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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 1 month

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EVERY DOG HAS ITS DAY

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - You’re house sitting your friend’s whilst her family vacates. Her dog manages to get you into a dangerous situation.

Warnings - Noncon, dubcon, stalking, groping, humping, f! touching, animal abuse?

Word count - 2.2k

Notes - Jackson, oh Jackson. How your toxic soul has my weak heart. @paradiseprincesss hope you’re hungry !!

“Calm down Spike!” You exclaimed as you were yanked down the pavements with an overstimulated boxer charging on the other end of the leash.

What was meant to be a simple daily walk had turned into an endless brutal game of tug and war which you were pathetically losing. The rope around your wrist will leave a permanent mark if this animal doesn’t lead you to a fatal encounter by how dangerously you were crossing the roads.

Firstly Spike’s eyes were set on a pigeon, then when the harmless bird flew off into the clouds, Spike’s mind and impulses were full steam ahead. How long had it been, a mere few minutes or almost a third of an hour? If you knew he’d be such a nuisance you would have convinced your father to walk him, or even stretched beforehand.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, and you believe it almost did. It all happened so quickly, you yanked back the leash with all of your strength which made Spike halt at the intersection of two suburbian streets as you fell onto your behind. The black Mercedes Benz slammed on the brakes, the tyres screeched as the bumper stopped shorter a footlong to your face.

All sound was muffled to your eyes as all you could hear were your thoughts. The driver kept his hand on the horn, his jaw clenched as his blue eyes bore into your soul. Spike barked at him viciously, his paws locked into place as if he was prepared for battle. When you realized the man had no intention of releasing his heavy palm, your eyes darted around the empty streets and you hobbled up and had to beg Spike to calm down whilst tugging him away. Awkwardly you waved your hand in apologies as you tried to steer Spike back to his home.

However, you quickly noticed that the same car rolled behind you, he was tailing you and it made your heart pound in your chest. Every time you looked back, his eyes were locked onto you, his brunette hair parted to either side of his forehead. Spike took no notice in this, his attention elsewhere now.

When you ended up having to cut through a small field in between to homes to get to the opposing side of the suburb, you desperately tried to get Spike to run again to force you to run as fast as you could. But he strolled away gradually, breathing heavily with his mouth hung.

Every few seconds, your head shot back to ease your anxieties of the Benz finding you again. For a moment, you feared you had lost your way. You were housesitting your best friend’s house whilst her family was vacating interstate.

When you noticed the familiar double story home, you hurried inside, giving one last look before you shut the door. Spike plotted down the hall and you breathed out deeply, your back pressed against the wooden door. Just to ease your anxieties, you poked your head out of the window, confirming the empty road.

As the sun slowly set, you sat in the guest bedroom, your coursebooks in hand as you had Mozart gently playing on your laptop. You breathed out, your pen tapped on the paper as you read through your essay draft.

Spike started barking again and you grunted out as you slammed your laptop shut. This dog will be the death of you. As you jumped up from your seat, you headed towards the alfresco when your movements paused after you heard Spike cry out.

Within a snap, his noises had silenced. It was too quickly to be considered normal and you felt your heart rate begin to pick up again as the fear washed over you. In nothing but your pajama shorts and tank, you slowly tiptoed towards the massive window sliding doors. The back light was turned off, which you remember keeping on. You could hardly see out there, as your finger rested on the switch you gulped as you flicked it on.

Spike laid unconscious on the deck. A heavy gasp left your lips as you lunged towards the sliding door but you froze in your steps as you saw him in the corner of your eye. He sat at the outdoor dining table, a cigarette in between his lips. Quickly you recognised him, the driver from earlier today. He looked to be in the same suit as earlier today, he leant back in the chair as he casually waved towards you.

Just when you were going to bolt for the home phone, he pulled out a clean knife from his jacket as if he already knew your next move. It almost sparkled and the stranger pointed it at Spike, a mere few meters away from him. Frozen in your feet, your body wobbling like jelly as you looked back at Spike. Your eyes searched for a pool of blood, a slight sensation of relief as you couldn’t spot it.

When you dared to look at him again, he stood from the chair and inhaled deeply before flicking the dart towards Spike. The man approached the door and tapped on the glass with the tip of the blade. Naturally, you sobbed out as he tilted his head towards you.

“I’m not going to hurt you” he assured, the blade vanishing back into his jacket as if to ease your distress. “Unless you don’t unlock the fucking door” he grinned to you, his hand propped against the glass over his head.

Your eyes were darting from him to Spike like a table hockey puck in play. As you cried, you begged for Spike to get up and run away. But to your stress, he continued to lay still.

“Come on baby doll, it’s cold out here” he said smugly as he rubbed his shoulders dramatically.

As your hand rested on the lock you tried to make sense of the situation. Were you really going to let this dog be the death of you? Or was this frightening stranger true to his word about not hurting you. An unrealistic idea came to mind as you forced yourself to unlock the door.

He wasted no time in pushing open the door and stepped inside. Typically you took three steps back. As he closed the door and locked it, he slowly looked back over to you.

“You know, your parents should have taught you better about road safety” he grinned as he took a step towards you.

In a flash, you bolted for the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife in the block. He laughed as he approached you and pulled his much smaller yet much sharper knife back out of his jacket. You pointed your knife at him sternly as he backed you into a corner. Whilst staring at you blankly, the blade spun and flipped in his hand elegantly. It made your hold shake, there’s no way you’d win this.

“What do you want from me!” You mewled out as you found your body slowly slipping back against the cupboard doors. He didn’t answer you as he intimately stepped to you. “Please don’t hurt me!” You begged for mercy.

The knife slipped from your hold and it clanked onto the floor. Quickly, your body curled up into a ball as you rocked yourself. You sobbed viciously as your heart pounded all the way up to your head.

“Don’t give me a reason to baby doll” he cooed as he squatted in front of you after kicking the kitchen knife away. You buried your face into your forearm and his cold hand petted your soft hair. “Look at me” he ordered kindly.

Fearfully you peaked back up to him. He held his hand out, his knife had vanished once more. You blinked as you stared at him up close. You didn’t realize how charming on the eye he was, it made you gulp harshly. “Please… My parents are going to be home any minute” you lied pathetically, sniffling heavily.

“Baby doll” he tutted as he gently shook his head towards you. “This isn’t even your fucking house” he laughed, casually pointing his finger to one of your friend’s family portrait on the wall. “Now come on, no more tears… Only little girls cry, I want you to be a big girl for me tonight” he condescended as he gestured for you to grab ahold of his hand.

“What do you want?” you asked weakly as you grabbed ahold of his hand.

“To talk” he nodded as he lifted you up. He petted your hair to the side and smiled softly to you. “Well, for a little bit anyways” he added, a gentle shrug of the shoulders.

Your eyebrows furrowed but you didn’t question him as he led you to the lounge room. Your gaze landed back on Spike, who was perfectly still just as before and you found yourself weeping again. He wrapped his arms around you from behind as he shushed into your ear.

“Relax, relax, a simple sedative… I hope I got the dosage right, I usually sedate people, not dogs” he whispered into your ear, smirking to himself as you weakly resisted against him as you whimpered out.

Your head shot down, the guilt of Spike being too much for your conscience. He guided you to the couch and pulled you onto his lap. Your body squirmed on top of his, but he kept you locked in.

“What are you doing?” you whined.

But he only hushed you and thrusted his hips up. Instantly, you felt his growing erection underneath you and you froze on him.

“You gave me a massive fright today, you know that?” He sighed, his hands on your hips as he rotated them in a circular motion.

Your body shivered as you felt your teeth chatter. “I’m sorry… I tried to control him” you explained through heavy breathing.

“Yeah I know. A little too strong for you, aye?” He chuckled, his hands squeezing your hips harshly. You nodded your head quickly as you tried to focus your mind elsewhere, but it was pointless by the way he was rubbing his cock against your core. “But then, you know… You just looked so sweet and fragile that I just wanted to make sure you got home safe…” he admitted as one hand ran up your spine.

“You took an interesting short cut. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to find you. But then, I saw you in the distance, running up the driveway” he laughed softly as he hand slid to your breasts.

You gasped out as both hands kneaded them before they slipped underneath your thin tank. His fingers rubbed circles over your nipples and your head fell back next to his and you tried to silence your clear as daylight arousal.

“No bra? Naughty girl” he groaned by your ear, his tongue slithered around your earlobe.

After a moment of groping you, his hands slipped down from your torso as you trembled on him, based on a horrific mixture of fear and desire.

“I want to apologize” he suddenly professed.

“What?” You panted.

“For scaring you. I’ll admit, I lost my temper a little bit… You just scared me so bad, baby doll. How would I have felt if I didn’t brake in time?” He explained himself, his smooth jaw nuzzled against yours.

But during this confession, his hand slipped into your shorts, right into your panties as he stroked your wet pussy.

“I’m sorry for scaring you too!” You cried out, your heart thudding against your ribs as you found yourself rocking your hips.

“No, no… You don’t have to tell me how sorry you are, you just have to show it” he moaned, a smug look on his face as a digit easily slipped inside of you. “We can do it wherever you want to, baby doll… Here, in the kitchen, we can get into my car if you really want and I can take you for a ride. It’s an expensive car” he grinned as he forcefully flexed his hips up making you cry out. “But if you want me to make it special for you, take me a bed, any bed. I’m not picky…” he exhaled as his free hand moved back up to your tits.

“No, please!” You objected, logic dripping out of your aroused state. You were willingly grinding yourself on a stranger, an intruder, a man much older than you. You were in your senior year of high school for crying out loud. It forced you to try to free yourself from him. It only made him laugh and he wrapped his arm around your waist as he pressed his nose to the side of your heated face.

“Baby doll… Look at yourself, you’re trying to fuck my hand right now” he pointed out.

All you could do was sob out in humiliation as his fingers pumped inside of you. Your ass rubbed against his hard on whilst he kissed your bare neck.

“My name is Jackson by the way” he introduced himself, a satisfied grin on his lips. You told him your name through a heavy gasp as his fingers went knuckle deep inside of you. “I already knew that” he whispered into your ear as he felt your walls clench tightly around his hand

Every dog has its day, but unfortunately for you, today was not that day.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #smut #dark smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner #red eye 2005

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bon2bonn · 6 months

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Driver profile : Y/N L/N

Name : Y/N M/N M/L/N

Nicknames : N/N , bella , demon spawn, amour , love , sprout.

Nicknames by fans : Valkyrie, the unofficial official grid mom , Merc queen, red bull princess, angel, f2 grid mom , stargirl .

Age : I estimated her to be around 27 (it's not fixed so you can change it to whatever you like)

Birthday : 23 . October . (Same thing , you can put yours or any other date🤷🏻‍♀️)

Birthplace : Sydney, Australia

Blood type : B+

Languages : fluent in English, french + (language of choice) , basic Dutch , Spanish , and a little bit of Arabic.

Resident : between Monaco, London, New York and Sydney.

Personality : spitfire on track , a power that install fear in the hearts of every team and any driver she's up against , believes in actions and hard work rather than words spewed around , so if you have the balls and nerves to poke her , you better have the results to back you up or you won't see the end of it from her or her fans or the rest of the grid .

Known as The grid keeper/ no#1 mom who keeps them in line but could be found in the midst of chaos leading them with their antics and pranks . off track , she's an introverted small bean that can scare the daylight out of you if you rubbed her the wrong way, shy and closed off is the first impression that everyone gets when meeting her but once you get to know her she's the sweetest and most genuine/spontaneous person you'll ever meet , her RBF hides a gentle kind soul , that makes her the best person to give comfort and assurance even if she denies it. Protective bear of her loved ones and won't stop at anything till she make sure they're okay. She either acts like an old lady that complains about her back and knees , or like a little kid on a sugar rush , it's a normal day to find her around the grid at the most confusing places : climbing motorhomes just because/hiding behind tyres while everyone lose their minds trying to find her /sleeping in an ice tup cause she got too comfortable.

Habits: play with her hands when nervous, pout unconsciously when she's too focused on something, pick at her fingers when uncomfortable/stressed (if close , Charles would give her one of his rings to play with , or others would let her play with their fingers to distract her) , jumps whenever she gets exited, tilt her head when confused, clenches her fists/jaw when she gets irritated ( the guys knows when to interfere to stop her from beating someone), sings/humms absentmindedly through her day , do a little dance when happy, talks to herself in a quiet voice.

Occupation :

Former Formula 1 driver

Years of work : (2015-2022)

Racing biography 🏎️ :

*‌Toro Rosso :

2015 alongside : Max Verstappen #33.

2016 alongside : Carlos Sainz #55.

*‌Renault(alpine) : 2017 alongside : Nico Hülkenberg #27.

*‌Alpha Romeo(sauber) : 2018 alongside : Charles leclerc #16.

‌*Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team : 2019 - July 2022 alongside : Lewis Hamilton #44.

Currently:

• CEO/founder of Ingrid and willows brand (2018-now) .

• CEO and representative of L/N international corps (2022-now) .

•reserved driver for (RBR) Red Bull Racing (2023) .

Hobbies/skills : reading, playing piano, camping, hiking, cooking in general (loves backing) , painting specially with her youngest brother, singing, fast learner , have a very strong memory , is a pro at reading people and could tell their emotions and can almost alway tell when someone's lying , skilled stealthy prankster when provoked (by lando and max)..... .etc .

Family members :

‌father : f/N l/N .

‌mother : m/N M/l/N .

‌older brother: Edward l/N .

‌younger brother: Thomas l/N

Father :

Name : F/N M/N l/N

Occupation: CEO/founder of L/N international corps.

Social status: single father of (Edward , Y/N , Thomas l/N ).

Resident: London , UK.

Name : M/N M/l/N

Occupation: not found.

Social status: not found.

Status: alive .

Resident : Rome, Italy.

Name : Edward/Eddie M/N l/N

Age : 30

Occupation: CEO/founder of wildonwall (a worldwide known professional architectural company that deals in designing/building and supervising projects around the world).

Social Status: married to ( Alison Graham ) , father of two (one boy : Marcus/Marc , one girl : Ingrid/gigi ).

Resident: London , UK.

Name : Thomas/Tommy/ben M/N l/N

Age : 22

Occupation: student of fine arts , Oxford university.

Social status: a single Pringle who don't know how to mingle.

Resident: Monte Carlo , Monaco - London , UK.

Facts and background infos :

‌she's the only daughter of the L/N family , but chose to race with her grandmother's maiden name instead . She wanted to establish herself away from her father's name .

‌very independent , and mature beyond her age .‌

she's the backbone of her family, both her brothers and father own it to her for helping them through their lives .

‌she had a complicated relationship with her mother to say the least, she was the one who suffered the most when she left .

‌her parents split up when she was only 5 . her mom walked away leaving them with her baby brother who was barely months old .

‌her mother tried to forcefully take Eddie (the eldest) along with her while their father was out with Tommy, but he refused to part from his sister , resulting in a very traumatic day for the two kids.

‌she watched her dad as he struggled with taking care of them three , feeling like a failure who couldn't tend to his own children.

‌so she took it up on herself to help him take care, comfort and nurture her baby brother.

‌he tried to get her to live her age but she won't stop worrying about her brother and he won't settle unless she's close .

‌just hearing her voice got him from screaming his lungs out to cooing and giggling.

‌their bond only grew stronger as they grew up .

‌he was at his best behaviour when she's around, forgetting about the tantrums and wailing matches he had with his traumatized babysitter who quit the moment their father came back home .

‌her childhood wasn't the most ideal but she got her family with her and that was more than enough for her.

‌her dad was more than relieved when she finally had interest in something other than studying or taking care of them .

‌he watched as her love for racing grow untill he offered to take her to her first grand Prix.

‌she didn't sleep for days after .

‌daniel was her first friend in the sport .

‌they met through one of her uncles friends back in Australia , both didn't like eachother at all .

she was the quiet observing kid and he was the bouncing ball of energy , but they bonded through their love for racing .

‌she moved to Europe (between UK and France) with her dad where she found more suitable competitions to partake in, but she tried to keep in touch with him through the years , but they both got busy and lost connection.

‌she kept to herself and worked hard to build her skills.

Maintaining a healthy balance between her studies and racing .

‌untill she met some of the kids older/close to her age , most didn't take her seriously and even encouraged her to drop racing . But she also met little max .

Both acknowledged the other but kept their distance on the beginning.

‌the boy was blunt and she was unfazed.

‌they respected the other hard work and we're motivated to beat eachother at every race.

‌they surprisingly became best friends with time .

‌both acting too mature for their own good but unknowingly, they both got eachother to act their age as they grew closer .

‌they gave eachother tips and pointers as they sat away from the others before every race they were in together .

‌he'd talk her ears off after every race explaining every detail and every corner and she'd patiently listen to him , adding her own opinion here and there .

‌they were at eachother neck every race, but their friendship was as strong as it could be.

‌they celebrated the winner and encouraged the loser , both hated to lose , but they raced fairly.

‌she got discovered by Christian , and found her way to red bull academy program, Max a year after her .

‌and guess who's there ? Daniel Joseph Ricciardo.

‌they reunited after years , both inseparable even more when she got a seat at Toro rosso .

‌the team was on the brink of a collective breakdown, they already had Seb to worry about , now add those two with Max?

‌cue chaos and mischief , sirens going off with Seb laughing and Christian screaming in the background.

‌fernando saw her and declared war upon whoever dares to hurt this small bean .

Forming a small protection squad (more like him forcing Seb Kimi and Jenson to participate)

Kimi got robbed into it , he didn't even know until he found himself along with the others planning to slash a reporter tires for calling her slow and ignorant .

He thought they were getting coffee !?!! .

‌she was supposed to move to red bull in 2016 but Marko opposed, max was promoted instead, and she left to Renault the following season.

‌in 2018 she moved to alpha Romeo (saubar) alongside Charles leclerc .

Rookie Charles was low-key scared of her , he knew her from their carting days but still felt uneasy with her quiet personality and focused mentality.

The first time they met was a disaster at it's finest.

But she knew how tense and overwhelmed rookies could be in their first season so she tried her best to help him through it .

‌it was an exhausting season but they both survived .

Charles moved to Ferrari and her to Mercedes.

‌Toto offered her a Merc seat for 2019 .

‌lewis had his share of teammates and it didn't end well to say the least with his former friend/teammate (RIP brocedes) or valtteri after .

‌so when she first came in it didn't go well for her .

‌both her and Lewis are hardheaded and closed off, refusing to acknowledge the other Or give in to know eachother.

‌they stayed professional and moved out of the other's way, untill she came around, finding him in the back of his driver's room, sitting on the floor , his head on his hands after a shitty with a dnf .

‌she kept quiet and sat down with him letting him have his moment of silence but assuring he don't have to be alone .

‌after an hour or so, she took out her phone , showing him her family dog pics and videos , getting him to crack a smile and even few laughs before she let him talk about his own Roscoe, promising to let her meet him when they go to Silverstone.

‌the roles reversed when he found her in an empty office at the back of the garage , she got an earful from Toto and couldn't get a word in , her notes are always dismissed and her engineer wasted time until it's too late to listen.

‌he sat beside her, letting her lean on his shoulder in a way of comfort , letting her play with his rings to calm down.

‌they built a support system . and it resulted in building a solid foundation for a dynamic team.

But that won't mean she'll let her work go to waste because of the team's orders.

... : Y/N.

Y/N : yes?

James : Y/N, This is James, listen.....

Y/N : no James! You listen! Just because..........

Her radio messages never disappoint.

Yeah they give her a hard time , but they didn't know what was waiting for them .

She adapted quickly to the new team and their methods of work , it went as well as it could be up to 2021 .

Shit hit the fan and she almost die/quit .

But she stayed put , ending the season in 3d 🥉.

2022 things moved up a little, with her chances of getting the championship almost equalling Max's, him being ahead with only 24 point .

But Mercedes had their own plans.

Mid-season change in plans Leading to her leaving/getting replaced with George Russell , concluding her journey with Mercedes AMG team.

*Let me know if I missed something ✨

#weathering your storm #wys #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x female driver #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #22!f1 grid x reader #23!f1 grid x reader #f1 au!

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hauntedbystorytelling · 2 months

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What fools these mortals be

Senseless Souls: What fools these mortals be! (detail from glass plate negative) The J.C. Knowles photograph collection view & read more on wordPress

Tyree Studio ~ Meredith College students in costume all posing with props while sitting inside trunks, ca 1916. Glass plate negative

The photograph is titled “Senseless Souls: What fools these mortals be!” and it appears in the 1916 ‘Oak Leaves’ Meredith College yearbook. A poem…

view & read more on wordPress

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 3 months

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I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 9

AO3

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while! Please enjoy some filler fluff as a reward for your patience

The January cold was a biting, painful thing, with the uncanny ability to burrow its way deep beneath any clothing, regardless of the layers everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had desperately piled on for protection. Thick, wool socks and scarves were always in order, and a few of the elderly women in the village had begun to make a pretty penny by selling them on to disgruntled pilots who had never before experienced winter outside of California.

Major Kidd had given her Egan's sheepskin jacket. Well, he less gave it to her than he did leave it in the mechanics' hut for her, but she appreciated the gesture nevertheless. The sleeves were too long, but she made do, as it was loose enough on her to fit comfortably over her work overalls. Combined with the wool tights she'd stolen from George, and the fingerless gloves she'd found at the bottom of a drawer somewhere, the weather was almost bearable. Almost.

It had snowed overnight. There was too much ice on the roads to cycle without endangering life and limb, so Frankie had been forced to commandeer a phone and summon Lemmons in one of the jeeps. The man had looked so miserable upon his arrival, that it had been impossible not to laugh. Hat tugged down past his eyebrows, scarf pulled up over his chin, his face was only half visible, and what sliver she could see was contorted in a frown. His gloves were made of bright orange wool, and she suspected the women in the village had run out of the more appealing colours by the time he sought them out. Grinning to herself, she clambered into the jeep, stomping snow off of her boots as she sat down.

"I don't like this country anymore, Frankie," Ken complained, voice muffled by his scarf.

She laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, if you think this is bad..."

He was stricken with a look of complete and utter fear, and Frankie let out a snort. "It gets worse?"

"Probably!"

This information put him in a foul mood for the rest of the drive, muttering and grumbling to himself about 'goddamn snow' and 'goddamn ice' as they pulled up to the runway, tyres gouging fresh marks into the undisturbed blanket of white. They were both left sorely wishing they had finished their work the night before when the weather had been more palatable, but there was no getting around what they had to do now.

The metal of the planes' exteriors was frozen to the touch, bare fingertips left raw and red as they worked away at replacing and tightening various bolts and rivets, breath blooming in frozen clouds in front of their faces. Every five minutes they would have to step away from whatever they were doing and run a few laps around the place just to warm themselves up, aware of what a ridiculous sight they must have made.

"Think they'll go up again tomorrow?" Ken asked, panting as he jogged on the spot behind Frankie, occasionally pausing to throw in a few star jumps.

"Not if the weather doesn't clear up - they'll need better skies than this if the navigators want to get anywhere," She shrugged, pausing halfway through tightening another bolt to jump up and down, attempting to restore feeling to her legs.

"Everyone else is in bed right now," He complained.

"Lucky bastards."

The pair must have appeared entirely absurd, chatting away with stony, irritated expressions as they stomped and jumped around entirely out of synch, and they counted themselves lucky that there wasn't a single other soul out there that morning to bear witness. A lit cigarette hung from between Frankie's lips, the embers only just succeeding in warming her face. Their cheeks and noses had both turned red after only an hour out in the cold, and by the end of their second, neither could justify staying outside any longer.

Kicking the snow off their boots, they shut themselves in the mechanics' hut, the light that hung from the ceiling swaying in the drafty breeze - the result of a ceiling gap that they were unable to locate. Turning on the gas stove that was usually only used to make terrible coffee, the pair pulled up their chairs beside it, holding their frozen hands above the small flame until feeling returned to their fingers.

"I forgot to ask you about your Christmas," Frankie huffed, rubbing her palms together, creating heat from the friction.

"That was nearly a month ago," He pointed out.

"I know. Just felt a bit bad about not asking."

"It was good, yeah. Sammy's folks had a goose, I dunno where they got it from," Lemmons chuckled, pausing for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a glimmer of something in his eye. "How was your Christmas?"

She frowned at him. "I told you before. Good."

"...Mhm."

A sudden knock at the door took them both by surprise, heads snapping towards the unexpected sound. Brows furrowed, they glanced at one another, neither one wanting to get up from their spot beside the stove. "Door's open!" Ken called.

They could hear the sound of someone awkwardly fumbling with the door handle, and Frankie was about to get up when it finally opened. Rosie had to use his foot to pry his way inside, a steaming cup of Red Cross coffee in each hand as he shuffled through, flakes of snow still resting unmelted in his hair. His face was flushed pink, and he wasn't wearing anywhere near enough clothes to protect him from the cold, snow encrusting the soles of his boots.

"Hey!" Frankie beamed, pulling up another chair for him between her and Lemmons. "Jesus, were you trying to get hypothermia?"

"Brought coffee," He said simply, voice still slightly shaky as he sat down, holding the tin mugs out to the mechanics. "And uh-" Reaching into his pocket, Rosie produced a crumpled paper bag containing a couple of doughnuts. "Don't tell Helen. Was only supposed to take one."

"Gee, thanks, Cap," Lemmons nodded gratefully, shooting Frankie a pointed stare that she pretended not to have noticed. She nodded in agreement, both hands wrapped around her cup, feeling the heat seep through the metal. The Red Cross coffee always tasted so much better than the crap they had in the mechanics' hut, and she resisted the urge to grin at the gesture, especially as she realised he had brought nothing for himself.

They drank in silence for a while, the only sound the jagged, laboured breathing of one trying to wear off a chill. "...So, uh..." Rosie began, hands folded in his lap as he looked between the others. "...Work going well?"

"Y'know, I can go somewhere else if you guys want," Ken pointed out, peering at them over the rim of his mug.

"No!" "No!" Frankie and Rosie blurted simultaneously, assuring him hurriedly. "You need to keep warm, Ken," She told him.

He had slurped down his coffee quickly, the winter cold cooling it down so that it wouldn't burn his throat. Shaking his head, he pushed his chair backwards out of the little semi-circle they had created, scraping loudly across the floor. "The fuel cans we asked for arrived yesterday, I should go pick them up before I forget."

"You sure?" Frankie asked, getting up to trail after him as he made his way to the door. "The snow'll probably start melting soon, you should wait until it's not so icy."

"No, no. Now's good," Lemmons nodded determinedly, smirking at her as he opened the door, a gust of cold wind blowing its way inside. "Thanks again for the coffee, Rosie!"

"No problem, Ken," He nodded, tipping an imaginary cap at him as the mechanic disappeared outside.

Frankie paused a moment to process what had happened before letting out a huff of laughter. Rosie was still sat beside the stove, watching with a smile as she crossed the room towards him. She leant down, and he craned his head up to meet her, their lips meeting in a quick kiss, as casual and comfortable as a long-married couple.

"He definitely knows," She pointed out, lowering herself back into her seat and propping her legs up across his lap, his elbows resting gently on them.

"Oh yeah," Rosie nodded in agreement. "Have you properly told anyone yet? Only, I haven't - I was waiting until you wanted to."

"Oh, I've only told George, she won't tell anyone. But I tell her literally everything, so y'know."

"Yeah, yeah, I expected that," He continued nodding, pausing after a moment as a stricken look of realisation crossed his face. "Wait, does that mean you told her about when we-"

"No! No, not about that, Jesus," Frankie giggled, nose creasing as she took another sip of her coffee. A smile spread across Rosie's expression as he took a moment to actually take in her appearance, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the hem of her trousers.

"... Is that Egan's jacket?"

"Mhm," She hummed, wiping her top lip as she put down her mug. "Kidd left it for me. It doesn't fit-" Frankie flapped the ends of her sleeves to illustrate the point, making him chuckle. "-but the thought was nice."

"God, I absolutely humiliated myself the first time I met Egan," Rosie shook his head slightly, his cheeks reddening. "Kept talking about flying in my goddamn skivvies, I was pretty sure he only brought me to meet you so that you two could both laugh at the weird new Captain."

She laughed, taking one of his hands in hers, absent-mindedly twiddling his fingers as she spoke. "I'm sorry, you flew in your what?"

"Jesus, I'm doing it again, this is like a recurring nightmare. It gets real hot in Texas, right, so we practised flying in our underwear to stop us from over-heating - but of course I decided that was the best possible story to introduce myself to the Majors with. I mean, Christ, I still don't know what I was thinkin'."

"Well, the first time I met him I absolutely destroyed him in a drinking contest, so he's been offered his fair share of public humiliation."

"That... does help, actually," He admitted, and she grinned, running a hand through his hair and messing up his curls as she rose to her feet. His gaze followed her, tilting his head upwards, a few loose curls hanging in his face. "Where are you going?"

"Funny thing is, I actually have this thing called a job," Frankie teased, zipping up Egan's jacket as she headed for the door. "I have to, like, do it, and everything."

"Wow, that sounds really hard, I'm so impressed," Rosie replied flatly, a smirk curling his lip.

A gust of wind blew a cloud of snowflakes in through the door as she opened it, flipping her collar up to her chin against the breeze as she stepped outside. Lemmons was waiting there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and his unexpected presence startled her, snow crunching beneath her feet as she jumped, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ken shrugged. "Thought I oughta give you a minute - didn't wanna interrupt anything private."

Frankie's eyes narrowed, glaring at him as they made their way back towards the hardstand. "Oh, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong?"

Turning on her heel, she stared at him, their gazes locked for a long, awkward moment of silence. She gnawed at her lip, saying nothing, until suddenly she broke, scoffing as she stomped away. "Fuck you, Ken."

"Told you!"

Before he could move, she had slung an arm around his neck, forcing him into a playful headlock. Lemmons squawked, wrestling against her unrelenting grip until he dug his fingers into her side, and she released him with a yelp, their hair both dusted white with snow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It took three days for the weather to subside - three days of icy roads, relentless snowfall, and trying not to freeze on the hardstand. Every day like clockwork Rosie had brought the mechanics fresh, hot coffee, filling flasks with the stuff to satisfy more and more of the ground crews, who were growing steadily more irritable with each inch of snowfall. The pilots were grounded for the duration, but even the pub seemed too great of a trek under such circumstances. The only sanctuary was the small, cylindrical heaters inside the Nissen huts, and in the evenings many took to sitting around them to keep warm.

Early morning birdsong came as an unwelcome sound as Frankie's eyes peeled open, adjusting to consciousness as sunlight streamed in through the window above her bed. A gust of air hit her face as her bedsheets were ripped off of her, and she flinched as she waited for the sudden chill to grip her. But it didn't.

"George. What the fuck," She grumbled, pressing her palms against her eyelids as she sat up, hair knotted and sticking out at random angles on one side of her head.

"Get up. Snow's thawed, they'll be flying today."

The woman had a disturbing knack for always looking immaculate - golden hair falling in perfect curls, red lipstick that never smudged, and clothes that always fitted perfectly. George always told her that it was just that she put in the effort, but Frankie tended to suspect some sort of witchcraft.

"Well fuck me, in that case, why didn't you wake me up sooner?" She huffed, her hairbrush getting stuck halfway through a knotted patch. For a moment, she couldn't quite bear to deal with it, and just let it hang there, weighing down her scalp on one side.

"Thought you should get some beauty sleep before you see off your darling pilot," She teased, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. "Although admittedly, I wasn't expecting you to wake up looking like you'd been dragged sideways through a thornbush," George added, and Frankie let out a cry as she yanked on the hairbrush, dragging it forcefully through her hair until it fell straight.

"I'll drag you sideways through a bush in a minute," She muttered, rubbing at the sore spot on her scalp with one hand as she pulled on her coveralls with the other.

"I just think it took you long enough to finally snog him, you might as well try not to look like a dying cat whenever you see him."

"Oh, piss off!"

Huge meltwater puddles lined the roads on both sides, the grass reduced to muddy swampland, sodden with what remained of the snowfall. Frankie pedalled slowly, careful not to slip, calling out in greeting to the men who passed by in their jeeps, tyres kicking up water, spraying her legs and staining her trousers.

Her breaks screeched loudly to a halt as she stopped in front of a half-melted snowman on the side of the road, the last remaining evidence of the village children's play. Their laughter had filled the air since the first snowfall, the only remedy to the constant, freezing misery. The snowman's head was close to toppling off, its carrot nose drooping pathetically. She couldn't help but chuckle as one of the pebbles they had used for eyes slipped from its perch, landing with a thumb in the damp grass. She wondered if it had snowed back home, if Alice and Jill had made a snowman of their own. As a child, she'd used her mother's old scarf and gloves, the scent of perfume still lingering on them after so many years.

Another jeep rolled past, cutting it too close and too fast, a spray of puddle water splashing all the way up her back, the cold soaking through to her spine. Frankie let out a yelp, her train of thought lost as she flipped off the driver in his side mirror and began to pedal again, resuming her steady, cautious pace as the airstrip came into view.

The Riveters were gathered around their B-17 when she arrived, packs slung over their shoulders as they readied to board. Letting out a huge yawn, Frankie dismounted her bike, letting it lie on the tarmac as she approached, the uncomfortable stick of damp fabric against skin making her squirm. The moment Pappy saw her, he frowned. "D'you just get up? They've run the checks on our bus already, right?"

"Your plane's been ready to fly for days, Pap - I was out here in the snow making sure of it while you lot were warming your feet by the fire," She rolled her eyes, squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

Rosie was visibly fighting a grin as she approached, Bailey shooting him a confused look at his expression as he passed, clambering into the belly of the plane. One by one, the flight crew filed inside, hauling themselves up through the hatch in a series of grunts, until their Captain was the only one left standing on the tarmac. The moment they were alone, he let his smile show, a red tint flushing his cheeks. "Ma'am," He teased, tilting his cap at her as she approached.

Frankie smirked, stepping forward until their fronts were pressed together. "So... what number is this now?"

"Seventeenth mission," Rosie nodded.

"Hm. Not too shabby."

"Why thank you, dear," He grinned, leaning down to press his lips to hers. Just as Frankie began to reciprocate the kiss, a thought popped into his mind, and he pulled back, eliciting a tut of disappointment from her. "Y'know, I had this idea earlier that I'd bring you flowers, but it's too damn cold for 'em. Thought I'd let you know anyway, so you can appreciate the thought."

She hummed. "Duly noted," Grinning, she resumed the kiss, her teeth accidentally grazing his lip as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. Hands grasping at her back, his brow furrowed at the sudden dampness, but he figured she might send him away if he ruined the kiss again. He could smell the oil on her clothes, but the scent he had once found acrid now only succeeded in reminding him of her. Even miles up in the sky, hanging perilously over enemy territory, there was something calming in that smell, a constant tether to home.

The pair had been so engrossed in their embrace, that they had failed to notice Pappy reappearing through the hatch, sent to retrieve something they had forgotten in the jeep. But the moment his feet hit the tarmac, and he took in the scene before him, he froze, releasing a sort of strangled grunt that alerted them to his presence, springing away from each other, hands raised to wipe any evidence of the other from their mouths.

Wide-eyed in a mixture of shock and horror, he spoke in angry whispers, closing the hatch most of the way to muffle the sound. "Are you kidding me?!"

Rosie held up his hands as if begging for mercy. "Look, Pappy, I was gonna tell you, it's just-"

"I owe George so much money," Pappy huffed, running a hand across his brow.

Frankie frowned. "... You what?"

"We had drinks last week, we were betting on how long it'd take for... this to happen."

She resisted the urge to laugh, noticing how Rosie seemed to be suppressing a smile. "George already knew about this last week."

His expression was horror-stricken, face growing ever-redder with every second that passed. "... Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Rosie let out a chuckle. "I think you just got scammed, Pappy."

Brow furrowed, expression contorted in fury, Pappy muttered to himself in indecipherable fury as he marched over to the jeep, retrieved his forgotten cargo, and stomped back towards the plane, pausing briefly to interrupt his incensed murmuring. "Happy for you two. Or whatever," He sighed, waving a hand in their general direction as he failed to meet their eyes.

As soon as he was safely inside the plane and out of earshot, they collapsed into laughter, his utterly outraged frown seared into their minds. Rosie wheezed as he caught his breath, "I think George is using your friendship for evil," He pointed out, succumbing to laughter again as Frankie let out a cackle.

"I am not letting her collect on that debt," She shook her head, face flushed red, cheeks creased with a smile. Frankie looked up as she felt his hands against her face, palms cupping his cheeks as he brought her face to his, their foreheads simply resting against each other's as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

"I will see you later," He spoke softly, the tip of his nose brushing against hers.

"Yeah, you better," She reached up, straightening his tie. "I'll be really pissed off otherwise."

"And we can't have that."

"Nope."

With one last smile, Rosie pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Frankie scoffed as he pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He smirked to himself as he climbed up into the plane, arms burning with the weight of his body as he hauled himself up through the hatch. Navigating his way through to the cockpit with ease, he slid into the pilot's seat, feeling Pappy's gaze burning into the side of his skull.

"...Yes Pappy?" He asked after a moment of silence, his co-pilot shaking his head side to side, never retracting his penetrating stare.

"I fuckin' knew it."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #ken lemmons #pappy lewis #oc: frankie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 9 months

Text

take 2

nico hischier x actress!f!reader

fc: sophie turner

warnings: swearing

liked by treaclychild, landonorris and 840,971 others

ynofficial: i heart nj

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claudiasulewski: first

maya_henry: mother is mothering

user1: WHO IS COWBOY

ynofficial: you mean you haven't heard 'cowboy like me'?

user2: what of nico?????

user3: DID HE SLIDE INTO UR DMS

taylorswift: i heart u

liked by ynofficial

user4: POV you came from deuxmoi's blind item 👀

user5: oui

ayoedebiri: ur pretty

jackhughes: yo

user6: no

user7: this is the wrong nj player commenting, i forbit it

user8: jack baby snap out of it

user9: only y/n could get the captain to wink at her and the social media heartthrob to comment on her ig

user10: ✨✨✨ BEST BELIEVE I'M STILL BEJEWELED ✨✨✨

liked by ynoffocial

liked by user11 and 78,186 others

deuxmoi: there were a few blind items submitted relating to the same A lister and athlete, and others also hinted at said sports star's respected status in the city, and his private nature, thus the lack of photos from the night

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user11: LOVING HIM WAS REDDDDD

user12: no bc i ship it so hard

user13: there's absolutely zero way that they're not talking about y/n and nico 😭

user14: in y/n's recent post she was wearing a sparkly star dress too

user15: me bc nico won't be protected from all the y/n girlies anymore: 😢😢

user16: THEY MOVE FAST IF THIS IS TRUE

user17: okay but my thinking is that they knew each other prior to the hockey game???

user18: RIGHT???

user19: THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT THE WAY HE KNEW WHERE SHE WAS SITTING THERE'S NO WAY A HOCKEY PLAYER CAN PINPOINT SOMEONE'S SEAT THAT QUICK UNLESS THEY ALREADY KNEW WHERE THEY WERE SITTING

nicohischier posted to their story...

liked by 138,017 others

hockeygossip: LATE ARRIVAL FOR Y/N L/N TO NASHVILLE HOCKEY AWARDS 2023. PICTURED WITH DEVILS HOCKEY CAPTAIN NICO HISCHIER MOMENTS AFTER HER LATE ARRIVAL.

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liked by nicohischier, joejonas and 1,004,013 others

ynofficial: because the first launch failed ☺️

📸: nicohischier ❤️

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user21: IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM

user22: [tyres screech] [distant crash] [sirens] [crying] [heartbeat monitor]

user23: AHHHAH AHHAA HAHA *faints*

user24: he's taking a photo of her 😭

user25: the way she's looking at him and his concentration 😭

user26: your honour they're in love

user27: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THE GAME THING WAS THE INITIAL HARD LAUNCH BUT WE ALL MISINTERPRETED IT???

ynofficial: ...yes

user28: WE'RE DUMB WE APOLOGISE

jackhughes: this is cute

nicohischier: can i get your number?

ynofficial: sure, it's #13

nicohischier: 😲😲

user29: you know it's SERIOUS bc she's never been ig official before

user30: fr she didn't even post callum mf turner, if i was her i'd have been yelling from the rooftops

user31: SHE SAID ALL THAT ABOUT HIM IN AN INTERVIEW OH MY GOD I'M DYING

user33: 'he's patient, kind, intelligent, calm, and just a really beautiful soul' I BELIEVED IN YOU NICO ALL THIS TIME

user34: nico fans are really winning here

user35: SHE MADE IT FOR THE END OF THE AWARDS

user36: but that pap photo from instagram? the way they were looking at each other has me in my own puddle of tears in a nest of already used tissues bc they're adorable

user37: that photo single-handedly instilled in me the belief that love does exist

user38: they're my 'don't take risks on dangerous roads' couple now

liked by ynofficial, jesperbratt and 519,195 others

nicohischier: it's come to my attention that there's been a lot of talk about my relationship lately, and i just wanted to come on here and confirm that i am batshit crazy for this woman, and pathetically in love with her. so, yes, the rumours are true 😊

ps i have the dad seal of approval

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jackhughes: first

john.marino97: whipped

nicohischier: yep 💪

jackhughes: why are you ignoring me

nicohischier: because you haven't said anything worth commenting on

ynofficial: i'm a sports watcher for you

nicohischier: appreciate it, thanks

ynofficial: you're welcome

user39: i think i love this awkward conversing

user40: it's my aspiration in life to have that

lhughes_06: happy for you, cap 😁

jackhughes: *cough* suck up *cough*

tmeier96: ABOUT DAMN TIME 👏👏

ynofficial: you can rip that NDA up now

tmeier96: i might frame it for sentimental purposes

ynofficial: really?

nicohischier: that's suspicious

siegenthaler34: in my defence i did try my best with the jumbotron incident

nicohischier: and we're very thankful for that

ynofficial: if anything it helped thicken the plot 😂

siegenthaler34: it was pretty funny

user41: THE y/n l/n being the captain's wag wasn't on my bingo card for this year

nicohischier: you and me both

ynofficial: please, i was a goner from the very SECOND you smiled

nicohischier: the very second? 😏

ynofficial: stfu and bring the coffee

nicohischier: as you wish

+ BONUS: Spittin Chiclets Podcast

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier oneshot #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier social media au #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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presidentbungus · 4 months

Text

The first curse Tavish Finnegan Degroot was ever bestowed with was being born a Degroot.

He was born late. The midwife said his head came out and then he did everything within his power to crawl right back in, and thirty years later he'd say that's just because he knew what was waiting for him outside. They'd called up the Crypt Grammar School for Orphans for a car to come get him a while early, since it was three hours away from this poor excuse of a mansion set down in the middle of nowhere and that'd undoubtedly make birthing times and whatnot just a little muddy; the driver arrived at 8 AM sharp, in a repurposed hearse that served as the Crypt's resident Orphanmobile, and proceeded to sit in the little patch of mud an especially optimistic soul could call a driveway for the next nine hours. When Tavish was finally coaxed out into a musty room just as covered in gunpowder as the entire rest of the house, gently taken from his complaining mother's arms, and roughly sprinted down to the entrance of the manor, the carriage had just given up and begun to leave, and it took a gunshot through the back window to convince it to stop for a damn second and take him off with it.

Curse two had already been at work, and three quickly materialized; in order, time's general distaste for his existence, and a troubling disagreement with cars as a concept.

Ten minutes onto the road, a moose bolted through (moose don't live in Scotland; this one was captive of a nearby circus that had suddenly and inexplicably been descended upon by rabid elephants, which themselves had been performers in a different nearby circus which had become a gigantic sinkhole for no particular reason, and so on); the driver swerved, Tavish rattled around in the back with the coffins from the hearse's last owner which no one had bothered to remove, and the hearse rumbled directly into a puddle of quicksand, which quickly set to drinking in as much of the car as possible as the driver got out and started waving his arms around and dancing in circles and whatnot.

There was rope in the trunk, and Tavish was eventually rescued and set off to the side in a spot where the grass was thin on the muddy, insecty ground while his chauffeur got to work excising the car, which arguably is not a good place for a baby but bygones can be bygones; however, when all was said and done and the Orphanmobile was on mostly dry land again, every single one of its tyres was inexplicably deflated (unbeknownst to both parties, the pit of quicksand belied an old-fashioned booby-trap-styled pit of spikes; this had previously been the crash site of a truck carrying supplies for ancient tombs and haunted towers and such), and the baby on the ground was missing.

Tavish had been taken to a nearby tree by a very zealous hawk, who wasn't going to let anything stop her from raising this massive, squirming, screaming thing as one of her own, except perhaps an orphan delivery driver with a large and pointy stick; when all was said and done Tavish was saved with nothing but a few feathers stuck to all the mud he was covered in, and when the driver walked back to the Orphanmobile he quickly discovered it had been completely consumed by the quicksand.

Of course there were five or six more curses in action here, but for the most part too small and specific to bother with; as they began to stack up through his childhood Tavish found it a pointless waste of time to tally all but the biggest ones, since there were just too many patterns of unluck to worry about very many in particular.

#bungus snippets #fic concept im tinkering with :3 hopefully this one will stick since i havent written something real in uhhh over a year #tf2 demoman #tf2 #bungus headcanons

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paddockbunny · 2 years

Note

Can I request NSFW Prompt List; 2, 39, 42, and 48 with either Pierre, Charles or Max and you can make it however short or long you’d like ☺️☺️

Keeping it within the Team

Summary : Charles makes a very big mistake, one that you want answers for. But just how exactly is Charles going to answer you? Rating : 18+ Pairing : Charles Leclerc x Reader Word Count : 1.8k Warnings : NSFW, Adult material, PinV sex, unprotected sex, language, fingering, tension and anger, work related power positions.

“What the fuck was that?” You pretty much yell as your driver - the exact one that you had been instrumental in bringing to the team - stormed past you with expletives in his mother tongue pouring from him. Coursing through your veins was pure and utter rage. This weekend was supposed to be an easy one. A nice, easy, relaxed win. But no. Charles thought he knew more than you and tried to pull off a move so ridiculous that you flung your headset across the pit wall. His egotistical display didn’t just have him tumbling down the timing table, it had him out of the race all together. P2 and challenging a win to OUT, DNF, FUORI!

As someone came over to you to ask some stupid, unnecessary question, you watched as Charles headed straight out of the garage. “Fuck this!” You weren’t going to be ignored. He was going to answer for himself, even if it was just to you. He wasn’t going to go sulk in his drivers room and try blame it on the team, tactics or worst of all, you. You tear through the garage totally indignant.

“He doesn’t want anyone to….” Charles trainer was stood by his drivers room door and was seriously trying to stop you? You didn’t even bother paying him any attention. Your fist banged against the cool, cold metal of the door. The loud rattle and booming it made mimicked the way your heart hammered in your chest.

“Leclerc! Open this door. This is Ferrari property!” You hit it again and again. If he didn’t open the locked door and let you in then you were fully prepared to go to the bosses about the petulant child he was being. Finally, and rather dramatically, the door flew open and exposed a thundery, raging Charles. Fireproof already off and glaring down at you as if this was all somehow your fault. You didn’t ask to be let in. You pushed your way in and immediately observed the damage he had done. The massage table was on its side, pile of drivers cards that he had been signing strewn across the floor. His helmet had dented the wall and as angry as you were, you were rather amused that he finally had started showing his anger and letting it out instead of being bottled up inside himself.

When you turned to look at him you saw how dark his eyes looked and for the first time ever, your stomach actually flipped. He was such a handsome fucker but no one caused you as much bloody stress as he did. It wasn’t until his eyes seemed intent on burrowing right into your soul that you realised your heart was pounding, palms were slightly sweaty and breathing was totally elevated. What the hell was going on?

“Why…” your voice catches in your throat. Words became thick like smog and didn’t want to come out. But then that may have been because Charles had moved halfway across the room and was now only a few feet from you and it made you nervous. “Why did you do that? You had fresher tyres and you know that corner was far too tight for the move you were trying to pull.” You tried to snap out of whatever he had suddenly done to you. “I don’t want to talk about it.” It came rumbled out of him and you had never heard him like this before. He was practically growling and just out of uneasiness you swallowed.

“You have to answer for it Charles…” before you could tell him that management will want to know why he didn’t listen to team orders - specifically to you - and ignored his radio, his hands were on you. One around your waist, palm flat against your back, while the other was against the side of your throat. But then your brain abruptly snapped back into reality and you realised not only were his hands were on you, his mouth was too

His mouth is on you.

Charles’ mouth is on yours.

You snapped back to earth when he moaned into your mouth and you realised you were kissing him back, feverishly. The thought washed over you that this was all completely inappropriate and a total breach of the level of responsibility you had within the team. A second wave crashed upon you that made you consider telling him to stop but then, your back hit something solid and you realised Charles had you up against the wall. Fuck, you didn’t know if you could bring yourself to stop him even if you wanted too. It had been months since you had been touched like this. Right before the season started your boyfriend had broken up with you - something Charles was acutely aware of considering your ex was one of his mechanics - so it wasn’t like you had any other reason to tell him to stop. It was literally only your job.

The thoughts immediately left your head as Charles’ pressed his body flush against you and you could feel his obvious erection straining against the red race suit. It pressed against your thigh and it gave you this tingle all over your body. You didn’t care if it was because he was angry with you, frustrated with how his race went or because he actually wanted you. As his hand left your back and found the button on your Ferrari issue red pants (ones which you absolutely hated) you finally mustered up the courage to ask; “Wh…what are you doing?”

“Don’t you dare tell me to stop.” Your mind had been too fixed on the emotions you were feeling that the only way you had managed to hear his voice was by the action of his hand further down. An unexpected gasp left you as his hand slid inside your panties. Cupping the dampening heat between your thighs Charles moaned. “Fuck!” He sighed “are you this wet because I made you angry or because you’ve always wanted me to touch you?” “Don’t flatter yourself Leclerc.” Was what you would have said if his forefinger didn’t make contact with your already pulsating, aching clit. His pressure was too light. It was far too god damn light. You circled your hips down against him and his other hand went back to your throat again.

“Look at me!” It came out of him as a husky rasp. Your eyes opened for him and you only had time to drink in the lust filled look his his own when the same finger that had been rubbing circles against you, slid inside of your drenched pussy. "You're so fucking perfect" You weren't even sure you heard him say it so decided you wanted to hear it again.

“Char…” but as much as you wanted to get him to repeat himself, you couldn’t even speak his name. He had infiltrated your mind and soul. Already reducing you to a pile of wanton need. A slightly exasperated sigh spilled from you. Neediness capturing your physical being. You wanted him. You needed him. You were orgasm deprived and desperate. And just when you thought you would have to telepathically beg him to fuck you, he turned you around to face the wall while he ripped those team issue trousers down over your butt and thighs.

You couldn’t remember anything about how you got here the second Charles slammed his throbbing cock inside of you. Your mind going blank because all you could think of was how he felt as he filled you up. His cock buried up to the hilt. You heard his own gasps for air and you knew you felt good wrapped around him. He had stilled for a moment and the frantic need for utter carnal pleasure took over your body. A deliberate pushing back of your hips had his hand against the side of your head before he began to find his rhythm.

Strokes of slow, sinuous sensuality were being replaced by total and utter desperation. His fingertips would be leaving marks when he grabbed your arm and pulled it behind your back so he could get purchase on something. And, you didn’t care. You wanted to be marked by him. You were happy to be consumed by him just like the rage he had given you earlier. His cock pounded into you and air felt like it couldn’t fill your lungs fast enough.

“Charles….” It tumbled from your mouth eventually. Then it came again and again. The sound of his name sliding over your reddened lips began to bring him closer and closer. So close that eventually those thrusts got harder and harder and the tip of his pulsating member was repeatedly hitting the spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Fuck….keep going….please….keep fucking going.” It all came pouring from you now. It was as if Charles fucking you had opened the floodgates and you would tell him whatever he wanted to hear as long as he made you cum.

"Fuck...your pussy is....I've never had anyone feel this good." Charles voice purred. Then it hit you. The electric high of an orgasm. Your thighs momentarily shaking as finally he took you over the edge with just his cock. You knew the tightening of your slick, drenched walls affected him. His moans all but stopped and you could feel him starting to twitch inside of you. Your name finally, after all this time, left his open lips. His hips jerked and as his body collapsed against you - pressing your even further against the wall - you could feel him still convulsing from his own orgasm.

You could have gone again with how phenomenal he had just made you feel. While you felt his milky cum begin to trickle out of you, you didn’t even care if this was a one time thing. You had never had such an intense fuck in your life. Charles returned from the bathroom with a damp towel - you had been so cock drunk you weren’t even sure when he had disappeared - and you took it with a breathy quick sigh. Your lungs felt desperate for air. They were aching as if you had been holding your breath. They were aching as much as your Leclerc used pussy. You could practically laugh at that statement. You had just fucked Charles Leclerc out of frustration. He watched as you cleaned up and made yourself decent again.

“You hate me don’t you?” He sat on the edge of the flame red sofa. “For DNFing.”

“I don’t particularly fucking like you for it but I don’t hate you.” You picked up your credentials from the floor before smoothing out your hair. You would smell of him - of it, of sex - but you didn’t even care. Moving toward the door you hear Charles let out a shaky laugh from behind you

“Just so you know…that wasn’t a hate fuck. If it was a hate fuck, you wouldn’t be walking out of here.” And with a simple statement you knew you were completely, totally, fucked.

#charles leclerc #cl #cl16 #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot

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fleet-of-fiction · 7 months

Text

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part One

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 390 ~ Amelia

It was in my mind to go back the way I had come. To trudge through the heavy undergrowth of a path that was once there, but was now being reclaimed. But putting one foot in front of the other was easier on the road. Perhaps this lazy thought put me precisely where I was meant to be?

The mist was low and thick. The curve of the trees as they lined the asphalt disappeared into the smog. I could scarcely see where each step would take me, although I knew this road even in darkness. The way ahead was shrouded and I was weary. Carrying the heavy load of fire wood on my back and a sadness that had begun to gnaw away at the corpse of my resolve.

I was half a mile away from Grandma's cabin when I heard it. The low thrum of a sound that had no place in the silence which had become my world. Any sound that was not made by my own footsteps was nothing more than a tree in the wind or a creature meandering through the brush in search of food. I hadn't heard anything else in so long that my heart began to pound in my chest.

I knew that I had heard this sound before. It was familiar. And as it grew louder, I could feel the prick of fear at the back of my neck. The clamorous growl of it made me want to start running. Unable to take in a full breath, I started walking with more purpose into the line of trees.

I was never really certain what made me look back. The force of something beyond myself told me that I had to be brave. That if I were to hide, I would walk this earth alone forever more. And so I dropped the fire wood and turned into the mist. Swirls of it catching the golden hue of headlights as they illuminated the white fog.

The deafening screech of tyres on the corner rooted me to the ground. The fleeting moment seemed to pass me by much more swiftly than I would recall it later. All I knew was the streak of red as it crossed my path, the unfathomable look in the eye that caught mine through the windscreen and the way I seemed to know that one of us was going to bleed for it.

I clamped my eyes shut and waited for impact. Certain that the trajectory would bring me to death. And I would greet it as a friend. The intolerable ache of loneliness was all consuming. The days of solitude had etched away at any desire to remain alive. I hadn't known I was ready to die, but in that moment it was a truth I could not deny.

I felt the air sweep past me. The inevitable crash of metal on wood forced my eyes open. Colors of red and black and grey permeated the mist. And I felt the first drop of rain.

A former life that I had not lived in so long was resurrected. My brain seemed to ignite into a frenzy of pathways reconnecting themselves as I ran towards the billowing smoke. Whether it was adrenaline or something outside of myself willing me to strength, I managed to yank the driver side door open and step back as a lifeless body limped over the wheel.

I hadn't seen another soul in so long that I held my breath at the sight of him. A tangle of brown hair and blood, I instinctively moved him back as the scent of fire began to burn. His serenity came from the way it looked as if he was simply sleeping. I was stolen from the urgency of the situation as I began to wonder if he was dead or dreaming. My breath stilled in my chest as I pushed back his blood drenched hair from his brow.

And then he moved. Just a twitch of his eyelid. I frantically pulled off my gloves with chattering teeth, placing fingertips at his pulse. It was weak, but it was there. I clicked his seatbelt open and let his body fall into mine, dragging it into the mud as the wreckage began to blaze.

He let out an agonized groan as he hit the ground. The sound of another human voice sent me into a flutter of panic and relief in equal measure. Lifting his eyelid, I watched for any focus in his irises. Any dilation in his pupils. He didn't seem to be fully conscious, but the way he sucked the air in told me everything I needed to know about the balance of his life.

Lifting his shirt, I could already see the broken ribs against his fight to breathe. The potential for a collapsed lung was high, but without any medical equipment at my disposal I had no other choice than to drag him the half mile back to the cabin.

With the rain beating down beneath the canopy of trees, my hands covered in blood and soil, I felt his body slip from my grasp as I tried in vain to raise him. There was no strength I could muster to get him to his feet, he was like a rag doll. Void of any life that would grant him the strength needed for me to carry him.

Every muscle and sinew in my body fought against leaving him there. To stay with him next to the burning rubble of his car as flames licked up the branches of the broken trees was not an option, either. And I knew that dragging him by his feet would inevitably kill him. Each of those choices ended in him dying, regardless.

I didn't know that I was crying for this stranger until I felt the warmth of salty tears on my lips. I dipped my hand into the pocket at his groin and pulled out his wallet, searching for something with a name.

"Jacob..." I whispered, my own voice coming out of me as if I'd never heard it before.

I had to try. I had to kill him knowing that I'd tried to save him. At least then I could go on in my solitude knowing that I'd tried to end it. That there was a part of me that had wanted to know what it felt like to hold a conversation with another for one last time.

I tied his shoelaces together and took one of the sturdier looking sticks from the fire wood pile and wound it around the laces. Pulling it through the overgrowth that I had tried to avoid, his body trailing behind me over rock and fern until I reached the gravel path towards my dwelling. The weight of him sending shockwaves of pain through my shoulders and arms, rendering me weak and wearier than I had ever thought possible.

How long had it taken? An hour? Possibly two? The rain refused to stop pouring and the wind continued to howl. The mist remained on the forest floor like a blanket of cloud that did nothing to soften his journey. But somehow, I made it. Trembling against cold and fatigue, I pulled this lifeless body up the porch steps and into the sanctuary of my Grandmother's home.

I thought I would have felt something as I stared at him. But within the confines of my familiarity, it was like seeing him for the first time all over again. And I was flushed with fear anew. The questions I so desperately needed answering screamed at me from the back of my mind, not knowing what it meant that someone else had been left behind, too.

There would be time enough for that. I silenced the echoes of my intrusive thoughts and ripped the front of his shirt open. The true extent of his wounds becoming apparent as I ran my hand down his sternum. There was no way of knowing if he was bleeding internally, or if his breakages were life threatening but I was bolstered by his ability to carry on breathing as I ran for my supplies.

I was lost in a flurry of muscle memory as I fitted a canula to the back of his hand. Fixed the saline drip on the stand and managed to get a pillow beneath his head. I gave him a shot of morphine to keep him sedated and wrapped his torso in linen bandages to keep his ribcage from falling apart. I cleaned up the blood from the wound at his temple, stitching it up against the tendrils of long brown hair.

And then I sat.

There was nothing left in me to give. I sat and I stared at him. Taking in the cupids bow of his lips and the strict line of his jaw. The mole on his right cheek and the tiny, almost indiscernible pock scar on his left. I took note of his deep set eyes behind closed lids, the thick brows above them and the way his teeth sat just behind his mouth as his breathing began to settle into a regular pattern.

And then I began to wonder about what sort of man he was. If he was good and kind or if he had a terrible temper. I wondered what stories he had to tell, or if he would want to leave without telling me any of them. I wondered if he had been alone as I had. If his solitude had driven him mad or if he wanted nothing more than to be alone in this empty world.

I wondered if he would try to hurt me. To take my food and my body. And the thought that he would regain his strength and try to force himself upon me was one that made me physically move back from him. Every danger receptor in my body alerting me to something that was entirely perceived.

He was just laying there on the cold, wooden floor. On the flatweave rug that was faded and frayed that had been there since my early childhood and was now tainted with blood stains. He wasn't a threat. There was too much morphine in his blood stream. But still, I found myself concocting a menagerie of thoughts about his character as he laid there, unconscious.

I nervously moved around, building a fire with the last of the wood and cursing myself for not going back for the pile I'd left at the side of the road. I made a pot of tea and kept a watchful eye over him as it brewed. Sipping on it thoughtfully as I sat at the kitchen table, unable to focus my attention on anything but his half naked body.

Eventually, I gave in to the shock and fell asleep with my head propped against my forearm. The gentle crackle of the fire fading away as it burned to embers. And the rain continued to lash against the window, until day turned into night.

Day 392 ~ Jake

The ghost in the mist haunted me. The sight of her in the thickening fog, watching me with those doleful eyes. A dream that wouldn't release me. Repeating over and over until all I could feel was unbearable pain shooting through every inch of my body.

I didn't think ghosts could hurt me. But she was standing over me with a hand on my chest, running her fingers down my throat and ripping my clothes to shreds. I could hear my name on the wind, being whispered somewhere beyond my comprehension. And then there was nothing but eternal darkness. My only sense of reality was the smoke in my lungs that smelled like burning rubber and it would not relent no matter how hard I tried to breathe.

It felt like I had died. And when finally I opened my eyes, I wondered if I'd stepped over the threshold into the place beyond. If I had, then surely I was in hell. All I could see through blurred vision were flames licking high in a roaring fireplace. The heat of it making me sweat. I could feel myself shrouded in something, a blanket? It felt itchy against my skin. I wanted to shuffle free of it but couldn't move. The torture of my body not doing as I willed it was surely a punishment that should have come to me a long time ago.

The ghost of my dreams appeared to me through the flames. Her hand clammy and cool against my brow, her voice soft and low as she soothed my aching moans. I couldn't see her face, only the outline of her as she stood above me. Angel or demon, I couldn't decipher. But I knew I had died. There was nobody left in the world I'd left behind.

"Jacob?"

It was like my head was being lifted out of running water. The muffled drum of my own heart seemed to beat loudly in my ears and then suddenly it was like I'd stepped onto dry land.

"Jake." I mumbled, a habit I'd developed whenever anyone called me by my full name.

My mouth was bone dry. I could feel my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and my lips covered in a sheen of dried saliva as I tried to speak. My head snapped up, panic rising in my chest as I realised I wasn't in my own clothes. I was stitched up and laid out on an old couch in front of a stone fireplace. My ribs felt like porcelain as I tried to sit up, only to find that I couldn't.

"Don't try to make any sudden moves."

She wasn't a ghost. She wasn't a spectre in the mist. I could see her concern laced in her unwavering eyes. Blue as the sky I hadn't seen for days and red rimmed from tears she'd no doubt shed at my expense. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to fluff the pillow behind my head. Heaven nor hell could have prepared me for this. The reality that I had survived.

She placed a glass of water to my mouth and let me drink until the water ran down my chin. Until my parched mouth was satisfied. And then I watched as she retreated to the chair beside the fire, sitting on the edge of it as if my presence made her nervous. Her hands wringing in her lap and a fearful expression on lips she couldn't help but bite.

It had been so long since I had seen another living soul that I was struck by the same uncertainty. Perhaps I would have been more gracious if my body had allowed it, but all I could do was lay there and wonder if me looking at her was the wrong thing to do.

"Where am I?" I asked, my eyes still adjusting to the sombre fire light.

She was considering my question. To be specific or to give me just the right amount of information. Her distrust of me was a little off putting, considering I'd only been unconscious in her company thus far. It felt as if she didn't really want me there, but neither could I simply get up and walk out.

"A few miles outside of Roanoke." She confirmed, "You don't remember anything before the accident?"

I could have lied. But she wouldn't have been comforted either way. It was my presence that was scaring her, not whatever I had to say. I could see her knees bounce up and down where she sat, her chest rising and falling beneath an oversized flannel shirt as she breathed a little harder than usual.

"I remember." I replied, wincing as I tried to shift my weight.

She flew to my side. Despite her fear, she opened the shirt that I was wearing that didn't belong to me and ran careful hands over my bandaged middle. Her touch settled on the fabric, my flesh beneath it screaming out to be held.

"Where does it hurt?" She asked plainly, inspecting me like a book she had never read before.

There were freckles on the bridge of her nose.

"Just my ribs." I replied, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could muster.

"Without access to imaging machinery, I couldn't decipher the extent of the wounds." She said, buttoning up the shirt a little higher than I would have usually worn it. "After I was able to get you out of the car, I had to drag you through the woods. I wasn't sure if you'd sustain more injuries. Luckily, the front of the car took most of the impact. Your body just shattered in the reverb, from what I could tell after I examined you. I was concerned about internal bleeding, but after the first 24 hours I could see that your bruising was from multiple bone fractures. I don't know the extent of those either, but at a guess I'd say there's a fair few. You hit your head pretty hard, too. But I managed to get it stitched up. You just needed fluids after that, and I gave you some sedatives to keep you still. Just in case..."

She traced a finger over the dressing on the back of my hand and peeled it off. The sensation of it drew a swift intake of breath. She rubbed at thumb over the puncture wound where something had been and walked away. Nobody had touched me in what felt like a thousand lives lived in complete solitude. And I almost felt the sting of tears betray me.

"What are you, some kind of doctor?" I jested, although she didn't smile.

"Medical student." She corrected, "I was a few months away from graduation when..."

She didn't seem to want to say it out loud. She lingered in the space between the couch and the chair, eventually throwing the dressing she'd taken off my hand into the fire and stoking it with a heavy looking iron poker that looked out of place in her tiny hands.

"I thought I was the only one left."

My confession drew her back from the fire. A look of intense pain that she couldn't speak of in those blue eyes. She was the reason I was laid up like that, unable to move. I couldn't tell her that, though. That her appearing to me like that through the mist had made me swerve, that she was real and not a figment of my imagination had brought me crashing through the trees.

There was so much I wanted to say. And none of it that I could easily spit out. And she, in return, could not speak to the thing which had brought us to that moment. There was a mounting sadness which seemed to be shared. But she wouldn't let me dwell in hers, I was an outsider.

"You must be starving." She surmised, snapping out of her melancholy.

My stomach ached for food, but I didn't want any. The way she stormed across the room, as if the act of bringing me food was a welcome distraction made me feel a strange sense of guilt.

"No, wait..." I lifted my arm, felt pain shoot through my chest and put it back down.

She stopped at the foot of the couch. Ready to tell me that I wasn't strong enough to be making such bold movements yet, but she remained silent. The look of uncertainty still there, like a third person was in the room with us.

"What can I do for you, Jake?" She asked, so sweetly I almost relinquished myself to the pain just to sit up and get a better look at her.

I settled on the way she looked at me, instead. "What's your name?"

Something she could freely give me. Something she already had of mine that she could reciprocate. Just a simple name, and she smiled right before she gave it to me.

Day 1 ~ Amelia

Christmas never felt quite right in California. I longed for the morning dew of the appalachian woods where the rest of my family were celebrating. The fireside mulled wine and ridiculous conversations that my Mother would have with her Mother. My younger brother fighting with my elder brother over the last cookie, or something equally trivial that never would have been a point of contention if they'd been at home.

At Grandma's cabin we always became children again. That steady tone of her voice as she admonished us was a comfort in adulthood. That I couldn't be there had made my Mother cry, and I couldn't shift the memory of her wiping away tears as my Dad put a careful hand to her shoulder. Only he understood why. And I knew, as I stood clicking my pen at the 4th storey window of UCSF Fresno, that he would be comforting her in my absence.

Dad came from a world of surgeons and lawyers. His family were big on careers, whereas my Mom had grown up the child of appalachian homesteaders. Or doomsday preppers, as Dad so affectionately called them. The two of them colliding at the 1991 birth of Lollapalooza.

It was easy to live in privilege around my Dad. The way he walked me into the most prestigious residency I could have ever dreamed of was not something I could give up just for Christmas. But my Mom was always there to remind me to be humble. That nothing worth having meant a damn if you didn't work for it, and I was determined to work for this place I had found myself in.

"Doctor?"

I slipped my pen back into my coat pocket. As I turned, I caught sight of the little old man standing at the foot of his hospital bed in a mint green gown. His little legs were trembling, his eyes sunken so deeply I could barely make out the color of them.

"Mr. Matheson, I thought I told you to stay in bed?" I tutted, helping him into the chair before his legs gave way.

He was quite adamant that he wasn't getting back into that bed. Pulling me down to meet his milky gaze, the paleness of his cheeks somewhat whiter than they'd been a moment ago.

"I don't feel quite right, Doc." He fretted, batting away my attempts to check his vitals.

"That's because you have liver disease, Mr. Matheson." I replied, keeping my tone accustomed to the teasing manner this particular patient enjoyed. "You remember? You're in the hospital in Fresno."

He would usually spare me a toothy grin. Tell me I was the prettiest Doctor he'd ever seen. That I reminded him of his late wife, except she didn't have freckles on her nose. When he sat there silently, staring through me like I wasn't even there, I took out my pen light and waited for him to follow the glow.

It was as if he had vacated his own body.

"Mr. Matheson?" I chimed, curling my hands around his shoulders in order to shake him back into himself. "Mr. Matheson, can you hear me?!"

He never ate much. He was barely keeping his bones together with what little flesh he had left. He seldom slept. The disease ravaging his body had caused red welts to appear across his flesh, painful to the touch. I swept my hand across his forehead, something which usually caused him to wince in pain. But there was nothing. Not even an errant blink.

"Ok, you're scaring me now." I confessed, hitting the call button with my fist as I laid the old man out on the floor.

Nobody came. The alarm sounded out over a silence I hadn't noticed. There were no clamouring footsteps, no hurried voices.

"Can somebody get in here please?!" I called, damned if I was going to leave this sweet old man on the floor like that. "Hello?! Is anyone there?!"

There had been Christmas music playing from the nurses' station. Visitors coming and going all day. The gentle realisation that there was only the alarm I'd set off myself sounding out sent a blood curdling chill down my spine. I felt it spill like ice down from the nape of my neck until my fingers tingled with it.

I felt a wave of nausea. My body began to feel irrepressibly cold. The essence drained from me.

"Please..." I begged, my voice coming out so thinly it was barely audible. "I need...someone...to help..."

I hit the ground before I finished speaking. My body listless and paralysed. My mind urging myself to move to no avail. I could only stare up at the fluorescent light above, buzzing and flickering on the white painted ceiling. I thought, perhaps, I had worked myself into a psychotic frenzy. That my perception of time was off and that it had only been a second since I hit the call button.

They'd be here any moment, wouldn't they?

The light swallowed me. Rendered me blind. Time lost all meaning. My own heartbeat the only reminder that I existed at all. The tell tale sound of my own breath, like my head was under water, rushing in and out as I tried to move.

I couldn't see my own body. As if I was shrouded in darkness, but where the void should have been black there was only white. Not smoke, nor mist. Not something I could place outside of myself, it was within. And yet, it was beyond me. I could feel it trying to drag me away. Like it wanted me to let it consume me.

I thought that I was screaming. I knew my mouth was moving but there was no sound coming out. I knew that I was fighting something that wanted me to remain still. It wanted me to submit. And it felt as if, for a moment, that I should.

Just let it take me. No more pain. No more struggle. No more life. No more waking up each day alone, the hours of my life dwindling down at a job that was making it hard to find love. No more missed celebrations, seeing the look on my Mother's face when I couldn't be there. Whatever it was that wanted me, let it have me.

My heart began to beat faster. Thrumming harder and harder against my chest, threatening to beat right out of my body. Until all I could hear was the deafening roar of it. Certain that I was dying, I accepted my fate. I stopped fighting it. And the moment I did, everything became abundantly clear.

I opened my eyes. Breathless. Drenched in sweat. Christmas music echoing down the corridor. Every muscle, every sinew robbed of it's strength. My eyes were streaming, like I'd been crying but couldn't recall what it had been about. Utterly broken. But I couldn't remember why.

For the briefest moment I was numbed with amnesia. The sweetest, most pure moment that kept me safe from what I was about to recall. I picked myself up slowly, gathered my composure. A headache pounding away behind my temples that hadn't been there a moment ago.

And Mr. Matheson was nowhere to be seen.

Day 2 ~ Jake

The bottle of tequila my brother had left on the counter was still sitting there, half of it spilled down the kitchen cupboard. As if he'd been pouring it and simply wasn't there to hold it anymore.

The TV was playing static. My parents had been sitting on the couch watching an old movie, their positions still moulded into the scatter cushions. There wasn't a single thing out of place. Even the cars parked in the driveway signalled that no one had left.

Except I was alone. So irrevocably alone that I had burst into the houses nearby in a blind panic, looking for signs that anyone was still there. Every house in a state of eerie abandonment. Like Christmas had been happening until the moment it somehow wasn't.

Music playing. Food left on tables. Spilled drinks. Toys scattered across the floor, wrapping paper littering the space beneath Christmas trees. Like children had been playing with them only a moment ago, until they were inexplicably taken.

And I couldn't bear it. One minute I'd been standing on my parents' front porch, sharing a smoke with my girlfriend after we'd eaten a good meal, feeling content as we talked about our plans for the new year. I thought she was just playing at first, collapsing down the porch steps into a heap at the bottom. I was blinded by the light before I could reach her.

I never did reach her. It was as if I blinked and she was no longer there, the light dissipating into a world void of others. I screamed their names. I ran from house to house, I tore them apart. I told them to quit messing around. Only silence responded.

Like the Marie Celeste. Floating on the sea without a crew to steer her. Warm and inviting, a meal set to be eaten. But none to eat.

Nothing but the remains that they had once been there. And now there was only sadness and a fear I knew would choke me, if I let it.

Part Two

@thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #fanfic #fanfiction #gvf #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader

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pierregas1yx · 2 years

Note

Heyyyy!!!! Can you please write an imagine about Lewis Hamilton? The trope is she falls first but he falls harder. Idk, maybe she works at Mercedes kind of thing. Thanks :)))

Expect The Unexpected

Prompt: You fell first but Lewis fell harder.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Female!Reader

Warnings: unedited, drug metaphors

Category: fluff

Gif: not mind, credits to the original owners.

Working at Mercedes had been the dream for as long as you could remember. Always being a fan of motorsport, you would watch the cars compete around the tracks across the world and the very second that you had any concept of what working and having a job were, you decided that Formula 1 was the place for you.

But chasing down a dream was never as easy as the movies made it out to be. Several years being cooped up in a boxy flat, pouring your heart and soul into your university work and working a part time job just to make ends meet were some of the sacrifices that you had to make to get to where you are now.

Working at Mercedes had always been the dream and it was a dream that you had managed to achieve through hard work.

So there you were, standing in the middle of the garage as pit crew, photographers and engineers danced around you. They were in a mad rush to get everything sorted and ready for the upcoming race.

You were totally focused on the day ahead. The Monza GP had always been one of your favourites. There was just something so magical about it. With Monza, always expect the unexpected.

You scanned the garage one final time, looking for the man that you would be assisting throughout the race and the moment that he walked in, your breathing hitched in your throat. There he was, dressed in his black race suit which only made him look more appealing and more dangerous than usual. His braided hair was tied back in a ponytail and as he smiled at his team, you admired the small gap in his teeth, the one that made you think he was cute instead of hot whenever you saw it.

"Y/N, you ready for today?" Lewis asked, catching you by surprise. Too entranced in his beauty, you hadn't realised that he was now standing in front of you. Snapping you out of your daydream, you forced a bright smile on your face and nodded your head with enthusiasm.

"As ready as ever, Sir." You gave him a salute and he chuckled at your stupidity. He found it endearing how you still insisted on calling him by his official title every so often. Lewis would rather you didn't but it became more of a joke between the two of you and so you never stopped.

Lewis' hand gripped yours and placed it back down by your side gently. Electricity flew up your arms as he initiated contact and when your head snapped up to look at him, his eyes were wide. Lewis was never one to show any shock or fear but as you looked into his eyes, you found both were present.

The races came and went as they usually did with one exception: you and Lewis had started to spend more time together. At first, it started out as official meetings that were genuinely work related. Lewis had questions regarding the tyre performance and a few car performance issues. Things were ironed out very quickly and before you knew it, Lewis had invited you out for lunch. You knew that you shouldn't have agreed. It was a dangerous game that you were playing but he was so enticing.

Lewis Hamilton was like a drug to you. Everything about him was addicting, from the scent of his aftershave to the way that he looked at you with that twinkle in his eyes.

The thing about working at Mercedes was that it was just one big family and so when Toto and Susie announced that they would be hosting an end of season party to celebrate everyone's hard work, you were already being pestered about attending.

"You are going, right?" Lewis questioned as the pair of you fell into stride with each other, walking around the paddock.

"I'm not sure. I told my parents that I would help them with Christmas decorations and I haven't seen them in months." You sighed, confessing your dilemma to the man that you had worked with for years.

"Oh come on, Y/N. The party won't be fun without you." He pouted at you, giving you his best puppy dog eyes and you could feel your cheeks burning at the sight.

You weren't stupid. Your attendance would not impact Lewis having fun but you let yourself believe it anyway and so, you agreed.

"I'll make sure you have the best time. I promise!" Lewis exclaimed as though he was an excited, young kid and without even thinking about it, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

As always, Toto and Susie outdid themselves with the party and as promised, Lewis made sure that you had the best possible time.

Not once did Lewis leave your side all evening. He spent his time dancing with you, giving you enough alcohol to make you tipsy but not enough to get you drunk and his arm was always wrapped around your waist. Not a single man dared to approach you whilst you were in the presence of Lewis although rest be assured, plenty of men wanted to.

"I'm just going to the bathroom. I'll be right back." You informed him, your lips brushing against his ear to be heard over the loud music. He got shivers from the contact, the blood rushing down below and making his trousers that bit more uncomfortable.

What you didn't notice as you walked away with your back to him, was how his eyes raked up and down your body, taking in how gorgeous you looked in that slinky black dress. It accentuated every inch of your body perfectly and my god did Lewis want to devour you there and then but he had better control than that. You deserved better than a quickie in the family bathroom of your employer. He would make sure to give you better than that.

"You like her." Susie Wolff observed from beside the golden boy of Mercedes. Being snapped out of his thoughts that were consumed by you, he turned to look at Susie, not quite believing how easily she could read him.

"Nah, she's my engineer and a friend-" Lewis started but he wasn't fooling Susie. She shut him up before he had a chance to finish the lie he was telling himself.

"Yeah, okay, Lewis. No one is buying that. You treat her differently to Angela and in a way that screams that you're in love with her. You just don't realise it yet." Susie finished and walked back into the arms of her loving husband.

Lewis contemplated her words whilst he awaited your return. You were all he seemed to think about these days and even now, he missed your presence. It was temporary but he missed the warmth of your body pressed up against his. He missed the sweetness of your perfume filling his nostrils every time he breathed in. Most of all, he missed the way that your eyes would light up whenever you engaged in a conversation concerning something that you loved.

"You alright?" You asked him upon your return from the bathroom. Instinctively, his arm snaked around your waist and you didn't stop him. It felt so natural that you almost didn't give it a second thought.

"Everything's perfect." Lewis smiled down at you before pressing a kiss to your temple, savouring the moment.

Maybe Susie was right.

A knock at the door echoed throughout the hallway of your parents house. Confused as to who could be at the door so late on Christmas Eve, you decided to go and investigate. You pushed back the fuzzy blanket that was keeping you warm and made your way to the front door. It opened with a loud creak and you were shocked to see none other than Lewis Hamilton standing there. His hair was littered with white snowflakes and his parka jacket wasn't doing a great job of keeping him dry.

"Lewis, what are you doing here? It's Christmas Eve." You pointed out, stepping out of the house and into the snow with just your pyjamas, a cardigan and a pair of slippers to protect you from the elements.

"Y/N, I've known you for years and I've been lucky enough to have you by my side through it all. I've won world championships with you and this year, when I wasn't at my best, you stuck by me." Lewis started and you honestly had no idea where this was going. You were about to point out that you were only doing your job when he stopped you.

"Please don't say that it's your job because it's so much more than that," he took a step towards you and suddenly, you couldn't remember how to breathe with him so close to you.

"You kept me grounded, you lifted me up when I needed it but you've always checked on me as a person, not as a driver." He took yet another step closer and you found yourself chest to chest with him. His eyes gazed into yours and you searched them, looking for anything that might indicate what was going on.

"Y/N, you are so much more than my race engineer. It's taken me several years to realise it but I love you." He whispered the last three words and some part of you thought that you had been making it up.

Never in a million years did you think that Lewis Hamilton would feel that way about you. It had always just been friendly banter on his side and so, although you had fallen for him years ago, you didn't press the issue further. Not when he was the person keeping you in a job.

When you didn't say anything, Lewis let out a heavy sigh and took a step back. He went to turn away, immediately regretting his long car journey to confess his feelings to you but you stopped him. You grabbed his hand and with your other arm, placed it around his neck and pulled him closer to you. His face was millimetres away from yours, his hot breath fanning against your face. Deciding that you both needed to make up for lost time, you reached up and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

What started out as a soft kiss where you both expressed your love and desire for each other, quickly turned into something more. The lust overpowered the desire and the heat was enough to melt the snow that surrounded you.

"I love you, too." You whispered against his lips to which he couldn't hold back the wide grin from stretching across his features.

Lewis dug around in his coat pockets until he pulled out a piece of mistletoe and held it above your heads.

"Merry Christmas, my love." He winked at you and your head tipped back as you laughed, your hands on his chest.

"Merry Christmas, Lewis." You smiled before leaning up once again to leave a peck on his lips.

You might have fallen first but Lewis definitely fell harder.

a/n: hope you enjoyed my first imagine! I loved the prompt so thank you very much, anon and I adore Lewis so all in all, a good first imagine topic :) if you want to be in my tag list, just comment down below. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

#lewis hamilton #formula 1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagines #imagine #mercedes #fanfic

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