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avaf00rdxx · 4 months

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little shits

kyra Cooney-cross x teen!Reader (platonic)

why is posting my first fic embarassinggg…

anywho enjoy this piece of shit. I’ll open my requests and try to write as much as I can. Luv u all xxx

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You were kind of out of it though as Caitlin was trying to mouth something to you further up the gym with her hands, you put your hands up in shrug towards her, but from the conversation in front of you you heard something along the lines of “if you don’t” and Kyra saying “deal”.

“Got that y/n?” Beth grinned at you

“yup!” You quickly said before running over to Caitlin who was motioning you to help her with something.

You had lost a bet. You were reminded by Kyra that you “weren’t supposed to do anything stupid towards anyone in the team for a week” 8 days later she shrieked at you as she was changing into her swimmers in the bathroom of the locker room.

And that’s where you found yourself, In the 15 degree London weather, you were being dragged by Beth, Jen and Katie who just wanted to see this play out, down to the ocean. As you all walked down to the cool air of the beach you shrieked at the harsh breeze “nup” you said as you started running back but was caught by Katie “bets a bet” she giggled grabbing you and dragging you down the beach.

You and kyra took off both of your jumpers as you looked at each other, regret filling your eyes. There were some lunatic surfers in long wetsuits, none like the ones back home in Australia but if you were honest you were terrible with cold water. Beth pulled out her phone to camera when Jen gave Kyra a light shove towards the water, she didn’t move though.

“Ok let’s be quick” you started walking down, just ready to get it over with, a shivering mess once you got down. You noticed the 21 year old was no longer behind you but was being carried over the shoulder by the tall Jen Beattie. Your jaw hit the flor as she was completely thrown into the water head first, with Jen now in the water too. “Okay giant” you giggled as Jen quickly ran out of the water but looking back to yell at you.

“Five whole Minutes!” was screamed from the top.

“Nah it was two!” You exclaimed as Beth shook her head with a grin. You were still only up to about your bellybutton in the ice-like water. That was until ‘little shit no. 2’ jumped on your back causing your head to be pushed under water. The cold water feeling absolutely hell-like on your skin. “KYRA!” You screamed as you came back up again, knowing she was done she started swimming away fast. Though luckily you were a fast swimmer, you caught up to her and completely dunked her.

On the shore, Katie, Beth and Jen slowly started to go ankle-deep into the water to feel the temperature for themselves. “Christ that’s worse than an ice bath” Beth exclaimed quickly before removing her feet from the water.

“They are gonna turn into ice” Jen said

“Or worse completely taken out by a shark” Katie said, as Beth’s face rose with concern. “Wait how much time left?

“It’s been up for about a minute now” Beth said “you two out you come!” she yelled running up to grab your towels.

But of course, you and the slightly older girl were in your own world once again. Trying to drown each other while laughing your heads off.

————————————————————-

On a slightly chilly December weekend, you had broke the curse. You and your teammates had smashed Chelsea with a wicked 5-1 and you couldn’t be more excited, your were a striker, quite a significant one for the team, and had managed to slot in a goal in the extra time just minutes before the final whistle. As that whistle went you jumped straight to Caitlin buzzing with excitement before Alessia joined your two by jumping on your back. As you went around to all your other teammates.

You made eye contact with Leah as she quickly went on to the field, the twenty-six year old meant so much to you since joining at the club, so you sprinted into her arms. “Lee!”

“Your goal was incredible I’m so proud of you tiny!!” You grinned at the nickname the team gave you and the fact that she was proud of you. She motioned for a piggy back to you when you were put down, when you jumped on her again she started sprinting towards the rest of the team you saw Kyra talking to vic with her back to you when Leah had come to a stop you tried to jump onto Kyra’s back straight from Leah’s but failed miserably when Kyra was completely knocked down long with Vic and you. Kyra’s funny bone hit your head which she squealed in pain. Nothing serious though.

And just like all the girls around knew that a child’s fight would break out between the two of you, you got up and started running backwards away from her. She started to chase you as you were laughing your guts off. You and Kyra were absolute toddlers anytime everywhere as the crowd and team completely stopped and watched in amusement.

————————————————————-

‘Harps!” You squealed as the Gorry toddler jumped into your arms in the lobby of the Hotel. You noticed most of the team standing around chatting as all the ‘London Aussies’ piled into the building.

“I missed you!” Her tiny voice exclaimed which made your heart melt. “I missed you heaps!”

You and Harper got along beautifully, she was like your little sidekick when at camp, the girl would not dare to leave your side the whole two weeks. Steph laughed with Mini behind you, greeting each other and laughing how you left your bags stranded right near the bus when you saw the small girl, Steph having to wheel them in.

“Mins!” You smiled as you gave her a warm hug.

After more hugs and hello’s were exchanged you all headed up to your respective rooms. Since it was only around lunch time you had a small meeting with Tony but were then allowed ‘chill out time’ before dinner and bed time. You, Mackenzie, Alanna and Caitlin were sitting on bean bags in the main room talking about random things and your Christmas plans. When Charli was completely thrown onto your head from behind.

“Ow” you laughed.

“Kyra!” Charli said towards the girl that was pushed onto you.

“Little shit” you mumbled

“Oi you can’t talk miss” Caitlin smirked before quickly going on about your latest stunt you and Kyra pulled together back in London making the other girls laugh. You soon got tired of hearing how good you are at getting away with pranks. As you curiously went to search through a cupboard that had some coloured things peaking out the bottom which amused you. You opened it to find random things from craft kits to movie projectors. You started to move things a little as you crouched down to find more. That’s when you pulled out a large white karaoke machine laying on it’s side, it was beyond you on how it got in there and managed to fit.

“What’s that?” Macca asked as you stood it up-right once it was pulled out. You didn’t reply as you smirked at Kyra who knew exactly what it was. “Awesome” Macca sarcastically said after no reply from you.

For backstory, you and Alessia found one in a room at your training grounds back in London. And you pair along with Kyra and the help of Leah’s terrible singing completely wore it out as it sparked and suddenly broke. Obviously, the mums of the team like Kim and Viv got mad that you nearly could have sent it up in flames.

“Oh no no no” Steph breathed out as she walked in to see you and Kyra teaching Macca and Alanna how to start it up so they could perform their duet to some random old Justin Bieber sing. “You set this hotel on fire, no blaming me to Kim that I didn’t stop you”.

And that’s how the night ended the whole team gathering around and taking turns in partners to sing away. With you and Kyra taking over the micv for more than half of the songs. “No way” you muttered as it suddenly stopped working.

“You-“ Hayley started and then laughed from where she was laying on the floor watching you.

“They’re cursed I swear” Kyra said as you put your arms up in a shrug towards steph.

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mediumgayitalian · 24 days

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The slam of his car door is loud enough to make him jump, echoing across the dipping valleys and proud hills. He curses to himself, standing frozen, one, two, three, four, but no one comes running. A light dusting of snow falls in a perfect circle around an invisible border, and Lee shivers as he jogs over to it, worn sneakers squelching over the wet, half-thawed grass.

As soon as he steps onto the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, he feels the difference, the balmy breath of warm summer under the clear December sky. The power of Thalia’s tree sends its usual shiver down his back, and he touches it, briefly, as he speeds past, sending his usual prayer of thanks. He pauses at the crest of the hill, using the bright gibbous moon to survey the camp, marking his path.

“Two, four….twelve,” he mutters to himself, craning his neck to map every one of the patrol harpies. He crouches for a while, watching them, tracking their patrol: paired, hexagonal, staggered circuits around the cabins. Four minute window of opportunity.

He can do four minutes.

As the two harpies walking the Apollo-Artemis circuit begin to cross the common, Lee bolts. He keeps low and close to the shadows, sprinting fast and on the balls of his feet to stay quiet, and ducks behind whatever shadow is closest whenever something looks his way. By the time the harpies turn back towards Cabin Seven, he’s already on the rickety porch, tossing his backpack inside the window Michael left open for him and throwing himself in after it.

He lands palms-first, tucking into a roll to absorb the momentum. He freezes, panting, by the leg of what is usually Amir’s bed, straining to hear past the crickets and cicadas.

One, two, three, four.

Nothing.

He’s good.

“Took your damn sweet time, didn’t you.”

“Hello to you too,” Lee grumbles, pushing himself upright. From across the cabin, lounging on his bed like a goddamn French monarch, is his dick of a brother, grinning like the little shit he is. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, most people say hello, et cetera, et cetera.”

Michael shrugs. “You’re late. I watched you on the hill; you coulda made that run twenty minutes ago.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“I’m always asking me.”

“Get over her, boogerbrain.”

“Real mature,” Michael mocks, but ambles over anyway. He retches like a twelve year old when Lee hugs him, but twists his hands in the back of Lee’s shirt when he lets go too fast. Lee hides his smile in his over-gelled hair.

“You might miss me less if you actually write me letters, you know.”

“I didn’t miss you,” he responds automatically. “And I wouldn’t have to write you letters if you stayed home, already.”

Lee sighs. “…I have school, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure your dumbass bio teachers have loads to teach the guy who can do open heart surgery with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah, yeah. If anyone could do with a good, old-fashioned, public school humbling, it would be you, hothead. You ready to go?”

Michael pulls away with a roll of his eyes. “Only since yesterday. Been waiting for your sorry ass.”

“My sorry — your sorry ass doesn’t have a car!”

Michael snickers, jogging back to his bunk and grabbing the black duffel bag resting under it. Lee makes quick work of packing his own bag, stuffing in a couple squares of ambrosia and and giant roll of bandages, just in case, before creeping over to the only bed left with someone still in it.

“Hey, kiddo.” He folds over the sheet pulled all the way over messy blonde curls, immediately plaguing the cabin with loud snoring. He rests his palm over a sleep-creased cheek, mapping his thumb over the freckles dotting pudgy cheekbones, and brushes back the hair plastered to his baby brother’s forehead. “Will, sweetheart, get up.”

It takes him a couple minutes of gentle prodding — when Will is out he is out — to wake up, squinting blearily in the dim fairy lights strewn across his bunk. He blinks, one, two, three, four, then gasps.

“Lee!”

“Oof,” Lee grunts, shifting his weight as he is abruptly accosted with an armful of child. He smiles, curling around Will’s flailing, chattering form, tightening his hold on his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. “Hi, buddy.”

“—missed you so much! Is this why your letter was late? Are you staying? Is this why Diana left yesterday? Is she here now? Is Cass coming? Is everybody coming? Can I —”

“C’mon, Motormouth,” Michael interrupts, cuffing Will’s ear as he walks by. “Go get your sneakers on. We’re going for a drive.”

“‘Kay,” Will days happily, dashing off to find the light-up Star Wars shoes he refuses to throw out, even though there are literal holes in the soles.

“You got his bag?”

“Yep,” Michael affirms, holding up a straining backpack. “Toothbrush. Hairbrush that he won’t use. Three comic books. Change of clothes. And two more changes of clothes for when he inevitably destroys the first one,” he adds when Lee opens his mouth. He shoots him an exasperated look. “Me and Diana have been chasing after the little brat for four months, dude. I got him.”

“Alright, alright,” Lee grumbles. “Heaven forbid I double-check.” He turns over to the door, where Will is tying his shoelaces, tongue peeking out of his mouth. “You ready, Will?”

He tugs on the two loops. The entire knot unravels. Quick as a flash, he stuffs the laces inside his shoes, scrambling to his feet.

“Yes,” he lies. He scratches at his throat.

Lee and Michel sigh in unison.

Luckily, the reaction is hardly more than itchy eyes and a cough. Lee herds him towards the door, sliding the backpack over his shoulders and holding out his arm and —

“Hold on a sec.”

“Why?” Will whispers.

“Shh,” Lee says.

Window cracked open, Michael exhales. The release of his bow hardly makes more than a soft hiss.

The angle is odd, limited space as there is, but Michael never misses — the clunky arrow whistles through the open window, sailing past the sloped roofs of the west wing cabins, and thunks somewhere behind the first layer of trees in the forest. Immediately, it lets loose a burst of sound identical to a dropped bottle and a group of teenagers cursing. In seconds, the curfew harpies are screeching, descending upon the source of the noise with the fury of a thousand sun chariots.

“Go go go go go,” Michael orders, wrenching open the door.

Will, immediately, takes off, gleeful at the opportunity to run away with permission (usually, he’s running from one of them, screeching at him to get back here). (Or Chiron, although Chiron has a much easier time catching up, what with the six limbs and all). (…Is Chiron an insect? Technically?)

“How long do we have?” Lee whispers, once Michael has caught up.

He shrugs. “Seven minutes, give or take? More than enough time.”

Lee worries his bottom lip. “More than…” He glances at the forest. Vaguely, in the low firelight, he can see the odd wing, hear the odd screech. Nothing looks very close. He glances at the rapidly approaching Athena cabin, just a few yards out of their way. Hm.

“Detour!” he decides. “Will, c’mon!”

Ignoring Michael’s hissed complaints, he veers towards to neatly maintained cabin. He slips in the space between Cabins Six and Four, holding tight to Will’s hand. He counts the windows as he passes — one, two, three, four — and stumbles to a stop, crouching down in the dirt.

“Oh, are you — for the love of Zeus.”

Lee ignores his eye-rolling, scanning the ground for pebbles. He selects a handful of them, careful not to choose anything too big, and jogs a few steps back.

“What’re you doing?” Will asks, too loud, but at least he tries to whisper.

Instead of answering, Lee launches the first pebble at the window.

It pings off harmlessly.

Waiting a breath for the harpies to come running, he continues, firing off pebble after pebble with increasing strength. Finally, after pebble #7, a face appears behind the clear glass, bleary eyes widening when they take in the sight in front of them. Quickly, the latches are undone, and the window is yanked open.

“Lee?!”

Lee grins. “Hey, Carter.”

“What’re you — you’re — it’s December! What’s going —”

“I need a favour,” Lee whispers. “Can you — cover for us?”

For the first time, Carter looks away, brows raising as he notices Micheal, who taps his (watchless) wrist obnoxiously, and Will, who waves brightly. Carter waves back, small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cover for you?”

“Just, like, infirmary stuff. I don’t think anything will happen, and if it does we’re an IM away, but —”

“Lee,” Carter says exasperatedly, “cover you guys for what?”

“Oh.” Lee clears his throat. “I, um. I need to do something for my family.”

Smiling, Carter rests his elbows on the windowsill, chin in his hands. “Mysterious.”

“We’ll be back by tomorrow evening,” Lee assures.

“And then you’ll stay for a bit?”

Lee’s mouth goes dry. “You want me to stay?”

Carter ducks his head, fingers tracing a mindless path on the windowsill. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you for a while.”

A thousand gods of prophecy could not predict the sound that comes out of Lee’s throat.

Something between a whimper and an awkward laugh, his voice cracks four seperate times. Carter giggles. Lee prays, genuinely, that a crater opens up beneath him and drops him right at Lord Hades’ feet.

“Everything okay, Lee?”

“Peachy,” he croaks.

Carter giggles again. Lee flushes. Michael gags exaggeratedly behind him, pausing mid-heave to whisper something to Will, and then there’s a giggle, and then two people fake-retching. Carter peeks through his dark eyelashes, pleased expression softening his heart-shaped face, and Lee counts twelve of his own capillaries straight-up explode.

“Well,” he says, too loudly. “I’m — well.”

“I think you have harpies to run from,” Carter suggests gently.

“Indeed.” Lee clears his throat, nodding. “As you have so astutely observed, we do —”

Michael, recognising the strained tone to his voice, groans. “Fucksake, Lee —”

“— and so I bid you adieu —”

“Dude, oh my gods, snap out of it —”

Lee can’t. He barely has control over his own mouth.

“— and vow to see you again in the eve.”

Feeling his soul exit his body, settle in front of him, and then crumple up and die, Lee fucking bows. There is the very distinctive sound of a hand slapping over a mouth, muffling an eruption of giggles, and then the hand of mercy, also known as Michael Yew, clamping on the back of his lava-hot neck.

“Please excuse him,” he says grandly. “He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s normal, usually.”

“Except when you wear your glasses,” Will pipes up. Lee makes a mental note to find Clarisse’s spear and shove it through his own eye. “He gets real weird when you wear your glasses. Once he walked into a wall and broke his nose.”

“…Did he.”

“Yep. And last time he —”

“God, this hurts me to say,” whispers Michael, “but I have to put a stop to this conversation. We’re on a time limit. C’mon, Will. Bye, Carter. Sorry for — well, you know. Apollonian dramatics, not always easy to control.”

He turns, dragging Lee, still hunched over, out of the Cabin Six shadow.

Lee does not un-hunch until they are well over the crest of Half-Blood Hill, harpy screeches beginning to echo behind them.

“I have never been more embarrassed to be related to you in my life,” Michael informs him, the second he’s upright. “Like, genuinely, I’m considering disowning you. That was atrocious, Fletcher. You need to get ahold of yourself. Where is your game? Your dignity?”

“I think he lost it when he was born,” Will says thoughtfully. “Or maybe when Carter smiled at him the first time.”

“I hate both of you,” Lee croaks.

Neither of them seem too incredibly bothered, snickering to each other as they duck into the car.

Willing his flush to go down, Lee herds them into his car. He takes a moment in the cool air to chill the hell out, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, then slips behind the wheel. He checks that Will is belted in properly, slips the car into neutral, and coasts down the road, waiting until Thalia’s tree slips out of sight before turning it on and hitting the gas.

“Where’re we goin’?

“You,” Michael says, flipping down the vanity mirror to glare sternly at Will, “are going to dreamland. It’s three in the morning. Time for bratty children to sleep.”

“What? No! I’m not tired!”

“Fine, fine,” Lee says, exchanging a grin with Michael. “Stay awake, then. As long as you like.”

Will narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“No trick?”

Lee crosses his fingers. “‘Course not.”

“Fine,” he relents. He settles into the booster seat Lee dragged out of the trunk for him (which he hates), arms crossed over his chest, and stares out the window.

Counting off on his fingers — one, two, three, four — Lee and Michael begin to hum.

At first, nothing happens. Will taps absentmindedly on his knees, humming along to the parts he knows, but soon his fingers slow. Lee and Michael keep it low and quiet, cycling through quiet folk songs Michael’s dad taught him, matching with the rumbling of the car, the slight breeze of Lee’s cracked open window. Michael kicks softly at the base of his seat, one, two, three, four; and matches the rhythm of the radio static, the click of the blinkers on every turn.

Will’s out in twenty minutes.

———

The drive is long.

Michael curls up sometime around four, fogging up the windows with every snore. Lee keeps the radio on a low hum, letting the background noise keep him focused as he navigates. The Atlantic Ocean is ink-black in the early morning, and the waves crash loud enough that he can hear them over the sounds of the engine, and for a while they’re still far enough from the city that the air smells fresh. Even when it starts to sour, and the noise gets a lot more urban, it’s early enough and he’s east enough that the traffic is minimal. Never non-existent — he actually cannot imagine what a traffic-less New York would look like; he doubts he’ll ever live to see it — but enough that he keeps at a steady 35.

The drive through Jersey is uneventful. Farmland and suburbs, nothing he hasn’t seen every day of his life, nothing he didn’t see the last time he made the drive. He entertains himself by counting every brown car he sees, randomly wagering the number by the time he gets there. He’s relieved when he finally crosses the memorial bridge, driving down the exit ramp and pulling into the first big parking lot he sees. Michael wakes up as he puts the car in gear, killing the engine.

“We here?” he asks, popping the joints along his spine.

Lee yawns. “Pretty much, yeah. Pulled off the highway.”

“‘Kay.” He glances in the backseat, where Will is starting to stir. “You nap. I’m gonna find a place for him to change and brush his teeth, maybe get breakfast for all of us.”

“Sounds good”

He crawls in the backseat as Michael guides Will out of it, accepting the blanket tossed his way. He slides his hoodie over his face, lies back, and conks out in minutes.

———

“Yo, Lee. Get up. I got food.”

“Timizzit?” he asks, shaking the grogginess from his limbs.

“Eleven. You slept for four hours. We gotta be at the theatre in an hour.”

“When’s she on?”

“Fuck if I know, man. Diana said noon, I’m gonna be there at noon. You wanna piss off Diana?”

“No.” He rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, reaching blindly in the direction of Michael’s voice. “Food, please.”

A bag of grease is deposited into his waiting hand. He is pleased to find three cheeseburgers within it, and immediately tears into them with a fervour that can only be described as ‘ravenous’, or perhaps ‘revolting’. Esurient, perhaps, if one was feeling poetic.

Finally awake enough to function, Lee looks critically at the scene in front of him. Michael is dressed in the same button-up and slacks he wears to his dad’s performances, on the years he’s in the U.S., and Will is in jeans without grass stains, real shoes, hair mostly brushed. Michael has even managed to find a shirt that’s not half-unraveled from Will picking at the seams.

“Nice,” he says, nodding in approval.

Michael picks at his nails, visibly preening. “Oh, it was no big deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dweeb.”

He polishes off his last burger, then ducks inside the nearest store to find somewhere to get changed. Diana told them it didn’t matter, really, what they wore, but Lee knows better. He knows what this means for Cass, and while yeah, sure, it wouldn’t really matter if he showed up in sweatpants, he wants to show her that he put in the effort. That even if her mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, they will. All of them. He wants her to see them and know that they did this for her. He wants her to see them and know that they tried, that they care.

Hair perfectly placed and clothes as unwrinkled as he can get them, he hurries back to the car. The theatre isn’t far, and they have a little under an hour, but he doesn’t want to push it. Finding parking will be hard enough.

“Are we on a quest?” Will asks, five minutes out on the road.

“Eight year olds don’t go on quests.”

“Diomedes was ten when he fought the Trojan war.”

“Are you Diomedes?”

“No.”

“Are you ten?”

“No.”

“Then no quests for you.”

“Aw.”

“Your quest can be being quiet for twenty minutes,” Michael grumbles, making a face when Will sticks his tongue out at him.

———

part two

#writint michael was SO FUN and also a bit of a challenge bc he is a bitch #god i love him #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #lee fletcher #michael yew #will solace #cabin seven #cabin seven kids #lee fletcher & will solace #michael yew & will solace #lee fletcher & michael yew #my writing #fic #longpost

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iww-gnv · 4 months

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I’m straddling my road bike, carrying two boxes of Chinese dumplings in a paper tote. The DoorDash app tells me I need to sprint my payload across Manhattan – cutting across the Holland Tunnel’s on-ramp – in the next eight minutes. I’m trying out food delivery under New York City’s new minimum wage law on a frigid December afternoon. Before – I was a part-time delivery worker between 2018 and 2020 – an order like this would have paid just a few dollars, making it a frantic rush to finish and move on to the next one. Now the new rules guarantee delivery workers nearly $30 an hour of “trip time”. So I stop at red lights, yield to pedestrians, and though I end up arriving a couple minutes late, I feel surprisingly relaxed. My customer seems pleased, too. But the delivery bosses are already trying to reassert their dominance. Since the law took effect, delivery apps have made it harder for customers to tip. Previously, apps like DoorDash would ask customers to tip their couriers when placing orders, allowing workers to see the total amount before agreeing to take the job. Now, Uber and DoorDash have stopped prompting customers before checkout, and those that still choose to tip can only do so after the delivery has been made, through a button that can be difficult to find.

#news #us news #uspol #us pol #new york #new york city #new york news #uber eats #doordash #uber #delivery drivers #delivery workers

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ninaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa · 29 days

Text

Champagne problems

Charles Leclerc x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:language, drinking, crying, just a lot of sadness tbh..

————————

The season has come to an end, I couldn’t be more relieved. Charles won his third championship, i couldn’t be more relieved about that either.

Its been a tough couple of years for him, he’s been extremely busy. This year more than ever.. we started dating 6 years ago. From the start we had so many plans, so many things we were excited for. Those ideas of relaxing and spending long days in the sun together vanished into thin air the second he promised his father that he would sign with Ferarri. I don’t blame him, how could I ?

Charles was a man who made a promise to his passed father, it would be extremely selfish of me to bring it up. I honestly didn’t feel the need to, my life was perfect in every way. Charles was everything and more. He was caring, compassionate, funny, respectful and extremely romantic.

That brings us to today, the end of the season party. It was quite a formal gathering. With bejeweled cocktail dresses and champagne flowing.

Me and Charles walked in hand-in-hand. He was being nicer than normal, if even possible. We greeted a bunch of people, all of them congratulating Charles with huge smiles and compliments.

I settle down on a wooden chair with a white cushion, my little black dress with gold detailing working perfectly with the colour theme of the party. Carmen and Kika sit next to me, both of them staring at their boyfriends with big smiles. I take a moment to look around the boat, bustling crowds filled the deck, all of them crowding around Charles. He had won the Championship this year. It was his third, for the third year in a row. He had promised me we would start to settle after he reached his goal. We never did, always on the move and always making promises we couldn’t keep.

———— 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗼

“Charles you did not !” I scream, my hands covering my tear filled face. The man I would do anything for stood with a proud posture and a devastatingly beautiful smile on his face. I practically sprinted into his arms, his flannel riding up on my body and exposing my lace underwear.

Charles took me to his family’s lake house, the season was at its end and Ferarri was second on the leaderboard. He had decided to steer clear of the chaos and rather taken me away for a little vacation before Christmas with his family in December. I was over the moon at the thought of spending the whole of November in the cabin with him. What I was not expecting was him buying me a Chevy convertible. It was my dream car, I had brought it up a few times, all black with red leather seats. It was gorgeous, the interior being Ferarri red and the exterior being as black as the night sky. “Thank you Charles, I love it.” I say with a huge smile on my lips, staring deeply into his eyes, I only see my future.

“I love you, Y/n.”

————𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆

My mind goes foggy with all the memories of what we had, I almost don’t realize that Kika was tapping my leg. I blink a few times and smile at the stunning woman in front of me. “Y/n, are you alright? You look a little tense.” Kika was an amazing friend and I appreciated her throughout the years. I look down at her hand on my leg, her diamond ring glistened in the flashing lights of the yacht. Her and Pierre were engaged, the two being absolutely perfect for each other. “Yes, I am. Just excited to go home, is that bad ?” I was happy for Charles, but I was exhausted with this whole thing. I was with him every step of the way and I wasn’t complaining. I loved Charles, more than I have ever loved anyone, I gave up everything for him. My job, my friends back home, my family, in all honesty I gave up my whole life to be by his side. I regret it now, the guilt of leaving everyone and the job I had such a passion for, it was catching up to me. I did not matter beyond Charles and his social bubble. I made new friends and I had everything I could want. but it was all so bittersweet.

“Y/n!” I snap back into reality once more. “Fuck , i’m sorry Kika, I should probably go freshen up.” She gives me a sympathetic look, offering to go with me before I turn her down and make my way to the bathroom. I use the one by the master bedroom, as I know there would not be anyone. This isn’t my first time breaking down on this yacht. It’s actually been a tradition for the last three years. Sulking in the bathroom, my mascara smudged onto my inflamed cheeks. It happens every damn year.

This wasn’t what I wanted, nor was it what I deserved. I was stuck in a loop of race after race and party after party. Charles was a natural, this was his favorite way to pass the time. Noting else really mattered all that much. Except me, i guess. He showed me love and care that I have never experienced before. Even with the back lash i received daily. And not only from fans and supporters, but from friends and family members too. His close family and I were in a verg good place. His mum adored me and his brother and I got along very well. I felt comfortable and loved around them. It was the distant relatives and friends that had their opinions. It never bothered Charles, so much so that he didn’t even think to check if it maybe bothered me. It did, a tremendous amount, actually. But I was stuck in the same loop, for I don’t know how long. I couldn’t leave, but I couldn’t bare the thought of this routine going on for decades. My chevy has stood in a private parking garage for the last three years now, only been driven once when I took Charles along with me to pack up my dorm at med school, quitting that year and deciding to move in with Charles. I would have been a doctor by now, a surgeon actually.

I hear a bottle pop and have no doubt in my mind it’s the bottle of Champagne Charles had brought. I clean myself up and walk out of the bathroom, my tears dried and my hart heavy. As I turn the corner I run into Kika who looks like she’s waiting for me. “Y/n, what’s going on?” She has a very concerned look on her face, I smile at that, appreciating how much she cares. Her hand is once again gripping onto me, her ring taking my attention. “You think he’s going to?” she whispers, a slight frown on her face. That confused me, I thought she would be excited at the idea of me and Charles getting married. I’m not even sure I was. “I don’t kn- ”

“Y/n !” I look over Kika’s shoulder to see Charles on his way over. “I’ve been looking all over for you, where have you been love ?” He exclaims gently, his hand in my lower waist. I instantly feel safe in his embrace, like the world stopped for a second and allowed me to take a deep breath. Kika squeezed my arms and walked over to her fiancé. “Sorry, I was with Kika.” I say hazy. I really needed to get my shit together.

“no need to apologize. Cmon, Arthur wants to do shots.”

I was a few drinks deep when the music switched to a slow song, Charles immediately found me, his arms wrapping around my waist. his head rests gently against the side of my temple, the same temple that was pounding and messing with my ability to stay in the present. “I love you so fucking much Y/n. You do know that right?” Charles pours his heart out. I dropped his hand that was so tightly held in mine. I pinch my eyes shut, finding Pascal looking at me with sorrow filled eyes. I was so fucking confused why people kept looking at me like that.

So i chose to ignore it, I leaned back, looking into Charles’s captivating eyes. “I do, I love you more than anything Charlie.” I smile at him. He kisses me, the kiss is passionate and soft. It almost felt as if I would never see him again. When my eyes opened I looked around and saw that it was only me and Charles left on the dance floor, everyone gathered around us. I frown, looking back at Pascal and Kika they both have worried expressions on their faces, Arthur is taking back glass after glass, with the same panicked expression on his face. But he’s not looking at me, he’s looking behind me. I turn around to be met with the Lorenzo on the other side of the crowd. His expression also mirroring the rest. Fingertips graze my leg and I look down to a hopeful Charles with his mother’s ring in his hands. The world stops, not to give me a deep breath, but to suffocate me. I felt breathless and light headed. It was dead silent, the only sound being Arthur putting the now empty bottle of Dom Perignon on the glass table.

“Y/n you are everything. I have never in my whole life been this inlove, nor have I ever imagined an angel like you to ever grace me with your presence. I cannot imagine myself without yo- ”

“Charles.” I whisper, my breath caught in my throat and my eyes watering. Everything burned, the lights the feeling of his fingers still gripping my leg, the sting in my heart.

“Y/n let me finish, baby. It would be an honor to live up to this speech every day. So if I could just finish it?” He smiles at me. Down on one knee and love circulating in both eyes.

“Charles I-” I choke on my words. “Okay I understand my love, this is a big thing, I’ll skip my shitty speech for now.” I wanted to say something but I felt as if i was going to fall faint right here and die. “Y/n I have loved you for a long time now, and I intend to do so until I die.”

“Will you marry me?”

Complete and utter silence, throughout the whole boat, nobody made a sound. The problem was, I didn’t either.

Charles looked at me with years and years of adoration and love and my heart broke a little more every second I stood still.

“No.” I whisper.

Gasps all around the room, it’s all I could hear. Kika let out a big sigh and Pascal let out a big sob. I could hear curse words being thrown and Charles’s manager saying how I could have been such a lovely bride. I next hear Carlos reply “what a shame she’s fucked in the head.”

“Fuck. I- I’m sorry, I can’t.” I sigh and sob at the same time, hyperventilating almost. Charles dropped the ring out of shock, and I could see his heart was also on the ground, although it was shattered.

I turn away in a complete state and rush towards the street. Quickly climbing into a cab and going home. I pack all the things I could need for a few days before taking off on the next train to God knows where. The train is silent and not a single person is awake. I look around the train, my phone ringing uncontrollably in my hand.

I take a seat next to an elderly woman, her window wide open. My phone goes through that same window about gen second later. As do all my worries. My heart has never hurt this much, but I have never in my life felt a weight quite this big being lifted off my shoulders.

I open my leather wallet and look at the picture of Charles tucked on the inside. That too goes out of the window.

••••••••

hope you enjoyed!

there won’t be a part 2 unless this story really takes off, but I doubt it ?

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 !!!!

#charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc x reader #chatles leclerc imagines #imagines #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #formula 1 #f1 imagine #arthur leclerc #pierre gasly #max verstappen #kika gomes #yacht girl #lando norris #f1 fic #ferarri

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pedrointofolklore · 9 months

Text

Rosebud

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: carnations bloomed when you saw joel. too shy to admit your feelings, but too overcome to not, you began leaving flowers at his doorstep.

warnings: very brief but graphic depictions of violence, mentions of death/grief, tragic backstory, emotional processing, reader is a loser who falls in love in two seconds, lots of metaphorical language, swearing, mostly just self-indulgent fluff, joel is soft, big age gap (reader is in late 20s), no smut, no use of y/n (reader has a nickname), jackson era.

word count: 6k

a/n: hey y’all. i’m delving into the world of fanfiction writing and i’m tentatively posting this as my first story. this story by @army-author is what inspired me here—i read it years ago and loved the concept ever since. i also super don't know much about flower gardening so apologies for any inaccuracies.

Your earliest memory was sitting in the garden with your mother one September. You were small then, no more than three years old, covered in soil and some residual stickiness from whatever fruit you’d just devoured, watching with a curious eye as your mother pruned her roses.

When you thought of her, you thought of that garden. In your memories, it was a labyrinth. Flowers, shrubs and vines overflowed the yard. You used to fear getting lost in the brambles, but at some point, you started to crave their thorny embrace.

It was a pink rose, so bright and intense, like a painting come to life. She shed the thorns, tucked it behind your ear and pinched your chubby cheeks. That was the first time she called you ‘Rosebud.’ Nobody ever called you anything else.

You couldn’t have known then that you were just a few Septembers away from losing her.

She died on the first day, in the centre of the garden. Your lasting memory of her was your father driving a pair of garden shears into her jugular. She collapsed to the ground, blood as dark as a crimson rose pooled around her as your father wept over her lifeless body. You sprinted inside and threw up.

She died a stranger. You didn’t understand what was happening to her then, but you understood that she was gone before the shears even entered her neck.

It haunted you for the next twenty years—but that person was not your mother.

Whenever the wound opened, and that memory came flooding back, you closed your eyes and thought of her as she truly was—kind, gentle, passionate. You recalled her soft smile, her musical laugh, the books she read, the flowers she loved.

When you were a kid, you thought of her as the sun that kept those flowers alive. As you grew older, she became the sutures that kept you from falling apart.

You knew your father had no other choice, but you could never quite look at him the same. Still, he was all you had, and he kept you safe until the day he died.

It was your mother’s leather-bound notebook that kept you going. She listed every flower she could think of, and wrote the meaning next to it. That notebook went with you everywhere, all across the country. Every new species you came across, you found it in the book, memorised its meaning, and crossed it off your mental checklist.

Flower seeking had to be the most frivolous thing one could do at the end of the world, but it kept you close to your mother, and gave you some semblance of purpose. Each new flower felt like something blooming inside you—your own secret garden that grew from the depths of your soul.

Carnations bloomed when you saw Joel.

He first came to Jackson in December with a girl by his side. They were gone by the next morning, but you saw him. He was coming out of the bar, tugging his coat back on when you spotted him through the crowd of carolling townspeople.

Even from a distance, you noticed the pain in him—a pain similar to yours. There was a wistfulness in his face, a longing for something he missed, and a fear so intense it seemed paralysing. He clutched at his chest, holding in the marigold that grew where his heart should have been.

You wanted to know him.

He came back that spring with the same girl, and this time, he stayed.

It was a while before you spoke with either of them. Everyone who arrived in Jackson had a tendency to be closed-off at first, and you couldn’t fault them for that. You didn’t know where they’d been or what they’d done, but you knew they’d gone through hell.

You met Ellie first. She came by the greenhouse one day, arms crossed and face vacant. Her reticence might have been mistaken for hostility if you didn’t relate so much.

You tore your soil-covered gloves off and wiped a hand over your cheek, probably just further smudging whatever dirt was caked on there.

“Hi there!” You did your best to sound cheerful, to come across as someone who was definitely okay with unexpected visitors. “What can I do for you?”

“Maria told me you might need some help around here.”

You didn’t think you needed help, and it seemed like the girl wanted to be anywhere but here. But as you pondered her, you started to recognise what she was actually getting at.

She didn’t know what to do, but she needed to do something.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Ellie.”

“Nice to meet you, Ellie.” You held out your hand, which she stared at for a good couple of seconds before shaking. “Call me Rosebud.”

“You’re a florist named Rosebud?” She was incredulous, and you didn’t even care that she was making fun of you—it was the first time you’d seen her smile during this entire interaction.

“It’s a nickname,” you told her, “and I'm more of a floriculturist. If you want to help me out, grab some gloves and a trowel.”

“What the fuck is a ‘trowel’?”

You spent the next few hours with her digging holes in the soil, un-potting flowers and planting them in the ground. As apprehensive as Ellie had been to begin with, it didn’t take her long to warm up to you.

The first thing you learned about her was that she asked a lot of questions.

“Why do we have to move these?”

“It’s spring. They’ll do better in the ground.”

“Why didn’t Maria show us this place when we first came here?”

“It was winter. Half the flowers had gone to shit, so there wasn’t much to see,” you replied, flattening the soil around a sunflower plant.

The greenhouse had been established before you got there. Nobody ran it, it was something for everyone to tend to, but nobody cared enough to do so. The gardeners of Jackson preferred to focus on crops that could actually feed them. But then you arrived, and you knew how to grow a thriving flower garden, and with all the bees it brought, it only helped the agriculture. It also meant that Jackson had honey.

“This one’s cool. What is it?” Ellie asked. You looked over at the plant she was settling into the ground—a grassy little shrub with white flowers blooming at the ends.

“Starwort. It means ‘Welcome to a stranger.’”

“Appropriate,” Ellie said. “I didn’t know flowers had meanings.”

“It’s called floriography,” you replied. “I have a book all about it.”

Ellie stayed until the sun began to set, leaving in much better spirits than she arrived. You were used to working alone, and you thought you preferred it that way, but she turned out to be good company. You sent her home with a starwort blossom and a jar of honey as a thank you, and told her to come back any time. You really hoped she would.

You met Joel the next morning.

There was a knock at your door, which you expected to be Ellie back again. Instead, you opened the door to find her guardian standing on your front porch.

Your eyes flicked shamelessly over his form. He was broad, strong, with plaid sleeves hiked up to his elbows—you didn’t know it was possible to be attracted to someone’s forearms. His features were beautifully angular, especially his nose. But it was his eyes that really got you. They were dark like coffee, deep and intense. You could fall into them and never stop.

The garden you carried in your soul had never felt more alive. It was weird you hadn’t spoken yet, but you worried if you opened your mouth, the brightest, reddest chrysanthemums would come bursting out.

“Good mornin’. Sorry to bother you,” Joel finally said, with the rehearsed politeness typical of a Southern man. There was still an earnestness to him, like he didn’t quite remember how to do this but he was determined to try. “I think Ellie was here yesterday?”

“That’s right.” You internally cheered when your voice didn’t fail on you. “Is that okay? I know I didn’t get your permission. She just kind of showed up.”

“No, that’s okay. I just came by to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“She's been struggling to…adjust, I guess,” Joel explained, “but she was in a good mood when she came home yesterday. I think being here helped her, so thank you.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say. People silently appreciated what you did for the commune, but nobody had ever gone out of their way to thank you for anything. It was a little overwhelming.

“Well, she’s welcome here any time.” You didn’t think Ellie was particularly interested in gardening, but you could see that the girl just needed to feel busy, and maybe needed some company. You were just glad she could find that with you.

“Thank you,” Joel said again. “What was your name, darlin’?”

“Just call me Rosebud.”

You expected a laugh, a mocking jab of some sort, but instead he just tilted his head and looked at you with complete sincerity. “Pretty. It suits you.”

Your cheeks were embarrassingly warm.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” Joel said. Your heart fell. “It was nice meetin’ you. And, uh, thanks again.”

He started to leave, but you weren’t ready for him to go. Before you could think it through, you called after him, “Wait.”

You might have imagined it, but for a split second after he turned back around, you could've sworn you spotted an eagerness in him, like he was hoping you’d say that.

“You can come inside,” you offered, “if you want.”

He did.

Five minutes later, Joel was standing in your kitchen, leaning against the counter. You could feel his gaze on you as you moved, getting the water ready and setting out two mugs.

“How do you like your coffee?” You were already sure of the answer.

“Black. No sugar.” Yep.

You poured the coffee into a mug, absent-mindedly blowing on it as you handed it to him. He didn’t wait for it to cool down before taking a sip, not even flinching at the heat.

You opted for tea with a generous amount of milk and honey.

“Thanks for the honey as well,” Joel said. “Ellie loves it. She’s never had anything so sweet.”

“That doesn’t surprise me if she grew up in a QZ,” you replied, turning to face him with your mug cradled in both hands. “I think I cried when I first got here and they actually had sugar.”

“When did you get here?”

“Around two years ago. My dad knew Seth—you know, from the bar—got in touch with him, and he told us how to get here,” you explained. You truly hated Seth, but he did save your ass and that left you obligated to be nice.

“Your dad’s not here, is he?” Joel spoke without any particular sentiment. It was an observation, plain and simple. You didn’t mind, you just shook your head. It felt normal to talk about your dad. You missed him, but his death wasn’t horrifically tragic to you—the man had a heart attack.

“What about you? I mean, how’d you end up here?” You were nervous about prying, or accidentally chasing him away before you really got to talk, but Joel had fascinated you since December. You needed to know more.

“I was in the Boston QZ for a while, left to look for my brother, found him.” He wasn’t going to get more detailed than that. Too much had happened that was difficult to talk about, and you could see that, because it was the same for you.

No matter how much you wanted to, you didn’t let yourself ask anything more. You didn’t ask why he’d been here in winter, why he left so soon, why he came back, why he didn’t come sooner if his brother was here, how Ellie fit into all of it. You didn’t ask, and you wouldn’t ask. All you could do was hope he’d open up in time.

It occurred to you just how different Joel looked now than he did in December, and not just because you were actually seeing him up-close. His whole spirit had shifted. Back then, he’d been like an open wound, barely being held together by exposed, bloody tendons that threatened to snap at any moment. He was different now—still wounded, but no longer in pieces.

There was something else in him too. Something dormant, but always on the verge of springing back to life. A quiet guilt.

“Flowers always been your thing?” Joel asked. You were grateful for the subject change.

“Pretty much. I used to know someone who loved them. Made me love them too.”

He nodded with an unexpected softness in his expression. It wasn’t pity, or even sympathy, but a warm kind of understanding.

“I know the flower stuff seems silly,” you said, looking down into the milky beige of your tea, “but it really is useful.”

“I know that,” Joel said. “I don’t think it’s silly.”

You could practically feel your chest split open that very second. Flowers sprouted from your heart, and they bloomed for Joel. They longed to reach out, wrap him up in their stems and vines and pull him into you.

Carnations. Chrysanthemums. Vervain.

You kept your composure until Joel left. You said your farewells, waved him off, shut the door, and immediately collapsed on your couch in a lovestruck heap. It was all so dramatic, the sofa may as well have been a bed of roses.

It wasn’t just that Joel was attractive—and fuck, he was attractive—it was the way he wholly and truly respected you. Respect was something you’d had to earn from everyone else around here, but Joel didn’t need any convincing. He saw your worth right away.

He was all you thought about for the rest of the day, the evening, until you went to bed that night. Even then, your mind wouldn’t stop racing.

These feelings were big, too big. Keeping them inside hurt, but you feared letting them out would be agony. They were safest with you, blossoming into flowers in your soul, where only you knew about them.

But still, you were wide awake, consumed by the urge to do something, say something.

So you got up, pulled your shoes on, went outside and picked a flower from your garden.

Jackson was desolate as you wandered down the street. The only residents awake at this hour were those on patrol. It might have been eerie if you weren’t so wound up.

You scanned each house as you passed by, looking for Joel’s. Your heart pounded in your chest when you found it. You didn’t need to be so nervous, the lights were off, but you kept imagining someone walking out and catching you in the act. But you’d come this far, and his front door was just a few yards away.

You climbed the stone steps with a quiet urgency, twirling the flower between your fingers one last time before dropping it just outside his door.

A single gardenia.

You were going to leave it at just one flower—you didn’t want to be weird and scare Joel off before you really got to know him. But then Ellie came by the greenhouse again.

“Did you leave a flower on our front porch the other day?” she asked, watering a yarrow seedling.

“What? Why?” You felt so lame, and so stupid for forgetting that Ellie lived there too. Your gesture was bound to get intercepted.

“There was a white flower out there. I showed it to Joel, and we figured it was from you.” It was a very reasonable thing to figure considering it was from you.

“What did Joel say?” you asked, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt.

“He said it was for him.”

“So he took it?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “Don’t know what he did with it.”

Ellie wasn’t nearly as invested in this as you were, but it still sounded promising. Joel had accepted the flower, maybe even liked it. The thought made your stomach feel strange, like a bunch of petals were flurrying around in there.

“Well, it was for him…” you mumbled.

Ellie glared at you in feigned outrage. “I’m insulted.”

“What are you complaining about?” you laughed. “I gave you a flower.”

“It’s wilting.”

“Fine then”—you handed her a pair of pruning shears—“go cut yourself a new flower.”

She wandered around the greenhouse for about five minutes and came back spinning a flower between her thumb and index finger. It had pure white petals and a bright yellow pistil. “I chose this daisy.”

“That’s a cosmos,” you corrected. “It represents harmony and balance.”

Ellie assessed the flower in her hand, genuinely mulling over the meaning of it, and you realised how much you appreciated her. She saw value in something you cared about.

“What did Joel’s mean?” she asked.

“I’m actually not sure about that one.” It was a total lie, but you sounded convincing enough that Ellie shrugged it off and carried on watering flowers.

You couldn’t help yourself after that. Knowing that Joel accepted your gift made you want to do it again. And again.

So you did. Every few days, when you were sure he and Ellie were asleep, you sauntered down to their house and dropped a flower outside the door. An aster, agapanthus, camellia…

Joel never mentioned it, and you never really expected him to, but the nods and soft smiles he gave you when he saw you around were enough to let you know he appreciated you.

But Joel would never know the true meaning of your flowers. It was better that way.

Maria and Tommy’s son was born later in the spring, and your garden had never seen so many visitors. The new parents were practically drowning in congratulatory flower arrangements, and eventually Tommy had to tell you to start turning people away.

One of these visitors happened to be Joel, and he was the one person you couldn’t turn away.

Unlike everyone else, Joel came to your door first. The slight nerves he’d had the first time he came over were gone, but so was the facade of sociability. Maybe this uncouth version of Joel should have irked you, but seeing him comfortable enough to drop the pretence just made you like him more.

“I need help with something,” he said, not even bothering with a hello.

“What is it?”

“A gift for the happy family,” he spoke bitterly, like he was actively trying not to grimace as the words came out.

“Flowers?”

“Flowers seem appropriate.”

Joel was strangely upset for someone who was welcoming their nephew into the world. You didn’t know the story between Tommy and Joel, just that they hadn’t seen each other for years before Joel and Ellie arrived in Jackson, and that Maria really disliked him.

But despite his sour attitude, it was clear Joel was trying. Whatever was weighing on him, he was pushing it down and choosing to be thoughtful for the sake of his family. Tommy could deal with one more bouquet.

You walked down to the greenhouse with Joel trailing behind you, his hands shoved into his pockets the entire time. On a better day, you would have tried to make conversation with him, but he obviously didn’t need that pressure right now.

He finally spoke up when you arrived at the greenhouse. “This place has seen better days.”

It wasn’t the flowers he was talking about, it was the structure itself. The contractor in him must have noticed the rusted metal pipes holding everything together, the holes and tears in the plastic sheets, and the fact that there was almost no room to walk.

“I know it’s bad,” you said with a nervous laugh. “It was built before I got here. I don’t think they used their finest materials.”

It was always cramped in here, but Joel being so broad and having such a presence made it even worse. He was closer to you now than he’d ever been. He smelled warm, like fresh coffee and leather and musk. It made your head spin.

“So, what kind of flowers are you thinking?” You needed to change the subject before you threw yourself at this man.

“Uh...pink?”

You laughed—you couldn’t help it. He couldn’t have been more vague if he tried.

“Why’s that funny?” He wasn’t mad, but he did seem impatient.

“Sorry,” you said, fighting back a smile. “Maybe you could elaborate on that?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned, running a hand over his prickly beard. “This is why I need help.”

You felt bad for laughing when he was so stressed out. He was overthinking something that should have been simple, and it made your heart ache for him. He was looking for guidance.

“We’ll do peonies for good fortune,” you told him, “and daffodils for new beginnings.”

His shoulders relaxed as some of the tension left him. Whatever was weighing on him was still there, but this was one thing that made it bearable.

You walked back to your house after cutting the flowers, where there was actually space to work. You expected Joel to leave then, go home and wait until the flowers were ready like everyone else did, maybe even have you deliver them on his behalf, but he stayed by your side.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Joel asked, sitting across the table from you as you worked. “About flowers, I mean.”

You never got into this with anyone, but your inexplicable attachment to Joel compelled you to open up. Whatever pain resided in him reminded you of your own. He understood you.

“My mom had this book. She wrote down the meaning of every flower she knew of, and I guess I’ve memorised it all over the years,” you explained.

Talking about her didn’t hurt like you thought it would. It was actually a relief.

“When did it happen?” You knew what he was asking.

“First day,” you replied.

He nodded solemnly. “Me too.”

This wasn’t the first time you had seen through the gaps in Joel’s armour, but it was the first time he’d made the choice to let you. You didn’t know his limits, if those two words were as deep as he could get, but you wanted to see what would happen if you just asked.

“Joel?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t seem happy about this,” you said, straightforward but still cautious.

“I guess I’m not,” he admitted, looking down pensively.

“Why is that?”

“Just don’t understand bringing a kid into all this.”

You agreed with him. The people of Jackson were as safe as they could be, but outside the walls were infected, raiders, FEDRA, and a multitude of horrors too awful to speak of. It would only take one mistake for Jackson to be completely wiped out. You wouldn’t want to bring a child into a world like that either.

But you also knew that most people who had kids post-outbreak hadn’t done it by choice.

“It’s not as if people have access to birth control,” you pointed out, stacking peonies onto a piece of tissue paper. “But I don’t disagree.”

“It’s just a lot for me to wrap my head around,” Joel continued—or maybe he was starting on a completely different train of thought. “Tommy’s the uncle. He’s always been the uncle. I’m…“

He couldn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

“You still are,” you told him. “Tommy’s still an uncle.”

Joel was silent, letting your words sink in. It was cold comfort, and maybe you shouldn’t have said it, but it was what you believed.

“Why do people call you Rosebud?” The question took you aback. It was completely unrelated, yet felt so important. He was the first person in twenty years to ask you that question.

“My mom came up with it when I was little. It’s what everyone’s called me since.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Joel asked. “Seems like a constant reminder of what you lost.”

It was hard having to live without her, but you never wanted to forget what you lost. “I guess I like the reminders.”

His hand absent-mindedly fell to the broken watch on his wrist, and for a fleeting moment, you were seeing the man you first saw in December. An open wound. Marigold.

“She didn’t stop being my mom,” you said quietly. “I didn’t stop being her daughter.”

And as quickly as the wound opened, it was once again sewn shut. He even managed a smile. “You’re wise, kid. You know that?”

Kid.

Ouch.

It felt like a kick to the stomach. In an instant, the carnations that bloomed when you first saw Joel all those months ago, that had been so red and vibrant, faded into yellow.

You held yourself together until he left. You finished arranging the flowers, wrapped them up, handed them over to him, said goodbye and wished him luck, then trudged over to the couch and flopped down onto it—this time in a dejected heap.

It wasn’t as if you thought you had much of a chance with Joel, but this just felt so awfully final. It didn’t matter that you were basically thirty years old—in his mind, you were a kid.

It was embarrassing. You thought about the flowers you left—a quiet admission of feelings—and prayed the couch would swallow you whole and suffocate you.

You’d gotten it all wrong. Joel never appreciated it. He probably thought it was weird and pathetic but didn’t have the heart to tell you. You wondered why he even accepted the initial flower, and if you weren’t feeling so spurned and humiliated, it might have dawned on you that you were overreacting.

You still left a flower that night, if only to get some closure. It would be the last one you ever left him.

A red tulip.

Joel came to your door one day in July.

You’d come to expect Ellie on your front porch at least once a week, but Joel wasn’t a surprise either. You were friends now, even after such an embarrassing rejection.

Joel still never mentioned the flowers. He was probably relieved when you stopped leaving them and wanted to pretend it never happened, and that was fine by you.

Being friends didn’t help matters though. He was always rough and grumpy in his Joel way, but he was sweet too. So sweet. It felt impossible to move on.

“Hey, Joel,” you said. “Need help with something?”

“I wanted to help you, actually.”

“Me?”

“I can’t keep lookin’ at that greenhouse,” Joel said. “It’s a piece of shit.”

You had to laugh at his honesty. “You want to patch it up?”

“Was thinking of taking the whole thing apart and rebuildin’ it.”

The offer stunned you. It was so generous and so out of nowhere. Your first instinct was to say no, that it wasn’t worth the trouble, but something stopped you. It was Joel coming to you in earnest and saying he wanted to help. It felt like an insult to deny him.

You smiled warmly and nodded. “Okay.”

“When can I get started?” he asked.

Shit. You had dozens of flower pots you didn’t know what to do with. “Uh, I’ll have to empty the greenhouse first. I guess I'll bring the flowers here in the meantime.”

“Ellie and I can help with that,” Joel said. “I’ll go get her.”

You blinked at him. “Now?”

“You got other plans?”

You absolutely did not. “Ah, no. Now is good.”

“Great.”

That was how you spent your day, lugging flower pots from the greenhouse and unloading them in your front yard with Joel and Ellie in tow. It was so lovely it bordered on being painful—pink roses unshed of their thorns pierced your heart.

You let yourself imagine for a moment that this was reality. That you, Joel and Ellie were a weird, happy family. The carnations in your soul had never been more yellow, and you instantly regretted indulging in that particular fantasy.

Joel was already at the greenhouse when you went there the next morning. He was up on a ladder, and half of the structure was already torn down. Rusted metal pipes and discoloured, ripped up plastic sheets were piling up a few feet away.

“Need any help?” you called out.

He looked down at you and smiled—a real, wide smile you hadn’t seen on him before. “You know what you’re doin'?”

“Not really.”

“Then, no,” he replied. “Don’t want you droppin’ anything on that pretty little head.”

Huh?

You flushed all over, wishing your couch was here so you could collapse onto it. Less than two months ago he was calling you a kid, and now he thought your head was pretty. The thought crept in that maybe he was purposely messing with you, but you liked Joel too much to entertain the idea.

“Well, I probably can’t help with the physical labour,” you said, cursing how nervous your voice sounded. “But if there’s anything else…”

“You’re a sweet one, Rosebud,” Joel said. He had to be doing this on purpose. “You just let me do my thing, and we’ll leave it a surprise.”

You laughed. “In other words, you’re telling me to get lost?”

He grinned at you fondly. “Just trust me.”

It only took one exchange for that hope to come back to life. You tried to stop it, tell yourself he was just teasing, that he didn’t mean it that way, but it was too late. Those carnations were already morphing back into a searing red.

You wanted to come by everyday and watch him work, but you stayed away and waited for him to come to you. It only took a few days for him to show up at your door, looking infuriatingly hot covered in blotches of sage green paint.

“Is it ready?” you asked.

“It’s ready.”

You followed along behind him, keeping your eyes down so you didn’t accidentally spot the new greenhouse before he was ready for you to look. You ended up just ogling his ass, which was a decidedly better and much more pinch-able sight than the ground.

“Look now.”

You lifted your gaze, and your hands flew up to your mouth as you let out a dramatic gasp.

It wasn’t just good, it wasn’t just an improvement, it was beautiful—masterfully pieced together with timber and painted the same sage green that Joel was sporting on his clothes. And it was bigger. There would actually be space for you to walk around inside.

Joel started to panic from beside you, and you realised you were crying. “Is it the green? I can repaint it if you hate it.”

You seemed to have lost the power of speech to reassure him, so instead, you threw your arms around him and held tight. The suddenness of it shocked him, and his hands found your waist. You weren’t sure if he was about to push you away or pull you in.

“So, you like it?” he asked.

“I love it,” you snivelled into his shoulder. “Thank you, Joel.”

He hugged you back then, caging you in with his big arms and making you feel so safe. You felt a prickly sensation on your temple as he brushed his lips against it.

Red tulips were threatening to burst out of you in droves. You didn’t want to let go, but you were seconds away from making a confession you couldn’t take back if you spent too much longer in his embrace.

You pulled yourself away, and even with the sun beating down on you, you missed his warmth.

He walked you back home, came inside when you offered him iced tea (you were out of coffee), drank it all even if it was too sweet for him, and all you could do was thank him repeatedly for what he’d done.

“Don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I wanted to do this for you.”

What did that mean?

“I’m sorry I never said anything,” Joel continued, a pink flush apparent on his cheeks.

“About what?” You knew exactly what.

“The flowers. I wanted to thank you, but I didn’t know how. I’m not used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Kindness.” He almost winced, like it hurt to say.

“It was weird. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t weird,” Joel assured you. “It was…nice. Bummed me out when you stopped.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I get it.”

You didn’t know what to say at this point. You didn’t want to be talking about any of it, and you were about to tell him that, ask him to move on from this, until he decided to put you on the absolute spot.

“What did they mean?”

Fuck. “Hm?”

“The flowers,” he said. “You said flowers have meaning. What did they mean?”

“I actually don’t know those ones.” That harmless little lie worked on Ellie, but Joel saw right through it.

“Why are you lying to me?” He didn’t even sound angry or annoyed, just genuinely curious, and a little sympathetic.

You considered doubling-down, insisting you didn't know, but you couldn’t do that him. It was a vulnerable conversation for not only you, but Joel as well. You understood how hard this was for him, and you cared for him too much to shut him down.

But you couldn’t say it, not verbally. Instead, you grabbed the notebook that was laying on your coffee table and held it out to him. There was a split second as he was reaching for it where you imagined yourself tugging it back out of his reach, forgetting about this entire thing, but then it was in his hands and it was too late. Nothing would ever be the same.

You held your breath as he flipped through it, his eyes flicking over the words. His face gave nothing away, but his finger was tracing over something.

Red tulip - declaration of love.

He gently shut the book and set it down, and your eyes stayed firmly on the floor, hoping if you stared at it long enough it would split open and consume you.

“Are you surprised?” You couldn’t project your voice above a whisper.

“I guess not,” Joel said. It was the honest answer, and the one you most expected. “I thought you were just bein’ nice, then Ellie kept insisting you were interested.”

That girl was smarter than you gave her credit for—and you already thought she was very smart.

“I thought there was no way,” Joel continued. “You’re sweet and young and so pretty. I’m just an old man.”

“I don’t care how old you are,” you replied.

“I’ve done a lot of bad things...”

“I don’t care what you’ve done. I care who you are now.”

You were looking at him now. He looked moved, rapt, and not at all like someone about to deliver a devastating rejection.

“And you want me?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause where neither of you said anything, but the air was thick with an unspoken question: Where do we go from here?

“Can I kiss you, Rosebud?”

You nodded, and he did. It felt like dozens of chrysanthemums, camellias and carnations all springing to life under your skin.

He was gentle in a way you never could have imagined, cupping your cheek with his palm and holding your waist with the other. It was reminiscent of the hug you’d shared earlier, and you wondered if he’d wanted to kiss you then.

His lips were rough, a little chapped, but soft in the way he moved them. This wouldn’t be how he always kissed, you were sure of that. Someday it would be messy, frantic, all-consuming. But this careful, slow movement of his lips against yours was all you needed right now.

He wanted to be gentle with you, because he cherished you like a rosebud.

flower translations:

rose (pink) - perfect happiness

rose (dark crimson) - mourning

carnation (red) - admiration

marigold - grief, despair

starwort - welcome to a stranger

chrysanthemum (red) - i love you

vervain - enchantment

gardenia - you’re lovely

yarrow - healing

aster - symbol of love

agapanthus - secret love

camellia (pink) - longing for you

peony - prosperity

daffodil (bunch) - new beginnings, hope, good luck

carnation (yellow) - rejection, disappointment

tulip (red) - declaration of love

rosebud (red) - pure, lovely

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction

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itsprashimusic · 2 months

Text

Wildest Dreams Warm Realities

"Say you'll remember me"

Summary - A Formula 1 driver is on vacation in Goa with his family. A woman and her friend group are also on a vacation in Goa. Is this destiny?

Pairings - Charles Leclerc x indian!fem!Reader

Warnings - hindi words with english translations at the end, your best friend has a name (Sarah), mention of animals getting harmed, reader has hair. Happy reading🩵

W/C - 2.6k

A/N - the train is from Mumbai to Goa. Let me know if I missed anything.

Navigation | "Say you'll remember me" | "Standin' in a nice dress" | "Starin' at the sunset" | ..babe"

The horn sounded nice and loud, it could be heard by the people who stood on the road outside the station. It indicated that the train was now leaving CSMT and heading to its final destination. You had this trip planned out with your friends since the beginning of the year. All hotel reservations were made and all tickets were booked since this was the busiest time of the year to travel.

It was the middle of December. You had 3 different invites to 3 different weddings, an invitation to meet one of your good school friends, and a desire for a true Goa trip with your friend group. But all of that was about to go down the drain because you were standing on the platform hearing the train engines start and watching it slowly pull away. You went out to grab some hot samosas for everyone but were now panicking, “Bhaiya jaldi karo, train jaa rahi hai!” you yelled at the poor dude who was trying to hurriedly wrap the piping hot samosas. You got the black thaili, gave him a 200 rupee note, and ran off, “Chhutta rakh lena!” you said over your shoulder.

This could not be happening. It looked cute in YJHD when Naina was running behind the train, unfortunately you were not Naina. You were running after the train with your hair tied in a weird bun from the morning and were holding onto a black plastic bag with samosas in it, very much the opposite of how she looked. But then you saw it, more accurately, him. He was tall and had fluffy hair, like Bunny. But his hair was brown and he had green eyes, eyes which were filled with concern, eyes that were looking at you.

This distracted you, but when you realised the train was moving away faster, you started to sprint. Never in your life had you run faster. His one had held onto the railing, while the other was stretched out and gesturing to you. You grabbed onto his outstretched hand and jumped. This is where you mentally prayed that he would catch you, if not, you were surely gonna get jammed in between the train and the platform, get injured, or die on impact. Thankfully he did catch you. When you jumped, he reacted quite fast and pulled you with one hand and caught you by your waist with the other.

The both of you stood at the door standing incredibly close, breathing and processing what just happened.

You managed to recover and pulled away from him, his hands dropping from your wrist and waist. However, you did not notice his slightly disappointed face, which he quickly covered up.

“Thanks for..the help.” you weren’t really sure what to say. He didn’t say anything, he just kept looking at you. You started to worry that he didn’t speak English, right when he replied, “Sure, it was no problem.”

God that accent. He was definitely from Europe, maybe France. But just that one sentence got you craving for more. You wanted to hear him talk, it didn’t matter what the subject was.

The silence turned awkward, so you mumbled a final ‘thank you’ and ‘see you around’ before entering the first class A/C compartment.

You and your group of six(excluding you), had booked the train tickets separately. Two of your friends who were dating booked a coupe for themselves, and then gradually everyone else also got their tickets. You were the last to book and ended up in a cabin with 4 berths. You just hoped that whoever you would be sharing a cabin with would not bother you or make you uncomfortable.

You made your way to your friends’ compartment and gave everyone their samosas. By now it was no longer hot, just warm, but it was enjoyed nonetheless. You fell into the lively conversation and temporarily forgot about the brunette with capturing eyes and an alluring accent who saved you from missing a train. Once the clock hit 11 pm, everyone started getting ready for the night. You and your best friend went to brush and wash up for the night while the others got their beds ready. That is when you remember the mystery man.

Sarah was in the middle of brushing her teeth when you came out of the smelling washroom saying, “I nearly missed the train while getting you guys your food.”

“Wha id u o?”

“I ran like a mad woman and got saved by a stranger.” the second you finished speaking, she spit the foam out of her mouth, looked up at you, and asked you to elaborate. “Was it a guy?” you gave her a look, “Was he cute??” you gave her a more pronounced look and she started squealing. You had to cover her mouth with your hand. The train staff member who was in the other train car gave you a weird look.

You just smiled at him and dragged your toothpaste-covered friend into the a/c compartment. You gave her a towel to wipe her mouth with while she whisper-yelled more questions at you.

“The bhaiya was still wrapping the samosas, the horn went off, the train started leaving and I ran. I saw this guy, this gorgeous guy standing at the door. He held out his hand and I-” you weren’t even able to complete your sentence. ‘You had your DDLJ moment!’ Sarah squealed, jumping up and down with excitement. One thing you were glad to have in your life was Sarah. She was always happy for you, got excited for you, and uplifted you. And that is what she did. It took her five minutes of convincing before she left for her cabin with your 3 other mutual friends.

You headed back to your cabin, but this time it was not empty. A man and a woman were sitting on the berth below yours. They looked like a couple, foreigners. They looked at you, smiled, gave a nod of their head, and continued their conversation in what you guessed was French. As you shuffled around getting your bed ready another man walks, dressed in sweatpants and a tight-fitting t-shirt. It was the brunette who ‘saved’ you a few hours earlier.

Not knowing what to do, or if you should say something, you just continued making your bed in the upper berth. You realised that he also was sleeping in the upper berth when he tossed a few items up there. Once you were done, the couple’s talks died down and the woman asked, “Hi, we don’t mean to be a bother but we were wondering if you could just guide us on how to get the beds sorted. We are not exactly sure what to do.”

The brunette man had left the room, seemingly to make a call. You smiled at the woman, “Oh, no worries.” you gave her your name and she replied, “I’m Charlotte, this is my boyfriend Lorenzo.” You smiled at him and then turned your attention towards Charlotte and began explaining what to do. Both lower berths were done and soon enough the green-eyed man returned.

Charlotte said something to him in French. They knew each other. She turned to you, “and this is Charles, Enzo’s younger brother.” Even his name sounds regal. Before you could get a word in he said, “We’ve already met.” with a smile that seemed genuine. His brother gave him a questioning look and asked him in French. Charles gave a reply. It was now nearing midnight and you wanted to sleep soon. You were getting off at a station in the north of Goa, meaning you had to wake up early. Before you could head up to your berth, Charlotte asked if you could help Charles with his bed. She thanked you and then pulled her boyfriend out of the cabin and walked away, not really giving you an option.

You looked at him and he looked at you, confused. “Do you know how to set the bed?” you asked with a smile on your face. “Not really, no,” he said with a laugh, “I could use some help.” So you helped him set the bed. In the meantime, you both spoke about different things. You told him about the weddings and plans to spend as much time on the beach as possible. He told you about how one of his co-workers told him about Goa’s splendour and fun and how he and his family are spending their holiday together.

By the time the bed was set, you were sitting on your berth while he opted to stand, his height making it difficult to sit on the upper berth. It was now way past midnight. You were getting tired, though it seemed that he was wide awake. Charlotte and Lorenzo finally returned. Your conversation died down. You said that you had to get up early and were now going to sleep. They promised to keep quiet. You put your eye mask on and turned to the side letting the swaying motions of the train put you to sleep.

With the amount of excitement inside of you, you were not able to sleep for very long. You were well rested but woke up at 6 am. The three Monegasques were fast asleep (i have no idea of Charlotte’s nationality so let’s just say she is from monaco). You sat up in bed and for a good five minutes just admired the sleeping body opposite of you. You checked your phone and found out that the train was delayed by 3 hours. This was ridiculous. Apparently, a large group of animals were crossing the tracks when a train was approaching and it caused an accident.

You got out of bed and went to see if any of your friends were awake. Everyone was sleeping, except Sarah whose bed was empty. She was probably in the washroom. You decided that it was too early to do anything and so went back to your cabin, fetched your toiletry bag, freshened up, went back to bed, wrapped yourself in the itchy blanket, and opened Subway Surfers on your phone while your other hand held a cold sandwich. Your headphones played some music you had downloaded. An hour passed and you set a new high score for which you were proud. Charles woke up.

You didn’t notice at first, but he saw you as soon as his eyes opened. You looked adorable wrapped up in the cocoon of the blanket. It was when he sat up that you saw him and gave him a smile and a small wave. His cheeks turned red and he waved back. His thoughts of you at that moment ranged from pure and soft to vulgar and wild, and it all lasted for less than a second. He got up and went out. You decided that you should go and check if Sarah is awake. When you reached her cabin, her bed was still empty. Feeling lazy, you made the decision to stand by the train door and hopefully catch some cold morning wind.

Your hair went in a plait and you opened the train door which was left unlocked. The toilet door opened and out came the dreamy Monegasque. He came up to you, "Are you sure that is the safest thing to do?”

“Not really, but that’s the fun in it.” there was a sparkle in your eye when you turned your head to look at him.

“Are you even allowed to open the door?” his laugh made it clear he was fooling around with you.

“Technically no. But it wasn’t locked, so it's on them.” Your laugh sounded angelic to him. The hair which escaped your braid framed your face so beautifully, Charles could do nothing but stare at you. It took him a second to realise you were asking him something.

“Slept well?” he shook his head. “Not quite. The constant shaking made me restless.” “That happens. But eventually, you get used to it.” He asked how you slept and you answered ‘pretty good.’ He stood opposite of you resting on the wall behind him watching the wind blow your hair around as the sun began to rise. The pair marinated in comfortable silence until a staff member came and told you to move away and shut the door. The tranquil moment was broken, but neither of you wanted it to end. Without speaking a word, the two of you went inside the compartment but stayed outside your cabin.

“Well, we did speak last night but I do not know much about you.”

“In that case, what would you like to know?”

He leans against the train wall, his arms crossed, your pose mimicking his. He thinks for a second and proceeds to ask, “How often do you travel?” “Not very often,” you respond, “I sometimes go for a weekend trip to nearby hill stations, but that's usually the max I travel.”

“So no foreign trips?”

“I don’t exactly have the funds for it,” you chuckle, “between getting a visa organised, praying that my leave from work gets approved, to finding flights, I just find it not worth the effort. I would be spending three months of my salary for just 10 days of vacation which I would rather spend finishing work which equals more money.”

He seemed perplexed by your answer, confusion evident on his face. “And would I be right in assuming that you travel abroad very often?” you ask, a bit of a smirk showing. He smiles and looks down, his hair moving due to this movement. Your eyes were fixed on this as he answered, “You would.” “And why do you travel the world, Charles?”

He smiles, that lovely smile, “I-uh, I drive expensive cars for very wealthy people around the world.” You smiled, but something about that answer felt false. Like he wasn’t telling you everything, but it didn’t seem like he was lying. “Does that mean you know much about cars then?” “I’d like to think I do.”

The smiles never left either of your faces as the conversation continued. You mentioned how your brother works with different types of cars and how they are his life. “I should meet him then, test my knowledge about cars,” Charles said.

“Trust me you don’t, he gets very excited when someone mentions anything about cars. Once he starts, he does not stop.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind, I am a good listener.”

"Tell me something you like." the driver asked after a while of the train being halted. You looked out of the hazy window and replied, "The sun." He cocked an eyebrow. "I could go on and on about it." "Well, I did say I am a good listener," said Charles.

The conversation went on for what felt like hours. But soon enough you felt the train start to finally move. You both decided to head back to the cabin, but you were stopped when one of your friends called out to you to join them. You were disappointed, gave Charles a short apology, and followed behind your friend.

By the time you were able to go back to your cabin, the train had reached the final platform where you were getting off. You were hoping to catch a glimpse of Charles before leaving, but sadly when you returned to your cabin, it was empty save for your luggage and belongings. You gathered all of your items and met your group on the platform. The two cars which were rented for the next two weeks were there waiting for you. Everyone got in and drove off to the rest houses. You were the designated driver for Car 1, which gave you very little opportunity to think about not getting to say goodbye to Charles.

Little did you know that you would meet him once again, very soon.

Translations

Bhaiya jaldi karo, train jaa rahi hai! - Brother hurry up, the train is leaving!

Chhutta rakh lena! - Keep the change(money)

thaili - bag (in this case it is a black plastic bag)

A/N - i had so much fun writing this. i already have part 2 in the works. if this fic is well received, i'll post the next part. Hope you enjoyed reading🩵

If you want to find out more about me or my works, you can head to my navigation.

@sam-is-lost @juleswrites223

#itsprashimusic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x desi!reader #charles leclerc x indian!reader #desiblr #f1 x desi!reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine

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