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wreckofawriter · 8 months

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Only If You Catch Me

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pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now

word count: 4.4k

warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!

a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it

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Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.

“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar.

You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy”

The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles.

“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed.

“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last.

Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”

“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.

“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.

“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”

Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.

Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”

You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”

Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued.

“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated.

“Exactly” The twins replied in unison.

Alicia snickered beside you.

Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.

“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.

Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.

You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles.

“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.

“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled, “He reckons it’ll be his gut.”

You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team.

“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.”

Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”.

“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer.

Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you.

“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”

“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother.

“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced.

Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.

“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?”

You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently.

Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!”

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.”

Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.”

You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”

“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”

You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”

Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.

You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred.

You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.”

Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”

He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.”

You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy who was now standing to leave the pub.

“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped.

George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.

“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked.

“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”

Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth.

Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely.

Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.”

“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”

“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled.

“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out.

“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped.

Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.”

Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.

“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.”

Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.”

“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.”

Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered.

“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.

The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him. Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.

That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready.

“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.”

He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused.

You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring.

“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously.

You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles.

“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?”

You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle.

As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him.

“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”

George chuckled.

Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.

“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately.

The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation.

Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly.

The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so.

Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.

Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you.

He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.

Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt.

He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two.

Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes.

“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms.

Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions.

“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open.

“Fred?” You mumbled, confused.

The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground.

Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face.

“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded.

As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.

“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!”

Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”

But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.”

You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”

George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”

The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?”

You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair.

“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again.

Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air.

By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life.

In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were.

Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face.

Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red.

He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!”

Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice.

You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”

You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.”

Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles.

“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling.

“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner.

You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was.

Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch.

How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?

The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room.

As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles .

As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”

“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia.

“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away.

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.”

His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly.

“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.”

And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?”

Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.”

You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.

George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman.

You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form.

Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly.

A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.

You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.

You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away.

He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.

You furrowed your brow, “What?”

“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.”

It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead.

He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused.

“For what?”

“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully.

You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.”

He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.”

You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy.

“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.”

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still.

You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.

One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.

“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky.

Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face.

“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps.

You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.

You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own.

He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time.

This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.

You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence.

Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust.

“Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.

“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.”

You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race.

“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.

“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

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#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley imagines #fred weasly x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #hp fandom #hp fanfic #hp #weasley twins #harry potter x reader

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mrrharper · 2 months

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A Son, Reformed

To be perfectly clear, Joe was surprised when his son Tyler began religiously working out, gaining muscle at an amazing pace, and then informed him that he'd joined the football team as a recruit. But...

He was certainly glad that it happened. When Tyler came with him to Dallas after the divorce, he had a hard time living alone with the artsy teenager. Joe, a conservative-leaning man wanting to uphold masculine virtues, had a hard time getting along with Tyler, who was very much not interested in masculinity, so to speak.

He didn't expect that to change when his son enrolled in university. Joe's only success was convicting Tyler to stay with him and choose local, and so his son began studying anthropology at Texas Christian University. He seemed to feel comfortable there, having quickly found a small group of nerd--- other kids with similar interests that he now hang around with.

It seemed that Joe's relation with his son wouldn't change substantially despite Tyler beginning a new part of his life. And then one day, somewhere around early October, Tyler came back home reeking of sweat, like he had just ran 10 miles through a desert. He still didn't really speak with Joe, but it was clear that something was going on. A few days later his son came back from college, but instead of his usual backpack, he had a duffel bag on his shoulder. When asked about it he simply required "Dunno dad, it's conformable, I guess."

Joe quickly figured out that Tyler was working out while not at home. But he wasn't really sharing annoying with him, which disappointed Joe a lot. His son wasn't even going to talk to him about the gym, a topic Joe was certainly familiar with, the real man he was.

Then two things happened. Tyler came to him, saying he was joining the football team, and Joe received an e-mail from George Bridges, the head coach of the TCU Horned Frogs football team, requesting a one-on-one conversation.

He agreed, hoping for this to explain the situation. So Joe came to the building of the Athletics Complex at TCU and walked up to Coach Bridges' office. The other man welcomed him and quickly began talking, and as the conversation progressed the grin on Joe's face grew larger and larger.

As Coach explained, there was a dip in the recruiting numbers, so he had to turn to more unorthodox tactics. And that meant infusing Tyler with some real jock musk during a safety seminar taught by Coach Bridges, then taking him and getting his mind accustomed to the idea of becoming a jock.

That of course required getting him high on bro musk and using a few "influencing" techniques Coach learned during his time in the military. After a few of those sessions, carried out in a locker room just after a practice where the smell of jock was still very potent, Tyler joined the other rookies at the gym.

The rookies made sure he quickly caught up with them, which is why Tyler had been coming home drenched in sweat. He was doing an extensive workout routine and, as part of a welcoming ritual, the other football jocks prevented him from taking showers. After a few weeks of almost-daily weights training, Coach made the next big step. He invited Tyler for a talk, during which he made him wear a set of TCU-branded gym gear, and then, using his conversation skills he got in the Army as an instructor at West Point, he eloquently got Tyler to think he was a football jock at heart, which quickly led to Coach accepting Tyler's request to join the team as the freshest recruit - the newest Horned Frog bro.

Joe was surprised by what he heard, for sure. But he was also content, because he knew that his son was now in good hands, and on the right tracks. He expressed his feelings to Coach, saying that he wasn't expecting a coach in the modern days to go to such an extent to fight for his team, but that he was glad there were still men like Coach Bridges in America, working to preserve the traditions of college football.

Things changed for the better in Joe's household. Tyler--- Ty was now eager to spend time with him, talking about practice and shit-talking Baylor and SMU. His room had quickly transformed - textbooks and vinyl records got thrown out or sold, a PS4 and a collection of footballs took their place. The floor was now covered with gym gear - compression shirts, shorts and a few pairs of cleats. It smelled like a locker room, Ty's jock musk always filling every space he entered. There were three gym duffels hanging form the door, always ready for a session with the bros. The walls were now covered with posters showing TCU (and to Joe's delight - Cowboys) players at their best.

Ty also adopted the vocabulary mannerisms of his teammates, which meant Joe was no longer "dad", but "bro" or "dude". He didn't have a problem with at though, at all. In fact, he very much encouraged this "bro talk", seeing it as another step on Ty's journey towards masculinity. Same with spreading legs and openly scratching his crotch. For Joe it was clear that his son was becoming a real man.

Joe was also astounded by the speed at which Ty gained muscle mass, quickly becoming so massive it was impossible to see any difference between him and the other jocks on the team. He quickly got used to Ty flexing at random times - he knew that with guns like these, Ty had every right to show some pride in his gains.

Before the season ended, Ty finished his transformation and officially joined the roster as a defensive end. He was now a prime specimen of an all-american jock and Joe couldn't be prouder, watching his son do tackling drills during open practice. Ty quickly adjusted to the jock lifestyle, changing his majors form anthropology to health & fitness, as it was clear that his cognitive abilities decreased significantly, his mind now focused on football, not that nerd sh--- academic work. He'd much rather join his best bros - Street, Mike and Case - in the gym or in their favorite sports bar that gave out discounts for beer to TCU athletes.

Ty also frequently invited them home, which meant Joe was now used to his living room turning into a space for partying and beer-drinking testosterone-filled football bros. He's now used to the sounds of Madden and the boys grunting as they play against each other filling his house.

Now every time Ty enters the house, his TCU tank top damp with sweat, and his low and empty voice welcomes Joe with a "'am back bro!" or "''ey dude, what's up?", he smiles and thinks how lucky he was to have a son like that. A real man. Now he could get to work, turning Ty from just a football jock to a real patriot like himself.

#football jock #jock tf #nerd to jock tf

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 months

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die for you.

ln x driver!reader

in which you can’t stand each other, or so you say…

this took waaaay too long for me to hate it sm but she’s here! and she’s long! love this concept so much, thank you for this request. so many feels so many vibes, tell me what you think <3

loosely inspired by die for you by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, slight glimpses of she fell first, he fell harder, rivals to lovers/enemies to lovers, choking, hate sex? bar fight, mentions of blood

8.3k words (oop)

it’s rare that you miss a podium, so when you do, it tastes bitter and stings like a bitch.

the car has been on fire all season long, a thing of beauty in your calculated hands. so, the string of bad luck you’re enduring, small mistakes with big consequences, it’s quite the pill to swallow.

out of the car you jump, teeth grinding hard out of frustration. you could see the commotion ahead of you, members of the papaya team celebrating their driver. your eyes roll so hard in your head that you feel a lasting ache. you side step members of your team, dodging every single person that tries to talk to you, your comms officer knowing better than to try and engage with you. you know you’re being unreasonable, it was a p5 finish! but it isn’t a podium or a win, so quite frankly, you aren’t interested, and you certainly don’t have any energy left to hear how amazingly well he had driven.

lando fucking norris.

what was once quiet disdain had grown into fully fledged hatred and you fear you’ll be violently sick if you catch a single glimpse of him on the podium. sure, he’s talented, and sure, he’s beautiful, you suppose. that doesn’t mean you have to like him. not anymore. he lives under your skin, inescapable.

you struggle through every interview in the media pen, most of which dissect your recent fall from grace, your mouth forming a hard, unimpressed line every time they mention the orange goblin and his recent streak of podiums and good luck. you wish the journos would bring up his string of women and the probable plan b receipts that went with them. that, you would love to talk about.

you drive in silence back to your hotel, leaving the track as soon as possible, and quickly find solace in your bed for the night. the idea of seeing the inside of a club makes you nauseous after your epic downfall. as your eyes are drooping, your body going limp under the thick duvet, a knock sounds from the door.

“no.” you shout flatly, but the only response you get are giggles from the hallway. for fuck sake, you mutter, groaning as you shift out from beneath the covers and trail apprehensively towards the door.

george and alex appear before you, and you throw your head back is exasperation.

“mate, it’s 9:30.” alex laughs, taking in your fancy attire; pyjamas that you’ve had since you were 17.

“what’s your point?” you croak, glaring up at your obnoxiously tall friend.

“why aren’t you getting ready to go out?” george questions, leaning against the doorframe. he, too, was obnoxiously tall, you thought, feeling the strain in your neck as you move your glare onto him.

“if it wasn’t obvious, i’m not going.” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought that was clear after i ignored all 77 of your texts.” you smile sarcastically, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“don’t be boring! you’re an f1 driver, you’re in a cool city, you’re rich and, let’s face it,” he sasses. “you need to get laid.” alex says, like it’s the most causal thing in the world. your eyes bulge out of your head at the utterance of the last bit. george bites back laughter.

“choosing to ignore that.” you hiss. “i’m sorry but i refuse to go out and celebrate that arrogant, whiny little bitch.”

they both know exactly who you’re talking about.

you and lando have simply never seen eye to eye. your karting days were spent pushing one another off the track or into a muddy puddle if things got a bit heated out of the car. sure, olive branches were extended, and maybe adolescent feelings were secretly harboured, but he never gave you any reason to tell him that. you’d grown out of the childish violence when you graduated into formula 1, but you hadn’t been able to shake the rage he made you feel.

it didn’t matter how many dinners you attended where others had conspired and forced you to sit next to each other. it didn’t matter how many times you turned up to play padel and were met with the same lame excuses of ‘oh, did we not mention lando would be here?’ it didn’t matter how many times you’d hugged it out on the podium while adrenaline and tensions were running high.

it didn’t matter how many times he’d watched you from across a crowded room and you’d found his eyes, watched him back. it didn’t matter how many times he’d smirked at you at the start of a race weekend, made you blush. and it certainly didn’t matter what happened last time you found yourself in a club with him.

you just don’t like him. not anymore. you sleep better at night when you lie to yourself.

~ the last time

you sink shot after shot, cocktail after cocktail; the taste of fruity liquor stains your lips and burns your throat. you feel electric, sizzling with ecstasy and the heat from the flashing lights above your head.

it’s approaching 4am and you can’t recall a time in your life where you’d felt so fucking good. the high of your first win is indescribable.

you’ve lost track of the guys, alex and george have packed it in and gone back to their hotels with their girlfriends. pierre and kika are somewhere in a corner, you’re certain. you’re pretty sure you’ve even seen lewis with his entourage and a brick wall of a bodyguard trailing behind him. and at the bar, a set of eyes watch you.

lando isn’t even listening to oscar anymore, no. he is too entranced in the way your hips move to the beat, lost in the carefree lines your body makes in the crowd. he’s itching to go to you, put his hands in places that would stay between you, him, and god, but he doesn’t think a broken nose would be good for business.

everything changes when you spin around, facing his direction. then, it begins: the same thing that happens every time you end up going out in the same group. you watch one another, pretending you’re not both achingly desperate to find out how the other tastes.

but lando is feeling bold. he tells oscar he’ll see him in the morning, and then, egged on by a moscow mule and a few too many shots, he makes his way towards you. it is instinctual, magnetic, the way he is drawn to you.

hands on your hips, lips on your neck. the song changes. you recognise the weeknd’s voice. you are disappointed in yourself but it feels too good to stop.

you know what i’m thinkin', see it in your eyes you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry you’re scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night i’m scared that i’ll miss you, happens every time

the lyrics sober you up. you’re in the first taxi you can see when you finally get outside.

alone.

as much as that memory makes you shiver, for several different reasons, you find yourself putting on some makeup and raking through your suitcase for something to wear. george and alex are waiting downstairs for you at the bar, and when you finally make your way down there, they have a martini waiting for you. they watch in impressed horror as the alcohol disappears from the glass mere seconds after it touches your lips.

“let’s get this over with.” you sigh.

it could have been worse, you suppose.

the club is packed, hundreds of faces blurring into nothing. you feel better knowing that there is a one in a million chance of running into lando.

you’re tucked into a booth with alex and george, carmen and lily, a few faces you can’t quite place, and charles and pierre. you’d conspired to sit on the outside, prepared to make a quick getaway at the first sign of tension.

you’d been in a state of fight or flight since your last run in, nails bitten down every time you thought about his hands on you, how good they felt on you. it scared you more than anything had in a long time, how your desire had festered.

you go to take a swig from your glass, only to find it empty, aside from a few sad ice cubes. you watch jealously as they melt into nothing, wishing they would take you with them, shoving your glass across the smooth table top when your frustration boils over.

you’re on edge, ridiculously afraid of bumping into a curly haired man. it wasn’t him you were scared of, per-say, more yourself. god knows what you’d do if you felt those warm, calloused hands pulling your hips into his again.

“you okay?” pierre calls across the table. he and charles abandon their conversation as soon as your glass goes flying towards their side of the table. you’re broken out of your trance, caught off guard like a deer in headlights.

“tired.” you reply, shrugging it off like it was nothing. it’s clear immediately that they don’t buy it.

“she’s hiding.” alex chimes in from beside you, and your elbow goes straight into his ribs. he feigns pain for a moment, cackling at your reaction.

“from who?” charles inquires. you roll your eyes, blush spreading down your neck already. you hate everything about the conversation, and yet you need to see where it goes. you’d planned your escape, and now was the opportune time to make it, but you seem to be glued to the leather of the booth.

“lando.” george smirks into his drink as a he speaks, wiggles his eyebrows.

“oh yeah, we know all about that.” pierre laughs, his head tipping back in amusement.

“what?” you spit, eyes wide with confusion.

“don’t think me and kika didn’t see you two before the summer break. that night you won? we thought you’d finally cave.” pierre explains, his grin conveying pure evil.

several “what?!”’s sound from around the table, and now all eyes are on you.

“nothing even happened.” you mumble. “he came over to me and then i left.” you look away, twisting your hair around your finger. you are sweating.

“you looked like you were minutes away from being arrested for public indecency.” pierre smirks. you almost launch yourself across the table, intent on strangling him, and then perhaps throwing yourself in front of an oncoming uber outside.

“well, well, well. i fucking knew it.” alex is giggling beside you.

“come on guys, leave the poor girl alone.” lily winks at you, but even she has a twinkle in her eye. “there’s obviously feelings there.” and just like that she betrays you. her sympathetic smile doesn’t make you forgive her.

“i think you guys just need to get it out of your system,” charles starts, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “just fuck.” he waves his hand, like it was the most causal thing in the world.

the table erupts in laughter and you decide that you are well past the end of your tether. you shake your head, declaring that you need another drink, or ten, and strut away from the table. a chorus of ‘love you’-s and ‘get some’-s sound from behind you. you reply simply by raising your middle finger and refusing to look back.

the bar is in sight, just about in your reach when your evening goes from mildly bad to aggressively worse.

“fuck sake.” you sigh.

“and good evening to you too.” lando replies. he’s blocking your path, materialising before you out of nowhere.

“get out of my way, lan.” it sounds like you’re pleading and you cringe internally.

“don’t you wanna congratulate me?” he feigns a pout and you almost swing for him.

“no, not particularly.” you say dryly. “all i want is a drink, so if you’d just…” you gesture for him to move. of course, he doesn’t.

“haven’t seen you in a while, though. thought maybe you’d missed me.” he takes a step closer; goosebumps litter your bare skin.

“you are such an entitled prick.” you spit, moving to step around him but he catches you, gripping your wrists and pulling you in. you feel heat radiating off of him, expensive cologne overwhelming you in the best possible way.

“and you, honey, are such a fucking brat. but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?” lando whispers, cool breath hitting your face, minty, laced with champagne and cockiness. you almost fold, thighs clenching so tight that he must have noticed.

“move.” you grumble through gritted teeth. you are crumbling painfully, embarrassingly fast.

“make me.” your underwear is damp, but you are fuming.

“don’t fucking test me, lando.” something in your chest sets on fire and you’re over him and his bullshit, and the way he makes you feel.

“i know you want me.” he dips his forehead down to rest gently against yours. his grip on your wrists tightens, thumbs swirling circles into the flesh, right where your pulse is.

you lean in, mere centimetres separating your lips. his eyes darken, the assumption of victory over you tugs his lips into a smirk.

“all i want is my fucking drink. come find me when you’ve managed to navigate your gigantic, stupid head out of your arse.” you catch him off guard, wriggling out of his grip. you’re shaking when you walk away, thoughts of doing things with him that would get you both fired invading your foggy brain.

you try to disappear into the crowd, finally breathe a sigh of relief when your hands meet the cool surface of the bar. you order your drink, putting it on your tab and drum your nails against the marble top. you’re lost in your own world, watching as concoctions are mixed, as shots are downed. you finally feel at ease, until your evening takes yet another turn, one that was somehow even more unfortunate than all the others.

your attention is rudely stolen by the guy stood next to you.

“can i get that for you?” the random man speaks, in a way that he must of assumed was smooth. slimy, you think. he’s gesturing to your drink, clearly having watched you add it to your bill already.

“no, thank you. it’s already paid for.” you smile politely, turning on your heel. it seems he wasn’t quite done with you. you feel a clammy hand tug on yours, a wave of sickness washes over you.

lando’s hands are bigger, warmer, softer.

“where are you rushing off to, babe?” the sweaty man asks, his tone fake in a way that makes you uneasy.

“i need to get back to my friends.” you try to pull your hand free, but he won’t budge. “can you let go-“

“i can show you a good time. always thought you were kinda hot.” you’re panicking now, looking every which way for a familiar face, a security guard, anyone.

“take your hands off of me.” you snap, still wrestling to pull yourself free.

“one night with me would pull you out of that little slump you’re in.” he leers. you visibly gag, white hot rage blurs your vision.

“okay you piece of shi-“ you snarl, interrupted by a flash of curls and tanned skin.

“she told you to let go.” lando stands in front of you protectively, rigid and furious. you’ve never been so happy to see his annoying(ly beautiful) face.

“and what are you gonna do?”

“hands. off.” lando stands up even straighter, looking bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

“okay, mate, whatever.” the stranger rolls his eyes, shoves your hand away.

lando turns to you, opening his mouth to speak when…

“keep that stuck up bitch all to yourself.”

and then, everything goes to shit.

lando whips around, fists are flying, the stranger topples to the ground, amassed to nothing in the face of the mclaren drivers rage. lando doesn’t stop there, makes sure he is sufficiently dealt with, flat on his back on the sticky floor. you don’t know what to do, calling out for lando, begging him to stop, as satisfied as you are. lando hears your shouts, pulled out of the chaos and back to you. always back to you.

“are you okay?” he has his hands on your face searching for any remaining fear or upset. a crowd has formed and you see alex and george towering above the other club goers, jaws agape.

it’s as if he dj has it out for you, and you realise that the song has changed to something moodier, slower, one that gives you whiplash.

even though we're going through it and it makes you feel alone just know that i would die for you baby, i would die for you

“we need to get out of here. security are coming.” you mutter, keening into his touch.

“i have a car outside.”

“well, let’s use it then.”

you can’t help but stroke over his knuckles mindlessly in the car, an unlikely comfortable silence settling between you. they look raw, cracked slightly and you have an overwhelming desire to kiss them better. your head is fuzzy, and you’re unsettled with confusion, but at the same time, you feel lighter.

“why did you do that?” you murmur, disrupting the quiet that has settled over the backseat of the town car, the question burning desperately on your tongue.

lando turns his head so that he’s looking down at you, his good hand comes up to cup your jaw softly.

“no one can talk to you like that.” he’s staring so deeply into your eyes and you almost squirm at the intensity. you feel exposed, bare.

“but why did you step in before that?” you reiterate shakily. lando hums in understanding.

“i’ve known you since we were 10 years old. i know when you’re scared.” he whispers, breath dusting your cheeks. you almost lean in, then, something about his words pull you even closer towards him. you feel warmth creeping over your chest, sinking into the pit of your belly.

“we’ve arrived.” the driver calls from the front, signalling that you need to get out of the car. it was like an elastic band had snapped, and you spring away from lando, scrambling to undo your seat belt, the moment of weakness long gone.

you sneak into the lobby, on the lookout for any angry PR teams or incognito photographers that are scoping for their next pay check. the coast seems clear, so you manage to scurry discreetly into the elevator. you hit the button for the third floor.

“can you hit the button for five?” lando asks, leaning against the opposite wall.

“you’re coming to my room.” you state, offering no other explanation, even when he raises his eyebrows.

the ding of the lift has lando pushing himself off of the mirrored wall, trailing behind you into the corridor. the lights are low as he follows you to your door, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. he watches in anticipation as you rifle through your small bag for your keycard. the green light gives you the go ahead to open the door, and he awkwardly follows you inside, peering around the room.

you notice the slight apprehension in his features, eyes blown wide from alcohol and adrenaline. they seem to sparkle more than you’d seen in a while, a hazel-y blue twisting with secrets and unspoken thoughts.

“let me find my first aid kit.” you tell him. you guide him towards the foot of your bed, gesture for him to sit. “make yourself comfortable.”

“you don’t need to do this.” lando replies, sitting down anyway.

“and you didn’t need to get between me and that dickhead but here we are.”

your words elicit a low chuckle from him, and you’re glad you have your back to him while you dig through your suitcase. he can’t see your smile at the wholesome sound, and he doesn’t need to.

random pieces of clothing fall out of the bag as you rummage through it, your attention taken up completely by your mission to find the small box. you don’t notice the pile of garments littering the floor.

“wow, didn’t take you for that kinda girl.” lando teases. your cheeks flame red when you catch sight of the cherry red thong that has managed to get caught in the wheel of your suitcase.

“shut up, i’m helping you.” you grumble, balling up the lace and burying it at the bottom of the case.

“why is it ferrari coloured? something you wanna tell me? do you think charles is… foxy? or is it fred? oh, i bet it’s fred, isn’t it.” he’s laughing now, loud and boisterous, and if it wasn’t for the butterflies erupting in your belly at the sound, you would have throttled him.

“i’ll leave you to bleed out.” you tease back, pointing at the dried up blood across his knuckles.

“of course, i am in urgent need of medical attention!” he exclaims sarcastically, clutching his hand. you roll your eyes.

“you know where the door is.” you stand from the floor, carrying a little square antiseptic wipe with you.

“yeah, i do. feel like staying now, though. i’m just so comfy.”

and with that, he throws himself back on your bed, closing his eyes as he sinks into the mattress.

you stare at him for a second, noticing the way his eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks, his tanned, thick neck peeks out from in between the undone buttons of his dress shirt. you exhale shakily, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

“give me your hand.” you instruct him, tearing the packet open and unfolding the wipe.

“romantic.” lando snarks. you shove his shoulder in response. he holds his hand out.

“whatever.” you sigh, avoiding eye contact as you run the wipe over his knuckles. you can see how they are already tinged purple, wincing at the idea that it is your fault.

“what is it?” lando asks, noticing.

you don’t respond. this proximity is odd, you can’t quite tell yet if you like it. what you do know is that you certainly don’t know how to handle him now that the alcohol is wearing off and you’re left tending to the wounds of a man that you could have sworn you didn’t like.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be? we’re going back to the silent treatment again?” lando scoffs.

“don’t know what to say.” you mutter, keeping your eyes trained on every line and indent of his knuckles.

“why do you hate me so much?”

“i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” he scoffs.

“i don’t think about you enough to hate you.” you lie. it’s cruel. he winces.

that shuts him up.

“i’m gonna go. thanks for this.” lando waves his hand and you feel a wave of guilt hit.

“no, fuck, i’m sorry.” you apologise, bowing your head. “stay.”

“i’ll stay if you tell me why you hate me.”

“i’ve never hated you, lan. haven’t always particularly liked you but i never, ever hated you.”

“okay.”

that’s all it takes for him to flop back onto the bed. some unexplainable instinct that you loathe has you crawling onto the bed beside him. you wrap your arms around your pillow, watching him watch you.

“i used to have such a big crush on you, you know.” lando says. you stare at him blankly.

“what?”

“yep. i think i was about 15. you were the first girl i ever really liked that way.” he smiles, recalling the memory. “it kinda sucked because i knew you wouldn’t even look at me twice but it’s funny thinking back to that time.”

~ 15

he watches the way her hair gets caught in the breeze as she takes off her helmet. two messy braids are shaken free, and his heart skips a beat or two, or seven, when she turns around with the biggest grin on her face.

she’s just won a race, another one, and he’d be so jealous if it wasn’t her.

he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. george and alex go over to her, congratulating her, hugging her. he wishes he could do that. he definitely can’t.

she doesn’t see him, the only times that she does are when they argue, when they push eachother off the track and scream at one another across a gravel trap. the times when she plants her pointed finger in his chest and calls him dirty, the times he gets heated and calls her something he doesn’t mean under his breath. and she always hears him. always. he watches her eyes pool with tears every single time.

he wants her, in a way he’s never wanted anyone before. he’s never felt like this, wonders how he can make it go away. she hates him. she must.

he can never have her, so why even try?

“i had no idea you ever felt that way.” you’re quite shocked, really. you knew that you had this intensely charged sexual tension between you now, but you had failed to realise how far back this all went.

mutually, at least.

“i’d say i’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it.” his smile changes slightly. it was now a sad smile, one that conveys disappointment in himself, and that you hated to see. it reminds you of the one you’ve gotten used to seeing on your social media feed after he’d had a shitty race.

you sigh, bracing yourself for what you are about to say.

“you’re not the only one who hid it.” you raise an eyebrow, your face says ‘guilty!’

“no?” lando’s eyes widen at your revelation.

“i think we were 13. you gave me half a cookie to apologise for pushing me off track.” you smile coyly. “it’s kinda sad but 13 year old me died inside.” you laugh.

“so, we’ve both… liked each other.” lando assesses. you nod.

“when did you stop?” you inquire, scanning his face. you take in each detail, each individual freckle, the curve of his lips. he seems closer, all of the sudden, and that’s when you realise you’ve closed the space between you. lando is within reach now, it would have been so, so incredibly easy to shift even closer still; it was like you were in his gravitational field, reeled in by pretty, pretty eyes.

“who said i stopped?”

“oh.” you breathe.

~ 13

he snaps the crumbly biscuit between his fingers, trails towards her awkwardly. he feels bad, feels a strange pang in his chest that he doesn’t recognise.

he finds her around the back of her parents car, arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, pouting hard. he thinks she’s cute.

“why are you here?” she whines.

“this is for you. i know it doesn’t make up for the race. i didn’t mean to take you out, i swear.”

he sounds panicked, sincere. her tummy turns funny.

he’s holding out a cookie, the children’s equivalent of an olive branch.

her face softens. she accepts it. they bite into their cookies at the same time.

it’s not the worst day in the world anymore.

messy kisses and soft whispers lull you to sleep.

his nose bumps yours every time your lips meet, gentle and plush.

you feel delicate in his arms, treasured. his lips press gently to your hairline. he’s different, softer than you’ve seen him since you were teenagers splitting cookies.

it’s the easiest thing in the world to curl into his side, mould together until you’re part of him, and drift off.

the heat wakes you up.

you stir, eyes fluttering open, searching for the source of the onslaught of warmth. it clicks quickly, and you realise that you hadn’t dreamt the events of the night before.

lando is in your bed.

lando had protected you.

lando had wanted you since you were stupid kids who didn’t know any better.

he is the heater that had woken you up, and suddenly you don’t care that you’re far too hot. you curl back into his side, head rests on his chest. it rises and falls softly, his heartbeat thrums beneath your ear. you are jealous of how pretty he looks when he’s asleep, relaxed and infatuating. you lose track of time, gazing up at him.

a sharp pain in your side makes you groan. you had fallen asleep in your dress, lando in his jeans and his shirt, and now you’re paying for it, your fingers searching for the zipper that was now digging into your side. your movements draw him out of his slumber, and when you look back at him, he’s watching you, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“you okay?” lando croaks, his voice deep and sleepy. it sends shockwaves through you.

“mhm. how did you sleep?” you ask, mindlessly running your hand over his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. a smile breaks out across his face, eyes fluttering shut once more.

“really fucking well.” he laughs, almost in disbelief.

“yeah, me too.” you smile at him, shy.

“what’s bothering you?”

“well, a human heater woke me up and now this fucking zipper is killing me.” you joke. it’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird.

“i am pretty hot i guess.”

“yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes and stand from the bed.

lando sits up, resting on his elbows. his eyes follow you as you walk around the room. you take a bottle of water, drinking half of it before passing it to him. his lips wrap around the bottle and you have to turn away, the ache between your legs that you’d been fighting for months rearing it’s irritating head. you clear your throat, composing yourself.

“need to get this dress off.”

lando pulls himself off of the mattress, stalking towards you. you stop in your tracks and he meets you at the foot of the bed. his hands find your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your skin in little circles, and then kisses you deeper than he did last night.

it’s impossible not to melt into him, hands running over his chest, his shoulders, and finally finding solace tangled in his curls. if someone told you the morning before that you’d wake up in lando’s arms, you would have cackled, urged them to seek medical attention, and probably spat in their face. how things change.

“i think you should keep it on, look so pretty.” lando breathes, staring down at you. you blush hard, leaning into him.

“but i’m uncomfortable.” you grin coyly. and then, a surge of confidence has you whispering: “i’ll let you take it off if you want.”

“let me make you comfortable first.” lando murmurs, dipping his head down until it rests in the crook of your neck. “want me to get you nice and comfortable, baby?” he kisses up your neck.

you cave, finally.

it takes him all of thirty seconds to have you spread out on his face, laying himself down on the mattress and pulling you on top of him so that you’re hovering over his lips. he mouthes at your panties for a second, getting his first taste of you, and then he drags them to the side, clearing a path. his tongue laves over your cunt, groaning as soon as he gets a proper taste.

your dress fans out over your thighs, and lando has disappeared beneath the fabric. you can tell he’s there, though, by the strong hands gripping onto your thighs, the tuft of curls peeking out, and the feeling of his nose bumping your clit as he buries his face deeper and deeper between your folds.

“lando.” you cry, throwing your head back. the straps of your dress are slipping down your arms, skimming your goosebump ridden skin. he just groans into your pussy in response, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth, backwards and forwards until you’re grinding down on his willing tongue. you reach down blindly, grabbing one of his hands where it rests on your thigh, and your other threads through his hair, gripping tight as you revel in the pleasure.

lando pulls your clit between his teeth, grazing over the bud and you’re jolting, writhing above him. you feel like you’re going to die, heat pricking all over your skin, your tummy tight from the building orgasm. he’s so eager, sliding his entire face through your slippery folds, obscene sounds falling from his lips that ricochet through your quivering body.

tears prick your eyes when you finally let go, slumping forwards from the overwhelming sensation taking over every single nerve. he lifts you off of him, laying you back on the bed as you come down from your high.

“you okay, baby?” he coos, brushing sweat dampened hair from your eyes.

his lips are stained, dark pink and shiny, a mixture of enthusiasm and your slick coating them. lando scans your watery eyes, feral at how fucked out you look all because of him, and tantalisingly licks his lips.

“need you.” you moan, reaching out for him. his shirt is wrinkled where he’d slept in it and your shaky hands find the few buttons that are actually done up. you push the material off of his shoulders, pupils blown wide at the sight of his toned chest, at the feel of smooth, golden skin. you pull him in by the shoulders, swallowing him whole as you kiss him with everything you’ve got left.

lando’s hands find your thighs once more, running his hands over them to push your dress up your hips.

“wanted this for so long.” he whispers into the kiss, pulling away so that he can take the dress off of you. he looks ravenous the more he pushes the fabric up your body.

you feel vulnerable under his intense gaze, watchful eyes taking in every movement you make. you try to pull him back in for another kiss but he resists.

“let me look at you, please?” lando asks. “there you go, baby, let’s get this off, hmm?” he sits you up so that he can get it over your head, and you lay back, bare aside from your panties that he’d left in disarray.

he sucks in a breath, raking his eyes over the curve of your lips, your collarbone, the slope of your breasts. his gaze lingers there for just a second, before continuing further over your belly, the length of your legs. you want to hide away, pull him in so that he can’t look at you like this, or just dive under the duvet and stay there until you need to catch your flight.

“god, you’re so, so fucking beautiful.” he gasps, awestruck. he sounds speechless, and you feel yourself going red again.

“come here.” you whine. “needed you for so long.”

your admission seems to kick him into action, because seconds later, he’s on top of you, fingers grazing the band of your underwear while you fiddle with the button on his jeans.

“gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” lando stares you down, tone sending a shiver down your spine. you nod, batting your eyelashes. “words, my love.”

“yes, lando.” you affirm, arching into him. that’s all he needs to know, kicking his jeans away, boxers too.

“good girl. took care of me so well last night, now ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”

your eyes skim his body, honing in on how hard he is. your hand finds his cock, tentative at first, stroking over it softly. it’s heavy in your hands, red and dripping already. he wants this just as bad as you do. you continue to jerk him off, watching the way his eyes squeeze shut and his lips part, soft pants falling out. a low hum sounds from the back of his throat, and you wet your lips, threading your free hand through his hair.

lando opens his eyes at the sensation, gently batting your hand away. he dips down even closer, resting on one of his forearms. he lines himself up and your legs wrap around him instinctively. slowly, he pushes inside of you, his breath catching in his throat.

“fucking hell.” he groans, deep and guttural, something carnal sending shockwaves through his body. “been dreaming about all the ways i’d get to fuck you.”

your eyes roll back and you go languid in his arms, feeling every inch of him slide against your slick walls.

“want you.” you rasp, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving patterns between his taut shoulder blades as you beg for it.

“you have me, baby.” and then he kisses you, messy and slow, stealing the air from your lungs. you’re dizzy when he pulls away, sitting back slightly to change the angle. you cry out, feeling him even deeper and everything is more sensitive, warm. you roll your hips, meeting his thrusts deliciously, and he chokes out a moan as you clamp around him. “yeah, that’s it. fuck yourself like that for me.” he encourages.

this is all too much, too good. you have whiplash, physically and emotionally, eyes pooling with tears as the man you’d wanted so badly that you hated him for it rocks into you. lando hits the right spot every time he pistons his hips harder, and his nimble fingers slide up your abdomen, applying light pressure to your navel that makes you writhe.

“fucking perfect for me. gorgeous.” lando slurs, entranced by the sight of where you’re joined. he can see just how wet you are and it drives him insane, barrelling into you like a man possessed, drunk on every single way that your body responds to him.

his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading it before he traces your nipple. he watches the way it hardens at his manipulation, wetting his lips. he collapses back on top of you, sucking the bud into his mouth. you’re panting, whining beneath him as his tongue swirls over your chest, switching to the other side. you jolt, a silent scream scratching your throat when he slips his hand between your thighs, working your clit with the pad of his thumb. he’s rutting against you, grinding deeper, faster, uncontrollably.

“come on, baby. you’re so close, so tight for me.” he mutters into your skin. you nod frantically, your words lost on you. he kisses over your collarbone, the base of your throat, until he finds your lips.

“so close.” you sigh.

he stops.

“tell me you’re all mine.” lando growls, his entire demeanour changing. the tone of his voice almost finishes you off but you’re suddenly enraged. you’re too close for him to stop.

“c’mon lando.” you hiss, trying to move your hips but he has you firmly in place.

“need to hear you say it.” his hand slithers over your chest, finding a new home at the base of your throat. it makes you throb, the way his thick fingers wrap around you. slowly, his grip tightens, and you see an opportunity.

you buck your hips hard, whimpering at the sensation, but your plan works and now you hover over him. he’s still buried inside you, and you can feel him pulsing as you steal control.

“for once in your life, honey, shut the fuck up.” you smirk, mischievous in victory.

slowly, you build up your rhythm. he feels bigger like this, deeper, and you almost lose yourself in the small circles you make with your hips.

“knew you’d be like this. you liked giving yourself to me but i just knew you’d need to take back control.” lando teases. his hand is back around your neck, squeezing slowly, and you grind frantically, dizzy for him. “i was right last night, wasn’t i, baby? pretending to be my good girl when really,” he pulls you down so that you’re chest to chest. “you’re just a fucking brat.”

lando holds you close as he fucks up into you, feeling the way you go limp on top of him as the pleasure washes over you like a million electric shocks. you’re crying, tears pooling on his chest, because there is nothing you can do, nothing you want to do, but take it. he’s got you right where he wants you, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

“yeah, baby, take it how you want it.” lando commands through gritted teeth, and you move your hips in a feeble attempt to match his speed. everything is slippery, everything feels wet and flushed.

the power play, the position, the frenzy he seems to be in as he fucks you, it all has you gushing, spilling all over him. you choke out a sob, shuddering as the elastic band in your belly snaps. lando stops his thrusts, replacing them with small rolls of his hips to help you through your orgasm.

a sharp breath and a string of curses from him give you the strength to muster the last little bits of energy you have left to look up at him. you pull your head up off of his chest just in time to watch him shatter into a million little pieces.

his neck flexes as his head rolls back, sinking into the pillow, his eyes tight. swollen lips part and your name falls from between them like a prayer. you can feel him filling you up, his hands tightening their hold on your hips like he’s scared to let go, like the world will stop if he does.

the world stops anyway, because then you’re looking at each other. really looking at each other.

it only takes a second for you to be drawn in and his hands leave your hips to cup your face. his calloused hands feel your skin, stroking over rosy patches on your cheeks. it’s deathly silent all around you, apart from the breathless pants you share.

swollen lips crash hard into yours and you melt. he’s still buried so deeply inside of you, your hips digging into his, impossibly close. you’re blindly reaching for any part of him you can get your hands on, and his big hands slide down your body until they meet the small of your back. ever so carefully, he flips you onto your back, easing your spent body into the mattress.

lando collapses on top of you, mouthes at your neck for a moment, delicate kisses making your eyes flutter shut. the eye contact almost sends you into cardiac arrest as he pulls out, oh so slowly. tease.

he holds you close in the shower, fingers massaging every part of you. sex and sweat are washed away, almost lovingly. you let the water run for far too long, content in clinging to him. it’s quiet, reflective time for both of you, exactly what it needs to be. you’re both hung up on questions that need to be asked, neither one of you brave enough to take the first steps. you know one thing, and one thing only: something has changed, in a forever kind of way.

your hair is stringy, half dry, and you’re stood in your underwear. your legs are still shaky.

“your flight soon?” lando asks. he’s stood in his boxers on the other side of the room, scrunching the water out of his curls.

“yeah.” your throat feels raw.

“and you’re going back to monaco?” he’s stopped what he’s doing now, staring at you. you can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

you nod.

“fancy a sleepover?” he grins, boyish and careless. your heart falls to your feet.

you’re giggling when he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you into the freshly made bed. the sheets are on the floor by the time you finally remember you have a flight to catch.

you’re his now, you realise. he’s too beautiful for his own damn good.

“baby?” you hear lando call from his bedroom. you make out the faint sound of his footsteps making their way in your direction. he appears before you can even answer him, and he’s smiling softly at the sight of you bundled up in a blanket, sprawled across his couch.

“what is it?” you ask. the next thing you know he’s on top of you, peppering kisses over every single inch of skin he can get to on your face. “hey, get off, muppet.” you whine playfully, ruffling his hair.

“do you know how much i love having you here?” he murmurs. it’s endearing as fuck and you fight a foolish, dopey grin.

“you’ve mentioned once or twice…” you’ve been here since your flight touched down a week ago. you haven’t even been home to get clothes, not that you needed them in his company.

“we might have a teeny, tiny issue.” he squints, pulling a face.

“and what’s that?” you ask, your voice measuring equal parts cautious and amused.

“so, alex called…”

“oh, shit.”

“we have to go to dinner tonight.”

“we have to?”

“he’s suspicious as fuck. you do realise they’ve been plotting for us to happen for years,” you roll your eyes as if you say duh. “and also, you’ve been in monaco for a week and haven’t seen him once. oh, and also, the last time we saw them, we were running away from a fucking crime scene.” lando smiles sarcastically, and you sigh, defeated.

before you can reply, your phone is ringing somewhere beside you. you root around in your blanket searching for it and when you find it:

“son of a bitch.” you exclaim, showing lando the caller ID. alex is one persistent motherfucker.

“hey girl.” alex singsongs down the phone before you can even say hello.

“hello to you too.” you can hear the fear in your own voice.

“dinner. tonight. although, i’m sure lando already told you.” alex teases.

“why would lando have told me? what?” you choke. lando slaps his hand over his face. your voice has gone up several octaves. not suspicious at all.

“so, you’re at home? you haven’t been at his place since last week?” the playful interrogation begins.

“why would i be with lando?” you try and feign disgust at the implication. it does not work.

“because you hate fucked after he beat up that perv? i have to say, i didn’t think he had it in him but he’s been in love with you since he was like, ten, so, you know-”

“bye alex.”’

“you’re not denying it-“

“bye alex!”

you’re flaming red when you throw the phone to the other end of the sofa. lando, as on brand as ever, is cackling into a pillow.

“he is such a fucking shit stirrer.” you bury your face in your hands, slumping back into the fuzzy cushions.

“well, he’s right about one thing.” lando trails off. suddenly he’s looking anywhere but you and you see him gulp, hard, swallowing his words, like he’s too afraid to bare his soul.

“huh?” you ask gently, sitting up to reach out for him. “what’s wrong?”

“we need to get ready for dinner. that’s what he’s right about.” lando says, standing from the sofa and walking towards his room. you’re suspicious, watching him go with furrowed eyebrows.

“lando, behave! you’re the one making me go to this dinner.” you squeal, batting his restless hands away.

you’ve made it as far as the elevator before he pounces on you, caging you in against the metal walls.

“but you look so good, can’t help myself.” he mutters between kisses on your neck, pressing himself even further into you.

the hand that finds it’s way between your legs, exploring beyond the hem of your skirt, is the one that makes you press the button for his floor. why have plans when you can have sex?

he gets through the door to his apartment at lighting speed and carries you all the way to his bed.

when you’re sweating and breathless a good hour later, half of the bedding on the floor with your clothes, you realise you never cancelled your plans.

lando is drawing shapes into the bare skin of your arm, kissing over your shoulder as he does so. his eyes are dropping from all of the over-exertion and you want to count each and every freckle on his face while he falls asleep. he’s cute like this, soft and yours.

and idea comes to your mind, and as if he can see the lightbulb, lando half raises an eyebrow at you. you giggle, somewhat evilly perhaps, and scramble for your phone on the beside table.

“what’re you doing?” lando groans, pouting as his outstretched arms try to find you.

“getting even.” you state.

with the phone in your clutches, you roll back over towards him, holding the camera above you both. he hears the shutter sound as you snap the picture, and peers closer to see the screen. when he sees the groupchat open, he quickly understands what you’re plotting.

“may i?” you ask for his consent.

“are you kidding? go for it. that’ll shut them up.” he laughs sleepily, muttering something about how this is the most lando thing you’ve ever done

FROM: you

TO: the groupchat

1 image attached

couldn’t make dinner. something came up xx

“alex always thinks he’s right, this’ll teach him for being such a little shit.” you flop back into bed even more satisfied than you were before.

you hear lando inhale shakily beside you.

“he is right sometimes you know.” he repeats his earlier words.

you hold your breath. his eyes say so many things that are too delicate to be spoken yet.

“like… like what he said on the phone?” your voice quivers with anticipation, fear. your heart is thunderous, hammering away like it wants to escape the clutches of its cage.

“yeah. i-“ he stops himself. you don’t need him to finish, you know which two words follow. they can follow in good time, you both know it.

“me too, lando.” you coo.

he’s beaming, eyes half shut. you watch as he falls asleep, the both of you ignoring the way your phones are vibrating so aggressively that they might buzz their way off of the night stand. you lose count of his freckles, but it doesn’t matter.

you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.

let me know what you think :D

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin

(i ran out of tags omg? whoops) lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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leaderwonim · 3 months

Text

smart, sexy, lacy, i’m losing it lately.

pairing. student!yang jungwon x student!fem!reader

summary. jungwon has always hated you, right from the start. you were too nice, too smart for your own good, and lately—you’ve been starting to get too pretty for yang jungwon to handle.

author’s note: HAPPY BDAY YANG JUNGWON WOOOOO here’s a post dedicated to my bias, the loml. this fic is entirely based off of olivia’s song “lacy”, one of my favorites off her guts album!

Yang Jungwon thought you were the most insufferable person he met. Not only were you overly nice, but you were so smart that you got the highest scores unlike bitter Jungwon who always managed to score second place.

“I’m losing it,” Jungwon whispers underneath his breath as he lifts his paper up into the air. A big red 99 was scribbled on top of his paper.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset.” Sunghoon, a friend of Jungwon’s, took a seat next to the mess of a boy who was currently ruffling his hair in stress. “A 99 is good Wonie!”

“No it’s not,” he mumbles, placing his head against the table. “No it’s not. Song Y/N managed to get a 100 again.”

Almost as if the universe knew Jungwon was talking about you, you passed by the two boys, waving a quick hello to Sunghoon.

“Don’t wave back.” Jungwon mumbles, lifting his head up slightly to glare at Sunghoon.

“What? Why?” Sunghoon whines, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know why you hate her, she’s a sweetheart.”

“Look at her,” Jungwon mutters in disgust as he finally straightens his posture to look at you. “God’s favorite child—Song Y/N. Those stupid ribbons in her hair make me want to barf.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say it, but he’s ultimately very concerned for Yang Jungwon. He’s known the boy for years and it confuses him on why he hates you so much. You have been nothing but nice to the both of them since freshman year of high school.

“Why do you care so much Won?”

“I don’t.”

It’s a lie, one that Sunghoon detects from a mile away.

Yang Jungwon cares. He cares a lot. He lets his hatred of you take over his life, and it leaves him feeling miserable.

When Yang Jungwon walks into creative writing, his favorite class of the day, he is hit by the overwhelming smell of your perfume.

He’s practically memorized it by now because everytime it’d come into his presence, his nose would flare up and his body would tense. Vanilla and macadamia, of course you’d wear something like that.

You probably don’t notice—or at least Jungwon hopes you don’t notice—but he’s always staring at you, quickly looking away when you make eye contact. Sometimes, he’d huff under his breath about how ridiculous you look with your ponytail, even though Yang Jungwon knows it looks adorable on you.

Being around you was like sweet torture in the young brunette’s eyes.

“Jungwon!” You say as you make your way to him on one afternoon. “Congratulations on making it as class secretary! I knew you could do it!”

Jungwon bites the inside of his cheek, not expecting your input.

You’re too nice. You’re way way too nice to him. He thinks.

“Thanks.” He clears his throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Although you were complimenting him, it felt like bullets piercing through his skin.

“I dyed my hair, do you like it?” You give him a smile, oblivious to the current crisis that Yang Jungwon was going through.

You did dye your hair. It was a bright blonde now, kind of reminding him of Regina George, you know—minus the bitch part.

“It’s… okay.” He mutters. “Listen Y/N, I have a lot of work, do you mind?”

You shake your head quickly, muttering out a small apology before taking off to find your friends.

Yang Jungwon wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but you looked dazzling in your newly dyed hair. You looked like Bardot reincarnated, and Yang Jungwon was so fucked because he knew that he couldn’t escape you wherever he’d go.

It was almost as if you were made out of Angel dust.

“Are you out to get me?” Yang Jungwon slams his hand on your table, jolting you from your work.

“What are you talking about?” You say, still putting on a smile despite being confused.

“Are you out to get me?” Jungwon feels out of breath now that he’s all up close and personal to you. “You poison everything I do!”

“What do you mean?” You frown, the feeling of sadness suddenly seeping over you. “Jungwon?”

“You know that I just loathe you lately? Do you Song Y/N?” Jungwon looks away in distress, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “My mind, it’s like I can’t get you out of it, and I don’t know what to do. I hate you—I swear I do—but I don’t know anymore! My mind practically worships you Song Y/N!”

Jungwon’s eyes widen when he realizes he’s said too much, especially when he comes in contact with your face that’s bright red in shock.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Jungwon, it’s okay.” You take his hands into yours, rubbing it comfortingly. “I kind of knew for a while, Sunghoon told me. I know all these feelings must be confusing but you know I’m here for you regardless.” You smile at him. “I like you Yang Jungwon.”

Jungwon’s mouth goes dry, and for the first time, he can’t think of anything to insult you with. “I.. I like you too Song Y/N.”

“Finally.” Sunghoon emerges suddenly from behind you two, making Jungwon gasp in shock.

“Yah! Don’t do that hyung!” Jungwon complains, hands still holding on tightly to yours.

“Sorry, had to get my two favorite kids together.”

Yang Jungwon wasn’t sure of many things, but he was sure of 2. One: he liked you a lot, and two: he was definitely going to kill Park Sunghoon for telling you everything.

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen texts #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #jungwon x y/n #jungwon x you #jungwon imagines #jungwon fluff #jungwon x reader #enhypen jungwon #jungwon

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simp4wom3n · 3 months

Text

Why Don't I Know You?

Requested: Yes/No ~ How about Regina having a crush on the reader but not saying anything bc she thinks the reader won't like her, but when the reader starts talking to her and everything, Regina is suddenly possessive ykwis

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Summary: Shocked when a face she doesn't recognise shows up in her class, Regina makes it her goal to learn everything about them, even if it leads to her gaining a massive crush. ~ Word Count: 4.1k ~ Warnings: lotta swearing, one slur, otherwise mainly fluff

A/N: HI!!! FIRST RENEE/REGINA FIC!!! she is criminally underwritten, so I thought I would do my part (other people pls do right for her I need stuff to read). I love her so so much, and I had a blast writing this, so pls enjoy <3 + I will be creating a Renee rapp taglist so comment or message me if you wanna be on it :)

The halls of North Shore High were like a second home to Regina. Some would call it her hunting ground. Each year, she relished her opportunity to prowl the hallways, hunting the new freshman as she committed every new face and name to mind, with the intention of digging up all the dirt she possibly could. With thanks to Gretchen, she knew everything about everyone.

But then there was you.

"Alright, we have a new student joining us today."

Regina's eyes widened in pure shock as you walked into the room. With your bag casually slung over your shoulder, you make a beeline for the empty tables surrounding Regina. Ignoring the intensity of her gaze, you drop your bag and settle into the chair next to her. The faint strains of music emanated from the headphones hanging from your ears as you began organizing your belongings, only to be interrupted by the teacher.

"Y/n, if you could please stand and introduce yourself."

Your eyes flicked nervously towards the teacher, and the entire class turned to look at you. The intensity of Regina's gaze made your cheeks glow with a faint red before you sighed dejectedly and reluctantly stood up, pulling out your headphones.

"Um... Hi, I'm Y/n... not really much else to say."

The teacher nodded at you before turning around to start the lesson. Watching as you sat down, Regina's focus shifted entirely to you.

She couldn't tell whether it was because she knew nothing about you, or that you were just so damn hot.

Maybe it was both.

As soon as the bell rang, signalling the end of the class, Regina wasted no time storming off to find Gretchen. Having watched you for the entirety of the class, she was desperate to find out everything about you.

Strutting through the packed hallway, everyone staring at her in fear, Regina locked onto her target as she came into her view. "Gretchen!" she called irritatedly. The small girl quickly turned around as her eyes widened in fear. "Tell me... How is it that I don't know anything about this new Junior, Y/n? Why wasn't I informed? I need all the details now!"

Gretchen, scrambling to keep up with Regina's relentless pace, stammered out an apology. "I-I'm sorry, Regina! I didn't even know they were coming."

"God, you are useless!"

In only a week, not only had watching you become her routine, but she had even started to develop a crush on you, as painful as that was for her to admit.

She was supposed to be chased, not the one chasing.

Seeing you had become the favourite part of her day, even above having the whole school bow at her feet. She hadn't even talked to you. She just watched.

She meticulously studied your every move, subconsciously committing all of your subtle mannerisms to memory. Like the way you would take notes, or the way you would nibble at your fingers when you were focused. Or her personal favourite, when you knawed at the end of your pencil when you were nervous or stressed.

Fuck, she wishes she was that pencil.

She hated to admit it, but the thought of talking to you terrified her. Her usually overbearing confidence drained away whenever you sat in the chair next to her, your mysterious yet comforting presence causing her to malfunction.

And yet, as she sat at lunch with Gretchen and Karen, she refused to mutter a word about you to them. The furthest they pushed was when Gretchen asked about you after catching Regina staring at you, and the look Regina gave the poor girl made her shut up immediately.

The lunch tables were packed as usual, but Regina's eyes scanned the hallway beside them. She was well aware that you never sat at any of the tables, so she patiently waited for you to return to your locker, which was conveniently placed within sight of her table.

Karen and Gretchen's incessant babbling went unnoticed as you finally appeared. She couldn't help but notice your slouched posture and sluggish movements. You looked exhausted. Your headphones, which you always had on you, dangled from one ear as you forcefully opened your locker.

As if she wasn't already concerned, the table of varsity jocks had also noticed you, taking your clearly irritated mood as a green light to push even more of your buttons. From across the room, Regina watched with a clenched jaw as three of them stood from the table and made their way towards you.

Her body ached with anger as she watched them grab you by the shoulder and throw you against the lockers. Your exhausted expression turned to one of fear as they held you up against the cold metal doors. The guy forcefully snatched your headphones away, callously tossing them to the ground and obliterating them with a single forceful step.

Regina choked on a gasp. She knew how much you loved those headphones.

She was annoyingly out of earshot as she watched them continue to laugh at and berate you whilst shaking you against the lockers. Her blood was boiling. The others had noticed her expression and cast confused glances towards the commotion, which only confused them more.

The Regina they knew would be laughing.

After Regina's next victims finally let you go, your body shook as you realised that the whole school had just watched you get shamelessly belittled. As soon as your gaze locked with Regina's, your embarrassment grew unbearable, triggering you to hastily get your belongings before moving to make a swift escape.

The last Regina saw of you, you were frantically running away, desperately trying to hide your state as tears streamed down your face.

Those jocks had no idea what was coming for them.

The next time she laid eyes on you was the week after. She had already exacted her revenge on the jocks, having called their parents and telling them they all had STDs, yet when she caught sight of your weary expression as you entered the classroom, the familiar sense of triumph eluded her.

As the lesson passed and the teacher blabbered about a new group project, Regina's eyes never left you as you buried yourself in your notebook.

"Ok, listening, please." the teacher announced, garnering both of your attention. "The groups are as follows," you patiently waited for your name to be read out so you could go back to absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your book, whilst Regina similarly waited to hear the name of the poor soul who would be stuck with her. Yet, to her surprise, she wasn't disgusted by the name read beside hers.

"Y/n and Regina,"

With eyes wide and fixed on the teacher, Regina failed to notice the sudden blush that crept onto your cheeks, causing you to quickly lower your head. "You have the rest of the lesson to plan." the teacher mumbled before returning to their desk, where they sat silently.

Neither of you moved. After a second of secretly hoping Regina would make her move, you figured she wasn't interested in you or the project. Opening your computer and immediately diving into research, Regina sat at her desk, trying to build the courage to talk to you.

God, she hated being a coward.

After a few minutes and a few internal pep talks, she decided to take her one excuse to talk to you as she finally scooted her desk towards yours and turned to face you. As she inched closer, your heart began to race, sensing her gaze fixed on you. With a bashful smile, you diverted your attention from your screen and finally made eye contact with her.

She was breathtaking.

Clearing your throat, you quickly turned back to your computer as you scratched the back of your neck. "I-I'll just do it all when I get home," you spoke nervously, presuming THE Regina George would want nothing to do with you or the project.

"What makes you think I'd make you do it alone," she retorts, her tone more flirtatious than she had intended, but she wasn't mad about it. You looked back at her, lost for words for a second as you tried to scramble together a response.

"Well... I-I just presumed you wouldn't want to help." A small smile formed on her lips as you briefly glanced at her, "I mean, you hardly pay attention, so I just... figured." She softly giggles at your words, her laughter sending a flutter of excitement through your body.

Little did you know she was distracted by you.

"Come to mine later. We can do it together." Regina's unexpected display of confidence caught both of you off guard as her usual flirtatious demeanour made a comeback. Meanwhile, you stared at her in disbelief, trying to process what had just happened. "Ugh... Yeah, sure, if that's ok?"

"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't"

As the school bell rang through the corridors, you were overwhelmed with both relief and anxiety. After enduring a tedious day at school, you were now faced with the terrifying task of not only talking to Regina but also spending hours alone with her at her house.

Walking out the doors and towards the car park, the sound of the bustling school fading into the background, your eyes catch a familiar blonde leaning up against her Jeep. Your heart began to race faster as you approached her, your bag feeling heavier with each step.

Her expression softened as she noticed you approaching, a warm smile gracing her lips, and she pushed herself off her car. "Hey," she greets softly, a soft shade of pink painting her cheeks as you both smile at each other. "Hi," you said breathlessly with a small chuckle.

Without another word, Regina moves to get in, and you follow suit, chucking your bag into the backseat next to hers before climbing into the passenger seat.

The breeze gently tousled your hair as you drove to her house, the soothing tunes of music filling the air, matching the nervous excitement between you both. Your heart beat along with the music as you snuck glances at the girl sitting next to you. With her eyes focused on the road and the wind softly brushing her skin, you were utterly mesmerised by her.

Of course, you had heard of Regina George's horror stories, but this girl was different.

Sure, you hadn't spoken till this morning, but there was something about her you couldn't quite describe. Something that brought you to school every day, comforting you as you sat in undoubtedly one of the most boring classes, and that gave life at North Shore High purpose.

Frankly, you rejected any idea of her being a heartless bitch.

When you eventually turned into her driveway, your gaze was forced away from her as you caught sight of her house, or should you say mansion. The house was almost cinematic in grandeur, your eyes growing wider by the second as you drove closer before eventually stopping at the door.

"Wow," you mumbled under your breath as you exited her car, your eyes not leaving the building as you reached for your bag. You heard Regina chuckle lightly as she led the way to her door. "My mum's not home, thank god, so we have the place to ourselves."

You nod mindlessly as you follow her through the front door. As you trailed behind her, the pristine marble floors beneath your feet echoed with each step, a stark contrast to the scuffed linoleum of the school corridors.

Just when you thought you had gotten used to it, Regina led you to her room. Stepping inside, you find yourself mesmerised by everything around you. "This is your bedroom?" you asked, clearly taken aback. Regina glanced back at you, a shy smile on her face.

"Yeah, It was my parents, but I asked them to trade me." "Right...". You couldn't help but be captivated by the array of decorations adorning the walls, taking in the posters and photos that offered a rare glimpse into her life beyond her reign as the queen of North Shore.

Sitting on her bed and removing her shoes, she motions for you to do the same. Dropping your bag next to her massive bed and grabbing everything you need, you carefully sit down next to her, leaving enough room between the two of you so you don't seem invasive.

Opening your laptop and notebook, you place them on the bed as you pull up the project materials. You can feel Regina's gaze on you even though she's trying to be subtle, and the thought instantly makes your cheeks glow softly.

"So, uh, where do you want to start?"

The next few hours flew by as you worked on the project together. Regina was surprisingly helpful, the two of you moving closer as your work drew to a close. Now that the project was over, the familiar awkwardness lingered in the air as you searched for something to talk about that wouldn't embarrass you.

"You're really good at drawing, you know." Regina compliments softly, pointing at your notebook margins before you can say anything as you blush at her words. "Thanks... I've been doing it more since-" "Your headphones broke." Regina cuts you off as you look at her surprised.

"Yeah... How did you know that?" It was Regina's turn to blush as she realised that she had just revealed herself. Stammering to find an excuse, she looks away for a second, embarrassed. "I-I'm just a very observant person."

You look at her suspiciously with a small smile gracing your lips, the thought of Regina watching you making your heart flutter.

"You're different." you find yourself blurting out, "from how everyone else describes you, I mean." you finish quickly. Regina chuckles as she smiles at you softly. "You're different too. Good different. I like it."

The tension between you grew as you stared into each other's eyes. A softness behind her pale blue eyes drew you in, and before you knew it, you were slowly leaning in. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you caught Regina glancing down at your lips, her own caught between her teeth as your faces grew closer.

"Regina, honey!" You scramble backwards as Regina's bedroom door flies open, revealing who you believe to be her mum. "Oh. Hi there!" "Mum, seriously!?" Regina yells in disbelief. Your ears begin to ring as your head pounds, thinking about what would have happened if you had not been interrupted.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't realise you had anyone over." While Regina's mother was apologising, you could hear Regina sighing in frustration next to you. "I'll just go to the kitchen." Her mum suggests as she begins to leave the room, but you beat her to it. "No, Ms George, it's okay. I was on my way out anyway." You offer her a smile you hope appears as genuine as you quickly throw everything into your bag.

Trying to ignore Regina's pained gaze, you threw your bag over your shoulder, grabbed your shoes, and quickly exited her bedroom, making your way out the front door. You had no plan on how to get home, but you would rather walk than have to sit in that room after what had happened.

Walking into school the next day was like walking straight into a nightmare. You already weren't fond of the school, having been called slurs and made fun of constantly, but adding to that, your usual excitement of seeing Regina had been replaced with pure fear.

In just one night, you managed to spin every interaction you ever had with the girl, leaving you incredibly embarrassed about how you had let it all happen. Who were you to think Regina might actually like you? You were probably just a pawn in some big game.

Unlocking your locker and throwing it open, already fed up with the day before it had even begun, you began to unpack your stuff, completely ignorant of the approaching jock.

Walking into school with a similarly distraught look, Regina's mind was stuck reeling over the events from last night. The question of why you ran away was all she could think about until she heard a sharp bang.

Before you could react, you were once again thrown against the lockers, an irritated grunt leaving your lips. Your eyes met the same bastard who had made bullying you their new hobby. "Back for more, dyke?" he taunted you, your fists clenching involuntarily as you awaited the verbal abuse he was undoubtedly about to unleash on you.

Regina's head immediately whipped in its direction, a new sense of anger rushing through her body as she saw your saddened figure being pinned up against the lockers. Without hesitation, she storms towards the jock holding you against the wall with a fire burning behind her eyes.

"Fuck off, asshole!"

The boy's expression quickly shifted, causing him to release his grip on you and hastily retreat in terror. You sighed in relief as you observed Regina approaching you, her face contorted with unmistakable rage.

You found it quite amusing how scary everyone found her, causing the boy who had just been full of confidence to shrink into insignificance, like a tiny ant that she was about to step on.

"Look in her direction again, and it won't just be STDs next time."

The boy's face flashed in realisation before hurriedly scrambling off. All eyes were fixed on you as Regina directed her gaze towards you, her expression instantly softening with a hint of concern in her eyes. "Are you ok?" you managed a nod as the softness of her voice filled you with a comforting warmth.

"Yeah… Thanks," you replied softly, your familiar awkward energy filling the air. She watched you momentarily as you remained silent, hopeful that you would acknowledge her. Yet, as you continued to avert your gaze away from her, she gave you a soft nod before turning to leave. Her stomach sank as the failing state of your relationship grew more and more obvious.

With an unfamiliar burn of tears behind her eyes, her pace quickened as she tried to get as far away from you as she possibly could.

But you stopped her.

"Regina, wait!"

Looking over her shoulder and meeting your sorry gaze, her heart can't help but flutter as she watches you slowly jog after her. "Sorry, I-" you hesitated, feeling a surge of nerves as you came the closest you had been to Regina since yesterday. "Did you want to maybe... hang out at yours after school again?"

"Didn't we finish the project?" She seems confused, completely missing that you wanted to spend time together outside what was needed. "No, we did. I just thought we could, you know, just watch a movie or something, but if you're not into that-"

"I would love to." She interrupts your anxious babbling with a gentle laugh, her gaze filled with admiration as you stare at her in a state of surprise and joy. "Meet me at the same place, ok?" "Yeah". Regina walks away from you with a smirk as you stand there frozen.

Holy shit, you just asked Regina George out.

The trip to Regina's after the bell finally rang was much like the day before.

She waited for you by her car, dismissing her other friends when she spotted you. Greeting each other warmly before jumping in the car, you once again listened to music whilst the wind swept through your hair, a nervous yet warm sense of anticipation falling between you.

Pulling up to her house, which you were still in awe of, you jumped out of the car and walked towards the front door behind Regina. "This time, my mum actually isn't home and won't be. I made sure of it. So we really do have the place all to ourselves."

You both laughed at her words as a small blush crept onto your cheeks. You walked behind Regina as she entered her bedroom, studying the now familiar walls as she set up everything you needed to watch a movie.

After sitting on her bed with the TV switched on and Netflix loaded up, you still remained standing in her doorway, nibbling on your pencil, which you always kept stowed away in your pocket, causing her to glance at you with a puzzled expression. "You seem distracted. Everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft yet discerning.

Snapping back into reality, offering her a sheepish smile, you replied, "Yeah, just lost in thought, I guess." taking the pencil from your lips, you slowly moved towards her bed, your eyes subconsciously scanning every inch of her body, your mind going wild seeing her so comfortable.

Her gaze fixated on you, her piercing blue eyes captivating in the sunlight pouring through the window. She laughed softly, the sound filling the room with a pleasant melody. "Lost in thought or thoughts of me?"

The comment caught you off guard, and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I… um, what makes you say that?". Regina, who reclined into her bed, gestured towards your hand, occupied by a chewed-up pencil.

"You always chew on that when you're nervous," she spoke softly. Your eyes widened in astonishment as the familiar burn returned to your cheeks. "How do you know that?" She smirked, "I notice everything." Regina's gaze never wavered as she continued watching you, a playful glint in her eyes.

"So, what's got you so nervous, Y/n?"

You felt a lump form in your throat as Regina's question hung in the air, filling the lavish room with tension. You couldn't help but fidget with your pencil, trying to find the right words to capture the overwhelming mix of emotions that Regina's presence constantly stirred within you.

"I, uh… it's just… everything, I guess. School, people, this…" You gestured vaguely between the two of you, unable to articulate the chaotic mess of feelings inside. Regina leaned up, her voice softening. "Well, you don't have to be nervous around me." Her eyes locked onto yours, a sincerity beneath the confident facade. "Now sit."

Slipping your shoes off and sitting on the bed, you move closer to Regina, who is lying against her pillows, her gaze unwavering. Eventually settling next to her, you turn to look at her, your heart fluttering as her soft eyes meet yours.

The room seemed to buzz with an unspoken energy, and all you could hear was the sound of your shared breaths. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, watching Regina's eyes analyse your face. A blush painted her cheeks, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Regina seemed hesitant, her mouth opening as if searching for the right words. "You know, I've been infatuated with you ever since you first walked into class." Your heart did a somersault at her words. A dreamy smile spread across your face, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of joy and disbelief.

"Regina George. Infatuated with me?" you teased playfully, her confession coursing adrenaline through your veins. With a gentle laugh, she hides her face briefly behind her hand before looking back at you, matching your wide smile.

"Shut up."

Leaning towards you, Regina's hands delicately wrapped around your neck, a slight shiver travelling down your spine. The room appeared to tighten as Regina held you, her touch confident and gentle. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes never leaving Regina's as she closed the distance.

Time seemed to stand still as her lips met yours.

The touch of her lips against yours was gentle, her hands brushing your neck with a mix of desire and passion. Everything else faded away as you fell into the kiss.

Her breath mingled with yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart echoing your own. The room seemed to buzz with an electrifying charge, and the only sounds that reached your ears were the shared breaths between you two.

As Regina pulled away, a shared moment of breathless silence hung in the air. Once buzzing with unspoken energy, the room was now filled with the soft sounds of your intertwined breaths. Regina's cheeks were tinted with a deeper blush, and a subtle smirk played on her lips.

Your mind still reeling from the feeling of her lips on hers, you speak with a breathless chuckle, "What's everyone else gonna think?". Regina smirked at your question, a glint of defiance in her eyes as she pulled you back in, mumbling her response on your lips.

"Let them talk."

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega @thenextdawn @wol-fica

#renee rapp x reader #regina george x reader #regina george x you #renee rapp #renee rapp imagine #regina george #mean girls musical #mean girls 2024 #simp4wom3n

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drvscarlett · 1 month

Text

Let him cook

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef contestant!reader

Series Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A/N: Got this idea because the masterchef trophy is similar to the Australian GP trophy. This is going to be a series

Charles_Leclerc posted a new photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, PierreGasly, and 365,000 others.

Charles_Leclerc Add professional chef to the list

User1 aint no way you cooked this

User2 nice try Charles but we all saw that pasta video

CarlosSainz55 mate drop the # of the private chef you hired, these look delicious

Charles_Leclerc I told you that I made this myself CarlosSainz55 Lies!!!!

PierreGasly since when did you learn how to make coq au vin???

Charles_Leclerc not you too PierreGasly you should invite me sometimes so I can judge your cooking

Y/NCooks posted a photo

YNCooks last date night before i enter masterchef australia. credits to the boyfriend for the lovely photos

Friend1 Y/N i know this is your dream for a while now. I hope you win. We will cheer for you our next masterchef australia!

YNCooks awww stop! ur making me cry

User1 OMG she is finally competing, goodluck Y/N!

User2 Y/N always talk about how its her dream to enter masterchef, I'm gonna watch it everyday and hope she wins it!

User3 Goodluck Y/N! I hope you become the next masterchef australia!!!

Mystery Box challenge episode

There was a building reputation in the kitchen that you are one of the strong homecooks of the season. After winning the past 2 mystery challenges, you were extremely determined to do well and seek for a third streak. The mystery box today was all about italian cooking, a cuisine that you have been comfortable due to the close ties of your boyfriend being signed to an Italian team.

"And what do we have here with you today Miss Y/N" Matt Preston asked as he approached the work table together with George Colambris "You seem rather comfortable and in your own zone. Its like an ordinary Tuesday date night"

You gave a small chuckle with that mention "That's actually pretty on point of you to say as Tuesday is my date night with the boyfriend"

"Ah so maybe that's why you are so inspired because you are in love"George teased.

"Well I have to admit that there is a little pressure to do well in this challenge or my boyfriend's family will get mad at me"you quipped back a reply.

The judges suddenly leaned a little interested to learn more about your personal life, "So your boyfriend is italian?"

"He is not but he might as well be. He spends a lot of time there"

"It must be hard to not see him a lot since you are here competing" Matt says

"It's a price we are willing to pay. He has been supportive of my dream as I am with him" you gave an encouraging smile as you continue to chop the sweet potatoes.

"We hope to meet that boyfriend of yours because he is one lucky man because that dish looks delicious!" George says before they left the station.

Somewhere in Bahrain, Charles Leclerc is grinning upon watching the replay of the episode. He was beyond proud of what you have achieved as a contestant in MasterChef. He wished that he could do more to express his support towards you but you have an agreement with him to keep things lowkey for the meantime. It was a reasonable decision as he didn't want to overshadow your career but it was nice to know that you two are a private thing but never a secret.

He was so engrossed to repeating the boyfriend clip that he didn't notice that Carlos snuck up beside him.

"What are you watching there?" Carlos asked his teammate

"Oh its nothing" Charles says as he immediately exited the Youtube app "I didn't notice you there, you scared me"

"If you weren't too into your phone then you would have noticed me calling you" Carlos explained "What are you watching on your phone that got you smiling like that?"

"Nothing, I just saw an ad"

"Hmm sure an ad" Carlos was pretty sure that Charles was watching MasterChef but he couldn't care anymore to ask which country because there was too many so he decided to just let it go "Cmon Fred is asking for us, were late for a meeting"

"Carlos! Why didn't you start with that?"

Cake challenge

You were exhausted because you spent the early hours of the morning watching the Jeddah GP. It was a thrilling race to see Charles bag his first podium of the season so you can say that its worth it. Besides, you were able to talk to him after the race so it sweetens the deal even more.

Filming begun for MasterChef and the judges brought out balloons for the mystery box challenge.

"Your challenge today is to make the most imaginative and creative birthday cake that you ever had" Gary explained "The pantry is filled with all the cake flavors you can ever imagine so be creative and show us what you've got"

Baking has never been your strongest suit. It was all about precision and measurements as small increments can make a huge difference. Today, you were determined to do well and you wanted to use the podium finish of Charles for the cake.

It was a struggle to bake the cake, cool it, and pipe it in under 60 minutes. You felt the pressure getting under your nerves as your hands started shaking when you were piping the cake details with 10 minutes left. There was a sigh of relief when you finished just 5 seconds away from the judges calling the time.

There were plenty of beautiful cakes in the room so it was a shocker for you that the judges called you in front to present your cake.

"Judges what I have for you today is a three layer cake with the raspberry,almond, and pistachio with chocolate to seperate the layers and a lemon buttercream frosting."

"You told us you can't bake, that seems like a lie" George says as he cuts through the cake "Look at that layers"

"The layers are actually inspired by the italian flag, its an homage to the boyfriend. Its actually a cake that I made thinking about him" you explained.

"That is simply gorgeous. The cake is very moist and the balance with the flavors is that its not too sweet or nothing overpowering. Your boyfriend is a lucky lucky lucky man to be baked a cake like this" George complimented.

"Does your boyfriend cook?"Matt asked as he took a bite

"Oh God no. I have to cook or else the kitchen will be on fire"you laughed "But I can't drive so maybe that's his payback"

"You seem to show the beautiful dynamics of your relationship when you cook something inspired by him. I wish you two the best" Matt's genuine comment was a heartwarming moment.

Its unfortunate that you didn't win this challenge but you were able to showcase your support for your boyfriend.

Melbourne GP meets MasterChef

This was another challenge as you were elected as a team captain for the second team challenge. You were extremely nervous when you were transported with your team mates from the blue kitchen to an unknown location. It was even more nerve-wracking after you've realized where you are.

"Welcome to the Albert Park where the Australian Grand Prix is underway for this weekend" Matt introduced "Your challenge is to prepare two dishes: a pasta and a fish dish to be served to the talented drivers in Formula 2"

There was a little sigh of relief as you were dealing with the Formula 2 drivers. It was a lot of weight on the shoulder if you will be serving food to your boyfriend.

"The practice sessions will be starting in a few minutes. You have 90 minutes to prepare your dish and an hour to serve them"

All you know was that you started organizing the team to put them in charge of the dishes that you will be making today. You cross your fingers that the color red brings luck to your team today.

Meanwhile, the paddock was buzzing with cameras and Charles immediately noticed that there were some new film crews around the Formula 2 drivers. His eyes did a double take after he recognized the face of three familiar judges he often sees on MasterChef Australia.

"What's going on? Isn't that MasterChef Australia judges?" Charles quizzed

"That's MasterChef Australia, they have this team challenges and they will be feeding the Formula 2 drivers" Silvia answered as she was informed earlier that morning about the extra exposure in the paddock today.

"Why Formula 2? Why not us?" Charles whined

"If you want then you could go ask Ollie for food" Silvia suggested

That sets a lightbulb moment for Charles as he excused himself to talk to the young driver. He will not miss the opportunity to taste the cooking of his secret girlfriend and support her in doing her craft.

It puzzled Ollie Bearman to see that Charles has been looking for him once the practice session was over. He was even more confused by his request.

"So you want me to get you food?" Ollie asked "Doesn't Ferrari have a catering?"

"Its not just food, its the MasterChef Australia food" Charles explained without giving out too much information "I just love the show okay?"

"You can come along, I'm sure they don't mind" Even better.

So here is why you were genuinely surprised to see that Charles Leclerc is walking inside the MasterChef tent with a red and blue plate in his hand. He was grinning wildly as if he was a kid on a sugar rush.

"Ohmygod we are serving food to Charles Leclerc!" one of your teammates whispered.

"Hi goodafternoon! What's the dish for today?" he asked politely.

"Well we have a pan fried cod with a pea puree and then some green grapes some fennel over there and then for the pasta lemon ricotta and beet tortellini" you answered as the team captain "We hope that its up your liking"

Charles gave you that smile that seems to light up the whole room, "I look forward to it, thanks!"

Its moments like this that you wish that you could reach out for him but you understand that its not yet the time. Its nice to see the support that you have for each other even though its all in private and away from the eyes of the media.

"Goodluck on your race Charles!"

There was a smile on both of your faces as you both continued to go chase your dreams.

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

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