto drags you to the elevators faster than an F1 car.

You both enter your hotel suite and go straight to the bed, clothes getting out in the way on your path.

He spreads you on your knees, on all fours, on top of the mattress, at the border of the bed, while he fucks you doggy style while on his feet. You bounce against his hard cock, skin slapping, moans coming out from both sides when the tip of his dick hits the spot inside you. Every time, more desperate strokes. He slaps you on the ass. His open palm hits your right ass cheek, leaving a mark.

Then he grabs you firmly by the hips, adding pressure, and starts to give it to you harder and faster. You can't stop moaning from the pleasure. You are being so loud, but you don't care; you feel done holding back or hiding any emotions that man makes you feel.

What Toto does to you next is unholy. He runs his hands along your arms till he reaches your palms, then wraps them around his own neck to make you support yourself, provoking you to arch your back. His free left hand caresses your chin and neck, then softly chokes you, making you turn your face to look straight at him.

Holding you in that position, he starts playing with his tongue inside your mouth. He licks your lips and bites them while adding pressure against your hips and buries his right fingernails in your right soft tigh. He is as inside you as he can. He is aching for you more every second.

He starts rocking himself against you, hitting your pussy and ass faster this time around. He has you moaning incoherently. The rhythm is so good; he fucks you in that position for a while till you start to feel so warm inside with each penetration; he is hard as fuck. And you feel you can't keep it together any longer. The pleasure is unbelievable. And you want to release. You start begging him to stop, well knowing you mean don't you dare! —Baby, I can't! Baby! I can't take it anymore! —You feel a hot sensation running down your legs. —Toto! —you moan as you start squirting all over your thighs and his.

—Fuck! —he growls, almost bestially, against your ear, getting drunk on your sents and fluids.

He shifts his whole body weight against yours, slowly pushing and pinning you down, your tummy against the mattress. Toto extends your arms and intertwines your hands and fingers with his in a sort of arrow position, completely topping you, rocking his hips in circles against your ass; you feel buried under his weight till Toto moans intense cumming noises to your ear, those noises drive you mad. He sounds so hot when he finishes.

—Stay in —you beg him. Oh, how he looks at you, what his eyes express makes your heart melt. You want him to be obsessed with you, to breathe you. It's borderline toxic, but that's how infatuated you are with him. You two remain in that position while kissing the life out of each other. You can feel him swing his hips every once in a while till his erection fades away.

Toto is the first one to step out of the shower; you enjoy the view of him butt naked, his wet hair dripping, the drops traveling through his bare chest down his abs and lower body while he strokes his length and legs with the towel, getting dry.

Once you are dry, too, and wrapped in a bathrobe, you start picking your clothes from the entryway floor; you two barely made it to the bed, unable to contain yourselves a second more, before going to the dressing room to select your outfit for today.

Toto is again putting on his Mercedes uniform, now in a bit of a rush.

You are looking for your thong everywhere on the carpet, not knowing where it flew; you want to avoid the maid the awkward moment; it's the only piece of clothing missing.

—I'm happy to have you back —he says with his whole heart, looking at you while finishing buttoning up his shirt.

—I counted the days to be back with you —you say, emotional. Toto comes close, kisses the palm of your hand, and licks your index finger.

—I hope you don't need to leave again soon, but if you do, these stay with me —he is holding your panties hostage in his black jeans left pocket.

None of you feel like saying goodbye and keep finding excuses in the form of kisses and petting to postpone it. Still, you must be discreet and professional and somehow manage to be together amidst everything in your life. It is a high-risk and conflict-of-interest kind of relationship on all fronts, but it feels worth it to you that you are ready to risk it all for him.

Sam, Charles, and you are hanging out in a famous high-end bakery in Vienna. The place is very bright, with high ceilings, white walls with mint accents of color, greenery, and modern gold lamps give the place its character; a massive large white wood display counter bar is full of rows of delicious pieces of bread and desserts, the clear wooden floors, light wood furniture, and small tables make it feel cozy. The place smells so good and feels warm.

Your mood is entirely different now. Sam stares at you while slurping dramatically and loudly the remains of her chocolate frappe through the straw.

—What? —you say while chewing your sacher würfel when you notice her eyes on you.

—They fucked —Charles adds before Sam can open her mouth. You two turn his way. He moves his hand in a kind of I recognize that smile on her while holding his vanilla kipferl.

—Yes —You admit, all blush. —But we discussed things too! —you rush to add.

—You told him where you went and what happened? —Charles asks you.

—You asked him about the Sussie thing? —Sam asks you.

Both at the same time.

—Well, no...

They roll their eyes at you.

Then Sam looks at you like you are crazy. —Then what did you two discuss? WAIT! Did you tell Charles?

—Of course, she told me! We are roomies AND besties!

Then Sam acts all jealous. —Hey! Get your own best friend!

—Charles intercepted me on my way out of the apartment; he only knew I would be out of town for a while —you clarify to Sam quickly before she slips out something important. —By the way, how is "abs" doing? —then you address Charles.

Samanta looked confused; she had never heard that name before. —Who is "abs"?

—Our womanizer neighbor in Monaco.

Still blank.

—The blond dude with long hair in a man-bun that's all ripped and has insane abs? —Charles gives her input.

Sam shakes her head.

—The one who is always shirtless and looks like Thor? He lives in the apartment right across our hallway and door —You add.

—No idea —she says, feeling left out.

—He is nice. Well... Yeah, it is hard to define. Sometimes, he hides from his conquests at our place after having fun, waiting for them to go. But he is hilarious and brings beers on cheat day Thursday —Charles explains.

—You going to love him, trust me, he is a sweet and trustworthy brute —you tell Sam.

A Twitter notification sounds on Millie's phone.

"Oh, miss Normani, it's great to have you back! Ferrari's red is a color that suits your skin so well; God bless the QUEEN!🐝🇬🇧" a video is attached along with the Sky Sports tweet. A stunning, athletic young girl walks down the paddock lane wearing impeccable street-style clothing, looking so chic, cameras flashing photos at her; Lewis's clothing game is getting challenged.

—Trouble is on our way —Millie hands her phone to Michael.

—Oh, yeah, I heard the rumor at the start of the season that she would be taking the reserve driver seat for them, but that it went cold —Michael adds.

—Your sources are shit then —Millie jokes. He softly pushes her out of his way, joking.

—Well, let's give her a fight! —He motivates Millie.

—Certainly, I didn't see this one coming our way —Christian lets out after getting the news.

—Sorry, but who is she? —Helmut asks him.

—She's just the biggest name in girls' racing ever, no big deal —he jokes sarcastically.

—The one that disappeared at the top of her game? I followed the scandal back in the day —Checo admits.

—Well, she is no longer on hiatus, it seems. Good thing is only for a few races! —Christian says while following her with his gaze as she enters the Ferrari headquarters.

—Mattia almost shit his pants when she finally answered him back. You are going to adore her. Normani is THE thing! —Charles gossips with Sam and you in the armchairs in the lobby of the Williams headquarters. —She lives in London and knows excellent places to hang out next week. I invited her to join us.

—I love the idea; this group always has room for another girl.

Once you are back at the circuit after lunch, you catch Toto sitting alone at a large picnic table under the shadow of a tree in an area further away from the hospitality and garages, working with his phone in hand. That man is all work, when will he relax? You go on your way there to annoy him so much.

—There is an entire long empty bench, and you sit right next —He tells you, in a deep voice but joking, arching his eyebrow, sensing your body against his.

You smile and giggle, getting even closer to him, almost blending with his side.

—God —he lets out exasperated but crosses an arm behind you and places his hand on top of yours, caressing it.

Then you move to get your things out of your large Bottega Venetta tote bag to work by his side; you have emails to answer.

You two get in the zone and focus on your tasks till you notice Toto moving his head to nose in your business.

—What's that mail for? Who are you sending it to? Why are you sending it? Hey, don't look at me like that. You are the one who chose to sit right next. I ask questions all the time; that's my job.

—Okay, but the annoyance part is my job in our relationship —you dare to shoot your shot, to see how he reacts, what he says.

You obtain no comment; he simply replies: —You have a fake job, remember?

Then, you slowly and overdramatically close your small and slim laptop with a single finger.

Toto looks at you with his eyes half closed and chin up.

—My secrets aren't for free, my love —you joke. You regret that wording later.

—Okay —He pays you with a couple of quick kisses; you are in a not very transit area and have enough privacy to do so. —What were you doing in Belgium?

—I meant the Williams-related ones; those are the ones for sale!

—Oh! Those I don't care about; we are about to bite you guys in the ass, anyways! —he says, overconfident, teasing you.

—Toto, dreaming is for free, don't you know?!

Toto was right; Lewis and George make a one-two. Normani gets on the podium, too, leaving Millie out. Well, that was quite the introduction for her.

Very late at night, you hear knocks on your suite door; you leave your warm and cozy bed to attend it. It's Toto.

As soon as you open the door, you feel a pair of lips on yours.

—I thought I would be sleeping all alone and sad after today's race on this chilly night —you pout, stopping kissing a second.

—Sorry, I went out to celebrate with the boys —Toto is a bit tipsy; he is wearing casual clothing now; layering looks so good on him! He is wearing a black turtle neck long-sleeve shirt under a very expensive cashmere grey, plain, modern blazer paired with black pants, loafer shoes, and an obsidian and silver bracelet; his hair is messy.

Toto gets sillier and more relaxed when in that state, a thing you love, and also he gets hornier, too, to your pleasure.

The rustic fireplace is on, keeping the spacious room warm. You witness Toto rearrange the area; Toto pushes the coffee table out of the way in the sitting area right in front of the fire and brings pillows from the bed to let them fall on top of the puffy brown rug in there.

Then he comes for you and takes you there by the hand. You two lay there wrapped in each other arms, making out. Toto's hands are on your ass and hips.

—Cozy and warm enough, baby girl? —he asks against your lips.

—Eh... —you shrug, joking. He smiles at you, then combs your hair tenderly with his fingers.

—Is there a chance you have a condom? We used the one in my wallet in the morning.

You shake your head; oh, bummer!

—Is it okay if I finish outside?

You feel your body shiver at his words.

—Yes. It's okay.

Clothes start to go out of the way; he gets you naked in no time; you are only wearing a black one-piece, sexy satin lace nightdress. He moves to help you get him undressed. His eyes go all over your body. —I keep fantasizing about what I'm going to do to you.

He takes you by surprise. Your cheeks turn red.

When you are both naked, he pushes you closer by the ass, making you spread your legs to give him room to get in the middle; you are sitting in a lotus position, your legs flexed over his, your thighs touching his thighs, he runs his hand all over your leg down to your ankle, you wrap your hands around his neck while you kiss.

Then, he slowly starts to lay you low on your back, making you lay on the pillows; he helps you make yourself comfortable on them and starts playing with your nipples, licking them with the tip of his tongue and biting them softly while locking eyes with you. He cups your tit and sucks it into his mouth; after a bit, he moves his way down. He starts eating your pussy like he is starving; you feel his wet tongue deep in you. He loves giving small kisses to your clit, provoking you to moan a lot. —I love running my tongue over every inch of you —he lets you know.

—Do you feel like to 69? —you ask him in the middle of a moan.

—Please —his voice is rough.

You sit on top of him, and you feel him burying his face in you, hand squeezing your ass while continuing to taste your pussy; amidst your loud moans, you start stroking his length and go down on his cock; you love his dick inside your mouth. You are giving him head so good that he stops for a minute to breathe heavily and moan.

—Fuck! I want to make it inside you; if you keep going, I'm going to burst inside your mouth.

—I wouldn't mind, but I love having you inside me, too.

You are more than wet and him more than hard when he slowly enters you. You both savor the movement. Then he flexes your left leg up and supports your calf on his shoulder. He starts to thrust you in that position while grabbing your right tit tightly. You feel his dick sliding inside every time faster. You are both panting and gasping.

He then switches positions, taking control this time; he gets your knees together and makes you get your legs up; he holds you in place with a firm grip from his hand on your hamstring muscles in a "hero" sex position, and Toto rocks his hips back and forward with deep strokes, you feel and see how his dick is curving up.

You start to scratch his thigh with your fingernails and slap his ass as the pleasure gets too good. —You fuck me so good, baby —you moan, reaching an orgasm in that position.

After giving yourself time to catch your breath for a second, you see how Toto lays down back against the rug; you immediately move to ride him. You feel him throbbing in pleasure inside and underneath you as you bounce hard up and down his dick; with your tits bouncing, he extends his arms to reach them and pinch your nipples, adding pressure with his fingers; then he starts wincing and biting his own lips; after a while, he rushes to place one of his large hands in your tummy, and you pull his cock out of you to start jerking it. Lots of guttural sounds come out of his mouth till he starts dripping. You feel his warm semen on your hand and abs, and you caress his chest with your free one and bend to kiss him hungrily.

Then he captures that hand and starts licking your index and middle fingers, sucking them inside his mouth and getting them wet enough with his saliva to then start leading your hand down on you, making you finger yourself, his hand on top of yours controlling and directing the movements. It gets to a point when you are so inside yourself and extremely wet that you are mess-moaning his name. Soft "Totos" is all he hears.

—Cum baby, cum for me —you feel your body trembling with his touch and yours. And you release, leaking on the rug beneath you.

Your bodies are so heated and sweaty near the fireplace; he drops on his back after being angled fingering you, with his cock bent to the left. You place yourself next to him, hands running on his shoulders and toned arms. You kiss in that position for a while before heading towards the bathroom.

Before falling asleep, your chauffeur knocks on the door to deliver you a drugstore bag. As you finish drinking your tall glass of water after taking the Plan B pill and place it on the nightstand, Toto tells you he is going to spend time with his family so that he won't be sharing the flight to the UK with you. He will arrive two days later, just in time for the race.

He doesn't invite you to join him.

You are all forced to rush to Silverstone from Austria for the anniversary race of the F1, which will take place before the usual activities of the Hungary GP start, leaving no room to rest for anyone.

It's going to be such a unique and fabulous event, and indeed, the FIA outdid themselves. Still, it's insane for the drivers and teams to rush from one country to another and move all the equipment and people with zero time margin. No one is in their best senses when arriving at the circuit, and everyone looks like it.

Due to the logistics of the massive event, the meeting before free practice is to start at 6.00 a.m. Lando hits his head against the clear glass panel doors, trying to enter the meeting room, half asleep, holding a Red Bull in his shaky hand.

He goes straight to you. You are already sitting in the chair with your name tag. At this point, no one cares about them or respects them. It is more like a classroom now; the group always sits together at the back of the room.

Lando mumbles something that you and Millie believe means good morning, and then he takes a couple of the empty chairs next to you to lay on top of, placing his head on your thighs and using them as a pillow.

Making you laugh. —Okay, yes, go ahead —you joke. Then Lando really falls asleep. —Lando out! —you inform the group.

Lewis is in the same row as you, but at the very end, legs on top of the empty chairs beside him, with his back leaned against a sound asleep Vettel, buried beneath a massive puffer Mercedes' jacket, tilted against the wall in a sitting position.

The room is almost empty except for you five.

—Angela almost tore down my bedroom door; she knocked so hard to wake me up. I nearly didn't make it, guys; I don't know how I got here —Lewis chats with you with a sleepy voice and swollen eyes.

Christian enters the room. —Is tits freezing today —he greets you. With a couple of "ah" sounds, he drops himself on the chairs in the front row. —I'm so old for this! —you all laugh. —You two look so well put together —He addresses Lewis and you, looking as stylish as ever. —I envy you.

Millie showed up in a set of Kuromi's pajamas, cocooned under Mick's Williams team winter jacket, that looked huge on her.

—Thanks, man —Lewis says.

Charles enters, greeting you with a peace sign gesture, followed by Carlos piggybacking a sleeping Daniel. —I would give you a hand, but... —Charles jokes, showing his bandages.

Normani enters, stealing the entire room's attention, wearing a white Dior long fleece blazer on top of a form-fitted pearl wool dress and a matching long scarf paired with high-knee suede boots in the same color. It's a monochromatic, stunning look with a combination of textures; her long hair is in a sleek ponytail, allowing it to show the beautiful minimal white gold earrings she is wearing, completing the look.

Millie waves her hand at Normani, and she looks happy to see her in there. After greeting the room, she reaches to sit by her side and catch up. You all look at her in awe. She is so beautiful, like a doll.

—Is that Geroge? —Niki asks, on attendance this time, since Toto is not around yet.

—It's Sebastian —everyone answers in unison. He and Lewis are the first two to arrive, so no one witnessed how Vettel fell asleep mid-conversation in his chair like a grandpa and how Lewis got him warm and covered under his Mercedes puffer, yet no one has a doubt it is him who is hiding underneath there; this surprises Lewis.

—I'm shooting the poor fucker responsible for waking me up this early —Niki shouts, provoking smiles.

At his back, Masi enters the meeting room, looking very worried.

London is one of Sam's favorite cities; it has everything she likes. Plus, it's full of very cool girls who make her nervous and all blushy, so she loves to run errands for Niki when in town; she always ends up meeting someone and asking for a date. The best sex she has ever had in her life has been there; her greatest loves have been "chapstick" lesbians from East London.

Sam has spent her entire day on the streets being driven around, completing all the tasks on Niki's long list of things he asked her to do. It's getting dark, and the last item for today is to drop some jewelry at Cartier to get it clean. So the chauffeur takes her to the one in Old Bond Street. Her favorite, Sam, loves it even more when it's Christmas and the stunning decor is on the facade.

The store's doorman rushes to open her car door as the SUV pulls in front of the jewelry main entry. She gracefully gets down and greets him.

—Good evening, mam —he replies, welcoming her inside. Sam had been feeling happy the entire day, but it went away as soon as she entered. In the contiguous stanza, in the highly expensive-looking sitting area, Toto and Sussie are looking together at some exclusive pieces a sales lady is showing them; Sam glimpses the sparkles projected out of those under the lights from far away.

Toto is not supposed to be here, nor are they supposed to be together, she thinks, but disregards the thought; probably he just got free sooner, and they are just hanging out since Sussie lives here most of the time.

Then she goes ahead with her errand; as Sam delivers the pieces to the man behind the counter, she sees Toto getting handed back his credit card; after a bit, a man gives a box to Sussie's hands; they get up at the same and start exiting the room together; holding hands.

Fuck! They are about to see her; there is no way she can duck down and hide behind clear crystal panels.

—Sam! —Sussie greets her, noticing her and happy to see her.

Fuuuuuuck.

Toto turned his head, perplexed; he was checking out the male bracelets on the display wall on their way to the exit. He lets Sussie's hand go, and she comes close to hug Sam.

—Hi! How are you? Good to see you!

—Likewise!

—Shopping spree?

—Oh, no, I'm just running an errand for Niki —she waves her hand, dismissing it. —All ready? —Sam addresses the jewelry cleaner guy.

—In a minute —he offers her a smile.

—Hey, why don't you join us for dinner?! —Sussie offers her.

—I would love to! But I have another task yet; I don't wish to get Niki all grumpy; you know how he is when he gets in a bad mood —Lies. Sussie laughs and nods, agreeing; Toto remains quiet and further away.

—Well, next time, then! When you are in Monaco too, come to our place, yes?

—Yes!

Okay, this is a shitty position to be for Sam; if she doesn't tell you, she is a terrible friend to you. But if she tells you, she is a lousy friend to Toto. LORD HAVE MERCY! She needs to give it a thought before opening her mouth!

When Toto decides to show up at the paddock, he goes to look for you. He looks tired and falls asleep next to you on a bench. You cover his face with your Balenciaga bomber jacket, giving him more privacy. You rest your left hand on top of his chest.

Samanta then arrives.

—Oh, he is here, good.

—Shss, he just fell asleep!

—This reminds me of how babies are so cute when sleeping but a terror when up.

—He is always baby —you say with a silly voice, caressing his chest.

Toto tries to listen to the conversation beneath your jacket with his eyes closed; he is about to fall asleep when he hears Samanta's voice. He needs to talk to her and explain things, but he is so comfortable in your embrace, so that can wait.

—Haven't you seen his photo from when he was a kid? They asked us for the digital version to print and place on the commemorative mural the FIA is making for the anniversary pit walk.

—No, I haven't! Is it better than baby Bottas?

—Oh, you are going to die! I have the original one in my purse here —Sam hands you a glossy, old-looking picture, a bit yellowy.

—Aawwww, he is so cute! —You observe in detail the photo of little Toto, a bit tall for his age, with skinny legs and dark, wild hair up and to the sides, leaned against his go-kart, helmet in hand; his little sister makes a small appearance in the back, picking a pebble or something from the floor wearing a floral pattern jumper. Toto is wearing an electric blue seventies driver's suit. —Hair hasn't changed a bit; that pose is everything! —you instantly get heart eyes. —His nose is so tiny, and he looks adorable. So cute! —you say with a silly voice and stare at the picture more.

—Now give it back! —Sam demands you; she yanks the photo of your grip, struggling until you let it go, then Sam archives it quickly in her purse.

—Now, shush! I'm reading essential documents —you tell her.

—Like your job was for real!

—Excuse you with that again! —Sam smiles at you and quickly disappears, noticing you are about to throw your tumbler at her.

Half an hour later, you feel Toto move on the bench, turning and almost falling to the side. He tries to incorporate and bumps his forehead with the table.

—Ouchie, love! —you let out and start to rub his temple tenderly.

—Ow! That hurt! —Toto lets you pamper him. Then stays stomach on the bench, making tired noises.

—I don't love my job very much right now —He says, and after a couple of minutes, he starts incorporating, no longer being able to avoid it, dragging along your bomber jacket, stuck and caught on behind his neck, with his hair all wild, and an "I just wake up" face.

—I just saw a photo of kid you with that same hairstyle!

He looks at you with one wonky eye, slowly processing the information.

All you can do is smile at him and softly laugh at the sight; you are so in love with him.

—Gotta get going! —he tells you, gets on his feet, places your jacket at your side, and bends his tall, fit body to kiss you on the cheek, rubbing your shoulders with his hands simultaneously before walking away.

I will not be able to resist greet and saying goodbye to him just with kisses on the cheek any longer.

To be continued... - Masterlist | Next Chapter

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