#jean laurent x reader

[elfqueen006]

Abandoned months old Jean x Reader draft about an electrician working on set at the Sunnytime Crew Show

Tw: workplace abuse??

---

"Aren't you done with that yet?"

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply to block out the the shrill voice of your client and current director of the Sunnytime Crew Show, Susie Quentin. You say current because the original creator had taken a backseat to focus more on promoting the series through merchandising and signing off on everything that entails.

Susie was a cutthroat lead writer for a popular drama that was out and independent filmmaker. She took her job very seriously. A little too serious, you thought. There were times she was tolerable but others she was insufferable.

Staff or cast members questioning her were either met with harsh reprimand or a flippant dismissal. It was the same for you, being a freelance electrician, who despite your grievings with the woman, found that you would get a hefty payment when she called you on behalf of the studio - LambsWorks - to work on the set.

You were currently fixing the lights, which were looking too dim according to Susie.

"I said they'd take about fifteen to thirty minutes, Quentin." You said, not taking your eyes off the bulb you were fixing. "You've got to finesse these things..."

"Finesse!" You heard Susie scoff. In that moment you glance down at her.

"You know, I can easily get somebody who can get this done in maybe, five to ten minutes?" The implications of what she said weren't lost on you. And you nearly scoffed yourself. You were one of three electricians in this city, and they did shoddy work with methods that could last maybe a couple of weeks whereas yours could go up to half a year.

In all honesty you weren't that great yourself when starting out, but you quickly learned that if you wanted to get work you were going to have to make yourself irreplaceable. That and using a bit of predatory pricing to drive off competitors. But in all the months you worked with Susie she began to pick up that you didn't really like the "replacement" line. Because even if you were good at your job, Susie was willing to take a risk at getting someone else cheaper to do what she needed.

You frowned deep but decided to speed up the process. It might be a bit rickety by the time you were done, but hell, you wanted to be out right then.

A minute later all the lights were shining brightly on the stage.

You climbed down and looked at Susie, who was smugly satisfied.

"Was that so hard?" She taunted, "Your check will be in the mail."

You bumped shoulders with her as you marched off. At the start of the hallway you saw a couple of the Sunnytime Crew actors, Jean Laurent and Orville Smith. Or better known by their casted monikers - Rory Rainberry and Knackerdan Drizzle. They were still wearing their makeup and costumes, but not their wigs. Jean was having a cigarette.

You'd seen them around when you worked but never formally engaged with them.

You cleared your throat and they both looked at you blankly. You jerk your head, expectant of them to move. They laughed.

"There's an exit around that way." Smith said, pointing a direction you didn't bother looking.

"I'm trying to go through here, it's the quickest way." You replied.

"You're not too good to take a longer walk." Jean said, flippant.

This didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. You really could just walk around. But you'd been decently pissed off by Susie that you took a daring step forward. "Let me get through."

Smith narrowed his eyes at your tone but seemed to hesitate on staying where he was, shifting on his feet a bit. Jean took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in your direction.

With that you shoved past the two of them (but mainly Jean) and marched off to down the hall.

[frickingnerd]

bebe confessing to you

pairing: andre laurent jean geraux / bebe x gn!reader

tags: wholesome fluff, spoilers for bebe's social link

bebe knew that he might not get another chance to tell you how he feels about you, once he went home to france

he planned to return to japan, after convincing his uncle, but in case something went wrong, he needed to tell you how he felt about you!

the day before he confessed to you, bebe stopped by the candy store he frequents, to buy a little something for you

and when his last school day finally came around, bebe had left those sweets he bought for you in your locker, as well as a note, asking you to meet him at his club room after classes end

bebe was nervously awaiting you after class, hoping you'd show up. and when you did, he couldn't hide his smile

without wasting too much time, bebe invited you inside the club room for some alone time, where he told you that he'd have to return to france, but that he had something he needed to tell you before he left

“during my time at gekkoukan, you were my best tomodachi. but if i'm being shojiki– honest, then i always wanted to be more than tomodachis. aishitemasu– i love you!”

[cloudyluun]

Rewrite The Stars | Patreon Series

famous actor!harry x famous actor!reader

New series out now on Patreon!

Series Summary: Y/N and Harry had a one-night stand that went horribly wrong. Now, they’re starring in a romance film together—and the studio wants them to fake date for PR. Between past regrets, scripted passion, and way too much unresolved tension, pretending gets a little too real.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Rewrite The Stars Chapter 1 | Teaser

Summary: Y/N and Harry had a one-night stand that ended in disaster, and now they’re forced to play soulmates on screen—and fake date off-screen. Between scripted kisses, red carpets, and unresolved sexual tension, things spiral fast. Cue the angst, smut, and emotionally constipated idiots.

A/N: Look, I love a good “ex-lovers forced to fake date” trope almost as much as I love making Harry suffer with feelings. This is messy, steamy, and full of bad decisions. Enjoy watching these two idiots pretend they’re not in love. 😌

Word Count: 3,7k

Warnings:

Angst (like, so much angst)

Fake dating shenanigans

Smut (desperate, messy, emotionally charged)

Swearing & sexual tension at unhealthy levels

Poor communication (they are DUMB)

Flashbacks to bad decisions

Mentions of alcohol (drunken one-night stand)

Tabloid gossip & PR manipulation

Harry looking stupidly good in a suit (a warning in itself)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The studio conference room is buzzing with quiet conversations, papers rustling, and the occasional scrape of a chair against polished hardwood. Y/N steps inside, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder, her pulse thrumming in her ears. It’s nothing. Just another table read. Just another job.

And then she sees him.

Harry Styles is leaning against the far end of the long mahogany table, deep in conversation with Sofia Laurent. His profile is sharp in the golden morning light streaming through the windows, his expression unreadable. He laughs at something the director says, and it sends an uncomfortable heat crawling up Y/N’s spine.

She hasn’t seen him in over a year.

Not since that night.

The memories slam into her without warning—a wrap party, too much champagne, his voice low and teasing in her ear, his hands finding her waist as they stumbled into the dimly lit corridor of their hotel. The way he kissed her like he had been waiting for it forever. The way she let him. Tangled sheets, desperate touches, whispered names in the dark. And then the morning after—him sitting on the edge of the bed, already pulling his jeans back on, raking a hand through his messy curls. The silence that stretched between them like a chasm.

His cold, distant text hours later: Last night was a mistake. Let’s not make this a thing.

Y/N had responded with nothing but a thumbs-up emoji. Then she’d blocked his number.

Now, he’s right in front of her, and there’s no blocking, no ignoring. Just a long, inevitable collision waiting to happen.

She forces a smile, smoothing a hand down her sweater as she moves toward an empty seat. Someone’s already put name placards at each spot. Of course, hers is directly across from Harry’s.

He looks up as she slides into her chair. Their eyes meet.

Something flickers in his gaze—recognition, hesitation, something she refuses to name. Then it’s gone, and he nods in greeting, cool and professional.

“Morning,” he says. Like he’s speaking to a colleague. Like he doesn’t remember every inch of her skin under his hands.

Y/N swallows down the bitterness rising in her throat. “Morning.”

Sofia claps her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s get started! We’re diving in with the final scene today. I want to establish the emotional stakes right away.”

A production assistant starts handing out script copies. Y/N flips hers open, her fingers tightening around the pages when she sees what’s in front of her.

EMILIA: “It’s always been you.”

LUCA: “Then stay.”

(They kiss. It’s desperate, raw. Years of longing unravel in one final embrace.)

Y/N can feel Harry’s gaze on her before she even looks up. When she does, his expression is unreadable, but his grip on the script is just a little too tight.

Everyone is watching. Waiting.

Sofia leans forward, smiling. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Y/N exhales slowly. They have no choice but to dive in.

Except she already has—just not here, not in this room full of watchful eyes and murmured instructions. No, she’s already drowning, slipping under waves of memory that pull her back to that night.

It had been inevitable. The tension had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. It lingered in stolen glances on set, in the way their banter teetered on the edge of something sharper, something that made her pulse race.

But that night? That was when it finally snapped.

The wrap party had been a blur of flashing lights, clinking glasses, and too much champagne. She remembered the way Harry had watched her from across the room, half-smirking, half-serious. She’d pretended not to notice, even as her body betrayed her, drawn to him like some gravitational pull she couldn’t fight.

They’d danced. Not together, not at first. But close enough that when she turned, she could feel the heat of him at her back, the ghost of his breath against her skin.

And then the teasing started.

"Didn’t know you could move like that," he'd murmured against the shell of her ear, his voice thick with something that made her toes curl in her heels.

She’d turned to face him, lifting a brow. "There’s a lot you don’t know about me."

His eyes had darkened at that. "Yeah?"

One more drink. One more shared smirk. One more second of letting the tension coil tighter and tighter until neither of them could stand it anymore.

They’d barely made it out of the venue before it exploded.

A rushed exit. A slammed hotel door.

Clothes peeling away between frantic, breathless kisses.

Harry had been different that night—possessive, desperate. His hands mapped her body like he was trying to memorize her, his lips tracing a path down her throat, her collarbone, lower. She could still hear his voice, raspy and wrecked against her skin.

"You feel so good."

"Been wanting this for so long."

She’d been lost in him, in the way he made her feel like the center of the universe. But when morning came, the warmth was gone.

She’d woken up to sunlight filtering through the hotel curtains, stretching out across sheets that were already cooling beside her.

Harry had been sitting at the edge of the bed, half-dressed, running a hand through his curls.

Something in his posture had been different. Stiff. Guarded.

She’d wanted to reach for him, to trace her fingers along his spine, to whisper something to break the silence.

But before she could, he’d spoken.

"Let’s not make this a thing."

Just like that. No hesitation. No second thought.

Then he’d stood, buttoned his jeans, and walked out the door.

Y/N had stared at the empty space he left behind, the ghost of his touch still burning on her skin. She’d told herself it didn’t matter. That it had just been a mistake. That it hadn’t meant anything.

But then, three days later, she’d seen the pictures.

Harry Styles, arm draped around some model, grinning for the cameras like that night had never happened.

And now, sitting across from him, script clutched in her hands, she wonders how the hell she’s supposed to pretend it still doesn’t hurt.

She doesn’t have long to dwell on it.

The read-through begins, and like clockwork, she and Harry slip into their roles. The dialogue flows, their voices weaving together effortlessly, but it’s the way they look at each other—the tension thick, electric—that makes everyone in the room take notice.

It shouldn’t surprise her. Their chemistry has always been undeniable, even before that night. It was why they were cast together in the first place. But now, it feels different. More loaded.

He delivers his lines with the same careful precision he always does, but his eyes linger too long, his throat bobs when she leans too close. Her pulse quickens, betraying her.

When they reach the final scene—the kiss—Sofia watches them closely, tapping her fingers against the armrest of her chair.

Afterward, as the room empties out for a break, a couple of the studio execs murmur to each other before motioning for her and Harry to stay behind.

The door closes.

“We need to talk,” Sofia says, exchanging a look with the executives.

Y/N folds her arms, already bracing herself. “That’s never a good start.”

One of the execs, a tall man in an expensive suit, steps forward. “We need buzz around this movie. There’s already speculation about you two. We want to lean into that.”

Y/N frowns. “What kind of speculation?”

Another exec, a woman in a sleek black dress, smirks. “Oh, come on. The tension? The history? The way you two look at each other?” She tilts her head. “People think there’s something real there. We think it’s good for the film.”

Y/N scoffs, crossing her arms. “You want us to fake date?”

“Not just fake date,” the man clarifies. “We want the world to believe you’re soulmates. We want red carpets, Instagram posts, candid moments. Full package.”

Y/N shakes her head, the absurdity of it all making her chest tighten. “Are you serious? That’s—”

“Fine.”

Her head snaps toward Harry so fast she almost gives herself whiplash.

He’s standing next to her, hands in his pockets, looking entirely unaffected.

Y/N blinks. “What?”

“We’ll do it.” His voice is steady, final.

She stares at him, stunned. He won’t even look at her.

The deal is made before she can even process it. The studio execs beam, Sofia claps her hands together, and within minutes, their PR team is already setting the plan in motion. By the time Y/N steps outside the meeting room, her phone is buzzing with an email outlining their first official appearance as Hollywood’s hottest new couple.

The Venice Film Festival.

Three weeks later, she stands in front of her hotel mirror, smoothing down the silky fabric of her dress. The deep emerald slip hugs her in all the right places, skimming over curves in a way that should make her feel powerful. Instead, her stomach is twisted in knots.

A sharp knock at the door makes her jump.

She exhales, then opens it.

Harry stands in the hallway, devastatingly gorgeous in a perfectly tailored black suit. The crisp lines, the slightly unbuttoned shirt, the rings that catch in the soft light—unfair.

His gaze drags over her, slow and unreadable.

"You ready?" His voice is even, detached.

"Do I have a choice?" she mutters, grabbing her clutch.

He doesn’t answer.

The red carpet is a blur of flashing lights, shouted questions, and the ever-present hum of cameras capturing their every move.

Y/N can feel the heat of Harry’s hand on the small of her back as they step into the crowd, can hear the low murmurs of speculation from reporters lined along the velvet ropes. She lifts her chin, slipping into the role expected of her—one half of Hollywood’s most talked-about on-screen lovers, now supposedly together in real life.

Harry leans in slightly, voice just above a whisper.

“Smile, love.”

The way he says it—low, smooth, his accent curling around the words—sends a shiver down her spine.

She forces one. It looks real.

The cameras love them, and the world is eating it up. The flicker of their fingers brushing together, the easy way he laughs at something she pretends to say, the way his eyes drop to her lips like they’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

And then, the questions start.

“Harry, Y/N—are you two dating?”

“You look very comfortable together.”

Y/N opens her mouth to respond, but Harry beats her to it.

“We’re lucky to have found each other.”

The words roll off his tongue smoothly, like he actually believes them.

Y/N swallows, gripping the fabric of her dress.

By the time they’re back in the car, her phone is already blowing up. Twitter is in flames. The headlines are everywhere.

HARRY STYLES AND Y/N CONFIRM THEIR ROMANCE AT VENICE FILM FESTIVAL.

LUCA AND EMILIA, BUT MAKE IT REAL.

The internet explodes.

Her notifications are a wildfire, consuming every corner of her phone. Harry Styles and Y/N CONFIRM their romance at Venice Film Festival. The chemistry is REAL. Fan edits, speculation, analysis of every touch, every glance.

But none of it is real.

And she’s seething.

That night, Y/N storms through the dimly lit hallway of Harry’s hotel floor, fists clenched at her sides. She barely takes a breath before pounding on his door.

It swings open almost immediately.

Harry stands there, now stripped of his red-carpet polish. His suit jacket is gone, shirt half-unbuttoned, tattoos peeking through the undone fabric. His curls are messier than they were hours ago, like he’s been running his hands through them.

“Y/N,” he sighs, already sounding exasperated.

She pushes past him, stepping into the spacious hotel suite. “What the hell was that?”

He exhales heavily, shutting the door behind them. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

She spins to face him. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the way you told the entire world we’re together without even discussing it with me first?”

He shrugs, undoing the cuffs of his sleeves. “You want this movie to succeed, don’t you?”

Her jaw clenches. “Don’t act like you’re doing this for the movie.” She takes a step closer, glaring up at him. “You’re doing it because it’s convenient.”

Harry’s expression shifts, something flickering behind his eyes—something dark. He mirrors her step forward, closing the distance between them.

“And you’re not?”

Her breath catches. The air between them thickens, electric. His voice is lower now, rougher, and his gaze flickers between her eyes and her mouth.

“You don’t get to act like you care now,” she forces out, but it sounds weaker than she intends.

Silence.

His jaw clenches, and something snaps in his expression.

“You think I don’t care?” His voice is quiet, but there’s something dangerous in it, something raw.

She doesn’t get the chance to answer.

Because suddenly, Harry is on her.

His hands find her face, his mouth crashes into hers, and whatever fight they were having burns away instantly.

It’s all heat, all frustration—pent-up anger bleeding into something dangerous, something intoxicating.

Harry backs her up until she collides with the dresser, the sharp edge pressing into her lower back. His hands find her waist, fingers digging into the silk of her dress, and he lifts her onto the cool wood like she weighs nothing.

Y/N gasps, gripping his shoulders, nails biting into his skin through his half-unbuttoned shirt.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she whispers, even though she knows it’s a lie.

Harry exhales a sharp laugh, lips ghosting along her jaw before he nips at the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

“Say that again.” His voice is low, thick, dripping with something smug—something dangerous.

She doesn’t. Because she can’t.

Not when his hands are already pushing her dress up, fabric bunching around her thighs. Not when his fingers are dragging up the bare skin of her legs, slow, purposeful, teasing.

Not when she’s already aching for more.

Her breath stutters as he palms the inside of her thigh, pushing her legs wider. He’s watching her now, eyes dark, hungry, waiting for her to stop him.

She doesn’t.

His fingers skim higher, over the lace of her underwear, pressing against the damp heat there.

“You hate me, don’t you?” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but there’s something else layered beneath it. Something vulnerable.

She should say yes.

But then he pushes the lace aside and slides a single finger through her slick folds, teasing at her entrance before dipping inside, and her only answer is a sharp gasp.

His lips curl against her skin.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth along the line of her throat. “That’s what I thought.”

She clenches her jaw, refusing to give him anything more, but it’s impossible when he moves his fingers so deliberately, so expertly. Curling, twisting, stroking that spot inside her that makes her thighs shake.

Her head falls back against the mirror behind her, exposing more of her throat to his lips, his teeth. He takes advantage of it, sucking a mark into her skin as he works her open, one finger turning into two, his thumb circling her clit just enough to make her hips jerk.

“Harry,” she chokes out.

He hums, pleased.

She doesn’t realize she’s gripping his arm until his muscles flex beneath her fingertips, his bicep taut as he keeps her steady. Her entire body is trembling, the coil inside her winding so tight, pleasure mounting too quickly for her to stop it.

And he knows.

He knows exactly how close she is, how desperate she’s becoming, how much she needs him.

But he doesn’t let her have it yet.

Instead, he withdraws his fingers, slow and deliberate, watching her reaction like it’s his favorite thing in the world.

Her lips part in protest, but before she can speak, he’s undoing his belt with one hand, shoving his trousers down just enough.

His cock is already hard, flushed and leaking, and when he grips himself, stroking slowly, she nearly whimpers at the sight.

“This what you want?” His voice is rough, teasing, but there’s something else behind it—something just as desperate.

She doesn’t answer.

She just grabs his face and kisses him again, hard, as she hooks her legs around his waist, dragging him in.

Harry groans into her mouth, lining himself up, and then—

He thrusts forward, filling her in one slow, deep stroke.

Y/N gasps, fingers digging into his back.

He stills for a moment, forehead pressing to hers, breathing heavy.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “So tight.”

She swallows hard, barely able to think, barely able to breathe as he pulls back and thrusts in again.

And then again.

And again.

His grip on her tightens, hands curling around her thighs as he sets a steady rhythm, each roll of his hips perfectly precise, perfectly deep, like he needs her to feel every inch of him.

Like he wants to ruin her.

The dresser rocks beneath them, the sound of skin against skin filling the hotel room.

It’s fast, desperate, filthy.

And yet—

It’s also slow. Lingering. Drawn out in a way that makes her chest ache.

He leans in, pressing his lips to her shoulder, her throat, breathing her in like he doesn’t want to let go.

And that’s what makes this different.

Not the way he fucks her, but the way he holds her.

The way his hand comes up to cup her jaw, tilting her head to look at him as he thrusts deep one final time, the coil inside her snapping, her body shattering apart around him.

The way he follows right after, groaning her name into her skin as he spills inside her.

Afterward, the room is quiet, save for the heavy rise and fall of their breaths.

Y/N lies tangled in the sheets, barely able to process what just happened.

She waits for him to leave.

Because that’s what he did last time.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stays.

Y/N barely sleeps.

She should, after the way he wrecked her—after the way they wrecked each other. But her body won’t let her, still thrumming with adrenaline, oversensitive and restless even as exhaustion weighs her limbs down.

It’s not just the sex.

It’s the way he’s still here.

The way his arm is heavy around her waist, pinning her to the mattress. The way his slow, steady breaths tickle the back of her neck. The way his fingers, even in sleep, twitch against her skin, as if his body refuses to stop touching her.

The last time this happened, he left before she could even open her eyes.

Now, she’s the one who wants to leave first.

Déjà vu.

She stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours before she finally moves. Careful, slow, untangling herself from his grasp as gently as she can. His arm is heavy, muscles flexing even in sleep, and she has to hold her breath as she lifts it off of her.

When she’s finally free, she exhales. Swings her legs over the edge of the bed.

Her dress is still on the floor, a heap of silk puddled near the dresser. She moves toward it, keeping her steps light, mindful of every shift in the sheets behind her.

Almost there.

She bends down, fingers just brushing the fabric—

“Don’t.”

Her heart stops.

His voice is hoarse, thick with sleep, a quiet rasp in the dimly lit hotel room.

She freezes.

Her fingers curl into the fabric of her dress, but she doesn’t lift it. Doesn’t turn around.

“Y/N,” he says again, softer this time.

Her breath comes shallow, uneven. She forces herself to stand upright, forces herself to steady her voice.

“I should go.”

Silence.

Then, the rustling of sheets, the mattress shifting.

She doesn’t have to look to know he’s sitting up.

“I don’t want you to.”

It’s barely above a whisper. Like he doesn’t want to say it out loud, doesn’t want to give it power.

Her throat tightens.

Last time, he didn’t say anything at all.

Last time, she woke up to cold sheets and an unreadable text hours later.

Now, he’s asking her to stay.

And she doesn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

Slowly, she turns around.

Harry is watching her, propped up on one arm, hair a mess of curls, lips still swollen from kissing her. His eyes—greener in the dim light—stay locked onto hers, searching.

She grips the dress tighter.

“I don’t know what this is,” she admits, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry exhales, running a hand over his face. “Me neither.”

She nods once, lips pressing together. The moment stretches, tense and fragile, like one wrong move could shatter it completely.

He shifts again, swings his legs over the side of the bed. “But I know I don’t want it to be like last time.”

Her chest tightens.

And for the first time since that night over a year ago, she lets herself wonder—

If maybe… just maybe…

He doesn’t either.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

If you love angst, tension-filled romance, and two idiots pretending they’re not in love, Rewrite the Stars is for you! 

[del-likes-writing]

Fools On Parade

Jean Kirstein x reader + mildly cannon compliant + 1k words

The daughter of a powerful nobleman and a brave soldier return to each other time and time again.

Forbidden romance + no use of y/n + no smut + princess x knight if you squint

Ch. 1 ♥*♡∞:｡.｡ ‘Not Enough to Stop’｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The wind carried the cool summer night air through the open lounge window, making the curtains dance softly and sending a chill through your body. Pulling the blanket wrapped around you tighter, you remain at the windowsill, waiting. 

Not desperately- you weren't waiting in vain, but still sunset had come and gone and there you were idly, still; watching for a sign of your patron in the empty grounds of the Laurent estate.

Inside, the halls are silent. Gilded, polished, and completely still. You think, morbidly, that it resembles a mausoleum- built to host decadent parties and vapid nobles: showy grandeur with no substance except the shallow social alliances so easily forged and broken. How fickle. You’ve gotten used to it— learned to treat it like a stage. By now you knew your part well: the beautifully dressed, dutiful daughter of a high ranking MP. A diplomatic pawn pretty enough to be noticed by the spoiled officials and noblemen; charming enough to be remembered; sweet enough to be non-threatening.

Moments like these- real moments you treasured. 

And yet, the knock at the door interrupting the silence isn't unwanted.  

Rising from your post by the window, you grin.

You open the door and as expected are face to face with Jean Kirstein—hood up, brow furrowed, dirt still clinging to the cuff of his jacket.

“You came here right after today’s expedition?” you ask, tilting your head like you don’t already know the answer.

Jean sighed. “Don’t think it was a deliberate choice, it was that, or being even more late- there were complications.”

“Another ship from Marley? And here I thought you were just desperate to see me.”

He let out a quiet, knowing huff. “You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are.”

You step back. Wordlessly, he enters.

—

The estate’s guest salon was rarely used. Too intimate and private for Lord Lauret’s tastes. Which made it perfect for this private meeting in his own home.

You hand Jean a cloth, he takes it and scrubs at the side of his jaw absently, watching from the corner of his eye as you light a lamp.

“I saw you at the last capital debrief” you start, settling onto the couch with deliberate elegance. “From across the room you looked well for someone on the front lines.”

Jean dropped into the chair opposite her, rolling his neck. “If you can call it that, it's not really a fair fight for the Marleyan ships when we have a titan ambush them.”

“I know you saw me too,” you say, voice light, but gaze steady. “I was hoping to catch you alone, but that proved difficult as always.”

“Forgive me for not making myself available to you, but I didn’t think you would appreciate the suspicion from being seen publicly.”

A grim smile crosses your face, “No, you were right, but it would’ve been nice.” 

You’d been playing this game for a little over a year now. Begging your father to take you with him on his visits to the Survey Corp headquarters; stealing glances from across meeting rooms; conversations disguised as polite exchanges—offering directions neither of you needed, lingering under flimsy excuses, hearts fluttering with the thrill of the quiet rebellion. You could afford to be more obvious back then. Back when all of paradis was hopeful with the eradication of the titans and too busy worrying about the threatening outside world to notice two lovesick teenagers. 

Now, things were different.

Now, Jean was... what was he now? A leader. A soldier. A man who had seen too many people die to believe in luxuries like timing or safety.

And you? You, the well-dressed daughter of a military official—valuable enough to protect, watched too closely to love freely.

Still, he was here. Dust and all. 

The light of the lamp cast a shadow on his face, making him look somehow more intimidating, a strange contrast to his boyish awkwardly long hair. 

“You look tired,” you say softly. What you mean is: are you tired of this?

He didn’t respond right away.

Meeting your eyes cautiously, “I am, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be” he muttered.

“Then how come you pretend you don’t?”

You rise slowly. Crossing the distance between the two of you, fingers brushing his hand before sitting on the armrest of his chair. Jean didn’t move.

“Don’t—”

“You kissed me last time,” you say, smiling slyly. “Don’t act shy now.”

“I’m not shy,” he grumbles, clearly flustered. “I’m serious. If someone saw me—”

“Hitch let you in and no one else knows you’re here,” you reassure sweetly. “Times like these are so rare, it’s best to take advantage.”

He turns, your faces inches apart and his conviction slipping.

“I know that… better than most,” his face slightly flushed.

His eyebrows are raised and eyes intense, giving you a full view of the conflict going on within his own head.

You tilt your head, affectionately studying his expression and bringing up a hand to cup his face.

He places his hand over yours, meeting your eyes.

“Come on,” you pull back to stand up, “I’ll make sure the guards are gone-”

He kisses you then.

It’s messy and awkward- unplanned and real. You return the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling you closer.

He pulls back. 

“We’re going to get caught someday,” he whispered.

“I don’t care, do you?”

“Not enough to stop.”

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ End Ch. 1｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[athenaderiva]

Tattoo Artist Pt2

Laurent Leclaire x F!Reader

Around 1000 words

Part one here

Thank you to @winniethewife for some aid with dialogue

You pace in your flat nervously an hour before you’re supposed to meet Laurent. You stop in front of your mirror for the eighteenth time to stare at your outfit. Jeans, band tee, leather jacket, vans. You look at your phone and curse, realising if you don’t leave now you’ll be late. One last application of lip balm and your feet carry you out the door to your favourite coffee shop. Laurent waves you over to his booth and you smile, the nerves dissipating almost immediately.

You slide into the booth across from him.

“I’m glad you messaged me.” His warm voice consumes you. “I took a chance on that business card, and I’m -“

“I know.” You say with a small smile as the waitress comes and refills his coffee pot. He thanks her before returning his attention to you. “I’m glad I did too.” You say, his eyes gazing into yours and you feel so much more alive than you did twenty minutes ago in your flat. He picks up the coffee pot and pours you a cup. You add a splash of milk and a sugar cube, watching him as he supplied his black coffee without sugar.

“Oh, you like it as sweet as you are.” He says with a cheeky smile.

The date goes better than you expected. You laugh together, drinking way more cups of coffee than you should. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so light.

Within a month, you and Laurent have been for five different coffees in five different shops after five tattoos. Each one has been more and more discounted, much to Camilo’s annoyance. The one constant is Laurent never lets you pay for the coffee.

He smiles at you over your sixth cup in your sixth shop after your sixth tattoo. His hand is wrapped around yours and you feel warmth spreading from where he’s touching your skin.

“Why don’t you ever let me pay?” You ask and he chuckles.

“How could I ever let someone as beautiful as you pay? Pieces of art don’t pay for anything.” He says and you blush. It’s the same every time he compliments you.

“I’m only a piece of art because of your drawings.” You say quickly. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“No. The first moment I saw you sat there nervously waiting, I knew you were the most beautiful piece of art I’d ever seen. And now? You’re somehow even more beautiful.” He says, his thumb brushing your knuckles. You look up at him and he smiles in a way you’ve grown to adore.

“This past month has been so wonderful, Laurent,” you say and his smile widens.

“I agree. That’s why I wanted to ask you something.” You pause, putting your cup down and he takes your hands both into his own. “I know it’s only been a month, but I really adore you. You’re kind, and smart, and funny, and so beautiful. I was wondering if you would want to officially be my girl.” You pause for a moment, processing his words.

“Yes.” You whisper. He grins and surges toward you, leaning over the table to capture your lips with his own. “Your girl.” You whisper against his lips and he all but groans. You wonder what it would be like to hear- you cut off your thoughts as you kiss him back gently. You can feel him smiling against your lips before you break the kiss.

“My girl.” He repeats, as though he’s savouring the way the words taste in his mouth. He grins like a boy who just discovered how it feels to get dirty for the first time. “Shall we?” He asks, standing up and offering you his arm, having paid already despite your protests. You loop your arm through his and the two of you leave the cafe, wandering through the streets of Paris as though it was your city.

You find your way to Montmartre, the village that his tattoo shop is set up in. You sigh as you arrive at the Sacre-Coeur, the church of sacred heart. “I love the view from up here,” you say as you look down the steps that you had climbed to look over the village.

Laurent is staring at you when he replies, “me too.” He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as he turns to gaze over the village. You look at him and smile, gazing at his side profile. “I used to want to be a painter.” Laurent says absent-mindedly. You turn back to gaze at the village as the two of you sit down at the top of the stairs.

“What stopped you?”

“Not as many hot women.” He jokes and you chuckle, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Being a tattooist meant I could paint and be social with a bunch of people and find out about their lives. I like that.” He says with a smile.

You place your hand on the ground between you as the sun begins to set.

He rests his hand on yours.

“Do you know what the French would say about a view like this?” You ask and he looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“I was asking you!” You reply, nudging his shoulder with yours. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“They would say it’s beautiful, but not as beautiful as you.” You blush and he smiles.

In the pink, orange and purple hues of the sunset, your eyes almost seem to have an otherworldly glow. Laurent knows he’ll never recover from the sight.

[love-karens-style]

School of Style – Cool in Camel: 3 Fast Facts

(source: © pinterest.com)

“Accessories are what, in my opinion pull the whole look together and make it unique.” –Yves Saint Laurent

1. Brown Bag – First and foremost gentlemen, as you can see, the model’s wonderful weekend bag clearly co-ordinates, with his choice of footwear, gloves and glasses, for a nice and neat finish. The model’s weekend bag is made from what appears to be leather that is of high quality. Meticulous maintenance gentlemen, is really required, to help ensure that your leathers lasts a long time. To help to properly prolong the life of your leathers, I recommend a neutral (so that it can be used on all leather colours), leather protector spray, especially as leather experts, would advise that “leather does not like water.” Try a leather protector, such as ‘Woly Wet Blocker,’ and carefully follow the instructions on the can, and patch test the spray on a deeply discreet area, to ensure that it’s right for your leather(s). Furthermore gentlemen, this weekend bag is undeniably useful, especially if you are a fan of ‘travelling light.’ In his book, The 9 Secrets of Highly Attractive Men, Kamal Jahid advises his readers to “Travel with style,” especially if you are “Heading for a weekend trip.” You never who you will meet on your travels, so it’s important to present yourself properly, as you could meet a future partner, business partner, or employer.

2. Lip Love – In next place gentlemen, lips, like the eye area, is feature that is thinner than the rest of the face. Unfortunately, lips are prone to developing wrinkles, and therefore require proper protection, against sun damage, which is one of the main causes of skin ageing. The sun’s rays are very good at ageing the lips, which is why amazing author David Scott Bartky sensibly states in his book, “Don’t forget about your lips! To keep your lips looking great, get yourself a natural lip quencher that has an SPF in it. Lips can get sun damaged too if not protected with an SPF.” Wise words from his book, Grooming Secrets for Men: The Ultimate Guide to Looking and Feeling Your Best. If it is available in your country, you may like to try ‘Brickell No Shine Lip Balm,’ which is aimed at gentlemen, and offers SPF protection. I personally haven’t used this product, but it may be worth trying it out, given the low price point.

3. Scarf Success – In third and final place, gentlemen, the model’s scarf, as you may have noticed, pulls the outfit together, and the colours cleverly complement the model’s coat, jeans, leathers and pullover. A classy and co-ordinated outfit, in my view, usually results in a fabulous finish. The statement scarf in my opinion, adds the finishing touch to the model’s look. Not only that gentleman, but the model doesn’t appear to be wearing much jewellery, except for a ‘basic’ bracelet. I believe that most of the time, basic is best, and I’m sure that Coco Chanel would possibly agree. Because, in her own words, “Simplicity is the keynote of all true elegance.”

Love, KF X                                                                                            

Happy to help: karensworldofstyle@live.co.uk or karens_style on X (Twitter)

This article was researched, written, edited, produced & published by Karen, on 14th February 2025

[lovelytsunoda]

a thousand miles // mick schumacher

summary: searching for life after f1, the race of champions may just have the answer mick needs, in the form of a shy former w series driver who is just as lost as he is

pairing: mick schumacher x female driver!reader

warnings: mentions of guenther steiner/haas, karaoke, matchmaker val returns! corinna the icon is also trying to get her son to go on a date, one small joke about crashing a rally car.

author's note: @magnummagnussen told me this was a terrible idea. i beg to differ : )

the swedish sunlight bounced off the snowdrifts outside of the ski lodge, illuminating the inside of the dining hall where the drivers milled about and socialized, bright smiles on their faces.

mick saw her first.

he was locked in conversation with seb, his eyes catching her just out of the corner of his line of sight, hair braided messily over one shoulder, wearing skinny jeans and a hoodie for a band he's never heard of, a pom pom hat with the race of champions logo on it as she nervously clutched a breakfast tray and tried to figure out where to sit.

normally, she would have sat with jamie chadwick, but the brit had decided to go for an early run, and had left the other former w series driver alone.

it was valtteri who noticed the young german driver's wandering eyes first. with a smile and a sip of his espresso, he waved the young woman over, enjoying the look of panic on mick's face.

"valtteri!" mick hissed. "why would you do that!?"

"because you've been miserable since abu dhabi and you need to let loose a little bit."

mick couldn't exactly protest. since learning that he had been dropped from the haas formula one team just hours before the qualifying session for the last race of the season was due to start, there had been a hole in his heart, something that he couldn't patch up.

but he knew that a short lived roc fling was the last thing that would help him out.

"hi." she said sofltly her voice like music to mick's ears. "can i sit with you guys? jamie kind of left me high and dry this morning."

sebastian smiled, ever the gentleman as he motioned towards the free seat next to him.

the free seat that also happened to be next to a certain young schumacher.

"i'm y/n y/l/n, i used to drive in the w series for quantfury. i'm felipe's teammate for all star team this weekend." she introduced herself as she picked at the paper wrapper on her double chocolate muffin, an untouched mug of hot chocolate and whipped cream on the other end of the tray.

"mick schumacher, fellow racing reject." mick joked nervously, reaching out to shake the young woman's hand. "formerly of the haas formula one team and the ferrari driver's academy. now proudly driving reserve for mercedes."

"i'm technically a part of the alpine young driver's programme, but it's not like they've done any work at getting me closer to driving an f1 car. not that i blame them, all of otmar and laurent's efforts were on the piastri thing this season."

"technicalities only matter in this sport when the fia get what they want." seb hummed. "i'm-"

"sebastian vettel, racing legend!" y/n gushed. "i'm like, a huge fan. i grew up watching you on the telly, i had a poster of you at red bull hanging up in my room. this is so fucking surreal, dude. heck, i walked past mika hakkinen earlier and thought i was going to cry."

the rest of the table laughed. "mick was like that when he was here last year." seb said fondly. "i think everybody is like that when they come here for the first time."

"mika fucking hakkinen, man."

seb and val shared a look before looking back over at mick.

they knew.

the boy was smitten already.

--------

the press conference took place at exactly noon, and as was typical of the roc, most of the scheduled drivers were late.

it's not that y/n was late on purpose. but she was horrifically lost inside the chalet and had been turned around four or five different time trying to find her way to the conference room, overheating in her race suit in the warm chalet.

the directions were loaded on her phone, but she still felt like it was a lost cause as she rolled up the sleeves of deep blue nomex material, leaning her head against the wall to take a few deep breaths.

everything was fine. everything was okay. she was safe.

she heard voices coming from her left, and her heart skipped a beat.

the press conference. she had found it.

she rushed inside, trying to duck out of view of the cameras as she scurried to the table at the front of the room. catching her eye from the distance, mick waved at her, a small smile on her face that was enough to put a matching smile on her own as she took a seat in between the german and her teammate, felipe drugovich.

"where have you been?" felipe asked quietly.

she shook her head, unwilling to admit that she had gotten lost. "don't worry about it."

"so nice of you to join us, miss y/l/n." one of the reporters said, the young driver snapping to attention and reaching for the desktop microphone, fumbling with it and trying not to knock it over. "with the w series seemingly ended permanently, what's next for you after this weekend?"

"i'm still trying to make my 2023 plans." she said softly, the microphone barely catching her soft voice. she had always hated media commitments. "obviously an f3 place is out of the question right now, and it's pretty obvious that i'm too old for all that now, so i've been looking into these one-off racing opportunities and tests so that i can find out what i want to do in 2024."

she felt her throat get tighter, the sweat forming on the back of her neck as she nervously reached one black polished fingernail to brush an errant strand of hair from her bun to the space behind her ear.

"hey." mick said softly, nudging her in the side. "you're doing great."

she took a deep breath before flashing mick a smile as she continued talking.

"i've got a few races lined up with the nascar xfinity series down in the united states, and i'm really looking forward to it. racing in america has a completely different vibe to it, you know?"

--------

the next time mick saw y/n, he was with his mother, testing out the rally car during the free practice session.

she was impossible to miss, her screams of delight carrying over the wind and followed up by laughter as the car caught air going over a hill.

it was enough to make the boy freeze behind the wheel, corinna giving him a knowing look.

"what's her name, mickie?" corinna said with a smile, pulling out her phone, no doubt to see who her son was so infatuated with.

"y/n y/l/n." mick said softly. "but i dont know her that well, mom."

"oh, she's pretty!" corinna beamed, pulling up the driver's instagram profile. "look, she's a perfect fit for you, she's quiet and she's shy and she doesn't go to parties!"

"mom, i swear to god i will crash this car and make you walk back to the chalet yourself!"

mick rolled his eyes, turning his head back to the windshield as he took a sharp corner around the track. it's not that he hadn't thought about y/n since the presser. he thought she was sweet, and he would deny it if asked, but he looked forward to seeing her and knew that when life went back to normal after roc, that he would miss her.

"you don't have anything to lose, mick. what's the harm in even just going for a coffee with her or something? i'm not telling you to marry the girl, but at least give romance a chance."

the german would think about his mother's words all day: through his time in the sauna, to the ice bath and then again at dinner. the thoughts would eventually keep him awake at night, unable to fall asleep while wrapped in the hotels luxury down bedding.

he found himself wandering the chalet at odd hours of the night, lost in his own thoughts as he meandered towards the coffee machine in the lobby. if he was going to stay awake, he might as well stay warm as well.

the chalet doors slid open, and mick's breath caught in his throat as he watched her stride into the lobby, wearing a different beanie hat but the same one ok rock hoodie she had been wearing when he eyed her for the first time, a puffy tan jacket pulled over the entire ensemble and a plastic bag for a swedish supermarket hanging from her arm.

"mick!" she shouted, face bright as she crossed the lobby. "couldn't sleep?"

the boy shrugged, trying to play it cool even though his palms were sweaty and his heart was racing and was she always this pretty? was that mole on her upper lip always there?

"come on, let me introduce you to my favorite pre-race ritual." she beamed, pulling a bag of edible pilsbury cookie dough from the bag, along with two metal spoons clearly stolen from the breakfast buffet.

mick couldn't help but laugh. "how has your performance coach not killed you yet?"

"what she doesn't know won't kill her. who is she to rob me of life's greatest pleasures?"

pinching himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming, mick followed the driver back to her hotel room. her energy was magnetic, and mick couldn't help but be drawn in.

they settled on the plush bed, shrouded in blankets as she overturned the shopping bag, allowing it's contents to fall to the blanket.

"so, this is what i watch when it's been a long day, or if i don't have the mental energy to focus on anything else." she said with a cheeky smile as she popped open her laptop. "when i was in the w series, it was juju noda who got me hooked on the really cheesy j-dramas. i already watched the darker asian dramas, like the psychological thrillers and everything, but it was juju who got me hooked on the romance ones when we watched coffee and vanilla."

she clicked onto disney plus, waiting for it to lead as she opened the canister of cookie dough in her hand. after the screen loaded, she navigated her cursor over to an orange thumbnail.

"this is yakuza lover: romance and bullets. and yes, it's as mind-numbing as it sounds."

they watched a few episodes, exchanging bites of cookie dough and popping open bottles of flavored sparkling water as the characters on the screen kept digging themselves into holes they couldn't get out of.

"do they not take one look at the dialogue and go 'what the fuck is going on here'?" mick asked quizzically, staring at the fictional yakuza boss on the screen. "like, seriously? and she finds that even remotely attractive?"

"it reads like a bad wattpad novel, and that's enough for me when i don't want to think about anything." y/n laughed, shoveling another spoonful of cookie dough into her mouth. "either that or i watch a concert film or something. i live for live music. hate parties, but i'll go to a good concert any day. that's why i liked racing, you know? not for the fame or the money, but for the travel, the means to an end."

her eyes went wide, and mick was captivated, hanging on to her every word.

"have you heard of one ok rock? probably not, since you didn't mention it when you saw my sweater earlier, but they have this one really good concert film from when they played yokohama stadium, it's called mighty long fall. i saw them live in 2018 on the 'ambitions' tour, so that's a good film as well if you can find it, but mighty long fall is one of my favourite live concerts like ever."

mick was struggling to follow everything, as she seemed to have talked without even breathing, her fingers flying across they keyboard as she searched for 'mighty long fall' on youtube.

he was well and truly smitten with her as she loaded the concert, seemingly skipping to a particularly important part.

"this has to be one of my favoruite songs they've ever done, and it's not even theirs."

mick would have recognized the piano arrangement anywhere. anybody born before two thousand and five would have. the japanese band on the screen was playing an acoustic rendition of 'a thousand miles' by vanessa carlton.

"making my way downtown, walking fast, faces past and i'm homebound."

she was singing off key, but that seemed to be the point as she threw her head back and forth, her hair flying everywhere as she beamed, singing into the metal spoon as if it was a karaoke microphone.

"come on, schumacher. i know you know the words!" she laughed, mick laughing along with her as his face turned pink. "sing it with me!"

and when she looked at him like that, what else was he supposed to do?

---------

and just as quickly as it began, the race of champions weekend was officially over.

gathered in the warm den of the chalet, the drivers milled about and chatted among themselves, jazz music playing in the background as a warm fire crackled in the hearth.

y/n and felipe had placed second in the nations cup as the all-star team, and she seemed to glow from the happiness of the somewhat victory as she stood off to the side with both her teammate and jamie chadwick.

mick couldn't help himself, staring at her with a lovestruck gaze from the other side of the room, where he stood with sebastian and valtteri. mick and y/n had grown infinitely closer over the course of the weekend, but mick hadn't had the courage to ask for her phone number, or to properly take her out on a date.

and soon, he'd lose those chances for good.

"the way i see it, you don't have anything to lose." seb suggested, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "the worst that could happen is that you made a new friend, who doesn't want to be more than that."

"why not just accept things as they are?" mick whined. "the weekend is almost over anyways!"

"it's never too late for a romantic gesture." valtteri suggested, nodding his head towards where a karaoke machine had been set up by team norway earlier in the night.

and that's when mick knew what he needed to do. with seb and val's help, he managed to get everything rigged, set up and ready to go.

when the music started playing, she knew that it was meant for her, all conversation stopping at that piano arrangement as she stopped to look at the german, hands nervously gripping the microphone as he began to sing.

"making my way downtown, walking fast, faces past and i'm homebound."

jamie broke out into a grin, turning to look the the other female driver. "there's no other person this could possibly be meant for. how did he know you're emotionally attached to this song?"

despite herself, y/n found that she was also starting to sing quietly under her breath.

"staring blankly ahead, just making my way, making a way through the crowd."

felipe nudged her in the side. "go on. you're not going to get another chance."

trying to stop the uncontrollable blush on her face, she kept her eyes cast down as she made her way to where mick was standing. sebastian gave the duo a knowing look as mick wordlessly passed y/n the microphone, shy smiles on both of their faces.

"if i could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? 'cause you know i'd walk a thousand miles if i could just see you tonight."

neither of them realized how close to each other they had gotten, barely a foot of space between their bodies, faces blushing bright pink as the lyrics faded out to the instrumental.

"mick-" she said softly.

"you don't have to say anything. not right now, not right here. just kiss me."

and that's exactly what she did, the room erupting into cheers as mick's soft lips met hers. she dropped the microphone, feedback echoing around the room as mick held her, both parties smiling into the kiss before mika hakkinen came running over the grab the fallen mic.

"will you go on a date with me?" mick asked, lips swollen and shyness in his tone. "like, a real one this time?"

"yes, mick." she giggled. "of course i will."

Tags: @scuderiamh @libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @sidcrosbyspuck

[fashionbooksmilano]

Art X Fashion

Fashion Inspired by Art

Nancy Hall-Duncan

Foreword Valerie Steele

Rizzoli Electa, New York 2022, 176 pages, 20.83 x 26.16 cm,  ISBN  9780847872398

euro 42,00

email if you want to buy :booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

In 75 eye-popping pairings of designer pieces and the artworks that inspired them, this stylish book reveals the art behind coveted fashion designs. Long before “collabs” became a buzzword, artists influenced every aspect of the fashion world. This approachable collection compares fashion and art side-by-side to highlight a variety of relationships: inspiration, collaboration, and artists working to create their own fashion or fashion photography. Art X Fashion introduces readers to designers like Coco Chanel and Elsa Schiaparelli, who famously worked with artists like Picasso and Dalí in the early twentieth century, as well as to such iconic fashion moments as Yves Saint Laurent’s 1965 homage to Piet Mondrian. Art and fashion pairings including John Galliano (inspired by Tutankhamun’s death mask, Arcimboldo, Gustav Klimt, and Hokusai), Guo Pei (inspired by Velázquez), Margiela (inspired by Gaugin), and Iris Van Herpen (inspired by Paul Delvaux), reveal surprising connections. Projects by street artists like Keith Haring and Kaws introduce the era of collaborations, which saw artists such as Yayoi Kusama and Takashi Murakami work with Louis Vuitton. More recent collaborations include Raf Simons with Sterling Ruby and Kerby Jean-Raymond with Derrick Adams. Chapters on striking purses and other accessories designed by artists, and artists creating in fashion—including Cindy Sherman, William Wegman, and John Baldessari—round out this fresh and delightful take on fashion design.

15/01/23

orders to:     booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

ordini a:        booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

twitter:         @fashionbooksmi

instagram:   fashionbooksmilano, designbooksmilano tumblr:          fashionbooksmilano, designbooksmilano

[my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife]

One more drink IV - Pierre Gasly serires

Thank you so so much about the likes and rebloggs 🧡

If something is written like this then it means that the conversation is on Hungarian.

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

warning: swearing, language, mention of depression, alcohol usage

¤Masterlist¤

-- Previous part-- -- Next part --

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

I woke up early in the morning, I went out for a quick grocery shopping just to have some thing at home, for later. I have texted with my brothers asking them how was the closing and the packaging of the stand off from the Hungaroring. It was around 9 o'clock when I started to do a little make up and picking up what should I wear today.

I was questioning myself what to wear because I could not decide if it's just a normal meeting with a friend, showing them around in the city, or can it be something else? Like a date?

"Oh come on Gina, he just probably thinks you are fun to hang around and better to see the city with someone who lives in here. He definetelly did not ask you out for a date." I was talking to myself and rolling my eyes in the mirror.

Even if the weather was really cold and rainy in the weekend, now it was sunny and hot. It was still early in the morning but you could already feel that it's going to be a hot day. So I picked out an orange coloured dress which has tiny whtite daisies printed on it, and I pick up a comfy white sneaker so I can walk around in the city for a longer time. I just finished with packing my bag I put on from my favourite Yves Saint Laurent parfume, and I put my sunglass on my head when I heard my phone chiming.

"Hey I'm here"

"Okay, I'm comming."

"Szia!" I smiled at him when I opened the gate and I saw him standing there in a dark green Alpha Tauri T-shirt, and jeans shorts, having his sunglasses on which he took off as soon as I welcomed him. He had a cute smiled plastered on his lips and he stepped closer and pulled me in a hug. I was surprised by his action but I quickly put my hands around his torso and I may or may not breathed in his scent. His cologne is really nice, it's definetelly a masculine one, but it was fresh also.

"Bonjour" I giggled back at him "When did you learn this in Hungarian?" I stepped away from him.

" I may or may not looked up for some things to how to say it your languge." he winked at me while we started to walk on the street. I found it eally cute thing from him, and it really warmed my heart that he took some time to look up for a thing like this. “ But I need to learn other things so you still have to teach me a few. And maybe it's better to learn it from you and not from Google translate. And in return I can teach you some in french also.”

“D’accord, mais mon français n'est plus aussi bon qu'avant. “ (Alright, but my French is not as good as it used to be) “Qu'est-ce que tu prévois, où allons-nous aujourd'hui ?” (And what have you planned for us, what we will do today?

“Oh, so you do speak a third language.” He stated surprised. “To be honest I thought maybe check out the Buda castle, I have seen some pictures about it that is really beautiful. And after I will leave if to you, if you have something in mind”

“Perfect, I have some ideas what we can do afterwards “ I smiled at him while we were walking to a bus stop. “I hope is it okay for you to go there by bus? It's just only a few stops away from here.” I looked at him curiously.

“Sure, it’s been years since I have been on any public transportation device” he laughed and we waited for the next bus to come which can take to us to the castle.

We’ve spent most of the day walking around at the Buda Castle, Pierre really wanted to take some pictures from the whole panorama of Budapest around noon we had a really nice lunch at a tiny restaurant with a view of the whole city under us.

“So now that you guys have summer vacation, what will you do? Going back to France? Visiting some family, maybe?” I asked him while sipping from my wine glass.

“Actually I will go to trip with a few friends and then I will spend my time with my family. It’s really hard to spend some times with them, so in the next four weeks, I'll try to relax, recharge my batteries but it’s hard when you have to run around and meet everyone who you could not see in the past few months or who you won’t see in the rest of the year.” He was explaining it to me as we were finishing ou drinks.

“I really can’t imagine being that far away from friends and family. I'm always with my brothers, or if not then I have my friends around.”

“Yes, it’s not an easy one but you know this really well when you decide about joining racing profesionally.” He nodded while asking the waitress for the bill. “But it’s really nice to see that you are that close with your siblings” he smiled, putting down the empty wine glass on the table. The whole topic about my family and siblings are not an easy one. I don’t talk about it a lot, only my closest friends know what happened in my life and why is it turned out like that. í

And if someone asks about it, I try to act normal, and give a blank answer but my body language always betrays me. And it happened again, I have had a shy smile on my lips but the muscles in my body got really tense, you could feel that this was an awkward point for me, and Pierre definitely got the message of it and started to apologise and ramble about it. “Look, I’m sorry. I did not know it was a hard topic, and I can see it on you that I touched something really sensitive. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, and I’m sorry, really.” I looked down at my hand and a big sigh left my lips.

“It’s really not and easy one to talk about and I usually skip this topic or try to avoid it. Let’s just keep it that all I have are my brothers and my two best friends and they are my family.” I smiled at him trying to lift up the heavy air from the conversation. “And I’m perfectly fine with that. They are all incredible people, and I’m really thankful for them that I have them in my life.” I smiled back at him with a genuine smile. “So what do you think about if I take you to one of my favourite spot in the city? It’s down at the bank of the Danube. We just need to catch the same bus we came here with. And we can sit there watch the sunset, maybe have another wine, probably you will think that I’m an alcoholic. ” I giggled and he laughed back at me. "Or if you would like to there are some bars there too, but they are usually really packed at a time like this"

“Sounds perfect by me. I don't need any bars, it's perfect if it's just a two of us. I will pay and we can go to that place. ” I started to take my card out of my wallet but he looked at me with a serious look on his face. “I think I said that I will pay, I invited you for the day, so let me be the gentleman. And you may buy the wine for the rest of the night. Deal?”

“I would argue with you longer, but if we won’t start leaving than we will be late from the sunset, so I will have to accept this offer from you.” I said while I put back my card in my wallet and started to gather my things.

We reached the area of the bank of the Danube where you can sit down on benches. You could see all the other bridges, the side of Buda with the Gellért hill with the Citadella on it. I really loved this place especially at the time of the sunset. It was not the most quiet place of Budapest, you could still here the cars around, and the tram which was going behind you. People were walking around, especially after September because next to this side there were one of the biggest and most amous univesities, so usually it was filled wit them. But this time, it was calm and just a few peope were there. We had two bottles of wine with us, we actually found some plastic cups at the store. And I also bought some snacks to it can suck up all the alcohol we were about consuming.

“Sorry that I don’t have my fancy wine glasses with me, but this is how you can have the full Hungarian experience. I’m just sad that the bottles have twisting tops on it and no corks in it. Because that way I can show you my talent.” I giggled while I poured some on his and my cup also.

“Your talent?”

“Oh yea, when I was in high school, on Fridays or the weekends in the summer time I always hanged around in this area with my friends, we really loved this place. And the wine we have had usually had corks in it, but we have had no corkscrew with us. So we have had to be creative. Did you know that you can open a bottle of wine with just a ballpoint pen or a key?” I was waiting for an answer but I already know he had no idea. “ You can push the cork in the bottle if you have enough strength or if you have something hard as a key with you. Don’t try it to push it with your finger, you can break it, believe me, I speak from experience.” I looked at him giggling and he started to laugh shaking his head. “I guess we have had different teenage years” I shrugged my shoulder.

“So if someday I won’t have anything with me just a pen or a key, and I need to open a wine, I will definitely remember this trick.” He laughed and held his cup closer to my to clink it together. I started to laugh and nodded my head as we cheered to each other. “So what about you, any plans for the summer?”

“Actually yes, I will go on a vacation with my best friends as a girls trip. I have mentioned that I have two best friends, I know them since we were kids. And we used to spent the summer time together at each other’s place. And we promised that we will always have one week together at the summer, no boyfriends, nothing just the three of us. And this year is special because one of them is getting married in September, so this will be the last time that we are together as girls.”

“That sounds really nice, so can we say it’s a bachelorette party?”

“Something like that but she made us promise that the only dicks that she wants to see as decoration in the apartment we are renting out.” He tilted his head back and letting out a loud laugh. “She really committed this whole one dick for the rest of her life thing” I rolled my eyes giggling and drinking from my cup. He was laughing at me comment as he was drinking from his cup and starting fill up mine again.

We watched the sunset, Pierre took some pictures about it, and we talked the whole night as we were just sitting there finishing up the two bottles. We talked about Pierre’s racing, his family and friends, the things he liked. But he was not having the conversation just about him, he was a really good listener and he was asking questions about me and my life and passion too, he seemed genuinely interested about the things I have shared with him as well. It was really nice to have a conversation with someone who was listening and paying attention to the things that the other one was talking about. We have never had any awkward silences during the night, we have had some silence here and there but it was not considered as an awkard one, but it can be thanked to the amount of alcohol too that we have consumed. It was pretty dark when we stood up from the bench and started to walk back to main street.

“So are you leaving tomorrow?” I looked up at him as we were walking down one of the biggest tourist streets in the city.

“Yes, I have to fly back to Milan to my apartment to gather my stuff and I will fly out with my friends on the day after that.” We we’re walking slowly in the crowd of people, trying to squeeze ourselves through them. “But we still have to night in front of us so don’t start to say goodbye to me yet.” He winked as he put one of his arms on the small of my back while we were walking, trying to avoid hitting someone, and guiding me through the sea of people. First I got stiff by his action and felt like a blush clawing up on my face. “Or do you want to go home?” He was studying my face when we were finally out from the crowd.

“No, I have a great time” I shook my head trying to force myself out of my blushing.

“Good, do you want to have a dinner somewhere maybe?” As soon as he asked this my stomach started to make weird grumbling sounds. “I take this as a yes” he giggled. “I don’t know about you, but I can have an Italian or maybe a sushi or Mexican? Oh I would love to have a good taco.”

“Mexican, yes definitely. I know a good place it’s down on this road.” I grabbed his wrist and pulling him after me.

“Slow down small one!” He was laughing “How can you walk this fast with those tiny legs?”

“We are talking about food, there is no time to be slow.” I looked back at him with a huge grin on my face. We reached one of my favourite Mexican restaurants, the weather was still warm so we have asked for a table outside on the terrace. “I usually come here as a special occasion, on my birthday or with my brothers” I started to conversation as we were diving in our foods.

“So you took me two of your special places in just a day. I feel flattered” he smiled at my cheeky. “If I won’t know better, I would feel like you are really trying to seduce me” He started to laugh and I looked at him surprised and started to laugh as well.

“Oh boy you don’t know that side of me.” I winked at him as I continued to eat my dinner. When we finished our meal had some drinks, it was starting to be really late, people already started to leave the place. “We should ask for the bill, they will start to close up soon.” As I tried to get the waiters attention for asking for the bill. I tried to search for my card again but Pierre already took his out. “Come on, Pierre you can’t pay for both of the bills!” I tried to argue with him but he was having none of it and already paid for the dinner.

“Next time you can pay for the dinner at our date” He winked at me while we left the restaurant and started to walk back to my apartment . I was shocked and I nearly tripped on the cobblestone pavement. “And yes, before you ask I hope we can have a next time” I felt the heat is coming up on my face, and I had to look down to the ground. I had my hair down so I could hide my face behind it, so he could not see that smile on my face. We reached the gate of my apartment after a silent walk. I was playing with my hand feeling really awkward saying goodbye to him. I knew that this day eventually will come to an end, and we have to say our farewells, but still I felt like I don’t know what to say or do in a situation like this. It felt like I was a teenager all over again, on their first date. I mean he said that it was a date, but still.

“Hey, stop it you will have bruises all over your hand if you are continuing scratching it like this.” He grabbed my hand trying to stop me. It was a really bad habit of mine. If I felt stressed or insecure or anxious, I started to scratch the back of my hand. His hand felt really warm on the top of mine, I looked up at him as soon as he hold me hand. He was looking back at me with a small smile on his face, he seemed pretty calm and happy. “Thank you for the day, I have had a really great time with you. And thank you for showing around me in the city, showing me your special places. It meant a lot.” I tilted my head to the side while I was looking at him with a smile on my lips.

“Your welcome, and I have had a really great time with you also. Thank you for the dinner. And have fun at your vacation. “

“Thanks, I wish the same to you.” He put his other hand above my face leaning on the door behind me. “Sorry but you can’t seduce me up to your flat, I have to leave early in the morning.” He joked and I let out a small chuckle.

“What a shame, I have a pretty cool looking definitely not comfortable couch that can be turned into a bed. ” I winked at him jokingly. “Maybe next time. You will regret it that you skipped this opportunity. ” I pointed at him with a low chuckle. He leaned closer and the breath got stuck on my throat. I looked at him with a surprised expression on my face waiting for where this going to lead. He stopped when our faces were really close to each other and I could feel his breath lingering on my cupid bow. His eyes were flickering between my lips and eyes. I let out a ragged breath. He started to smile mischievously and he turned his head and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek, really close to the corner of my mouth. “Good night Chérie” he stepped back letting go of my hand, while he was looking straight back into my eyes, holding the eye contact till he reached the side of the road and waved for a upcoming taxi. He sat in the back of the cab while waving at me. All I could do was waving back at him dumbly as I saw him leaving my street in that taxi.

I was still in shock, holding my breath in, when an alarm went off at one of the parked car next to me. I jumped in my surprise and started to find the right key for my apartment, but my hands were shaking so bad that the whole keychain fell out my hand. I tried to gather my keys from the ground and get inside as soon as possible.

What just happened? Did I just really got nearly kissed by a guy? Not even just a guy! It was Pierre Gasly.

[timextoxhajima]

Hi dana! When i saw your request is open i squealed almost immediately like no kidding! i looove your writings so it would be cool if you write my request, but if not then it's okay.

Can i request a sangyeon ceo au where the reader met him when they're solo traveling but ended up spending their time together, the reader (a broke college student) saved up some money to travel but that could only afford them a cheap tour and sangyeon decided to upgrade their tour by taking them to his private villa and they spent their days together? This may or may not be nsfw that is up to you. Thanksss

⋆ ࣪. glassware

⋆ ࣪. tbz sangyeon

⋆ ࣪. ceo! sangyeon x broke college student! [fem] reader [SFW!!!]

⋆ ࣪. 3.2k

⋆ ࣪. none. probably some cursing idk, diabetes too

⋆ ࣪. a/n: to the anon who requested this, this was SO specific and SO cliche i kind of laughed while reading it for the first time HAHHAHA but nonetheless! it's here! i changed up some stuff esp the ending but i hope it's still up to standard! also honorary tag for @lsangyeons

you should've just left the damn wallet alone. maybe take it home. anything but bringing it to the stupid security counter, claiming that you 'picked it up' - which you did! but for some reason, none of the CCTVs had footage of you picking it up from the floor of this humongous Dior boutique that you weren't even going to purchase anything from.

so of course, when the salesperson realised you were about to walk out with nothing in hand and only merely returned a wallet - dressed in some skimpy tank top and jean shorts and sandals, he probably thought: why did we let her in in the first place?

it's the wallet that somehow pulled a trigger. out of curiosity, you had already opened the wallet to check the contents, and god forbid your eyes to befall at least four different credit cards in the slots of the leather. it took you awhile to realise it was a saint laurent one too.

you don't know why, or in what universe did the staff think that zero cash in the wallet equated to you stealing it. despite going through your bag and even patting you down, here you were, sitting in a sad jail cell, because you were nice.

gently and carefully, you ram the back of your head against the wall you were sitting against, convincing yourself that maybe you'd multiply some brain cells with every thud you hear in your skull.

your eyes are still fluttered shut while you wait for an officer to come release you when they realise they had no other evidence to prove you were a thief. but your chaotic silence is finally interrupted in the form of a commotion forming outside your jail cell, and you note not the expected lone police officer, but also two other men. one was in a suit and the other looked like he was going to the beach.

"come on," the officer chucks the key into the lock. "this gentleman's just bailed you out."

relief washes over you when you pull yourself to your feet, the back of your head actually feeling a tad bit sore when you scratch your scalp.

"I assume the wallet belongs to you?" with a slightly snarky remark, you eye the one who's in the suit.

"uh- it's actually mine," beach boy chimes in, eyes bright and his smile stretching a little too wide across his face.

"oh," you put on your fakest-but-i-wanna-be-genuine smile, nodding a little as you glance between the two. "good to know. anyway! I'm just gonna head right out-"

"oh, wait! i'd like to treat you to something, actually," beach boy's brows are high up on his forehead. "for returning the wallet."

"and getting my ass in a jail cell?" a bemused scoff crosses your arms across your chest. "i saved up for an entire year to come on this vacation and i get thrown in jail for being honest."

then beach boy's lips part in slight surprise, looking very anxious. mr. kingsman looked a little too awkward to say anything, so he simply offers you a tiny, polite smile when you glance at him.

"ugh," throwing your arms to your side, you shake your head and wave it off. "forget it. thanks for bailing me out, though."

"no, of course. but can't i at least treat you to- to a meal? maybe a shopping spree?"

"what are you, an atm?"

"kind of," kingsman interrupts, earning a nervous side-glance from beach boy. "well, you've seen his wallet."

your lips are parted to settle the case and go back to your motel, patience running thin. but beach boy decides to interrupt again, hands coming together as he subtly pleads.

"a meal and a shopping spree. anything you want."

with a squint, you chew on the insides of your cheek. "anything i want?"

"yes," he nods. "you said you were here for a vacation right? you must have an itinerary to work around, i can meet you in your empty spots-"

"yeah, my itinerary is trash," scoffing, you feel your pride dip a little. the complaint silences the party, and it just so happened that the police officer returns with your backpack.

"here you go, miss l/n. sorry for the trouble."

with an agitated hum, you take your bag from him and sling it over your shoulder.

"how do i address you? do you have the rest of the day free? let me make it up to you."

this man really won't give it up, huh? fine. I'll spend his money since he's wasted my time.

"y/n," you offer your hand nonchalantly. "I'm gonna hold you to a meal and a shopping spree."

and with a wide grin, beach boy gracefully takes your hand, "I'm sangyeon."

first, it was the way he was treated just by entering a car that surprises you. sangyeon gets the door open for you and then kingsman gets into the driver's seat only after sangyeon joins you in the passenger's.

it was kind of pathetic - sangyeon had told you where he wanted to bring you for dinner and yet you didn't even register the name of the restaurant - or probably cafe - maybe coffeeshop.

you didn't care.

all you were looking forward to was spending the money, since you've spent most of yours on this dumb vacation that's deemed completely shit since you were thrown into jail for being honest.

you hadn't noticed you were rambling in your own head until the car comes to a stop, and you're slightly confused when the car rolls up onto a highway - that leads to the far side of the island.

"uh, i'm not getting kidnapped right now, am i?"

sangyeon laughs heartily, shaking his head as he gestures to the front of the car. there was a camera stuck to the windshield right beneath the rear window, and it was recording both the inside and outside of the vehicle.

"there's also a gps in that thing, for the car to be tracked. so don't worry."

"for the car to be tracked? why would the car need to be tracked?"

then kingsman locks eyes with you in the rear mirror. his amusement with the frown on your face brings him to a proper explanation.

"mr lee's the ceo of prism+, miss l/n. this car's government property and it's tracked 24/7 to make sure his safety isn't compromised."

your eyes widen, processing the information in just barely a sentence.

a billion-dollar mnc.

but you hide it with a cough and a quick glance out the window. "explains the cards."

"anytime you're uncomfortable, you can just tell me, okay? but... i can guarantee that if i were to... y'know, do something inappropriate... i'd consequences i can't face and- well, i don't want any of that to implicate you as well."

"don't sweat it, i have nothing much to lose anyway."

you should've felt guilty for the amount of sadistic pleasure you were getting from making him uncomfortable - but it was a great way for you to reduce the amount of interaction you'd need to have with him.

secondly, the villa. what the hell is this thing you're standing at the entrance of?

your face is scrunched up into a strange mess of confusion, overwhelming surprise and disbelief. it's in the middle of nowhere, and yet there were at least five people in the same uniform walking around, and there were stone stairs carved into the ground that led down to the beach.

kingsman disembarks first, then he comes over to pull the door on sangyeon's side open with a staff member jogging out of the villa to get yours open.

"good afternoon, miss. can i have your dietary requirements for dinner?"

"huh? dietary- what?"

"uh," the staff member blinks profusely, hurriedly glancing at sangyeon, who was busy patting down his clothes and talking to kingsman. "your dietary requirements. are you allergic to anything? seafood, peanuts? can you drink milk-"

"oh! uh, no, no," with a hand on your head, you find yourself unable to piece a proper sentence together. "no, i'm good with everything."

so with a slight bow, he smiles politely and turns back to the villa. kingsman follows closely behind.

your eyes are glued to this magnificence of architecture. the walls are limestone but the floors inside the villa are marble. the doors are made of glass and it's nearly completely see-through from the outside. there was a pond right outside the entrance, and to get from the sole parking lot you were standing in, you'd have to cross about 3 perfectly squared-rocks to get to the villa.

the grandeur of the building returns you your senses after a moment, and you turn your head to find sangyeon looking at you with one of his arms laying across the hood of the car.

"i know i'm gonna sound dumb when i ask this but - you don't happen to own that, do you?"

with a sweet chuckle, he pulls away and walks around the car, shoving his hands into his pockets. "so do you want me to make you sound dumb?"

you give him a dry laugh in response, nodding your head through a touché. "should've guessed."

"it's um," he begins, gesturing for you to start walking. "it's a family heirloom. whenever someone's in this city for business, we stay here."

"so it's like a work-slash-vacation villa thing?" you take the first step onto the square rocks.

"yeah, pretty much."

"very neat."

"so, you said you were on a vacation. where were you coming from?"

once inside the glass house, the scent of olive oil and garlic slaps you like an alarm clock. by instinct, you snap your head to where you can hear the sizzling sounds. to your absolute astonishment, you witness 2 chefs in the kitchen working around the most aesthetically pleasing kitchen you've ever seen.

and even beyond the kitchen, the bamboo covers are rolled up, exposing the ocean beyond. it's a perfect view for the dining table, already partially made up properly with a white cloth and champagne glasses and an unlit wax candle in the middle.

"you weren't meant to see that," sangyeon gestures to a passing staff, who merely nods and reaches over to press a button attached to the wall. the wooden door slides shut, cutting the kitchen and the chefs out from your view. he walks around you and stops, standing a safe distance before you with his hands in his pockets.

"i like surprising people, so... i hope the dinner later can live up to your expectations."

"when you said dinner and a shopping spree, i was just expecting a mcdonalds' meal and a uniqlo spending sesh."

"well, i'm-" he raises both hands and shrugs. "i'm sorry i didn't live up to your expectations of a 'thank you' gift," he pauses, and for a moment, it looked like he was admiring you. but you snap out of it by turning away first, your palms slightly sweaty and your anxiousness running your heart a little faster.

"i'd like for you to stay here for the night. we can go back into the city tomorrow for your shopping spree. take it like a hotel."

"yes, because your family would love a thief sleeping in your vacation villa."

you had expected your sarcasm to put him off, probably annoy him a little if he already isn't, but no. he simply laughs and shakes his head.

"you're not a thief, which is really redundant to you, but... my grandmother gave me that wallet and i deliberately don't put cash in it."

"that doesn't explain anything. stealing a credit card is stupid."

"yeah, and so is keeping the pin in the wallet," sangyeon purses his lips into a tight smile. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, gently picking out a piece of paper that has 6 digits on it. "you don't know how many times i've misplaced this thing and had transactions made."

"now, why in the world would you keep your pin in the wallet?" you watch him with heightened confusion as he slides the wallet back into his pocket.

"because my grandfather used to think it's his and he used to bring it out with her," a pause. "he had alzheimer's."

right off the top of your head, the sudden usage past-tense strikes you first.

"oh," you swallow away the dry throat. "my condolences."

sangyeon shakes his head, sucking in a deep breath with his chest puffed. "it's alright. at least now you know why you're being treated by royalty."

a bird chips somewhere. the shore washes in the distance.

"so," sangyeon casually breaks the silence, nodding for you to turn and follow him as he walks around you again. "up for the stay? you can leave after your shopping spree tomorrow if you're uncomfortable but you're welcome to stay until i'm done with my work here."

he walks you to the second floor, greeting a cozy living area with a couch and a television mounted to the wall right above a fireplace. behind the couch was a hallway that led down into a bathroom and a bedroom.

"uh-" between your distractions as you push the door of the bedroom open, your eyes twinkle with delight when you're greeted with a gorgeous view of the ocean right over the glass barriers of the balcony.

there were sliding glass doors separating the comfort of the bedroom and the sun-coated platform outside, and with every passing second, the sky was slowly turning into a dark, sultry shade of orange.

"yes."

sangyeon licks his lips and giggles, obviously entertained that you're so smitten with the room.

"what?" you nearly snap at him, attention still mostly stuck to the view outside as you gawk at it.

"nothing. you just... you might be a little feisty but you're very easily marvelled. it's cute."

you turn around on your heels, frowning at him.

"what?"

"nothing."

the circular dining table was set up such that both of you had a perfect view of the sunset - and that led to bumping knees under the table, which, to your dismay, was a little bit hard to ignore.

"apple crème brulee topped with cinnamon and sugar."

the ceramics clink when the chef personally sets them down, and though he's been at your table with every dish you've already had, you can't help but admire the chef's hat he's got on him.

"thank you," sangyeon reaches up and gives the chef a pat on his shoulder.

then you are left with sangyeon again, amongst the crickets that were starting to come out, with the last bit of orange streaking the darkening blue sky and the final glimmer of the sun setting over the horizon. you could hear the water by the shore washing against the sand, and frankly, you'd take the glass of champagne and run to it now, but what would big ol' CEO sangyeon say?

"you like the water, right?"

his knee bumps into yours, like a child seeking attention.

"hmm?" picking up a spoon and digging it into your dessert, you let the cinnamon melt over your tongue. "i just... find it calming. your family must've liked it too since they bought a house right next to it."

"like i said, it's a family heirloom. they did renovate it like once or twice but i had no say about where this house was gonna be located."

"so i'm guessing you don't like the water."

"not a big fan."

the fork clinks into the ceramic when you drop it, jaw slack and brows furrow.

"no."

"yep..." he nods gently, his arms flexed and pressing into the sides of the chair. just under the cut of his sleeve, you could see his triceps- "it's just... there... I'm not entirely fond of the idea-"

"take your champagne and we're going down to the water."

"what? now?"

"no, when you're dead," shoving his glass into his hand, you pick yours up. "of course now."

"no, wait-"

"come on," by ditching him and heading for the stone stairs, you're more than excited about the floating glimmers on the surface of the water.

"wait!"

the sand finds the sole of your feet as you carefully jog down to the shore, champagne glass in hand and the ocean breeze in your hair. the sloshing of the water sounds like music to your ears, a fraction of the ocean tickling you at your shoes when you bury them in the lines where the water left a mark in the sand.

"be careful."

you turn, watching him huff and breathe out his pants with his hands on his hips.

"where's your glass?" you frown in disapproval at his empty hands.

"i don't want to break my glassware."

with an 'o' formed with your lips, you look down at your glass. "oops."

sangyeon smiles, shaking his head and resuming a straight position. "it's fine. one less glass wouldn't be a problem."

a pinch of embarrassment brings your glass to your lips, and you choose to down it all in one shot so you wouldn't have to worry about dropping any of it into the water or the sand.

"hey-"

"i'm alright," showing him your palm, you stop him before he takes a step toward you. "it's just champagne-"

and the sand decides to slip out from under your sandals when the water pulls back, and your ankle gives out under your weight.

yet sangyeon manages to get his timing right, swooping forwards with his arm circling your waist and

"whoa!" he chuckles, careful not to make you uncomfortable as you hold the glass awkwardly in mid-air. "i'll... take that."

his nails clink against the glass as he gently removes it from your grasp, and his eyes quickly dart away from yours when you've found your footing.

"you alright?"

"yeah," ashamed to look at him, you rub your hands on your waist where his arm was just at. "thanks."

an absent-minded hum returns to you as a response.

"so, where do you want to go tomorrow? i'm sure you didn't mean uniqlo."

sangyeon strolls past you, turning and walking backwards as he looks to you. the light emitted from the villa was a good distance away, but nonetheless still bright enough to illuminate one half of his face.

it's the way his eyes crinkles when he smiles, and his laughter was of a lower register, so it's not annoying.

you think to yourself that maybe you shouldn't trust him this quick - he did land you in jail earlier today.

but he also did bring you along for a nice dinner, offered you accommodation and seems to be enthusiastic about his shopping promise.

being around him makes you comfortable.

you don't even realise he's stopped talking until you can hear nothing but the water, and now he's stopped walking backwards too. silence ensues, besides the gentle rustling of the trees up the hill where his villa was.

"what are you thinking about?"

"hmm?" hesitation clouds your thoughts. "nothing."

"ah," he sighs with disappointment. "and over here i thought i scored myself some romance."

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Elija Mikaelsaon Dating a Black S/O Headcanons

Did anyone ask? No, did I deliver? Yes.

- Alright, so Elijah and the Mikaelson’s have been alive for a while. Never got a specific date, but we have vikings. And as Elijah has been alive for a minute, he’s had flings, situationships, lovers, and at some point out knight in shinning armor was probably a fuck boy… don’t @ me.

- What I’m trying to say is man probably did it all, Asian, Latinx, Caucasian and African American and maybe even African and Caribbean… Maybe even fucked around with his sexuality for a second because he got it like that and the writers were too pussy to put this shit on

- Tbh probably the originals tried all the genders and non-genders, change my mind. But elijah strikes me as a free for all who loves something refreshing that’ll take him out of Klaus’s bullshit for a minute

- But here’s were this shit gets spicey… Elijah… with a black s/o….. Just hear me out poc who been waiting for someone to give them good fucking food on poc x tvd/ the originals, I got y’all… unless college comes back.

- OK so, I feel like if you’re rocking with Elijah he’d dress you up and ice you out because he can. Nothing under $5,000 for his s/o… We talking furs, diamond, real leather, snake skin, hell even a whole ass snake if you wanna be on your Bruce Wayne shit一 better yet, your T’challa shit with a whole ass panther (black panther ain’t real soooo y’all can get a black puma and call that bitch a panther lmfaoooooo)

- He’s asking you to a dinner date and then you say you’re ready…. Wearing pretty little things…. Missguided… honey. (Nah ain’t shit wrong wit those brands, they be having bangers tbh and sales like a bitch) Let him upgrade youuuuuuu. You only wear Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Burberry, Balmain, etc. Try walking out there looking a damn mess and distasteful… just try it sis 

- Speaking of which… my mans got you with hair too! Fuck you mean ?1?! 

- He had a black s/o in the past, even though her hair had loose curls… we won’t discredit her. He has some knowledge on how curl hair works, and if he’s lacking, he as a whole library and might fuck around and ask Bonnie in exchange for some witchy ingrdients (im cdfuuuuuu)

- Name, braids, twists, locs, finger waves. Wanna shave bald??? He’s for it, let him get you his barber. Fuck it, he’ll get you Marcel’s barber. Lined up and all that shit, throw in a fade too

- And coming in for wash day, he’s sitting behind you days in advance helping you take down your hair after a month or two. Grey sweatpants, scissors in hand, spray bottle to the side with Netflix as background music…. Fuck with it. You’re all tired after doing like 8 and he tells you to take it easy, with vamp speed and the deterixty of those fingers…. *chefs kiss*

- He sets up a lil wash day station for you, or if he’s on the clock just books a whole salon for you alone already paid for. But if he’s doing the work, best believe he spent the coinssss COINS for the organic shampoo shit you have the refrigerator and the deep conditioner, AND THE FUCKING LEAVE IN. He’s keeping your shit moisturized in the winter. His big hands and gentle fingers helping detangle your hair, you in a fluffy robe, enjoying being loved on….

- Y’all didn't even get me started on him doing twists… or plaits, or the bantu knots, the concentration on his face

- IDK why I gotta say this… nails done too, he loves the feel of your nails gliding on his scalp and down on his back when he’s giving you those slow strokes. 

- This doesn’t have to do with anything, but the fact that the originals were set in New Orleans which is mostly BLACK BLACK BLACK BLAAACCCKKKKK and I saw like 3 black people in that bitch, ong….. Julie Pleck, you basic bitch

- Anyways, I feel like Elijah in a trench coat coming to pick you up from work would be such a vibe and a mood. Like, he knows when you get off and you might just take public transportation or something to have some sort of independence. But he shows up after work when you’re leaving with some friends from work…. Nigga shows up in a dark blue cadillac, trenchcoat with the collar up, leather gloves… and a fresh cut

- Who tf let him out the house??

- And ik you’re friends trifling too asking who is he, a damn fine tall glass of milké

- And he’s just leaning against the door waiting for you and once he sees you, he waits for you expectedly and kisses your forehead in greeting and gets the door for you

- Speaking of driving, Elijah be too damn serious, and that’s were you come in. 

- I need him and the Miakelson’s at a cookout doing line dancing, the electric slide, cupid shuffle (and give Rebekak some goddamn friends shit, she everyone stay chasing love and shit but have 0 friends and boundaries, they drag family though the mud) 

- Like I need him out his suit and in some dark jeans, a solid white v-neck, rolex on his wrist, and white air forces

- Sitting there, kinda out of place until he settles in. Like I deadass see him asking where the tables are at the cookout and like… you break it to him he’s gonna have to do the table legs for that shit

- And the plastic cutlery! LMFAOOOOO his soul is slightly quaking

- And its finna be a whole ass test when an uncle comes up and grabs him by the shoulder in a greeting and tries to fill in the seat for spades or even worse…. Dominoes…. That’s it. It’s over. Elijah been alive for too long and knows every play in the book and can bluff his ass off

- But if we talking dominoes… we gon have the boondocks animation version of a nigga moments cuz y’all fights will be started, money will be lost…. To Elijah. In the end he gives it back bc he’s a good sport and bc humiliation is a greater victory 

- Lmfaoooo and the quiet drive back, you’re exhausted but the music station is playing throwbacks and Usher’s climax comes on and bitch… the high notes, the lamp posts that give you both a glimpse of each other’s side profiles. And for once Elijah is relaxed and coming down from his amusement. No one is trying to kill him or his siblings, and good food albeit greasy in his stomach.

- Dare he say he felt human for a moment

- You staring out the window and softly singing along enjoying what the day was, Elijah loving the ambiance created. Mmmmmm such a mood

- THAT BEING SAID imagine you and Elijah on a long drive and “I Mean It” by G- Eazy comes on and you start singing along bc data is expensive over long ass drives and being stuck in traffic. And Elijah is giving you a bemused look, you in all your glorious wonder and you just make the lyrics more dramatic ashit trying to be a heartbreaker and all that. But, the true heart breaker is Elijah

- He comes in on the verse and gives you all eye contact, lips completely sync but your can kinda hear his voice keep the tempo…. Bitch this makes me feel some type of way… and as he’s going on he grabs your face and tilts your chin up OOOOUUUU gets up all close and personal and finishes the lyrics which is perfectly timed with when the light turns green and turns back like nothing just happened. There yo are aping like a fish bc tbh if anyone could rap it’d probably be Kol, he’s like the emnemin mixed with busta rhymes type, but tone it down….

- Bitch imma go fantasize rapping Elijah, y’all been slept

- And for those asking yes, I do write for black readers, mor specifically female but I can try male

[frickingnerd]

Social Link Masterlist

Ryoji Mochizuki

i can't make you love me if you dont - oneshot

ryoji lending you his jacket - headcanons

ryoji & makoto with a bullied darling - headcanons

Hidetoshi Odagiri

a second chance for love - oneshot

Kenji Tomochika

winning hidetoshi odagiri a plushie - headcanons

hidetoshi comforting you during a breakdown - headcanons

kenji with a popular crush - headcanons

Keisuke Hiraga

keisuke helping you through a panic attack - headcanons

Kazushi Miyamoto

falling asleep on kazushi's shoulder - headcanons

Mamoru Hayase

mamoru lending you his jacket - drabble

Chihiro Fushimi

chihiro defending her s/o - headcanons

Yuko Nishiwaki

playing the guitar for yuko - drabble

Akinari Kamiki

the rain brought you back to me - oneshot

Bebe

bebe confessing to you - headcanons

Maya

dating maya - headcanons

married life with maya - headcanons

Rio Iwasaki

rio realizing her feelings for you - headcanons

Saori Hasegawa

saori having a crush on you - headcanons

[the-darklings]

who is jean?

(drags out a rusty chair) (sits)

buckle up, gang. we're about to do French Bastard Baguette 101

basics first.

name: Jean Laurent

where does he hail from: French baguette 

what does he look like:

whose house should you egg when Jean inevitably hurts your feelings: @la-gattara-art

what’s he like?  

(let me preface everything by saying that Jean’s personality, looks, and past were not created by me; he was originally constructed by Chan (NPFH co-creator and my very segssy friend tagged above) and I simply went free real estate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

okay, so:

bastard™. most call him “the spider” - both as a warning and as a curse. will sell you to satan for one cornchip. will also destroy you and your life if you get in his way : ) ruthless. manipulative. terrifyingly good at people and can charm pretty much anyone. has dirt on everyone and is brilliant at sniffing out weaknesses. is he lying? is he being honest? who knows? certainly not me. smoker. the living embodiment of the phrase “who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things”. has a heart deep, deep, deep down but good luck finding it. seductive. to be frank, the man fucks - that’s it, no fancy words. he knows what’s good and how to get it so his bed is warm most nights, no emotional connections though. likes sketching into his pocketbook : ) mostly birds/still life/architecture. speaking of which, admires architecture openly, and has a taste for art/historical things as well. mind sharper than a knife, tongue even more so 🤪 uses his accent on purpose as well. has a massive sweet tooth. is haunted by past actions. knows the price for “rebirth”. still has night terrors occasionally. ambitious for days. has an expensive taste because he knows the value of such things. enjoys old french songs. is an excellent dancer and is very happy to show just how good 😌 if he so much as sniffs out that someone is getting too comfortable beside him or is developing some sort of attachment to him, removes said attachment with surgical precision and weaponises everything he knows. can be downright vicious in that regard. prefers using words and seductions as oppose to fistfights but can hold his own if needs be. prefers guns - nice and quick. you will not know where his loyalties are until the last second. has a giddy, near boyish appreciation for sports cars but lacks technical knowledge when it comes to them, so don’t expect him to be changing oil any time soon. don’t bother trying to embarrass him, either - you can’t. he has no shame, especially if it comes to the bedroom. has a wicked sense of humour and enjoys few things more than a verbal challenge. enjoys challenges in general. if it's dangerous, he wants to poke it and see just how dangerous. he also works for someone else. will lay it all on the line for someone else but only once.  

so what’s his role and why is he important? 

jean is one of the main, catalyst characters in npfh (no place for heroes) an original universe where we hope to create an interactive modern-day, criminal world in "novel" form. where you, as a reader, play a key role and your decisions affect the story. the first prequel (like jeara's backstory) will be in normal novel format. formation of the pit of vipers aka where elites, lucien, amongst other new OCs will appear will follow that. so the running order is: fwns, tpov, npfh.

after COA gets concluded, I will be full-time working on this world. lowkey already am but that's because creativity is flowing and who am I to say no? so jean meets clara beginning of fwns (fire with no smoke - first prequel title) and for those of you who don't know clara is oc!v from my JW series Children of Ares. you will not have needed to read that story to enjoy this work because everything about JW is being removed and clara's backstory is going to be introduced anew and might be familiar to those of you who have read Gasoline Girl because it was wholly original. camorra is also staying. short version: something has happened to clara a year ago; a terrible, awful sort of trauma that has left her near crippled with the inability to deal with it (some may know what I'm referring to and it's that but x 10 worse :D). however in a world as cutthroat as npfh no falters are allowed. so teetering-at-the-edge-of-oblivion assassin meets master information gatherer because he hires her for a few "removal jobs" ("oh, you're a poisoner? sneaky, sexy, I love it.") because he's feeling out new york city for his boss and gathering information on X & Y. one thing leads to another, and those two end up needing to work together when they accidentally uncover a plan to paint streets of NY red and overthrow the old order. big time ("guess I have no choice but to trust and rely on you now because we're both being hunted,,, damn fine, just don't fall in love with me." 🙄 )

essentially to sum this story up I will say:

slowburn. reluctant partners in crime. banter. angst central. mystery. high stakes. dark. power couple when they're not trying to verbally end one another. sexual tension so thick most knives will not cut it. bi main character. mutual emotional baggage aha <3 it's mature (and yes that means there will be smut but it's been 84 years by the time we get there). at its core though, it's very much a story about healing & remembering what it is to be alive & not just existing in a role that's expected of you, nor does your past define you.

basically:

reasons to like Jean: Clara

reasons to dislike Jean: Clara

but,,, Jeara? 

yes ♥️

(I don’t know how to make gifs so enjoy potato quality <3)

here's fwns board for more vibes/jean aes too (x)

and here's my horniest playlist for them (x)

and finally, jean in memes, courtesy of coa discord:

and my personal fave

thus concludes french bastard baguette 101. have a good day and eat baguettes xoxo

[ally-127]

aaa, your hoshi story has got me feeling some type of way :’’) i’m a sucker for those kinds of prompts and, if you’re willing to write it, i’d love a story with that premise except the reader tries to get his attention/test out his lifestyle so they dress up and happen to get hit on by some random person and then the confession happens ! with any seventeen member you want if you decide to do it :)

frisson

(noun) a brief moment of emotional excitement

in the night in itaewon universe

pairing: jun x reader ; kihyun x reader (surprise!) word count: 2.5k (yikes) warnings: alcohol consumption ; swearing ; jun being a jerk music: ‘afraid’ by day6 a/n: if you were hoping for a happy ending like hoshi’s, anon, i’m really sorry please forgive me. 😟 on a happier note, i’d like to thank minhyuk and kihyun for their cameos in this.

jun was never around anymore.

ever since soonyoung introduced him to itaewon, you had spent most nights cooped up alone in your shared apartment, either working or wrapped in a blanket burrito and binge-watched korean drama until sunrise.

he would arrive back into the apartment right after you’ve switched off the tv, footing unstable and stumbling about the corridor. your eyelids would be droopy and your footsteps would be heavy from the complete deprivation of sleep as you approached him.

sometimes you wondered if you were as drunk as he was.

“where have you been?” you would then ask him even though you already knew the answer, pausing by your bedroom door.

“itaewon,” jun reeked of alcohol and second-hand smoke. he was dressed in black from head-to-toe, his hair a hot mess, and his chest glistening with sweat in the moonlight. even in this ungodly hour, he still looked good enough to devour.

“what’s so fun about it?” you tucked your hands into the pockets of the hoodie you stole from him. he didn’t seem to notice, though, busy hobbling to his room across of yours.

“everything,” his words were slurred from the vodka thriving in his bloodstream.

he’d leave the next day for practice before you could even get out of bed. you didn’t blame him, it was his job and yet the disappointment never failed to seize your chest every time.

there were plenty of days that jun had spent at home with you, especially when you both had similar off-days. now, he wasn’t around during that too. he was clubbing when he wasn’t working and he was working when he wasn’t clubbing.

and you missed him.

“jun,” you called from the couch, looking up from the laptop propped on the arm of the couch.

it was about nine p.m., you had already begun winding down by sending one last email. your body ached from sitting all day at the office you might as well have melted into the couch.

he had his hand on the doorknob of the front door, eyes wide as if he’s just been caught in the act of doing wrong. “what is it?” his arm was limp by his side as he ditched the door and made his way to your side. “do you need help with something?”

“no,” you sighed. “i was just wondering where you were going.”

“the usual,” jun shrugged.

“you’re never home anymore,” you looked up at him and closed your laptop shut.

he looked different that night. his brown hair was styled away from his eyes, revealing his glamorous forehead. he was dressed in the usual black; sporting a silk shirt and skinny jeans, on his feet were glossy chelsea boots.

your heart palpitated unusually fast. it was not the first time that it had, around him.

“it’s not like we’re dating or something,” jun scoffed and rolled his eyes.

and then your heart fell ten feet down to the ground.

there was something venomous in the way he said it, as if you had just asked him to do something atrocious. your chest caved in, hollow in hurt.

“right,” you cleared your throat and looked away, hands becoming clammy. “we’re not.”

“so can i go now?” he jutted a thumb at the door, silent demand across his features.

“y-yeah,” you shrugged, your heartbeat deafening in your ears.

it ached, but you were used to it.

wen junhui was your roommate-turned-best friend. you started to have feelings for him around last year, but it was obvious it would be a one-sided affair.

he was wild and carefree, spontaneity and fun the only aims he ever had in mind. meanwhile you, in your nine-to-five job, were a person who wished to have their life together, organised into a little book called a planner.

you figured you were too uptight for his liking. aside from binge-watching until daylight, your daily life was far too structured. meetings in the morning, lunch break at two and company dinners at eight didn’t seem to align with his own schedule and his life.

so you let him go.

well, you tried to let him go.

as you sat by the couch, staring wistfully at the shut door where the ghost of junhui still lingered, you wondered just where things went wrong with moving on.

you replayed the things he said to you before he left in your head like a broken record. you hugged your knees to your chest and felt something ignite.

there was a sudden rush of adrenaline that coursed through your veins, a desire to change things up tonight.

next thing you knew, you were digging in the depths of your closet for appropriate clothing to wear in a night club.

jun’s silk shirt from earlier flashed in your mind and you managed to fish out something similar, one with a plunging neckline and long sleeves. among that pile of unworn clothes you found a leather pencil skirt from college, back when frat parties were your thing.

you weren’t all that uptight. you just knew when to loosen up and when not to.

tonight, however, you went darker on the eyeshadow and contoured your cheekbones, tied everything together by lining your lips with a seductive shade of rose. you let your hair down from its usual hairstyle of a messy bun, curling it loosely and tossing it over your shoulder.

for once, it was excitement that lit behind your eyes when you glanced at yourself through the mirror.

saint laurent perfume on your pulse points and knife-sharp stilettos on your feet, you were out the door in less than thirty.

it was time to have some fun.

you held your phone up to your ear as you stood by the sidewalk outside your apartment.

soonyoung picked up on the second ring.

hastily you asked for his location and he gave it to you without a second thought, to your relief. you expected it, anyway. there was no use of being subtle if he was completely wasted.

as you sat in the cab, you quickly contemplate what the hell you were about to get yourself into.

despite the differences in work ethics, the two of you spent so much time together it was natural to have jun’s influence over you.

he made you feel alive.

in all the times you spent with him, he made you laugh like there’s no tomorrow with that witty sense of humour of his. he, ever so lovingly, nudged you out of your comfort zone and nudged you here.

it was time you saw the world through his eyes.

there were stares and you could feel them as you walked in, wen junhui’s name upon your lips as you told the bouncer who you were here with.

it was hot and sweaty in here, almost claustrophobic as the bass, the lights, and the people—dressed similarly to you—filled the room.

you took careful steps into the club, eyeing the bar and then making a beeline toward it. you needed a drink before you could have the energy to scour the club to find him.

you paid attention to the people around you and realised how good they actually look, appearance-wise. even the tall bartender was hot. you discovered his name as he approached you with a charming smile on his gorgeous face and asked you what drink you’d like.

his name was minhyuk.

a gin and tonic was what you ordered. you took a light sip, sparing the handsome bartender a couple of glances before you turned in your seat to run your eyes across the dance floor behind. maybe junhui was somewhere among the crowd.

he’s a dancer, he should be.

“are you waiting for someone?” a voice, foreign, asked. it was almost melodious. a vocalist's voice.

you angled your head to the side. and god, what’s up with all these beautiful people tonight? another fine specimen of man, as good looking as one can be, sat to your left.

“i’m kihyun,” he extended his hand.

oh good. at least he had the decency to introduce himself before anything else.

in this unpredictable setting, looks could definitely deceive, and it was best if you kept your guard all the way up.

you shook his hand, murmuring your own name in response. his palm grazed yours, teasing, for a second before he let go.

“may i buy you a drink?” he asked. “that is if you’re not waiting for someone, of course.”

what a gentleman. you immediately swallowed back all your doubts.

“sure, why not?” you tipped back your first glass of gin and tonic and downed it all in one go.

whoever you were waiting for—jun—wasn’t anywhere to be seen anyway.

as if on cue, minhyuk the bartender appeared in front of you once again. “another one?” instead of you, he seemed to be looking at kihyun.

“it’s on me,” the gentleman beside you gave the bartender a curt nod.

“comin’ right up,” minhyuk chirped, plucking your empty glass from the bar top and twirling away dramatically.

you and kihyun shared a moment of laughter over the bartender’s antics.

if you thought kihyun with a straight face was handsome, his full-blown smile was simply impeccable. his perfectly straight teeth shone under the dim lights and it might’ve been the slight dose of gin talking, but you might have to go home with him tonight.

kihyun kept a respectful distance away from you the entire time you had your drinks, arms folded across each other on the bar top as his feline eyes fixed on you intently. he listened to you go on about your day and how you never expected to end up here.

“well, i’m glad you did,” he said, looking nowhere but at you. “you look beautiful.”

“thank you,” you hummed and sipped your drink to hide your embarrassment.

you took a moment to search the place for a

familiar figure once more and again, he was nowhere to be seen.

“would you like to—“ kihyun cleared his throat. “—you know, dance with me?”

then came the point where you gave up completely.

“i would love—“

“sorry,” it seemed someone else had come into the equation. “she’s taken.”

you tensed up in your seat, startled.

there junhui stood, in the safe gap between you and kihyun, an indistinct look painted across his face. you saw him earlier tonight, so you weren’t too surprised that he looked ravishing under this lighting but you still felt like you swallowed your entire heart:

you were at a loss for words.

“and who are you?” the man beside you glanced up at your roommate.

you completely ignored jun and your pounding heart, facing kihyun instead.

if you were going to argue with him, you made sure it was not in front of a lovely guy you’d just met and ruin the chances you probably had with him.

“kihyun,” you decided to say while your eyes remained on jun. “give me your phone.”

“uh,” he shifted in his seat to gain access to his pocket. he slid his phone out and handed it to you. “sure.”

“call me,” you dialled your number into his phone, slipping it back onto his hand. you glared at jun who had his eyebrows raised at you as if demanding to know what the hell is going on. “this is my roommate, by the way, and we’re just about to head out.”

the poor guy looked severely confused.

regardless, you stood up from your seat and wrapped your fingers around jun’s arm. you made sure a little fingernails pressed into his skin to let him know your current annoyance.

“i’ll see you around,” you waved kihyun a goodbye.

“no you won’t,” jun sniped, lips curling and arched eyebrows still raised.

you gave the other guy an apologetic smile before dragging junhui out of the club, nails now digging into his skin. you stormed past the entrance, to the empty sidewalk right in front of it.

“ouch,” jun mumbled, voice mocking you in the most absurd way possible. he rubbed his arm. “did you have to grip my arm so hard?”

“what the hell is your problem?” you were fuming. but at the same time, you were nervous. nervous to be standing in front of a love that will never be yours, dressed in an utterly different manner than what he was used to.

he noticed it too. “you look different.”

“of course i look different,” you snapped. “it’s none of your business, either way.”

“yes it is,” jun kept a neutral expression.

and you couldn’t believe it.

you laughed, one without a single trace of humour.

“how is anything i do your business?” you went on. “you’re never home and we’ve barely even spoken over the past few months, it’s like we don’t know each other anymore so i don’t understand why—”

“i’m sorry,” junhui cut you off. “i’ve been a ghost lately.”

“you don’t say,” there were tears gathering behind your eyes and you had no idea why.

“i’m sorry,” he reached out to hold your wrist in his hand before you could turn away from him. “i really am.”

“but why did you interfere between me and kihyun?” you asked.

his face dropped.

“because i was jealous,” jun finally said. “i was fucking jealous of him that he was able to catch your eye and make you smile the way you smile at me.i’m jealous he’s one step away from taking you home.”

“we’re not dating, jun.” you pulled his hand away from your wrist as you spat his words back at him. “anything i do with him has nothing to do with you.”

a tear escaped the corner of your eye as you realised this one vital thing.

junhui only paid attention to you when you paid yours on someone else.

you walked away from him, finally realising the real amount of hurt you inflicted upon yourself trying to chase him. all these months of wanting, of yearning, you’ve received nothing in return but a ‘hey’ in the morning and a ‘oh you’re still awake’ at midnight.

it was about time you dropped it.

you found someone new, someone you had the opportunity to feel what you felt with jun. this only happened because you saw the world through his eyes, and you had him to thank for that.

but you have to let him go. not all stories have happy endings.

you headed back into the night club, finding kihyun back where you left him and continued what you two had started.

it turned out, he was even better than you anticipated. he was entirely different from jun, but if his kindness and consideration could capture your heart, you didn’t mind.

the next morning, as you looked at kihyun who was asleep peacefully by your side after a long night, you decided to grab your laptop to write a letter.

a letter to terminate the lease on your end for the apartment you shared with junhui

—early.

[porlockstompf]

Reading de Nacht Reading 2019

                              my favourite books of the year

my overall favourite book of the year:

martin hägglund "this life why mortality makes us free" (2019)

postcyberpunkstompf:

01 ken liu (ed) "broken stars: contemporary chinese sf in translation" (2019)

02 cory doctorow "radicalized" (2019) 03 dave hutchinson "the return of the incredible exploding man" (2019)   + dave hutchinson "nomads" (2019)   + dave hutchinson "thumbprints" (1978)   + dave hutchinson "torn air" (1980)   + dave hutchinson "the push" (2009)   + dave hutchinson "the villages" (2002)   ... damn that elusive "paradise equation" (1981) ... 04 tade thompson "rosewater" (2016)   + tade thompson "rosewater insurrection" (2019)   + tade thompson "rosewater redemption" (2019) 05 desirina boskovich (ed) "lost transmissions: the secret history of sf & f" (2019)

06 hannu rajaniemi & jacob weisman (eds) "the new voices of science fiction" (2019) 07 gardner dozois (ed) "the very best of the best: 35 years of the year's best science fiction" (2019) 08 jonathan strahan (ed) "the best science fiction & fantasy of the year, volume thirteen" (2019) 09 robert markeley "kim stanley robinson modern masters of sf" (2019) 10 allan kaster (ed) "the year's top hard sf stories 3" (2019)

11 olivier girard (ed) "bifrost 96 la revue des mondes imaginaires: william gibson" (2019) 12 mario guglielminetti "web is over. parabola ed esplosione di ubuweb, l'antiprofilo" (2019) 13 bryan thomas schmidt (ed) "infinite stars: dark frontiers" (2019) 14 baoshu "the redemption of time" [2011] (2019) 15 cixin liu "the supernova era" [2003] (2019)

16 l. x. beckett "gamechanger" (2019) 17 gareth l powell "fleet of knives" (2019) 18 chen qiufan "waste tide" [2013] (2019) 19 derek künsken "the quantum garden" (2019) 20 gregory benford "rewrite: loops in the timescape" (2019)

21 james s.a. corey "tiamat's wrath" (2019)   + james s.a. corey "auberon" (2019) 22 jim al-khalili "sunfall" (2019) 23 peter f hamilton "salvation lost"  (2019) 24 neal asher "the warship" (2019) 25 jonathan strahan (ed) "mission critical" (2019)

26 jack mcdevitt "octavia gone" (2019) 27 elizabeth bear "ancestral night" (2019) 28 ian mcdonald "moon rising" (2019) 29 carmen maria machado (ed) "the best american sf & f 2019" (2019) 30 valerie valdes "chilling effect" (2019) 31 simon morden "bright morning star" (2019)      + s. j. morden "no way" (2019) 32 neil stephenson "fall or, dodge in hell" (2019) 33 graham edwards "string city" (2019)

klassikstompf:

01 arno schmidt "bottom's dream" [1970] (2016) ... & still reading ...

02 jorge luis borgès "borgès restored (the author's preferred translations)" (2016) 03 julie orringer "the flight portfolio" (2019)   + julie orringer "the invisible bridge" (2010) 04 pola oloixarac "savage theories" (2017)   + pola oloixarac "dark constellations" (2019) 05 simon critchley "memory theatre" (2014)

06 gabriel josipovici "hotel andromeda" (2014) 07 david keenan "for the good times" (2019) 08 wg sebald "vertigo" [1990] (1999)   + wg sebald "the emmigrants" [1992] (1996)   + wg sebald "the rings of saturn" [1995] (1998)   + wg sebald "austerlitz" (2001) 09 luis chitarroni "the no variations "diary of an unfinished novel" [2007] (2013) 10 julián ríos "larva: a midsummer night's babel" [1983] (1991)

11 césar aira "birthday" [2001] (2019)   + césar aira "three novels" [1990-2000-1997] (2018) 12 tom mole "the secret life of books" (2019) 13 lucy ives "loudermilk or the real poet or the origin of the world" (2019) 14 lászló krasznahorkai "baron wenckheim's homecoming" [2016] (2019) 15 lucy ellmann "ducks, newburyport" (2019)

16 lars iyer "nietzsche & the burbs" (2019) 17 d harlan wilson "the psychotic dr. schreber" (2019) 18 andrew gallix (ed) "we'll never have paris" (2019) 19 chris kelso (ed) "i transgress" (2019) 20 john crowley "the solitudes" [1987] (2007)   + john crowley "love & sleep" (1994)   + john crowley "daemonomania" (2000)   + john crowley "endless things" (2007) ... (the aegypt cycle)

polarstompf:

01 carlos ruiz zafón "the labyrinth of the spirits" [2017] (2018)

02 volker kutscher "the fatherland files" [2012] (2019) 03 andrea camilleri "the overnight kidnapper" [2015] (2019)   + andrea camilleri "the other end of the line" [2016] (2019) 04 mick herron "joe country" (2019)   + mick herron "this is what happened" (2018)   + mick herron "nobody walks" (2015) 05 john le carré "agent running the field" (2019)

06 guillaume musso "la vie secrète des écrivains" (2019) 07 luke mccallin "the man from berlin" (2013)   + luke mccallin "the pale house" (2014)   + luke mccallin "the divided city" (2016) 09 henry porter "brandenburg" [2005] (2019)   + henry porter "firefly" (2018)   + henry porter "white hot silence" (2019) 10 mitch silver "the bookworm" (2018)   + mitch silver "in secret service" (2007)

11 alan judd "the accidental agent" (2019) 12 philip kerr "metropolis" (2019) 13 ian rankin "westwind" (2019) 14 jo nesbø "the knife" (2019) 15 david hewson "devil's fjord" (2019)

16 barry forshaw "crime fiction: a reader's guide" (2019) 17 a.a. dhand "one way out" (2019) 18 martin holmén "clinch: the stockholm trilogy 01" (2016)   + martin holmén "down for te count: the stockholm trilogy 02" (2017)   + martin holmén "slugger: the stockholm trilogy 03" (2019) 19 michael kestemont "de zwarte koning" (2019) 20 soren sveistrup "the chestnut man" [2018] (2019)

21 tim mason "the darwin affair" (2019) 22 patrick conrad "good night, charlie" (2019) 23 chris pavone "the paris diversion" (2019) 24 dov aflon "a long night in paris" (2019) 25 arne dahl "hunted" [2017] (2019)

                                  RIP ANDREA CAMILLERI !

gedächtnisstompf:

01 martin hägglund "this life: why mortality makes us free" (2019) /                            "this life: secular faith & spiritual freedom" (2019)

02 derrida "la vie la mort: séminaire (1975-1976)" (2019) 03 jean-luc nancy "derrida, suppléments”  (2019) 04 jean-françois bouthors et jean-luc nancy "démocratie! hic et nunc" (2019) 05 hannah arendt "de vrijheid om vrij te zijn" (2019)      + hannah arendt "nous autres réfugiés" (2019)

06 mckenzie wark "capital is dead": is this something worse?" (2019) 07 johan schokker & tim schokker      "extimiteit: jacques lacan's terugkeer naar freud" (2000) 08 gerhard richter & ann schmock (eds) "give the word:      responses to werner hamacher's 95 theses on philology"    (2019) 09 ranja n gosh "philosophy & poetry: continental perspectives" (2019) 10 shoshana zuboff "the age of surveillance capitalism" (2019)

11 kate zambrano "screen tests: stories & other writing" (2019) 12 daniele carluccio "roland barthes lecteur" (2019) 13 jean-clet martin "la philosophie de gilles deleuze" (2019) 14 mitchell dean & daniel zamora  "le dernier homme et la fin de la révolution:          foucault après mai 68" (2019) 15 arnon grunberg "vriend & vijand: decadentie, ondergang & verlossing" (2019)

16 kwami anthony appiah      "de leugens die ons verbinden: een nieuwe kijk op identiteit" [2018] (2019) 17 quentin meillassoux "science fiction & extro-science fiction" (2015) 18 roberto calasso "het onbenoembare verleden" [2017] (2019) 19 lydia davis "essays" (2019) 20 denise riley "time lived, without its flow" (2019)

poesisstompf:

zoë skoulding "footnotes to water" (2019)

platterstompf:

01 rick moody "on celestial music, and other adventures in listening" (2012)

02 yann courtiau "frictions:   ce que la littérature a fait à la musique et ce que la musique a en a fait" (2019) 03 vivien goldman "revenge of the she-punks:      a feminist music history from poly styrene to pussy riot" (2019) 04 garrígos, triana & guerra "god save the queens: pioneras del punk" (2019) 05 jon savage "this searing light, the sun & everything else:      joy division the oral history" (2019)

06 richard beck "trains, jesus, and murder: the gospel according to johnny cash" 07 mark lanegan "sleevenotes" (2019) 08 jason williamson "jason williamson's house party: sleaford mods 2014-2019" (2019) 09 gallix, hill, & rose (eds) "love bites: fiction inspired by pete shelley" (2019) 10 greg laurie "johnny cash the redemption of an american icon" (2019)

11 marc vos & toon loenders "siglo xx:     opdat de dood ons levend vindt & het leven ons niet doodt" (2019) 12 david sandilands & david keenan "go ahead & drop the bomb      (memorial device pamflet)" (2019) 13 guillaume belhomme "pop fin de siècle" (2019) 14 chris bohn (ed) "the wire" (magazine) (2019) 15 sylvain sylvain "there's no bones in ice cream:      sylvain sylvain's story of the new york dolls" (2018)

16 debbie harry "face it" (2019) 17 jaime gonzalo "poder freak: una crónica de la contracultura vol III" (2014) 18 matthew bower & samantha davies "talisman angelical" (2017) 19 darryl w bullock "the world's worst records: an arcade of audio atrocity vol I" (2013)   + darryl w bullock "the world's worst records: another arcade of audio atrocity vol II" (2015) 20 steve zisson (ed) "a punk rock future" (2019) /      ivar muñoz-rojas "underground babilonia" (2019)

bilderstompf:

01 didier ottinger "bacon en toutes lettres" (2019)

02 antoni tàpies "cap braços cames cos" (2012)   + antoni tàpies "mahlerei und graphik" (2011) 03 laura oldfield ford "savage messiah" (2019) 04 fred vermorel "dead fashion girl: a situationist detective story" (2019) 05 françois schuiten & jaco van dormael "le dernier pharaon" (2019)

06 ken krimstein "the three escapes of hannah arendt: the tyranny of truth" (2018) 07 erik bindervoet & saskia pfaeltzer "aldus sprach nietzsche's zuster" (2019) 08 anthony n fragola & roch c smith "the erotic dream machine: interviews with alain robbe-grillet on his films" (2006)

cyclostompf:

01 bernard chambaz "petite philosophie du vélo" (2019)

02 filip osselaer "de man die doodging (vervolgens mosselen bestelde,      de rekening vroeg en verdween): el tarangu, josé manuel fuente" (2019) 03 peter schmink "de cultus van het lijden: een vrije oefening" (2006) 04 laurent willame "les lieux sacrés du cyclisme:     15 pélérinages à faire avant de crever" (2019) 05 jonas heyerick (ed) "bahamontes: uit liefde voor de stiel" [magazine] (2019)

06 johnny vansevenant "1969, het jaar van eddy merckx" (2019) 07 edwin winkels "la vuelta: heroïsche verhalen uit de ronde van spanje" (2019) 08 frederik baeckelandt "fausto coppi (les héros 04)" (2019) 09 harry pearson "the beast, the emperor & the milkman:      a bone-shaking tour through cycling’s flemish heartlands" (2019) 10 peter cossins "the yellow jersey / le maillot jaune" (2019)

11 thijs zonneveld "het panini album" (2019) 12 thijs zonneveld "de fiets, de fiets & nog veel meer sportverhalen" (2019) 13 willy vangenechten "hoe word je een wielerfan (en blijf je er een)?" (2019)

some wissenschaftstompf & autres divertissements ...:

01 robert macfarlane "underland: a deep time journey" (2019)

02 george van hal & ans hekkenberg "het kosmisch rariteitenkabinet" (2019) 03 josey waley-cohen "only connect: the difficult second quiz book" (2019)

… tsundoku !

may your home be safe from tigers, leroy, x HNY!

... the annual out of control TBR pile ...

postcyberpunkstompf

ada hoffmann "the outside" (2019) adrian tchaikovsky "children of ruin" (2019) alastair reynolds "shadow captain" (2019) + alastair reynolds "permafrost" (2019) annalee newitz "the future of another timeline" (2019) charlie jane anders "the city in the middle of the night" (2019) farah mendlesohn "the pleasant profession of robert a heinlein" (2019)gareth l powell "ragged alice" (2019) greg egan "perihelion summer" (2019) ian creasey "the shapes of strangers" (2019) jo walton "lent" (2019)

kameron hurley "the light brigade" (2019) karl schroeder "stealing words" (2019) megan o'keefe "velocity weapon" (2019) neil clarke (ed) "the eagle has landed: 50 years of lunar sf" (2019) nina allan "the silverwind" (2019) paul di filippo "aeota" (2019) peter swirski "stanislaw lem: philosopher of the future" (2019) + peter swirski & waclaw m osadnik (eds) "lemography: stanislaw lem in the eyes of the world" (2019) richard kadrey "the grand dark" (2019) rudy rucker "million mile road trip" (2019) simon ings "the smoke" (2019)

klassikstompf

alex landragin "crossings" (2019) enrique vila-matas "mac's problem" [2017] (2019) joseph scapellato "the made-up man" (2019) kevin breatnach "tunnelvision" (2019) michel houellebecq "serotonin" (2019) nell zink "doxology" (2019) roberto bolaño "the spirit of science fiction: a novel" (2019) samanta schweblin "mouthful of birds" (2019) sergio pitol "mephisto's waltz: selected short stories" (2019) will eaves "murmur" (2019)

polarstompf

johan op de beek "het complot van laken" (2019) jon steinhagen "the hanging artist" (2019) juli zeh "empty hearts" (2019) max hertzberg "operation oskar" (2019) + max hertzberg "berlin centre" (2019) peter robinson "many rivers to cross" (2019) tony belloto "bellini & the sphinx" [1995] (2019)

.

.

.

[lovelytsunoda]

hot n cold // esteban ocon

summary: two years of drama, adrenaline and a doomed friends-with-benefits relationship with esteban ocon are shaping up to be the death of olympic archer y/n szafnauer as she finds herself off the archery circuit with a wrist sprain. the relationship wasn't supposed to mean anything. until y/n szaufner wishes that it would, wishes that esteban would just tell her how he really feels.

pairing: esteban ocon x female szafnauer!reader

warnings: a few small smut scenes. miscommunication and pining. fernando, daniil and oscar being done with everybody's bullshit. pregnancy scare is integral to the plot. slight lawrence stroll jumpscare. existential crisis as y/n worries about her future and the teenage years she feels like she never had, a little bit of toxicity on either end of the relationship. jack and oscar being loveable dipshits, fernando being a disappointed father. otmar being the really disappointed father.

2021 Season

she appeared in the paddock in a flurry of skinny jeans, heeled sandals and and a cropped camp shirt in british racing green, open over her black, lacy bralette. her eyes were hidden behind rose-gold sunglasses, a metal straw in between her lips as she sipped her caramel iced coffee.

esteban ocon and daniil kvyat were sitting outside the alpine hospitality suite, the reserve driver laughing as esteban's jaw dropped, his eyes following the woman as she stopped to talk to laurent rossi, the team principal.

"close your mouth, ocon." daniil laughed. "you'll catch flies."

"who is that?" esteban asked, nodding in the woman's direction. "she's beautiful."

"that's y/n szafnauer, otmar's daughter. she was on america's olympic archery team."

"i didn't realize that otmar had a daughter. he's not that old, is he?"

daniil shrugged, thinking about the aston martin team principal. "he's pushing sixty, i thought."

"how old is the daughter?" esteban asked, reaching for his phone to punch her name into the search bar. "quick question: how do you spell szafnauer?"

the reserve driver sighed, knowing exactly where his colleague's mind was going. "esteban, that is not a road that you want to go down, comrade."

"but look at her, mate. she's so hot."

he glanced at the screen, reading the first headline that appeared underneath the google box with her name, accolades and birth date: szafnauer to miss milwaukee open following vegas wrist injury.

"esteban ocon, if you know what is good for you, you will not flirt with otmar's daughter. promise me."

esteban rolled his eyes as he made the promise with daniil.

a promise that the fully intended to break. because y/n szafnauer had him under her spell, and they hadn't even had a full conversation yet.

on the other end of the paddock, y/n was walking up the steps of the aston martin hospitality, giving lawrence stroll a hug as she tried to find her father.

"lawrence, have you seen dad?"

the team owner laughed, gesturing to the offices in the back of the building. "he's in a meeting with the engineers, but he should be done in under half an hour. how's the off season?"

she shrugged, thinking about the bow and arrow at the back of her closet. the way her fingers itched to be back around the slender body of an arrow. lawrence didn't miss the way that her pointer finger nervously tapped the side of her plastic starbucks cup.

"you know how it is. there's not really an off season for us like there is for you guys. always looking to the future."

"well, i wish you the best of luck, y/n."

"you too, lawrence." she nodded, slowly backing away, as she would have felt awkward being the first to exit the conversation with the stroll patriarch.

she waled through the brightly-lit hospitality building, the sun reflecting off the bright white walls as she knocked on the door to her father's office.

"hey kiddo." otmar szafnauer smiled, glancing up from his laptop. "how's the wrist?"

"still sprained. i don't know if i'm going to be able to get back on the circuit this year." she admitted sadly, slumping don in one of the chairs opposite her father's desk. "i don't know what to do, dad. i don't know who i am without archery."

"you could always travel with us for a little bit." otmar suggested, thinking about the girl across from him, remembering when she was just a twelve year old who picked up a bow and arrow at summer camp and never looked back. he remembered standing there at the olympic medal ceremony, watching his daughter stand on the podium with a large bouquet of flowers and a gold medal around her neck, and he wished that he didn't have to see her look so defeated.

y/n snorted. "yeah right. the doctors said i was supposed to relax. what part of this lifestyle is realxing? i'm surprised you haven't had a heart attack yet."

"knock on wood, young lady." otmar said jokingly, rapping his knuckles on the surface of his desk. "a change of scenery might do you some good. all the guys love having you around. you just need to find a way back to yourself, darling. you need to find the y/n that you are when you don't have a bow in your hand."

"and what if she died when i was sixteen, dad?"

"and what if she didn't?"

y/n laughed, knowing exactly what her father was doing. "come on, dad. i'll stay for two weeks, until my next follow up appointment, if that will make you happy." she nodded her head back towards the door. "have you told lawrence that you're thinking of leaving yet."

otmar shook his head, casting a sad look at his daughter. "i don't want to tell him until anything is certain."

later that night, after the qualifying session, the teams went out drinking. the bar was buzzing with energy with the two ferrari drivers singing 'don't go breaking my heart' by the jukebox in the corner, arms around shoulders and beer bottles held up high.

y/n sat at the edge of the booth, keeping distance between herself and the crew members. she was wearing a tight cotton sheath dress, white with blue flowers on the fabric. she had taken her wrist brace off before she left the hotel, and she was already starting to regret it.

she needed to be able to get back out there before the year was over if she wanted any chance of the big-shots in 2022.

with a sigh, she grabbed her purse and made her way back up the bar, craving something stronger than the club soda she had just finished. she had promised her father that she would be on her best behavior that evening, but if charles and carlos were allowed to get as drunk as they were, there should be no reason why she wasn't allowed to have a drink or two.

esteban ocon had been watching her from the alpine table. when he saw her go to the bar, he moved to meet her there. he had been waiting the entire day to make his move, against daniil's better judgement.

"dude, what is wrong with you?" the russian hissed, grabbing esteban's arm. across the table, fernando alsonso raised his eyebrows.

"i feel like there's a story here." the spaniard said with a grin, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"esteban here has a little crush on y/n szafnauer."

"no." fernando said sharply. not in surprise, not in question, as a definitive. "she's so far out of you league, don't even waste your time."

"thanks for the support." esteban huffed. "from both of you. now, if you'll excuse me, i'm going to go and work my french charm and buy her a strong drink."

"if you say so." fernando grinned, looking forward to watching his younger teammate crash and burn.

so imagine how surprised both of the remaining alpine drivers were when, an hour later, y/n and esteban could be spotted quietly slipping out of the front door, giggling together as they made their way to esteban's car.

the night ended with esteban's head in between her thighs, his tongue and his fingers stretching her out before her flipped her over on the bed, taking her from behind until they were both spent.

"mon dieux." esteban cursed, thrusting his cock into her deeply as she moaned underneath him. "you feel so good, mon ange. such a good girl for me, taking my cock so nicely."

"oh, esteban! yes, yes, god."

and that was how it started. one night turned into two, turned into three and suddenly neither of them knew what it was, finding their way back to each other every time. three races go by, and y/n finally gets the all-clear from her doctors to return to the professional circuit.

and she didn't realize the void that leaving the track would leave in her heart. not just because she missed her father, but because her bed was back to being empty every night, esteban's lanky body not next to hers any more.

instead of nights filled with riveting sex, french dirty talk, and talking about hopes and dreams for the future with their limbs tangled together under cotton sheets, she was finding it increasingly difficult to fall asleep, even after coming home from long training sessions with aching arms and sore feet, dropping her quiver and immediatley falling into bed just to stare at the off-white ceiling.

she had no idea that esteban felt the same, unable to get her off his mind, unable to find that same sense of calm in someone else that he found in y/n szafnauer. other girls wouldn't do it for him any more, but god did he try everything in distraction. instead, every hookup just left him feeling dirty and unsatisfied.

but there were never labels on what they had, no procedure on if they were supposed to miss each other or not. they were nothing but friends who occasionally (or more often than that) slept together, right?

so it would be strange for esteban to call her up and ask to come see her at the next invitational, right? well, the right opportunity fell right into his lap when lance mentioned how otmar had given his father tickets to go and see y/n's invitational in japan and that lance and chloe would be going, as chloe was a close friend of y/n's. as it stood, there was one ticket left, and it would either be going to esteban or mick.

but of course, like most men, esteban ocon thinks with his dick, and the one thing that his cock wanted more than anything in that moment was to be back inside the archer.

two weeks later, he found himself in japan, in the outdoor archer stadium, his eyes scanning the field from the vip box to see y/n in her lavender under armour polo and those tight little navy leggings, hair pulled back in the way that he always held it as she sucked him off.

y/n crossed the pitch to her target, pulling out the handful of arrows that she had been working with that morning. it was her third major invitational back after medical leave, and she felt. . .off. at this point, she wasn't sure if it was because she was falling in love with esteban ocon or if it had something to do with her wrist again. she couldn't afford to have another injury. she was already twenty-five, which is a death sentence for an athlete.

she held the metal arrows in her hand as she turned to walk back to the white chalk line all archers fired from, and that's when she saw him in the crowd, with lance and chloe. it was impossible not to see him, his lanky figure towering over everybody else.

her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating faster as she remembered what they had done the last time they were together.

as the competition started, she had to force herself to keep her cool, to breathe normally as she notched an arrow, lining up the shot with the target. pretending that esteban's eyes weren't glued to her as she let the arrow fly, grinning to herself as she landed a perfect bullseye.

she took home silver that day, and all she could think about was how she wished her father had bothered to show up. otmar was currently in england, finalizing the last little contract details that would cement his switch from aston martin to wherever the fuck else, but the romanian had promised to attend the next grand slam.

instead, she was stuck with the strolls and the one man she wanted to see the most, even though they'd been terrible to each other over the last year.

victory didn't feel the way that it used to.

as she stepped of the podium, she just felt empty as she thought about everything that she had given up to get there. chloe stroll was really the only friend that she had left outside of the sport.

"great job, babes!" the canadian laughed, pulling y/n in for a hug before giving her a massive bouquet of flowers. "i know your dad is proud of you. we sure as hell all are."

"thanks, chloe." she put on a brave face, smiling at the singer before shaking hands with lance, and then coming face to face with him. "hey." she said softly, hesitant to meet esteban's gaze.

"hi." the frenchman sounded just as unsure as the archer did. "i'm really proud of you, y/n. you did incredible out there."

y/n smiled nervously, brushing some stray hairs out of her face. "thanks, esteban. seriously. i've missed you since i left the track."

"me too." the alpine driver said softly, reaching for her hand. she allowed him to bring her knuckles to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back of her hand that sent shockwaves through her skin.

that got her wondering: was he just being a gentleman, or did esteban truly feel the same way that she did?

at the afterparty that night, y/n had a lot of mingling to do, but she only wanted the attention of one person: esteban ocon. it was with the alpine driver in mind that she slected her dress: a cotton bodycon dress with a cutout in the top that showed off her cleavage, and a pair of plastic stiletto heels, her hair pulled back in a seductive yet prim bun at the back of her head.

she had hands to shake and sponsors to greet, and with a champagne flute in hand, she kept a look out with the corner of her eye for esteban. she found him, but what she saw when her eyes found his made her stomach churn.

esteban was talking to a tall blonde from australia, the one who had won bronze. the wannabe pageant queen. and clearly she had esteban's attention, with the frenchman laughing loudly at something the woman had said.

y/n didn't understand why her blood was boiling the way that it was. she and esteban weren't anything special, although his skills in the bedroom certainly were.

so why did she immediately grab her purse and walk out, hyperaware of the frenchman's gaze on her ass, which was barely covered by her dress.

somehow she knew that esteban would follow her outside, into the cool japanese night.

"i wasn't going to sleep with her, you know. you do not have to think that little of me, szafnauer."

y/n rolled her eyes, turning to look at him. "it's not my problem, ocon." the words almost hurt her to say. "we aren't anything. you can flirt with whomever you want."

esteban raised his eyebrows. "so why do you look so upset?"

"i'm not." she said lowly, stepping closer and running her fingers up the front of esteban's suit jacket. "i just thought that you were coming home with me tonight."

and so it went, the same old story. her dress ended up on the floor, a lacy thong thrown over a lampshade, a tie gently holding her wrists together behind her back, esteban's trousers on the floor.

a cycle they were doomed to repeat for as long as they were scared of admitting how they felt about each other.

"esteban?" she asked quietly, scared to break the spell as they lay side by side, the frenchman's nimble fingers twirling her hair around his pointer finger. "do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you weren't who you are?"

"what do you mean, mon tresor?" the driver hummed, dropping her hair.

"i mean that i've been in this life since i was sixteen. there's a lot of shit i missed out on. i never went to prom, never went on dates. in between school and archery, i didn't really have anything else. i reckon that i didn't even have too many proper, genuine friends either. because of who my dad was, they thought i could get them into races, you know? get them an in with the drivers."

esteban thought for a minute. "your twenty-sixth is coming up, isn't it? that would mean that your career lasted a solid decade. i see no reason why you can't retire, or at the very least take a step back. life is too short not to go for what you want."

what if what i want is you, esteban ocon?

"what if, right now, i just wanted you?"

the driver smirked, ducking underneath the covers so that his head was between her thighs. "then that's what you'll get, mon ange."

2022 Season

szafnauer to take a step back from the competitive circuit, focus on life after archery

finding life after archery was harder than y/n szafnauer thought. her father had left aston martin, and gone to alpine, where, low and behold, she would constantly run into esteban.

even when the french driver was the last person she wanted to see, because every time they saw each other, it ended the same way: with the two of them naked.

but with every night spent together, the lines blurred even further. more nights were spent having deep, meaningful conversations over a bottle of wine, or cuddling together on the hotel couch while esteban commentated on shitty french comedy films.

they were crossing lines left and right, terrified to admit it to themselves or each other.

she couldn't let this go any further, she thought to herself, slipping out of esteban's bed and gathering her clothes from the night before, hastily pulling a guess sweatshirt over her head, and the jeans that she'd bought because they were cheap and comfortable (from old navy, at that- the furthest thing from a brand name!). hopin gthe frenchman wouldn't wake, she pressed a kiss to esteban's forehead before quietly slipping out of the hotel room.

as she heard the door click shut, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, turning around to almost run directly into fernando alonso.

"y/n? isn't that esteban's room- oh." the spaniard was at a loss for words when he realized what exactly that meant. "so, you and esteban?"

y/n's eyes widened. "it's not what you think. okay, maybe it is! but you cannot tell my father. if my dad finds out, it doesn't end well for any of us?" she pleaded with the older man

"so you're making me an accomplice."

"exactly! so glad you understand, thanks fernando!" she shouted as she took off down the hallway, hoping that nobody else would notice.

but of course, ignorance couldn't be bliss forever. especially not when y/n szafnauer was standing outside the alpine motorhome after spending the whole morning hurling her guts out in a hotel toilet, staring down at the period tracker app on her phone.

your period is fourteen days late.

there was only one person that the father could be, one person that caused this. she didn't even want to think about telling her father. first things first, esteban needed to know, and then they both needed to find out if she really was pregnant.

holding her breath, she stepped into the motorhome with shaky hands, hoping that her father wasn't around, knowing that otmar would rain hell down on the team for the entire race weekend. he needed to keep his head in the game, as did the rest of the team personnel.

"hey y/n!" a voice called from the hospitality.

she turned around, meeting eyes with oscar piastri, the barely-contracted reserve driver. over the past year, y/n had heard all about her father's ill-advised lawsuit to keep the aussie with the team, and his unawareness at just how laughable his case even was.

anybody with a brain could have told otmar that he was going to lose the appeal.

"hey, oscar." she hoped that her voice wasn't shaky as she spoke to the young driver. "you haven't seen esteban this morning, by chance, have you? i know it's media day, but the pen was empty when i walked past."

oscar coughed, swallowing the last of his croissant. "i think he's in his driver's room. hey, so fernando told me something this morning-"

"thank you, oscar!" she cut him off, clapping him on the shoulder before she hurried down a hallway, hoping to avoid confronation with quite literally anybody else.

if fernando had told oscar, who else already knew?

"esteban?" she called out, knocking on the driver's room door. "esteban jean-jaques ocon! i need to talk to you!"

she was about to pound on the door again when it opened, giving way underneath her knuckles.

"y/n?" esteban raised his eyebrows "what are you doing here?"

"um, my dad works here, jackass." she was done being nice, shoving past esteban and taking a seat on his massage couch. "we need to talk."

"so you said. you know fernando saw you leave my hotel room this morning?"

"fernando is the least of our worries." she blurted out, showing esteban her phone screen. the frenchman cocked his head in confusion, and the former archer cut him off before he could ask what that meant. "i could be pregnant, esteban. and we need to decided what to do from here."

"she might be what!" the unmistakable voice came from behind the door to the driver's room, panic setting in as esteban ripped the door open, causing two drivers to topple into the small space.

oscar piastri and jack doohan had been listening from the other side of the door, fernando alonso shaking his head at them from further up the hallway.

"this is what you cabrons get for eavesdropping."

the aussie junior drivers clumsily got up from the floor, hanging their heads in shame at being caught.

"is it true?" jack asked quietly. "is y/n pregnant."

"jack!" oscar scolded. "we are in enough trouble!"

"enough!" y/n shouted, shaking her head. "we don't know. i was hping just to have this conversation with esteban, seeing as how he's the only one it concerns. and now the entire goddamn team knows."

"sorry." oscar said, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. the rookie had decided it was better to keep his head down now that the court case had been settled and he'd be moving to mclaren the following season. "at least abbi doesn't know."

"don't make this worse for yourself, kid." fernando sighed. "let the adults talk."

"i am twenty-one years old!"

jack coughed. "actually, i sort of am still a kid."

"exactly. so mind your business."

esteban shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "they already know, fernando. if you send them away, they'll just blab. putain! none of this can get back to otmar, you guys hear me?"

"so what do we do from here?" y/n asked, head in her hands. it's not that she hadn't started thinking about settling down now that she was taking a break from archery, but she didn't expect it to be this soon.

she wanted to rediscover who she was first, and it was going to be hard to do that with a child on her hip.

"we keep oscar and jack somewhere where they won't gossip." fernando suggested. "since this entire mess is esteban's fault and i like watching him squirm, he gets to go out and buy the pregnancy tests. three different ones, each a different brand. cuts down on the chance of a false reading."

"why do i have to do it?" esteban gawked at the same time that jack asked "what do you know about pregnancy tests, old man?"

"i'm forty three years old and divorced, you do the math, kid." fernando said, quickly quieting the doohan boy, who promptly returned to staring at the ground. "esteban, you have to do it because y/n is already stressed enough. speaking of, y/n, do you want a coffee or something while esteban is out."

"yeah, actually." she said slowly, reaching fro esteban's hand for some kind of comfort.

he didn't reach back, his hand limp in hers. feeling like she had been punched in the gut, she dropped his hand, following fernando out into the hospitality suite for a much needed caffeinated drink.

"so..." the senior driver started, placing two fresh coffee's on the table. "you and esteban?"

"what about us?"

"is it serious?"

y/n snorted. "it's barely even a relationship. it's like we're drawn to each other, we fuck, and then we have these incredible conversations over a bottle of wine, and then it's like we don't even know each other."

"can we talk friend-of-esteban to friend-of-esteban?"

"that's not how this works, alonso."

"well, it's hardly man-to-man, is it? the cabron is head over heels in love with you, and he has been for two years. he's just a coward who won't admit how he actually feels about you."

she had suspected as much, and this conversation was confirming it for her. they were both as scared as the other: scared to rock the boat, scared to ruin what they already had with each other.

"what am i supposed to do, fernando?"

fernando gave her a knowing look, placing his hand over hers. "you tell him how you feel, and then you take the tests."

"but what if they're positive?"

"he'd be an asshole to run away, and i don't see that happening. i think that he would lay down his life for you, kiddo. give him some credit. not a lot, but some."

"and then i guess i have to tell my dad."

fernando gave her a pitiful glance, one that said everything that he couldn't. "can't help you there, y/n. that one's gotta be all you-"

"i'm back!' an out-of-breath esteban ocon proclaimed, appearing next to the table. "i got three different ones, each a different make, just like fernando said." he spoke fast, and he spoke nervously, backwards alpine ball-cap covering his disheveled hair. he'd done nothing but run his fingers over his scalp and regret every life choice he had ever made.

but especially not telling y/n he loved her.

"okay." she gulped. "let's get this show on the road."

all three sticks were locked at loaded, face up on the counter in the bathroom, a timer set on esteban's phone, all three sets of instructions nervously clutched in y/n's hand.

"y/n?" esteban asked quietly, reaching out for her free hand. "what are we doing? we can't go on like this."

"like what?"

"this. i can't do it anymore, because i think that i've fallen in love with you. no, i know that i've fallen in love with you and i've just been too scared to say it. fuck." he was out of breath despite not having said much, the anxiety eating away at his stomach. "i love you, y/n szafnauer."

"he said it!" oscar's shout could be heard for miles, and he continued yelling as esteban and y/n tried to get the young aussie to be quieter. "jack, mate, you owe me twenty quid!"

"fucking crikey, mate." jack whined. "fine, you win this one. but did the dumbass get her knocked up?"

"jack doohan!" y/n scolded. "why are you dumbasses still here?"

there was a creaking on the staricase next to them, followed by the voice of the person that everybody wanted to see the least.

"what on earth is this fucking yelling? some of us actually have work to do today!" otmar szafnauer shouted, freezing in his tracks when he saw his daughter, pregnancy test intructions clutched in one hand, the other held securely within the hand of otmar's second driver.

"dad," y/n started. "i promise you, it's not what it looks like."

"y/n y/m/n szafnauer, why are you holding pregnancy test instructions?"

oscar's eyes widened, and he turned to look at jack. "dude, does hospitality have popcorn?"

"no idea." jack shook his head. "i bet the other academy guys don't get to witness this shitshow every day. just wait until we tell them."

"you're both idiots." fernando huffed, knocking the two young aussies heads together. "this does not leave the motorhome, do you hear me?"

"dad-" y/n tried to reason before otmar cut her off.

"no buts, y/n! who have you been fucking all this time? was it oscar? daniil? because if it was that russian motherfucker, i swear to god i will find his address and hunt him for sport!"

"at least we know it wasn't me, mate." jack offered up, trying to lessen the tension in the motorhome. "because i'm not an adult yet, remember?"

"shut up jack!"

the f2 driver got the message loud and clear. "okay, shutting up."

"oh dear god?" otmar closed his eyes, hands in front of his face in the prayer position. "please tell me . . . tell me that it wasn't. . .it's not. . . fernando, is it?"

y/n physically recoiled, fighting the urge to gag. "christ, dad! who the fuck do you think i am?"

"i was just checking!"

"my standards may not be super high," fernando admitted. "but i would never fuck my boss' twenty-five year old daughter."

"i'm twenty-six, fernando."

"my mistake. sorry, kiddo."

otmar turned back to his daughter, something akin to disappointment hiding behind the initial betrayal in his eyes. "we used to tell each other everything, y/n. and now i find out that you've been seeing one of my drivers behind my back?"

the sadness in her father's eyes made y/n crack then and there. she missed how close she and her father had once been.

"it's esteban. we've been seeing each other for two years, dad."

"oh sweet jesus." otmar muttered, before he starting rambling in romanian under his breath. "esteban jean-jaques ocon, when this is all said and done, i need to see you in my office."

"i understand, sir." esteban nodded, moving his hand from y/n's so that he could put his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. "but believe me when i say that i am in love with your daughter, and i plan to do right by her."

"estie, we don't even know if there is a baby yet." she said softly, turning to look at him. "what are we supposed to do?"

"we try again. start completely from scratch, from square one, as if the past two years never happened. we go on proper dates, and i listen as you tell me your big plans for retirement." the frenchman said quietly, gently kissing her on the forehead. "je t'aime, y/n szafnauer."

"je t'aime, esteban ocon."

the timer on esteban's phone went off, and the driver looked over at otmar. "otmar? i think you should sit down for this."

"sit down? don't tell me to sit down, young man! you've been boning my daughter behind my back for two years, i don't think that you're really qualified to tell me anything-"

"otmar!" fernando interrupted. "i know that you're stressed out right now, but your daughter's future is written on three little plastic sticks. so sit your ass down and give the two of them some space to find out what to do next."

"i'm too young to be a grandfather."

oscar snorted. "dude, you're like, sixty."

"i am fifty-eight!"

"are you ready, mon tresor?" esteban said quietly, turning to face y/n.

she nodded, one hand wrapped around the cool metal of the bathroom door handle. "as ready as i'll ever be."

the two crammed themselves into the small bathroom, estie's arms around her waist and his lips agains thte side of her head as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for those little pink lines.

how crazy is it that the entire future of two people can be changed by a series of pink lines? everything different in an instant.

"i'm right here." the driver encouraged. "take your time, mon tresor."

slowly, and with shaky hands, she flipped over the first test, and then the second.

negative. negative again.

she drew in a breath, looking at the last test, the smiling baby on the white handle doing nothing to calm her nerves. she didn't even know if she knew what she wanted the test to say yet.

"i can't do it, esteban. i can't face the unknown."

she knew it was a shitty answer. she faced the unknown the second she announced that she was stepping away from her sport. faced the unknown the minute she got into esteban ocon's bed. the moment she had to deal with medical leave.

esteban placed his hand over her. "then we turn it over together. and i promise, whatever the answer is, we work through it together."

"okay."

on the count of three, they turned the test over together.

not pregnant.

shockingly, she found herself breathing a sigh of relief. and she could feel esteban relaxing behind her as she rested her head against his chest, mumbling to himself in french.

"now we have time to do the real relationship things. to fall in love with each other all over again." she turned to look at him. "let's do everything in the right order this time."

esteban laughed. "i'd like that very much." he smiled as he kissed her. "so, does this mean that children are on the table for the future?"

"is that something you want?"

"only with you."

y/n smiled. "then yes. but you'd better put a ring on it first."

esteban chuckled, kissing her again. "i think i can make that happen, mon ange."