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theemporium · 3 months

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[4.1k] when a last minute team meeting takes them to amsterdam, lando decides to take the opportunity to see what his teammate is like under the influence. (smut)

part two to this blurb that spiralled into landoscar smut somehow

It happened in Amsterdam.

With a new sponsor on the rise and the team desperate to lock down the deal before the new season started, Lando and Oscar were asked to fly out to the Netherlands a few weeks before the car launch. It put a small damper on both men’s winter break plans, the last few days of freedom they had before they dived into work mode for the new season—but ultimately, neither boy complained.

Oscar had felt bad for having to cancel your plans, knowing how excited you were about planning a few days for the two of you to spend some time alone together—away from the world, away from everyone. In all honesty, it was what he was looking forward to the most. He knew Formula One was different, that he would be busier than he ever had been in his life, but it never prepared him to be away from you for so long.

So yeah, he was pretty fucking bummed about having to cut the trip out of his plans but he invited you with him to Amsterdam in hopes the two of you could make the best out of a bad situation.

After all, Zak had only wanted them for a day or two, to just sit in meetings and play up some charm and confidence to give the sponsor the last push they needed to sign the deal with McLaren.

And, by some luck you swore was from a higher power, the deal had been negotiated and signed after a very long, tedious meeting.

But Oscar didn’t complain, he couldn’t complain when it meant that he would have more time alone with you in a country he never really had the chance to explore beyond the race tracks and most famous sites.

It just seemed like Lando had a similar idea.

“I got the perfect place to check out,” Lando insisted as they walked out of the busy office building they had been stuck in for the last few hours. “Martin recommended it, said it was insane and a necessity to check out when we were in the city.”

Oscar tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, but the boy’s words had him intrigued. “And he’s never taken you before?”

“Said it was best to visit in the off-season,” Lando replied, and the smile spread across his face did little to reassure Oscar’s suspicions about the mysterious place. “Bring your girl too! She will love it, Oscar. You both will.”

He raised his brows. “And you’re not going to tell me?”

“Be a little adventurous, Piastri,” his teammate teased, lightly nudging his shoulder as they headed towards their team-appointed cars. “Dress nice. We leave at eight.”

“I haven’t even agreed to anything,” Oscar pointed out, but the Brit didn’t seem all too bothered as he waved his teammate off before climbing into his car.

Truthfully, it shouldn’t have surprised Oscar that you were up for the night out. Lando’s mysterious words intrigued you as much as they intrigued him, and you both trusted Lando enough that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to drag you somewhere dodgy. Hopefully.

So, Oscar tried to push away the voice in the back of his head that said he should have asked more questions. He was a Formula One driver, he was used to control, he was used to always being the one in charge of his own fate. It felt weird to leave everything in the hands of Lando, even if he trusted his teammate more than he did with most people in his life.

“Relax,” you murmured to him as you stepped between his legs, your hands resting on his shoulders as he waited for Lando to message he was waiting downstairs. “It’s one night.”

“I know, I’m excited,” Oscar answered honestly as his hands rested on the back of your thighs, trying not to think about the pretty, little dress you had slipped on for the night. He could have sworn he had never seen it before. A part of him was tempted to cancel the whole night and stay in to truly appreciate the dress. “It’s just the idea of Lando being in charge of everything…”

“Hm, you say that as though you don’t worship the ground he walks on,” you teased, smiling in amusement at the way his cheeks burned pink.

“I do not!” Oscar grumbled, but he was smiling back. “Okay, I do a little. But it’s Lando…he’s my first teammate in Formula One. He is just—”

“I know,” you murmured with a smile, leaning down to peck his lips. “And he cares about you. So relax and trust the fact that he was excited to check this place out with you.”

The place in question—the one that Martin insisted Lando needed to check out—turned out to be something straight out of a Bond movie.

Oscar hadn’t even managed to catch the name when Lando had muttered it to their driver, a giddy smile on his face as he turned back to look at you and Osacr in the back seat. He was excited, buzzing in his seat as he rambled off about random topics could barely even keep up with as he watched the city pass by in a blink through the window.

It was an exclusive club, not very well-known but a local treasure to those who knew of it. One of those places in movies where you knocked on a steel door and grumbled out a password. The kind of places that you expected to feel dodgy and cautious and like you were making the biggest mistake for stepping into the establishment. One of those places that two high-profile athletes should definitely never be caught in.

But Lando just turned to him, that stupidly huge grin on his face as he threw an arm over his shoulder and dragged him inside.

“Relax, Piastri, nobody is gonna care who you are in here!”

And honestly, the thought shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was to him.

But despite the many warnings he received about stepping up as a Formula One driver, Oscar never really wrapped his head around how famous he was. He had his fair share of internet spotlight on him throughout his career, he was used to being recognised every once in a while. But being a Formula One driver—a McLaren one, nonetheless—was a whole new level.

People stopped him in the streets and asked for photos. His face was blasted on huge posters in airports and cities he hadn’t visited before. Every aspect of his life was constantly under a microscope now. He had fans and followers all around the world, not just from his home country. He had a level of fame he couldn’t even conceptualise.

He had a level of fame he wasn’t even sure he wanted.

His whole life he just wanted to drive. He just wanted to get behind the wheel and achieve the dream he had been chasing after since he was a young boy. He just wanted to do what he loved, what he had been passionate about since before he could even remember.

It just came in a package deal with having more attention that he preferred, so the very idea of stepping foot into this exclusive club and nobody caring he was Oscar Piastri? Yeah, that sounded really fucking good.

Your arm wrapped around his biceps as you followed the Brit deeper into the club. It was dark—darker than a usual club—with red-tinted lights surrounding the place, adding a soft hue that was just enough to see a few steps ahead of you. The music thumped through the building, like the bass lived in the walls as it sounded throughout the place.

There was no bar. And the dance floor wasn’t really a dance floor. It felt like a stage, placed right in the middle of the room for people to ogle and observe. The whole place was surrounded in these dimly lit booths, large enough that they almost felt like a room.

The whole place was fucking weird and nothing like he expected.

And maybe that was what thrilled Oscar about the whole situation.

“Where do we order our drinks?” He had asked as they made their way to the far left corner, the furthest place from the door. The surrounding booths were empty but Lando still chose the one right in the corner as he flopped down onto the large cushioned sofas.

He watched as you and Oscar took the seat across from him as he grinned.

Oscar raised his brows.

“We are in fucking Amsterdam,” Lando snorted, something glinting in his eyes that even the dim, red lights seemed to pick up. “You don’t come here to get shit-faced drunk, Oscar.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You brought us to your dodgy club to get stoned?”

“Best in the city, baby,” Lando said, the smile on his face widening as he leaned back against the cushions, comfortable and settled with his legs spread a little wider than he usually would. “A little birdie told me Oscar was the kind of man you wanted to smoke with.”

Oscar raised his brows. “You sound surprised by that.”

“Let’s just say there aren’t many sides to you that I don’t think I’ve already seen,” Lando answered with a simple shrug before he raised his hand, catching the attention of a waitress Oscar didn’t even notice was walking by.

And maybe it was immoral. Or sneaky. Or whatever you wanted to call it.

Maybe it wasn’t the most truthful way to experience it but Lando Norris was a fucking curious man and the opportunity fell right into the palm of his hand. Because Logan Sargeant’s words had been ringing in his head like a loop since that night in the club, his eyes being opened to a whole new side of his younger teammate and he wanted to see more.

He wanted to know who Oscar Piastri was under all the layers he seemed to put up when he was sober.

And with the team dragging them to Amsterdam and Martin having told him about this club with the assurance that it suddenly wouldn’t be plastered over the front page in the morning that they were indulging in recreational drugs before the season started…well, Lando couldn’t just ignore it, could he?

It wasn’t noticeable at first and, for a brief moment, Lando wondered if the American was just pulling his leg about the whole situation. He wondered if Logan had just seen his shock to clingy, touchy Oscar when he was drunk and needy and thought it would be hilarious to just add fuel to the fire that night for his own amusement.

Because one joint in and Oscar seemed like he had hours ago in the meeting room, dressed in a fancy suit and looking slightly out of his comfort zone.

But time passed and the edges of his own brain began to feel fuzzy, and Lando started noticing it. He noticed the way Oscar seemed to squirm in his seat, the way his eyes lingered on your mouth as you took a drag from the joint. He noticed the way Oscar’s arm had dropped from around your shoulder to his hand firmly being placed on the bare skin of your thigh instead. He watched as Oscar pressed his body close to yours until there wasn’t an inch of your side that wasn’t touching his.

And then, Oscar was leaning in, his lips skimming past your ear and instantly dropping to your neck like he didn’t even care Lando was there.

Lando couldn’t even bring himself to feel all that guilty as he watched the display, something deep in his gut twisting in desire.

Your eyes fluttered shut as the boy’s lips latched onto your neck, a small sigh leaving your lips as he began to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His hand squeezed your thigh, gripping onto it like it was a lifeline as he continued to kiss lower and lower until his lips were brushing against the fabric of your dress.

“Oscar,” you murmured as you raised your hand, fingers threaded through his hair but the boy didn’t stop as he nosed the edge of your dress, his lips dangerously close to your cleavage.

“Want you,” the Aussie murmured, something like a whine sounding from the back of his throat as he nipped the fabric with his teeth. “Please.”

“Baby,” you choked out a noise, your eyes snapping open like you finally seemed to remember Lando was there. You felt breathless as your eyes met his, the dim light making it difficult to read the expression on his face but you could have sworn you saw something quite like desire in his gaze. “Lando is—”

“Not complaining,” the Brit finished for you, his voice a little rougher and even he wasn’t sure if it was from the smoking or the sight in front of him.

Oscar blinked as he lifted his head, his cheeks flushed and his eyes a little red. He looked at you before he shifted his eyes to Lando, his gaze dragging over his teammate. He should have removed himself from you, should have pulled his hand away and slid away—but he remained exactly where he was.

“Don’t be shy, Oscar,” Lando murmured, and something in the Aussie’s chest sparked. “You wanna touch your girl, then who am I to stop you from making her feel good.”

“You gonna watch?” Oscar asked.

“Do you want me to leave?” Lando retorted.

“No.”

Lando’s smirk slowly widened. “Yeah? You two gonna put on a little show for me?”

Oscar blinked before he turned to look at you. His whole body felt like it was on fire, like there were flames coursing through his veins and burning him alight and he never wanted to stop. But as he looked at you, eyes glossy or not, one word from you and he would stop this whole thing, regardless of his own feelings on the matter.

You were his first priority. You were always his first priority.

“You wanna, baby?” He murmured, just low enough for it to only be heard by the two of you.

“I think,” you swallowed thickly as your eyes traced over your boyfriend’s face, as the bubbling desire and strong urge to clench your legs together washed over you with the heat of Lando’s gaze on you. “It would be the polite thing to do.”

Oscar tucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Show him how good you make me feel,” you murmured as his grip on your thigh tightened in response.

And when you couldn’t resist anymore, your eyes snapped over to where Lando was sitting. There was something thrilling about the sight, something your fuzzy brain couldn’t begin to comprehend but your body sure as hell did. There was something about him sitting across from you both, legs spread and eyes focused on the two of you as he watched in silent appreciation.

It felt dirty. It felt wrong. It felt like the last thing the three of you should be doing in a random club in Amsterdam. And yet, none of you wanted to stop.

Lando watched in delight the way a choked gasp left your lips as Oscar tugged the neckline of your dress down, as his lips attached to the newly exposed skin. Your hand moved back to thread through his hair, tugging softly as he pulled your dress down until your tits were exposed.

He watched as Oscar let out a groan at the sight, as his lips wrapped around your nipple. He watched as your head fell back, your boyfriend’s name a breathy moan past your lips as he continued to nuzzle himself between your tits.

“Would’ve never taken you as a tits man, Oscar.” Lando’s voice was rough and low, something that shouldn’t have made the whole situation hotter but it did. “Can’t blame you though, can I? Your girl has such pretty tits, would be a crime to ignore them.”

A whine sounded from the back of Oscar’s throat.

Lando’s eyes fell from your flushed face to the hand on your thigh. He watched as Oscar continued to push the hem of your dress further up until he got impatient and allowed his hand to slip beneath the skirt. He watched as Oscar groaned something incoherent against your skin, as you shifted your hips enough for him to pull your panties down your legs with a speed that was almost impressive.

He hardly had time to blink before he felt the soft thump against his leg, as he looked down to see your panties balled up and now resting on his lap after Oscar had thrown them.

Lando let out a dark chuckle, his head falling back. “You little shit.”

But Oscar didn’t pay him any attention. Oscar didn’t pay attention to anything but you and the feeling of you beneath his lips and touch. His brain was fuzzy, his thoughts were muddled and all he knew was that he really, really fucking wanted to taste you.

Yet, you didn’t seem to share Oscar’s one-track mind.

“Not fair that we’re the only ones who get to have fun,” you murmured, your eyes watching him closely as Lando eyed the pair of panties, seeming to contemplate so many racing thoughts in his head before he reached for them. “Maybe I want a show too.”

Lando’s eyes found yours in the dark. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” it was a little high-pitched as Oscar’s thumb pressed against your clit. “Yeah. Please.”

He let out a groan. “Still so fucking polite when he is all over you.”

You weren’t even sure where the spark of confidence came from—maybe from the way he was watching you and Oscar so eagerly—but your mouth opened before you could stop yourself. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

You swallowed thickly, your fingers tugging on Oscar’s hair as you watched Lando’s hand drop to the obvious bulge in his pants. “Of who?”

His smirk widened. “Both.”

“Shit,” you whispered, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise leaving your lips as you tore your eyes away from the older driver before your whole body burned up.

“Look what a good boy he is,” Lando commented, watching as Oscar littered soft kisses all over your chest and collarbone as his fingers pressed small circles against your clit. “Barely even touched you and he’s humping the sofa.”

Oscar’s cheeks burned hot.

“Bet he’s obedient,” Lando continued as the sound of a zipper echoed through the booth, as the rustling made it clear to both of you what he was doing. “Such a good listener, aren’t you, Oscar? Just wanna make everyone happy, hm? A team player.”

Oscar finally lifted his head, his eyes glossed over like he was drunk off lust and desire alone.

“You gonna listen to me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Gonna do what I say?”

He nodded again, his eyes locked on the way Lando palmed himself over his boxers with one hand as he held your panties in the other.

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Get between her legs, baby, I know you’ve been dying for a taste of her probably since she put on that lil’ number.”

And Lando was right. He was obedient. It was almost like his body was moving under a spell as he shifted, as he slid off the couch and settled on his knees on the carpeted floor instead. It should have felt wrong to have his back to Lando, but instead the idea that the boy’s eyes were locked on him whilst he touched himself (even if Oscar couldn’t see) thrilled him more than it should have.

His hands palmed your thighs before he slowly spread your legs, as he pushed the fabric of your dress until it pooled at your hips and exposed you. A whimper left Oscar’s lips as he tugged you closer to the edge, as one hand pushed your thigh back whilst the other guided your leg over his shoulder.

He looked up at you, his cock twitching in his pants at the silent plea in your eyes for him to do something, to give you what you wanted just as bad as him. And his eyes never left your as he leaned down, tongue pressed against your soaked cunt as he licked upwards in one thick, broad stroke.

“Fuck!”

Lando couldn’t help himself as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, as he squeezed the length of himself before pulling his cock free of any restraints.

Lando couldn’t help himself as the hand fisting your panties wrapped around his cock, as he let the lacy fabric run against his sensitive tip and resisted the urge to buck his hips.

Lando couldn’t fucking help himself as he stroked his cock, his eyes locked on the way you panted and moaned and grasped the cushions around you as Oscar worked between your legs.

A part of him wanted to get up, to close the distance between him and you both. He wanted to walk over, he wanted to thread his fingers through Oscar’s hair like you had done before and guide him. He wanted to watch the boy lick and kiss and suck your needy cunt until his face was dripping. He wanted to whisper just what a good fucking boy Oscar really was as he made you come, as Lando watched you come.

But the other part of him liked this—this twisted sense of power. He liked the fact he could sit back and watch, like it really was a show you two were putting on for him. He liked the idea that this went beyond something any of you understood, the way the two of you were so eager and pliant and obedient for him.

He liked that he could sit back, your wet panties fisted around his cock as he watched the two of you moan and squirm and desperately try and look pretty for him.

And you did. You both looked so, so pretty for him.

And you sounded so pretty too when you moaned out his name instead of your boyfriend’s. The way your back arched off the couch, your face scrunched up in pleasure as Oscar held your hips down. The way Lando could hear the way his teammate was groaning against your pussy, see the way his hips shifted like he desperately needed some friction against his aching cock.

It was the prettiest fucking sight Lando had ever seen.

“That’s it, baby,” Lando groaned. “Come for Oscar, let him taste you, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly, far too lost in your own pleasure to even understand what he was saying.

“Bet you’re so fucking hard,” Lando continued, his eyes locked on the way the muscles in his back shifted through his shirt. “Bet you could come just from hearing her moan, huh?”

The whine Oscar let out told Lando everything he needed to know.

“That’s it,” Lando groaned, his fist tightening around his cock as he felt his stomach clench as he neared the edge, as he neared his own orgasm. “Gotta finish the show f’me, hm? Gonna be good for me, yeah?”

You chanted out Oscar’s name as you finally came, shaking and squirming as he held your body against the cushions and continued to suck on your sensitive clit. And when you couldn’t take any more, you lightly pushed his head away to see his expression: flushed cheeks, hooded eyes and glossy lips that you wanted to kiss so bad. But a shifting movement caught your eyes, your gaze moving down to look at the dark patch spread across the front of his boxers.

“Just tasted so good,” Oscar murmured, not even ashamed or embarrassed at the mess he made.

And then your eyes shifted to look at the boy across the room.

He leaned back against the cushions, his chest moving up and down with soft pants. His trousers were pushed down to pool mid-thigh, his boxers just above them and his cock was still fisted in his hand, covered by your panties and his own come. It shouldn’t have been so attractive.

“I think I prefer this Oscar much better than drunk Oscar,” Lando eventually commented, something quite like a smug grin on his face as he looked between you both.

There was a tension in the room, one that none of your fuzzy brains could really grasp onto just yet. But it was there and it was overwhelming and suffocating and you each had half the mind to hope this night never ended.

You didn’t know what would happen after tonight, but you knew until then, the hidden club in the depths of Amsterdam would keep your secret—the secret that maybe all three of you wanted something more than a night fuelled by lust and weed.

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fxrmuladaydreams · 5 months

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don’t touch her (mv1)

max x reader , unnamed mclaren employee x reader

summary: max knows his feelings for you are wrong, you have a boyfriend. but all bets are off when that boyfriend gets aggressive with you

notes: this one’s angsty guys, also we’re gonna pretend that japan was later in the season just for timing purposes

warnings: physical fight, blood, a toxic relationship

He knew he shouldn’t be staring at you from across the paddock. He knew it was wrong on so many levels. You were a part of the Red Bull team, one of his coworkers. You were also dating someone from the McLaren team. Max had never wanted to hit Lando over the head as much as he did when the young Brit introduced you to your current boyfriend. But he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you in any room he went into, or at any media events or any meetings.

Max Verstappen could confidently say he was without a doubt in love with you.

He had grown attached to you quickly, being one of the only people he worked with that didn’t fawn over him just because he was good at his job. You treated him like a real person. When he was with you there was no Max Verstappen, there was only Max. You were a breath of fresh air, the calm in the storm that was his chaotic life. You were his quiet, safe space he could escape to when things became too much. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and shield you away from all that was wrong in the world, but he’d settle for calling you his friend, his best friend.

Max liked to think of himself as a good person, the type of person that just wanted to see you happy, even if it meant seeing you with someone else. He promised himself he wouldn’t act upon his feelings, at least not while you were dating anyone. He wouldn’t dare destroy your happiness just because of his heart.

Max could also admit he was petty, so childishly petty. He didn’t like seeing you hanging around the McLaren garage during race weekends, weekends where you would usually be by his side, making sure he was ready to drive. Instead he had to watch your navy blue stand out against the bright orange at McLaren. It didn’t suit you, being surrounded by papaya, Max thought.

He knew he could complain about it to Christian. He could use his power to make you come back to him, but in doing that he may end up hurting you or your job. So he sat quietly and let his annoyance fester inside him.

He could tell when things started to shift with your boyfriend. When your long hugs and visits to the McLaren garage turned into brushing shoulders and arguments in an empty walkway outside.

Max tries to ask about, tries to help make you feel better, but you shrug him off, telling him that you’ll work it out, it’s nothing but a rough patch.

He asks if you’re okay, if there’s anything he can do to help. You give him a sad smile and shrug your shoulders.

“There’s nothing you can do Max.”

He’s never felt so helpless in his life. He hates that he has to see your face with tear stains over it, that your smile has dimmed in the garage. That you no longer search him out for comfort.

Part of him thinks he should have a conversation with your boyfriend. He thinks he should give him a talking to about how he’s ruining someone so special. But he knows he’d probably end up throwing punches if your boyfriend ticked him off anymore than he already has.

You don’t seem to get any better as the season comes closer to an end. Max tries to help you open up to him again, asking if you have any plans over the winter break. He even invites you to join him on his trip back home to the Netherlands. He tells you that his mother and sister would love to have you with them during the holidays.

You frown, telling him that you planned on staying near Milton Keynes to do some work at the factory.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s winter break, I’m sure they can spare you for a little while.”

“I can’t take time off work just to hang out with you Max.” The words are much harsher than you mean for them to be, you can tell by the way Max takes a defensive step back.

He nods. “Right. Sorry.” Then he leaves you standing there to go to his driver’s room, or somewhere that just doesn’t have you.

Everything becomes clearer to Max at a party near the end of the season. It’s just after the Japan race, and Lando had insisted on celebrating the McLaren 2-3 as well as another tally to Max’s list of wins this season. The nightclub is filled with drivers as well as team members from each team hoping to let off some steam before the next race weekend.

Max doesn’t want to be there. He wants to go back to his hotel and sleep before he has to fly back home just to fly to Qatar a week later. But Lando and Charles keep putting new drinks in his hand, which promptly end up being left on random tables, and dragging him around to converse with everyone else that’s there.

He keeps an eye on you the whole time, watching as you wrap your arms around yourself, staring into the crowd on the dance floor. He can tell you aren’t really looking at them though, that you’re staring off into space. Your boyfriend comes up to sit on the stool next to you. He says something in your ear, to which you shake your head and leave, walking outside.

Max quickly pushes his latest drink into Charles’ hands and follows you outside.

You lean against the wall, attempting to get some fresh air after feeling a bit too claustrophobic in the club, but the heat doesn’t help as much as you hoped. You see Max as he steps outside and quickly walks to you.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, because I know you, I know when you’re upset and you can’t hide it from me. Is it me? Have I done something wrong?” He asks, his words spilling out quickly.

“Max, it’s not you, it’s just-”

“Y/n! Come on, we can talk this through!” Your words are cut off by your boyfriend who looks around for you, the smile falling off his face when he spots Max standing next to you. “Are you fucking serious Y/n?” He storms over to you, and grabs your forearm, yanking you away from Max. “Always running back to Max, huh?”

You yelp when he roughly pulls you to him.

Max is quick to put himself between the two of you, pushing your boyfriend with just enough force to make him let go of you.

“Don’t touch her.” He snarls.

You already know how this is going to end. Max stares at your boyfriend with fire in his eyes. While Max isn’t quite as tall as him, he makes up for the height difference in his strength. He’s got enough muscle to knock him to the ground in seconds if he wanted to.

Anyone with half a brain would know they’re in dangerous territory, being on the receiving end of Max’s intense stare, but your boyfriend refuses to back down.

“She’s mine Verstappen. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He says quietly, taunting Max.

That’s all it takes for the first swing to fly. You think it’s Max, but your boyfriend is quick to throw up his own fists in defense.

It’s a mess of navy blue and orange as the two end up rolling on the ground, throwing punch after punch. Max ends up on top, straddling your boyfriend, lifting his fist to swing. You grab his arm and pull him off and away from the fight. You catch a glimpse of your boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend’s bloody nose and black eye.

Max huffs, pulling his arm away from you and stalks towards his car. You follow him, practically jogging to keep up. You stop when you’re standing between him and the driver door. The lamplight illuminates his face. He’s got a bruise on his cheekbone, a split lip, his hair is a disheveled mess, and his fist is coated in blood, whose you aren’t sure. He’s avoiding eye contact with you, instead looking up at the sky.

“Max, why-”

“I’m fine.” He says when he finally looks at you. “Let me drive you back to the hotel.”

The drive back is quiet. You can’t help but keep looking over at Max, the streetlights passing by spread light over his face. He pulls a plain hoodie from the back of his car, pulling the hood up over his head. He keeps his down as he walks inside, attempting to avoid any interactions with fans that have decided to hang around the hotel.

He walks you to your door, then turns to leave, stopping only when he feels your fingers thread themselves through his. You gently pull him inside your room.

“Bathroom.” You tell him, steering him towards the small bathroom.

He sighs, knowing that there’s no use in trying to argue with you. He tugs the hoodie off and tosses it on your bed. He lifts himself up to sit on the counter of the bathroom, just next to the sink. There’s barely any room between where his legs hang off the counter and the wall opposite the sink, but you manage to squeeze between them with a small towel in your hand.

You run the towel under warm water, then bring it to his face, softly dabbing at his lip. He flinches slightly, pulling away. You apologize softly, then continue to wipe the blood from his lip.

You do the same with his hand, gently holding it in your hand and wiping away the red. It turns out to be mostly blood from your ex boyfriend, his skin only slightly bruised from the impact.

“You shouldn’t have hit him. You could’ve broken your hand. You wouldn’t have been able to drive.” You scold him quietly.

He gives you an incredulous look. “I should’ve done a lot more than hit him.”

You don’t answer, continuing to absentmindedly wipe at his hand. The blood is long gone, but he can tell you’re too lost in thought to notice.

He lifts your head up to look at him with his other hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks.

You shake your head. “You heard him. Always running back to you?”

“I like it when you come to me.” He shifts slightly. “I mean, I like feeling like you can come to me for, well for anything really. You should’ve felt like you could’ve talked to me.” He drops his head down now.

You can tell he’s starting to close in on himself, that he feels somehow at fault for this. It’s your turn to lift his head up this time. His eyes are welled up with unshed tears. He tries to blink his tears away putting on a brave face for you.

You gently swipe your thumb under his eyes, then hold his cheeks in your hands.

“This is not your fault Max. It’s my fault. I let it get bad, I should’ve ended it a long time ago. I just have a talent for being self destructive I guess.” You let out an unconvincing laugh.

He leans into your touch, letting his eyes flutter closed.

After a few minutes you begrudgingly pull your hands away from Max. He immediately misses the warmth on his face.

“You should put some ice over your bruise.” You tell him.

You step back, giving him space to hop down from the counter. He stands over you, but his height is anything but daunting. He looks down at his now clean but bruised knuckles then back up at you.

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” You tell him.

He clears his throat then shuffles around you, back into the main part of your room. “I should probably go.”

You follow him, itching to give him a reason to stay.

He grabs his hoodie from your bed and walks back to your door. He opens it, ready to step through when you call his name. He turns back to see you standing near the door as well, shifting your weight on your feet.

You take a deep breath then throw caution to the wind. You take a quick two steps to him and press your lips to his cheek.

Max freezes, only regaining a semblance of composure when you pull away from him.

“Thank you Max. Really.” You smile.

He gives you a sheepish smile and a nod, his cheeks colored with a light pink blush.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight Max.”

#max verstappen x reader #formula one x reader #mv33

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alotofpockets · 7 months

Text

Childhood dreams | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader

Request: Where reader has just joined arsenal and katie can’t stand her and there’s so much tension - basically just extreme enemies to lovers

Warnings: slight angst, absent father, enemies to lovers.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 2.6k

Joining Arsenal had been a dream of yours for a long time, and now that dream was finally coming through. It has always been an amazing club in your eyes, and you were eager to start the season. There were also a couple of familiar faces on the team. Miedema and Pelova, your teammates on the Dutch National team, as well as McCabe. Your dream of playing for Arsenal one day was a shared dream with Katie back when you were just ten years old. You played together in Templeogue United, Katie had been your best friend on the team, you played there together for three years before she left the small club. Sadly, the move caused the two of you to drift apart.

It was a couple years later that you and your mom moved to the Netherlands, your mothers home country. You had been there visiting family many times, but it was the first time you had lived there yourself, though you’ve had a double passport since you were a baby. You enlisted in a club there and quickly made your way up to a professional youth team, where you got drafted for Netherlands Women’s U-17, where you met Viv, and you eventually made it to the Netherlands team together.

You were excited to play with Viv and Victoria in a different setting than the national team, to reconnect with Katie, and of course learn from the other girls on the team. Today was the first training session of the season. You arrived at the training center in your new gear, and greeted the people that were there already. You were warmly welcomed by the team that was there already. You caught up with Viv and Victoria before training started, and introduced yourself to a few other girls.

Jonas walked up onto the field and started the training session off with a speech. “Hello, everyone! I’m so glad that we’re all together again, and excited to see some new faces. Let’s make this another great season together.” Everyone cheered when he finished. After Jonas finished his speech, everyone sat down to change put on their cleats, you decide to take that moment to walk up to Katie. “Hi Katie, how have you been?” To your surprise Katie stands up without any response whatsoever and starts the first warming up drill. You are a bit perplexed at her not even saying hi, but continue putting on your cleats, to join the rest of the team on the field.

The rest of the training goes well. At first you were searching for your place in the team, but you quickly fit it. The only odd thing about the day was that Katie seemed to keep ignoring you but you decided to let it be and see the next day how things would progress.

When you get back home from the first day of training you take a quick shower before calling your mom, like you promised. “Hi honey, how was your first day?” She asks cheerfully. “It was great, mom. I’ve already learned so much and it was only the first training session.” Your mom listens to what you have to say about the training, she has always been very supportive of your career. “And how was seeing Katie again? I know you were looking forward to that.” - “I don’t know, I went to say hi but she just ignored me. I guess she wasn’t as excited to be playing Arsenal together after all these years as I am.” Your mom gave you a small pep talk before saying bye.

The following days of training Katie refuses any kind of interaction with you, going as far as changing teams when you’re on the same team. You decide to give up and just focus on yourself and the team as a whole, from that moment on you act as stone cold her way as she does to you. Which was picked up by the team that usually had warm family vibes all around, instantly. Your first weekend off you visited Viv’s place and had dinner with her and Beth. “So, what’s the deal between you and Katie?” Viv asks. “I honestly have no clue. We played together back in our teen years, we were best friends for a couple years but then grew apart because her and her family moved away. We always dreamt of playing for Arsenal together, so I thought it would be fun playing together again after all these years. She has been ignoring me since the first day of training, so I have just given up on it, you know? I’m just trying to focus on playing with you guys, because joining this club means a lot to me.” You explained as they nodded along.

You report back to the training grounds on monday. Starting with some drills before playing 5v5 games. Everyone was playing to their full potential while also having fun. The occasional foul happened but all in good fun. Since both you and Alessia were the only newcomers to the team this season, the teams were made so that the two of you were always in one of the teams, that way you could build a dynamic with each of your new team members.

A new round started, and you were paired with D’Angelo, Williamson, Walti, and Foord. On the other side of the field, Russo was paired with Zinsberger, McCabe, Little, and Mead. The game was quick paced, and the score soon made it to 1-1. Katie was getting rougher in her plays, in general Katie was a somewhat aggressive player but you hadn’t seen her play this rough in any of the other 5v5 matches. She kept pushing you off the ball and sliding into you. You were annoyed with her antics but tried to focus on getting past her many aggressive tries of ridding you off the ball. Your annoyance kept building as she did not seem to stop pushing and pulling.

You moved the ball forwards once again, but your ankle was met with a hard, late tackle from Katie. Again, fouls happen even in training but overall everyone was a good sport about it, apologizing and helping the other person up. Katie on the other hand just stood up and walked away. That’s when you snapped, you rushed to your feet and gave her a shove. “What the hell is your problem?” Before Katie could answer, Little stepped in between the two of you, even performing her captain duties during training. “That’s it, I’ve had enough of you two. With me now!” You each followed her into the changing rooms. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but whatever it is, it is messing with the team dynamic and I am not having that. So, sit down, talk this out and I do not want to see either one of you back on the field until you can at least treat each other with respect.” She walks out of the room and closes the door behind you without waiting for a response.

You share a look with Katie, she rolls her eyes and sits down on the bench on the right side of the room. You do the same on the opposite side of the room. You sit in silence, both not wanting to start the conversation. Katie, who had never been the one for patience, was the first to speak up, “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” You shake your head in annoyance, “You’ve ignored me since the second I stepped foot on this field, Katie. I have no clue what I did for you to hate me this much, but I sure as hell am not going to apologize after you’ve been pushing me around without any reason.”

“Never said there wasn’t a reason.” Katie spits back. “Oh, please enlighten me on this reasoning, because again, I have no clue what horrible thing I did to you in the, what, fifteen years? That we haven’t spoken to each other.” Raising your voice at Katie took all the energy that you had left out of you, so you leaned back against the cold wall, and sigh deeply.

“You turned your back on Ireland.” Your eyes shot up to Katie’s, “What?” You say in confusion. “We always talked about representing Ireland, you and me, we planned on playing for our country, and you turned your back on our country by choosing to play for the Netherlands.” A frown fell over your face, you didn’t know what you expected her reasoning behind this anger to be but this certainly was not what you were expecting. “Katie, I did not turn my back on Ireland by choosing to come out for the Netherlands. You might have known me back when I was thirteen, but you don’t know my story after that. Especially not the story behind coming out for the Netherlands, because I have worked very hard on keeping that away from the public, so please don’t judge me for things that are beyond your knowledge on my life’s story.”

Katie stayed quiet for a moment, taking in what you said. “You are right, I don’t know about your life’s story, but coming out for the higher ranking team over the one you were born in sounds a lot like turning your back on it.” You shake your head. “It was never about ranking, Katie, and it sure as hell wasn’t an easy decision.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. It had been many years since you’ve talked about this subject but you decided that if you wanted whatever is happening here to end, you might as well share the truth. “When I was fifteen my dad abandoned us.” Katies eyes shot up to yours, realizing she has royally messed up with her assumptions.

You avert your eyes to the ground, as you continue. “We stayed in Ireland so I could finish the school year, but after that mom moved us to the Netherlands, so she could be with her family. I guess I hadn’t given much thought to coming out for a country since we moved, you know, with trying to deal with everything. It wasn’t until the recruiters for the Dutch National teams offered me a spot on the U17 team.” Katie was listening to your every word. “I have never struggled more with my identity than that month of my life. Ultimately, I decided to accept their offer, not because they had a higher world ranking but for my mom.” You wipe away the tears you weren’t able to keep in. Katie walks up to you, and hands you a bottle of water, before sitting down next to you. “I am so sorry, y/n. I feel really bad about the way I’ve been acting towards you. I felt betrayed but I shouldn’t have assumed anything, and for that I am truly sorry. I promise to throw my grudge out of the window, because I had no right to one.”

You walk out on the field together again, Kim gets the two of you to the side. “I don’t need to know what happened in there but I need to know that whatever is going on will no longer affect the team.” You assure her that that won’t be a problem and get back to training. The rest of the training is a lot calmer, which you appreciated. Katie even walked up to you after training, “I know you won’t just forget about the way I acted, but do you think we could meet up for a coffee sometime? I know we set off on the wrong foot here, which is completely on me, and I want to fix that.” You decide that you would like to start things over and agree to coffee that same afternoon.

Meeting up at a local cafe at one, the conversations started flowing easily. You caught up on each other’s lives and laughed over shared memories. There was no stopping the conversation as you kept discovering new subjects to elaborate on. Coffee eventually turned into dinner at a different restaurant, and plans for next hangouts were made before you left to go home.

The team noticed major changes over the next couple training sessions. Instead of ignoring and avoiding each other, you were often found together on the field. Intentionally pairing up on drills, so much so that Jonas wanted to put some extra focus on your dynamic, believing it could better the team performance. So, in training you start working together to improve the dynamic, which eventually led to meeting each other on the training fields outside of training, like old times. Together, you worked on creating new strategies and practicing them until your legs gave out.

You started considering Katie as one of your best friends, that instant connection you had as kids, seemed to resurface after the initial bad reconnection. With the training season being in full session, you spend most of your time surrounding Katie. Just like the weekend before, you met up with Katie on the field, Saturday afternoon. You’ve been running around on the field for hours, practicing maneuver after maneuver, your legs were starting to get tired but you did not want to give in yet. Katie offered to play a little one on one to close off the day.

The field was still full of dummies, so you were moving around those, while also being chased by Katie. Katie got a step ahead of you and tried kicking the ball away from your feet, but instead of kicking the ball, she ended up slipping and tripping the both of you. You both fall to the ground, legs tangled, as you roll over each other. Laughing hard when you come to a halt, laying next to each other both on your backs. You stay down for a while, both not being able to stop laughing.

Katie is the first to get up, and reaches out her hand to help you up. She pulls you up with a little too much power, which makes you bump into her. You instantly reach for her hips to stabilize yourself, laughing once again. Though, the laugher dies once you realize just how close your face is to hers, as your noses are almost touching. Katie’s eyes move between your eyes and your lips, searching for any hesitation on your end as she slowly moves closer. When she notices no hesitation, she closes the distance and softly presses her lips on yours. One of her hands moving their way up to cup your cheek. With your hands still resting on her hips you pulled her closer, and deepened the kiss. Both still out of breath from running around the field all day, you have to pull away for air sooner than you wanted to. You lean your forehead against hers as you catch your breath, your smile growing when you make eye contact with Katie. She pecks your lips again before she hugs you tight. “Want to pack up and head to my place?” Katie offers after a moment. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

So, that’s what you did. Together you packed up the cones and dummies, sharing kisses all throughout, making the packing up last longer than it needed to be. Once you felt her lips on yours, you wanted that feeling to last forever. Back at Katie’s place you each take a shower before snuggling up on the couch. You borrowed one of Katie’s soccer shorts and a hoodie, while she was wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt. The movie you were watching turned into background noise as Katie leaned in to kiss you again.

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#katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #awfc #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #arsenal wfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #irewnt #nedwnt

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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

Text

take my hand * ls2

the princess, to inherit the throne after marriage, is having the hardest time trying to find a man to wed. until, a certain duke of somewhere comes riding in to ask for her hand

pairings: prince!logan x princess!reader

word count: 4.6k

notes: just a short long introductiON!! ugh, there's a lot more to this i think and i'm so excited for this like u cant make this shit up, thank u to the turtle anon who requested this tbh i never would have thought of this my fucking self!! AHHH tell me wht u think bc i spent 3 days drafting and writing this and i'll retire if i dont know what u think of it

(f1 masterlist)

your hands grab your skirt as you move one foot in front of the other. you bend your knees as you curtsy and drop your head. "i hope that you didn't find your stay to be a waste of time, your majesty. i can only offer my sincerest apologies.”

"princess, please," a laugh makes you lift your head with an unimpressed expression flashing on your face, "i told you to call me max. and, it's okay. perhaps we were not the best match."

"truly," you smile, resting your hands on your poofed-up gown that covers your legs. "i do, however, really did enjoy your stay. i learned a lot about the world while you were here."

max glances at the carriage that approaches the front steps that lead to the castle. "text me when you do find the love match you're looking for, princess," he smiles, turning to you politely. "shame that it could not be prince charles."

"do not bring that up. it is unlike me to be so particular of something so... superficial," you laugh, a hand coming up to your mouth. "i'll extend an invite to you for the wedding - if there will ever be one."

"you're absolutely lovely," he straightens his shirt. "i'm sure there will be somebody that will put an end to your long search for a husband."

"a princess can only dream," you shrug. you take a step forward when the carriage stops right by you, mirroring the step he takes to initiate his departure. "texting buddies, okay? take pictures of bangkok for me when you pay a visit to prince alex."

"your wish is my command," max smiles. he holds his hand out to you, palm facing up. "want to hear one more fun fact about geography before i leave?"

you shake your head with a polite smile, lifting your hand and tilting your head as he takes it into his. "please just leave, max. no more fun facts."

"fine. i shall text you one when i arrive in the netherlands," he teases you, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

that was how the week ended for you. you waved as you watched prince max's carriage ride off into the sunset, towards the exit of your castle. you then sigh when he is no longer in sight. you turn around to face the exterior of the castle you called home for the entirety of your life.

at the large doors, your younger brother stands with his arms folded over his chest. "debrief, sister?"

"yes," you mutter, grabbing what you can of your petticoat and skirt, and hurrying up the stairs. "did you manage to sneak sabine in? she has to be there for the debrief."

"in your bedroom with a bottle of expensive champagne and orange juice as per your request," mick mutters, turning on his heel as you pass him at the doors. "before you run off, however, mother looks for you."

"tell mother i am busy," you frown, hastily navigating the long hallway to try and get to your room. realistically, your farewell with max lasted much longer than you would have liked. but, he is now considered a friend.

“sister,” mick says with a bewildered expression on his face. “she will shave my head if i say that to her.”

you grin. “good, then i get to keep my hair.”

“it’s important, she emphasised. something about a new guest for next week.” mick jogs to catch up to you, stomping his foot into the ground when you come to a halting stop. he smiles apologetically at you. “i hate to be the bearer of bad news for you, sister.”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. your grasp only tightens around your skirt. “another guest so soon? is she so desperate to hop off the throne and ride off into the sunset with father for an early retirement?”

mick sighs and shakes his head. “you know it’s not like that.”

“all i asked of her is that she gives me a week break between all of the men she is throwing at me! i have not had a moment to myself in three weeks!” you ramble, picking up the weight of your dress again. you charge down the hallway. “i’ve barely had the time to listen to the voices in my head, brother.”

“i told you to stop making that joke — it’s not funny!”

“it is!”

“it could very well be existent — the voices in your head. what are we to do if you truly turn out to be a lunatic of some sort?”

mick is ahead of you a couple of steps again when you halt your footsteps. “you’re saying you’d love me less if i were to be diagnosed to be a lunatic?”

he presses his lips together. “i should tell mother about the time you took body shots off of frederik at that one party i snuck you into.”

“perhaps i shall tell mother about your escapades with the help,” you point out. your smile slowly turns triumphant when mick rolls his eyes and takes a step back. “exactly.”

“i’ll see you in your bedroom, devil spawn,” mick says through his teeth. he glances down the hall and turns on his heel. he leans into you slightly with a smirk. “bring laila. tell her i miss her.”

“take the piss, mick,” you scoff. you continue your way down the hallway and make a quick right. the stairwell leading up to your bedroom almost tempts you, but the silence of the hallway makes your mother’s voice briefly flashes in your ear.

you can almost imagine the fallout if you ignored her this time. so you take one more step down the hallway and knock on the door. from the corner of your eye, you can see someone approaching you. “princess.”

you slowly turn your body to face them and tilt your head. “laila.”

“how was the farewell with prince max?” she giggles, hovering behind you as you wait for your mother’s response. “glad to be on your own, i hope.”

“yes, until you realise that i’m here because mother,” you knock again, “has found another bachelor to terrorise me with either his questionable fashion or weird love for countries that are not his own! for the next week!”

the door finally opens, knocking you back a step as the sudden intrusion of your complaints. you were not done rambling on about the failed courtships that you have had to endure in the last couple of months.

“there you are, mother. i was wondering if mick was simply trying to get rid of me by telling me you needed me,” you grumble, walking straight into the tea room she locked herself in. “question: why is mick telling me about another suitor coming in the next week?”

“ah,” your mother smiles. “yes. i’ve been meaning to speak to you about him, but you seemed busy with prince max. actually, i thought i might have to call off the duke of florida.”

you raise an eyebrow and turn to her. “but mother, i need a break.”

she shrugs in return, throwing her arms in the air. she walks back to the table in the far corner of the room where her tea is set. “he is a very busy man, darling.”

“i’m a busy woman!” you shriek, taking all offence to what your mother is trying to imply. “are you saying his time is more valuable than mine? i am a princess, to inherit the throne upon marriage — he is just a duke.”

your mother doesn’t respond, but takes a seat at her table and smiles at you. you glance at laila, standing quietly by the door with her hands clasped together. you turn back to your mother.

“some might say he will only turn out to be my trophy husband if all of this works out the way you want it to!”

“please, watch yourself! is that what you learned when we let you go out to uni?” your mother scolds you with a bewildered expression on her face. “well, it’s no wonder you cannot find a husband. we are running out of eligible bachelors, just to inform you.”

you part your lips, chest heaving as you try and process — yet again — the underlying meaning of her words. “postpone the courtship.”

“i simply cannot. and, it would be rude of me as he is already en route,” she sips on her tea, “he arrives in the morning.”

“i-“ you cut yourself off and take a deep breath. “whatever.” you turn on your heel and march towards the door. “let’s go, laila. let’s have one last debrief before i give in to my true desire to throw myself out of the bloody window.”

“behave, (y/n)!”

you kick your feet up as you pour orange juice into the champagne flute. "kind fernando was fine, actually," you say, pointing at the picture that flashes on the wall of your bedroom. "it's just unfortunate that he was a bit too old for me."

"a bit?" mick scoffs, turning to you. he is on your bed, duvet pulled up to his shoulders, with one of his arms poking out to hold his champagne flute. "he's ten years younger than father, you think he is only a bit old?"

you stare at him. "it's just twenty years - it could have been worse."

"she's deranged," sabine says, half her upper body laying on your bed while her legs are on the ground of your carpeted floor. "don't mind her. so, next failed date."

the picture immediately changes, now prince george of britain is plastered on your wall in all his glory. you sigh and throw your head back into your chair. “this one is just such a shame.”

“that he’s much sassier than you,” mick grins, turning to you. “you reckon he’s…”

“definitely not. he told me he’s in love with a mundt,” you mutter. “but prince alex told me it’s complicated — mundt is arranged to marry someone else!”

laila gasps, turning to you from the corner of the room. "have you got a groupchat with all the royals or something?"

"no, prince alex is just my bestie," you beam, turning back to the screen. "i'd have married him on the spot if princess lily wasn't already with him."

"you don't like prince alex like that," mick mutters, side eyeing you with a small scowl. "if you were so open to marrying friends, why didn't you just marry prince max?"

"because he was born to be irritating." you shake your head. "and i'm not interested in geography like that. i can't have that for the rest of my life."

"okay, but what was wrong with the crown prince of monaco? he was sculpted by the gods," sabine mutters, changing the slide. objectively, he very well could have been the one that ended all of this for you.

but there was something about his odd fashion choices that made you pull away about three days into his stay in the palace. you lied through your teeth about it simply not being a love match, but never told him about the real reason. it just seems quite mean and intentional if you brought that up.

"not his fashion sense," you mutter. you turn to laila. "why are you standing the corner? don't you want to cuddle with your boyfriend who's already made a home out of my bed?"

"no, princess, i'm at work," she whispers, shaking her head. "more champagne?"

"ridiculous," you mutter, pointing at mick. "when we're in this room and those doors are closed, you are my friend. and his secret girlfriend. so please, kick the shoes off and cuddle before i change my mind."

mick grins, pushing the blankets from his torso. he opens up one of his arms for her. "i told you she doesn't care."

"yeah, but i work for her," laila mutters, climbing into your bed hesitantly and snuggling up into mick's side.

you put your drink down on the table and readjust the projector set up next to you, sharpening the quality and readjusting it to ensure that everyone can see the pictures proper. "don't need to remind me i'm single, you guys."

"you should have just given prince charles a chance," sabine mutters with an eyeroll. she looks at you with her lips pressed together. "i keep telling you - that prince was a catch despite the weird fashion sense."

you switch to the next slide. "fluorescent yellow is up next,” you mutter. “prince lando is so funny.”

“i’m going to tell you again, sister,” mick looks over at you, “funny isn’t going to rule your people properly.”

you roll your eyes and take a swig of your mimosa. “he didn’t even want to court me in the first place — his mother talked him into it,” you explain, shaking your head. “we’re mutuals on instagram!”

“are you even allowed an instagram account?” mick laughs, remembering all the lectures you both would received growing up about behaviour on social media.

“i know you’ve got a private one,” you clear your throat, “as do i. it was very handy for uni.”

“true that,” sabine agrees with you, nodding with a wide smile. “i’m your biggest fan. she’s got the most ratchy stuff in there, mick. you don’t follow her?”

“no, we’re not that close,” mick shakes his head with a giggle. “so, prince lando essentially… just isn’t looking to be married so soon?”

“unfortunately not. but that’s absolutely none of my business,” you giggle, sinking into your seat comfortably. you flip to the next picture and hum in satisfaction. “and the latest one to add to our collection.”

“ah, prince max,” mick grins. he looks at laila. “he was lovely, wasn’t he?”

laila presses her lips together and giggles. she nuzzles into mick’s side, resting her head on his shoulder. “he was very friendly. i quite liked him during his stay.”

“as did my sister, i believe,” mick teases. “do you know how many fun facts prince max knows about the world?”

“ah, i’ve spoken to him,” sabine nods with a soft giggle. she pushes herself up onto the bed, stomach down and rests her head flatly. “he was very nice.”

“she snuck you in somehow this week?” mick turns to you. “very defiant, sister. were you not afraid that mother would catch you sneaking a commoner into the palace again?”

you press your lips together and nod enthusiastically. “max wanted gin and tonics.”

“wow, first name basis,” laila teases, covering her lips with her hand. “he was a talkative drunk, my love, but he is very delightful to be with. did you not converse with him when he was here?”

"i was busy with my finals up until this afternoon," mick sighs, shaking his head. "though, i overheard dear sister over there telling prince max he will be invited to the wedding. so, i will see him again."

"you're such a snitch, mick," you grunt as you roll your eyes. "but anyway, i've got a prince something coming in tomorrow for another week of courtship."

sabine lifts her head to look at you. "seriously? did your mother tell you who it is? shall we search him up on google so we can form first opinions before his arrival?"

mick lifts an eyebrow, moving his head to the side while he maintains his judgemental stare at your best friend. "isn't that a bit much?"

you hum. the thought of google searching for the duke of florida is very tempting. while you do typically let sabine go and do her own investigative searches ahead of time for you to assess how much fun you might have in the time of courtship, it feels like this one is too soon to be able to prepare for it.

you reach over to the projector and turn it off, rolling your eyes at the chorus of disappointment that your entourage voices out. "not for this one, i fear," you stand up and readjust your pyjama shirt. "the duke of florida will have to simply remain a mystery to us all until sunrise."

"what?" sabine slumps her shoulders as disappointment laces her words. "but i won't even be here for his arrival. that's unfair, princess! i insist on sticking around!"

you perk up at the suggestion. you clench your jaw as your face lights up with an idea, turning to your best friend with a small smile. "you're right. you should stay, sabine." you turn to mick with a small smile. "she should stay, shouldn't she, brother?"

he raises an eyebrow in response, and you scowl at the way laila is also staring at you in curiosity. "and how do you suppose you will make that possible? mother will not allow."

"but father will," you beam, "father will not say no. he loves sabine as much as he loves me."

mick gives you a thumbs up. "i would never have thought that you were a daddy's girl, sister."

you roll your eyes and head for the door. "i will find father and i shall convince him to let sabine stay."

"oy." you hear a tired voice before your body is shaken. the duvet is pulled up to your back with your face nuzzled into the pillow. "mother asked me to wake you."

"brother, i wish to wake up one day and not have you pester me," you mutter, rubbing your eye as you lift your head.

"you had that the entirety of my semester when i was away for uni," mick laughs. you feel the bed dip and a hand on your shoulder. next to you, sabine lifts her head to glare at mick. "ah, i seem to have woken up your partner-in-crime as well. mother didn't ask for you, only my sister."

"ah, fuck off. you're not the prince of anything to me, mick schumacher, i've seen you hunched over the bathroom with puke on your lips," sabine mutters, slowly sitting up. she turns to you. "are you ready for another potential bachelor?"

"how late did you sleep, sabine?" you hum, sitting up as well. you sigh and lay your weight on mick's back, resting your head on his shoulder. you glance over at her, assessing the shadows under her eyes. "have you even slept?"

"couple hours," she giggles, tearing off the duvet off her body. "i was up all night researching this duke of florida. i'm very excited for my stay in your palace, princess."

mick chuckles, looking over at the older girl that paces around your room. he looks at you and rests his cheek on the top of your head. "i suggest you start getting ready before mother is the one that asks you."

"just give me a minute," you whisper, shaking your head. truthfully, you were just not ready to be courted by another eligible bachelor. while you have yet to meet anyone who would generally make you gouge your eyes out, being courted endlessly for days is just not a very ideal situation.

you never know - the duke of florida might actually might be the one that throws you over the edge.

the sound of heels echoing in the hallway makes you and mick perk up, the tone and the pace of it being too familiar. you hop off the bed and grab the skirt of your nightgown. mick hops to his feet and jogs over to the door. "okay, i shall get up now."

you take a deep breath as you stare at the stairwell that would lead you towards your potential death. you can hear your mother and father conversing at the end of the stairs.

you take a deep breath as you hunch over the railing that grants you a look at your family and the door. it never gets any easier meeting these men of high status almost week after week, hopeful to ask for your hand at the end of it all.

and it doesn't get any easier trying to find gentle ways to reject these men either. they're very receptive to your rejection, which always gives you some sort of comfort when the time comes, but you're sure they are only this graceful about it because you are a princess.

you're very well aware that the average man would not react that way, very telling of your experiences in university. often, your brother would have to come in between, or the bodyguard loitering in the area (that your father insists should always be around) would have to come to your rescue and whisk you away.

"don't be so nervous, sister," mick mutters, appearing next to you with his hands in his pockets. "i'm sure the duke of florida would not be any worse than the other men that have had a go at asking for your hand. otherwise, mother would have never let him stay here with us."

you take a deep breath. "what if he's another," you look around and lean into mick, "loser? what am i to do then?"

mick shrugs with a soft chuckle. he lifts his elbow and offers it to you, gesturing at the stairwell. "then you tell father and i - we shall take care of the rest for you, princess," he taps your hand when you grab onto his arm, "let's go?"

you nod and let your younger brother guide you down the stairs.

"ah, sweetheart, good morning," your father grins when he takes notice of your presence, stretching out an arm to you. mick drops his arm when you approach your father, throwing yourself into his body for a hug. "is something wrong?"

"i no longer feel like being an heiress to the throne," you mutter softly, avoiding the daggers that your mother is shooting at you next to the older man in front of you. you sigh when he pinches your cheek gently. "just a little tired."

he laughs, patting your back lightly. "you will be okay. the first day is always the best." he looks at your mother. "come on, love. cut her some slack."

"yeah, mother," you smile teasingly, peeking at your mother. "what if the duke of florida actually turns out to be a creep this time? i would be the first to say 'i told you so'."

"not before me, i hope," mick mutters from the window sill, covered by the blinds that shield your entryway from the outside. "i think he's here, sister."

"are you sure?"

mick lifts the curtain from his body and turns to you with a frown. "are you expecting any other royal company?"

"i ought to shave your head in your sleep one night, you know," you bicker. you take a deep breath and pick up your skirt and petticoat from the ground.

you turn around and glance at sabine, hiding shyly behind the door to the study down the hall. she gives you a thumbs-up while you sigh and turn back to the door.

"laila," you sigh, your hand slightly coming out to beckon for her to come towards you. "you stayed up with sabine looking into this guy, i hope?"

"yes, princess," she nods firmly, glancing at mick by the window. "he looks decent. but again, pictures on the internet and interviews can only say so much about a person."

"that's what he is here for - to show you who he is," your father smiles, gesturing towards the door.

you take a step back as the grand doors are pulled open for you. you squint your eyes at the sudden brightness of the sun outside and you hold a hand above your eyes to shield yourself away from the sun.

in fact, there's now a carriage pulling up to the front porch steps of the main building in the palace you call home. you step outside, followed shortly by mick and then your parents.

the carriage comes to a stop, catching your breath in your throat as you anticipate who, or what, will walk out to greet you. perhaps you should have let yourself indulge in the google search that your brother did with your best friends.

two men walk out first, and of course you know that neither of them is the man who will potentially ask for your hand. until a young man steps out, sandy brown hair and a polite smile on his face. he catches your eye and does a bow to acknowledge you.

"i suppose he does not look so bad," you mutter under your breath, leaning towards laila who stands slightly behind you. "he looks... like he would be a normal guy."

"i hate to break it to you, sister," mick mutters under his breath.

you hum in response, unsure of what he means. then he takes a step aside from the door while he readjusts the sleeves of his dark orange suit. another man steps out of the carriage, sporting a royal blue motif with the weirdest mix of brunette-blonde for a hair colour. you make a mental note to ask him if he's done anything to his hair as a conversation starter.

"but that's the duke of florida," laila follows up softly. "we've got no idea who the other man is."

your mother takes a step forward with her chin high in the air. she passes you as she starts greeting the two young men. "welcome!"

you turn to your father. "who the hell is that? why are there two of them?" you turn back to the carriage where your mother is now making their acquaintance. "is this a prank, father?"

to which, he only shrugs. "i intend to find out as much as you, princess."

he puts a hand on your shoulder to urge you towards the steps to greet them. as you step down, you can hear mick chuckling. "quite a situation you've gotten yourself into, sister. two suitors at the same time?"

"they fight at dawn on the last day for her hand," laila jokes softly enough for only mick and yourself to hear.

you swat at them from the back of your skirt to hush their giggles, slowly coming to a stop where the men gathered.

"sweetheart," your mother beams, walking over to you. she wraps a hand around your arm and pulls you with her to take a step forward to them. "introduce yourself."

"princess," the unnamed man in dark orange greets you with a small smile. "pleasure to make your acquaintance. prince of australia; i'm oscar."

"ah," you grab your skirt and move your feet in front of the other, "pleasure to make your acquaintance."

the prince of australia - oscar, nudges his friend forward. he straightens his back and gives you a smile, and you notice the way his green eyes sparkle as they stare into yours.

"duke of florida," he whispers, "i'm logan. thank you for having me."

he bends slightly and presents his hand right by yours. you press your lips together as you lift it slightly, just enough to give him the green light to take your hand into his.

you're pleasantly surprised when he presses a kiss to your gloved hand. "i hope i don't waste your time, princess."

you smile as you prepare yourself for another curtsy before he shakes his head. he puts your hand down gently, resting in on your skirt before taking a respectful step back. "you're the princess," he smiles. "no need for that."

you nod. "i'm sure your travel had been longwinded and exhausting. care for some refreshments?"

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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agendabymooner · 10 months

Text

closure ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“it wasn't right—the way it all went down. looks like you know that now.”

summary: sylvie just wanted to prove that she was good enough for the red bull racing team, but everything that had to do with her history with max seemed to get in the way of her determination— and she made sure that he knew that.

content warning: panic attack (and its triggers), use of explicit language, mentions of absent father figure, j*s verst*ppen 🤢, christian horner, frenemies to lovers (ish), confrontational text messages (max and sylvie), max being oblivious to her mental state, mentions of max’s childhood (not detailed)

note: as someone who struggled to find peace at certain situations, I know what it’s like to struggle in asking for help. please remember that there are people that are more than willing to give you the support that you need.

(i may not be able to update any of the smau works for the next two weeks as i am out of town and i only have my ipad with me. i normally do the layouts on my computer. i’ll try my best!)

enjoy xx

masterlist

2016 Spanish GP

If fate worked like this all the time, she might as well jump off the cliff if any of her peers asked for it.

She had been pulled out of her lectures for the week only for her to sit and watch how the racing teams operated. She could only roll her eyes when Christian Horner recommended she should have her presence be known in the paddock and the track as she prepared to work in an F1 team.

Sylvie already knew how everything worked; she was going to be a driver, for fuck’s sake. She had been trained for it. She grew up attending the race weekends because of her father and grandparents. She knew everything now. Hell, she even had Toto Wolff for an in-law (practically). He could just rerun everything to her if she needed to remember.

Christian Horner clearly had a different intention towards her visit. He claimed that she needed to relive the experiences in the garage, the media pit and the hospitality. But she knew the truth.

She had a rapport, her history in the academy was obviously discussed to Christian at some point. How Christian never mentioned anything about her departure from the program to her sister, who now held parts of Red Bull and the other two teams, she never had an answer for. It wasn’t a secret to most. At least to those who were there the day she left.

Tilly was in the Mercedes area, leaving her little sister in the Red Bull hospitality as she listened to nothing. She felt so alone and isolated, her urge to go to Mercedes was overwhelming. But it wasn’t as if she could; Christian had already told her off about her role and position in the company.

It didn’t help that Max Verstappen, donning his number 33 shirt, was in the same building. He was quite adamant on keeping her company but she constantly avoided him, slipping out of his sight as soon as his eyes settled on her.

She found excuses, most of which had something to do with Daniel Ricciardo. The Australian hadn’t minded though, knowing that she felt uncomfortable being around other people especially around Max. Daniel never minded her excuses, instead making up a lie that’s believable to others. Just so she could escape.

Max’s family was there that weekend. Obviously, she knew his mother and Victoria, his sister. Max and Sylvie, the two 18 year olds, were practically soul twins. Born on the same day, grew up together, and had been attached to the hips since the day they could crawl— they were friends, no one just knew what had happened. His mother had always asked Sylvie’s mum about her and how she’d managed to let her friendship with Max dissipate like that. Victoria missed having Sylvie over for tea whenever she visited the Netherlands, asking Max about what he had done to let Sylvie go like that.

Jos Verstappen was a different story. He never liked Sylvie, only holding a certain amount of respect for Julius Hearth and Blanche Ford Hearth. He always wanted Max to be successful at motorsport and this meant that nobody could be as equally good as his son. Not especially when Max’s ability matched Sylvie’s. He always claimed that hanging out with “that girl” will simply distract Max.

Even if he nodded at his father’s direction, Max continued to be friends with Sylvie, spending more time together whenever she and her family would fly and meet with his family.

At the ripe age of 12, Max admitted to her that she’s the closest thing that he had to an imaginary friend. Like he was forced to grow up before he could even walk. She was the one who would pull up the PlayStation whenever he failed to please his father for the tournament of that time. Jos never liked her, but he didn’t know exactly what could’ve made him dislike her. Sylvie didn’t like him, either, because she couldn’t believe that she was the one who’d have to give Max the childhood that he deserved. There are times when she wished she could simply spew out the foulest words and lump him with her own father. Well… she had already considered him a shitty father, and there’s no changing of opinion now.

So for Sylvie to see Jos in the paddock, basically keeping his eye on his son like a pestering hawk? Yeah, she turned away from their direction.

Then another group of people came, the same arrogant smile all over their faces. They taunted her.

She could remember her last week at the academy, when she had enough. These boys questioned her abilities on the track as soon as she started, trying to get her to quit as soon as she could. She didn’t care about them, because whenever they’d race she remained on the top of their level. They hated her because of it. Then on her last day, she was left to be called a name that didn’t even fit her…

“Snake Sylvie!” Matt Bauer was what she called Max’s bitch. He never liked Sylvie and had always wanted to be in Max’s family’s good graces. Alongside him were Max’s two other friends. These three were the same incompetent fucks who never ended in Formula 2. Thus, ending their racing careers early. They were doing fuck knows what these days. Which was quite hilarious, if you were to ask Sylvie, because they were the ones who kept telling Max to “Keep working” or “toughen up and get the first place.”

She couldn’t remember their names when she met them again that weekend, her eyes were already blurry from the tears as she shoved her way through them. “Where are you going?! We’re just going to catch up, babe!”

She didn’t even stop, her feet speeding up as she attempted to wipe her tears away. Her lips let out a stutter of excuse me as she pushed her way into where the Mercedes garage was.

Second free practice didn’t start anytime soon and Sylvie was thankful for that. It, however, never stopped the camera by the engineering station from capturing the sounds of a sobbing girl and an image of her nearly soaked Red Bull shirt as she ran inside. Had she been stronger than this, she wouldn’t have ran to Toto.

As if he knew someone was coming his way, Toto Wolff immediately took his headphones off and turned. His face etched with worry as Sylvie wrapped her arms around his broad figure. She was hysterically sobbing and shaking, her tears almost soaking his white shirt as she kept her head tucked in his chest.

“Can we stop the camera? There’s an obvious situation going on in here and we need a moment,” Sylvie couldn’t hear his voice as it was something more of a rumbling noise. Meanwhile Toto’s stern expression made the cameraman do as he was told. “Hey, schwester, are you okay?”

She was relentless, sobbing as she kept her head down and her arms tightly wrapped around him. She couldn’t speak. Not breathe for that matter. It felt like the last day of the academy all over again. Having no voice felt like she was just as defenseless once more.

“Sylvie, do you want me to take you to your hospitality?” Her bloodshot red eyes, still tearing up, stared into his dark ones as her lips quivered and her head shook left and right. “Do you want your sister?”

Toto knew that the Mercedes hospitality was nearer to the Red Bull area than the Mercedes garage. So for her to go this far just for comfort… something told him that she didn’t want to stress out the pregnant woman and that she needed more than her sister.

He pursed his lips, feeling helpless as he kept an arm around her shoulder as they walked out of the garage. He nodded at his engineers as if he was letting them know about leaving for a moment.

He did his best at comforting her. Rubbed her back, shushing her quietly and gently leading her to the hospitality. People outdoors had gotten a glimpse of her situation and began to speculate, which forced her to hide her face once more as Toto glared at them.

“Come on, schatzi,” inside nobody had batted an eye on her. And instead of speculating, certain people merely looked at the two with concern. What the hell happened, they probably asked themselves.

She was too busy crying and hiding her face away that she hadn’t realized Tilly was already approaching the two. Sylvie didn’t look up until she heard, “What happened, bello?”

“She came to the garage,” Toto said quietly, looking down at his in-law with concern as he said, “she couldn’t say anything because she’s having a hard time breathing.”

“Oh, lovie,” Tilly whispered empathetically, her delicate figure reaching out to hug her little sister, “I’m sorry to hear that. Come, let’s sit down, yes?”

Sylvie could barely think throughout the process of moving from one place to another. They reached the Mercedes motorhome and found themselves in a private room, Sylvie’s lips were swollen and her tear-stained cheeks were red.

She wasn’t even aware that Toto left until his tall figure returned with two bottles of water in his hands. He simply placed it down on the empty table and exchanged looks with his girlfriend. They couldn’t even find a way to help her out of this.

“Listen, Sylvie,” the girl’s sobbing subsided for a moment as Toto said, “I will come back. Okay? I will check and make sure that you’re alright, but I have to go.”

“Yes, go,” Tilly nodded at him, “I’ll be here. Thank you for taking her to me, mon amour.”

“Alright, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Toto murmured as he leaned down and pecked Tilly’s lips. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Tilly smiled ruefully, her eyes trained on her little sister as Toto moved to stand and hug Sylvie. Sylvie could only hug his waist, not wanting to let go but had done so anyway.

“Take some time to breathe, lovie,” Toto said for the last time before he left hesitantly.

Nobody but the two were inside the motorhome, thankfully. Sylvie would be so embarrassed to cry in front of other people— as she had done so ten minutes ago. The silence was interrupted by Sylvie’s sobbing. Tilly couldn’t help but wrap her arm around Sylvie’s shoulders, trying to occupy as much space as a pregnant woman could. God, this was the only thing that she didn’t like about her pregnancy. She wasn’t able to comfort her sisters or anyone as much as she’d like to do.

The model couldn’t even think or try to let out a single word, only crying in her sister’s arms as she listened to her shushing. It didn’t take long until the tears dried up. Her energy drained from crying too much over some fuckers who couldn’t even make it to the podium. Them, and that one person would be able to do that on Sunday.

With exhaustion washing over her, her sniffles turned into something more silent as she shut her eyes. It didn’t take long for Tilly to notice this as she stood up, giving more space to the girl on the couch. “Get some rest, lovie,” Tilly said quietly, brushing Sylvie’s hair away as the girl drifted off to sleep.

She really didn’t like being here in Spain.

—

Argument just outside the motorhome was what had woken her up. It was normal to have frustrated drivers or team principals throw a bitch fit, but hearing an argument was a different story.

Her eyes stung from opening after her post-crying nap, her feet meeting the floor as she popped the lid of the bottle open, her parched body taking in the water that she swallowed.

She liked eavesdropping, she really did. She liked to provide her own input even if it’s not needed— she was nosey and everyone knew that. But what she had gone through just about an hour or so ago made her lose the energy and motivation to be her usual self.

It didn’t stop her from walking closer to the door and listening in to whatever argument was going on.

“She’s here to observe and work, she’s not here to spectate,” that was Christian Horner.

“But she’s not feeling well, Christian, she has to rest,” now that’s her favourite in-law. Not really in-law.

“Look, I get that you’re looking out for her but you have to understand,” Christian hissed, “she’ll be signing with Red Bull as soon as she graduates. I cannot have her working with the team if you’re constantly mollycoddling her just because you’re the closest that she has to a father figure. This is a professional work setting, Toto, and she needs to be disciplined to be a part of it.”

“Disciplined, in what way?” The sternness on Toto’s voice could kill, unless you’re just as stupid as Christian as Sylvie heard a scoff coming out of the Red Bull team principal’s mouth.

“Everybody’s going through tough times,” Christian said, “so what? Most of us are moving along anyways. Don’t treat her like a child and make exemptions. She’s never going to learn how to toughen up from it.”

“Hey!” Another voice rung out as the door opened slightly, making her step back as she heard an exclamation of, “That girl was distressed after she left your area— the place where she’s supposed to feel comfortable working in. It’s not her responsibility to bear the problems that are clearly happening within the area of your control, so don’t you tell us how to accommodate if you can barely take care of it. Alright?”

“Fuckin’ prick,” the door slammed shut as Sylvie’s figure remained frozen, her eyes watching as they met Lewis’ dark ones. He smiled gently and asked, “Hey. Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?”

She didn’t respond for a moment after she heard Toto say, “Just give it a rest. She’ll work on what she has to do, just let it go for now. Speak to Tilly, if you would like.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Lewis pulled her back to the couch and sat with her. He leaned back as he joked, “Lovers’ quarrel is what’s going on between the two.”

She chuckled quietly, unable to keep her facade. The laughter fell eventually as she muttered, “I didn’t mean to create such a scene. I’m sorry.”

“What? Hey, girl, no,” Lewis felt his heart break at her words as he reached and rubbed her shoulder for comfort. “Don’t be sorry for snapping. It’s brave of you to keep it together in the first place.”

“I really didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it,” her voice cracked as she tried not to cry. Thinking about it was exhausting and saddening. “It’s just— there’s—“

“It’s okay, take a deep breath,” Lewis told her softly. She did as she was told. Many would say that it’s a rare thing to happen but Sylvie listened.

“There’s just people,” Sylvie explained quietly, not looking at Lewis as she murmured, “I haven’t seen them for a while and… I felt so uneasy. Like it’s the final nail in the coffin. I didn’t want to make a big deal because it was at Red Bull. Nobody’s in there. Toto, you and Tilly are in Mercedes.”

“Sorry we couldn’t be there,” Lewis told her sympathetically. “But it’s a good idea that you went to the garage as quickly as you did. Now look, even Christian’s facing Toto’s wrath.”

“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” Sylvie whispered shakily, shutting her eyes close as she sighed, “I just want some closure.”

The next few days were dreadful. She hadn’t wanted to go back to England as much as she did that weekend.

The people she never wanted to see were there. The sad part of it was the fact that Max would continue to be a part of her life and job, whether she liked it or not. She’d have to tolerate him, no matter how much shit she had gone through because of him and those people around him. This was the second time she had seen him and felt so angry. It was like her life was a race. It starts out very well, with her at the pole. But then she crashes the moment she tries to take advantage and overtake.

On Sunday, Max landed in P1. Sylvie watched him pop the cork of the Moet out and showered his fellow podium winners with it. The text that she then received and sent spilled everything that had nothing to do with champagne. But rather explained how she ended up leaving the academy after that damn open tournament four years ago.

Max complains a lot, he could admit, but he never felt so guilty as much as he did when he practically berated her through a series of text messages. He always demanded answers to things that he believed had explanations, and he wouldn’t stop until he got it. But sometimes he wished his relentless demands were silenced by his conscience.

He felt extremely guilty and upset. It wasn’t because Sylvie Hearth refused to give in to his demands, but rather because her answers explained her hatred and anger. It wasn’t just any anger. It was an ounce of hatred and a lot of anger directed towards him.

Because really, he was the reason why Sylvie never turned out to be the first woman to become a Formula One driver. She never got the seat in Red Bull Racing and Max had gotten it instead. Now he understood why she would refuse to speak to or look at him as if they were childhood best friends and act like they were strangers.

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19ndonboy · 1 year

Text

illicit affairs - mason mount

words: 3.4k

A/N: this is my first imagine, be nice please. of course miss swift inspired me to write something. also, i’d really appreciate if i could receive feedback on this. thank you

you and mason had been best friends for as long you can remember. it was kind of like a love at first sight in a kids who have so much to discover way. you two met in primary school. you were on your way to lunch when a boy running without looking in front of him in the corridor shoved you. your food your mother had cooked you was all over the floor before you could even realize what happened. mason, who saw it all unfold, gave you his food. after much pleading from his side with you being too shy to refuse, you ended up sharing the sandwiches his mother had lovely made. until this day, his brother lewis never missed an opportunity to tease him on how big of a gentleman he is since his youngest age.

neither of you would have thought you would be here years later. visiting the netherlands to see him play for vitesse, mason never missing the opportunity to score a goal and do the celebration you two created when you were in maths class.

cheering for him when he scored his first goal for his beloved club, chelsea. the club he would talk to you for hours hopelessly dreaming about stepping a foot on the green rectangle at stamford bridge.

the day he lifted the champions league felt more like a dream to you than him. you often found yourself thinking about how he would be one of the biggest footballers in the world when he was playing football on your school’s playground during the lunch time. little did you know he actually made it.

all these moments made you grow closer and closer each year that went by. you would go on holidays together with your mutual friends, he’d come to pick you up after uni or work whenever he had the time to. he even drove at 2am when you called him in tears after breaking up with your boyfriend of 8 months and listened to your rambling until you could see the sunrise emerge from the windows, having forgotten to close the blinds the night before.

you don’t remember what led up to the night you found yourself wrapped in his bedsheets after a birthday party at a club. you blamed it on the alcohol that day. a month later, you blamed it on a defeat from chelsea’s side. before you knew, two weeks later, he was in your bed. that time, your boss was the one to blame for letting out his nerves on you. sure at some point, you two needed to act like the adults you were and came to the conclusion that you could have sex when you two wanted to.

it was easier for him considering he didn’t have much time to go out but he also didn’t want to put his trust in a girl he would know for two hours and half. that was the safest option. on the other hand, you guess you agreed to the deal because it was less tiring than going on dates with douchebags you found on the internet. what a deal that was… no strings attached. these were the three words he repeated approximately ten times.

it’s been six months since you started this friends with benefits situation. no one in your mutuals friends is aware of this. you do your best to hide it from them, not wanting to be bothered with questions. he would just leave 5 minutes before you at parties and would wait for you in his car 200 meters away from the club’s entry. mason and you have always been close. you would always find his arm around your shoulder while talking to a friend or a teammate. you would often hustle your arm around his when weather gets colder outside. also the perfect opportunity for him to hold your hands to warm them up. these were the things you always did as best friends. yet lately, to this long list, you added lingering touches from his side on your lower back, his hand on your thigh in the car or so in front of your friends. something they quickly noticed.

they always saw you as more than friends. to them, it was so obvious and they couldn’t understand how you would still deny it. the way he was always worried about you when you were in a club and he couldn’t find you anymore in the big crowd on the dance floor. the way he would always crack a joke in a public, yet you would be the only one he’s looking at to make sure you found it funny. the way he would already have his eyes on you before you even made it to the room. the way he would be the first person you’d run to when you have had a bad day at work. the way you would hug him a little longer than all your other friends when saying your goodbyes after a night out just so you could inhale his scent that always made you feel safe and at ease. the way your grip around your glass would tighten every time a girl would flirt with him in front of you.

the way your jaw is clenched right now as you seated on one of reece’s sofa. 2 feet away from you, here you have mason and a beautiful woman. why would you lie. she’s got long legs, brown shiny hair you only see on tv and a bright smile everyone could fall on their knees for. who were you compared to this woman. you feel like exploding every time you hear him laughing, even more when he throws back his head while laughing.

a weird feeling settling in your stomach thinking you were the only one who could make him smile this much you could perceive his eyes crinkle. that feature you loved so much, yet you despise it with everything you have right now. how naive had you been, you thought. you hated how much your friends’ words got into your head to the point you believed every one of them. because here you were seating between kai and ben, both of them joking about something you can’t even recall of, too busy paying attention to mason and her. it shouldn’t hurt this much, yet you can feel like your heart is ripped apart when she rests her hand on his thigh and he doesn’t budge.

no strings attached

hours passed by since you arrived at reece’s party and you only had one wish. to leave. you can see the clock ticking on the white wall to your left. it’s now 1am. to be honest, this is the only thing you’re paying attention to, at least trying to. you didn’t even notice reece sitting next to you until he nudged you with his arm. a playful smile plastered on his face until he saw your eyes full of sorrow. you wanted to get up and leave the moment you saw his grin replaced by a frown. you wanted to scream and tell him to stop looking at you with so much pity in his eyes. is this what you inspired to all of your friends present here?

“hey what happened to the girl who loves to prank everyone with me during parties” he said with a pout, concern plastered all over his face. “not tonight… i’m tired” you answered, guilt written all over your face, which quickly went noticed by your friend. he’s one of those people who probably know you more than you know yourself. so he automatically knows it would be no use to ask what’s the matter when he already knows the answer is his chelsea and england teammate. instead, he does just as you needed in that moment. he proves you he’s here for you ready to talk to him when you will be ready but while waiting, he’s doing everything he can to crack a smile on your face by telling stories you already heard over and over again. making sure never to mention mason in all of them, both of you knowing he was the main part of every one of them though.

weeks had passed since that party. he ended up leaving with the girl he had passed the whole time with. to say it hurt when you saw them both leave without him even acknowledging you would be an understatement. this night led to the conclusion you were never more than sex between a win and a draining training session. you heard through some of his chelsea teammates how mason was having lots of fun with different girls on different nights. it physically became exhausting hearing about him wandering around london as if he never cared about you. what happened to all those times he would compliment you or tell you how you’re the best thing that happened to him.

you distanced yourself from him and all your mutual friends. if he wanted to act like nothing ever happened between you two, with no explanation on this behavior changement, then so be it. as much as it hurt you, you couldn’t be arsed going out with your friends if it meant seeing him. eventually, you passed time doing activities that would keep your thoughts at bay. you spend more time at work, more time taking walks around in parks, reading books with your hot chocolate in your favorite café because you always hated coffee. and as much as it hurts deep inside you, you had never felt this amount of peace as you do right now. maybe mason wasn’t meant to be part of your life and you started to accept it.

until you saw him on a saturday night. he hadn’t noticed you yet, too focused in his heated conversation with ben. seeing him wave his hands everywhere made you wonder what was the topic of their conversation but it wasn’t your business anyway so you drifted away and went over where sophia and the girls were. a few meters away, oblivious to you, you were actually the person they were talking about.

mason feels weird to say the least. he misses seeing you almost everyday, having you on the phone when one of you couldn’t make it to each other’s place. he misses telling you about his day but most of all, he misses holding you in his arms. the weird feeling in his stomach he would get when he hears your laugh. this is when it hit him. he fell in love with you, so hard it scared him. and when he’s scared, he does the worst thing he could do. especially to you, he knows how complicated it is for you to trust people, being so used to them leaving you when you need them the most. he promised to himself he’d never do that, yet he was the reason your heart was aching now.

anyone could read the pain you ignoring him caused. ben felt sad for his friend but he couldn’t stop himself from telling him off on how badly he treated you lately. he wasn’t aware of your situationship you two shared, even though he had his suspicions something happened at some point. “i never thought you were this stupid mate. you fucked up. i shouldn’t even be telling you this but it’s so obvious to everyone she loves you. the way she’s with you, we’ve never seen her like that with someone else. sort this out or you’ll lose her.” ben said, which caused mason to drop his head and look at the floor.

he knows he fucked up real bad, he knows it when he doesn’t get his favorite text every night with a random song she loved on that day. weird to others but to him, it meant the world knowing she would share something so intimate to him. he knows how much she loves music but also how much she keeps to herself, making her feel like she’s in her own bubble with her music. yet, she let him in and he wasn’t so sure he was still welcomed there now.

too engulfed in his thoughts, he didn’t hear what ben said until his friend reminded him how one manchester united footballer had once slide in her instagram dms. he wanted to tell his friend how he was well aware of this, remembering how irritated he was after finding out. yet he didn’t have the time as reece interrupted their conversation, informing them you were back within the group.

what hurt him the most was what came after. he went to your side, fiddling with the end of his shirt, displaying how nervous he was to see you after what felt like an eternity to him. however, he wasn’t expecting you to greet him with so much indifference. as if he was some kind of acquaintance to you. so that was it? he had ruined the best thing he ever had in his life just because he couldn’t act like the adult he was and face his fear of loving someone, you. after this interaction, you went back to your conversation with the girls. leaving him standing there until he collected his thoughts and went to see his teammates.

hours passed with no sign from mason. you later found yourself at the bar, talking with a guy present at the party. he was nice to talk to and was funny. but he wasn’t mason. you were having a battle inside your head telling yourself not to think of him and just enjoy the moment. but that was quickly interrupted when you felt a hand grip your wrist and drag you away towards the backyard.

he couldn’t be arsed seeing this guy flirt with you. the sight of you laughing to whatever that man said was driving him wild. surely he couldn’t be that funny. the thought of you being with someone else other than him made him want to throw up right there. seeing your hand on his thigh was the last straw though. he felt his blood boil, it made him so jealous, he could feel his heart squeeze uncomfortably in his chest.

as soon as you stepped a foot in the backyard, you removed your arm from his grip. he was taken aback by your reaction, not being used to you refusing his contact. he swears you could hear his heart beating so fast in his ribcage in this moment.

“what’s your problem now?” you exclaimed, surprising him by your angry tone. “i miss you” was the first thing that escaped his lips, not even having the time to think twice before spilling those three words. and as much as you wanted to hear those words, you were so mad at him. how dare he?

“tell me you’re joking please. you started it. what we had, you ruined it. i should have never slept with you. look at this idiotic fool that you made me. i fell in love with you, so bad it hurt. and you were doing god knows what with all those girls knowing damn well i would hear about it. what i had with you, i can’t have it with anyone else.” he opened his mouth wanting to speak but you immediately stopped him saying “but the worst thing is that i still love you”. your voice breaking at the end.

until then, you had managed to stop your tears from falling but they were now falling on your cheeks, blurring your vision. next thing you knew, mason had his arms wrapped around you, holding you so tight. minutes after you calmed down, he was cupping your face with his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“i’m sorry. i have no excuse for everything i did these past weeks. i acted like an arsehole. i don’t even deserve you. what we had, i wouldn’t want it with anyone else. i was so scared. i fell for you too, i was scared i couldn’t give you what you deserve so i started seeing other girls thinking my feelings would go away but it just got worse. i don’t even remember their names. but that was so stupid and i never want to see you cry because of me again.”

you attentively listened to every word he had to say. how bad you wanted to forget all of this and have him back in your life just like you had him by your side for years. but you couldn’t. deep down it hurt too much and you couldn’t let him come back in a flash. if he really loved you as he claimed it, then he would have to prove it with more than words. too many times for your liking, you forgave people only for them to stab you in the back later.

and he knew that. with a smile, you turned your back to him and left him standing there dumbfounded. surely, he was expecting every reaction but this one. but he knew you like no one else does. and therefore, he couldn’t give up on you, this is not what you wanted.

he was by your side for the rest of the night, always checking up on you to ask if you were okay but never in a way that could make you feel stressed. 3 am arrived quickly and the only thing you could dream of was your bed. to your utter surprise, mason was waiting for you by the door after you said your goodbyes to everyone, promising them you will see them soon again. you accepted his proposition to take you home, you couldn’t say no to his puppy eyes anyway. the second his car left the porch, taylor swift’s music was blasting in his car. you turned your head to his direction to be met with a grin on his flushed face. he knew the way to your heart, you thought.

if it wasn’t for the little voice telling you to make him earn you, your hands would already be cupping his cheeks, your lips on his.

after a 25 minute drive, you made it home. he took you to your door, leaving after kissing you on the forehead, not wanting to go inside and overstep. he made sure the door was closed and waited for you to tell him you were in bed just like he had asked to. both of you feeling your tummy flutter when you opened your window to wave him off. finding him standing next to his car waiting outside, you felt like 16 years old again when you two would go on cinema dates, as friends.

eventually, 3 days later, you were on a different kind of cinema date. this time, it was at his home, in his cinema room with big blankets all over you and your favorite food. you wouldn’t have it any other way right now.

never did he stop with those attentions and improvised dates in the next weeks. he took you home from work when he had a free afternoon. he would always send you a morning text to wish you a nice day and a goodnight text. you would sometimes receive phone calls during the day because he ‘misses your face’ as he would say. you missed his too. you could even feel butterflies erupt in your stomach whenever he’d send you a selfie, however you would never admit it.

there was this day. he took you to portsmouth as you two were feeling homesick and were tired of the hectic life in london. you probably hadn’t been this happy in months, and judging by mason’s look, he could say the same. you felt at home, in this city but mostly in his arms as you were standing on the harbour, reminiscing the good old days. you felt at peace. how wrong were you thinking back then that maybe this man wasn’t meant to be in your life.

you could cry out of happiness when you collected your thoughts and saw him staring at you, with a look you had never seen before. he must have seen the same one on your face, as his lips made his way to yours in the most loving way possible. pulling away seconds later to regain your breath, he murmured “can we always be this close?”.

his breath fanning over your mouth, you chuckled before putting your arms around his neck and kissed him again.

tag: @mountpulisic

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount concept #mason mount fanfic

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fcb-mv33 · 7 months

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Erik van Haren, De Telegraaf, Netherlands: “Max’s qualities as a driver are beyond dispute. Just look at his consistent performance curve and the way he always challenges himself, every weekend. What I also like about him as a reporter is that as a person he is broadly the same as the 16-year-old boy I interviewed for the first time in early 2014. He is not afraid to give his opinion and really stands for something. Especially in these times, with all the reactions on social media, I really appreciate that.”

Mervi Kallio, Viaplay, Finland: “The dominance of Max Verstappen this season has been amazing. He has had the best car of the grid but he has also operated in such a great level. He is mentally so strong and the self confidence that he reflects shows that nothing can stop him. Verstappen could be a Finn – less talking, more driving. He is truly a legend already.”

Nate Saunders, ESPN, US: “Max Verstappen has been so remarkable this year. One of his standout traits is how unbothered he seems by his own greatness – at points this year it’s been as if he hasn’t really understood what all the fuss is about. Verstappen has grown into such a well-rounded driver – aggressive when he needs to be, patient at others, which hasn’t always been the case. A driver so confident in his abilities, matched with Red Bull’s car, and you have the unstoppable force we’ve seen all year.”

Ben Hunt, The Sun, UK: “There are so many highlights to pick from this season for Max but for me, the performances that have largely gone unnoticed have been in qualifying. There is a trend in the media of labelling any pole lap ‘a mega' – but his final attempt in Monaco really was. He was on the limit in the final sector around the Swimming Pool and Rascasse, hitting the barriers on two occasions, and just managed to pip Fernando Alonso. It was brilliant, edge-of-the-seat stuff.”

Mariana Becker, Rede Bandeirantes, Brazil: “When Max adopted the middle path to his emotions as a more mature road to follow in life, he made my life difficult. In his interviews, triumph is not golden, defeat is not death. Through my Brazilian eyes, it was hard to detect any sense of extra pride about his recovery from 15th to 2nd position in the grid in Miami, his unbelievable pole in Monaco, his 10 consecutive victories… For him, there is no need to overstate the obvious. But in this case, ‘Max’ is no overstatement.”

Julien Billiotte, Autohebdo, France: “Max is a genius and has been among the all-time greats in my book for a long time. Besides the obvious, I like his off-track persona, especially the way he is not afraid to speak his mind all the while remaining a fairly approachable, down-to-earth guy. Of course, Verstappen is no longer the grid’s ‘enfant terrible’. He has grown more statesman-like but you can’t help but feel an aura of contained aggressiveness around him. The newly-crowned triple world champion always makes you think twice before asking what could be a silly question. His sharp mind and quick wit won’t miss a beat and you will soon find yourself a bit rattled. Like all the top athletes, Max forces you to raise your game.”

Frankie Mao, Formula Vision, China: “I remember the first interview with him on a quiet Wednesday afternoon ahead of the 2015 Chinese GP. I was genuinely impressed by how he was so pure as a racing driver when describing the Shanghai International Circuit which he was visiting for the first time. Eight years on, despite having slightly short of 50 wins in his pocket, he remains arguably the most unfiltered driver on the grid – in his world where only racing and the ultimate victory matters. Thanks to his achievement on the track, he’s becoming that kind of role model that the new generation would look upon around the world.”

Sandra Baumgartner, Sky Sports Germany, Germany: “In addition to his exceptional talent, speed and ambition, Max now has composure, calmness and the ability to take a back seat. He still has a hot temper, but he has it under better control than in previous years. He is very popular in Germany. Of course, as a Dutchman he is our neighbour, but the Germans appreciate above all his honest and down-to-earth manner. Especially in German, his answers in interviews sometimes sound harsh, but that is simply his captivating honesty, he doesn’t embellish anything, he is simply straightforward. That’s the only thing he hasn’t changed, and I think he should stay that way.”

Jonas Hüttel, Ekstra Bladet, Denmark: “My favourite thing about Max is how straightforward he is. As just recently in Qatar when he was explaining how he didn’t want to be voted sportsman of the year in The Netherlands because such awards didn’t make sense to him. Dutch and Danes are similar that way. We are very direct. You can only admire his driving this year. It’s practically impossible to make as few or no mistakes as he has done. He will never be the most popular driver in Denmark but Max has one thing going for him. The mechanic who straps him in before each session is Ole Schack, a Danish Red Bull legend who has been with the race team since day one. We do like to see him do well.”

Steve Jones, Channel 4, UK: “Max has looked at the 2023 season with the same focus The Terminator had for Sarah Connor – utterly relentless. It’s been equal parts astonishing and terrifying seeing him lay waste to the competition. Out of the car he’s a lovely chap. In it – he’s a monster. I love it!”

Luke Smith, The Athletic, US: “What’s struck me about Max this year is just how relaxed he has been. He’s seemed more at ease than ever. I’ve enjoyed press conferences with him discussing ‘The Max Verstappen Podcast’ (and his dislike of podcasts), or Lando Norris breaking his trophy in Hungary. Even on the bad days, like in Jeddah or Singapore, he’s been calm and still a joy to chat with, still staying generous with his time. I’ve learned as much about Max the person as I have Max the racer this year. In both cases, what you see is very much what you get.”

Edd Straw, The Race, UK: “Max does extraordinary things behind the wheel of a racing car, which harnessed to his exacting relentlessness when it comes to refining it technically makes him a formidable driver. But he somehow manages to keep what can be an overwhelmingly complex sport amazingly simple, which comes over off-track with the matter-of-fact way he talks about his craft. That ability to sift what matters from the noise is at the heart of his brilliance and surely makes him one of the most single-minded and laser-focused racing drivers there has ever been.”

Roberto Chinchero, Sky Sports Italia, Italy: “Max is a pure racing talent. He has never been one of many, and never will be. This season has bored many people, especially those who expected what they had seen in the first part of 2022, but it was the same for the best F1 drivers. Opposing supporters might not love him, but at the same time they secretly dream to see him one day to drive for their favourite team.”

Phil Horton, Autoweek/New York Times, US: “From pre-season testing it was clear Max was going to win the title, but few expected it to be wrapped up so early, and with such dominant statistics in terms of victories and laps led. He has always had the raw speed, but now he has vast experience, allied with the assurance that he has long since achieved everything he wanted in Formula 1 – and more. Yet, as Red Bull boss Christian Horner outlined, he retains a voracious appetite not just to succeed but to dominate. That complete grip on Formula 1 hasn’t been entertaining, and sadly up front it has been a rather mundane season, but that’s on Verstappen’s opponents.”

Luis Vasconcelos, Formula Press/Sport TV, Portugal: “When a very gifted driver, with tremendous working ethics, gets his hands on the best car in the field and doesn’t have a team mate that can challenge him, you get what Max is doing now – complete domination of a season. With that success, we’re getting a more relaxed Max when he’s out of his car. His will to win, though, hasn’t changed, his performance in Suzuka being proof of that, as he was keen to prove Red Bull’s doubters wrong. But when things don’t go his way, we still get some flashbacks of a much younger Max – emotional, volatile and brash. He’s just 25 after all, so maturity will come with time.”

Julianne Cerasoli, UOL, Brazil: “It felt uncharacteristic to see a calm Max in Baku after being outperformed by Checo all weekend. He was happy, having understood how to get more out of the RB19. It was the first time I saw Max OK with losing. After that came 10 consecutive wins! In Qatar, he celebrated entering the triple world champion club by reminding us he can finally ‘speak in equal terms’ with his father-in-law Nelson Piquet next time he goes to Brazil. Fair.”

Albert Fabrega, DAZN, Spain: “Max has been always considered a huge talent in Spain and it is no surprise to see him winning his third world title. He has progressed a lot since his early years in F1 when he was Carlos Sainz’s team mate in Toro Rosso and he has deserved this crown more than anyone else. I can’t see any weak points in him. A lot of determination, talent, concentration and a perfect understanding of the tyres and car are a big part of his success. But like many of us, I would love to see him racing and competing elbow to elbow with the big names of the sport. He is a racer and I’m sure he is also looking forward to moments like these again.”

Michael Lamonato, Fox Sports Australia, Australia: “In a straightforward season, Verstappen has faced only one antagonist: speculation that rule changes ended his victory streak in Singapore – and, by extension, the implication his dominance was somehow unearned. But in his media call in Japan that week there was no anger or frustration; he was all calmness cool determination. Then he obliterated everyone on the track. It was a clear insight to title-era Verstappen. He doesn’t need adoration but does demand respect. And it’s respect he certainly deserves.”

Tobi Gruner, Auto Motor und Sport, Germany: “I still remember my first Interview with Max in Mexico 2015. He was a Toro Rosso rookie, still a bit shy. Short answers only. Let’s say it wasn’t the most exciting interview ever. Eight years and three titles later his answers are still short, but he’s much more confident and outspoken. Efficiency is paramount on and off the track. A pure racer. German fans appreciate his effort to talk German in the TV pen and that he prevented Lewis Hamilton from breaking Michael Schumacher’s championships record in 2021. But now he’s chasing it himself.”

Sandor Meszaros, Formula.hu, Hungary: “Max’s 2023 dominance is a historic achievement. What makes it particularly special for me is the fact that he is doing it in a natural way while after all these successes, he is still the down-to-earth guy who is always available for his fans. He has a huge fanbase in Hungary and is inspiring many youngsters for karting. Funny, that even though our Hungarian is one of the nicest and most colourful languages of the world, after all his victories this year, we are nearly out of praising words! Bravo, Max!”

Reporters on Max this season🩵

#max verstappen #rambles #f1 #formula 1 #red bull racing

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pensat-i-fet · 11 months

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The way he makes you smile (Rúben Dias x Reader, ft Mason Mount)

**Hi! I got this request a couple of weeks ago and there was some conversation about it. I was also made aware that this idea has been done before but I haven't read any of those stories so take this just as my spin on the premise. And enjoy reading! ❤️**

Word count: 2556

Masterlist

Wattpad

Everyone loved love stories like yours. The childhood friends that separated only to meet again and become a couple. And you loved it too…until you didn’t.

Mason was the love of your life. You’ve known him since you were a baby, really. And probably fell in love with him when you were only 5. But there were a lot of moments in your life where you had to separate because he moved to London, and then he went to The Netherlands for a year, …and it was tough to see him leave you behind but you understood. Everyone just expected you to get over your crush and move on at some point. But you didn’t. And one time when he came back home to visit his family, he finally confessed he felt the same way about you.

That had been 2 years ago. 24 months of happiness by your soulmate’s side…or so people thought. Because after the first year, the cracks in your relationship started to show.

“Are you even happy?”, asked you one of your friends when you confessed to her that you and Mason had been having problems.

“Of course. I couldn’t ask for anything better. I have a good job, family is healthy and I’m dating the best guy”.

“Tell that to your fake smile. Honey…I’m not looking forward to you two breaking up knowing how that would break your heart but you aren’t happy. You’re arguing all the time, even in front of people. You look so sad and I want you to go back to how you used to be. I know it’s hard to let go of your first love but sometimes it’s for the best”.

“I…”.

“I know. Just think about it. Think about the pros and cons. And try and take the best decision for you. Because that’s who matters, you. You always put everyone else before you and it needs to stop”.

And she was right, of course she was. So that was why after another big fight over the stupidest thing, you finally put yourself first.

“We can’t do this anymore, Mason”.

“What do you mean?”

“This. Us. It’s destroying us. We are always fighting and we barely see each other so…how is that living? I feel like if maybe we stop now, we could at least save our friendship. Maybe even try this out again in the future. When we’re in different places in our lives”.

His look was of pure shock, mixed with anger. He really wasn’t used to being told something like this.

“Do you not love me?”

“I love you too much, Mason. Too much to force you, and to force me, to stay in this toxic relationship. We’re hurting each other”.

“Is there someone else?”

He had to be kidding.

“No! There is no one else! See? We can’t even talk without you turning everything into a fight!”

“Because you’re giving up on me. On us”.

“Someone has to. Before we destroy each other”.

And with those final words, you left him there. It broke your heart, but you knew you were doing the right thing.

What you needed in that moment was a fresh start and your job provided you with one. Most people couldn’t believe that you were willing to move from London to Manchester. To a smaller office and a smaller position in the company. But you just couldn’t stay in London anymore. Manchester wasn’t that far away but…it was better. The distance helped.

And the city also had something else waiting for you to help mend your broken heart. Well, not a something but a someone.

“Sorry”, you heard someone say in the middle of Sainsbury’s. “I know this sounds weird but I’ve seen you here shopping a few times and it’s driving me insane not knowing where I know you from”.

You looked up at the man talking to you and he looked familiar too. And when you looked at him properly, you knew exactly why he thought he knew you.

–

6 months earlier

“Who’s that looking at us? He looks familiar”.

Mason turned to see who you meant and rolled his eyes. “Rúben Dias. He plays for City and I met him once at an F1 GP”.

“Right”.

You remembered that GP. Because you were supposed to attend with him but a big fight a few days prior made you stay home. Another plan ruined by your fights.

The man, Rúben, approached you to say hello to your boyfriend.

“Hi Mason, how are you?”

“Good, thanks. We need to go. See you later”.

“Ok?”

Rúben’s confusion at Mason’s behaviour mirrored yours.

“Why were you so rude to him?”

“How could I not be? He’s been staring at you the whole time”.

“Mason”, you said with a sigh. “He doesn’t know me. If anything, he would have been staring at you”.

“I’m not the one wearing that dress”.

“I thought you liked this dress. You bought it for me”.

“I like it. I don’t like guys drooling around you when you wear it”.

You were tired. Too tired. And not ready for another argument in front of so many people. So you just let the comment slide…there would be time to fight about it once you two were back home.

–

“You’re Rúben, right?”

“So you know me too?”, he laughed. “Now I’m even more confused. But also intrigued. Please put me out of my misery”.

You laughed as well. “We saw each other at an event months ago. I was there with Mason Mount”.

“Oh”, you could tell the moment when it all clicked. “I remember now”.

“We aren’t together anymore”.

“Good”.

His words surprised you. Why would he say that?

“I mean. I only know the guy from playing against him and partying together once but when I saw him with you…no one deserves to be treated like that”.

“I know. That’s why I left”.

The way he smiled at you reminded you of how your friend had when you told her about leaving Mason. They both looked proud of you.

After that chat in the supermarket, you promised to meet again. It would be good for you to have a friend in Manchester that wasn’t just someone from your office.

Rúben ended up being someone you could talk to, someone who could help you, someone who understood you like no one had before. So falling for him was just something inevitable.

And everything was perfect but still…you worried. Rúben had to play against Mason. And, even if he respected your wish to be private, one day you’d have to tell the world you were together. And the reaction from Mason worried you. But also, what about his family? His fans? Even random people just judging you for dating two football players…facing everyone’s opinions terrified you.

“You need to stop”, mumbled Rúben.

“What do I need to stop? I thought you were sleeping”.

“I was, but the light from your screen woke me up. You’re addicted, my love. Wait until you leave the bed to check social media”.

You laughed at his complaint. He was right and you knew it but it was hard to change some habits.

It was when you were about to block your phone to enjoy your boyfriend’s kisses that you saw it.

Mason Mount agrees personal terms with Manchester United.

The phone fell from your hands and that caught Rúben’s attention. “So clumsy. See? Another reason to not be on your phone in bed”, he laughed. “We don’t want it to fall on your pretty face”.

“Mason is going to sign for United”.

“Huh?”

You showed the article to him.

“It’s ok”, he tried to reassure you.

“It just complicates things more…”.

“It doesn’t if we don’t allow it to. Your ex is moving to this city, big deal. It’s big enough for the three of us, I swear”.

“But he’ll play for United…”.

“It’s not as if he’s signing for City. That would be a bit trickier, not gonna lie. But I’ve played against him this season and it was fine”.

“Ok, I’ll believe you. But I have a bad feeling about this”.

The feeling never left you but…nothing happened. Mason moved to Manchester and didn’t even try to contact you. He was living his own life while you lived yours.

That was…until things changed.

On a Wednesday off with no matches, you and Rúben made your way to Bruno Fernandes’ house. The Portuguese players sometimes hosted a little get-together to catch up, even if they played for rival teams. You were literally the only non-Portuguese there but they still made you feel like one of them.

But people didn’t get they could be friends and rivals at the same time, so you kept those meetings private. Private like Bruno’s private Instagram account where he posted a story where you were seating next to Rúben. His arm was around your shoulder to bring you closer to him and the smiles on your faces couldn’t be bigger.

Bruno didn’t have many followers on that private account because that way he could make sure no one leaked anything private to the press. But he let his teammates follow him. And that meant that Mason was now following his account. So on that Wednesday night, when he was scrolling on Instagram totally bored, he saw the story. He saw you and Rúben together. And no one could see that photo and not know you two were a couple.

However, he didn’t call you to ask for an explanation. He didn’t tell Bruno about it either, to try and get information from his teammate. He waited until he had to meet Rúben at the Manchester derby to do something.

“Are you the reason she broke up with me?”, he said when the players were about to go out to warm up.

“I don’t know how you’ve found out but leave her alone”.

“Answer my question”.

“I didn’t know her then so no, I wasn’t the reason why she left you. It was all your doing”.

“What do you know about our private life?”

“Enough to want to smash your face against a wall but I won’t do it because it’s not worth it. And now she is with someone who treats her the way she deserves to be treated. That’s all that matters to me”.

Mason didn’t like that answer. At all. And so he spent the whole match trying to provoke Rúben to get a reaction from him but found none. The only thing he found was his way to the bench in the second half, after being told off by his coach for not focusing on the match.

“Shaw needs to do the post-match interviews”, said one of the media people.

“He’s injured and receiving treatment. Send someone else”.

“I’ll do it”, said Mason and no one thought much of it.

The Sky Sports reporter asked him all the same boring questions he was so used to answering. But she also asked the one he was waiting for.

“We also saw you seemed to have some issues with Rúben Dias. It almost seemed personal”, she laughed.

“It was. He stole my girl after all”.

The reporter’s jaw almost hit the floor but Mason didn’t allow her to recover and ask more questions before leaving.

When you saw the clip on social media, you felt like you were going to faint. Rúben saw it too and tried to get back home as fast as possible. For once, you weren’t in the stadium with him. Now he was happy you were nowhere near your ex.

“I can’t believe he did that”, was all you said when he got home.

And he knew words meant nothing at that point, so he just hugged you while you cried. Waiting for you to let all the tears out.

“What do you want to do?”, he finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want us to respond? I could get my team to write everything before we publish it to make sure it’s well written. Or we could not say anything. He doesn’t get to change how we handle our relationship”.

“You should probably deny what he said. Your reputation…”.

“You think I care about my reputation right now?”, asked Rúben. And you had never seen him looking so serious. “I promised he would never make you cry again and look at you right now”.

“You can’t protect me from everything, Rúben”.

“Why?”

That finally made you laugh. “Because that’s how life is. And it’s not your fault. It’s only his”.

After debating what was the best strategy to follow, you decided to make your relationship public. Well, it already was thanks to Mason. But you were now able to tell your side of the story.

It was a long post where you mentioned breaking up with Mason before moving to Manchester, where you met Rúben. You made it clear there had been no cheating involved, which was very important for you. Cheaters made you sick so being compared to one was the worst feeling. And you just basically made it clear that you and Rúben still planned to keep a low profile and asked for people not to invade your privacy.

Even after that post, you expected to get a lot of abuse on social media. But what you didn’t expect was to get a message from Mason.

[Mason]: I’m sorry about what I did. Can we please talk? No tricks. I just need to talk to you.

“Rúben? You need to see this”.

You showed him the text and he frowned while reading it. “Do you want me to go with you if you meet him?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea”.

“But you going alone…”.

“I think I need to do this. I don’t know how to explain it but I just do”.

“I trust your instinct. Do whatever feels right to you”.

So over a year after leaving Mason, you were in front of him again. There was your friend, your first love, the person you thought you were going to spend your life with…and now he felt like a stranger.

“I’m sorry”, he said and you nodded. “I went crazy when I saw you with someone else. And the fact that it was another player…it’s irrational but it hurt more for some reason”.

“I guess I can understand that. But it’s not like I did it on purpose. My life would be a lot easier dating an average Joe, you know?”

“Easier maybe, but not better, right? I saw how happy you looked with him. You never looked that happy with me”.

“I was happy…”, you tried to defend yourself but he lifted a hand to stop you.

“But not that happy. And I’m glad you are. I’m glad you found someone who can make you smile like that”.

“Then why did you try and shame me in front of millions of people?”

“Because I felt shame myself. Shame about how it all ended for us. Shame that it wasn’t me who made you happy. But I’ve made my peace. Next time I talk to the media I’ll tell them I lied. You deserve to keep smiling the way he makes you smile instead of all the tears I caused”.

#ruben dias #mason mount #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias one shot #mason mount imagine #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer x reader #footballer fluff

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vettelsdarling · 11 months

Note

I’m so in love with Max Verstappen lol can u write a one shot but where he isn’t a driver and both the reader and max are just normal people? Can you also make it a smut >_<

𝑺𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏

➪Ask and you shall receive ;)

➪I chose to base this off an interaction I’ve had irl, that I thought was pretty writable lol (most is fiction!)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: (Minors dni) smut, swearing

Word Count: 3.5k+

You were visiting The Netherlands for a couple of weeks because you had a job there. You were a talented journalist from Vogue, but only one of many other writers. To show your boss that you had more potential than she thought, you decided to do a revolutionary piece on Amsterdam. You decided, one night, that you wanted some wine whilst writing your intro. There was a small and modest liquor store close to your hotel, so you didn’t have to worry about public transportation. It was nearing the evening and the sun was starting to set, which meant you had to pick up the pace if you wanted to make it in time.

When you got to the store, you found that you were the only one there. There was no cashier or worker in sight, but the store was open. Browsing the different aged wines had you feeling like you had taken the high road. Old money style. You were in your own little world, taking pictures of the different bottles and even holding out a peace sign in front of one of them and snapping a picture. After a while, you noticed a song come on the speakers. It was something you recognized from your earlier years in college when you went out partying constantly. The song had been popular back then, and the nostalgia hit you like a freight train. You already had your phone out, and you knew it’d be impossible to sleep without knowing the name of the song, so you held up your phone to one of the speakers and turned on your Shazam app. It kept loading and failing and loading and failing.

“I see that you like the song,” a voice said. It was smooth and had a thick Dutch accent. A hint of a smirk was mixed into it as well. Upon retracting your arm and turning to face the voice, you found the shop clerk staring you down with what could’ve been the most jaw-dropping smirks of the century. He was a sight for sore eyes. That was for sure. You buried your face in your hands out of embarrassment, as he’d caught you trying to Shazam a song on the speakers.

“If you must know, that song is… Slow Down, by Chase Atlantic.” Trying to save face and not look like a cartoon character, you removed your hands from your face and politely thanked him.

“Thanks, I should get going now, though. I have a train to catch in the morning.” That was a lie. All you had to do the following morning was report to your boss about current developments.

“That’s a shame, I could’ve prepared a special tasting for a gorgeous lady like you.” An immediate blush spread across your face. The effect he had on you was obvious and it only fueled his ego and confidence.

“I suppose a tasting wouldn’t hurt.” You looked down at your wrist as if to check the time. The man kept looking at you with his mesmerizing eyes and deep gaze. You knew damn well it could’ve been your own delusions. That he may have tried to merely act friendly or treat the last customer of the night real nice. It was impossible to say for sure. You had been in one too many situations where you'd accidentally misread a situation.

“You look deep in thought, darling. Relax and come with me to the back. That’s where I keep the best wine.” You could hear your own thoughts screaming at you to do something. Darling? That was something you’d only ever read in romance books. Was he even real?

“So, what’s your name?” He asked as he browsed his gallery of fine wines. You hesitantly told him your name and saw his face light up with a tiny smirk,

“That’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Max. Max Verstappen.” You took a mental note of his name in case you weren’t going to get his number later in the evening.

“So what brings you to Amsterdam?” His genuine curiosity made him that much more attractive. You couldn’t tell whether to cry tears of joy or run away from such a foreign feeling of delight.

“I’m a journalist or writer. Whichever name suits the piece I work on. I’m just here to do a review of my time here. It’s supposed to act as a travel ad, I guess.” He nodded, smiled, and pulled out a bottle he fancied.

“Sounds like quite the job, do you enjoy it?” He poured you a glass and also a glass for himself. A whole glass? Here you thought it was going to be a simple tasting.

“Oh uhh, yeah, I’ve loved writing since I was young. I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing.” Reminiscing about your younger self showing off your short stories to your older siblings and family members had you smiling like a fool. Max, being observant, picked up on it and took a mental picture of your smile. He’d never seen anyone as radiant as you.

“How’d you get into the wine business, if I may ask?” You watched him contemplate for a brief moment, before eventually telling you about his family and his legacy.

“So, yeah, here I am taking over my father’s business. He does most night shifts, but he had some errands to run this evening… so you’re stuck with me.” Was the liquid courage already going to your head, or were you really just that bold? You decided to look him directly in the eyes as you told him,

“I’m glad I decided to come tonight of all nights, then.” Your head was swimming in some newfound confidence. Perhaps Max had rubbed it off on you.

“Sure you are,” he chuckled and poured himself another glass. You weren’t a lightweight, and he didn’t seem to be one either, so you asked him to pour you another glass as well.

“I should probably go after this round. I have to do something tomorrow morning.” You chugged the last of your wine and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Yeah, heard you before. You have to catch a train, huh?” You just nodded to not seem suspicious and began walking towards the exit.

Before you had the chance to though, Max grabbed your arm and turned you around. His face was etched with confusion, not even understanding his own actions. The two of you stood there for a short while before he slowly let go.

“Sorry, I- um. I don’t know why I did that.” Your teeth subconsciously tugged at your lower lip and you gulped before taking a leap of faith.

“Wanna see my place? It’s just a hotel room, but the view is wonderful,” you broke the unnerving silence. Max took every word in and ultimately responded with,

“No, I think you should see my place instead.” Your boldness was met with twice as much boldness coming from him. You found it hard to breathe, let alone think. He started turning the lights off in the shop and clearing a few bottles that had been on display.

“I’ll lock up and then we can go. I’m sure my view is better than yours in more than just one way.” His smirk as those words left his mouth was smooth. Not just smooth— it was unreal. You were desperate for more.

You waited for him to finish up and when the two of you finally got out, and you heard the clank of his keys— he made you lock your arms around his arm. With that, you enjoyed the night sky and the dimmed street lamps. You took in the fresh air; a stark contrast to the New York air you were so used to. Max mostly stayed quiet, but he’d quip a fun fact about his country here and there when walking past the few sculptures that adorned the streets of Amsterdam.

“I’m starting to think you don’t even live in Amsterdam. We’ve been walking for at least an hour now,” you chuckled. Just as if your words were magic, he stopped walking and motioned for you to look up. There you saw a gorgeous penthouse. You never would’ve thought he’d live so luxuriously.

“Wait, that’s your place?” Your eyes were wide open. A small grin crept up his face and he shook his head,

“No, I’m just kidding. My place isn’t that fancy. I’m barely able to pay rent. It’s a day-to-day thing.” His living situation was surprisingly similar to yours. Most apartments in New York were too expensive to rent out, so you lived in a modest, but cosy apartment with your personality plastered all over. The rent was cheap and you had excess money to spend on personal indulgences.

“Actually, me too. Some would say I live like a peasant,” you joked.

“Great, we’ll be poor together,” he finished. The two of you had a quick laugh about your financial situations before you finally arrived at his place. It was a bit bigger than your own and had 3 rooms total. He showed you around his small flat, starting with the kitchen which connected to the living room. Then he showed you the bathroom, which had a rich lavender scent. He explained that his sister frequently gave him different essential oils and thymes and air fresheners that she’d find whilst travelling. He never knew what else to do with them but make his bathroom smell like a fairytale garden. He was getting closer and closer to being the greenest of flags you’d ever encountered. He showed you to his office which was the smallest room in the entire apartment, fitting only him. There was a tiny space for him to squeeze through and get to his chair.

Then the time came to see his bedroom. The state of people’s houses was one thing, but a bedroom could tell you everything you’d need to know about a person’s personality. It was where they would spend most of their intimate moments. Max’s room was simple. Simple yet stunning. He had a few family portraits on his shelf and a bookshelf you could only dream of having. On a small drawer, he had a TV with a remote next to it. His bed was queen-sized and the pillows were almost bigger than the headboard. The sheets were pearl-white and silk. Just above the headboard was a painting. It was a copy of The Fallen Angel. You recognized it from the required fine arts classes you took in college. It was a gorgeous painting that made the mind go around in circles.

“Yeah, that painting was a gift from my father. It’s a little out of place here but I didn’t know what else to do with it.” Max scratched the back of his neck and leaned against the doorframe.

“I love your place. It’s certainly nicer than my own. I haven’t had much luck with decorating like you. I mostly just have cheap and simplistic stuff from IKEA, if I’m being honest.” You sighed and sat down on his bed. The duvet hugged your hips as your body weighed down on the bed. Max went to sit beside you and decided to let himself fall back. You followed suit.

“IKEA isn’t bad at all. I like simplicity. Who doesn’t?”

“I don’t know, I guess it isn’t really all that bad.” You could feel your heart rate increasing as you heard Max shuffle. It could only mean one thing; he’d turned his head to face you. Frozen. You were completely frozen. You wanted to do the same, but for whatever reason— you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Any courage you had earlier was gone. Nowhere to be found.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” That’s what made you turn. You saw the curious look in his eyes and the genuine tug on his lips. You weren’t one to have one-night stands or sleep around, but you felt a certain pull. A pull that you found hard to resist. Max was magnetic and your body wanted nothing more than to be glued to him.

After you didn’t say anything, he moved closer to you and moved a strand of hair out of your face. His touch sent shivers down your spine. You felt an electrical current run through your entire body, coupled with a warm feeling starting to pool in your lower abdomen. The silence only seemed to pull the two of you closer, but it was obvious Max had more guts than you.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” you muttered. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You definitely did.

“Wait, you’re a virgin?”

“Oh, no no, nothing like that. I’ve just never really been into hooking up with strangers,” you explained. He almost laughed at that.

“We don’t need to be strangers, darling. This is just the beginning.” There was something about the way he said it, that had your mind running wild. At the same time, though, you didn’t want to come off as desperate. So you waited for him to strike his next move.

Luckily, good things come to those who wait. He leaned in for a kiss that moulded into a more heated one. With more and more time passing by, it only got wilder. He switched your positions so that he was on top. Your fingers were intertwined with his blonde strands of hair. There was nothing left to do but start pulling at his shirt. He took it as a sign to pull away and rid himself of the article of clothing. After he threw it into a corner, he took that opportunity to admire the sight below him. There you were; sprawled out beneath him with rosy cheeks and lips that were swollen from all the kissing. Your half-lidded eyes looked up at him and he couldn’t get enough.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear before he dove back down to then attack your neck. It didn’t take him long to find your sweet spot. Once he found it, the whimpers flooding from your mouth egged him on. He fiddled with the hem of your shirt and instead of pulling it over your head, he ripped it off you.

“Hey, my shirt!”

“You can have one of mine instead. I bet they suit you better than they do me,” he whispered in your ear. His breath was hot against your ear. You didn’t actually mind the ripped shirt. It was a Walmart shirt that you got from a buy 1 get 1 sale. You weren’t wearing lace, but you thanked your earlier self for deciding to wear matching underwear.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to completely discard all of your clothes. Max struggled with the clasp of your bra, which you took over and got off. In his eyes, everything was perfect. There’s no such thing as a perfect being; he knew that, but there you were. Beyond perfect. He relished in his victory.

“Can you do me a favour and be as loud as you can for me?” You saw the look on Max’s face and he slowly started kissing down your body. You felt each suck going further and further down. Dangerously close to your cunt. With each gasp you made, the Dutchman gave your hips a squeeze. It was as if getting you off was enough for him. You finally felt his tongue graze your slit and your hips bucked in appreciation. Better yet, he wasn’t a tease about it. He went straight into it, sucking and moving his tongue in ways that made you scream his name like a holy mantra. The walls of the apartment were thin. Perhaps you’d have to apologize to his neighbours the following morning.

He kept going and you started pulling his hair as you got closer and closer to your release. He sensed your need and you immediately felt everything intensifying. There was no way you’d be able to hold back. So you didn’t. With a final scream of his name, you reached your peak and surfed through it gently with his help. Coming down was smoother than the silk sheets you were breathing ever so heavily on.

“Where did you learn to do that?” You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard. So hard for so many reasons.

“If I’m being honest, that was my first time doing that. I was pretty nervous about it, but now I know how you like it.” Was he a god? A sex god? You watched as he moved back up to you, spitting in his hand and wrapping it around his dick. He was above average but certainly made up for it in girth. You started to wonder whether he’d fit or not, but before you could let your mind wander too far, you felt him slide his dick up and down your slit, lubricating himself with your essence. The way he’d graze your clit with the head was to die for. You already knew you were going to be in for a ride.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks to be sure. If there was one thing you appreciated more than anything— it was asking for consent.

“I am. I’m on the pill as well. You can go on,” you said and bucked your hips, to feel just a little more pressure. There was no need for that, however, because as soon as those words left your mouth; he went for it.

You felt him enter slowly and carefully, letting you adjust to his size along the way. He stretched you out like you’d break in a new shoe. When he finally reached the end and couldn’t push any more in, he waited for you to tell him to move. A true gentleman. When you nodded, he almost pulled all the way out, before slamming into you again. You couldn’t help but choke out his name, accidentally leaving a scratch on his shoulder. In response, he attacked your neck. His movements were swift and steady. Your legs were wrapped tightly around him, as he held your hips with his smooth hands. Your hands were now in his hair, pulling and scratching. Your pants synced with his and the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other.

As much as you loved the current position, you wanted more. No, you needed more. He noticed it and pulled out. In that brief moment, you felt emptier than ever. You proceeded to climb on top of him, shoving him back inside you. This time, he was able to reach much deeper. The position was so erotic. He was able to watch as your breasts bounced and your eyes rolled back. It was heaven on earth for him.

“Fuck, you’re absolutely out of this world,” he panted and squeezed your hips, guiding you up and down his veiny dick. Your hands rested on his shoulder and you lowered your head to pull Max into a kiss, connecting a string of saliva as you pulled away. When you felt him thrust up into you in a rather sloppy manner, you knew he was close; and so were you. Your movements became more erratic and desperate.

“Do it, finish all over my dick, darling,” he groaned and continued helping you with your release as well as his. You bounced a few more times before slamming down one last time. Hard. You felt yourself tip over the edge, spilling all of your juices on Max’s abdomen. At the same time, you felt him shoot his own load into you, filling you with a certain delight.

The two of you sat there for a little before you got off him and found a place next to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and had your head on his shoulder. You felt his heartbeat starting to slow down after coming down from the incredible high.

“That’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” you sighed, which was followed by a chuckle from the both of you.

“You lied about the train tomorrow morning, didn't you?” You could tell he was smirking by the tone of his voice.

“I may have.”

“You should cancel the remaining days at your hotel and come live here. I don’t want us to be strangers,” said Max.

“Sure, why not?” You snuggled into his nape and closed your eyes.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep. Let’s get you all cleaned up first.” You realized that Max was no stranger at all. You had a feeling that he’d stick around for a long long time. At least you wanted him to, and it seemed like he wanted that too.

“Okay, stranger.” You got up and saw the smile on his face. He was cuter than you initially thought.

“Perhaps I could take this stranger out on a date tomorrow? I know of a great coffee shop nearby,” Max suggested and got up as well. You nodded and smiled, the two of you both leaving for the lavender-scented bathroom.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years

Text

MASTERLIST

A problem happened with my old masterless and I had to make a new one

* = smut

The masterlist will be updated every two weeks

MCU!PETER PARKER

Boxing lessons Stark!Reader

Tony asks Peter to gives you boxing lessons. Little did they know, you are not as defenseless as they thought

The forbidden Avenger Stark!Reader

It’s difficult to have alone time with Peter at the Avengers compound. When everyone goes away on a mission, you take invite Peter over and act on your feelings

I could never give you peace

Peter laments the lack of stability he can offer his lover and the danger his other identity puts her in (inspired by Peace by Taylor Swift)

I’ll always come back to you Stark!Reader

Peter returns after the blip

I’ll keep you safe Stark!Reader

You look out for Peter during the battle with Molten Man

Late nights sneaking in your bed Hogan!Reader

When Peter and May temporarily move in with you and Happy, you go against your dad’s rules and sneak Peter into your room at night

Maybe this trip wasn’t so bad

You and Peter sneak out for a date during the Europe trip

My baby’s fit like a daydream

Peter gets a new body from training with the Avengers. You like it - a lot

My friends gets annoyed by how much I talk about you

You talk about Peter to your friends a little too much

Now I wake up by your side

You found your way back to Peter after the memory spell

Spider kiss

Peter surprised you at your window

Uncharted territories *

You and Peter explore each other’s bodies while May is out

Want some help? *

Peter gets a little excited after training. You offer your help

What am I supposed to do if there’s no you

May dies. You find Peter on the school’s roof and comfort him

Wherever you stray, I follow

Happy go get Peter in the Netherlands and you play nurse

TOM HOLLAND

King of my heart (multi-part) Co-Star!Reader

You get the role of MJ for the new Spiderman movie…aka, the classic trope of co-stars falling for each other

King of social media

Tom makes a mistake and post a private video on his Instagram Story

Puppy pictures

You accidentally send Tom NSFW pictures while he’s at work

Surprise Spider!

You surprise Tom at a convention and dress up as Black Cat

That’s my man

Tom flashes his pants-less bottom half on live TV

Tom’s new girl

Tom has a surprise for you when you come home

JESS MARIANO

Do you want to build a snowman?

You convince Jess to partake in Stars Hollow winter festival activities

Follow your heart

You pay Jess a visit after Luke puts him on a bus to New York. A few weeks later, it’s Jess’ turn to visit you

Guiding Star

Jess gets a tattoo

I’d marry you with paper rings

From the day you met to your wedding day (inspired by Paper Rings by Taylor Swift)

Night visitor

Jess pays you a little visit in the middle of the night

Prom?

Jess tells you he won’t be graduating…but he still goes to prom

Silent breakup | part 1 | part 2

Part 1: Jess breaks up with you by leaving town

Part 2: Your boyfriend of three years get down on one knee, but there’s someone else on your mind

Part 3: After some thinking, you drive up to Philadelphia to see Jess

STILES STILINSKI

A dream within a dream

Stiles has a nightmare

A weekend in Quantico

You surprise Stiles and visit him in Quantico

An easy nightmare remedy

Stiles still has nightmares after the Nogitsune possess him. You offer your help

I only bought this dress so you could take it off

You confess your feelings to Stiles

My MVP

You come to Stiles’ game…and they lose

RAFE CAMERON

He should’ve been here

Rafe doesn’t show up on your birthday

My best friend’s brother (multi-part) *

You go on a boat trip with the Camerons…and get a little more than what you came for

Summer loving

You and rafe have a summer fling. You get attached

JJ MAYBANK

Don’t die on me

You and JJ fight against the captain. JJ falls over and almost dies

Father, dear father

JJ always sees his dad when he least expects it

Hot tempered, but loyal

JJ got fired from his job (set after the scene we got on ig)

I don’t want perfect

You get a new boyfriend, the perfect boyfriend. But you don’t want perfect

Simp

JJ is in love and the Pogues like to tease him

They’re alive

The Pogues gets a message from an unknown number: John B and Sarah are alive

DAEMON TARGARYEN

His wife’s bed *

Illicit affair *

A Song of heart and blood (multi-part) *

After an horrible prophetical dream, you find yourself traveling through time to try and save your sister, Daenerys, from her fatal ascension to the Iron Throne. During your mission, your heart derives you from your duty and you fall in love with your ancestor

Taking care of my dragon

After getting his pride hurt at the tourney, Daemon needs help to calm down and unwind

Warm me up

AEMOND TARGARYEN

Bigger than the whole sky

TW: Miscarriage

False god *

Naughty dreams | Jacaerys twin!Reader *

Midnight rain

JON SNOW

I’ll keep your bed warm

Need a hand?

What happens in the cave, stays in the cave | Jeor Mormont daughter!Reader *

You and Jon spend the night in a cave

XAVIER THORPE

The devil’s bite Addams!Reader

The night of the final battle, you get hurt by the hyde

I don’t want you like a best friend

You and Xavier have been best friends for a while, but you don’t want to be just friends anymore. Come the Rave’n dance, you decide to tell him

Jealousy, jealousy

Murder Mittens

Nightshades library *

Outreach day | Normie!Reader

Post Poe Cup

Sorry, wrong number | Xavier x Reader x Ajax *

After sending a nude to the wrong contact (your mistake), you and Xavier invite Ajax for one night

Wrong suspect

Because of Wednesday, everyone believes Xavier is the monster. Everyone except you.

AJAX PETROPOLUS

7 Minutes in heaven

Poe Cup distractions *

First time

Makeup

827 notes · View notes

authorforrosie · 7 months

Text

Dating Lily from Nmixx would include:

•Lily first met you on a train through Australia. When she sat on her seat reading an very interesting book. She swore she fell in love with you at first sight when you asked her if you could sit down on the empty seat next at her. You both met a few times on trains before you gave her your number.

•You actually didn't recognized Lily when you first met her in 2022. until she told you about being a member of Nmixx.

•Lily felt her cheeks flushing red in a blush whenever her bandmates, family and friends notice how much in love she is with you. They would tease her in a cute way until she would go in your arms pouting and whining about how people tease her.

•You giggled when Lily's band members point at you after spotting you at their concerts. They would make hearts with their fingers or hands until your cheeks flushed red from blushing too much.

•Lily loved fluffy summer mornings when she can sleep in and wake up with you a little bit later. Lily would kiss you everywhere until you open one eye and grins. She loved how raspy deep your morning voice is. You would often pull her closer until she laid with her head on your chest. You always play with her hair and kiss her cheeks until her cheeks flush red in a blush.

•You get along really well with her family who already called you daughter and sister in law. They definitely want you both to get married in the future since you both share a deep love for each other.

•Lily never forgets to show you how much she loves you. She would buy you presents, shower you in kisses, hug you often from behind, taking you on dates.

•You sometimes when you can go at her studio to watch her practice singing or songwriting. Often she would steal kisses from you while skipping steps happily to re-record song lyrics. When you visit her dance practice she never hesitate to kiss your forehead or hug you. Sometimes she would stay longer with you to dance together in front of the mirror.

•Lily picks you up from work when you have to stay longer or get sick. When you are sick she picks you up with a fluffy blanket and a bottle of fresh made healthy tea on the backseat. When you have at stay long at work she picks you up with your favorite snacks and food waiting at home.

•You stay with Lily on tour to support her as her girlfriend. When she gets nervous you never hesitate to kiss her worries always or holds her hand while she starts ranting about everything.

•Lily already knew how much the fans ship you both together. National and international. They makes cute edits of you both. Always show cute pictures they photographed of you both.

•You saw how emotional she gets every time when Australian fans tell her how proud Australia is of her. Her fans even greeted her in a very cute way with a beautiful and emotional surprise.

•Lily asked you to marry her on a warm summer evening in Australia. Her bandmates recorded that special moment for you both. Since you both would be crying the whole time with happy tears. The families from you both cried the loudest. The dad's claims someone has put onions under their eyes and the other just wipe their tears.

•You went to a hotel with Sullyoon, Haewon, Rosé, Lisa, Seulgi and Jihyo a night before the wedding. Since Rosé and Lisa are your best friends from BLACKPINK.

•Lily had a beautiful white suit on waiting for you in front of the altar. She never saw someone so beautiful in a white weddings dress before she saw you walking down the altar towards her. You both had happy tears in your eyes. You both share your self-written vows at each other with much love in your gestures.

•You surprised her with a honeymoon in three European countries. You went first to Portugal, Denmark and then the Netherlands for a whole month. You both enjoyed the whole month honeymoon with hot, fluffy and very much happiness.

64 notes · View notes

chrysbibi · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Florist!Park Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: Flower shop AU, smut, fluff if you squint

Summary: Your weekly visits to your local flower shop take an interesting turn when you and the florist get some time in your hands.

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, fingering, dirty talking, swearing, rough sex, orgasm denial, me still not being over the Blooming Treasure fits and concept

When your best friend came back to South Korea after studying in the Netherlands for a semester, you built a habit of buying her red tulips every week.

The first months of her return, she was very nostalgic of her time in the Netherlands; the friends she made there, the food, the culture, the trips and everything new that she experienced in the country. So naturally, you begun getting her the iconic Dutch flowers to cheer her up! The flowers were on the affordable side and always seemed to lift her mood, so you kept buying them for her months after she had returned and even after she was no longer yearning for Europe as much as the beginning.

You always adored flowers, but you were never one to go out of your way to buy some for your home or friends. That was until now!

The flower shop near your apartment is small, yet picturesque. It looks like it is squashed between two corporate buildings; it's existence in the busy streets of Seoul appearing almost unreal. Yet there it was, its colorful flowers decorating the bland pavement of the capital.

Two young florists are working in the shop and by that point, both have memorized your face and your weekly demand of red tulips. You don't know their names, but damn are they both cute! The taller one with the green highlights on his hair is the one teasing you the most about your tulip obsession, while the younger one with reddish-brown hair always smiles at you behind the payment counter and compliments your taste in flowers.

Today is no different as you stop at the flower shop, taking a moment to crouch and admire some flower bouquets that are on display outside the shop before going inside in search for your tulips.

"Are you looking for something?"

You immediately recognize the voice and smile knowingly as you raise your eyes to meet the mischievous ones of the tall florist. He is leaning against the door of the shop, his arms crossed in front of his shirt as he is smirking at you.

"Perhaps…" he pretends to think and you roll your eyes at his theatrics, the smile always remaining in your face.

"...red tulips?"

You chuckle and get up, "Actually yes! How did you guess?!" you tease back and his grin becomes wider.

"Lucky I guess…Or you know, I am just good like that!"

You huff but it is no secret to both of you that you are enjoying these lighthearted moments of yours. He pushes himself off the door and heads inside, with you following behind him.

He loudly sets his hands on top of the counter and the younger florist jumps up from under it. He was probably looking for something when he was startled by the noise. He rubs the back of his head and grimaces before he notices you standing behind his elder; a smile spreading across his face.

"Welcome to Blooming Treasure! Again!" he winks at you and you would look away as you blushed if it wasn't the third time he greeted you like that.

"Guess what she is here for!" the older florist tells the younger one as he leans his elbows on the counter. He takes a look at you and gives you a cheeky grin.

"Ah, yes. Her order is ready." the younger florist says just as the door opens and two teenage girls walk inside, gawking at the flowers and sometimes at the two florists too.

"Great! I will leave you to it!" the older florist says as he straightens his apron and turns towards the girls, leaving you with the younger florist. You don't miss the mischievous look he gives you before he walks away, but you resist following him with your eyes.

The brown haired florist smiles at you as he places a bouquet of red tulips on top of the counter, "That will be ₩27.000."

You pay and thank him as he wraps you the flowers, waving you goodbye till next week. On your way out, you pass the girls and the older florist, who is giving them some suggestions on indoor plants. This time you can't hold back glancing at him as you push the door open. Before you can avert your eyes, his eyes catch yours and his lips twitch upwards. He continues explaining the difference between two indoor plants as his eyes stare at you intensely. Normally, you would turn away, but this time you just feel unable to do so, giving him the satisfaction of seeing you blush under his stare.

Only when the door closes behind you do you break eye contact, taking a moment to recollect yourself before you walk away from the flower shop.

The weatherman is full of shit and you are never putting your trust in him again! These are the only thoughts swirling in your head as you run from one tiny shed to another; your umbrella forgotten at your apartment. Your efforts are in vain though as you are already soaked to the bone!

Your shoes make that awful squeaking noise with every step you take while your skirt is glued to your upper thighs, making your walking even more insufferable! Your short-sleeved shirt is sticking to your upper body and you can feel the wet material on your nipples as you had the very clever idea of not wearing a bra today. The only positive you can think of, is that the shirt is floral, conceiling your breasts for the most part, but failing to make your hard nipples invinsible.

You stop again under a shed so tiny, you can't even find the use of it. If it can't protect you from the rain, then what is it good for anyway?! You look around you and notice you are getting closer to your apartment, but even soaked wet, you don't dare to run freely in the heavy rain just to get to the safety of your home a bit earlier. You shake your head and shiver, crossing your arms and cursing under your breath -not that anyone is around to hear you!

"Are you okay?"

Or maybe you are wrong…

You whip your head around and widen your eyes as they are met with another familiar pair. The tall florist from the Blooming Treasure flower shop is standing on the doorstep of the shop a few meters away from your quivering form. He is wearing his usual light blue, long-sleeved shirt and white apron and he is holding a pair of scissors in his hands. He is carefully standing under the narrow shed of the shop as not to get wet, as he is looking at you with concern.

You blink and the raindrops that have been stuck to your upper eyelashes, slide down your cheeks. You frantically look around, only to notice that you had just hurriedly passed the flower shop in your search for shelter, deeming its narrow shed unsuitable. Behind the glass front of the shop you see all the flower bouquets and plant pots, that are usually on display outside, now resting in the safety provided by the indoors. So, that's why you didn't noticed the shop…

"Do you want to come inside?" the florist asks you after you ignore his first question and you return your focus on him.

He pushes the door half way open to put more emphasis on his words and you open your mouth to reply before you remember. You look down at your breasts, worried that your appearance if noticed by him will be judged as indecent. Maybe he is handsome and maybe you have a tiny crush on him, but you won't take it as far as flashing him indirectly.

"Are you going to continue standing there and getting wet or are you going to come inside?"

This time his tone is stern and even though you are not looking at him, you can tell that his corcerned expression has turned to a more serious one. You lower your head in an attempt to hide your sudden blush and run towards him, with your arms crossed over your chest. You refuse to raise your head and meet his eyes as you pass by him and scurry for cover inside the shop.

You hear him close the door behind you, muffling the sound of the storm outside. You stay still for a moment in the middle of the small flower shop, cherishing the warmth and, well, dryness of the place. Lost in these thoughts, you don't notice the florist till he is standing before you, frowning.

"Do you want to get sick or something?" he snaps at you and you feel your cheeks warm up from embarrashment. You don't bother hiding them this time; he will probably think there are like this from the cold.

"Sorry."

He sighs and hands you a small towel, with a few stains and torns here and there, "Don't worry, I have washed it." he assures you after he sees you hesitate.

"Thank you." you reluctantly take it and use it to wipe the water from your face. He walks behind the counter and grabs one rose from the giant pile that is laying there, cutting its stems and thorns.

"I don't have anything to give you to change out of your wet clothes." he says as he stays focused on his work, "But, you can take off your shoes if you want. I doubt the rain will stop anytime soon."

You mutter another quiet 'thank you' as you take off your shoes and socks, leaving them next to the door. You pull the hem of your shirt out of your skirt and undo a couple of buttons from the bottom part, as to not have the garment stick to your skin that much.

You glance at the florist over your shoulder, noticing that he is not paying any attention to you and is instead concentrating on his work. You bite your lip and fumble with your fingers, before you hesitantly walk towards him. You place your elbows on the counter and stare at what he is doing.

The young man has a pile of around fifty roses on top of the counter and he is focused on cutting their stems, thorns and leaves, before carefully placing them aside for an arrangement.

He glances at you, smirking, "Pretty view huh?"

You instantly tense, your eyes widening as you find yourself at a loss for words. In your stressed out state, you hear him laugh quietly while still having his eyes on the flowers.

"The roses are freshly delivered. In my opinion, they are the prettiest in this phase."

You look at him baffled before you relax your shoulders and let out a quiet sigh. He turns to look at you and laughs again.

"Did you think I was talking about something else?"

"...No." you side-eye him and look anywhere but him. You hear him hum pleased as he continues treating the flowers and you keep pretending that you are ignoring him as you scan the inside of the shop.

You stare at the walk-in cooler behind the counter and the flower arrangements in it. You have always admired the arrangements, but as beautiful as they are, they are also expensive and way out of your budget! Beside it, it is another walk-in cooler but the flowers in it aren't yet made into bouquets. It is the first time that you have payed real attention to that second cooler as you have never seen it been used for the customers.

As you catch sight of the stuffed animals and various birthday cards in the corner of the shop, you remember the younger florist, who is very much absent at this time. You turn to the florist in front of you and drum your fingers on the work table.

"So…" you titl your head, "...does your cute coworker have a day off?"

The young man stops just as he is about to cut another stem and slowly turns to you. A grin steadily grows on his face and you realize your slip; you were not supposed to say the word 'cute' aloud and he certainly wasn't supposed to hear it! You keep your composure, but you can't help move your foot nervously under the table, away from his prying stare.

"You find him cute?" he lets go of the rose he is holding and turns his whole body to face yours, leaning his left side on the counter.

You feel your face and neck start burning up as you try not to stumble over your words, "Well, he is good looking." you say with the best poker face you can pull off.

He snickers and picks up a rose, pretending to examine it, "So, that's why you keep coming back every week, huh?"

"N-No!"

He raises his eyebrows at your prompt reply and you quickly add, "Besides, he is not my type!"

"Ahh!" he nods a few times as to let the information sink in, but it is obvious he is still teasing you, "I was sure you must have another reason to keep coming back apart from the tulips, but I guess I was wrong!"

He shrugs and returns to his unfinished task with the pile of roses.

"His name is Doyoung by the way. In case you want to call him, but want to skip the cute coworker part."

Even with his head lowered to stare at the flowers, you can still see his grin as he utters that. You narrow your eyes him, crossing your arms over your chest and placing them on the right end of the work table. You feel your shirt stick to your skin and a cold shiver runs up your spine. You hope he doesn't think it is caused by his earlier words.

"Thanks, but as I said, he is not my type."

"Mmhh." is all he says, or more like murmurs, "Am I your type then?"

He still has that stupid grin on his face and you exhale dramatically, managing to contain your blush as you throw your head back, "My friend was in the Netherlands, okay?"

You can see that you piqued his interest as his eyes stay on you and you continue, "And when she came back and had trouble adjusting, I thought that hey, maybe I could cheer her up with some flowers?!"

"And you got her red tulips?" he raises one eyebrow.

"I mean…yeah? They are everywhere in the Netherlands!" you raise your hands in the air, "And she seemed to like them a lot the first time!" you shrug proudly, like you have proved your point and there is nothing he can do to deflect it.

"The first time was like three months ago!" his smugness returns and you hate how one part of you wants to slap it out of his face while another part kind of likes it. Not that you would admit that!

"And?" it turns out more aggressive than you mean it to, but you have to keep yourself together in front of him.

"Oh, I don't know! It just seems like a long time for someone to be nostalgic of a trip to Europe. And maybe a long time for someone to keep buying them flowers. Unless…" he drawls the last part, giving you a mischievous glance and waiting for you to take the bait.

You take it.

"Unless?"

His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip as he pretends to think his response and you can't help but glance at his lips. You are quick to avert your eyes back to his own, but he has caught the stubtle movement, making his grin become wider.

"Unless, there was also something else that you kept coming back for."

You roll your eyes, "I told you, I am not interested-"

Your sentence is cut short when a crash of thunder echoes all over the flower shop, making the glass doors shake. You both stare at the weather outside, as the rain seems to have gotten worse since the time you came inside the shop.

The florist sighs as he throws all the cut stems, leaves and thorns inside a huge trash bag, "I hope it's not that bad when my shift ends."

You watch him as he cleans the counter from the clutter that was on top of it, leaving only the roses on the side.

"When are you supposed to finish?"

"Well, it's 19:18...so in about one and a half hour. I am locking up at 21:00." he says as he drags the trash bag towards the wall and behind the counter, hidden from the customers point of view, "Not that with this kind of weather anyone is coming! Or leaving for that matter!" he looks at you, pursing his lips in a smirk.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore your quickened heartbeat. Damn this man! When you turn around, he is already tidying the roses; pairing them and setting them aside for future arrangements. And as you watch him silently, you suddenly realize that all this time you haven't asked his name!

"That's a bit embarrashing but…" you scratch you arm awkwardly and he turns to look at you curious, "...could you tell me your name?"

He stares at you for a moment before he laughs loudly, making you flush in embarrassment. He sets down the rose he is holding and takes a few steps, until he is standing less than a meter in front of you. Now that he is standing so close to you, a strong smell of flowers hit your nose, blinding your senses. Maybe it should be expected when he is working half of the day in a flower shop, but it catches you off guard and you snap out of it only when he moves. He grins and extends his hand.

"Park Jihoon. Nice to meet you!"

"(Y/n)." you shyly take his hand and shake it.

You didn't expect his hands to be so rough! Not that you hadve thought of how his hands would be! But, as you hold his hand tightly, you can feel some calluses around his thumb and base of his fingers. You can't help but glance at his hand as you let go of it, getting a better look at it. You see a few small cuts- some new, some older- on his palm and fingers, probably from all the thorns and sharp tools he uses while his fingertips are green-stained.

If he noticed you staring, this time he doesn't make any clever remarks.

You raise your eyes to look at him and you find him staring at you back. You stay like that for a moment, before he smiles and takes a step back. He moves behind the work table and grabs a rose, continuing his previous work. A minute passes in silence, apart from the sound of the raging storm outside, before he speaks again.

"You know…" he drawls, not taking his eyes from the roses, "...I am not one to care about the language of flowers! In fact, I don't think that many people care about the language of flowers, but in this case I was intriged!" he stops and turns to you, waiting for a responce or a reaction.

You titl your head to the side, unsure of what he is trying to say.

"Pretty girl, coming here every week, requesting a bouquet of red tulips; as I said I was certain that it wasn't the tulips the reason why you kept coming back."

You open your mouth to protest, but he is quick to add, "I know, I know! The tulips are for your friend from the Netherlands, but till a few moments ago I didn't know that, so you can't blame me for thinking the tulips were maybe just an excuse!"

He lowers his body, placing his arms on the counter and rests his chin on his palm as he looks at you. You stay silent, waiting for him to make his point, even though you have a feeling of where this is going. Your heartbeat has already quickened, drumming in your ears.

When you make no effort of countering his words, he slowly rises up from the counter and takes a step towards you, "So, I did a little bit of research and-" he takes a step closer, "-imagine my surprise when I found what do red tulips symbolize!" and another step, almost closing the distance between your bodies.

You don't know how you manage not to back away from him, but somehow you stand your ground and keep the eye contact. He slightly titls his head and smirks, probably noticing your struggle.

"Do you know what red tulips symbolize (Y/n)?"

You swear that you actually feel lightheaded as soon as he utters these words. His voice is barely above a whisper, but he is standing so close, towering over you, that you couldn't possibly miss what he said even if you tried. You shake your head left and right, indicating denial and his grin gets even wider.

"Apparently, they symbolize passion, love and lust!" he tells you and wets his lips as he sees you becoming flustered from the revelation.

You squirm, suddenly very aware of how your wet shirt is clinging to your body and how hard your nipples are. Were they like this all this while? Jihoon keeps staring at you and you know that this time you can't avoid replying.

I didn't know, I was just buying them for my friend, would be a very simple answer and the truth, but you can't find yourself to utter these words. Time passes and the situation is dangerously close to becoming so awkward that you won't be able to recover from it when you notice a rose on the floor.

Great excuse!

"Aha!" you gabble the first thing that comes out of your mouth and duck out, bending down and picking up the flower; leaving Jihoon baffled.

The moment you kneel down, you release the breath you are holding back. You grab the rose and blink multiple times to get your head straight before you rise up. You turn to look at Jihoon, who has by now moved next to you and present him with the flower, stating the obvious.

"It was on the floor."

"...Are you serious?" he almost sounds annoyed, like he can't believe you actually did that to avoid him.

"...Well. It was on the floor."

Jihoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say 'Ah!' ,but no sound comes out. He moves closer to you, in a way trapping you between his body and the counter and gently takes the rose from your hand. His fingertips briefly brush yours and a wave of electricity runs down your body.

He brings it close to his face and inspects it before he puts it down next to the other roses. He drags his hand from the flowers till it is placed on the counter next to your side and makes eye contact anew.

"You know…" he places his other hand on your other side, essentially trapping you, "...I have a feeling you are avoiding my questions!"

"The last thing you said wasn't a question." you don't know where you found the courage to reply like that, but it is much appreciated by your inner self. With this new-found boldness, you straighten your posture and grab the work table for support.

He raises his eyebrows in amusement and chuckles, "Okay. Let me rephrase." he clicks his tongue and leans his face a bit closer to yours, "I have a feeling you are avoiding me."

"Am not." you lie, but you swear that you are totally busted by the way you are staring at his eyes.

Fuck, why did he have to be this pretty?!

"Are you sure?" he leans even closer and you are beyond doubt that if you had a measuring tape, the distance between your faces would be less than 15cm. You feel his hands closing in on you, his thumps brushing your sides.

"Mmm." you mutter, your gaze dropping to his lips as he slowly drags his teeth over his bottom one, "Maybe I am just a bit shy."

He notices your sudden change of focus from his eyes to his lips and feels his own gaze travel to your lips, "Why is that?"

You let your gaze linger for a bit more before you lock eyes with him, "Maybe because you are my type."

It is like something finally clicked. And everything happens so fast!

Jihoon's hands grab your hips and you gasp, feeling the wet material of your skirt stick to your thighs as he roughly places you on top of the counter. You feel back, eyes closing and head hitting the wooden surface of the work table. When you open your eyes you find Jihoon slightly hovering over you, eyes searching your own for any signs of pain before he finds none.

His hands glide over your thighs, pushing your skirt upwards until he has a better view of your underwear. He glances at your panties before he looks at your face again, biting his lip. Your face and neck are burning up, but right now this is the last thing on your mind. Especially, when he lowers himself, face between your thighs and one arm snaking over your right thigh, lifting it up.

You gasp loudly when his fingers touch your panties, fondling the fabric right over your clitoris.

"So wet." Jihoon murmurs and you can tell he is smirking even if you can't see him, "Is it because of me or did it get wet from all this rain?"

"Shut up!" you breathe, as he quickens the pace of his fingers on your panties.

"Oh?" suddenly his fingers are gone and you unconsciously whine, bucking up your hips, "Is me talking turning you off?" Jihoon's smirk deepens, "Maybe I should use my mouth for something else then."

Before you have time to process what he just uttered, Jihoon dips his head between your legs. With one swift move your underwear is gone and Jihoon's lips close around your clit. Your hand flies to your mouth, pressing against it in an attempt to muffle the moans that are threatening to escape.

Jihoon releases your clit, only to reconnect his tongue to it with one long, slow lick, that has you shuddering. You can practically feel him grin against your heat and your free hand jerks downwards, grabbing his dark locks and making sure his mouth doesn't go too far away from your throbbing pussy.

You are glad he doesn't comment on your reaction, but you have a feeling that he will not let what happened go that easily. But, for now you are just happy with the way he drags his tongue against your clit.

He keeps teasing you, changing unexpectedly the pace from hard swipes to quick flicks of the tip of his tongue while staying away from your vagina.

Your whole body is quivering, but Jihoon's firm grip on your thighs is preventing you from closing them around his head or moving away from the maddening drags of his tongue. Shaky moans slip past your lips and you abandon your task of dampening your voice as your hand searches blindly beside you for something to support yourself.

Accidentally, you push a few roses over the edge of the counter before you find the edge yourself and grab it for dear life as Jihoon sucks vigorously on your clit. You moan loudly, your back arching over the work table before Jihoon pulls you back down, his lips never abandoning your pussy.

Your eyes open wide the moment he slips, not one, not two, but three fingers inside you, curling them as soon as he has them bottomed out. A broken moan leaves your lips and your breaths become more frantic as he continues to lick your clit while his fingers are deep inside you, stretching you out nicely.

You are so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure at that moment, that you don't react when the hand he had on your thigh moves upwards. It pushes past your belly, finding the end of your shirt and fiddling with the rest of the buttons as he undoes them one by one. With his head still between your legs teasing your folds, he struggles with the buttons. But when he finally reaches the top one and unbuttons it, his hand rampages on your chest.

He pushes aside your open shirt and runs his hand over your breasts, until he settles on your right one and squeezes it. You feel him sigh against your pussy and you bite down your lip to suppress your moans. The pad of his callused thumb circles your nipple, pressing down on it hard, earning a few more moans from your part.

Jihoon opens his eyes, drowning in the sight of your exposed neck as you gulp down your saliva in between breaths; your chest rising and falling heavily as his thumb caresses your nipple. He feels his dick twitch and not being able to resist it, he rises from his knees and connects his mouth with your belly, just below your belly bottom.

You raise slightly your head and your eyes lock. He sends you a toothy grin that is everything but heart-warming before his tongue slips out of his mouth and makes contact with your skin. You gasp as he licks all the way up to your breasts, never breaking your gaze until he reaches your already swollen bud and takes it in his mouth.

You whimper loudly, refusing to let your head fall back and instead you stare at him as he works on your breasts. The fingers he has in your pussy suddenly slip out before they start pistoning in and out of you, his thumb rubbing sloppily your clit. The hand that was previously on your torso, is now holding your waist tightly, fingers digging into the soft skin as he presses his body onto yours.

By the time Jihoon lets go of your right nipple and makes his way to your left one, you are degraded to a moaning mess. His teeth graze your sensitive bud before he open his mouth and sucks as much of your left breast as he can fit in his mouth. With no hands gripping at your thighs, your legs wobble on top of the counter as you feel your orgasm closing in.

Jihoon releases your nipple and attacks your neck, biting, sucking and licking around the side of it. You close your eyes as your orgasm hits you, broken moans slipping past your lips. Jihoon can feel every vibration of your body, from your moans to your trembling limbs as his face stays attached to your throat and his body close to yours.

Jihoon's fingers fuck you all the end till the end of your high, when they slowly retreat from your core and rest on top of your thigh. His mouth still roams on your neck, leaving wet kisses and soft bites behind, as you try to recollect your thoughts after the orgasm. Your chest heaves heavily as you catch your breath and for a weird reason the pressure of Jihoon's body down on yours is providing some kind of comfort.

Just as you have calmed a bit down, you feel him rise from the crook of your neck. He places his hands in each side of your shoulders, using them to support his weigh, as he towers over you. His dark hair fall partially over his eyes as he stares at your flushed face, lips tugging into a smug grin.

"You are cute when you are so vocal!" he straightens up, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes and it is then you realise he is still fully clothed. His apron is also concealing how affected he is by your little venture. You suddenly feel exposed and you lift yourself on your elbows to regain some of the upper hand.

Or at least try to.

"Well, you are not."

He raises his eyebrows and closes in on your face, arms positioned in your sides, essentually trapping you, "Yeah, I got that. You prefer it when I make a different use of my mouth, right?"

You can tell how pleased he is with himself and you give him the satisfaction of blushing at his words, "...Maybe."

Jihoon grins wide at your confession and bites his bottom lip, "Yes. Maybe…" his voice gets lower and he titls his head slightly, glancing at your lips before locking eyes with you, "Maybe I could make use of something else too." he speaks in a husky whisper and you feel another wave of arousal wash over you, drenching your pussy.

"Maybe you should." you say and with a new-found confidence, you grab his shirt and crush your lips with his.

Jihoon is caught off-guard and your chest swells in pride as he stays still even for a moment, before he recovers and tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You grab his shirt collar by both hands, pulling him closer as you lean a bit backwards. Jihoon lets you lure him closer to you, one hand gripping your waist and the other placed on the counter so that you don't fall fully backwards.

Kissing Jihoon feels exhilarating; his lips are soft in opposition to his rough kisses as he bites your lips, trying to gain access to your mouth. His tongue clashes with your own for dominance and he chuckles, finding your persistence cute, before he takes control.

Abruptly, he withdraws only to attach his lips to your neck as he pulls you back towards him. His hands find your open shirt and start tugging it down. Your let go of his collar, helping him remove your shirt as he tosses it to the side. Now it's your turn to tug at his apron, only for your efforts to go in vain. He notices your struggle and pulls away, untying the bow on the back side and smirking at you.

"Such a hurry!" he breaths as he takes it off, letting it fall to the floor, "Can't wait to see me naked?"

"Yes. Now shut up and kiss me!"

Jihoon's smirk widens and you expect a cheeky response from his part. But instead, his lips return hungrily to yours. You gasp, granting him acess to your mouth as your hands fly to the buttons of his shirt. Hurriedly you unfasten them and take the edges of the shirt out of his pants. Jihoon steps back as you peel off his shirt, revealing his upper body.

You prevent your mouth falling open in front of him, but you can't help staring. The six-pack is definitely the first thing your eyes cling to, before roaming over to his arms and torso. He has a nice body; lean, muscular. Instinctively, your fingers trace the lines of his abs, starting from the top and moving to the bottom, dangerously close to the line of his underwear, which is peaking from under his pants.

"Like what you see?" Jihoon is smirking. Of course he is!

"Do you always talk this much?" you breath out, too preoccupied with slipping your index finger under the band of his underwear to indulge in his banter.

"Aw, baby don't worry." his hand reaches for yours, palming it, before he guides it inside his boxers, "I like what I see too!" he murmurs as your fingers wrapped around his shaft.

You gasp quietly and you turn to look at him, eyes locking as he holds your hand tightly around his dick. He inspects you, waiting to see what your next move will be and your pussy tightens around nothing from excitement.

Your free hand deals with the button and the zipper of his pants, tugging them clumpsily downwards in an attempt to get rid of them. The pants roll down to his mid thighs, but that's enough space for you.

With the corner of your eye, you notice the sharp breath he takes and how his abdomen tights the moment you pull his dick out of his underwear, the tip already smeared with precum. He is relatively thick and bigger than average and you hum in satisfaction as you weigh him in your palm.

You raise your eyes to meet his gaze and squeeze the base of his cock, "Cat got your tongue?"

It's your time to taunt him now as you slowly run your hand up and down on him.

But, he sneers and your teasing doesn't last long.

His arm snakes around your waist, lifting you up from the counter and you whelp, both hands flying to your sides to balance you. With his other hand, he grabs the hem of your skirt and forcefully strips you of it, leaving you bare. He sets you down on the work table again and before you have time to recover, he tears off entirely his pants and underwear. He retrieves a condom from his wallet and tosses it to you. The next second, his shoes are gone and his hands are back on your hips.

You look at him with wide eyes and gulp, chest violently rising and falling. You blindly rip open the packaging and pull out the condom, not daring to put it on him yet.

"My tongue is right here, see?" Jihoon pulls his tongue out to show you, his finger pointing at it in case you would miss it.

"And my hands are here." he set his hand back on your hips and squeezes.

"And I am right here..." he murmurs and looks into your eyes.

His thumbs caresse your sides, slowly getting lower, towards your thighs and you feel your core drenching. You breathe deeply as you open your legs and shyly close your fingers around his member, tagging it softly forward.

"But, I need you here." you whine, glancing at your pussy and Jihoon's eyes follow not far behind. You slide the condom on his member, gazes locking again as you guide his dick to your entrance.

You take a deep breath the moment his tip touches your folds, but you don't break eye contact with him. As he slowly slides inside you, you open your mouth in a non-audible moan and notice that his mouth also falls open the moment he bottoms out.

He stays still and you let out a breath, trying to adjust to the feeling of him. He is thick and you are glad he stretched you out nicely with his fingers before.

His fingers dig in the outside of your thighs and he starts rocking you slowly on his dick. You whimper, your hands shooting to grab his shoulders for support as he keeps up that pace.

"You are so tight!"

You are about to reply when his grip on your thighs tightens and he slams his hips on yours. A loud moan slips past your lips and your hand flies to your mouth as you sense more coming. Jihoon catches your hand before it connects with your mouth, bringing it back at his shoulders and holding it there as his pace turns ruthless.

Your whole body is shaking on top of the counter as he fucks you fast and hard, your moans and whimpers filling the room. You feel yourself slipping and move your hands behind his nape for a better hold, closing your eyes.

"Look at me!"

You whole body bolts forward when his fingers rub harshly at your clit and your eyes open wide. Jihoon is looking intensely at you, nose almost touching your own, as his hips roll faster on yours.

"Good girl!"

You moan breathelessly upon hearing the praise words and he snickers. Your reaction does nothing but encourage him more and he manages to keep up with the speed he set for a bit longer. While his digits are stroking your clit, his free hand takes a fist of your hair and tugs.

You whelp as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck and diving his head, only to leave open-mouthed kisses just below your jaw. His mouth moves lower, trailing his lips over your soft skin before adorning it with bites. He finds your pulse point and sucks on it and when you cry out as planned, he giggles.

"Look at you! Taking my cock so well!"

It's really too much!

His cock, his fingers, his mouth on your neck, whispering pure filth against your skin! You really don't mean to do it, but it slips out!

You cry out his name, but it sounds more like a plea!

Jihoon doesn't hault this time; he is too deep to stop now. Instead, the hand that was tangled in your hair retreats and grabs your neck harshly. Your breath is caught in your throat as Jihoon pushes you back down on the counter, without pulling out of you.

Your back arches and you gasp; his hold is firm without blocking the air out of your lungs. Your fingers wrap around his hand as you try to catch your breath.

"Kinky!" you tease, wetting your lips and in response he grins, "I didn't know my florist was into that kind of shit!"

"Oh, baby you have not idea!" he purrs, freeing your neck and grasping your ankles.

You whelp as he puts your legs on his shoulders, your heels hooking on his shoulder blades for support. You feel your face warm up as Jihoon stands over your lying form; legs spread, chest heaving, face flushed. The marks he left on your neck and breasts are already turning darker and Jihoon pupils dilate in arousal.

He brings your hips down to his and thrusts deeper inside you. He slides two fingers in your mouth and you suck on them eagerly, drowning your moans. He brings them between your legs and finds your clit again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you curse through gritted teeth and resist the urge to roll back your eyes, solely because you don't want to miss the sight of Jihoon pounding on you.

You grab the edge of the counter behind your head with both hands so tighly that your knuckles turn white. Your body jerks on the table and you puff as you feel a second orgasm closing in.

At that moment, Jihoon pinches your clit, making you cry out and raise your hips. He leans his body on you, lips capturing yours in a breathless kiss. With the new position, your legs are pushed closer to your upper body; your knees being the bodypart clasping his shoulders now.

"Are you close?" he whispers on your mouth and your grip on the counter tightens.

"Y-Yes!"

He pecks your lips and like on cue, his thrusts become slower. You whine, immediately catching on to what he was doing.

"Jihoon!"

"Yes?" the fucker smirks, the rolling of his hips slowing down more.

You glare at him and buck your hips againt his, seeking some much needed friction. His hand moves from your clit to your lower body and presses you down to keep you still. You gasp and your walls clench around him.

"Do you want to cum?

"Yes!" the desperation is clear in your voice and Jihoon grins.

"Then beg for it!"

His finger is back on your clit, pressing down on it and he buries his cock deep inside of you. In both cases he refrains from moving and you know he is waiting for the word to spill out of your mouth.

You grab his lower back and try to push him forward, but he doesn't badge. Instead, he sinks his teeth on his bottom lip, attempting to hide how his grin widens.

He know he has won.

"Please!"

"Please what?"

A faint roll of his hips has you gasping for air, as the friction is back.

"Please let me cum!" you look him straight in the eyes as you beg for your release.

Jihoon dips his head and grabs your lower lip between his teeth, just as he picks up his pace, throwing his hips forward ruthlessly. You cry out as his finger pinches your clit again, before it rubs it aggressively. Jihoon doesn't let go immediately of your bottom lip; biting and sucking on it as you moan his name again and again.

Your walls clamp down on him and your orgasm hits you. Your whole body shakes as you cum for a second time and Jihoon has to hold your legs on top of his shoulder as they loose their strength.

He keeps pounding on your as you ride out your high, but his pace is messy. He twitches relentlessly until a particular deep shove, when he stops and groans loudly. You watch in awe as he throws his head back, veins appearing at the side of his neck, as he finally cums.

Your chest is heaving as you pant and you gently let go of the counter. Your legs weakly fall from Jihoon's shoulders and you put your hands in their place. Jihoon regains his composure and follows your lead as you pull him closer and kiss him.

The kiss is soft and you wish it lasted longer. Jihoon pulls away only to smile at you and peck your lips again. You smile back and steal a kiss from him, making him unexpectedly giggly. You feel him swift slightly his weigh, but not pull out of you yet.

He glances behind you and tilts his head, making you curious.

"It stopped raining."

"Really?" you try to twist your head to look outside, but it's impossible in the position you are at, "What time is it?"

Jihoon peeks at the clock on the wall beside him and pouts.

"It's time to lock up. Guess, fun is over!" he raises his body from yours and slips out gently.

You don't know why, but the words kind of sting to hear them.

You sit up, feeling weirdly empty and watch him as he throws the used condom in the trash bag. He picks up his clothes and starts dressing. You do the same, slipping into your shirt and buttoning it up as Jihoon gets dressed and puts the roses into the refrigerator.

You search for your underwear and Jihoon notices, as he bends down and picks it up.

"You dropped this!" he says, holding the panties in front of your face with two fingers.

"You mean you dropped it! Or more like threw it!"

Jihoon grins and gives it to you without further bickering. You are a bit dissapointed; you expected a clever remark!

You hop off the work table and put your panties on, moving to your skirt and shoes next.

"Are you ready?"

You turn to look at Jihoon -fully dressed now- who holds the keys to the shop and is waiting by the door. You nod and silently walk past him and out of the shop.

This is awkward, you have to admit.

You didn't plan this to turn out like that and you worry that things will be weird from now on.

Maybe you should searching for a new flower shop close to your home.

You watch him as he turns around the shop's sign to 'closed' and locks the doors. You nervously bite your lip and turn your back on him, walking towards your apartment. You know how this goes and you don't want to stay for the awkward part!

You haven't made it two steps afar when he grabs your arm and pulls you back. Your chest collides with his and his lips are back on yours, in a chaste kiss. Your eyes widen, but quickly flutter shut in order to enjoy the kiss. He wraps his arm around your waist and keeps you close to him as he kisses you.

When you pull apart, you look at him in the eyes and part your mouth in surprise.

"See you next week?" he asks softly and you blink, not expecting this.

You shake your head and smile, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him down to give him one more kiss.

"You bet on it!"

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homomenhommes · 2 months

Text

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … March 1

c. 38 AD – The Latin poet Marcus Valerius Martialis, known in English as Martial, was born on this date (d.circa 103 AD); a Latin poet from Hispania (the Iberian Peninsula) best known for his twelve books of Epigrams, published in Rome between 86 and 103, during the reigns of the emperors Domitian, Nerva and Trajan. Martial was an urbane and witty man who is certainly the best known writer, if not the inventor of the epigram. He displayed a great skill in adapting the form to a variety of uses.

His epigrams have the precision and economy of inscriptions on monuments and tombstones, the earliest examples of the form. In a single couplet of stinging wit, Martial can expose a pretentious or foolish person. A good number of the poet's epigrams suggest not only that he was sexually promiscuous, but that he spent a fair share of his time with young men, including Galaesus, Hyllus, Lygdus, Telesphorus, Dindymus, and Cestus. Indeed Martial was one of the Roman writers who made no effort to censure homosexuality, but praised its various aspects.

Upon being discovered by his wife "inside a boy" and offered the "same thing" by her, he responds with a list of mythological personages who, despite being married, took young male lovers. In his writings Martial described a wide range of homosexual behaviors, in part to poke fun at them like other minor standard deviations, but without too much moralizing.

One example of his work:

With your giant nose and cock I bet you can with ease When you get excited check the end for cheese. - Book VI, No. 36

New Amsterdam

1665 – After a temporary takeover of New Netherland by the English, the governor of what is now called New York issues a proclamation making sodomy a capital crime. The law also covers New Jersey.

1810 – Frédéric Chopin, born Fryderyk Franciszek Chopin (d.1849) was a Polish composer and virtuoso pianist of the Romantic era who wrote primarily for solo piano. He has maintained worldwide renown as a leading musician of his era, one whose "poetic genius was based on a professional technique that was without equal in his generation."

Chopin was born in Żelazowa Wola in the Duchy of Warsaw and grew up in Warsaw, which in 1815 became part of Congress Poland. A child prodigy, he completed his musical education and composed his earlier works in Warsaw before leaving Poland at the age of 20, less than a month before the outbreak of the November 1830 Uprising. At 21, he settled in Paris. Thereafter – in the last 18 years of his life – he gave only 30 public performances, preferring the more intimate atmosphere of the salon. He supported himself by selling his compositions and by giving piano lessons, for which he was in high demand. Chopin formed a friendship with Franz Liszt and was admired by many of his other musical contemporaries, including Robert Schumann.

After a failed engagement to Maria Wodzinska from 1836 to 1837, he maintained an often troubled relationship with the French writer Amantine Dupin (known by her pen name, George Sand). A brief and unhappy visit to Mallorca with Sand in 1838–39 would prove one of his most productive periods of composition. In his final years, he was supported financially by his admirer Jane Stirling, who also arranged for him to visit Scotland in 1848. For most of his life, Chopin was in poor health. He died in Paris in 1849 at the age of 39, probably of pericarditis aggravated by tuberculosis.

There has been some debate about Chopin's sexuality. Chopin was a friend of the Marquis de Custine, who had been associated with homosexual scandals. A letter from de Custine to Chopin, inviting Chopin to visit, refers to the composer as an "inconstant sylph"; Kallberg recognizes the "impossibility of 'discovering' the truth" of what this may imply.

The music journalist Moritz Weber, searching Chopin's letters, said he discovered a "flood of declarations of love aimed at men", sometimes direct in their erotic tone, sometimes full of playful allusions. In one, Chopin described rumors of his affairs with women as a "cloak for hidden feelings".

"You don't like being kissed," Chopin wrote to his school friend Tytus Woyciechowski in one of 22 letters. "Please allow me to do so today. You have to pay for the dirty dream I had about you last night." Letters to the friend, who was actively involved in Poland's January uprising of 1863, often start with "My dearest life" and end with: "Give me a kiss, dearest lover."

But as recently as 2018, a Chopin biography by English-Canadian musicologist Alan Walker described Woyciechowski as a mere "bosom friend". The erotically charged letters addressed to a man, Walker writes in Fryderyk Chopin: A Life and Times, were the product of a "psychological confusion", a "mental twist", which made Chopin divert thoughts of sexual desire to his friend "that should more properly have been addressed to Konstancja [Gładkowska]", a Polish soprano with whom the composer has been described as having been infatuated.

Weber says his research has found no concrete evidence of Chopin's love for Gładkowska, or a supposed engagement to 16-year-old Maria Wodzińska. "These affairs were just rumors, based on flowery footnotes in biographies from the previous two centuries."

Some letters fall just short of being sexually explicit. In July 1837, Chopin wrote to his friend Julian Fontana in Paris from London, reporting with excitement about "great urinals" with "nowhere to have a good tinkle". Did he enjoy cruising the toilets of London?

Carr (R) with Jack Kerouac

1925 – Lucien Carr (d.2005) was a key member of the original New York City circle of the Beat Generation in the 1940s; later he worked for many years as an editor for United Press International.

Carr was born in New York City; his parents were both offspring of socially prominent St. Louis families. After his parents separated in 1930, young Lucien and his mother moved back to St. Louis; Carr spent the rest of his childhood there.

At the age of 14, Carr met David Kammerer (b. 1911), a teacher of English and a physical education instructor. Kammerer was a childhood friend of William S. Burroughs, another scion of St. Louis wealth. Burroughs and Kammerer had gone to primary school together, and as young men, they traveled together and explored Paris's night life. Kammerer met Carr when he was leading a Boy Scout Troop of which Carr was a member, and quickly became infatuated with the teenager.

Over the next five years, Kammerer pursued Carr, showing up wherever the young man was enrolled at school. Carr would later insist that Kammerer had been hounding Carr sexually with a predatory persistence that would today be considered stalking. Whether Kammerer's attentions were frightening or flattering to the younger man (or both) is now a matter of some debate. What is not in dispute is that Carr moved quickly from school to school and that Kammerer followed him to each one. The two of them socialized on occasion. Carr always insisted, and Burroughs believed, that he never had sex with Kammerer.

Carr's mother, who had by this time moved to New York City, brought her son there and enrolled him at Columbia University, close to her own home. If Marion Carr was seeking to protect her son from David Kammerer, she did not succeed. Kammerer soon quit his job and followed Carr to New York. William Burroughs also moved to New York, to an apartment a block away from Kammerer. The two older men remained friends.

At Columbia Carr befriended Allen Ginsberg in the Union Theological Seminary dormitory on West 122nd Street (an overflow residence for Columbia at the time), when Ginsberg knocked on the door to find out who was playing a recording of a Brahms trio. Soon after, a young woman introduced Carr to her boyfriend, Jack Kerouac, then twenty-two and nearing the end of his short career as a sailor. Carr, in turn, introduced Ginsberg and Kerouac to one another – and both of them to his older friend with more first-hand experience at decadence: William Burroughs. The core of the New York Beat scene had formed, with Carr at the center. As Ginsberg put it, "Lou was the glue."

On August 13, 1944, Carr and Kerouac attempted, and failed, to ship out of New York to France on a merchant ship – aiming to fulfill a fantasy of walking across France in character as a Frenchman (Kerouac) and his deaf-mute friend (Carr), and hoping to be in Paris in time for the Allied liberation. Kicked off the ship by the first mate at the last minute, the two men drank together at the Beats' regular bar, the West End. Kerouac left first, and bumped into Kammerer, who asked where Carr was. Kerouac told him.

According to Carr's version of the night, he and Kammerer were resting near West 115th Street when Kammerer made yet another sexual advance. When Carr rejected it, he said, Kammerer assaulted him physically, and being larger, gained the upper hand. In desperation and panic, Carr said, he stabbed the older man, using a Boy Scout knife from his St. Louis childhood. Carr then tied his assailant's hands and feet, wrapped Kammerer's belt around his arms, weighted the body with rocks, and dumped it in the nearby Hudson River.

Finally, Carr went to his mother's house and then to the office of the New York District Attorney, where he confessed. The prosecutors, uncertain whether the story was true – or whether a crime had even been committed – kept him in custody until they had recovered Kammerer's body. Carr identified the corpse.

Carr was charged with second-degree murder. The story was closely followed in the press, involving as it did a well-liked, gifted student from a prominent family, New York's premier university, and the scandalous whiff of homosexuality. The newspaper coverage embraced Carr's story of an obsessed homosexual preying on an appealing heterosexual younger man, who finally lashed out in self-defense. The Daily News called the killing an "honor slaying". Carr pled guilty to first-degree manslaughter. Carr was sentenced to a term of one-to-twenty years in prison; he served two years in the Elmira Correctional Facility in Upstate New York and was released.

That was the official version, but other sources suggest that Carr and Kammerer had been consensual lovers for those years, and even suggest that it was Carr who was the aggressive homosexual, and not Kammerer, and that the moves from school to school and city to city had been Carr's mother's attempts to separate the two.

1956 – Mark Todd is a New Zealand horseman who was voted Rider of the 20th Century by the International Equestrian Federation, (Fédération Equestre Internationale).

Born in rural Cambridge in the heart of the Waikato on the North Island, Todd was considered by his peers to be the consummate three-day-event horseman.

As a youngster, Todd went through a succession of broken bones and tears in pony club events, but he was passionate about horses and persevered. He considered becoming a jockey but quickly grew to 6 ft 2 in which forced him into show jumping instead.

From small pony club beginnings he went on to win two Olympic Games gold medals, (the first rider to win successive individual three-day-event titles for 60 years), and also won two bronzes. He won the prestigious Badminton Horse Trials on three occasions and the Burghley three-day trials five times. He also won gold medals as a member of the New Zealand team at the world championships in 1990 (Stockholm) and 1998 (Rome), the European Championships in 1997 (when it was open to the world), plus 20 or more other international events.

Mark Todd was not only a great eventer, but he also competed in the 1988 and 1992 Olympics in the sport of show jumping. He won back-to-back gold medals on Charisma at Los Angeles in 1984 and Seoul 1988. Charisma was a 16 year old when he won the second gold, and he was only the second horse to win two individual gold medals.

Todd, who had married Carolyn Berry in 1986, retired from eventing following the 2000 Sydney Olympics to his Rivermonte Farm near Cambridge to breed horses and concentrate on several business ventures, including the manufacture/retail of harness and other tack.

In 2000, the Sunday Mirror accused Todd of being a homosexual and a cocaine user. It published photographs of Todd, showing him snorting cocaine with another man. Certain homosexual acts were also alleged to have taken place aboard a horse float.

Todd appeared on television to discuss the allegations, but refused to explicitly deny them. It remains unclear just how much truth was behind the allegations, and what exactly occurred in the horse float at the centre of the allegations. Todd remains married to his wife, despite the lack of a formal denial any of the allegations.

1961 – Michael Sundin (d.1989) was an English television presenter, actor, dancer and trampolinist, who is best remembered for his short time as a Blue Peter presenter (1984-85).

After winning five British titles and one world title in British & World Trampolining tournaments, he entered show business in 1980 when he appeared in the pantomime Jack and the Beanstalk, with Barbara Windsor. Sundin made various television and theatre appearances, both as an actor and dancer, which led to a long run in the Cameron Mackintosh-produced musical Cats, in which he played Bill Bailey in its West End run from 1982 until 1983. He appears in the video for Culture Club's I'll Tumble 4 Ya from 1982.

In 1984, he began rehearsing the character Tik-Tok for the Walt Disney film Return to Oz, and this was covered by the long-running BBC children's magazine programme Blue Peter. Sundin impressed the editor, Biddy Baxter, and was invited to audition for the presenting vacancy left by Peter Duncan; it was his fortune that one of the audition items was to interview someone on a trampoline, and he presented his first programme on 13 September 1984.

After fronting 77 episodes, the editors and production team decided not to renew Sundin's contract after the summer break, because they felt that he had little rapport with the viewers and it was claimed by the editor that some parents and children complained about his effeminacy. However, reports of his gay exploits (see below) are also rumoured to have been a factor. He presented his last show on 24 June 1985. Sundin was very unhappy about this decision, and made his feelings known in the tabloid press.

Sundin subsequently appeared in the 1987 film Lionheart (in which he was incorrectly credited as 'Michel Sundin'). From 1987-88 he was in UK theatre tour of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and a Japanese/Australian tour of Starlight Express.

In October 1985, the Daily Mirror printed photographs of him taking part in what was described as a videotaped gay sex show, at London's Hippodrome.

In 2007 the former editor of Blue Peter Biddy Baxter was interviewed by the journalist Mark Lawson, transmitted as part of BBC Four's Children's TV On Trial week of programmes. For the first time on television, Baxter was confronted about the departure of Sundin. In the interview Baxter blamed the press for the inaccurate coverage of Sundin's sacking from the programme because of his sexuality. In previous documentaries and programmes Baxter had avoided addressing such questions about Sundin's involvement in the programme. In the interview she denied that he had been sacked due to his sexuality and said that "It was his leaving the programme because children didn't like him - nothing to do with his sexual proclivities".

n 1988 Sundin fell ill. At the age of 28, he died in the Newcastle General Hospital, Newcastle upon Tyne. The Times newspaper reported (on 26 July 1989) that he had died of liver cancer, but in fact his death was AIDS-related, and a decision was made that this information would not be released to the press. Earlier the same year Sundin had denied having AIDS.

1963 – Bryan Batt is an American actor best known for his role in the AMC series Mad Men as Salvatore Romano, an art director for the Sterling Cooper agency. Primarily a theater actor, he has had a number of starring roles in movies and television as well. His performance in the musical adaptation of Saturday Night Fever earned him one of New York City's more unusual honors, a caricature at Sardi's.

Batt was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, the son of Gayle Batt, an amateur actress and dancer and civic activist. His family founded and ran the Pontchartrain Beach amusement park. He attended and graduated from a preparatory school in New Orleans, and Tulane University. Although Batt played a closeted character in Mad Men, the actor himself is openly gay. He has played gay roles on film (Jeffrey and Kiss Me, Guido) and stage (La Cage aux Folles). In 2005, Batt told Playbill that he used to worry about the effect of coming out on his career:

When I played the lead in Sunset Blvd., the movie of Jeffrey was coming out, and I was petrified. Back then, every agent told you that if you want to play a straight role, you don't come out. This was before Ellen [DeGeneres] came out. But now I couldn't give a rat's ass. It's normal to be gay.

Bryan Batt lives with his partner, Tom Cianfichi, an events planner. Batt and Cianfichi have been together more than 21 years; they met while performing Evita in Akron, Ohio. Batt was playing Che, and Cianfichi was the understudy for Magaldi. Batt and Cianfichi own a home decor and furnishings store, Hazelnut, in New Orleans.

Before Batt "came out" to his family, when his mother and other family members came to New York to see Jeffrey after the play had opened to rave reviews, Batt, over a bottle of wine, told her that he was gay and that he and Tom were a couple. Although there were tears, Batt's mother reassured him that she loved him and that she loved Tom as well.

The person Batt feared telling most was his straight, sports-loving, "good ole boy" brother, Jay. But Jay's response was both funny and accepting: "You're gay? Thank God, I thought you just weren't getting any!"

1969 – Jim Morrison is arrested in Miami for obscenity after his on-stage performance of pretending to fellate his guitarist, and then allegedly exposing himself to the audience.

2010 – Gary Kinsman's book The Canadian War on Queers is published

Born in Toronto, Ontario, Gary Kinsman is a Canadian sociologist (b.1955). He is one of Canada's leading academics on lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender issues. In 1987, he wrote one of the key Canadian texts on LGBT social history, Regulation of Desire, reprinted in 1995. In 2000, he edited and co-authored a second work, on Canadian federal government surveillance of marginal and dissident political and social groups, Whose National Security? In 2010, Kinsman's newest book, The Canadian War on Queers: National Security as Sexual Regulation, co-written with Patrizia Gentile, was published by University of British Columbia Press.

A professor of sociology at Laurentian University in Sudbury, Ontario, Kinsman's research and publication focuses primarily on the sociological perspectives of LGBT issues. Kinsman is also a social activist on feminist, labor union, social justice and anti-poverty issues.

Kinsman was a writer for The Body Politic and a central figure in the publication of the successor magazine Rites. He helped found Gays and Lesbians Against the Right Everywhere and the Lesbian and Gay Pride Day Committee of Toronto.

In Sudbury, he was one of the organizer's of the city's first-ever Sudbury Pride event in 1997.

In 2015, Kinsman was active in a campaign lobbying for a formal apology from the Government of Canada for the purges of LGBT people from the federal civil service in the 1950s and 1960s.

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