nova. twenty. european. enjoyer of watching cars go in weird circles. lando & matt girlie. lover of all things green. august virgo, writer of fics and poems. fav circuit: montreal and spa. smau enjoyer. i write for f1, sturniolo triplets and criminal minds.
.☘︎ ݁˖ nova is currently... waiting for requests <3
miss u. hope u r well. wishing to see u sometime in 2026. take care of urself. x
ln1!!! our champion!!!
you are so sweet, anon! i’m doing okay, i might come back but honestly life’s been a whirlwind recently and i’m still trying to find my groove with new incoming experiences. but you’ll definitely see me, just not as often as last year!!
you can still send fic recs, i might get inspired hahah
happy 2026 everyone <3 may this year treat you well and you achieve every goal you set. you got this!
i saw my lovely @clovermoters do this and thought it was a really good idea, so here i am! below, i’ve linked some prompt lists from tumblr and you, my lovely reader, will get to choose what i write! or, if you have any of your own ideas, feel free to share those, too!
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
drunk confessions | domestic fluff | build a fic! | more than friends | or your own idea!
Hey, is there gonna be a part 3 to somewhere in between?? I love that series so much 😭
hi, lovely!! i don’t know, to be honest! i have a clear idea of what i want to write, i even have some of the dialogue mapped out, but i’m not entirely sure if i have the ability to write something as good as the last two pieces, since quite some time has passed. unless i try really hard.
hellooo, wanted to pop in and put up a little disclaimer that my posts will be less frequent (if you hadn't noticed already by the nearly two month delay on chapter two of, what was supposed to be, my summer lando series) and i will be primarily focusing on writing one-shots! i think that's what i'm good at and it gives me less pressure to write.
this also means i might not continue my summer fic at all and if i do, the updates for it will be sporadic. but more one-shots!! yay!!
and now that i'm somewhat back, i humbly ask thee, dearest reader, to submit any requests you may have for some fics i could write for you. askbox is open for requests and also just chatting! i miss you all <3
synopsis — in a secluded garden by the lake, you find lando waiting, and a shared book becomes the start of something unspoken.
author's note — ... hi... i know, i know. you're all probably thinking i forgot about you or abandoned my blog without an explanation, but the truth is that i am simply just a girl with a lot on her plate... but still, i apologise! i'll do better going forward :)
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The garden lay tucked into the pocket of a forest, right by the lake. The only way to get there is through a white fence gate, which creaked every time you pushed it open, nudged between the hedge surrounding it. The lake was just beyond the trees, close enough to hear the soft hush of water brushing the shore, but distant enough to leave only a soft breeze in its wake.
You hadn’t planned to come here today. You thought you’d finish up inventory at the shop, dust the shelves no one touched. But the air was warm and inviting, and your feet carried you without permission. So here you were, hands tucked into the pockets of your loose zip-up, standing at the edge of the clearing, and there he was.
Lando, sprawled out on the soft grass, one arm under his head and the other holding his phone loosely over his chest, thumb hovering like it meant to scroll but forgot to. You couldn’t see his face from there, only the way the light touched his curls through the clearing in the canopy above him, a streak of gold in the brown.
You watched him for a little longer than you should’ve. There was something about the way he fit into the rugged edges of Willowby like a perfect puzzle piece. It didn’t match the restless energy from earlier at the shop, and maybe that’s what captivated you. Lando hadn’t noticed you yet, or maybe he did and didn’t mind.
Your feet carry you to him before you can second-guess. “Is this your usual reading spot now?”
He turned his head lazily towards you, a slow smile spreading across his lips like he was relieved you’d come.
“I was hoping you’d find me,” he uttered, shutting his phone off. “Didn’t ask directly in case you’d say no.”
You sat down next to him. “And if I hadn’t come?”
He sat up a little, balancing on his elbows, the sunlight now gently touching his cheeks. “Then I would’ve had to sit here pretending I could read a single page of this,” he nudged his chin towards the book between you two.
It was one you remember his aunt buying, something about Greek myths and stories, and way too many big words for a city boy like Lando.
“It’s not that hard, you just look at the words and… read them.”
He gave you a look, half defeated, half amused. “Yeah, well, when I try to, it’s like they all merge together to spell out gibberish.” Lando explained, now sitting up fully, the sunlight catching his green eyes as he looked at you.
Lando reached over to hand you the book, at the same time you leaned over to take it from the gentle hold the grass had on it, and your fingers brushed just barely.
“Page twenty four,” he muttered, watching as you flipped through the book, opening his dogeared page. The spine creaked gently, the book soft and worn in places from hands that had held it before yours. You cleared your throat lightly and began to read.
Your voice was quiet at first, cautious in the way it settled into the surrounding stillness. The words unfolded like blooming flower buds, slow and careful, and beautiful in the way you said them. Lando lay back again, arms behind his head, eyes closing from the comfort of hearing you. You could feel him listening.
The garden around you was still alive, the breeze moving through tall blades of grass, leaves stirring in the trees above, the faint sound of the lake lapping softly against the shore. Every now and then, the melody of your voice would hitch on a particularly lovely sentence, and you’d glance down at him to find him already looking at you. He didn’t interrupt you. Not a laugh, not a sound, just a gentle and curious look sent your way.
When you finished the chapter, you closed the book gently in your lap and looked over at him. His eyes were still closed, a faint but content smile on his lips. “You asleep?” you asked, just softly enough not to startle him if he was.
“No,” his eyes fluttered open. “Just listening.”
You didn’t say anything after that, instead averting your gaze to the lake. The breeze was picking up now, washing the water ashore enough to spew droplets at you. From the way you laid your head against your folded arms, atop your knees, you couldn’t see Lando. You just assumed he was watching the lake, planning how to excuse himself and go home. In reality, Lando watched you— your hair gently flickering in the air, the way your sweatshirt hugged your shoulders and how you tucked the sleeves over your palms.
“You cold?” he sat up, eyes examining your face now. After you give him a short nod, he nudges you. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”
The walk back to town was slow.
Same as everything is in Willowby— slow, like the time lingers a little while longer for those living there. The sun had dipped behind the trees in the distance, leaving a dusky blue stretched across the sky, the horizon tainted in a faint amber. A breeze stirred along the grass blades lining your path, where your footsteps naturally fell into Lando’s rhythm.
“Do you read out loud a lot?” He glanced over at you. “You sound like you’ve read to an audience before.”
“Nope,” you shake your head. “Only when someone’s listening.”
He smiled to himself. “Lucky someone.”
You gave him a quiet look, amused. He simply smiled at you again, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. When you reached the corner where Willowby’s Words stood— now dark and closed— you expected Lando to turn the way to his house, but he continued loitering beside you.
Only once you’re at your driveway does Lando step back.
“Thanks for walking me home,” you gave him a weak smile, wrapping your zip up as close to yourself as possible.
Lando gave you a soft shrug. “Didn’t feel right to let you walk alone.”
“Still, thank you.”
A beat passed, his voice came quieter this time. “Same time tomorrow?”
The question caught you off guard, though you weren’t sure why. Maybe because it sounded so certain, like he already knew what your answer would be. You nodded once. “Yeah, alright.”
He grinned at that. “Bring something good.”
“I always do.”
He took a step backward, still looking at you like he was trying to memorise you before he turned away.
“Goodnight,” you said.
“Night,” he echoed. And then he turned on his heel, hands still shoved into his pockets and shoulders drawn backwards like he had just heard the best news ever.
You watched him walk away, still listening for the soft rustle of him passing the trees, and then you turned for home.
also i hate to be pushy but when can we expect the next chapter out?
xx
hi, sorry! my life has been incredibly hectic recently. not to trauma dump, but, in short, i’ve been kicked out of the place i was staying so i’m actively looking for a new place, and i think i’ve figured something out! and i’ve also been working a lot, since i got a new job a month ago. and i also recently had the blessing of falling for a sweet man, who i spend all of my time with, which makes for less writing time :(
i do plan on publishing it soon! i would say today, but i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case i don’t see to it. within the next week, for sure, though.
sending lots of love and hugs, and i’ll be back to being more active as soon as life gives me a break hahah.
when will the next part of the boy in the bookshop come out?
(no rush but i’m lowkey very impatient)
guys, i am so sorry. i suddenly have a job and zero time to write 💔 but, luckily for you, i have chapter two already written and i’ll post it after work today! so in about twelve hours :) sorry for the wait!!
synopsis — a stranger enters your bookshop on a sunny afternoon and leaves you with more questions than answers.
author’s note — let’s start this small series off with a short and sweet introduction to willowby, you and lando ♡
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Willowby isn’t the kind of town someone finds by accident. It’s stitched into the fabric of southern England, kept like a secret tucked inside the crevice of a large forest. You’re either born there or you end up there when the world gets too loud.
Rows of slate-roofed cottages leaned against each other like old friends, the road was narrow and hedges tall, and time moved slowly, steadily, not in a rush for anything. This wasn’t the type of town anyone new would stay in for longer than a day, it was too bland, too boring, but you liked it that way.
You knew every crack in the cobblestones from your family home to the bookshop you work in, and you could probably walk it blindfolded. You were barefoot today, hair still damp from your morning swim, denim shorts sticking to your thighs from the mid-July heat. The bell above the door chimes once you push past it and into Willowby’s Words, your little kingdom of stacked books, handwritten reviews at the front desk and suncatchers that danced in the windows.
You moved through the shop like someone settling into a second skin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, setting the fan on its highest setting and turning the sign to Open with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this every summer since you were fifteen. The shop smelled like old novels, earl grey tea and the vanilla scented candle your mother swore was a fire hazard and told you to take home.
It was still too early for any customers, so you perched yourself up on a windowsill— scone, tea and your favourite book in hand— and enjoyed the quiet ease that came with this place.
The bookshop is tucked in the corner of Willowby, surrounded by other small shops and flower bushes off the side. It has customers— the regulars of Willowby, tourists passing by and asking for maps, schoolkids looking for books that aren’t on the required reading list. It’s never anyone new.
Not until this afternoon anyway.
The bell above the door rang and you jolted from the unexpected sound, almost dropping the armful of books you were carrying. You look up from the counter, after haphazardly placing the books on the very edge of the table just beside it. The boy that walked in doesn’t look like he belongs here. He’s taller than the doorframe makes him look, all shoulders and curls and sunburnt cheeks. His hoodie was too expensive and white sneakers too clean for him to be a local, and besides that, you know everyone who lives in Willowby— he wasn’t from here.
“Hi,” his mouth moves swiftly when he speaks, pearly whites flashing you a gorgeous smile. “I’m, uh, looking for a book. I honestly couldn’t tell you which one, my cousin sent me to buy it because she’ll die without the sequel, her words.”
You almost laugh, except you’re too busy soaking in the foreign look to him. Willowby was its own world, tucked away and hidden, and never randomly found. It made you wonder what brought him here.
“Do you know the name of the first book?” You mumbled, occupying yourself with putting away the stack of books you had just carried in. They’re new arrivals, ones you’ve been waiting on for weeks. “I can’t promise I’ll have it, and in that case you’ll have to make an order for it.”
“Uh, wait,” you watch as he fishes out his phone from the pocket of his denim jeans, and types something in. “The Falling Stars? Or something.”
“The Falling Stars,” you repeat, lost in thought and dipping between the many bookcases in the small building to put the armful of books away. The stranger follows you around, eyes so focused on you that you start to believe you have something on your face.
Just as you’re about to reach upwards to place a book on the tallest shelf, you almost drop the other ones in your arms. Luckily, the stranger has a quicker reaction speed than you do and catches it before the book has a chance to land on your face.
“Do you have it?” He brushes off the fact that he reacted to the fall quicker than you did— than anyone normal does— and gets back to the topic at hand.
You stalk around the shop, the guy right behind you, closely inspecting to see if the second book is in your shop. Eventually, you end back up at the counter, no luck with finding the book. “You can place an order for it, but it could be weeks before it’s here.”
“That’s fine,” he shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “How do I do that?”
“I need you to write down your name and number, and address if you want it delivered to your doorstep.” You push a notebook and pen across the dark, spruce counter. The stranger gives you a funny look.
He picks the pen up, scribbles something down. As he’s writing, a question pops into his head. “What do you do for fun around here?”
You look back up from the old, worn-out computer you use to make orders on and blink at him. “Uh, not much. There’s a lake, behind the post office and a garden to the right of it.”
“Yeah?” He flashes you a small smile. “How do I get there?”
After giving him a few rough directions, you find yourself more intrigued with him. He explains that he’s staying at his aunt's house, the yellow one with the squeaky gate— you know it—and that he’s bored out of his mind. “All of her furniture is from, like, 1982. And she doesn’t have normal television.”
“Welcome to Willowby,” you quip, sarcastically. “Hope you enjoy your television-less stay.”
Lando— as you saw on the yellow notepad, scribbled in barely intelligible writing— just laughed at your words. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
in which you run a quiet little bookshop in a sleepy British village and he’s a runaway F1 driver with too many secrets—and one summer, he becomes yours between whispered stories and hidden garden afternoons.
You could name that fic anything and we’d still eat it up
hahahah that’s sweet, but i’ll have to look at it for the upcoming however-long-i-want-to-make-the-fic-last and i’d prefer to see a title that i like 😔
