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venusjeon · 11 months

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angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

#bts au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bangtan imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jeongguk #bangtan #bts x you

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Text

Chapter 13 - I-T-G-I-R-L, You Know I am That Girl

So this chapter is a little different. As well all know, the reader is an ICON and no one is near her level and she will do some iconic things in 2024

Look out for the dates to see how the time line goes (its a bit all over the place so I apologize but this will end with the start of the F1 Season with her clip in the Formula One Intro for every race and some other little things.)

And I know most of the pictures I used were Max but we play pretend here :D

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN

February 20, 2024

acrosstheline.podcast we are so privileged to have sat down with y/n.89 for this all exclusive interview where we discussed her opening races, femininity in male-dominant sports, and what it takes to be a racer - read now in our special edition

liked by y/n.89, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 751,836 others

lilymhe is this what you've been working on! so so proud of you

y/n.89 hehe it is! and love you too - tell Alex that I'm taking you alex_albon I'm right here y/n.89 and? lilymhe gagged him

y/n_updates OH MY GOSH OUR GIRL'S FIRST MAGAZINE

y/n_lover and hopefully not the last! y/n.89 definitely not y/n_updates SHE RESPONDED?!

change_ur_f-car the questions were top notch! good to see interviewers who aren't looking to poke and prod for a reaction

y/n.nation favorite quote - "I never thought I'd podium on my first race - let alone finish it in the points. I hope that this means that this season will be good. I've always said that I was born to break records - and I'm glad to see that I wasn't lying."

formula1fanatic this was beautifully written, I was skeptical about her joining - but now I have no doubts. she truly belongs in the car to win

May 15, 2024

duke Y/n L/n has taken the Motor Sport World - and everyone else - by storm. we had the opportunity to sit down with the rookie and discuss the inside feelings that might take over during the pressures of her first year. these are the unfiltered thoughts of y/n l/n.

liked by charles_leclerc, formula1, and 284,937 others

y/n-lover MOMMY, sorry, MOTHER, sorry, MOMMY

maxiel_obsessed glad you put my thoughts into words

y/n'soneandonly can arthur_leclerc fight? post up frenchman

charles_leclerc he's MONEGASQUE

girls4girls this is the moment I became a fan

89_all-the_way "I looked around one time and really thought about how I was the only female racer. I was waiting for the doubts to creep in but instead pride found its way into my soul. I made it and no one can stop me" WHAT AN ICON

box-box literally one of my favorite moments number1y/n-fan I love her so much

maxverstappen1 where is your shirt young lady?

y/n.89 its called fashion - something you haven't heard of mr. I only wear RedBull merchant lewishamilton glad to see you went with my outfit suggestion georgerussell33 what was wrong with my suggestion!? y/n.89 I was not about to wear a Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit

francisca.gomez loml - so proud of you girly

y/n.89 thanks kika! tell pear I want you back

pitstopfailure BARK BARK BARK BARK

October 7, 2024

voguemagazine "I think that I was born for this. there's nothing else I'd rather be doing than getting in my car every weekend and putting my life on the line for the sport I love," says Y/n L/n. Her days are directed by high speeds, training, and breaking records.

liked by kellypiquet, lewishamilton, and 820, 184 others

redbullracing that's our rookie!!

emotionalsupport-rivals and everyone liked that bullsrunred they are everything to me your honor

verstappensfam first kelly, then y/n! now max just needs a vogue addition

y/n.89 oh I'm working on it!

y/n-on-top they hit us with that "no one is on her level. they may be close, but we haven't seen talent like this since Lewis Hamilton's rookie year. even then, it feels different - she's different."

iamred-iamyellow and then they follow up with "her poise and composure are unmatched. she wins and maturely celebrates, she doesn't too well in the race - she takes it to heart and fixes it. she is everything a formula 1 driver aspires to be."

y/n.89 BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER!!!!!!

oscarpias-tree the way her birthday is right in the middle of Max's and Arthur's birthdays y/nxarthur exactly 7 days after max's and 7 days before Arthur's

December 4, 2023

time Y/n L/n (y/n.89) is TIME's 2024 Woman of the Year.

In her freshman season of Formula 1, L/n talks about her phenomenal rookie year, carving her spot into the sport, and the up's and down's of the expectations that were on her shoulders.

liked by taylorswift, zendaya, and 926,824 others

y/n-lover LETS GO!!!!!!!

maxverstappen1 so so proud

taylorswift congratulations y/n.89! you deserve this and everything!

y/n.nation that's our girl right there - woman of the YEAR

y/n.89 why is everyone tagging me in this post??

landonorris uh, did you even look at it??? oscarpiastri you were announced woman of the year? y/n.89 oh. boxbox_nightmare where'd she go logansargeant oh she's screaming right now - I can hear her though the walls y/n.89 LOGAN

y/n_updates everything about this article changed the way I think about life

lestappenlove this is my Roman Empire

December 20, 2024

motorsportsproduction The "Minds of Champions" special issue is out now!

We thank sebastianvettel, maxverstappen1, and y/n.89 for sitting down with us for this exclusive. Inside you will find separate as well as joint interviews from the drivers.

liked by arthur_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 2,947,935 others

lastlaplando the way they had not only y/n and max but SEBASTIAN VETTLE TOO

vettelsvetos this is everything to me, I know y/n isn't a champion yet but the way she talks and acts - she's truly champion material

emotionalsupport-rivals max, y/n, and Sebastian are the perfect trio, I could see them win a Le Mans race one day

box_box oh my gosh yes - they'd be the perfect line-up

redbullracing our three generations: past, present, and future

sebastianvettel thank you for having me - it was a special time

y/n.89 it was so good to see you again seb! planning my Switzerland trip as we speak maxverstappen1 am I invited? charles_leclerc Sebastian's favorites ONLY maxverstappen1 then why are you still here? y/n.89 shots fired (you're all wrong - I'm the favorite) landonorris popcorn is out and the girls are fighting

landonorris sad I wasn't invited for this interview

motorsportsproductions next time mr. Norris, next time

y/n.nation half of these interviews made me cry

y/ndoesiconicshit so, y/n dyed her hair navy and red just for a RedBull commercial? she is COMMITTED - sad that she eventually got back to her blond hair

liked by lastlaplando, maxiel-lover, and 170 others

y/n.nation sorry to tell you but these were wigs, y/n mentioned it once in an interview :(

y/ndoesiconicshit NOOOOOOOOOOO y/n-on-top her hair would have been crispy af if she actually dyed it

formula1fan when I tell you I switched teams because of this commercial

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n put out bts pictures of her first photoshoot and lemme tell you - I am in LOVE

liked by y/n.nation, pitstopfailure, and 239 others

f1-today this photoshoot was everything to me

y/n-loves-me people better be glad that y/n chose to be a driver and not a model

formula_uno the way that half the drivers could be models if they quit their day jobs

y/n_updates those pictures are on my wall

y/ndoesiconicshit apparently y/n wasn't ready when Max came to pick her up before media day - so she got ready in the car (what a queen)

liked by y/n-lover, y/n_fan, and 361 others

piastri_81 the way she's so unbothered, in her vlog from that day she sounded so chill while max was freaking out about being late

icon-y/n I quote "max what would they do? fire us? yagirl89 the follow up "YES" and then the "oh" had me dying

lastlaplando her skin is flawless - she needs to drop that skincare routine asap

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n's birthday was wild - y/n hinted at what happened but nothing was confirmed. all we know is that the wags took her out to celebrate the night of and they all went radio-silent (max and Arthur were panicking)

liked by change_ur_f-car, formula1fanatic, and 613 others

f1_wags apparently they went to a club where phones weren't allowed for privacy reasons

y/ns_oneandonly the leaked videos tho were hilarious

y/n-and-wags but the outside videos of Arthur and Max coming to get her melted my heart

maxiel-lover i NEED the details like water - y/n better drop them

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n at the premier of the Formula 1 film "Can't Catch Me" starring Tom Holland - when she stepped out on the red carpet ALL cameras went to her, like no one else was photographed during this time

liked by y/n.89, arthurxy/n, and 729 others

tomholland-fan DID ANYONE NOTICE Y/NS CAMEO THO

y/n.nation I thought that woman looked familiar! y/n.89-love where was she! I'll go back and watch it just to find her tomholland-fan it was when Tom's character needed to go to the mechanics for his Honda - she was the one he talked to and she was also at the end race as a engineer as well!

RedBull.nation the way everyone held their breaths when she stepped out of the car, the only sound was the clicks of the cameras and then the crowd just erupted in a roar to get her attention

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

Start of the actual chapter!

Your sunglasses sat perched on your nose as you sat in the back seat of whatever rental you were in for the day. Your fingers swiped the screen of your iPhone, constantly switching videos before they could even finish. Vito sat next to you, looking out the window as he talked to someone on the phone. Words about contracts, signings, photoshoots, and interviews rattled around in the car. The driver turned the wheel as he pulled up to the studio. The car lurched as it came to a stop.

Vito quickly hung up on the phone with a short goodbye. You turned off your phone before you stepped out of the car.

“What was that all about?” you asked as he guided you to the front of the building.

You heard the click of his phone as he locked it and opened the door. You said a quick thank you as you were blasted with the air conditioning.

“Just some calls I had to make. Lots of people are wanting to interview you kid. I have to make sure that they’re not just using you or plan to ask you stupid questions.” His fingers flew over the screen, probably typing yet another email.

You just nodded. Vito had taken care of you for so long, he’d take care of you now. You knew how dangerous the media was, especially as a woman in your occupation.

The two of you followed a long hallway down to a big room where cameras and other filming equipment were set up. Right now, Max was in the middle in his racing suit working on poses. Since he was the 2023 champion, you guessed he’d be doing what he did last year and the year before. But you’ll have people know you tried to convince him to do an actual pose, but he was resilient against your puppy eyes.

You however had no clue what pose you were going to do. So, you were really hoping that someone would be able to assist you.

Max quickly glanced at you and shot you a smile before being directed to pay attention. His smile melted and his stone-cold façade showed up. You wanted to shiver since you knew that Max was this big softy that had been broken down by the villainous persona that had been built by cut scenes and misplaced wording. You’d rather go back in time to tell little Max that he wasn’t the big monster everyone said he was than win a world championship. But because time travel hasn’t been confirmed – yet, you’d stick with helping present Max and work toward your own championship.

You were ushered to a small changing room where your new race suit was hung up. Your fireproofs were neatly folded and were lying on the small bench. The shoes sat next to them. This year, the suits were a bit different. Max and you had voiced how much you liked the matte gold and navy look. Yes, the navy and red were the big staple colors of Red Bull, but you could do well with a little pizzaz.

So the design team listened and made the red a sub color. The lettering and stripes down the sides were gold. The bulls on the main logos were gold as well. Red lined the seams as well as being the main color for all the sponsorship logos.

The one thing that Max was happy about was that the hats stayed the same. He had too many from the year before to not be able to wear them. You didn’t see the appeal as you were more prone to hat hair than he was.

You put on the all navy fire proofs before stepping into the thicker race suit. You kept the outer layer on your hips as you sat down on the bench to lace your shoes. Standing up, you noticed a mirror. You walked over and just took a moment to look at yourself.

Possibly for once in your life, you liked the way you looked. The once dark circles under your eyes had finally gone away with some good sleep. Your hair looked more shiny and healthy and you had put on some good weight in the form of muscles that were needed to steer the car. Your trainer had put you through vigorous training, but it was all to help you prepare.

A knock on the door let you know that they were ready for you. Vito stood to the side with your 2024 helmet. You were known for switching your helmet almost every other race in Formula 2. Your argument was that you just had too many good ideas not to use them. To keep it simple, you went with a full navy helmet with gold logos to match the suits.

Some of the Red Bull team had mentioned that your helmet looked similar to Sebastian Vettel’s helmet. You only shot them a sly smile, basically telling them everything they needed to know. And it’s not like you didn’t know the German racer, quite the contrary. And did he give you his blessing to take inspiration from his glory days at Red Bull? The probability was huge.

But again, people really didn’t need to know that either.

All you knew was that the helmet matched to a tee, and it would be lucky to be used for more than 10 races. You had a list where you’d use special helmets. Vito was already on it with getting them ordered. You didn’t pay him to not order multiple custom helmets per year. He was already used to your antics.

You shook hands with multiple people before walking over to Max. You took your place next to him.

“So what’s the plan. I go left, you go right, and we leave with a giant explosion behind us? Taylor Swift Bad Blood style?”

Max wheezed through his nose, not expecting your full-proof plan.

From behind, Vito spoke up, “There will be no explosions. Here’s the plan. The producers talked to me and they actually want Y/n’s segment to go last as like a ‘surprise’.”

You interrupted him, “But people already know I’m driving.”

Vito sighed before continuing. “I know. It doesn’t make sense but they’re the bosses for today. So they want Max to hold your helmet, turn to the left and hand it off screen. Then the camera would cut to you ‘taking it,’ you’d look down, and then put it on.”

Your hands flew up. “So I don’t get to do the pose I rehearsed and Max doesn’t get to continue to look dead inside?”

Max looked at you and squinted. “You didn’t have a pose ready. You were just texting me and panicking that you didn’t have one.”

You only pouted after his confession.

Max went ahead and redid his segment. This time, he did manage to do a little smile, just because you were the one taking the helmet and you made a weird face at him.

The film techs said that the last take with the smile was the best one. And to Max’s chagrin, it would be the one to be used in the official video.

You were told to stand on the massive X in the middle of the background. You were looking around at all the lights as someone helped you fix your hair. You hadn’t done anything pretty with it because it wasn’t realistic. You had never curled your hair and done anything special with it on race day. People would always find your hair in a braid, bun, or a Founding Father’s ponytail. And today was no different.

You took a bit of time to actually make a nice braid that sat on your shoulder. Made you feel a bit like Katniss Everdeen.

Speaking of, you wanted to have a little bit of fun. Your nickname wasn’t Kid for a reason.

“And action.”

Your hand scrunched into three fingers that rose to your mouth for a kiss and then was lifted above your head.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

A couple of giggles filled the studio. Max and Vito were trying their best not to laugh out loud too much behind the camera.

“Cut! Let’s try it again!”

Your segment took about three more tries to get correctly. One of them, you accidentally dropped your helmet. Another, the helmet wouldn’t go on properly with your braid on your shoulder so you had to move it and undo it, so that you didn’t look like you didn’t have hair – the ponytail worked better. And then the third take was perfect.

Max had been the one to hand you the helmet off screen and you did the opposite that he had done. You started off with a small smile, before going cold faced when you put the helmet on. You tried not to giggle once the thing was one since it felt weird without the balaclava. But you managed to keep your shoulders still until the man yelled Cut once more.

You, thankfully, were allowed to now go change out of the hot suit. A Red Bull manager was the one to take the suit from you and hold on to it until preseason testing, which was going to be in a few weeks. You knew that when you said goodbye to Max as the place, it wouldn’t be too long until you would see him again.

Wasn’t like you were ten minutes away, or that you didn’t work together, or that you somehow had the same simulator testing times just to catch up on what you missed during the week. But during the last few weeks, you spent more time with Arthur.

He had called you in tears once he finally got confirmation that he was going to be out of Formula 2 and then cried once more when he had to leave the Ferrari Academy program. Your heart just ached and ached for him when you held him.

You remember when he finally opened up a few nights after.

You were bundled up in a giant blanket. He had come over to your apartment since Charles was staying with their mom for a few days while his apartment was being remodeled. Arthur’s head was tucked in your neck as a random movie played on the screen.

He had finally spoken up.

“You know. I really knew from the moment that I couldn’t continue karting all those years ago that racing just wasn’t for me. It never was.”

You looked down at his face that was stained with tears. “Thur, don’t say that.”

He only shrugged. “It’s true. If it wasn’t maybe Papa would have chosen for me to continue racing. And I know I begged Charles to be selfish, but maybe now I’m wishing I hadn’t.”

Your hands grabbed his face and made him look up at you.

“Please don’t say that. Please.”

By now, you had your own tears staining your face.

“Because if you weren’t in Formula 2 this year, I would have never met you.” You took a breath. “My best friend wouldn’t be my best friend without it.”

His eyes closed as he nodded little nods, almost as if he was having a hard time excepting what you called the truth.

“I just feel like I don’t have a purpose anymore. You and Charles have racing, Maman has her store, and Lorenzo has the business. I have nothing.”

Your arms wrapped around his figure. “We’ll find something and figure it out together. If anything, you can follow me to all my races.” You had a shit-eating grin on your face. A small laugh escaped his lips and you took that as a win.

“What, and be your WAG?”

You elbowed the Monegasque. “Sure. That’s exactly what I’m going for. I think I’ll have separation anxiety without you.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Or unless I find something else.”

“That’s all I ask. For you not to give up Thur. We’re in this new world together.”

Arthur, feeling bold, laced his hands with yours. You were thankful for the dark room so he couldn’t see your red cheeks.

“Together.”

And together is what you did for the remaining weeks. You and Arthur scoured every possibility he had to get back into racing. You reached out to many people – people who knew your godfather well and had helped you back with karting. You also reached out to many other people who normal fans didn’t know you knew.

On this list, which Arthur had a hard time believing, were people like Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Jensen Button, and Nico Rosberg.

Arthur had tried to persuade you to not go to all your famous connections, but you were on a mission. He even threatened you that he wouldn’t take any offer since he didn’t want you to feel like he was using you. You only threatened him back when you told him that you wanted to do this and didn’t mid at you. You believe that you scared him since he never questioned you again.

It was the day before preseason testing in Bahrain before you got an offer, or actually two, back. Arthur, keeping his promise to follow you until he found something, came with you. He was under the guise of being with his brother for support, but most knew that he was actually there for you.

The first one came from a face time call from four time champion Sebastian Vettel.

“Kind, it’s good to see you!” Sebastian’s voice echoed in your hotel room. Your laptop was on the desk. You sat on the second bed while Arthur sat in the rollie chair. Before, the two of you had argued about who got what seat. You sadly lost the game of rock-paper-scissors and was banished to the bed.

“It’s good to see you too Seb! How are your kids?”

A squeal could be heard from behind his office door. Sebastian smiled at the sound of his children.

“They’re doing just fine. How are you doing Arthur? I know that losing a seat is hard but I was delighted to hear from Y/n when she told me that you weren’t giving up racing entirely.”

You shot Arthur a knowing grin as to say “see, you still have a spot in this world with me.”

Arthur spoke up, “Ah, yes sir. I was a bit discouraged. But she somehow convinced me to not give up.”

Sebastian clapped his hands. “Well I do have an offer for you. However, it wouldn’t be for this year and maybe not the next. There will be a lot of preparation but I know you could handle it.”

Arthur shot him a shy smile. “I’m down for anything at this point.”

“Well, I have been in the talks about endurance racing. And as you know, I am getting a bit older, but I still want to be involved. So I need to come up with a team. I would either be a driver or the team leader, I have yet to decide. But that means I need to start creating a team.”

The young Monegasque took a moment to bring everything in. “So you’re asking me to be on your future team. Even after all the mistakes I made in Formula 2?”

The German winced. “You are just like your brother. A bit too self-deprecating but we can work on that. Like I told Charles, don’t waste it. Don’t waste your talents away by not trying. We will have to do months and months of training as to get over making mistakes, but that’s also part of life. We just need to learn from them. So what do you say?”

The rest of the facetime call was filled with tears, smiles, cheers, and talks of sending over contracts to go over. You and Arthur were over the moon.

He might not be racing in 2024 or even 2025, but he’d be doing something.

Now, the next two offers came during media day when you had testing. Nico Rosberg and Jensen Button had apparently been looking for the two of you the entire day. Thankfully, it was just media and Max was the one to drive the new livery around for everyone to see. You just got to sit back and relax, well, as much as you could when you weren’t discussing data.

Nico and Jensen both cornered you when they had the chance.

“Good to see you again Brittany.” You shot Nico a smirk when you exchanged greetings. Arthur, polite as ever, shook both men’s hands.

You smiled at the two older men. “Now to what do we owe this pleasure of this fine Tuesday?”

The two former drivers looked at each other before they casted their gaze at Arthur.

Jensen spoke first. “We just want to preface about how terrible we feel about you losing your Formula 2 seat. It was your rookie year and you had some pretty bad luck.”

Your eyes rolled. “Way to rub salt in the wound Button.”

He shot you a glare, but Nico spoke next. “However, we have a solution. Y/n here told us about your taken offer from Sebastian. And we know that there are going to be weekends that you won’t have anything to do. So to save you from quote on quote from Miss L/n here ‘separation anxiety from missing your best friend’ we are offering you a type of paid internship at Sky Sports.”

Jensen cut in, “Obviously you would be helping either Nico or I depending on what weekend, but you’d be interviewing, commentating, or taking videos of drivers throughout the race time.”

Arthur had sparkles in his eyes, but you knew they were probably tears. With this offer, he’d be closer to you and his brother. You knew he didn’t want to be alone somewhere while you two were living his old dream. Well, it could still be his dream, but he told you time and time again that it was easier to put the Formula 1 dream in the past so that he could move on.

That day was also filled with smiles and contract talks.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were filled with you in the new RB20. If the fans thought last year was a rocket ship, this one had to be some type of vehicle from a Sci-Fi movie cause you think it was even faster.

But, the Ferraris and McLarens were very close behind. The end of the weekend determined that Red Bull was still on top as you were able to take the fastest time out of the whole weekend, while you and Max did the most laps.

You were practically vibrating in the debrief meeting from excitement. What this year would hold, you didn’t know.

But you couldn’t wait to get started.

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 it's go time

liked by arthur_leclerc, sebastialvettel, box_box_express, and 65,294 others

y/n.nation babygirl's new helmet - I'm in love!

sebastianvettel I see you're coming for my spot as Red Bull's golden child

maxverstappen1 sorry that was me, I have taken the seat y/n.89 sit down max, there's a new golden child

box_box_express middle picture is slaying

y/n-on-top I mean she did graduate from the university of servington with a degree in cuntology and slay sciences y/n.89 PERIOD

arthur_leclerc photo creds would be nice...

y/n.89 sorry ThurThur - EVERYONE ARTHUR TOOK THE MIDDLE PICTURE JUST LETTING YOU KNOW landonorris ok then.

redbullracing rookie of the year right there

y/n.89 I'm the only rookie? but thanks admin :D

iamred_iamyellow everyone was so close with only a few seconds separating the top three

ferrari'slastchamp this year is our year the-bulls sure - you all say that EVERY YEAR

f1 only six more days! see you drivers in the paddock

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