Teehee. Here's ficlet #2, featuring Rod in his high school days! (Still working on Holley--haven't found creative muse on her yet, but IT WILL COME I PROMISE :P)
Victim of Love
           âGeez, Redline. You asking her to marry you?â
           18-year-old Rodney Redline was viciously working on a project in one of the lesser of his favorite classes, Senior Art Class. Beside him sat George Michelin, his best friend, an orange Camaro.
           âNo,â the blue Mustang/Challenger hybrid answered his friend. âItâs for prom, man.â The blue sports car continued his work with precision. The orange car beside him rolled his eyes.
           âDanielleâs a stereotypical captain of the cheerleading team, dude. Plus, sheâs a player. Didnât you see her reject Michael the other day? You can do so much better than her,â his friend George reasoned.
           Rod made a âtskingâ sound at his friend and finally looked up from his project. âThatâs because sheâs waiting for me to ask her,â he explained as if the most obvious thing in the world. âBesides, youâre already going with BeckyâI still need a date.â
           George gave his friend a disapproving stare. âAre you even going to show me what that thing is,â the Camaro asked. Rod grinned at his buddy.
           âIâm glad you asked, my yellow friend,â the blue muscle car responded. He lifted his tire away from his project, revealing a fancy pink and blue card with purple roses on the side. On the front center in big, white cursive letters wrote âMy Beautiful Danielle, will you please do the honor of accompanying the most handsome car in school to prom?â
           George had an odd look of confusion on his face. He gave Rod a look of disbelief. âThatâs how youâre going to ask her to prom? Why donât you just boast about yourself in front of the whole school without a cheesy posterâI think youâll get the same result.â
           Rod snorted. âYouâre just jealous that Iâm going with a cheerleader and youâre going with the theatre nerd,â he reasoned. George looked offended.
           âHey bro, Iâm just being honest with you, here,â his friend explained. âPlus, Becky has been my best friend for yearsâI had to take her. Even better, sheâs actually nice. I canât say the same for Danielle. As your friend, I just donât want you to get your hopes up too high, Rod.â
           âA lesson in assumptions, brother,â Rod responded confidently. âYouâll seeâtomorrow, Iâll have a brand-new hot girlfriend and Iâll rub it in your judgmental little sunflowery face.â
           George sighed with an eye roll. âWhatever you say, man. Good luck.â With that, the two cars parted ways, Rod heading out to the football field where the cheerleaders were finishing up practice.
           Sign in tire, he made his way towards Danielle, a bright red and white Acura NSX. She was talking with her friends, when Rod came up behind her.
           Rod cleared his throat, the girls turning around towards him. âDanielle, you are the prettiest, sexiest car Iâve ever met. I have something to ask youâŚâ He held up his homemade (or rather, school-made) poster for her to see.
           Danielleâs piercing green eyes looked at the poster, then at Rod, looking him up and down with disgust.
           âUm, do I know you?â she asked in a high pitched, snooty voice. (If she had hands, picture them on her hip and one pinched in the air at an angle.)
           Rod looked taken aback. âUhâŚIâm Rod. Rod Redline? We have Calculus together?â
           Danielle looked back at her friends and started laughing, the others following suit. Rod wanted to die right then and there. Maybe George was rightâŚ
           âLook, Rob,â Danielle started, driving up closer to the disheartened blue Mustang/Challenger. He didnât even have the voice to correct her. âNewsflash, I donât go to prom with just anyoneâpurebreds like Lamborghinis or Ferraris are all I put up with, and I certainly wouldnât be seen with someone as lowly as a hybrid like you. Besides, I already have a date with the hottest guy in schoolâRicky Axler. So, maybe you should try someone more your class, like the theatre dorks or the robotics nerds, KK?â
           With that, the girls drove away laughing at Rodâs face that resembled a kicked puppy. The blue muscle car felt like an idiot with his heart ripped out. George was rightâDanielle was the world for a female dog.
           Rod drove back inside to the boyâs locker room (which was empty), and cried. He hated crying, but it just came naturally at this point. Now he didnât have anyone to go to the prom with, and he would be the only one without a date. So much for those 5+ hours of work in art class.
~The next day~
           âThat sucks, Rod,â George snarked. âDanielle doesnât deserve you, anyway. At least you have class.â
           Rod glared at his oil. âWhatever, it doesnât matter. Iâm not going, anyway.â George looked surprised and nearly choked on his own Dinoco pint.
           âWait, what? Youâre not going to senior prom? Dude, itâs like, a totally big deal! I could rig one of Beckyâs friends into going with you?â George tried to think of an alternative, but Rod shook his hood.
           âNo. I saw that The Eagles are coming to Rochester Hills the same weekend for a greatest hits concert, so Iâm going to do that instead. Iâd rather do something I like than be miserable and embarrassed somewhere I donât want to be anymore. Thanks for the gesture though, Georgeâyou and Becky have fun,â Rod explained.
           âYo, The Eagles?! Sweet! If Take it to the Limit is on there, buy me a cassette, will you?â George exclaimed excitedly. Rod grinned.
           âSure thing, man.â
~The Saturday of Prom~
           It was finally the weekend of prom, but there was no blue muscle car at the dance.
           No, Rod had purchased his solo ticket to see The Eagles at the Meadow Brook Amphitheatre. Of course, he was still a little bummed not to have a date since he wasnât at the most coveted dance of senior year, but he tried to look at the positiveâhis friends were stuck getting polished and primed for the dance, paying extreme moolah for something that would only last a few hours. Now The Eagles, that was music that could last a lifetime. At least in Rodâs opinion.
           Hotel California began its signature into, and Rod got settled into his spot, focusing on the music that he loved more than anything, humming along to the words like the other fans in the audience.
           Rod wondered what George and Becky were up to right now. Were they dancing? Talking? Drinking âpunchâ (which he figured would probably be spiked by now)? Kissing?
           What about Danielle? Were she and that stupid hunk of trunk Ricky making out yet? Rod shuddered at the thought. He barely registered to the fact that Victim of Love was playing now. Wow, had 7 minutes really gone by that fast?
                       I see a broken heart
I could be wrong but I'm not
           Geez, thought the muscle car. Why canât I get my head out of the gutter? Itâs not like Danielle was that great to begin with. Sure, she was pretty and all, and had a nice chassis, andâ
           A pearl white Mustang melted away his thoughts of the aforementioned Acura NSX. No, this Shelby Mustang was ten times hotter than that hunk of junk from before. Crap, thought Rod. Sheâs gorgeous. A few seconds later, the Mustang glanced over at the lovestruck blue hybrid. OH MY GOSH IS SHE LOOKING AT ME??
           âHey, cool concert, right?â the mustang asked the hybrid. She had intense, deep amethyst eyes. A kind smile. Shitshitshitâ
           âYâŚYeah!â Rod responded, trying to get past the love-stricken, dopey look on his face. The pearl white Mustang laughed. A glorious sound. Rod couldnât help the bubble of a laugh that escaped him.
           âIâm Shelby, by the way,â the hot Mustang introduced a minute later. She shook Rodâs tire.
           âI'm RobâIâŚI mean Rod,â Rod introduced nervously. Shelby laughed.
           âHaha, youâre funny,â she giggled. âYou here alone too? I didnât have a prom date because none of the guys at my school like the EaglesâŚâ
           Rod couldnât believe his dumb luck. âMe! Me too!â he exclaimed. âYouâŚyou wanna maybeâŚI donât know, sit together for the rest or something? Holy ChryslerâSORRY! That was really forward forget I said that. Crap. I donât know why Iâm still talking, I think Iâll shut up and just go back over here nowââ
           âIâd love to!â Shelby cried with joy. A light-up-the-world smile on her face. She was super kind and sweet. Rod just gestured over towards a more open area without so many other fans. Shelby followed, and they continued humming and singing along to the music under the starry night.
           The rest of the night, Rod completely forgot about prom, about Danielle. And pretty much every other girl heâd ever seen.
                       We're not so far apart
What kind of love have you got?
           Rod still never thought about any other girls, including Danielle (who was a drug addict in jail much to Rodâs chagrin) and never held regrets of missing his senior prom. Sure, they called it the best night of your life, which in a way, it was. He met the love of his life that night, so Rod presumed that the saying wasnât a complete lie. And here, 7 years later, a freshly hired CIA agent, Rod felt whole, especially when Shelby drove down a white-silk aisle runner towards him with that beautiful smile of hers, amethyst meeting sapphire.
                      Youâre just a victim of love
If you are looking for an emergency exit from Ukraine, Poland will open EIGHT safety points on the border with Ukraine (you will get warm food, medical help and from there you will be guided to safety) in two of our voivodeships: lubelskie and podkarpackie. It is confirmed by the Polish Secretary of State in the Chancellery of the Prime Minister, PaweĹ Szefernaker.
You break a golden rule at your place of work at the race track, an Jackson Storm happens to find you. Does he rat you out? Or have other plans?
- Possibly a Part 1 of 2? Perhaps the readers can decide the next move that's made >:3
Suggestive content, read at your own risk!
Tags/Genre: Tension, Suggestive
Pairing: Jackson Storm x f!reader
Words: 1,600+
The track had been empty for hours, the stands now barren where fans had cheered on their favorite racers not long ago, the energy of the race cars as they soared around the track, hustling close together, calls over the radio, the pure electricity⌠it was all but a memory right now. A happy memory, planted safe within the many thousands of attendees that had graced the track. But for you it was⌠wistful. Yes, you loved the adrenaline, you loved watching the racers and their techniques, their playful banter with one another and ultimately the comradery it brought. Part of you wished you could be out there, racing alongside them, having that sense of belonging to a group that was as revered as a Piston Cup racer.. To drive in the tracks of those famous before you, to find friendship in perhaps others that were just like you⌠But thatâs all it was, a wish and a daydream.
You werenât built as a racecar, you werenât destined to show the adoring fans your racing skills. Heck, you were scared stiff each time you saw a racer crash at 200mph, seeing them fly in a way a car never should, smashing into the ground, ear shattering crunches and crashes⌠even thinking of it now brought a shudder to your chassis. You blinked yourself once again from letting your mind wander, a small sigh leaving you.
Being a racer was just a fantasy, and you knew it. But staring out at that track, you were desperate to know what it felt like, just once, to be the center of all that love and adoration. You were mostly alone on a day to day basis, so it was pretty hard not to imagine what the opposite would be like. Sure, you had family members, but it just wasnât the same⌠you perhaps wanted your own family.. And to share that with someone.
There was only ever one car that had ever caught your eye, and he was so far out of reach, it was just yet another dream. Jackson Storm was one of the best racers in the lineup, and whilst the arrival of Cruz had tipped him perhaps off his game when he was more of a rookie, it had turned into a fierce but rather fun to watch rivalry. He was certainly not a rookie anymore, that was for sure. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges.. But you liked to imagine there was a dark and brooding side that was very attentive⌠lovingâŚ
Once again, you had to shake your mind to focus once more on what you were supposed to be doing. You were one of the after hours cleanup crew for the track, and whilst it wasnât the most glamorous job, it did allow you free entry to all the races, so you got a secret thrill out of it. The downside was the actual job itself.. Thousands of patrons often left an ugly mess, and it could easily take hours to clear just one section. You had spent what felt like years cleaning up packaging, spilled food and even oil spills, though each time you got to witness Jackson race.. It felt worth it.
You gazed up from your monotonous cleaning, seeing the gate to the track had been left open. It wasnât often it was left unlocked, only certain cars were allowed to be on the track itself, though you bit your lip. Venturing out onto the track was forbidden for cars in your line of work⌠and if anyone caught you, you could lose your job. This fact circled your mind over and over again, though you couldnât stop your tires from moving, it couldnât stop you from rolling onto the track with such ease. It almost felt natural, if not a little dangerous, and that in itself was⌠thrilling.
You werenât just some ordinary sedan, or some brick of a car... You had nice lines, you were smooth, and not to brag, but you were actually kinda quick. Not 200mph quick, but still.
Before you once again could stop yourself, you tore off, eating up the track within moments, your engine revving echoing off the walls, your mind filling the stadium with thousands of adoring fans, all chanting your name. You could be the best racer in your little world, and you would have all the racers attention, including his.
He passed in your vision as you raced around the corner, the breeze whistling around you, though something made your heart drop. That quick glimpse wasnât just in your imagination, you realized.
You immediately slammed on the brakes, panting as you stood in partial shock for a moment, before lifting your hood and turning on the spot, biting your lip as you gazed to the dark tents that seemed to border the edge of the inner track. At first, you saw nothing, and you began to relax, though movement quickly made you panic once more.
You watched in dismay, as the sleek dark form of your idol seemed to peel from the shadows, his smokey grey eyes watching you with an almost unimpressed gaze, his mouth practically a straight line as he watched the car that seemed to dare drive onto the track. You felt frozen in place.. Youâd never even been this close to him. Yet the moment you were, he was regarding you as if you were just an annoying bug.
The silence seemed to stretch out, as you had no explanation, nothing to defend yourself with, and his stare only made things worse.
âI.. I was just-â You tried to force from your throat, though Jackson moved again, smoothly rolling onto the track, the low rider belonging on this stretch.
âYouâre not fastâ Came the curt response, and you felt yourself wince.
âI⌠I know, I was just-â You tried once more, though he seemed disinterested once again, his eyes sweeping to something else.
âYou shouldnât be on this track. This isnât meant for cars like youâ Came the next taunt, a growl curled in his tone, and you shuddered quietly. You knew you were in trouble but there was something.. Attractive about just his voice.
âI was just leavingâ You mustered up the courage to speak, turning once more and rolling down the small slope toward the inner track, though you didnât get far before you heard his deep voice again.
âWhat makes you think Iâm just letting you drive away? You know the rules.. I can tell by your badge youâre just the cleaning crew⌠I could make sure you never see this track ever again in your lifeâ Came the threat, and it made you pause, your brake lights glowing in the darkness. You didnât want to lose this job⌠you loved being at the track. You heard his engine approach, unlike anything youâd ever heard before, causing you to flush furiously, despite you not wanting to show it.
He took your silence as a victory as he pulled up beside you, a slow smirk appearing on his face as he looked you up and down, though you kept your gaze to the floor, your hood tinted red.
âI can tell you donât want thatâ His voice turned smooth, it was somehow more of a torture than the scolding⌠you prayed your hood wouldnât betray how it tickled you.
âSo perhaps you can owe me.. Any time, any place of my choosingâ Jackson continued, the purr that escaped his voice, and it sent an unexpected shudder through your chassis once again, and you knew he had seen it.
âWhat does that mean?â You asked now, finding your voice once more, daring to look to the racecar finally, though it was a huge mistake. He was mere inches away from your side, gazing you over as if you were something to be devoured, not just another car in his way. You felt a warmth spread through you, almost as if he was in control of your body, not that you would complain howeverâŚ
âIt means whatever I say, you do itâ He rumbled, and you felt a hot flash once more, his eyes holding yours, finding you couldnât look away. He ran a tire up your side, and you had to stop yourself from uttering any sort of squeak or whimper.
âI see how I make you feel. We wouldnât want your boss to find out hm? Or then youâll be out of a job⌠and we certainly donât want thatâŚâ He purred once again, and you bit your lip quietly.
âNo..â You breathed, raising another smirk from the other.
âNo is correct.. Though Iâm finding I want this little discretion cleared up rather quickâŚso how about you stop by my trailer in 10 minutes⌠if you donât, I will find where youâve goneâ Came the rumble, another threat, and one you knew he would back up.
Within a moment, he was driving away once more and the heat left with him. You found yourself watching him leave, gazing at his lines, a larger blush creeping onto your hood. He wanted to see you.. Alone. Your mind felt a flurried mess, and you could hardly remember where you were.. Part of you toyed with the idea of perhaps not turning up, seeing if he would indeed find you, seek you out⌠perhaps he would want you that bad.
As tantalizing as that idea was, perhaps it would be better to turn up⌠though didnât boys like women that were hard to get? You shuddered quietly, your mind flicking to and fro. What would you do?
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