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sinofwriting · 1 year ago

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Private Professor - Max Verstappen

Words: 5,576 Summary: For years and years, Max has claimed that he has a girlfriend, but no one has ever met her and he refuses to talk about her with the media. And it’s far easier to believe that he’s lying when no proof of a girl exists. Note(s)/Warning(s): Small Age Gap (Reader is nearly two years younger), Some Angst, Mostly Fluff, Jos Verstappen. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing it!

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At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship is all blood rushing to their cheeks, fluttering hands, kisses that last too long and not long enough, panting breaths, and hickeys below shirt collars. It’s whispers of forever, of I’ll take you here and there. That house will be ours one day. Whatever you want, you’ll have. I’ll be on break, you’ll come home and I’ll be waiting. You’ll follow me everywhere and I’ll do the same.

It’s promises they don’t realize they shouldn’t be making but do. It’s sweet nothings and petty fights that last a day before they’re back in each other's arms. It’s pretending not to notice how his dad watches him amused as he walks calmly out of the door before sprinting over to her house and sneaking into her bedroom. It’s her parents pretending not to hear the thud of him falling into her bedroom and the light giggles their daughter makes.

At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship changes. It’s no longer seeing each other when he doesn’t have a race or training and is home, no Red Bull duties to be done. It’s long phone calls, texts, snapchat streaks, learning how to video call. It’s carrying two power banks with them everywhere and Max buying them both expensive phone cases that charge their phones. It’s falling asleep on the phone while the other is just beginning their day. He attends classes with her, while she listens to him train. He goes to red bull meetings and pretends not to have the light sound of breathing in his ears from her falling asleep while studying or doing her homework.

Fifteen and seventeen, brings them peace. She’s still studying like a mad woman at Harvard of all places, but he’s got an F1 seat of all things. He’s in F1. He suddenly has more things to do but more free time. When he’s not racing or at the factory or doing weird press things that make him want to rip his hair out, Jos is putting him on a plane to America, to her. And he soaks up all the time with her he can, despite it being filled with her studying, attending classes, and forcing actual food down her throat which her parents both thank him for.

It also brings the stupidest thing in the world; the doubt and disbelief that he has a girlfriend.

Carlos is the first to bring it up upon seeing his home screen that’s just all black, not even the default that iphone has.

“No girlfriend?” Max frowns at him, pocketing his phone and sending a glance over to where his father is standing and talking to his race engineer. “What?” “Your home screen, it’s all black. You don’t have a girlfriend?” Carlos is teasing, joking. The whole paddock already knows that Jos Verstappen wouldn’t let his son have a girlfriend, not now when he’s got an F1 seat. Such a thing would be a distraction and Max isn’t allowed those. Max isn’t allowed friends on the grid either. Carlos wonders though how much the last part is just a Jos thing. “I do.” Then he says her name, all soft and sweet in a way Carlos never thought Max could be. It’s nearly enough for him to believe Max, but then he catches a glimpse of Jos and shakes his head, clapping the seventeen year old on the back.

He is the first to not believe Max, but far from the last. It’s Daniel next, Christian, Esteban, Pierre, Sebastian, Lando, every interviewer that asks.

It doesn’t matter because at seventeen and nineteen, she gets her second degree and begins the nightmare of getting her doctorates in education and history. And he picks out a ring before making his father hide it away. And instead of him constantly flying to her, she’s flying to him. Hiding out in his Monaco apartment, turning his living room into a disaster zone as she spreads her things around to study.

The mess drives him crazy, but he doesn’t move anything no matter how much his hands itch to do so, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pressing himself in between her and the couch. Grinning when she sends him a look, a clear don’t be a distraction, before giving him a kiss.

His days in Monaco when she’s there are spent in the living room after training, playing fifa or watching some documentary for one of her classes with her, and poking at her lightly because he doesn’t know shit about history but he’s still able to remember countries quicker than her.

They turn eighteen and twenty and nearly get married when her family goes on vacation to Vegas, dragging the two along despite them not being able gamble, which is the only reason her parents had chosen Vegas. The only thing that stops them from getting married is him not being a US citizen and her visa just being for school. It’s a fucking wakeup call for him and he can’t help but pester her about places in Monaco to live.

She entertains it for all of five minutes before she’s cupping his face and kissing him. When she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “As long as it has you and four bedrooms, I don’t care.” “Four?” “We’ll need our own offices and a guest room.”

It’s barely anything for the real estate agent to work with but he doesn’t care. He wants something that’s at least four bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen, and a view. She liked the Monaco sunrise and sunset and he planned on letting her be able to see it anytime they stayed in Monaco.

His agent gets back to him in a week and he ignores the look on Daniel’s face when he comes over for the first time. Ignores the jokes about it being too big for one person just like Daniel ignores him saying that he has a girlfriend.

“If you had one, I’d have seen a picture of her mate. The whole world would.”

Max still remembers the way his jaw had twitched at the thing everyone said. That if he had a girlfriend, they’d have seen a picture of her, that he’d be showing her off every second, have her at the races, been seen with her. When Max had made it abundantly clear that the worst part of driving was the media, the fame. So why would he ever subject someone he loves to that when they both weren’t ready for that?

Because they weren’t. He wasn’t ready for another part of his life, one of the most important parts, to be something for everyone to look at and dissect. And she wasn’t ready for it either. Not when she was doing so much studying. She barely felt like she had time for him, which he denied and hated vehemently, she didn’t have time for the online vitriol of being a girlfriend to a high profile athlete. And she didn’t need to be harassed as she attended classes and studies groups and such if someone recognized her and didn’t like that she was with him.

Not showing any pictures or videos of her was also easy for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any, he had hundreds. But they were pictures and videos of her, only meant for him. Not because they were dirty in nature, though some were, but because how she was in them was something only she allowed him to see. It was photos of her with a finger pressed to her top lip as she glared at her books, videos of her sitting on something too tall for her feet to touch the ground and letting them swing. It was her smiling at him, all fond, shy and in love.

It was them wrapped up in each other's arms and love. Her in between his legs or the other way around. Her sitting on his lap as Vic stole his phone to video them laughing and exchanging kisses. Her giggles as she tries not to fall asleep as reads her books to him over facetime. It’s her in her purest form and he doesn’t want the people in his life who are so quick and sure to not believe him to get to see that.

Nineteen and twenty-one, she officially co-owns their place in Monaco and he starts scouting out property in Belgium and land in France that’s somewhat close to the principality he lives in. It was too early to start building a house to live in forever, not when they weren’t sure what they wanted to live in forever with their kids, but it wasn’t too early to buy the land for it.

It also leads to their biggest fight in years.

“Max!” Her nails are digging into her arms. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I want to help, that I can pay. I have money!” “And you don’t need to!” He’s yelling as well, face red with anger. “I’ve got money too! You don’t need to pay for shit when I can.” She shakes her head. “Really? Is that how it's always going to be? I won’t ever get to pay for anything? Just have a salary and trust fund wasting away.” She scoffs, giving another shake of her head. “Is it about being the breadwinner? Because don’t worry Max, I’m well aware that you’ll always have more money than me. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute to our life.” “Fuck.” He murmurs seeing the tears brimming in her eyes but not falling, the hurt in her words. “It’s not about that at all. It’s not about being the breadwinner.” “Then what is it about?” Her voice is high pitched. “You won’t let me pay for a single thing! I can’t buy groceries without you slipping money back into my wallet. I can’t help pay the bills and now you won’t let me help buy the land that will have our house on it. What is it about Max?” “You’re mine.” Her eyes widened at his quiet but firm tone. “You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life. One day my wife and the mother of my children.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling words and feelings he’s only ever really let come out during sex or when they're both so drunk they barely remember anything the next day. “I want to pay for everything because it’s providing for you, it’s making sure you’re eating, sleeping somewhere safe, getting the best, most accommodating flights. It’s knowing that I’m providing for my family.”

“Max,” she breathes out, arms falling away from her chest and then she’s moving closer, resting a hand over his racing heart. “You want to provide for me?” He nods. “For our future kids?” “Yes.” “So do I. So, we’re going to work on this. You want to buy the land, you can.” He looks at her distrusting, because this didn’t sound like working on it. “But, I get to pay for groceries when I go out for them, without you paying me back. I get to pay for netflix because I use it more and spotify.” She adds. He frowns at her. “I don’t like it.” “Too bad and I’m not done. In return, you get to pay the bills, put gas in the car for me,” he grins at that. “Pay for my flights and we are going to open a joint account to put an equal amount of money in every month. For things like vacations, anniversary dinners, and the kids. Because it’s important that I get to help provide for them too. And when we build that house together, I want to pay at least half of the contracting fee. I’ll let you pay for the rest.” “I want to pay for any of the kids' interests. Like art, ballet or karting.” “No deal.” She shakes her head and he’s frowning again. “You can pay for all the karting, it will mean more. But I want it out of the shared account for the other things. Unless,” she pauses. “Unless,” he encourages. “If any of them decides to go to university early like me, I want to pay fully for it.” “No.” It’s quick and now she’s frowning as well. “It’s our children and their education. Shared account.” “Their first degree.” He shakes his head. “And if it’s their only degree?” Her brows press together, it was a good point. Just because they decided to go to university early like her didn’t mean they’d go for more than one degree. “First year.” His eyes narrow as he looks at her, but he nods. “First year. But only of the first degree.” “First degree only.” She agrees.

It’s quiet between them before Max lets his face soften, lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Are we done fighting?” She laughs, but nods. “Yeah. We’re done fighting.” “Thank god.” He breathes, pulling her into his arms and burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Let’s not do that again.” “Not anytime soon at least.” “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

Twenty and twenty-two has their families asking when exactly they’re getting married, wondering why there isn’t a ring on her finger and their only saving grace is their time spent in Monaco together away from them all. But when it gets to be too much as pressure builds as she tries to finish her doctorate in education while still working on her doctorate for history, it’s Jos that steps in for her and Max.

The three of them shared a complicated relationship. She could never like him for the parent he was to Max growing up. From the near abuse he hurled at him when he failed, the pressure he put on a child, the leaving him in a foreign country for a few hours when he wasn’t even a teenager more than once. But she did love him, because Max loved him and in his own way he loved Max and he showed that with his support of their relationship when everyone expected for him to have a problem with it, label it as a distraction. And now as a few years had passed and Max was comfortable in his F1 seat, he was Max’s fiercest defender, unwilling to back down, but would if Max told him too. And he was her fiercest defender as well. Glaring at jokes about her not needing a degree with the money Max made, not forcing her to join on trips when she was busy with school or questioning her support of Max because she didn’t attend races.

So, neither Max or her are surprised when Jos steps in when her grandparents are trying to back them into a corner as to why she doesn’t have a ring on her finger and how they have a number for a wedding planner and she should really give her a call, when all they want is to get breakfast before retreating to their room so she can resume her studies while Max hovers around her while going over his own work.

She hadn’t been thrilled at first when she learned that Jos would join them on the trip, knowing that Sophie wouldn’t be there, but now she was grateful and she made sure to squeeze his shoulder before leaving the kitchen and scheduled a nice quiet dinner for herself, Max and Jos as thanks.

The media becomes relentless when they’re twenty-two and twenty-four and Max wins his first championship. Because there is no girlfriend in sight despite the now champions thanks for her support and love. They tear Max apart for creating a fake girlfriend that has no name or face, call him unloveable with his fake championship. Some tear her apart as well, calling her gold digger, selfish, undeserving, fans of Max and the sport do as well.

It was supposed to be a happy moment for him, one of if not the best in his life, but it’s tainted, ruined, and as soon as he’s home with her in Monaco, all she can do is hold him and pretend that the texts from his friends begging him to go out and get laid don’t make her cry later in the shower.

Despite the texts and a bold one from Daniel about hiring him a prostitute, she forces Max to go out, to celebrate with the drivers in Monaco, to get drunk and have fun, and forget what the media is saying about him.

“I’m coming back if one of them even hints at a prostitute.” He tells her and she laughs, but she knows that he’s serious. He’s never even once considered cheating on her and one of their first serious fights had been about her trying to convince him and herself that she’d be okay if he got lonely while he was traveling and needed someone. He hadn’t believed it for a second and it had been one of the few times he had been so pissed at her that he couldn’t even stomach to look at her.

“Am I making a mistake, mom?” She asks, barely five minutes later, not even bothering saying hi when her mom greets her over the phone. “No.” Her mom’s voice is firm and has her blinking away tears. “But,” “No.” Her mom cuts her off. “Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to try and understand Max and yours relationship. But this, this privacy that you two have, that’s not a mistake. It’s rough right now and it will be. And it will come back later when you two do decide to be public, but it’s not a mistake. You two both made the difficult, heartbreaking, mature decision to keep it private for both of yours sake.” “I know.” She whispers, wiping away tears. “You both still need privacy and there is no shame in that. Max isn’t ready and neither are you. As far as I’m concerned the only mistake you two have made is still not being married with a baby on the way.” “Mom.” She groans and her mom laughs. “I know, I know. Just remember that despite the seven or so years you’ve been together, that you two are still young, still doing so much growing.” “Thank you.” “Of course.”

When Max arrives home hours later, drunkenly stumbling around and into bed, she’s not surprised by the smell of liquor clinging to him or the drunken murmurings he’s pressing to her skin. She is surprised by the deep inhale he takes and the splutter that makes her turn to face him.

Eyes a little blurry from sleep and wine, she makes out squinted eyes, flushed face, and a frown.

“You’re drunk.” “You’re drunk.” She replies, curling closer to him. “You’ve been crying.” “Yeah.” He slips an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’re going to feel like shit when we wake up.” “Yeah.” He chuckles, brushing lips over her forehead. “That bad?” “That bad.” She nods.

At twenty-three and twenty-four, the itch that Max has had since he was nineteen, one that’s grown worse and worse as the years have gone by, is too persistent and he takes a quick trip to his fathers house the day after she turns twenty-three and returns with a ring and the promises they made at fourteen and sixteen, promising them all over again, as she stares at him with a smile and teary eyes.

“I’d be stupid to not want to marry you Max.” She tells him when he slips the ring on her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes on, fitting perfectly. “You’re going to marry me.” She nods, giggling at his blown pupils and silly grin. “Yes, I am.”

It seems stupid to be so giggly and flustered about it, so love sick, when they’ve talked about it so much. About getting married, about houses, kids, life after racing and teaching. But it’s different with the ring on her finger. Not more real or tangible. Just more.

“I know I proposed early.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and his arms eagerly wrap around her waist. “It’s perfect. I know we talked and had plans, but this is perfect. Besides, I’ve got news of my own that’s early.” “Oh?” Max’s eyebrow raises and he knows it’s not possible, not really with her religious use of the birth control shot and the way they mainly use condoms, more for convenience than anything else, but his eyes drift down to her abdomen that’s exposed. There’s no difference, but he can imagine what it would look like, he can also imagine what it will look like in a few hours. “Not that.” Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. “I got an email about my viva exam.” “Your viva? But you haven’t submitted your thesis yet.” “Actually,” “Stop.” He lifts a hand to press it against her mouth. “You submitted your thesis already? You completed it?” She nods, her laughter muffled by his hand and he drops it. “Well, what did it say? The email.” “Once I get to the ceremony, I will officially hold a doctorate in education and history.” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

“Unbelievable my love, unbelievable. Two doctorates by twenty-three.” He shakes his head, smiling wide. “You know what that means right?” He shakes his head again, unable to think of anything. Too overcome with his proudness and love for her. “I’ll have my position at Harvard right after the ceremony.” Blue eyes widen. “And they agreed to let me teach a mix schedule for all of 2022, but when the official school year starts for 2023, I’ll just be teaching digital.”

Twenty-three and twenty-five has them weathering the media storm once again as Max wins his second world championship. It’s worse this time. Not because he says more than he did last time about her or says her name or slips up and calls her his fiancee and not girlfriend like they agreed to. But because this championship no one can deny is his and she’s still not there. Too busy in a different continent with the start of the school year as she teaches by herself for the first time since earning both her doctorates.

It’s also not as bad this time, because some of his friends do think that he’s seeing someone, not the girlfriend of years, or even really a girlfriend, but just some random girl that understands he’s too busy for an actual relationship and willing to put up with him spouting to the media and everyone else that he’s in a committed relationship. She doesn’t have time to focus on the media and fans that believe she exists, she barely did last year, but this year she really doesn’t.

“You know,” she says five days after he’s won his championship and they are in the house they have stayed in for the past two years when she has to be at Harvard and he wants to join her. “Around this time next year, we’ll be public.” His face does a weird contortion at the thought. There was a giddiness to the idea, to the thought, but also dread. “That means,” she continues when Max doesn’t say anything. “That you have ample time to figure out how you want to tell people.” “How I want to?” “Yeah. This is your world, your friends, colleagues, nightmares,” she adds and they both laugh. “You can decide how exactly you want to get back at them for not believing you.” “I’m not going to be cruel.” “No.” She lifts her hand and lets her pointer finger trace over his lips. “You’ve never been a cruel person, Max. But you can be a menace.” His eyes light up at that. “Oh. And you don’t care?” She shakes her head, “This is all you and I’m more than happy to be along for the ride.”

She is twenty-four and he has just turned twenty-six when he decides to enact his plan that he came up with so many months ago.

He had made a reservation for a private hall in Monaco months ago, hired a party planner to take care of the finer details, but sorted himself out the place and the food and drinks that would be served. And the day after he turns twenty-six, he picks up the large stack of enveloped invitations he had made and carefully packs them in his suitcase for Qatar. He was winning the championship there and he’d be damned if he didn’t make an already memorable weekend even better.

It’s the first time in a decade she has traveled with him to a race to actually watch the race and not just be there at the hotel to support him as she studies and he can’t help the smugness and happiness that radiates off him when he shows up to the track for the first day.

He’s got his backpack over his shoulder, but the invitations are already in his hands, ready to be passed out.

“Max!” Charles greets when he arrives in the driver's debrief room. All twenty of them, plus reserves, team principals, and Daniel sitting and standing around as they wait for the FIA representative to get here. He looks down at his watch, noting that it will at least another ten minutes, before his eyes flicker to a member of the Red Bull staff that’s standing against a wall, but just like he asked, they’ve got a camera in their hands and there’s another one standing leaning against the opposite wall, also with a camera. “Charles. Safe flight?” “Always. What do you have there?” “Ooh,” Daniel chimes in, moving closer and looking at the envelopes in his hands. “What do you have there?” He smirks and he can see Daniel’s grin flatter at the sight for a brief second. “Invitations.” He says, before tossing or passing them around to the different drivers and Christian. He nearly avoids giving Lando one just to be a shit but Toto isn’t there to give it too and it wouldn’t be the same to give it to a different team principal jokingly.

“What is it for?” Carlos asks, eyeing the dark envelope like a lot of the other drivers are, suspiciously. He shrugs, eyebrows raising when he sees the way Lando is feeling the envelope. “Mate, I’m not giving you money.” Lando frowns, before ripping it open. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.” Seeing Lando open his, has the rest of them following suit.

“Dear friends of Max Verstappen,” George reads out and the wording earns a few snorts but he continues. “You are invited to celebrate at the” he pauses squinting at the french on the page. “The Salle des Étoiles” Charles says. “Cheers, mate. You’re invited to celebrate on the 8th of November at 4pm.” His eyebrows furrow. “Celebrate what?” Max watches from the corner of his eye as Christian flips the invitation over and nearly chokes.

“Your engagement?” “Your what?” “Engaged?” “Impossible.” “Lies.”

The whole room is filled with denial and panic and Max just smiles, nearly laughing when Logan thrusts his invitation into James’ hands and asks the team principal if it’s true.

“Max, you aren’t engaged, right? Like that was a fuck up with the print place?” Daniel is nearly pleading, begging, and Max would feel sorry, but for the past ten years he’s been telling people he isn’t single, and sure he’s never shared many details, but they all refused to believe or even consider it. He ignores him, instead looking at the room in large. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s very excited about it.” And as if he planned it, the FIA official walks into the room and no one can question him.

When the meeting is over he manages to avoid all of them except for Christian, who nearly drags him into a private room.

“Is this real?” Max raises an eyebrow at the way he’s waving around the invitation but nods. “Yes.” “You’re really engaged.” “Yes, Christian. I am.” The older man stares at him, not blinking before sighing and running a hand over his face. “Is she pregnant?” “What?” “The girl you’ve been sleeping with recently. Is she pregnant, is that what this is about? Because you don’t have to marry her.” “No one is pregnant.” He reassures, not even able to find any anger for Christian and his assumption. The older man sighs again before sitting down and slumping in the chair.

“You’ve had a girlfriend since you were sixteen.” There’s regret, guilt, and sorrow in his voice. “Yes.” “And I never believed you.” He shrugs, it had hurt yes, but he had always understood Christian’s disbelief in it over anyone else's. “No.” Christian nods. “And I owe you both an apology for that. I should have believed you Max.” “Thank you.” “But really, ten years and you’ve just put a ring on it?” Max groans, rolling his eyes. “You sound like our families.”

They are twenty-four and twenty-six when Max wins his third championship, with the sprint race of all things, and the whole world watches as he’s enveloped by his team before he’s tugging off his helmet and kissing the unfamiliar girl that’s between Christian and Jos, shielded from the rough crowd of Red Bull mechanics, crew, and such. They are twenty-four and twenty-six when everyone finds out that Max had been telling the truth the whole time.

Just about a month later, she eases into the spot between Max and the arm of the couch, eagerly tucking herself closer to him when he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

“You alright?” She nods, “Yeah, Vic and Tom finally left.” Max snorts, “It only took them thirty minutes.” “A record for them.” She grins, before looking at the other people surrounding them, or rather Max. She wasn’t surprised that Max had taken to quickly grabbing a few people and secluding themselves in a corner. She was a bit surprised by the people however.

Charles and Daniel which isn’t too surprising, but there’s the three rookies of the season, Liam, Oscar, and Logan, as well, a little surprising, but nothing compared to the two Mercedes drivers also in front of her.

“You aren’t trying to get Lewis to play paddle are you?” Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “I get enough of competing with him on the track. There’s no convincing me there.” “It’s fun, Lewis.” Charles says. “You should join. George you too. Make it Mercedes versus,” he pauses, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to think of something to call himself and Max. “Lestappen.” She offers, inching away a bit when Max pinches her side. Charles doesn’t notice the pinch, just smiles at her, before looking at the two British drivers. “Yes! Mercedes versus Lestappen.” His eyebrows then furrow. “What is Lestappen?” “Mate, you don’t want to know.” Liam tells him. Logan chuckles, “I don’t know. Either he finds out now or he finds out when he googles it later.” “Googles it.” George murmurs, mocking the American accent that Logan has. “Bloody Americans.” “Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets.” Logan waves off Georges mocking with a grin as he looks at Charles. “It’s what people call you and Max, a nickname you could say for when you two are together.” She tells him before Logan can say anything. “Oh,” he frowns, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “It’s not.” She assures.

Before anyone can say anything else, someone joins their group, eyes focusing on her.

“Dr. Y/L/N, congratulations on your engagement.” She looks at the older man in surprise before quickly standing to shake his hand. “Toto, a pleasure to see you again. And please you don’t need to call me doctor.” Toto smiles, tilting his head forwards, conceding as she sits back down. “Doctor?” Daniel questions, eyes flitting between her and the Mercedes team principal, not sure of what to make of the interaction, though Max seems perfectly fine with it. She presses her lips together and she can feel Max move a bit closer as Toto’s eyes narrow at Max. “Yes.” She tells Daniel and the rest. “I managed to get both of my doctorates last year.” A few jaws drop and Lewis whistles. “And I thought you were just a teacher.” Toto’s looking at her now, with narrowed eyes and she sighs.

It would be just her luck that despite having just met the man once, that one time had resulted in a long conversation after he gave his guest lecture at Harvard.

“You told them you're a teacher.” “I told them I teach.” She corrects. “Let's not make a big deal out of it.” “I want to make a big deal out of it.” Max mumbles and she sends him a pleading look. But Max doesn’t give in, instead he turns to the rest of them. “She’s a professor at Harvard. She got both her doctorates at twenty-three and quickly was signed on as professor.” “So, what you’re saying,” Oscar starts, breaking the silence that has fallen over the group. “Is that she is way too smart for you?” Max laughs, eyes crinkling and body bending forward from the force of it. “Without a doubt, mate. Without a doubt.”

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#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #sins fics

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reminiscingtonight · 8 months ago

Text

Tech Support

Alexia Putellas & Putellas!Reader (Jana Fernández x Putellas!Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

[WOSO Masterlist]

“So I am… supposed to click this?”

Alexia’s hand is swatted away at record speed before she can make contact with the screen.

“No, this one.”

Who would’ve thought. Captain of the country. Legend of your club. The La Reina may be feared by players worldwide, but even she could be beaten by something as simple as a new phone.

The two of you have been at this for a couple hours now.

When your sister first slid the box across the table at you, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You didn’t even have time to thank Alexia before she crushed your dreams right then and there. What you first thought was a present for you turned out to be a resigned plea for help.

As the resident tech genius you were high in demand. Last week it was setting up your mami’s tablet. Yesterday it was fixing Olga’s laptop. And today it seems to be Alexia’s turn.

Though now that you think about it, “genius” may be a stretch. It’s not until the third time you stop yourself from throwing Alexia’s phone at her that she lets it slip that Alba was actually her first call for help. It’s no surprise to hear that your middle sister was quick to refuse, given that the last time she helped Alexia set up a phone resulted in heated words and staunch refusal to speak to one another for two weeks.

Given that she’s your club captain the loss in communication is something you can’t risk, but you’ve always thought of yourself as gifted when it comes to technology. If you could teach your mami how to use facebook without spamming her personal page with posts about you and your sisters, surely helping Alexia transfer her data and set up a new phone would not be too hard of a challenge.

Oh how you’re wrong.

Though you’re only eight years younger than Alexia, she still manages to struggle as if she’s well into her nineties.

Ask if she’s backed up her data? Might as well have told her to recite the first fifteen digits of pi.

Ask if she’s taken note of the apps she needs to redownload? Might as well have asked if she knew the secret to happiness.

Tell her to grant certain apps permissions to her phone? Might as well have told her you were transferring to Real Madrid.

Ask her to re-sign back into her multitude of accounts? Might as well have asked her to transfer to Real Madrid.

If you had known just how teeth pulling this would be, you would have left Olga to deal with Alexia herself.

Despite your clear and well-informed instructions of what to click where, which settings to enable or disable, Alexia kept bulldozing through your words, thinking she knew better.

Spoiler, she did not.

Jana’s already been by to give you some words of encouragement, but after the fifth time you quietly asked if she could make up an excuse to drag you out, she hunkered down on a nearby couch with Olga. The two of them, traitors at heart, are having a blast watching some trashy reality tv show while you struggle away with Alexia.

At this point you’re one more question away from factory resetting Alexia’s new phone, but a promise from Olga to buy you lunch and a burning desire to prove to Alba that you’re a better teacher than she is leaves you clinging to the last piece of sanity you have.

After what seems like an eternity, Alexia finally sits back from where she’s been hunched over your shoulder, poking and prodding at her phone.

“I still don’t understand why I have to set up a passcode when I could just use my fingerprint to unlock everything.”

The only word capable of describing Alexia at this moment in time is brooding. Arms crossed, face drawn in a frown, your thirty-year-old sister is brooding over your insistence at setting a passcode.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What if you’re at training and you need Mapi to pull up something from your phone while your hands are busy?”

Alexia huffs, smile on her face as she thinks she’s got you. “Simple, I would never trust Maria with my phone!”

“Ale!” you groan. “That’s not the point.”

She’s not wrong. The last person to mistakenly trust the blonde haired woman with their unlocked phone received the device back with fifteen added stories to their instagram account. Though that was on the tamer side of what the defender was capable of, no one’s really let her borrow their phone since.

You catch Jana’s twinkling eyes over the back of the couch as she shares a giggle with Olga.

“Okay, what if I get hurt on the pitch and you’re too busy consoling me? I’m sure Jana would appreciate being able to use your phone to call mami to let her know I’ve been hurt.”

Alexia rolls her eyes. “First, Jana already has mami’s phone number. Pretty sure she likes your girlfriend more than the both of us.”

The number of times Eli has called you just to ask if Jana would be coming over for a family dinner would be insulting if you weren’t smitten with the idea of your girlfriend having fit right into your own family. Though the two of you haven’t officially been together long, years of friendship meant Eli was more than delighted when she found out the two of you were together. It also meant she was quick to catch Jana up on any and all family events she was hosting.

“Also, that’s not a problem because mami never misses one of our games so she’d already be there!”

It’s almost as if Olga can see the steam coming out of your ears. She’s quick to walk over, rubbing you back apologetically before throwing an arm around Alexia’s shoulder.

“Would you please set one for me, amor? Sometimes I misplace my phone and yours is closer.”

It’s maddening the way Alexia instantly starts nodding like a lovesick puppy. She plucks the phone right out of your hands, swiping until she can get to the right screen.

From over Alexia’s shoulder Olga gives you a wink.

With her girlfriend wrapped tightly around her, you take your cue to exit.

Jana opens her arms wide and you enter willingly. The older girl chuckles when you instantly bury your face against her stomach, arms tightening around her legs.

“I wanna go home,” you grumble, ignoring the way you can feel the vibrations of Jana’s laughter.

“Don’t you wanna stay for lunch?”

As much as you loathe the hours wasted on Alexia, the promise of free sushi did sound pretty good. All you have in your fridge is some leftover pasta from the night before, and you’re never one to pass up free food.

“Hermanita, what’s this I’m seeing about unlocking my phone with my face?”

You stiffen.

On second thought, leftovers didn’t sound too bad.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #jana fernandez x reader #jana fernandez imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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thissying · 3 months ago

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interview with Richard Pex about Max's go-karting days Formule1 magazine, The Year of Max 2024

"At some point I knew Jos and Sophie from the go-kart track in Genk. I was there, riding with my two eldest sons. But with Stan who was four years old then, too. At some point Sophie came up to me together with Max and said: 'Max wants me to ask you how old Stan is.' I said four and then Max said: 'See. I'm five already and I still have to wait until I'm six.' Jos wanted him to wait until he was six but I asked Max: 'Would you like to drive?' Sophie didn't really want that but we did it anyway."

A few innocent laps with great consequences, Richard realises more than twenty years later. "A couple of days later Jos called me. 'Yes, thank you very much', he said. 'Now I have to buy Max a kart.' That's how it started. We agreed then to go karting together more often. Sparring and training. I raced too but I couldn't keep up with Jos. 'Well, you have a better engine', I said to him. 'Okay', Jos said then, 'then I'll fix this engine for you before the Dutch Championship in Amsterdam.' I went like a rocket during practices but at some point I thought: is that Jos over there? He'd been curious about how things were going and had come to Amsterdam for that. 'Can I spend the night in the trailer? Because I'd like to see the race tomorrow', he asked. Typical Jos: pure passion. We clicked and that's how our friendship started."

Verstappen's go-kart team was run by Frans [ed. Max's grandpa]. Because Jos was still active in F1 and couldn't be there for everything. On top of that, Frans and Jos were busy with the boys that drove for the team and sometimes that was at the expense of Max. "In Genk the mini's were allowed on track for fifteen minutes of every hour. Then Max came over and said: 'Daddy, I want to drive too.' At some point Jos was done with it. He said: 'This isn't right. I'm constantly busy with others and then when my son comes and asks me to drive, I don't have time. You know what I'm going to do? I will quit the team. From now on I'm only going to focus on Max. He really wants it, wants to drive so badly. Do you want to do this together with me?'"

Richard didn't need to think about it for long. "My sons were driving as well, so that sounded good to me. 'Okay, then we'll buy a van and we'll do it together', Jos said then. From that moment on we were together almost day and night, at the go-kart track or the business in Maasbracht. There, in that factory hall, we set up a workshop and from there we started working. I think I've been at all Max's go-kart races. It was an incredible time. Very hard work but wonderful. Jos was busy every day, from morning until night. Max went to school, (laughing) sometimes not, but after that he was always there. To tinker or drive. Often they were eighteen hour days because I still had my own company as well. But we had a lot of succes. Jorrit became world champion [ed. in 2006] in Portimão. Jos was his mechanic. Max was there, Stan, our wives. I still get goosebumps now. Especially that look from Max to Jorrit in that moment. You could see the passion in Max's eyes, the will to achieve the same. I can still see Jos caressing his little head, telling him: 'Your time will come.' Unforgettable." That Max had the talent and gift to go far in the racing world became clear very quickly. But everything that happened behind the scenes and what was needed to facilitate young Max optimally is rather underexposed. Richard was there from day one and got sucked in. "The brakes were off with Jos. Everything had to move out of the way for the higher goal. Jos always said: 'Max just has to perform, then everything else will follow.' He made it as difficult as possible for Max; he raised the bar a little every time. Jos felt Max should race with older boys. He had the luck he could often spar with Jorrit, who is five years older. What Max didn't know, was that sometimes Jos added lead to his go-kart and wasn't satisfied until he was as fast as everyone else. Every Wednesday afternoon we went to Genk. I picked up Jorrit and then we took the van to Maaseik to pick up Max from school. He was always the first one to run onto the playground to get in, rain or shine. I think we must have been in Genk 48 Wednesdays out of the 52. Going on holiday was another thing. We always took the van because we'd go on holiday near go-kart tracks. The deal was: one day at the beach and the other day the boys were allowed to kart. That quickly turned into karting every day. Often at unknown tracks and then Jos would say: 'Lap 8 will be pole-position time. Not lap 25 because then you boys will know the track already', That's how it went."

Max was fast right away, showed his famed ruthlessness already at a young age and could match the absolute top of the world in karting. That didn't happen without a fight. The competition watched with disbelief which lead to plenty of speculation that cheating was involved. Jealousy reared its head but not with the person that should have been bothered the most: Jorrit Pex. "Jos and I also often watched in disbelief at how fast Max was. Jos would then compare Max's data to Jorrit's and point out the mistakes he made. Max would often get into a discussion, did not hide away and would then talk to Jorrit. Recently, in an interview, he said: 'I learned a lot from Jorrit.' I liked that." Jealousy wasn't an issue because Jorrit is so different from Max, character-wise. "Jorrit also said: 'give Max the best material. He must become world champion.' That's what he was like. Jorrit didn't have any issues with that. He wanted that for Max. I also noticed Jorrit was more of a homebody. He enjoys going away but mostly he really enjoys being home a lot. Because he'd already said he wanted to run the company with [brother] Yard, the choice was clear. There never was any envy. Not from me either. I was there for everything, been through it all and it was fantastic."

That Max had just that little bit extra, Richard and Jos discovered empirically. "Jorrit and Max were sparring with equal karts. Engines that ran equally fast, same weight, no difference whatsoever. And yet, on the straight Max went just that bit faster every time. If you didn't know better, you'd think: he's got a better engine. Even I started having doubts and Jos too wanted to know now. 'You know what?' Jos said, 'We're going to exchanges the engines.' Nothing changed. Max was a tad faster again. It meant that Max came out of the corner with more speed and therefore was at top-speed more quickly. How he does it, I don't know either. That's pure talent. You can still see it with him now, in Formula1 as well. Max had a good engine but not a better one than the competition. It was purely Max. He had and still has that little bit extra. Tire management, technique of taking corners, attack, defend - Max mastered it down to the last detail. He had good equipment but he did not become European and world champion because he had the best material."

The straightforwardness of the Verstappens is not appreciated all around. In F1, with all its egos, disagreement is never far away. Conflicts lurk in a world where the competition is razor-sharp. Jos was (is) extremely black and white. Max will occasionally accept a shade of grey but only if he's being utterly convinced he's wrong. How did Richard Pex manage to never let those powder kegs explode? The Limburger laughs. "I read or hear stories that make me go: how do they come up with that? Yes, Jos was tough but I've never seen Jos box Max's ear. And I was there for everything. Me and Jos click. We're true friends, through thick and thin. We've been through all the ups and downs and talked about everything. We slept in the van together, were together 24/7 most of the time. Of course I wondered sometimes: how will we manage this? Jos wasn't the easiest person but we always talked things through and turned out okay. And we're both proud of that. We've got, I think, rather the same character: honest, straightforward. We didn't always agree but that was also to up the pressure. I'd say: 'Jos what you're working on now, won't work.' 'Oh yeah?' he say then, and start working like a madman to prove the opposite.

[…]

Max mediated to have Richard and his best friend Stan as a guest in Abu Dhabi in 2021 for the heroic grand finale of the battle between Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen. "Now I have to be careful otherwise I'll become very emotional. Nothing will ever be more beautiful than that. That I got to be there for that… Pfff. Max said before that: 'You and Stan are coming with us to Abu Dhabi.' Yeah, that's something you'll never forget. Together in the car on the way to the track. Talking about go-karting and the past. On the day of the race Max said: 'Richard, this is the big day. I'm going for it fully. It's going to be difficult but you never know. And then it happens. That last lap, I knew: now he's going to get it. Afterwards tears flow. "I saw everything again. Max on that crate, Jos kneeling before him. The look between those two. I saw those icy cold little hands again, the tears in his eyes when Jos had sent him back on track in the rain and cold in Genk again. Unfortunately we don't see Max a lot any more, but that will change again. I'm certain he still thinks the karting days were the best time of his life and not the present. When the helmet is on, he's the driver but he doesn't give a damn about the whole circus around it in F1."

[…]

Richard Pex has been there for all of it. Nobody that - except for dad Jos of course - knows Max Verstappen better than this Limburger. "Even in karting I already said: it's Max who makes the difference and when he gets to F1 and he's got equal equipment, it will be: start, away and done. That's how it was and still is."

#f1 #richard pex #max lore #max verstappen #max in dutch #jos verstappen

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leyavo · 17 days ago

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[Jinx series masterlist]

Jinx made the most of her shitty call-sign. Might as well spread that bad luck all over someone else’s computer.

The software she created slipping undetected into another’s computer. A little pop-up appearing when they oh so stupidly agreed to that update of some program that’s been safe so many times.

Ooops.

“Hi, you’ve been Jinxed! Don’t be a stranger now, I can see everything on your screen.”

There’s no use scrambling to shut down the multiplying pop-ups.

“Haha, not so quick now. I like it when you overshare.”

Too panicked about all the data being collected that it takes them a while to use their brains and turn the computer off.

But, Jinx is always running in the background when it’s turned back on later. Would ya’ look at that, how nice is it for people to be soo welcoming.

So when it pops up on Soap’s laptop, a little sponge scrubbing the screen and wiping some damaging intel for him, he can’t help but leave it on and let Jinx help him out.

Another pop-up with an eye watering amount of pound notes in the box. Soap has to count the zeros, throat dry and eye twitching.

“You’ve been jinxed! If you’d like to retrieve your files….”

“JINX!!” Soap dropped his laptop on her desk, one hand on the back of her chair and the other beside the keyboard caging Jinx in.

The clack of the keyboard stopping, “relax Soap, I’m just running some practice tests, give me a fifty and we’ll call it even.”

He opens his mouth, but Gaz interrupts. “Pay it or it’s doubled mate.” A knowing look of how he too was on the test list. Kyle had unknowingly made it too easy for her to find it, she noticed the structure/pattern of his files and thanked him later.

“Already doubled for burning my eyes out,” Jinx said, smiling as Soap pulled his wallet out of his pocket and begrudgingly pulled out his cash.

The only person that didn’t pay up was Ghost as there was no dirt on anything digital. He kept everything off technology and his laptop looked like it was still on the factory settings. A rolling green landscape with one lone file on the desktop. Pathetic and boring really. Jinx downloading a game of chess to his desktop and every now and then she notices Ghost has made a new move.

The Captain had a load, but he managed to bribe his way out of it…gave Jinx some privileges she didn’t have before. Something to keep her preoccupied, she knew what he was doing, but whose she to turn down a free fifteen minutes on that on particular database.

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the-cricket-chirps · 2 years ago

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Andy Warhol

Campbell's Soup Can

1964

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takenbypeter · 1 year ago

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Chocolate Fixes Everything

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1179

Sick fic for Willy Wonka, made this cause I’m sick again and I’ve become sick so often these past few months 🙃

Accepting requests for Willy only right now send me any requests plz I’m on a Wonka high rn

You couldn’t believe it. Your throat was itchy, your nose was sore. You could barely get past fifteen minutes without a horrendous cough flying out from the back of your throat. Your nose was stuffed and if it wasn’t stuffed, it was runny, which is why you kept a box of tissues close by. It wasn’t the fact you were sick that you couldnt believe, it was the fact that you were sick only a mere weeks ago and here you were, ill again. Typically this didn’t happen to you but recently it seemed like your immune system was against you, (maybe it was because of all the chocolate you had eaten recently but who knows).

While many of your friends had got the message of your sickness it seems like Willy wasn’t one of them.

“You wouldn’t believe the idea that just popped into my head!” Wonka shouted as he practically tossed your door open, your eyes shot wide as you suddenly became fully alert at the abrupt activity.

Willy on the other hand walked right past your bed which was positioned on the opposite side of the door, with his mind clearly focused on whatever his new idea was.

“Noodle and I were discussing and she had just reminded me of—“ his words were cut off and his upbeat pacing came to a halt when he finally realized you were still in bed.

His expressions seemed to relay curious, then sadness as his facial lines deepened. Without missing a beat he pulled up the wooden chair nearby. “What happened? You look horrible.”

A knowing smile tugged at your lips while you pulled your blanket further to your chin, “gee thanks, that’s just what everyone wants to hear when they’re sick.”

“You’re sick!? No that can’t be, I remember you being sick only two weeks ago.”

You nod acknowledging the fact while his face shifts into surprised? Or maybe excitement…? Stunned? It seemed like all of the above.

“Well you’re in luck,” he exclaimed scooting himself back towards the desk across the room, setting up his small briefcase factory on the table, “because I have something that’ll make you feel right as rain,” he stops tinkering with his case for a brief moment to shoot you a mischevious look, “chocolate rain.”

You rolled your eyes while he turned right around whipping a concoction together.

“Willy, I love your enthusiasm but chocolate can’t just make everything feel better.”

“Says who? Who says?”

“Medical doctors that’s who!”

“Oh doctors schmoctors,” he waves the concern off.

“Chocolate does fix everything. And this isn’t just regular old chocolate.”

Attention grabbed, you watch peculiarly as he pushes buttons and pours things in different areas of his case.

“Last time you got sick you felt awful for practically a week and a half, and I started making this since then,” his briefcase makes whirring noises as it gets to work mixing the ingredients. “Now let me ask you, what do you typically take when you have a sore throat?”

“A spoonful of honey with lemon?” You ask, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for, I mean many people do a variety of things once sick, but you took a shot in the dark anyway.

“Absolutely. But that feeling only lasts for a short time. But with this candy I designed, it lasts far, far longer.”

The machine stops and out pops a single candy, shaped simple and evenly square, as green as a lime. And with that candy in hand he returns back to you across the room.

“This is a Choc-well, because as soon as you eat it you’ll feel well,” you gave him an odd look, “the name hasn’t been hashed out yet.”

He motions for you to open your hand and he drops the small piece in your palm, to which you look at suspiciously. “It’s chocolate?”

“Yes. The outer layer is a milk chocolate, while the inside is a honey like substance from the Beezle-midge. And then inside that, is a tiniest drop of twang from a lime.”

“Beezle-midge?”

“It’s a small type of insect that usually travels in groups, except when separated and given the right incentive it secretes honey.”

You winced grossed out by the fact, “ew.”

“It’s good, trust me. Now try it.”

With one final motivating look from the boy you took the chocolate and popped it in your mouth.

“If you want it to really work suck on the chocolate, don’t chew,” he instructed just as you were about to take the first bite. But you did as told enjoying the chocolate. Little by little the chocolate layer disappeared into your mouth as the honey started to make its way to the front and Willy watched on as you ate the delicacy.

After a few moments of honey came the tiniest twang of flavor just as he said and just like that the candy was gone.

“So, how does it feel?” He asks and for a moment you’re not sure what he’s asking for.

“How does your throat feel?”

You oh-ed before closing your mouth in thought. The taste was on its way out but your throat felt much better, it no longer hurt from soreness and you didn’t feel any itchiness no or scratchiness.

“It feels…normal! Like it doesn’t even hurt. That’s amazing! How does that happen?”

“The honey from the Beezle-midge as it’s going down puts a small coat along your throat which lasts practically a whole day.”

“That’s splendid Willy, truly astounding!” You praise sitting up in bed. True you still had your other symptoms but at least you didn’t have to worry about your throat or coughing for now. Willy displayed a bashful smile at the compliments that he took to heart.

“Why didn’t you give this to me last time?” You asked curious as to why he just let you suffer, surely it couldn’t be just cause he forgot.

“Well actually…” he tilts his head back and forth before continuing, “you being sick last time is kind of the inspiration for it.”

This was not a new thing, Willy used many different people and experiences as inspiration, but he suddenly felt so shyly in telling you about yourself being his inspiration. Why? Was it because he didn’t know how you were going to react? He knew you would react well of course, you always did when it came to his creations.

“You made this…” you pointed to air essentially now that the chocolate was gone, “because of me?”

He nodded modestly, “last time you got sick, you missed out on a lot, and we missed you a lot in the factory.”

You grinned a toothy grin, “aww that’s sweet, and this chocolate is so cool!”

At your exclaim he felt relief, “good, I’m glad it’s working.”

That made you pause, “glad it’s working? What does that mean? You haven’t tested it before?” You asked worried.

“That’s not what I meant, geez. You do that one time,” he mumbled as he went back to his small briefcase factory.

#willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #willy wonka fanfic #wonka fanfic #willy wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfiction #wonka 2023

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loveanddeepspacestuffforfreaks · 25 days ago

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"Coffee without sugar is a crime."

Loveanddeepspace stuff for geeks, Coffee date~ It is my mission in this community to pump out as many Zayne fics as possible. Call me the Zayne fic factory- (no, actually don't...)

Zayne x reader, gender neutral reader.

Summary: Cafe date with Zayne, the waiter gives you to wrong drink assuming that you're the one with the sweet tooth. (Couldn't be further from the truth. Hehe)

I didn't proofread this- It's my fatal flaw, I know... ✋😔

GODDAMN I LOVE WRITING THIS STUFF

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The smell of roasted coffee beans fill the space as the two of you entered, walls decorated with an array of posters, plants and flyers bringing a sense of joy to your face as you step further inside.

Zayne follows behind, observing the surrounding as you approach the counter, greeted by a young barista as she writes down your order of a small black coffee, one sugar no cream.

She looks up expectingly at Zayne.

"And for you, sir?"

"Oh, may I please have-"

Without skipping a beat he begins to chant out his order.

"A mocha caramel latte chino made with skim milk, extra whipped cream. Please put that in a medium cup but use the same amount of coffee that you put into a small that way there's about an inch of extra room on top to stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all." (Yes, this is a reference.)

The young women gawked at him, failing to write anything down as she stared at him, utterly baffled.

"Along with your- my lord that print is small- Chocolate monster shortcake." He spoke, adjusting his glasses as he squinted like an old man at the board.

"Oh you aren't writing anything down." Looking down he notices that she has failed to write. "Do you need me to repeat that?"

The young barista gives him a small nod and you leave a smile planted on your face. Headed off to find a place to sit as you hear him restate his order in addition to a couple more things.

"I would also like whipped cream on the cake along with the addition of chocolate syrup... That costs extra? -What an odd thing to charge extra for... a bit of syrup and cream? What is the economy these days...- Yes that's fine, thank you. Yes, it's for here."

In your search, you found a corner spot, perfectly shaded from the invading sun yet positioned in a way that made it easy to turn and look of the window and into the busy street.

Zayne would find you looking out the window of your seat and sit across from you, lightly placing the plastic card with the number 'fifteen' on the edge of the table.

Reaching for his hand, you would place your hand over his. Smiling adoringly at him as he met your eyes.

"You're so handsome~"

His brow twitch, as did his verdurous eyes. Turning his hand so that he could gently brush the tips of his fingers against your palm.

"What has led you to say that?"

Your smile would turn silly, intertwining your fingers with his before giving him a light squeeze.

"You just are~ oh so pretty and handsome~"

A chuckle would rumble in his throat as his hand pulsed against your skin.

"Well, that is due to the Hunter dotting on me left and right."

"You sure are lucky~"

His brow and the corner of his lip twitched a look of amusement forming on his face.

"Is that so?"

"Oh absolutely, who else what treat you like a king? Spoiling you with delicious treats huh?" You mused, resting your face in your hands.

Zayne leans back in his chair, one of his eyebrows lifting in a questioning manner. "I believe I'm the one that paid-"

"But I'm the one that took you out, no?" You interrupted; a triumph smirk plastered on your face.

A breath of air brushes your face as he sighs, conceding to your argument. "I guess that's true, hm."

You notice the waiter coming with your drink order and sit up, ready to receive your drink.

"Well hello there, thank you for joying us at the Luna Cafe! I'm Randy, if you need anything. Just give me a holler!"

You giggled at his silly mannerisms.

"Alright, I have one small black, one sugar no cream- Oh I bet that's for you, sir."

You had to bite back a laugh as he placed your drink in front of Zayne, who immediately looked down at the drink, giving, Randy a rare side-eye. Looking him up and down with a look of disdain through his dark eyebrows.

"And one a mocha caramel latte chino made with skim milk, extra whipped cream. Oh, that sure looks yummy!"

The waiter giggled placing it in front of you and politely nodding trying to desperately hold in your laugh.

"And one chocolate monster shortcake. Aw, are you guys sharing? how cute~!"

It was like a kick in the gut for you, a snort escaping your lips before covering it with a cough as the corner of Zayne's lips frowned.

"Alright you folks enjoy!" Randy ran off.

"Thank you~" You teased in a sing-song manner. In comparison to Zayne's curt. "Thank you."

One the two you made eye contact; it was over for you. Practically bawling your eyes out from laughter.

"Bahahah! Ah haha! oh, my goodness! That's hilarious!" You wipe a tear from your eye.

Zayne rolled his eyes, as you pushed the latte towards him.

"Switch?" He shots you a glare before passing you your order.

"Do you even need to ask?

"No you're right~ it's obvious!"

The two of you successfully make the switch and begin to chug it down as sip on yours. Placing your hand over his you smile once more.

"Zayne, you're such a cutie~"

He frowns, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. "In what way?"

You chuckled. "You looked so disappointed when you got the wrong order but you handled it like a big boy, I'm proud of you."

Zayne huffed. "Well of course I did. I'm grown. I can handle a slight mix up."

"Then do you want a sip of mine?" You tease, bringing his knuckles to your lips.

"Absolutely not." He says with the utmost certainty.

"Why not?" You coo, amused.

"Coffee without sugar is a crime to my body."

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Did you enjoy that? Pls give me more suggestions in the comments! what would you like to see next? Let me know, love ya!

#zayne is a candy feen #zayne lads #zayne x reader #zayne #lads zayne #loveanddeepspace x reader #love and deepspace x reader #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #loveanddeepspacezayne #loveandeepspace zayne #love and deepspace zayne

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tiger-in-the-flightdeck · 5 months ago

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I don't know if I have many teenagers following me, but if I do, I want to tell you a story.

Way back when I was in high school, more than half my age ago at this point, I did a politics class mostly because my other two classes were with the same teacher and if I took that one it meant I didn't have to leave the portable in the winter. Which gives you an idea of how seriously I took my education.

For extra credit, our teacher wanted us to attend a local city council candidate's meeting. And he wanted us to treat it like an old 1930s election campaign trail situation. Posters, candidate ribbons, noise makers, the works. Now, he was also bribing us with pizza for after and for a fair number of us that meant a free meal instead of having peanut butter on a spoon for dinner.

So four classes worth of twelfth graders rocked up at this thing armed with campaign slogans we'd made up for our chosen candidates, posters, one kid had a bunch of glow sticks. And we freaking roared whenever someone would step up to the podium to start their pitch.

And most of the politicians ate it up. These meetings usually got fifteen little old ladies looking for something to do on a Tuesday night. We outnumbered them. We were taking up the whole back half of the room. Most of us, that would be our first year eligible to vote, and I guess seeing us there lit a fire under them. It went from 'This year's holiday light display should be blue and white themed, all in favour?' to 'This town is pretty nice, but it could be better. Let's figure out how!' Instead of the meeting ending after the last speaker and everyone grabbing some sugar cookies and coffee, it turned into a question and answer period. They wanted to know what we wanted from them.

We discussed how our little town turning more and more into a bedroom community or commuter town meant that job opportunities were leaving. How that lack of prospects for us was contributing to the rate of drug use and suicide. The epidemic of teen pregnancies was costing so many young women their education because they were encouraged to drop out of school. And how we needed things to do that weren't just sitting in the mall food court.

Over the next few years, things started to happen. The community centres started doing career training programs. Everything from engine repair to nail technician. The adult learning centre had a class that was all young mothers getting their high school diplomas. They built a skate park. There were outdoor concerts and music events. The hockey rink and outdoor performance stage got fixed up. A pretty big company came along and brought tons of jobs with it and suddenly we had opportunities that weren't either a burger joint or shovelling icing in the cookie factory.

This is all a long, slightly rambling way to say that while voting is absolutely important, if you really want your voice heard, show up to meetings. Make some noise. Tell your elected officials what you need to thrive in your community. Especially if you're in a small town.

#politics #canadian politics #canada politics #small town politics #small town life #i am 100% serious about the icing shovelling

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

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This drawing is for you (Lando Norris)

Matilda already has her love language, handing out her drawings to people

Note: english is not my first language. Look who showed up, hm? Honestly, the last two weeks have been a bit all over the place and I've been meaning to post way more than what I actually have

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Mummy?", you heard your daughter call for you, walking to her playroom since you assumed that's where she was, "yes, baby?", you made your presence known.

"Can we stop by the stationery shop when we go and pick daddy up from work, please? My colouring pencils are getting too small", she showed you a few examples, the colours you recognised from having a big presence in her drawings belonging to pencils that you were barely able to hold in your hands yourself.

"Of course, Tilly", you smiled, "speaking of which, we have to leave soon. Are you almost finished with your drawing?", you wondered, "yes, mummy, I just need to finish colouring in the sun", she mused, grabbing the tiny yellow pencil and carrying on with her work.

When she finished, she set the pencil down, stopping in the bathroom to wash her hands and heading to the door to meet you, "hold your sleeves", you nudged as she held on the hems while you put on her jacket, not wanting her to let the clothes climb up her arms and be uncomfortable.

"Let's go, mummy!", she cheered, walking downs the stairs into the garage so you could get in the car and drive to the factory.

As you were driving, your husband called, "hello, love! We're already in the car on our way to get you, we're going to stop by the shop to buy some colouring pencils for Tilly so we don't have to wait too long for you", you said, turning on the blinker once you faced the junction.

"Hi daddy!", Matilda spoke loudly, hoping her could hear her like she heard him, "How are my favourite girls today? Actually, I was calling because the meeting ended early and I'm ready whenever you want to pick me up", Lando voiced as you saw your daughter smile from her spot in the back of the car, "you can come with us to the shop, then!", she said excitedly.

"That's a great idea, love! Me and Matilda will go and pick you up first, then! We're ten, maybe fifteen minutes out, depends on how traffic is, it looks okay, though", you muttered, finding it easy so far to drive to the factory.

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you! I love you, girls! Drive safe!", he said before ending the call, Matilda clapping her hands excitedly at the prospect of seeing her father earlier than expected.

By the time you arrived at the factory, Matilda had listed all of the materials she would like to get so her drawings would be pretty. Parking the car, you got out, putting on your coat as you walked to open Matilda's door, "let's go, Matilda!", you smiled, unbuckling her belt and making sure she was cozy and warm to face the cold end of the day temperatures.

Everyone in the factory knew you and your little one, so they would have at you, knowing they would have a difficult time at getting many words out of your little girl, usually a sweet smile, a wave and a small and quiet "hi" before she held onto your legs and hid her face there.

Lando was laughing loudly, so it was easy to know that as soon as you crossed that corner, you'd find your husband along with one of his mechanics and engineers.

Matilda smiled as she saw her daddy, releasing the grip she had on your hand, but keeping them laced until Lando and her locked eyes, "hello, my loves!", Lando said, crouching down so his daughter could finally unlace her hand from yours and run up to him, hugging him and allowing him to pick her up so she could kiss his cheek, "Hi, daddy", she whispered in his ear.

Even though there were only two other people beside her parents, she was still shy as they greeted her, "Hello!", they said as she waved, smiling before hiding her face on her father's neck.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Goodbye Y/N, bye-bye Matilda!", they said as they went the opposite direction, you and Lando bidding goodbye whenever you encountered someone until you were in the parking lot, ready to get in the car.

"Do you want to drive?", you asked your husband despite already knowing the answer. He hated not being in control of the situation if he could, so driving his family around was non negotiable most times, only sitting as a passenger when he was very tired.

Buckling Matilda back in her seat and kissing her forehead, you got into the car yourself as your husband drove to the usual shop where you got your daughter's art supplies and your own whenever your work required materials.

"Do you already know what you want to get, babygirl?", Lando asked as the three of you walked inside the shop. It was unusually quiet for this time of the day, and a small part of Matilda was happy because she could go up to the shelves and drawers she already knew had what she needed without having to ask her parents for help in moving along the shop.

After grabbing the supplies she needed, she took them to the young woman at the front so her parents could pay for it, "have a nice day, Matilda! I'm sure your works of art will be beautiful!", she said. You and your family were regular costumers, so they had already grown to know your name and hers, so they had managed to get in the small group of people that were not family and friends and Matilda didn't feel to shy with.

"Bye-bye, have a nice day, too!", she waved sweetly before running up to her daddy, "very good, Matilda, I'm very proud of you for that!", he said, kissing her cheek and walking along with you to the car.

The McLaren unit was working on full speed as you arrived, coffees and other drinks being served as guests arrived or workers carried on with their day, you opting to go to the track, along with Matilda, after the initial morning rush so you wouldn't have to deal with too many people at once.

"Do you want to to go to daddy's room or stay here?", you questioned her, "here in the lounge", she replied as you walked to one of the tables near the windows so you could be near the sunlight that had graced the weekend and be a little further away from the buzz.

"Do you want to draw with me, mummy?", she offered once she was comfortably sitting on the chair, taking her pencil case from her backpack along with the blank sheets of paper.

"Sure, love! Let me just text daddy so he knows where we are when he finishes his meeting", you smiled, grabbing your phone to text Lando before setting it down and grabbing the things you needed.

"Are you drawing daddy's car?", Matilda asked sweetly as she took a peek at your work, "I am! Do you think it's pretty?", she nodded, "but not as pretty as yours, I love your butterfly", you complimented.

As she was finishing colouring in the wings, one of the girls from the PR team came to greet you, "Y/N, Matilda! It's been a while since I saw you around!", she cheered, kissing each of your cheeks as you did the same to her before she noticed your daughter looking at her, "hello", she said in her usual quiet tone.

As you spoke with the young woman, your daughter carefully folded the paper and ripped it by the crease she had made so she could separate the small drawing from the rest of the plain paper.

"Alright, girls! I'll see you later!", she said as someone called her name, presumably with a task for her to do.

"You can have this one if you'd like", Matilda spoke, showing her the drawing, "really, babygirl? Thank you so much, I'm so flattered!", she said, accepting it and keeping it safe in her notebook, "I'll keep it here until I can get home and put it in my wall, okay?", she nodded as your little girl blushed at the attention, nodding too.

Because the practice session was being used as the scheduled opportunity for the reserve driver to do a few laps on the track, Oscar joined you and Matilda as you looked over the cars on track.

"I need to go to the bathroom. Do you also need to go, Tilly?", you asked your daughter, earning a head shake no, "I'm good, mummy", she said, going back to colouring in.

Excusing yourself after Oscar assured he'd keep her company, Matilda was quick to silently offer her crayons to the Australian man along with her colouring book.

"Where are Lily and Lucas?", she asked for her usual companions for the weekend. They would often be together so you and Lily could catch up while the kids entertained themselves in eachother's company.

"They stayed back home this weekend", Oscar explained, "but they told me they wish they were here. I think they're coming to Silverstone, so we will all be together then", he smiled as she gave him a small smile, too, noddinh in agreement and taking out her new glitter pens.

They start colouring and not saying much, only asking eachother to please hand them a crayon or pen the other couldn't reach or if the drawing looked good. Matilda felt understood by him, so it was no surprise that, besides her family, he was the person she felt the most comfortable with spending time in the paddock.

"Where's daddy taking you, little miss?", you asked as you saw Lando change the t-shirt your daughter was wearing. Under her dungarees, she now had an orange McLaren t-shirt, matching her father as he held her on his hip, "we're going to hand in drawings I made, and I didn't want to do it alone, and since you said you were feeling tired, daddy said he would take me", she smiled, kissing your cheek when you got up to kiss your husband's lips and her forehead.

"You sit tight, alright baby?", Lando urged, "me and Tilly want you to be well rested when the time comes to watch the race", he kissed your forehead. You hadn't slept that well the night before, so when Matilda had built her collection of gifts, she didn't want to tire you out more.

Leaving the hospitality, Lando walked with Matilda, asking her where she wanted to go first, "Can we find uncle Seb first? Mummy and I saw him when we arrived, but there were a lot of people near him so we said we'd see him later", she reasoned as Lando quickly searched for the retired German driver, "there he is, love", he pointed, walking in his direction.

Despite her initial confidence, Matilda felt shy as everyone's eyes landed on her and her father, cooing at the sight of them matching and the fact that little Norris had showed up, too.

"Hello, Matilda! How are you?", Sebastian asked, smiling at the duo as she retreated, hiding her face on his neck. Her backpack was open as Lando pulled the art pieces out.

"Didn't you want to give something to Sebastian, gorgeous girl?", Lando encouraged, kissing her cheek sweetly and giving her time.

"The bee one, daddy", Matilda whispered against his neck where she kept hhalf of her face hidden as Lando flickered the drawings, finding the one she meant.

"Is this for me? Thank you, Matilda, this is very nice!", Sebastian said warmly, making he little girl smile at him.

"Who's next?", Lando asked, "Charles, I made a drawing for him with a sea, because he lives in Monaco", she reasoned.

"And on the screens now we can see the McLaren garage this afternoon, where Lando Norris has his little one and his wife here this weekend!", Natalie said looking at the screen along with Naomi.

"That's true! Little Matilda has been in the paddock with her parents this whole weekend, and yesterday I had the privilege of seeing the cutest scene! She was hiding behind Lando's legs, but she kept holding some of the drawings until she found the people she wanted to give them to!", Naomi added, "she had one for Sebastian, for Charles, and she also shared some with the McLaren crew, too!

"And when I was interviewing Oscar this morning, Matilda walked closer to us and asked for his help to get the drawing she made of me - I have it right here, let me show you! - and this is the cutest thing ever! I have an orange suit - because of papaya, she said -, and my braids look so good with this glittery accent, see?", she showed Natalie as she nodded, "she's usually a very quiet little one, but she's an artist for sure. She takes after her mummy, so I've heard", she smiled into the camera.

"Yet, this morning, when me and the crew were deciding where to go first, we caught a father-daughter that made our hearts melt, take a look in the screens!", Natalie finished.

"Is it silly, Matilda?", Lando tried, seeing his daughter give him a full belly laugh as he drew a crocodile with rain boots, "crocodiles don't need rain boots, daddy! They can swim and walk all the same!", she giggled, delighting the people who were watching and hearing her laugh. "Well, maybe I should give him some floaties, too! Should I make him pink ones like yours?", he tried, earning another set of giggles out of his little girl.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fluff

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kwisatzworld · 28 days ago

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I’d like to know if you like this life. I love it so much because it’s a strange life, one you would never live unless you had a great passion for it. You have to let go of many habits you might have had before, like hanging out with your friends or going for a drink at a bar in the evening. You can forget about those things.

Why did Valentino choose you, out of all the friends he had? Maybe because we had a bit more of a connection. We were a tight-knit group of ten, but he and I had always had a good connection since we were kids. That’s the first reason. The second is that I worked for my father, so I wasn’t a factory worker, I was free. One day I told him, “Dad, I’m quitting because I’m going to work for Valentino!” And he was happy to let me do it. So, in practical terms, I had more possibilities. That’s how I started.

How would you define your role if you had to give it a name? What do you do? I don’t really like it when people say, “Uccio, Valentino’s friend?” I am Valentino’s friend, of course, but first and foremost, our friendship came before this job. My job, first of all, is to take care of the motorhome. Besides keeping it tidy inside, the motorhome is fifteen meters long, so it has its own needs. You have to take care of everything and clean it, it’s like a moving house. Just like at home, things can break, like the washing machine. I also drive it to races and tests, only I drive it. And only he and I sleep in it.

So you don’t stay in hotels? Let’s debunk this myth! No, absolutely not. Hotels are inconvenient. You have to wake up early every morning. We really like sleeping.

Maybe you stay up late? No, we go to bed early because there’s always a lot to do at the races, and there’s also some tension. I mean, we don’t go to bed super early, but not too late either. We don’t go out, we just stay in the motorhome, chat a bit, watch a movie… we just stay there.

Do you do any management work? Not really. But I do help take some stress off him. If someone comes asking for a photo, I know how to say no in a better way. I know what he wants, just one glance between us, and I understand what to do and what not to do. That’s my job. Anyway, every rider has an Uccio. Whether they are friends like we are, since we’ve been friends since we were five years old, maybe not everyone, maybe no one. But still, it’s a job.

Does friendship mix with work? For example, do you argue? Of course! We definitely argue, but not about work, just like two normal friends. Like, I want to eat somewhere, and he wants to eat somewhere else, that kind of thing. As for work, he lets me do whatever I want. If he arrives and the motorhome isn’t clean, he doesn’t get mad at all, he knows I’ll clean it up in five minutes. We have that kind of understanding.

What do you feel for him? I care about him a lot and have so much admiration for him. He’s someone who never loses his temper, even in his private life, he’s always very calm. A lot of people come at him, but he always keeps his cool. Plus, he makes people feel included, not just me, but everyone. He always involves you in everything he does. Even though he has way more opportunities than others, he always makes sure that everyone feels equal. That’s something really special. If he rents a house, it’s for everyone.

#valentino rossi #uccio salucci #from 2009

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freeuselandonorris · 3 months ago

Note

iyaaaa please may i suggest 22 + lando/older man of your choice in case that sparks anything? <3

fanks lima that did spark something and it was lando/andrea and the MTC bathroom gloryhole 😌

Nobody tells Lando about it directly. He’s doing resistance band stretches in the back of the garage with Jon while the engineers are fiddling about with the rear wing assembly, and they’re talking about it. Pretty loudly, pretty shamelessly. About how there’s a certain bathroom on floor three of MTC, the small one just off the Composites department that only has two stalls in it. About the hole someone’s drilled into the dividing wall at waist height, the perfect height and width for —

“Oi,” Jon says, snapping his fingers in front of Lando’s face. “You’re meant to be stretching, not earwigging.”

”Yeah, alright,” Lando grouses, trying to switch his attention back to the chest stretches he’s been half-assing for the last five minutes. “Maybe you should be more interesting if you don’t want me to get bored of you, ever thought of that?”

“Noted, boss,” Jon says, cheerful, and spins him round to start on his shoulder stretches.

Andrea’s standing behind them, leaning against the central console with his big earphones hooked around his neck. Listening to the same conversation, one eyebrow minutely raised.

He meets Lando’s gaze as he turns, just for a second. Lando feels himself flush and looks away.

It takes about a week for Lando’s curiosity to get the better of him.

He knows it’s a stupid idea, but then surely as long as he’s quiet, discreet, there’s no real risk. Nobody would imagine it’s him. Or even better — they might want to think it’s him, but how could they prove it?

It’s tempting. Too tempting.

The factory is quiet by the time Lando’s finished for the day. Quiet, but not empty.

Lando excuses himself from the last few stragglers in the meeting room, waving his goodbyes and heading off in the direction of the lifts.

Glancing over his shoulder to check he’s not being followed, he pulls his hood up and cuts back to the stairs, climbing to level three. The bathrooms they’d been talking about are at the far end of the same corridor, tucked away. Hardly anyone uses them; hardly anyone knows they’re there. Lando can’t remember ever going in there before, which is probably why he’s never noticed the hole. But once he lets himself into the right-hand stall and latches the door behind himself, there it is. A couple of feet off the ground, a few inches wide, carefully and neatly drilled.

Beneath it, in black marker pen, someone has helpfully added instructions. Suck here.

He’s sat there for ages before anyone comes in. Perched on the toilet with the lid down, elbows on his knees, scrolling TikTok with the volume off. When fifteen minutes have ticked past, he wonders if he should just give up.

On the verge of standing, he hears the bathroom door creak open and freezes in place.

Fuck, maybe it’s just someone coming in for a piss. Or worse. Someone who doesn’t know about the reputation this place has, or knows about it but has decided to ignore it, thinks it’s weird or silly or gross.

Lando breathes as quietly as possible, sliding his phone back into his jeans pocket and pressing his sweaty palms against his thighs.

Footsteps cross the floor. The door of the stall next to him shuts gently; the click of the latch echoes off the tiles. There’s some shuffling, the whirr of a zip.

Then silence. Waiting.

Lando swallows, digs his fingers into his knees. Fuck, he should’ve googled this beforehand or something. Checked the etiquette. Is the other guy meant to just stick his cock through and hope for the best?

On the other side of the partition, the man clears his throat. It’s probably as close as Lando’s going to get to a come-on.

He exhales and taps the wall with a knuckle, just beside the waiting hole, hoping he’s telegraphing his meaning. I’m here, if you want it.

Nothing happens for a few seconds. Nausea rises in Lando’s belly. He’s fucked it. He’s creeped out someone from the Composites team who just wanted to use the fucking toilet. Oh Jesus, he’s going to get reported to HR.

A scuffle close to his head makes him jump. Whoever’s on the other side, they’re standing very close to the wall. Lando darts a glance downwards; the tips of two McLaren-branded trainers, the same ones they all wear, are just visible beneath the partition.

Lando looks up. The tip of a cock is poking through the hole in the wall, pink and flushed and slightly ridiculous.

He slides to his knees, shuffles closer, parts his lips and sticks out his tongue. Before he can chicken out, he licks the tip of the cock. Just a quick swipe, like he’s licking the swirl of an ice cream.

The man on the other side inhales sharply. There’s something faintly familiar; something tickling at the edges of Lando’s memory. He chooses not to think about it. Licks again.

Another shuddering breath. A soft word spoken under the breath in a language Lando can’t quite get a handle on, except he knows it’s not English. Well, at least he knows it’s not Oscar. Or Zak.

He parts his lips, closing them around the tip of the cock. His nose is pressed up against the wall, there’s no room to move. He taps the wall again, and as if by magic, the cock pushes further into his mouth, a pleasant wait on his tongue.

It’s still a pretty shit angle, and he can’t do much more than suckle on it; whoever it is, they’re not massively hung. There’s a slight upward curve to his cock, grazing the roof of Lando’s mouth as he thrusts through the hole as best he can.

Whatever the shortcomings of Lando’s blowjob, they don’t seem to be much of an issue. It only takes a few minutes of gentle sucking, teasing the slit with his tongue, before he can taste precum leaking. He can hear the man breathing hard, the fastenings of his trousers scraping against the wall where he’s humping against it. There’s something obscene about it, the way he’s making this man fall apart in a bathroom that smells of antiseptic spray and air freshener, the way he exists only as a mouth to fuck. It’s making him hard too, aching in his jeans. He undoes them with trembling hands, trying not to let the rhythm of his mouth and tongue falter as he gets a hand on himself.

The man grunts, and recognition stabs at the back of Lando’s mind again. He ignores it, hollows his cheek and sucks hard, tongue rubbing eager circles just below the head where he knows it’s good. A sharp, bitten-off moan, and salt spreads across his tongue. Lando’s swallowed it down before he realises he could have spat it into the toilet next to him.

He sinks to his haunches, jacking himself off frantically. The cock withdraws from the hole and Lando whimpers, involuntary. He’s vaguely aware that he should be ashamed about this, on his knees in a public toilet with the taste of anonymous spunk coating his mouth, bundling toilet roll into one hand so he doesn’t get come all over his jeans. But if there’s nobody to see it, why should he feel shame?

The stall door next to him unlatches. Lando listens to the tap running, the splash of the man washing his hands. He comes as the man dries his hands beneath the air dryer, muffling his moans beneath the noise.

Afterwards, he has to splash his face with cold water. He’s pink across the cheeks, eyes reddened where they’d watered with the effort. His mouth looks soft and swollen. He tries to fix his hair, smooth his clothes back into place.

Before he leaves, he peers into the adjoining stall. On the other side of the hole, written in the same black marker, a different set of instructions. Fuck here.

He closes the door behind himself as quietly as possible as he leaves, trying not to draw attention to anyone who might be walking past, and walks towards the lift as quickly as he can.

Someone holds the doors for him as he turns the corner to the foyer. Lando steps inside the lift.

“Lando,” Andrea greets him, inclining his head.

Lando nods, swallowing hard and digging his phone out of his pocket so he has something to look at in the hope Andrea won’t notice his freshly fucked face.

As he looks down, something snags his attention. The zip to Andrea’s trousers is undone.

His eyes jerk up to Andrea’s face. Andrea’s staring right back at him, at his swollen mouth, his mussed-up hair.

He swallows. His brain feels awfully blank; he can’t remember a single normal thing they might have a conversation about.

Before his panic can spiral, the lift pings to signal the ground floor.

As the door opens, Andrea reaches out. Touches his arm, a gesture that could easily be read as friendly. “It is good to see you working late, Lando,” he says, and meets Lando’s eyes. “I think I will be here in the evening all week, too.”

#ln4 #andrea stella #kink generator prompt fics #prompt fill #answered

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