#Ronnie peterson imagine

[eliotheeangelis]

18, 28 and 34 for the ask!!<3

thank you anna!! <3

18. The race(s) that impressed you most?

one of my favourite races was actually spa 2008 (before all the post-race shenanigans...). honestly i had the biggest adrenoline high after that race, lewis and kimi's battle in the wet was legendary! they were so committed and the track was so treacherous, i just remember cars spinning off everywhere and the lead constantly switching between lewis and kimi. i will go to my grave mad that the the fia messed with the result afterwards mainly because it just seemed like such an insult to how good their racing was.

28. Let’s imagine that you are a F1 driver (in any era). Which team would you like to drive for and whom would you like to see as your teammate? Do you see yourself as a world champion?

ok well i would probably like to drive for lotus of course haha. i would not get on with ron dennis and mclaren, and the pressure at ferrari would give me anxiety! plus i would look good in black and gold! i am definitely NOT world champion material but i would be happy to get a few wins. I hate drama so i would like my teammate to be someone sweet like ronnie peterson. i think we'd have a good time :D

34. Do you watch any other kind of sport? Which one?

yeah i do like a lot of sports but i don't follow anything else as much as i do F1. i watch a bit of football and tennis but only the major tournaments. i really like snooker too haha, lame but i find it very relaxing and quiet and mindful to watch.

#ask game #thank yoU! #basically i want to be mario andretti

[disneyplusbgin]

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[okk--maaan]

Hi Deja, Can you entertain: thigh riding & "Is someone needy?" + Ronnie? Thank you!! xoxo 🌹

Helllooo Rosie!! (I have a couple ideas about who you might be but I’m not sure so we’re not gonna talk about it, just like we’re not going to talk about how it’s almost 6 in the morning and I don’t know how that happened). I actually think this is the first full Ronnie thing I’ve written so that’s cool! BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!!!

WC: ~1.3k

CW: cold leftovers, a nickname for RC that may have already been used in regards to Ronnie, slightly Domme RC, a lil hint of a taste of my crackhead AU, teasing, orgasm denial

It was unusual for Ronnie to stay at the station later than six o’clock. Usually by six-ten he was latching the front door and padding around the house to find you, ready for a kiss and dinner. But tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Something about a spike in weird disappearances. And a spike in paperwork along with them. He had been texting you all day about how he already missed you. Already wanted you. There may or may not have been some suggestive pictures exchanged. And they may or may not have been coming mostly from your end. But that was okay. You liked teasing him. And he loved you teasing him.

Around ten o’clock, you realize he’s not going to be home for a while still and his dinner's getting cold. Maybe you’ll bring it to him. Along with another little surprise. You click off the silly show you’re not really watching, push off the couch, and head upstairs to the bedroom. You rummage through that special drawer in your dresser, searching for his favorites. Once you find them, you slip them -- and those heels that make your ass look like really good -- on. For a second you ponder what to put over your risque get up. You very well can’t just walk around town like this but you still needed something that would give you easy access, free movement. You figure that random tan trenchcoat you have for some reason is the best option. You take it from the hanger, wrap it around your body, and tie it around your waist snuggly.

As soon as you step over the threshold with Ronnie’s to go plate, the chilly air hits you, and you think maybe bare legs wasn’t the best choice. But you’re committed to it now. You walk to your car, turn it on, crank the heat, and wait for the goosebumps to go away. On your way to the police station, you think about all the messages Ronnie had sent you over the past twelve hours. About all the dick pics. Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as you imagine him inside you. In your mouth. In your pussy. In your ass. You have to force your eyes open and your head straight forward as those thoughts flash in your mind.

You’d never hear the end of it if you got pulled over.

You’re so caught up in your own fantasies that you don’t even notice that your limbs have driven you right to the station, purely out of instinct. Snapping yourself out of your daze, you turn the engine off, gather what you brought for your husband. Oh yeah. He’s going to like what you have for him. His treats.

You push back first into the door of the little municipal building to open it. When you turn, you see him sitting there in the empty pulpit. Nose deep in manila folders and loose papers. Such a good Sheriff’s Deputy, you think to yourself. So diligent. Although maybe not the best situational awareness. He doesn’t even look up until you call his name. “Oh! Hi Pumpkin! What are you doing here?” You lift the tin foil wrapped dish for him to see. But at the same time, you walk around the little swinging door separating the reception area and his desk, and the flash of your legs is enough to instantly make him forget about the food. “Just thought I’d bring you something,” you put an infliction on the last work to match the quirk in your eyebrow. “Whatcha got there?” he points to what you’re holding, but you know what he’s really asking. “Your favorite,” you respond, playing coy. He gulps, “Mushroom ravioli?” “Mhmm,” you reply softly, savoring the way his Adam’s apple bobs and the leather of his chair’s armrests squeaks under his strained grip.

Honestly, this is probably your favorite part. Getting him all hot and needy for you. It makes you gush. The thin fabric of your panties didn’t stand a chance.

As you make your way closer to him, you can already see the long prominent outline of his growing erection. Considering how long you’ve been in the station and how hard he already is, he’s been thinking about you for a while. Getting himself worked up. You can’t break your gaze from his lap as you click click click your way across the linoleum floor. You only look up to him once your shins make contact with the seat of his chair, once you're wedged in between his wide spread legs. Even behind the lenses of his glasses, you can see the desire shimmering in his honey flecked green eyes.

You set the now irrelevant plate on his desk and whisper, “Hi.” “Hi,” he breathes as he leans forward to wrap his thick fingers around your exposed thighs. “What’s under here Pumpkin?” he asks running his hot palms up your skin, bunching up the hem of your coat. He scoots to the edge of the chair, pulls your body closer, nuzzles his face into your soft belly. “Hmm. Wouldn’t you like to know, Officer?” you retort, a devilish smile playing at your lips as your own hands come up to twist in his dark locks. He nods into you and you grip his hair, yanking with just enough force to pull his head back so he’s looking at you. His red plump lips part and a desperate strangled breath blows past them. You tsk at him as you work one of his knees between your thighs and lower your already dripping core onto his leg. “Ohh Ronnie,” you coo. “Is someone needy?” you ask, at the same time dragging your wet heat over the starchy material of his uniform pants. You nudge his rigid cock just enough for him to loose an “Uhhnn”. Just enough for his head to knock into the backrest. Just enough for his fingertips to dig further into your supple flesh. You giggle a little and ask again, “Huh? What was that baby? I didn’t hear you.” “Yes,” he huffs out. “Yes Pumpkin. I need you.” “Mmhmm. That’s what I thought,” you smirk, even though he can’t see you now that his eyes have fluttered closed. You take that as you cue to go full force. To grind down hard back and forth over his strong thigh. Your own heavy head falls back in ecstasy. You work yourself over and over and over his muscles, relishing in the sensation of them flexing against your stiff clit. Even with the barrier of your underwear, you’re sure you’re leaving a dark slick streak on the front of his trousers. He’s going to have to re-pleat these. His hands work their way up to you ass, grasping and kneading there. Your nails dig into the now sticky skin of his scalp, anchoring yourself so you can go faster faster faster.

Ronnie's head snaps up, his eyes crossed and blurry as he searches for, seeks your gaze. “Pumpkin please. Please. Ple-mmhhh-please,” he begs pleads. He feels like he could cum just from this. Just from you rubbing your cunt on him. Just from your knee occasionally brushing against his ragingly blindingly hard cock.

But just as he’s ready to hoist you up and throw you across his desk, you stop your ministrations. His eyes go wide with disappointment and shock. His breathing is erratic and you know he’s right on the edge. Good. You lean into his ear and whisper, “Now Ronnie. You didn’t think I would let you get off that easy. Did you?” You place a chaste kiss to his flushed cheek, release yourself from his grip, point to his probably cold dinner, and make your exit. “See you at home baby,” you throw over your shoulder with a sly grin.

He really hopes all the documents he filled out in a matter of two minutes are correct.

#say hi to pumpkin! #im really worried that someones already used that #btw #im talking about my monster hunter au #yall ready for tags #ronnie peterson x you #ronnie peterson/you #ronnie peterson x reader #ronnie peterson/reader #ronnie peterson reader insert #ronnie peterson fanfic #ronnie peterson imagine #ronnie peterson request #ronnie peterson smut #officer ronnie peterson #ronnie peterson #the dead dont die #adam driver #adam driver character #Anonymous

[obscure-imagines]

“you like her, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

#ron peterson #ron peterson imagine #ronnie peterson #ronnie peterson imagine #ronald peterson #ronald peterson imagine #the dead dont die #the dead dont die imagine #imagine #obscure-imagines #adam driver

[tobesoalive]

welcome

This is a place where I will store all my writings. I’ve always wanted to start a fan fiction blog so here we are! I will make a post soon about who I write for and what I'll write. Thanks for stopping by, I hope to see you again :)

#adam driver #adam driver imagine #adam sackler #adam sackler imagine #charlie barber #charlie barber imagine #clyde logan #clyde logan imagine #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman imagine #ronnie peterson #ronnie peterson imagine #paterson #paterson imagine #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #adcu #adcu community #adcu fanfiction #evan peters #evan peters imagine #tate langdon #tate langdon imagine #kit walker #kit walker imagine #kyle spencer #kyle spencer imagine #jimmy darling #jimmy darling imagine #james march

[myficrecommendations]

FLUFF

new additions added 14 Nov:

Ronnie escapes the zombie invasion and settles in the big city where he meets you

realizing he's got feelings for the reader or just a date with the reader

ANGST

Night light - PTSD. Anxiety. Therapy. Triggered episode. Night terrors. Mention of death. Bodily injury implied 

SMUT/NSFW

new additions added 14 Nov:

Ronnie summonig a Succubus

on tumblr’s algorithm and supporting content creators

on how to leave comments and what to say

#masterpost #ronnie peterson #ronnie peterson x reader #ronnie peterson imagine #fan fic rec

[ktellmeastory]

If you’re still doing ships, I’m 5’2, half japanese, love cottage/vintage cute fashion, im getting my degree in art history, I love reading and cooking and museums, I can be a little odd but I really care about the people who I’m close to (not many), I feel things very strongly and sometimes have a short temper but I’m honestly just a tiny angry frog. Love your writing! Keep up the great work!

Ronnie Peterson has lived through some really random times, so being able to love on this tiny odd ball who goes angry at the drop of a hat has really been an adventure. He likes to tease that you’re like TinkerBell...you’re so tiny you can only have one emotion at a time, and usually its rage.  He’ll usually let you rage for a few minutes until you start to tire yourself out and then he’ll kiss you until you calm down (or you get amped for a completely different reason).  Then you’ll usually cook together or head out in his little smart car for a day at your favorite museum.

#Ronnie peterson #Ronnie peterson x reader #Ronnie peterson x you #Ronnie peterson imagine #Ronnie peterson fanfic #Ronnie peterson fanfiction #Ronnie peterson/reader #Ronnie peterson/you #the dead don't die #Adam driver #asks

[glassbxttless]

Ronnie Peterson x f!Reader

Fluffmas Day 3: Baking Cookies

Word Count: 1,045

Warnings: mentions of wine

Ronnie pushes his glasses up, smiling in his Buffalo plaid pajama bottoms and worn in Greta Van Fleet t-shirt as he pulls out the milk and eggs from the refrigerator. He watches you climb on a step stool to pull out mixing bowls from the cabinet. He’s been excited all week for your baking night, a date you two had been planning together for what seems like a month.

Ronnie finds a whisk and helps you down off the stool, “what kind of cookies are we making?” He asks softly.

“I thought we’d make some sugar cookies and some gingerbread? Maybe some snickerdoodles.” You mumble and shrug as you both set everything that you’ll need out for the evening. He finds the timer and starts to preheat the oven for you as you begin to measure out ingredients. He may press his body up behind yours, press a kiss behind your ear, and wrap his arms around your body to help mix the dough up. You lean against his chest, strong and warm and everything you’ve ever imagined wanting for the rest of your life. Ronnie’s always so busy with work, you hardly ever have time to just relax together like this. You can feel the beating of his heart in his chest— beating just for you.

You throw some flour down on the counter, kneading the dough down happily. You’re guiding his hands this time, helping him knead it and roll it down flat. You’ve spent the last three days picking out cookie cutters and making icing. You’ve been wanting to spend this time with Ronnie for ages. And he’s smiling as you help him roll the dough down with the rolling pin. Your heart is bursting at the seams, especially when you watch Ronnie sneak a bit of the scraps into his mouth. He tries to cover his giggles so he doesn’t get caught, but you toss a few cookie batter scraps of your own into your mouth. “This is really good.” He smiles over at you, flour settling at the corner of his lips. You smile to yourself and nod.

“It is pretty good. We’re doing such a good job.” You tease as you place each of your cutout cookies onto a baking sheet, sliding it into the oven. Ronnie catches sight of the flour as you start the snickerdoodle batter. He may or may not have flicked a handful right down the front of the Star Wars t-shirt you’d stolen from his side of the closet. You gasp, turning to a giggling mess as you flick your own bit of flour onto his own body. Your kitchen is a mess, Ronnie is tossing flour and you’ve crushed an egg into his hair. He laughs, taking you in his arms as the timer goes off for the first batch of cutouts. You press a kiss against his lips, turning away from him to pull the baking sheet out of the oven. You place the cookies on a cooling rack, letting them cook off before you begin the extravaganza of decorating.

And you both spend the evening taking each of your cookies and decorating them as prettily as you can. You’ve made it a contest, you’ll call your parents in a few hours and ask them to pick their favorites. If it’s Ronnie’s, he picks the movie for the evening— if it’s yours, you pick the snacks. And then the gingerbread cookies are sitting in front of you ready to be decorated. You start building the house with all of the pieces you’ve baked together. Ronnie smiles, eggshells still in his hair as he delicately draws on what he hopes is the prettiest portions of icing details.

And when Ronnie wins your cookie decorating contest, he puts on the Grinch and helps you with your drinks. You both sit on the couch, curled up together under his favorite crocheted blanket. You snack on your freshly baked cookies and drink your hot cocoa. You think about substituting it for red wine instead, but Ronnie was just too excited to make it for you, special and perfect like he says. It’s a special and perfect night just right for baking cookies and drinking hot chocolate together. He lays back against the couch arm, pulling you against his chest. He adjusts his glasses and he drapes the blanket over your bodies again. “This has been such a perfect afternoon, pumpkin.” He mumbles against the top of your head, pressing gentle kiss after gentle kiss there. You nod. It has been the perfect afternoon. It’s been full of making memories with your favorite man and maybe the baked goods we’re definitely worth it too. You take a sip of the hot chocolate, Ronnie always tells you it’s better made with milk. And he’s put exactly seven mini marshmallows in the cup, a tradition he always does— adding one more for each holiday season you get to spend together. You watch his body shift, leaning up to grab one of your snickerdoodles from the platter on the coffee table. “You are really such a good baker.” He teases.

You laugh, leaning in to bite off a chunk of the cookie he had offered up to you. He owns your heart and after so many years, you still get to see him smile so wide at the thought of Christmas cookies and his special Christmas drinks. You get to watch him get so giddy during flour fights in the kitchen and you get to help him wash the eggs out of his hair after each laughing spat that you have. He smiles as he rubs your hip, humming along to The Who’s of Whoville and eating another cookie. He’s your whole world and he always will be. Nothing can ever change that, but something that makes you fall in love more every single season is the way he gets so happy to spend time with you. He feels so very lucky to be able to bake these stupidly delicious cookies and call you his partner. His heart bursts at the seams every time he remembers. The holiday season is for baking cookies with his love, and he’ll continue doing so for the next thirty years, if he’s lucky enough.

*

*

@sacklerscumrag @mrs-zimmerman @fizzywoohoo @candycanes19 @thepriceofstars @2000andwhat @mariesackler @loganluckylover @themuseic @clydesfavoritegirl @caillea @maybe-your-left @driversmutbucket @daughterofaries @cornmousequeen @mrs-kylo-ren @peachyproserpina @mrs-gucci @millenialcatlady @leatherboundbirate @jynzandtonic @paterson-blue @awkward-katiesaur @hedgy-hog @simpin_mama @thepalaceofmelanie

#glassbxttless #glassbxttless adcu #ronnie peterson x reader #officer ronnie peterson #ronnie peterson #25 days of fluffmas #tw: mentions of wine

[jynzandtonic]

[trying to calculated timezone???] I have been thinking about Officer Peterson’s absolute-giant-man-hands-paws. Can you write something spicy about his hands/fingers on the reader??? 👀

HAMSTER. Hammy. Hambone. My love. I am SO GLAD I’m not the only one who thinks about Ronnie’s big-ass paws all the time. If he’s a cinnamon roll, I think it means his hands are Bear Claws—just by logical extension. Please accept these thots. 

(cw: inappropriate usage of cookie dough, fingers in mouf)

         ... aaaand here’s this gif because jfc those hands

“It’s quality assurance testing,” Ronnie says, swiping a large chunk of cookie dough from the mixing bowl with two fingers, narrowly avoiding the path of your spatula as you fold in chocolate chips.

“I’m glad you’re so serious about maintaining the integrity of my baked goods,” you quip back, smiling as he savors the sweet treat.

“Mmmm,” he hums, “perfect. Need a second opinion, though.” He hooks his fingers into the bowl again, offering them up to you. 

You part your lips for him, sucking his fingers clean. He pushes your hips back against the kitchen counter with his own, pulling his hand from your mouth and lifting the other to the base of your skull, thumb cradling your jaw. He kisses you, hot and hungry, licking the lingering swaths of melted chocolate off your tongue.

You try to break away, but Ronnie nibbles and pulls at your lip, refusing to let you go so soon. You moan softly, giving him a little squeeze at his side.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you laugh, “I need to get these in the oven. You want the spatula?” 

He nods happily, satisfied with the consolation prize. You hand him the bowl, too, when you’ve scooped all the cookie dough onto the baking sheets, and he gets to work on cleaning up the remnants immediately.  

Ronnie admires the view as you bend over the oven to slide in the trays.

“How long do these take to bake?” he asks, licking some cookie dough off his thick digits and skimming them along the inside rim of the bowl, gathering more for you.

“Around fifteen minutes for crispy edges, chewy centers,” you say, grabbing hold of his extended wrist. You tongue up the sweetness from his knuckles to his fingertips.

His eyebrow quirks up above his glasses and he strokes over your lower lip, your jaw going slack at his touch. He gently pushes three of his fingers inside, massaging down on your tongue in soft, slow circles that make your mouth—and your pussy—sopping wet. His other hand eclipses your ass cheek, kneading and squeezing as he pulls your body flush to his.

“Hmmmm…” he considers, pressing the bulge of his hard cock against you. “Three.”

You make a muffled noise, somewhere between a moan and a question, stifled by the fullness of your mouth.

“Yeah,” Ronnie continues. “I bet I can make you cum three times before then. Time me.”

#TONIC TUESDAYS #formerly anonhamster #jyn z thots #officer ronnie peterson #ronnie thots #ronnie peterson x reader #ronnie peterson x you #ronnie peterson/reader #ronnie peterson/you #ronnie peterson imagine #ronnie peterson smut #the dead don't die #the dead don't die fanfic #adam driver character #fem reader

[a-la-rascasse]

“Where does Ronnie brake?”

In this excerpt from the book "Machina. Vol. 2" the author Pino Allievi (an Italian motorsport journalist), recalls when for the first time he witnessed the real talent (and madness) of Gilles Villeneuve.

[I translated this from an Italian article, so if there are any mistakes or what you're reading doesn't make any sense lol, I apologise in advance. <3]

“The year prior to the Dijon GP (1979), Gilles noticed a small group of people who punctually went to the most challenging turns of the GPs to see who would dare to brake late, in the beginning he nonchalantly investigated, hiding his curiosity, but one day at Zolder he gave in.

He approached us and asked me and Eugenio Zigliotto (a friend and fellow journalist) : "I saw you on the outside of the first corner... who did brake later me or Peterson?".

Why did he ask specifically about Ronnie? Well, Gilles was fully aware that at the time Peterson was a master in braking late, everybody else used to brake way earlier, without taking any risk.

After that small talk we unknowingly developed a good relationship with him and often joked about that matter, but Gilles took it very seriously.

On the eve of the Dutch GP, famous for its challenging last turn known as the "Tarzan corner" where back in the days you would've reach the turn at full speed knowing that there weren't any escape routes, during the morning before the qualifying session at Zandvoort, Gilles came to us and once again asked: "Where does Ronnie brake?" Eugenio and I looked at each other and exchanged a knowing look "10 meters farther than you..." we lied blatantly, Gilles thought about it for a moment and then replied "It seems a bit strange to me, but look closely what I'll do during qualifying this afternoon". As soon as he walked away we started laughing.

The truth was that it was Gilles who braked the farthest.

The qualifying session begun, so we rushed to the best spot where the turn was clearly visible.

After just one warm up lap, Gilles performed something we couldn't even imagine: he braked beyond every human limit, he entered the "Tarzan corner" with his Ferrari completely sideways.

The fact is that braking that late didn't benefit his lap time, it was the complete opposite, but Gilles wanted to reiterate who was the most determined driver on the grid.

At the end of the qualifying session we met him and he asked us in a challenging manner "Have you seen? And don't tell me that Ronnie brakes farther than me, because nobody beats me on that".

Finally a big smile appeared on his youthful face, he placed his index to his right temple as if he meant 'I'm carzy', well we knew.

No one mentioned his qualifying result, in that moment it didn't matter.

Gilles was like that and also the Formula 1 of his years was something else... ” 🏁

source: www.formulapassion.it

divider by swojineon

#gilles villeneuve #classic f1 #f1 #formula 1 #pure chaos

[obscure-imagines]

“do you ever think about dying?”

“no?” you laughed, turning to look at the odd cop, “do you?”

“sometimes,” he said.

“and?”

“I think I would miss you. But I’d be dead. So would I even be able to miss you? I don’t think so.” he said, talking more to himself than you. he sighed, turning to look at you, “don’t die anytime soon.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“good.”

#ronald peterson #ronald peterson imagine #ronnie peterson #ronnie peterson imagine #ron peterson #ron peterson imagine #the dead dont die #the dead dont die imagine #tddd #adam driver #imagine #obscure-imagines

[direnightshade]

Ghost Towns / Chpt. 1

The apocalypse has come to Centerville, re-animating the dead and leaving behind a trail of devastation in its wake. Having done all he can, but to no avail, Officer Ronnie Peterson remains the last one left alive. Now leaving behind the town and people he knew best, Ronnie sets off in a search for other survivors.

Warnings: Violence, Gore, General Horror Themes Template Credit: ItsPorcelain

As always, you can find this up on AO3.

Metal cuts through rotted flesh and weathered bone with ease, sending a head tumbling to the ground, teeth still gnashing hungrily while the re-animated body collapses to the ground lifeless once again. Ronnie’s lost count of how many this makes, blood splattered across his police uniform and dotting his forearm, cheek, and forehead. By some semblance of a miracle, he’d managed to make it out of the cemetery alive. He’d only wished Cliff had been so lucky.

Things were supposed to end badly, that much he knew. He just never imagined that they’d go so off script, that he’d lose everyone and be the only one to walk out of Centerville alive.

It’s a race to get back to the patrol car, and though the corpses don’t run, don’t do more than lumber about after him, Ronnie knows that he can’t spare so much as a second to slow down. If there’s one thing his training at the academy’s taught him, it’s that letting your guard down is when most officers get themselves killed, and he cannot afford that—not then, and certainly not now. His feet skid to a halt along the grass, and keeping the machete in one hand, he dips the other into his front pocket to search for the keys.

But he’s coming up empty.

Panic works its way deep into his chest, weaving around his ribs and squeezing his heart. He swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing as he does his damnedest to bite back the bile that threatens to rise up in this very moment.

It’s Cliff, he realizes. He’s got the keys.

Ronnie’s eyes snap over to where Cliff lies on the ground, and the sickening feeling only seems to get worse. It’s bad enough that he’s had to witness all of this, had to have this shitty plotline be a narrative in his own story, but now he’s got to go and swipe the keys from his former boss and leave him behind just to save his own skin.

Inhaling a deep breath, steeling himself for what he’s about to do, he rounds the front of the patrol car and heads back into the throngs of the undead. It’s a fury of metal and muscle as Ronnie cuts his way through the crowd, ignoring any and all vocalization from the undead that may serve to trick that brain of his. Could he be tricked, he wonders, now approaching Cliff who’s already beginning to show signs of re-animation. That’s how he’d ended up being the only one alive, after all. Everyone else had fallen for the various calls of loved ones roaming the cemetery. Ronnie sighs and clicks the tip of his tongue off the roof of his mouth as he looks down with such pity at the man he’d once worked for. He supposes, he thinks, that it’s good he’s got no one tethering him here in Centerville.

Wasting no more time, he grabs the keys from Cliff’s belt and darts off again, ducking and weaving and cutting his way back out of the crowd until he’s made his way back to the car. A shaky hand slips the key into the door’s lock and unlocks it before getting inside, shutting and locking the door once he does so, taking a moment to just breathe , his hand releasing the machete to drop it down onto the floorboard in front of the passenger seat.

A palm slaps to the window, the hand slowly, slowly, slowly dragging down before another joins it, and another, and another, until Ronnie’s taking the hint. He needs to move, and he needs to do so now .

He sticks the key into the ignition and revs up the engine, his foot pressing down onto the gas with as much force as he can muster, sending the car lurching forward with a mass of wet grass and mud flinging out behind the back wheels. The back of the car fishtails, and it takes Ronnie a moment, but soon enough he’s regaining control of the vehicle and speeding off down the road. His gaze flickers up to the rear view mirror, watching for a brief moment as he leaves behind what feels like the entirety of Centerville’s population behind. His heart’s pounding in his chest now, and he thinks maybe it has been ever since this all started, but he hasn’t had a chance to take a moment and just feel .

But now he’s feeling everything ; everything and nothing at all. It’s an odd sensation, he thinks, while he drives down the deserted streets of Centerville, heading closer and closer to the outskirts of the rural town. He can feel the steady, rapid thrum of his blood pumping in his veins, his heart pounding in his chest, and his muscles tense with constant awareness. And yet, as he drives away from the town, searching for some place new, he feels nothing even as he looks back into the rear view mirror. His old life is gone, and with it, the town he’d once claimed to love. But had he really? He certainly doesn’t think so, not if leaving it like this, without so much of a shred of emotion to be found is any indication.

Ronnie returns his attention to the road, only now reaching for his seat belt and drawing it across his body until he hears the familiar metallic click to alert him to the fact that it’s been secured. Click it or ticket, he thinks to himself, the absurd thought causing him to snort in amusement. The snort becomes a chuckle, and the chuckle a laugh, until he’s an utter hysterical mess. It feels good to laugh, feels really good. With everything that’s been going on, he can’t remember the last time he’s even cracked a smile. He rolls the car to another stop, figuring now, here in the darkened street on the outskirts of town, flanked by nothing but trees, that he can finally and safely have a moment to collect himself.

He reaches up with a hand, pulling his glasses away from his face just as his other hand lifts to wipe away the laughter-induced tears that have since stained his cheeks. This is an absolute nightmare, this situation he’s been dropped into, and he hates every single thing about it. He doesn’t like this, the horror and the mayhem. He’s seen enough of this kind of shit working the job that has seemingly gone to hell right along with the rest of Centerville. Of course the universe would throw him right into this scenario. What a cruel twist of fate.

Settling the glasses back onto his face, the carries onward, driving away from this town and heading towards the next. It’s goodbye Centerville, and hello Brownsville.

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

Tagging my fellow Ronnie loving friends!

@gurl-ly, @candycanes19, @mind-p0llution, @holacherrycola90, @duty-isnt-always-honour, @jyn-z-solo​

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

#Ghost Towns #Ronnie Peterson #Officer Ronnie Peterson #Ronnie #Ronnie Peterson x Reader #Officer Ronnie Peterson x Reader #Ronnie x Reader #The Dead Don't Die #cw: violence #tw: violence #cw: gore #tw: gore #cw: horror #tw: horror #cw: zombies #tw: zombies