#Driving Schools in PA | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaeyunverse · 7 months

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kiss cam

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

genres: fluff, frenemies to lovers, high school au, basketball au

wc: 3770

warnings: profanity, mentions of kidnapping

summary: you were fully prepared to spend valentine’s day alone. yang jungwon was fully prepared to blow your mind.

note: i know i’m off season but i still hope y’all enjoy <3

masterlist

It was Valentine’s Week and you were absolutely, extremely, horribly miserable.

You didn’t particularly care about the celebrations, but the feeling of loneliness first began to creep in when the student council appointed a Valentine’s Day Dance committee and made them decorate the entire school.

There were banners and streamers hanging everywhere. The culinary club was selling heart-shaped cookies and the broadcasting club was busy urging students to get their dance invites every few hours. You wished the PA system would malfunction and they would finally shut up.

Some boys even had the genius idea to capitalise Valentine’s Day and ask people out on behalf of the students who paid them for their services. They called themselves Cop-Your-Crush.

Classes were being interrupted all day long. You were witnessing a grand proposal being made multiple times a day. Just today, you had seen three girls being asked out and each proposal had been better than the one before.

Karina got asked out through a song the choir group sang for her. She quite literally burst into tears because her boyfriend, Soobin, still remembered the song they had first kissed to.

NingNing got asked out when a member of Cop-Your-Crush sweet-talked Mrs. Kim into letting him take over her presentation. He’d prepared a cute montage using the pictures provided to him by her boyfriend.

Yeji got asked out by the cheerleaders. They had prepared a special cheer for her, courtesy of Heeseung, also a member of Cop-Your-Crush, and his girlfriend, Chaewon, who was cheer captain. They were both Yeji’s best friends and had spared no expense in helping her boyfriend deliver a memorable proposal.

You thought the entire concept was corny, but it would have been nice to have someone ask you out too. You didn’t even have any expectations. Just a simple Hey, will you be my date to the Valentine’s Dance? would have sufficed.

Needless to say, you were irritated and cranky. You were debating begging your mom to let you skip school tomorrow. It was the thirteenth of February, so Valentine’s spirit was definitely going to be at an all-time high.

You slammed your locker door shut. Slumping against it, you clutched your books to your chest and sighed deeply. If only you had the courage to ask your crush to the dance. It was sort of surprising that he still didn’t have a date.

He was really attractive and really popular. You wondered why—

“Keep moving, dummy,” a voice popped from behind you, and you couldn’t help the groan that left your mouth. Deciding to not acknowledge the person further, you pushed yourself off the locker and turned to leave in the opposite direction. However, they seemed to have different plans for you. Throwing an arm around your neck, Yang Jungwon twisted you around and said, “Class is this way.”

“Piss off, Yang,” you snapped, trying to not stumble as he dragged you along.

“Are you coming to the basketball game tonight?” Jungwon inquired.

He wasn’t much taller than you, so when you glanced up at him, you found your faces only a few inches apart. “Why?”

“We’re playing Riverside High. You know there’s a bet between our schools, right? Losers have to jump in the lake at midnight.”

“Okay. Let me know if you lose and I’ll meet you there to enjoy your humiliation.”

Jungwon narrowed his eyes and flicked your forehead. You let out a sound of protest and slapped his hand away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I think I have better things to do,” you retorted. “I’m supposed to pick up my sister after her soccer practice and drive her to her friend’s house for a sleepover.”

“That can be taken care of,” he answered immediately. “Riki will do the chauffeuring in your place.”

You snorted. “No.”

“C’mon!” Jungwon complained, moving to stand in front of you. You crossed your hands and raised an eyebrow. “I need you at the game tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because—” he hesitated— “because we always win when you’re watching from the stands. You’re our lucky charm.”

Jungwon was making absolutely no sense. The Bears of Eastwood High were one of the best. They didn’t require lucky charms to win games. Besides, you’d never benefited from the so-called fortune Jungwon claimed you possessed. He definitely had an ulterior motive for wanting you at the court tonight.

“You won the Christmas game,” you pointed out. “I wasn’t there that day. I was with my family at my childhood home.”

“Well, I thought you were at the game,” Jungwon corrected. “That’s why we won.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Stepping past his figure blocking your way, you said, “You need to get rid of these superstitions.”

“Please!” he begged, following after you the way a lost puppy would. “Winning tonight would give us a ticket to regionals! Can’t you let me have this?”

The desperation in his voice was so evident that you couldn’t help the crack that appeared in your resolve. You weren’t one to believe in luck, but you still carried an Omamori to stay safe.

You hadn’t exactly been the recipient of any good fortune lately, but your life had been sailing smoothly. Come to think of it, you’d probably subconsciously begun to depend on the charm.

You were a hypocrite for making fun of Jungwon’s superstitions.

“Fine,” you relented. “I’ll come. But—” you added immediately upon seeing a wide grin replace the pout on his face— “after I’m done with my chores. I’m not leaving Hyeri with Riki. He crashed his car into a trashcan last week. I was with him. My life flashed in front of my eyes.”

Jungwon looked slightly amused. “Do you think you might be able to make it before half-time?”

“Easily.”

“Nice,” he popped. The two of you had arrived at your classroom, so he ruffled your hair and bid you goodbye before making his way towards his friend group. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you muttered to yourself.

You finished dropping your sister earlier than expected.

Her soccer practice had run short and when you’d checked your watch after seeing her off, you’d realised that the first quarter of the game would be ending in a few minutes.

You glanced up at the screen displaying the scores as you walked into the gymnasium.

8-3. Eastwood High in the lead.

Good luck was a scam. Shaking your head, you searched for your best friend, Eunchae, in the stands. Your eyes stopped on a girl who was aggressively waving her hands in the air.

You smiled and waved back, making your way to her.

“I was worried you’d be late,” Eunchae said.

You hummed. “Hyeri finished her practactice early so I was able to get here quicker. I don’t even know why Jungwon asked me to come. We’re in the lead.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she popped. “Second quarter just started. We should pay attention.”

You turned to look at the court. While you’d been talking to her, Riverside had scored a 3-pointer. Eastwood was only 2 points ahead now.

You could hear both schools’ coaches screaming despite the loud noise of the audience. Cringing a little when Mr. Jung blatantly cursed at Jungwon and told him to get his head out of his ass, you decided Eunchae had been right about being better safe than sorry.

“Timeout!” Riverside High’s coach yelled. “Timeout!”

The whistle rang and the playing 5 went jogging over to the sidelines. Jungwon’s eye caught yours as he scanned the stands and you waved at him awkwardly. He smiled and waved back, looking rather relieved to see you.

“You guys are so cute,” Eunchae commented.

You whirled on her. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying!” she exclaimed, raising her hands defensively. “Jungwon and you would make a really good couple.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Other than the fact that he’s completely whipped for you?” Eunchae shrugged. “You’re into him as well. No! Don’t give me that look! I know you are. I’m not fucking blind, Y/N. You say he’s annoying but I don’t see you pushing him away. I think you love the attention he gives you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling awfully exposed. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I though?” She raised an eyebrow. “You both are together all the time. You can pretend all you want, but I know your petty and childish banter is just a cover for the horrible amount of flirting that’s hidden underneath.”

“I don’t flirt with him!”

“He flirts with you and you entertain him! You claim to dislike him but hang out with him at school everyday! An idiot could tell by looking at you how much you enjoy being around him.”

You glared at Eunchae. “I don’t appreciate being psychoanalysed.”

“You just don’t appreciate the truth.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what’s stopping you from asking him out to the dance, but I hope you come to your senses. You don’t wanna regret missing out on someone who cares so much for you.”

Thankfully, the whistle rang before you could formulate a reply. The game began again, and you focused your attention on the court.

It was Eastwood’s way and the ball was in Jungwon’s hand. He aimed high and his eyes set on Jake who was standing at the far end of the court. However, instead of throwing the ball with all his might, he only flicked his wrist.

The ball bounced between a Riverside player’s legs, and Heeseung, who was waiting a little behind him, grabbed the ball immediately. Instead of dribbling, the boy passed the ball right back to Jungwon.

Jungwon caught it without stopping and sprinted to Eastwood’s side of the court. Your jaw dropped when you saw him manoeuvre his way through Riverside’s defence so flawlessly. Even though you’d watched him play multiple times, you’d never really been able to comprehend how good he was.

He’d covered the court by himself without needing to stop or backtrack. It was as if he knew the opponent’s move even before they decided to make it.

The crowd went wild the moment Jungwon executed the layup effortlessly. The whistle for half-time blew a few moments after and Eunchae turned to you.

“That was so good!” she squealed. “He could go pro so easily!”

“He could,” you agreed. “He really is very good.”

You had to admit—watching Jungwon in his element made your heart beat at speeds you didn’t even know it was capable of reaching. You convinced yourself it was the adrenaline and the anticipation from watching the game. Your dad never sat still whenever he watched his favourite team play in the World Cup.

“It’s time for the Kiss Cam.” Eunchae nudged you with her elbow. You turned to look at the big screen hanging from the roof of the gymnasium. The camera focused on Juyeon and Chaeyeon. The couple grinned and pointed at their recording on the screen in excitement before the latter grabbed the former’s collar and pulled him into a kiss.

You felt a smile form on your face. You’d always thought the two of them were one of the cutest couples in your school.

The camera then focused on Mr. Hwang, your biology teacher, and Mrs. Jung, your calculus teacher. You hooted and joined everyone else in the stands as they encouraged the two teachers to kiss.

Whoever had decided the Kiss Cam victims was a genius. Mr. Hwang and Ms. Jung were the youngest faculty members in your school. It was a popular opinion amongst students that they looked cute together. Some even placed bets on whether it would be Mr. Hwang to make the first move or Ms. Jung.

Naturally, the two of them didn’t kiss. They just smiled in embarrassment and waved at the camera, asking it to focus on someone else instead.

You waited eagerly to see who the drone would target next. A jolt passed through your body when you saw yourself on the screen.

Eyes widening, you shook your head and tried to tell them that you were single. The camera didn’t move despite your protests, instead zooming out to include Eunchae in the frame instead.

You paused.

Looked at her.

Considered.

Raised an eyebrow.

“I’m down if you—”

“To your left, you idiot!” she exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and whirling you around.

Yang Jungwon was standing in front of you with flowers in his hands. His hair was dripping with sweat and his cheeks were flushed. He was panting, but there was a shy smile on his face.

Your heart stopped as he got down on his knees and the entire gymnasium burst into cheers.

“Hey,” he popped.

“Hey,” you answered with much effort. Then added stupidly, “You’re on your knees.”

“No comment about the flowers?”

“Not when you’re on your knees for me in front of the entire school.”

“Oooh, I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

“I didn’t know this was why you begged me to come to the game.”

He laughed and the sound was like music to your ears. You were nervous. You were rambling. There was no way he was going to ask you to the dance. He wouldn’t be stalling so much if he was. He wouldn’t—

Oh.

He was giving you time to wrap your head around what was happening. This was clearly intended to be a well-planned surprise meant to catch you completely off-guard. He—

“Yeah, I would’ve been really bummed out if you hadn’t shown up. My efforts would have been for nothing.”

“So I’m not actually your lucky charm?”

“Of course, you are. I feel the luckiest when I’m with you.” Your chest swelled with an emotion you couldn’t identify. The gymnasium faded into the background and all you could hear was the sound of your heart thudding against your ribcage and Jungwon’s voice as he asked,

“Will you make me lucky again by accompanying me to the Valentine’s Dance?”

The game had ended twenty minutes ago.

Eastwood had won by 10 points. You’d thought the difference was pretty good but your Mr. Woo, your school’s coach, didn’t seem to share your opinion. He’d claimed that Riverside never even should have been able to get within 15 points of Eastwood.

He’d been especially tense in the second half of the third quarter when the opposition had begun scoring back to back baskets. It had all worked out in the end nonetheless, all thanks to Yang Jungwon, the MVP of the match.

You still couldn’t believe he’d asked you out and you refused to believe he’d done it in such a grand way.

He was the definition of a jock and goofed around in school all day long. He was charming, sure, but you’d never known he was capable of pulling off something this big.

You’d never even suspected he was a romantic.

Your phone dinged and you unlocked it to check who was texting you.

[eunchae]: wya?

[y/n]: parking lot!! are u here? i’m leaning against my car

[eunchae]: noo i’m home :( btw are u still waiting for him??

[y/n]: yeah he asked me to but the team hasn’t come out of the gym yet

[eunchae]: yikes i heard mr. woo was hella mad we only won by 10 points.. maybe he’s yelling at the players right now

[y/n]: i’m p sure he is LMFAO

Your fingers hovered over your phone’s screen as you waited for Eunchae to type her reply. However, before she could send it, you felt the device being grabbed from your hand.

“What the—” you started, but relaxed when you saw Jungwon standing in front of you with an amused expression on his face. “Yang.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Someone could have easily kidnapped you, you know?”

“We live in the most boring part of the town.” You snorted. “Baek Seung threatening to chop his neighbour’s tree on local TV was the most interesting thing that happened this year.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be on your guard,” Jungwon said and moved next to you, leaning against the side of your car as well. He was wearing black sweats and a red hoodie. He smelt of cheap soap and his hair was damp, making you realise that he had probably showered. “Besides, Baek Sung actually followed through. We have a real criminal in our ranks.”

“Didn’t you literally let five sheep loose in our middle school three years ago?”

“That was just a harmless middle school graduating prank.”

“There’s no such thing as a middle school graduating prank.”

“Tell that to the current 8th graders who are planning their prank. I hear they’re going to stuff the hallway outside the principal’s office with helium balloons so she won’t be able to leave.”

You stared at him, a small smile playing on your lips. Jungwon’s eyes dropped to your mouth for a millisecond before he looked into your eyes again.

“Why did you ask me to the dance?” you asked and turned on your side to face him. It was a stupid question but you were genuinely curious.

Eunchae was right before. Jungwon flirted with you all the time and you always entertained him. You enjoyed the attention he gave you. But if this thing between you was just platonic, and if it was never going to progress into something real, you needed to know now.

You didn’t want to hope and wait for something that was never going to happen.

“Sunoo said I was an idiot for not shooting my shot with you,” he replied and turned on his side too. “He threatened to make a move on you if I didn’t get my shit together before Valentine’s Day.”

You snorted.

“Oh, also,” Jungwon added. “I really, really like you.”

You felt a tidal wave of emotions override your senses. Euphoria, nervousness, breathlessness, giddiness, uncertainty and this inexplicable urge to squeal washed over you.

Your heart went haywire inside your chest when Jungwon leaned closer to you and dipped his head so that his face was right in front of yours.

“You’re blushing,” he whispered.

You squeaked and buried your face in your hands. He grabbed your wrists and gently moved them out of the way. “Can I kiss you?”

“I think that would be a health hazard,” you croaked, looking at anywhere but him. “My heart is beating concerningly fast right now. What if I drop dead?”

“I can do CPR.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up in a small smile. Your heart beat slowed down and you began feeling at ease. You wondered if Jungwon could tell that this was the first time someone had confessed to you.

The entire concept of dating and being in a relationship was foreign to you. You doubted Jungwon had much experience in the field himself since he’d only had one girlfriend in kindergarten, but he seemed confident.

You trusted him to take over the wheel and guide you through the strange waters of love.

“Okay,” you breathed and closed your eyes. “Kiss me.”

His hands cupped your cheeks, his soft lips brushing against yours. You sucked in a breath and just stood there, not really knowing what to do.

Your hands itched to grab onto something, so you shifted closer to Jungwon and clutched the front of his hoodie in your fists.

He smiled against your mouth as you rose on your toes and tilted your head to the side.

But then you realised something and hastily broke the kiss. Jungwon stared at you in confusion, but before he could ask what was wrong, you blurted, “I like you too.”

There was a pause. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so you clarified, “I thought I should make that clear. I mean, you confessed but I didn’t confess back even though I feel the same way and what if you thought I wasn’t into you. I am into you, by the way. I’ve been crushing on you since forever but I never knew how to say it—”

Jungwon swooped in for a second kiss and you melted in his arms. You could get used to the feeling of his lips on yours. They fit together perfectly.

“You are so cute.” He giggled after detaching his mouth from yours. Resting his forehead against yours, he continued, “Eunchae told me last week. She urged me to confess because she knew your stubbornness would never allow you to make the move.”

“What?” you exclaimed, jerking away from him. “Where’s my phone? Give me my damn phone, Yang!”

He grabbed arms before you could lunge at him and search him for your device. “Relax!”

“I’m going to kill her!”

“Why?!”

“Because—” you sputtered, struggling to get out of his grip— “because it’s embarrassing! I was pretending to not like you but you knew I was crushing on you the entire time!”

“It’s not embarrassing!” Jungwon said. “It’s normal—Y/N stop!”

You let your body fall limp in his arms. “I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re seriously not going to let Eunchae’s nosiness stop us from having our first date, are you?”

“What?” you asked and moved out of his grip.

He shrugged and shoved his hands into pockets. “It’s nothing special. I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for some food.”

“Oh,” you replied blankly. “Don’t you have a celebratory dinner with your team though?”

“I can ditch them.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Let me correct myself: I already ditched them. I want to spend tonight and celebrate with you.”

Your heart swelled with happiness. “Really?” When was the last time someone outside of your parents prioritised you? You genuinely couldn’t remember.

“Of course. Do you wanna get some McDonald’s?”

You nodded, but before he could make his way to the passenger’s seat of your car, you said, “Just so you know, I feel the luckiest when I’m with you too.”

Yang Jungwon kissed you for the third time, and by no means was it the last, or even close to the last one you shared that day.

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justlemmeadoreyou · 25 days

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1. prepping (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

words: 4.3k

warnings: nothing major in this one

Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.

Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience.

Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.

Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.

You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.

Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.

There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs.

But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.

He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.

With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.

Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.

So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.

Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...

You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.

It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.

You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.

Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.

As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.

From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.

Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.

In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.

You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.

Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.

Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.

Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.

After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.

"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"

You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!"

You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."

Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.

Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.

Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...

You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.

"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."

"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.

Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.

Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.

Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.

By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.

The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.

"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."

You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.

As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.

Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."

He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.

"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.

Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.

You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.

After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.

You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.

His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.

You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.

"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."

You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.

"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.

But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.

"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.

As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.

You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.

Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow.

Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.

Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.

Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."

You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."

Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.

As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.

***

Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service.

The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.

"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.

You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.

As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.

"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."

Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.

The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.

"Whoa there!"

You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.

"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.

"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."

Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?"

When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."

"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."

His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.

"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."

You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.

Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.

And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.

As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.

This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage.

With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed.

Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.

Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭

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rimaiahwrites · 7 months

Note

more looks into the life of connie and his princess puh-leeze !!! that fic was so cute i’m obsessed

YESS I LOVE THEM SO HERE YALL GOO

(This soo late lol imma edit it tomorrow sorry about any mistakes) kinda short too but anywho

—

Connie’s good girl

The school year has been so rough for y/n, you have been more stressed than ever and was nearly burnt out. Connie knew this and was helping as much as he could but a lot of the time he was also busy with making drops and making ‘business’ plans with ony so when he was very pleased to see you running in the living room with a piece of paper in your hand waving it around with a big grin. “Pa look, look!” You said extremely excited. He grabbed the paper and realized it was your report card and it had only As and A pluses on it, no B or C in sight. He grinned before picking you up and spinning you around in his arms, “Good job princess, all AS!” He kissed your cheeks than your neck making you squeal and giggles since you were so ticklish. “I knew you could do it mama.” You smiled shyly, it always felt good to get so much praise from Connie, other then yourself he was the only person you ever truly wanted to make proud.

“You proud of me papa?” You grinned standing up on your tippy toes to kiss him on the lips. “Mhm very proud I think my princesa need some rewards.” You beamed with glee because that means Connie was going to get you whatever you wanted. You were already spoiled as it is but now that he had a real reason to spoil you today you knew it was going to be something special.

You went to get ready right away. You sported a mini flare skirt with a cute colorfully cropped top with spaghetti straps and pink kitten heels. Your hair was in a half up half down style with two ponytails. You were very cute to say the least.

“You look cute today mama, hope you got sum’ under this short ass skirt tho.” Connie said walking up to you running his hands to you ass to check. You rolled your eyes playfully, of course you did because you knew he didn’t play about any of that with his. “Yes I do now let’s gooo” you say pulling him to the front door. You connected your phone to his Bluetooth in his all black hellcat because of course You being the princess passenger you always got to play your music in the car unless you wanted to hear his. Connie speed out of his driveway like a damn crazy man you were truly surprised he hasn’t gotten into any car accidents with the way he drives, him being a speed racer makes it no better either.

Once you were in the mall it was like a kid in a candy store, you were pulling him to every store your eyes landed on, you got sneakers, heels, couple of bags, cute clothes makeup really anything your little heart desired and Connie was right there supporting you pulling his card out as soon as you stepped up to the cashier. It made your heart swell every time he did too, not just because he was spending his money on you but because he truly treated you like a little princess.

“Con which one?” You asked holding up two bags one dark pink and the other light pink. “I don’t know baby which ever one you want.” Connie mumbled kissing you on the cheek. You huffed and pouted “that’s why I asked you I don’t know what I want papa.” You rolled your eyes still looking at both of them not paying any attention to your surroundings clearly because the older white lady standing closely behind gasped and eyed you shocked at the pet name that you normally addressed Connie as. Connie snorted a chuckle looking the lady in the eye and pointed to the dark pink one. “That one you got a lot of clothes it will match with plus papa loves you in that color.” He said pulling you close and sliding his hand down to you ass gripping it a bit inwardly laughing at the white haired women awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact. You grinned and placed the other one down planting a big kiss on his shape jawline. “I think this is all I want pa let’s go home my feet hurt.” You cried playfully limping a bit.

Connie walked out the mall with Seven bags filled in his arms and you clinging on to him like a koala bear because your feet were hurting to bad from the heel and Connie of course spoiled you to no end and one little whine from you and next thing you knew you were being carried to the car.

“Thank you for all this I really appreciate it” You shyly admit, he was so fine that sometimes it intimidated you a little like his side profile, the neck tattoos going all the way down his arm and hand. He smiled back and leaned over to place a kiss on your soft lips. “You’re welcome mama, my pretty girl so polite let’s get home so I can give you your other presents.” He smirked as he bit and tugged on your bottom lip softly making you whine and clench your legs tightly.

Connie pulled his gaming chair to the mirror in his bedroom and pulled his shirt off, his tattoos on his chest now visible, you had just gotten out of the shower and you had nothing on but one of his big black t shirt. No Panties or bra. “C’mer.” You walked over to him with shaking legs knowing he was about to fuck you dumb. He pulled you on his lap and got started on your neck, kissing gently and pushing his hands under you makeshift nightgown and squeezed your boobs making you moan out a little bit. You bite your lip and watched him through the mirror. He was being so gentle with you like you were made of glass, you rubbed your legs together making your slick spend from your entrance to your clit. Connie quickly caught on and grinned against your neck. “be patient mama imma get to it.” You tried your best to slow your breathing but he was in your ear whispering and touching you. You were getting turned on very quickly. Connie ignored your needy moan and continued on with the teasingly foreplay before he pulled you against his chest and pulled your legs apart opening you up.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you saw your pink insides and Connie staring holes into mirror. “Look at this pretty pink pussy…so wet is that all for me?” You were quick on nodding your head. “I know.” He took his hand and rubbed his fingers up and down your slit slowly, killing you on the inside. He rubbed your clit for a beat before sliding his thick fingers in. Your pussy was already clenching onto him. “Ah-mm please go faster” you moaned. He nodded before he stroked his fingers deeper hitting your spot. Your eyes rolled shut and leaned your head back on his shoulder. “That feel good? Tell papa let me hear you.” You tried your best but only a pathetic whine was heard. That was good enough for him..for now. He pulled his fingers from you and placed them in his mouth sucking your cum off. “Why’d you stopp?” Your spoiled ass whine kicking your foot up a little. He chuckled and flipped your around so you were facing him. “Cuz I want you to cum on my dick not my fingers now stop whining.” He pulled his sweatpants down and his dick strung out, it’s tip was pink and wet with prenut.

“Come get up on it mama.” He pulled you up higher so you were above him and rubbed his tip up and down your slit before dipping in your sweet warm pussy. Your eyes widened from the shock it had only been a few days since he had given you dick but it was so big to you that you didn’t think you’ll ever get over the shook of his tip sliding in. “P-pa- ehhh” he looked up at you seeing the look of discomfort on your face. “I know it’s all the way in.” He said before slamming you down on it. “Oh fuck! Oh fuuuuckkk!” You moaned placing your hand on his shoulders trying to balance yourself but that was all thrown off because he started thrusting from up underneath you.

You gasped loudly grabbing his shoulders. “Waitt papa wait!” He smirked and thrusted harder, his dick hitting your g spot perfectly everyday. Your finger nails gripped into his strong tattooed arm.

“Yeahhh I’m getting in that pussy huhh mama” he said his voice raspy and deep, his tongue folded on his bottom lip. Your pussy was so tight and gripping his dick so good. You nodded your head already feeling out of it.

“Tell me how it feel baby…tell daddy.”

“Good, feel good daddyy.” You whine trying to sit up to ride him, you got up on your toes and laid your hands on his torso, he grinned big watching you “you gon ride like a big girl? Oh you acting outta character today princess.” You giggled but as soon as you sunk down you quickly remembered why you didn’t ride him often. “Go ahead you can do it baby.” You slowly but surely begin going quickly hitting deeper than before. Your knees knocked together when it started getting a little to deep and good.

“Gimme it! Gimme that daddy dick papa please I been a good girl promise!” You went on and on.

“Get it than mama you in control right now.” Connie said through small groans, you shook your head you wanted to keep going but all your strength was getting zapped. You fall onto his chest shaking like a leaf, his dick popping out. “Aw princess I thought you was gonna be a big girl and take it?” Connie chuckled smacking your ass making you jump a little.

“Papa I tried it’s just so hard and my legs aren’t that strong.” You pouted.

“That’s ok, that’s why I go to the gym.” He chuckled and picked you up by your legs and put his dick back in.

He Bounced you up and down, your loud wails were surely heard by the neighbors but Connie couldn’t give a fuck he was making his pretty girl feel good and that all that mattered to him…and you. You felt like you were in a whole different dimension you were hearing color and seeing sounds, your eyes felt like they were permanently crossed.

Connie loved your fucked out face, the drool and tears making you even prettier.

“M’ gonna nut daddy please don’t wanna make a mess on the floor waitt!” You sobbed, Connie ignored you and pounded harder because that’s exactly what he wanted.

“I know baby I know gimme that juice it’s okay daddy will clean it up.” He smiled gripping your face with one hand and the other holding you up, he placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

You whined against his lips and let it all out on his dick and floors. “There we gooo, mhmm.” He groaned rubbing his pink tip up and down your slit making your cum fling all over the both of you. You placed your face in his neck embarrassed hearing the loud splashing sounds. He smiled and waited to until your breathing evened out before setting you down on his bed. “You gonna suck daddy up?”

“Mhmm” You hummed giving him the prettiest smile before bringing his dick up to your lips.

“Daddies need to get spoiled too sometimes.”

#connie x black y/n #connie x black reader #aot connie #connie smut #connie springer #connie x you #connie x reader smut #connie x y/n #aot x y/n #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot smut #aot fanfiction #Connie

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uniquedrivingschool · 25 days

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Cost for Driving Lessons

If you're looking for information on the cost for driving lessons, you might be interested in checking out Unique Driving School. We offer a range of driving lessons and courses to suit different needs and budgets. Whether you're a complete beginner or looking to brush up on your skills, Our experienced instructors can help you become a safe and confident driver on the road. For more information, please visit https://qr.ae/psURhX

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cartierre · 1 year

Text

ELECTRIC FEEL | ob3

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU ollie bearman x fem!reader

side note: does anyone know where to edit good fake instagram stories because i just had to edit them myself and they look so weird because i couldn't find the right font and sizes and all that

♡ liked by olliebearman,frederikvestiofficial and 7,392 others

tagged: olliebearman

yourusername get yourself a friend who takes you with them on their work trips

view all 23 comments

olliebearman my head is itchy ⤷ yourusername our guide told you to wear the keffiyeh to not get a sunburn on your scalp you idiot ⤷ olliebearman the material was itchy as well! ⤷ yourusername you just wanted an excuse for me to scratch your head

user1 are we just going to ignore the way y/n stares at ollie in the last picture? ⤷ user2 they're been friends since forever ⤷ user3 i'm usually not one to say "boys and girls can't just be friends" but those two are for sure not just friends

frederikvestiofficial i hope you take good care of my future teammate ⤷ yourusername i've been taking care of this boy since elementary school, i take my job very serious

♡ liked by yourusername, dinobeganovic_, maya_weug and 35,294 others

tagged: maya_weug, dinobeganovic_, jameswharton_official, yourusername

olliebearman training camp in the dolomite's was so fun with the ferraridriveracademy ! (and y/n snuck in as well)

view all 53 comments

yourusername i'm basically part of the driver academy, just without the driving part ⤷ olliebearman some would say driving is the important part ⤷ yourusername and yet they still keep up with me :)

user4 why is y/n literally everywhere ⤷ user5 literally like what is she even doing here?

user6 where's arthur? ⤷ user7 y/n was able to come but arthur wasn't while he's literally actually part of the academy? the sense is not sensing

♡ liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc and 6,985 others

tagged: olliebearman

yourusername my little bear is growing up

view all 38 comments

user8 obviously she's at bahrain ⤷ user9 i'm just asking myself if she goes to school. she's always travelling with ollie, where does she get her education? ⤷ user10 maybe she's being home schooled? ⤷ user11 she graduated 2022 ⤷ yourusername seeing as you're all so interested in my private life: i'm taking a gap year before going to university

olliebearman i guess i'm a big bear now ⤷ yourusername don't get ahead of yourself, you're not a formula one driver yet. until then, you remain a little bear to me! ⤷ olliebearman yes ma'am

user12 arthur what are you doing here

♡ liked by arthur_leclerc, dennis_hauger and 7,001 others

yourusername the easter bunny brought me a great gift this year

view all 45 comments

user13 the way i know this isn't ollie because he's with his family and not in monaco breaks my heart ⤷ user14 he didn't even like the post, i wonder what happened ⤷ user15 maybe you're all just reading too much into it. they were never together, she's allowed to date someone else if she wants to

♡ liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, lorenzotl and 170,389 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, lorenzotl

arthur_leclerc easter break with my family ❀

view all 365 comments

user16 excuse me, is he saying y/n's part of his family? ⤷ user17 i don't like where this is going

user18 NO MICHAEL NO THIS IS SO NOT RIGHT

yourusername thank god i took french in school ⤷ arthur_leclerc i don't know if you can call that french, mon amour (my love) ⤷ user19 NO NO NO ⤷ user20 him calling her mon amour (my love)... i cannot anymore this just feels so wrong

♡ liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc and 6,304 others

tagged: olliebearman

yourusername ollie and i are not fighting, dégage! (piss off!)

view all 67 comments

arthur_leclerc i should stop teaching you french curse words ⤷ yourusername non tu ne le feras pas (no you don't)

user21 paint me confused ⤷ user22 she's dating arthur (probably) and is still friends with ollie. what is there to be confused about? ⤷ user23 something just doesn't feel right. ollie isn't even commenting, just liking, as if he just agrees because he doesn't want y/n to be sad ⤷ user24 chill y'all, you don't know how their friendship works. ⤷ user25 not you all just assuming things you don't know about

user26 i'm just happy seeing ollie and y/n back together, no matter if it's just as friends or anything else :) ⤷ user27 jesus christ, they're JUST FRIENDS. she's literally dating arthur?

#ollie bearman #ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman imagines #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman fanfiction #ollie bearman x y/n #f2 instagram au #f2 social media au #f2 imagine #f2 imagines #f2 x reader #f2 x you #f2 x y/n #f2 fanfiction

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

Note

The most beloved english/ lit teacher at Park Row High, Mr Todd who inspires many many student is Red Hood. I just think Jason will make am excellent teacher and will really love the job.

All I hear is "give me teacher Jason headcanons" so here you go

Besides English, he also teaches a weekend driving class where he lets teenagers take turns parallel parking the Batmobile

His teacher voice isn't too different from normal (compared to other teachers) but it's noticeable—and more importantly, effective. He confiscates someone's phone at the movies when they wouldn't quit texting

For Jason, the "other duties as assigned" include refilling the soap in the boys bathroom and hanging a rainbow flag on the conservative history teacher's door

He also subs for that same teacher and says "everything you've been learning is wrong" before speedrunning the entire other half of American history

Most kids know him as the cool younger teacher who they can earnestly talk to, but every year there's one person who will treat him like he has one foot in the grave

He records his classes and his TA captions everything. Key word: everything

He starts the countdown to the last day of school on the first day of school

Red Hood discovers a restaurant acting as a front for money laundering but instead of taking them down, he lets them go on one condition. Cue the week-long pizza party at school

He once had a student walk in late because they went to Wal-Mart for a Mountain Dew

His hall pass is a dull batarang with "mrs tods hal pas" written in nail polish

Grading essays is either "this kid is the next Austen" or "please never touch a keyboard again"

Before the students turn their quizzes in, Jason asks each and every one of them, "Did you do the other side?"

Jason makes a copy of the janitor's keys and disables the security cameras so one of his students can sleep in the classroom after she was evicted. Red Hood also sweeps the halls to make sure there aren't any D-list Rogues squatting

Once a month the lesson is just naptime. He turns off the lights and tells them to go to sleep

If someone can solve Jason's Monday riddle then they don't have to do homework for a week. In unrelated news, the Riddler is apprehended after Red Hood decodes a series of cryptic clues

One kid told him "You're so old you look like you already died"

#jason todd #red hood #batfam #batfamily #batman #batboys #batbros #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #dc comics #headcanon #alternate universe #ask #anonymous #tw just in case

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vivwritesfics · 8 months

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Rich Kids Club

Chapter One

Half Monégasque, half English, twenty two year old Y/N L/N leads a rich life style. She has her own horses, her own staff to take care of them, and a father obsessed with Formula One.

With the promise of a new horse, Y/N joins her father at a few of the races. But F1 is hard not to fall in love with. It's hard not to fall in love with the people involved, either.

Charles Leclerc x reader

Lando Norris x reader

??? x reader

1.8K

Guess who's getting an F1 tattoo soon? This gal! Aka, I keep having breakdowns and this is how I'm dealing with it.

The Monaco Grand Prix.

Even though she'd lived in Monaco her entire life, Y/N L/N had never gone to the grand prix. She was always busy on the show jumping circuit, sending her two horses flying over the jumps. But here she was, in a dress designed to look like a shirt with a chunky belt cinching her waist. On her feet she wore chunky, black, heeled boots, making her feel taller than she was.

Competing was in her blood. Her mother had done it before her. She was the whole reason Y/N had so much love for the sport. It was her father who loved watching fast cars go around the track again and again and again.

When he could, Mr L/N tried to get Y/N to go to the grand prix with him. Being the wealthy man that he was, he tried to follow the sport all around the world. Of course that meant leaving his wife and children behind when Y/N was younger.

Now Y/N was older and she had her own horses, she also had her own people to take care of them and exercise them for her. She was finally able to join her father at the grand prix.

Living in Monaco meant that Y/N knew a couple of the drivers. She knew Max and Daniel through her fathers relationship with Christian Horner. She knew Charles and Arthur through her father, as well, although she knew Arthur just that little bit better.

Before racing took over Arthurs life and show jumping took over Y/N's they were friends. They ran in the same social circles in Monaco, going to the same school and partying together.

There were benefits to being friends with Arthur. Not that Y/N was looking for perks when it came to having friends. But Arthur had attractive brothers. Arthur himself was attractive, as was his eldest brother Lorenzo. Attractive, but not what Y/N was looking for.

And then there was Charles. He was... something else. There wasn't often Y/N got to see Charles, only when she was joining her father at the grand prix.

"There she is!" Shouted Daniel as she walked through the paddock. He wasn't driving this year, but he was still present at every race.

The Australian opened his arms wide and pulled Y/N in. He tucked her under his arm and turned to her father. "Mr L/N, always good to see you," he said, holding out his hand.

Mr L/N took Daniels hand and shook it. "You too, Daniel. Will we be seeing you back in a car this year?"

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She'd discussed this with her father before they'd left their house. It was gorgeous, a 107 year old French villa that screamed wealth. Their conversation had been in angry French, probably disturbing the entire neighbourhood.

"Papa, tu ne peux pas poser des questions à Danny sur son siège, d'accord?" She said as they put on their shoes. (Dad, you can't ask Danny about his seat, okay?)

Her father shook his head. "Ne t'inquiète pas, ma chérie. Je ne lui dirai rien. Mais je demanderai peut-être à Christian." (don't worry, sweetheart. I won't mention anything to him. I may ask Christian, though)

"Non, papa. Ne demande pas à Christian. N'en parle pas." (No, dad. Don't ask Christian. Don't mention anything about it.)

"Détends-toi, ma chérie. Je ne demanderai pas à Daniel ou à Christian cette fois. Mais pour la prochaine course, quand tu ne seras plus là pour m'arrêter?" He answered and pulled open the front door.(relax, darling. I won't ask Daniel or Christian this time. But what about on the next race, when you're not there to stop me?)

"Papa." Y/N shot her father a glare from her space under Daniels arm. "De quoi avons-nous discuté?" (What did we discuss?)

Daniel squeezed his arm around Y/N and released her. "How are the horses?" He asked her.

Grabbing Daniels Red Bull hat from his head, Y/N placed it on her own. "They're good. Beau and I are going to try our hand at Cross Country next week and Crème is having a little holiday," she answered.

Beau and Crème de la Crème, Y/N's two horses. Beau was a dark brown horse and Crème was white.

"Does that mean you'll be able to come to the race next weekend?"

Y/N gave him a look. Yes, she wanted to go to the Spanish grand prix, but she had horses to train and low level competitions to enter. "Sorry, Danny," she said. "I've just got far too much to do."

"Si tu me rejoins à quelques courses supplémentaires, je t'achèterai un autre cheval," her father suddenly announced. (if you join me at a few more of the races I will buy you another horse.)

"Tu ne peux pas me corrompre, papa." (you can't bribe me, dad)

"Ta mère m'a dit que tu voulais un cheval de dressage," he temped. (your mother told me you want a dressage horse). "Deux semaines séparent le grand prix d'Espagne du grand prix du Canada. Je t'emmènerai acheter un nouveau cheval à ce moment-là." (There is two weeks between the Spanish grand prix and the Canadian grand prix. I will take you shopping for a new horse then).

"Un cheval de niveau olympique?" (An Olympic level horse?)

"Uh, what am I missing here?" Asked Daniel, looking between the two Monégasques.

Grinning, Y/N gave him his hat back. "Nothing, Danny. I'll be coming to a couple of the grand prix this year. I just haven't decided which ones."

"Can't wait," said Daniel.

With obligations to attend to, Daniel said goodbye to Y/N and her father and left them to it as they walked through the garage.

"Allons-nous dire bonjour à Charles?" Asked Mr L/N as they approached the Ferrari garage. (Shall we go and say hello to Charles?)

Y/N nodded her head. Together, she and her father walked towards the Ferrari garage. Charles was stood outside, identifiable by the sixteen printed onto the back of his red shirt. He was there with his teammate, with cameras around them.

Before Y/N's father could approach him, she pulled him back. "Que faites-vous?" (What are you doing?) He asked, his eyebrows scrunched up.

"Charles réalise une interview avec Carlos. Nous ne pouvons pas l'interrompre," she said (Charles id doing an interview with Carlos. We can't interrupt.)

Y/N and her father stood around, saying hello to the people they knew while they waited for Charles and Carlos to finish up. Being from Monaco, Charles was Mr L/N's favourite driver. If he could have afforded it, he would have sponsored Charles. But he was already sponsoring his daughters horse riding career and couldn't find the money to sponsor the driver as well.

Finishing up with the interview, Charles and Carlos turned again.

Mr L/N was quick to rush forward towards the Monégasque. "Bonjour, Charles! C'est un plaisir de vous revoir!" He shouted (Hello Charles! It is good to see you again!)

Turning around, Charles looked at the L/Ns with a red face. "Monsieur L/N, comment allez-vous aujourd'hui?" (Mr L/N, how are you today?) he asked and turned towards Y/N. "Hello, Y/N."

When Y/N and Arthur had first become friends and Charles was on the karting circuit, he had insisted that Y/N spoke in English whenever they conversed. With her mother being English, Y/N was fluent, which helped Charles to practice speaking the language. Ten years later and the habit hadn't died.

Charles had a conversation with Y/N's father in French. It was a long conversation, one Y/N tried to pay attention to. But she was concentrating on her fathers promise of a new horse. What colour would she look for? How big would it be? Would she finally get a mare or another boy? She couldn't wait.

"How is Crème de la Crème and Beau?" Asked Charles, turning his attention to the show jumper. With the way he was looking at her, it was hard for Y/N not to feel bashful.

"They're good. If Beau has gotten a bit bigger since the last time you saw him."

When they were younger, Y/N had invited Arthur to meet her horses a couple of times. Charles had picked Arthur up once and had the chance to meet the horses. Beau was a baby then, just a year old. Y/N hadn't started his training yet.

"You could come and see him in summer break, if you'd like."

Let the ground swallow her up now.

But it didn't deter Charles. He kept talking, asking her questions that Y/N happily answered. She tried to ask him, but it was easy to get tongue tied around Charles.

As they spoke, Charles' teammate walked behind them. He said a quick hello but continued on. Charles suddenly laid his hand on Y/N's shoulder and pushed her after the Spaniard. "Carlos! Have you met Y/N L/N yet?" He asked.

Carlos turned around.

Y/N had seen him before through social media. He was at the last race she attended, but he was in Renault then. Y/N didn't get to meet him, and then she had to stop coming to the races all together.

"You are Mr L/N's daughter?" He asked, pointing back to Y/N's father.

She nodded her head. "Oui, yes. He's finally dragged me along to our home race." She laughed awkwardly, and Carlos was polite enough to laugh with her.

"How are you finding it so far?" He asked.

Y/N didn't think the conversation was go any further than it had, not with how awkward she was being. But she couldn't help it. Carlos was an attractive man and attractive people made her nervous. But, then again, who doesn't get nervous around people they find attractive.

"I am enjoying it. I'm looking forward to seeing you boys race," she answered.

"Have you always been a Ferrari fan?"

Y/N had. But, as Sebastian Vettel had once said, everybody is a Ferrari fan.

"Y/N, chérie, allons chercher nos sièges!" (Y/N, honey, lets go and find our seats) Her father shouted, pulling her attention away from the boys in red.

Y/N nodded to her father and turned back to them. "It was lovely to meet you," said Carlos. He took her hand and kissed the back of her palm.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Charles walked back to her father. "Perhaps I could see you after the qualifying," he said as he walked her over.

"Of course, Charles. I'd like that very much."

Y/N's Instagram:

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kamotecue · 9 months

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first time trip ✾ a. putellas

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

summary: in which a lovely couple and their only child visit the philippines for the first time. pwnt!reader, real madrid!reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you were sitting in the private jet, it would be a few hours till you’d land in the philippines. you looked to the back to see alexia sleeping with ana marie cuddled into her.

ana marie was the exact carbon copy of the two of you. she had your eyes and nose, but she had alexia’s hair and mouth shape. you softly smiled seeing the cute scene, alexia was the one who suggested to visit your home country for the first time.

after all, your daughter is reaching her sixth month. and her grandparents are so excited to see their little heiress, it was decided that ana marie would inherit your parents company.

you protested not wanting her life to be controlled, but your parents had agreed that she could live her life how she wants it. if she wanted to pursue a sport then she could, but she’d also have to run the company at the same time. quite hectic, is it not?

your thoughts were cut out as you heard someone calling you, it was your mother.

“anak, asan na kayo? [child, where are you now?]” your mother asked, as you hummed.

“nasa eroplano pa kami, ma. [we are still on the plane.” your mother hummed.

“tell us when you arrive, ha? susunduin kita. [i will pick you up.]” you softly mumbled underneath your breath.

“ma, it’s not needed po. i can drive there naman.” you talked with your mother for a few moments before she hung up as she had to go to work.

you opened your laptop preparing to do some work, and in that amount of time, the jet has landed. the pilot exited his cockpit, as you stood up packing things away.

“mahal?” you called out, wondering if alexia was awake. she was as she gently carried ana marie in her arms.

“vamos.” alexia said as you chuckled at her behavior, the bags were already placed into your car, as you opened the passenger seat for alexia who gave you a soft kiss on the cheek.

the trip to the house wasn’t that long, there would usually would be traffic as you lived in metro manila but for some reason, there wasn’t any which you were thankful for. traffic in the philippines was such a hassle, you didn’t want your child waking up in between.

as you pulled up, you noticed the silhouette of your parents waiting at the porch. alexia was the first one to get out, greeting your parents along with a certain mini you.

while you had gotten the bags from the trunk, you were pulled into a hug as soon as you were in your parent’s view.

“anak, miss ka namin. kamusta naman sa barcelona? [child, we miss you. how is it at barcelona?]” your mother said, as you hummed.

“it’s really great, ma. parehas lang yung weather. [the weather is the same].” your mother hummed as she pulled you all inside.

“ma, i’ll drop the luggage sa room ko.” she gave you a quick nod, as you carried the luggage by its handle, and swung the duffel bag over your shoulder.

you slowly went up the stairs, careful not to trip or fall. it was just as you remembered, the posters filled on the wall.

the medals you won from football tournaments during your studies in the states. you’ve joined your middle school, high school and college varsity team. you also played for a youth team as well.

the different colored medals were on display, the trophies had a specific shelf and the academic awards were also there.

“it’s still the same, huh.” you said, before joining your parents in the living room. alexia was chatting with them, while ana had just woken up from her nap.

the whole time of the trip, you’ve gotten to introduce alexia to the filipino culture, the crusine more specifically dishes like sinigang also known as sour soup, adobo which is braised pork, and etc.

you also visited a few clubs like stallion laguna fc or kaya-iloilo, clubs that your national teammates play in. they were quite surprised when they saw alexia knowing she’s considered as la reina. but it was a notable experience, alexia got to see you coach for the first time. in her words, it was extremely attractive for her.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #espwnt x reader #barca wfc imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot

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jokeroutsubs · 5 months

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ENG translation: If we believed that we were "kings", that wouldn't be us

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin for Slovenian newspaper Delo, originally published on 24.12.2023. Audio version by IG GBoleyn123

Original article is available here for Delo subscribers. Original article written by Lucijan Zalokar for Delo; photos by Jože Suhadolnik; English translation by a member of Joker Out Subs, native proof reading by IG GBoleyn123.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post! And if you repost the photos, do not crop out the photographer credit.

With Bojan Cvjetićanin about the international breakthrough of Joker Out, the movie Kaj pa Ester?, about life on the road, football, sociology…

I met up with Bojan Cvjetićanin in Ljubljana's Stegne industrial zone, where the members of the popular pop rock (in their jargon: shagadelic rock'n'roll) group Joker Out created a rehearsal space for themselves two years ago. "Lately we've been on the road a lot, but this is still a great second home. If only you knew about the parties that happened here. There were fifty people dancing downstairs," he proudly looked from a small gallery towards the space that measures approximately thirty square metres. Even though the clock had just struck three in the afternoon, the 24-year-old Ljubljana resident had a long day behind him, which had been entirely dedicated to media obligations.

In journalistic circles, we often hear indignation about how modern day influencers - especially those who had gained their influence on social media - have no books on their shelves. Joker Out are first and foremost musicians, of course, but with 150,000 followers (Bojan's personal profile has 190,000) on Instagram, we can count them among the big Slovenian influencers. And there are plenty of books on their shelves.

I don't want to falsely portray the popular fivesome as enlightened donors to the Slovenian literary market: most of the books resemble those you can buy for little money in second-hand bookshops, or even get for free at library write-offs, but they still deserve praise for both the aesthetic sense and the content.

I also don't want to falsely portray the books as the only notable objects in the rehearsal space. There are also the golden plate for the Eurovision single Carpe Diem, which got over two million streams in Finland, a transfusion bag (Rh-) that Tomi Meglič¹, Cvjetićanin's biggest teenage idol, personally brought to them, and a small shop's worth of props given to them by fans: pillows with hand-embroidered patterns, plushies, bras with Instagram accounts written on them, various sweets, you could even find a vinyl from a Soviet cover band of The Beatles. If things continue like that, they soon won't have any space left for instruments, but those are just sweet worries. Joker Out, who were formed in 2016, are currently conquering Europe in a way that the Slovenian music scene has never seen before.

¹frontman of Siddharta, whose third album was called Rh-

I've heard that you approach your job with the utmost professionalism and that you wake up at five in the morning for media obligations.

That's true, today we started early in the morning in Maribor. The first few hours were the most tiring because we were constantly changing locations and driving around the city. After the third or fourth activity, we relaxed a little because we got to the studio. After that, everyone started coming to us instead of the other way around.

Slovenian cinemas have started playing the movie Kaj pa Ester? in which you play a boy who enrolled in high school just to get close to his ex girlfriend again. Did you have any problems with trying to get into the high school mentality?

We filmed the movie two years ago, when my memories of high school were much more fresh than they are today. But on the other hand, I played a boy who had just finished the ninth grade of primary school, so I had to put myself into the shoes of a primary school kid, which is much harder. We're also pretty different personality-wise. But almost the entire cast was around the same age, so too old. We joked about that a lot during filming.

Still, that's nothing unusual in the movie world.

Of course, there are 35-year-olds starring in High School Musical and no one is complaining.

Could you draw any parallels between a musical stage performance and filming a movie? You have to play a kind of role during a concert too...

I have to admit that it's completely different. On stage, I never feel like I'm performing. Of course I am actually performing, but I'm still in the role of myself, Bojan, whereas in the movie, I'm someone completely different. It might be easier to compare filming a movie with recording music in the studio, but there are big differences there as well. The biggest one is that for a movie, the director has the main and the final say. You have to trust him. When you film a scene, you don't even see what you've filmed for a long time. The movie in which I play one of the main roles will be played in cinemas, and I don't even know what I will look like on the big screen. It's different with music, because us authors listen to the songs a hundred times, a thousand times; we're the ones who make all the final decisions. That's quite a mental leap, but I didn't have too many problems with it, because I knew the previous projects of that team. V dvoje ('In a tandem') is my favourite Slovenian TV series. On the other hand, I needed time to get used to this new method of working. If I asked to see the scene we'd filmed one more time, but the director said it was good, we kept filming without hesitation.

You said that on stage, you are always in the role of yourself. Does the nature of that role change from concert to concert? And what influences it? The audience, the outfit…

The outfit has an influence for sure. More than I initially thought. Lately we've been playing with our stage look a lot and looking for the right combination. I currently find that the outfit suits me very well, it's just the shoes that bother me because they're too rigid. I have to change them. They're huge and massive, which makes me feel like I'm clumsily marching around the stage, whereas during rehearsals I wear sneakers and I'm therefore a lot more in the mood for dancing.

What about the language you sing in? Many people say that they feel as if by switching between different languages, they are also switching between their personalities.

I agree. When you change the language, your voice has a different colour and register, you come up with different jokes than in your mother tongue. If I lead a concert in Slovenian, Serbian, or English, I'm a different dude every time. This is also influenced by my notion that each time, I'm performing for a different group of people who are connected by a certain mentality. In Slovenia, I'm performing as a local for locals, and I feel like there are different "game rules" than for example in Croatia or Serbia. Elsewhere, I feel like I don't even think about this.

How did you get the idea to start creating and singing in English? You already broke through internationally with Slovenian.

Us creating in foreign languages isn't so much a result of wanting to break through internationally and the mentality that only English ensures global success. If we thought that way, we wouldn't have gone to Eurovision with a Slovenian song. We're primarily driven by a desire to learn new things, to push the boundaries... In the studio, it's similar to being on the stage. If you change the language, you're not only a different person on stage, but also inside your head. Your creativity is different. Playing with languages is actually also playing with your own creativity, because you enter a different space, a different mentality. The song Sunny Side of London could not have been made if we hadn't mentally transported ourselves to an English-speaking space. We want many more projects like that, not necessarily in English.

Can you be more specific? What kind of mentality do you associate Sunny Side of London with?

That song is a sort of homage to all the people who have suddenly become part of our story. Sunny Side of London has nothing to do with London as such. I was looking for a name of a well-known place with which to name all our concerts, and I decided on London.

The first time I said the words Are you guys real? – Is this really happening, are you really here and singing our songs? – on the stage, certain English phrases snuck into my mind. What the hell is going on? and so on. We also experienced, for the first time, foreigners coming up to us and talking about their own experiences connected to our music. That was something completely new for us. We listened to all those stories in English, as our fans of course can't speak Slovenian, even though they can sing our Slovenian lyrics. Sunny Side of London therefore emerged as a collection of all the experiences and stories that fans told us after gigs.

You've already touched on fans who sing your lyrics by heart from Finland to Spain. Could you highlight the nation with the best ear for the Slovenian language?

On the latest tour, when we visited Lithuania, Poland, Czechia and Croatia, there were moments when I felt like I was singing in Slovenia. In Prague, I filmed the audience singing Umazane misli without me. As if I were in Križanke, for example. But it's even more fascinating that people sing well in England and Nordic countries too. It's understandable that our Slavic brothers have the best ear for Slovenian, but northerners aren't far off either.

How much of your international success do you attribute to the Eurovision performance?

A huge amount.

If you had to express it in a percentage?

99.9.

Really?

Definitely. It was an incredible catapult. Whenever I ask the audience at our international concerts if anyone was already with us before Eurovision, a few hands shoot up every time, but those are rare exceptions.

How do you explain the fact that you finished in the relatively humble 21st place in Liverpool, but your visibility still grew in leaps and bounds?

We were very, very, very dedicated to the Eurovision project. We put a lot of time and energy into demonstrating to the people who were open to it that we weren't just a three-minute performance, but very much an existing band that has made many songs and that lives on stage. With time, and of course in connection with the Eurovision performance, more and more listeners got to know that. We clearly showed them: we are here, we are real, try it, connect with us.

Because they had so much different content available, this actually happened. I think it was also because they saw that Joker Out really was made out of five completely regular dudes from Slovenia who live a totally normal life, and at the same time we make music and have a great time doing it. That is already a slight deviation from what's been happening recently, when we're being bombarded from all sides by messages that we need to distance ourselves from each other, that we have to hate each other...

That was the sociologist in you talking.

That's true. The atmosphere in society nowadays is such that it emphasises individuality more than building a team. Young people, however, need and want to be part of a community. And we offered them that chance.

Where does your interest in social sciences come from? Your father is a gynecologist, your mother a pediatrician, and you have a degree in sociology.

I had a very good professor in high school. If you wanted to listen to him, he offered a lot of knowledge. Even though sociologists often think about society in an abstract way, the subject always felt tangible to me. I recognised it in very concrete life situations that I was trying to understand. At my final exams, I did a great job with sociology with very little effort – and then made a mistake and enrolled in economics. I wavered between those two options from the start, and in the end, what tipped the scales were the warnings of many people I knew that sociology doesn't have good employment prospects. I gave in to the pressure and very quickly realised I had made the wrong decision. I gave up on economics after the first semester. That was when I seriously threw myself into the band, we made Gola, and then I transferred to sociology and there was happiness all around.

You clearly won't work as a sociologist for a while yet, if ever...

But I am a sociologist.

In your soul?

No, as my profession. Us musicians are sociologists. A lot of sociological terms could easily be transferred into our environment. Locale, for example. In third year, the professor asked me several times: Well, Cvjetićanin, if you have a concert, is that locale or something else? And then I said it was locale and started rambling on. (laughter)

So you are a singing sociologist?

Exactly.

How do you explain the success of Joker Out from a sociological point of view? How do your songs address the zeitgeist?

I write the lyrics exclusively based on stories that really happened. Not necessarily to me, but to people I love. Therefore, I have a strong emotional relationship with the subject matter. My opinion is that there will always be people who will connect with the story if it's real. Because it's easiest for us to connect with real emotions. Our songs are love songs, they talk about finding yourself and personal growth, some are socially critical... I think that I have managed to find the right balance between being direct and being poetic.

I'll word it differently. The Beatles already sang about love and personal growth. And they weren't the first ones by far. Later on, those same themes were covered by hundreds of successful bands and an infinite number of slightly less successful ones.

I think that nowadays, we most often associate societal changes with technological development. Technological advances largely dictate the rhythm of our life. But those advances are mostly just a substitute for something that already existed in the past. The basic emotions have therefore certainly stayed the same. Love, fear, hatred... I think that the use of language is very important here. Even though the emotions don't change, the way we put them into words does. In music, too. I don't sing about a topic the same way my peers would have in the 1970s. Consequentially, our relationship with emotions is changing and evolving as well. As if our entire society is gravitating towards the point of holding the belief that it's better for an individual to feel less and less, and in a more and more censored way.

On the one hand, excessive use of social media and other media causes us to feel like distinct individuals. On the other hand, it connects us to the world and places us into a very wide picture. In every moment, we are only a click away from becoming cosmopolitan and being able to access all the information, events, and people, but at the same time, that's exactly what reminds us that we are a small and actually not very important dot on this planet. The magnitude of everything that's constantly available to us makes us feel small. I think that we mostly listen to, watch, and use those who manage to poke the spot that unnerves people the most in this context. If performers manage to break through the firewall of someone's VPN, then those people will also show their interest in an analogue way. Otherwise, they will only be a swipe away.

And now a question that's more psychological than sociological: do you ever try to get into the heads of the people who time and again show their interest in very analogue ways?

I have an infinite appreciation for their dedication, because for myself, I don't see the chance of a phenomenon exciting me so much that I would be ready to dedicate so much time and love to it.

So you've never been a very hardcore fan?

If, at twelve years old, I had to highlight one musicians that I would've wanted to meet more than anyone in the world, that would definitely have been Tomi Meglič. That hasn't changed to this day. The only difference is that we meet up with Tomi and we're friends. I still feel the highest possible level of respect for him. Every time he calls me, I am extremely proud of myself. But I still cannot imagine going to, say, Berlin tomorrow if Siddharta were playing there and I had a free day. I'd go to Maribor or Zagreb, but absolutely not across all of Europe the way the biggest fans do. Not even at twelve. I could sooner imagine that at that age, a football match rather than a concert would be the thing that excited me beyond all reason.

We're probably talking about two groups of celebrities that get worshipped as deities by the masses in Western society: footballers and pop and rock musicians. And this is probably linked to emotions again.

True. The thing that wakes up a person's sense of smell, sight, and all other emotions that overcame them as a child, is what has the best possibility of succeeding.

Now please explain how this is connected to football.

If I go to a concert by Siddharta, Big Foot Mama, Magnifico, I turn into a ten-year-old kid who will explode from happiness. There's no Bojan anymore. He gets lost. It's the same with football. When I watch it, I dream about how I played for Slovan² as a kid and what I wanted more than anything was to score a goal and for everyone in the stands to yell: Yeeeees!

²ND Slovan is a football club from Ljubljana

You don't score goals, but you are in a similar position that Tomi Meglič used to be in.

All the band members come from very loving families that have always provided us with a very good support system and instilled basic values in us that we internalised deeply. That is why everything that's currently happening around us hasn't gone to our heads in a way that would make us think that we're bigger or more important than anyone else. If we started believing that we were "kings" because everyone was clapping for us and singing our songs, that would probably be a very strong feeling, but that simply wouldn't be us. We mostly love to see all the people, because we know how much we mean to them and how much they mean to us. Without them, we wouldn't be able to focus on what's most important to us – our music. On the other hand, I can say with a thousand percent certainty that I would easily and happily do my job if I was performing at venues like Cankarjev dom. So, in front of a calmer audience, without unreal hype.

But what I would like most in the world is to turn into a footballer for ten seconds and score a goal at an important match. You know why? Because that is the biggest adrenaline hit that exists. When we perform on various stages, there's mayhem around us for two hours straight. But in football, when a goal is scored, that happens in a millisecond. You go from nothing into total chaos. Everyone loses their minds. I'd love to experience that. Well, I did – much like everyone who played football in primary school. When I scored a goal for Slovan and a hundred people in the stands clapped for me, I felt like I was on Maracanã. Imagine what it would be like to experience that on the real Maracanã.

It's interesting that you highlighted a loving and stable family background. Many of the biggest pop and rock stars in the world grew up in a diametrally opposite environment. From John Lennon and Janis Joplin to Prince and Rihanna. There are actually so many of them that we can talk about a pattern.

I know, because I love to read their (auto)biographies, and I agree with your assessment that their family circumstances are fundamentally different than ours. That is always my answer to the question when someone wants to know how debauched our tours are. When I tell them that we mostly drink water and tea on the road, they just can't believe it. But it's the truth, because we've realised three things. First, we enjoy what we do immensely, and from the experiences of many musicians, we know that you can almost definitely forget about a long career if you start doing everything that we perceive as the proverbial rock'n'roll lifestyle. A band like that breaks up sooner or later, either because of frayed nerves, or exploding egos, or because of money. Second, we've all had to go to work hungover and we know very well that it's unbearable. I especially can't imagine how we could stay healthy and keep our strength and our voice if we were constantly hungover on the road. In that case, the only short-term solution is drugs, which we fortunately [knocks on wood] don't do. And third: I'm sure that you have a much better time on stage if you're aware that you are on it.

Your international breakthrough doesn't have a precedent among Slovenian musicians. Would you dare to point out where the difference is, why you made it and not for example Siddharta, who had filled Bežigrad stadium and later did not hide their international ambitions?

We have to understand that Siddharta didn't have the chance to perform at a festival like Eurovision. It's hard to understand what it means for 160 million people to watch you. That is a bizzarely huge number. All this happened in the time of social media, and we had set up a pretty good mechanism in that area even before Eurovision, and then also used it, whereas Siddharta established itself as a band in the time of analogue media. I can't even imagine how it would've been possible to break through abroad from Slovenia at that time. Because even we are already – even though some things have opened up for us very nicely and we've been joined by the right people – finding out how much of an investment going international demands. Dreams of megalomanical earnings and a luxurious life brought on by a European tour shatter quickly. Even when you start filling up venues, you stay in a kind of hustle mode. You fight. Unfortunately, the costs in the music business are so high that performing abroad is more or less just for promotion for a long time.

You're probably thinking of logistical costs?

Yes. Some of my colleagues have total misconceptions about our earnings. They think that we're literally swimming in money, while we actually earn what amounts to a normal salary.

In March next year you will have eighteen concerts. You will start in Helsinki and end in Milan. How will you travel?

With a tour bus. We've rented it twice so far: for the UK tour and for the tour around Lithuania, Poland, and Czechia. There are beds on it, so we can sleep while driving from one concert to the next. The tourbus is prohibitively expensive, you pay almost half of your royalties for it, but it's the only way for a musician with such a packed schedule to survive in the long run. Sometimes people ask me why we don't travel with a van instead, but you have to understand that we sometimes have concerts two days in a row and the venues are 800 kilometres apart. If we spent all night in an uncomfortable van, then looked for a hotel in the morning and so on, we might be able to endure it for a week, but definitely not all month.

Do you ever sleep in a hotel?

Only on free days.

Will the March tour be your most exhausting one so far?

It will definitely be one of the more exhausting ones, but I am definitely happy that we will be able to sleep on a tour bus. We haven't been on a month-long tour yet, so it's hard to predict anything, but on the Nordic tour this year we played six concerts in five days, because we had two concerts in one day in Helsinki. We didn't have a tour bus there, we flew instead. That meant that after the concert, we got to the hotel at midnight, then we had to be at the airport at three in the morning, a few hours later we were already at the new location, we napped for two hours on a couch, had a soundcheck – rinse and repeat for five days in a row.

Let's not talk only about the negative sides of tours…

Of course. I love sleeping on the bus! I fall asleep like a baby who's being taken for a walk in a stroller. I can't sleep more than nine or ten hours in my bed at home, on a tour bus I easily get twelve hours. Maybe it's because it's constantly shaking a little. The other guys also sleep very well on the road.

But the most magical thing on tours is when I visit a city for the first time just because we have a gig there. That seems unimaginable to me. To meet new people, wonderful fans, to bond as a band, experience new, funny situations, to bring home a bunch of new inside jokes and incredible gifts that fans have made themselves. [Points towards a hand-embroidered pillow in the part of the studio where they keep the gifts.]

Elite athletes often lament that it's true that they compete all over the world, but they often only see the airport, the hotel, and the sports venue.

It's similar for us. When we travel with a bus, we only see the venue. If we happen to have a free day, we walk around the city, but we definitely don't visit all kinds of tourist attractions as some people might wrongly imagine. When we go to Paris, we definitely won't go to the Louvre, and we will see the Eiffel tower through the bus window if everything goes well.

But you meet a lot of interesting people.

That's true. I find it the most fascinating if we meet fans when we don't expect them at all. In a restaurant, on a plane… When we were flying to Poland, it turned out that one of the flight attendants was a big fan of ours. She told us that she was going to three of our concerts and brought us champagne and a model of a Lot Polish Airlines plane.

I was even more surprised in Helsinki. I went to some kind of dark club that had a techno music party. Suddenly I was approached by three people, two guys and one girl, and they told me that they were our fans and that they couldn't believe that they met me in that club. I also couldn't believe that people recognised me in the middle of Helsinki. What's going on?!

In the summer, you took a step back from Instagram for a while. What brought you to that decision?

Many things. I felt creatively empty. I also, for the first time in my life, experienced the internet – not just Slovenian, but global – being completely oversaturated with me. That started negatively pressuring me and eating me up. I thought about it a lot, and the first time I asked myself whether I'd be less Bojan Cvjetićanin if I didn't have an Instagram profile, I turned it off. Immediately after that, I wrote three songs; I felt as if I had cleaned up some of the mess that had built up recently. I returned to social media some time ago; with much healthier habits than before, I think.

How do you see social media? As a space for playfulness, for promotion, part of the job, part of private life?

I think that at the time when they started killing me, I perceived them too professionally. I had a feeling that Instagram was a platform through which I had to achieve all sorts of things. Lately, I prefer to joke around more.

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#bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #joker out #Spotify

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