#twenty one pilots pack

[piastrisluvr]

messy blue - My Blood - twenty one pilots headers || like or reblog if you save.

[jjullianstuff]

[rabidty]

Saw this and immediately thought of you. Like sir put that thing away!!

OH MY GOD??? OG MY GOD !!! i just woke up this too much for me to handle god pls just let me have him let him have me ugh. would it be too delusional n weird if i just started referring to tyler as my boyfriend? (pls give into my delusions)

[tylerpnk]

twenty one pilots headers

Like or reblog !

[frogoiw]

like

[jotchler]

the amount of people (me and @joshler) yelling “KISS” last night when torchy got to bstage was crazy

[the-feral-sequel]

Owen Zhanshi Lee

He knows how to life. At least in the best ways he can. Studying, playing the drums, occasionally but regularly working out, going on dates or talking/texting to Aslan and wearing crop tops.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Rude Kryptonian

Danny Fenton is prepared for a lot of things when Vlad calls his parents and asks to take his godson for a summer. Things would have gone differently if Danny's hero business hadn't made him a "troubled" kid. He was failing a lot of his classes, sleeping or ditching most classes and not to mention all the random injuries.

They were worried he was becoming some kind of gang member. (It hurt a little they assumed the worst of him and not worried that something bad was happening).

His dad was convinced that Vlad could somehow set him on the correct path.

Now Vlad had moved on from trying to be his stepdad and forced Danny to be his son, but that didn't mean Danny liked him. Or that he could forget what he put him through.

So he was less than happy to pack his bags and be driven to the airport to board Vlad's private jet. His parents lectured him the whole time, warning him to not be a bother to his uncle Vlad, and to behave. Jazz just looked anxious, practically begging her parents to change their mind.

They did not listen, and Danny was thrown onto the jet after getting past security. He was not surprised the plane went off course due to "mysterious" wealther a hour into the trip.

It was like they purposely flew into a thunderstorm, complete with harsh winds and rain. His plane crashed landed in the middle of nowhere thirty minutes later.

He was less surprised he was the only human on board - Vlad had tricked him once before with a ghost pilot. Why not again?- But at least no one, but Danny was hurt.

Jeez, couldn't Vlad think of anything more original? Then again, the definition of insanity is doing something over and over again, expecting different results.

Danny sat in his chair, having escaped the crash with only a few scrapes thanks to his powers, fuming at his parents and Vlad. He was so distracted he did not notice the hurried rescue team that surrounded the broken metal.

He did however notice the man who ripped off the top part of the jet, floating in the air in the most ridiculous outfit he's ever seen.

"Are you alright, son?"

"Are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look at you. Look at what you're wearing." Danny gestures to the stranger. He ignores how the stranger's blue eyes start to glow. "You can't honestly tell me you're alright in the head looking like that. "

The man frowns "You're not human"

"How dare you! I have rights!"

The stranger fumbles, looking suprised "no. No, I meant you're like me- a alien"

"I'm not illegal! I have papers!"

"Not that kind of alien-! I'm Kryptonian!" The man floats down to Stanford beside Danny's seat. He reaches out to carefully ripe away the metal trapping him. "I think you may be as well, based on your biology"

Danny squints "How do you know my biology?"

"I used my x-ray vision to-!" Danny gasps, reaching out to slap the man across the face before covering his body with his hands. The man seems more startled by the fact that he was able to push his face to the side and then the actual slap.

"Stanger danger! Creep! Fruit loop!" Danny cries, turning intangible and flying out of the wreckage. "Stay away from me!"

He flies at his top speed, ignoring the call from the man. He can feel him following, and yes, he may be faster than Danny, but he's also solid and visible. Danny uses his powers to his advantage, losing him after a twenty minute chase.

It's only after three days of trying to get home that Danny realizes he's futher away from home than he originally planned. As in an entirely different world? It feels like it since Amity Park doesn't exist, much less, his friends and family.

Thankfully, he finds a nice little city that reminds him of the ghost zone for him to rest in. His new neighbor is filled with colorful characters, and there always seems to ve something happening keeping him on his toes.

Maybe this summer won't be so bad after all.

Meanwhile, Clark is panicking that a new Kryptonian had fallen from the sky, crashing landing near Ma and Pa's place only to have the boy disrespect him and escape. Now it's a race against time to find him before it's too late.

Also he was a little mean.

But where would he go?

Gotham. Danny is in Gotham, and he's yelling at people who keep trying to spray chemicals at him. He's having the time of his life.

[thewulf]

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it.  He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy

[mydarlingclaudia]

I will love you ‘til the end of time

note : divider is from @/toastray. I have nothing to say this was supposed to be a couple hundred words but yk.

wc : 2.7k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy

desc : he’s been in love with the memory of you for too long, falling back in love with the newer you took a matter of seconds. fluff, bit of angst (?), au, re4rLeon, fem!reader, not proofread, I talk a tiny bit about sex at the end but there’s no smut.

Leon doesn’t remember the sound of your voice, it’s been too long, too many years have passed since the day you died.

Six years was all the time the two of you had together. Six good years. All a really, really long time ago. Leon hates it, he knows he’s forgetting, memories are serving less and less of a purpose to him everyday. How is he to remember lying under the trees with you when those trees have been cut down and turned to homes and firewood? How can he remember you gutting fish for the two of you to eat when the fish have left the river you lived by?

The home you originally lived in had been torn down and rebuilt dozens of times by now, Leon wasn’t always there, even when he was, it wasn’t very lived in after you died. He’s been around the world more times than he can remember, before you, with you, after you. No place looks the same. Leon has many homes, stays there for a few decades, packs up, and moves to the next house in the next country.

He had been gifted with everlasting life for being some hero, for fighting monster when those were still a thing, it was well after he had married you, he didn’t tell you, but he thought you’d spend forever together. Didn’t happen, obviously. You got sick, he took care of you, nothing helped.

Leon prayed to whatever God that had bestowed his immortality to him to give it to you too, to keep you alive, to make you healthy again. He received no answer and you died not long after, Leon was left to spend the rest of his eternal life alone, but the world was his, and he has all the time that the universe has to offer. But what had he done to not be granted the one thing he wanted in the world? Why would some God reward him just to let him live the rest of his life miserable?

Leon’s seen everyone fall in love, but love evolved from courting to dating apps, he’s seen an embarrassing amount of shitty first dates. But he’s also seen a lot of good ones, ones where the first date turns to a second one, then a third, then a fourth, then before he knows it, those twenty-something-year-olds he had seen fall in love in a small restaurant were now taking their teenagers to the mall and going to high school reunions.

You would have loved this, or he hopes you would’ve. Because he really wishes that you were there to cuddle up to him on the couch and watch tv with him until midnight, he wanted to take you on cute dates, he wants to buy you things and renew your vows once every few years.

He wishes that the memories are clearer in his head, he can really only see them when he closes his eyes, or when the weather is a certain way, or when a certain smell hits his nose. Leon wants to feel your skin against his again. he wants to hear you talking directly into his ear and see that smirk on your face when you suggest something you know he won't refuse.

But it's been so long and he knows that your body has long since decomposed and your grave has been swallowed up by the ocean, a good half of the time since then he's been living on auto-pilot, the other half he's painfully aware of your absence with each day that passes.

He's not even sure he'd be able to hold you correctly, should you fall back into his arms one day. Would you still love him despite that?

He's gone so long without a lover, would he remember how to kiss? The Hollywood movies don't do it justice, kissing. But no one in those movies kissed like you had, Leon's seen all kinds of romance movies, read all kinds of books, he's always imagined you and him as the main characters, but you never kiss him the way you used to.

Would you even choose him? There were so many different men out there and so many new ways to meet someone and stay connected, there was no rush to get married or have kids, would Leon be the man you'd pick once again? He hopes so.

He doesn't remember Beowulf having a wife, and Beowulf had been great. He knows that many heroes aren't able to keep their wife and their glory at the same time, the decision is often made for them, and they go on fighting until they die. But Leon stopped fighting with the same determination when you passed, he still did it, people needed protecting, but if he wasn't there to protect you, then was there really anything to fight for?

Despite all of this, he's still here. Leon looks the same as he did all those years ago, some things have changed, a lot, really, but not just about him. The world around him has grown, he's watched generations come and go just to get to some shitty grocery store in Raccoon City twenty minutes before they close at eight.

Leon doesn't like to have to work all the time, he thinks it's crazy how he went from hero to cop, more money was needed to live now than he ever imagined would be possible. He has money saved up from years and years of work, but he can't keep using the "generational wealth" excuse when he's got no family.

He doesn't like being bugged much, either. Maybe that's why he's buying his dinner when he's already supposed to be in bed, could be why he works so much even though he can't stand it sometimes, too.

Leon should have grabbed a shopping cart, the basket he carries is overflowing with shit he doesn't even need, when has he ever even eaten Devil Dogs and Zebra Cakes? He really needs to eat more than just pasta and steak every other night, maybe stop getting deliveries from the pizza place, too. He's looking over the ingredients on the back of a cereal box he knows he's going to get no matter what when there's a soft tap on his shoulder, he sighs and stops, turning around and preparing to be asked a question a cashier would know the answer to rather than him.

But Leon freezes the second his eyes land on your face. He must've gone crazy, it can't be you, can it? You're not really standing in front of him with a basket in your arms, wearing a winter jacket over your sweatshirt and smiling at him as if you're some stranger to him.

"Where did you get those?" Your voice is quiet when you speak, his gaze doesn't even follow your hand when you point at the sweets in his basket, he just stands there and admires you for a few seconds.

Leon wants to cry, he wants to hug you, he wants to kiss you, tell you to run away with him, find someway for you to become immortal and stay by his side until the world ends. But he doesn’t, you look at him like he’s a stranger.

"Oh- Th-the uhm, the Zebra Cakes?" Leon finally asks after a few seconds, you only nod. "The e-end of aisle six." Why is he stammering? He's thought about all the things he'd say to you for hundreds of years, and he's instantly throwing every single word out the window the second you come out from whatever corner of the world you've been hiding in.

"Alright, thanks." God, it really is you. Your smile's the same, you look the same, you smell the same, you sound the same, you just- it's you. He remembers the way you sound again, God, please don’t ever take your voice away from him. He stops himself from reaching for your wrist when you walk away, knowing that you don't remember the things he does and that it'll only make you feel weird about him. But he'll settle for knowing that you're alive and that you're in the city, and that hopefully this won't be the last time he sees you.

—

The next time Leon sees you is on the subway a few weeks later in December.

You're not really looking when you step into the train, reaching up too high for the pole to hang onto and instead grab onto his hand. Your hands are so cold, you really need to wear gloves. But you gasp and pull your hand away when you feel his warm hand touch your skin, instantly holding lower down on the cold pole and looking at him.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" It's cute how quickly you apologize, it brings a smile to his face.

"No- No, you’re fine." He wants so badly to wrap his hand around yours, to hold you close and keep you warm, but he couldn’t, he was still a stranger to you. Being in a crowded train and standing a few inches apart was enough for now.

Leon just watches you, you don’t notice because you’re too busy staring down at your shoes, but his eyes are tracing over the curve of your nose, the way your eyelashes look when you blink, how kissable your lips look. He missed this view, although he'd much rather have you looking back at him with the same adoration in your eyes.

Neither of you speak again for the rest of the ride, you can feel him staring at you, though, you don’t entirely mind, you’d probably looking at him if his eyes weren’t burning holes through your skull.

You haven’t left his mind since he saw you at the grocery store, he’s been trying to figure out ways to find you again without getting put on some kind of radar, he’s too impatient to let things happen naturally, but it’s really the only choice he has.

He knows you recognize him, he can’t help but wonder if you’re getting some kind of vision from the past of him kissing you, of you resting on top of him in the sunlight, of him looking at you with awe in his eyes as you laugh at a story he told you.

But he can’t think about that for long, the train comes to a stop and you leave again, looking back over your shoulder at him and giving him a small goodbye smile. Where have you been all these years?

—

Sometimes, shitty dates were a good thing.

Both parties normally end up having a bad rest of their night, but if some man-child asshole you had been put on a date with hadn’t just thrown a whole tantrum and stomped out of the bar, you wouldn’t be sitting next to Leon.

He didn’t know you’d be here tonight, he was just here because he wanted to grab a drink after work, but this was better.

It’s awkward, he really, really doesn’t hope you think he’s stalking you. How small could a city be? Is it really so odd that the man you said a few words to at a grocery store and bumped into on the train would be sitting next to you at a bar?

Leon’s always had a staring problem when it came to you, he’s sure you’re too pretty for him, not that you were really his anymore. And Christ, you’re still beautiful, maybe even more so now. Modern clothes look good on you, he likes your dress, your shoes, the way you did your hair, the color you painted your nails.

He has to stop staring, because now you’re looking back at him. Leon expects for you to yell at him, or slap him, or something, but you just smile at him and turn towards him a tiny bit more.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare, zoned out.” Leon apologizes once his eyes snap up to yours, you had moved from your table up to the bar a few minutes ago, most likely embarrassed. You brought your drink over, too, though you didn’t really pay attention to it, just circling the lip of the cup with your fingers and taking a few sips every few seconds.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Your smile only grows, Leon has to bite back a grin threatening to stretch across his lips. Once again, he’s not sure what to say. Does he ever really know what to say now, though? You take the words right out of his mouth and turn them into broken mumbles that he tries to cover up with a fake cough or forced chuckle.

That didn’t use to happen, he’d still get nervous around you, but seeing you now made him feel like he was falling in love again.

“I’d feel like I’ve seen you before…?” You say, you know you’re right, you just want him to talk to you because you haven’t been able to get him out of your head, for some reason.

“Oh, uhm, yeah- Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around, too.” Is he seriously fucking blushing right now?

“Hm, small world.” You take a sip from your drink, he does the same.

“So, uh, bad date?” Leon asks before he can stop himself, he knows the answer, but you were probably going to get mad at him, get offended and ignore him if he sees you again.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “It’s fine, though. Blind date.” Leon nodded, staring down at the ring of water his glass left on the countertop. “You just here for a drink?”

“Mhm,” Alcohol was like water to him now, not the way that he drinks it everyday, but that it hardly has an effect on him anymore. But he can’t sit here and drink glass after glass unless if he wants people to get concerned, so he just sips on one or two for an hour and leaves. You’re drinking the same drink as him, though, so he decides to stay for longer than usual.

And to his amazement, you stay, too. You laugh and nod at the stories he tells you, he listens intently to the ones you tell in return. Of course you’ve been living a different life than the one he had with you, but this is already getting better than the last. And you seem… into him? More into him than you were with your actual date, he’s not complaining.

By the time you and Leon go your separate ways, it’s pitch black outside, well, not really, it’s never completely dark in a city. The lights of driving cars and buildings illuminate you beautifully, like you’re something holy.

Leon finds a napkin with a phone number scribbled on it in his jacket pocket, it must’ve been yours, he couldn’t be happier.

—

Whatever higher being blessed him with another chance with you, he’d praise for the rest of eternal life. Because after a few hour-long phone calls and a couple more coincidental meetings, he’s taking you out on dates and you’re holding onto his arm and kissing his cheek.

It’s better than he remembers, the city offers more things for the two of you to do, and he’s up for anything you suggest.

Leon is finally able to feel your skin underneath his fingertips, feel your lips against his, listen to your voice in his ear, buy you nice things, have you cuddle up with him on the couch, he has you back.

You look so peaceful when you sleep, your head resting on his bicep, his naked skin pressed against yours. It’s been a year, you both still look the same, but he knows you’re changing. Leon hadn’t had sex in so long that he was sure that he would’ve fucked it up, you had taken charge, and it had been soft and slow, anyway. Nothing for him to worry about.

He’s been awake for an hour, just looking at you, trying to imprint this memory into his mind in case you were to disappear soon. But you finally start to stir, blinking your eyes a few times as you start to wake up.

“Leon…?” You mumble, he pulls you closer.

“Go back to sleep,” A kiss to your eyebrow, then the bridge of your nose, your lips twitch up into a sleepy smile.

“Mm… ‘kay. Love you.” You yawn, resting your hand on his chest as you close your eyes again and nestle into his shoulder. He hasn’t heard that from you in ages, he doesn’t know if you meant to say it, but he’s thankful you did.

“… Yeah, love you, too.”

[hwadam-stories]

⊹ PHANTOM PAINS ⊹ PILOT EPISODE

(black!fem!) mea harper!reader x ceo boss!dhan tae-oh

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

I do not consent to my work being reposted, — stolen or translated anywhere else.

⊹ CW: long post, emotional cheating, unrequited love, depression, fluff, drama, etc.

⊹ SYNOPSIS: Celebrating his niece's birthday at a restaurant, Dhan recognizes you from across the room as his past lover from five hundred years ago and is determined to stop at nothing to be with you again.

⊹ A/N: this is my first serious fanfic, feedback on this pilot (comments, messages & reblogs only!) will help me consider continuing it with motivation. Canon divergent / somewhat canon compliant to the MEA CULPA (2024) film by Tyler Perry with some crossover aspects thrown in. I hope you enjoy!

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Does Your Majesty wish to meet again in our next lives?" You asked, wrapping your arms around him.

"Of course, were you considering abandoning me?" Dhan replied, chuckling.

"Okay then, when the time comes, I'll be your master once more." You promised. "Your love. Your pain. Even your very last breath, please give them all to me."

"They are all yours, y/n."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

There was a time when those words meant everything to him.

A time when finding you meant everything to him.

But after his fifth life, Dhan had given up on his search and the phantom pains have haunted him ever since.

It was a pain that wasn't his, a pain that never faltered in reminding him of his failure despite the many times you two were reincarnated throughout the last five hundred years.

Your souls were connected after all and even though this pain has brought him a great deal of misery, part of him hoped you weren't feeling anything.

Presumably, because he was always reincarnated as a man, he assumed you would be reincarnated as a woman but other than that, he never really had any concrete way of finding you. It was safe to assume that since his ethnicity changed, yours did too.

Not that he particularly cared what race you were now, all that mattered was that he was reunited with you. But that promise has become nothing but a fleeting dream. A delusion Dhan couldn't completely let go of because this pain meant that you were alive, somewhere out there. Hopefully looking for him too.

In every lifetime after the first one, he always accumulated a great deal of wealth somewhere in his mid to late twenties under the name of Dan.

In this era, he was Dhan Tae-Oh, the boss of a CEO corporation in Korea and came from a long line of gangsters that reinforced the values of family and business to a rather high degree.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Tonight, he was celebrating his niece's 9th birthday and his sister-in-law's most recent promotion in the fashion industry.

His younger brother, Charles Kang, arranged everything at the finest Italian restaurant in all of Chicago, Illinois, called up Dhan three days before and here they all were.

"You know, we got lucky tonight." Charles set aside his fork and knife for a sip of wine.

"I initially planned to invite more people for Abby's dinner party but a larger group had already reserved a bigger table and I snagged us the only one they had left."

Now that Dhan gave it a second thought, Piccolo Sogno was unusually packed tonight and much busier than he had initially anticipated.

Even looking over his shoulder he could still see the glimpse of the same crowd he passed through, still waiting in line outside.

His assistant, Seon-woo, mentioned something about a on the rise celebrity artist being one of its more known customers over the last couple of years. No one Dhan had really heard of or cared to for that matter.

"Their celebrating their mum's birthday, I heard." Susan remarked, her posh accent gleaming through. She looked past her husband and over her shoulder, seeing the large the table behind them.

There were about five people and that one particular redheaded woman must've been the birthday mom. "Surely Abby won't mind sharing her special day when two cakes come out." Susan teased.

"You got me a cake?!" Abby gasped, beaming with a smile. "Is it a big one?"

"You can only have two slices, young lady." Susan tenderly pinched her daughter's cheek. "The last thing we need is you bouncin' off the walls at 2 o'clock in the mornin' on a school night."

Abby pouted and brought those puppy eyes straight to her uncle.

Dhan stifled a laugh, hiding that cheeky smile behind a half closed fist. "I'm sorry Abby, not even that can convince me to break your parents rules but I'll make it up to you when dessert arrives, I promise."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dessert was served in the form of a double stacked white and pink frosted cake decorated with strawberries and red icing for the words "Happy 9th birthday, Abigail!"

Candles were blown and nine year old Abigail Kang became tonight's birthday girl that the staff (and some nearby tables) sang to. Pictures were taken and there were smiles all around.

The gift that Dhan purchased was a reasonably expensive one but not something he would ever think to showboat about. He simply had some connections here and there and thought to put them to good use for the short time he was going to be in Chicago.

"All fourteen of Taylor Swift's albums!?" Abby squealed, wrapping her arms around her Uncle Dhan and squeezing him tight. "I love it! I love it! I love it!"

Dhan laughed nervously, patting her head and squeezing her shoulder tenderly. "Your arms squishing my insides make that explicitly clear."

Everything was going great. Dhan was feeling great.

That is, until things weren't great anymore.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dhan suddenly gripped the edge of the table to stop himself from keeling over on the floor of the restaurant.

His chest became uncomfortably tight and his head began throbbed with a splitting sensation.

The phantom pain had returned.

For the sake not wanting to make a scene or ruin what was already a perfect night, Dhan got his breathing under control, keeping some stoicism to his face to not alarm anyone.

The tightness in his chest seemed to lessen but the throbbing in his head wasn't going anywhere.

"Pumpkin, why don't me and you freshen up in the girls' room and leave the boys here, yeah?" As if on cue, Susan took her daughter by the hand and headed straight for the bathroom.

"Dhan." Charles sighed, addressing him in a somber tone of their birth language. Entirely oblivious to what his brother suffering with. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye but I'm really glad you could make it tonight."

He listened to his brother -- or at least tried to.

The words were being drowned out by a sudden ringing in his ears, leaving him momentarily stunned that it almost felt like the world around him was going to spin.

But he wasn't feeling nauseous from the alcohol or a sudden fever. It felt more like ... resentment.

It put a bitter taste in his mouth and made him clench his fist at the end of the table until his knuckles went white.

His brother hadn't done anything wrong and yet Dhan was being swallowed whole by the sensation, not knowing where to place it.

It's just ... if his brother wasn't the problem, then who?

"Oh look! Her Majesty, The Queen has finally arrived." A woman's voice cackled in the air.

She was an older looking caucasian woman with red curly hair and wine red lipstick, belonging to the group that booked a table for a total of nine and judging by what the already opened and nearly empty wine bottle, she must've had a bit too much to drink.

That's when he saw you approach the table.

It was you. It was really you.

His soulmate.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Don't worry son, your second wife will be on time." Azalia, your mother-in-law cackled, caressing the cheek of Kal, your husband.

His awkward shuffle of a smile made it crystal clear that whatever came out of her mouth tonight, he wasn't going to come to your defense anytime soon.

What can you expect from a man that holds his disrespectful mother over your marriage of three years?

What's worse is that Azalia had the nerve to invite the one woman she favored more.

Your husband's childhood friend, Jenna.

The same childhood friend that had become the topic of your marriage counseling session that your husband Kal had ditched midway through for this dinner party.

A session that you had to finish by yourself, making you the one who arrived late.

Jenna was a tall, light skinned woman with dark curly hair and a bright red dress with a V neck to show off a window of cleavage and a shortened skirt to show off her toned and slender legs.

And to add salt to fucking wound -- Azalia made sure Jenna sat next to your husband while you sat at the end of the table with your only friend and sister-in-law, Charlise.

"I'm sure you won't mind, y/n. You and Charlise probably wanna talk anyway."'

You looked at Kal, searching his gaze for something, any sign of him speaking up to his mother but to your utter disappointment he just let it happen.

You can only push down the intense feeling of resentment and agitation with a passive aggressive smile, taking your seat at the far end with Charlise.

This was going to be a long dinner to get through.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Apart from a brief exchange of words from your brother-in-law, Ray Hawthorne, and the couple sitting across from you, Charlise was the only saving grace at this table and frankly the only reason you kept it together as long as you did.

As much as you wanted to tear off that terrible red wig and burn it, you tuned out your mother-in-law whenever she made any more chide remarks about you.

Not much of a point in ignoring your husband, he was too focused on Jenna and giving Azalia one of the most expensive birthday gifts you had ever seen.

A silver and gold watch that you knew your unemployed husband didn't have the money for.

"Happy birthday mom, from me and y/n."

You scoffed in utter disbelief and stood up from your seat, grabbing your purse. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air."

"Oh, well you take your time. We're doing fine here." Azalia insisted, smiling from ear to ear.

Kal was on the verge of getting out of his seat, expressing concern. "I can come with you babe--"

"No." You snapped coldly, barely sparing him a glance as you waved him off dismissively. "I'll be fine on my own, thank you."

Kal frowned, lowering himself back down with a defeated expression. "A-Alright, just don't stay out there too long."

You sighed into the night air, hands pressed against the metal railing while the people behind you carried on with their evening under the lit up patio roof. Glasses clanking, people laughing, wine pouring and plates clinking.

All of it was just background noise to drown out one particular thought that you couldn't run away from.

Maybe it's time to put this relationship on permanent leave.

It's not a pleasant thought. It never was. You and Kal had known each other for eight years and had been married for the last three of them. You've had your ups and downs like any other couple and got through it but this? This was too much. His mother was too much.

But that's probably what SHE wants. The sooner you're gone. The happier she'll be.

You only stuck it out this long because you genuinely loved Kal and Charlise was the anchor keeping you grounded.

As one of Chicago's most successful defense attorney's alongside your brother-in-law, you had everything and yet nothing at all with how your marriage was starting to fall apart, on top of shouldering the numerous bills since Kal lost his job as an anesthesiologist.

God, where did it all go wrong?

"Having a rough night?"

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the deep and smooth voice of a man walking up beside you. The cool night's breeze washing over you both.

He was a tall and handsome man of Korean decent. The darkness of his long hair making the crimson color of his eyes seem as though he were some beast straight out of a fairytale.

Alluring eyes that stared into you with a hint of sincerity and invitation.

You can barely hold in a chuckle, crossing one arm over the other to let your wedding ring glint in the moonlight. "That would be the understatement of tonight."

He sees this and can't hide the smirk on his face. "I don't blame you. In-laws can be infuriating like that sometimes. Especially mother-in-law's."

The restaurant wasn't exactly that big in terms of table arrangements so it makes sense one's antics would be overheard when they're standing around the biggest table in the room.

You chuckle again. The tightness in your chest starting to lighten but your smart enough to keep up you guard to shut down any potential flirting, even the harmless kind. "Can you expect anyone to act cordial on their birthday? I've been here all night without a single drink of my own and tolerating her has been exhausting."

You certainly weren't the type to open up like this to a stranger of all people but it felt good. Yes, you had your friend, Charlise, but there was something different about this man. Something oddly familiar.

"Because she's acting like a cunt towards you and only you and you feel that if you didn't step out when you did you would've tore her a new one right infront of her favorite son and the entire restaurant?" He guessed your exact feelings with a cheeky smile.

You exhale a baffled laugh.

It's like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

"Oh, so you're a mind reader now?"

He raises his right hand, jokingly. "Guilty as charged, your honor."

The both of you laugh.

"Dhan."

"Y/n."

Dhan smiled, staring longingly into your eyes. "A pleasure to meet you, y/n."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Eventually, you were back inside the restaurant. Sitting comfortably beside Charlise and ignoring another passive aggressive comment from Azalia.

You had been gone for a solid eight, maybe ten minutes tops.

The dinner eventually ended and everyone was putting aside their plates and gathering up their coats and belongings while Ray generously secured the bill.

That's when the waiter approached with an expensive looking bottle of wine.

Ray dismissively waved his hand. "No need to send over anymore wine, sir. You can take that back, the dinner party is over."

The waiter shook his head. "I'm sorry sir this isn't for the table. I'm looking for a y/n, is there a y/n here?"

You raise your hand slightly to get the waiter's attention. "I'm y/n."

The waiter smiled at you, presenting the bottle. "Piccolo Sogno would like to formally gift you our most exclusive wine to enjoy right at home. On behalf of a generous courtesy from Mr. Tae-Oh, ma'am who wishes you a fine night. Thank you for you dining with us."

A bit stunned, you still accepted the bottle. That name alone already clued you in to who this was from.

Unaware of your husband's jealous gaze, you can't hide the smile on your lips as you read the note on the bottle.

A drink to wash away all your frustrations - Dhan.

[piastrisluvr]

messy twenty one pilots headers || like or reblog if you save.

[grimesgirll]

you want to know what his deal is.

why the only facial expression he can manage is a scowl, why he seems so pent up.

rick grimes is a mystery to you.

some spooky backstory is written all over his face but there’s never been a clue of it otherwise - and you can only tell because you spend so much time watching him.

you never imagined yourself becoming obsessed with a man twice your age but here you are. you want to know what his face looks like when he cums. the older man is rotting your brain from the inside out.

it’s not until he stumbles upon you boxing alone in the empty gym that you realize it was on his mind too.

he doesn’t say anything upon entering and his footsteps are light but his reflection in the mirror gives him away. he’s watching from the stairwell as you go through your close combat training. it’s a rigorous routine recommended to you by one of your superiors that you feel deep in your core.

you pack power into every punch; trying to land blows strategically and not just wherever your own pent up sexual frustration sends them.

rick can’t help it when the once familiar straining in his pants starts up. he wordlessly runs a hand through his dark hair. despite the uneasy tension between the two of you, rick wants to get to know you better. not too well but well enough to know how you look after you get all of that energy out of your system.

he's lost in a daydream in the sleek underground training facility. the sound of footsteps exiting to the right breaks him out of his thoughts - thoughts of bending you over the weight lifting bench.

you traipse into the women’s locker room off the forest green paneled hallway.

he shouldn’t be thinking about following you.

you’re way too young for him.

before former private grimes can fully talk himself out of it, the image of you during one of your trainings materializes in his mind. he was supervising the new cadets - you, formerly - and you were stretching with the rest of your counterparts. you’d been in a standing straddle when you two locked eyes with each other.

the delicate balance of maintaining eye contact while not outright staring at your ass only took a few seconds to blur. rick was quickly turning his head and keeping his eyes averted.

ever since then, you’d caught hurried glimpses of each other. sometimes it felt like the older man’s eyes lingered on you though, like he was boring into you on another level.

you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t on your mind.

being freshly twenty a decade into the apocalypse didn’t make for the best dating scene. yeah, dating someone who could easily be your father was wild, but you didn’t have many other viable options. rick pushed all the right buttons for you no one else could.

as the water cascades down your back under the showerhead, your hand drifts below your abdomen to cup your sensitive bundle of nerves. you push past the semi-thick layer of hair covering your folds until your pointer finger is dipping inside of you.

despite it being your own fingers penetrating you, you still moan out loud, thankful that the showers are so empty and remote enough that you can enjoy having them all to yourself. you exhale and speed up your ministration. you add a finger for the added challenge. a third is sliding towards your entrance when you hear the shuffle of feet.

you cock your head. there's no reason for anyone else to be in here. there weren't many other female officers and all of the ones you knew trained here on much different schedules.

it's probably just the loud banging fan you and one of the female helicopter pilots had bitched together about. you ignore it and go back to your shower, sticking your head back enough that the shower is massaging your scalp, meanwhile your fingers massage your clit and your spongy insides.

god, you wish rick was here. his fingers were pretty large. coming in his embrace had to feel so fulfilling.

your taboo thoughts are interrupted by a loud banging. removing your fingers is an inconvenient affair, as you can't ignore that so you slowly creep towards the shower entrance, slipping past the curtain to see the subject of your shower fantasies standing before you.

the sage green towel you'd brought with is laying soaked on teh tiled floor while rick turns and smiles sheepishly at you. "this isn't what it looks like."

"i'm sure it's not."

rick averts his eyes and rotates to face the lockers. "i'm sorry. i can get you another towel."

you suddenly remember that you're on your feet naked. a rose blush colors your face. your cheeks grow even redder when you notice the massive bulge in his pants.

"is this turning you on?"

"what?"

"is seeing me naked turning you on?" you elaborate. please turn around, you hope.

"i'm not looking at you," he chides your name. "that's why i asked if you wanted a towel."

"if you didn't want to fuck me you would've left already."

regardless of facing the other way, rick's entire body tenses. a select few of his muscles twinge.

"you walked in on me-,"

"-that was an accident."

"yeah, yeah, rick," you chuckle.

the older man is raising an eyebrow when he turns around to face you. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to see you like-like this but don't forget that i'm your commanding officer."

“i’ll forgive you if you fuck me.”

a gasp exits your mouth when you observe him grasp his crotch at your words.

"your place or mine?"

it's not long before you've found semi-appropriate apparel to ditch the gym in as you follow rick back to his townhouse on base.

the soldier is pushing you through the door. it doesn't seem like he cares when you stumble across the threshold. he just slaps your ass, gesturing to the stairs.

your feet carry you robotically up the tiny staircase until you're walking into a bedroom. you don't spend long on your feet though because rick is shoving you onto the bed roughly. you want to be taken aback at the treatment; however you can't say that you're surprised that rick is such a rough lover.

“you want me to take it off?”

rick is referring to the black hand edging nearer to your spandex clothed pussy.

you shake your head. “i don’t mind,” you assure him, shutting your hips closer to a black, prosthetic finger.

"easy enough," he remarks and leans down to capture your velvety lips in a bruising battle of tongues that you lose immediately.

he goes to pull down your shorts but you stop him. you sit up on your knees and lay your hands over the strict outline in his pants.

"fuck," he rasps.

"want me to suck you off?"

"only if you get on your knees now."

he doesn't have to tell you twice. you undo his pants in olympic record time, lapping at the head of his already engorged cock. you don't tease him; his shaft is hitting the back of your throat before you know it and he has to breathe deeply to prevent himself from thrusting the rest of him down your throat.

rick had seen the way your eyes had widened at the sight of his erection back in the showers. you probably didn't anticipate this kind of behavior from a man his age. he wants to be gentle for you but that would just make it personal.

you're a junior officer who he should not be fraternizing like this with but he can't resist the hot, suction your tight little mouth is providing. not when you take him so well.

"good job, sweetheart," he praises. "a little lower," he plants his hands in your hair and manually forces your lips farther down his girthy length. "that's it, honey."

it isn't long before his dick is covered in spit and with every thrust, you're fighting off a gag. you do your best to swallow around his cock, reveling in the moans erupting from him as his hands dug further into your soft, gossamer hair.

“take a break, sweetheart,” rick pulls you off of his cock.

“you about ready?” he inquires, lazily pumping a prosthetic finger into you and his other hand around his cock.

you nod eagerly. he doesn't say anything - just works another unforgiving, bionic finger into you. "rick!" you whimper.

the southerner sends you an icy blue glare. "what was that?"

you gulp. "i'm sorry, sir."

rick smirks at you. "are you?"

"mhmm."

"how will you make it up to me?"

your hips writhe against his soft mattress beneath you. "sir, i want to make it up to you with my tight pussy, sir!"

his smirk grows. "ready whenever you are."

"i'm ready now, sir. i'm ready for your big cock."

you thought you'd be following along but you completely lose the plot when rick replaces his cyborg fingers with his fleshy cock and you're screaming.

"shh, hush!" rick slaps a hand over your mouth.

you scream muffled around his hand as he inserts each punishing inch into you. the stretch is intense and searing and you think you're going to pass out but after ninety seconds of feeling like rick would tear you part - you convulse around him.

"damn, already?"

you want to be embarrassed but you're hard pressed to care as your senior officer continues his brutal assault on your inexperienced pussy.

is he in my cervix? you ponder.

you crane your head backwards to spectate as the older soldier tunnels in and out of you. he has to be rearranging your kidneys and he has to be loving it from how dilated his pupils are. your tall, dark, and handsome superior is lost in your unrelenting cunt, head tipping back when he paints your plush insides white for the first time.

returning to earth momentarily, he discovers your eyes so intently laser focused on his. he scowls.

you grimace when he briefly slides out of you, but any complaints are momentarily paused when you get a mouth full of pillow.

this feels wrong. like he shouldn’t be fucking the young woman whose twentieth birthday his small battalion celebrated just the other week. it’s arduous to convince himself that this all wrong though - how can he when you’re clenching around him and mewling his name?

“rick!”

“you plannin’ on wakin’ up the rest of base?”

you shake your head, struggling to contain your moans - how can you when the older man is fucking the daylights out of you?

“be a good girl and shut up.” rick commands, reaching around to prod a finger at your lips and into your mouth. without asking, you go ahead and suck on his firm digits. the groans you elicit have you murmuring around his finger. “much better,” he commends you, rewarding you with a playful slap on your ass.

the sting reverberates through your pussy. the corresponding cry that comes from you only causes the man mercilessly filling you up to snort, landing another spank. he chuckles when you pulse around him.

“again already?”

has anyone ever told you you’re too big? you want to ask, but without the energy you just nod and hum.

the soldier’s speed only becomes more frantic. you can tell he’s finally close again from the way he’s digging his fingernails into your hips and burying himself deep inside of your already coated cunt.

yeah, he has to be my touching my cervix. you decide. probably ripped it open.

you feel ripped open by rick. it doesn't matter though, he doesn't slow even as your sopping cunt is leaking with your slick and his first load. his second release reaches even deeper inside of you, being plugged by rick's thick length as he collapses on top of you.

rick rolls over slightly, graying chestnut curls falling in his face as he gathers you closer to him. still inside of you, he's hard like bedrock. a hand reaches up to squeeze at your chest.

you whine when his mouth washes over your rosy bud and he grazes his teeth as well. "rick, too much." you pout at him, lips swollen.

“you think I’m done?”

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Nothing is Easy

Synopsis: Y/n gets into a crash in Mexico, and it keeps her from finishing the 2023 season. It’s a long road of recovery, but it pays off in the end

female driver reader x F1 2023 grid

(reader is 24 in this one, and she drives for aston martin)

“And here she is now! Y/n L/n, we were just talking about you, how are you feeling about Mexico?” Martin Brundle approaches you while you’re walking through the paddock.

“Oh, hi Martin!” You greet the commentator with a smile.

“I’m feeling good, it’s nice out, there’s a lot of fans here, and the team is looking good today” You shrug.

“So, we can expect big things from Aston Martin?”

“Yeah, me and Lance and the team are all confident in the car and we’re hoping for a good finish in the points” You speak for your teammate, Lance Stroll, and the rest of the Aston Martin garage.

“Alright Y/n, thank you for talking with me and good luck on the race” He nods and places a hand on your shoulder before walking off to his next interview-ee.

All of what you said was true; you were just coming off a P6 finish at the Austin Grand Prix, it was a calm, sunny day in Mexico City, the stands were packed with eager fans, and everyone in Aston Martin had confidence in their driver lineup.

You and Lance first became teammates in 2021 when Racing Point became Aston Martin and as a part of their rebranding, they named you, the 2020 F2 World Champion, as a part of their 2021 Driver Lineup.

It took a bit for you to get used to the car, frequenting P10 and P9, but was fairly successful in 2022, getting used to taking P7 and P6. You and Lance worked together quite well, being the same age and having the same goals in Formula 1.

You felt less nerves and more anticipation as you completed your usual race day routine. It was the 20th/23rd race of the year and you’ve completed the same routine for three years, so your body is on auto pilot all morning.

A tap on your shoulder from your race engineer, Ben Michael, brings you out of your daze. “30-minute warning, Y/n. We have the get the cars out and onto the grid” The older man says to you.

You nod and pull off your headphones before replacing them with your helmet and balaclava. When you turn, you’re surprised to see your teammate mirroring you. “Good luck, we’re going to do great, yeah?” Lance sticks out his hand in a fist bump and you raise your arm to meet it.

“Yeah, of course. Good luck” You both move to get into your respective cars and wait for the signal to exit the garage.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, we’re about thirty seconds away from light’s out now. All twenty cars are out and completing the formation lap, here’s what our top 10 of the starting grid looks like;

“Lance Stroll, P10. Y/n L/n, P9. Oscar Piastri, P8. Lando Norris, P7. George Russell, P6. Sergio Perez, P5. Lewis Hamilton, P4. Charles Leclerc, P3. Carlos Sainz, P2, and starting at pole position is Max Verstappen” David Croft commentates for the viewers.

“71 Laps ahead of us, let’s see what unfolds, it’s light’s out and away we go! Verstappen and the Ferrari’s get away with no problems. Hamilton is off, trying to get away from Perez behind him”

“Russell is scrambling away in attempt to bring a gap between him and the two McLarens. Both Aston Martin’s start flawlessly, DRS isn’t available until Sector 2, but it looks like L/n is already trying to get a bit closer to Piastri in front of her”

“Okay Y/n, once DRS is available, push to catch up to Piastri and try to overtake him. We’re looking to advance early so Lance can get some overtakes done as well” Ben becomes audible through your radio.

“Understood” You reply before refocusing on the orange car in front of you.

“Lap 4, no changes in the lineup so far, but I wouldn’t speak too soon. Y/n L/n is gaining on Oscar Pisatri in front of her. Just leaving Turn 7, she’s going down the inside, wheel to wheel as they go into Turn 8, leaving Turn 9 does she have a lead?

Yes, she does! Y/n L/n has a McLaren beat, and I don’t think she’s going to hesitate in moving onto Lando Norris”

“Lap 12, now. Verstappen is, predictably, still leading, both Ferrari’s persistent behind him. Lewis Hamilton in P4 with his teammate behind him, trying to get away from the Aston Martin’s of L/n and Stroll, both just overtook the two McLarens of Norris and Piastri”

“Lap 20 and tension is starting to rise here. Most of the race today has been between Y/n L/n and whoever is in front of her. Right now, George Russell has his foot against the gas, taking every opportunity to try to extend the gap between him and the Aston Martin”

You’re trailing Russell as you approach Turn 2. Turn 3 is the last corner before the long straight and if you want to get up into P5, you have to catch up with him before the next bend.

“Y/n, you have more pace. You are faster than Russell, push and you’ll beat him” Ben speaks. “Understood, I’m trying” You reply shortly.

“Here we go, DRS is enabled. She’s gaining on him, trying to at least go wheel-to-wheel before the long straight. L/n’s moving aside from behind Russell and going around the outside”

The front of your car is aligned with the middle of his and you move to the right to avoid contact.

“They’re almost wheel-to-wheel! L/n’s front left tire is right behind Russell’s front right tire, George is not backing away from this”

You try to move closer to finish the move and before you can shift to the right again, your front left makes contact with George’s front right tire.

“There’s some contact in the tires and Y/n is spinning! She makes contact with George Russell and spins across the track!”

You see a blur of dark green and a mess of orange pass you, probably cars swerving around your collision.

“George Russell continues fine, moving ahead. Martin, I don’t even think he’s realized what happened” Croft speaks to the man next to him while staring at the track in front of him with worry.

You’ve managed to stop your car, but you’re in the middle of the track, so just as you’re about to turn your head around to look for the perfect opportunity to set yourself right, you feel a world of pain on the left side of you.

“Esteban Ocon did not see Y/n L/n’s car in front of him! He’s hit into the side of her Aston Martin! I think he tried to swerve to avoid her, but he was going too fast!” Crofty shouts.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Esteban Ocon’s Alpine has T-boned Y/n L/n’s Aston Martin and it’s a red flag”

Your eyes are closed both in fear and pain, causing you to miss all the other cars weave around the collision in the middle of the straight. The other 18 cars were guided into the pits by the safety car, so when Esteban climbs out of his car and runs towards yours, he doesn’t have to worry about other cars on track.

Your five senses are scrambled. All you feel is the pain in your hip, the only scent you smell is fuel, and while usually the scent will remind you of your karting days, it now just clouds your brain’s attempts to figure out what the hell happened.

A metallic taste fills your mouth, and you assume you’ve bit your lip so hard in pain, it started bleeding. Your eyes are closed and all you can hear is the combination of a voice in your ears, someone shouting near you, and the buzz of the crowd around you.

You force your eyes to meet the harsh Mexican sun and the distressed frame of Esteban Ocon hovering above you. You realize the voice in your ear is Ben through your radio, and it takes you a worrying amount of time to refocus your attention on the steering wheel your hands still clutch and answer the question your race engineer has been asking non-stop.

“Yeah, I’m okay. For the most part. I think” You radio back to the Aston Martin garage. You realize that that buzzing in your ear is only half because of the crowd, and it takes a moment for the humming to calm down so that the Alpine driver is audible.

“Y/n! Can you hear me? Are you okay?” He shouts and you quickly lift your hand to meet his resting on the side of your car in hopes he will stop yelling. “I’m okay, Esteban” You shift uncomfortably.

“Actually, I think I hurt my hip. I can’t move my left leg at all”

The Frenchman looks slightly relieved. “Do you need help getting out? I can-” You interrupt quickly.

“No! Please don’t do anything, I’ll just wait for the marshals” You weren’t very good friends with Esteban, but you appreciated his care for a fellow driver.

The marshals you spoke of arrived a few minutes later in another safety car and an ambulance. You told Ben that you couldn’t move, and the medics arrived prepared to lift you out of your crash car and onto a gurney. Once the marshals assured Esteban you would be okay, he was escorted into the safety car and back into the paddock.

The radio messages in team garages were confidential, so viewers and drivers only knew your status because of David Croft’s commentary.

“After a few minutes of uncertainty, it’s clear that Y/n L/n is okay and out of her car. According to the Aston Martin race engineer, Ben Micheal, she is off to the medical center and in good hands” Crofty says with clear traces of relief in his voice.

You ride in the elevator clutching tightly onto your race suit. Now that the shock of the crash is gone, the only thing you can feel is pain in the left side of your hip. It’s a searing pain that has spread across your body, but it burns the most above your thigh.

The medics inside the ambulance do the work of pulling your race suit down your body to make your hip visible and you try your best not to wince every time a hand touches the left side of your body, but you do it so much it becomes subconscious.

You get wheeled through the medical center and into a room where two doctors immediately start working around you. You hear one talking about x-rays and having a proper ambulance being called to take you to the closest hospital once they examined your hip.

Your eyes are shut in pain, but you look up when you hear the voice of your PR officer and best friend in the paddock, Addison, asking the doctors for an update on you. “We can’t be 100% sure but from the looks of it, it might be a fractured hip” The female doctor says. Addison sighs and frows before going to your side to replace your clinched race suit with her hand.

“Are you okay?” The British woman asks. “No” You grimace “Am I going to the hospital?”

“Yeah, the ambulance is on its way, should be here in a few minutes”

You’ve never been in an ambulance before, and the underwhelming expirience does nothing to cheer you up. You enter the hospital through the ER entryway, but it doesn’t stop everyone in the waiting room from staring at a woman they find familiar.

You get x-rays done first and then a different doctor comes into your room to update you on the results about an hour later. Apparently, you have a femoral neck fracture in the left side of your hip, meaning you broke the top of your femur bone.

In order to prevent further injuries, you needed surgery as soon as possible. You’re 24, so you’re beyond eligible to deal with your own medical incidents, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Addison helped you figure it all out and within three hours, you were being wheeled into the operating room.

You were put to sleep while surgeons placed three steel screws through the top of your femur and into your pelvis. It took three hours, but it was successful; you were still in a daze once they took you for another round of x-rays.

It freaked you out a bit, seeing and knowing steel was screwed into your body but your hip didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it did before, so you count it as a plus.

While you’re sitting in your hospital bed after your surgery, your doctor and surgeon knock on your door. “Hey Y/n, how’re you feeling?” The surgeon says.

“Eh, I’m okay. The anesthesia has mostly worn off but I’m still kinda tired. My hip doesn’t hurt as bad, though”

“That’s good. So, we’ve printed out all the necessary information for taking care of your fracture in here” The surgeon holds up a packet of papers. “But I’ll give you the gist of it now” He continues.

“You’ll have to stay in the hospital until Tuesday night and because you still need to get home, but because you can’t travel normally with your fracture, you’ll need to leave in a scheduled airliner. That means that you’ll fly on a stretcher installed in the plane with a medical flight attendant looking after you”

“When you get home, you’ll have to book a follow-up appointment to follow bone healing. All the wound care and pain medication information are in here” He pauses to hold up the packet as the man next to him continues

“You’ll be able to walk and sit and lay down just fine, you’re just going to experience some pain when you do. Physical therapy is recommended, and it will take about 3 months of training to regain total range of motion and strength”

“Now, I know you are a Formula 1 driver, but for the sake of your hip, I instruct you don’t drive for six weeks at least”

In all the information he gave you, that was the one sentence that stuck out to you. Six weeks means you won’t be able to race for the rest of the season.

Shit

Addison squeezed your hand and sent you a sympathetic look. You think the two doctors said a few more things but the only thing you noticed was when they left. “I-I can’t drive?” You said in disbelief.

“Y/n, there’s only three races left, you won’t be missing much-” Your PR officer said but you interrupted.

“It’s still three races! I was doing great; I was scoring points for us and now I’m just out?”

“Y/n, maybe this is a good thing” She shrugged and picked up the packet on your night stand.

“It says that after these types of car crashes, your reaction time will be slow, and we don’t want you out there when you’re not ready”

You were about to continue your argument, but instead you just sighed and threw your head back into the pillow, grumbling, “Fine”

Your two days in the hospital were filled with answering messages and daily checkups. A lot of people had contacted you with worry, and you had a few discussions with the engineers at Aston Martin.

Expectedly, they were as frustrated as you once they heard of your condition and set up a time with your PR team to announce it. You talked to your family and friends first, ensuring you were okay and would be heading home soon.

Most drivers on the grid heard that you were going into surgery and texted to make sure you were alright, and once you replied to them, you went on social media to see what everyone was saying.

On Tuesday night, you packed up all your things and changed into the clothes Addison brought you in preparation to leave for the airport. All the excitement from the Grand Prix was gone from Mexico City, so you had no trouble navigating through the airport.

The flight was a bit strange; having to lay down the entire time and have an attendant checking up on you every hour, but you managed.

It was relieving to finally get home after an exhausting week away, and you realized you should get used to being at home. Like the doctor advised, you made a follow up appointment and scheduled physical therapy appointments to fill two months.

The doctors you met at the follow up appointment removed the staples used to close up your wound and a few days later, you were going to your first therapy appointment.

The worst part about being bed ridden was the fact you could not watch the races in person. Along with not driving, you weren’t supposed to travel for 6 weeks.

From your couch you watched Felipe Drugovich race your car in Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi. You watched Max win the 2023 Championship and Lance finish 9th in the driver’s standings.

As soon as you could, you were on a flight to the Aston Martin Headquarters in Silverstone and included in many meetings regarding your injury and how to advance. You spend a few days in England on the simulator and being analyzed by race engineers.

You do the same once you arrive home, and your off-season schedule becomes fairly structured. You wake up, do the most amount physical training you can with your fitness trainer, go to physical therapy, race on your simulator, and go to sleep to do it all again tomorrow.

You travel to the Aston Martin headquarters a few more times but you don’t see anybody outside of your team until the pre-season testing session in February. You’re walking, without any pain, to the Aston Martin garage with Addison by your side when you feel two hands on your shoulder.

“Y/n!” A French voice exclaims. “Hey Esteban!” You turn to find the Alpine driver grinning. Since your crash, Esteban has checked in regularly asking about health updates and it became the beginning of a friendship between you two.

“It is so nice to see you in the paddock again. You are feeling better, yes?” He brings you into a hug as you walk together.

“Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better. I finished physical therapy last month and I was cleared to drive a few weeks ago”

“That’s great, I’m so happy you’re okay. I will see you later, Y/n” Your friend bids you goodbye and turns to walk to his own garage.

“You say hello to Esteban and not me?”

A voice comes from behind you, and you wheel around to see your teammate. “Hi Lance” You bring your teammate into a hug with a smile.

You’ve seen Lance a few times at Aston Martin HQ and it’s common for you two to train on your simulators at home together.

“How’s your hip, metal man?” He teases as you laugh. “It’s steel, actually, and it’s okay. Doesn’t really hurt anymore” You nod.

“Good. Be careful today, I want my actual teammate with me this year” Felipe adjusted well to your car and sudden promotion, but your contract was solid, and the Brazilian remains as your reserve driver.

“Don’t worry, I will be. See you later, Lance” You waved as he said goodbye and you both entered your garage then to your drivers' rooms.

The testing session proved to be successful, as both Aston Martin’s traded taking fastest laps. Both of the new cars had several upgrades done on them over the winter break and you’re glad to see they’ve paid off.

Pre-season testing is fairly low-key, so after finishing your run, there was no media for you to complete and you were free to go back to your hotel to prepare for tomorrow.

Both green cars performed strongly on Friday and Saturday, and you left Sakhir Track confident.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen, to the first race of 2024. After a few months of winter break and three days of pre-season testing, we have all twenty drivers in their new cars, 30 seconds away from lights out.”

“And, for the first time since Mexico 2023, Y/n L/n rejoins the grid after a hip fracture. She’s healed splendidly after her surgery in the beginning of November and with the Aston Martin’s looking fast, she’s expected to do well here in Bahrain” Martin Brundle introduces today’s race.

“Here’s our top 10 on the grid today; Max Verstappen, P1. Charles Leclerc, P2. Sergio Perez, P3. Y/n L/n, P4. Carlos Sainz, P5, Lewis Hamilton, P6. Lance Stroll, P7. George Russel, P8. Lando Norris, P9. Pierre Gasly, P10. It’s going to be an interesting race, the light’s come on, and its light’s out and away we go!”

You’ve waited five months to get back in your car and you’re not about to waste the opportunity. Instead, you win.

“1st race of the year, her first race in five months, her first race win, Y/n L/n goes P1! She went through a Ferrari and two Red Bull’s, and now she goes through the checkered flag first!”

And you win again.

“For the second time, Y/n L/n wins the Grand Prix! She started P5 and worked her way up to P1! What a battle between her and Verstappen! Ladies and gentlemen, we’re only in Saudi Arabia, but it’s safe to safe I would follow those two cars wherever Formula 1 takes them if we get more races like that!”

And again.

“She does it in Miami! As her fourth race win, Y/n L/n beats Max Verstappen to the checkered flag with her teammate behind her in P3!”

And again.

“Martin, I can’t believe it. Y/n L/n wins her fifth Grand Prix in Monaco! It’s only the 8th race of 2024 but we are looking into a very exciting racing season ahead of us”

“So, Y/n” A reporter asks you during a press conference in June. “Max has won six races” She gestures to the Red Bull driver next to you. “And you’ve won five, looking to make it six this weekend in Austria. Is it safe to say that it’s going to be between you two for the 2024 Driver’s Championship?”

“Well, I mean it’s never good to speak too early, but we’ve both been looking promising this year and according to our stats, that’s where we’re headed”

“It’s Max Verstappen’s home race here in the Netherlands, but it’s not going to be easy to win. Y/n L/n has been right on his tail all race, her teammate Lance Stroll behind her in his own fight with the other Red Bull. My, if you asked me if this year’s rivalry would be between Aston Martin and Red Bull, I would not have believed you”

“And it’s the first 1-2 for Aston Martin! Lance Stroll goes P1 with his teammate right behind him! Great day in Singapore for the Canadian, outstanding day for everyone wearing green!”

“We are back in Mexico today, the very race she crashed at last year, but if she’s nervous she doesn’t show it. It’s Y/n L/n for her 9th win in Formula 1 and in the 2023 season! Verstappen in P2, Stroll takes P3, Perez, P4, and Sainz, P5”

“In the November air, Daniel Ricciardo goes P1 in Las Vegas after Max Verstappen and Y/n L/n collided and retired! An amazing day for the Australian, a frustrating one for the Red Bull and Aston Martin drivers”

“After Verstappen took his ninth win in Quatar, he and L/n are now tied with wins and very close in points for the Driver’s Championship. Max starts P1 today in Abu Dhabi, and if Y/n can get in front of him, Formula 1 will have its first female World Champion”

You’ve come way too far to lose like this. It’s been probably the most stressful season you’ve driven in ever, there’s no way you’re going to lose after it all.

“Y/n, relax” Your teammate places his hands on your shoulders.

“You’re going to do great. You’re going P1, trust me. You don’t need it but good luck, we’re all rooting for you” Lance sends you a smile and you’re struck with gratitude for your teammate.

“Thanks Lance, you’re going to do great too”You hug your friend before pulling your balaclava and helmet on.

“It’s an anxious day in Abu Dhabi, this race could go either way, it’s lights out and away we go!”

You remember Daniel comparing the 2021 Abu Dhabi race to a flip of a coin, and you think history has repeated itself. All 58 laps, you and Max take turns overtaking each other.

This time, it’s not just Sergio playing a team’s game; Lance helps in whatever way he can, whether it’s taking your spot when you’re in the pitlane or defending against Max so you can pass him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, after the most exciting season yet, Y/n L/n overtakes Max Verstappen and becomes the world champion! It took a long road of recovery, but the reward is sweet! L/n takes the checkered flag first and the arena is booming with noise! The coin has landed on her side today, and she accepts it happily”

The Aston Martin Garage is just as happy as you are, bringing you into hugs and jumping up and down, grins never leaving their faces. Lance joins you on the podium in P3 and you two soak each other in champagne. You shake Max’s hand politely but continue to beam as you wrap your home country’s flag around your shoulders and wave at the crowd.

With steel screwed into your hip, you stand on the podium with your trophy held above your head, looking down at everyone who has waited for this moment as long as you have.

[tylerpnk]

The boys' Twitter layouts!

[floralpascal]

The Heart’s Flame, Chapter 1: The New Owner

Summary: When a new owner buys the house next to Fire Station 133, Frankie is tasked to be the welcoming party. However, he didn’t quite expect the new owner to be a gorgeous woman like yourself.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical description)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Rating: PG (series is Mature & Explicit though, so minors do not interact)

Warnings: None, just Frankie with a big crush

A/N: I’m so excited to introduce you all to these two! Ugh I’ve been obsessed with writing this the past week. Please note that I don’t know all that much about firefighting, so expect some inaccuracies there.

In the decade Frankie had spent as a firefighter and wildfire helicopter pilot at Station 133, a kind and quiet elderly couple — Mr. and Mrs. Henry — had lived in the house next to the station. They had loved living next to it and loved the firefighters that worked there. As the only house in the vicinity, they had painted their front door red in solidarity long before Frankie joined the station. It had been a surprise for everyone when the news broke that they were selling the house and moving to Italy for their retirement. A few of the firefighters had helped the couple move their things into the moving vans before bidding them goodbye. Then, they watched for any signs of a new owner for the small house. Weeks went by until last Thursday when an unfamiliar black Jeep showed up and warm yellow light came from the windows of the house.

The Jeep came and went from the house but with the positioning of the house and the entryway, no one was able to get a good look at the new owner.

The firefighters debated for four days over when one of them should go over there to introduce themselves, as it was important for the station to establish a good relationship with the mystery owner as soon as possible. Finally, after a rather heated debate with the firefighters on duty today, Frankie won the role of greeting the newcomer by virtue of being the best baker out of them all. Granted, with his main rivals being Benny, Will, and Santi, it was inevitable.

“Twenty bucks says it’s another retired couple,” Benny bet the guys as Frankie took a pan of cookies out of the oven.

The one upside to working 24 hour shifts was that the station had to have a full kitchen. Half of the room made up the nice but cluttered kitchen while the other half was occupied by a large table. Huge windows lined the wall behind the table, the little house visible to the left of the station.

The guys had all packed into the kitchen the moment Frankie started the cookies. Benny leaned against the kitchen counter to Frankie’s right. Will sat in a seat at the table behind him as he nursed a cup of coffee a few feet away from where Santi sat on the corner of the table with his arms crossed.

While Frankie and Will simply shook their heads at Benny, Santi scoffed. He retorted, “No, man. I say it’s a hot single woman. The house is right next to the fire station, she gets to watch all the fine men and women in uniform from the porch. It’s a good deal.”

“Are you kidding?” Benny asked. He gestured in the direction of the little house. “Look at that place. It screams retirement.”

Santi waved a hand at him dismissively. “It’s not about how the house looks, it’s about the view.”

Benny went to argue, but Frankie cut him off.

“This,” Frankie sighed as he packed the warm cookies into a tub, “is exactly why I’m going and you two aren’t.”

“Oh, come on, Fish,” Benny appealed to him. “You know as well as I do that it’s gonna be some retired folks.”

Frankie really did agree with Benny on this one, but he refused to tell him that. The house was well past its prime and clearly a relic from the 80s, two-toned white and brown. Confusingly, it also had a faded red roof — that Frankie wondered if had once matched the door — and light wood accents for patios in the front and back of the house. In all honesty, it was a little ugly. It was like bad design had met bad taste and poor aging. He didn’t think anyone would really find it appealing, but it definitely didn’t look like a place a stunning bachelorette would want to buy.

Benny pointed at his brother and tried to appeal to him, too. “Will, who do you think is right?”

Will shook his head with disinterest before taking a sip of coffee from his mug. “Nope. I’m not humoring you two.”

Frankie chuckled as Benny complained and urged Will to side with his baby brother.

As Frankie packed up the tub of cookies and its accompanying Welcome to the neighborhood! card from the station, Santi gave him a sly, confident smile. “We’ll see who’s right.”

Frankie made his way out of the station, feeling oddly anxious about the newcomer. Would they be as nice as the last owners were? Would they allow the station to use part of their lawn as extra parking space for the charity cookout they hosted every summer? Would they put up with Santi blasting rock music with the bay doors open? Were the newcomers ready to put up with lights and sirens coming from the station at all hours of the day?

Finally, reaching the little house, Frankie ascended the old rickety stairs that led to the worn deck. When he reached the faded fire engine red front door, he knocked. Shifting the plastic container of freshly-baked cookies to one hand, he quickly adjusted his navy uniform.

He hadn’t been particularly anxious about the new owners until now. He hadn’t really realized how incredible the last owners had been as neighbors. They didn’t just put up with the station — and some of the firefighters’ antics — they adored the station. Mr. and Mrs. Henry always wanted to help out however they could. But now, with them gone, it dawned on Frankie that not everyone would like living next to a station or want to participate in what they did.

Shuffling from behind the door pulled Frankie from his thoughts. The door swung open and—

Oh. Oh, this was not a retiree.

Frankie had rejected Santi’s prediction so swiftly and thoughtlessly that he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. You were gorgeous. You were clad in shorts and a baggy black Queen tank top, peering at him questioningly.

“Hi,” you greeted cautiously. “Can I… help you?”

It was like Frankie’s world had been turned upside down.

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to shake himself from his stupor. “Um, I’m Frankie. Frankie Morales. From the fire station.”

You cracked a small smile as you looked down at his uniform. “I see that.”

“We, um, wanted to welcome the new owner to the neighborhood,” he explained, raising the tub to make his point. “That is, if you are the new owner.”

A full smile broke out across your face, brighter than any fire he had seen. “I am.”

He reciprocated your smile as you told him your name. When he offered the tub with the attached greeting card to you, you graciously accepted it.

Eyeing the card, you said, “This is so sweet! I have to admit, I didn’t know if I would actually get to meet any of you.”

“Are you kidding? We were all dying to meet our new neighbor. I was the lucky guy who won the job.”

It eased Frankie’s nerves when he saw you suppress a bashful smile at that — a crack in the easy confidence that seemed to roll off of you.

“I didn’t know you all would care so much,” you said, almost to yourself.

Oh, Frankie had been interested before. Now he cared. And he imagined some of the single guys and girls at the station might, too.

“Of course we do,” Frankie insisted. “We want you to feel good about the neighborhood. If you ever need anything — anything at all — you can always come to the station.”

“If my house ever catches fire, I expect an incredible response time from you all,” you teased.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a theatrical nod.

Laughing, you beckoned him with your free hand. “Come on in, Frankie. I’m afraid it’s kind of a mess in here right now.”

Still trying to ignore the fast thrum of his heartbeat, he crossed the threshold and followed you into the house. The door led straight into the living room — or what had once been a living room. The carpet had very obviously been ripped out, pieces of flooring missing at one edge of the room. Wallpaper had been torn off of all the walls, evidenced by the one wall that still had half of its gaudy wallpaper — yellow diamonds on a white background. Paint buckets sat in a huddle by the corner. Other painting and remodeling supplies littered the edges of the room, making the place look less like a house and more like a construction site.

As you took the tub of cookies to what seemed to be the kitchen, you called, “This place is in need of a serious overhaul. It’ll take a couple months to even get this place to where I can actually move in.”

Frankie eyed a nail gun which sat next to a table saw. “Are you… are you doing the renovations all by yourself?”

You appeared in the walkway again, opting to lean on the doorframe with your arms crossed and an easy smile on your face. “What? Don’t think a girl can do it?”

Frankie’s eyes went wide. “No, no! Just impressed, actually. This looks like a lot for just one person.”

“I grew up helping out on different house renovation projects,” you explained.

“Is that why you bought this house?” Frankie asked. But even as he asked, he already knew that it was. It wasn’t the reason that Santi predicted a pretty woman like you would buy the house. The answer was even simpler than that. “You wanted a fixer-upper?”

You nodded a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. “It’s more fun to work for it.”

Frankie thought that he may just die then and there. How the hell could he have gotten so lucky for the most perfect woman on earth to move in right next to the station?

Trying desperately to sound like a caring neighbor and not a guy with a quickly-forming crush, he made an offer he would forever be thankful he made. “Well, if you ever need any help, just let me know. I’m pretty handy myself. Just tell me what to do.”

You nodded, a sweet smile on your face. “I’ll keep that in mind, Frankie. You know, when Mr. Henry said you firefighters were a sweet bunch, I didn’t quite picture any as sweet as you.”

Your words were like gasoline on the burning flames of his quickly intensifying crush. He fought to find his words once again before settling on, “Mr. Henry told you about us?”

You nodded, pushing off the wall to move closer to him. Frankie fought to keep his eyes on your face and not your gorgeous form. You gestured in the direction of the station. “He told me all about you guys. He wanted to make sure that the new owner understood what living next to you guys would entail. Obviously, I was okay with that. Before he let me buy the house, though, he made me promise to continue helping you guys with your cookouts. Apparently, it’s a big deal and I need to provide parking and some kind of side dish.”

Frankie laughed, looking out of the living room window that faced the station for a moment. “The Henry’s were always good to us. It’s good to know they were looking out for us, too. And, uh, the side dish is optional. You’re always invited to the cookouts as a guest. The Henry’s just always wanted to be involved.”

You tilted your chin up at him. “Then maybe I want to be involved, too.”

Frankie tried to tamp down how badly he wanted that — to have you there at the cookouts. To talk you, get to know you more, ask you to dance with him. Instead, he said, “We would all really appreciate that.”

You chuckled. “Then count me in. I’ll be there. As long as all of the other firefighters are as nice as you are.”

“Most of them,” Frankie chuckled, a hint of nerves in his voice.

Then, it got quiet for a moment, awkwardness pressing in. In a desperate attempt to get rid of it, Frankie blurted, “Would you like to come see the station? I’m sure everyone there would love to meet you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Really, it wouldn’t be a bother.”

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Oh, what the hell. Let’s do it.”

Frankie tried not to beam. He had a little more time to be with you, to get to know you. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could even convince you to stay for dinner at the station.

As you led him out of your house and out into the sunkissed day, he couldn’t help but hope that this was just the beginning of something incredible.