#Tuscany Experience | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

37sommz · 2 months ago

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❁ : she's dreaming . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: angst & suggestive (18+). ✼. wc: 3.6k.

it’s been weeks since michaela has thought about that night in tuscany. but with the season freshly over, the guilt starts to the submerge her. and all at once, jenson is everywhere and nowhere at all.

✼. warnings: suggestive but not smutty. language warnings. not proofread (lol). mclaren papaya mentions.

✼. notes: she’s kind of an asshole in this one but you would too if you have jenson!brain. angst again bc i have no self-control. the true honest beginning of the jenson arc is here!! experimenting with the formatting a little bit idk how i feel though.

000.⠀⠀DECEMBER 14, 2020 › Monaco.

"Mm, you're so fast," Olivier murmured into her ear, his breath hot and ragged.

Michaela's eyes snapped open, the racing of her heart not entirely from passion but the echo of her fastest lap point from Abu Dhabi yesterday. She pushed him away gently, laughing at the odd choice for dirty talk the Frenchman had chosen. Under the soft moonlight of their Monaco hotel room's balcony, she leaned the full weight of her body against his stronger, half-naked form.

"What's so funny?" Olivier asked, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "It's true, you're so fast."

Michaela couldn't help the smile that tugged at her own lips. "You're so odd," She quipped, tracing her fingers along the taut muscles of his abdomen. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between them.

Olivier leaned in, kissing her neck gently. "Seriously though, baby," He said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone, "I'm so proud of all you've accomplished this past season."

Michaela giggled once more as the bliss of Mediterranean air swirled and enveloped them in a haze that tottered between love and lust. His hands were everywhere and committed to nowhere all at once as she released the smallest of whines in anticipation of his next display of passion.

Her eyes fell upon the McLaren team's official merchandise laid out on the nearby table—she had worn it earlier today on their flight as she had gone straight from their factory in Surrey to her vacation in Monaco. The polo, though a symbol of hope, was also a stark reminder of the conversation she'd been trying to avoid. Olivier had been much too eager to take it off his girlfriend of a year and Michaela pretended not to notice though it stung nonetheless.

"Your new McLaren gear, I see," Olivier said, his hand pausing mid-caress as he followed her gaze to the shirt. "You're really going to wear that papaya orange next season?"

Michaela stiffened, feeling the joy of their intimate moment dissipate like mist in the early morning sun. "What's wrong with papaya orange?" She asked, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.

Olivier rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly my color, chère," He mentioned with a laugh, his hand still playing with the strap of her lingerie. "But if you’re contractually required to wear it, I guess I’ll put up with it."

Michaela's smile faltered. "It's not just about the color, Olivier," She said, her voice firm. "It's about my future in the sport. This is a big deal for me."

If Olivier heard her, he gave no indication of any kind. His hands continued to caress his girlfriend's skin as his lips wandered the expanse of her shoulders and up her neck.

Michaela pushed the topic away, the moment feeling too delicate to be sullied by their ongoing argument. Her thoughts grew hazy as his touch grew more insistent. But the nagging feeling remained regardless. Was it really so hard to support her dreams?

Their bodies intertwined, Olivier's hands explored the curves of her body, setting her alight with a passion she knew was genuine. Yet, her mind was elsewhere—replaying moments from her second Formula 1 season—the smell of rubber, the roar of the engines, and the sweet taste of success at her third-place finish in Tuscany.

It was that podium finish, the first for a woman in history, that had brought her to Jenson's arms. The English former champion had congratulated her, and she had been drawn to his easy charm and the understanding in his eyes. The memory of that night grew clearer, the whispers of betrayal echoed through her mind like the rustling of leaves in the Monaco night.

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and guilt as Olivier's hands grew more intimate. The scent of the champagne they had gotten drunk on just moments earlier wafted through the air, a cruel reminder of her infidelity. She closed her eyes tightly, willing the image of Jenson out of her thoughts. But his touch remained etched in her skin, a silent confession that grew louder with each breath she took.

"Are you okay, darling?" Olivier asked, sensing the sudden tension in her body.

Michaela took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts of Jenson to the back of her mind. "Yeah," She lied as she forced a smile. "Just a little tired."

Olivier's eyes searched hers for the truth, but she averted them, focusing instead on the horizon where the last signs of daylight kissed the water. "You're sure?" He whispered, his voice laced with concern.

Michaela nodded, her throat tight with the weight of her secret. She didn't want to ruin the night—not yet. But the conversation had left a sour taste in her mouth, one she couldn't ignore. "Let's just enjoy tonight," She murmured, leaning into him again. She turned to face him head on, willing her hands to travel the length of his well-defined chest to cradle his face in her hands.

Olivier could not help but notice the plea in Michaela’s eyes, his own filled with a hint of doubt. But he kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking hers in a motion as fiery as the passion that had brought them together. The tension between them melted away as they gave themselves over to the moment. Their bodies synced in a rhythm as familiar as the purr of an engine, each movement speaking volumes in a language only they understood.

Michaela's guilt weighed on her like the gravity of indecision, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the here and now. The sound of their breathing grew ragged, their skin slick with sweat, and the world outside their love faded away. For a brief moment, she was free—free from the pressures of her new contract, free from the whispers of doubt, and free from the haunting memory of her indiscretion with Jenson.

As the night grew darker and the air grew thicker with the scent of their love, Olivier whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his voice a gentle comfort that seemed to resonate with the distant waves. But his words were hollow echoes of a support she desperately craved. With each moan of pleasure, she felt the gap between them widen, the truth of her actions with Jenson a heavy burden she wasn't ready to share.

Finally, unable to contain the storm brewing within, she pulled away before either of them could finish, her eyes searching his for something—anything—that could make this right. "Olivier, can we talk?" She asked, her voice small and trembling.

Olivier's eyes stilled upon hers for a moment before nodding, his own smile faded into a look of concern. "Of course, chère." He stood to his full height, totally unprepared for the ensuing conversation.

Michaela took a deep, shaky breath, the cool Monaco night air raising goosebumps on her flushed skin. "Every time I talk about my future with McLaren, you get so... distant," She began, her voice tight with emotion. "I can't help but feel like you're not as excited for me as you say you are."

Olivier's expression shifted into a mix of confusion and defensiveness. "What are you talking about?" He asked, reaching for her hand. "I've supported you every step of the way."

Michaela's gaze dropped to their intertwined fingers. "But you don't get it, do you?" She said softly. "You don't get what this means to me."

Olivier squeezed her hand gently, his brain scrambling for understanding. "I'm trying, Mickey," He said. "I really am."

Michaela felt a lump form in her throat. "You shouldn't have to try," She whispered. "You should want to be there."

Olivier's brow furrowed as he sat beside her on the balcony's chaise lounge, the moon casting shadows across his concerned features. "What are you saying?" He asked, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

Michaela took a deep breath, the scent of the ocean mingling with the faint smell of the city's nightlife. "I'm saying that every time I bring up McLaren, you change the subject or make a joke about it," She replied, her voice growing stronger with each word. "It's like you're not really here for me."

Olivier looked genuinely surprised. "I just don't want to lose you," He admitted, his voice low and sincere. "When you're in the middle of the season, you're so focused on winning that I feel like I'm just... an accessory."

Michaela's eyes widened with shock. "What? No, you're not," She protested, though the sting of his words resonated deep within her.

Olivier looked away, his jaw clenched tight. "Maybe not now," He said, "But what about next season? With McLaren, you'll be even more consumed by the sport. I won't be able to compete with that."

Michaela felt the anger simmering in her chest, her eyes flashing with intensity. "Is that what this is about?" She demanded, her voice rising. "You're jealous of my career?"

Olivier sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair. "No, Mickey," He said, his voice weary. "It's not about being jealous. It's about feeling... irrelevant."

Michaela's anger tapered off, replaced by a sudden rush of sadness. "I'm sorry you feel that way," She said, her voice cracking. "But my career is my life. You knew that going into this."

Olivier's expression grew dark. "But what about us?" He countered. "Is there no room for me in your career?"

Michaela felt the sting of his words. "Of course there is," She said, her voice thick with mounting emotion. "But you have to support me. That's what being in a relationship is about."

Olivier leaned back, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. "And what about when you're too busy with your races and your parties?" He asked, his voice accented with a bitterness she had never heard before. "What happens to us then?"

Michaela felt the weight of his question like a gunshot to the stomach. She knew she couldn't give him the answer he wanted to hear—not without admitting the truth about that night in Tuscany. "You've never wanted to go with me," she said, her voice whispering. "How could I know you wanted to be there if you've never been excited, Olivier?"

The tension grew thick as the silence stretched out between them, the only sound the distant hum of the city below. Olivier took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in the moonlit air. "You're right," He finally said. "I've never felt truly welcome."

Michaela's eyes searched his, desperation pooling in her heart. "That's not true," She protested. "For fuck's sake Olivier, you've spent more than enough time with Giovinazzi, Gasly, and Sainz. How could you be unwelcome?"

Olivier shrugged, his eyes on the sunset. "It's not the same," He murmured. "They're all your colleagues. I'm the boyfriend. The one who's supposed to be there through thick and thin, but every time you win, you're in the arms of some other man. Every time you sign a new deal, you're wearing their colors, not mine."

With a grunt he lifted himself from the chair. Hastily he slid the door to their room open, trekking inside without as much as a glance towards his girlfriend. Sighing to herself, Michaela grabbed hold of the dreaded papaya polo, throwing it on and adjusting her lingerie underneath.

"Where are you going?" She called out as she stepped into the room.

Olivier didn't respond. He was already at the mini-bar, pouring himself a drink, the amber liquid sloshing into the glass with a sound that echoed in the room. His broad shoulders were tense, and his back was to her, a clear indication of his mood.

Michaela felt the anger build within her, but she knew this wasn't the time for accusations or defensiveness. She approached him slowly, her heart hammering in her chest like a drumline. "I didn't mean for it to be like that," She spoke with a tremble in her voice.

Olivier took a swing of his drink, not turning around. "It's just the way it is, isn't it?" He said, his voice cold and distant.

Michaela stepped closer, her heart pounding. She could feel the distance growing between them with every beat. "No, it's not," She insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can come with me to every race, every event. I want you there."

Olivier downed the rest of his drink, his eyes never leaving the floor. "Do you?" He asked, his voice barely audible. "Or do you just want me there so you don't feel guilty?"

Michaela felt the force of his words like a slap to the face. She stepped back, her hand falling to her side. "What are you talking about?" She asked, her voice shaking.

Olivier turned to face her, his eyes dark and accusatory. "You tell me," He said, his voice low and menacing. "What happened in Tuscany? Why couldn't you answer any of my calls that night?"

Michaela's breath hitched in her throat. The memory of Jenson's arms around her, his whispers in her ear, flooded her mind, inescapable. "Olivier, that's not what this is about," She said, her voice strained.

He took a step closer, his eyes piercing hers. "Isn't it?" He demanded. "Or is it because you found someone else to fill the void when I couldn't be there?"

Michaela felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn't expected the conversation to turn this way—not here, not now. "What are you saying?" She whispered, her voice shaking.

Olivier's gaze was unwavering. "I know you, Mickey," He said, his tone even. "You don't do well with being alone in your big moments. And when I couldn't be there for you after your big day..."

Michaela's eyes grew wide with horror. "You think I cheated?" She managed to choke out.

Olivier's jaw tightened. "Did you?" He asked, his voice a knife's edge of accusation.

Michaela took a deep breath, her eyes searching the room for escape from the accusation. "Olivier, please," She begged, her voice shaking. "It's not like that."

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Isn't it?" He asked, his voice a low growl. "You tell me, Mickey. Did you or did you not spend the night with someone else when you should've been celebrating with me?"

"Celebrating with you?" She suddenly scoffed, remembering the circumstances that led to her fall in the first place. "Was I supposed to spend the night locked away in my hotel room getting drunk with you on Facetime?"

Olivier's eyes searched hers, looking for the lie she knew he wanted to find. "It's not like you to avoid me, especially after a good race," He said, his voice strained.

Michaela felt the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, straightening her spine. "I needed to be with someone who understood," She finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Olivier's eyes grew wide with shock, his handsome features contorting with disbelief. "Someone like who?" He spat out, the venom in his voice palpable. "Huh?"

Michaela took a shaky breath, her heart racing as she met his gaze. "Jenson," She whispered, the name leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Olivier's eyes narrowed into slits, his fists clenching at his sides. "Jenson Button," He said through gritted teeth. "Your fucking teenage crush? Must have been a dream come true." The words left his mouth with an element of disgust. He reached for the bottle of alcohol again, pouring himself another glass.

Michaela felt the tears finally spill over her lashes as she watched him. "It was one night," She insisted. "I was just so... happy, and you weren't there."

Olivier took a long pull from his glass, the liquid fire burning down his throat. He slammed it down on the table, the sound echoing through the suite like a bullet. "One night," He repeated, his voice thick with anger. "That's all it takes to replace me, huh?"

Michaela felt the sting of his accusation, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "It wasn't about replacing you," She said, her voice trembling. "It was about feeling seen and supported."

Olivier scoffed, turning away from her to refill his glass. "That's bullshit," He spat. "You're just saying that as an excuse."

Michaela felt the rage build within her, a rage fueled by his accusation and her own guilt. She stepped closer to him, her eyes blazing. "How dare you?" She hissed. "You have no idea what it's like to be me. To be the first woman to stand on that podium. To be the most scrutinized athlete in a sport that's been dominated by men for decades. To be torn apart for the whole world to see every single time I step outside."

Olivier's expression softened, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to something else—regret. "I do know," He said, his voice hoarse. "I see it every day. The way you're treated, the way they look at you." He took a step closer, reaching for her, but she stepped back, the gap between them feeling like an insurmountable distance.

Michaela wiped at her tears, her eyes glaring. "You don't know shit," She said, her voice shaking. "You don't know what it's like to be me. You don't care what it's like to be me."

Olivier's hand fell to his side, his shoulders slumping. "Michaela," He began, but she cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.

"Don't," She said, her voice thick with emotion. "Don't you dare try to act like you understand."

Olivier took a step back, his hands rising in surrender. "I'm sorry," He whispered. "I just..."

Michaela didn't let him finish. "You just what?" She challenged, her voice shaking with emotion. "You just don't get it? You just don't care?"

Olivier looked at her, his eyes pleading. "Michaela, baby," He started, but she was already shaking her head.

"Don't call me that," She said, her voice cold and unforgiving. "Not now."

Olivier's hand fell to his side, his eyes peering into hers. "What do you want from me?" He asked, his voice filled with pain. "What can I do to make this right?"

Michaela took a deep, shaky breath. "You can't," She said, her voice cold. "Not unless you truly support me. Not unless you understand that my career is as much a part of me as you are."

Olivier's eyes swelled, the depth of his love for her clear despite the anger and hurt that clouded his features. "I want to," He said, his voice honest. "But I need you to be honest with me. To include me."

Michaela felt the anger drain from her body, leaving only the heavy weight of her secret. "I know," She whispered, her eyes dropping to the floor. "But I was scared."

Olivier took a step closer, his hand reaching out tentatively to cup her cheek. "Scared of what?" He asked, his voice gentle.

Michaela leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against her cool skin. "Scared of losing you," She admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Scared that you wouldn't understand the pressure, the need for... something more."

Olivier's hand dropped from her cheek, his eyes unable to pull themselves away from her. "More than what?" He asked, his voice tight with unspoken fears.

Michaela took a deep, trembling breath. "More than just being my boyfriend," She replied, her voice a whisper. "Someone who understands the thrills and the agony. All of it."

Olivier's expression grew solemn as he took her in, his thumb gently brushing away the tears that trailed down her cheek. "I want to be that person," He said, his voice earnest. "But you have to let me in."

Michaela looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't think I can."

Olivier's hand stilled on her cheek, the room growing colder despite the warmth of the night outside. "Why?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Michaela swallowed hard, the pull of emotion weighed down on her chest. "Because it's not just about the racing," She said, her eyes never leaving his. "It's about the parties, the sponsor events, the constant scrutiny. And you... you've never been a part of that."

Olivier's jaw tightened, his thumb brushing away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "So, what are you saying?" He asked, his voice a mix of anger and sadness. "That I'm not good enough for you?"

Michaela's eyes gazed into his, the pain in her heart reflected in her gaze. "No," She said, her voice a whisper. "It's not about that. It's about you being you. And me being me. We can't do that and exist in this world together."

Olivier's hand fell away from her cheek, his eyes dropping to the floor. "What does that mean?" He asked, his voice thick with unfamiliar emotion.

Michaela took a deep, shaky breath. "It means that my world is changing," She said, her voice wavering. "And I don't know if there's room for us in it."

Olivier's eyes tore themselves from the floor and back to her face, the pain in his heart mirroring the ache in hers. "Is that what you want?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Michaela's heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, the weight of her words heavy on her chest. "It's not what I want," She said, her voice trembling. "But it's what I need."

❁ :⠀taglist.⠀feel free to send in an ask/comment to join the taglist <3

@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

@thearchieves @doodlehunz @evie-119

@bxdbxtxh @seaweed-orchid @glitterquadricorn

@99snse @ginghampearlsnsweettea @alliwantisadonut

@hiireadstuff @emilyval1 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @melancholyy-hill

@valluvsu @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @treehouse-mouse

@sunfairyy @lilypat

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months ago

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Terry Silver Masterlist

Paris - Your entire world changes when you meet Terry Silver on your birthday.

Pont des Arts - You and Terry stroll along the Pont des Arts.

Yours (NSFW) - Your first time with Terry starts with a seduction.

Adventure - Terry asks you to come on an adventure.

Out of Love - You're convinced things will change when you get home to LA.

Vulnerability - Terry tells you the truth about his mental health.

Sick Day - Terry knows something is wrong when you don't pick up his call.

Love Story - Terry questions your taste in literature.

Health Care - Terry takes care of your healthcare siutation.

Recovery - Terry plays an active role in your recovery.

Stand By Me - Terry realises he's planning a life with you.

Masks - Terry realises you're uncomfortable at an event.

All The Places That You've Been - Terry makes you a promise after you read through his travel journal.

Wherever You Go - Terry thinks about the day the two of you met during a trip to Osaka.

Home - Terry realises his house is becoming a home.

A Likely Story - Terry 'forgets' you're ticklish.

Rio - Terry surprises you in the aftermath of a car accident.

Cock Block - Terry hates your car.

Tulips (NSFW) - Terry decides he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

I Do - Terry gives you his mother's ring in a chapel in Tuscany.

Midnight Sea - Terry and you send a night on the ocean.

Lunch - Terry decides to have you for lunch instead.

Honey (NSFW) - Terry eats lunch at his desk.

Paper Airplanes - Terry begins to consider starting a family.

Roses - A bouquet of roses sparks an act of revenge.

Punishment (NSFW) - Terry decides to punish you when you misbehave.

Inspiration - Terry helps you find inspiration after you run into your ex.

Mine (NSFW) - Terry needs you to remember exactly who you belong to.

The Red Room - Terry takes care of a threat.

Poison - Terry takes action when he discovers there's a nude painting of you.

Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention.

Distance - Terry and you struggle with emotional distance as the embezzlement case continues.

Postcards From My Heart - Terry discovers what you've been up to abroad.

Twenty Four Hours - You come home from your trip to spend 24 hours with your husband.

Disloyal - Terry runs into an old friend while you're away.

Budapest - Terry surprises you in Budapest.

Like A Virgin (NSFW) - Terry wishes he'd been your first.

Honesty - You discover what Terry's been up to when you recieve some unsolicited messages.

A Loaded Gun - Terry begins to struggle after John Kreese turns up on your doorstep.

Letting Go - It takes you leaving for Terry to realise he needs to make a change.

Stranglehold - Terry begs an unlikely duo for help.

Three Men & A Baby - You discover your pregnant at the worst possible time.

Self Defence - You wake up in the middle of the night with John Kreese's hands locked around your throat.

Remains of the Day - Terry and you try to cope with the aftermath of John Kreese's attack.

Failure - Terry makes a decision regarding your home in the aftermath of what happened with Kreese.

Malibu - You and Terry move to a house in Malibu after the attack.

Water - Terry wakes up to the sound of you singing to the baby.

Snow - Terry's son Sebastian experiances snow for the first time.

Moodboard

NSFW Alphabet:

Aftercare

Alone

Crying

Dressing Up

Horny

Kinky

Kissing

Lick

Lighting

Overnight

Quiet

Restraints

Submission

Sleepy Sex

Uniform

Window

X Marks The Spot

Yours

HCs:

Alternative Universe Timeline

Training

Dating Other Women

Regrets

Sleeping Habits

Cooking

Coffee

Nick Names

#terry silver #terry silver x reader #cobra kai

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the-fell-family · 22 days ago

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Hello!

I'm from Italy, so I wanted to ask you if you've ever been there together and, if so, what's the fondest memory you have of that experience?

And, if you've never been there, would you like to visit? Maybe when the baby's older?

Thank you for your time, I apologise if I made any grammatical mistake. Have a lovely day :)

Hello! We have visited a few times over the years, but Tuscany always is a favourite location. The food and wine is just... Beautiful. The scenery too, of course.

We may visit again, once our cherub is a tad older.

Please don't apologise for your grammar, dear. You worded everything perfectly. - Aziraphale

#ask blog #good omens #aziraphale #good omens ask blog #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #good omens 2

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inevitably-johnlocked · 9 months ago

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Five Fics Friday: March 8/24

Happy Friday everyone!! It's a shorter weekend for those of us in North America, so may as well spend all the time you got with one of these fantastic fics added to my MFL list!! Enjoy! :D

RECENT MFLs

Freeing from the Chains by writingismydivision (G, 1,552 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TFP, Angst with Happy Ending, Good Friend Molly) – It was like being held by chains, to be in love with him.

Echoes of the Heart by reveling_in_mayhem (T, 4,478+ w. || 3/8 Ch. || WiP || Magical Realism AU || Hurt/Comfort) – Sherlock Holmes is nine years old when he makes a wish. John Watson is twelve years old when he starts to dream of a boy with sad eyes. Sometimes, the wishes we make come true. Sometimes, eventually, we wish for something different. This is the story of how one wish changes the lives of two boys forever.

My heart is yours by Lock_John_Silver (E, 5,864 w., 2 Ch. || Holidays, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Light Dom/Sub, Wedding, Love Poems, Wedding Rings) – During the holiday in gorgeous Tuscany, John makes a decision for this year's Christmas. Their last night in Italy doesn't change his mind in the slightest.

Oyster and Mushroom Soup by meet_me_in_samarra (M, 8,922 w., 3 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Awkward Flirting, Oblivious John, Humour and Crack, Internet Seduction Advice, POV Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, Getting Together, Cooking) – What does a helplessly pining but absolutely clueless Sherlock do in order to woo an oblivious John? He turns to the internet for advice on the art of seduction and notes the experiments in his secret laboratory journal. Sherlock's second try to win over John involves a lot of special cooking recipes. Part 2 of the Sherlock´s Secret Laboratory Journal series

The Acquisition Of One John Watson by lookupkate (E, 17,976 w., 16 Ch. || Serial Killer AU || Serial Killer John, Vigilante John, BAMF John, Infatuated Sherlock, First Kiss) – Sherlock watched John looooooong before they ever met. John has a secret.

#five fics friday #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #marked for later fics

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arealphrooblem · 1 year ago

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Retirement

Synopsis: After years of building his criminal empire, Villain has only one desire left: to walk away, preferably with his spy and the only person he trusts.

The exhaustion that had hounded and haunted him steadily for years finally came to a head at a little villa in Tuscany. The quiet murmur of an engagement party echoed behind him as he leaned against the railing of the balcony, taking in the glowing sunset that everyone else seemed content to ignore. Every so often he would sneak glances at his spy, stunning in an elegant off shoulder gown he picked for her, as she worked the crowd.

She had been pulling off the act of her life for close to a decade, pretending to be his young, beautiful, sweet but clueless wife at functions like these, gathering intel that he later used to brutal efficiency in his deals with the major players of the underworld.

Fondness blooms in his chest, a stubborn steady heat not unlike the Tuscan sun, at the sight of her giggling with father of the bride to be, plying him with more wine and loosening that tongue. Suddenly the lack of her attention felt unbearable.

“Darling,” he called, catching her eye immediately. No matter how distracted she seemed on the surface, she always had a preternatural awareness of her surroundings, including him.

“Come look at this sunset before it slips away.” He beckoned her to him and she excused herself with a bashful smile. The man she spoke to looked over at Villain with an appraising eye, as if smelling a weakness in their love.

His spy sauntered over to him with natural catlike grace that he never failed to appreciate, leaning to kiss him on the cheek. They long since dispensed with the awkwardness of causal public intimacy. Even so, Villain felt a tiny flutter in his chest each time she did so.

“Did you find anything of interest?” he murmured, gazing out at the clouds.

She leaned their arms together, brushing her nose against his ear. Gooseflesh ripped down his arm, hidden safely underneath his linen button down.

“He jokes about the mounting cost of the wedding. I think some of his investments hadn’t borne the fruit he thought they did. And his daughter plans to drain him of quite a lot of money for her nuptials. He will be vulnerable to buy out a couple months after.”

The way she could calculate so much on such little information made her priceless beyond measure to him. Many other criminal kingpins have tried to poach her over the years, but she remained loyal to him. He wondered what made him so deserving but never dared to ask.

Then she giggled, part of the facade of the mooning couple, and nudged his shoulder with hers.

“You look tired, sir,” she said, her voice light but her gaze serious. The only person who could see through his mask. “Shall we retire in a giggling fit and let them make their own conclusions?”

“You know me so well,” he said, offering her a wan smile.

They made their excuses, his hand just low enough on the small of her back to broadcast a certain message behind their early departure. He wondered, as they drove back to the hotel, if she knew what very real feelings smoldered in his guarded heart. It wouldn’t surprise him, as so little escaped her notice. But if she did suspect, she never acted upon it or so much as hinted at it.

Their hotel rooms connected through a door in the middle. His spy peeled off to her room in the hallway, always desperate to change out of her dresses and wipe off her makeup in the shower. Left to her own devices, she never cared much for primping or enhancing her appearance. But as his “wife” she chose to look as close to the feminine ideal so coveted by the petty, shallow men of his rivals.

Villain found her stunning either way, but he much preferred seeing her in her natural state. The two of them lived under a series of masks and layers. To see underneath even one of them showed a trust that few on this Earth would experience.

He leaned back in the arm chair in the sitting room, nursing two fingers of fine whiskey, a bottle of red wine waiting for her with an empty glass. The exhaustion tugged at him. For years, playing the game, teasing power and wealth with each victory, fueled him. But now the thought of continuing felt overwhelming. At forty three, he was not old, but the thought of continuously spending all this energy to stay on top, to keep the throne he built for himself, felt like a young man’s game anymore.

“What’s wrong?”

His spy made no sound as she stepped light as a cat over the wood floors. She squeezed the ends of her hair with a towel, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Are you getting sick,” she asked again, settling into the chair next to him.

He shook his head, reaching over to pop open the wine bottle and pour her a glass.

“No, I’m not sick,” he said, handing it to her.

She accepted it with a skeptic hum, eyebrows raised. After a generous sip she set it back down and returned to drying her hair, a ritual he had witnessed many times before and yet now enchanted him. Her hair had a natural wave to it before she attacked it with products and a straightener.

“I’m thinking we should buy out his jewelry business first,” she said, back to business. “It’s newer and created by him and not inherited so he will have less sentimentality about it. Plus I would bet my life half his stock at least comes from the black market so we will gain all those contacts.”

“That is if the wedding breaks him and if he can be blackmailed to sell and if someone doesn’t get to him first and all of that remains months away.”

“Always stay five steps ahead. Is that not our creed?”

She took another sip of wine, the look in her eyes edging on concern. He ignored it, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and focusing his gaze on the flames in the fireplace. After one minute or several minutes — his mind terribly far away — the touch of fingers on his chin, firm and guiding, snapped him from his thoughts and forced his gaze to hers.

“Out with it,” she said softly.

It should terrify him how easily his mask breaks with her. How transparent it has become. Her mask remained like frosted glass, where he could see the shapes of her emotions and take an educated guess. But him? She peered through him as if he were a stream of clear mountain water.

“Does this not ever get tedious for you?” he asked. “This game. These plans. The work never stops.”

Her tranquil mask stayed firmly fixed but he noticed some tension in the rigid line of her jaw.

“Those kinds of thoughts are not a luxury I can indulge in,” she said carefully after several long moments. “The work must be done, regardless of how it makes me feel. The alternative is so much worse than tedium.”

“If you could indulge in that line of thinking, how would it make you feel?” he asked, persistent. A dog with a bone.

She licked her lips, a rare nervous tick, drawing his attention to the traces of blood red lipstick still in the crease of her skin.

“How does it make you feel?” she asked instead. Always taking her guidance from him. Always following in his shadow.

“I feel . . .like retiring.” He finally admitted.

Her eyebrows jumped up her forehead. It wasn’t often that he could surprise her anymore, but this took her aback.

“Retirement? At our age?”

Perhaps she did feel different, ten years his junior and still out for blood.

“My empire is built. There is nothing left to do but maintain it. And lately the thought of that is just . . .exhausting. I find myself thinking of just walking away.”

Horror broke past her mask before she tamped it down. “You can’t just leave.”

Me. The word hung unspoken in the air between them, thick and heavy with the childhood pain she would only admit to in hints and whispers. And he could only hear it because of how twined their lives had become, the very real intimacy in a false marriage.

“I can and I will,” he replied. “I have more than enough wealth to last me the rest of my life. I will gladly hand my empire over to you and squash any that threaten your leadership. I would only ever be a phone call away for you.”

Deep unhappiness twists in the lines of her forehead, in the corners of her mouth. “I thought we were partners.”

“You are more than capable of running things yourself. You rule from the shadows as it is.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. The Villain was a cruel man by necessity and habit and he indulged in it now, a final test. A way to gauge her reaction to his next offer. So far the thought of being apart from him seemed unbearable to her. How far would that loyalty extend? Did she only care when it gave her more power? Would she mourn the loss of him or the loss of their success?

“Is that what you want? To abandon everything we’ve worked for and leave me stuck to clean up the resulting mess?”

Only one person in the entire world was allowed to speak to him with such disrespect and get away with it and this was the first time she used such an opportunity.

“What I want,” he said slowly, “is to live in peaceful solitude in a cabin in the Swiss Alps. To see people only in the market. To walk a rambling trail out to a crystal clear lake any time I wanted.”

He took a calculated risk — his favorite hobby — and clasped her hand in his. “And I want you to come with me.”

Bare longing crossed her face, more intimate than if he had actually seen her naked body.

“And what would I spy on out there in the middle of the mountains,” she whispered.

“My wife would not need to spy on anything. She could spend her days however she liked.”

The implications were bright, as if he lit them with neon, but she stubbornly refused to look.

“You want to keep up this charade even in retirement? Be something for old ladies to gossip about in town?”

“The charade doesn’t interest me. I much prefer authenticity.”

Her gaze bore a hole in him, trying to piece it together. Purposefully obtuse.

“I need you to spit it out in plain English,” she said, voice shaking ever so slightly.

No more hiding for either of them, it seemed.

“I want to marry you. No play-acting — the real thing.”

“Why?” She looked so lost, so off-kilter. Her perfect mask crumbling in the face of such unpredictability.

He pressed a kiss, lingering and tender, on her bare knuckles.

“Why? What do you think drives a man to wish to marry?”

“Many reasons — cover, business, security, continuing family lines —“

“I love you,” he said.

She stared at him in uncharacteristic shock. “The terror of the criminal underworld — talking about marriage and love. You must be joking.”

“I’m not.”

Her gaze flickered over him as precise as a scalpel, dissecting him for motive, for the slightest hint of insincerity, and he offered himself up gladly to her scrutiny.

“Why me?” she finally asks, rare and precious vulnerability slipping out. He treasures it more than gold.

“Who else could it be?” He flipped her hand over, tracing the life lines with the tip of his finger. He does not miss her soft intake of breath at the touch. “Who else do I trust more than you? Who else commands my respect? Who else knows and understands me? Who else is as brilliant and stunning and perfect as you?”

A bright flush glowed on her cheeks at his praise, so rarely given and never in such abundance. It rendered her speechless and he flinched inwardly at that.

“I realize that I have cultivated myself into a person that never considers love. It’s true that I have not felt it in a long time. But I assure you that I would not pull you into a cold marriage devoid of affection. If, of course, it’s possible you should even want such an arrangement.”

What a humiliatingly stilted proposal. He used to pride himself on his ability for smooth negotiations but in the face of her, in the stakes of their potential happiness, he retreats back into a stumbling teenager.

She, in her rare shows of kindness, reached out and cupped his face. Her fingers feel cool against his face — dear God was he blushing?

“It’s possible,” she said softly.

He swallowed, feeling like a boy again, heart pounding treacherously in his chest. “Is that a yes?”

She tucks a stray lock behind his ear, fingernail catching on the shell of it, and desire swooped low in his stomach.

“I get to pick out my ring,” she told him.

He smiled, small and genuine and rusty. “Anything you want.”

She matched him with a smile of her own. “I like the sound of that.”

#villain x villain #villain x henchman #my writing #enemies AND lovers

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drewsbuzzcut · 2 years ago

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Vineyard Adventures

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: steamy, makeouts, touching, mentions of smut related topics, consumption of alcohol, and i think that’s all

You were one full glass and many samples of wine deep into your date with Mat. He had signed the both of you up for a wine tasting and lunch in Tuscany, Italy. He thought it would be a nice opportunity to have a childless date- as your son was with Beverly. It wasn’t something Mat and you could always do when you both had busy schedules and a one year old.

There were different variations of cheese and fruits to pair with all the different wines; it was something you took advantage of, so you could keep yourself from getting tipsy too fast.

You were having such a good time. There were other people taking part in the experience, but it made it better because you got to meet new people. Plus, the weather was perfect. The sun was shining, leaving a dust of pink on your cheeks, and the breeze blew through the air, making everything feel fresh.

The set up was very beautiful. Right now, you were seated at a long table, trying the first round of samples of dry wine and picking which one you wanted to have as your drink. Later, you’d take a group tour of the vineyard before making your way back to the table to have a very large lunch.

As said before, you’re trying to drink slowly, wanting to actually remember this day, and not wanting to come home plastered to a child that you still had to care for. So, you were sipping from your wine glass and talking to a lady sitting across from you. Mat, well he was in awe with you. He listened as you laughed with the people you were talking to, the melodious sound made him melt. Your hair was down and each time the wind blew he could smell your musky perfume. One of your hands was placed in his lap, holding one of his hands. He could feel the vibrations from your laughs, making him feel even more connected to you. Every now and then you’d lean into Mat, and he enjoyed the feel of your silky, sun kissed skin.

“Mat?” You whisper to him, breaking him out of his trance.

You had noticed that he was quiet and off in his own world, so you wanted to make sure he was fine.

“Yeah?” He says, brows frowned in concern that something might be wrong.

You adjust yourself in your chair so that you’re faced more towards him, and lay your palm on his cheek to gain all of his attention.

“You’ve been quiet for a while, just wanted to make sure everything was alright,” you explain.

He just gives you that gorgeous smile that never fails to make you blush, and assures you that everything is fine.

“Are you sure? Is it because I’m talking to other people while we’re technically on a date? Oh my god! I didn’t even realize. I’m sorry; I’m not trying to ignore you,” you blurt out under your breath, only loud enough for Mat to hear.

“No, babe. I promise it’s okay. I’m actually enjoying seeing you talk with the others. I love looking at you like this,” he says with a small chuckle and grin.

“Like what?”

You really didn’t understand how much Mat adored looking at you and just listening to your voice. Of course you knew how much he admired you, but you never really noticed just how much attention he paid to you. You had him hanging on your every word, since the very first time he met you.

“Your personality shining through, willing to let anyone see just how beautiful you are, inside and out,” he whispers in your ear. He had moved his chair even closer to yours, and moved so that he invaded your space.

You tilt your head into his out of shyness of his kind words. He just presses a loving kiss to your pulse point on your neck.

“I love you,” you mutter into the skin of his cheek before staring into his eyes, and moving them to look at his lips.

“I love you,” he says and happily gives you the kiss you wanted.

An hour goes by and you’ve downed almost two more glasses of wine. You’re not drunk, but you’re starting to feel lighter, and your want for Mat grows stronger.

You had to sit in your chair and watch his every movement. The way his nose would crinkle when he’d laugh to the way he draped an arm over your chair, letting his fingertips glide against your shoulder which sent chills throughout your entire body. It got even more unbearable when you’d watch him drink from his wine glass. It doesn’t sound like something sexy, but you knew he wasn’t a big fan of wine like you were, so him planning this date with your interests in mind and him drinking wine with you, was incredibly attractive. It didn’t help that he would lick his lips after every drink he took.

For his amazing efforts, you’d be attending a basketball game with him when the season starts. You will even take him to his favorite restaurant, and just treat him to whatever he wanted because he definitely deserves it.

When it’s time for the group tour to start, you are tipsy. Something you hadn’t been since you had your baby. Mat holds onto your hand a little tighter, always needing to protect you.

At different spots where the tour guide talks about the history of the place, they hand out even more samples of different wines. You couldn’t deny any of them, and when you found your favorite of the bunch, you were given a glass full. You did share your first glass with Mat, though. The second glass was all yours, so by the time you were almost done with the tour, you were a little passed tipsy. You knew how told hold your alcohol, but this was meant to be relaxing for you, so you let yourself indulge.

“Maty,” you sigh out as you grip Mat’s bicep.

“Yeah, baby?” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and it makes you swoon.

You giggle, momentarily forgetting what you wanted to ask him. You have to think for a couple of minutes before it finally comes back to you.

“Is this thing almost finished?” You whisper into his ear.

“Umm… I’m not sure, why?” He asks.

“Kiss me,” you don’t give him time to respond, you just simply stand in front of him and lean into his body, attaching your lips to his. You’re both so caught up, you don’t even care that you’re now separated from the group.

Mat comes to his senses and separates from you, causing you to pout.

His hands that were on your waist are now holding onto your hands. He looks around behind you and then behind himself. You want to ask what he was doing, but before you get the chance to, he’s guiding you to an empty, dim lit hallway. You smirk in response and follow him willingly.

“Maty,” you whisper into the silence. The silence that was way too loud, filled with the buzzing lust lurking in every corner of your bodies.

He pulls you flush against him, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding the back of your neck. Both of your hands are pressed against his torso, relishing in the feeling of his rock hard muscles tensing under your touch.

You stare at each other for a while, imagining what you both could be doing if you were behind closed doors, and on a comfortable bed. You know that his head would be buried between your legs, eating you out until you were a squirming mess. You squeeze your thighs together at the thought and that catches Mat’s attention. He dips his head down, secretly trying to hide his smirk, and drags his nose along the side of your neck all the way down to your collarbones, smelling your musky perfume that you always use. He didn’t care that the halter neck of your dress made it a little more difficult.

“Oh you think your slick, huh, hotshot?” You ask, feeling his not so well hidden smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mat answers.

When you start to reply, he’s already pressing kisses all over your neck, causing the words to die on your tongue.

You bring your hands to his back, wanting so badly to rip his shirt off. For now you just let your hands grip the material tightly.

Mat feels your nails trying not to dig in his skin, so he decides to tempt you even more. Both hands travel down the length of your silky, pink dress and continue down to your smooth legs. The feeling of his rough hands softly traveling down your body makes you hot, desire flowing through your veins and settling in your core. You lift a leg up and set it on Mat’s waist as a way to bring him even closer to you.

For a moment you both just stay still. You look into each other’s eyes and just float in the warmth and want that’s taken over. Mat brings a hand up to caress your cheek, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip. His eyes move lower, watching your chest move with every erratic breath you take. You love being the center of his attention, so you wait for the perfect moment to suck on his thumb, and when you do, his eyes are flashing to yours. Your tongue wraps around his digit and you make sure to make a show of sucking it, small moans and hums falling from your mouth. When he pulls his finger out of your mouth, he’s quick to crash his lips on yours, sucking on your bottom lip.

Mat moves you further down the hallway where there’s barely any light. It’s filled with boxes and might be dusty, but none of you cared enough to leave.

The lip lock gets sloppier and rougher. You wouldn’t be surprised if there would be bruises on your lips afterwards.

“Maty,” you whine when he moves away.

“Look at what I found,” he says, showing you a bottle of wine that you had no idea where he got it.

The label reads “Capezzana: Vin Santo Di Carmignano Riserva.” You had never heard of it before, and it wasn’t one of the sample you had earlier.

Mat opens the bottle, as it had already been opened, and brings the bottle to your lips.

You allow him to pour some in your mouth, and you have to restrain yourself from taking your clothes off and letting him have his way with you. The look in his eyes was dark and so sexy.

After your small drink, Mat sets the bottle down and kisses you again.

“Fuck,” Mat whines at the sweet taste left on your tongue. It’s so good he can’t resist the chance of sucking on your tongue when his lips are back on yours.

Your hands abandoned his neck and are now satisfied with being buried in his hair, pulling on the soft strands.

“What has gotten into you?” You ask.

“You’re so sexy and just seeing you enjoy yourself after the stressful year you’ve had; I love seeing you happy,” Mat whispers.

You pout and become a puddle of mush at his sweet words. You were so appreciative of how much Mat had stepped up- especially with a busy hockey season. He was the best father, after all the fears he had, and he was the best partner you could ask for.

“How about you, hotshot? You’re sexy, drinking wine with me even though you hate it,” you speak into his lips.

Mat’s hold on your waist tightens and he buries his head in your neck. He sometimes got shy whenever you would compliment him with sincerity. His hands travel up your back, stopping just below your shoulder blades. It was his quiet way of making the moment sweet.

You slot your lips with his, savoring the way this kiss was softer, slower, but just as intimate as the others shared. Once the kiss turns into pecks, he presses them from your jaw to your cheek, making you giggle.

“We should probably head back,” he tells you.

“If we must,” you groan out.

He leads you back to the table, hand in hand, your hair looking a bit disheveled and your lips plump from all the kissing. You have to keep yourself from looking into the eyes of all the others. They didn’t need to know what just happened, and you didn’t want to think about the looks you were probably getting.

“Nice of you all to join us,” the tour guide says as we sit in our seats.

Mat smirks and I just smile and nod. Hopefully no one would post about it online, not that they really knew what happened.

Mat and you get through lunch with only little embarrassment from the knowing looks you both were getting, but besides that, everything was lovely. You continued to chat and laugh, and even allowed yourself to practically sit on Mat’s lap for most of it. You didn’t need to care about what the others were thinking.

Mat even surprised you when he flagged down one of the servers to request something.

“Can we each have a glass of Vin Santo Di Carmignano Riserva, please?”

You look at him surprised, not expecting him to ask for that certain wine. When you make eye contact with him, he shoots you a wink and a small smirk, making your heart pound faster, wanting to escape into his hands. He always knows how to make you feel giddy.

“I would actually like to buy two bottles,” Mat says when the wine was brought out to the both of you. You just let out a laugh and pull him away from his conversation to give him a loving kiss. You loved your man so much.

a/n: This part is set in the future bc if you noticed, I mentioned that they have a one year old, so say 4 years into the relationship. I hope you all enjoy!!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl one shot #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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yvetteheiser · 6 months ago

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Yvette Heiser Travel with Taste: Mastering the Art of Food Photography on the Road

Traveling opens up a world of culinary delights, and what better way to capture the essence of these experiences than through the lens of food photography? Whether you're a seasoned travel photographer or a food enthusiast with a passion for visual storytelling, mastering the art of food photography on the road can elevate your travel experiences to new heights. In this article, inspired by Yvette Heiser's insights on "Essential Qualities Every Travel Photographer Must Have we explore the fusion of travel and taste, delving into the captivating world of food photography and its role in documenting culinary adventures around the globe.

Embracing Culinary Diversity: The Intersection of Travel and Food Photography

As a travel photographer, the irresistible charm of varied cuisines and culinary traditions offers a unique chance to encapsulate the essence of a destination. From savoring street food in bustling markets to indulging in fine dining experiences at local eateries, every dish tells a story, and food photography serves as the visual narrative. The vibrant colors, textures, and intricate details of a well-prepared meal offer a rich tapestry of visual content that can transport viewers to the heart of a culture. Yvette Heiser talks about Food Photography, illustrating how this art form captures the soul of culinary experiences in her insightful discussions.

The Artistry of Food Photography: A Visual Feast for the Senses

Food photography is a delicate art form that goes beyond simply documenting a dish; it involves capturing the essence of flavors, aromas, and the cultural significance of a meal. Through skillful composition, lighting, and attention to detail, a travel photographer can transform a simple meal into a visual masterpiece. The interplay of natural light with the textures of food, the arrangement of ingredients, and the context of the dining environment adds depth and dimension to the visual narrative, inviting viewers to embark on a journey that engages all their senses.

Unveiling Culinary Destinations: The Role of Food Photography in Travel Documentation

In the world of travel photography, food becomes a captivating subject that captures the essence and spirit of a destination. From the vibrant street food stalls of Bangkok to the rustic trattorias of Tuscany, food photography becomes a means of preserving and sharing the essence of a place. Through evocative images of local delicacies, traditional cooking methods, and the conviviality of dining, a travel photographer can create a visual diary that encapsulates the spirit of each destination, inviting others to embark on a gastronomic adventure.

The Tools of the Trade: Tips for Mastering Food Photography on the Go

Mastering food photography on the road requires a combination of technical skill, creativity, and an understanding of the unique challenges posed by different environments. From selecting the right camera equipment and lenses to making the most of available lighting and composing captivating shots, a travel photographer must adapt to varying conditions while maintaining the integrity of the culinary subject. Additionally, embracing the local culture and engaging with chefs and food vendors can provide insight and authenticity to the visual narrative.

Conclusion: Capturing Culinary Adventures Through Food Photography

In summary, the amalgamation of travel and culinary exploration presents abundant prospects for travel photographers to hone their skills in the realm of food photography during their journeys. By immersing themselves in the varied culinary experiences, comprehending the artistic essence of food photography, and capturing the spirit of culinary destinations, photographers have the opportunity to craft a visual banquet that honors the convergence of travel and gastronomy. Therefore, seize your camera, embark on a voyage of flavors, and encapsulate the essence of culinary escapades through the captivating art of food photography. It's the perfect time to travel in search of taste and relish the visual wonders that await worldwide.

#yvette heiser #photography #camera #photographer #wedding #moments #pictures #childphotography #photographytips #events #travel photography

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camisoledadparis · 18 days ago

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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 … November 12

1660 – Cardinal Francesco Maria de' Medici, was born in Florence, the son of Grand duke Ferdinando II of Tuscany and Vittoria Della Rovere (d.1711).

In 1683 he was appointed to governor of Siena, a position he maintained until his death. He was the grand prior of the Sovereign Order of Malta in Pisa; Abbot commendatario of S. Galgano, Siena; Abbot commendatario of S. Stefano, Carrara, 1675.

According to a family tradition was promoted to the cardinalate at a young age in 1686. He remained in Florence, in his villa of Lappeggi, devoting himself to a life not really religious, made of amusements and love affairs with men.

He resigned the cardinalate on June 19, 1709 and was named prince of Siena. He then was forced to marry in 1709 Eleonore Luisa Gonzaga, duchess of Guastalla, daughter of Vincenzo Gonzaga, in an attempt to save the dynasty, but they did not have children.

1679 – Sweden: Lisabetha Olsdotter is convicted of abandoning her husband and children, becoming a soldier, and marrying a woman. She is accused of “mutilating” her gender and mocking God. She is executed by decapitation.

1746 – Jacques Charles (d.1823) was a French mathematician and inventor, best known for his work with the hydrogen balloon.

Jacques was the only child of his parents. Jacques' education consisted of basic arithmetic , and no science at all. Other than this almost nothing is known about his earlier years.

Late in life Jacques married a creole woman, Julie Françoise Bouchaud des Hérettes, who was 37 years younger than himself. Many historians believe that his marriage was a cover up for his homosexual relationship with the poet, Alphonse de Lamartine.

In 1785 Charles became a professor at the French Académie des Sciences without having any formal science education himself.

Without Charles's contributions, the Hindenburg would not have even existed, so that accident would not have occurred, and we wouldn't have the one-way valve, or at least until someone else came up for the idea after Charles did.

Most notably Jacques Charles is known for the Hydrogen balloon which he built with the Robert Brothers. Jacques originally got the idea for using hydrogen gas as a lifting agent after intensive study of Boyle's Law. Previous to the use of hydrogen gas, hot air was used to make balloons fly.

Charles also is known for the invention of the gas valve, which he used on his hydrogen balloons, the hydrometer, and the reflection goniometer. He improved the heilostat and the arometer. Charles also confirmed Benjamin Franklin's electrical experiments. Charles is also responsible for Charles's Law, but did not publish it. It was published by Joseph Gay-Lussac in 1802, and Joseph named it in Charles's honor, crediting an unpublished work by Jacques Charles.

Jacques Charles outlived his young wife, and later died himself April 7, 1823 in Paris.

1915 – Roland Barthes (d.1980), a French semanticist, symbolist, and philosopher, like André Gide and Marcel Proust, two of his favorite writers, was somewhat of an outsider. He was Protestant. (France is predominantly Catholic.) He was left-handed. (France is, of course, predominantly right-handed.) He was déclassé. (Barthes's father, a naval officer, died in the First World War, and his mother had to work as a bookbinder.) He was consumptive. (Barthes spent several years in sanatoria.) And he was expatriate. (Barthes spent the 1950s in the Middle East and Eastern Europe, working for cultural services.) He was also, like Proust, (if not like Gide, who saw himself as a pederast), a homosexual.

Barthes's critical writings are best understood in relation to this sexual marginality. Because Barthes sees homosexuality, and for that matter any transgressive and eccentric "perversion," as unclassifiable, he rejects the classification "inversion" as inaccurate—a notion that will come as a surprise to gays and lesbians who see themselves as "inverts."

Oddly enough, Barthes does not reject every gay male stereotype. Barthes rejects sexual inversion, but embraces "tricking" and "cruising," activities that he claims represent true sexual liberation. (Not that they did so for Barthes himself; his autobiographical texts suggest he had an unhappy love life.) Cruising, he writes, is "anti-natural, anti-repetition." It may be that Barthes is simply "protecting" his sexuality here (something he feels all writers do), or at least the macho ("phallocentric") part of his sexuality because whereas sexual inversion feminizes gay men, cruising for tricks is a rather manly (and purportedly desirable) thing to do.

Barthes sees tricking and cruising as desirable in another sense as well. The trick, he writes, "is homogenous to the amorous progression; it is a virtual love, deliberately stopped short on each side, by contract." Likewise, men cruise with "the invincible idea that one will find someone with whom to be in love." Some gays (who cruise for sex, not love) will find these descriptions unrealistic. Barthes, however, feels that sentimentality, in an age such as ours in which love doesn't make too much sense, is essentially—and even nonparadoxically—insignificant.

According to Barthes, "it is Western discourse as such" —discourse that marginalizes and stereotypes gays and lesbians—" that we must now try to break apart."

1930 – Bob Crewe (d.2014) was an American songwriter, dancer, singer, manager, record producer and fine artist. He was known for producing, and co-writing with Bob Gaudio, a string of Top 10 singles for the Four Seasons.

Born in Newark in 1930 and reared in Belleville, New Jersey, Crewe demonstrated an early and apparent gift for both art and music. Although lacking in formal musical training, he gravitated to learning from many of the great 19th- and 20th-century classical romantic composers as well as giants of jazz and swing, including Stan Kenton, Harry James, Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Tommy Dorsey. He studied for almost a year at Parsons School of Design in New York City with the intention of eventually pursuing a career in architecture.

In 1953 Crewe met and partnered professionally with Frank Slay Jr., a young pianist from Texas. Their collaboration created several hit songs (including a small record label XYZ), for which Crewe performed as the demo singer. Crewe and Slay's 1957 recording session with the Rays for their XYZ label (picked up nationally by Cameo Records) produced two big song hits. Produced by Crewe, the record's A-side, "Silhouettes", became a doo-wop anthem of the era. Climbing to #3 on the Billboard Hot 100 for 1957, "Silhouettes" displayed the flair for story-driven lyrics, innovative musical "hooks", and a final lyrical twist that were to become known as Crewe trademarks. "Daddy Cool" was the B side of that same 1957 session. His song-writing career was launched.

As a songwriter, his most successful songs included "Silhouettes" (co-written with Frank Slay); "Big Girls Don't Cry", "Walk Like a Man", "Rag Doll", "Silence Is Golden", "The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine (Anymore)", "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" and "Bye, Bye, Baby" (all co-written with Gaudio); "Let's Hang On!" (wriiten with Sandy Linzer and Denny Randell); and "My Eyes Adored You" and "Lady Marmalade" (both co-written with Kenny Nolan). He also had hit recordings with the Rays, Diane Renay, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, Freddy Cannon, Lesley Gore, Oliver, Michael Jackson, Bobby Darin, Roberta Flack, Peabo Bryson, Patti LaBelle, and his own Bob Crewe Generation.

Since 2005 Crewe has been featured as a supporting character (played originally by Peter Gregus) in Jersey Boys, the multiple Tony Award-winning, long-running Broadway musical (later a film) based on the story of Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons that has gone on to become an international hit. Crewe is credited as the show's lyricist. He used his proceeds from the show to start a foundation supporting people with AIDS, gay rights, and bringing music and art to children in deprived communities.

Crewe was portrayed as "overtly gay" in "Jersey Boys," but his brother Dan told The New York Times he was discreet about his sexuality, particularly during the time he was working with the Four Seasons.

"Whenever he met someone, he would go into what I always called his John Wayne mode, this extreme machoism," Dan Crewe told The New York Times. He was then asked if any of the songs his brother wrote were based on a romance with another man and he demurred, "Bob was just a good story teller." But were they stories about his boyfriends, changed into stories about girlfriends?

1946 – James F. Amos is a retired United States Marine Corps four-star general who served as the 35th Commandant of the Marine Corps. As a Naval Aviator, Amos commanded the 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing during the Iraq War in 2003 and 2004. He served as the 31st Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps. He is the first Marine Corps aviator to serve as commandant.

As Commandant, Amos opposed the repeal of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy regarding homosexuals openly serving in the U.S. military. After President Obama signed the legislation setting the conditions for repeal, Amos led the Department of Defense in carrying out the will of the nation's civilian leadership. In late November 2011, Amos stated that his opposition to gays openly serving in the military has proven unfounded and said that Marines have embraced the change, describing the repeal as a "non-event."

1970 – Craig Parker, born in Suva, Fiji, is an actor from New Zealand, known for his roles as Haldir in the films The Fellowship of the Ring (2001) and The Two Towers (2002), Darken Rahl in the television series Legend of the Seeker, Stéphane Narcisse in the CW television series Reign, and Gaius Claudius Glaber in the television series Spartacus.He also serves as narrator for New Zealand documentaries. Parker starred in the TVNZ soap Shortland Street, as Guy Warner, a character that has made several return appearances, most recently involving a story where Guy ran off with his brother's wife, Toni, only to return months later as a drug addled loser who attempted to use his daughter to score drugs for him. It ultimately led to the death storyline of Toni Warner. He is the reigning champion of New Zealand's Celebrity Joker Poker.

Parker first publicly discussed being gay in an interview with New Zealand’s Sunday Herald back in 2008. Regarding his sexuality, the very private Parker told the reporter that as a gay man, he doesn’t care what people say about his sexuality and that:

It’s jut not an issue for me. I just don’t get why an actor would want to reveal their secrets, hopes and fears to a magazine or newspaper. I know what the magazine gets out of it, but not the person. If you are doing publicity to increase your self-confidence then you are really in trouble. It’s important to keep some privacy. Your friends and family are the people you reveal yourself to. They are the ones who should have real access to you.

1976 – Tevin Campbell is an American singer, songwriter and actor. He performed gospel in his local church from an early age. Following an audition for jazz musician Bobbi Humphrey in 1988, Campbell was signed to Warner Bros. Records.

In 1989, Campbell collaborated with Quincy Jones performing lead vocals for "Tomorrow" on Jones' album Back on the Block and released his Platinum-selling debut album, T.E.V.I.N. The album included his highest-charting single to date, "Tell Me What You Want Me to Do", peaking at number 6 on the Billboard Hot 100.

His double-Platinum-selling second album, I'm Ready, released in 1993, included two high-charting songs. In 1996, Campbell released his third album, Back to the World, which was not as commercially or critically successful as his first two releases. His fourth and most recent album, Tevin Campbell, was released in 1999, but performed poorly on Billboard's album charts.

Apart from music, Campbell commenced an acting career, by appearing in the sequel to Prince's Purple Rain named Graffiti Bridge and made guest appearances on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Moesha television programs, voiced fictional pop star Powerline in Disney's A Goofy Movie and was cast as Seaweed in the Broadway musical Hairspray in 2005.

Campbell earned 5 Grammy Award nominations, and he has certified sales of 4.5 million records in the United States, according to the Recording Industry Association of America.

Campbell has dealt with speculation of his sexuality for years without directly addressing anything. Campbell had long denied rumors that he was a homosexual but in 1999 was arrested after offering to perform a sexual favor on a male undercover police officer. According to a report released by the Los Angeles Police Department, Campbell, on July 8,1999, he solicited a lewd act from an undercover officer. Also following the arrest, officers recovered a substance resembling marijuana and a pipe containing possible marijuana residue.

In 2018, he has stated that he can't figure out why people are still so interested in whether or not he's gay. There has been rumors that Quincy Jones sexually assaulted him as a minor, which Campbell denied. In 2020, he threatened to file a lawsuit against Jaguar Wright for claims that he had become a sex worker.

1985 – Ben Aldridge is an English actor. He is best known for his portrayal of Thomas Wayne in the crime drama series Pennyworth and "Arsehole Guy" in the tragicomedy series Fleabag.

Having worked with the National Youth Theatre, Aldridge graduated from the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art with a bursary from the Genesis Foundation for young actors. He left early to begin filming the 2009 ITV film Compulsion alongside Ray Winstone and Parminder Nagra.

In 2008, Aldridge made his television debut in Channel 4's four-part miniseries The Devil's Whore, playing Harry Fanshawe, husband of the title character. That same year, he was featured on Screen International's "Stars of Tomorrow" list. In addition to First Light, Lewis, Toast and Vera, Aldridge also appeared as Daniel Parish in the BBC One period drama Lark Rise to Candleford. In 2011, the American network The CW cast Aldridge as the lead in the pilot Heavenly. Later on he spent time in Belgrade shooting the partially improvised romance short film In the Night for director Ivana Bobic and award-winning cinematographer Rain Li, alongside supermodel Danijela Dimitrovska.

In 2013, Aldridge starred in Almeida Theatre's production of American Psycho as Paul Owen, opposite Matt Smith as Patrick Bateman. The musical thriller featured a book by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa based on Bret Easton Ellis's cult novel, with music and lyrics by Duncan Sheik.

In September 2014, he joined BBC's original drama series Our Girl as Captain Charles James. He is currently the longest serving cast member.

In December 2014, Aldridge joined The CW's series Reign as King Antoine of Navarre.

On 27 June 2020, Aldridge came out as a member of LGBT community on his Instagram.

"The journey to pride was a long one for me. I love the LGBTQ+ community and am incredibly proud and thankful to be a part of it," Aldridge wrote.

The actor also shared some black-and-white photos from historic Pride marches along with a short video showing him kissing a man on the cheek.

1994 – Guillaume Cizeron is a French ice dancer. With his partner, Gabriella Papadakis, he is the 2018 Olympic silver medalist, a four-time World champion (2015–2016, 2018–2019), a five-time consecutive European champion (2015–2019), the 2017 and 2019 Grand Prix Final champion, and a six-time French national champion (2015–2020). They have won ten gold medals on the Grand Prix series. Earlier in their career, they won silver at the 2012 Junior Grand Prix Final and 2013 World Junior Championships.

Papadakis and Cizeron have broken world records 28 times, which is in itself a record across all figure skating disciplines since the introduction of the ISU Judging System in 2004. They are the current and historical world record holders in short/rhythm dance, free dance, and combined total. They are the first team to have broken the 90-point barrier in the rhythm dance, the 120-point and 130-point barriers in the free dance, and the first team to score above the 200-point, 210-point and 220-point barriers in the combined total score.

The pair are recognized for their graceful and balletic style. Their programs, inspired by modern dance, have been described as lyrical, and commentators have frequently acclaimed the quality of their skating skills.

Guillaume Cizeron was born in Montbrison, Loire, France. His father, Marc, is president of the Auvergne Clermont Danse sur Glace skating club.

Cizeron studied fine arts in Lyon before moving to Canada. He relocated to Montreal, Quebec, Canada from France on 14 July 2014, following his coach, Haguenauer.

On 17 May 2020, in honour of the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia, he came out as gay with a post on Instagram showing him with his boyfriend. He had been out to his family and friends for a while but was convinced his doing so would help people in places that were not as open to LGBTQ people.

While Cizeron had never publicly confirmed his sexuality before recently, he says that he never felt that he was in the closet."It was quite funny, the reaction of people following this photo," he told French LGBTQ magazine Têtu.

"I would not consider myself in the closet before…So I don't really consider it coming out. Even though I have never spoken publicly about my sexual orientation, I am one of those who think that it is not something that community members should have to do."Of the boyfriend: "It's my most serious relationship so far," he said. "We live together, he is French… I will not give too much information and say too much to respect his privacy. What I can say is that he is 33 years old, and we have been together for more than 3 years."

With the pandemic affecting international travel, the ISU opted to assign the Grand Prix based primarily on geographic location, but Papadakis/Cizeron were nonetheless assigned to the 2020 Internationaux de France, necessitating traveling from Canada to France. However, the Internationaux was ultimately cancelled due to the pandemic as well. Both skaters contracted COVID-19 in July of 2019, after contact with a third individual, resulting in them being away from the ice for three weeks.

On November 11, 2020, L'Equipe reported that Papadakis/Cizeron would skip both the French and European championships for that season to focus on the World Championships in Stockholm, citing the difficulty of traveling back and forth between countries frequently.

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