#used to be my eye candy on race weekends | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neferaskingdom · 3 months ago

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♡ Heart Eyes? More Like Death Glares | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

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Summary: Max and Y/N continue to pretend they absolutely, totally, 100% hate each other—like, seriously, they couldn’t possibly flirt less if they tried (spoiler: they’re not trying). Lando, George, and the rest of the grid are busy stirring the pot, calling out the obvious heart-eyes energy between them, while Max and Y/N would rather crash a golf cart into a wall than admit it. Instead of confessing, they resort to their usual routine of roasting each other online, dragging anyone who dares suggest they’re into each other. But hey, if threatening to run someone over with a golf cart isn’t romance, then what is?

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A/N: someone help me I can't stop writing. and thank you everyone for all the love 😭

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Part 2 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series : Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: Y/N and Max standing side by side at a paddock event, Max smirking while Y/N sticks her tongue out at him. Max’s arm is slung casually around her shoulders.

Caption: Guess I’ve decided to tolerate him. For now. But if he says one more thing about karting from 2006, I’m breaking his arm. 😘 maxverstappen1

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

I’m more concerned about your aim with the trophies. Not the arm. 😬

↪ y/n_leclerc:

I throw trophies with purpose. You should be scared.

charles_leclerc:

Am I seeing this right? Are you two…tolerating each other? I’m disturbed.

↪ landonorris:

charles_leclerc This is either the start of a rom-com or a murder documentary. There is no in-between.

redbullracing:

Max surviving Y/N’s wrath one weekend at a time. #PrayForMax 🙏

scuderiaferrari:

Sorry, Y/N’s under our protection. 🔴

danielricciardo:

This is giving “enemies to friends to lovers” energy. Just saying. 👀

user1:

THEY’RE TOUCHING. PEOPLE. THEY. ARE. TOUCHING. 🔥🔥🔥

user2:

Y/N has him in a chokehold. This man used to talk about winning, now all he talks about is Y/N. 😂

user3:

MAX. SMILING. WHILE SHE THREATENS HIM?? SIR, DO YOU NEED HELP????

user4:

“Guess I’ve decided to tolerate him” OKAY BUT THAT’S 2024 LOVE LANGUAGE.

user5:

ARM AROUND HER SHOULDERS ARE WE JUST GONNA IGNORE THAT?

maxverstappen1 posted a photo:

📸: Max and Y/N standing in front of a karting track, Max holding a first-place trophy with a smug grin while Y/N rolls her eyes, holding second place.

Caption: She tried. #StillTheKing 🏆y/n_leclerc

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. I SWEAR. I WILL LAUNCH THAT TROPHY INTO THE STRATOSPHERE.

danielricciardo:

Max holding onto that 0.2-second win like his life depends on it. 😂

scuderiaferrari:

It’s a team sport, Y/N. We’ve got your back. 💪

↪ redbullracing:

Max doesn’t need backup, just speed. 😎

charles_leclerc:

I’ve never seen two people who love violence this much.

user6:

Y/N is gonna murder him in his sleep. You can see the murder in her eyes.

user7:

THE DRAMA. THE CHAOS. I need a live stream of this rivalry 24/7.

user8:

This man really can’t let the karting thing go, huh?

user9:

Not Max smiling like a kid who just stole candy, HELP. HE’S WHIPPED.

redbullracing tweeted:

We don't know if Max's biggest challenge this year is winning the championship or surviving Y/N's roasts.

Comments:

scuderiaferrari:

Y/N roasting Max is our favorite part of race weekends.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

I mean, I do provide quality entertainment.

↪ maxverstappen1:

Yeah, at my expense. 🙄

danielricciardo:

Max getting roasted by Y/N has become my new personality trait.

user13:

MAX FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE OUT HERE, SEND HELP.

user14:

“Surviving Y/N’s roast battles” is a bigger challenge than Charles winning Monaco. FACTS.

user15:

I swear, if Y/N roasts him into confessing his feelings, I’m DONE. 💀

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: A blurry photo of Y/N sneaking up behind Max and putting bunny ears over his head during a team meeting. Max looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

Caption: Stealth mode activated. maxverstappen1, you’re welcome. 🤡

Liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon, landonorris, and 450,786 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

You’re not as stealthy as you think, Y/N.

↪ y/n_leclerc

You were laughing, don’t even lie. 😏

redbullracing:

Max, blink twice if you need rescue.

scuderiaferrari:

We support this. 100%.

charles_leclerc:

This is becoming ridiculous. You two are like 12-year-olds at recess.

↪ landonorris:

charles_leclerc But like…flirty 12-year-olds.

user16:

The “I hate you but I’m gonna tease you all day” vibes are immaculate.

user17:

Imagine going from rivals to flirting openly on social media. Icon behavior.

user18:

Y/N’s gonna drag Max into the friend zone just to climb back out and wreck him emotionally. I’m CALLING IT.

y/n_leclerc posted a meme:

Caption: Max seeing literally anything and thinking it’s a win. Cute but tragic also hella fucking childish. 😏

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

I am a winner. I can’t help it. ��

↪ y/n_leclerc:

The only thing you win at is being a nuisance. Congrats. 👏

danielricciardo:

Y/N ROASTS MAX AND MAX JUST SMILES?? WHO GAVE THEM THIS MUCH POWER?

user22:

He’s literally simping at this point. Max, blink twice if you need help.

user23:

Not Max and Y/N roasting each other like an old married couple. Someone hold me.

user24:

I swear they’re gonna end up confessing through memes.

y/n_leclerc tweeted:

Max Verstappen? More like Max Disturben my peace. Can someone collect him before I accidentally run him over with a golf cart? 🙄

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

You wouldn’t survive without me around to entertain you.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Max, if I wanted entertainment, I’d watch Ferrari’s strategy team at work. They’re more chaotic than you.

↪ landonorris:

Wow, so now we’re dragging Ferrari and Max? This is getting spicy. 🌶️

↪ charles_leclerc:

landonorris She drags Ferrari on a daily basis. I’ve accepted it. 😤

georgerussell63:

Y/N would 100% aim for Max with a golf cart and miss, then blame it on the steering.

↪ danielricciardo:

George, don’t give her any ideas. We don’t need Max in a hospital bed because Y/N can't drive straight. 😂

scuderiaferrari:

We don’t condone violence, but if it’s Max… 👀

↪ redbullracing:

Nice try, Ferrari. Max is bulletproof.

user1:

MAX DISTURBEN OMG I CAN’T BREATHE. 💀

user2:

The fact that y/n_leclerc almost ran him over with a golf cart is PEAK romance. I love it here.

user3:

Ferrari roasting their own strategy, Y/N dragging Max, AND Lando just living for the drama? ICONIC.

danielricciardo posted a meme:

Caption: Me, 100%. Honestly, watching them trying to flirt is more entertaining than Netflix. 🤣

Liked by landonorris, georgerussell63, y/n_leclerc, and 650,420 others.

Comments:

pierregasly:

Welcome to the chaos, Danny. We have memes and bad decisions.

maxverstappen1:

Why is everyone so obsessed with this? We’re not flirting.

↪ georgerussell63:

Max, mate, your whole personality is flirting with Y/N at this point. Just own it.

↪ danielricciardo:

georgerussell63 He’s in denial. It’s kinda cute. 😇

landonorris:

This entire thing is funnier than watching Max try to figure out TikTok. 😂

user4:

NOT GEORGE SAYING MAX’S PERSONALITY IS FLIRTING LMAO. HELP, I CAN’T.

user5:

Daniel dropping the truth bombs like Ferrari drops strategy. 🔥

user6:

Max: "We’re not flirting." Also Max: keeps posting selfies with Y/N and calling it ‘winning.’ 💀

user7:

Okay but why did girly pop like this?!? y/n_leclerc explain this sus behaviour

scuderiaferrari tweeted:

Y/N’s roast game is as strong as our engines. 🔥

Comments:

redbullracing:

Your roast game might be strong, but Max still wins every race. 😎

↪ scuderiaferrari:

You can have the races, we’ll take the memes. It’s all about priorities. 💅

maxverstappen1:

Can I just drive in peace?

↪ y/n_leclerc:

You wouldn’t know peace if it hit you with a tire gun.

mclaren:

We’re just here for the memes and the chaos. Carry on. 👀

user7:

THE TEAMS GETTING INVOLVED IS SENDING ME. THIS IS NEXT LEVEL.

user8:

“Max still wins every race” OKAY RED BULL COMING IN HOT WITH THE SALT. 💀

user9:

This has turned into the F1 version of Mean Girls and I am OBSESSED.

landonorris tweeted:

At this point, Max and Y/N are flirting so aggressively that I feel like we’re all third-wheeling their relationship. It’s giving “enemies-to-lovers.”

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Lando, are you high? We’re not flirting. We’re fighting. There’s a difference. 🤨

↪ y/n_leclerc:

landonorris Excuse you?? Flirting?!? I don’t even like looking at Max. I’d rather become a papaya wearing norizz supporter. 😤

↪ mclaren:

y/n_leclerc why the sudden papaya slander?

↪ landonorris:

Sure…fighting…with heart eyes, but okay. 👀

↪ maxverstappen1:

landonorris Do I look like I have “heart eyes” to you? Lando, have you forgotten what I do for a living? I destroy things. Mainly Y/N’s patience.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Lando, blink twice if you’ve lost your mind. Max is as appealing to me as wet socks.

↪ GeorgeRussell63:

Is this fighting? It looks like denial to me. 😏

↪ y/n_leclerc:

georgerussell63 Oh, I’ll fight you next, George. Keep testing me.

↪ maxverstappen1:

Yeah, George. Do you want to die?

landonorris:

Max threatening to fight people while Y/N fake-cries. The definition of an old married couple flirting and supporting each other

↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX? FLIRT? With me?? Lando, I’ll race you backwards on a unicycle before I ever flirt with him. 🚫

↪ maxverstappen1:

landonorris The only “relationship” here is one where Y/N loses at everything. This isn’t flirting, this is winning. Learn the difference. 😎

↪ charles_leclerc:

This denial is strong. Like…Ferrari-level strong.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

charles_leclerc I WILL DELETE YOU FROM THE FAMILY. STOP THIS.

user1:

“I don’t even like looking at Max” is the funniest lie Y/N has ever told. 💀

user2:

The denial is STRONG in this one. They’re roasting everyone just to avoid the truth.

user3:

Max and Y/N: “We’re not flirting!” Also Max and Y/N: have entire conversations with heart eyes.

user4:

The way they’d rather start a fight than admit they’re into each other? ICONIC.

user5:

Y/N: “I’d rather become a papaya wearing norizz supporter.” OOF. That’s the kind of denial that needs therapy.

georgerussell63 posted a video:

🎥: George filming Y/N and Max mid-argument during a drivers’ briefing. Y/N is poking Max in the chest while Max smirks down at her.

Caption: Y/N and Max, doing what they do best: arguing like an old married couple. When’s the wedding? 💍

Liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, y/n_leclerc, and 700,432 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

GEORGE. DELETE THIS OR I’M SENDING YOU TO THE SHADOW REALM.

maxverstappen1:

You call this an argument? This is just foreplay. 😉

↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX WHAT THE— TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW.

↪ charles_leclerc:

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY

↪ landonorris:

Max, you said that way too casually. What’s going on here? 👀

↪ alex_albon:

“Foreplay”? I just dropped my phone. Max, you’re playing with fire.

↪ georgerussell63:

Oh no, this is staying up. The internet needs to see it. 😂

redbullracing:

We’re not saying this is a Red Bull-sponsored relationship…but 👀

↪ scuderiaferrari:

Can we take credit for this relationship too? We did provide Y/N, after all. ��

↪ y/n_leclerc:

THERE IS NO RELATIONSHIP HERE YOU FUCKERS

user10:

DID MAX JUST SAY FOREPLAY? I CAN’T WITH THIS MAN, OMG. 💀

user11:

George stirring the pot is chef’s kiss. THE DRAMA.

user12:

Max has been WAITING to say something like that, I know it. The tension is REAL.

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817 notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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Heyyyyy how are you? Hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself. How is medical school hope you're doing good. So I was thinking about the grid kids series and a scenario appeared in my head. So basically the baby still a toddler say a swear word and when asked who taught her that she just tell she heard that from Yuki, but in reality it was the grid kids that braided her with candy. It's just so funny to me

Grid Kids: Potty Mouth

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids help expand their sister’s vocabulary in interesting ways

Series Masterlist

It’s a lazy Saturday morning and you’re making breakfast. Your toddler daughter is happily perched on Sebastian’s lap at the kitchen island, babbling about anything and everything while he nods along seriously.

The grid kids lounge around, still half-asleep. Game night ran late, fueled by one too many Red Bulls and everyone’s chronic competitiveness.

Charles yawns loudly. “I don’t know how she has so much energy already.”

“Right?” Lando grumbles. “It should be illegal to be awake before 10 am on weekends.”

Max stumbles to the coffee maker, nearly tripping over George who’s fallen back asleep on the floor. Mick and Lance are slumped together on the couch, bleary-eyes barely open.

As you finish cooking, you turn to your daughter. “Okay sweetie, breakfast is ready!”

She grins, kicking her little legs excitedly. As Sebastian goes to lift her into the highchair, she suddenly shrieks “FUCK!”

A stunned silence descends on the room. Eight heads swivel towards the little girl, eyes wide. Sebastian and you exchange horrified looks.

“Where did you learn that word?” You ask gently.

She blinks up at you innocently. “Yuki said it!”

The grid kids practically dive over each other to appear shocked and appalled.

“Yuki? Using language like that?” George exclaims.

“How disgraceful!” Max adds. “We’ll be having a stern talking to with him about this.”

You raise an eyebrow at them.

Something seems … off.

Sebastian kneels to your daughter’s level. “Honigbienchen, are you sure Yuki said that? Not one of your brothers?”

She nods vigorously. “Yuki said it when we were playing race cars!”

The boys subtly sigh in relief.

Crisis averted.

Or so they think.

“You know, I don’t recall Yuki having a chance to play with you recently,” you say slowly.

A tense pause.

Sideways glances are exchanged.

The grid kids develop a sudden fascination with the ceiling.

“Alright boys, enough playing dumb. Who taught her the swear word?” Sebastian asks, his Dad Voice™ making them squirm.

“It was Max!”

“It was Charles!”

“It was Lando!”

“It was Lance!”

“It was George!”

“It was Mick!”

They all exclaim in unison, pointing fingers.

A fierce blame game erupts as their bickering intensifies to chaos.

“Enough!” You shout over the noise.

The six drivers fall silent, heads hanging guiltily.

You sigh, lifting your daughter into her highchair. “We’re very disappointed in all of you. You know she’s at the stage where she repeats everything she hears.”

“We’re sorry,” Mick says quietly. “We should have been more responsible.” The others nod, mumbling apologies.

“And we’re sorry we made you say it was Yuki, munchkin,” Lance adds. “We just didn’t want Mom and Dad to be mad at us.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “Lying makes it worse. But we know you didn’t mean any harm.”

“Tell you what,” you offer. “Whoever teaches her the most educational words this week is forgiven. Good, clean words only!”

The boys’ faces light up. Charles grabs a notepad and they huddle together, beginning to strategize.

You can’t help but smile.

Crisis averted.

***

What follows is a week of mayhem.

“Look Lando, it’s an AARDVARK!” George points excitedly at a cartoon aardvark in a book. “Aardvark starts with A!”

Lando nods seriously. “Aardvark. Aaaaardvark.”

Your daughter claps her little hands. “Aawdvawk!”

The boys high-five. One point for them.

Later, Max drives his toy model RB22 towards her. “Vroom vroom! This is a race car! It has DRS. Can you say drag reduction system?”

She scrunches her nose. “Dwag wedection system!”

“Nice one!” Lance whispers. Max grins, ruffling your daughter’s hair smugly.

At dinner, Charles scans his food. “Mmm, broccoli! This is BROCCOLI!” He holds up a roasted floret. “Can you try and say it?”

“Bwock-lee!” Your daughter squeals through a mouthful of the vegetable. Charles pumps his fist.

Mick doesn’t waste time and pulls out a small globe as soon as she finishes eating, pointing at a certain country. “Look! It’s Germany! That’s where Papa and I come from. Can you say Germany?”

Your daughter scrunches her face in concentration. “Ger...mummy?”

Mick chuckles, “Close enough!”

Sebastian winks at you with a smirk, “Well Mummy sure did conquer Germany, didn’t she?”

You playfully raise an eyebrow, “If by Germany you mean one particularly sexy German driver, then yes, I guess I did.” The grid kids pretend to gag.

Too bad. You’ll take the payback any way you can.

This continues for days. Meal times become vocabulary lessons, walks around the house are accompanied by exaggerated pointing at objects. Books are read with ridiculous enthusiasm, animal noises amplified.

You and Sebastian exchange amused looks as the boys vie for your daughter’s attention, each hoping to teach her the most complex word or phrase. Their efforts have become less about earning forgiveness and more about one-upping each other.

By the end of the week, her vocabulary has expanded exponentially. The boys even taught themselves some new words in the process.

As the boys argue over who should be declared the winner during dinner the following Saturday, Sebastian whistles loudly. “Enough! You all went above and beyond this week with her.”

You smile. “You’re all forgiven. And I think we can thank you for increasing her word bank more in a week than months of normal teaching.”

They cheer, exchanging pleased grins.

You lean down to your daughter’s level. “Now, can we agree no more bad words?”

She nods seriously. “No fuck!”

The room descends into chaos once again.

***

It’s race day and the paddock is hectic as usual. You and Sebastian finally relented and brought your daughter along after weeks of nonstop begging from the grid kids to have their sister on the sideline cheering for them.

As you walk through the pit lane, she squeals and points. “Max! Lando! Chawles! Lance! Mick! Geowge!”

The boys grin, waving enthusiastically as they rush to crowd around her, cooing over how big she’s gotten in the few days they haven’t seen her while she giggles and soaks up the attention.

Nearby, Yuki is chatting with his trainer. Your daughter tugs Sebastian’s hand and skips over to him. “Yuki! Hi Yuki!”

Yuki turns, smiling. “Hi, o-joh-chan! Excited for the race?”

She nods, pigtails bouncing. As Yuki leans down to chat with her, a two-way radio falls off a passing golf cart, narrowly missing his foot.

“Ah shit!” He exclaims before freezing. Your daughter’s eyes go wide. The grid kids stiffen, bracing themselves.

Yuki stares at you and Sebastian in horror, realizing his mistake. “Oops! Uh, I mean ... shoot!”

But it’s too late. A devilish grin spreads across your daughter’s face.

This is her moment.

“SHIT!” She shouts gleefully.

Yuki turns bright red as laughter erupts around him. “I am so sorry!” He sputters. “I didn’t mean to—”

Sebastian just chuckles, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we know it was an accident.”

Your daughter is thrilled with this new word she can very clearly enunciate. She spots two team principals across the paddock.

“Chwistian! Shit!” She yells. “Toto! Shiiit!”

Christian trips over his own feet. Toto turns an alarming shade of splotchy red but can’t help laughing. You and Sebastian hurry over, trying to shush her excited swearing.

The grid kids are crying with laughter. Charles is wheezing. “This is even better than I imagined!”

Max high-fives your daughter. “That’s my girl! You tell them!”

You shoot him a warning look and he gives you an innocent grin. Sebastian scoops up your still-cursing daughter, bouncing her gently. “Alright sweetie, I think that’s enough for today.”

Her lip wobbles. “But it’s fun, Papa.”

The boys are zero help, doubled over cackling. Yuki still looks mortified.

Sebastian kisses your daughter’s forehead, stifling a grin. “I know but let’s keep the excitement PG for now, okay? You can say those words when you’re a grown up too.”

You take her little hand, ready to steer her away before she can scar any more eardrums. As you walk off, she peeks over Sebastian’s shoulder and yells one last farewell.

“Bye Yuki! SHIIIT!”

2K notes · View notes

logansargeantsbabymom · 5 months ago

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Las Vegas SMAUs

Grid x Fem!Reader

A/N: I totally lied to you guys. I thought about this idea since I'm vacationing here in Vegas and I HAD to do this and post it! I also haven't posted a SMAU in a while so enjoy!

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 & F2 Masterlist

Logan Sargeant:

The club was a whirlwind of flashing lights and thumping bass. Logan Sargeant and I were relishing our rare night out, the high energy of the club contrasting sharply with the intensity of race weekends. We were at a VIP table, enjoying the night when I noticed a drunken man stumbling our way. He was clearly inebriated, his movements erratic as he navigated the crowd.

He stumbled up to our table, his eyes squinting as he focused on Logan. “Hey, bro,” he slurred loudly, drawing attention from nearby tables. “What’s with the arm candy? She’s probably just here for the perks. You know, the money and stuff.”

I tried to ignore the comment, hoping it was just drunken nonsense that would pass. Logan’s face, however, flushed with visible irritation. “Hey, man, can you keep it down?” he asked, attempting to defuse the situation with a calm but firm tone.

But the man was relentless. “Seriously,” he continued, leaning in and jabbing a finger in Logan’s direction. “She’s a trophy girlfriend. You’re the fool for thinking she actually cares about you.”

Logan’s patience snapped. He stood up abruptly, his face a mask of controlled rage. “That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the music. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The man responded with a drunken shove, which sent Logan stumbling back into the table. Logan’s anger boiled over, and he lunged forward, shoving the man back. The situation deteriorated rapidly. The drunkard, enraged, retaliated, and within moments, they were on the floor, trading blows. The club’s atmosphere shifted from lively to chaotic, with patrons crowding around and whipping out their phones to capture the scene.

The club’s security team, alerted by the uproar, rushed over. The bouncers struggled to separate the two men amidst the spilled drinks and scattered debris. I followed the commotion to a small, dimly lit back room where Logan was being held. His face was a mixture of frustration and remorse as he paced back and forth.

“I just couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you like that,” Logan said, his voice trembling with regret.

I handed over the bail money to the officer, my hands shaking slightly. “I know you were trying to defend me, but we need to be more cautious. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere more low-key.”

The officer uncuffed Logan, and we quickly exited the back room, avoiding the remaining crowd as we left the club and sought a quieter place to regroup.

Lando Norris:

The casino was abuzz with activity, the clinking of chips and murmurs of excitement filling the air. Lando Norris and I were at one of the high-stakes poker tables, deeply engrossed in the game when a rowdy guest at a nearby table began making disparaging remarks.

The man’s voice cut through the noise of the casino, slurred and obnoxious. “Hey, look at her,” he called out, his gaze locked on me. “She’s probably just here to use you. All this is just a front.”

I felt a rush of discomfort but tried to ignore him, hoping he would tire of his behavior. But he continued, his comments growing increasingly personal. “Seriously,” he said, his voice growing louder. “She’s a gold-digger. You’re just a fool if you think she’s with you for any other reason.”

Lando’s face turned a deep shade of red. His jaw clenched as he tried to control his anger. “Can you keep your mouth shut?” he snapped, but the man’s taunts only escalated. “You’re pathetic, mate,” he continued. “She’s just using you for the money.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Lando stood up abruptly. “That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the casino’s cacophony. He shoved the man, who staggered backward before lunging at Lando. The two men clashed in the middle of the casino floor, exchanging punches and grappling fiercely.

The crowd around us quickly swelled, with many pulling out their phones to record the spectacle. Chips flew, and the poker game was abruptly abandoned as patrons turned their attention to the unfolding drama. Security arrived promptly, but it took several minutes for them to separate Lando and the man, who were both covered in scratches and bruises.

I rushed to the security office, my heart pounding as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Lando Norris,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Lando, visibly shaken and with a mixture of frustration and regret on his face, looked at me. “I didn’t mean for it to get this far,” he said, rubbing his sore knuckles.

The officer uncuffed him, and I led Lando out of the casino, away from the curious onlookers and the chaos, in hopes of finding a quieter place to calm down and enjoy the rest of our evening.

Charles Leclerc:

The hotel lobby was a haven of luxury and calm, a stark contrast to the scene that was about to unfold. Charles Leclerc and I were relaxing in the plush seating area, enjoying a moment of peace after a hectic day. The tranquility was shattered when a drunk guest began making loud, derogatory comments.

“Hey, look at her,” the guest said loudly, his voice carrying across the lobby. “She’s probably just here for the perks. What a joke.”

Charles’s face tightened with irritation. I could see the anger building in his eyes. I tried to stay calm, hoping the man would back off. But the guest continued, growing bolder with each comment. “Seriously, man,” he said, leaning closer, “she’s just here for your money. You’re fooling yourself if you think she’s actually interested in you.”

Charles’s patience wore thin. “You need to stop!” he shouted, standing up with a mixture of anger and determination. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The confrontation escalated quickly. The guest shoved Charles, and Charles responded by shoving him back. The lobby, once a serene escape, was now filled with chaos as the two men clashed. Guests looked on in shock, some pulling out their phones to capture the altercation.

Security arrived promptly, intervening to separate Charles and the guest. The atmosphere was electric with excitement as the crowd buzzed with whispers and recordings. I followed them to the security office, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money.

“I’m here to bail out Charles Leclerc,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Charles looked at me with a mixture of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said, his voice filled with regret.

The officer uncuffed Charles, and I guided him out of the office. “Let’s go back to our room and try to put this behind us,” I suggested, hoping to salvage what was left of the evening.

Carlos Sainz:

The high roller suite was the epitome of luxury and relaxation, but that changed abruptly when a drunken guest began making derogatory remarks. Carlos Sainz and I were enjoying the opulent surroundings when the guest’s behavior grew increasingly obnoxious.

“Hey, look at her,” the guest slurred, his voice cutting through the suite’s refined atmosphere. “She’s probably just here for the money. What a joke.”

Carlos’s expression went from relaxed to visibly angry. “Can you keep it down?” he asked, trying to avoid a confrontation. But the guest’s comments grew more personal. “Seriously, mate,” he continued, “she’s just a trophy for you. You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Carlos’s patience snapped. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated. The guest shoved Carlos, who pushed back, and within moments, they were grappling on the floor of the luxurious suite. The suite, once a haven of elegance, was now a battleground. Security arrived, struggling to separate the two as the crowd of high-rollers looked on, many recording the scene with their phones.

I followed them to the security office, my heart pounding as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Carlos Sainz,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Carlos looked at me with a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this far,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Carlos, and I guided him out of the office. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy the rest of our night,” I suggested, hoping to salvage what was left of our evening.

Daniel Ricciardo:

The Strip was alive with its characteristic energy and noise, but that vibrancy took a turn for the worse when a drunken tourist began making crude comments about me. Daniel Ricciardo and I were strolling along the famous street, taking in the sights and sounds, when the tourist’s behavior became intolerable.

“Hey,” the tourist called out, his voice slurring. “Are you just looking for a sugar daddy?”

Daniel’s mood shifted from relaxed to visibly tense. “Please, just stop,” he said, trying to defuse the situation. But the tourist continued, growing bolder. “Seriously, mate,” he persisted, “she’s just here for the money. You’re a fool if you think she actually likes you.”

Daniel’s anger was palpable. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the tourist. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation escalated quickly. The tourist shoved Daniel, who responded by shoving him back. The confrontation turned into a physical altercation, with the two men trading blows on the sidewalk. A crowd quickly gathered, with many pulling out their phones to record the fight.

The police arrived swiftly, intervening to separate Daniel and the tourist. The crowd buzzed with excitement as the officers dealt with the situation. I made my way to the police car, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Daniel Ricciardo,” I said.

Daniel looked at me, his face a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had been.

The officer uncuffed Daniel, and I guided him away from the chaos. “Let’s get out of here and find somewhere quieter,” I suggested, hoping to end the night on a better note.

Lewis Hamilton:

The upscale bar was supposed to be a retreat from the hectic pace of Las Vegas, but that changed abruptly when a drunken guest began making disrespectful comments. Lewis Hamilton and I were enjoying our time at the bar, savoring the luxury and ambiance when the guest’s behavior took a turn.

“Hey,” he called out loudly, slurring his words. “What’s she doing with you? She’s probably just a gold-digger.”

Lewis' face tightened with anger. “Please, stop,” he said, trying to ignore the comments. But the guest didn’t relent. “Seriously,” he continued, “she’s just here for the money. You’re a fool if you think she actually likes you.”

Lewis' anger flared. “That’s enough!” he shouted, standing up with visible frustration. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated. The guest shoved Lewis, who responded by pushing back. The upscale bar, once a sanctuary of peace, turned chaotic. Security rushed in, attempting to separate the two as patrons pulled out their phones to capture the scene.

I followed Lewis to the security office, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Lewis Hamilton,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Lewis looked at me, frustration and regret evident in his eyes. “I didn’t want things to get this out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Lewis, and I guided him out of the office. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy the rest of our night,” I suggested.

Oscar Piastri:

The lively atmosphere of Fremont Street was a stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded when a drunken spectator began making crude remarks about me. Oscar Piastri and I were enjoying the vibrant street scene when the spectator’s comments grew increasingly obnoxious.

“Hey,” he yelled, his voice slurred and loud. “What’s with her? She’s probably just a gold-digger!”

Oscar’s face shifted from cheerful to furious. “Please stop,” he said, trying to avoid a confrontation. But the spectator was relentless. “Seriously,” he continued, “you’re just flaunting her around like a trophy. What a joke.”

Oscar’s anger flared. “That’s enough!” he shouted, pushing the spectator away. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The argument quickly escalated into a physical altercation. The spectator, caught off guard, retaliated, and soon they were engaged in a full-blown fight. The crowd on Fremont Street gathered around, many of them recording the commotion on their phones.

The police arrived quickly, separating Oscar and the spectator. I approached the officer, my voice steady but my heart racing. “I’m here to bail out Oscar Piastri,” I said, handing over the bail money.

Oscar looked at me, a mix of anger and regret in his eyes. “I didn’t want things to get this out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Oscar, and I took his arm as we left. “Let’s get out of here and find somewhere quieter,” I suggested, hoping to leave the chaos behind us.

George Russell:

The luxury pool party was supposed to be a highlight of our trip, but a drunk guest’s comments soon ruined the evening. George Russell and I were lounging by the pool when the guest began making loud, derogatory remarks.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice dripping with mockery. “Look at her. She’s probably just here for the free drinks and a rich boyfriend. What a cliché.”

George’s face darkened. “Can you keep it to yourself?” he asked, trying to remain calm. But the guest didn’t stop. “Seriously, mate,” he continued. “She’s just a trophy. You’re fooling yourself if you think otherwise.”

Unable to stay quiet, George stood up. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!” he shouted.

The situation escalated quickly. The guest shoved George, who pushed back, and the confrontation turned physical. Security intervened, and the party-goers began recording the drama. George was soon escorted away in handcuffs, while the crowd buzzed with excitement.

I approached the security office, my heart racing. “I’m here to bail out George Russell,” I said, handing over the bail money.

George looked at me with a mixture of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said.

The officer uncuffed him, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and try to salvage what’s left of our night,” I suggested.

Lance Stroll:

The exclusive lounge was meant to be a relaxing escape, but it turned into chaos when a disrespectful guest started making lewd comments about me. Lance Stroll and I were enjoying a quiet drink when the guest’s remarks took a turn.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said loudly, “are you just here for the rich guy? What a cliché.”

Lance’s face turned red with anger. “Please stop,” he said, trying to defuse the situation. But the guest didn’t relent. “Seriously,” he continued. “She’s probably just a gold-digger. You’re pathetic for thinking otherwise.”

Lance’s patience snapped. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The argument quickly escalated into a physical confrontation. Security arrived, separating Lance and the guest while patrons began recording the scene. Lance was handcuffed and escorted away, and the lounge buzzed with excitement.

I approached the security office, handing over the bail money with a sigh. “I’m here to bail out Lance Stroll,” I said.

Lance looked at me, clearly frustrated. “I didn’t want things to get out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Lance, and I took his arm as we left. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy the rest of our night,” I suggested.

Max Verstappen:

The luxury restaurant was meant to be a serene dining experience, but a rude patron’s comments quickly shattered the calm. Max Verstappen and I were enjoying a quiet dinner when the guest’s remarks began to pierce through the ambiance.

“Hey, look at her,” the guest said loudly, “she’s probably just here for a free meal and a rich boyfriend. How cliché.”

Max’s face turned from relaxed to enraged. “Can you keep your comments to yourself?” he asked, trying to stay calm. But the guest continued. “Seriously, man,” he sneered. “She’s just a gold-digger. What a joke.”

Max’s patience snapped. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!” he shouted, confronting the guest.

The situation quickly escalated. Max shoved the guest, who retaliated, and before long, they were grappling on the floor. Security intervened swiftly, and the restaurant’s patrons began recording the altercation. Max was soon escorted away in handcuffs, while the restaurant buzzed with excitement.

I approached the security office, my heart racing. “I’m here to bail out Max Verstappen,” I said, handing over the bail money.

Max looked at me, a mix of anger and regret in his eyes. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Max, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and enjoy the rest of our evening,” I suggested.

Pierre Gasly:

The exotic car showroom was a spectacle of luxury and opulence, but it turned chaotic when a rude guest began making derogatory comments about me. Pierre Gasly and I were admiring the cars when the guest’s remarks took a turn.

“Hey,” he said loudly, “look at her. She’s probably just here to find a rich guy. What a joke.”

Pierre’s face tightened with anger. “Can you stop?” he said, trying to ignore the comments. But the guest persisted. “Seriously,” he continued, “she’s just a gold-digger. You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Pierre’s anger flared. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated into a physical confrontation. Security intervened, and the showroom’s patrons began recording the drama. Pierre was soon escorted away in handcuffs, and the crowd buzzed with excitement.

I approached the security office, handing over the bail money with a sigh. “I’m here to bail out Pierre Gasly,” I said.

Pierre looked at me with frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Pierre, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy what’s left of our night,” I suggested.

Arthur Leclerc:

The rooftop bar was a high-end retreat with stunning views, but it took a turn for the worse when a drunk guest began making crude comments. Arthur Leclerc and I were enjoying the evening when the guest’s behavior became increasingly obnoxious.

“Hey,” the guest slurred loudly, “look at her. She’s probably just here for the free drinks and a rich boyfriend. What a cliché.”

Arthur’s patience wore thin. “Can you keep it down?” he asked, trying to defuse the situation. But the guest continued. “Seriously, man,” he persisted. “She’s just a trophy girlfriend. You’re a fool if you think she actually cares about you.”

Arthur’s anger flared. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated. The guest shoved Arthur, who retaliated, and before long, they were on the floor, grappling fiercely. The rooftop bar, once a serene escape, was now filled with chaos. Security arrived, attempting to separate the two as patrons recorded the altercation on their phones.

I followed Arthur to the security office, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Arthur Leclerc,” I said.

Arthur looked at me with a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this bad,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Arthur, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and try to enjoy what’s left of our night,” I suggested.

Paul Aron:

The high roller lounge in the casino was meant to be a luxurious experience, but it turned chaotic when a drunken guest began making derogatory remarks about me. Paul Aron and I were enjoying the exclusive atmosphere when the guest’s comments took a turn.

“Hey,” the guest slurred loudly, “look at her. She’s probably just here for the rich guy. What a cliché.”

Paul’s face turned red with anger. “Please, stop,” he said, trying to ignore the comments. But the guest didn’t relent. “Seriously, mate,” he continued. “She’s just a trophy girlfriend. You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Paul’s patience snapped. “That’s enough!” he shouted, confronting the guest. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

The situation quickly escalated. The guest shoved Paul, who retaliated, and before long, they were grappling on the floor. The high roller lounge, once a haven of luxury, was now filled with chaos. Security arrived, struggling to separate the two as patrons recorded the scene with their phones.

I followed Paul to the security office, my heart racing as I handed over the bail money. “I’m here to bail out Paul Aron,” I said.

Paul looked at me with a mix of frustration and regret. “I didn’t want things to get this out of hand,” he said.

The officer uncuffed Paul, and I guided him out. “Let’s get out of here and try to salvage the rest of our evening,” I suggested.

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

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 3 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 9 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

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minminbunny · 4 months ago

Text

Stalker X Stalker AU - Posessive Coworker! Yang Jeongin/Naive Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"Innie!" you giggled, wrapping your arms around him. Jeongin gave you a nonchalant pat on the back, even though his heart was racing within his chest. You beamed, "Guess what? I made candy over the weekend, would you like some?" you asked, biting your bottom lip. Jeongin nodded, "Sure," he said, internally waiting until you got to him when he saw you give out candy bags to the others.

"Yay, here!" you said, giving him a full bag than the tiny packets you were giving out. Jeongin didn't realise the difference when he took it, the packaging was the same, sure it was a bit full but the others must have gotten the same. You gave him a big squeeze, "I'll head back to work. See you later," you beamed, skipping away from him with a contagious smile.

Jeongin sighed, holding his chest, "Fuck, what am I going to do with them," he grumbled, hiding his face within his cubicle. You swayed your feet, drawing pretty hearts around his picture. You looked to your cubicle neighbor, "Hey, do you think Innie will ever like me?" you asked, hoping for support. "Well, he's the type to hate everyone. You might need to try a different approach," they said, ruffling your hair.

You sulked, nodding your head, "You're right I'll think of something," you said, drawing out a little plan. Jeongin felt his eyes twitch when the coworker ruffled your hair, the pen broke in his hand as he tried not to lash out. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, 'One day, I'll secure a damn collar around your neck' he thought, imagining his name etched on your pendent before he walked away.

You gulped, standing in front of a old tarot shop, "Hello?" you asked, walking in. An old lady sat with her crystal ball, "Hello, deary. I heard you're looking for a love potion," she said, rubbing the crystal ball. You gasped, "How did you know?" you asked, naive enough to believe in such fabbles.

The old lady chuckled, "I see and know all, darling. Now, this is the potion you seek. You must be the first one he sees after drinking it. Don't use more than half, or else he might turn into a feral beast," she warned, knowing the viagra content in the vial is quite high. You nodded your head, "No more than half, understood," you said, waiting for the price.

The old lady smirked, "A vial like this is priceless, I'll charge you a discounted price," she said, giving you the number. You sulked when it was half your paycheck but for Jeongin you'd do anything, "Thank you," you said, leaving the shop. Jeongin stood behind the old lady, "Quite the scam you've built here," he said, twirling his knife. The old lady froze, "Wouldn't you like you future read, young man?" she asked, trying to avoid her fate.

Jeongin pursed his lips, "No, I can't let people like you take advantage of my little doll," he said, holding the knife across the old lady's throat. "Wait, wouldn't you like to know what they purchased?" she asked, hoping that would stall him. Jeongin tilted his head, "I could care less. They can buy whatever they want. I'm a gentleman to their purchase privacy," he said, slitting the old lady's throat before she could defend herself.

Jeongin took your money and reported the crime anonymously to the police, he burned his clothes and vacuumed the floor. He then burned the contents of the vacuum and fled the scene. Jeongin sighed and slid your paycheck into your mailbox, "Seriously, a leash is needed," he grumbled, glaring at your room window.

You wore your prettiest outfit, and held your basket of cookies. After making all the normal cookies, you began to bake Jeongin's batch, you did as told pouring half when you suddenly flinched at a loud crackle of thunder. "Shit," you whispered, seeing the empty vial in your hand. You looked outside and saw no rain, "Stupid thunder," you whined, staring at the pink glittery liquid in the middle of your dry ingredients.

You sighed before smirking, "I wouldn't mind seeing Innie as a feral beast. Maybe he'd turn into a werewolf and a have a big girthy cock," you giggled, stirring the ingredients together. You bit your bottom lip, hiding the special stash within your pocket while you looked for him. Jeongin sat by his cubicle, hoping that the money he placed in your mailbox didn't get stolen.

You beamed when you saw him, "Innie, Innie. I made cookies, want some?" you asked, handing him his special batch. Jeongin gave you a subtle smile, and opened the bag, "Thank you," he said, taking a bite. The cookies were soft with a crunchy edge. Jeongin tasted a hint of chemicals but brushed it aside, thinking it's probably the glitter you used, "It's really good," he praised, biting into another cookie.

You smiled, your eyes turned into crescents from smiling so hard, "Thank you, Innie," you said, waiting for the potion to kick in. You gulped, needing to be the first one that Jeongin sees. Jeongin furrowed his eyebrows, feeling his control slipping, "What?" he whispered, looking into your eyes for answers. "Is the love potion working?" you asked, seeing Jeongin hold his chest.

Jeongin panted, feeling his cock throb under his slack, "Love potion?" he asked, groaning from the sheer sensitivity his body was in. You gulped, looking at him with a guilt and scared expression. Jeongin clenched his jaw, "Don't look at me like that; like you're afraid of me," he growled, gripping your wrist. You sniffled, tears ruining your mascara, "Are you mad?" you asked, hiccuping under his feral gaze.

Jeongin buried his face into your tummy, "Everyone else left for lunch right?" he asked, his voice deep and husky. You nodded your head, guilt filling you up, "Today's the one hour break," you sniffled, lips wobbling at the thought of upsetting Jeongin. "Good, good. One hour should be enough," he groaned, lifting you up.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"Too fast!" You sobbed, clawing the desk for any form of leverage. Jeongin groaned, pounding your little cunt with a brutal pace. His hands bruising your precious skin as he fucked you in the meeting room. Your body laid pliant, taking as much as his rough thrusts as possible. He already came twice and he was still hot and throbbing within your cunt. "Hah, hah, hhgh," you hiccuped, covering your mouth to muffle your moans.

Jeongin clenched his jaw and held your throat, "Let me hear you cry, darling. I wanted to take it slow with you but just had to be So. Fucking. Naive," he growled, thrusting harder with every word he grits. You sobbed under his thrusts, you cunt spasming from the constant pleasure buzzing through your body. Jeongin pushed his hair back and rolled his hips, "Look at you, doll. So messy, so dirty with cum," he chuckled, eyeing your makeup stained face and semen stained outfit.

You sniffled, clenching around his cock, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you whimpered, wiping your tears. Jeongin kissed your palm, "You just couldn't help yourself, doll. You're so easy to influence," he grunted, thrusting his hips. You stared at him through your tears brimmed eyes, "Just wanted Innie to love me," you sobbed, heart squeezing at the confession.

Jeongin held you close, his hips keeping their relentless pace, "Darling, I loved you from the beginning. Never once have I not love you," he rasped, nipping your ear. You sniffled, "Really?" you asked, pushing back with his thrusts. Jeongin chuckled, nosing your cheek, "Really, really," he said, kissing you softly. Your mind melted, his kisses contradicting his desperate thrusts.

You arched your back, chest pressing against his as you creamed around his shaft. Jeongin hissed at the searing warmth coating his cock and came deep within your body. You gave him a few soft pecks, "Hehe," you giggled, nuzzling his shoulder. Jeongin raised an eyebrow, "What are you giggling for?" he asked, kissing your forehead. You hugged him close, "I'm just happy you're mine," you whispered, catching your breath. Jeongin chuckled, "Me too, doll. Now let's clean up as fast as we can before they come back from break, hm?" he said, kissing your nose.

AMAB

"Too fast!" You sobbed, clawing the desk for any form of leverage. Jeongin groaned, pounding your little rim with a brutal pace. His hands bruising your precious skin as he fucked you in the meeting room. Your body laid pliant, taking as much as his rough thrusts as possible. He already came twice and he was still hot and throbbing within your hole. "Hah, hah, hhgh," you hiccuped, covering your mouth to muffle your moans.

Jeongin clenched his jaw and held your throat, "Let me hear you cry, darling. I wanted to take it slow with you but just had to be So. Fucking. Naive," he growled, thrusting harder with every word he grits. You sobbed under his thrusts, you hole spasming from the constant pleasure buzzing through your body. Jeongin pushed his hair back and rolled his hips, "Look at you, doll. So messy, so dirty with cum," he chuckled, eyeing your makeup stained face and semen stained outfit.

You arched your back, chest pressing against his as you creamed between your torsos’. Jeongin hissed at the searing grip engulfing his cock and came deep within your body. You gave him a few soft pecks, "Hehe," you giggled, nuzzling his shoulder. Jeongin raised an eyebrow, "What are you giggling for?" he asked, kissing your forehead. You hugged him close, "I'm just happy you're mine," you whispered, catching your breath. Jeongin chuckled, "Me too, doll. Now let's clean up as fast as we can before they come back from break, hm?" he said, kissing your nose.

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 7 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 2: Cotton Candy

My Masterlist

Author’s note: I imagine her to be born in 2009-ish! Requests and ideas are always welcome in my inbox!

Taglist: If you would like to be added to the taglist please comment down below for me to know!

Sebastian Vettel was standing in the paddock, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the race weekend. Everywhere he looked, mechanics and engineers were swarming around cars, making last-minute adjustments before the race. He couldn't help but feel the familiar mix of anxiety and excitement that came with every race weekend. But this time, something was different. With him was his two-year-old daughter, who was currently running around the paddock, wide-eyed and curious about everything she saw. As she ran around, she seemed to capture the attention of everyone she passed. Vettel chuckled at his daughter's antics. She was a bundle of energy, running around the paddock and exploring everything she could. Everyone around them couldn't help but smile at the sight of the little girl, whose wide eyes drank in the excitement of the race weekend. The mechanics and engineers would stop what they were doing to wave and smile at her, and some even took a moment to kneel down and say hello. Vettel couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as he watched his daughter interact with the people around her. She seemed to be completely unaware of the chaotic energy that surrounded her, and instead, was focused on her own adventures. As she ran by a group of photographers, they all stopped to take pictures of her, smiles on their faces. She seemed to find the attention exciting, and she began to pose and wave at the cameras, much to the amusement of the people around her. Vettel chuckled again as he watched his daughter ham it up for the cameras. She seemed to love the attention, and the photographers were clearly amused by her antics. After posing for a few minutes, she turned her attention to something else that had caught her eye when she spotted the drivers and team principals walking around. She tugged on her father's sleeve, pointing at one of the drivers, which was Mark and Christian.

"Papa, look!" she exclaimed, a wide smile on her face.

Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle as he looked down at his daughter. "Yes, Mein Häschen, that's Uncle Mark and Uncle Christian," he said, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Sebastian chuckled as he watched his daughter's reaction to seeing the two team principals. They both waved at her and smiled, clearly finding her adorable. Mark and Horner even bent down to say hello to her.

"Well, hello there, sweetie," he said with a grin. "Having fun exploring the paddock?"

Mein Häschen nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement. She pointed at their dark blue team gear, then at her own blue clothing. Christian and Mark chuckled at the little girl's observation. "Looks like she's trying to match our team colour," Mark said to Sebastian.

Sebastian smiled and nodded, ruffling his daughter's hair again. "Yeah, she seems to have a knack for fashion. Unlike me, of course. You know she even chose her own clothes last night.”

Mein Häschen looked up at the two people, the team driver and the principal, her gaze moving between them curiously. She seemed to be taking in every detail of their clothes and accessories. Christian noticed Mein Häschen's curious look and smiled. "I think she's sizing us up," he said, looking down at the little girl.

Mark laughed. "She's definitely a fashion enthusiast. I wouldn't be surprised if she starts critiquing our outfits soon."

Sebastian chuckled at their comments, watching as his daughter continued to examine the two.

“Papa, they dwess blue, like you and me.” she looked at him with those doe-eyes and asked.

Sebastian chuckled at his daughter's innocent observation. "That's right, Mein Häschen," he said, ruffling her hair. "Uncle Mark and Uncle Christian are wearing the same colour as us."

Christian and Mark chuckled at her remark, clearly amused by her attention to detail. "Looks like she's got quite the eye for fashion," Christian said, looking at her blue clothing.

Mark nodded in agreement. "She's definitely going to be a little fashionista, unlike her dad."

As their conversation flowed, his Mein Häschen now decided that it was time to explore the whole paddock alone, on her teeny tiny little feet, without the guidance of her father. As Mein Häschen explored the paddock, her curiosity led her to the pitlane where the different teams were busy preparing their cars for the next session. She wandered around, her little feet carrying her closer to the silver colour with a star logo garage, where she thought Uncle Michael was driving for, like when her father taught her different team colours and logos.

Mein Häschen wandered into the pitlane, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in all the activity. She spotted the distinctive silver and blue colour of the Mercedes garage, and her little mind made the connection. "Silver, star, Uncle Michael," she thought to herself. Without hesitation, she shuffled a bit further towards the garage, driven by her endless curiosity.

As she approached the garage, she could hear the sounds of pit crew mechanics working on the cars and engineers talking amongst themselves. She stopped outside the garage and looked inside, her eyes searching for a familiar face. Mein Häschen peered inside the Mercedes garage, her eyes darting around the room, searching for the familiar face she was looking for. Despite the busy atmosphere and the number of people moving around, she couldn't find Uncle Michael anywhere. Just as she was about to give up her search, she heard a deep voice behind her. "Hey there, little one. Looking for someone?" A hand reached out and tapped her gently on the shoulder. Mein Häschen turned around and found herself faced with a tall, blonde man who knelt down to her level. Mein Häschen looked up at the man who knelt down to her level. She was a bit startled by his sudden appearance, but his warm smile and friendly expression quickly put her at ease. She tilted her head to the side, her curious eyes studying him intently.

The man chuckled softly at her wide-eyed expression. "You're a curious little one, aren't you?" he said, his voice gentle. "What's your name, sweetheart?" Mein Häschen hesitated for a moment, her little mind trying to figure out if she should answer the stranger's question. But the man's friendly smile and kind voice made her feel safe, so she shyly replied in a soft voice. "Mein Häschen," she said.

The man chuckled softly, clearly amused by her name. "Ah, Mein Häschen. That's quite a unique name, I’m Nico, a friend of Uncle Michael and your dad," he said. “Papa?” she asked innocently. “Yes, Papa. And who are you looking for, sweetheart? Is it Uncle Michael you're looking for?"

Mein Häschen nodded her head eagerly, her eyes lighting up at hearing the name. "Yes, Uncle Michael," she said, her little voice filled with excitement. "I want to find Uncle Michael."

The man's smile widened at her response. "Uncle Michael, eh?" he said, his voice teasing. "Well, you're in the right place, but I'm afraid he's a bit busy at the moment."

Mein Häschen's disappointment washed across her face as Nico explained that Uncle Michael was busy at the moment. She pouted a little, her bottom lip quivering slightly. Her small hand reached up to cling to Nico's sleeve, her little fingers grasping the fabric tightly.

Nico chuckled at her reaction, his heart melting at the sight of her disappointment. He gently ruffled her hair with his free hand. "Hey, don't look so sad, sweetheart," he said. "Uncle Michael will be free soon. I promise."

Mein Häschen's little face lit up at Nico's words. Her pout faded away, replaced with a small smile. "Uncle Michael play?" she repeated, her voice filled with excitement.

Nico nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Yes, sweetheart," he said. "Uncle Michael will play with you as soon as he's free." He gently pried her little hand off his sleeve, holding it gently in his own. "But until then, I have an idea. How about you stay here and keep me company?" Mein Häschen's grip on Nico's hand tightened as he suggested that she keep him company. She looked up at him, her head tilting to the side curiously. "Company?" she repeated, her voice soft and curious.

Nico chuckled at her adorable expression. "Yes, company," he replied, his tone gentle and playful. "You know, you can help me while we wait for Uncle Michael, and once he's free, he'll play with you. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Mein Häschen's eyes widened again, her little mind processing the idea of helping Nico while they waited for Uncle Michael. Her expression shifted from curious to determined. "Help?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

Nico nodded eagerly, seeing the excitement in her expression. "Yes, sweetheart," he said. "You can help me with some small tasks while we wait. Nothing too difficult, just small things to keep us both busy."

Mein Häschen perked up, her little body bristling with excitement at the prospect of helping Nico with tasks. "Tasks?" she asked eagerly, her childish curiosity piqued.

Nico chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Yes, sweetheart," he replied, his smile widening. "Some simple tasks. Like...can you help me finish this really, really big cotton candy?"

Mein Häschen's expression turned serious as she focused on the task at hand. She looked at Nico with intense determination, her little hand reaching out to touch one of his fingers. "I can do it..." she mumbled to herself, her mind trying to transform into a cotton candy cloud already.

Nico patiently guided her to Mercedes’ hospitality to order her a cotton candy and sit there with her while she was eating the whole candy.

Mein Häschen looked up at Nico, her little face flushed with excitement and pride. A wide smile spread across her face as she realized that she had completed the task.

"I did it," she said, her voice filled with pride.

Nico smiled at her accomplishment. "You did a fantastic job," he encouraged her. "You finished it just like I asked, and you were very focused."

Mein Häschen's little face lit up even more at Nico's compliment, a hint of a giggle escaping her lips. Her cheeks flushed with pride as she realized that she had done something good.

Nico couldn't help but smile at her reaction. Her enthusiasm and happiness were infectious. He bent down to her level, his gaze meeting hers.

"You know, you did a really good job," he said quietly. "Uncle Michael will be very impressed when he sees how well you finished the whole big thing by yourself."

Mein Häschen's little chest puffed out, her pride swelling even more at Nico's words of affirmation. She looked up at him, her wide eyes shining with excitement.

Nico chuckled at her confident demeanour. He could see how much it meant to her to please Uncle Michael.

"You know what?" he said, bending down to her level. "I have an idea."

Mein Häschen looked at him with wide, curious eyes, her little mind processing his words.

Nico chuckled at her adorably curious expression. He was about to propose a plan to keep her entertained while they waited for Uncle Michael.

"Now, sweetheart," he said, his tone playful. "I have a little proposal for you. Can you keep a secret?" Mein Häschen's eyes widened even more, her natural inquisitiveness piqued. She nodded her head rapidly, her little face filled with eagerness and excitement.

Nico chuckled at her eager response. "Good," he said, a playful glint in his eye. "But before I tell you, you have to promise me one thing."

Mein Häschen's expression turned serious as she focused intently on Nico. She nodded once again, confirming her readiness and willingness to make a promise.

Nico's expression turned mock stern, a playful twinkle in his eye. "Are you absolutely sure you can keep a secret?" he asked once more, his voice taking on a comically serious tone.

Nico's serious façade broke, and he chuckled at her firm response. He ruffled her hair affectionately, his expression now filled with warmth and admiration.

"Alright then," he said, his voice regaining its playful tone. "I'll tell you my secret, but remember...you have to promise to keep it to yourself. No telling anyone, especially Uncle Michael and your Papa. Understand?"

Mein Häschen's eyes widened once again, her little mind fully engaged in the intrigue of a secret. She nodded her head vigorously, her solemn expression conveying her commitment to keeping the secret.

Nico chuckled at her eager enthusiasm. "Great," he said, satisfied with her promise. "Now listen carefully, sweetheart. Here's my secret."

Mein Häschen's impatience was almost palpable. Her little chest rose and fell with her quick, excited breaths. Her wide eyes never left Nico's face, as she waited eagerly for him to reveal his secret.

Nico chuckled at her anticipation, enjoying the suspenseful moment. He leaned in even closer to her, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "I know a way..." he paused for dramatic effect, "...to get more cotton candy." Mein Häschen's eyes widened even more if that was possible. A small gasp escaped her lips, her youthful mind processing the revelation. More cotton candy? Her excitement soared sky-high, her heart pounding with anticipation.

Nico chuckled, relishing her reaction. He knew how much she loved cotton candy, and this revelation would keep her spirits high for the rest of the evening.

"But," he continued, his voice still low and conspiratorial, "you have to promise to be...very, very quiet."

Mein Häschen's little heart raced with excitement, her small hand gripping tightly onto Nico's as they moved quietly through the paddock. Nico cast a playful glance over his shoulder at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You're doing great, sweetheart," he whispered, "Stay quiet just a little longer." And finally, when they reached the Red Bull’s hospitality, Nico finally spoke “We are here, sweetheart.”

BONUS

F1: Little Miss Vettel comes with her Dad to work on their home race, here in Nürburgring, Germany. According to our reporter, Little Miss Vettel very much enjoys treats from the hospitality.

Taglist: @tammyfortis @pear-1206 @formula1-motogpfan @gaypoetsblog @clearwolfbatrebel-blog

#sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel #f1 fic #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #fanfic #fanfiction #nico rosberg #nico rosberg x reader #nico rosberg x you

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 years ago

Text

title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever.

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool.

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges.

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in.

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router.

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message.

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis.

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely.

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath.

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once.

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does.

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time.

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach.

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering.

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are.

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied.

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.”

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door.

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this.

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting.

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you��ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one.

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps.

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside.

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out.

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.”

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts.

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask.

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house.

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies.

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally.

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town.

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds.

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning.

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall. He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin.

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks.

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest.

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex.

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims.

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee.

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside.

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him.

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side.

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @dreamingofdaddydin

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #pre outbreak!joel #enemies to lovers #hot neighbor

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puttersmile · 5 months ago

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Through the Looking Glass

Chapter 1: Carnival in Critterville

Bobby Bearhug nervously sidled up to the young dog. “Dogday you know the carnival is finally opening this weekend!”

The bright orange dog’s ears perked up at the girl’s words.

“I know and I can’t wait!” His eyes brimmed with excitement. Bobby grinned at his infectious enthusiasm.

“What if both go together? I think it would be nice to go with you.” Bobby was careful to not use the term “go out” in her proposal on purpose, she didn’t want to be so forward.

Dogday nodded. “Actually I planned to invite everyone to go together. It’ll be a big day for everyone!”

“Mhm!” The enthusiasm in Bobby’s smile faltered but she carried on. “A big day for everyone. I’m sure they’ll love it!”

Finally the weekend came and excitement was the prime word in Critterville. Everyone loved the carnival. A place where friendships and spirits could shine. The atmosphere of laughter and the scent of sweet treats, provided a perfect backdrop to bond and challenge each other in fun games. The carnival was more than just a collection of rides and attractions; it was a celebration of the critter community and the happiness they found in each other's company.

“Come ooon you guys are too slow!” Hoppy Hopscotch tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the others to catch up. Her friends faithfully trotted down the path behind her but at a much slower pace.

“Give me a break,” Bobby Bearhug used a paw to sweep non existent sweat off her brow. “Hoppy, I don’t want to be exhausted before I even get there. Just go on ahead!”

“How about a race?" Dogday picked up his pace to match Hoppy’s. "Last one there buys a cotton candy bucket!”

Hoppy’s frown flipped into a smirk. “Hah, I’ll point you out to the shop guy. He’s going to need a description by the time you get there.”

“You’re on.”

“Snooze you lose!” The little green rabbit was off in a flash, leaving a dust trail for the others to follow. Dogday giving his all just to keep up.

“Wow Dogday is getting faster.” Craftycorn complimented while Bubba sighed.

“He still doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Geeze it's not like the carnival is going anywhere.” Kickin shrugged. “It’s going to be here all summer.”

The vibrant sounds of laughter and excitement filled the air as Bobby Bearhug and her friends strolled through the bustling carnival grounds. Critters from all over the island were gathered here, mingling around vendors, rides and games. Kickin motioned towards Picky who had gotten there extra early to set up her own stall to sell caramel apples.

The smell of popcorn and cotton candy wafted through the air, mingling with the distant strains of carnival music. The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds, and the colorful tents and rides stood out like a lively patchwork quilt.

Bobby looked around with a warm smile. Her friends were just as excited as she was, each of them buzzing with anticipation for the fun activities ahead. Craftycorn, was practically bouncing on her hooves. Dogday and Hoppy were well ahead of everyone else scanning the area with eager eyes, ready for action. It seemed Dogday hadn’t bought a cotton candy bucket…yet, but Hoppy didn’t seem to care as she eyed the rides. Dogday’s glare was set squarely at the carnies, a giraffe wearing a sharp vest and hat was waving a cane at all of his prizes, daring anyone to come and try and win his game.

“Its about time you slow pokes got in here. Look at all the rides and games!” Hoppy exclaimed, she seemed ready to burst. “There’s so much to do! Even more than the last time!”

“I want the front seat on every rollercoaster!” Kickin claimed. “That is the only way to ride!”

“I’m going to test my luck at the balloon darts,” Dogday announced, rubbing his paws together with determination. “I’ve got a good feeling about today.”

“Win a big fluffy doll for me!.” Craftycorn shouted. “But I’m going straight for the Ferris wheel. I want to see the whole carnival from up high. The view would make for a great painting!”

Bubba continued to observe in silence, more reserved, then surprising everyone by showing interest in the art activity tent. He pointed his trunk in its direction. “I think I’ll check out the art tent. It seems… interesting.”

Craftycorn tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Art? Since when did you get into art, Bubba?”

Bubba shrugged, a thoughtful expression on his face before crossing his arms defiantly. “ Why wouldn’t I? It’s interesting how colors and shapes can express emotions and ideas.”

Craftycorn giggled. “Well, look at you, Bubba! Maybe some of my incredible love for creativity is rubbing off on you. Hmmm?”

The elephant’s ears turned a slight shade of pink, and he looked flustered. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he mumbled, avoiding her amused gaze.

As her friends chatted and made their plans, Bobby found herself standing a bit apart, her eyes wandering over the various attractions. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. The ferris wheel sounded nice and she could go now with Crafty, but she figured it would be best to save that for later. Maybe during the sunset. Maybe with Dogday. Ahem, but that was a distant hope. In the now, the excitement around her was contagious, but nothing seemed to call out to her.

Just as she was starting to feel a bit lost, her eyes landed on an intriguing tent at the edge of the carnival grounds. The sign above it read “Mirror Maze,” the entrance was adorned with swirling patterns and reflective surfaces that shimmered in the sunlight.

“A mirror maze? That wasn’t here the last time the carnival rolled into town.” She thought.

Curiosity tugged at her, and Bobby felt herself drawn to the tent. She took a few steps forward, her heart beating with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The idea of navigating through a maze of mirrors sounded both challenging and fun.

When she reached the entrance, Bobby noticed there was nobody attending it. The tent seemed abandoned besides a painted sign which said “FREE ADMISSION. PLEASE ENJOY”. Bobby squinted suspiciously yet there was an inviting allure. A mysterious urge compelled her to go ahead and explore.

The cool air inside was a welcome contrast to the warmth outside, and the reflective surfaces created a dazzling, almost magical effect. She could see countless versions of herself, each one leading in a different direction.

For a moment, Bobby felt a pang of uncertainty. Should she actually be here? She quickly brushed her doubts away remembering the sign outside. With a determined smile, she decided to embrace the challenge. She started forward, her eyes scanning the maze for clues and pathways.

The mirrors played tricks on her perception, making it hard to tell which way to go. She giggled at her own reflections, tall, short, thin, wide. The maze was like a puzzle, and she was determined to solve it.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and a brief moment, Bobby reached the end of the maze. She found herself in a small, secluded chamber. In the center stood a large, ornate mirror. It was grander than the others, its frame decorated with intricate designs.

Next to the mirror sat a small card. Bobby picked it up and read the words written in elegant script: "Is this the worst you?"

The question confused her. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, feeling a slight chill run down her spine. “The worst me? What is that supposed to mean?”

Being alone in the maze, with this enigmatic message, unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She hugged herself, the coolness of the maze was suddenly too much.

Bobby took a deep breath. “Oh come on! Shake it off, Bobby. This is probably just some kind of riddle.” The cryptic question was honestly baffling, as she glanced around the chamber for other clues. She was about to turn away from the mirror when suddenly her reflection moved in a way she did not. Her reflection smiled and waved at her sweetly at first, as if acknowledging her presence. Bobby’s heart skipped a beat.

The smile warped. The reflection’s eyes became hollow, dark voids that pierced into Bobby’s soul. The sweet demeanor turned sinister.

Bobby screamed, her voice echoing through the empty maze. She turned to run, panic surging through her veins. But as she did, the lights in the maze went out, plunging her into complete darkness.

Bobby felt dethatched, like floating in a void, before the lights flickered back on. She blinked, disoriented, and found herself still in the maze. The mirrors reflected her confused expression as she quickly made her way back to the entrance. Her heart pounded in her chest, the unsettling experience still fresh in her mind.

As she stepped out of the maze, she realized it was now nighttime. The carnival was eerily silent, the once lively grounds now deserted. The vibrant colors of the tents and rides were muted under the dim light of the moon. Bobby’s sense of disorientation grew as she tried to make sense of what had happened.

Confused and scared, she began to run towards home, her mind racing with questions. How long had she been in the maze? Where was everyone? Why did everything feel so wrong?

“Bobby!” a familiar voice called out.

She stopped abruptly, turning to see Dogday running towards her. Relief washed over her for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by terror when she noticed his appearance. His right ear was half missing, the remaining half covered in bandages. He looked thinner and exhausted, like a shadow running though the grayed city of tents.

“Dogday, what happened to you?” Bobby asked, her voice trembling. "Your ear is-"

“You know how dangerous it is at night,” Dogday interrupted, his voice filled with ragged concern, ignoring her question. “Where have you been? I was worried.”

Bobby’s heart ached at the sight of her friend. “I was… in the mirror maze, but then… I don’t know. Everything went dark, and when I came out, it was night.”

Dogday’s eyes widened. “The mirror maze? Bobby, you’ve been missing for hours. We thought something terrible had happened.”

“Hours?” Bobby repeated dumbly. Nothing made sense. She looked around the empty carnival grounds, the eerie silence pressing in on her. Dogday reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her attention back to him with an insistent yet timid yank.

AN: Attempting an attempt at a fanfiction. Based on @sctigthesecond 's selfish critters au. I'm using them as the basis though I might add my own ideas. I've wanted to write a fic like this for a while but yeah I'm a draw person not a write person so we'll see how well this goes. It's time for me to traumatize my Bobby girl. If I make it any farther then I'll post it on A03. Yee!

“We need to get inside. Thank the stars it isn’t raining.” Was the last thing he said before he started to pull her towards the carnival entrance and back towards the path through the forest heading for their homes.

Part 2 Here

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime au #fanfiction #bobby bearhug #dogday #smiling critters au #selfish critters au

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

Text

Playboy || PG10 {2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader Summary: Your date takes a turn when you are recognised by a Street King. Warnings: 18+ only, illegal racing, bad language, blood WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three

The week had seemed unnecessarily long but you weren’t going to admit it was because you were almost excited for Friday to arrive. It wasn’t like you to be the optimist, at least not since the break up, but you were quietly hoping Pierre could keep his word.

Work had been busy, as it always was on a Friday afternoon, but you battled through the exhaustion to finish your jobs and get home to shower and change into something nicer. With the weekend races kicking off at sundown, every driver wanted to make sure their car was running at its optimum, which meant a busy day for you. It didn’t seem to bother Pierre that dinner would be a late affair, in fact, not a lot seemed to bother him at all.

It was a refreshing change from the overbearing nature of Leo.

Your doorbell rang right on time and you laughed to yourself as you rushed to finish pulling on your boots, you clearly weren’t used to a man who showed up on time.

“Just a sec,” you called out as you grabbed your clutch, shoving your phone and wallet inside. You nearly forgot your keys but swiped them up from the kitchen table before opening the door. “Hey.”

“Hi, Beautiful.” Pierre knew your name, you had saved it on his phone for your contact, but he enjoyed seeing you battle to keep a smile off your face everytime he called you beautiful. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost. “How was your day?”

You drank in the sight of him and let your eyes linger on his features a moment longer. The dark sweater fitting snug to his body left nothing to the imagination and from the tapered narrowing of his waist you knew there would be deep v lines cutting between his hips. That was your achilles heel when it came to men, and if they knew how to handle a fast car as well as an independent woman.

It looked like he was going to be a triple threat.

“Long,” you finally answered as you stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind you. “I have earned a stiff drink.”

He grinned as he held open the building’s front door for you and you saw the candy red Ferrari parked on the street.

“Now you’re just showing off,” you whispered in awe as you traced the sleek curves of the 812 Superfast with your eyes. “She’s a thing of beauty.”

“That she is,” he said with a smirk as he watched you almost salivate over his car. “The car is pretty nice too.”

“Very slick.”

He laughed at the roll of your eyes because you weren’t quite able to hide your smile that started to grow. “Here, I’m a much prettier face for the passenger seat,” he said as he took your hand and slipped you the key.

“Seriously?” Your heart thundered at the thought of driving the powerful car and you skipped across the pavement before he could change his mind, sliding into the leather seat with a moan. “Oh my god, I’m in love.”

You could feel his eyes watching you stroke the steering wheel and his deep chuckle of amusement rolled over your skin. “I could get used to this,” he said as he buckled in. “There hasn’t been a single insult thrown at me.”

“Yet,” you reminded him as you hit the start button and felt the V12 engine come alive. “Fuck me, that is an eargasm.”

“I would have thought you got to drive nice cars all the time, considering…”

“I work with them? I only get to drive them between the parking lot and the garage. If I’m lucky the dyno’s in use and I can do a road test.”

Pierre turned down the music that started while you put the car into drive. “I kind of meant your ex.”

“Oh,” you sighed. You found it was easier to talk about while you were driving, if you weren’t distracted by the car you would have just told him to shut up. There was something about most of your concentration being on the road that you forget the emotions attached to the conversation. “Girls aren't allowed to drive with the Kings. We can build the cars and fix them but not race. They, sorry. They can build them.”

“Sounds stupid to me.”

The city of Monte-Carlo really came to life at night as the colourful lights bars and clubs bled over to the superyachts illuminating the waterfront. Everywhere you looked along the street there were cars that rivalled Pierre’s, but they were driven by ancient looking men who could never appreciate the speeds the car could go without risking a broken hip.

“Where am I going?” you asked as you pulled up to a crossroads and came to a stop. The main drinking scene was one way, restaurants the other.

“Depends on how hungry you are,” he said as he cast a lazy smile your way. “Or, you can kidnap me and take me on a joy ride? At least that’s what I'll tell the police if you get pulled over.”

You revved the engine as you took off down the third road that led to the carriageway out of the city. “I’ve never been arrested before, it sounds fun.”

You couldn’t wait to reach the city limits but as you stopped at another intersection a blacked out Nissan GTR pulled up beside you. Pierre looked confused as someone tapped on his tinted window and he looked a little concerned when you put the window down for him.

“Thought it was you, QT,” Devante snickered as he looked past Pierre, not even sparing him a glance. “Haven’t you learned your place yet? Or have you got a bitch of your own?”

“Shut the fuck up, D,” you shot back before Pierre could retort. Devante was never the most stable guy and you didn’t want Pierre’s pretty face getting ruined because he opened his mouth. “The only bitch around here is the one driving a GTR.”

“You’re not Leo’s Queen no more, Trouble,” Devante reminded you with a dark laugh. “There’s no one left to protect you.”

“She doesn’t need protection,” Pierre laughed. “I’ve seen her take down a guy without breaking a sweat.”

Devante leaned out of his window and chuckled. “And who do you think taught her?”

“I hear you finally upgraded your turbo,” you said to distract the two before they could come to blows out the car window. “A shame you still can’t drive for shit.”

“You wanna bet on that?” he asked before tossing his head back with a laugh. “Oh wait, I forgot you, don’t have shit. You can’t even put Papa’s garage up…”

“How about my car?” Pierre offered, momentarily stunning Devante into silence before he grinned at the option.

“No,” you hissed as you looked at your date. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What?” Pierre dropped a lopsided grin your way. “Don’t worry, Beautiful, I’ll pay your bail if we get arrested.”

“Last time she raced, she got dumped, hard,” Devante laughed and your fists tightened around the steering wheel. “Queen T lost her crown.”

“I fucking won though, didn’t I?” you fired at him as you changed the car out of automatic and flexed your fingers over the paddle shifts. “Conveniently forgot to share that bit, huh. I kicked Leo’s ass, in front of you and all your little friends. Me, a girl. And I’m going to kick your ass too.”

“I’ll see you at the top.”

You pulled the finger at him as you put the window up and Pierre finally looked a little concerned at the situation. “So, uh, what did we just get ourselves into?”

“There’s no we, this was all you. You should have just kept your mouth shut.”

“And let him treat you like that?” he asked incredulously. “You broke a guy's hand for touching you, but you would have just sat there and taken that insult?”

“You don’t understand, these guys live by different rules. There’s no FIA and regulations here.” You revved the engine impatiently as you waited for Devante to make the first move.

“I told you I wasn’t like them, Beautiful.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” you murmured, it would have been easier to risk his car if he was the playboy you thought he was. “I hope you have comfortable shoes in case you have a long walk back.”

“From where?”

“Dog’s Head.”

“You’re the one in heels,” he pointed out.

You could see the GTR inching forward when you looked across at Pierre to grin. “You’ll be piggybacking me.”

Devante’s patience ran out and he was ready to give in first, his car taking off to pull out and take the left turn like you thought he would. “He always takes the easy route.”

You floored the accelerator and a whoop of elation filled the car as you felt the power of it throw you back into the seat and Pierre laughed at the sound.

The D37 was a longer route to Tête de Chien but there were fewer corners, something Devante wasn’t very good at taking in his car because he didn’t like to waste time braking. You had no problem taking the zigzags of the D53 up into the mountain range, especially in the sports car with a great brake balance, so you turned right and left him to disappear in your rearview mirror.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you admitted as you locked the steering with the tight turns and climbed higher above the city. “What if I lose?”

“I like this car so I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but if you do then I think that guarantees at least two more dates.”

You laughed at the unexpected answer. “You’d really want to go out on another date.”

“I already do. I haven’t had this much fun on one…ever.” You spared a glance to see he did look rather pleased with himself. “You really know how to show this passenger princess a good time.”

“Wow, you’ve definitely had a few concussions,” you chuckled.

“Ah, beloved insults, it was only a matter of time.”

“That’s not even an insult, that’s just a statement. I’ve seen your races and some of those crashes must have left some damage.”

“Not as much as this conversation,” he teased as he clutched his chest.

You made it past the last sharp bend and pushed the car quickly through the gears as you accelerated along the relatively straight road and saw the turn off to Dog’s Head approaching. Nervousness had your palms clamming as you wondered whether you had arrived first or not. Your question was answered when another set of headlights came into view ahead as you both reached the turn off.

You veered up the road that was only a gentle curve from your end but Devante’s turn was into a hairpin and you could see him punching his steering wheel as you sped past him with a grin.

“Holy shit,” you laughed as you came to a stop at the peak and met Pierre’s eyes, pride and lust clear to see.

You were giddy as you unbuckled your seat and leaned across the centre console, meeting his lips as his hand caught the back of your neck. His fingers tightened as he pulled you closer and your lips parted with a gasp, his tongue taking the open opportunity. You were so high with the win you could have climbed right into his lap but then the back windscreen shattered and you tore away from his hold.

“Motherfucker,” you growled as you pushed the door open, rushing out to see Devante spinning his car back around in another donut to shoot more gravel at the Ferrari. Paint chipped as the stones kicked up and you yelped as one caught your cheek, your fingers coming away with blood as you touched the tender spot before Pierre reached you and pulled you safely behind his body.

“Are you alright?” he asked as Devante took off back down the mountain. If you had lost he would never have left without the Ferrari but the double standard was something you were used to. He would have never parted with his GTR.

“No, I’m pissed off.” You wanted to get in the car and chase after him, maybe run him off the road if your temper really got the better of you. Instead you looked up at Pierre so he could see the anger in your eyes, the years of resentment slipping through. “He gets away with losing nothing because he’s got a dick, it’s bullshit. No one will even know that he lost now.”

Pierre winced as he saw the cut on your cheek and used his sweater sleeve to gently wipe the blood away. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“What do you mean?” You tried not to sound so hopeful but he smiled as he caught it wrapped his arms around your waist.

He nodded his head to the front of the car. “Dash cam, Beautiful. I guess it depends on whether you are done living by their rules.”

You looked at the shattered back windscreen and the stone chips ruining the panels, a dark smile curling your lips. “Fuck their rules.”

Pierre tipped your chin back, his own lips curling up before he kissed you so hard your toes curled in your shoes as your arms draped around his neck. When he pulled back you were left breathless and saw more stars than what was already filling the night sky. “Fuck their rules,” he echoed in your ear, his breath hot on your skin and spreading even further. “Trouble’s coming their way.”

Click here for part three.

#pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine

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rosedere · 7 months ago

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Murder mountain

(Yandere Azul Ashengrotto x Afab Reader)

Modern AU

TW: Dark Content, Attempted Murder, Harassment, Non Con/Rape.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (you are here), Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Cross Posted on AO3.

Synopsis: It was simple. Azul Ashengrotto hated you. Reaching your breaking point, you decide enough is enough: you're going to kill your boss. But little do you know the dark secret your tyrant of a boss is hiding.

Part 3 Summary:

You find yourself unable to move, your plan is compromised and your boss might not be so forgiving.

*warning*

Very dark chapter ahead if you dont want to read about SA or the R word please go to the next part thankssss

Can you roll me a paper doll?

From your fall harvest

In the murder mountain

You say it's dangerous out there.

For a silly girl like me

"Azu-" you murmured trying to shake the feeling back into your limbs.

Before you could utter another word you felt azul's lips hungrily collide with your own. Trying to pullback was impossible only feeling him begin to almost taste you like candy.

Trying you hardest to push his chest off your body you nudged him with the most strength you had in your fingers.

"Azul, please let me go-" you mewled as he began to wrap his hands around the ones on his chest.

Before you could speak however, a strong clasp around your wrists was felt as he held them tightly, his expensive silver coated watch dingling off his own wrist.

“Why? Is it because it's not in your little plans?” his amber musk and lily cologne now fanning into your nostrils.

Your mask almost fell completely off.

“I knew exactly what you were planning to do the moment you came to my office alone,”

Azul looked down at you boring his crystal hues into your eyes with something dark.

Is he going to rip the mask off of me?

Is this going to be it for my plan?

Why try so hard?

You were in a trance as you stared back at him with confusion written all over your face.

"What?" You meekily whimpered

“I never knew you would be the one to sneakily plan to seduce me for a weekend to keep your position,” he suddenly, snaked his hands towards the him of your plain white t-shirt.

Your stomach and heart sank to the pits of hell.

Why me

“I don't mind indulging you; I do need a new source of stress relief.” His hands were now snaking underneath your shirt, caressing your breast that were freed from your thin bra.

"Just relax (name)"

Azul then moved his hands to lift your shirt up.

No.

You werent sure what made you do it but you were able to push him enough to completely move him out of the way getting up on unsteady feet and bolting out of the bed.

Azul laid against the footboard stunned before fixing his glasses to look for you.

Racing from the room to the front door, you shakily grabbed the wooden knob, only for it to be...

Locked

Shit.

You have at least 3 minutes to figure out how this lock works without using a key.

You remembered the door was able to open when you walked out to unpack why was it locked now?

As you violently shake the knob and stick your nails into the key opening, it doesn't work.

Damn it

You pound at it, taking your anger out at being in this predicament in the first place.

“I wouldn't try that if I were you; you act as if there isn't a key in the Guest bedroom,” Azul practically purred from the master bedroom door frame.

Whatever

You ran past Azul, who had been not moving from his spot in the door frame, only with the smug smirk he always wore as he watched you frantically run to the guest bedroom.

Instinct had you go to the wardrobe, which made you believe luck was on your side when you immediately found the key next to his car key in the bottom compartment.

You stumbled over your bag that was laying across the floor almost making you fall backwards, your arms shaking as you grabbed the two keys.

Screw this plan; he's absolutely insane.

Slam.

Click

As soon as you turn towards the sound, however....

Azul was there.

In front of the door.

Locking it.

You were face-to-face with Azul Ashengrotto.

And you knew what was unfortunately next if you didn't act fast enough.

Trying to access the situation, you remembered you had the sharp metal key in your hand.

Sizing Azul up, you realized he was way stronger than you, despite not having a weapon. The worst he could do was go for your neck, but you had an advantage with your little piece of metal hope in your hands to at least threaten him.

You tucked the key between your knuckles.

And so, raising your hand in a surrender position, you slowly tried to back yourself towards the bathroom.

“Azul.. Come on, let's just be reasonable here. You know I'm not into you like that, and neither are you,” you said slowly.

Way to be convincing

"I'm not as dumb as you think, Y/N. I know your type; you just want to play hard to get," Azul said, walking towards you, rapidly closing the space between you.

"It's okay to admit how you feel, darling; it's natural to want someone intimately," Azul said, zeroing in on you.

Unconsciously, you backed away, realizing he was

Thud

Your back hits the wardrobe.

“Let me just convince you how great of a lover I am," Azul said, almost closing the gap between you two.

No.

With as much strength as you had, you finally swung your arm in his direction before Azul could completely close the gap between you two.

You swiped at him with the key, barely missing his nose but completely knocking on his glasses.

You quickly tried to shuffle around him.

He glared back at you with aggression in his eyes.

Great, now he's angry.

Instead of giving you a window of time to run by picking his glasses off the floor, he charged at you, grabbing your arm with the key.

You struggled against him, almost being hit against the walls and nearly avoiding it.

No!

You grasped the key as hard as you possibly could, feeling your knuckles turning white as Azul grabbed at it repeatedly to disarm you.

Unfortunately, after a struggle that felt like forever, you started getting exhausted trying to fend him off from prying the key from you.

You left yourself open as you tried your best to keep your fist closed, unbeknownst to you.

He grabbed you by the hair, painfully tugging at your hair, causing you to yell in pain. You also dropped your only weapon on the ground as he threw you harshly onto the wooden bed, barely missing hitting the bedpost violently.

Trying to ignore the pain from your throbbing head, you writhed against his hand that was pulling your hair up, clawing and scratching at him, hoping it'd hurt enough to be let go of.

Azul then finishes closing the gap and straddles you from above on the bed.

“I didn't know you were this feisty behind that little submissive facade you have on you,” he said, violently pulling you up by the hair.

You screamed so loudly that you swore this was it for your hair, at least with how hard his grip was on your delicate head.

Not wanting to let him win you fought harder, even if it meant having patches of hair gone for a few months.

Wincing from the continuous painful yanks to your hair you shot your arms at his chest, which was directly in front of you, trying to reach for his neck.

Assuming even if you couldn't get your hands around him, he'd at least let go of your hair and focus on trying to get your small hands off his windpipe.

But you didn't get a chance, as he threw you down by the hair back on the bed so hard that, before being able to react, he pinned you against him with his knee and free arm.

With a defeated yelp, you tried to struggle once again and loosen his vice grip on your small hands, but it didn't do much.

Now being able to see his face was even more terrifying than the previous times you'd seen him in the office or on magazines and talk shows.

Being face-to-face with the monster, you could really see the man behind his angelic eyes.

His face was twisted in a sadistic smile that was different from the ones you'd see when he terrorized you.

How could someone so pleasant to the eye be so ugly?

Well

There's only one thing you haven't tried.

You closed your eyes and gathered as much saliva as you had in your mouth. With a quick closed-mouth motion

You spat straight into his eye.

Surprising Azul, it seemingly stops him for a moment, closing his eye and reaching a hand up to this saliva-coated eye.

But when he opened his eye,

All you could see on his face was

Rage.

“You little bitch,” he screamed at you.

He throws you down once more, being at his mercy, pinning you against the headboard, and in one swift motion, you could only gasp as you realized what he was going to do to you.

Azul then sucker-punches you so hard that you swear you see stars.

Shit.

You were positive that you had to be dead.

On this mountaintop, hidden off the beaten path,

No family or friends even knew you were missing.

Nor was your boss the one who took your life.

At least that's what you thought until you felt your eyes flutter open.

You didn't realize the punch had knocked you out or how long you've been out since the altercation.

All you could see was the wooden paneling on the ceiling. At least being aware you were still in the master bedroom gave you relief.

You tried getting up, but you were straight up unable to.

And you were cold.

Too cold..

You moved your fingers.

Good, at least you had control of your fingers.

But your arms…

You tried moving your head, but you just felt pain.

You were so certain you at least had a bruise on that side of your face.

He hit you well enough, but at least you lived.

"Oh, I hear some movement. Are you finally ready to behave?” Azul's voice chimed from somewhere in the room.

You still couldn't see him, but you could hear his footsteps getting closer to the bed.

You violently stirred, hoping you could move your arms before he got there.

Step

"I'm sorry, dear. I had to do this to prevent you from hurting me, but if you show me you'll cooperate, I might just untie your legs,” he said now, clearly in view, looking down at you with a manic glint in his eye.

"Please, Azul, what do you want from me? I'll do anything! I'm sorry, I'm scared to die,” you pleaded, trying to shift your body away from him.

“Anything is a dangerous word, isn't it? Don't say it unless you mean it,” he said, sitting next to your body in the bed before taking a finger to gently rub your abdomen in a soothing motion.

A chill went down your spine from the realization you came to as he idly traced patterns into your sensitive stomach with his index finger.

It was cold because you were naked.

"Where are my clothes?" You cried out.

“Come on, there has to be more women at work and in public you can do this with? Let's just think this through. If you let me go now, I won't tell another soul what happened here." You began trying to plead to convince him to change his mind, but when you glanced at your tormentor's face, your heart sank as you felt tears well up in your eyes.

All you saw was darkness swirling inside his soul.

He didn't care at all what you had to say.

He had already been set on what he was about to do to you.

He wanted you.

And he was going to have you, whether you wanted him or not.

The mask fell.

For good this time.

You finally started to wail and sob.

You could feel yourself shaking in fear and crying.

This wasn't good at all.

He was going to torture you and kill you, and he wasn't going to listen to your pleas at all.

You'd never cried this hard before, and you felt like this was the end your body had been warning you about all morning.

Never see your family and friends again.

Or him…

With your eyes still closed as fat tears fell from your face, and between all the hyperventilating breathes you took, you felt A pair of lips ghosting against your cheek before eventually feeling a warm peck as your tear's stream down your face.

Azul was kissing you.

It was gentle, and you'd dare say it was comforting if it were from anyone else.

“Shh, just let me take care of you; it won't be that bad. Just relax, sweetheart," Azul cooed near your ear.

You couldn't stop sobbing but eventually tried to calm your shaking body.

He gave a few more tender kisses on your face as your tears silently cascaded down your cheeks.

Eventually, you opened your eyes to be greeted by Azul over you, still giving you endless kisses on your face.

Then you could see him lift your bound arms above your head.

He wasn't lying; they both were secured using clear zip ties you'd seen around the office.

Even if you could run out of the room, you'd never be able to get far without cutting them completely off.

You felt him creep onto the mattress so you could see him over you, and now you could feel the pressure from where he was tightening your arms to the bed posts on either side of the queen-sized bed.

You felt hopeless.

Azul then turned himself around, and you felt a relief in the pressure on your bound ankles.

Weird how honest he was about bounding you.

At least he was untying my legs.

He returned to your field of vision and, immediately after caressing your face with his hands, laid a soft kiss on your lips.

You'd never been kissed before, let alone even had sex before. But you knew this wasn't the person you wanted to do this with.

After some time, this kiss became more feverish and hungry. As his lips kept clashing against yours for what felt like hours, he parted first from the kiss, leaving a string of saliva attached to your lips.

"God, how have I been waiting to taste you for so long? You definitely did not disappoint," he said in the most lustful tone you'd heard from him.

"Azul, please, I've never done this before,” you pleaded once more with him. This time, you mustered the most heartbroken expression you could at him.

Your hope was maybe to coax some kind of guilt out of him.

But it wasn't working at all.

He put his hands around your face and looked deep into them.

"Well, I promise to make this the most unforgettable experience ever."

Notes: aha sorry for the cut off again but the word count was too long so the next part will contain the drama and action <3

#yandere twst #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere x you #azul ashengrotto x yuu #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere x reader #reader insert #dark fic

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danielriccixrdo · 2 years ago

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“Is that my hoodie?”

Max Verstappen x female!driver

You finally finished unpacking. You brought a lot of things with you to Monaco.

“Did you finish?” you hear that voice coming from the door frame. It’s a voice you’ve known your whole life. It’s Max Verstappen, your best friend. You two have been best friends since you were in diapers. The 3-year difference never mattered for you since you always did everything together. He was your biggest fan, and you were his. You supported each other every step of the way. Since karting to now F1. You were with him when he won both his championships and it was only logical that you would move in with him in Monaco for your debut in F1. Specially because you were his new teammate.

“Yup. Just finished” you respond and lay in your bed.

“Shall we eat something?” he asks cheerfully, laying next to you and hugging you tightly.

“Sure, but you’re squeezing me” you complain. He shrugs without letting go.

“So, burgers and milkshakes from that place you like?” he asks. You just nod and surrender to his embrace.

Max was always sweet and thoughtful with you. He always remembered your favourite food, your favourite candy, favourite places… everything. And you loved that about him. You also treated him specially. You weren’t a particularly physical person. You didn’t like hugs very much, but with Max it was different. If he wanted a hug or a cuddle you were in to comfort your lion. Yup, you gave him the nickname when you were kids.

——————

Some weeks have passed since you moved in. You had adopted a golden retriever puppy called Simba, who travelled with you because he was your baby, and you couldn’t leave him.

Your first F1 race weekend was over. You had survived and scored some very good points, while proving that you didn’t get that seat just because you were Max’s best friend, as some people were saying.

Unlike Simba, who was very energetic after sleeping almost through the entire flight, you and Max were exhausted. So, you went for a shower while Max ordered something for dinner.

When you come downstairs you find Max sleeping on the couch, hugging Simba. Simba notices you and leaves Max, who complains about the furry baby’s absence, on the couch, and runs towards you. You pick him up when you hear the doorbell ring.

“I’ll get that” says Max with his hot sleepy voice (which you secretly loved) and gets up to go open the door.

You settle everything and sit for dinner. Halfway through you catch him staring, almost drooling over you, all lost in his thoughts.

“A penny for your thoughts” you say, chuckling. He looks at you very confused because he wasn’t paying attention.

“what’s wrong?” you finally ask.

“Nothing” he says, not really wanting to share his thoughts. “Is that my hoodie?” He changes the subject, looking at you with adoration.

“Maybe” you chuckle innocently expecting to make him smile and to avoid being told off for stealing his clothing. It works.

“It looks better on you” he smiles in a special way. In a way you have never seen before. It is nice, though. He has a cute sparkle in his eyes.

After dinner you guys go cuddle on the couch. Of course, Simba cuddles with you because he’s a baby. You catch Max staring once again.

“Enough! Tell me what’s wrong” you confront him using a more serious tone this time.

“You’re gorgeous” he says without taking his eyes off if you.

“Thanks?” you look at him a bit confused.

“I love you” he says, still staring, slowly leaning forward.

“I love you too, but what is this about?” you ask. He just leans forward and kisses you softly. You are a bit shocked at first. Your best friend is kissing you. It is something you have always wanted, and it is finally happening. So, you let yourself go and put you arms around his neck.

“I love you” he repeats without pulling away from you. “Would you like to be my girlfriend?” he asks softly. You look at him in awe. You had been waiting your whole life for him to say these words and now he was finally saying them.

“Yes Maxi, I do want to be your girlfriend. I love you” you finally answer to his question, and he kisses you again, pulling you even closer.

“Now you can steal all the hoodies you want” he smiles.

“I already do that” you laugh and melt into his embrace.

#f1 imagine #f1 fluff #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #Max Verstappen x reader!driver #best friend

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silvervioletvalentine · 2 years ago

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🏑!American boy! 🏑

Pairing: Quinn hughes x OC F1 driver Cherrie Valentine

Word count: 11k

Summary: in which she swears she’ll never be as stupid as her brother and fall in love in America when her whole life is back in Monaco.

Or ; the week of falling in love.

Warnings- fluff. Cherrie a bit of a drama queen, rich bitch? A bit of crapping on backward caps and america? I don’t even know. Mostly fluff I think . Cute shit ya know.

A/N -okay I know this is like, a world away from my usual f1 driver fics but I’ve been having writers block then I watched a hockey game and remembered the huge crush I used to have on Quinn. Apparently it’s not gone so. Wrote this. I don’t know. First nhl oneshot… soooo, kinda a small glimpse I guess. Might write more for Quinn maybe. Anyways. Let me know what u think xoxo

The scowl could not be wiped from Cherries face as she stared down her brother , who was laying casually against the couch snacking on candy like he wasn't the one that had pleaded for her to be here like a cry baby.

The French woman couldn't believe the nerve her brother had to drag her from beautiful , warm and luxurious monaco and have her travel all the way to... Vancouver . Only to greet her with a casual 'hey' and a head nod like he hasn't went nearly six months without seeing his sister.

"I can't believe this." Her accent was thicker than his was, seeing as her brother had been living in America for a couple of years now. Travelling around like a wayyard hippy , sending her selfies every weekend of some new destination.

She was happy for him. He had spent months of the year flying out to her races and staying back in Monaco with her too. Up until this year when her brother had declared himself in love and suddenly wanting to settle down. In Vancouver. She just couldn't believe it.

She was feeling more than a little annoyed and bitter about his sudden decisions. Certain that he wasn't thinking this through properly , having always thought that her brother would end up living somewhere a little closer to her.. at least within france. That had been the plan. But now some American girl had apparently bewitched her lovesick brother and now he didn't want to leave at all.

Instead he was making her fly all the way out here to a place she did not want to be in. At all.

Cherrie was Monaco. She was Milan. She was Paris. She was €3000 white jeans and dainty diamonds, she liked the high life. Just like her French mother who was also having a crisis at the thought of her son settling down in America of all places. Something that Cherrie and her mother liked to rant about at brunch in Monaco , a far cry from the life that Leon was living here.

She kind of wanted to cry. Kind of wanted to drag him back home with her too. She missed her brother and she didn't want him to be so far away.

So she couldn't help but be a little upset . And a little pissy with his decisions , even if he was happy. She wasn't. And she liked things her own way. No way else.

"Why would you want to stay here leon? This is like-this is like a -" she didn't even have words for it as she glanced around the boring mans apartment that looked like teenage boys lived in it. Messy and bland, no taste at all.

She wanted to be sick. "Nightmare! You're turning into a fratboy like on those shows! You're even-" she swallowed in disgust as she stared in horror at her brothers head. "-you're wearing a cap backwards!" She couldn't believe it.

What had happened to her linen pant wearing brother who wouldn't be seen dead without his fancy shirts and Rolex?

He was lounging on the couch in grey joggers, a jersey and backwards cap! Cherrie thought she was going to be sick. Maman was going to have a stroke!

Leon just rolled his eyes at his sisters dramatics, used to het snobby and judging behaviour by now. She never did like anything unless it was done her way. But he loved her none the less. Hence why he had wanted her to come visit him so badly, wanted to show her that it wasn't so bad here.

That it could be home. In more ways than one.

"Don't be so ridiculous. This is the style here. I look cool." He told her matter of factly , always happy to fit in. "Would you just relax?" He exclaimed.

She shot him a look "relax?" She scoffed , eyeing him judgmentally. "You're living like a fratboy in America! Poor maman is having a crisis! She thinks this is a cry for help!" She shot back at him , unimpressed as she glanced around his apartment "I'm starting to think she's right! You've traded Monaco for Vancouver! Who would do this?!" She just didn't get it.

Her brother merely sighed and told her "a man in love would. Sarah is the love of my life Cherrie. She makes this place feel like home." With a lovesick smile on his face, unashamed . Not bothered by the disgusted look he was receiving from his sister.

She was cringing , horrified . "Love? Love couldn't keep me here. This is insane! Nobody is worth this!"

Leon rolled his eyes again "what do you know? You've never been in love but one day you will be and you'll get it then." He tried convincing her. Unable to wait for the day that she understood.

He just hoped that it was soon. His sister was far too cold and cynical recently . Her life was racing, champion and Diamonds. No time for love apparently. He just wanted her to be happy , to have a taste of what it felt like to not need anything but the embrace of your partner to feel happiness. It was a special feeling.

Cherrie just wasn't having it. Too stubborn to take him seriously . "I would never live in America for a guy. I'll fall in love with a Frenchman if anything. Much easier." She muttered unimpressed with him as she clutched her purse to her, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. No doubt her new friends for the night asking where she was. Having planned to get some drinks and have some fun.

Leon just smirked a little, looking at her confidently. "I bet you that you'll grow to love it here. There's just something about it.." he sighed happily "I promise you. By the end of the week you won't want to leave." He told her.

Cherrie couldn't have laughed any louder if she tried. "Ha! I don't think so! But whatever.. are you coming with me?" She had mentioned her clubbing plans to him earlier. Wanting to party so it felt still a little like home.

Unfortunately leon shook his head "I can't. I'm having beers with the guys . They’re coming over and we're gonna watch the game..." he trailed off once he noticed her disbelieving look. "What?"

She just couldn't believe it "you’re turning too American! Are you trying to hurt my and mamans heart leon? Because you're breaking them!" She dramatically let him know. Upset that so much was changing lately. She hated it.

Leon just snorted, used to her guilt tripping behaviour. It had no affect on him whatsoever. She was a drama queen. Always had been and always would be.

"Shut up." He groaned "and the guys are really nice alright? So I want you to be.." he looked at her seriously.

She just looked at her brother with a confused frown, not understanding him. Hating that she was sounding more French than he did. Hating that his accent was fading so quickly. Hating it all.

"To be what? I'm not talking to them. They're your friends not mine!" She was quick to let him know. Wanting no part in it.

Leon looked at her in disbelief "you have to talk to them for that exact reason Cher! Plus they've been asking about you. They're big fans!" He told her with a grin. Amused by the way his sister managed to capture everyone's attention even when she wasn't even there.

It didn't help that he bragged about her every chance he got. He was very proud of her. He made sure everyone knew what a legend she was. Always. Including his new friends who couldn't believe that his sister was THE Cherrie Valentine. F1 driver and two times world champion. Hopefully 3 soon.

She was a star all around the world. And ever since drive to survive had hit Netflix , everybody knew her name now. Even outside of the usual f1 fans. She was popular . That was an understatement. People either loved her or absolutely hated her. She was known at his ice queen who was more mean than she was nice. Beautiful but deadly. She had everyone hooked.

Cherrie simply didn't give a shit about what anyone thought of her. All she cared about was winning another championship , her family and convincing her brother to come home. That was it.

"Oh no. I don't like talking to new people! You can't make me!" She almost whined, hating making new friends. She didn't want any nor did she need any. She had her close circle And that was enough.

Leon let out a small laugh "you sound like Quinn's inner dialogue. He hates meeting new people too." He muttered in amusement. Having a feeling that the two would get along great if his sister wasn't so scary and stubborn.

Unfortunately he had a horrible feeling that she'd scare him off and make him wish that he had never met her. He crossed his fingers and prayed that she would be nice for once.

"Sounds like a smart guy." She simply replied running a hand through her hair, checking out her tight dress in the mirror. Making sure she looked good. "But I still don't want to-"

"All I'm asking is that you be nice! I'm not asking you to marry them. God! I'm just asking that you filter yourself a little!" He argued, exasperated with her already. And she had only been here not even a day.

She was offended "I will be myself. Thank you. And If they don't like it then that's their problem." She snapped back at him, annoyed. Stomping to the door in her high heels. "Goodbye leon! Maybe by the time I get back you will have found your brain again!"

Her brother simply laughed "and maybe you'll stop being such a bitch!" He shook his head to himself in amusement as he heard her muttering curses in French, cursing out America and him before she slammed the door behind her in a mood. "I don't think so." He muttered grinning.

It was nearly eleven by the time his friends finally started asking Leon about his sister again, Jack and Trevor grinning at him, excited at the thought of meeting her.

"Is she really as scary as everyone says she is?" Trevor wanted to know. Passing them all another round of beers as they paused their game of fifa for a moment to chat.

Leon chucked a little, looking at them in amusement. Jack looking equally as intrigued , Quinn was merely relaxing back into the couch quietly, not speaking. Just listening.

"She really isn't!" He wanted them to like her, wanted to paint her in the best light.

“She's actually really nice. She's just a bit-" of a bitch

"-blunt and lacking a filter sometimes. So I guess it intimidates people. But she's actually - deep down- really lovely and such a sweetheart-"

His exaggerated truth was abruptly cut off by the slamming of his front door hitting against the wall making them all nearly jump out of their skin. Jack gasped a little in fright while Trevor nearly dropped his beer, Quinn flinching a little in shock as they all glanced over to the hallway quickly.

"Just socialise a little more Cherrie! Go out and have some fun!" She mocked her mother's voice in Annoyance as she stormed inside in a fury, too angry to realise that he wasn't alone.

“And you know that got me ?! A fucking slap to the face! This bitch-"

"Cherrie-" he brother tried to warn her, already wincing in embarrassment as they all watched her throw her bag to the side in anger. Stomping into the open kitchen without even glancing at him, a bright pink hand mark on her cheek.

"God that's insulting bitches by calling her that!" She scoffed angrily. Furious even.

"she was crazy! Screaming at me about her boyfriend as though it was my fault that he's a cheater! He failed to mention her stupid ass when he was trying to shove his tongue in my-" she turned around ready to rant to her brother about her horrible night when she froze up at the sight of three other pairs of eyes watching her in both shock and amusement.

"Oh." She breathed out with a grimace "American boys."

She suddenly remembered about Leon telling her that he was having his new friends over, a little too late.

She glanced between them carefully , eyes lingering on the dark haired guy on the loveseat for a little longer than necessary before she looked away, inhaling deeply.

Fucking shit. She thought.

"Nice night?" Trevor joked with a smirk , wide eyes looking at her in awe. Jack not too far off, his mouth had even dropped open as they all stared at the world champion in front of them in a tiny black dress and killer heels with a slapped cheek, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else but there.

She just glanced at her brother with a wince "je suis désolé. I forgot." She muttered . Not knowing whether to just walk past them to her room or god forbid... speak to them.

Fucking hell.

Leon just chuckled "it's alright. This is Jack and Trevor.." he nodded to the two wide eyed guys next to him with a small smirk "and the quiet one over there is Quinn." He told her.

She just nodded her head, briefly glancing over at Quinn again. Seeing him already looking up at her , only to look away as soon as she met his eyes.

She frowned "bonjour." Was all she said, eyeing the hallway behind them. Wondering if she could just slip away without her bother scolding her for being rude.

"Oh my god. You're even hotter in person. You look amazing." Trevor breathed out, snapping out of his shock as he tried to send the Frenchwoman a wink. Jack chuckling beside him , shaking his head at him.

Quinn just looked at him, unimpressed. Fighting the sudden urge to roll his eyes as he glanced subtly back over to Cherrie , eyes lingering on her as he watched her shift on her feet. Clearly not impressed either.

He tried not to smile as he saw her looking blankly back at Trevor , not even hesitating in shutting him down.

"I take it you're one of the boys getting my brother to wear his caps backwards?" She sniffed , disinterested.

A Frenchman had once told her in a bar that she was as beautiful as a field of rare flowers in a dream.

Getting called hot didn't faze her at all.

He nodded proudly , not picking up on her distaste for it at all. Jack slowly turned his cap back the right way , fighting back a laugh as he did so.

Briefly looking over at his brother only to see Quinn’s eyes still on Cherrie , his lips quirked up as he lifted his hand up to his face to hide his smile. Jacks eyebrow rose in surprise , not expecting that reaction at all from his quite, timid older brother.

"Yeah. Looks good huh?" He grinned. Leon laughing at the look on his sisters face.

"Pierre does it too. I told him he looks like a stupid jackass." She simply said before turning around to get herself a glass of water , hoping to sober up quicker.

The slap to the face had been a real mood killer.

Trevor paused "wait..you don't like the look?" He said offended. Looking at Jack in disbelief once he saw his cap the right way forward again.

Cherrie just shrugged boredly as she sipped at her glass, not even glancing at them anymore. Wondering how the hell she was going to enjoy a full week here. Already missing Monaco. French boys and champagne.

"It reminds me of boysluts-" her brother laughed quietly "fuckboys." He quickly corrected her already knowing what she meant. She just rolled her eyes and muttered "same thing."

"Very American I suppose." She sighed , homesick. Kicking off her heels and losing six inches to her height, Quinn's eyebrow raising in amusement as he watched her fall back to barely 5,6. He wondered how she even walked in such things. Surely her ankles must be killing her?

He watched her wince and rub her claves together and pressed his hand further against his mouth , wondering why he was fighting back a smile so badly. Wondering why he was even thinking so much about the woman in front of him at all. She clearly didn't like them. Clearly wasn't happy being here..so why couldn't he tear his eyes away from the moody , insanely fucking beautiful Frenchwoman?

Jack laughed loudly "well you are in America. Sorry to burst your bubble." He teased , having already been clued in by Leon about how pissed off his sister was about being there instead of sweet Monaco.

“It's nice to meet you finally though. I thought Leon was lying when he told us that his sister was the current world champion." He said hoping to make friends with her, he had to try. Being Cherrie valentines friend was a one off chance. One in a million.

He was going to be her friend whether she liked it or not.

Leon grinned to himself, knowing this. Trevor and Jack weren't going to be scared away easily. Trevor was already trying to put a cap on his sisters head, unafraid of the glares she was sending his way.

Batting his hand away from her with a loud sigh "I know. I can't believe it either sometimes. I am the amazing , talented one of the family. Leon is just the.." she smirked at her brother "idiot. Stupid in love and stupid in America apparently. Quite a difference." She couldn't help the jab. Petty as ever.

Unfazed, her brother just snickered. "Okay miss ice queen. Just because you don't believe in love-"

Quinn repeated quietly in disbelief "you don't believe in love?" Without even realising it until it suddenly went quite.

He looked up from his feet to see them all looking back at him, Cherrie unbothered, the guys in shock that he had spoken up so suddenly.

He ignored the look Jack sent his way, clearing his throat quietly and hoping the flush in his neck wouldn't reach his face. He fidgeted with his beer bottle instead. Feeling his heart race in his chest the longer she looked at him.

She groaned a little "no. It's not that- I do. Just not for me. I'm not going to fall in love so stupidly." She told him , believing what she was saying.

She looked at Quinn , took in his black sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt , his hair a mess, long and uncut. Unshaven with a healing cut on his nose and frowned a little to herself , swallowing as she felt her throat suddenly go dry. Forcing herself to look away from him when he didn't say anything else, simply looking down at his bottle of beer and not acknowledging her anymore.

What was his problem?

Actually , what was her problem?

The vodka shots. She suddenly thought to herself. That was why she wanted him to look at her again. Obviously. It could only be that.

"Someday you will and I'll be there to make fun of you and tell you I told you so." Leon told her with a grin as he turned the game back on . Pulling Trevor back down to the couch so that he would stop annoying his sister by trying to put a cap on her head, unable to let her comment go like a child.

Cherrie just scoffed and turned away to head back into the kitchen.

"I don't think so." She denied, she would never do something so stupid.

Not even an hour later she had changed out of her dress and into a silk , white nighty and some fuzzy slippers and snook her way back to the kitchen for something to eat. Hearing loud laughter and boyish shouting from the couch as they watched some game on tv, despite it being past midnight already.

Bending down to look into the fridge , she frowned in dismay . Seeing nothing but old takeout containers and crap. The fridge was so full with different brands of things that she had never seen before , she had no clue what to eat . Didn't know if she dared.

She couldn't wait to tell their mother about his poor diet and new living. He was going to be in for a scolding of a lifetime for living like some frat boy, their mother had brought them up better than that.

"Your cheek is still a little pink." The sudden low voice nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Flinching in fright as she spun back around with a curse "putain! oh mon Dieu! Quinn!" She place her hand on her poor heart with a heavy exhale , glaring at him.

He looked a little bashful then , smiling a little apologetically at her.

His cheeks flushing as he muttered a quiet "does it hurt still?" His eyes glued to his feet again .

For a moment she could only look at him in pure confusion , heart still racing and wondering how he had managed to sneak off from the others without anyone noticing. She wondered if he was always this quiet or if he just hated her.

She was so used to guys being loud and arrogant , she was a woman in a mans sport , she had never dealt with a man being shy or bashful around her before .

She didn't know they could be like this, so the first thing she thought was that he simply didn't like her. Unused to it.

"Does what hurt?" Her accent was even thicker than usual. Both from tiredness and confusion. Tucking her long hair behind her shoulder , suddenly feeling out of place in the plain kitchen in her white silk nighty that barely hit mid thigh. White faux fur on the edges.

She leaned back against the counter with some resemblance of confidence , wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Why the hell did she care about what she looked like all of a sudden?

She didn't . She didn't. No. She was just tired, that's all.

Quinn's eyes slowly trailed up from his feet , pausing on her bare legs for a moment, lips quirking for a second as he saw the white silk and faux fur, before they quickly darted to meet her eyes again. Heart jumping in his chest.

"Your cheek. The slap.." he reminded her quietly , gently nudging her out of the way so he could get into the freezer.

She watched him pull out a small ice pack with a slight frown "it's fine. She slapped like a child. I've had worse." She muttered , feeling out of place.

Quinn hesitated for a moment before moving in front of her and holding up the ice pack to her cheek, gently resting it there . He smiled a little "children hit like boxers sometimes though. A slap is a slap."

"She was a bitch. She should have slapped her boyfriend not me." She muttered , eyes on his blue jersey he was wearing. Shivering as she felt the ice cold sink into her skin.

"What did you say to make her slap you?" He seemed to know that she wasn't telling the whole story before.

She immediately looked up and scowled "I didn't say anything but the truth!" She quickly snapped , annoyed just at the reminder of her night.

Quinn tried not to smile. He really did. Unable to tell why he felt as amused as he did then by how defensive she was getting.

"Some people don't like hearing the truth so bluntly."

"That's their problem. Not mine." She quickly countered back. "You can't have both. You can't hate someone for telling the truth and hate liars too. That's stupid." She grumbled , grimacing as she tried to turn her frozen cheek away from the ice pack , not liking the numb feeling sinking in her face.

Quinn kept it pressed to her cheek though , gently holding her jaw with his other hand to keep her still without even thinking about it. Used to hockey injuries and making sure his stubborn teammates and friends looked after their injuries properly too.

It wouldn't be until later, when he was alone in his bed , that he would realise how easily he had let himself touch her. Cradled her jaw gently as though it was something he did everyday. Him. Somebody who avoided Physical contact and affection all the time. Maybe he should have known, realised that it began then.

"People are stupid." He agreed easily in a whisper . Lifting the ice for a moment to glance at her cheek to make sure that the slight swelling was going down. It was.

Her eyes were glued to the mole above his cheek , smiling a little to herself . "They are." She agreed too before remembering what her brother had told her about his new friends . Vaguely .

“You play sports." She said struggling to remember which .

Outside of racing she didn't know much about other sports . She enjoyed all motorsports and football , that was about as far as her enjoyment and knowledge went.

Quinn chuckled a little "yeah. Ice Hockey. My brothers do too. and Trevor." He added secondly in case she didn't already know.

Smirking a little as he saw her nose twitch at Trevor’s name, knowing that he had already succeeded in annoying her made him want to laugh. The playboy wasn't getting her attention at all.

It was all on Quinn instead. She tilted her head a little , unaware of how close they even were until she felt their knees bump together . She pulled her leg away and fiddled with the strap of her nightie again.

"The sticks and the -" she had no clue at all.

Quinn smiled for real then "the pucks. Yeah. Never watched it before I'm guessing." He was amused , there was no hiding it.

She just shrugged a little "no. Boring. I like heart racing sports. Bit of danger. Not boys on ice." She said , hoping to wind him up a little.

It worked. He frowned down at her "hockey is Dangerous. One wrong move and your career could be over. And we're not boys.." he muttered annoyed at the way she kept calling them so.

She smirked up at him slyly "no?" At his small head shake she laughed slyly "okay. Men on ice then. Not your first bloody nose , non?" She gently tapped the end of his nose. Carefully of the deep cut there.

His breath hitched , eyes never leaving hers as he swallowed quietly .

“No. The pucks love me. So do the sticks." He mumbled, averting his eyes away from hers when it became too much for him.

He pulled away completely, putting the ice pack back into the freezer instead. Missing the way Cherrie frowned as she straightened out her nightie and moved away from the counter she had been leaning against, taking a much needed breath again.

"Hmm. Okay." She just muttered . Turning away from him and busying herself with looking in the kitchen cupboards. Still hungry. She blamed her weird emotions on the tiredness, hunger and vodka. All three were to blame.

There was a beat of silence as Quinn hovered by the breakfast table unsurely, glancing out into the living room to see the guys still messing about on the couch, too busy bickering to pay any attention to where he had gotten to.

He swallowed , glancing at the pizza boxes that were on the table in front of them.

“You want some pizza? I think they're might be a slice left.. maybe." He didn't know why he kept talking. Why he hasn't left her alone yet. This wasn't like him at all. What the hell was he doing?

Cherrie glanced over at him with a grimace, shaking her head . "No. Strict diet with racing. I'm not wasting my cheat day on ... that." If she was going to eat pizza she would be eating real, Italian pizza. Not this crap they were eating.

“Though I doubt my brother has anything I want in. I'll just get something in the morning.." she muttered, yawning as she rounded the table , ready to call it a night.

Quinn slowly nodded his head, fiddling with his jersey sleeves as he watched her run a hand through her hair , shaking her hair out over her tanned shoulders . He glanced away quickly.

"Alright.."

She hesitated by the doorway before glancing over her shoulder at him briefly . "bonne nuit Quinn." Was all she muttered before disappearing from the kitchen.

Making sure to ruffle her brothers hair as she walked past , then she grabbed the cap from Trevors head and flung it across the room, giving Jack a small smile before heading straight to her room, closing the door behind her with a heavy exhale.

Ten minutes later there was a small knock on her bedroom door and a plate of cut up fruit left for her on the floor beside her door .

She went to sleep with a small smile on her lips that night. The first night of many.

Throughout the next week the two of them found odd ways to be around each other , making up excuses and ignoring any strange looks they received from others as they did.

The first time Quinn did it, he felt like he was still dreaming. Sleepwalking maybe , only he knew exactly what he was doing just not why he was doing it.

It was the next morning after meeting her and all he could think about as he ate his unhealthy breakfast , was about how she complained about the lack of her favourite food in her brothers apartment next door. So he ate his own food and ended up texting Leon

What does your sister like for breakfast? Sending the text before he could even think not to. Already putting on his shoes and pocketing his wallet , having a feeling that the luxurious Frenchwoman wouldn't be eating cornflakes .

Her brothers text was both wary and amused. Has she blackmailed you into doing shit for her already?

No. Was already out. He was not. Just thought I'd ask seeing as you said she hates it here. Might make her hate it a little less if she had some good food to eat. He sent, flushed from lying to Leon and himself .

Leon's text came quickly , unconcerned with his sudden interest in his sister. Just taking it for him being a nice guy.

Alright. She usually likes seeded bagels with some eggs or something on top. Or protein pancakes and fruit. I don't even know man.

Quinn ended up getting them both from some fancy new age cafe a little further out. Ridiculously overpriced and a little shocked on how much protein pancakes could cost, he drove back home in silence and found himself at their apartment . Getting a friendly pat on the shoulder from Leon on his way out as he rushed off to meet his girlfriend , his sister a slumped mess at the table.

He walked in hesitantly , took one glance at her barely open eyes and cleared his throat .

“I got food." He announced his arrival. Once again scaring the absolute shit out of her.

"Fuck me!" She gasped looking up at him in surprise "Quinn! ne fais pas ça ! mon cœur!" (Don't do that! My heart!) "oh mon Dieu!" She exhaled loudly.

He just smiled a little shyly "sorry." He mumbled while placing the cartoon of food in front of her on the table . "Was at breakfast and ordered too much." He told her in a mutter. Taking a seat opposite her on the table , pulling out his phone to appear busy. Like he had something other do than stare at the freckles over her nose and the tiny star shaped mole Beneath her left eye.

Cherrie looked down at the food in amazement , mouth watering. Heart warming as she looked at her favourite food with a small smile tugging at her lips,

so that's who her brother was texting while glancing at her with a knowing smirk . She realised then.

"Ah." She got some cutlery and digged right in , pancake already on her mouth when she remembered her manners. "Right. Thank you Quinn. I was really hungry and Leon was trying to poison me with some weird children's cereal." She told him, looking offended.

"Froot loops?" He guessed in amusement , briefly glancing up at her disgusted face as she nodded her head as though her brother had tried to feed her literal shit in a bowl.

He laughed lightly "it's alright ya know. Should try it." He said to her.

She looked at him with a frown "don't make me go off you ice man." She muttered , shovelling her face with her fancy food again.

Humming in content , missing the pleased look on his own face as he watched her enjoy the food he went half an hour away to get for her . Just because he wanted to.

"I want to see see a movie today." She told him after she had finished eating. Washing up after herself before walking over to the couch , sitting down to put her shoes on.

Quinn leaned back against his chair, looking through the archway over to her. Watching her put her foot on the coffee table to lace up the other shoe, his eyes lingering on the large snake tattoo he could see snaking up her upper thigh and disappearing underneath her shorts , no doubt over her hip.

He breathed in deeply before speaking up hesitantly

"I could see if the guys want to go tonight-"

Cherrie shook her head firmly, still not looking at him as she focussed on making herself presentable.

Standing from the couch and wandering over to the mirror in the corner of the room , she ran her fingers through her hair, smirking a little to herself as she caught his eyes on her through the reflection

"No. I don't want to go as a group. Too much." She muttered , beating around the bush a little.

Not used to being the one to ask guys out with her, they are usually the ones begging for her time. She didn't really know what to do or say. And that was not like her at all.

Quinn just looked at her for a few quite minutes , watching her get ready and feeling his heart racing in his chest as he wondered if he was reading her right.

Surely she wasn't hinting at him-?

She glanced in the mirror again and met his eyes , lifting up a perfect brow at him without saying a single thing.

Oh. He breathed out. She was.

"I-er...I could take you, if you want. I mean..I know a good place for movies. You want to go now?" He rushed out , confused on what was appropriate to say. Not wanting say the wrong thing and potentially piss her off. She was intimidating. The media weren't wrong about that.

With that attitude and her being so fucking beautiful, he could barely even speak. Her French accent only sinking him deeper into the point of no return.

She just casually nodded her head , grabbing her Chanel purse from behind the couch and hanging it on her shoulder . Satisfied with how she looked, she had some makeup in her bag. She would do it in the car on the way there.

"Yes. You're not getting pucks to the face today , non?" She walked over to the door, ready to go. Just waiting for him now.

He looked over at her and quickly stood up from his chair, nodding his head before shaking it, letting out a nervous laugh.

“No. No. Not today. I can take you ." He took out his car keys from his pocket and walked over to her, holding the front door open for her as she slipped out.

Walking side by side , she glanced up at him for a moment . Holding back a small smile as she saw the way he seemed to be concentrating on his breathing, no longer looking at her.

"We can go together . Not take me. You're not my driver." She corrected him once they were outside , despite him holding open the door for her as she slid into the passenger seat. Giving him her purse to hold in his lap as she pulled out her lipstick and mascara and got to work.

He started the car but didn't pull away just yet, merely leaning back with a small smile , flicking on the radio as he watched her pouty lips part as she put on her makeup. Humming happily as a taylor swift song came on.

"There's also a ice cream place next to it.." he mumbled ten minutes later as the pulled up. Too shy to look at her. To say what he truly wanted to ask.

But she understood. Of course she did.

She just casually hummed and nudged his shoulder with her own like they were the best of friends.

"we'll get ice-cream after then. Just don't tell my trainer." Was all she said. Before letting him open the car door for her as they got out to watch their movie. And get ice cream too.

The day after that Cherrie didn't bother knocking at his door, merely letting herself in as if she owned the place. Scaring the hell out of poor Jack who was watching tv, his head snapping up as he looked at her with wide eyes.

"Wrong apartment." He blurted out , thinking she had confused her brothers place for Quinn's. He turned his backwards cap around to face the front quickly too.

She held back a grin . "No it isn't." She glanced at the hockey game on tv and rose a brow "missing it?"

"A little. You want a jersey?" He grinned back at her, determined that they were still going to be friends. He would get the scary , hot Frenchwoman to like him. He would.

"Non. I want a cap." She said putting her bag down on the empty chair, pocketing her phone instead.

He took his teams cap off his head immediately and passed it to her with a large smirk .

“Backwards?" He joked about her hatred of it.

She smirked a little "you are." She muttered slipping it on her head the right way.

“I look better with it on than you, yes?" She bragged. Letting him pull up his phone to take a picture of her to show all his friends that he wasn't lying and that THE Cherrie Valentine was his friend. (Pending).

"No way! No one can look better than me!"

She scoffed while backing away "lying is bad. Your tongue will go black and fall off." She told him seriously. Heading down the hall to where the bedrooms were , the exact same layout as her brothers place.

"Where are you going?" He called over the couch to her in confusion . Wondering what he had missed and why the hell she was heading towards his brothers bedroom like it was a normal thing for her to do.

She didn't even spare him another glance "none of your business kid!" She called back before knocking on his door and barging in without any other warning.

Quinn darting up out of his bed with wide eyes , mouth dropping open in shock as he looked at the woman now snooping around his room , wondering if he was still dreaming. About her. In his room. Again.

"You're -" he then glanced at her head and frowned deeply .

"get that off." He ended up telling her, unimpressed by the red cap she was wearing.

Cherrie just giggled as she looked at him teasingly "I don't know. I kind of like it. I think red is my colour. He said something about a jersey too?" She crawled onto his bed. Ignoring the way he flushed and leaped out of it like she was some siren about to eat him whole.

Maybe he wasn't too far off.

He yanked one of his jerseys from the back of his desk chair and threw it at her, smiling a little when she huffed and grabbed it off her head where it had fell onto . Glaring up at him.

"No it isn't, you look horrible in red." He muttered, lying through his teeth . She would look good in any colour. The whole damn rainbow.

She just snorted knowing for a fact that he was lying. "I'm a ferrari driver. I know you're lying." She reminded him smugly. Setting the jersey aside, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of wearing it yet.

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling self conscious in just some basketball shorts and some old oversized shirt. He thought of her French teammate who looked like some model and frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What do you want?" He mumbled, barely audible as he grabbed a hoodie from his closet. Quickly pulling it on. Grabbing some black jeans before disappearing into the bathroom to change into them too.

Cherrie sighed a little as she looked around the mostly blue room filled with everything hockey , raising her brow in amazement at his achievements. She looked at some of the photos with him in his hockey gear , smiling next to his teammates and found herself smiling a little too.

Maybe she should try and see a game of his some time, it would be rude not to . She supposed. She would have to google the rules of the game later when she was alone, maybe watch a few on YouTube to familiarise herself with it first. Yeah. She would do that. Maybe text Lance too. He loved hockey.

"Nothing really. I was bored."

"So you decided to come annoy me?" He said as he walked back into the room . Face washed and teeth quickly brushed.

He paused by his door at the sight of her sitting so casually on his bed, looking like she belonged there . He already knew that her vanilla and cocoa perfume would linger on his pillows, he hoped it did.

She grinned a little "yeah. For a minute. I'm gonna go anyways.. maybe get my brother to do something." She muttered , bored.

Quinn panicked at the thought of her leaving and blurted out "you can stay here. Jacks making me go bowling with him , Trevor and Luke. You can ya know..." he rocked on the back of his heels unsurely, feeling the heat travel up his neck and into his cheeks darkly.

She quirked a brow up at him in amusement "I can, what?"

He huffed a little, not looking at her. Busying himself with putting his shoes on. Eyes flickering to his Vancouver jersey beside her that she had yet to put on.

"You can come. Luke might freak out a little . He's a fan." He warned her quietly . As though he wasn't a fan of her too. He just was much more quieter about it. Less embarrassing. Hopefully.

She sighed dramatically "I guess." She got up from the bed , adjusting jacks cap on her head.

Quinn reached over and yanked it straight back off , making her laugh. "Hey!"

"No." Was all he muttered moodily , throwing it aside.

“Are you gonna out my jersey on?” He mumbled to her , eyes hopefully glancing between the blue shirt and the beautiful woman in front of him.

She smirked a little to herself, amused with the way he couldn't even look at her. Fiddling with his hoodie sleeves as he waited by his bedroom door. As though he was too scared to come any closer to her.

"Do you want me to wear it right now?" She asked him. Wanting to hear him say it. She wasn't easy about it. That wasn't the kind of person she was.

He hesitated for a moment. Eyes darting up to look at her before looking away again just as quickly.

"Wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't want you to wear it." He muttered with a bit of embarrassed attitude. Pulling open the door and quickly heading out into the hallway before she could see his cheeks blush any further.

He heard her laugh lightly behind him, quickly pulling on the blue jersey over her tank top with a small smirk on her face.

Shaking her head to herself in amusement at how a man as good looking and rough looking as Quinn could act so shy and bashful. It was a nice change to the usual arrogant and cocky guys she dealt with daily.

Speaking of cocky .. Trevors loud voice reached her ears as she trailed out of Quinn's bedroom after him . Pulling her hair from his underneath his Jersey, not fazed at all by their sudden company.

"Woah! What is this?!" Trevor gasped in surprise looking at them with wide eyes.

Luke freezing beside him while Jack just glanced over at Quinn, only to see him refusing to look at any of them. Too busy getting his jacket, but he wasn't quick enough for him not to see his bright pink face .

His brother was blushing. Jack couldn't believe it.

"Wearing blue? Coming out of his bedroom?! What the fuck have I missed?!" He echoed in disbelief , behind shocked .

Quinn just rolled his eyes at him "nothing. Shut up."

"Oh yeah. A whole love affair. It was so romantic." Cherrie couldn't help but joke , forgetting that these weren't her usual sarcastic friends back in Monaco for a moment . Maybe she didn't hate them as much as she thought she would.

“He made love to me in his jersey. He's made me fall in love with him and now I'm never leaving here! Just like my brother!"

Trevor gaped at her "really?" Both Quinn and her rolled their eyes simultaneously. Jack silently looking at their in tune movements in disbelief .

"No. Not really!" She scoffed shaking her head at him . "Too many pucks to the head for you! I'm not that stupid!" She was offended . Really she was.

Trevor was now offended too "hey! That's mean! What else was I supposed to think? Will you wear my cap too then?"

It was Quinn's voice that spoke up quickly next "absolutely not." He muttered not even looking at him. Passing Cherrie his spare coat seeing as she was still dressed like she was in Monaco , her shorts far too small for how cold it still was.

He hid his pleased smile by turning his head as he watched her slide it on without any complaint for once. She looked great in his clothes.

"Where's my cap I gave her?" Jack wondered.

"In the trash. Don't even try it." Quinn shot back at him without missing a beat.

Cherrie looked at the younger Hughes Brother that was still gaping at her and smiled. "Bonjour Luke. You exited for bowling?" She asked him nicely.

Ignoring trevor's "how come she wasn't this nice to me?" Whining.

"Yeah. I thought Leon was lying when he said you were his sister." He blurted out in shock. Giving her a smile anyways .

She just snickered "yeah. I'm way better than him so no one ever believes we're related . It's hard being the star of the family. So many awards and such little space." She sighed like she was troubled by it. Following behind Quinn to the door.

The guys laughed, luke just looking at her in amazement . "Can you be on my team In bowling?" He asked her hopefully .

Cherrie laughed "sure. Beats being in a team with Trevor." She said.

Trevor looked at her in disbelief "so mean!" He repeated. Pouting dramatically.

"Quinn?" She muttered to him as they all headed down to their cars. Automatically following him to his, sliding onto the passenger seat like she did yesterday, kicking luke to the back seat.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna be on my team too?"

He just hummed. Nodding his head a little, still not looking at her. Just smiling to himself.

Luke looking between them in disbelief. Feeling like he was dreaming. Quinn felt like he was too.

They spent the next week making excuses to spend time with each other. Pretending like they had no clue to why they even were.

Midnight movies, sunset ice cream. Card games under the streetlights , silently made dinner , no questions , no answers. Cherrie ended up spending everyday of her stay with Quinn in one way or another . Whether it was muttering stories in the dark or bickering over something stupid, winding him up until he had no room but to retaliate. They did.

It was the final night before she was due to leave and the guys were hanging out at the bar together, Quinn quieter than usual as he silently sipped on his beer and listened to Trevor once again grill Leon about his sister.

Ignoring jacks amused , quizzing glance as he caught his annoyed rolling of his eyes. Not as subtle as he thought.

"Is she single then? Or had she got some guy back in Monaco?" He asked him curiously . Ever the gossip.

Quinn's frown deepened, eyes down to his beer bottle as he just listened in. Wondering that too. Surely she had a line of godlike guys waiting for her back home. No doubt.

He didn't care. Not at all.

Leon chuckled in amusement "she is and no she doesn't. She doesn't do the whole love thing remember?" He reminded them of her passionate anti falling in love speech.

Trevor just smirked slyly "didn't say anything about love. I can do casual too. Or whatever she wants." He wiggled his eyebrows jokingly.

Quinn's scoff went unheard in the bottle of his beer as he gulped it down, subtly rolling his eyes to himself again.

Her brother just snorted. "Yeah, no. She doesn't go for guys like you. You have no chance." He laughed.

Trevor was offended "WHATS that supposed to mean? Is is the hat thing again?" He wondered.

Leon rolled his eyes this time , amused. "No. She just usually likes the more casual and less arrogant guys. Ya know..not so full of themselves and quieter.." he trailed off, brows furrowing in realisation as he glanced over at a quiet Quinn who was now finally glancing up from the table.

They met eyes for a moment , Leon tried not to grin .

Oh. He thought in amusement . This is too good.

Quinn quickly looked away again, Leon tried not to laugh in glee.

"-and anyways. I invited her so I need you not to make a idiot out of yourself because I can only take so much second hand embarrassment before I die." He let them know. Mainly glancing at Trevor. They all did.

He gasped jokingingly "me?! She loves me! She high fived me the other day!" He exclaimed.

Jack snorted "yeah. In your face ." He laughed. More than Amused.

Quinn sat up a little straighter in his seat when she finally arrived. Dress in a little back dress again, satin this time.

He inhaled deeply and met her eyes, she narrowed her eyes back at him.

"Why was there a snake plushie on my bed?" She whispered to him as she slid into the booth beside him, ignoring the others loud greetings for a moment. She accepted Jack sliding a beer over to her, not drinking it though. Beer was not her thing at all.

"Hellooooo gorgeous! You're looking better than ever!" Trevor would not let himself be ignored.

She just looked at him, unimpressed. "And you're more annoying than ever. Don't you ever get tired?" She threw back at him. The others laughing at their banter.

He just winked at her "of being the hottest guy alive? No, never!" He laughed. Lifting his hand up for a high five.

She just slapped it away, rolling her eyes at him in amusement. She reached over and spun jacks cap to be the right way, making him chuckle as he shook his head at her now usual greeting for him.

"You gonna do that to Quinn?" He questioned her with a grin , nodding towards his distracted brother who had gotten up to go to the bar.

Confused she looked over at him and paused for a long moment , lips parting as she really looked at him finally. He looked good. More than good. With black jeans and a black sweatshirt on, a white tshirt collar poking out from underneath. Only this time he had a cap on too.. backwards.

And look. She hated it when other guys wore their caps backwards. Cringed at how it reminded her of stupid fuckboys who thought they were so goddamn cool passing around stds and shattering hearts along the way.

But Quinn... she inhaled sharply in shock, leaning back against the booth seat in absolute disbelief. He looked hot as fuck. She couldn't believe it.

"oh non. mon cœur.." she breathed out quietly to herself.

Unable to take her eyes off him as he walked back over, carefully balancing a cocktail glass in his hand. "ça ne peut pas m'arriver." (This can't be happening to me.) she almost whimpered.

Her brother, understanding every word she muttered , simple smirked smugly at her. "What's the matter sis? Think he looks stupid with the backwards cap too?" He taunted her.

She shot him a sharp glare, Quinn catching the end of his words as he arrived back at the table. Eyes widening as he realised that he had in fact put his cap on backwards because of the heat, to keep his hair out of his face.

Knowing how much Cherrie hated that look on guys, he lifted his hand to take it off.

Cherrie immediately slapped his hand away from his head and shook her head at him sharply . "No! Don't touch it!" She almost yelled at him. Heart pounding in her chest, feeling flushed and sweaty all of a sudden.

Jack and her brother were giggling , poor Quinn just looking both alarmed and confused at her sudden behaviour . He cautiously sat back down beside her and handed her the cocktail he had gotten her.

"What? I know you don't like it.." he mumbled, lowering his eyes back to the table bashfully . Sipping at his beer bottle again.

Glancing sideways at her when she let out a strange , strangled noise.

Almost glaring at him like she was pissed, he shifted in his seat nervously , wondering what he had done now. Her fingers were clenched around the stem of the glass, quickly sipping at her drink .

Quinn looked over to his brother for help. Wondering what the hell she was acting so weirdly for.

Jack just smirked and muttered "think she likes your new look dude.” Barely audible. Having the time of his life watching them.

"I never said I don't like it."

"Yes you did. Like every time someone wears it like that, you literally just turned jacks around..." he reminded her in confusion. Frowning down at her.

She frowned back at him just as deeply "yeah. On them. I don't like it on other guys. God Quinn. Shut up." She snapped at him. Flustered.

He was none the wiser . Taken aback by her sudden attitude, he scoffed lowly .

“What have I done? Why are you being so pissy?" He wanted to know. Countless beers helping with his confidence in questioning her .

She turned to face him fully, still sipping on her cocktail as she scowled at him. Cheeks pink as she repeatedly glanced between his eyes and his backwards cap. Wondering if she was having a midlife crisis at twenty one.

"I'm not being pissy. You're being pissy!"

He looked at her in disbelief "what the hell is your problem? Is this about my cap? I can take it off if it's bothering you that much-"he didn't get it.

She almost screeched "if you take that cap off I will smack you! I mean it!" She glared at him , too turned on to think straight.

Stupid American guys and their stupid backwards caps. She wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Fucking hell.

Quinn blinked at her in shock. Speechless.

He fidgeted nervously with his beer bottle, eyes never leaving her dark ones before suddenly it clicked.

He exhaled shakily and flushed a dark red, awkwardly scratching at his flushed neck as he muttered unsurely to her "you like it?"

Cherrie just sighed in defeat . "Yes Quinn. I like it." That was an understatement. She wanted to jump him right there and then.

“Only on you though. Everyone else looks stupid." She quickly added. Sticking to her original judgment. Only Quinn pulled it off for her,

He smiled shyly against his bottle of beer, unable to meet her gaze. Flattered.

Instead he kept his eyes on the table as he muttered "I got you the snake plushie to match your tattoo. Why did you get it?" His question was quiet. Curious. Having been thinking about it since he first caught glimpse of the detailed snake tattooed up her thigh and around her hip? He guessed. He only saw so much.

Her voice was equally as quite , private between them, as she answered him "they kept calling me a snake for switching teams from redbull to Ferrari. But I won. Sooo..I'm proud to be such a snake I guess. It all worked out for me." She smugly smiled.

He smiled too, slowly nodding his head .

Liking that she owned what was once an insult against her. Liked that she was so stubborn and stuck to what she believed in. Just liked her really.

It was quiet between them for a moment, both just sipping on their drinks for a moment before Quinn worked up the corkage to mumble "I er...I like snakes. The French kind."

Her face softened as she glanced at him beside her, still unable to meet her eyes fully. She smiled too.

Soon they found themselves bickering again, in their own world together as they blocked out the rest of the table around them. Cherrie looking at him in disbelief as he accused her of purposely pushing max off the track in her last race.

She totally did but that was besides the point! She scoffed at him, a little tipsy just like he was, their arms, their thighs and sides pressed together as close as could be.

She was almost in his lap at this point , still bickering though. Too prideful to be soft and sweet .

"I did not! He spun me off the track in the race before that. Or did you forget that?!" She exclaimed , sipping from his beer now. Stealing it right from his hand.

He sipped from her cocktail in return , both of them hiding their smirked behind their drinks. Enjoying their bickering far too much to be normal.

"No I didn't. Which is exactly why you did it on purpose. You're revengeful . You like to get even." He knew her far too well already. It was unsettling.

She just looked at him before frowning "I am not." She denied, then she placed the palm of her hand on his cheek and pushed his face away from her with a huff.

"ferme tes jolies lèvres !" (Shut your pretty lips up!) she whined.

He snorted , actually giggling at her . Unaware of the shocked and disbelieving glances he was receiving from his friends and brother , too immersed in Cherrie to notice anything but her .

"Talk French to me all you want, I'm right. You know I am." He smirked at her, thoroughly enjoying himself. He loved winding her up just as much as she did him.

She had never felt so light and free before. So...happy. She swallowed briefly , face softening as she looked away from him for a moment to gather herself again. To remind herself of who she was.

She wasn't her bother . Oh god. She hoped not. She would never hear the end of it otherwise.

Her poor mother would have a stroke if they both had stayed and got themselves some American lovers. She couldn't do that.

No way. That wasn't her. Not at all. She had promised herself. She didn't fall in love. She didn't make it easy. She didn't ...

Oh my god. She didn't. Did she?

She finally managed a laugh , snapping out of her chaotic thoughts. She looked at him and said "it's different up close. It's not the same unless you're there." She told him, plans Already forming in her mind .

How would it work? How could it work? Could it? Could she? She could. He could... she drained the rest of his beer and smiled a little, titling her head as she felt him press closer to her.

His hand coming up to brush her hair over her shoulder gently , without even saying a thing. She just relaxed against him. Like it was normal. Something she always did. Would always do.

"You need to come to a race with me , then you'll see what I mean." She muttered. Looking at him seriously. Hoping he'd get the hint.

He did, his eyes softened , lips too. He nudged her shoulder with his gently as he mumbled "yeah? You should come to some games of mine too. It's only fair." He crossed his fingers, opened his heart for once. Wished he'd learned French to tell her how he really felt without any of his friends or their brothers knowing,

But he didn't need to. One look into his soft, hopeful eyes and she got it. Of course she did.

"Deal."

By the time they made it back to his apartment, his brother and friends had went to her brothers apartment to play video games. Too drunk to see them disappear into his own away from them. Wanting some moments on their own.

She found herself sat up on his kitchen counter top as he hovered near her knees, too scared to make the final move.

Cherrie didn't have those fears , confidence had never been an issue. She wasn't shy, just a little unsure to what she was supposed to do next,

She had never felt like this before. Guys didn't make her head spin like this. Didn't make her want to change her mind and stay. That wasn't her.

But maybe it was now. Maybe it could be.

"I'm going back to Monaco tomorrow." She reminded him of the inevitable . Somehow now wishing that she didn't have to.

Strange how a week ago she wished for nothing more than to leave , now she looked across from her and wanted nothing more than to stay. Or take him with her.

He slowly nudged her knees apart , eyes down to her thighs as he slid himself between them. Hands cautiously landing on her soft skin as he sighed quietly , heart pounding in his chest fearfully .

He swallowed "but you're coming back right?" Hope filled him so sweetly that she wanted a taste.

She trapped him between her thighs, titling her head at him as she gently wrapped her arms around his neck to pull his bashful self closer.

Her whole body melting against him as he suddenly leaned down and hugged her, like he had been wanting to for a while now, smiling to herself softly as she felt his face bury in the crook of her neck. A shy, soft, barely there kiss being placed there below her ear . Just for her. For them.

She inhaled deeply "I only came to see my brother.." that had been the plan.

But since when did plans ever work out fully in the end? That would be boring wouldn't it?

He pulled away enough to meet her eyes, gathering what courage he had left to mumble bashfully "you er-you promised me - you owe me a game remember? So you have to come back. To see me play."

She felt her heart brighten, she only saw daylight as she laughed softly . Cupped his blushing cheeks in her hands and leaned her face down towards his, kissing him gently . Just like she had wanted to the whole damn week.

His breath hitched in his chest as he laid his hands on her hips and sighed against her mouth, melting into her as he nudged his nose against hers gently, deepening the kiss as he felt her hand slide into his hand, pulling at the strands at the nape of his neck.

He moaned into the kiss , heart in his mouth as their tongues brushed together , his lashes fluttering against her cheek as he cupped the back of her head, giddy with feeling . Overwhelmed.

Smiling into the kiss, unable to stop himself. So fucked. So unbelievably soft for her. Yet so hard too. She had him in every way.

He should have known that it would come to this really. With eyes like hers .. and a smile so smug and sweet.

He got the best of both worlds. He wanted to have his cake and eat hers too.

"You want to come back to Monaco with me tomorrow?" She whispered to him , pulling away to breath.

Running her fingers through his hair gently , the other hand gently wiping her red lipstick stains from his mouth. Only managing to make it worse, her smile deepened. Unable to look away from the mess they made.

He was so much better than those French boys. She realised to herself in pure amazement. He was everything that she didn't know she needed until then.

Huh. Who knew. Her American boy.

He was giddy with excitement, with hope and disbelief. That a woman like Cherrie could want him. That this could be real. That he had a chance at something you could only dream of.

"For your home race?" He whispered , fingertip tracing her Cupid's bow. Feeling their kiss on his fingertips. Wanting kiss her until he could No longer breath.

Forever if she would let him.

Other hand cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone gently. Feeling the heat there. Glad to know that he wasn't the only one. That she could be just as nervous and giddy as he was feeling too.

"Yeah. To my home too. Maybe you could stay a week or two.. with me." She whispered back to him, smile never leaving their faces.

She felt it now. Knew that this was it. This was what people talked about In their stories . What her brother was so adamant about her feeling.

She had found it. Found him.

He let out a nervous laugh , breathy and amazed that this was happening. "Yeah. My next game is in two weeks. We could- you could come back with me. We could.." he trembled with the overwhelming feeling of falling in love.

"-we could take turns. I go with you and you go with me..." he inhaled shakily "if you want to..."

She just smiled , shaking her head to herself in disbelief . "I want to.." then she kissed him again. And again and again.

Because apparently she was as stupid as her brother was. She had fallen in love and now she didn't only want to call Monaco her home.

She wanted to call Quinn home too.

She was never going to hear the end of this. She had fallen in love with her American boy.

#Quinn Hughes imagine #Quinn Hughes oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #ice hockey imagine #nhl fic

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