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sinofwriting · 8 months

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To Be With You - Lando Norris (& Callum Ilott)

Words: 9,722 Summary: Lando’s halfway to being in love with her, following her around like a puppy, while she thinks it’s all friendly affection. Too bad his feelings don’t even flatter after learning about her husband. (Reader is referred to as Pips) Note(s)/Warning(s): There is no cheating in this fic. Reader is married to Callum Ilott (Indycar Driver). Lando comes off a bit much in this because he doesn’t know how to handle his feelings and reader is oblivious to said feelings.

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Jeddah 2023

Lando couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he saw who was interviewing him next. “Well, hello.” “Lando, good to see you. How are you feeling about this weekend?” “I’m feeling good. The car is good and last year I had a fairly good race, but we’ll see what happens after free practice.” He tells her, somewhat lying about the car, but that didn’t matter. With her here, he’d be driving it like it was the rocketship that Red Bull had for a car. He needed to impress her. “And how are you settling into the mentor role with Oscar as your teammate?” “Uh, it’s a bit weird y’know?” He tells her, licking his lips and stepping a little closer. Giving the camera more of a close up as he inches closer to her. “I’ve been used to being the mentee and the youngest on the grid, so it’s a bit weird to have the youngest guy as my teammate now.” “Well, I’m sure you’re doing great.” She tells him, eyes flickering down to her notebook with questions, feeling slightly awkward that she doesn’t have anything more for him, but he was never supposed to be part of her interviews this weekend. Thankfully for her and not so much for Lando, his press officer pulls him away to another spot.

The large smile he had been wearing drops into a frown as soon as he’s forced to turn away from her, but before any of the cameras can catch the change he forces a smile on his face before stepping in front of another camera.

It was only Friday after all, he had the whole weekend to see her and hopefully get her number or better yet a date.

Lando doesn’t see her until after quali having forgotten that when it was a weekend when F2 and F3 were racing she spent most of her time with them, either hanging out or to work. She barely did any interviews with F1 drivers during these weekends, it made his heart swell realizing that he had made it on her list this weekend.

She’s with Novalak, Crawford, and Bearman, standing just out of Prema’s HQ and despite the weird glances he gets from the guys, he slots himselfs into their group and next to her.

“I swear, Ollie.” She curses, setting her hands on her hips. “You give yourself more bruises than a phlebotomist. And you,” she turns her attention to Jak, taking his chin in her hands gently and looking at the nasty scrap he’s got there. “Do you go to medical for this?” He starts to nod, but Ollie quickly rats him out, making Clem laugh while Lando watches the whole thing with wide eyes, having never seen her like this. It was somewhat endearing how much she cared for the young drivers. “Jak Crawford!” “It’s fine, honestly. It doesn’t even hurt.” She gives him an unimpressed look. “Medical. This is the first weekend of this calendar when one of your parents isn't here, I’d think we’d want that to happen again, right?” He quickly nods, eyes darting towards Ollie and she releases him. “Medical and Ollie, please go with him.” “On it, Pips.” Ollie grins, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before dragging Jak with him even as the junior driver whines about not getting to hug her.

“You sure you want kids?” Clem asks with a laugh as the three watch the two walk around the corner. Lando can’t help but turn his attention to her, wanting to know her answer even if he was maybe joking. “My kids will be angels, I’ll have raised them. Jak and Ollie,” she shakes her head, though there’s a fond smile on her lips clearly not minding the boys. “They're thrilled about becoming older brothers. We had to bleep it on the pod when we had Jak on.” The British driver’s eyes widen as his eyes flicker down to her abdomen, the other two thankfully not noticing his reaction. “Not yet. Still got a good few years until that happens.” She laughs. Lando breathes a sigh of relief, not noticing how it catches Clem’s attention.

His brows quickly furrow for a second as he realizes what she said, a few years. That was soon, like really soon. He wanted to be a hands-on dad, be there for everything, and he still wanted to race in the next few years. Compromise was a thing in a relationship though, he was sure that they could work out some sort of timeline for kids that would fit better than a few years.

“So, Crawford and Bearman, that happens a lot?” He asks her. “Them getting hurt.” She frowns a bit at the use of the last names, but he doesn’t notice. Too caught up in her attention being on him, all of it being on him. “Yeah, a bit. But teenage boy antics are the reason or at least that’s what I've been told.” “Weirdly it only seems to happen when you’re around.” Clem says, watching Lando closely as he leans a bit into her space. It makes his nose wrinkle. “Oh, it happens when I’m not around as well. I end up getting calls or texts about it.” Clem shakes his head, “such momma’s boys.” “I can see why. You’d make a good mum.” Lando says, enjoying the way her eyes widen a bit and she gets a little flustered. “Oh, thank you.” “Of course.”

Miami 2023

After that he doesn’t see her until Miami and despite it not being an F2 weekend she’s got Novalak, Armstrong, and the other guy from Screaming Meals acting as her crew for the weekend as she runs around doing interviews with drivers, engineers, and the like. His jaw twitches as he watches her interview Logan Sargeant of all people for nearly an hour. His mood worsens when he asks his press officer for his schedule and she’s not on it.

Somehow though on Saturday before he leaves for his hotel, he manages to catch her alone. Her shadows for the weekend are all gone.

“How are you this weekend?” “I’m good. Busy, but thankfully James, Clem, and Marcus have been helping me out.” She tells him, pocketing her phone. “I saw your quali result.” He grimaces at the knowledge she saw that. “I’m sure you’ll do better tomorrow, make up some places.” “I’ll do my best.” He tells her, feeling a little warm at her assurance. “Will you be coming to Monaco? I mean, it’s nearly the race of the year.” “You mean afterparties of the year?” Lando chuckles, but nods. “True. But will you?” She shakes her head, “Nope, I’ll be at the Indy 500 just like last year.” “They happen the same weekend?” He asks, brows furrowed. “Yeah, nearly always do.” “And you want to miss Monaco?” “I mean you only really need to do Monaco once and I did it four years in a row. The 500’s nice and I’ve already got my press passes and everything sorted for it.” “Right,” he murmurs. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure I could get you a press pass.” “Thanks, Lando. I’ll see you in Spain.” “See ya then.” He tells her but she’s already walked off and he can’t help but want to bang his head against the wall, wondering how he failed again in getting her number or a date with her.

Spain 2023

He’s on her schedule for the weekend but the whole interview feels off, stilted. It makes him worried as he watches her interview Nico after and how off she is. Makes him wonder if perhaps she’s coming down with something, a virus or mayhaps food poisoning.

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, when she’s done, stepping close to her as she shuts off her camera. She startles at the sound of his voice and he’s quick to wrap an arm around her waist before she falls into the tripod. He lets go as soon as she’s stable, though it hurts a bit. He wants to linger, to hold her. “Are you alright?” He repeats, looking at her closely. “I’m okay, Lando.” He gives her an unimpressed look and she shakes her head. “Really, I’m okay. Just a little distracted.” “Oh,” and he relaxes, relieved she’s not feeling unwell. “Anything I could help with?” “No.” She laughs. “That’s sweet of you though.” “Really, I could help. I don’t mind.” She looks at him consideringly, before looking around making sure no one else is near and no microphones can pick up anything. Looking back at him, she sighs. “My husband, he’s got an important weekend ahead of him and I’m just a little distracted because I’m not there.” He blinks at her, the word husband swimming in his head. “I didn’t know you were married.” “Not many people do.” She laughs before looking at him seriously. “Lando, please don’t tell anyone. There’s a reason it’s been kept quiet.” “Of course.” He reassures, still feeling off kilter, that the girl he liked was married. “No one will hear it from me.”

Austria 2023

He doesn’t see her for nearly a month after the revelation of her being married and he both loves and hates it. It’s time and space away from her that he needs so he can truly grapple with his feelings but it’s also time and space away from her when he already doesn’t get to interact much with her. He’s also a little ashamed that his feelings didn’t change for her at all, if anything he feels something stronger for her. Especially after watching all of her videos and the podcasts she’s been on. Noting that she never once mentions being with anyone but also never says that she’s single.

It’s odd. She’s barely a year older than him, yet married and keeping it a secret from seemingly everyone. He’s torn between happiness that she trusts him with something like that and jealousy because she’s with someone else, someone who’s not him. All of his feelings for her are like a dichotomy.

The secretive nature of her relationship and the way she doesn’t mention it all gives him hope that it's not a happy marriage. Maybe it’s on the outs, married too young and all. Maybe it’s actually good and she’s happy, but that thought doesn’t last long. If it was good, why wouldn’t she be public about it or at least about being with someone? Besides who on earth would be with her and not want it to be public knowledge?

He ends up getting fourth, not on the podium like he wants, like he craves but it’s close. As close as he’s gotten this season. The disappointment of not being on her interview list after the race is finished is barely there, too overrun with adrenaline and confidence.

Confidence that quickly takes a hit when he manages to catch her before she leaves to go back to her hotel.

“Pips!” The nickname feels weird in his mouth, having only ever called her by her actual name, despite her using the nickname Pips on her channel, in podcasts, with friends and such. “Lando.” She greets, confusion clear on her face. He can see Novalak a few steps away but he ignores the French driver. “Hey.” He greets, grinning at her and running a hand through his curls. “I was hoping to catch you before you left.” “Oh,” she looks shocked rather than flattered but he ignores that as well. “I was wondering if maybe we could talk sometime. Maybe about doing something special for next weekend since it’s Silverstone.” “Uh,” she glances down at her phone. “Yeah, sure. I have to get going, but I’ll email my contact with McLaren about getting something set up. And congrats on P4, Lando.” She adds on, as she’s already turning away. “Thanks.” He says, but it’s quiet and she clearly doesn’t hear already several feet away from him. Just like she clearly didn’t hear that he wanted her number.

—

Clem has never felt more glad when he gets back to his hotel and phones James that Marcus and Callum are both there. “Norris is trying to make the moves on your wife.” He says immediately seeing Callum’s face. The older blinks at him, “what?” “Yeah, what?” Clem ignores Marcus, “Lando Norris, has got a thing for Pips and he’s getting ballsy.”

The French driver had realized pretty quickly after Lando had weirdly joined her, Jak, Ollie, and himself that he had a crush, he hadn’t expected for it not to be a crush but rather something more. Lando had taken to following her around on race weekends when she was there and it was only today after hearing him try (and fail) to get her number, that it wasn’t a crush but something a bit more for the McLaren driver.

“He tried asking her for her number today. She didn’t give it, but still.” He tells him before swiping to his notes and copying the link he had found during lunch and sending it to Callum. “Saw that during lunch, he’s got heart eyes for her.” The three watch as Callum watches the video, his eyebrows going up as he sees the way Lando looks at his wife.

Marcus whistles peering over Callum’s shoulder. “That’s some serious heart eyes, mate.” “Yeah, I can see that.” He murmurs, looking at the video once more before looking back at Clem. “Was he asking for work or like a date?” “I mean, he tried to say it was for Silverstone, but it was pretty obvious that he really just wanted her number.” “Huh.” His tongue swipes over the inside of his cheek, lips pressing together. “He knows that she’s married. So, yeah ballsy indeed.” “He knows?” “Yeah, she told him at the Spanish GP. Not that it was to me, of course, but he knows.” “Damn, Norris really has a set of balls on him.” James says.

Silverstone 2023

As Lando begins to go back to his family after the sprint race and press, he’s pulled aside and behind Red Bull’s garage by Max and Oscar. The sight of them together is more confusing than being pulled away despite them just being on a podium together.

“Mate,” Max starts and Lando immediately goes on the defensive. “I didn’t do it! Whatever it is, I had no part in it.” Max looks at him unimpressed while Oscar looks vaguely uncomfortable, a face he’s only used to seeing Oscar make when they’re forced to film things together for YouTube too early in the morning. “You need to chill out.” “With what?” He looks at Oscar, but Oscar isn’t looking at him, so he’s forced to look at Max who’s giving him that stupid unimpressed and disappointed look. It’s seriously unfair how good he is at it. “Your heart eyes when Pips interviews you.” Oscar says for Max. “Or when she’s in the general vicinity. Fans are going to start picking up on it and the last thing she needs or McLaren, I’m sure, is that she’s sleeping with a driver to get more opportunities.” “I don’t have heart eyes.” He tries to protest, but it’s half-hearted. “And no one will think that.” “Are you dumb?” The Aussie snaps and he’s finally looking at Lando, but it’s not a look, it’s a glare. The sight makes him swallow and he takes a step back. “You’ve been doing this longer than I have, you damn well know how any woman in motorsports gets treated. Fans start picking up on you looking at her like that and they are going to tear her apart. Say even more that the only reason she gets to interview drivers is because she spreads her legs.” His eyes are wide and they dart over to Max hoping that the older driver will be a little sympathetic maybe get Oscar to stop fucking glaring because where the fuck did he get that from, but the Dutch shakes his head at him.

“She’s worked hard to get here. Don’t ruin her career for something you don’t even have a chance at getting close to.” Lando straightens at the words, jaw twitching and his own eyes narrow at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? I could have a chance.” He raises an eyebrow, sparing a glance at Oscar who nods in return at him. “Really, because Oscar told me she’s married. You want to ruin a marriage?” “You told Max?” He looks at the younger in disbelief, “you knew?” “She’s always been closer with us F2 and F3 drivers, a good few of us know.” “Unbelievable.” He huffs before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t be ruining a marriage anyways. Not when it’s clearly an unhappy one.” The relief that had started to show on their faces drops immediately and now they’re both glaring at him.

“What? She’s like a year older than me, married, and practically no one knows about it. That’s weird. Not really a sign things are going well.” He’s putting all the confidence he can into the words, believing them, unwilling to think that perhaps he’s wrong. “Lando.” Max sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where to start with how dumb and wrong you are.” “You barely know her.” Oscar chimes in. “You’ve had maybe two or three conversations with her outside of interviews. You have no idea whether she’s happy or not.” He presses his lips together, doubt starting to fester in his brain, but he pushes it away. He couldn’t be wrong about this. “Whatever.” He murmurs before shoving past them and walking as fast he can to where his family is waiting for him.

Belgium 2023

Pips can’t help but feel relieved when she doesn’t really see Lando at all on Friday. It was a bit unnerving the way he’d follow her around on the weekends she was there. Always paying attention closely to what she’s doing and saying. It felt unsettling having someone she wasn’t that close to paying so much attention to her.

Her luck however runs out on Sunday when after she finishes talking to Gabriel, wishing him luck in Monza, that he finds her.

“Hey.” He greets. “Hi Lando. Good job today.” “Thanks!” he beams. “I was just curious, are you doing anything for dinner tonight? A few of us are going out in about an hour, you could come.” She smiles apologetically. “I’m getting dinner with Jak, Ollie and their dads.” “Oh,” he looks disappointed for a second before flashing her a smile. “Maybe next time?” “Maybe.” She agrees with a nod, watching him walk away before hightailing it to where the boys and their dads are.

“Sorry David, Tim.” She apologies but they both wave it away with a smile. “What about us?” Ollie cries. “You left us waiting too.” She rolls her eyes at both of them, Jak nodding along with Ollie, before ruffling both of their hair. “Sorry to you two as well. Now, what could I do to convince one or both of you to come to some of the next few races with me?” “You mean after Monza?” Jak asks, as they all get into the car. The only girl not even grimacing as she gets in the middle, between both junior drivers. “Yeah, Singapore, Japan, Qatar. I know you’re both going to be at Austin.” David looks at her in the rearview mirror concerned. “Is everything alright, Pips?” “One of the drivers has got me a bit anxious.” Tim turns in his seat, “he hasn’t tried to,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, and I don’t think he’d do anything. He’s harmless really. I just would like the comfort of having someone familiar with me at the track all the time. I’d pay for your guys' tickets and hotel of course.”

Ollie looks briefly at his dad even though he was an adult and the older man gives him a nod. “I’ll join you. I don’t have anything with the FDA or Prema anyways unless it’s a week with no races.” “Me too. I’ll go.” “And you don’t need to worry about paying for the boys. Red Bull will be thrilled at one of their juniors coming to races that aren’t required or anything, they’ll happily pay for his tickets and hotel.” “And I’ll pay for Ollie’s tickets.” David takes his eyes off the road briefly to share a grin with Tim. “No need for a second room when we know that Ollie will just end up in Jak’s.” Tim and her both laugh while both of the boys make protesting noises. “Or in my room.” She adds. She would sometimes do movie nights with some of the F2 and F3 drivers and inevitably she’d end up with three or four people staying the night.

Later after dinner as Jak and Ollie try to find somewhere to get some ice cream she’s not surprised when David and Tim turn the conversation back to what she told them in the car.

“Are you sure he’s harmless?” She nods at Tim’s concern, “I’m sure. He’s just paying a lot of attention to me and it’s a bit off putting y’know since I don’t really know him.” “If he does anything,” David starts but she stops him. “If he does anything, it wouldn’t matter. Especially if it’s,” she pauses, unsure of how to say it, “unsavory.” she ends up settling on. “I couldn’t say anything, not if I’d still want a career in motorsports. But I don’t think it's like that at all. He seems to be more trying to figure me out than trying to ask me out or something.” She laughs.

The idea really was laughable, Lando having feelings for her and asking her out. She wasn’t exactly sure why he was paying so much attention to her but it couldn’t be because he had feelings for her. Especially since he knew she was married.

“Tell Callum, yeah?” David says. “He’ll want to know why you’ve got the boys with you.” “We’ve got a planned call before I go to bed. I’ll tell him then.” “Good.”

—

“Hello, darling.” She smiles, scooting back a little in the bathtub. “Hey, Cal.” “What are you doing?” “Taking a bath.” He groans and she can’t help but laugh. “Fuck, I’m jealous.” “You could take a bath too.” She laughs, pulling her phone away to put it on speaker and setting it on the bath sill. “But it wouldn’t be the same without you here. I miss you washing my hair.” She can hear him pouting and a fond smile pulls at her lips. “I miss it too. I miss you.” She sighs. “Next year will be better.” He reminds her. “Only F2 weekends when I don’t have a race and then the US races and Yas Marina.” “Yeah, next year will be a lot nicer.” She draws one of her legs up, swirling her fingers in the bubbles that are lingering on her skin.

“What’d you do today?” “An Oval test, other sim work. Nothing too exciting. How was dinner?” She frowns, reminded of the conversation she had with David and Tim. “It was good. It’s always nice to see David and Tim. Ollie and Jak were buzzing about.” She bites at her lip. “Actually speaking of the boys, they’ll be coming with me to the next three races I go too.” “Singapore, Japan, and Qatar? Did something happen?” She swallows harshly, knowing that Callum wouldn’t like what she had to say. “I’ve been feeling a little uncomfortable the past few race weekends. My anxiety’s been a bit high.” “Darling.” He breathes and the emotion in his voice makes her blink away tears. “One of the drivers has been watching me a lot. Like nonstop. If he’s around he’s got his eyes on me and it’s just unsettling. I barely know him and he just keeps looking at me.” “Are you alright?” “Yeah,” she nods even though he can’t see her. “I kind of feel like I’m overreacting, but I just, I don’t know, Cal. The whole thing feels weird.” She wraps her arms around herself, wishing that she wasn’t alone but with Callum so he could hold her. She could really do with one of his hugs. “I don’t think he’ll do anything, it doesn’t seem like he’s looking at me because he’s interested but more because he’s trying to figure me out?” Her voice gets a little high at the end, not sure if she’s making any sense.

“Who is it?” “Lando.” She doesn’t know what to expect from Callum but she wasn’t expecting what she got. “Shit.” He curses. “Callum?” “He has a thing for you.” “What? No.” “Pips, I promise, one hundred percent he’s got a thing for you. Clem noticed it a while ago but only told me during Austria.” “Austria?” “Fuck,” he curses again. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, but I mean I didn't really think he was going to do anything. I mean Clem said he was getting a little ballsy, trying to get your number.” “He never tried getting my,” she stops remembering the awkward conversation at Miami and then the one at Austria. “Oh my god.”

It’s silent between them for a few moments, Callum letting her wrap her head around it.

“Do you want me to go with as well? Join Ollie and Jak.” “No.” She murmurs before saying it again a bit louder. “I’ll be okay with Jak and Ollie. They know that I’m uncomfortable and it's because of a driver, they won’t leave me alone.” “If you change your mind, tell me and I’ll fly straight there. I don’t care if you’ve only got a day left of the weekend.” “Of course.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” “Yeah, it’s just weird now knowing that he likes me. I mean you can’t really help who you get a crush on, but he knows I’m married. He knows I’m not available but he’s still paying so much attention to me. It’s just odd.” She ends up settling on. “Do you want me to change your flight?” “Please.” “I’ll do it right now.”

Singapore 2023

“Max!” She greets, smiling at the driver. “How are you doing today?” “I’m doing well. I see you have some assistants today.” He gestures to Jak and Ollie and she nods. “Yes, I’m afraid that I stole one of your junior drivers and an FDA driver as well.” “And is Jak being helpful? If he isn’t you tell me and I’ll make sure he’s stuck doing sim work for a week.” He jokes, making Jak gasp while both her and Ollie laugh. “He’s been a wonder. But let’s talk about Monza, a tough race for you.” “Little bit, it was a change of pace for sure. But you know, I enjoyed it.” He smiles. “Good and I’ve heard you didn’t celebrate breaking a monumentous record. Not even an ice cream? Chocolate? Perhaps buying yourself a new part for your sim setup?” “Ah! You remembered. No, still haven’t bought the part, I need to though soon, so that way I’m not bored when the season ends.” “Heaven forbid we have a bored Max Verstappen.” “Exactly, but I did actually have some chocolate to celebrate. It was good.” He tells her.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Max?” Ollie speaks up and she shifts a little to the side so the microphone can pick up his voice better. “Of course.” “Could you teach me how to make a stroopwafel?” “That’s your question? You can ask me anything Ollie, really, I don’t mind.” “No, could you teach me?” Max looks at her and laughs at the exasperated look on her face but can’t help nod. “You know what, yeah. Next time you're in England, I’ll teach both you and Jak how to make a stroopwafel.” “Could I join to film it? Because you don’t know how to make stroopwafels.” She laughs. “I’m Dutch, I definitely know how to make a stroopwafel.” “Sure, Max. Sure.”

“Could I ask a question?” Jak asks and Max nods again, ignoring his press officer that had approached him. “You’ve proven that you’re really good at geography. Do you think if you got dropped randomly somewhere in Milton Keynes, blindfolded, you could find your way to the factory in less than an hour?” “Jak,” she tries to scold, but she’s laughing too hard and the American smiles at her. “What Pips? He said he’s good at geography, I just want to know how good.” “They should become staples.” Max gestures at them, an amused smile on his face before he turns his attention to Jak. “I’d like to say yes, but I have no idea. I only really know my apartment and the factory around Milton Keynes, that's it.” He tells him, before looking at her. “So you're not good at geography.” Jak says, but she speaks over him, both Max and her ignoring him. “Thank you so much, Max and you’ll have this to look forward to for the next two races as well.” “Really?” “Yeah.” He turns to his press officer, voice just barely loud enough for the microphone to pick up. “I’m on her schedule for the next two races right?” The press officer nods and he grins. “Amazing. See you guys next week.”

As Max walks away, Ollie shuts the camera off and she shakes her head. “Please don’t do that with all the drivers.” She warns. “We won’t. Max is always down to joke around with us.” She nods, before grinning at the two. “You got something good for Charles?” “Oh yeah.” Jak nods, grinning. “Awesome.” She tells them, holding both of her hands up for high fives.

—

“I can’t believe the Red Bull streak is over.” Ollie murmurs, leaning against her as she puts her camera in its bag before putting it in her tote. “They’ll be back next week. This was just a one off.” Jak says confidently. “I don’t know,” the younger draws out, straightening. “I mean Ferrari could perform well in Japan.” “Yeah, if they don’t make a bad call.” Ollie fake scowls before launching himself at Jak who’s sitting on the couch opposite of hers.

She shakes her head as the two start wrestling, quickly falling off of the couch and onto the floor and she’s never been happier that there wasn’t a coffee table between two couches.

“Wish I had their energy.” A voice speaks from behind her before the couch is dipping beside her as someone sits. “Don’t we all?” She jokes, turning her head to give Lando an awkward smile before looking back at the boys. “Congratulations on P2. It was a good race. You did an amazing job.” “Thanks. Did they have team duties?” “No.” She shakes her head, crossing her ankles as his eyes focus on the side of her face. “They didn’t have anything to do for their teams or academies so I asked them to come with me, keep me company.” “I would’ve kept you company.” Her eyes widen for a moment and smile flickering, but she quickly pastes it back on, smiling at him for a second. “Wouldn’t be much company with free practices, press, and such.” “Well if you ever want some adult company, I’m available.” Her breathing stutters at the words adult company, at the emphasis on adult, a weird sick sense of dread filling her stomach. She had to be imagining that right? The way his voice lowered, the slight drawn out syllable. And for the first time she regrets not wearing her wedding ring for a totally different reason than normal.

Before she has to force herself to respond and god what would she even say to that, her name is being called by two voices and her attention snaps back to them.

“He bruised me!” They both whine at her, standing now with near identical pouts on their faces. She sighs and hopes that Lando can’t hear the relief in it as she stands. “Alright, you two. Let’s get some food and get to bed. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” “Oh, please.” Jak groans, pout disappearing at the mention of food. Ollie is the same, eyes alight with excitement. “Do you think we could get pizza?” “We’re not getting pizza in Singapore, Ollie!” Jak protests.

As the three begin to walk out of the room, she barely remembers to throw a half hearted wave goodbye over her shoulder at Lando. Leaving him looking after her with disappointment.

Japan 2023

Lando watches her the whole weekend, waiting for her to be alone, but if one of the F2 drivers isn't with her, they both are. She’s never left alone and he wonders if perhaps he came on a little too strong in Singapore, the high of the podium giving him a confidence like no other. Regret bubbles in him. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or upset. It was the last thing that he wanted.

But he never gets the chance to apologize and he can only hope that in Qatar that he’ll get the opportunity.

Qatar 2023

She nearly doesn’t go to Qatar. Not when she had over a week that was just Callum, her, and their families. It makes her crave what next year and season will bring. She does end up going, meeting Jak and Ollie at the airport and despite not wanting to leave Callum, she doesn’t regret it one bit.

Qatar has always been one of her favorite places to go for races. It may have only been introduced to Formula 1 in 2021, but she had been going there since 2017 for different races like Motocross and Superbike.

It’s the only race that she only attends the Saturday and Sunday of, despite it being a sprint weekend. And despite only attending the last two days, she doesn’t manage to avoid Lando.

The boys are just a bit ahead of her, listening to Max as he talks to them about sim racing, when Lando approaches her.

“I wanted to apologize.” She jumps at the sound of his voice out of nowhere, nearly tripping over her own feet. “What?” “I want to apologize for Singapore. I came on really strong and it wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable but I did. I’m sorry, I’ll do my best to keep some distance.” She barely knows what to say to that. “Thank you.” She settles on. “I appreciate it and I’d appreciate some distance.” “Oh,” he looks surprised by her ask and she returns her attention to the boys in front of her. Charles now having joined Max and them, and she can faintly hear Max and Charles squabbling like children over a strategy for an F2 race. “Lando, I’m married.” She hates that she needs to remind him of that fact, that it’s a fact so easily forgettable to him. “I’m not available. And I apologize if I’ve ever acted or given you a signal that I was.” “I know you’re married.” “If you know, then maybe you shouldn’t be hitting on a married woman.” And before he can reply she’s jogging to catch up to the four in front, telling Max and Charles that they’re strategies are both shit. The statement earns her squawks in protest while Ollie and Jak laugh.

Austin 2023

“My OG boys!” She crows as James focuses her camera on her as she rests her arm over Marcus’ shoulder and the other over Callum’s. “Reunited at last.” She sighs. Marcus sighs back, face scrunching up a bit. “Sadly.” Callum grins down at her as she fake glares at Marcus who immediately laughs. “But I thought we were your boys?” Jak says, gesturing between himself and Ollie, James swinging the camera to look at them. “No, no.” She says, removing her arms from the Indycar drivers and gathering the two F2 drivers in a hug. “They are my boys, you two are my little babies.” She coos and is surprised when they don’t protest or jokingly squirm away since a camera is on them. Completely missing that overhead Jak is giving the Indycar drivers a smug look while Ollie sticks his tongue at them.

James films them for another moment, before switching the camera off and handing it off to Callum.

“I forgot how much you baby them.” Callum teases her, when she finally returns to his side. “Good practice.” She teases in return, watching as he practically blue screens. “Gross.” Marcus remarks, nose wrinkling as he realizes why Callum has frozen up. “You can’t talk about it, don’t do it.” She tells the barely younger man. “Oh, I can talk about it, I just don’t want to think about you two doing it.” “He says as he just says the word it.” Callum chuckles, brushing a hand over the small of her back. “Well, I can talk more about it than either of them can.” He gestures to the two teenagers. She raises a brow, hearing a low chuckle from her husband as he realizes that she’s about to do something.

“Hey, Ollie.” She calls and he looks over at her, an eyebrow raised. “You have some condoms with you right?” Marcus chokes on his own spit and James turns a little red. “Yes.” He snorts. “I doubt I’ll be having sex this weekend though.” She gives a pointed look at Marcus when he says the word sex. “Never know, Ollie. Never know.” “I hate you so much.” Marcus mumbles and she just grins.

—

“Marcus, Callum. Good to see you both.” Charles greets, shaking both of their hands as the small group watches Pips interview Daniel, the Ferrari driver next in line. “Good to see ya, mate.” Marcus smiles. Callum and him may have both had a rough time at the FDA, but Charles had always been kind and nice to them, even after. “How are you liking Indycar, Marcus? I’ve seen a couple of races.” “It’s good. You probably don’t remember what an F2 car feels like, but it’s a hell of alot smoother than that thing.” He laughs, giving him one of those shit winks he has. “I can vaguely remember.” He turns his attention to Callum, not minding that the driver has his eyes firmly on the girl in front of them. “And how are you? I saw the uh, whole twitter thing.” Callum flashes him a quick smile, trying not to show how bothered he still somewhat is by the whole thing. “I’m alright. Been better with my twitter being private and all.” “Good, good.” He nods, then seeing Daniel step away, he excuses himself for his own interview.

“She’s got Gasly tomorrow right?” The British driver makes a humming noise. “Logan and Norris as well.” “Ooh, last name basis now?” Callum throws him a look. “If he’s going to refer to the boys that way, yes.” He looks at him in disbelief. “Still?” When he nods, Marcus runs a hand over his face. “Jesus christ. He’s a bit of a disaster isn’t he?” “More so just caught up in this and Quadrant. Imagine if Max ever goes back, he’ll interact again, but we’ll see.” “So, don’t hold my breath.” He snorts, watching as Charles attempts to explain the tyre strategy. “Yeah, don’t hold your breath.”

—

Lando can’t help but frown when as soon as he’s answered her last question and she’s thanked him, she’s turning her camera off, already stepping further back from him. “I’m not going to do anything.” Her head snaps up to look at him, disbelief on her features and he nearly smacks himself as he realizes what he said. “Fuck, I, mean, I didn’t,” he stutters about feeling warm and he can feel the two Indy drivers she’s close with watching him closely, which makes it worse. Blood rushed to his face and he’s thankful he’s still got a bit of tan, harder to tell when he’s flustered. “I’m sorry, I didn't think.” “Seems to be a common occurrence.” The jab should make him wince, but he can’t help but laugh. It was true, had gotten him into a fair amount of trouble with PR. “Not really like you need brains to drive, right?” He expects her to laugh, like everyone else does when he makes the joke, though there is a bit of truth to the statement depending on the driver. But the disbelief is back on her face and she just shakes her head. “Good luck in Mexico, Lando. I’ll see you for an interview in Brazil.” “You’re not going to Mexico?” She shakes her head and unscrews the camera from its tripod, placing it carefully in her tote. “No, but I wish you luck.” “Did you mean that?” “What?”

He bites at the inside of his bottom lip, nerves making him feel a bit jittery, but he wants to know, has to know, that despite him constantly putting his foot in his mouth, saying the wrong thing and making her uncomfortable, if she means it. “When you wish me good luck, do you mean it? Are you actually hoping I’ll do well?” Her lips thin as she folds down the tripod and he’s holding his breath waiting for an answer. “Anytime I tell a driver good luck, I mean it.” It’s general, detached, but something surges in him, because every interview at the end she’s wished him luck. And he knows that she doesn’t do that with every driver, in fact some drivers, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard her wish good luck. “Great.” The word comes out a little breathless and he can feel himself flush more. “I mean, amazing, that's good, I, thank you.” He ends up settling on, feeling like he’s on fire. “You’re welcome.”

Brazil 2023

She giggles as he pulls her back onto the bed, this time however his arms are still tight around her, keeping her close. “Callum, I have to go.” “No.” He whines, rolling over and taking her with him, so that she’s in between him and the bed. Unable to stop a small smirk from forming at the way her legs immediately separate to make space for him. “You should stay here with me today. Just us.” He murmurs, bending down to hover his lips over her neck. “All alone together in this bed. Room service when we need some energy.” She hums, the idea more than appealing. “It does sound good.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” She smiles, before nudging two of her fingers into his ribs. The sensation makes him yell as he rolls off her, arms coming up to protect his ribs and she takes the opportunity to get off and away from the bed.

“Pips,” he groans, rubbing at the spot she hurt him. “What was that for?” “I have to go to the track. I have work.” She tells him. “But it’s a Thursday. Nothing good happens on a Thursday.” “Well, this one is different.” He eyes her, really taking note of what she’s wearing. He had thought it odd how dressed up she was getting for a simple media day, but some days she liked doing that. Dressing to the near nines for the hell of it. “You got an important interview.” She smiles and he’s standing up, crossing the room to kiss her.

“You never said.” “I was expecting them to cancel.” She admits, still not sure why they reached out to see if she’d want to do an interview. She knew part of it was PR, but still didn’t make sense that they choose her, when there were other content creators involved with motorsports, ones at that, that spent far more time on F1, but they had chosen her. She also couldn’t help but be glad that her interview with him would take place after her interviews with everyone else. When the track was starting to wind down from the press. “Who is it with?” He asks. “I mean, am I allowed to know who it is?” “Of course you’re allowed to know.” She laughs, brushing her fingers through his hair. It was getting to be a bit long. She’d have to find someplace for him to get his haircut before Yas Marina. “It’s Christian.” His eyes widened. “Horner?” “Yeah.” “Fuck.” He swears, blinking. “I mean, shit.” He laughs. “Are you ready for this? Get enough breakfast? Got your notebook?” He starts patting at his thighs where his wallet would be if he was wearing jeans. “Do you need me to get you some coffee? Drive you to the track?” He glances down when he realizes he’s not wearing anything but boxers, cursing, before looking around the room for some jeans. He doesn’t notice the way she’s looking at him at first. Eyes soft and filled with light and love. Smile fond and infatuated. But then her hand is grasping at his arm, tugging lightly until he turns around at the sound of his name.

She presses forward, kissing him and his hands drop the jeans he had just found, grabbing at her waist.

“I’m so in love with you, Callum Ilott.” She breathes when they separate, unable to not smile, heart beating a little fast at how much she loves this man, her husband. “I’m in love with you too, Pips Ilott.” She laughs, remembering how she nearly signed their marriage certificate with Pips instead of her actual name. “Dinner when I get back?” He nods, stealing another kiss from her. “I’ll have something ordered from somewhere for us.” “Thank you.” “Of course.” He tells her, before tapping her ass with a wink and letting his hands fall away. “Now go and knock his socks off.” She shakes her head, laughing a little, but moves to pick up her tote. “I’ll put in a word about Indycar for you.” “If you don’t leave,” he starts. “I’m going, I’m going.” She laughs, grabbing her key card before opening the hotel room door. “I will put in a word for you though, love you!” She tells him, closing the door behind her. ‘Love you too!” He responds, despite the door being closed as he shakes his head.

“I’m so fucking lucky you married me.” He murmurs, knowing that she wasn’t joking about bringing up Indycar to the team principal.

—

She can’t help but beam as she leaves and starts to walk towards the track’s exit. Her interview with Christian, went well, really well. She had even managed to get him to talk about his less than savory comment about women in motorsports without getting shut down. And she nearly does a little dance as she nears the gates, she hadn’t even had to bring up Indycar, Christian doing it for her.

It had been off camera as he asked her about how she liked Indycar and there had been a keen interest in his eyes as they talked about the sport for a good ten or so minutes. She did her best not to think about how he told her to give her husband his best. She wasn’t surprised that his team and or Red Bull’s had done their due diligence on her.

“You’re certainly happy.” She smiles at Lando, the sight of him not even dampening her mood. “I had a very good interview.” “Oh, something good to watch out for?” “Only if you like Red Bull.” His nose wrinkles at that. “Red Bull? Really?” “You don’t just turn down an opportunity to interview Christian Horner, Lando.” “Holy shit. Really?” She nods, still beaming and he can’t help but smile back at her. “That’s fucking nuts. Congrats.” “Thanks.” She laughs, adjusting her tote. “Could I buy you a drink? Help you celebrate a little?” He offers, wanting to continue seeing her like this. Happy and like she was floating with it. She shakes her head, “I’ve got dinner to get to. But thank you Lando.” “Of course.” He murmurs. “And congratulations again.” She flashes him another smile, before walking through the gates, eager to get back to Callum and tell him all about it.

Yas Marina 2023

Lando pats Oscar on the back, happy for his teammate who had managed to get on the podium again. A nice P3, compared to his P5. And he had managed to finish within the top ten of the driver standings for his rookie season, finishing at ninth, while Lando himself finished eighth.

“You happy that the season is over?” He asks, as Oscar starts to change out of his fireproofs and race suit. The Aussie shrugs. “I mean, I guess. Will be nice to not be a rookie next year. I’m just happy to go back home for a bit. Spend some time with Lily.” “I’m surprised she’s not here.” Oscar pauses as he pulls on some pants, “she’s with Fred and them.” “Fred?” Oscar rolls his eyes. “Vesti, the guy that managed to win the F2 championship despite it nearly being impossible.” “Ah.” Lando nods, the name ringing a bell now.

He had seen a little bit of the races, knew that Pourchaire retiring nearly halfway through the sprint race had been a bit of a whatever, but then on the third lap of the feature race he had to retire after a crash between him and some other driver, he thinks Stanek.

He eyes Oscar who’s on his phone, texting he thinks by the way his thumb is moving across the lower part of the screen. “Have you seen Pips? I wanted to say hi to her.” “Lando,” “Honestly.” He holds his hands open. “I just want to say hi and tell her how much I liked the Horner interview.” Oscar narrows his eyes, looking at him. “She’s with some current and former F2 drivers right now, friends, and girlfriends. We’re all going out to dinner.” He glances down at his phone, before looking back at Lando. “If you want you can come with.” “Really?” “As long as you promise to be on your best behavior.” Lando grins at him. “Can do.” He rolls his eyes, slipping his phone into his back pocket while grabbing for his wallet. “Also, on the ride there, maybe look at the F2 line up for this year and 2021’s. It’s rude to call people by their last names, when you should know their first.” He flushes at the words, but nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

—

Pips has never been so thankful for James' management skills as the large group of fifteen settles around a table in a private room of a restaurant. There’s a few empty places still around it, but there’s only two more people they’re waiting for, Oscar and Logan.

A bunch of different conversations are in the room but everyone stops to cheer when Oscar and Logan enter the room. “We’re not worthy!” Clem shouts, with a laugh taking another drink of wine. Logan rolls his eyes, but grins, sitting on the other side of Jak. Oscar quickly moves to Lily’s side, pressing a kiss to her cheek before sitting next to her. “Brought along a guest.” He tells everyone. She looks over at the entrance for the private dining room but before she can react, Callum is taking her hand in his under the table, squeezing it. “Well, you know us. The more the merrier.” James jokes, waving the British formula one driver over, motioning for him to take a seat.

Lando claps Fred on the shoulder as he passes by him, the Dane sitting at the head of the table. “Congrats on the championship, mate. Was nuts to watch.” “Thank you, Lando. Congratulations to you as well for the season.”

“Please tell me I’m not going to have to watch him hit on you.” Marcus murmurs to her, leaning over Callum to do so as they watch Lando sit on the other side of the table just two seats down. She sends him a look, shaking her head. “No. Crowds seem to deter him.” Marcus laughs at that, so does Lissie having heard it as well, while Callum shakes his head with a smile.

“You going to be okay?” Callum’s voice is just a murmur, Lissie having thankfully distracted Marcus. “Yeah.” She squeezes his hand. “Besides, I’ve got you haven’t I?” He smiles, running a finger over her wedding band and ring, an odd but pleasant sensation to the both of them. “Always.”

“Your interview with Horner was really good.” “Thank you.” She was a little surprised that Lando had seen it already. It hadn’t even been out for a week. “Was there anything cut that you wish could have made it in?” She shakes her head. “No. There were some cuts made for pacing, but during the interview we didn’t talk about anything that needed to be cut.” “And after?” Lando asks, fishing a little. She shrugs, “NDA.” “You had to sign an NDA?” “Yeah, and it was a good one, wasn’t it Pips?” “It was a bit more serious than I’m used to.” She allows before smiling at James. “And thank you for letting me borrow Evan again.” “He was more than happy too.”

“You’ve signed NDA’s before?” She nods, looking at Lando a little confused. “Yeah. I had to sign one when we did that interview in Silverstone for McLaren. It’s really basic just making sure that if I overhear anything I don’t talk about it with anyone, especially competitors. Williams had me sign an identical one before I interviewed Logan in Miami.” “Ron says hi, by the way.” Logan pipes in, grinning at her. “Tell Ron to focus on his actual granddaughter.” The American laughs but nods, turning his attention back to the conversation he was in.

“I didn’t realize.” “It’s part of the job. I don’t mind it. Have you had an NDA given to you yet, Lissie?” The younger girl nods. “Yeah, a few. Chip gave me one after Marcus and I disclosed.” “Those are fun aren’t they?” She groans, leaning a bit over Marcus. “It was absurdly long and convoluted. I’ve never seen anything like it.” “I had the same thing.”

“I don’t remember any large NDA’s.” Callum says, brows drawn together. “Remember that binder I got, it was green.” “Oh.” His eyes widen and then his nose scrunches up. “God, that was long. What on earth did they think you were going to talk about with other people?” She shrugs, “They weren’t exactly wrong considering my conversation at Red Bull.” “Well, what did you talk about at Red Bull?” Marcus asks, eyeing the couple. Her hands go a bit in the air, before one goes up to her face, zipping her mouth shut. Marcus narrows his eyes at her, before turning his attention to Callum. “Do you know?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Do I know?” “I hate you two.” Marcus says after a moment, the few other people listening in laughing. “I mean, really. You two are perfect for each other. Couldn’t think of a better match or married couple.” She laughs before smiling at her husband. “Ah, you hear that honey? We’re perfect for each other.” “Only took him five years to admit it.”

“You two are married?” She freezes at the weird tone in Lando’s voice, the whole room quieting and she can see James looking at Marcus, before she turns her head to look at Lando. “Yeah, we have been for two years, closer to three.” “He’s your husband?” Eyes widen all around the table and she rests a hand on Callum’s thigh. “Yes, he is. And he’s the best husband anyone could ask for.” Her tone is warning, hoping he won’t say anything worse. She wouldn't stand for anyone trying to say that Callum didn’t deserve her. “Wow.” Lando murmurs, before smiling the best he can at the both of them. “Congratulations to you two. Can I ask why all the secrecy?” “We just weren’t ready to share.” She tells him.

“Did you just say weren’t?” Clem interrupts Lando, before the Brit can say anything. “Holy fuck.” James says, catching the way Callum and Pips smile at each other. “You two are coming out.” He makes a face at the words. “I’d reword that one.” She presses her face into his shoulder at the look Marcus gives him, stifling a laugh. The Kiwi was most definitely going to continue calling it their coming out now. “You two are actually going public. I can’t believe it.” She shakes her head at the disbelief in Marcus’ voice, “you knew this was coming. We want kids, other than Jak and Ollie,” she quickly adds on before either of the boys can protest. “And we don’t want to worry about hiding our relationship and the pregnancy or them.” “I better be godfather.” He tells her. “Me as well.” “Same here.” “I definitely should get godfather.” “We’ll share a kid.”

“How many kids do you think we’re having exactly?” Callum asks, looking at everyone who had spoken in disbelief. “Nine.” “Ten.” “Seven, definitely seven.” “Five?”

“Logan!” Her eyes are wide as she stares at the American. “I’m guessing that you don’t want ten.” “No.” She shakes her head. “Can you imagine? We have to think of the possibility of them all wanting to do karting and paying for that. Ten karting careers is way too many.” “It’s also three by the way.” Oscar says, taking a drink after. “Though if the last ends up being multiples and they end up with four or five, that’s fine.” “How do you know that?” James asks. “Lily.” “Nah, see, that's girlfriend privilege. Unfair advantage. I want him out of the running for godfather.” James points at Oscar as he looks at the two of them. They share a look, before looking at James. “Yeah, we haven’t decided anything. And there’s still about a year and a half until anything gets decided, so we can’t put him out of the running yet. Unless of course, he doesn’t want to be godfather.” Callum says. “Oh, I absolutely want to be in the running.” James points at him again. “Unfair advantage.”

@cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @benstormy

#f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris imagine #callum ilott x reader #callum ilott imagine #its finally finished #to be with you verse #indycar x reader #indycar imagine

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everythingne · 6 months

Text

marketing ploy — LN4 / ch.2

Saudi and Aussie. How bad can it go? Well, bad enough for Max and Charles to start asking questions. And maybe for Lando’s behavior to be a little off.

piastri!oc x lando norris / fake dating, brothers best friend

warnings/notes: no big warnings other than some language, probably inaccurate f1 info (spare me here), written while sleep deprived

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18 MARCH 2023 - JEDDAH, SAUDI ARABIA ↴

The Saudi Arabian heat burns across my shoulders as I duck into McLarens paddock behind Oscar. The tanktop I'm wearing doing nothing to help regulate the heat under my uniform shirt that I've unbuttoned and have tucked at my elbows. Oscar takes a long swig of his now empty water bottle before tossing it away and giving Lando a hug over the shoulder.

"Ready to die in this heat?" He asks, making Lando snort and nearly spit out his water. I giggle as Lando coughs after swallowing and find myself stepping up to stand right next to Oscar, peering up at Lando through my eyelashes as a few cameras click in our direction. It’s certainly odd for me to be here, and not already tucked away in Red Bull’s paddock. Hopefully other people notice that.

"I'm trying not to, man." Lando shakes the sweat of his water bottle in Oscar's direction, making him shriek and wipe the icy water off his face. I can hear the more of the media teams and reporters in the paddocks approaching, almost like a weird sixth sense.

"Morning, Mini Piastri." Lando leans down and gives me a proper hug, one I'm not expecting, but nonetheless I kindly return it. Reminding myself of the contract I'd signed nearly a month ago.

God, it had been a month already?

"Morning, Norris." I step back, adjusting my hair with a tiny giddy smile I let myself easily fake. He looks at me like I've hung the moon and stars for him, and I'm shocked at how easily he can fall into faking utter and complete love. He's a natural.

Someone calls Lando over from the other side of the paddock and as he excuses himself, he places a hand on my lower back as he moves behind me, and it lingers. His fingers glide along the fabric of my shirt, nails scratching at the skin underneath enough to make me look over my shoulder at him as he looks at me one last time before fully stepping away to whichever engineer had called his attention.

"When do you have to be with Red Bull?" Oscar asks, drawing my attention back to him as I try to swallow the blush on my face, "to see your second brother."

"You're so dramatic about Max." I laugh, punching his arm, "and not for another like... ten or so minutes, Kaycee, who works under me. She’s running all the analytic stuff this morning. She's gonna move up to be a co-head analyst."

"Oh! She’s the one with the red hair right? She's so sweet." Oscar takes a water from a worker who hands us both plastic bottles, and Lando ends up snaking back over and taking me by the wrist as Oscar is called over in his place. As Oscar turns away, Lando pulls me back to a far corner and lets me rest against it as he hovers in front of me. Shielding me from view.

"So, how exactly are we handling media?" He says, "like paparazzi?"

"I guess we should just act the same?" I hum, looking over at a few media personnel who hover around the car, the team, and Oscar. The paddocks are slowly buzzing to life as everyone's arriving for the day.

"Then, you have to act like you like me a little bit, Ollie." Lando leans in a bit, breath fanning across my cheeks and I tilt my head up to challenge him. But before I can say anything in retaliation my phone rings with a call from Christian.

"Gotta go, Nori." I smirk, poking his chest as I lean up into his personal space, lips inches apart. He looks down at my lips for half a second, before I step back and call over my shoulder as I leave,

"Tell Oscar I said good luck!"

Luckily no one had passed out at training.

I'm standing at the edge of the paddock, laughing as I flick water at a very heat-exhausted Max Verstappen. He'd done just as well as I had expected him to, everything with the car working just as we had expected, but once again he skews my data with faster laps than I've seen in his car ever.

This rivalry thing was going to cost someone a car at some point.

"Hey, Livie!" A voice shouts, and I turn to see Oscar. Considering he's the only one allowed to call me that, I can't even feign surprise at his sudden appearance outside the Red Bull paddock. Still in race gear. Fuckin’ Aussie.

"Ossie!" I grin back, and Max crosses his arms and wipes sweat from his hairline with a towel as Oscar approaches.

"Hey, Max." He says, wiping sweat from his face with the sleeve of his undershirt. Whistling to get my brothers attention, I toss him a plain white towel, a spare I had tucked in my pocket. I swear Oscar almost melts with appreciation when he sees it and then prompty wipes his entire face down.

"Good to see you, Oscar." Max nods, leaning on the shaded wall adjacent to me. He's been out of his gear for a while, considering he has almost thrown up from the heat twice today. We had pretty much shoved it off of him as soon as he was done with training.

"You weren't answering your phone, and I needed to give you your stuff, so I came over to tell you I've gotta stay late, they're making sure somethings not overheating or something." He tosses me a hotel key and my purse from his passenger seat, I can tell his vagueness is due to whatever issue there is probably being not fully explained. Or because Max is here, because he's usually tell me everything.

"I'll catch a ride back, no worries." I pat his shoulder and he nods, lifting his phone to his face and groaning. I can see Andrea's contact on his screen and I laugh softly at his clearly exhausted expression.

"Gotta go, again, see you for dinner?" He starts backing up and I nod.

"Seven, sharp!" I shout and he nods before turning and just taking off in a run before I see him vanish into the McLaren paddock, which is only separated from Red Bull by Williams, so it's not terribly far. Max and I stand in quiet for a few moments before I hear some keys jingle and look over to see Charles tossing his keys to Max. The two share a quick greeting as I readjust and tip the last drops of my water bottle into my mouth.

"Need a ride back?" Max asks as I lower the bottle, but a whistle takes my attention sideways where I see Lando approaching.

"Nope. See you guys tomorrow!" I cheekily grin, slipping off the wall to approach Lando who twirls his car keys absentmindedly. He smiles at my approach, adjusting his bag as he stops so I can meet him midway.

"Nice to see you, Ollie..You need a ride home, right?" He grins, placing a hand on my lower back once more and I lean up to tuck a stray hair back against the others.

"You too." I say, peeking behind me to see Max and Charles watching the two of us interact and a small idea pops in my head, "yeah, actually."

"Perfect." Lando's eyes lift to look at Max and Charles, and seconds later he's escorting me by the small of my back out of the paddocks. "Starting strong, aren't we?"

I can't help but laugh, hiding my mouth with my hand as we slip into the car park as we peacefully walk along various other racers whose eyes linger on Lando's hand a bit too long.

"Really strong, it seems." I say as he opens the passenger door to his car and I step in as if it's normal for this to happen, wasting no time settling in as he shuts the door and god damn why is that actually so hot?

As Lando settles next to me in the car, shutting his door, he smiles over at me.

"At least they can't say we aren't keeping up our end of the deal."

—

19 MARCH 2023 — TWITTER ↴

URF1NEWS: LANDO NORRIS was spotted yesterday leaving the track, and coming back today with OLIVIA PIASTRI at the Saudi Arabia GP. With tensions at an all time high between Red Bull and McLaren, you can’t tell me you arent wondering what this might mean.

567k LIKES, 350k RETWEETS.

no.rizz: adam sandler what are u doing here??

mclarensnumba1: they have to be dating be so serious.

ferawrri: brothers best friend ‼️‼️

monacosbtch: i think they did it but i just can’t prove it.

norris4: OLIVIA AND LANDO??? BE SO SERIOUS ILL SOB. FREE FLOW TEARS.

30 MARCH 2023 — CALL BETWEEN ADA AND OLIVIA ↴

“Welcome home, Miss Piastri.”

“Morning, Ada.”

“You and Lando need to start pushing this rhetoric of your dating a bit harder. Astrid is already speaking with him about it but we need a strong push here in Australia. It’s you and Oscar’s home race after all.”

“Were the paparazzi photos of me getting into his car not enough?”

“Oh they were, but we really wanna cement it.”

“So… what are you asking of me?”

“Today, Lando has been instructed to drive you to the track with a gift.”

“A gift? Like what?”

“You’ll see. But, we expect you to post that gift on your public instagram story. Preferably with some sort of McLaren indication—the orange hearts work well.”

“Christ. Okay, what else?”

“Oh. it’s time for the soft launch and the pictures in his team shirt. I’ll find you before the race tonight with more details.”

“Great…”

—

Lando’s luckily not in a papaya orange car this time. A black SUV fits him well, and will hopefully blend us in a bit more.

“Morning, Ollie.” he says as I climb in, Oscar somewhere behind me in the hotel still. I yawn in response, waving as I settle in the seat before I notice what he’s holding.

“Oh, Ada was serious.” I laugh at the little bouquet of flowers he holds towards me. They’re daises, my favorite flower, and then some yellow chrysanthemums and little pink roses sit behind them.

“She just said to get the daises.” Lando hands the flowers to me, and I happily take them, and then I notice one final thing resting in the cup holder.

“The girl at the coffee place I stopped at was a McLaren fan, so I asked her to write a ‘cute note for my girlfriend’ on the lid.” his voice lifts in octave as he recounts his words and then he lifts the little coffee in his cup holder so I can see it. That gesture alone makes me swoon just a little bit harder.

“Damn. My real boyfriend after this is gonna have some competition.” I giggle, taking the coffee from his hands and repositioning so I can snap a photo for instagram. He laughs in response to what I say, but I hear the leather of his steering wheel squeak as he grips it a bit tighter.

“Yeah. Boyfriend.” I swear I hear him mutter, but when I ask what he said, he swears he said nothing—so the conversation gets dropped there as he pulls out away from the hotel.

—

OLIVIAPIASTRI POSTED A NEW STORY! ↴

MCLARENRACING MADE A NEW POST! ↴

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 965k others…

mclarenracing: @ oliviapiastri visiting the paddock is always a good luck charm. Wishing the best home race for our Piastri siblings!

ryoooraces: NUMBER WHAT NOW??

oliviapiastri: always lovely to see you guys 🧡

no.rizz: IS THAT LANDOS FUCKING JACKET.

logansargeant: gears are turning.

— williamsbaby: LOGAN BE ONE OF US!!!

—

“Charles?” I pause in the doorway to my office, a Red Bull in my hands, bag and purse over one shoulder. The thick jacket I wear making my arms—which hold the flowers, an empty coffee cup, and files I couldn’t fit in my purse tightly to my chest. Both him and Max are pressed along the wall where the door opens and in my rush, I nearly whacked Charles with the door as I kicked it open.

“I have a question.” Max states as soon as I’ve plopped my mess of stuff on my desk, and I hold up a finger as I chug the rest of my lemon Red Bull, make a face, and toss the can along with a coffee cup in the tiny trash can under the desk.

“Well, I do too.” I turn to both men before kneeling down to grab an empty vase from my cabinet along with a stray pair of scissors, “so, fire away.”

“Why are you spending so much time with McLaren?” Max asks as I start moving my files and such to my chair so I can cut and put the flowers in their new temporary home before they live on my mothers kitchen window until their inevitable death, “it’s usually impossible for you to leave the paddock here unless Oscar himself comes and drags you away.”

“And the Lando jacket?” Charles tacks on at the end, smacking Max’s shoulder as if they’d agreed to mention it. The two are as close and you can be at this point, so I’m not surprised at their brotherly antics. I can tell that the two of them have taken it upon themselves to figure out what exactly is going on, just as brothers—or in my case sisters, do.

Oh, a perfect opportunity just appeared in front of me. A way to really get the ball rolling on this whole ‘dating’ thing.

“It’s nothing serious.” I wave a hand, sorting the flowers into the vase with one hand. I shrug off the new Lando Norris varsity jacket merch once it gets too hot, plopping it on the back of my chair.

“Really?” Charles says with a dangerous curiosity in his tone that only makes me smile wider as I keep cutting stems, and popping flowers into the vase. I glance up once I’m done with the daises, eyes challenging Max’s and Charles’ sharp, curious gazes for half a second before I stand fully and let a fake, giddy, nervous smile cross my face.

“Maybe…” I ponder saying it, feeling heat rise to my face naturally as I imagine the way Lando grins at me whenever he sees me walking up, or the way his warm hand feels on my back as he guides me, “a certain McLaren driver has caught my eye.”

The two stare at me for a second, before there’s overlapping shouts with accents so thick in the heat of the moment I can barely understand a word being said.

“Good lord!” I shout through them and dissolve into laughter, Max smacks a hand on my desk—pointing at me.

“So you are dating him?” he asks and I immediately shake my head.

“No, no. Again, it’s nothing serious.” I reply as calmly as I can, feeling a bit bad for lying but knowing in the end no one would be hurt. It wasn’t even like I actually loved Lando, I just liked the way he pretended to be my boyfriend. It was… really cute.

“But he buys you flowers and coffee, you wear his merch, visit him instead of Oscar, he drives you everywhere—is that not dating?” Charles says, crossing his arms over his Ferrari team shirt, “and why are you both being so sneaky about it?”

“He’s a friend for now, guys, and we aren’t really being sneaky!” I sigh as I finish up with the small amount of roses and chrysanthemums, beginning to organize the flowers to hide the shakiness of my hands.

I hate lying so much. If it’s this bad with Max and Charles, the conversation I’m going to have with Oscar will be unbearable.

“Well.” Max pauses, and Charles shrugs, “I guess it’s fine.”

“Wait—are you giving me your approval of Lando? Like a brother?”

“We both are.” Charles makes his way to the doorway, grabbing the handle to the door and stepping out, “he’s a good kid!”

I stare after Charles for a few seconds before my gaze lifts to Max, who grins at me.

“And now half of the Red Bull garage owes us money. Thanks.” He punches my shoulder and as he’s leaving the words register and I can only shout at his retreating form—

“—You guys bet on this?!”

#formula one #lando norris #lando norris x oc #ln4 fic #ln4 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris fic

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feelbokkie · 1 year

Text

여기 쉬어도 돼 (You can rest here)

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

**Requested**

Hello lovely writer! Could you do a prompt req with minho 2, 7 and 15 from the hurt/comfort prompt list where the reader gets hurt? I have a tendency to try to hide my pain/injuries. So it would really comforting to see minho’s reaction to his s/o doing something similar. Thank you ❤️

genre: hurt/comfort (literal), fluff

pov: 2nd person

description: Finally having a weekend to yourselves, you and your boyfriend Minho decide to go camping. Everything goes well until you get hurt. Can you keep it a secret or will you ruin the trip? (Title is a lyric from You can STAY)

pairing: bf!minho x reader

warnings: swearing, reader gets injured

word count: 1,641

“Alright, I’ll go get some firewood while you work on the tent.” You say as you reach for the small hand axe from the camping gear.

"If you wait a little bit, I can go with you." Minho says as he unloads more of the gear from the rented van.

"I got it, don't worry," You wink at your boyfriend before trying to leave again.

"At least take this," He pulls something from his pocket and tosses it to you. You manage to barely catch it, turning it over to reveal that it's a walkie talk. You give him a big smile before going on your way.

You and your boyfriend were taking some well deserved time off in the woods. He loves camping, and while you don't necessarily favor the activity, you'll take any chance to spend time with him. The past year had been busy for the both of you. You were busy with school and work while Minho was busy with a few comebacks and a world tour. When you two did have free time together, you mainly would do local things or just stay home. Now that he has a longer break before they start working on their next comeback, you two decided to spend the weekend away from all distractions camping. The odds of running into a fan are slim and there is a spot for Minho to fish, which he loves.

Nature isn’t necessarily your thing. Sure, it’s peaceful and calming, but you can do without the bugs and fear that a wild animal is going to attack you at any given moment. But the spot that Minho picked is beautiful. It’s quiet and covered with trees. Green for miles. You two brought a tent but you rented a spot that has a small cabin so if it gets too cold, you can run inside. You’re just glad that you have a place to use the bathroom and to safely store your food. The idea of sleeping under the stars is appealing.

As you walk you keep your eyes low, picking up sticks and small logs that are in your path. You put the small logs in a backpack you had and held onto the sticks. Hopefully you could carry enough back to the campsite so you won’t have to make a second trip later.

“Ah, Hannie,” You stop on your walk when you see a squirrel sitting on a stump, eating something.

You pull out your phone and try to take a picture so you can joke to Minho that you ran into Han. Keeping your distance, you tried to stay where you were to take a picture. The picture is too blurry and you have no choice but to get closer. You gently put down your backpack, hand axe, and sticks. You take small steps until you get close enough to take a decent picture. You quickly take the picture, not realizing that the flash was on. The sudden burst of light startles the docile creature and it charges towards you. You shriek and try to turn and run. Unfortunately for you, you trip over your backpack and briefly fly in the air before landing hard on the ground.

“Fuck me,” you mutter to yourself. The squirrel is no where near you, having retreated rather than attack. You slowly sit up, thankful you didn’t land anywhere near the hand axe. Sitting up, you dust yourself off before trying to stand up. You stand up, putting pressure on your right knee. Once you’re fully stood up, you shift more weight to your left leg causing a sudden pain from your left knee to shoot through your body. You bite your lip as you shift back to putting most of your body weight on your right side.

“Y/N, are you okay?” You hear Minho’s voice come from your bag. You limp to your backpack and grab the walkie talkie before he could worry.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m heading back right now. I wondered a bit far out so it’ll take a while.” You pull your backpack on and pick up the sticks and hand axe and slowly limp towards the campsite.

“Okay, just be careful.” It’s too late for that. You have medicine and a first aid kit back at the cabin. Minho can’t know you’re hurt. If he finds out, he’s going to want to go home to take care of you, ruining your trip. It’s probably just a sprain anyway, you can manage with that. You’re just camping so you can spend most of your time sitting and relaxing. You should be fine by the time you have to go home.

***

You were not fine. The pain was not going away. Medicine was no longer helping either, you’ve woken up a few times in the middle of the night in paint. Minho didn’t seem to notice, he’d be all over you if he did.

Luckily, after two miserable days, you were finally heading home. Unluckily, the car was at least a mile away from the campsite. You took a pain pill while you and Minho were packing everything up, but every step still sent electrifying pain through your body.

Pop!

You step on a large rock to get down to a lower level of the path just as your knee gives out, making you crash down with a loud thud. Minho turns around to see what your dropped and panics when he sees you on the ground.

“Y/N, what happened?” He rushes towards you and tries to help you up.

“Nothing, I just tripped on a rock.” You take his hand let him pull you up.

He pulls you to your feet with a swift yank. You put even weight on both your legs out of habit. You let out a yelp as you go down again, the pain in your knee now unbearable and excruciating.

“There’s noway that’s from tripping over a rock. What happened?” Minho kneels down and swipes a thumb across your cheek, wiping a tear that was now falling from your eyes.

“It’s nothing. I just tripped.” You choked. You should be able to tell him what happened now, but you know he’ll feel bad if he knew you got hurt days ago and kept it a secret for his sake.

“If you don’t tell me what happened, how am I supposed to help?” He snaps, terrified of how badly you could be hurt if you’ve been reduced to tears. You hesitate for a few minutes before sighing. It’s a fight you know you are going to lose.

“I almost got attacked by a squirrel a couple of days ago and tripped over my backpack.”

“Show me where it hurts. Your ankle?”

“No, my left knee. But when I fell this time I heard a pop.” Minho rolls up your pant leg, sweats because that was the easiest thing you could put on today. When get gets to your knee you both gasp when you see that your knee doubled in size. He blinks for a few seconds before he helps you take off your backpack and grabs all the things you were carrying.

“I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” He says standing up with everything the two of you brought on the trip.

“Not like I could go anywhere." You chuckle, lightly joking. He shoots you a look to tell you that nothing about this situation is funny.

You sit there in pain for about 20 minutes before Minho makes his way back to you. He scoops you up in one fluid motion and immediately starts walking towards the car again.

"You're just going to carry me to the car?"

"It's faster,"

"But we're like half a mile away, maybe more." You weren't even sure how he made it to the car and back in 20 minutes in the first place. He must have been running.

"I'm fast," You sigh, giving up on trying to talk to him right now.

***

"This time," Minho says suddenly after the doctor leaves the room.

"What?" You sit up from your position on the examination bed.

"Earlier you said 'when I fell this time,' meaning you fell earlier without telling me." Minho is staring at you, blinking slowly

Minho took you to the emergency room where you two found out that you had completely torn your ACL and that you would have to have surgery in about 2 weeks. The last thing you wanted was to have Minho take care of you while you had and recovered from surgery. You're used to doing things on your own and not having to rely on anyone. It's how you were raised, and it's one of the things you tried to maintain in your relationship with Minho. He doesn't expressly say it, but he always tries to take care of you and only backs down after you tell him to stop.

"I--"

"Why didn't you tell me you fell?"

"Because it was just a sprain before. It was no big deal."

"It's a big enough deal for you to need surgery."

"I only need surgery because of the second fall."

"There wouldn't have been a second fall if you told me about the first one."

"I just didn't want to ruin the trip. You've been working really hard the past few months and I wanted you to enjoy the weekend we had together."

"Well now I'm going to look back on this as the weekend where I had a great time while you secretly hobbled around me for two whole days."

"I didn't hobble around."

"Y/N," He places his hand on your good knee, "you have to stop hiding when you're hurt from me. I'm your boyfriend, I just want to help."

"I know,"

"You have to let me in sometimes."

"Trust me, I learned my lesson." You kiss Minho's cheek and lean back on the bed.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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somefanficrecomendations · 5 months

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2023 BEST READS

A few days late but hey, better late than never! This is a non-comprehensive list of my favorite fics that I’ve read in 2023! Criteria for a fic to be included on this list are:

I read the fic in 2023

I reread the fic at least once

I can rate 5/5 stars without hesitation

The fics are organized by fandom but otherwise are in no particular order.

BATMAN

New Wave by yellow_caballero Batman (gen), 103k, Reverse Robins, Stephanie Brown is Robin Some lunatic in a bat costume is running around Gotham clowning on fools, but local delinquent Stephanie Brown has way bigger problems. When her father and friends start joining mob wars Steph knows she has to do something about it before Gotham collapses. If that means joining up with rich dudes playing dress up, pasty nerds with hacking and photography habits, and throwing on a costume herself, then that’s just what she’ll have to do. Even if Batman works alone. She’s convincing. In which Stephanie Brown rocks the radical nineties and becomes the first Robin, ruining Batman’s life and giving Tim Drake a hobby.

birdsong by ScarlettSwordMoon Nightwing (gen), 22k, Dick Grayson-Centric After getting a face full of Scarecrow’s newest toxin, Dick isn’t haunted by his typical nightmares. No. This one has little green pixie boots. AKA Batman: Ego but make it Robin. Nightwing 60th Anniversary Bingo: Drugs & Toxins

Keep Your Head, Your Backbone, and Your Heart by MrMich Batman (gen) 54k, Dimension Travel, Duke Thomas-centric The last thing that Duke expected on what was supposed to be just a regular patrol was being suddenly thrown five years into the past, coming face to face with a darker, more violent Batman than the one he knew, a broken family, and a Tim who was a foot shorter than Duke, and not even Robin yet.

Loading and Aspect Ratio by JUBE514 Batman (Superbat), 45k, Wings AU A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything.

Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines by SilverSkiesAtMidnight Batman (gen), 13k, Starvation He has never argued with a punishment, not since he was a toddler, if then. Surely she’ll listen, surely she’ll see this is too harsh, that he wouldn’t be disrespecting her like this if he was simply sulking over not getting his way. He needs that food, needs to be able to eat enough if he wants to be Robin. He’s been hungry before, but back then, it never mattered if he was a little weak or dizzy. It never risked his life or the life of his partner when he was a kid. She turns, sighing softly and pursing her lips. She reaches out to pat his cheek, and for a moment his heart soars hopefully, and he barely restrains himself from leaning into the rare bit of contact and soaking up his mother’s touch. “Oh, Timothy,” she tuts. “This is for the best. And honestly, I think it’s wise for you to cut down a bit on the snacks. I’d hate to have to listen to anyone tittering at the next gala that you’re getting chubby.” And without another backwards glance, she turns and heads upstairs, leaving Tim alone and frozen at the bottom of the steps.

You, Me, and the Humanity in Between by JUBE514 Batman (gen), 65k, Non-Human Robins Bruce is trying his best to protect the city that he loves. He doesn't know how exactly his Robins came to be- they're not fully human, not even at all. All he knows is that he wants to keep them safe.

Little Red by destiny919 Batman: Under the Red Hood (gen), 39k, Series, Jason is Tim’s Parent AU where Tim is younger and has been illegally adopted by his hero, the Red Hood.

A Different Game by Hinn_Raven Batman (multi), 62k, Red Hood!Stephanie Brown, Role Reversal Stephanie Brown died with a mouth full of blood and her eyes wide open, staring at the locked door, hoping still for a miracle, for a rescue. She died in a hidden place, still hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, bleeding out from a wound in her stomach, and no one was with her when her heart gave its last beat. AU where Stephanie Brown dies as Robin and becomes the Red Hood.

bad news, this place is magic as fuck by mikkal Batman (gen), 28k, All-Caste Jason Todd, Magic Jason Jason's on the trail of a killer who's targeting kids in Crime Alley for an unknown magical ritual. Between that and his family who insists on butting in, he's got his work cut out for him. But, as they say, nothing is as it seems.

Wings over Gotham by icarus_chained Batman, DC (gen), 190k, No Man’s Land, Independent Gotham An AU where an altered version of No Man’s Land happened while Bruce was in his late teens/early twenties, and Batman was born in the hellish crucible of a trapped city that was left for dead and then violently retaken. Gotham may pretend to run by mainlander rules for the sake of those who would have died otherwise, but under the surface, Bruce, Jim, Leslie, Ivy and Oswald and their pack keep their own council, and look with jaundiced eyes on the mainland.

A Meditation on Railroading by eggmacguffin Batman (gen), 24k, Hurt/Comfort When he ends up ditched in Atlanta after a fight with his dad, Tim decides to do the only sensible thing: Tell no one and make the 800 mile journey back to Gotham on his own. Because the "call Batman when you're in trouble" rule only applies when he's Robin, right?

THE BATMAN (2022)

I’m a Good Pretender by shipNslash The Batman (2022) (gen), 40k, Dick Grayson-Centric Dick’s mother raised her son to be a star. Dick’s father raised his son to be an athlete. Bruce's new ward is charming (manipulative), dedicated (obsessive), and way, way too smart for either of their own good.

In This or Any Other Universe by wildsofmarch The Batman (2022) (gen), 33k, Dimension Travel There was a new vigilante in his city: a man who smiled too much and talked too loud and knew his way around a fight a little too well. Bruce wasn't bothered by his antics. Except the man also seemed to know a little too much about him. Who was this Nightwing, anyway? OR: Dick Grayson (DCU) accidentally lands himself in Battinson’s Gotham.

DC LEGENDS OF TOMORRW

Countless Roads by nirejseki Arrowverse, DC Legends of Tomorrow (Mick Rory/Leonard Snart), 231k, Medium Leonard Snart, AU-Ghosts Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him. Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

Straight On Till Morning by nirejeski Arrowverse, DC Legends of Tomorrow (Sara Lance/Mick Rory/Leonard Snart), 17k, Time Pirates Left alone in the Refuge, Mick and Sara decide they're going to be proactive about their fate. They end up becoming time pirates. Because of course they do.

THE WITCHER

A Beginners Guide to Exploiting the Kaedweni Tax Code For Fun and Profit by Heronfem The Witcher (Aiden/Lambert), 190k, WIP, AU-Modern Setting, AU-College/University Aiden Kett and Lambert Wilkson accidentally get married, and this is honestly probably the least of their problems.

By the Broken Lock That Freed Me by inexplicifics The Witcher, (muti), 46k, AU-Daemons, Accidental Warlord Series Aiden takes a contract on the Duke of Velen. He's not expecting the most interesting part of the whole affair to be meeting the duke's betrothed. His daemon thinks they should keep her. Aiden's not sure how that will work, given that he's already got a Wolf and doesn't know how Lambert and his daemon might feel about adding someone else to their little pack, but it's awfully tempting. And Cats aren't very good at resisting temptation.

Intent by tnico The Witcher (Aiden/Lambert), 18k, Non-Traditional A/B/O, 5+1 "You think I don't know what you're after?" Lambert accuses. "Well, I'd certainly hope you do, by this point in the evening," Aiden (so he says) agrees in a convincingly genial tone. It'd probably be enough to fool someone else on the matter of genuine interest.

SPIDERVERSE

gonna crack a rib (when i get home) by eneliii Spiderverse (gen), 40k, Cannon Divergence Miles Morales, recently landed in Earth 42, has had enough of everyone’s shit and he’s going to save his dad or so help him he’ll lose his mind. Miles Morales 42, just wants to know what the /hell/ is up with his doppelgänger.

MCU

The Hero's Journey; or: What Jasper Sitwell Did Last Summer by pagination MCU, Welcome to Night Vale (multi), 23k, Crossover The thing is, when an agent reaches clearance level five, it’s because they’re valuable, capable of something an exponentially diminishing few can offer in the ranks of SHIELD. Clint Barton, his personal issues notwithstanding, is unstoppable behind a scope. Jim Woo is an analyst and extractor par excellence. Melinda May has infiltrated half the presidential offices of Asia, and Phil Coulson has an instinct for the unusual that could be the basis of an entire TV show. Jasper’s less certain what he brings to the party.

If I Knew You Were Coming I'd've Baked a Cake by OddityBoddity MCU, Hawkeye (gen), 27k, Baking They’re the broken ones. That’s what Clint figures the rest think about him and Barnes. Clint with his eardrums trashed, Barnes with a regiment’s worth of trauma and a psychotic cybernetic arm, put in the same room and told to make nice while the others get to go on missions and do important things and save the world. Well they're not broken. So of course they got bored and tired of being sidelined and decided to entertain themselves. And of course they ended up wanted, running through the streets of Paris with bananas down their pants and gendarmes in pursuit. Of course they did.

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myseungsunglove · 10 months

Text

The Way You Make Me Feel | Ksm

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x afab!reader

Warnings: a bit of set up plot then just good ole smutty, smut (warnings below the cut),

Word Count: 2.5k - this one definitely got away from me.

𖠫Summary: While getting obviously turned on watching Seungmin perform for the comeback, he notices your reaction while on stage. After the performances are finished, he drags you to a small room, his large hands eager to touch your body. With the promise that if you’re quiet the reward later will be even greater than what he is currently offering, you try your damndest to be the quietest you can while experiencing pure bliss. And with Seungmin’s long, slender fingers, it’s a task that proves much harder than you could have possibly imagined.

✎WIP✎: Trying to gather some ideas. This story will very likely contain two parts. Honestly this is pretty mild compared to what I wrote 4/5 years ago. Hopefully you enjoy it nonetheless. It’s been a minute, so play okay nice?

Your feedback is GREATLY appreciated.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© July 14, 2023 by myseungsunglove」

✘MDNI✘

Msic. Warnings: mildly dom!seungmin, fingering, dirty talk if you squint, language

Kim Seugnmin has always been a very confident man. That was one of the many things that attracted you to him. It was a quiet confidence. It was all in the way he held himself and spoke. He was never overtly cocky, but the way he spoke and carried himself gave the impression of a man who knew his worth and wasn’t afraid to go after what he wanted.

This comeback had increased his confidence tenfold. The way your boyfriend was blossoming in front of you was a thing of beauty. He had come to life in ways you couldn’t have scripted. This was clearly a comeback concept that was meant for him and thrive he did.

You first noticed the shift in his stage presence, in particular the MusicCore performance. You were waiting in your usual spot after having departed from the waiting room with the boys. When Seungmin stepped on stage to take his position for the filming of the fancam, his eyes fell on you and a sly smirk appeared on his face. You swallowed hard and he noticed. He gave you a discreet wink, licking his soft, pink lips in the process. This man was going to be the death of you. He took his spot on stage, his left hand in his front pocket, his gaze now focused as he waited for the music to cue.

The moment you heard the whistle, the boys were moving into their first positions. Your eyes were locked on your boyfriend. As he stepped into his first move, his hands coming together in front of him, mic in hand, head cocking to the left, you thought you might lose it there. The veins in his hand were prominent from where you stood and the way his light washed jeans fit, the holes in the knees accentuating the fact that he had been gaining muscle there, made you unconsciously shift on your feet, pressing your thighs together and biting your bottom lip.

The song had begun, Seungmin starting powerfully.

“Full of odd things, never changes, A bustling street”

His eyes met yours again as he danced into position, his shoulders swaying back in a tantalizing way, so much so that you almost missed the movement of his hips. Almost. On the drop of the beat, he locked eyes with you before turning quickly to his right, his head coming back to the front with the move. Your eyes met once more, but this time there was a smirk on his face. Barely perceptible, but there. You couldn’t help but run your hands over your face and through your hair, his glance enough to send tingles down your spine. He had caught you losing your shit over him and the performance had barely begun.

He continued through the performance with a confidence you couldn’t quite remember him possessing. When his voice rang out on the pre chorus, a smile spread across your lips. You were so proud of him and all of his hard work was really paying off.

You were overwhelmed with everything about this performance. Seungmin was really coming into himself as a performer and you couldn’t have found that more attractive if you tried.

“I’m up above the world so high. I’ll be there shining day and night. They wonder how my spotlight is so bright, ” Seungmin sang, bending over as he belt out his notes. God he was so attractive at that moment. It was a good thing you had some restraint and self preservation because you wanted to show just how weak he was making you right there in front of god and everyone, but you did not.

He noticed you again on his last line of the song, a look of absolute lust plastered on your face. “We’re special.”

As he moved into the dance break, it was if he was made to be front and center. His movements were intense and purposeful, his connection with the audience otherworldly. You loved Seungmin with every fiber of your being at that moment. He finished the dance strong, that quiet confidence becoming a little more loud in that moment.

His eyes locked with yours one last time and it was in that moment you knew he had seen your physical reactions to his performance. His intense stare told you he had every intent of acting on that knowledge when he had the opportunity. It sent a pleasurable tingle down your spine just thinking about what he might have in store for you.

“I’ll see you backstage,” you mouthed to him quietly, a small smirk and a wink accompanying the statement. You weren’t sure where your own bravado was coming from, but you were certain you were feeding off the energy Seungmin was exuding.

That seemed to snap him back to reality as he took in a deep breath, one he had been holding, and looked up and away from you, the sound of the crowd hitting him for the first time. You glanced back at him briefly to see him stand on his tiptoes to watch you disappear backstage. You stopped to monitor the end of the performance and noticed he was glistening, sweat dripping down his neck and face. He was taking in the crowd, the most beautiful smile on his face that you had witnessed in a long time. He was always so incredibly happy on stage and nothing in the world made you happier than seeing that. It was enough to almost take your mind off how he had made you feel during his performance.

As if reading your mind, suddenly Seungmin was right behind you, his body heat pressed against as you stood in front of the monitor.

“I saw you,” he whispered in your ear, his low voice rumbling through you as his hand landed firmly on your hip. He pulled you back into him, and it was then you felt his hard length pressed against you, his lips barely grazing the soft spot behind your ear before his staff was immediately there, handing him his fan and dabbing the sweat from his face. He pulled away from you quickly and mumbled thank yous to them and monitored his performance on screen from behind you. It was the last recording of the day and then they would wait for the fan meet that would take place shortly after.

The directors called wrap for the day, dismissing the boys and immediately Seungmin’s fingers laced with yours, pulling you away from everyone else and down a long corridor.

“Babe, where are we going?” you questioned as he moved through the halls with the same confidence he had on stage. Another shiver ran down your spine at the thought.

At that moment the two of you had reached a door, his hand grabbing the handle and pushing it open. You stepped into a small, dark, empty room, a small window in the upper corner giving off a miniscule amount of light. Seungmin looked around quickly, seemingly satisfied with where you were and turn around swiftly, his hand landing on the handle behind you, clicking the lock. He pressed his body against yours then, pinning you against the door, his lips hovering sheer millimeters from yours, his breath fanning across your lips. You moved to meet him in a kiss when you were surprised by him speaking instead.

“You liked that performance, didn’t you baby,” he smirked, his hands on your hips, his fingers playing with the bottom of your shirt, moving it away so he could graze the skin of your stomach. The moment his fingers found your skin, you gasped softly and arched into him.

“Seung,” you breathed, as his hand roamed under your shirt, only to quickly move downward and begin unbuttoning your shorts,his right hand slipping inside your underwear, his lips pressing firm kisses along your jawline, stopping to hover over your ear. His hand was gently cupping your mound, but not moving.

“I asked you a question, baby,” he whispered, and you were so distracted by his unmoving hand, your brain couldn’t recall the question if your life had depended on it.

He gently bit your ear, your body responding immediately, arching into him, an involuntary moan escaping you. His free hand quickly covering your mouth, he pulled away from his ministrations, his eyes meeting yours. His pupils were blown with lust.

“Now, if you don’t make another sound, I’ll really reward you when we get home, jagiya,” he teased and before you could so much as process his words, his lips were on yours, his wet tongue pushing into your mouth. His taste overwhelmed you, your knees buckling slightly as you slumped against the door. As you slipped, you were reminded of his hand pressed firmly against you.

A slender finger ran the length of your folds, a second one joining it to spread your pussy lips moving toward your aching, empty hole. Immediately his finger was covered in your slick as he prodded your entry, teasing you.

“Damn,” he growled as his middle finger, long and hard, slipped into your tight hole. “My dancing really got you this worked up?” he asked, pumping his finger into you slowly several times before a second one joined, causing you to arch into him once more.

“God yes,” you whispered desperately, and suddenly his free hand was on your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure, his fingers inside you stopping briefly.

“Remember, quiet girls get rewarded later,” he growled, squeezing your neck slightly causing you to tilt your head against the door. His lips found yours again, his fingers moving inside of you once more. As his tongue tangled with yours, his hand around your neck didn’t move, but his grip lightened slightly as he got lost in the work of his mouth and fingers.

He was pressing hard into you with two fingers now, the noises your cunt made ungodly to say the least. Then he found that sweet spot inside of you, and a tear slipped out of the corner of your eye, a moan reverberating against Seungmin’s lips.

He pulled away from your lips then, his hand moving away from your throat as well as he concentrated on pumping his fingers into you. You couldn’t help but meet his movement, bucking against his hand as it moved against you, your hands holding onto his broad shoulders as if your life depended on it, your face buried in his neck, mouth slightly ajar from the pleasure. He pulled away from you then, his eyes meeting yours, a hard lust filled look on his face and he whispered, “I want you to look me in the eyes when you cum, baby.”

The coil in your abdomen was already tightening. His thumb found your clit and pressed in hard as he circled in relentlessly, more tears spilling from your eyes and the pressure slowly became overwhelming. He kissed you hard and pulled away again.

“Let go,” he commanded, and the coil snapped without warning, your vision going white, causing your body to shake violently against Seungmin’s hands, your thighs squeezing together as his long fingers continued their work in and out of you, pushing you through your blinding orgasm.

His eyes watched you intently, a smirk spreading across his face. Just as you felt your orgasm ending, Seungmin renewed his efforts, pumping hard and fast into you. The sounds your wet cunt made lewd and wet, You gasped, the breath punching from your lungs as his thumb pressed hard against your clit once more, another orgasm tearing through you without, this one harder than the first and completely unexpected. Your mouth was open, a silent cry frozen in your throat, but your brain was so on fire, you didn’t think you could utter a word if you tried, the fog settling over you as Seungmin gently pulled his fingers from you, sopping wet from your pleasure. You barely registered him sucking his two fingers into his mouth, your high so overwhelming, but when he spoke again, you were brought back to reality.

“God, you taste so fucking good. Maybe I should eat you out before we go,” he teased, pulling his finger from his mouth with a pop, his eyes bright and mischievous. He jokingly moved to get on his knees, but you had enough awareness to grip his firm shoulders and haul him back to his feet.

“I can’t,” you whimpered and he chuckled at that.

“You could,” he disagreed, “But, I don’t think we have the time,” he lamented, his lips finding yours again, this time in a soft and gentle kiss.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered against his lips.

“I know,” he responded confidently. And there it was again, that confidence. You couldn’t help the clench of your walls around nothing at his words. This heightened sense of confidence really did a number on you.

“Fuck. Your hands. Fingers. Gifts from the gods. No other explanation,” you managed. “And this confidence, both with me and on stage,” you looked into his eyes, your lips finding his in a kiss once more. “I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life,” you admitted.

“Just wait until we get home,” he promised, kissing you quickly and pulling his body away from yours for the first time since you stepped into the small room.

You stepped toward him, your hand reaching for the obvious bulge in his jeans and squeezing firmly, causing Seungmin to still, his head thrown back in a moan.

“Now let me take care of this,” you smiled, squeezing him hard through his jeans. Just then a sound from the hall echoed around you.

“Kim Seungmin! Where the fuck are you?”

Seungmin’s forehead fell forward against yours, a low frustrated chuckle emanating from him. “Fuck you, Chan,” he groaned.

“I mean, I’d rather you fuck me but…” you teased.

“We’re out of time,” you both lamented at the same time. This caused you both to chuckle heartily. His hands came to the side of your face, kissing you slowly once more before a banging on the door jolted you back to reality.

“I know you’re in there,” Bang Chan said. “I heard y/n’s laugh. It’s hard to miss,” he added, but you could hear the smirk in his voice despite the obvious irritation at the two of you disappearing. “Wrap it the fuck up, you’ve gotta get prepped for our outdoor meet, you menace.” Chan hit the door one last time and then you heard him walk away.

“Guess our fun is done for now, jaigiya,” Seungmin groaned. He helped you put yourself back together and took your hand in his. “Let’s find a bathroom and then we can head to the waiting room.” He reached for the door, opening it and stepping out into the hall, pulling you behind him. You grabbed the arm of the hand you were holding, walking closely as you headed down.

“Might want to prepare yourself for later,” he teased, stopping in front of the restroom, his lips finding yours in a chaste kiss. “You’re not gonna know what hit you with the reward you’ve got coming.”

With that promise, he stepped into the bathroom and your shivers renewed with expectation of what that night would hold.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids smut #seungmin x reader #seungmin #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin fanfiction #kim seungmin fic #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin fanfic #kim seungmin smut #Seungmin smut #seungm’s hands

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year

Text

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 3

Title: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You need to think out this whole situation, and where better than your favourite place on campus? The one place where no one ever goes and where you can truly do your best problem solvi—wait who the hell is sitting in your supposed place of undisturbed tranquility?

Warnings: PG18, heavy swearing, photography jargon (hopefully nothing tooooo confusing, I intentionally over explained a bit for those unfamiliar but a quick google search should clear up anything), euc=short form for eucalyptus “Youke”, art jargon but less, 1 (one) mention of metaphorical murder, and a bit of angst and fluff. I think that’s all?? Hella internal dialogue

Word Count: 10,804

Release Date: March 2, 2023, 4:00PM

A/N 1: she somehow went from 8k to 10.8k???? Hope you enjoy!!

A/N 1.5: I’m literally so tired of looking at this, I’ve read it at least 10 times in three days.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two

Jungkook’s sitting at a table outside what he considers to be his new safe haven, making a mental note to thank Yuri for showing him the greenhouse cafe—is that its name? He should’ve asked.

He can see himself coming here all the time for quiet morning work sessions. The coffee is great, the snacks are delicious, and there aren’t a lot of people around either—zero—to be precise. So he really considers this a win in his book.

The cafe is just southwest of a medium sized greenhouse, not even a minute's walking distance between the two. He could clearly see all the flowers and plants within from his seat outside. And behind the greenhouse was nothing but a small grass field followed by thick, dense forest.

It doesn’t even feel like he’s on campus. Just free about the world, grabbing a coffee and sitting down to work on a project like anyone else would. Like anyone else could. Another face in the crowd instead of the one on magazines in every corner store, book shop and grocer.

He can dream about it. Take in these small moments, but it will never be his reality. Not really. Even in this little corner of blissful nowhere the barista who served him his coffee knew who he was, addressed him properly, albeit a bit stuttered.

And he can’t blame her. It’s what she’s supposed to do. How she’s ‘supposed’ to react to him.

He’s someone big and important. Someone people look to and see their future in his hands. Someone who merits reactions when in the presence of others.

Someone who...

Someone...

So he dreams. And is thankful for what little normalcy he can get.

Taking a deep breath in, he holds it and he shakes his head, dismissing the thoughts before releasing a steady, controlled exhale.

Reset.

The cafe has an awning over its small patio, four tables on either side of the doorway, two that seat four and two that seat two on their respective sides, eight in total. He’s chosen to sit at the table of two furthest from the greenhouse, closest to the cafe. It has more shade, allowing him to see the screen of his laptop better.

Jungkook needed some time alone without anyone finding him, he gave that stupid speech on Monday for many reasons, but one of the most important ones was that he wants to be able to exist in a public space and to do his school work without a crowd gathering.

He’s taking this university thing seriously, and that means doing good work, excelling in his chosen subjects. It requires no distractions and lots of effort.

He doesn’t want to have to be cramped up in his dorm the whole time, too scared to leave for fear of never being left alone. He left that behind when he stepped foot onto the campus.

No more worrying about cameras or security or kingdoms. No more watching and tracking his every step.

This is his time to be a young man, not the prince. Just Jungkook.

And so far? He’s doing okay.

But just in case, he’s also wearing a hat, hoodie and mask for extra protection while editing some pictures.

Old habits die hard.

His Design and Visual Culture professor had given out an intro assignment to the class so he could get a read on everyone’s skill levels and to see where his starting point would be. Professor Hirmer asked everyone in the class to each submit three images: one portrait; black and white or colour, one still life of the photographers choosing, and one image of whatever your preferred style was. Then edit them to the best of their abilities, and submit by noon the following Monday.

Jungkook’s already finished his portrait. He hasn’t really made any friends here yet, so he just took one of himself, which made it easier in the long run because he was so used to his picture being taken.

Slicked back hair, a black tight fit shirt, silver chain and white background made up the shot aside from him. He’d decided on butterfly lighting because he’s always found it to be the most flattering aside from Rembrandt. Don’t get him wrong, Rembrandt’s a nice technique, Jungkook just didn’t want his portrait to be too dramatic.

He got the one he wanted to use in no time, and it required very little editing. Black and white is forgiving like that.

Currently, he’s working on his still life.

A latte with a basic heart design in a dark navy mug sat on the keys of a mahogany wood grand piano. The mug sat on the right side of thirds, and a couple stems of eucalyptus half cover the keys to the left, the tips of it just barely covering the bottom of the mug. He kept his depth of field wide so that most of what was in the frame was in focus, but the primary focus of the entire image is intended to be the drink and tips of the eucalyptus.

Jungkook managed to get one of the six guards his father insisted on him having here to go to a local market to grab the euc stems. Their remains were currently hanging in his shower, smelling wonderful and fresh.

The latte he did himself, a small talent after needing coffee constantly in his teen years to keep up with everything.

And as for the piano? He booked a music room for an hour with one in it. Work smarter not harder.

He’d kept his lighting dark, but gentle, really highlighting the whites of the piano keys while keeping the rich hues of the mahogany and navy present. The eucalyptus is comfortably set in the middle, having some brighter and darker tones to balance it out.

He’s quite proud of it, having created a visually pleasing image that had equal amounts of high, medium and low tones. But he wants the edges of the picture to blur slightly, so he’s adding a very subtly feathered vignette to the image.

He knows most of his peers will likely be doing a traditional still life of fruit or flowers, so he took a risk and made the prompt his own. He just hopes it pays off.

While editing, Jungkook’s simultaneously trying to brainstorm what he wants to do for his third picture. His style of choice is candids, takes them constantly, yet he doesn’t have a single one he wants to use for the assignment.

He likes them best because candids are those perfectly imperfect moments that show who a person truly is, when they’re at their happiest and saddest moments and everything in between. Candids are for when someone’s so caught up in what they’re doing that they look entirely serene in their task, and you want to capture that, forever. A small sliver of them, existing purely as they are.

Nothing fake, nothing practiced, no do overs. Just capturing genuine moments as they happen. A true reflection of humanity without filters or editing.

Jungkook’s thinking of maybe going undercover in the courtyard to snap some pictures of random people to see if that could work when a movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

Someone, with their back facing him, is very unceremoniously dumping their tote bag at the table most opposite him; the table for two that’s half covered in sunlight, half shaded.

Clad in loose fitting paint and charcoal covered overalls, a white shirt and bandana, they’re taking out what appear to be art supplies.

Brushes, small metal tins filled with paint, a very chaotically colourful water holder, and painting pad all gather onto the little table. He’s surprised at how they make it all fit.

It seems like he’s not the only one who’s seen this place for its potential.

But when they turn around, it’s…You?

It’s you.

Of all people.

What are the odds?

He wants to say hi, but hesitates, still aware of your conversation from earlier and hopes there’s no harm in a friendly hello between people who are acquainted, regardless of pending decisions.

But Jungkook watches your eyes pass right over him, unaware or uncaring he’s there. His half-raised hand falls along with the smile that’s found its way onto his covered face as you continue into the cafe.

A byproduct of his upbringing is being able to read even the subtlest of body language and facial shifts in people. And in your case, it’s like you’re screaming at him without actually speaking.

He knows from your closed off posture alone that you don’t want to be disturbed. But your expression…it's like a mixture of anger, worry and thoughtfulness.

Jungkook knows better than to interrupt someone when they look like that, and he decides against saying anything, returning to his assignment.

A minute later the bell on the door chimes, signaling your exit.

Looking up, he notes the cup of warm whatever it is in one hand, a very full looking pastry bag in the other, and a water bottle tucked into your side via your elbow.

He wonders what’s inside the cup. Coffee? Would you drink caffeinated or decaf? Or maybe you’re more of a tea person. But would it be black or green tea? Do you use milk? What about sweetener? He can’t decide but that doesn’t stop the thoughts from racing across his mind.

Why does he care so much?

You settle down into your seat, the shaded one of the pair, and—somehow—place your newly acquired goods on the already jam packed table. Truly a talent within itself.

But a sip from your cup, and a bite of something that resembles a tart later, you wipe your hands on your overalls and pick up a brush, wetting it from the colourful container. Bringing the empty, water only filled brush to the paint pad in front of you, you start.

Your back blocks most of it so he can’t see much, but your eye line is honed in on the greenhouse. And if he had to guess just by looking, you’re focused on the orchid that sits front and center.

He couldn’t name it specifically, but he can see why you’d want to commit it to paper. It’s pretty—yellow and red, very exotic looking, and he doesn't mean to—doesn’t even realize he is—when he finds himself watching you work instead of doing his own, mesmerized.

Your hand moves gracefully from paint to paper to water and back again. Occasionally, switching out brushes or wiping the one you had on your pants, drying it or maybe getting the last bits of colour off. He’s fascinated with how you know exactly what to use and where to put what in order for the image to spring to life. Most likely years of practice and muscle memory guiding you.

Sort of how he does photography. Years of experience and knowing which poses and angles to use to really make an image pop. For a moment he wonders if anyones looked at his art the way he’s looking at yours.

When you take a small break, stretching out your back and limbs, Jungkook snaps out of his daze and looks at the clock on the bottom right hand side of his screen.

He’s been watching you for nearly 30 minutes.

That’s creepy as hell Jeon, he thinks to himself, lucky you didn’t notice, and returns his sights to his laptop.

Fuck. What was he doing again?

Staring at the still life in front of him, it takes a minute before he recalls.

Oh right.

Professor Hirmer’s assignment. The third image. A picture of his preferred style—his preferred style of candids. What could he do for his candid shot?

He thinks. A candid shot. Candids. Caaaannnndidddssssss. Caaaaaa—

A lightbulb goes off and he feels like both an idiot and a genius.

Retrieving his camera from his bag, Jungkook glances your way and sees you painting again.

Perfect.

Quietly, he gets up from his seat, moving just enough to be able to see a sliver of your painting and a small portion of your face. You're so focused that you don't even notice him, like nothing outside the page matters. And only for a second does he wonder what you’re thinking about.

Your body is easy to read, it’s your mind that remains a mystery.

The sun’s moved ever so slightly so that your page is now fully doused in sunlight, while you remain under the gentle caress of shadow from the awning.

Smart girl.

But your face is bathed in the subtle glow of your papers reflecting illumination. And it's like you’re the one creating light with every brush stroke.

You look transcendent.

With that sight in his viewfinder, Jungkook takes a few shots in portrait framing, his thumb covering the speaker that lets out the ‘click’ noise of a picture being taken, before adjusting his shutter speed.

These pictures all have you in focus, with the background consisting of half somewhat blurry cafe wall, half very blurry forest green. And they’re okay, they work. But he wants to have your movements and surrounding materials in the image as well, to really show the process of an artist at work. So he switches to a landscape framing and settles on a slower shutter speed to create a longer exposure.

Waiting for you to clean your brush in the water cup before snapping the capture button, Jungkook holds steady as it’s a couple seconds before the image takes. It makes him wish he had his tripod with him because it would make this so much easier, but he can make due if he has too.

And he has too. Because he doesn’t want this opportunity to pass.

After a few more shots and near leg cramp later, he brings the results of his efforts up on the viewfinder for review. Jungkook’s thrilled to see that the movement in the piece was taken exactly how he wanted. Your arm steady on the canvas, but all your movements prior shown like angelically lit rays due to the angle of the sun, creating an ocean of movement around a steadily focused you.

They’re hauntingly beautiful.

He takes a couple more like that for good measure, getting in different movements and shutter speeds before slowly making his way back to his laptop and table.

Popping his SD card into his computer for closer inspection, Jungkook sees there’s definitely more than one useful candidate and gets to work on narrowing down his favourite.

He is going to pass this assignment with flying colours. And it’s all thanks to you.

As you arrive at the cafe you notice a guy in a black hoodie, hat and mask with his head stuck in a laptop at the furthest table on the patio. Internally, you sigh that there’s someone else here; it’s almost always vacant and that’s why you love it. No people, no distractions, just you and your work, and your thoughts.

You try not to worry too much about it, doing your best to just ignore him and have hope that he leaves soon. At least he’s as far away from your spot as he can get.

Dropping your tote on the chair in the sun, you start placing all your things on the table. It’s an exact science you’ve perfected over many, many paint sessions and far too much spilled liquid. Countless art projects have fallen victim on this table, some you were able to salvage, but most were added to its body count.

Setting down your paint tins, you still can’t get the conversation with Yuri out of your head. Not leaving the building, not crossing the campus, not all the time it took you to get way over here either, no matter how hard you tried.

You huff.

Was your reaction really that unjustified? Could she not see how insane she was acting? Why did she jump to you being jealous? Why would she even think you’d be jealous?

You have Nel.

A prince isn’t going to change that.

And speaking of, you didn’t even get to tell her about your conversation with Jungkook.

After this fight though…you don’t think you will.

He seems to be becoming a sore spot between the two of you, ridiculous as that is, so you think it best to just not bring it up and deal with it on your own. That’s how you usually do things anyway, and you were only going to ask Yuri as a thinking out loud type of thing, hoping she had some input. But it’s clear now that none of it would have been useful anyway.

Finishing placing your things down—all fitting perfectly, by the way—you dig into your tote for your wallet and head into the cafe, still doing your best to ignore the other patron. Hopefully you can give off enough of a vibe that he takes the hint and leaves.

The bells hanging on the door sound as it opens and shuts.

“Hey YN,” Vivian, the barista, calls at your entrance.

You two know each other well, enough to be on a first name basis. You, being one of—if not the only—regular, and the cafe—being a little out of the way of anything else—not having many students make it a part of their routine.

A comfortable, welcomed sort of exile. One you gladly share with her.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, looking at the window closest to where you sit, “Are we painting again? I saw they switched up the flowers in the greenhouse on Monday. The ones they have out now are so beautiful.”

“It’s great to see you too, Viv” you respond, eyeballing the pastry display. You notice they have your favourite egg tarts in today.

At least one thing is going right for you.

“And yeah, they are,” you say warmly, regarding her comment. “I’m thinking I’m about to get real sick and tired of looking at that orchid they placed front and center.”

Viv laughs, patiently waiting on your order, though she’s got a good idea of what it’ll be.

“Could I get a hot chocolate with whip please?” You ask, and drum your fingers on your legs deciding how many tarts to get—two or three? Two or three?—before remembering, “Oh! and if you still have the not so super secret stash of mini marshmallows that you don’t have here,” throwing up air quotes and a smirk for good measure, “Could you toss a few of those in too? I’ll tip you extraaaaa.”

Viv only gives you a look that says yes they do but that she’ll never admit it out loud, and you’re grateful to her.

You’d spotted them one day by chance in first year and asked if you could have some with your drink. Viv merely stated that they don’t have marshmallows at the cafe while slipping a few in under your lid with a wink. You’ve been eternally appreciative for that kindness ever since, and tip her handsomely for it, but you’ve never known why it was such a secret.

Maybe one day you’ll ask.

Coffee isn’t really your thing, only turning to it during exams season, and you weren’t in the mood for tea, so hot chocolate’s always your favourite alternative.

But hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows?

Instant mood booster. And you definitely need that after the afternoon you’ve had.

“Anything else?” Viv asks, adding the large amount of whip cream she knows you like to the top of your drink.

“Yeah actually,” you smile, “could I get a water bottle and three of the egg tarts? They’re my favourite.”

Three seemed to be the most unreasonable option, therefore it’s the one you had to go with. And soon, a much too small, very full paper pastry bag finds its way onto the counter, accompanying your drinks.

“I’ll let bossman know about your dragon-like hoarding tendencies with the tarts and see if we can get them in more regularly,” Viv says, unsuccessfully keeping in a giggle at the end of her subtle jab and it makes you laugh too. “I mean, I don’t see why not seeing as you pretty much single handedly keep this place afloat anyway.”

You adore Viv. She’s real and kind, and very much someone you consider to be a bosom friend of sorts. You can tell her if you’ve had a bad day or a good one, and she’ll do the same, no shroud of inane pleasantries. You two having escaped the somewhat awkward ‘you work here and I go here so lets be nice to one another’ worker-customer relationship to a genuine friendship, and it makes the whole experience that much better.

But it also allows for pulling on one another’s legs, like you do now.

“You’re so mean to me… and lucky I like you for it,” you say, opening your wallet, happy to pay whatever number you’re given plus 30%. The marshmallows and Viv are worth it. “How much will it be?”

She lets you know the total and you hand her a couple of mandatory bills plus a few extra, telling her to keep the change. You’ll lose any coins you have anyway, might as well give them to someone who’ll use them.

Viv says thanks and you make your way back to your spot, hands full and mind feeling a little lighter.

Thanks Viv.

Sitting down, you take a swig of your drink, a bite of your newly acquired tarts and get to work.

Starting with a wet on wet approach: you brush the canvas with water where you’ll eventually put some colour so it bleeds intentionally, and glance up every couple seconds to make sure to get a proper likeness.

It’s a yellow tiger orchid, truly beautiful—you’re a bit of a flower nerd because of your mom, but especially with orchids because they’re your favourite. They just come in so many different forms, it’s hard not to love their diversity.

Dipping into your paints now, you add some yellows in slowly, deciding to think of it as less of a flower study and more of an artistic interpretation so you don't have to use your brain too much. You’ll be using it enough to think through this whole Jungkook thing, no need to get caught up in the details and strain yourself even more.

Carefully put and one by one, more and more colours make their way onto the page and you settle into the calmness of creating. It leaves the open space you need for your mind to finally start working through the whole Jungkook–Yuri, Yuri–You, You–Jungkook situation before immediately correcting that there is no You–Jungkook situation.

He just wants to be friends, and that doesn’t constitute a situation. More of a predicament.

Yeah, that sounds better.

You switch out your brush in favour of a tart after getting base colours down, takinge a hefty bite and chasing it down with more hot chocolate. Damn it’s good, you need to ask Viv what magic she puts in it to make it this amazing.

Another swig and you think it’ll be better to just jump right into your mental debate. Get it over with, hash it all out.

So that’s exactly what you do.

It isn’t that you do or don’t want to be friends with Jungkook, he seems nice enough.

It’s a matter of if you can be.

Jungkook is probably a very self-disciplined individual—if you knew anything about his upbringing—so it’s not like he wouldn’t understand your drive. He’d probably understand you in that respect more than Yuri does. Why you work so hard, why you don’t slow down. You can’t.

You won't. Not for anyone or anything.

And he can clearly understand social cues so you don’t have to worry about things getting awkward. He would act appropriately, never pushing boundaries—

Using a thin angled brush, you add more yellow to create sharper lines.

—And had he been just Jungkook, you wouldn’t even be sitting here having this ridiculous mental conversation with yourself. Because who stresses this much over a new potential friendship? You certainly never have before.

But that’s the problem, he isn’t just regular old Jungkook.

He is His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

And as much as his title doesn’t mean shit to you, it sure as hell means a whole lot of something to everyone else.

He’s heir to the biggest kingdom on this half of the planet. On the cover of every teen magazine and online news article. Only child to the King and Queen.

Powerful. Attractive. Single.

In short, Jungkook has been incredibly well known and incredibly important since the day he was born 24 years ago.

So you have to sit and think out what would happen if you became the prince's first female college friend. Well… aside from Yuri, but you don’t know how long that’s going to last, given where she thought things were going.

Being seen with him publicly would immediately put you in a spotlight you don’t want. You hate being the center of attention, but that’s the least of your worries.

You worry greatly that you wouldn’t firstly be known for becoming ‘YN, globally renowned painter, artist and business woman,’ selling pieces for more than they’re worth and then some. Galleries from all over the world knocking down your door, begging for your work. Having billionaires auction off paintings you’ve done for charity, being flown around the world for and by people to have you create something for them. Be it portraits or murals or even a performance—

Some burnished red now, with a small thin tip brush to begin the rorschach like patterns on the petals.

—You wanted to be successful by your own hand, and then and only then would you occasionally speak of your very, incredibly platonic, not at all romantic, years old friendship with the prince, who you’d met in your college years by chance.

But you know that if you say yes, if you agree, all of those worries would prove true. That none of it would happen. None of the future you’ve worked for the better part of a decade on would come to fruition.

Oh no, no, no. That wouldn’t be the case at all.

Why would it? If you said yes, you’d become this week's most hot and trending piece of gossip. You’d be ‘the first girl Prince Jungkook was seeing in college,’ and everyone would ask ‘are you his new girlfriend?’ or ‘just a fling?’

If you said yes, it would be a constant barrage of:

‘Where did you meet?’ ‘Is he a good kisser?’ ‘How long have you been dating?’ ‘Have you met the king?’ ‘Does he like you?’ ‘What about the Queen, does she approve?’ ‘Has The Prince mentioned marriage at all?’ ‘Can we see the ring?’ ‘How many children will you have?’

At the grocery store, the mall, the hallways of your school, your hometown, the bathroom of a restaurant. It would be everywhere all of the time, constantly, and your head is already spinning at all the potential bombardment to your currently nice and relatively quiet life, so you take another snack break and stretch.

Finishing your first tart and making a good dent in your second, the hot chocolate is half gone at this point. Whip cream and marshmallows having long melted, making the drink extra smooth.

Returning to your painting and back on topic; you’re not dense. You know how the media does what it wants with the people they see as mere puppets. As if they aren’t living breathing individuals with lives outside the very narrow-minded, click bait titled, news articles.

Their ‘reporters’ have absolutely no regard for what they say and how they act. They have not a care in the world for what their claims do to all the innocent individuals whose lives they write about after they’re done with them.

Selfish is the nicest word you can think to describe them. They’re vicious, heartless, vile people, and you have no desire to ever be the object of their attention.

The flowers are springing to life beautifully as you put layer after layer of detail. You add some darker hues, deciding to go with a more vivid red rather than the burnished one from before. Your wet on wet approach is working magic on blending the colours seamlessly for you. It really accentua—

—And another thing! If you did say yes, you could just see it now;

After your successful career launch, you’d always—no matter what you did—always be questioned about your relationship and what could have been with the prince. Or you’d be asked if knowing him is what got you to where you were, if he gave you a leg up, so to speak.

As if you would let him have any hand in making you what you were always going to become.

You didn’t and don’t need his or anyone’s help.

But it would always be, ‘YN? Oh you mean that artist got that much recognition just because she knew Prince Jungkook?’ or ‘YN, the Prince’s ex from college?’ no matter how hard he or you pushed that you were just friends. Because who would listen to either of you after the speculation was already there? After the seed was planted in their minds.

People love secrets and thinking they know all the dirty, gossipy scandals more than anything. Thinking they know more about other people's secrets than they do their own. As if they have nothing better to do with their lives.

Sighing, you drink the last bit of hot chocolate, wanting another one once it’s gone, but not the sugar headache that comes with that. Water then.

Adding some dimension to the petals by using a clean, damp brush to remove some pigment, you can’t help but let your mind wander to the most obvious conclusion that would be made and sink into it.

You’re almost scared of the social pariah you’d become with every other woman and handful of men on campus. One dating rumor and you're done. Gone. Dismissed.

Or worse. One dating rumor and your popularity will suddenly skyrocket. You won’t have another moment to breathe alone so long as you’re still in school.

Jungkook is the most eligible bachelor on this side of the planet, potentially the whole world. His potential matches are princesses and the daughters of the filthy rich.

Who are you?

No one.

At least right now you are.

You aren’t royal, aren’t of ‘noble birth,’ aren’t a wealthy socialite. You aren’t even an independent, wildly successful career woman yet.

You’re just a scholarship kid who’s only at this school because she worked her ass off for it. Who has to continuously work her ass off for it if she wants to continue to be here.

And you do want to. You want to work hard and become who you’ve always known you’d be. One invisible, important step at a time.

From the first sketch to the last brush stroke.

So to summarize.

You don’t want to be the media’s plaything. Something for them to have their fun with and be bored of in a week, the future you’re working so hard to create destroyed before ever seeing the light of day. Fizzled out like a candle in a pouring downfall, only smoke remaining from the once bright and proud flame.

Secondly, you don’t want to be the social outcast or new campus favourite simply because you made a new friend. Having either icicles thrown at you from every set of eyes on campus or clout grabbers following your every footstep, begging for attention. Snubbed from any group projects, crowds parting like the red sea at your arrival, or never getting a moment to yourself again, late to every class due to your own personal assembly.

You’re exhausted at the mere thought of the possibility of either.

And lastly, you don’t want all the possible implications that come with knowing and befriending a man like him. Plain and simple.

What you want is to establish yourself because you worked for and earned it. What you want is to be successful, putting your near decade of practice and studying to good use. What you want is to have media attention, but for your talents, your efforts, and accomplishments.

Not his.

Not because you happened to treat the second most important person in your country like a normal, regular person.

Like he’d asked literally everyone else on your campus to do.

It isn’t your fault you're the only one who has ears that work.

But…on that note…

This is the prince.

And you are his citizen under his family’s monarchy.

You don’t know if you’re even allowed to say no.

Can you?

He said you could…or was that him just giving you the illusion of choice? Don’t you have to listen to him? By royal decree or whatever it was that forced people to live under the royal family’s rule?

You have no idea, and choose to sit on it some more. There has to be a better solution to this.

You wish you could just talk to Yuri. She’s been your sounding board for the better part of two years now. But that’s definitely a no-go after today. You worry what bringing up anything prince related would do to your friendship right now. You’ve had enough arguments and mental taxation for the time being, thanks.

And if not Yuri…You would talk to Nel…

But Nel’s in a completely different country—a completely different time zone—right now. Already halfway through his night and you don’t want to wake him.

Wait, Nel.

Fuck.

Nel is another thing you have to consider in all this. You aren’t sure how he’d react to any form of relationship you’d have with Jungkook.

How would he react to the media’s coverage of you with the prince?

Would he believe you when you denied everything?

Five years is a long time.

To know someone. To love them. To trust them. And you both know where you stand. You know where your future lies; with him. And he knows his lies with you.

But Nel is only human, and every human has flaws. No one is perfect. Everyone can have moments of weakness. Every person can feel jealous no matter how secure the relationship.

And jealousy can kill a relationship just as quickly, if not faster than anything else.

Jealousy can make you think things so irrational that it breaks down the wall of trust you built on a foundation of cement and bricks like it was nothing more than two twigs being held up by sheer luck and willpower alone.

A horrible rumor.

A gust of wind.

What’s the difference?

Five years of love, trust and communication could crumble to dust because of some asshole with a camera, an angle, and a computer with an internet connection.

You don’t want that to happen. You cannot express fervently enough how badly you never want something like that to happen to you or Nel.

You love your relationship. You love Nel, and you can’t do anything to jeopardize that. Ever.

But surely he’d understand if the heir to your nation's throne asked you to be his friend.

Surely he’d believe you when you told him that absolutely nothing was going on between you and Jungkook and that the media is just having a field day because he was the prince, and you were a girl around his age.

Surely he would…

Surely…

Five years is a long time.

But it’s also short. If you consider that for just over two of them you were long distance 9 months out of the year. And that two and a half more of them were when you were in highschool doing 60 hour weeks while he had football practice before and after school every day.

When you spent most of your weekends at galleries, or portrait study or cramming for a test.

When he spent his studying and practicing and catching up on all his lost sleep from practice.

Maybe…

Maybe you shouldn’t bring it up to him.

A fire can’t start where there isn’t any kindling…right?

An argument can’t start, mistrust can’t begin, jealousy can’t exist if he just…never knows about it.

If nobody knows about it.

Actually.

Maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do. Just not tell anyone.

It’s not lying, not really. It’s just omitting a very, very small part of your life.

And it’s not like you’ll be doing anything bad. It would most likely just be Jungkook asking about where to bring girls on dates or if you’ve seen the newest tv show that’s been on.

You’d tell him Azorè’s is the restaurant closest to campus that’s actually nice, and that no, you haven’t, because you don’t watch a lot of TV if you can help it.

That’s not devious, it’s normal friend stuff—just without the immense social pressure and potential repercussions of knowing him and being female at the same time.

Holy Shit.

This might be crazy enough to work.

And this way… this way you don’t have to say no to Jungkook, and Yuri won’t be mad, and Nel won’t get jealous, and you’ll stay out of the spotlight.

This way works out for everyone.

This way solves everything.

You huff, relieved.

Now you just have to convince the prince that it’s a good idea.

He’s used to omitting things, isn't he? He must because of his future job. Don’t they train future monarchs in the wise and ancient art of social deception and secret keeping—to keep the peace or whatever?

You don’t think it’ll be that big a leap for him.

The longer you ruminate, the more you like the idea, deciding that when you get back to your dorm later, that’s what you’ll tell him. And if he doesn’t like it, well then problem solved all around anyway.

You reach for your hot chocolate, remember it’s empty, and switch to your water instead. Celebrating by mentally patting yourself on the back.

Always trust the greenhouse cafe. The greenhouse cafe is good. The greenhouse cafe is wise. The greenhouse cafe is all kno—

“That’s beautiful.”

You almost jump out of your seat at the voice, knee hitting the table in the process. It makes everything on it bounce and clang loudly and the hand holding your brush that was also nearing your water flies to your chest, leaving a splotch of red paint on your cheek.

“Ow, fuck,” you say, reaching to rub your now throbbing knee. That’s going to bruise. You’re just lucky nothing spilled, you certainly hit the table hard enough.

Looking up to see who your unintentional heart attack provoker was, you blink a couple times before a worried looking Jungkook with big eyes comes into focus.

Though, his worry is brief it seems, as his attention shifts to the painting in front of you, the small smile from the day you met making an reappearance.

Didn’t he just see you jump ten feet in the air? Because of him???

“What the fuck Jungkook?! You scared the shit out of me,” you say scowling, giving him a piece of your mind while your heartbeat returns to a healthier pace. “Didn’t they ever tell you not to sneak up on people in that big, fancy house of yours?”

Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone call the palace a ‘big, fancy house’ before. Another first with you. And he’s about to say as much when his gaze finally meets your own and see’s how upset you are. Right, he spooked you.

The hand not holding a laptop into his side slides behind his neck and he looks away. You swear you can see the prince blushing.

Did you cause that?

Wait.

Stop.

Rewind.

You look him up and down quickly.

Hoodie. Hat. Laptop. Mask around his wrist.

Jungkook was the guy sitting on the patio from earlier? How did you not recognize him? Like at all?

He has the most famous face in the world and you couldn’t recognize it when it was 20 feet away?

Wow.

Actually.

Hat to hide the hair, hoodie to hide the body, mask to hide the face.

Impressive. He really knew how to blend in when he wanted too.

But he hasn’t even said hi or sorry. And he undoubtedly saw you earlier as you weren’t exactly subtle in placing your things on the table.

So much for wanting to be friends. He can’t even say hello to you?

...or maybe you got lucky and he saw that you really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Thoughts aside, you won’t admit to him you find his camouflage techniques exceptional. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

Jungkook's hand recedes from his nape and he looks at you again, blush almost gone.

“Ah.. sorry.” He cringes a little. “I’ve always been told I’m light on my feet and I constantly forget when I’m around new people. I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry, YN.”

So his manners haven’t completely escaped him.

You give him a hard time as you point a finger his way. “You’re paying the hospital bill if my kneecap’s broken.”

It only takes a second for the joke to land this time, and a small laugh escapes his lips.

“Yeah, that’s fair. You break it, you buy it?”

It’s the first joke you’ve heard him make, and honestly, it isn’t bad. You chuckle.

“Something like that, sure. Here,” you say, holding the canvas up a little higher for him to see. “It’s a Yellow Tiger Orchid. The greenhouse likes to switch around the plants every other week, but these guys are always my favourite. Make for a fun challenge.”

Jungkook's loose hand touches the edge of the canvas lightly, careful not to disturb the still drying paint.

His words are almost thoughtless, entirely too focused on your work as he says, “You’re incredibly talented, your parents must be so proud.”

“Parent,” you correct, not harshly, just so that he knows you’ve only got the one. “And thanks, it stems from my many years of practice and a shady deal with an even shadier witch. All I know is I owe her my first born.”

That smile of his makes a comeback, only bigger and followed by a snicker.

You match it.

“But yes, my mother’s incredibly proud and a large part of the reason I’m here, never once having stopped supporting my goals.”

That’s true. Very true. Your mum never once thought your dreams were out of your reach, only ever pushing you towards them where she could. Placing steps down for you where she was able to.

She signed you up for lessons, drove you to galleries, bought you book after book on all your favourite artists and painting techniques. She got you paints and palettes and canvases, and did everything she possibly could have to get you where you now are.

She’s your number one fan.

And, in true proud mom fashion, she told everyone she could about how her daughter got into RABFA on scholarship all by herself—except you didn’t. You’re here because of all the support she gave during those years as well as your efforts, but she refuses to take any of the credit.

“I’m happy to hear it,” he says genuinely, before hesitating. Looking like he wants to say something but is debating it. “Can I–Do you–,” he inhales deeply, clearly not used to fumbling over his words.

It’s...cute.

“Would you mind if I sat down?” he finally gets out. “I’d love to see more of your work.”

You think about it only for a second, taking a quick scan of your surroundings. There’s no one around besides Viv, and she’s probably working in the back. Plus, you're pretty sure he’s seen or even spoken to some of the greatest artists of your time. Not to mention, you’d love to hear his input.

“Yeah, sure.”

Instead of sitting on the chair your bag is currently using, he puts his things on the table to your right and spins one around from there, settling down with arms folded over the back of it.

“Thanks.”

You hand over your sketchpad. A perk to using a heavily water based medium is that your painting’s already dried in the time since you first spoke.

Jungkook flips his way through the pages slowly, taking his time in studying each painting as an individual piece. It’s not long before he reaches the one you were working on today. Having just started this pad a month ago, there isn’t much in it yet.

He searches back through to one right near the beginning.

“This ones my favourite,” he says, spinning the canvas around for you to see. It’s a tiger lily painting you’d done late in the summer at home.

Your mother is a notorious gardener, and has several flower beds that could rival a plant nursery with the sheer size, magnitude and variety of flowers in them.

Rose bushes, dahlias, sunflowers, snap dragons, carnations, tulips, daisies, chrysanthemums, you name it, they were there.

So it wasn’t uncommon for you to spend an afternoon out in the garden sketching different blooms or picking one out in particular to paint.

She’d gotten the bright orange tiger lilies this past spring. They were the first ones you’d chosen when you got home after second year to paint. And then you just didn’t stop. They take up about a quarter of your summer sketchbook.

You couldn’t help it. They were hypnotizing.

“Why that one?”

“It’s my birth flower,” he says, lifting the sleeve on his right, revealing a forearm full of wonderfully inked designs. At the center of it is a tiger lily in matching bright orange hue. “It’s always had significant meaning for me because it’s something that represents me that didn’t come from my lineage, position, or name.”

“Oh.”

You sit there for a moment, stunned, yet to release your gaze from the sight of his arm.

The designs that cover it go all the way up to his elbow and don’t stop.

From an artist's point of view, you’re incredibly impressed with the quality of the work. Intricately placed mixes of black, white and colour. Never one or the other for too long. Strong clean lines. Clear, unmuddied colours. Striking.

Beautiful.

You shouldn’t be so surprised, knowing only the best would be allowed to grace his skin, but still. It was rare you were this taken aback by art.

The colours chosen on the more visual pieces are gorgeous together. Bright, brilliant, bold. And the few quotes mixed in? Their linework is just… spectacular.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your staring, twisting his arm to show you some of the designs previously hidden from your sight.

The quality doesn’t lessen.

It’s after you're done intaking the art on his body that you see the strong muscle underneath it. And you let yourself appreciate the discipline that goes into achieving said strong muscle instead of how it makes your mouth water.

Long distance does not help your libido, and you’re only human.

Not that you would ever cheat. You do have a functioning moral compass, and a person you love that you could never do that too in a hundred years.

It's just that you have working eyes... and it doesn't hurt to look every now and then.

To make sure everything’s still working.

It is.

You bring your line of vision back into his.

“I never thought of my birth flower like that before. My mom keeps an entire garden full of them—only child and all.” Like him, you realize. “They’re one of her favourites too. I guess they hold a similar importance to her as yours does to you.”

Jungkook nods as he asks for your birth flower and you tell him. He says he can understand why your mum would be so fond of them, they’re a beautiful and elegant flower, suiting for you.

“Thanks,” you say, brushing off the subtle compliment.

He holds a hand out for the pad and you give it to him, watching as he turns the pages to another drawing before returning it again.

This one’s of your mother, in the small breakfast nook by a window in your home. It’s drawn with dark pencil lead and painted loosely, a slight blending of the two mediums.

She’s drinking a cup of tea and reading a book. It’s one of your favourite pieces that you’ve done recently because it’s your mom, existing naturally.

Not posed for a portrait, or a painting, or a reference, just her enjoying her morning. You couldn’t help but sketch it quickly when you saw her, adding the bit of colour later.

“Is this her?” he asks, taking it in again as if seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s our breakfast nook. But she reads there more than eats, always saying the window lets in the perfect amount of light.”

“I see where you get it from.”

“Get what?” but he just smiles at you before switching the topic.

“Who do you draw inspiration from, or look up to? I’d guess but I only know the bigger names.”

You inhale, knowing that this answer is always long for you. You get it semi-regularly—it’s a part of being a visual artist the same way asking a musician who they look up to is.

“Well, there’s a couple bigger names in the mix,” you start, “Van Gogh comes to mind first because his work feels like freedom. Lines placed seemingly wherever, yet so meticulously put at the same time. Some aren’t like that, but even then, they still flow like water. I adore his work,” another breath. “Da Vinci. Always. I stand by that fact that he was a genius and I strive to have an ounce of whatever he did. Michelangelo is another. Enough said. The sheer magnitude he was capable of creating was incredible.

“I have a lot of smaller artists I love too. People I’ve seen at local galleries, people I’ve found online, teachers from past classes. Some not nearly as well known artists from a hundred years ago who broke the barriers of art in their time,” you’re smiling like an idiot as you recall all your favourites and how they inspire you.

“I like the people who create and created just because they could, because they loved to. Because it meant something to them to make something with their hands. I mean, look what their passion got them. They all created for themselves, perfected their craft for themselves and that was enough. A satisfying, fulfilling life. I can only hope to have that. But a part of me wants to be one of the lucky few. The ones who shared their art so that others might not feel so alone. They became some of the greatest artists of all time.”

“Also some of the saddest,” Jungkook adds. But he’s looking at you differently now. You can’t put your finger on it but it’s not bad. Something close to curiosity. Or wonder.

“That just goes hand and hand with being a creative person. I don’t know a single one who doesn’t express their pain through their art.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, but those are just for me.”

“Shame.”

That catches your attention. “Why?”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate for a second before saying, “Because some of the most beautiful things in life are created out of pain.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that.

You know he’s right. People are most likely to bare their soul into their art when they’re hurt, just to get it out. It’s cathartic for them in the same way crying or breaking things is for others.

The most magnificent things can come from that vulnerability, and it isn’t something you ever take lightly when you’re shown.

You’ve heard enough music in your life to know that the most beautiful songs are the most gut wrenching. You’ve seen so many dance performances you know the ones created from anguish and heartbreak are the ones that make for the most delicate movements; the most fragile moments on stage. You've painted enough pieces in grief over your lifetime to know that when someone doesn’t hold back what they’re feeling when creating, it’s the most emotionally provoking when looked at, listened to and experienced by others.

The audience can feel it in a piece. They can feel it in the movement and in the melodies. In the soul of what was created. Of the creator.

“Yes, they are,” you agree, near solemn, and that’s all that needs to be said.

And a moment of comfortable silence later, he hands you back the pad and you pick up your brush to continue with your orchid.

He watches your every stroke. You pretend he’s not there as you add green to the leaves.

“Have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?” he asks. “I know it was only a couple hours ago, so I understand if not.”

Jungkook looks nervous when you wash your brush in the colorful water jar. His face reads like he thinks you’re going to say no, like he’s preparing himself for the rejection but his body language gives him away. He’s wringing his fingers under the table, and his leg won't stop bouncing.

It makes the corner of your mouth quirk. You thought he’d be better at hiding his tics, being prince and all.

But maybe he feels like he doesn’t have to around you.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the chair, Jungkook feels like he’s sweating buckets. Unknowingly showing every nervous habit he has, but can’t help it.

He doesn’t tell you that he doesn’t have a lot of friends. Doesn’t have a lot of people he trusts enough to even consider them friends.

Yeah, he’s always surrounded by people. But they were just that. People. He barely knew any of them, and they only ever wanted to be near him for what it said about them, for what being near him could give them.

He doesn’t say how can’t pinpoint it, but that there’s just something different about you.

So he’s really hoping you say yes.

Because it’s been…a long while…since he’s made a new one.

And it would be really nice too.

But he’ll respect your decision either way.

Just please say yes.

Mercifully, you end his suffering.

“I have,” a brush stroke—more yellow. You don’t look at him while you speak, focusing instead on what’s in front of you. “That’s actually why I came here. To think. I come here for that a lot, or to get work done. It’s my favourite spot on campus. Secluded, pretty, quiet.”

He silently agrees with every word, but is also impatient. “And?”

You try your best to ignore the stars in his eyes when you look up from your painting.

“And I’ve thought hard about this, Jungkook. I didn’t just once over the idea and choose on a whim, I fleshed out what it would mean for me—what a friendship with you would mean for me, that is,” putting the brush down, you allow your most recent details to dry. “And I have a condition—just one. It's one you may not like, but it’s the only one you’d have to agree to in order for me to agree.”

Jungkook deflates a little, wondering what you could want. Because everyone always wants something. He was just really hoping you’d be different.

His mind runs through all the possible answers he’s used to hearing; money, clout, pictures, gifts, vacations, an audience with his father, donations, sex, power, the list goes on.

He doesn’t want to think these things about you, but he can’t help it.

After so long… you get used to it.

“What’s the condition?” he asks, bracing himself.

“That nobody knows we’re friends.”

What? He thinks.

“What?” He asks.

You inhale again, wiping your hands on your pants and straightening your back.

Here we go.

“The more I thought about it, the more I realised that being seen with you publicly all the time would not go over well for me and my future. Anyone can be seen with the prince, but one girl over and over? People will talk about me. And it will be about me, because I’ll be the new shiny toy for them to play with. What I’m wearing, if we’re dating, who am I, what do I do, how did we meet, are you interested, blah blah blah,” you flick your hand, cringing at all of it. “I also don’t want my current relationships to change because of it. I don’t want my mother being cornered in a grocery store by a stranger asking about how her daughter knows Prince Jungkook and if she’s willing to give a quote,” you may actually come close to murder if that ever happened.

“Not to mention the social repercussions. I can deny everything all I want from here into next week, but the second anyone knows we’re friends? I’ll become either the most popular girl on campus—which is a waking nightmare for me—or the campus leper, which is a close second. And before you say anything to the contrary,” you fix him with a hard stare, unwavering. “You know I’m right.”

He tries to speak but you hold up a finger to show you’re not finished, and take a deep breath.

Collect yourself YN, sum it up, drive the point home.

“I don’t need nor want that in my life. So if you want me to be in yours, nobody will know except us and whatever royal people need to so I don’t get tackled for being near you.” He cracks a smile at that.

“If that isn’t okay with you, then that’s fine, I understand. It’s probably an ask you’re not used to hearing, but I hope you understand that I have to put myself first and that this is a hard boundary for me. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am and I won’t let anyone get in my way. Not even a prince,” you say. “Not even you.”

Jungkook waits a second this time, making sure you’re finished. Then leans back, deep in thought, eyes still trained on you.

He’s never been so impressed with anyone in his life.

It’s been a very long time since he’s met someone with such blatant, hard earned self respect. Such candor and veracity, who spoke to him with confidence, completely unwavered. Let alone a woman.

He’s so used to the fawning that he’s forgotten he likes it when a girl has backbone. Forgotten he likes a girl who doesn’t bend because he asks her to, who doesn’t need him or anyone to get what she wants.

She can do it herself.

If he’s completely real with himself, his pants are fitting a little tighter as he remembers. As he continues to stare into your unflinching eyes.

But he dismisses that feeling immediately.

He should have known better. You’ve always been honest with him up until this point, sparing as those moments were. So he shouldn’t be as astonished as he is; you’re the one that has yet to break pattern.

Yuri’d fed him piece after piece of information about you. How you almost never leave your dorm when not in class, how you’re always studying or practicing all hours of the day, how school is your number one priority above all else—she really liked to talk.

He should’ve known you wouldn’t let anyone get in your way—not even him—given how the first time you met, you told him point blank that you would’ve rather been in the library than be forced to see him talk.

Confident and direct from the very start. Unwavering in your goals.

Jungkook should have known when you said you had a condition, that you didn’t want anything from him, but privacy for you.

You are young, driven, smart, and beautiful.

He’s never wanted someone to be in his life more.

Fuck.

He shifts in his seat, primarily for comfort, but also to buy a bit more time. You’ve yet to break his gaze.

Yes, it is a strange request, and yes it isn’t one he’s ever gotten before, but he can work with it. He understands your need to not be in the public eye. To not have your image decided by the public for you.

Most importantly, he knows what being seen with him can do to a person via the media. It’s terrifying. They’re like vultures, ready to pick the flesh off of any victim they deem fit.

More than one woman has been slandered off the palace grounds because of it. He also should have considered that before asking, but like he knew—like he knows—you’re smart. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t have thought this through thoroughly enough to weigh upon all of the possible outcomes.

It was a day full of realizations. On both your parts is what he didn’t know.

So he really, seriously should not be as stunned, surprised and…still partially hard as he is.

Here you are, staring at him, expecting a reply while his mouth is slightly parted and apparently speechless. It’s rare for him to be given such a harsh truth instead of the immediate yes he is so used to hearing. For someone to have this kind of power over him.

When he’d asked you, Jungkook had just wanted a friend. Someone to talk to, maybe hang out with, share jokes with. Someone to spend time with so his college experience isn’t as lonely as it’s turning out to be.

But where he saw a potential friendship, you saw potential disaster.

Because as much as the title grants him, being Prince isn’t a great thing for everyone around him.

Sometimes it destroys them.

He’s still learning though, that you aren’t just smart. You’re calculated.

You are a scythe in a field of grass, a gust of wind in a foggy gulf, a sunbeam shining through the clouds on a rainy day.

You think things through to their every possibility, finding the best outcomes and worst fallouts. You did it with his request, and managed to find a solution that works at only a small hindrance to him.

So who the hell would he be if he didn’t take it?

The outside world already knows all of his friends. Granted about 95% of them are men, but that’s what you get when you grow up having the sons of the guards, groundskeepers and chefs around. The other 5% are the girls he met during childhood, the daughters of other royals and titled individuals.

And even then with them, the speculation never stopped. Not after years of platonic friendship. There was always a ‘what if?’ thrown onto them. So he understands that if he starts hanging out with a new girl, the media will go wild. Understands that existing in the same place as you and his social etiquette towards you have the power to make or break you, mentally, socially, even physically.

He understands.

So, everything considered?

Your one condition isn’t so bad after all.

And he has no problems with it.

“Agreed.”

You blink, clearly not expecting him to give in so quickly, or to at least debate it. Your eyebrows scrunch as you sputter, “Just like that?”

He grips the back of the chair, and leans forward again.

“I would never expect you to give anything up or be forced into an unwanted narrative because I asked you to be my friend. Of course I agree. It’ll be nice to have someone I don’t have to worry about the press bashing. To have someone normal, who I can be normal around, and who will, clearly, call me out on my shit or set me straight when I need it. So yeah,” he sucks a tooth, “Just like that.”

You flinch a little at his words. “Wait I lied, I have one more condition.”

He’s intrigued, especially considering the look on your face. “Go for it.”

“You can’t throw me in a dungeon for calling you out. My safety needs to be assured for any and all potential verbal ass whoopings you may receive in the future.”

A full, loud cackle sounds from Jungkook, eyes crinkling as he says, “Deal.” And holds out his hand.

“Deal,” you say, shaking it and laughing with him. Because you know there aren’t any dungeons in the palace.

And somehow, you know that even if there were, he still wouldn’t.

Chapter Four: Sunday Nights and Lost Memories

A/N 2: we do be getting into though.

A/N 3: I know I’m jumping ahead here but I’m excited for you guys to read chapter 4, it’s one of my favourites so far!

<- Back

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babiebom · 9 months

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When You Fall (V)

A/N: take what I am writing with a grain of salt I have no idea how lawyers speak or how their letters work lmao.

Tw:mental breakdown, cursing, slight su*cide attempt, talks of de*th, violence

Wc:2.4k

Previous Next Masterlist

Your day was ruined before it even truly began. You didn't even get to eat breakfast before one letter ruined what you assume to be your entire week. There was going to be no mental healing for a little while longer.

'To whom it may concern,

Y/N L/N is being summoned to the reading of the final will and testament of {ENTER NAME(S) HERE} on May 22, 2023 or whenever is soonest possible…'

You don't even finish reading it before crumpling up the paper and tossing it away from you. You laugh bitterly, in disbelief at the fact that they couldn't even be bothered to actually enter all three names…they didn't even enter one except for yours and it was misspelled. After a second you go and pick it up, throwing it inside of your home before grabbing your pickaxe and fleeing to where you think the mines are.

Seeing your parents and grandfather buried was final enough for you, the almost literal nails in the coffin confirming the fact that you would never see them again unless you believed in God or an afterlife. Yet now things seemed even more real, as if the funeral and the police calls and the planning and the crying weren't enough to get it through your head that this was all real. As if you needed one more punch to the gut to remind you of all your past mistakes.

Tears stream down your face as you power walk your way up the mountain. You puff, chest already burning from how hard you were walking, the air growing just the slightest bit thinner. Your eyes land on a house, lonely by itself on the mountain. There were potted plants decorating the outside, and a gate that was propped open as if the space didn't truly need to be fenced off at all. You walk passed, not wanting to be caught standing around outside and also not wanting to have a conversation with whoever lived there. It was too early anyways. There was also a tent, a couple yards out further up the mountain under a tree. You could kind of see an outline of a person, but again you didn't want to have any sort of conversation. Continuing on, you begin to see debris littering the ground, large rocks and wood and other…things lying around as if whoever was doing something around here hadn't cleaned up at all.

Gratefully you follow the debris, all the way to the entrance of a cave. Stepping inside, you almost feel relieved you can collapse in here and no one would ever find you. Hell, you could die here and no one would ever see you again. You doubted anyone in town really came into the caves.

You laugh loudly, hysterically as you allow yourself to fall to the ground, away from the entrance but not deep enough inside that no one outside wouldn't be able to hear you. Your laughs echo and bounce around the cavern as they grow louder and louder. Your lungs burn and your stomach twists as you continue, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you fold and press your forehead to the cold wet floor. You hit your head once against the floor before bursting into sobs, laughing in between each one.

It felt as if your mind was melting and going deeper into the caves was becoming the best idea you have ever had. You would surely get what you wanted that way, you could hopefully see your parents again, or realistically be freed from whatever nightmare you had found yourself trapped in. You were nowhere close to a professional miner, and one wrong move could bring down everything onto your head.

There was a ladder and a broken down elevator a few meters ahead of you, and the thought that maybe just...maybe sabotaging yourself would get the job done far more quickly than hoping some rocks would fall on your head. Just one slip off of the ladder, just one jump that was too heavy for the elevator to hold and you would be free.

Your sobs quieted down as you dragged yourself towards the ladder. Only pausing when you hear something move. The something moving turns into more movements and you slowly come to the realization that someone was walking towards you, slowly.

The man wasn't really paying attention to anything, his eyes…well eye was pointed to the ground, his eyebrows furrowing. The other eye was covered by an eyepatch and he wore some sort of cloak on his shoulders. He sort of looked like a pirate. Is he a pirate? Do pirates even exist anymore?

He hums and moves closer, stepping around you. Was he not going to say anything? The feeling of annoyance crept up your throat, but slowly as it was being weighed down by relief and gratitude. He wasn't here for you, and you weren't here for him, so whatever you were doing is none of his business. The man looks down the hole where the ladder is and you curiously follow his lead still from your position on the ground. What was he doing?

After a second he frowns then backs away, finally looking at you. Embarrassed, you look away, before opening your mouth to speak. You wanted to ask him what he was doing before he could ask you.

"...I was just peering down into this old mine shaft. It's been abandoned for decades." He sighs and offers you a hand which you take, standing up on wobbling legs. He doesn't question it. "Still, there's probably good ore down there."

"Ore?" You ask, trying to regain your balance. He nods with a grunt, the eye not covered by the eyepatch looking at you with an emotion you couldn't quite read. Was he judging you?

"But a dark place, undisturbed for so long…I'm afraid ore isn't the only thing you'll find." He's silent for a moment while you look down again. You can't really see anything, apart from darkness. Were you really going to go down there?

"Here, take this," he hands you an old sword that was hanging from his belt. The thing is old and rusted but it made your heart swell just from receiving it. The man didn't even know you and he gave you something that you assume meant something to him. "You might need it."

You thank him, holding the sword awkwardly in your hands. It wasn't too heavy, but the weight was still an unfamiliar one. You hadn't gotten many chances to hold an actual sword before. "Name's Marlon, by the way. I run the adventurers guild right outside."

You don't recall seeing anything of the sort on your way up here, but then again you had your sights set only on this cave. Maybe you can explore some more since the self sabotage plan couldn't be done now. "I'll keep my eye on you. Prove yourself and I might think about making you a member."

You blink rapidly at his words, confused on when you had made it apparent that you wanted to join. You didn't want to join. You open your mouth to object him, but the white haired man is already walking away from you and out of the cave. You frown as you watch him, turning back to the ladder. There had to be no way he just did that, right? It felt as if you had been tricked by some sort of forest imp or something into giving your soul away, and while the situation wasn't that dramatic you still felt almost played. You assumed there weren't many members to begin with, which is probably why he did that in the first place. You didn't think anyone else in the valley would do anything like this so he needed who he could get.

Sighing loudly, you try and put your feet on a rung of the ladder. The thing was shaky and, as he mentioned, old so caution needed to be used. The thought of trying to purposefully get hurt leaves your mind, now your need is to somehow prove yourself to this strange man because what else did you have to do? And though you did not wish to admit it you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that things were only bad for now, and that youd at least needed to use the gift that your grandfather made without doing anything rash. It would be rude to not use a gift, especially one as grand as an entire farm.

It was hard for your eyes to adjust during your descent. The darkness overtaking your sight and the smell of rocks and dust overtaking your nose. Your lungs, nose, and throat burned as you forced yourself to hold in any coughs or sneezes until you got all the way down. One wrong or rough move would have the whole rickety thing coming down and despite what you wished for previously, dying a slow and painful death if probably starvation at the bottom of this ladder wasn't ideal.

Thankfully you got to the bottom pretty quickly, torches lit up around you casting an eerie glow around the cave. It was empty except for the rocks that littered the ground, was this all there is to the cave? You wondered for a second why you would need a sword if this is how far down it went, except you didn't see any sign of the supposed elevator or the ore he was talking about earlier.

It took a second to adjust yourself, but luckily the sword Marlon gave you came with a sheath that you struggled to attach to your backpack. Putting the sword away you take out your pickaxe, the tool seemingly lighter in your hands from all the hours you spent hitting rocks.

In here was no different, though the air was cooler and a little more muggy. Particles stirring with every move you make. Soon enough you find a ladder hidden under one of the rocks. And so level after level, rock after rock, you make your steady descent into the somehow dry cavern.

It was past the first time you saw the elevator when you came across your first…thing. It was almost similar to the little thing you saw in the community center, though it was almost also completely different.

This thing looked like sentient jelly, see through even though it was green. No arms or legs, and it bounced like a ball. It was kinda cute…in a creepy sort of way. Its eyes are black and empty, not really focusing on anything until you take a step closer. For a split second you think the thing might be friendly, it's small and cute-ish, only coming up to your ankle. There was no way this thing could damage you in any way, right?

Wrong. The thing sets its sights on you and it's like the air around you changes. Its eyes somehow grow darker and it lunges towards you in a leap that even a frog would think is risky. You move backwards, staring at the thing in confusion, what did it think it could do? It's a ball of sentient jello. Frowning at it you make a noise of surprise as you get lunged at again.

The thing gets too close somehow, way too quickly and unexpectedly. The slime thing bounces against your leg and you're suddenly overcome with a sluggish feeling, as if your body was being weighed down by a ton of bricks.

In a panic you scrunch your face, trying to stomp on the thing. It doesn't do much damage to the things as you frantically attempt to stomp it out like a fire. The feeling leaves you after a couple moments, allowing your movement to pick up speed. All this does is serve to make the little thing angry, its eyes turning a vibrant red. Just like you had been able to pick up speed, it picks up speed and launches itself at you again. This time you move, allowing it to fly past you giving you a little time to scramble and take out your sword.

Swinging hard, the sword passes through the thing and to your relief it seems to do a little damage to it though it was still moving at an alarming rate. You swing again, and again, and again until the thing is just a puddle of goo.

Panting, you rest your hands on your knees, tears springing to your eyes. It wasn't as if you were hurt. You were cut, or bleeding, or dying; but somehow it felt as if that thing took some of your life force away and the thought makes you angry. Sure you had been wishing for death earlier, but you absolutely did not want to be killed by a ball of jello. Not only would that be embarrassing, but it would be shameful.

A sort of rage filled you and for a moment it fuelled your steady descent. Now determined tonat least stomp out one of those jellies for the sin that the first you had come across had committed. Yeah, it was kind of petty, and dramatic, but you couldn't quite get control of your emotions just yet.

So you stomp and stomp, kicking and slashing at every jelly you see, letting the rage in their eyes ignite yours more. They wanted to fight? So did you. By the time you had gotten to the elevator again, you were exhausted. Luckily for you the stupid thing seems to now work.

Hobbling towards it, you can feel the weight of everything you had carried in your bag, quite a bit of rocks, some orange stuff that you thought might be valuable, and an even larger rock that you hoped held something in it. When you step into the elevator you pause for a moment, trying to get your bearings.

That now familiar feeling takes over your body, as if you were being held down by a ton of bricks. The rage had fizzled out, but you still refused to die by the hands, or lack thereof, of these stupid things. So you turn, and swing at it even with all of your exhaustion. The thing charges for you again the second you swing, hoping it would be the last one.

You get hit the same time you hear the sound of the jelly splattering. The noise is reassuring and satisfying even as you begin to pass out. Frantically you jab your finger against the only buttons in the elevator that glow, hoping it would get you out of your situation. Just as you hear the ding and the sound of the doors closing, your world fades to black.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #stardew x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #x reader #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #stardew sebastian x reader #stardew sebastian x farmer #stardew valley sebastian x farmer #stardew valley sebastian x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian x farmer

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black-arcana · 12 days

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THE PRETTY RECKLESS Has 'A Lot' Of Music Written For Upcoming Fifth Album

During an appearance on the May 6 episode of SiriusXM's "Trunk Nation With Eddie Trunk", THE PRETTY RECKLESS singer Taylor Momsen was asked about the progress of the songwriting and recording sessions for the band's fifth album. She said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "I don't have [release] dates for you, but we booked — we've locked up the studio for eight months. It takes us a while to make a record. But it was going amazingly [before we paused the sessions in order to hit the road]. Hopefully when we pick back up in September, it'll be the same kind of flow and everything will just jell. But a lot of it's written. I'm sure that more will be written when these experiences happen and then new songs [arise] out of them. So I'm sure that there'll be some more songs coming. But I don't have dates. But it was going great, and we had just started; we really haven't started at all, but there's written stuff. So that's a start, I guess. But as far as recording, we hadn't really gotten into it yet."

This past January, THE PRETTY RECKLESS shared a photo of Taylor in the studio with Jonathan Wyman, who co-produced THE PRETTY RECKLESS's latest album, 2021's "Death By Rock And Roll", apparently confirming that Wyman has re-teamed with the group for the upcoming LP.

In a May 2023 interview with Ronni Hunter of the 99.7 The Blitz radio station, Momsen revealed that she and her THE PRETTY RECKLESS bandmates had commenced work on the follow-up to "Death By Rock And Roll".

"We're in a great headspace," she said. "We're just having fun with it, and wrapping up the tour cycle of 'Death By Rock And Roll'. And then new record — and it's next chapter. We've already kind of started it… We've gotten into a studio; we've stepped foot into a studio. So that's saying something for us."

THE PRETTY RECKLESS will support AC/DC on the legendary hard rock band's spring/summer 2024 European tour. Momsen and her bandmates will also open for THE ROLLING STONES this coming Saturday, May 11 at the Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas, Nevada.

In November 2022, THE PRETTY RECKLESS released a new collection of music, "Other Worlds", via Fearless Records. The effort saw the group delivering its first proper acoustic recordings, unexpected covers and other reimaginings.

"Death By Rock And Roll" was made available in February 2021 via Fearless Records in the U.S. and Century Media Records in the rest of the world.

Upon release, "Death By Rock And Roll" topped multiple sales charts — including Billboard's Top Albums, Rock, Hard Music, and Digital charts. The record also yielded three back-to-back No. 1 singles — "Death By Rock And Roll", "And So It Went" (featuring Tom Morello of RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE) and "Only Love Can Save Me Now" (featuring Kim Thayil and Matt Cameron of SOUNDGARDEN). The band has tallied seven No. 1 singles at the rock format throughout its career.

"Death By Rock And Roll" was THE PRETTY RECKLESS's first album to be made without longtime producer Kato Khandwala, who died in April 2018 from injuries sustained in a motorcycle accident.

THE PRETTY RECKLESS formed in 2009 and consists of Momsen, guitarist Ben Phillips, bassist Mark Damon and drummer Jamie Perkins.

In 2021, Momsen — who rose to fame portraying the character of edgy little sister Jenny Humphrey on The CW's "Gossip Girl" — described "Death By Rock And Roll" in an interview with ABC Audio as a "battle cry for life and for hope."

"I think that that's something that we can all use a little bit more of, especially right now," she said. "We could always use a little more hope, and we could always use a little more rock and roll."

#taylor momsen #the pretty reckless

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a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives · 3 months

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Australian & New Zealand Author Showcase No 20 – Luke Arnold

February 9, 2024 by Charlie Cavendish

An idea squeezed into my head in 2023, after seeing so many of the book community gathering at conventions across the US and UK. And once my FOMO subsided, I got to thinking about who might be gathered together if we had similar conventions closer to home. Pending the master planning required to arrange a massive convention, I thought the next best thing might be to run an Australian & New Zealand author showcase. So, I sent out the call, with the only prerequisite for participating being the author had to have been born in either country or currently live there.

Its now 2024 and the Aussie / New Zealand Author Showcase is gathering steam again. Just when I thought it was over even more talent has emerged, at this rate its threatening to become year long event! I will continue to post their individual showcases at regular intervals. So hopefully you will enjoy these interactions with some very talented people. Please be sure to check out their work, sign up to their newsletters and follow them on their social media of choice. I make no apologies for any damage inflicted to your TBR’s!

Showcase No 20 finds me chatting with very talented Luke Arnold. Luke is the award-winning actor from projects such as Black Sails, Glitch and Never Tear Us Apart: The Untold Story of INXS as well as the author of The Fetch Phillips Archives; a series of fantastical detective stories which has third instalments to date.

Do you feel that being an Aussie / Kiwi (or residing there) influences your writing?

Absolutely. I didn’t leave Australia until I was in my twenties so, for better or worse, I was brought up with a distinctly Australian outlook. It’s something that can be easily mischaracterised and also requires some distance to properly understand. Being both a young and old country, we’re still finding ourselves, experiencing growing pains, and struggling with our identity.

At the same time, isolation and an abundance of natural resources means a lot of us are able to benefit from a high quality of life without working as hard as we’d need to in many other places in the world. I think a lot of Aussies know this in their bones, and it makes us nervous of “rocking the boat” for fear that we might lose the advantages we have.

This aversion to change has some embarrassing repercussions on relationships between European Australians and Australia’s First Nations People, as well as our treatment of immigrants and asylum seekers.

We have a different kind of national identity to other western countries like the USA or Britain. We’re still trying to play the underdog – the little colony down under that punches above its weight – but that persona no longer fits us the way it used to. These themes seep into all my work.

Fetch Phillips may have the outward appearance of a classic American hard-boiled hero, but he has an Australian heart. He’s someone who feels separate, a bit ignorant, reticent to become a leader, and happy to defer to those he sees as being older and more experienced. He values being humble and self-effacing, but there is safety in that identity.

It allows him to shirk responsibility and hide in the shadows, even when it should be his moment to step forward. He’s a man who didn’t grow up when he was supposed to and is struggling to come of age too late. I feel like Australia is going through the same thing.

What are some of the challenges being located so far away from the rest of the world, do have any tips for overcoming these?

When I was first trying to get published, I was lucky in that I was already working overseas and had some profile from my acting career. That’s a clear advantage I don’t take lightly. Though I’d always wanted to write, the thing that pushed me to finish my first manuscript was a desire to spend more time at home. My acting career was reaching a point where every job was in a different city, and I wanted to know that I could keep working creatively without needing to get on a plane. There are numerous advantages to being creative in Australia.

One thing that is easily overlooked is that we have more safety nets that some other countries. I really notice this when I’m in the US. It’s terrifying to have no money in America. Of course, cost of living is going up everywhere, but I still think there are more ways to find a balanced life in Australia where you can keep a roof over your head and be creative at the same time. Yes, it’s a smaller market and it can be hard to break out overseas, but if the goal is to live a creative life where you do the thing you love without panicking that someone’s going to kick you out on the street, this is one of the best places in the world to establish yourself.

Personally, I know I couldn’t have survived as a young actor long enough to build my career without the support systems that Australia offers.

3. How do you go about establishing connections in the book community? (any tips / suggestions)

I’m terrible at this. My first two novels came out in 2020 when we were all locked inside, and I’ve only met a handful of other authors in person. So of course, social media is a huge asset.

I mostly rely on creatives I’ve known for a long time. Every couple of weeks, I catch up with an author friend, Steven Lochran, I’ve known since high school, and we read each other’s stuff and discuss what we’re working on. I have a number of other people, some writers some not, who I use as beta readers when they have the time.

Finding your own colleagues that you trust and feel comfortable to share your work with is more important than trying to network your way onto tables with notable people in the industry. If you do good work, then that will happen naturally.

4. Do you have a favourite character to write? And conversely are there any of your characters that are the more of a struggle?

Fetch is fun because he still surprises me. There’s a lot of me in him, and he’s dumb enough that I can stuff my own fears and ideas into his head and have him try and make sense of things. It’s always harder when I have to write someone more intelligent – someone who might have the answers he seeks – because then I need to get ahead of my own pondering and come to some conclusions. Perhaps that’s why everyone is fallible in my world, and even those who seem to have the answers will likely fall to pieces before the end of the story.

5. So aliens finally reveal themselves to us and your work is presented to them as example of what humanity has to offer, what do you hope they will take away from this intergalactic exchange?

I hope they’d see that we’re flawed, confused, vulnerable little things, and yet we keep trying to be better. Individually and collectively. My books are noir in tone, but the point isn’t to say that we’re all broken and corrupt. It’s about celebrating the way we keep trying to be good, even in the face of terrible darkness. Even when we’ve made mistakes that should he unforgivable. Even when the pressure – both without and within – feels like it’s going to crush us. Hopefully, if they’re looking at the state of things right now, it might help them see that we’re not completely lost.

6. Tell us something about yourself that not many people know?

In this relentlessly online world, it’s hard to think of something that isn’t already out there. So I’m trying to think of something obscure. Maybe I’ll share that I play a bit of Beat Saber in VR and I’m determined get to the top of the leader board for Billie Eilish’s Happier Than Ever (normal difficulty). I’m broken the top 100 but I’m gunning for a top ten spot.

What would you say is the best thing about being an author and the worst?

The best thing is that your work is all yours. There are very few creative endeavours out there where you can give so much of your internal world to another person. While our editors and publishers are integral, it’s not the same collaboration as making a film or playing a song with a band. This is all you.

The worst thing is that your work is all yours. You can get feedback and guidance, but it’s only your name on the cover. You must write every word, alone, without anyone encouraging you or sharing the load. Every time I write a book, I’m struck by what a monumental act of faith it is. One word after the other, day after day, for months, hoping that by the end it will be at all interesting to anyone else. Some days I can’t write a text to someone without crumbling under self-doubt, but then I have to find the motivation to pump out a few thousand words of fiction.

And at the end of it all, when someone else enjoys the finished product, they will also be alone, somewhere far away, playing out the story in their own head, and you’ll be completely oblivious to how it’s making them feel. It requires a level of self-belief that is easier to summon some days more than others.

8. Any other Aussie / Kiwi creatives you’d like to give a shout out for? (let’s spread the love)

I’m embarrassed to say that my reading really dropped off over the last year, but if you want some more noir, this time with a sci-fi twist, the 36 Streets by T.R.Napper’s is a fantastic cyberpunk story set in future Vietnam.

And I finally jumped into Maria Lewis’s The Rose Daughter and am bloody loving it.

9. What’s your favourite quote or passage from one of your books?

Shit. The ones I love one day, I cringe at the next. The chapters about Fetch’s love interest, Amari, in The Last Smile in Sunder City still hold a special place for me though. They were the first pieces I felt confident sharing with other people.

There’s a part where Fetch just lists the days they spent together. As the series continues, I have to keep returning to it to make sure that if I allude to an encounter between Fetch and Amari, it’s related to one of the occasions included in that list. It’s simple, and Fetch doesn’t include much emotion or embellishment, but every time I go back to it, that tragic romantic melancholy gets back under my skin.

9. What’s your favourite quote or passage from one of your books?

10. What can you say about your current project or what you are planning next?

The fourth instalment of The Fetch Phillips Archives is in the editing phase, and I’m really excited to get it in people’s hands. I’ve enjoyed the fact that Fetch has not yet lived up to being either a hard-boiled detective or a fantasy hero. His guilt, self-doubt, and insecurity have taken his investigations (and in some cases the plot of the books) off the rails. That was always intentional, and I found that journey interesting to write, but Book 4 is a different beast. Fetch is still a problematic guy, but he’s put himself together enough to tackle his next case with more determination. So, for the first time, we have a more focused narrative revolving around a single string of murders. There are a lot of rewarding moments in this one for readers who were hoping Fetch might eventually catch a break.

But it’s still noir, so don’t except all sunshine and roses. Just a mystery where the main character isn’t getting in his own way quite so much.

Bonus Question: Lastly Vegemite* yes or no?

Absolutely. Thin layer with plenty of butter. It’s not something I crave when I’m away from home but get me back in the Aussie bush and I’ll be searching for a jar in no time.

* An iconic dark salty spread that (most) Australians slap on toast for breakfast (NB explanation for the rest of the world)

Author Bio:

Luke Arnold was born in Australia and has spent the last decade acting his way around the world, playing iconic roles such as Long John Silver in the Emmy-winning Black Sails, Martin Scarsden in the screen adaptation of Chris Hammer’s Scrublands, and his award-winning turn as Michael Hutchence in the INXS mini-series Never Tear Us Apart. When he isn’t performing, Luke is a screenwriter, director and novelist.

He has published three books in The Fetch Phillips Archives, with the fourth instalment on the way. He performs the audiobooks for all his works, and The Last Smile in Sunder City was nominated for Best Fantasy at the 2021 Audie Awards.

Book/ Series Links

Social Media Links

@longlukearnold on Insta, X, and TikTok

Source: FanFi Addict

#black sails #luke arnold #fanfi addict #the last smile in sunder city #the fetch phillips archives #fetch phillips #interview

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