#Eugene roe angst

[softguarnere]

A World Without Color Is A World Without You

Eugene Roe x reader

A/N: What's up y'all?! @brassknucklespeirs and I have been talking about soulmate aus, and now they're living rent free in my brain. I had a wild day at school, and using those feeling to create angst was strangely therapeutic, I won't lie. I hope you enjoy this, and my requests are always open if you have something specific you would like to see! (As always, this is written for the fictional depictions from the show -- absolutely no disrespect to the real-life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST! The usual HBOwar stuff: war, guns, injury, blood, language. I also didn't really proof read this, so take that for what it's worth.

"So is it like, a cultural thing?" George asks. In between his shivering, he gives you a sideways glance, watching you tense up as you continue staring straight ahead through the darkness, watching the line. He shrugs. "I've just always wondered."

"About what?"

He shrugs again. "Well, back in Toccoa, I kinda thought maybe you were just shy. But I know that's not true; you're pretty chatty after a few drinks. I remember reading somewhere once, before the war, maybe back in school, that in some cultures it's rude, or even taboo."

On your other side, Joe huffs. The cool air in front of him clouds up with what little warmth he can muster. "George, I'm sure if she wanted to talk about it, she woulda told ya by now."

"Yeah, Luz," you agree. "If I knew what the hell you were talking about, I probably could have answered you twelve different times."

The radioman knocks his shoulder against your own. "Awe, come on (Y/N). My brain is frozen -- gimme a break."

"Okay. I'll answer if you actually ask the question."

"Okay." Luz nods. For someone who was so eager to find answers a moment before, he seems unsure of himself when you give him permission to ask. He stops looking at you and trains his own eyes on the line, voice softening when he asks, "Why do you never look anyone in the eye?"

There it is.

Toye reaches behind you to smack Luz on the back of his helmet.

"Ow!"

"You can't just ask that!" Joe reprimands. "Besides, you could probably just figure it out from context."

Joe is right. It seems like most people should have figured it out by now. Maybe then you wouldn't have so many sweet-talking replacements sauntering up to you with calls of, "Hey, Shy Girl, you found your man yet, or are you playin' hard to get?" or "Baby, I bet I could be the one to make you see color."

Because that's the thing: your world has always been shades of black and white, and it will remain that way until you look into the eyes of your soulmate. The first color you ever see will be the color of their eyes, and then -- according to everything you've heard your friends and family describe -- the rest of the world will follow as a whole universe of color is revealed to you. But therein lies several problems for you.

Problem one: you didn't find your soulmate back at home before the war. Which, you initially thought, might be okay. Maybe you would meet them after. Or during, some of your more romantic-minded friends told you dreamily before you shipped out.

Which made problem two all too real to you: if you meet your soulmate and then they die, the world will go back to being black and white.

The realization had hit you like a punch in the gut. Everyone else seemed to think it was tragically romantic, but not you. You had always known the world as shades of plainness and shadow. How could you stand it, if you discovered the beauty of the world, only to then have it stripped away from you? And worse, how could you stand to lose the person that you loved -- that you were destined to be with? Something that was all too possible in the middle of a war.

So you made a decision. A hard one, but one that seemed necessary -- you wouldn't look a stranger in the eye again until after the war.

Under the blanket of night, huddled together with your friends for warmth, you tell them exactly that. No one can tell if the slight shake in your voice is from emotion or from the cold, and no one calls it into question. You've never told anyone before. You're not sure how they might react.

Joe pats your knee. He's not a man of words, but his action says it all.

"I'm sorry," Luz whispers. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay," you reassure him, trying to smile, more for yourself than for him. To lighten the mood, you decide to do what he would do if he weren't in an awkward position -- you crack a joke. "Why does it matter, Luz? You worried we might be soulmates?"

Taken off guard, he laughs. "I won't lie, (Y/N), the thought has occurred to me."

It had taken a lot of strength to tell them your secret. Now though, they know -- secrets rarely feel so heavy when there's someone who can help you carry them. Your burden reduced, you turn towards him in the darkness. "Well, let's find out."

"What?" Out of reflex, he turns to you.

Your eyes meet and . . .

Nothing. The world is still black and white.

"That answers that question," Luz says.

"Toye, you wanna find out if we're destined to be together?" You tease.

"Eh, why not." You blink owlishly at each other in the darkness, searching each others eyes for something that might not have been there before. Nothing happens, but neither of you breaks eye contact.

A smile pulls at the corner of Joe's mouth, and before you know it, the two of you are giggling at the idea of finding out that one of your oldest war-buddies might have been your soulmate all along without you realizing it. Who knows if it would have been funny anywhere but Bastogne -- the environmental pressures are starting to get to everyone -- but in that moment, it's the most hilarious thing in the world. Even George is shaking with laughter.

"Shhhh!" Only the sound of crunching snow rushing towards your fox hole can stop the joke. Compton leans down, his eyes never leaving the line in front of him as he hisses, "Keep it down! You wanna give away our position?"

"Sorry, Lieutenant," you giggle.

For all your trying, it's not until he's long gone that the three of you manage to catch your breath. Somehow, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, however slightly. You can look your best friends in the eye. That's something.

You fall asleep between them, the world still black and white, but not quite so dismal as you once imagined your dull color scheme to be.

--

"I've been workin' on the railroad, all the livelong day," you sing along with the other men, your grin the widest it's been in a while. Finally out of the fox holes, finally haven taken Foy, finally moving on.

"I've been working on the railroad, just to pass the time away --"

You're just beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, things will start to look up for Easy Company when something zings by your ear. One of the men beside you falls to the ground, and suddenly, the world around you descends into chaos.

A few more men drop like flies. Others tumblr over each other like dominos, some of them trying to flatten themselves to the ground for cover while others trip over each other to duck behind one of the nearby buildings.

"Sniper!" someone calls out. A body slams into yours as you try to scramble away from the tank you had been sitting on. The force of their body against yours sends you stumbling. It's just enough to hold you back from safety, and you feel the hot metal rip through your thigh.

You cry out as you hit the ground. Around you, bullets still race to find new marks as the sniper's rifle peppers the air with the sound of rounds being fired. You're face down on the dirty snow. It's harder than it should be not to roll over and call out for help, but the image of Julian back in Bastogne enters your mind and you settle for clenching your right hand into a fist and shoving it over your mouth to muffle your cries as you wait for it to be over.

More gunshots. Some cheers. How long have you been on the ground? A few minutes? Hours?

Someone grabs you by the shoulder and flips you over. Only then do you gasp out in pain.

"(Y/L/N)! Where are you hit?" Sergeant Lipton demands.

"Thigh." You try to sit up, but the Sergeant holds you down as he calls out for a medic. "Are the others okay?"

"Shifty got the sniper," Lipton assures you with a weak smile.

"But what about the others who got hit?"

"Alright, where'd they get her?" Spina asks as he appears beside you. From your awkward angle on your back, you can see him grimace as he looks at your thigh, which is pulsing with white hot pain.

"Is it bad? Is it --" you have to stop and swallow before you can continue. "Did they get an artery?"

"Roe's got the morphine," Spina says, looking over his shoulder and calling for the Louisiana boy before glancing back down at you. "Just take it easy, (Y/N)."

You grit your teeth through a spark of pain. It's hot and bright -- probably what stars feel like as they burn out.

"Hey --" Lipton pats your cheek with his hand, trying to keep you grounded. "Stay with me, (Y/N). Roe's comin', okay? Hey, at least you didn't get shot in the ass like Perco, huh?"

"Mighta hurt less," you hiss.

"She got morphine?" A thick accent asks as Doc Roe appears above you. He glances down at your thigh and then at you. And then --

Something happens.

Roe must sense it too, because just as his eyes start to move back to your injury, he stops short. Something about his eyes . . . it's hard to describe. It's unlike anything you've ever seen before.

They're not black and white, you realize with a start. You gasp sharply, not sure if it's from pain or from the shock. Then, slowly, the world around you draws into focus in a way it never has before. The blacks and whites you've become so accustomed to fade away as color seeps in, like water paints bleeding onto a fresh sheet of paper, filling in the world in ways that you didn't even know was possible.

"Doc, are you gonna help her?!" Lipton asks as Roe falls to his knees beside you, still staring straight into your eyes. Neither of you take note of Spina cursing in confusion, grabbing Doc's bag and tearing through it for morphine and bandages.

"It's you," you gasp at the same time that Roe whispers, "I found you."

Lipton looks between the two of you in confusion. The minute it clicks, his jaw drops into a capital O. "Oh shit."

"Right --" Spina pats your leg and stands up as more people approach. " -- Didn't hit an artery, but she'll need to visit an aide station to get this cleaned up. I've done what I can."

Aide station?

"Wait, no!" You try to push yourself up, try to prove that you're fine. If you get taken to a hospital, it might take forever for them to let you out. And then how will you get back to Easy? Something could happen to Roe before you return.

You grasp the Cajun boy's hand as you're lifted onto the piece of wood that's serving as a crude stretcher. Over the rumbling of the approaching Jeep engine, you plead with him. "Don't let them take me, Doc. I'll be fine. I'm fine! I don't wanna go."

"You gotta," he says sadly. "Your leg . . ."

"I want to stay here," you insist. "Please. Please, Gene."

"I'll find you." He presses a kiss to the back of your hand as they load you into the Jeep. "I promise, we'll find each other again, okay? But you gotta go now, (Y/N)."

Your tightly knitted fingers unravel as the vehicle starts to move, unnoticing and uncaring of your feelings on the matter. For the first time since you got hit, you feel your eyes grow hot and watery. There's no use trying to hold back the tears that slip out as you're driven away from the boy who colored in your world.

From the boy who's your soulmate.

#I said angst and I meant angst #bon appetit ya know? #band of brothers x reader #eugene roe x reader #doc roe #eugene roe #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #my writing #soulmate au #george luz #joe toye #carwood lipton #ralph spina #buck compton

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 21

(Ch. 20) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "It's born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times."

A/N: Bit of a long one tonight, y'all, but I PROMISE it's worth it, even if for no other reason than to twist the knife in your heart lol because this one hURTED

WARNINGS: ANGST ANGST ANGST, Mixed Signals, Jealousy, Situationship, Conflicted feelings, idk the usual FOF tags lol.

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @indigo-luvers @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away

Contemporary: October 25th, 1944. Driel, Netherlands.

Chewing absentmindedly on her thumbnail as she read, Alix tried to ignore the all-too-familiar feeling of eyes boring into the side of her head. 

She didn't even have to turn to look; she knew instinctively who it was. 

It was Joe. 

It was always Joe. 

He had been casting wounded glances in her direction like a kicked puppy ever since she'd stormed off the day prior. 

Ever since the letter. 

Her chest still ached at the memory. 

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see “To My Love” inscribed on the letter’s flap like an epitaph. 

 Like her epitaph.

He wasn’t yours to lose in the first place, Alix chided herself, trying to force herself to stare at the novel she’d gotten in the mail days earlier. Let him be.

But her eyes wouldn’t focus and the deep, icy pain in her chest just wouldn’t leave her alone. 

There was no denying it: he hadn't left her mind. 

He had been there for her when she needed him most and then…then nothing. 

Had it just been pity for her distraught state that kept him there that night?

All signs pointed to Yes.

A month of silence, empty gestures that clearly meant nothing to him, and then a letter from a sweetheart he had apparently been writing to the whole time... Frankly, Alix wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or slap him. 

Perhaps both; perhaps neither. 

Deep down, under all of the hurt and confusion and betrayal she felt, all she wanted to do was run to him for a hug and for answers, for the truth:

Was any of it real or was it all just an act?

Was she just a passing amusement for him?

Was trying to woo her some sort of sick joke?

Had it just been to prove that he could?

Regardless, she’d rather take a nosedive off the Strawberry Mansion Bridge in midwinter than ask.

No man was worth that kind of humiliation, not even Joe. 

With a sigh of annoyance, Alix tried to turn back to her worn copy of Wuthering Heights but found herself staring emptily at the pages again. 

Skip and Don had been in and out for most of the morning, on some patrol or other, leaving the more or less immobilized spy to her own devices as she waited for the patrol to return, hopefully with a medic so her ankle could be fixed and she could finally get back to work.

She could feel Joe’s eyes on her again, could feel the mournful puppy-dog stare she would encounter were she to look over, and it took all her self-control not to limp over there and tell him to go make eyes at his darling Millicent but fortunately, she didn’t think she’d be able to hop down off the fallen oak by herself. 

Just then, a thickly-accented voice interrupted her ruminations.

"’Scuse-moi but uh, Nixon said you were lookin' for me…?" 

Lifting her head from her reading, Alix saw a medic standing a bit away, hands in his pockets and shifting from foot to foot as though nervous to approach her. 

He was taller than she’d expected him to be, pale and square-jawed with close-cropped black hair and tired eyes so dark a blue that it took her a second to register their color. 

“Did he?” she inquired, her brows knitting slightly. 

It wasn’t like her case officer to go out of his way to be nice.

The man inclined his head, the ghost of a small smile gracing his face like moonlight over frost.

"Mais ya. Said you banged up your ankle real bad an' that I oughta have a look at it before you make it worse." 

There it is, Alix thought with an inward chuckle. There’s the Blackbeard I know.

“Fair enough,” she replied with a simple shrug. "C'mon then."

The man's eyes were alight with quiet mirth, but Alix could see the worry lines etched into his forehead, his thin lips pressed together pensively. 

He seemed almost afraid to smile, the spy noted, taking a peek at him overtop of her book as he got himself situated.

Like any moment it could be taken from him. 

He was watching her too but Alix pretended not to notice, leaning down and focusing her energy instead on gingerly untying her shoelaces. 

Her ankle had been numb most of the day but as soon as she attempted to shift the tongue of her boot even slightly, an agonizing bolt of lightning shot up her leg and she let out an involuntary yelp of pain. 

Both the medic and Joe’s heads whipped around at the sound of her cry but before the latter could put down the letter he was writing and get to his feet, the former was already at her side.

“You wan’ some help with that?” the dark-haired medic inquired, concern written all over his features but at first, Alix tensed out of sheer habit.

There was nothing she hated more than asking for help. 

But there wasn’t a trace of pity or contempt in the medic’s voice, only kindness, and she slowly allowed herself to relax. 

“Maybe,” she answered apprehensively. “If you can keep it from hurting like that again.” 

“I can try but it’s gonna start out painful. You gonna hafta trust me." 

"Not exactly my strong suit.” 

“Gotta start somewhere,” the medic replied, extending a hand with a shy smile. 

“I’m Eugene, by the way…Eugene Roe. But you can jus’ call me Gene, if you wanna, like y–”

A loud cough of irritation interrupted their conversation and Alix discreetly peeked over her shoulder to see that Joe had paused yet again from his scribbling to light up his third cigarette of the hour with a scowl as dark as a storm cloud.

Alix shot him a death glare which he pretended not to see.

The sheer audacity of Joe Liebgott to be acting jealous when he had been leading her on for so long, when he’d abandoned her for a month, all while writing home to his real sweetheart, when he was writing to her even now with Alix sitting feet away…

How dare he.

With a toss of her hair, Alix turned her attention back to the medic in front of her, who seemed a bit taken aback by the intensity of her expression.

“Pleasure to meet you, Gene,” she replied with a bright smile. “I’m Alix.” 

"I know," he admitted sheepishly. "We met before, used ta work together actually. Was gonna tell ya earlier but…" 

He trailed off, neither of them wanting to acknowledge the abrupt interruption.

"Sorry,” Alix said, wincing at her own impaired memory. “My recall's still shit."

 But Eugene seemed to take it in stride. 

"C'est bon," he responded with a shrug and an understanding smile. "Was a long time ago anyway." 

"Still," the spy confided with a frustrated grimace. "I hate not being able to remember things…people..." 

"It'll come back, cher," he assured her with a comforting hand on her cheek and her eyes went wide but she didn't pull away. 

"Jus' gotta give it some time. For now–"  

He gave her a sweet smile that made her feel warm inside. 

"Think of it like a fresh start." 

From several feet away, Joe cleared his throat again, a raucous sound, and the medic seemed to instantly come back to himself. 

Losing his nerve, he quickly pulled his hand away, focusing all his energy on positioning them lightly on her boot instead. 

"Now, uh, you ready to get this thing off?" 

Alix nodded with gritted teeth and Eugene began to count down.

“Une…Deux…Trois!” 

One sudden flash of pain and both her sock and boot were off.

“Merci beaucoup,” she exhaled, her whole body seeming to sag with released tension. 

Thank you so much. 

The medic’s face lit up with delight like a kid on Christmas.

“Your French don' sound half bad, cher!" 

"After 12 years of it in school, I sure hope not," Alix joked and the medic visibly brightened at the sound of her laughter. 

"Mais ya, it sounds real good. Y'ain't Cajun but then, there isn't nobody outside the bayou that talk like us." 

Suddenly seeming to remember what he'd come for, he busied himself with rolling up her pants leg and examining her swollen ankle, which was now a mottled black and blue. 

True to his word, he was careful to touch it as little as possible. 

"You been walkin' on it a lot, eh?" 

"A fair bit," she conceded. "Just when necessary." 

The medic shook his head, clucking his tongue in disapproval.

"C'est pas drole que's all fucked up then. You got a dislocated ankle, cher, an' you been overworkin' it." 

No wonder, huh? 

Alix could've laughed. She'd spent her whole life chafing against life's constraints. She couldn't stay off her feet for too long even if she tried; she'd go crazy. 

"What do you want me to do, Gene, quit my job?" 

It had been a joke but the medic wasn't laughing. 

"If that's what it takes," he intoned as he began to rifle through his bag in search of a splint set, scolding her affectionately all the while.

"You're lucky you ain't got a fractured foot! Once I do the reduction, you gotta be gentle while it's healin'. That means you gotta stay off it, you got that, pichouette?" 

Pichouette. 

Mischievous girl. 

A term of endearment but a playful one. 

“From cher to pichouette that quick, huh?” she teased and he shook his head at the ground to hide his shy grin. 

"You really shoulda been more careful, y'know," he chided gently, ignoring her teasing as he began busying himself with his bag. 

"You got me… an' Joe an' uh, other people real worried about you."

 

“It’s sweet of you to worry but I’m not your problem, Gene,” Alix mumbled but he paused his search to glance up at her. 

“If you were a problem, I wouldn’ta been worried at all, cher,” he said kindly and Alix could feel the warmth of his tone like a hug.

“Now, I’m gonna need you to hop down an' lay flat on your back for me, ya?”

 

But the spy shook her head, suddenly self-conscious. 

“Um Gene…One problem.”

Eugene cocked his head, brows knit in silent confusion. 

“I can’t.”  Alix mumbled, inwardly berating herself for forgetting.

“Not without landing on my bad foot. Skip helped me up here but I’d need help getting down.” 

The medic immediately rose from his kneeling position, arms extended. 

“Jump.” 

The spy shook her head emphatically.  

“That’s a negative, Gene. I don't do heights, especially not after my last jump."

Eugene cocked his head.

He didn’t seem angry, just confused.

“You don’ trust me?” 

“Don’t take it personally,” the spy grimaced. “I’m just not in the habit of trusting people too easily.” 

The sweet-faced Eugene took a timid step closer to the trunk of the oak, his voice soft and reassuring. 

“Mais, lemme change that then.” 

Alix could feel her resolve waning bit by bit but she still had some lingering doubts.

“What if you drop me?” she asked, noting the man’s almost fragile-looking frame

but he chuckled, a sound as warm as the sun rays dappling nearby leaves.

“Cher, I been carryin’ 200 pound wounded troopers back an' forth for Lord knows how long now. I ain’t gonna drop you.”

There was such an earnestness about the medic’s face that she didn’t have the heart to refuse any longer. 

“Fine,” she grumbled, trying to keep from looking down. “But you’d better not drop me.”

Even a minor jump felt major since her previous but she resolved to trust him anyway.

After taking one last breath to calm her nerves, Alix leapt into the medic’s waiting arms.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Despite his slight build, Eugene was a great deal stronger than she’d expected and when he scooped her out of the air, Alix couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from her chest, even as their noses nearly brushed.

“Okay, okay, you proved your point,” she giggled as he gave her a boost, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist for security, but Eugene wasn’t done. 

“Told you I wasn’t gonna drop you, cher,” he remarked with a rare, playful grin, those entrancing eyes of his sparkling in the sunlight. 

“Gonna hafta eat crow now, eh?” 

Alix swatted at his shoulder jokingly and was it her imagination or were the tips of his ears turning bright pink?

“You, Eugene Roe, are ridiculous,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. 

Roe licked his lips nervously, his gaze seeming to linger on her mouth for a second as though he were pondering something he shouldn't. 

For a brief second, she was somewhere else as an image of herself and Joe flashed before her, the two of them kissing in the moonlight...

But Alix's mind brought her crashing back down to Earth as the memory of the letter, of Millicent's smiling face, of the words "My Love" sealed with a kiss swam before her...

Feeling her stomach drop, Alix turned her head away suddenly, and Roe got the message, his gaze returned to her eyes immediately.

“I'm sorry, I-I uh…” he stammered and Alix gave him an understanding smile.

“Don’t worry about it."

The medic swallowed anxiously, his heartbeat thundering stronger and stronger against her chest like a caged animal.

Keeping his hands securely wrapped around her, he gently guided her down onto her back in the grass, his body just grazing over hers and Alix felt something strange stir within her.

There was a delicacy about his features, even in shadow, that Alix hadn't noticed before his face was hovering inches from her own. 

Joe was a blazing wildfire, as passionate and intense as the sunlight beating down on Gene's back, and she was a moth, ever attracted to his flame. 

But Eugene... He was different, more aloof, almost serene, but with a gentle magnetism as well that drew her curiosity like the moon and tides.

Even hovering just above her, with his arms lightly caging her against the ground, there was still an unfathomable distance in the medic's eyes, as though he was searching for something in her eyes that he couldn't quite reach.

He radiated a more subdued light but it was still present, and there was a gravitas that grounded him in even his lightest moments.

He wasn't Joe. But maybe that was okay. Maybe he didn't have to be.

The tension between them was as thick as a morning haze and Alix found her own pulse racing as she looked up at him, the flurry of butterflies in her stomach battling the confusion in her mind and the heartache in her chest.

An unspoken fondness seemed to radiate from within Gene’s night-blue eyes as he gazed at her and she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been lingering under the surface all along. 

He had said they’d worked together in the past… If that was true, then perhaps he’d kept that fondness hidden for a reason. 

Just another "impossibility", Alix thought sadly. Another "almost". 

Still, she couldn't deny that there was something about him, a warmth, a comfort that she hadn't noticed before that seemed to pull her to him.

Perhaps it was his gentleness that both drew her and repelled her at the same time. 

After all, he had been trained to save lives; she had been trained to take them. 

Life and Death. 

An impossibility. 

She saw his gaze drift down to her lips again, but this time, she didn’t turn away, even as she heard the angry clatter of Joe dropping his canteen to the ground.

Eugene leaned down, his eyes timidly asking a question she already knew her answer to, when a piercing wolf-whistle rang out, startling the medic so much that he rolled off her immediately with a muttered “Merde” just as a cluster of paratroopers emerged from the brush.

"Way to go, Doc!" someone jeered and there were snickers and scattered applause throughout the remainder of the group as the medic sat up and began feverishly rifling through his canvas bag instead, sorting bandages and the like as he avoided the stares.

“You guys are a real riot,” Alix commented sarcastically, propping herself up on her elbows and making a face at the gawking newcomers.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than gape like goldfish?”

A man near the front of the group who Alix recognized as Joe's friend, Sergeant Talbert hooted,

"Damn, we go on patrol and miss all the fun! Wonder if they–" 

"Tab, shut your goddamn mouth before I shut it for you!" Joe snarled uncharacteristically from his spot in the clearing and Tab held his hands up, wisely choosing not to continue his statement. 

The spy glanced nervously over at Joe who set his jaw and turned away, glaring daggers at the grass instead as though daring it to wilt under his stare.

"All y'all can get a move on already," Bull commanded with the exasperated sigh of an elementary school teacher attempting to control an unruly class. 

"Ain't nothin' to see." 

Once the returning group had begun to disperse, the medic ceased his search and turned to look at her, seeming almost helpless, like a rabbit caught in a snare.

"I'm sorry… I mean, I shouldn'tve… Mais, you an' Joe… Did I–" 

"NO," she stated sharply– more like a punch to the gut than a reassurance– before shaking her head and correcting herself. 

"No," she repeated, gentler this time. "You're fine, Gene."

"But I thought y'all–" Roe began, casting a worried look over his shoulder at Joe but this time it was Alix who reached out with a wan smile and a reassuring hand on his cheek, turning him back to her. 

"Well, you thought wrong."  

#SURPRISE SHAWTY #he's been harboring this the WHOLE TIME #We love situationships & jealousy & mixed signals in this house lol #Alix Martinelli #Joe Liebgott #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joe Liebgott x Reader #Band of Brothers fandom #Band of Brothers fanfiction #Band of Brothers fanfic #BoB #HBO Band of Brothers #mutual pining #angst #slow burn #love triangle #Eugene Roe #Eugene Roe x Reader #Alix Martinelli x Joe Liebgott #Joelix #Roelix lol #Band of Brothers longfic #Band of Brothers multichap #multichapter fic #FOFchapters #Notice all the Parallels lol #Joe rolling over on Alix to protect her & now Gene doing it after they're caught in a Moment #FireOnFire

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iv ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warning/s: sexual content but it's nothing too explicit. also angst angst angst.

author's note: NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. also, lemme know what u guys think!! would love to read it honestly. it was what had been keeping me inspired.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @leclercdream

masterlist.

You have three philosophies in life.

Pussies do not get the good stuff. If you want the good stuff, don't be a pussy.

Hard work will pay off one day. In the meantime, work hard but don't work too hard. You work smart and make it seem like you're working hard so by the time your “hard” work pays off, you’re not too tired from working and still have energy to enjoy your reward, you know? Does that make sense?

Whatever Max Verstappen wanted, Max Verstappen would get.

Now let us focus on philosophy number three. It's a shitty philosophy to have, but when you're working as the manager of Red Bull’s golden boy—after Sebastian Vettel, of course—that philosophy sort of becomes the job description. It's your job to give whatever Max Verstappen wanted, whatever he needed.

When he asks you that question, sounding so innocent as if he hasn't just yanked your entire world off its axis by saying those words, your first reaction is to pull up the middle finger. Fuck you, Max. Max is an asshole for asking you that. Max is an absolute asshole for asking you for a kiss. For the five years you've worked for him, he should already be aware of the power he holds over your head. Should be aware that you'll give anything he'll ask. That's why he should be careful with what he's asking from you.

Said asshole has the audacity to pout. He resembled the pet duck who lived in your Abuelo's farm that you were very fond of in your childhood. Her name was Maria and she was a menace. Your Abuelo even tied a pink bow to the duck’s neck so it could be easily recognizable. A 181-cm tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired Dutch duck with a blue-eyed gaze that will never fail to make your bones tremble and your heart stutter once you let yourself stare at it. You can put a bow around his neck, too, like what your Abuelo did to that duck. Then, use the bow to choke him in a way that is definitely not sexy or kinky but in a way that screams murder, murder, murder.

“That's not nice.”

“‘M not a nice person.”

“You're a nice person, you just don't do nice things.”

You give him a weird look.

“If you weren't a nice person, you would not be here with me right now,” he continues, in a manner that made him seem like a hundred-old sage imparting wisdom. “But you're here and you're not leaving and you're not hurting me so you're nice.”

His words cause something rotten to bloom in your ribs, “How are you so certain that ‘m not gonna end up hurtin’ you? For all you know, I'm gonna use this billiard stick to make you a human skewer right now.”

He laughs. God. The sound is absolutely beautiful that it terrifies you.

“You're you, [Name]. You would never hurt me.”

In a sense, he's right. You will never hurt him. Not intentionally, at least. If you wanted him to hurt, you'll be leaving right now and flying to Texas the same way Kelly did in Abu Dhabi. Because, for someone like Max, nothing in this world is more painful than to be left alone when all you yearned for is someone to be there for you.

“So……will you?” he asks again. “Will you kiss me?”

He's drunk, your brain reasons. Your fingers gently reach for his jaw—very angular, you belatedly realize—and Max chases the warmth of your skin. He does not know what he's asking, your brain reasons again. You tug him towards you and your mouth meets his, immediately registering the taste of the beer on his tongue. He’s stupid, your brain added. I’m stupid, too, you argue mentally and pushes him against the side of the billiard table and toss your stick to the floor and let yourself take everything from Max Verstappen. Fuck you Max, you think with finality. Your brain replies: You’re also fucked.

He took what he wanted from you. Every day. Every single day. He will ask and you will give. Now, it is your turn to take. One last time before the inevitable goodbye that you know will break both of your hearts.

Anger. Frustration. That's what you feel right now. Anger because this is going to make things more complicated for you and goddammit, why are you making things hard for yourself? Frustrated because you’re not supposed to do this but you cannot fucking stop. Thank fuck you resigned before pulling this shit because this is soooooo unprofessional.

You read somewhere that said something like all people are driven to the point of eating their gods after a time. And is this situation not a perfect demonstration of this? Max is your god. Max was your god. And you are going to devour him—fueled by five years of frustration and anger and a series of why, why, why didn't you talk to Horner? Now it's too late because I'm leaving all because you didn't talk to fucking Horner.

You've forgiven 2021. 2022 made your grudge grow. And you're not stupid to continue staying after his 2023 victory when it's clearly not happening—the dream that will be given to you with Max's power. You will never forgive yourself if you stayed here and be continuously reminded of what you could become, what you failed to become.

Max is surprisingly pliant under your hands. A rare occasion. One would expect Max Verstappen to take the lead because that's what he did in the race tracks. A 20-second lead from everyone else. He's also the type to just do whatever he wanted, you know? And people would let him. Because he's Max Verstappen.

Dominance. Total dominance.

“Wait,” he squeezes your arms and you do not hear him clearly the first time because you're so concentrated on his lips and how it feels and tastes against yours. “Wait, wait. Slow down.”

You pull away and you hear him take a gasp of air, “Somethin’ wrong?”

He looks so beautiful like this. Beneath you. Lips swollen. Blue eyes wide with desire. Hair perfectly messy. Grip on your arm so tight that you're sure will definitely leave a hand-shaped bruise tomorrow.

“Can’t breathe,” he says with a light laugh and you resist the urge to violently bash your head against the billiard table because what the fuck? That's not good for your heart. It's too… too… adorable. Max is not supposed to be an adorable person.

You suck in a breath and lower your head until your forehead meets Max’s firm chest.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

You raise your head and meet Max’s eyes, the culprit behind your insanity right now.

(Your Abuela said that blue eyes were just blue eyes. Until you fall in love with someone with blue eyes and blue becomes a color that consumed your world whole. You appreciated the sky more because it reminded you of his eyes. You appreciated the color of the seas more because it reminded you of his eyes. Blue became the color of love.)

Now what? Do you continue or…?

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Do you even need to ask?” you deadpan. Max’s hands circle around your waist and he gently guides you away from him. He dusts his shirt once he has fully risen from the billiard table before his hand finds yours. Fingers intertwining together, he leads you out of the entertainment room.

Your heart drums with anticipation. Numerous questions circle around your head but it all disappears in a flash when Max brings you to the room where you found him that morning. You wince when you walk past the broken door.

Yeah…

Making a payment plan will be hell. You're unemployed at the current moment, too. The first thing you have to do when you land in Texas is find a job.

He makes you sit on his bed, the soft mattress dipping down on your weight. You can only stare at him, brows furrowing in confusion and a question sitting on the tip of your tongue that you are yet to voice out. Max makes a beeline to his closet, throwing it open and procuring a box.

A box.

He walks back to you, dropping on his knees and that action makes you panic. Then, Max opens the box, pulling out the most gorgeous pair of five-inch block heels you have ever laid eyes upon and gently slips them onto your feet. The straps have pearls and satin bows and it has tiny white diamonds, elegantly cut, as the centerpiece. Not even the YSL Opyum heels you own can compare to its elegance and beauty.

You almost kick him in the face because you do not expect that he’ll do that.

I bought shoes and they don't fit her. Max has told you. You feel bile rise up your throat.

The shoes. They fit you. Perfectly. As if it was made to be yours. As if it was bought to be yours. As if he was thinking of you, who is nothing but his manager and somewhat friend, when he bought the gorgeous heels instead of Kelly Piquet, his fucking girlfriend of three years whom he had been living with in this fucking penthouse, and parenting little P with.

“They're perfect,” Max whispers and he looks up with that smile playing on his lips. You feel tears sting your eyes and you press your lips into a thin line before moving your gaze away, blinking rapidly.

Max is doing this because he thought you were Kelly.

“They're custom, you know? They're the only pair in the world.”

His words make the taste of bile a hundred times worse. You stare at the shoes on your feet as if it's a sin to have the shoes fit you. No wonder Kelly is mad at Max. If Leo has commissioned custom heels with another woman in mind and got your shoe size wrong after three years of being together, you'll feel hurt, too.

You feel the need to apologize to Kelly. Maybe a quick message to her IG? You also follow each other’s private account.

“You’re thinking,” he says and his voice snaps you out of the rabbit hole known as your thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothin’,” you lie. The feeling of wanting to puke intensifies so you grab Max by his collar and plant your lips against his to push back the imaginary bile stuck on your throat and from there, the situation escalates to the point that clothes are removed. One by one. When you reach to unstrap the heels, Max grabbed your wrists, almost panicked.

“What are you doin’?” you ask.

“Don't take them off please.”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get.

Your name built a home in Max’s mouth, the syllables rolling off his tongue with ease at every pleasure he felt, while your fingers explore every inch of Max’s skin. You're only allowed to watch back then. Now, you're allowed to touch.

Hearing his whimpers and little groans and shudders—all done by your hands—you feel nothing but satisfaction. He chants your name like it's a prayer and you're his god and if that is not love then you do not what is.

You wait for Max to utter Kelly’s name midway.

He never did.

“What are you doing?” his voice is groggy with sleep. After doing it, he immediately passes out. Weak ass bitch. You're still waiting for the horror once the realization of what you’ve done sinks into your system. The annoying headache, too. For now, none of them have arrived yet. Probably because you still have enough alcohol in your system to numb things out for you. While waiting, you're on your phone.

Ha, it's past 12 midnight now. You have three days to tell Max before you fly to Texas.

“Talkin' to someone,” you reply cryptically. His brows knit together.

“Who?”

“Just Logan.”

“The American in Williams?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, the American in Williams.”

You notice how his arms on your waist tighten, pulling you a little closer to him, but you say nothing. This action causes flowers to bloom in your lungs and you hope he hasn't noticed how your breath hitched.

“Why?”

“He’s my friend. Friends talk,” you deadpan.

Logan Sargeant is an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you a lot of your little brother and you both share the same sentiments regarding the feeling of being unwelcomed in Formula One. You suppose he has it worse though. Nobody in the grid really makes an effort to befriend the young racer and you're fifty percent sure that the fact he's American made a contribution to that.

None of the other racers even follow him on Insta.

“Well, what are you two talking about?” Grumpy and bratty Max is back. Welcome back, asshole.

“He’s in Texas right now and he was askin’ if I was back home, too. Said we should grab a drink together. I promised to show him around Austin.”

“You never invited me to Austin.”

“Why would you even go to Austin?” your nose scrunch a little. “You visit your mother for Christmas.”

He rolls his eyes.

“You're befriending too much racers.”

“Excuse me? I only have Logan as a friend. Charles, too, by extension because he's your friend,” you point out. “Checo and Daniel and Yuki and Liam because they work with you.”

“And me.”

“You're not my friend.”

“What am I then? Your dog?”

“I work for you.”

“You work with me, not for me,” he corrects.

You do not know why your heart skipped a beat at that.

“I’m just trynna be a good friend here and you're bein’ unreasonably grumpy,” you try to shift the subject to save your own sanity. “None of you even tried to befriend Logan.”

Max abruptly reaches for his phone on the bedside table and unlocks it. You watch as he opens his Instagram, the public one, and added Logan's account. You gape. He switches to his private account and searches for Logan’s account in your profile's list of followers and adds him, too.

“What the fuck, Max?”

“I’m befriending him,” he says simply. “I’ll invite him over if he ever comes by in Monaco during the off-season.”

You blink.

“Now say goodbye to him and go back to sleep.”

He tosses his phone to the bedside table and turn his back on you in a manner that reminded you of a very petulant child.

You glance at your phone only to see Logan’s freaked out messages.

logan: HE FOLLOWED ME??!? ON BOTH ACCOUNTS???

logan: AM I SEEING THINGS? HAVE I ACCIDENTALLY SNORTED DRUGS??!

logan: maybe it's the texas heat??

logan: *sent a screenshot*

logan: MAX VERSTAPPEN INVITED ME TO HIS PENTHOUSE??

you: congrats child

logan: is this your doing??!?

logan: are you with him now?

logan: wait that's impossible, itd be 2 am in monaco now there's no way youd be together rn

If only he knows.

you: how bout we talk later once the sun rises here in monaco?

you: or maybe once i arrive in the us?

logan: sure sure

you: stay safe out there kid

logan: HE JUST FOLLOWED ME I CAN DIE HAPPY

You toss your phone aside and inch closer to Max, looping your arms around him and falling asleep in his warmth.

Your phone rings and it's not the Max Max Max Super Max Max ringtone. It's the default one.

Mama, the caller ID indicates. 4:31 AM is written on the upper right corner of your phone screen. You press the answer button.

“Your Papa…… It was a dangerous call. He needs to see you before he… He might not make it.”

That alone is enough for you to jump out of bed. You scramble to grab last night’s clothes and slip them on. Fuck, they still smell like alcohol.

“Hey, hey, what's wrong?” Max, who's rudely awakened when you abruptly jumped out of bed, looks so lost and when he sees you run your way out of his bedroom and to the stairs, he panics. The poor man panicked. He falls down the bed and runs after you, having the decency to only grab a towel to cover his lower half. He stops you, grabbing your wrist just as you're at the lowest step of the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?” his voice is still rough with sleep and he's aggressively rubbing out his grogginess from his eyes. You stop, letting out a breath that you don't realize you're holding before turning around to face him. Then, the guilt rushes in. Max looks so…you don't have the words to describe it. His hair is a mess and he still looks sleepy but he also looks wide awake and kind of panicking and confused.

This is a face that's equally endearing and heartbreaking. You can't believe this will be the last time you'll be seeing him. You're still supposed to have three days left but now it's cut short and you—

You'll miss him.

“Sorry, baby,” you come up a few steps and cup his cheeks, bringing his face down so you can kiss his forehead. His hand comes up to lay on top of yours, eyes fluttering close.

“Where are you going?” he asks again.

“Texas,” you reply. “Dad… he… 'Twas a bad call and I need to see him. I need—I need to go home now.”

This is the reality of being family with a firefighter. You're always in danger of losing your father in one of the calls. And that is happening now.

Max understands because he knows your father's line of work.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

You shake your head.

“Then, I’ll drive you.”

“No,” you shoot him down quickly. “You drank last night. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m not drunk now.”

“Max,” you breathe through your nose to calm yourself down. “I’ll take the next flight available to the US. You stay here.”

“Take my jet.”

“No, Max,” you say. “Thank you for the offer but you’ll use the jet when you visit your mother.”

“I can fly commercial,” he squeezes your hands. “You don't want me to drive you. You don't want me to come with you. At least take the jet.”

You open your mouth to protest.

“Just take the jet, please, [Name].”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get. So you nod your head slowly because it looks like he'll argue just to get you seated in his jet. And you'll argue with him if it was any other day but not today because you need to leave quickly. Time is becoming too precious. You can lose your Dad any second. You just wish you can see him and talk to him before he went.

“Okay.”

You pull away, whipping around to head to the door but Max doesn't let your wrist go. You turn back to him.

“What is it, Max?”

“Text me when you land in Texas?”

“Of course.”

“One last thing. Wait here.”

He runs back to his room and you tap your foot impatiently, eyes trained on the mismatched shoes that covered your feet. Max returns not even five minutes later and now, he's wearing clothes and he’s carrying the shoe box from last night.

You swallow the lump on your throat.

“Take this with you.”

With shaking hands, you take the box.

“See you around, [Name].”

“Goodbye, Max.”

It's a good thing that you spent the entire morning yesterday packing because this makes everything smoother for you. It is a little past 5 am now and the outside world is still enveloped in total darkness. You gaze at the apartment one last time, three suitcases in tow. The keys feel heavy in your hands as you lock the door behind you.

In the middle of your apartment living room sits a lone shoe box with a letter that says: Sorry, Max. I can't steal more from Kelly.

Beside the box is a folder.

An unfinished guide on becoming Max Verstappen’s manager. (I’ll have the final copy printed, binded, and sent before the 2024 pre-season. Haha, I’m channeling my inner Toto Wolff.)

The first paper you’ll see after you open the folder reads:

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024 and honestly, I am worried. Not for you, of course. You’d win WDC whether I am your manager or not. That's how good you are. I am worried for your future manager. I’m afraid it would take someone with guts like me to work for with someone like you. A powerhouse manager for a powerhouse athlete.

Inside, you can find the following things:

How to bake my abuela’s special cheesecake.

How to make Red Bull vodka

How to make Max’s favorite pasta for lunch

List of Max Verstappen’s favorite places in each city

How to iron Max Verstappen’s clothes

What to do when Max accidentally sets the kitchen on fire

What to do when Max has a bad race

How to protect Max Verstappen from angry Hamilton fans

How to deal with a drunk Max Verstappen

Etc…

I will still be watching your journey, not from the Red Bull garage but from another continent. We worked five amazing years together and now it is time for us to fly on different skies. As much as I liked working with you, you can't be the only one reaching your dreams. Don’t worry, I’ll always reach out.

Thank you, Max. For giving me a home. I’m not talking about the apartment. I don't believe that home are establishments. Home is the people you love and Max, you are someone I love.

In the last page of this folder, you’d see a handmade bracelet tucked inside. It's small and it's made of cheap beads and I do not care if you don't think it's worthy enough to be worn on your wrist. Not even going to be offended. It's dirt compared to the Cartier bracelets you wear everyday. I bought the beads while roaming in Brazil and I just thought I’d make you one.

I cannot give you any gift that you already cannot buy with your money so I went ahead and made this. Money cannot buy anything made by my own hands.

Thank you again, Max.

And I’m so fucking sorry.

Please don't be angry.

I love you.

You watch the sun rise inside Max's jet as you fly over Monaco to Texas.

#mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen #f1imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 #formulaone #fanfic #max verstappen fanfic

[f0point5]

This is looking like a contest, of who can act like they care less

Part 85 of the Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader social media au

A/N: I believe someone asked me where the angst was…?! Also, I know I’m doubling down on The Story of Us lyrics but they’re too perfect for our babygirls right now. Hope you enjoy this part <3

Tag list

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#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris

[emjayewrites]

The Fast Lane (A Formula One Series)(2/?)

SYNOPSIS: Jesenia joins the private, membership-based dating app Raya searching for a sugar daddy. Instead, she unknowingly finds her biggest “whale”: Lewis Hamilton, a famous Formula One racing driver.

PAIRING: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Jesenia "Jessy" Hart (face claim is @/loriharvey)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, cursing, explicit sexual content, not-so-glamorous life in the influencer/racing world, kind of pre-established relationship. RATED M (18+)

PINTEREST: Jessy's F1 Outfits

PLAYLIST: The Fast Lane Spotify

TAGLIST: @royallyprincesslilly, @mauvecherie-writes, @saintslewis, @peyiswriting, @hamiltonvuitton, @cocobutterqwueen, @qveenmelanink, @ashanti-notthesinger, @lewisroscoelove, @lovebittenbyevans, @lew1s-prix, @jasmindaughteroftheworld, @eugene-emt-roe, @apenasumlug4r, @simpfortoomanymen, @roseseraj, @alika-4466, @httpsserene, @queenshikongo3, @cherry2stems, @non-stop-imagines, @anubisnoir @myescapefromthislife @chaneajoyyy @yeea-nah @mitruscity @lewiscrown @weetjy @a-moment-captured @sugardontbesweet @shaytheeprettiest @livinglifethroughfanfic @blveeeeeee @formula-hamilton @purplelewlew @trinitoldyouso @slytherinjimim3nthusiast @certifiedlesbianbaddie

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A bit of a change up to fit the story. Please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Anyways, enjoy! Dividers by @inklore!

CHAPTER TWO: The Letters of XNDA

Lewis was unconventional, an adrenaline junkie, and the epitome of Jack of All Trades. Jessy has been privy to gaining access to spaces of top-tier people, the multimillionaires and billionaires of the world, yet no one could ever be like Sir Lewis Hamilton.

After an amazing weekend in Monaco, Lewis invited her to another race — the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona.

Of course, she agreed to attend, but Jessy soon realized there must be a time when she put her foot down and said no. Until then, she'll play along and be the supportive grid girl.

Before heading to Barcelona, Jessy returned to Miami to handle a few business meetings and the like. Her second collection for her swimwear line, Silver Doe, will be released in July and there were still so many preparations. During that time, she spent an unhealthy period online researching her mark.

She still had yet to learn his intentions with her and their arrangement, but she knew that he was hooked on her, especially after that night in Monte Carlo. Once he had a taste of her, he became an addict and was unable to stop. They christened his penthouse apartment, fucking on almost every surface imaginable.

Jessy couldn't deny that she enjoyed herself and his sexual proclivities both surprised and satisfied her, however, she had to keep her focus. She devised a well-thought-out plan before meeting him, and she refused to let it all go to waste.

She delved into any resource she could get her hands on: from his wild, partying days several years ago to his very interesting dating history; Jessy explored it all. She steered clear of learning his likes and dislikes, preferring to have a more natural way of learning these things, but she did discover that he loved music, so much so that he even recorded songs and had a feature on Christina Aguilera's album.

Suffice it to say, Lewis had a lot of business ventures and interests outside of professional racing, and he always seemed to keep Jessy on her toes. Like herself, Lewis was an enigma; he was a rulebreaker, an Alpha, an icon. Lewis was that guy; he was him.

And despite this, the fame complete with a large fanbase, the nose and ear piercings, and the tattoos, he was still very soft-spoken and down-to-earth, which made it quite difficult for Jessy to find a flaw and profit off of it.

Most of the guys she previously hung around with or dated had flaws. From gambling to drug problems, they had weaknesses she used to get whatever she wanted from them. But Lewis's only weakness was his close friends and family, and although Jessy wanted to finesse him, she's not that terrible of a person. With this in mind, the only other choice was to play into the media coverage.

Since pictures of their time in Monte Carlo were swirling around the internet, many tabloids contacted Jessy for comments, not to mention the several hundred thousand or so followers she gained on Instagram. She adhered to her manager and publicist's advice and turned down the chance to comment on her dealings with Lewis, but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to use this to her advantage.

Everyone, from sleazy tabloids to huge media conglomerates, wanted a piece of Lewis as well as whoever kept his company, so why shouldn't she give the people what they wanted? Of course, she would never post a picture of them in bed together; that was too distasteful and she wasn't as attention-hungry as the usual thots who hung around celebrities. But no one said that posting her existence would be a problem, thus Jessy decided to do just that: she'll give them just enough to keep her relevance in the blogs, and perhaps more sales for Silver Doe.

It's a win-win.

Trap music blasted from Lewis' motorhome inside Circuit de Barcelona Catalunya's paddock. Despite being several feet away, she could still easily decipher the lyrics to Future's "Life Is Good". Her entrance into the motor event and retrieval of all of her clearances was very quick, to say the least, and she couldn't help but think that this wasn't security's first rodeo with random women visiting Lewis.

Upon her research, she discovered that Lewis constantly surrounded himself with gorgeous women. From professional models to rappers and everyone in between; if she was gorgeous, Lewis had her. Jessy pushed all of those intrusive thoughts aside, deeming it unnecessary to think about the past women in Lewis' life. For the time being, she was the woman on his arm, and she had to put all of her energy into the job at hand.

Thankfully, regardless of her position as the first or eightieth woman to visit Lewis, she was met with equal respect from everyone, including his teammate and other competitors. Word spread quickly among the paddock about Lewis' 'new gal', and she was pleasantly surprised by the warm welcome. After her first race in Monaco, Lewis made sure she had everything she needed, even assigning an intern to be her designated guide.

Katie, the intern from Mercedes-AMG Petronas, was a friendly young woman in her early twenties with an energetic personality. When Jessy arrived in Barcelona, Katie welcomed her and kept her company during the drive to the paddock. She also filled Jessy in on all things Formula One with an enthusiastic speech.

Katie and Jessy strolled through the paddock, discussing the upcoming race weekend. This year, things were a bit different than in previous seasons. There was a new track in Las Vegas to debut, and the racing weekend was now extended to four days instead of three. "Lewis has a few interviews today, but I'm confident you can squeeze in some personal time with him. Do you have any questions about the schedule so far?" Katie said as they headed towards the drivers' RVs after finishing their tour of Lewis' team's motorhome.

Jessy shook her head, feeling overwhelmed as the young woman continued talking. Trying to understand the intricacies of F1 was an understatement; it would take a lot of time for Jessy to truly grasp everything. Katie's words fell on deaf ears as Jessy struggled to process it all.

What in the fuck am I getting myself into?

For Jessy, learning a sport without much prior knowledge was second nature. With both her father and stepfather being professional athletes, she grew up in the world of competitive sports, along with all the challenges that came with it. But F1 racing was proving to be a whole different ball game.

Katie gave a cheerful smile and wave before leaving Jessy at Lewis's door. She lifted her hand to knock, but just as she was about to, the door swung open, revealing Lewis in all his glory.

"Hey there," he said with a charming smile, inviting Jessy in.

"Hi," Jessy responded softly as she entered his motorhome. She glanced around the area, noting the slight disorderliness with scattered exercise equipment and clothing, along with his earphones and keyboard resting on the sofa. Despite the mess, it was a comfortable and surprisingly spacious living space. It exceeded her expectations in terms of size and quality.

Lewis closed the door behind them and turned to face her. He took in her appearance, the way her shoulder-length hair accented her delicate facial features, and how the curve of her hips filled out the tight jeans she was wearing. "You look stunning," he commented, causing a warm flush to creep up on Jessy's cheeks.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Lewis spoke with sincerity, "I'm happy you made it. I've been looking forward to spending more time with you. How was the flight?"

Jessy felt a flutter in her stomach at his words. It was clear that Lewis was interested in her, and with his reputation as a ladies' man, it both excited and intimidated her. She reminded herself that this was just a temporary fling; she couldn't let herself get too caught up in every little thing. "The flight was smooth, barely any turbulence. And Katie meeting me at the airport was a nice touch. Thank you for arranging that."

Lewis smiled, "No problem. I knew Katie would be a great help. Did you bring any luggage or just your gorgeous self?"

Jessy chuckled and took a seat on the sofa, "One of your bodyguards or someone brought it to the hotel. Is that where we're headed?"

"I usually stay here during race weekends," Lewis revealed, "But I can call them later to bring it 'round if you need anything."

Jessy glanced around the motorhome again, taking in more of her surroundings. "So, this is your home away from home?"

Lewis nodded, "Yeah, it's nice to have a comfortable space to relax in between races and all the chaos that comes with it." He took a seat next to her on the sofa and leaned back, looking completely at ease as his toned arm, decorated with tattoos, rested comfortably around her shoulders. "So...did you have time to think about what I said a few days ago?"

Jessy rolled her eyes playfully at him, causing Lewis to make a disapproving sound with his tongue.

"Jesenia, you're killin' me, woman," Lewis joked, pretending to be disappointed as he ran his hand down his face. "Have you, though?"

Jessy glanced down at her immaculately groomed hands. "I have," she confessed.

"And?"

She took a deep breath before meeting his gaze again. "I'm not sure if it's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Lewis probed gently.

"Because...you're asking for a lot." She raised her chin in defiance with a wry smile. Lewis reached out to caress her cheek. "What's in it for me, spending most of my time traveling between countries for your little races?"

"Little?" winced Lewis jokingly, "I thought you had more respect for me after that night in Monte Carlo?"

Jessy shot him a sardonic glance. "Just because you know how to swivel your hips really well doesn't mean I'm going to uproot my entire life for you. What about my business? My career? There needs to be some sort of return on investment for this, Lewis."

Lewis leaned in, his smirk growing into a menacing grin. "Return on investment, huh? Is that what this is all about?" His hot breath tickled her skin as he got closer, making her feel trapped and vulnerable.

Jessy resolutely met his gaze. "Is it not a valid concern?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Of course it is," he said, his tone taking on a more serious note. "And I understand that you have your own life and career to think about. But I can assure you, Jessy, that being with me will bring you many benefits."

Jessy's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Such as?"

"Well, for starters, you'll get to travel the world," Lewis pointed out. "I know how passionate you are about seeing new places and experiencing different cultures."

"That's true," Jessy admitted.

"And let's not forget the gifts," Lewis added.

"You suddenly want to discuss presents, but every time I mention clothes or jewelry, you throw a fit."

Jessy's breath hitched as Lewis's fingertips traced a path down her bare skin. Goosebumps formed in the wake of his touch, and she trembled under his gentle exploration. "I know," he murmured, his lips hovering just above hers.

"But I do appreciate nice things," she continued.

"I know you do." Lewis brought his lips to her neck and placed a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin there, eliciting a shiver from Jessy. "And I want to give you nice things," he whispered against her skin.

Jessy's resolve began to crumble under the weight of Lewis's seductive words and actions. As much as she wanted to concede, she couldn't deny that there was still a part of her that was skeptical of his intentions.

"And...what else?" Jessy asked hesitantly.

"Well..." Lewis hesitated for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "There's me."

"You?" Jessy repeated incredulously.

"Yes," Lewis confirmed. "I may have a hectic schedule during race season but when I'm not racing, I have plenty of free time to spend with you. And judging by your reaction, you miss having me inside you, don't you?"

Lewis's words resonated with Jessy, causing a wave of memories to flood her mind. She knew he was right about one thing – she did miss the intensity and passion of their love-making. But was it enough?

Fuck no. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't," Jessy replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the growing desire in her body. "You seem to be real confident for a man that went right to sleep without a second care on whether I had an orgasm."

A smirk slowly formed at the corners of Lewis's lips. "I could feel you," he said in a low, seductive voice. "I felt how you tightened around me."

"And what if I say otherwise?" Jessy challenged, obviously playing mind games. Of course, she did, many times over to be exact, nevertheless, she enjoyed every chance she had to tease him.

Lewis couldn't help but chuckle at Jessy's provocation. "You know that's not true," he said with a knowing smile.

"Oh really?" Jessy raised an eyebrow, her expression daring him to prove her wrong.

"I can show you," Lewis replied confidently, his hands sliding down her sides to rest on her waist. "Right here, right now."

Jessy's breath hitched as Lewis's hands began to roam over her body, fueling the fire within her. His touch was intoxicating.

"Prove it then," she demanded, meeting his gaze with determination.

Lewis leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against hers. "I will," he whispered before capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

Jessy moaned into the kiss as Lewis deepened it, his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth. Sparks flew between them, and she found herself losing control under his skilled ministrations.

Their bodies pressed against each other as they continued to kiss passionately, their hands roaming over each other's bodies. Jessy couldn't get enough of him – his touch, his scent, everything about him made her feel alive and desired.

Their kisses grew more frenzied and their breaths came in short gasps. Lewis suddenly pushed Jessy onto the couch and settled between her parted legs, their lips still locked. Jessy instinctively wrapped her legs around him as Lewis's hand slid up under her shirt to knead at one of her breasts. She moaned louder at the sensation and ran her fingers through his signature braids, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss even further.

But just when things were getting heated between them, they were interrupted by a loud knocking at the front door.

They both froze, their lips still slightly swollen from their intense kiss.

"Who could that be?" Jessy asked breathlessly, her eyes locked with Lewis's.

He shook his head, equally surprised and annoyed by the sudden interruption. "Someone from Merc, unfortunately," he replied with a frown.

They both reluctantly untangled themselves from each other and stood up, quickly straightening their clothes. Jessy shot one last longing look at Lewis before he headed towards the door. Sighing irritably as he opened the door, a communications assistant appeared before him. "Let me guess, time for those interviews?" he asked, and the woman nodded in confirmation. "Gimme a minute?"

"Of course," the woman replied, her eyes following Lewis as he walked back to where Jessy was waiting. She smiled patiently as he spoke to Jessy.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I have to go," Lewis said with a tinge of disappointment in his tone. "I'll make it up to you later."

"How long will you be gone?" Jessy inquired, hoping it wouldn't be too long.

"It could take a couple of hours, possibly longer. These things can be unpredictable. I'll text you in an hour or so with an ETA," Lewis explained.

Before she could say anything else, Lewis leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the lips before walking out with the assistant in tow.

She was deemed speechless for several moments, completely off guard by Lewis' public display of affection.

What the hell was that?

The excitement of the F1 weekend had taken hold of the city, and the paddock was filled with people wearing their favorite team colors and vendors selling all kinds of merchandise. The Spanish Grand Prix was just around the corner, and she had the opportunity to attend Free Practice Day, the second day of the event where drivers and teams could get accustomed to the track, experiment with car setups, and gather important data.

Yesterday, once Lewis finished his driver duties and returned, they resumed their activities from earlier that day, making up for lost time. They eventually took a break for dinner at a local restaurant in downtown Barcelona.

The next morning, with a long day ahead of him, Lewis left not too long ago, but not before giving a small gift as a token of his affection.

Jessy stood in the luxurious bathroom of the motorhome, admiring her reflection in the mirror, Her hair and makeup were kept simple yet chic, with a few tendrils falling temptingly into her face. The outfit put together by Lewis' stylist, Eric O'Neal, was hung up close by on a hook and a stunning Cartier watch was placed on the counter. The watch gleamed under the bathroom lights, its gold links and sparkling diamonds catching the light. Its intricate design was a work of art, with a sleek face and delicate hands. Jessy felt like she was living in a dream, but she didn't want to break the spell. She put on the elegant outfit, followed by delicately placing the watch around her wrist, marveling at how perfectly it fit. She couldn't help but feel giddy, knowing that this gift came from Lewis himself. Then, she exited the motorhome to head to the track.

As expected, news of her presence at the race weekend traveled quickly through the blogs, and she even made a splash as a headline in Daily Mail: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted dining with model Jessy Hart in Barcelona. She was quickly becoming a popular topic of conversation, as her phone constantly buzzed with various notifications, and everyone wanted to know all about her.

Jessy had nothing to hide; like Lewis, she had a unique dating history. However, growing up in the public eye was not new to her. Both her father and stepfather were NFL players, but they did their best to shield her and her sister, Jenesis, from the media's attention. Despite this, reporters often mentioned them in articles about either man. It didn't take long for the public to uncover her past, and the rumors began to spread like wildfire. She was certain that her intrusive mother would call soon, eager to gather all the juicy details about her situation with Lewis.

Jessy navigated through the bustling paddock and arrived at the pit lane. Cameras clicked and flashed, reporters shouted for interviews, but she kept her head down and focused on finding Lewis. She didn't want to cause a distraction; after all, this wasn't about her. The teams were setting up their garages, polishing their cars, and doing last-minute adjustments. Revving engines echoed through the pit lane, making it almost impossible to hold a conversation without shouting.

Finally, she spotted him at the Mercedes garage, deep in conversation with his race engineer. She couldn't help but smile as she watched him, his passion and determination evident in every gesture he made.

As if sensing her presence, Lewis turned around and caught sight of her. A bright smile spread across his face as he excused himself from the conversation and walked towards her.

"Hey beautiful," he said, pulling her into a hug.

"Hey," Jessy replied with a grin as she took in his appearance. He was decked out in his team's gear, yet out of her peripheral vision, she spotted an anorak folded on a chair with designs quite similar to the outfit she currently had on. "Are we matching?"

"Maybe," Lewis said, sotto voce, taking her hand and leading her to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the prying eyes and constant buzz of activity.

Jessy quirked an eyebrow, his response piquing her interest. "So, why did you suddenly think we have to coordinate outfits? Isn't that just playing into a tired stereotype?"

Lewis chuckled, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "Because I like it," he said with a wink. "You don't wanna match with me?"

Jessy was about to say something, but before she could, a team member appeared with a clipboard in hand and interrupted them.

"Lewis, we need to go over some details about the car before the second practice starts."

"Right, coming," Lewis replied, glancing apologetically at Jessy.

"It's okay, I'll just hang around here for a bit," Jessy said with a smile.

Lewis gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before heading off with his team member. Jessy watched him walk away with admiration; there was something so attractive about seeing him in his element.

As she waited for him to finish up, Jessy took the opportunity to explore the garage. The smell of rubber and fuel filled her nostrils as she walked among the cars and equipment. She couldn't help but feel exhilarated by being so close to the heart of Formula 1.

She was trying to take a closer look at one of the Mercedes cars when someone cleared their throat behind her. Turning around, she came face to face with someone she recognized from her research -Lewis' boss, Toto Wolff.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely in a thick Austrian accent. The facial expression he held was stoic and his lips formed into a thin line.

"Oh no, sorry," Jessy replied quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I'm just...uh...I'm Lewis' friend."

Toto's expression softened as he recognized her from photos he had seen circulating in the media. "Ah yes, Jessy Hart," he said with a smile. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," Jessy replied politely.

"I can see why Lewis is so taken with you," Toto continued. "You have quite the beauty about you."

Jessy blushed at the compliment and thanked him, not quite sure how to respond. Just then, Lewis returned and joined Toto and Jessy in their conversation. Toto and Lewis caught up on some details about the car, while Jessy tried to blend in and listen attentively. After a few minutes, Toto excused himself and left the garage.

Lewis turned to Jessy with a smile. "I see you've met Toto," he said.

"Yeah, he seems nice," Jessy replied.

"He's more than nice," Lewis chuckled. "He's one of the most respected figures in Formula 1."

With a bit of time before his second practice session, Lewis saw an opportunity to introduce Jessy to the rest of his team. "This is Peter, but we call him Bono, He's my ace, my engineer," he said with a friendly slap on the shoulder to a man with glasses and brown hair. "Bono, this is Jessy. You may see her often if she takes on my offer to travel with us."

"That's good news. It's always helpful to have some extra support in keeping him from getting too overwhelmed," joked Bono, earning a laugh from Lewis.

"It's still up in the air, but we'll see," replied Jessy, stealing a glance at Lewis.

Their eyes locked for a moment before Lewis broke the silence by saying, "Yeah, you'll definitely be seeing more of her."

The second practice started shortly after, and Jessy watched from the sidelines as Lewis drove the car around the track with precision and speed, navigating expertly around the tight corners and straights. The mechanical hum and vibrations echoing throughout the garage created a symphony that breathed life into the space.

A moment later, Jessy's phone buzzed in her purse. She pulled it out to see her mother's name on the screen. With a sigh, she stepped outside the garage and answered her phone, trying to tune out the loud sounds of Formula 1 cars zooming by on the track. "Hey Mom, what's up?" she asked, leaning against a nearby wall.

"So when were you going to tell me that you're with some race driver?" her mother replied, curtly. "Some British guy named Lewis, huh? Honestly, I'm not surprised; you always knew how to pick your men. Anyways, how long you've been dating him?"

Jessy couldn't help but roll her eyes at her mother's constant prying. Their relationship had always been distant and overbearing. Her mother ran their household like a business, always making shrewd decisions. After her father's affair, Jessy's mother was determined to find a new husband, and she quickly snatched up Jessy's stepfather (who coincidentally played on a rival NFL team). Fortunately, James Bullard treated Jessy as his own daughter and loved her just as much as his biological children. However, this didn't stop her mother from being critical of every aspect of Jessy's life - from her brief career in modeling to her current venture as a swimwear designer. No matter what Jessy did, her mother always seemed to have an opinion about it all.

"Mom, it's not like that," she protested. "I met him a week or so ago. It's not like we're dating or anything."

"Mhmm, we'll see about that," her mother replied skeptically.

"Just be cautious, Jesenia. These race car drivers have a reputation for being playboys. You can't just keep living carefree like this forever. Your future is something you need to start considering. Take Jenesis, for example. She's six years younger than you, and she's already expecting her third child with DeVon."

And yet, she still doesn't have a wedding ring. "I know, Mom," Jessy replied, trying to reassure her before quickly ending the call. "I'll talk to you later. I'm kind of busy at the moment."

She let out a frustrated sigh as she walked back into the garage, trying to push her mother's words out of her mind. It was just like Paula to always bring up her little sister and her sister's terrible baby-daddy whenever a new man came into Jessy's life.

"I need a fuckin' drink," she muttered to herself. She allowed it to affect her for all but ten seconds before she plastered a fake smile onto her face and watched as Lewis pulled into the pits after finishing his second practice session. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his heart was pounding. Exhilarated but exhausted, he couldn't help but take a moment to catch his breath. His team quickly went to work on the car, making adjustments and analyzing data while Lewis debriefed with Bono.

After a few minutes of discussion, Lewis turned to Jessy with a grin. "You ready for some lunch?" he asked.

"Definitely," Jessy replied eagerly.

As they walked back towards the hospitality area in the paddock, Lewis casually draped an arm around Jessy's shoulder. They sat down at a table filled with delicious food and chatted about their morning so far. Jessy shared how impressed she was by Lewis' driving skills while he talked about some upcoming races he was excited about.

Amidst the chaotic lunch crowd, she caught a glimpse of Spinz walking alongside Brazilian soccer star Neymar Jr. as they made their way into the team's motorhome.

"Holy shit." Jessy tried to remain composed as she whispered to Lewis, "Oh my God. Is that really him?"

Lewis glanced at Jessy before turning his attention to their special guest. "Yeah, that's Neymar. We met at an event last year and he decided to come watch me race."

As soon as their eyes met, Lewis got up from his seat to greet the famous soccer player. "Hey, how's it going?" he asked with enthusiasm.

"Good, good," replied Neymar in his trademark Brazilian accent. Neymar's gaze shifted over to Jessy and judging by the flirtatious look he gave her, he liked what he saw. "Menina bonita."

Jessy's heart skipped a beat as she watched the exchange between Lewis and Neymar. She couldn't believe that he was hitting on her. But then, Lewis' response brought her back to reality.

"Fuck no," Lewis drawled, shaking his head. "Find another one, mate."

"Ah, she's your girl then?" Neymar asked with a grin.

Jessy could feel herself blushing and tried to play it cool as she replied, "Yeah, he wishes."

Lewis chuckled and sent her an amused look before introducing her properly. "This is Jessy Hart. Jessy, this is Neymar Jr."

"Nice to meet you," Neymar said with a charming smile.

"You as well."

They returned to the Mercedes garage, where Lewis gave Neymar a tour and explained the technical details of Formula One racing. Jessy and Spinz watched from a distance as the two men conversed with passion and excitement about their shared love for speed and competition.

"How are you handling all this attention?" asked Spinz. "I've seen you all over the media lately."

"It's been hectic," was her reply. She planned on using this publicity to her advantage, but she also didn't enjoy being constantly watched, especially by her nosy ass mother.

"Lewis told me that you might be joining us on the road," Spinz commented, causing Jessy to let out a groan.

"He's been telling everyone that," she replied to Spinz. "I told him I would consider it."

"Unfortunately, he can be a bit of a control freak," Spinz acknowledged, causing Jessy to raise an eyebrow in concern. "Not in a crazy, overbearing way, but if he likes you, he'll want you around. Look what happened to me."

Jessy laughed at his statement. "Yeah, I'm starting to see that. But we'll see."

Lewis and Neymar walked through the crowd that stood near the pits, signing autographs and taking pictures with excited fans. She couldn't believe how easygoing Lewis was with his fans – always taking time to interact with each one of them instead of rushing off to his next obligation. But then again, this was another trait that made him so likable – his genuine kindness towards others.

After they finished signing autographs, Lewis returned to Jessy with a sly grin on his handsome face.

"You ready to get out of here?"

Jessy eagerly nodded and followed Lewis as he led them back to his motorhome. Her luggage sat unassumingly in the living room, like an old friend waiting to be reunited.

'Bout fucking time, she thought.

But as they stepped inside, Lewis' behavior changed abruptly. He had her against the counter in a flash, his lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed eagerly over her body, tracing the curve of her waist and the delicate contours of her back. His touch ignited a fire within Jessy, setting every nerve ablaze with desire.

"You think that's cute flirting with Neymar?" growled Lewis in her ear.

She felt his possessiveness in the way he held her, as if she were his prized possession, and it thrilled her to the core. It was a side of him she had yet to see, but one that excited her even more. She leaned into him, savoring the feel of his strong arms around her.

Breathless, they broke apart for a moment, their eyes locked in a fierce dance of longing and anticipation. Lewis couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in Jessy's gaze, a taunting twinkle that stirred his hunger even further. He knew she was enjoying this power she had over him, and he couldn't deny that he loved it just as much.

"You're jealous," she taunted, her voice dripping with seduction. "Jealous that he can make me wetter than you can."

Lewis' eyes flashed with desire at her bold statement, and he couldn't resist the urge to prove her wrong. He took her by surprise, his lips crashing onto hers once again in a frenzy of need and passion. He held her close as their tongues tangled in a dance of dominance.

"Do I look jealous to you?" he breathed against her lips.

Without another word, Lewis scooped her up and placed her on the counter. Jessy had never felt so alive before – every touch from Lewis sent electricity running through her veins and every kiss left her craving more. His hands grasped at her clothes as he slowly removed them, his lips burning a trail along her exposed skin.

Moaning heavenward, Jessy was overwhelmed with a surge of heat as Lewis' mouth engulfed one of her nipples, his tongue flicking over it in a teasing rhythm. She arched her back in pleasure, urging him on. But just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he switched to the other side, giving it the same attention and driving Jessy wild with desire. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he pleased her.

One by one, Lewis's clothes joined hers on the hardwood floors and he bit his bottom lip at the naked, ethereal being that stood before him.

"Turn around," he ordered in a deep voice.

"Or what?" she challenged, teasingly raising an eyebrow.

But before she could even blink, Lewis had grabbed her by the waist and forcefully turned her around so that her back faced him.

"Ow! What the fuck?" she exclaimed, more from shock than pain.

"Shut up," he growled, his voice sending shivers down Jessy's spine. "You're so fuckin' bratty, you know that? You need discipline."

Jessy began to chuckle at his words, but it quickly turned into a moan as she felt him enter her from behind. His movements became more forceful and intense. He was relentless in his thrusts – each one hitting a spot deep within her that made Jessy lose control.

"Baby..." she moaned out his name as he continued to take her from behind with unforgiving passion.

"See? That wasn't so hard, huh?" Lewis crooned into her ear as he nuzzled against her neck. "All you needed was some dick, yes? You need Daddy, right baby girl?"

Jessy could only whimper in response, completely lost in the pleasure he was giving her.

Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, Lewis pulled out of her and flipped Jessy onto the counter once again. Her eyes widened at the sudden shift in positions and she eagerly spread herself open for him. Without warning, Lewis plunged back inside of her with an animalistic grunt. Jessy's moans filled the kitchen as he continued to move inside of her, his hands gripping tightly onto her hips. Her body trembled as she felt herself building towards climax.

"Harder... please," she begged, her voice breathless and desperate.

Lewis complied, thrusting harder and faster into her. Jessy cried out in ecstasy as she finally reached her peak, her body convulsing in pleasure. He followed soon after, his movements becoming more erratic before he stilled and collapsed onto Jessy's sweaty body.

They stayed like that for a few moments, trying to catch their breaths and come down from their high. Finally, Lewis pulled out of Jessy and stood up straight with a smug grin on his face.

"I told you that I don't play," he whispered in her ear as he kissed the top of her head.

Motherfucker.

TO BE CONTINUED....

#emjayewrites #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton #formula 1 #formula one x oc #f1 fanfic #the fast lane #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #lewis hamilton x jessy hart

[elihashadenough]

Pairing: max verstappen x male reader (could be read by masc presenting people)

Summary: sometimes things go right in the moment but will they always be right? can they survive through the hardships of love? can their love hold the test of a treacherous path of love?

a/n: part 6 is here, sorry if the upload was later then i usually post and if its shorter then usual, i've been a little busy with some things but here it is now. I hope this makes up for the last two angst posts :)

-> do not repost, copy or translate my works nor post them anywhere else. Read at your own risk. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated.

[series masterlist]

(a little snippet)

Max walked into the living room, the soft sound of music filled the apartment. His eyes landed on Y/N, who was moving gracefully to the rhythm, lost in his own world. He spun around, his laughter echoing through the room as he danced while cleaning up the living room, to max, y/n’s moves were a beautiful blend of elegance and playfulness.

A smile tugged at the corners of Max's lips as he watched Y/N, captivated by his now relaxed carefree spirit. He couldn't help but admire the way y/n moved, the way his eyes shown with joy.

"You are staring!" Y/N's voice broke through his thoughts, y/n’s cheeks were flushed. Max chuckled, stepping closer to y/n who placed the throw blanket on the arm of the couch. "I like seeing you happy, love," he said softly, there was a hidden message behind those words. Max said he didn’t like how everything went down the past week what had hurt the most was seeing how y/n had been, max had made a promise to never hurt y/n but he did, with his words and so now seeing y/n have fun in his presence was something that had just captivated max.

His heart swelling with affection as he reached out to join them in their impromptu dance, their laughter mingling with the music, filling the room with warmth and love.

i haven't proof read this so if there were any mistakes, i'm sorry. But i hope you all enjoyed this. I hope you all have a wonderful day/night ❤️

tagging: @leosxrealm, @miloformula123fan, @woozarts @eugene-emt-roe

#eli writes #f1 x male reader #x male reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #max verstappen #max verstappen x male reader #max verstappen x ftm reader #f1 instagram au #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 smau #f1 social media au

[callsign-magnolia]

Undiagnosed Masterlist

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

General Warnings: Angst, smut, asshole parents, trauma response, Jake is a jerk at first.

I will update the warnings as I write. These are just I thought of now.

Sneak Peek

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Text Messages:

Stay away from me

He's not sorry

What's the plan?

Dinner?

Taglist: @wkndwlff @alltimereverie @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @kmc1989 @sandaltoesocks @mayhemmanaged @dempy @itsdesiree86 @sunderland-6 @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy @bethabear12 @halstead-severide-fan @gg-trini @memeorydotcom @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker @inthestars-underthesun @praline357 @fanboyluvr @greaser9902 @felinegrate @lemmons1998 @thegoddessc @lynnevanss @daddyslittlevillain @els-marvelvsp @marvelouslyme96 @dreaming-starlet @thewhowhatwhenwhereuniverse @eternalsams @nandafrietaz

#Undiagnosed #ADHD OC #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman seresin #hangman #top gun maverick

[bloodstainedsaint]

thank you thank you thank yooou!! And I don’t mind waiting for good stuff 🤷‍♀️

Okay so my idea kinda was in episode 7 when George and Lipton is in the same foxhole. So they get “hit” by the dud but the reader is so scared something actually happened to George, so she is running towards their foxhole and George is screaming for her to stay put cuz he’s okay and then she gets hit….or almost…I mean something tragic. I wanna bawl my eyes out.

And of course…feel free to not do it, if you think it sucks🧡 Love your stuff and have a good day !

louder than bombs (george luz x reader)

word count: 1800+

warnings: blood, gore, death, angst (w happy ending), bff! roe, mutual pining, i hint at both renée x roe AND baberoe

notes: used some hcs from this (shameless self-plug), and happy new year to all! i hope that 2024 is your year :)

“So, you and Luz, huh?”

Despite Lieutenant Dike’s request not to (like you'd listen to a coward like him anyway, even if he did have a good point), you and Eugene were sharing a foxhole — one a few meters behind where Skip, Penk, Don, and Luz were standing around in a circle, joking and laughing.

Taking your eyes off the man in question — you'd been staring at him from afar for too long, anyway — you turned to Eugene with a befuddled expression. “What do you mean, ‘You and Luz?’”

He took one look at your face and chuckled around the cigarette in his mouth. “It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

“You say that as if we’re together or something, Gene,” you scoffed and held yourself tighter for warmth.

“Practically. Seen yourself lately? You blush and smile whenever he talks to you.”

Spluttering in response, you could feel your ears going red. “Well, Bayou, what if I’m blushing because it's zero degrees out here? And what if he’s just a funny guy in general?”

Eugene glanced over to the group of men, and, as if on cue, they were cracking up at George’s impression of the chickenshit lieutenant. “He’s a good match for you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, I'm so glad you approve,” you said, rolling your eyes at your friend. “Gonna read our wedding rites now?”

He put out his cigarette. “He makes you laugh. We could all use some of that.”

You inspected the faraway look in Eugene’s eyes, and you knew he was right. The fatal accident with the goddamned Luger that killed Hoobler recently, the barrage earlier today that sent both Joe Toye and Bill home with missing right legs, the overall misery of this frozen hell. You’d all seen your fair share of blood and open flesh; the company needed the beam of light that was George Luz.

Watching Luz as he was pulled aside by Lipton, you exhaled, nodded, and huddled a little closer to Eugene. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” After a few quiet, thoughtful moments, a small smile creeped back up on your face when you thought of something to bring up the mood again.

“You never heard me teasing you about Renée,” you muttered beneath your breath, loud enough for him to hear and correct you on because you had teased him about the Belgian nurse. Before he could, you pushed on, your grin growing, “Hey, what about you and Babe, huh?”

Now it was his turn to turn to you shocked. Your snickering was interrupted by the roaring, deafening sound of a bombardment shredding trees around you.

“Shit!” you cursed, the night sky lighting up with fireworks of yellow and white. Snow and dirt erupted from the ground like spurts of lava from a volcano. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard bellows of “Incoming!” and other indistinct cries.

Turning to the man next to you, you shouted above the din, “Eugene, you alright?”

“Fine,” he shouted back as he clutched his helmet tight to his head. “You?”

“Fine,” you echoed with a nod, though maybe your head had moved on its own with the shaking ground beneath you. You strained your ears to single out cries for a medic; you didn't catch any, and you weren't sure if that was because no one had gotten hurt yet or because they were dead within an instant.

You peeped over the edge of your foxhole. In the flashes of light, you could make out amongst the silhouette of wrecked trees George hurriedly crawling on the ground towards a foxhole with two soldiers in it, yelling for him to come on. If your hearing wasn't failing you, you recognized their voices as Skip and Penk.

“What d’ya see?” Eugene poked his head out of the foxhole.

Your voice was strangled in your throat as you helplessly watched George inch his way toward cover. “I—” you started, before a shell directly hit the two men in the middle of their calls. Frantically, you backed into your foxhole. “Skip and Penk, they’re…”

“What?” Eugene shouted, and you realized you had only murmured it.

“Muck and Penkala got hit!” you cried. The look you gave Eugene told him that there would be no saving them.

You got back up to peek over your foxhole and saw that Luz had vanished. Your heart sank in your chest, right down to the pits of your stomach.

Before your mind could register what was going on, your feet lifted you up and out of the foxhole. You could faintly hear Eugene yelling at you to come back, (Y/N), what the hell are you doing? You hit the ground at the same time a shell did just meters away from you, showering you in debris. Yet, you felt distant from the thought of danger or bodily harm, your raw instinct on overdrive; the only thing that was running through your mind as you dashed through the devastated forest was if George was okay.

Eyes flitting around, you caught a glimpse of him getting into a foxhole with Lip. As waves of relief washed over you, you jumped into a foxhole a distance behind them. A shell impacted nearby and swept the fallen trees acting as their cover towards you. You pulled your knees close to your chest and covered your head, staying like that as the barrage kept up.

Then, for just a second, it was silent. Closing your eyes, you caught your breath. A whistling sound ceased the brief respite, and you peered over just in time to see smoke coming from George and Lipton’s foxhole. Your mind disconnected itself from your body once again; it felt like you were moving in slow motion as your feet took you to them. That smoke clouded your senses, your thoughts — all you could see and hear were the vivid memories of Hoobler’s wound gushing blood and his dull eyes closing shut for the last time; you treating Bill’s still twitching leg while Toye’s shredded one was being bandaged by Eugene only feet away; and Muck and Penkala’s foxhole going up in a spray of dirt and a show of light, abruptly cutting off their shouting.

What were you going to see when you arrived at their foxhole? Bloodstained snow? Mangled limbs? Ruined corpses? Even the thought made you want to sob.

Your heart thundered in your ear, louder than any bombs or artillery the Germans could send at you, but you could vaguely discern George’s voice in your trance.

“Damn it, am I yelling medic? Stay right fucking there, (Y/N)!”

Right as you were shaken out of your own head, your eyes focusing on the two unharmed men as they yelled for you to stay put, a shell hit a tree hardly an arm’s length away from you. The burst launched you backwards, lodging shrapnel into your face and all over your body.

You let your eyes flutter closed as the screaming started.

-

“(Y/N)!” George bawled, witnessing the last shell of the bombardment blast the tree right next to you.

“George, get down!” Lip pushed George down into the foxhole from where he'd been peeking over to helplessly watch your unsteady advance.

George couldn't get the image of you shielding yourself at the last second out of his head. He broke free from Lipton and crawled out of his foxhole to your unmoving figure, relieved to find that you were still breathing out clouds of vapor, albeit unevenly. Your right cheek was cut and bleeding, as well as your arms, legs, torso — hell, was there anywhere you weren’t bleeding from?

He cradled your head to his, whispering that it's gonna be alright and you’re gonna be just dandy, (Y/N), even though he didn't believe those words himself. He lifted his head from yours and yelled for a medic with a hoarse voice, already scratched up from having to shout over the booming to tell Lipton that Muck and Penkala got hit.

George then realized that he had gotten extremely lucky that day; Muck and Penkala had been shelled just before he reached their foxhole, and the shell that had landed next to him and Lipton was a dud. Staring down at your bloodied form, he darkly concluded that maybe he wasn't lucky — maybe he just brought bad luck to everyone else.

Eugene seemed to materialize out of thin air at the panicked calls for a doctor and kneeled over you, ordering, “Set ‘em down, set ‘em down!” George laid you down on the icy ground, and he saw that your eyes were open now, darting around at your surroundings. You looked frightened and pained, yet when your eyes finally settled on him, you seemed somewhat at ease.

“Jesus, what did I tell you, (Y/N)?” Eugene reprimanded, but the concern in his voice was evident. He began picking out the shrapnel from your flesh, and you wailed out in agony. Ripping open a sulfa packet with his teeth, he then shook the powder onto your countless wounds.

In the back of his mind, George knew that your pained whimpers would haunt him forever if you didn't pull through, acting as the price of his "good luck".

“Told me to come back, Genie,” you smiled mirthlessly, which quickly became a wince with the gash in your cheek. The white medic band around your arm was stained the same color as the red cross on it.

Lipton was out of the foxhole at this point and assisting Eugene with bandaging your injuries. “You’ll be fine, alright? Just hang in there.”

George registered that he had only been staring, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed your clammy hand, to which you weakly squeezed back.

Grimacing while he injected you with morphine, Eugene said to Lipton, “They’re bleeding bad, Sarge; we gotta get ‘em back to an aid station.”

George’s voice sounded far off from himself. “I’ll radio for a jeep.” As he did so, his hand still clutching yours, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the excruciation on your face. For some reason, he felt guilty.

Though it felt like years to him, the jeep arrived shortly, and the three of them carried you to the stretcher on the hood of the vehicle and gingerly placed you upon it.

Gazing down upon you on that stretcher, your face streaked with crimson, your hair matted with dried blood, George wanted to say, “I still find you beautiful, Bloody Mary," but for what felt like first time in his life, the words weren't there and the wiseass comment just refused to come out right.

What came tumbling out of his lips instead was, “I love you.”

Pausing, Lipton and Eugene exchanged a knowing look and watched with bated breath. Meanwhile, George wanted to smack himself for letting the adrenaline coursing through his veins get to him; this was definitely not what you wanted to hear — rejecting him should be the least of your worries right now.

To his utter disbelief, you smiled, in spite of yourself and the grim circumstances. “I love you too, George.”

Once his brain wrapped around the fact that you needed him as much as he needed you, he implored, "Come back to me, alright?” He gently caressed your cheek, his voice sounding different to himself with the undertone of desperation. “I—I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

You placed a feeble hand over his and turned to press a kiss to it. “I'm counting on it.”

The driver finally grew tired of the delay and urged them to get moving. George stepped away as Eugene hopped in the jeep’s shotgun seat to escort you back to the aid station.

Lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, George watched the jeep dissipate into the blanket of night.

-

Eugene let things sink in for a while; you were grateful for the time to rest as the morphine kicked in. When you arrived, though, you were awake enough to hear him ask again, a rare smirk hidden in his voice:

“So, you and Luz, huh?”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe, @fxxiva

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #george luz #george luz x reader #hbo war #easy company #101st airborne #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fanfic #band of brothers imagines #rick gomez

[ithinkabouttzu]

Easy co.’s reaction to their s/o getting injured

genre! angst; romance

warnings! cursing, anxiety, mentions of blood and death, mentions of war, and sad themes.

description! The easy co. boys reaction to you being injured. (no disrespect to any real vets.)

a/n: I made this pretty vague so you can imagine it however you like 😭 but for each persons I feel like it gets progressively longer. Anyways have fun reading!!

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsparky @sweetxvanixlla (sorry i’ve been forgetting to put the taglist friends!! If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

(gn! reader)

Dick winters: He would be so worried. His mind wouldn’t be on anything else at the moment other than your well-being. He feels like a bad boyfriend because he wasn’t there to protect you :( He gets so nervous and would try his best to be by your side the entire time that you’re getting well.

Lewis Nixon: He freaks out when he finds out that you got hurt. He rushes to wherever you are and demands to see you. When he does finally see you he’s so gentle and soft. He holds your hand and reminds you over and over again that he will always be there for you.

Carwood Lipton: He somehow feels like it’s his fault. There was nothing he could have possibly done to prevent it, but he feels like a crappy boyfriend for it, he apologizes to you multiple times. Because he thinks he should have been there for you.

Joe Toye:He gets so mad. He’s ready to go out and hunt whoever hurt you. He will honestly go out looking for a fight. When he sees you he gets even angrier though because who could do that to you? He’s hard on himself because he thinks he should have been there to protect you.

Joe Liebgott :When he hears that you got hurt he goes out to find you immediately. He doesn’t care if he gets in trouble or not, you are his first priority. He’s definitely pissed but would never show that you, mostly at himself and the person that got you hurt. But he makes sure not to make his feelings show and tend by your side.

Bill Guarnere: He would be completely irate, but instead of going out and trying to find the fucker that hurt you he would check to make sure you were okay and stable first. “I’ll get him doll. Don’t worry” He would most likely be irritable around the guys for the rest of the day or longer because of it.

George Luz: He’s so so worried. He can’t think about anything else but you. He would hope and pray that you’re okay until he can finally see you. When he does he holds your hand to his chest and rubs your hand softly. Telling you over and over again that everything will be okay.

Bull Randleman: He gets so protective. He would find you almost immediately and wouldn’t leave you out of his sight for a second. He’s so patient and caring while you’re in such a vulnerable state. “Trust me. I’ll never let someone do that to you again, darling. I promise.”

Floyd Talbert: He freaks out immediately, the tough guy act would be completely gone when he sees you get hurt. He doesn’t care about anything at the moment other than you and your safety. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not leaving.” He stays so close to you until you get better.

Eugene Roe: He gets there almost immediately and when he sees you he stops. He’s completely frozen for a second because he hates seeing you in such pain. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” He prays in his head the entire time while he fixes you up and hopes that you’ll make it through.

Skip Muck: He gets so serious when they tell him that you got hurt. He wants to know everything that happened to you. How it happened and if you would be okay, he would ask roe relentlessly until he got the answer he wanted. When you finally get better enough to see him he’s so sweet and gentle with you.

Don Malarkey : He wants to go find whoever hurt you but he also knows that he needs to be with you in the moment. He gets so so worried and the other guys would have to reassure him that you’re gonna be okay. He swears he can’t lose you. He can’t bear to do anything until he gets the “yes” that you’re okay.

Shifty Powers: When they tell him that you’ve been hurt, you were already taken away before he could see you. He would just sit by himself in silence. Not talking to anyone or engaging in conversation like he usually does. His spark would be gone until they let him know that you were gonna be alright.

Babe Heffron: His reaction would be a mixture of emotions, he would seem very angry and stressed when he finds out that you’re hurt. He feels like a horrible boyfriend because he thinks he could have protected you from being hurt. On the inside, he’s scared and terrified that you won’t make it back to him.

Frank Perconte: He needs to know where you are immediately once the guys let him know that you’ve been hurt. He feels sick to his stomach when they tell him something bad happened to you. He wish he could just take away your pain and you be happy and healthy. He wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep until he knew you were back to normal.

Ronald Speirs: He gets furious. One because he should have been there with you when it happened, and secondly because he believes that it could’ve been prevented if one of the other men were looking out for you. Until you get back from the hospital he would sink himself into paper work to pass time, waiting until he could see you again.

Chuck Grant: He doesn’t care for all of the details, he just needs to know if you’re okay or not. He honestly wishes that it was him getting hurt instead of you. He hopes that you will be okay and he really wishes that you won’t be in the hospital for too long. He would miss you too much :(

Johnny Martin: He honestly just gets pissed at the world. You’re the least deserving to get hurt and now you’re the one who is in such bad condition . He wishes he could do something to make you feel better. He feels like a bad s/o because he can’t immediately take the pain away from you.

Skinny Sisk: He would be in total shock. It never occurred to him that there was a possibility you could get hurt, his plans of you and him making it out perfectly fine vanished from his mind. If he does get the chance to see you he will promise to do anything to help you get better, and to be there for you no matter what.

David Webster : He thinks it’s a horrible joke when the guys tell him that you were hurt and now in the hospital. He’s in denial for a while. Still shocked that you got hurt when you were just talking to him moments ago. He tries to find a way to see you even if he gets in trouble.

Buck Compton: It breaks his heart when he sees you like that, fear would creep up into his mind and overwhelm him until he knew that you were going to be alright. He genuinely thought he lost you for a second and feels so much more protective over you afterwards.

If you enjoyed this, make sure to like or reblog!! Have a wonderful day friends! :))

#band of brothers #band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers reaction #band of brothers preferences #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers react #dick winters #lewis nixon #carwood lipton #joe toye #joe liebgott #bill guarnere #george luz #bull randleman #floyd talbert #eugene roe #skip muck #don malarkey #shifty powers #babe heffron #frank perconte #ronald speirs #chuck grant #johnny martin #skinny sisk #david webster #buck compton #ithinkabouttzu

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 5- Just You

Summary:  An unexpected resistance to a German attack causes Liebgott an injury. The experience brings emotions to head between you and Liebgott.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Blood/Gore, Smoking, Angst, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF 💚

Chapter takes place 1x5 Crossroads 

*I have loved you for several hours now, and every second more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. There is no room in my body for anything but you. * -The Princess Bride, William Goldman

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~ 

October 1944 

Easy Company set up in an abandoned barn as a headquarters and aid station in Schoonderlogt, Holland. Most of Easy Company had been inside awaiting the return of the reconnaissance patrol that left at sunset to see if any Germans were near the village. Liebgott leading the mission had been gone for several hours. 

Eugene insisted you get some sleep, but you only sat in the bunk, your mind too busy to even close your eyes. Talbert with his newfound companion, Trigger (a German Shepard ironically), was a nice distraction while Joe was gone. As you were petting the dog, the barn door burst open alarming everyone and bringing everyone to their feet. 

“Penetration!” one of the soldiers called out carrying another soldier injured. 

“It’s Alley!” Talbert yelled. 

“Alley’s hurt!” Liebgott shouted. 

“Boyle, get Doc.” Winters instructed then looked at Liebgott, “Where?” 

“Crossroads.” Liebgott replied. You notice he took a dressing and pressed it against his neck. 

“Liebgott-” you called to him, but another soldier interrupted you. 

“Well, if it wasn’t for your loud mouth-” he started to accuse Joe. 

You tried again but louder, “Lieb-” 

“-Hey, you know what? Back off!” Liebgott shot back as Roe pushed through the gaggle. 

“Get the boots off, elevate...Lieb use the sulfur...” Doc directed. 

“JOE!” You barked over the commotion.  

“Goddam it, WHAT?” He snarled back at you with a heavy look of annoyance. 

“Get over here and let me look at your neck.” you directed sternly. 

“It’s just a scratch.” He dismissed. 

You huff audibly, losing your patience and giving him a side glance. 

“Joe, let her take a look. We got this over here.” Doc insisted. 

Liebgott sighed reluctantly rolling his eyes and made his way to you. 

He stood tall in front you, refusing to look you in the eyes as you gently directed his head by the chin to his left to expose the injured site where he still held the dressing. You know he was trying to hide how bad it really was, so you decided to kill him with kindness to get him to do what you needed to do to help him. 

Your voice sweet and subtle, “Joe...” 

He hummed in response. 

“Move your hand. Please?”  

He quickly looked down at you, no smile or any real sign of emotion, just searching your eyes for something unknown to you. You feel your eyes widen as this unexpected attention from Joe unnerved you. It’s not a look that you experienced from him before. He almost looked like a ravenous animal. 

You stood your ground, staring back at him expectantly waiting for him to remove his hand from his neck. 

His hand slowly dropped without breaking eye contact. 

You make your hands busy with the messy dressing on his neck and see an angry laceration, but not deep enough to make it life threating. You were less worried, but it still needed attention. 

“You’re lucky.” You stated. 

“Am I?” he replied curtly. 

You ignored his cold response. 

“It wasn’t deep enough to affect the artery, so you won’t bleed out, but I’m still going to dress it right so you don’t get an infection.” you explained. 

“Great.” his tone unenthusiastic and sarcastic. Again, you chose to remain silent. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction by taking his bait to argue. 

“Ok, Joe, you’re good.” you tell him, running your thumb affectionately along his jawline. 

He felt goosebumps rise on his skin from your soft touch and shot you a look of confusion. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth slightly open, you thought he was going to say something. He thought he was going to say something too, but he stood there gaping at you, breathing heavy again searching your face for something unknown to either of you. You meet his perplexed look with one of your own and squint your eyes at him wondering what it was you did wrong to earn such a response from him.  

His jaw tightened as he closed his mouth and softened his eyes. No smile, no sign of affection, he nods to you then turned on his heel to collect his gear when Winters announced they were heading to the crossroads to re-engage with the Germans there to gain control of that position. 

You were utterly dumbfounded by how Joe treated you. You know he can get moody and explosive when his adrenaline races like that. He had a deep-rooted hatred for the Germans and was probably pissed he got nicked by one of them in the field, and now he was out for revenge. His anger clouded his judgement, and you suffered the blunt end of his attitude even though you had nothing to do with it. 

And it had nothing to do with you. He felt terrible for not at least saying ‘thank you’ before he left. He turned his back on you after you cared for his wound so gently and attentively, and he hated himself for it after walking out of that barn. He had hurtling thoughts of doubt, regret...sentiment. He couldn’t turn back now, though. He was on his way to deal with the Krauts that had the audacity to attack him and his team that day.  

~~~~~~~ 

Easy Company took victory at the crossroads the following morning. The Germans fled leaving dozens of their comrades killed or seriously wounded. Eleven of them are captured. The Americans on their side count one dead and 22 wounded. 

Winters approaches an angry Liebgott taking potshots at the still-living Germans crawling over the bodies of their dead comrades, trying to escape the field.  

“Joe?” 

Liebgott continued to pick off Germans like a turkey shoot.    “-Joe, knock it off!” Winters ordered 

“Goddam it, what?” Liebgott barked back. 

Winters noticed his neck bandages were saturated with his own blood. 

“You’re bleeding.” Winters identified. 

“Ah, it's nothin', Cap.” Liebgott replied bluntly. 

“Take these prisoners to CP and get cleaned up.” Winters instructed. 

Liebgott looked a little too eager, “Yes, sir. Come on, Kraut boys.” 

Believing that a furious Liebgott can't be trusted, Winters orders him to drop all his ammo and removes all but one round from Joe's rifle telling him that killing one prisoner will prompt the others to attack and possibly kill him and escape.  

“I want all prisoners alive.” Winters reminded. 

Joe paused before replying, “Yes sir,” resentfully. 

~~~~~~~ 

Liebgott burst through the barn door, obviously still fuming he had to babysit German prisoners and not get any extra hits in. It was more than they deserved even if they did surrender. 

You were finishing up some wound care on another soldier when Joe had come in. Even in his intimidating state, you were exhilarated to see him alive. You rush over to him and notice his neck bandages saturated in red. Your joy quickly turned to panic as you went to touch his arm. 

He turned around viscously shrugging your hand off him and met your stare with horror after he realized he had almost hurt you. His chest heaving, and eyes wild, it took him a few seconds to regain his bearings. 

You were actually frightened at first but didn’t back away too much from him since he still needed medical attention. 

“Joe?” you ask cautiously. 

He swallowed hard then softened his stance, “I was told to get this fixed up.” He replied as he gestured to his neck. 

You nod, “Ok, Lieb, over here.”  

You lead him over to a more secluded space in another part of the barn that you used to triage patients. After his little ‘floor show’ you decided he needed a safe space to decompress. He slumped down on the cot in the room with a huff and stared at his boots. 

You went to the shelves with the supplies you needed, grabbing clean dressings, gauze, and peroxide. You sat yourself next to Joe and prepared everything to tend to his neck. He winced when you pulled the partially blood encrusted wrapping. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He only side eyed you as a response. 

You soaked the gauze with the antiseptic, then pressed it to his wound. He hissed from the sting. 

“Sorry, Joe. I have to make sure it’s clean.” you explained. 

“Mmhm.” He hummed, “Just do it.” he added in a low voice. 

You continued working on him quietly. The air was heavy in the room. You hoped he would open up to you. It was clear he had been bottling something up. He won’t even offer a glance to acknowledge you. 

You unravel the new dressing placing the padded part to his wound, then lean in closer to loop the ends around his neck like a scarf to secure it in place. As you repeat this action, you were required to keep nearing his face with yours. Still refusing to look at you, he remained looking at his boots and you admired how long his lashes were as he looked down. You finish the wrap tucking the end in, and you couldn’t stop yourself, 

“Joe, look at me.” you requested. 

He sighs irritably, rolling his eyes and meets your concerned gaze. 

You study his face, bringing your hand to his forehead to gently sweep away his hair. He looked you up and down skeptically, unsure what was happening. A new concoction of emotions simmered inside him when he felt your fingers combing his hair back out of his face.  

Angst...elation...hunger...want...need...He had no idea what was happening with him. And it seemed to intensify while he was sitting there with you. Even in the midst of combat he doesn’t feel this level of fight or flight response. His breath hastened as his heart rate accelerated. He straightened up and faced you, bringing his hand to yours, softly grabs your wrist pulling it away from his hair not taking his eyes away from your face. 

Your breath hitched in your chest as your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it as well. Your eyes widened seeing his eyes dark and blown out from something deep beneath the surface unknown. The small space between you is intense and unnerving.  

Joe’s POV 

*“Look at her... Even after how I’ve treated her, she’s still being so good to me. I don’t deserve this...I don’t deserve her. Every time she touches me it's like electrical currents shocking my entire body. How does she do it? What I wouldn’t do for her to just grab my face and just lay one on me and never pull away. Jesus Christ get it together, Liebgott, she probably hates you now. But if I leave now, anything could happen and neither of us would know...anything. I won’t leave her until I know.”* 

“Joe?” you wave your free hand he wasn’t holding in front of his face. He shook his head snapping out of his thoughts. 

“You’re all cleaned up now. You can go back to the guys or take a few minutes and stay to regroup.” you suggest. 

You stand to leave but Joe doesn’t release your hand. You furrow your brows confused. 

“You need something else?” you ask. 

Joe stood gripping your shoulders to face you square with him. His mouth curled into a slight grin. With intent behind his eyes and urgency in his touch, he finally speaks directly to you. 

“Just you.” he purrs. 

Your jaw slacked from shock. You look up at him through your lashes, your iris's doe-like and glistening. Words as well as breath failed to leave your mouth. You felt dizzy and faint, your entire sternum burning like you had just taken a swig of Vat 69. You feel Joe steady you as you slightly sway backward. He kneaded your arms affectionately making you a melting mess in his strong slender hands. 

“-me?” you choked as you placed your hand over where your heart was ready to explode from. 

He nodded deliberately and slowly, “-only you.”  

Your skin and insides tingled causing you to tremble. You take a deep breath trying to regain your composure. 

“Where is this coming from, Joe?” you finally ask. 

He shrugged, “It’s always been there. Buried deep down and just grew bigger every day. I just can’t keep it down anymore, you know?” he explained. 

You beam at him, partially lost in your own thoughts calculating the situation you found yourself in with him at that moment. You avert your eyes downward releasing a soft chuckle. You shake your head, 

“Joe, I-” 

“-Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same, Y/N.” he dared. 

You meet his eager stare, “Of course I do, Joe,” you respond in a desperate breathy voice, “I have spent this past year worrying myself sick about you, and at first, I couldn’t figure out why! I have been fighting it every single day and I am exhausted from it. I lose sleep when you’re on patrol without me, and the few hours I can get, I have night terrors that you return to me maimed and bloody, scaring me wide awake! I swear I have more gray hair from this.”  

You went off on this tangent, pacing back and forth in the small room not realizing how much you just confessed, but Joe once again remained silent just mesmerized by you absorbing every word you say. 

“So, you do feel the same.” he confirmed standing taller with a gratifying smirk. 

You turn to him, your eyes beginning to gloss over with tears, “Joe, *I have loved you for several hours now, and every second more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. It goes on and on, Joe. There is no room in my body for anything but you. *” 

Each of you standing opposite the other, you're practically panting from the overwhelming flow of emotions and lack of breath you forgot to take. You await the next venture to unfold. 

Without a word, Joe swiftly closed the gap between you, and before you could even gasp, he pulled you in by the back of your head locking his lips onto yours.  

~~~~~~~

#band of brothers #hbo war #ww2 #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott #ross mccall #my love #joe liebgott x female reader #joe liebgott x reader #101st airborne #easy company #joe liebgott rabbit hole #joe liebgott brain rot #dick winters #eugene roe #doc roe #the princess bride #princess bride

[bellewintersroe]

Band of brothers masterlist 🤍🩷🤍

Finally! Here’s some direct links to my work so far :)

All boys: general hc’s:

Platonic BoB x reader - angst. Easy boys reacting to seeing their lady lieutenant for the first time. Easy boys x reader how they react to accidentally upsetting you.

Easy boys x reader the morning after their first time. Easy boys x reader the morning after their first time, part 2.

Easy boys x reader in Bastogne.

Easy boys x nurse headcannons p1. Easy boys x nurse headcanons p2.

Easy boys x nurse headcannons p3. Easy’s reaction to nurse reader getting hurt.

Easy boys x nurse how they react to you finding them hurt. Easy boys x reader enemies to lovers.

Easy boys x reader they see you dressed up for the first time. Easy boys x reader they see your scars for the first time. Easy boys x nurse how they react to you having fun in the water.

Easy boys x reader they take care of your baby alone for the first time.

Easy boys x reader how they react to you going MIA.

Part 2.

Ron Speirs:

Protective Ron Speirs x reader. Snowy Days, Ron x reader.

British girl x Ron headcanons - Ron being in a relationship with a girl from Britain.

Ron Speirs x nurse! OC multiple part smut - when celebrations reach a high in the eagles nest, who knew their hook up would be more than a one time thing?

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.

Part 5.

Part 6.

Part 7.

Ron Speirs x ArmyNurse! OC mini series - Margaret ‘Maggie’ Emerson, an army nurse attached to the 506th parachute infantry regiment, finds herself growing closer to her company’s captain, Ronald Speirs. With war drawing to an end, a side to the mystery that is Captain Speirs is revealed. Both Maggie and Ron have a difficult time resisting their attraction to one another.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Joe Liebgott:

Joe Liebgott x reader x Talbert smut. - you, joe and Floyd have some fun on New Year’s Eve in a foxhole. Joe x reader x Talbert smut p2- Joe and Floyd finally give you what you’ve been waiting for…

Untitled Joe Liebgott x reader Drabble. Joe Liebgott x reader angst- the two times Joe doesn’t want to see you and the one time he does.

Joe x reader x Shifty - a request for how Joe would react when he’s in love with you but you’re with Shifty.

Gene and Liebgott Headcannons - when they think they’ve lost you for good but then you reunite with them days later, worse for wear.

Babe Heffron:

Babe Heffron x oc smut- Babe and OC spend some well deserved time together.

Eugene Roe:

Quiet Confessions, Eugene x reader smut - as the title described, quiet confessions between Gene and reader. Sympathy for the Enemy, Gene x oc - oc struggles with hating the enemy, especially when some of them are just boys. Gene comforts her when the inevitable happens. Vocal Gene x reader smut- Requested by a reader! Gene is obsessed with you and expresses this through being vocal in the bedroom… Friends to Lovers, Eugene x reader smut - you and Gene are friends for the longest time until one night that changes with a steamy exchange whilst walking home…

Gene x reader headcanons - just some headcanons on how your friendship turns into a relationship throughout the time during the war you spend together.

Gene and Liebgott Headcannons - when they think they’ve lost you for good but then you reunite with them days later, worse for wear.

Floyd Talbert:

Floyd x reader smut - Floyd and your tension reaches a boiling point after two years together. Liebgott x reader x Talbert smut - threesome.

Liebgott x reader x Talbert smut p2. - threesome continued!

Talbert + Christenson headcanons.

James ‘Moe’ Alley:

Alley x oc was nurse! Jenny. Headcanons of their developing relationship throughout the war.

part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5.

Skip Muck:

Skip x reader - mutual pinining - friends to lovers arc. Lewis Nixon:

One night stand, Nixon X Reader - after a long night of boozing you and Captain Nixon wake up besides each other, shocked by your actions of the night before.

Chuck Grant:

Chuck x nurse reader headcanons.

Chuck Grant x reader smut.

Alton More:

More x nurse reader headcanons. Shifty Powers:

Joe x reader x Shifty - a request for how Joe would react to being in love with you but you’re with Shifty. Pat Christenson:

Christenson x reader fluff - pat comforts you after Grant is wounded. Christenson + Talbert headcanons.

Dick Winters:

Dick x reader headcanons - on how Dick steals Sobel’s gf.

#Band of brothers masterlist #Band of brothers imagines #Band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcannons #ron speirs #Joe liebgott #floyd Talbert #skip muck #Eugene Roe #Babe Heffron #james moe alley #Shifty powers #pat christenson

[tonilovessushi]

Hi! Could you please write a Eugene Roe x Extroverted reader head canons please? Love your writing an I’m so happy someone is writing band of brothers fics :)

EUGENE ROE WITH AN EXTROVERTED S/O HEADCANONS

➻❥ eugene roe x extroverted! gn! reader

➻❥ fluff and a big of angst

➻❥ warnings: war, mentions of death, a bit of self-doubt

since anon didn't mention a preferred gender, this is gender neutral, and thank you so much for your support!

( masterlist | requests )

as we all now, our favorite cajun medic is more of an introverted person

his reservedness, apart from being a more closed of and not very talkactive guy, and his despise for big gatherings of people, was also a defense mechanism. eugene avoided to get close to any of the men because he feared that they would die in his helpless arms

but you- it was different with you

he couldn't avoid you. you seemed to be everywhere he was

you would often be the center of attention since pretty much everyone enjoyed being around you, especially at a time and place like this

you were friends with everyone and nice to anyone who was nice to you

no one could escape your charm, not even the closed off medic

oh no

gene was absolutekly smitten

though eugene was sure you wouldn't even know if he existed if he didn't check up on you around five times more often than on the other men

would often use his position as an excuse to talk to you

"uh, y/n, do you have any scissors?"

"no, sorry, haven't gotten any since you last asked me"

gene would turn into blushing puppy mode every time you smiled at him

that bright smile and warm eyes was the only heaven he knew in hell

sometimes he wondered if you were, in fact, an angel, send by god to ease his suffering

though he actually never properly talked to you apart from asking for morphine or something

would admire you from afar while you talked to the others or had lunch, quickly turning his head away when you caught him

he felt kinda pathetic, not daring to talk to you and simply sulking after you without doing anything

you yourself were pretty intrigued with the caring doc

though you knew you had to take the first step

you'd sometimes try to plant small hints, but he'd never pick up on them

one day, at a meal, you seeked his company, just sitting with him and eating your soup, and rambled about god and the world

it was so random

but gene loved listening to you, even if it was a sermon about some movie he'd never seen

yes, eugene really liked listening to you. it was like music, it helped him relax

after that day, you two began talking more often, he stopped by at your foxhole for a talk from time to time and you sat with him during meals, but you didn't push him to sit with the others, you knew it made him uncomfortable

eugene would feel a bit guilty about occupying you, but you were quick to reassure him that you enjoyed spending time with him

you'd often eagerly offer to help him, for example looking for bandages at another battalion or tagging along on his route to check up on everyone if you could

gene would sometimes even ask you to do it, since, while he didn't really like company all that much, he often felt alone while walking by himself

it also calmed him when he had you around because that way, he'd be quick to aid if you got wounded

he had this constant fear in the back of his mind, the same fear that made him so distant in the first place, that you'd die in his arms, that he'd watch you die

but being with you made up for it

he appreciated how good you listened to him

gene was not very talkactive, but when he actually opened up, he told you lots of his youth, family and home

he would feel a bit boring compared to you, but the way you listened to him and laughed with him seemed to wash his insecurity away

sharing a foxhole

eugene is the one-hundred-blankets type of person

due to the cold and the size of the foxhole, you two ended up under the same blanket, and, later that night, confessing your feelings to each other

gene is a good hugger, but what he likes even more is being hugged

especially by you

eugene was hestitant at first and blushed hard when he did confess, but when you told him of your mutual feelings, he got more daring

would initiate your first kiss and even go a bit further, within the realm of possibility of course

eugene got a bit more possesive from there on

nothing extreme, but, let's say it like that, he made a point of showing you that he had claimed you his and you weren't complaining, because it showed through lots of affection

your closeness with the men would often get him a bit jealous though

he'd understand that it was just your way to surround yourself with people, but that didn't mean he had to like it at all times

for example, when you and the others got a bit too touchy or you kissed someone else's cheek

would hestitantaly come closer and ask you to follow him because he needed advice or something

would then lure you into the woods and kiss you senseless

he's a pretty good kisser, but also a talkactive one

never needs to catch his breath, is either kissing you or whispering sweet words in french which you didn't understand in your ear

combined with the fact that his kisses are pretty long, that's kinda impressive

but your closeness with the men isn't all bad in his eyes

for example, he's glad how protective they are of you

makes his job easier

#eugene roe x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #eugene roe #eugene roe headcanons #eugene roe x you #eugene roe x y/n #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe fanfic #doc roe x reader #doc roe x you #doc roe headcanons #doc roe x y/n #band of brothers x you #band of brothers headcanons

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Schedule for this week

So I had an ask about what I’ll be posting before Christmas as I know a few of you are waiting on some of my wips so I thought I’d make a little plan so you guys know what is in stores for this week. Let me know if you want to be tagged in any of these.

Monday 18th: the much awaiting Kinky Ron fic for @ronsparky this is sort of a part 1 so if anyone does want a part one let me know

Tuesday 19th: Chapter one of ‘Loving her was Red’ where you will all finally meet Lois Drake the SOE who steals Dick Winters heart. This one is for @malarkgirlypop who I think has been fantasising over Lois for weeks

Wednesday 20th/ Thursday 21st/ Friday 22nd: currently don’t have a plan so if anyone wants the next part of ‘Young Love and Old Money’ or would like to meet my other OC Florence from ‘A Larks Song’ who David Webster takes a liking to. Or I have also written a very sad angst Skip Muck fic so it depends what sort of vibe you’d like to go for right before Christmas. If not I had a Eugene Roe fic that was requested. Let me know what you’d like posted on any of these days or if you have any other ideas of request let know.

Saturday 23rd: I’ll be posting my very next friend @georgieluz Christmas fic. He’s had a tough few weeks so I’m hoping some Christmas cheer will make things a little better. Love you Jules 💕

Sunday 24th: I’ll be posting my Secret Santa fic for @hbowardaily secret Santa

Tagging a few of my mutuals @georgieluz @malarkgirlypop @sweetxvanixlla @xxluckystrike @whollyjoly @samwinchesterslostshoe @iceman-kazansky @lena-basilone @bucky32557038ww2 @coco-bean-1218 @next-autopsy @mads-weasley @holdingforgeneralhugs

#posting schedule for this week #Christmas week #band of brothers

[liptonsbabe]

A Ribbon for my family

Richard Winters x fem! oc

Inktober : "Grief"

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, war, a little bit of angst.

a/n: well hello! This is a little something that I did for the inktober! (@fayestardust) I'm not an artist but I thought it would be cute to write a few fics for our favorite boys on this month! Hope you like it!

Btw English is not my frst language so tell me if something's wrong

ofc this is based on the hbo series and the actors who portray the characters, no disrespect for the real heroes!

It was past midnight when the sky in Eindhoven was glistened by the bombing. Orange, red, and yellow lights covered the city and the fire could be felt from miles away. You sighed in pain. You were wounded during the attack in Nuenen and in the retreat, fire from one of the explosions hit your arm.

Eugene Roe checked your wounds and tried to heal them as best as he could. He asked you to get some sleep that night and to let him know if you have any complications that he had not anticipated. You promised to do so, but the truth was that there was something worse than your injuries that was bothering you.

The image of Private Miller dying in front of you made your heart ache like never before during the war. He was one of the many replacements that had come into the division, and even though you hadn't known him since Toccoa like all the others, you were able to talk to him a couple of times and laugh along with the other replacements about your stories before you went into the army.

Most of the replacements were practically kids and a sense of protectiveness was ignited in you from the first moment.

You remembered the day when, whilst you talked with David Webster, you overheard Cobb ask Private Miller about the ribbon he proudly wore on his chest and you rolled your eyes when Cobb laughed at the replacement of how nervous he'd gotten.

"it's a Presidential Distinguished Unit Citation" he said, trying to smile through the embarrassment. Webster looked at you, irritated by Cobb's bullshit. You sighed and kept listening "For huh… for what the regiment did in Normandy."

"That's right, for what the regiment did. And as far as I know, you weren't there."

"Hey, hey, ease up, Cobb, hm?" asked Hoobler, drinking a beer beside you "Let the kid alone. It's a Unit citation."

Cobb shrugged his shoulders and went on as if nothing had happened, as if his words hadn't hurt a huge portion of the people there, not just the replacements. Your blood boiled as you watched Private Miller take off the ribbon from his chest and leave it on the table before getting up and walking out of the room.

You'd never felt so annoyed with Cobb before, not even some of the times he made sharp comments about you back in Toccoa, or when he downplayed your position as an officer just because you were a woman in a man's world.

Your fists tensed and Webster had to put a hand over you to stop you from doing something, but he couldn't stop you. You got up from your seat and walked over to where Miller had been earlier. Cobb looked at you, lifting his chest, as if the lieutenant's insignia you wore on your shirt collar meant nothing.

"So, for what the regiment did in Normandy, huh" you said, holding his gaze. He nodded

"That's right."

"I guess you of all people here know what happened that day, don't you? The jump" Cobb had his beer in his hand and you took it from him to take a big sip without looking away. By that time, the eyes of the entire pub were on you "Tell me, how was it?"

He cleared his throat but said nothing. You smiled and looked at the replacements who, confused, looked at Cobb waiting for an answer. You turned your head and looked at Bull. He just approached, annoyed at Cobb's harsh words. Randleman winked and took a long drag on his cigarette .

"Bull, do you remember seeing Private Cobb meeting up with the others after we landed?"

"No, lieutenant."

"And when the Kraut 88s got blown up?"

"I don't think so, Lieutenant."

"But surely he was at Carentan, wasn't he?

"No, ma'am."

"Well, then it seems to me that you didn't fight in fucking Normandy either," you told him putting the beer down on the table. Then you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him towards you until your noses touched. His back was tense and you could hear the muttering of the guys in the bar.

"I… i got hit in the plane before i got a chance to jump."

"That's fine. A lot of people here had the same thing happen to them and didn't get to fight alongside the others, but that doesn't make them any less deserving of the recognition of being here, risking their fucking lives in a godamn war. Being a Toccoa man doesn't give you the right to feel superior to the replacements who, like you, don't even know what it's like to be in real combat. Otherwise, you can give me your ribbon right now" You let go of his tie and extended your hand in front of him waiting for him to do so, however, it didn't happen and in return, he just looked away. You rolled your eyes and grabbed Private Miller's ribbon from the table. The replacements looked at you and you smiled "Keep enjoying the evening, yeah? You deserve it just like everyone else."

You left the room and looked around the bar for Private Miller until you found him walking towards the door. You followed him and before he could leave, you grabbed him by the arm.

"Private Miller, I think you left this."

"Lieutenant, thank you but uh…that's not mine."

"Sure it is" you said and put the ribbon on his uniform. You placed the little rectangle where it should be and gave it a couple of taps with your finger "You are part of us now and you should wear this on your uniform as everyone else."

"Even though I didn't fight to get them properly?"

"All of us here have fought for a greater good. In this company there is no 'me' or 'you' there is only 'us.' And this ribbon was achieved on behalf of all of those who believe in that unity, including you, kid. Don't listen to Cobb, he's just... Different"

Miller smiled. His cheeks reddened.

"Thank you, lieutenant."

"I want to see that ribbon where it belongs, you hear me?" You pointed at him and he laughed

"As you command, ma'am."

"You'd better, private, because if you don't, I'll give you latrine duty!"

Miller stood at attention and saluted. You laughed

"Yes ma'am!"

A tear fell on Private Miller's dog tags which were stained with blood. You had grabbed them from his neck before Lipton had pulled you to retreat that night. As you watched Eindhoven being bombed, you put the dog tags in your uniform pocket and silently promised him that you would send the ribbon intact to his family.

"A penny for your toughts?" You heard Dick Winters' voice, slowly approaching until he was at your back, watching the lights in the sky. You sighed as you tried to wipe away your tears "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, everyone is dig in for the night and you're the only one still awake."

"I couldn't sleep even if I tried."

Suddenly you felt his hands on your waist embracing you in a hug that warmed your heart, his chin rested on the top of your head and he pulled you tighter against his body

"Surely they won't be waving so many Orange flags at us tomorrow"

"No, they won't"

"I don't like retreating"

"First time for everything, I guess"

"Nixon told me the same thing. It doesn't lift my spirits much."

"This is hell, Dick," you said and turned to him. Dick noticed the tears in your eyes "I knew the war would be… difficult, exhausting, but I never thought over anything like this"

"We lost a lot of men today" he whispered cupping your cheeks "It's been… hard for all of us but we have to keep moving. We have to go on, for those who are no longer here, with us."

You nodded and let him wipe away your tears. He rubbed your arms lovingly and gave you a half smile wanting to lift your spirits.

Then, you thought you could spend the rest of the night doing something better, something useful.

"Who'll write to the soldier's families who died today?"

"I was going to, but…"

"Can I do it?"

"Do you want to?"

"Yes. I…I think I could do with spending the night writing letters. I don't want to watch this anymore."

"Okay, then do it" His strong arms wrapped around you and he buried his nose in your hair. You couldn't see him, but you were sure he had closed his eyes as he sighed slowly. You clung to him and felt his dog tags against your face. You thought to yourself that perhaps, at some point in the war, you'll have to send a letter to his family along with his dog tags or that he'll have to do the same for you. You squeezed him tighter against your body and asked your god to get you out of that place alive "Just a moment. Stay here with me"

"i'll always be here for you"

#dick winters #band of brothers #eugene roe #hbo war #lewis nixon #bandofbrothersedit #carwood lipton #bill guarnere #bob #easy company #bull randleman #donald malarkey

[emjayewrites]

The Fast Lane (A Formula One Series)(1/?)

SYNOPSIS: Jesenia joins the private, membership-based dating app Raya searching for a sugar daddy. Instead, she unknowingly finds her biggest “whale”: Lewis Hamilton, a famous Formula One racing driver.

PAIRING: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Jesenia "Jessy" Hart (face claim is @/loriharvey)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, cursing, explicit sexual content, not-so-glamorous life in the influencer/racing world, kind of pre-established relationship. RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @royallyprincesslilly, @mauvecherie-writes, @saintslewis, @peyiswriting, @hamiltonvuitton, @cocobutterqwueen, @qveenmelanink, @ashanti-notthesinger, @lewisroscoelove, @lovebittenbyevans, @lew1s-prix, @jasmindaughteroftheworld, @eugene-emt-roe, @apenasumlug4r, @simpfortoomanymen, @roseseraj, @alika-4466, @httpsserene, @queenshikongo3, @cherry2stems, @non-stop-imagines, @anubisnoir @myescapefromthislife @chaneajoyyy @yeea-nah @mitruscity @lewiscrown @weetjy @a-moment-captured @sugardontbesweet @shaytheeprettiest @livinglifethroughfanfic @blveeeeeee @formula-hamilton @purplelewlew @trinitoldyouso @slytherinjimim3nthusiast @certifiedlesbianbaddie

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My first time writing for Lewis Hamilton. I'm new as fuck to the Formula One fandom, so please be nice! And Jessy is basically me in written form because I barely know anything besides Lewis is fine as hell. Please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Anyways, enjoy! Dividers by @inklore!

P.S.: You’re going to hate the main character at first but trust me, you’ll grow to love her.

CHAPTER ONE: The Gospels of Jessy

It took almost a month for her Raya account approval, but once it happened, Jessy found herself swiping mindlessly whenever she had the chance. On a break from content planning – swipe. Bored in a meeting with her agents – swipe. Downtime at a brand event – swipe.

For the next few months, she found herself swiping, starting a conversation, going out on a date or two, maybe another date, then ghost.

Rinse, lather, wash, repeat.

The process was tiring, exhausting, going on and on without an end in sight, however, Jessy always enjoyed a challenge.

Her job as a model and designer afforded the life that requires constant travel to exotic places and being invited to the who's-who of events, yet despite this, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else foot the bill once in awhile for a non-brand trip and actually relax rather than worry endlessly about content.

To her, at this point of her life, being in a traditional relationship seemed impossible. Everything was transactional, so why should she devote her time and energy catering to a man who would presumably cheat on her anyways?

Her taste was akin to Chanel, not recent season Chanel, but vintage. Old luxury, with vacations to the Amalfi Coast and the Greek Islands via private yacht and the scent of Baccarat Rouge 540 flowing lazily in the air. Jessy's hectic upbringing led her to yearn a life of leisure, comfort, and stability. And she be damned to become just another baby mama to another ball player, no offense to her sister or mother. That stereotype, let alone overexertion on one's body, never made her want to jump on some random man's penis and sustain her livelihood solely on child support payments.

Fuck that.

Jessy aimed for investments — real estate, ideally, but she'd accept dividends and stocks as well. Along with her model/influencer income and sales from her swimwear brand, Silver Doe, she'd be able to have enough for the daily bits and her "retirement" plan.

She knew the sugaring game like the back of her hand. She knew what men liked, what they craved. Men were basic creatures to understand.

They wanted someone fuckable.

Someone that they could fuck and what others dream of fucking; arm candy if you will. Sure, a man may have a nice personality and manners, yet that was the key component of any relationship, at least according to the Gospels of Jessy.

Childhood trauma forced her to grow up fast and learn the intricacies of the world at a tender age. Her life carried on on two simple things to not fuck up: the bag and the gist of it all.

And when it came to this life as a sugar baby, she lived by those two things religiously.

The Gospels of Jessy. May we bow our heads in prayer.

Soft skin. "Clean girl" makeup. Fresh manicure and pedicure. Styled hair. Dressed to the nines.

These were the things that every man wanted his woman to have. And Lewis was no different.

Suffice to say, he'd never overtly say it, but Jessy knew what he expected and what was expected of him.

A man of his stature, his fame, needed to have a high-caliber woman on his arm. He needed a woman that was just as ubiquitous as he was.

This was her mantra. A checklist to ensure her place on his arm, to remain the focal point of jealousy among both men and women. Luckily for her, like all penis-having beings, Lewis had a tangent for beautiful women, and like all women looking for their comeuppance, Jessy played into that until she had him hook, line, and sinker.

It happened almost a month ago, during a rather boring conversation with a potential sugar daddy at Sexy Fish in Miami.

The guy was rich, balding, and slightly obese. Besides his multimillion-dollar fortune, he had no redeeming qualities. The conversation was just like him: bland and stale. When she got that message on Raya from Lewis, she felt as though it was a sign from the Lord above.

She didn't know fuck all about Formula One or professional racing, but she understood net worth and assets, which was something Lewis had an abundance of. His initial message was cute and straightforward, commenting about how attractive she was and if she had any downtime in the next few days for a date.

Of course, Jessy played coy at first, pretending to not know who he was and playing into his ego. In reality, she had already googled him the moment she saw his profile on Raya.

But Lewis seemed unfazed by her disinterest in his fame and wealth. It only made him more interested in her.

After some back-and-forth messaging, they agreed to meet for a casual late lunch at a trendy restaurant in downtown Miami. Jessy made sure to dress to impress, choosing a body-hugging red dress that showed off her curves and long, toned legs.

When she arrived at the restaurant, she spotted Lewis immediately. He was even more handsome in person with his charming smile and sharp jawline. As soon as he saw her, he stood up from his seat and pulled out her chair for her.

"Jessy," he said in an attractive British accent, smiling warmly as he kissed her hand gently. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Jessy replied with a flirtatious grin. She could tell right away that this was going to be an easy mark. He was shorter than the usual type of man she goes for; without her heels, she was only an inch shorter than his height of 5'9, but she decided to not let that be an issue. She was used to manipulating men of all shapes and sizes, and Lewis would be no different.

Lewis ordered her a bottle of expensive wine before even looking at the menu.

"You don't drink?" Jessy asked Lewis with a perplexed stare as she sipped on her glass of wine.

"Nah," Lewis replied in a deep timbre, chuckling. "I decided to give that up last year to gain more clarity. Being a vegan helps with that too."

Jessy raised an eyebrow, impressed by his discipline and self-control. She hadn't expected him to have such a strict lifestyle given his wealth and fame.

"So...you don't have any vices?" she wondered. "I'm not sure if I've ever met a man who doesn't have at least one."

Lewis laughed lightly and ran his fingers through his braided hair. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm completely free of vices, but I do my best to control them," he replied. "My main ones are racing...and something that's probably not appropriate to discuss at the moment."

Her mind immediately caught on to what he was suggesting - he had a strong sexual appetite.

So he's a freak, interesting.

Jessy nodded, intrigued by this side of Lewis. She had assumed he would be like many other wealthy men she had encountered – indulging in excess and living for the moment.

"What about you?" he asked her, leaning forward slightly with interest. "Do you have any vices?"

Jessy smirked, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip. "I think my biggest vice is shopping," she confessed.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, amused by her answer. "Shopping, huh? I wouldn't have guessed," he replied with a smug grin.

Jessy shrugged nonchalantly. "I just love nice things," she said. "But I also have a few other...vices." She leaned in closer to Lewis, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Oh really?" Lewis asked, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity. "Do tell."

"Well, let's just say I have a bit of a wild side as well," Jessy said seductively. "I enjoy experiencing new things and pushing boundaries."

Lewis chuckled, reveled by her boldness and confidence. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to her already.

"I can definitely appreciate a little wildness," he said with a wink.

They spent the rest of their lunch laughing, flirting, and getting to know each other more. They talked about everything from their favorite foods (Lewis loved hummus) to their childhoods (Lewis grew up in England while Jessy grew up in Miami).

As they finished their meal, Lewis suggested they take a walk around the city and explore some local shops. Jessy eagerly agreed, excited for the chance to spend more time with him.

They strolled through the busy streets of Miami, and Jessy couldn't help but notice that some people recognized him and whispered as they passed by. She was kind of used to being in the spotlight herself, but being seen with someone as famous as Lewis was definitely different.

"Are you used to all this attention?" she asked casually as they walked hand in hand.

Lewis shrugged nonchalantly. "It's part of the job," he replied. "But it can get overwhelming at times."

Jessy nodded sympathetically, understanding the pressures of fame all too well.

After browsing through several stores and trying on various outfits (with Lewis eagerly giving his opinion), they decided to call it a day and head back to their cars.

"This was fun," Lewis said as they stood outside his car. "We should do it again. I'll have some free time after the race and I would love to hang out with you again, if that's okay."

Jessy returned his smile, saying "That sounds good to me." Interested in spending more time with her, Lewis probed further, asking, "What about next week too? I'll be passing through Los Angeles for a day or two and I could fly you out to join me."

"Really?" she asked, trying to contain her excitement.

Lewis smiled, noticing her reaction. "Yeah, it would be nice to have some company while I'm in LA," he said.

Jessy couldn't believe her luck. "I would love that," she said eagerly. "Thank you for offering."

"It's my pleasure," Lewis replied, his gaze lingering on hers. "I'll make sure you have a great time."

They exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up in Los Angeles the following week.

And as they say, the rest is history

A few weeks later....

"No, Noelle, I'm telling you, it's not like that," Jessy insisted, her voice laden with sternness. She paced back and forth in her expansive apartment, the phone pressed tightly against her ear, as she packed for an upcoming trip. "Noelle, we're just having fun. Plus, he's always surrounded by beautiful women. I doubt I'm anything special to him."

After spending more time with Lewis in Miami and in Los Angeles, he invited her to the Monaco Grand Prix in Monte Carlo. If Jessy played her cards accordingly, Lewis would be wrapped around her finger. Jessy visited Monaco before, yet this would be the trip of a lifetime. Lewis already informed her that they had a day planned sailing on his yacht, so she could only imagine what else was in store for her.

Noelle sighed on the other end of the line. "Jessy, you have to be careful. Lewis sounds charming as fuck, and you know how these things go. He might catch feelings for you, and then what?"

Jessy paused for a moment, considering her friend's warning. Noelle had always been the more cautious one. "I appreciate your concern, but I think we can handle it," she replied confidently. "We're both adults, and we know what we want."

Noelle remained skeptical but decided to drop the subject for now. "Alright, just promise me that you'll keep a level head about this. The media is already speculating about you two hanging out together in Los Angeles, not to mention his fans..."

"Girl, I'm telling you, it isn't anything to worry about," scoffed Jessy. "He just acting like he's that nigga because I gave him head. If anything, he owes me for my services."

Noelle couldn't help but laugh. "Jesenia, girl, you sound like a ho!"

"Shit, a rich one at that," mused Jessy as she looked around her apartment. It may not be the penthouse, but it still had amazing views of the beach and city. Her closet was filled with designer clothes and accessories. She knew she was blessed but always wanted more. And if that meant using Lewis for money and material things, then so be it.

Noelle let out more uncontrollable laughter. "Period, Jessy-poo!" She spoke again, her tone more serious this time. "Okay, but just remember to protect yourself emotionally. It's easy to get caught up in the fantasy and forget that it's all transactional."

"I know, Noelle," Jessy replied, her voice tinged with determination. "I'm on my City Girls shit right now, and I'll be damned if another nigga tries to ruin it."

"If you say so," Noelle sighed, still unconvinced.

With their conversation coming to an end, Jessy hung up the phone and continued packing for her trip to Monaco.

Jessy couldn't believe her luck as she stepped off the private jet and onto the tarmac in Monaco. She was greeted by Lewis's team, who whisked her away to Lewis' homes in Monte Carlo, where she would be staying for the next few days. As soon as she entered the home, a wave of excitement and nervousness washed over her. This was it - her chance to make a lasting impression on Lewis and solidify their arrangement.

But as she looked around at the lavishness of his home, Jessy couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Noelle's words echoed in her mind - reminding her that this was all transactional. She took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts aside. This was an opportunity that many girls dreamed of, and Jessy wasn't going to let it slip away.

That night, Lewis took Jessy out on a lavish dinner date at one of Monaco's finest restaurants, COYA  Monte-Carlo. As they made their way through the city, Jessy couldn't help but feel like a million bucks. The streets were lined with luxury cars and high-end boutiques, and the air was filled with excitement for the upcoming race. A couple of paparazzi followed them as they walked, snapping pictures of Lewis and his beautiful companion.

Once they arrived at COYA, Jessy's jaw dropped. The restaurant was even more lavish than she could have imagined - adorned with opulent decor and filled with an elite crowd. Lewis led her inside, where they were quickly ushered to their private table overlooking the harbor.

As they perused the menu, Lewis shared stories about his previous races in Monaco and his love for the city. Jessy listened intently, hanging on to every word he said. She couldn't believe how down-to-earth he seemed despite his fame and success.

"So, tell me more about yourself, Jessy," Lewis said, placing his menu down and giving her his full attention. "How did you get into designing?"

Jessy smiled, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement at the thought of opening up to him. "Well, like I mentioned, I grew up with my mom, sister, and my stepfather," she began. "I've always loved fashion, so I pursued that as a career. But it's tough trying to make it in the fashion industry."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "I can imagine. It takes a lot of talent and hard work to make it big."

"Yeah," Jessy nodded. "But I won't give up on my dreams." She paused for a moment before asking, "What about you? How did you get into racing?"

Lewis chuckled. "It's actually a funny story. My dad was a mechanic and always had cars around the house. When I was eight years old, I asked him if I could drive one of them - just for fun." He shook his head with a laugh. "I ended up crashing into our neighbor's fence."

Jessy couldn't help but laugh along with him. She could picture young Lewis behind the wheel of a car, determined to drive like an adult.

"But my dad saw something in me," Lewis continued. "He started teaching me how to race properly, and from then on, I was hooked."

"That's amazing," Jessy said sincerely. "And now look at you - one of the most successful racers in the world."

Lewis smiled humbly. "I'm grateful for all the opportunities that have come my way."

As soon as the waitress approached, Lewis confidently took charge and ordered their meals, flawlessly selecting both vegan and non-vegan options from the menu. Jessy admired how effortlessly he made decisions for her, and couldn't help but smile at his assertiveness.

"I hope you don't mind," Lewis said, turning to Jessy. "I just wanted to make sure we could try a little bit of everything."

"No, not at all," Jessy replied gratefully as she bit her lower lip. "I find it incredibly attractive."

"Do you now?" Lewis grinned mischievously. "Well then, I'll have to make sure to keep it up."

"Mmm, you definitely should," she whispered seductively.

Their plates arrived quickly, each filled with a delicious array of Latin American dishes that left Jessy speechless. As they ate and talked, it felt like there was no one else in the world but them. They laughed and joked like old friends, and Jessy felt herself starting to let go of her reservations.

Lewis continued to impress Jessy with his knowledge of different cuisines and cultures. She was surprised to learn that he had traveled around the world for races and had developed a love for trying new foods.

"I've always wanted to travel more," Jessy admitted as she took a bite of the broccoli sprouts on her plate.

"Well, maybe you can join me on some of my trips sometime," Lewis suggested with a hopeful smile.

As she swirled her straw in her colorful cocktail, she couldn't help but feel a wave of self-doubt wash over her. "I don't want to be a burden," she said, taking a cautious sip. "What if I distract you or something?"

But Lewis just laughed and shook his head. "Trust me, you won’t be, the company would be nice. It’s just me and my drooling bulldog, Roscoe. And he's not much of a conversationalist." He flashed her a reassuring smile. "You should definitely come if you can."

After a few moments of contemplation, Jessy responded, "I'll need some time to consider that." As much as she wanted to travel with Lewis across different countries, she had to be practical and take into account her business commitments.

Lewis seemed to sense her hesitation and reached for her hand across the table. "Take your time, Jessy. I don't want you to feel pressured into anything."

Following their meal, Lewis chauffeured Jessy around Monaco in a car - showing her all of his favorite spots including the famous Casino de Monte-Carlo and Hotel de Paris Monte-Carlo. Everywhere they went seemed more extravagant than the last.

Sunday morning....

Jessy stepped out of the car, her heart racing with anticipation. The intoxicating scent of high-end perfume and the distant roar of engines overwhelmed her senses. This was her first time at the Monaco Grand Prix, and she couldn't believe that she had been invited by none other than Lewis Hamilton himself.

She made her way towards the entrance of the Paddock Club, and Jessy couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous energy coursing through her veins. She had spent hours fussing over her outfit, wanting to make sure she fit in with the glamorous crowd that frequented this prestigious event.

Her simple yet chic outfit clung to her curves in all the right places, accentuating her natural beauty. Her heels clicked confidently against the pavement as she followed Mercedes' team coordinator, Stephen Lord, whom everyone affectionately called Stevo.

Inside the Paddock Club, the atmosphere was electric. The clinking of champagne glasses mingled with excited chatter as race enthusiasts and high-profile guests mingled around the room. Jessy couldn't help but feel a little out of place. After all, she was just a small business owner and model from Miami.

Stevo guided Jessy to a secluded table in the corner of the upscale club. As they approached, two tall and attractive men stood up to greet them and they smiled at Jessy.

"Alright, here we are Ms. Hart," said Stevo with a kind smile. "Please let me know if you need anything else. Don't forget to check out the Mercedes garage later."

"Thank you, Stevo," Jessy replied, returning his smile. "And please, call me Jessy."

Stevo chuckled at her request before turning to face the two men. "How are you gentlemen doing? Can I get you anything?"

"We're all set, mate," replied the taller man in a deep British accent. His double-breasted pink suit exuded confidence and style, while his friend sported a lavender ensemble with equal flair. After exchanging fist bumps with Stevo, he turned to Jessy with an intrigued expression. "So you're the woman that got my best friend goin' wild."

Jessy couldn't help but chuckle nervously at the attention. "I don't know about all that, but Lewis and I are enjoying each other's company."

"Mmhmm," agreed the other man with a slow nod as he took a delicate sip of his champagne. "My name is Daniel, but everyone calls me Spinz." He extended his free hand for Jessy to shake, and she reciprocated with a firm grip that seemed to surprise him. He jokingly winced at the grip and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl, no wonder Lewis got a liking to you. Grip hard as fuck."

Jessy laughed at the playful comment. "Thank you, I do try."

"And I'm Miles," Mr. Pink Suit smiled. "Lewis told us to watch over you, and make sure you have a good time."

"More like threatened us," added Spinz with an eye roll, eliciting a playful slap on the back from Miles.

Jessy found it amusing that Lewis would feel the need to "threaten" his friends into ensuring her enjoyment at the club. From what she had seen so far, he was nothing but kind and laidback, but perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.

"How about we head upstairs to the Terrace?" Miles suggested.

The group made their way to the Terrace, an exclusive rooftop area of the Paddock Club with breathtaking views of the race track. As they settled into a cozy corner with plush couches and fans to keep them cool, Spinz poured Jessy a glass of champagne.

"So, Jessy," he began, leaning in with a curious expression. "How did you and Lewis meet?"

Jessy took a sip of her drink before answering, pondering about how much she should divulge. "He reached out to me on social media after seeing that I was in Miami around the time of his race. We chatted for a bit and he invited me out for lunch one day."

"Ah, so he slid into your DMs?," teased Spinz with a smirk.

Miles laughed at the comment while Jessy lightheartedly rolled her eyes. "In my defense, I didn't think he actually did; I thought it was a scam."

"Well, I'm glad he did," said Miles sincerely as he clinked his glass against hers.

"Yes, we all are," added Spinz with a grin.

Jessy couldn't help but feel touched by their genuine interest in her relationship with Lewis. They were both clearly very important people in his life and she was grateful that they seemed to accept her without hesitation.

As they continued chatting and getting to know each other, Jessy couldn't ignore the constant glances and whispers from other guests nearby. She had expected some attention being with Lewis Hamilton's friends, but it was starting to make her uncomfortable.

Sensing her discomfort, Miles sent her an assuring glance. "Ignore them, love. They're just jealous."

Jessy smiled gratefully at him before turning her attention back to Spinz who was telling an outrageous story about his latest party antics.

As the conversation carried on into the afternoon, Jessy found herself feeling more and more at ease with Miles and Spinz. They were incredibly funny and easygoing, making it seem like she had known them for years. She couldn't have asked for better company to spend her first Formula One race with.

After Lewis' disappointing loss, the trio made their way to the Mercedes garage to wait for him.

"Hey there, lovebirds," he joked. Despite looking a bit worn out, Lewis still had a smile on his face. "Looks like you guys are having a good time."

"Always," replied Miles with a grin as he and Lewis exchanged a friendly fist bump.

Lewis then walked over to Jessy and wrapped his arms around her. "How's everything going? Did you enjoy yourself?"

His sudden display of affection in front of his friends caught her off guard, but she quickly relaxed into his embrace. Jessy couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness. "Yes, thank you for introducing me to your friends. They're great company. I'm sorry about what happened today, baby."

"I'm glad. And thank you, I needed that," replied Lewis before turning to Miles and Spinz. "Thanks for looking after her, fellas."

"No problem, bro," said Spinz with a laugh. "We'll give you some alone time now."

After some more playful banter, Lewis took Jessy's hand and led her away from the group.

"Where are we going?" asked Jessy as they walked through the busy Mercedes garage.

"Just wanted to show you where all the magic happens," replied Lewis with a wink.

As they strolled through the bustling garage area filled with F1 cars being worked on by mechanics, Jessy felt amazed. She had never been this close to a race car before.

"Wow, this is incredible," she said as she ran her fingers over the sleek and aerodynamic body of the car.

Lewis chuckled. "I knew you'd like it."

He gave her a tour of his car, explaining how everything worked in detail with passion and excitement. Jessy found herself getting swept up in his enthusiasm as he showed her the complex steering wheel and pointed out all the different buttons and switches.

"It's amazing how much goes into it," she said in awe.

"It takes a lot of skill to be able to race one of these babies," replied Lewis with a grin.

Jessy couldn't help but feel proud of him for all that he had accomplished in his racing career. It was clear that he was truly passionate about what he did.

As they continued their walk around the garage, Lewis introduced Jessy to some of his team members and mechanics who all greeted her warmly. She could see why Lewis loved this team so much - they were like a big family.

Eventually, they made their way back to Lewis' home to relax before dinner with his friends.

Suddenly, Jessy yawned and stretched out on the couch, placing her head on Lewis' lap.

"Tired?" asked Lewis with a smile.

"A little," she admitted. "It was a long day, but I don't want to miss dinner.

Lewis chuckled and pulled her closer to him. "Well, how about we take a quick nap before dinner?"

Jessy felt grateful for the chance to rest. As she lay in Lewis' bed, she couldn't help but notice how comfortable and familiar it felt, even though it was her first time visiting his home.

She drifted off to sleep easily, feeling safe and content in Lewis' arms.

When she woke up a couple of hours later, Lewis was lying next to her with his eyes closed. Jessy watched him for a moment, taking in his peaceful expression. She couldn't believe that this handsome and successful man was hers.

At least to some degree, she thought.

Feeling a surge of affection, Jessy gently brushed some braids out of Lewis' face and leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips.

He opened his eyes with a smile and pulled her closer for a deeper kiss. "Hey there," he said huskily as they broke apart.

"Hi," replied Jessy with a grin. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," said Lewis as he caressed her cheek. "I'm glad you did."

He pulled her in for another kiss and as it deepened, Jessy felt Lewis' hands begin to explore her body, gently caressing her shoulders and neck, then slowly moving downward, tracing the curve of her back.

In response, she leaned into him, arching her back slightly, inviting him to continue. Lewis' fingers gripped the fabric of her top, pulling it up and over her head ever so slightly, revealing her smooth skin. His touch sent shivers down Jessy's spine, igniting a fire inside her. She couldn't help but let out a soft moan as their lips continued to move in sync.

Breaking the kiss, Lewis looked into Jessy's eyes with a hunger that made her heart race. Without saying a word, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, tossing it aside.

Jessy's skin flushed with heat as Lewis took in the sight of her bare chest. He leaned down and began kissing and nibbling on her breasts, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Her hands found their way to his shirt, tugging at it impatiently. In one swift motion, Lewis removed his shirt and threw it across the room.

Their bodies pressed against each other as they explored each other's skin with their hands and lips. Jessy could feel Lewis' arousal against her thigh and she couldn't resist running her hand down his chest to feel him fully.

With a low groan, Lewis pulled back slightly and looked into Jessy's eyes again. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes, baby," she affirmed, guiding him onto his back. Jessy helped ease him out of his pants and underwear before eagerly tending to him.

Although she had been intimate with Lewis before, he always waited for her signal before proceeding to anything sexual. It was a sweet gesture that showed his respect and consideration for her comfort. But sometimes, Jessy just wanted to jump his bones without hesitation.

Grasping firmly, just as he preferred, Jessy's hand enveloped his throbbing member as her mouth engulfed him. With a slow and steady rhythm, Jessy expertly pleased Lewis, teasing with her tongue and cleaning any traces of pre-ejaculation. Lewis' grip on her head tightened as he guided her movements to match his own pace.

Jessy could feel the tension building in Lewis' body as she continued to pleasure him. Her own arousal was growing with each moan and gasp coming from his lips. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter..

But before he could reach his peak, Lewis pulled her up to him and flipped them over so that he was on top. He hovered above her, his eyes burning with desire.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone. Jessy's breath hitched as his lips found their way to her sweet spot, biting and sucking at that place until she was writhing beneath him.

With one fluid motion, Lewis removed the rest of their clothes and positioned himself between Jessy's legs. He looked into her eyes once more, seeking permission and reassurance.

"Yes," she breathed, arching her hips towards him.

And with that, he entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size. Their bodies moved together in sync as they reached new levels of pleasure together.

Lewis' movements became more urgent as they both neared their climax. His hand reached between them to rub Jessy's clit, causing her back to arch in a bow and her to coo his name in ecstasy. With a loud cry, they both came undone, riding out their orgasms together.

Exhausted and sweaty, Lewis cuddled up to Jessy and drifted into a deep slumber. Satisfied with their encounter, Jessy grinned to herself and as soon as she heard his familiar snores, she got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

Jessy did her usual after-sex routine: relieving her bladder, brushing her teeth, and taking a Plan B pill that she always kept in her toiletries bag for these situations.

She and Lewis had previously discussed their sexual activities in Los Angeles, and despite both being clean and Jessy being on birth control, she was still cautious enough to take precautions.

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, Jessy took in her mussed, thoroughly fucked appearance. Judging by the way Lewis laid that pipe and him falling to sleep soon afterward, she knew that her plan had fallen perfectly into place.

And now, she was going to make sure he gave her everything she wanted.

Hook, line, and sinker.

TO BE CONTINUED....

#emjayewrites #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #formula one x oc #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one #lewis hamilton #the fast lane #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x you

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Hello everyone I am ballad-of-birdy-lamb but you can call me Birdy! I used to be @Mystic-bumble but I accidentally deleted my account. 😭

I will write for The Hunger Games, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Band of Brothers, The Pacific, and I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream!!

The Hunger Games:

Katniss

Peeta

Johanna

Finnick

Annie

Cato

Clove

Thresh

Gale

Haymitch

Effie

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes:

Coriolanus

Lucy Gray

Sejanus

Billy Taupe

Mayfair

Jessup

Reaper

Dill (nothing romantic)

Coral

Mizzen (nothing romantic)

Treech

Lamina

Clemensia

Tigris

Dr. Gaul

Tanner

Brandy

Band of Brothers

(Reminder: I am writing for the characters in the show, not of the actual people. Also, please recommend more characters if I haven't already put them here)

Eugene Roe

Ronald Speirs

Lewis Nixon

Richard Winters

Babe Heffron

Joe Liebgott

Bull Randleman

Joe Toye

Donald Malarkey

George Luz

William Guarnere

Wayne Sisk

Henry Jones

The Pacific

(Reminder: I am writing for the characters from the show, not the real people. Also please send in other names if they aren't already on the list, I forgot some of the characters)

Eugene Sledge

Snafu Shelton

Robert Leckie

Sidney Phillips

Chuckler Juergens

Hoosier Smith

I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

Ted

Ellen

Gorrister

AM

Rules for asks:

You can do:

1-4 characters

Specify gender (I will choose gender neutral if I'm not given one)

Specify if platonic or romantic

Male reader

Female reader

Gender neutral reader

POC reader

Plus sized reader

LGBT reader

Disabled reader

Platonic

Romantic

X reader

Vs. Reader

Angst

Fluff

Hurt comfort

Yandere content

Polyamory

Headcanons

Oneshots

You cannot:

Ask for NSFW

No aged-up character scenarios (usually weird)

No adult x child (reader being either)

No extreme themes (r4pe, self-harm, pedophilia, zoophilia, etc.)

Ask for over four characters

Extreme gore (unless it is referenced in the fic)

character x character

Rules for following:

You can be:

POC

Disabled

LGBT

A minor

An adult (kinda iffy)

A lady

A man

Anything inbetween

Vegan

British

Pro-palestine

French (kinda iffy)

You cannot be:

A ped0

A n4zi

Zoophile

Terf

Homophobic

Transphobic

Racist

Misogynist

RCTA (race change to another. Y’all are broke Oli London 💀)

Proshipper

Pro-Israel

antisemitic

true crime enjoyer

Zionist

Etc (will add more as time goes on)

You can ask to add characters to the list if they are not already on here!

I will be trying to get my old fanbase back, so if you see any posts that seem copied that you have seen from @mystic-bumble, please know, that was my dumbass.

Thank you so much for reading this! Please ask in my inbox! I will be posting just shortly!

Like and follow for more!!

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #tbosas x reader #thg x reader #thg incorrect quotes #x you #angst #fluff #hurt comfort #request #requirements #yandere fanfiction #poc reader #lgbt reader #headcanon #one shot #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #the pacific x reader #the pacific #am ihnmaims #ihnmaims x reader #yandere ihnmaims #ihnmaims