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yeoldenews · 3 months

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While we’re on the subject of names, is there an explanation for how traditional nicknames came about that are seemingly unrelated to, or have little in common with, the original name?

ie- John/Jack, Richard/Dick, Henry/Harry/Hank, Charles/Chuck, Margaret/Peggy/Daisy, Sarah/Sally, Mary/Molly, Anne/Nan, etc

I am actually over a week into researching a huge follow-up post (probably more than one if I’m being honest) about the history of nickname usage, so I will be going into this in much, much more detail at a hopefully not-so-later date - if I have not lost my mind. (Two days ago I spent three hours chasing down a source lead that turned out to be a typographical error from 1727 that was then quoted in source after source for the next 150 years.)

As a preview though, here’s some info about the names you mentioned:

The origins of a good portion of common English nicknames come down to the simple fact that people really, really like rhyming things. Will 🠞Bill, Rob🠞Bob, Rick🠞Dick, Meg🠞Peg.

It may seem like a weird reason, but how many of you have known an Anna/Hannah-Banana? I exclusively refer to my Mom’s cat as Toes even though her name is Moe (Moesie-Toesies 🠞 Toesies 🠞 Toes).

Jack likely evolved from the use of the Middle English diminutive suffix “-chen” - pronounced (and often spelled) “-kyn” or “kin”. The use of -chen as a diminutive suffix still endures in modern German - as in “liebchen” = sweetheart (lieb “love” + -chen).

John (Jan) 🠞 Jankin 🠞 Jackin 🠞 Jack.

Hank was also originally a nickname for John from the same source. I and J were not distinct letters in English until the 17th Century. “Iankin” would have been nearly indistinguishable in pronunciation from “Hankin” due to H-dropping. It’s believed to have switched over to being a nickname for Henry in early Colonial America due to the English being exposed to the Dutch nickname for Henrik - “Henk”.

Harry is thought to be a remnant of how Henry was pronounced up until the early modern era. The name was introduced to England during the Norman conquest as the French Henri (On-REE). The already muted nasal n was dropped in the English pronunciation. With a lack of standardized spelling, the two names were used interchangeably in records throughout the middle ages. So all the early English King Henrys would have written their name Henry and pronounced it Harry.

Sally and Molly likely developed simply because little kids can’t say R’s or L’s. Mary 🠞 Mawy 🠞 Molly. Sary 🠞 Sawy 🠞 Sally.

Daisy became a nickname for Margaret because in French garden daisies are called marguerites.

Nan for Anne is an example of a very cool linguistic process called rebracketing, where two words that are often said/written together transfer letters/morphemes over time. The English use of “an” instead of “a” before words beginning with vowels is a common cause of rebracketing. For example: the Middle English “an eute” became “a newt”, and “a napron” became “an apron”. In the case of nicknames the use of the archaic possessive “mine” is often the culprit. “Mine Anne” over time became “My Nan” as “mine” fell out of use. Ned and Nell have the same origin.

Oddly enough the word “nickname” is itself a result of rebracketing, from the Middle English “an eke (meaning additional) name”.

I realized earlier this week that my cat (Toe’s sister) also has a rebracketing nickname. Her name is Mina, but I call her Nom Nom - formed by me being very annoying and saying her name a bunch of time in a row - miNAMiNAMiNAM.

Chuck is a very modern (20th century) nickname which I’ll have to get back to you on as I started my research in the 16th century and am only up to the 1810s so far lol.

#names #nicknames #onomastics #history #asks #nicknames are really hard to research you guys #there is so much info out there and it's almost all nonsense #and I'm talking academic books with listed sources not buzzfeed listicles #some guy in the 18th century forgetting to mention Bill on a list of common nicknames does not mean it wasn't in use at the time ma dude #i've had to get very creative with sources #god bless word for word murder trial testimony

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vroomvro0mferrari · 12 days

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LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women.

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls.

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks.

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind.

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment is not that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse.

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm..

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment.

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep.

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

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adascore · 3 months

Text

Sweet Dream Was Over

pairings: lionesses x young!arsenal!reader / beth mead x arsenal!reader / vivianne miedema x arsenal!reader

warnings: swearing. reader acts hostile with viv after being knocked out of the nations league by the netherlands.

author's note: wrote this right after the match to deal with the heartbreak :(( but proud of all of them anyway!

masterlist

•••••••

December, 2023

''They scored a last-minute winner- we're out.'' The staff member read out loud, the scoresheet open on his phone.

The huddle, once filled with echoes of celebration, now hung heavy with disappointment. Their Olympic dreams were over, even after winning the match 6-0. Their win at Wembley had given them hope that they could do it, but the Dutch team pulled through, winning their fixture against Belgium 4-0.

One goal.

One goal is what it took for Y/N's world to fall apart.

Teammates exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting the shared sense of loss. The collective effort and triumphs all seemed to dissipate into the air, leaving behind a bitter taste of what could have been.

She could feel Lucy next to her falling to the ground, her older teammate groaning as she took in the news. Y/N patted her shoulder, a lame attempt at comfort.

Sarina started speaking, but she wasn't listening. Her head replayed each moment in their six matches where the young player could have made a difference, but didn't. Y/N knew deep inside that she was not solely to blame for their early exit, football is a team sport and they all had the carry the burden of ''what if”.

As the team dispersed, players walked toward the section where the dedicated fans had stood, expressing their gratitude for the unwavering support they had given them throughout their UWNL journey.

Y/N could feel an arm wrapping around her shoulders, suddenly feeling the warmth of another individual.

As she glanced aside, she smiled at who she found next to her. ''Hey, Beffy.'' The youngster mumbled.

''Hi, darling,'' The Arsenal star sounded just as dejected as she did, ''how you feeling?''

“Not good.” Y/N's usually monotone voice lacked its usual humor, a reflection of the heavy atmosphere.

The winger nodded in understanding. “I know, me too.” She pouted, sharing in the collective disappointment. ''At least we'll get a break next summer.''

''I don't want a break, I wanna play.'' Y/N immediately objected, her tone almost sounding like how a toddler would whine.

Beth remained quiet, knowing that nothing she would say could cure the current heartbreak going through her teammate at the moment. Sometimes, silence spoke louder than words.

In the midst of said silence, Beth gently squeezed Y/N's shoulder, offering a supportive presence.

The next day, the car ride back to North London wasn't the traditional gossip session it normally was. Beth carried the conversation, her younger housemate nodding or muttering a single word once in a while. As they drove through the familiar streets, Beth tried to lighten the mood with a subtle joke or two, attempting to elicit a smile from Y/N. The atmosphere in the car, however, remained heavy with the weight of the recent defeat.

The ringing of Beth's phone interrupted her thoughts on the upcoming Chelsea game, however, a soft smile appeared on her face once she saw who was calling her.

''It's Viv,'' She announced, briefly glancing at her teammate, ''hey, sweetheart.''

Y/N turned her head, attempting to admire the view, but the English weather was making it hard for her. She sighed loudly, the name of the Dutchwoman bringing her back to the group huddle of the day before.

''She's sitting next to me,'' Beth's words pulled her out of her trance, ''sure.''

The blonde tapped her arm, making Y/N turn back around. ''Hmm?'' She confusedly hummed.

''You wanna say something to Viv?'' Beth asked, sweetly.

The teenager simply shook her head, shifting in her seat so she could look out the window again.

The older one frowned at the action, expecting her to want to talk to Vivianne. ''Uh, Viv, she's sleeping, sorry.'' Beth lied, coming up with the quickest excuse she could find.

''Oh, that's okay, I'll see her soon.'' The Dutch striker answered, slight dejection audible in her voice.

They talked for a couple more minutes, but Y/N drowned their conversation out- daydreaming about the day she actually gets to play for Team GB, and winning the gold medal with them.

It was again Beth who took her out of her haze she was in. ''Hey, you okay?''

''Yeah, just tired. Don't feel like talking.'' It had been the longest sentence she had said all day.

Beth nodded understandingly, deciding not to push further, occasionally glancing at Y/N, who seemed lost in her own thoughts.

Eventually, they made it home and their chauffeur helped them with their suitcases.

As soon as they stepped into the house, Y/N swiftly retreated to her room without much interaction. Beth, sensing the weight of the recent disappointment, decided to give her space.

The house felt unusually quiet without the usual banter and laughter. Beth, while sympathizing with her need for solitude, couldn't shake off the somber atmosphere. She figured she would wait for her partner, who wouldn't arrive home for at least another hour.

Beth settled on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television absentmindedly. The sound of a key turning in the front door signaled Vivianne's arrival.

The Brit immediately got up, greeting her girlfriend with a warm embrace.

Vivianne reciprocated, sensing Beth's need for comfort. They held each other for a moment, finding solace in one another's arms.

They moved to the couch, catching up with one another and either offering each other consolation or congratulations. Vivianne noticed the lack of noise in their home- their teenage teammate usually filling the space up with whatever had happened to her that day, and if it wasn't her voice, it was the music from her speakers.

''Is Y/N taking a nap? She must have barely slept if she was already sleeping in the car.'' She asked Beth, frowning.

Her partner sighed at the question. ''Uh, no, she's just… she's having a hard time with it. She really thought we'd gone through to the final four,'' she explained, resulting in a sullen look on Vivianne's face, ''she was actually awake in the car, but she wasn't in the mood to talk.''

Vivianne's expression shifted to one of understanding, but also concern. “I get it, it's tough for her right now.”

''Maybe you can go check on her? We've been home for a while now, maybe that's helped.'' Beth suggested, believing the youngster to have come to terms with it by now, or at least more than in the car.

The striker gently knocked on Y/N's bedroom door, but there was no response. She cautiously pushed it open, finding Y/N laying sideways on her bed, scrolling on her phone.

''Hey,” Vivianne spoke softly, ''can I come in?''

Y/N didn't take her eyes off of her phone, not a single acknowledgement. ''Don't feel like talking.''

''I understand, just wanted to check how you were doing.'' The Dutchwoman sighed.

''Hmm.''

It's like pulling teeth, Vivianne thought to herself.

She hesitated for a moment before deciding to sit on the edge of Y/N's bed. Her eyes stayed fixated on the teenager, hoping to find a sign of openness or willingness to share her feelings.

''Football is cruel. We all wanted to win, and have a chance to qualify. It hurts when it doesn't happen.'' Vivianne tried her best to convey understanding, her voice gentle. ''I wish all of us could go next year.''

It was quiet for a few seconds, the uneasy tension growing. ''Yeah, but we can't.'' Y/N responded, an uncharacteristic harsh tone in her voice.

Vivianne was taken aback by the sudden change, never having heard that tone come out of the girl's mouth. ''I get it, it hurts.''

''You already got to go to the Olympics. It's not fair.''

The older woman sighed at the frustration steaming off of her younger teammate. ''I know it doesn't feel fair, but you have to keep pushing forward. There will be more tournaments, more chances.''

''I wanted to go with Beth. She didn't get to go last time.'' Y/N wasn't directly answering to what Vivianne was telling her, still present in her own world of disappointment.

The older one could sense the resentment. ''Y/N, I get it, I really do. It's not the end, though. You'll have more opportunities, and you'll get to share those moments with Beth.'' She spoke softly.

''Who even says that? The next one is in 2028, Beth might not even play by then anymore.'' The teenager retorted.

''2028 is still a possibility. She has a lot more football left in her, and I'm sure you'll get to experience all of it together.''

Y/N rolled her eyes, dismissing Vivianne's attempt at reassurance. “Just save it. Your team already ruined our chances. Don't pretend like you care about my opportunities.”

“Come on, don-“

Y/N seemed stuck in her moment of frustration. It was hard to think about the future, when the present had become such a huge letdown. ''Viv, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but can you please leave? You're just making me more upset.''

It felt equal to being slapped in the face, in Vivianne's opinion. However, she nodded and gave Y/N's foot a little pat before quietly leaving the room.

Beth noticed Vivianne emerging from Y/N's room with a weary expression. “I think I made it worse.” Vivianne admitted, sitting next to Beth on the couch.

“Why? What did you say?” Beth asked, concerned.

“That it's tough, and that I wished that all of us could go. She just thinks it's really unfair that I already went to the Olympics, meanwhile she and you have never been.” Vivianne explained, her tone dejected.

Beth furrowed her brows, a mixture of frustration and empathy in her eyes. “She's not in the mood to listen, huh?”

Vivianne nodded, “Yeah, she's being a bit… resentful, I don't know.”

The Brit wrapped her arm around her partner, pulling her in as she caressed her arms. “Just give her a bit time. She'll come around. Losing hits her hard. I think it's been a bit much with the World Cup and the Champions League.”

Vivianne agreed. “Yeah, you're right.”

As dinner time approached, the Dutchie decided to prepare a meal, hoping it might lift the heavy atmosphere in the house. She opted for Y/N's favorite dish, a small attempt to lighten her mood. However, the teenager remained in her room, showing no interest in joining them.

Beth decided to bring the plate to the youngster's room, figuring she still wasn't ready to be in other people's presence.

A soft knock on Y/N's door preceded Beth's gentle voice, “Hey, I brought you some dinner.”

Y/N, still upset but hungry, mumbled an acknowledgment.

Beth smiled, and put the tray of food on her desk. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said, trying to break the tension. “It's your favorite.”

Y/N glanced at the food, her expression softening slightly. “Thanks, Beth.”

“Viv made it.” She revealed.

The younger one chuckled. “Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly.”

“How come?”

“It looks and smells nice.”

“Hey!” Beth jokingly slapped her arm, offended. “You liked that omelet I made you a few weeks ago.”

“I was being polite, Beffy.” Y/N said, a small grin on her face.

The offended woman rolled her eyes. “Whatever, enjoy your nice-smelling food.”

Beth lingered by the doorway, wanting to see her younger companion eat the food with her own eyes.

“You know, Viv spent quite some time making sure it's perfect.“ She spoke up once she noticed Y/N just picking at the food.

Her gaze shifted from the plate to Beth, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “That's very sweet. I'll thank her later.”

Beth smiled, appreciating the subtle shift in her youngster's demeanor. “I'm sure she'd like that. She put a lot of care into it.”

As Y/N began to eat, Beth hesitated before speaking again. “You know, it's okay to be upset about the game. We all are. But you don't have to take it out on her.”

The teenager looked up, meeting Beth's gaze. There was a moment of vulnerability in her eyes, a silent admission that the disappointment weighed heavier than she let on. “I know,” she whispered, “it's just too much at the moment.”

“I understand, lovey,” Beth stepped away from the door, walking over to Y/N, “we're here for you, okay? You can come talk to us when you feel ready.” She pinched her cheek, hoping her affection showed her genuineness.

Y/N couldn't help but crack a small smile. “I know, Beffy. Thanks.” She mumbled between bites, grateful for the comforting presence of her older teammate.

“You can come and put your plate in the dishwasher once you're done, and maybe apologize to someone…” Her eyebrow was raised.

The Arsenal prodigy chuckled, knowing exactly who Beth was referring to. “Yeah, I will.”

“She doesn't like when people are upset with her, especially you.” Beth admitted.

“I'm not upset with her. I just wasn't ready to be told that everything would be fine and that there would be more chances to go.”

Beth smiled at Y/N's words. “She cares about you a lot, you know? I understand it was a little too early- I'm also still upset. But she meant well, she hates it when you're sad. She wasn't trying to tell dismiss your feelings or anything, she just wants to be here for you.”

Y/N sighed, appreciating her perspective. “Yeah, I know. I'll talk to her later.”

“Good. Now, enjoy your meal, and take your time.” Beth said, leaving Y/N to her dinner and thoughts.

“Does she like it?” Vivianne asked as soon as her girlfriend walked back into the dining room, eager to know the answer.

Beth nodded. “She's eating from it, and said she would thank you later.”

Her partner smiled, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing her features. “I'm glad. It's hard seeing her upset.”

“She's still young. You know how these young players get when they lose.” Beth noted.

“Yeah, but still. She also deserves a chance to go to the Olympics, I'm sad for her.” Vivianne knew how much the teenager worked each day, one and off the pitch.

“I know, but we knew from the start that it was only gonna be one team.”

Vivianne nodded. “I just hope she'll understand that it's not about her abilities or efforts. Sometimes, it's just the way things go in this sport.”

Beth squeezed her hand in reassurance. “She knows deep down.”

The couple started their own dinner, taking their minds off the last couple of days and just focus on one another.

It was about two hours later that the Arsenal homegrown came out of her room to go put her plate in the dishwasher- most of that time was spend trying to find the right words to apologize to her Dutch housemate.

As she walked into the living room, she could see that the tv was running, but neither half of the pair was there. Y/N hesitated for a moment, debating whether to disappear into her room again. However, she resumed her walk to the kitchen, not wanting a dirty plate in her room.

In the kitchen, she was met with Vivianne, who had her back turned while being busy trying to make tea.

The teenager awkwardly moved to the dishwasher, and put her plate in, closing it afterwards. The noise startled her teammate.

Vivianne turned around to where Y/N was standing, her hand on her heart. ''Jezus, you scared me.'' She sighed, taking a deep breath to calm herself down.

''Sorry.'' Y/N nervously smiled.

The older woman simply shook her head. ''Don't worry, you just caught me off guard.'' She chuckled.

''Oh, okay.'' The youngster cringed internally at her tense answer. Vivianne offered a smile at the kid's obvious distress, but went back to focusing on her tea-making.

The kitchen atmosphere felt slightly awkward, although it might just have been all in the youngest's mind. Y/N cleared her throat, attempting to break the silence. “Uh, thanks for the food. It was really nice.”

Vivianne turned to face Y/N, her expression softening. “You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it.”

''Uhm, Viv,'' she started fiddling with her hands, ''I'm sorry for earlier. I was upset about the outcome of the matches, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You and your team really deserve to go to the Olympics. I'm really sorry.''

The Dutchwoman appreciated the apology, relieved Y/N recognized her behavior. ''Thank you for saying that. I understand it's a tough situation, and I would have had a hard time with it as well, so don't worry about it.'' She told her with a warm smile.

''Thanks, Viv.'' Y/N moved from where she was standing, approaching Vivianne and wrapping her arms around the striker's waist. ''And congratulations, by the way. I'm really happy for you. You worked really hard.''

Vivianne welcomed her hug, reciprocating with a gentle squeeze. ''Thank you, that means a lot to me.''

The tension from earlier had disappeared, and Y/N could feel all the anxiety from earlier, leaving her body.

''Oh, mijn meisjes!'' (''My girls!'') Beth broke the silence, running over and joining the embrace, relieved to see Y/N having followed up on her words. ''I'm so happy to see this. Only smiley faces!'' She exclaimed, her infectious enthusiasm spreading through the room.

''Beth, we were having a moment.'' Vivianne said in a monotone voice, but with a smile on her face.

The Brit jokingly rolled her eyes. ''I'm joining your moment.''

Y/N and Vivianne gave each other a glance before speaking. ''No!''

ideas are always welcome for this series!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #engwnt

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cartierre · 1 year

Text

ALWAYS FOREVER | mv1

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU max verstappen x fem!indian!reader

♡ liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, f1 and 649,405 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1 मैं करता हूं (i do)

view all 2,398 comments

yourusername मैं आपसे बहुत प्यार है (i love you so much) comment liked by maxverstappen1

user1 rue, when was this?

user2 did we just get harder than hard launched by max?

danielricciardo amazing wedding, so happy for both of you!

christianhorner it's wonderful seeing you grow up and being a husband now. you better treat her good! ⤷ user3 christian defending y/n is so adorable ⤷ user4 not only a second dad to max but apparently also to her hahahahahah

user5 i'm speechless. i- what even happened ⤷ user6 how did we all collectively just missed that max was dating (and is now married!) to someone????

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 73,578 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername so many differences and yet here we are; mr. and mrs. verstappen

view all 628 comments

maxverstappen1 most beautiful woman, mrs. verstappen ⤷ yourusername well thank you very much, mr. verstappen

user7 not her changing her beautiful desi surname to some generic bitch ass white one ⤷ user8 she probably wanted it? that's her decision to make?

user9 they're so beautiful omfg

user10 i'm still in tears how max fully embraced her culture for their wedding like the OUTFITS he looks so good in traditional indian clothes

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, schecoperez and 128,394 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername summer break/honeymoon in delhi

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user11 i need more desi max content ⤷ user12 i didn't even know i needed it this bad

user13 why do i feel so proud seeing them together? i'm in tears they're so cute

user14 i've seen some paparazzi photos of them in delhi and lemme tell you max is literally GLOWING idk who y/n really is but she's doing him so good

user15 them spending their honeymoon in delhi feels so special to me as an indian fan of max. him learning and embracing our culture makes me just love him even more.

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 87,392 others

yourusername zandvoort ✿

view all 532 comments

user16 omg is she going to attend the gp this weekend? ⤷ user17 probably ⤷ user18 this will be the first time we'll see her at a race! ⤷ user19 can't wait for her paddock fashion game ngl

redbullracing our good luck charm 💪🏼 comment liked by yourusername

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, f1 and 80,302 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername now that i've seen you win once in person, trust me: i won't be leaving you alone to any races from now on. i'm so proud of you, माय लव (my love)

view all 354 comments

maxverstappen1 ❤️❤️

user20 watch her post one of these every few weekends because max is unstoppable ⤷ user21 this man doesn't know how to loose ⤷ user22 he's not only winning at races but also at life i mean she's so cute

redbullracing our good luck charm seems to have proven their value ⤷ yourusername i'm happy to be of service

♡ liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, schecoperez and 362,940 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1 जन्मदिन की शुभकामनाएं ✨ (best wishes for your birthday)

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user23 him learning hindi for her is the most adorable thing ⤷ user24 is she learning dutch for him tho? cuz i haven't seen her going around speaking in dutch ⤷ user25 girl- bffr

yourusername हमेशा के लिए हमेशा के लिए (always forever) ⤷ yourusername altijd voor altijd (always forever)

user26 HAHAHA Y/N POSTING HER COMMENT IN HINDI AND DUTCH HAS ME ON MY KNEES ⤷ user27 she really said 'enough of this shit talking' lmaoooo ⤷ user28 i love her for that

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x y/n #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

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adventuringblind · 8 months

Text

What you Deserve

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris x Max Verstappen

Genre: angst

Summary: Max deserves to be loved in every way, and she, along with her two partners, are determined to give him that.

Warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of Max's childhood, use of whore as an insult, domestic dispute, implied smut,

Notes: No hate to Kelly. I just needed her to be the villain for the plot

Masterlist

Her life was, and is still, a Rollercoaster. Being the daughter of Christian Horner made it so. Her life has always been with cars. Her soul felt connected to them in a way.

Along with the cars, there also came the people. Seb, Daniel, and Max had become her attachments. Specifically Max since she's only a year younger than him.

You'd think they were in love by the way they acted with eachother. And she would be lying if she said she didn't want that. He, however, wanted to focus on his career and she respected that.

In 2019 she met Charles. An inevitable meeting since she was alway running around making sure things were going to plan. And by running, she means litterally.

She collided with the Monegasque while neither of them were paying attention.

He took her to dinner that night to apologize despite her protest.

It ended up being a fun night. After three after race dinners or outings it felt like tradition.

Something that started as friends didn't last long. Neither are sure who fell first, just that both of them did. They couldn't stay away from each other.

She told her dad. She was terrified and shaking and wanted to cry the entire time, but he took it well. He'd never had a problem with Charles and outside of racing he invited him in. The garage was still off limits.

She remained friends with Max during this time. Even the next year when he and Kelly had been getting closer. She knew it wasn't her place to say anything, but something felt off about it. And the ache in her heart for the blonde Dutch boy hadn't left despite her years with Charles.

It made her feel guilty. Everytime her thoughts flickered back to Max, she felt herself spiraling to places she shouldn't be.

Charles had caught her in such a state. He'd panicked when he saw her glassy and absent stare.

"What's wrong, chéri?" He knelt down next to her and took her hands in his despite his own body shaking.

"I'm not good for you."

"Well that's not true at all." He coos at her. Though it only makes her tears fall harder.

"I love you but I also love Max. Always have. It's not fair to you."

"I already knew amour." He chuckles. "And I don't care. I think your heart os big enough to love more then one person. I'd even be open to seeing if he wanted to join us."

Things changed for the better after that. She felt safe enough to talk about feelings she'd never been able to explore previously.

They'd made a few attempts at asking him about his relashonship with Kelly. None of it had gone anywhere. They didn't go out with them and Max seemed to get rigid and defensive at the subject. So they dropped it until they had more information to work with.

Lando came to them out of nowhere. One day he just exploded with life and laughter into their world and never left.

The Brit had made it very clear that he liked it with them and the other two felt the same. It worked in a way people would find unconventional. But it's their relationship and nobody else's business.

That conversation with her dad made her laugh instead of shake. Mostly because he decided to give a stern lecture to both boys about how he would not hesitate to send Max into the sides of their cars if they hurt her.

Similarly, Max also had a few things to say. Despite him and Kelly going public with their relationship, he still cared for her. A small part of him even knawed with jealousy at times.

Their love for each other felt so different. They openly expressed it and were always smiling around each other. Max had to do something amazing to get that kind of affection from Kelly. Or he had to do something for her first.

But it's all he knows. He'd never had affection modeled for him growing up. He'd seen more hurt then anything. And he can't help the part of himself that wants what they have.

"I'm getting worried about him." Says the female who is currently curled across the laps of her lovers.

"Pretty sure you're always worried about him." Lando smiles at her endearingly. His head is resing on Charles' chest and his fingers idly stroke through the females hair.

She hums in agreement. It's not unusual that she's worried about Max. But this felt different.

Three days ago, Max had made history. Yes everytime he was next to Kelly, the Dutch looked almost pained. Even at the after celebrations he tried to stay with the three of them and not Kelly who looked interested in chatting with other people.

"I believe Kelly is gone for a few days." Pipes Charles. He sets his phone down and cuddles closer to his two lovers. "We could see if he wants to go out with us."

"Wouldn't he be cheating on her then?"

"Realistically it could just be Max hanging out with friends. Plus what Kelly doesn't know won't kill her."

Max says yes. It shocks her that he does so. Max has always been loyal to a fault. Maybe he is in a worse situation then they thought.

They met at the restaurant. It wasn't anything high class and discreet enough that they would hopefully be able to eat in peace.

Max arrived fashionable late and looking mildly anxious.

"Sorry I'm late." He says while getting comfortable in his seat.

"No need to apologize." Reassures Charles. "Is everything alright?"

Max hesitates, his body going rigid like recalling a bad memory. "Kelly's trip got delayed and when I told her I had plans she tried to keep me home instead."

"She doesn't think your cheating or anything does she?" Lando almost whispers across the table. Eyes filled with concern.

"I don't think so? She's accused me of it a few times with y/n but not recently that I can remember."

The female, who's been fighting the urge to punch Kelly since she started dating Max, decides holding his hand is probably better then her words at the moment. He smiles at her in endearment and appreciation.

"Let's move to another topic, shall we?"

The rest of the dinner is spent conversing about nonsense. Nothing about racing or work just everything and nothing all mixed together.

Max is finally looking more relaxed. His phone forgotten in his pocket. His smile lighting up at silly stories and funny jokes. It's refreshing to see him like this and the female finds herself melting into the fact he looks so comfortable with them.

Three days after their dinner date, Max calls to ask if they'd be willing to come to his place for drinks. Which is how they find themselves standing in the doorway of Max's apartment almost dumbfounded.

There is hardly anything around that feels like Max. No redbull posters or racing themed items. No pictures of Max and Kelly together and nothing of Max with his family.

Even when Max is giving them a tour of the place, she spots a shelf that gives evidence this isn't a strangers place. A singular shelf. Again she's fighting the urge to rip all of Kelly's clothes to shreds.

"Mate, your apartment feels like it's a display case." Lando's nose scruntches up in confusion.

Max leads them over to the bar area and starts pouring drinks. His shoulders shrugging and the Brits comment. "Kelly says it's better for my focus if it's like this."

Charles must have caught the way she moved. Her body ready to throw all Kelly's personal belongings out the window. The Monegasque's hand on her thigh stops her from doing so. He shoots her a pointed look that says 'violence is not the answer'.

Joke on him. Violence is always the answer. She just needs to wait for the perfect opportunity to unleash her fury. Just like her sarcastic father and hard to faze mother taught her.

They spent the evening in relatively deep conversation. Not awkward, flowing and comfortable. Max was opening up about his. She knew majority of what happend in his youth but the things about Kelly are new. How Max talks like it's completely normal is beyond her.

They continued this dance for a few months. Waiting for Kelly to not be looking before showering the Dutch in affection. They didn't push anything, just tried to give Max the love he'd been missing and craving for so long.

She would say it was cheating. The three of them are simply being good friends and making sure Max is doing okay mentally. And physically.

Until they probably go a step to far. All of them buzzed with liquid courage. The tension from the last few months finally spilling over.

The intimate a passionate night brought then all together in ways she didn't know were possible. The way Max was tearing up at being taken care of for once made every piece of her melt.

They couldn't go back after this. Max had said so himself. He wanted to be done with Kelly but felt stuck.

They reassured him that whatever happened they would be waiting, ready with open arms.

A week after, Lando woke up to his phone buzzing at an ungodly hour in the morning. Her and Charles shot out of bed out the sound of Max's broken sob and the sound of something smashing in the background.

The car ride felt blurry. The anger rising in her chest making it hard to breathe. Lando's voice is swimming in her head as he tries to keep Max on the phone with him and keep him breathing.

When they get to Max's apartment, the door is unlocked. Charles swings it open to reveal Kelly angrily stomping around. The place is a mess and there is shattered glass covering majority of the floor.

Kelly stops over to the female and lands a finger in the center of her chest. "This is your fault. You made Max into a damn whore for you people."

"Pretty sure you're the whore. Aren't you the one who feels the need to keep yourself young by sleeping with people who are barely legal behind Max's back?" She spits.

Kelly's palm connects with her cheek. Her face stings but her knuckles are burning with fiery rage. She doesn't give Kelly time to recover. Her fist connects with her jaw and sends her reeling backwards.

She'd been so engrossed that she didn't realize the boys had pulled Max out of wherever he was hiding. Now in the saftey of Lando's arms. Charles is the one who ultimately pulls her away from the scene. Despite her fighting him at first to get another hit on Kelly in before they leave.

The next few days are filled with attempting to get Max's things, phone calls, and the ensuring PR circus. The legal things worked themselves out since technically it's his apartment and Max never layer a finger on Kelly. Furthermore, Kelly hit her first so she got away on the 'self defense' excuse.

Max had his stuff mixed in with theirs. She'd printed pictures of them all together and pinned them to the wall. His presences in the house is known.

As she stands in the doorway of their room, her three lovers curled up together, snoring peacefully, she knows it was always meant to be.

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trulyhblue · 5 months

Text

Media Duties (Pt 2 of Communication)

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Dutch! Arsenal! Reader

Warnings: fluff, REALLY bad translated Dutch, language barrier, suggestive if you squint really hard.

Masterlist

___________________

While your English was far from great, it was slowly improving.

You spent most of your time at training listening to the conversations around you, trying to match words to emotions and faces to sounds. Your Netherlands teammates had slowly integrated the second language into your Dutch conversations, and your Arsenal teammates urged you more and more out of your shell.

You were still very soft-spoken, ushering a few words here and there, smiling when the group set off into chuckles at something one of them — primarily Katie — had said.

After games and training, Vic and you would go out to dinner, listening to her order before doing so yourself. It was embarrassing at first and continued to be until you memorized the pronunciations entirely.

Viv often invited the two of you over for dinner. It became a sort of tradition after training on Mondays and Fridays; when neither of you were willing to cook. You would listen to Beth talk about everything because she regularly did so whenever she had the chance. Viv would tease her for talking too much, but you enjoyed the blonde’s bubbly personality.

Alessia would come over to yours when she wanted to, using the few Dutch phrases she knew to bond with you. The ex-united player was very giggly, and wouldn't stop giggling until someone had to physically restrain her. In your opinion, she had the easiest accent to read.

Kyra’s on the other hand, was not.

Kyra was stuck to your hip the moment you met. You weren't used to having someone as physically clingy as the Australian, but you didn't seem to mind it. She would bring you a chocolate every morning, cheekily popping her one in her mouth with a smile. She would give you her packet when you left yours in your cubby, and when the two of you were subbed off, she’d sing your ear off with the strangest songs you ever heard.

When she first slept over with you, Victoria and Alessia, she refused to play Monopoly if she wasn't the dog, and you had to remind her that she wasn't actually going into debt — she could've just mortgaged her properties — but she threw her hands up and claimed everyone was gaining up on her. She took the blankets all to herself when you went to sleep, and when you whinged about how you were cold, she curled both her arms around your waist and cuddled you like a teddy bear.

Unrecognizably, Kyra’s Dutch started to improve. Neither of you noticed it at first, having used Google Translate in the first few weeks of meeting each other, but ever so slowly, the Australian found herself talking small phrases to you in your native language.

It wasn't like she went home and practised them on Duolingo, no, she’d never…

“My jacket looks good on you,” Kyra said to your hunched figure. You don't look up at her, but from her tone, you can tell she is smug.

Today's game against Chelsea was a big one. The famous London Derby was well awaited, with the Emirates banking up to pretty much sell out by the morning of. You kept seeing the anticipation of the game on social media. Tweets on the starting eleven predictions and score prognosis were being thrown left and right, causing you to feel slightly displaced regarding the upcoming match.

You had sat next to Kyra on the bus, having done so for every game this season so far. The trip to the stadium wasn't far, yet the suspense of the crowds daunted you as your head leaned against Kyra’s shoulders.

You were a part of the starting eleven, meaning you’d be up against Jessie Fleming and Erin Cuthbert. The young Aussie beside you wasn't, which rattled you even more. The combination of you, Vic, Kyra and Katie in Midfield was unstoppable, but on the rare occasion that you were all on the field at once was rare. Vic and Lessi were sitting in front of you, making TikToks. Vic had gotten up early this morning, but you two still managed to nearly miss the bus. Alessia was wearing her usual multiple layers of clothing, while Vic was only in her kit.

You matched Kyra’s silence for most of the ride, her small conversation being met with your distant hums. She could tell you were nervous, you didn't know how, but she knew.

“Domme meid.” Silly girl. She muttered. This nickname wasn't new to you. In fact, it was used quite frequently by your Netherlands teammates. Nonetheless, the quip made you look up, meeting the Aussie’s beady, brown eyes and childish smirk.

“I am not silly.” You retorted. “You are.”

“I am what?”

“Silly.”

Kyra shook her head, running her hand through her hair, her smile brighter. “Je stress te veel.” You stress too much.

“Ik niet. Je bent te relaxed. Ik benadruk omdat ik het goed wil doen.” I do not. You are too laid back. I stress because I want to do well. Your voice was pointed, the glare from your eyes making your point known.

But your gaze softened upon seeing Kyra’s eyes widen, her nose twitching as her lips fell into a frown. She didn't understand.

“Sorry.” You sighed, smoothing your shorts out with your hands. “I am… I am stressed… I want to…”

“Do well?”

You nodded, her face smoothing over. “Yes.”

“You are a very good player.” Without much thought, Kyra took your hand, her thumb drawing patterns over your palm. The blush that fell over your cheeks was noticeable. You could tell by Kyra’s smile. “You play very well.”

You could tell Kyra was struggling to find the right words to say. She bit her lip in thought, pulling out her phone. You knew what she was doing right away.

When she finished typing, the familiar voice rang out.

“Je zult niet begrijpen wat ik zeg als ik Engels spreek. Je moet je vandaag geen zorgen maken, want je bent een van de beste middenvelders die ik ken. Je hebt ongelooflijke vaardigheden. Je verdient het om trots te zijn op wat je kunt doen.” You won't understand what I’m saying if I speak in English. You shouldn't worry about today because you are one of the best Midfielders I know. You have incredible abilities. You deserve to feel proud of what you can do.

Your cheeks were very red by this point, your grip on Kyra’s hand tightening as you listened to the voice pour out of her phone.

“I want you to… play.”

“I might come on. You never know.”

You shook your head, telling her you didn't understand. She started typing up a storm once more, and you watched in adoration as a concentrated crease formed between her eyebrows.

“Als je je nerveus voelt, kijk dan rond en tel hoeveel mensen je trui dragen. Elke week zie ik hoop. Dat zal je laten zien hoeveel mensen in je geloven, zelfs als je dat niet doet.” If you are feeling nervous out there, look around and count how many people are wearing your jersey. Every week I see heaps. That’ll show you how many people believe in you, even if you don't.

You beamed, moving closer to Kyra by hugging her waist, using one of your arms to push underneath the hem of her shirt. You fiddled with the fabric to whole way there, feeling a wave of calm and peace flow over you.

***

Not once had you interacted with a reporter throughout your time at Arsenal. Never once did you find yourself in the awful situation of being caught out after a game.

Until now.

The game went incredibly well for the Gunner, coming away with a four-one win against the top of the ladder in front of nearly 70,000 people. You played the whole game, assisting one of the goals, and receiving player of the match.

This was your first time accepting an award at Arsenal. Kyra got the fan’s Player of the Month in November, which was definitely well deserved. At first, you had thought Alessia wouldn't obtain today’s award, but you were pleasantly surprised when Kyra came running up to you with the trophy, probably snatching it off someone so that she could be the first to hold it.

“Look at you go, Y/n/n.” She spoke, slipping her arms around your waist, spinning you around. “So proud of you.” This was a very special moment for you. You were trying awfully hard in your new club, and it felt like all of the tough work was paying off.

You were about to answer Kyra, praising her on the game she had, being subbed on in the second half, when you felt a presence come up behind you, alongside several cameras.

This was not your first time in front of the media, being known for your charismatic media presence back at AFC Ajax. You noticed fans loved the challenges you did with your old teammates and the joy you’d bring to the videos that would gain so many more views than all the others. You’d been tagged in all these tweets begging you to be in an Arsenal video, but you knew it wouldn't be the same.

You’d stutter, unable to find the right words you were thinking of in Dutch. Your humour wouldn't be as quick and witty in English. While you had grown an uncanny friendship with all of the Arsenal girls over these last months, you had known your Ajax teammates for four years, some even longer if you played with them at youth level.

“Y/n, congratulations on the game today and, of course, on Player of The Match, how would you describe this moment?”

The reporter was quick to point her microphone at you, waiting as you stood there speechless at her words. You only caught onto snippets of her speech. You hadn't heard the first part of her question, being too caught up in your moment with Kyra.

The Aussie was standing next to you, her arms still wrapped around your waist. She must've caught onto your stunned disposition since she swiftly moved you from side to side, stalling the moment by dancing with you cheekily.

The reporter laughed at the interaction, the cameraman panning to catch Kyra’s cunning smile and your flushing cheeks. She took the trophy from your hands, holding it up like Simba from The Lion King. You were giggling at the sight, and the camera caught Kyra’s beaming, proud response to your reaction.

“Well, I think this moment speaks for itself. Kyra, do you think Y/n’s commendation was well deserved?”

Kyra took her arm and swung it over your shoulder, giving you the trophy back with a toothy grin. “Who else would they give it to?”

“Lessi.” You suggested, modest in your attempt to calm the hyper state Kyra was in. The reporter laughed as Kyra gasped.

“You’re just being humble. She's a stress head, y’know, always worrying about the game. But look,” She pointed at the trophy, specifically your engraved name. “The amount of jerseys with her name on it says enough.”

“How are you going to celebrate now?” The woman asked, the microphone now between the two of you.

“Play a game of Monopoly.” Kyra smirked, watching you scoff.

“No.”

________________________

victoriapelova

Liked by leahwilliamson, and 32,363 others

victoriapelova — disgusting, the two of them 🤢

Tagged : yourusername, kyracooneyx

comments :

bethmead_ — let them be!!!

user1 — I wonder what they’re smiling at ��

^ yourusername — google translate 💗

^ user2 — SHE’S SO UNIRONICALLY FUNNY LMAO

^ user3 — IKR LIKE THE HEART SHES SO CUTE

alessiarusso99 — I'm already motion sick! Don't need that 🤧

^ victoriapelova — AGREED

^ kyracooneyx — your TikToks make us sick. Keep them in drafts, no one wants to see them ‼️

user4 — my two pookies 💞

* liked by kyracooneyx

katie_mccabe15 — @ yourusername where is my cuddles?! 😡

^ kyracooneyx — why cuddle you when she's got me?

^ charligrant — your cuddles are lethal, Kyra. I've nearly been suffocated to death.

^ alessiarusso99 — blink if you need help.

User12 — THEM IN THE INTERVIEW TOGETHER UGH THEY WERE SO CUTE

^ User15 — THE WAY KY DANCED WITH Y/N/N CAUSE SHE WAS NERVOUS OMG

yourusername — Vivi in the back 🤣

^ viviannemiedema — I was sleeping, shush.

^ user5 — looks like she's manifesting a win

^ viviannemiedema — I was.

user7 — they are so dating

^ user8 — they literally met like four months ago I doubt it

^ user9 — call me delulu, but they are trululu

^ user10 — no one can tell me otherwise after her POTM interview

^ user11 — THE WAY KYRA LOOKED SO PLEASED WITH HERSELF WHEN Y/N STARTED GIGGLING

^user10 — “who else would they give it to” “lessi” LIKE AWWWW SHES SO HUMBLE

(pretend its the Arsenal jerseys hahahaha)

kyracooneyx

kyracooneyx — Domme Meid

*comments are limited*

yourusername — silly girl 💗

alessiarusso — cute ig

*liked by victoriapelova

___________________________

#arsenal wfc #caitlin foord #arsenal #beth mead #chelsea #chelsea women #jessie fleming #katie mccabe #kyra cooney cross #kcc x reader #australia #matildas #vivianne miedema #charli grant #alessia russo #social media #social media fic #blurb #fic rec

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

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do you have a reference pic as to what you imagine will to look like w his braided hair? it’s such a cute hc 🥹

lemme tell you i have never run to pinterest so fast in my LIFE.

i wish i could draw!! oh well. in my head he’s got french braids (these are dutch braids, but same idea) on both sides of his head, ending in those cute poofy pigtails. (the second picture is most accurate except he doesn’t really have the same bangs, so the front is closer to the third picture).

some other little things about this headcanon:

- his mama used to do them for him when he was small. when he got to camp, silena did them for him, and she taught lee so he could do it when she wasn’t around. he was very bad at it. will didn’t mind.

- will had to teach himself how to do it after the war. at first he was very bad at it. he did mind.

- clarisse helped him relearn. silena taught her, too, when she was first transitioning. (great way to keep long hair out of your face).

- he doesn’t wear his hair like this every day, because it takes a good fifteen minutes to do well, and frankly he would rather sleep most mornings. but when he wants to feel good, he wears them.

- on their first holiday together (halloween), nico didn’t know the etiquette so he panicked and bought will elastics with little ghost charms, fully expecting them to be politely recieved and subsequently discarded.

- will was delighted with them and wore them regularly.

- as something of a tradition, nico buys him little elastic charms every time he sees them. every time he gives them to will, he beams, and nico blushes down to his toes and preens like a goddamn peacock. nico also gets very smug when he sees will wearing them, which is often.

- will’s hair is curly enough that the hair after he ties the braids off is very poofy. first time nico sees them, he starts calling him dandelion. it’s his favourite nickname and makes him melt every time.

- (nico frequently uses it when he wants something)

GODS i never knew i had so much to say about a hairstyle but i feel like i could talk for thousands of words 😭😭 thank you so much for asking!!

#i love this headcanon so so so much I WISH I COULD DRAW #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #will solace #headcanon #pjo headcanon #will solace headcanon #solangelo #ask

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vestaignis · 2 months

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Красивые современные портреты в работах канадского художника Шона Дауни.

Портреты Шона Дауни основаны на таких разнообразных влияниях, как известные голландские мастера и современные комиксы, прочно закрепляя многовековую традицию фигурной живописи в настоящем. Используя реалистический стиль, Дауни создает эмоционально насыщенные портреты, в основном женщин, в полностью реализованных декорациях, где лицо и настроение человека в зависят от окружающей среды. Очевидный интерес Дауни к таким мастерам, как Вермеер и Норман Рокуэлл, проявляется в его внимании к людям, занимающимся своими повседневными привычками, таким как женщина, укладывающая волосы или моющая руки, всегда в современной обстановке и одежде. Точно так же, в традициях вышеупомянутых художников, Дауни рисует не только лица, часто изображая свои фигуры спиной к зрителю. Однако его гиперреалистический стиль и манипуляции с масляными красками делают эти композиции такими же запоминающимися, как и его выразительные фигуры, обращенные лицом вперед.

Beautiful modern portraits in the works of Canadian artist Sean Downey.

Sean Downey's portraits are based on such diverse influences as famous Dutch masters and modern comics, firmly anchoring the centuries-old tradition of figurative painting in the present. Using a realistic style, Downey creates emotionally intense portraits, mostly of women, in fully realized sets, where a person's face and mood depend on the environment. Downey's obvious interest in masters such as Vermeer and Norman Rockwell is evident in his attention to people engaged in their daily habits, such as a woman styling her hair or washing her hands, always in a modern setting and clothes. Similarly, in the tradition of the aforementioned artists, Downey paints not only faces, often depicting his figures with his back to the viewer. However, his hyperrealistic style and manipulations with oil paints make these compositions as memorable as his expressive figures facing forward.

Источник://www.houseofroulx.com/products/shaun-downey-first-stop-lemon-hand-embellished-one-off-variant-12-x-12, /www.risunoc.com/2021/05/mimoletnaya-krasota-sovremennoj-zhizn.html,/arcadiacontemporary.com/artists/37-shaun-downey/works/,http://www.oilpaintings-supplier.com/products/ 124521.html.

#живопись #картины #искусство #художник #Шон Дауни #Гиперреализм #масло и холст #современное искусство #портрет #art #painting #artist #Sean Downey #Hyperrealism #oil and canvas #portrait art #modern art

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thethirdromana · 6 months

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You have done cheeses. How about dessert.

Ooh, good idea.

See, the thing about Victorian food is that a lot of it sounds pretty unappealing from the vantage point of the 21st century. There were a lot of overboiled vegetables and stodgy meals designed to get you through winters with no central heating.

But Victorian desserts? Much more reliably delicious. So I can restrict myself to the desserts that these characters might actually have eaten. No tiramisu (1960s) or banoffee pie (1971).

Starting off with an easy one, RM Renfield is the traditional Scottish fruit slice (which I already highlighted in my food guide to Dracula) known as flies graveyard. I'm going to trust that one doesn't need any additional exploration.

Lucy Westenra is light (literally: "Lucy" means light), pretty, and appealing to small children. OK, admittedly the eater-eaten relationship goes the other way around with the small children vs Lucy-as-dessert, but I think it still works. She's a bombe glacée, a spherical ice-cream dessert that first appeared on restaurant menus in the 1880s.

I had a fun browse through Dutch desserts before I found the perfect one for Abraham van Helsing. He's the old man of the story, but he's still a little bit spicy and a little bit divisive - much like anise, which flavours Dutch oudewijvenkoek, or old wives' cake.

For Quincey Morris, there could only be one option. He's from Texas, y'all, he is obviously peach cobbler.

Continuing with the suitors, the obvious answer for Arthur Holmwood would be a dessert associated with wealth and privilege - perhaps Eton Mess, traditionally served at the annual cricket match between Eton and Harrow Schools, and first mentioned in print in 1893. But Eton Mess is a light, sweet, inconsequential sort of dessert and that just doesn't seem right for Arthur. Instead, I'd associate him with a rich, indulgent, traditional, solid plum pudding.

Jack Seward is in some ways the most modern of the suitors. Also the most highly strung. He's cherries jubilee, a brand-new dessert in 1897 as it was (probably) created that year for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. It's full of liqueur (suitably for Jack, who's full of chloral) and it gets flambéed at the table.

I have to admit that I struggled with Jonathan Harker. Maybe I just love him too much to caricature him, you know? But what I came down is that he needed to be a beloved treat, available on menus across the UK, not wildly expensive, not wildly luxurious. And also, Jonathan goes through a lot of trials and drinks a lot of tea in this novel. Jonathan is a toasted teacake.

As for Mina Harker née Murray, it seemed appropriate that she should be a similar sort of dessert to her husband. So he's a bun with dried fruit and she's a bread with dried fruit. Specifically, she's an Irish soda bread (since Murray is an Irish surname) that is known either as Spotted Dog or - more suitably for Mina - railway cake.

#dracula daily

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fitz-higgins · 8 months

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LGBT literature of the 1860s–1910s. Part 5

After a long pause, the list is back! Here we have a couple of plays, accounts by two trans women, lesbian poetry, and more.

1. Despised and Rejected, by A.T. Fitzroy (Rose Allatini; 1918). A pacifist novel published during World War One? With gay and lesbian characters? Yes, that was sure to get people in trouble. Its publisher was fined and the judge called it “morally unhealthy and most pernicious”. So, Dennis is a young composer who hates violence and therefore refuses to go to war. He also suffers because he is a “musical man”, that is, gay, and loves Alan, art-loving son of a wealthy businessman. His friend Antoinette, meanwhile, is “strangely attracted” to a woman. Nevertheless, the two attempt to love each other. When the war begins, Alan appears in Dennis’ life again, and they try to avoid being sent to the front together. Alan also persuades Dennis to accept who he is. Edward Carpenter himself defended the novel, saying that “the book is also a plea for toleration of a very much misunderstood section of humanity”. Read online

2. Autobiography of an Androgyne, by Ralph Werther (1918). Ralph Werther, also known as Jennie June, wrote this autobiography for doctors, and it is very revealing. Being a New York fairy (male prostitute) and possibly a trans woman, they tell frankly about the city’s gay underworld of the early 20th century and their personal experience, which is sometimes too frank and dark perhaps, but all the more interesting. Read online

3. Poems by Mikhail Kuzmin. Kuzmin was not just the author of Russia’s first gay novel, but also a poet. Many of his works were dedicated to or mentioned his lovers. I’d recommend Where Will I Find Words (in English and Russian), Night Was Done (both in English and Russian), from the 1906-1907 collection Love of This Summer (available fully in Russian), mostly based on his love affair with Pavel Maslov in 1906. And also If They Say (in English and Russian), which is a great statement.

4. The Loom of Youth, by Alec Waugh (1917). A semi-biographical novel based on Evelyn Waugh’s older brother’s experience at Sherborne School in Dorset. It is a story of Gordon Caruthers’ school years, from the age of 13 to 19, and it is full of different stories typical for public schools, be it pranks and cheating exams or dorm life and sports. Although the homosexual subject was quite understated, the author implied that it was a tradition and open secret in public schools. The book became popular and soon caused a great scandal. Worth noting that before that Alec was expelled for flirting with a boy. Read online

5. Two Speak Together, by Amy Lowell (1919). Lowell was a famous American poet and lesbian. Many of her poems were dedicated to her lover, actress Ada Dwyer Russell, specifically the section Two Speak Together from Pictures of the Floating World. These poems are infused with flower imagery, which wasn’t uncommon for lesbian poetry of the time. Read online

6. De berg van licht/The Mountain of Light, by Louis Couperus (1905-1906). Couperus is called the Dutch Oscar Wilde for a reason: this is one of the first decadent novels in Dutch literature. It is also a historical one, telling about a young androgynous Syrian priest Heliogabalus who then becomes a Roman Emperor. Homoerotism, hedonism, aestheticism: Couperus creates a very vivid world of Ancient Rome. He also covered the topic of androgyny in his novel Noodlot, which was mentioned in Part 3 of this list. Read online in Dutch

7. Frühlings Erwachen/Spring Awakening/The Awakening of Spring, by Frank Wedekind (1891, first performed in 1906). This play criticized the sexually oppressive culture prevalent in Europe at the time through a collection of monologues and short scenes about several troubled teens. Each one of them struggles with their puberty, which often leads to a tragic end. Like in The Loom of Youth, homosexuality is not the central focus of the play, but one character, Hänschen, is homosexual and explores his sexuality through Shakespear and paintings. The play was later turned into a famous musical. Read online in German or in English

8. Twixt Earth and Stars, by Radclyffe Hall (1906). Though it wasn’t known to many at the time, these poems were dedicated to women, some to Hall’s actual lovers. Read online

9. The Secret Confessions of a Parisian: The Countess, 1850-1871, by Arthur Berloget (published in 1895). This account is similar to the Autobiography of an Androgyne, albeit shorter. The author nowadays is thought to be a trans woman. They describe their love for women’s dresses, the euphoria from wearing dresses, makeup and wigs, the life as a “female impersonator” in Parisian cafe-concerts, and their love affair with a fellow prisoner. The autobiography is not available online, but you can read it in Queer Lives: Men’s Autobiographies from Nineteenth-Century France by William Peniston and Nancy Erber.

10. At Saint Judas’s, by Henry Blake Fuller (1896). This is possibly the first American play about homosexuality. It is very short. An excited groom is waiting for his wedding ceremony in the company of his gloomy best man. They are former lovers, and this short scene is not going to end well… Read online

Previous part is here

#lgbt literature #lgbt fiction #queer history #queer fiction #lesbian literature #russian literature #gay literature #gay history #spring awakening #lesbian history #blog: history #blog: literature

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charlie-lec-stories · 8 months

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The Socca Fiasco // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Charles feels like he doesn't do enough compared to his partners so he decides to make a traditional Monaco dish for them. What could go wrong?

Warnings: None, just Charles being adorable and two curse words.

Author’s Note: This is a story that it's actually part of a sort of series. Little story time: A few years ago a friend of mine got into a polyamorous relationship with a girl and a boy. He motivated me to add this relationship concept to a longer story I wrote. Since I've never been in one, I decided to write short stories with a domestic vibe to practice and get more comfortable with how to write the dynamics of such relationships as accurately as I can. This is where this comes from. All of the Charles x Max x Y/N stories are part of the same universe, you could say, like they are all stories about different situations the three of them go through. I hope you all like some domestic Lestappen x Y/N. Rate: PG

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It was a tradition for them to have Max make Stroopwafel for breakfast, it was the dutch's way of showing affection, since he wasn't exactly expressive with words or romantic gestures on a daily basis. He would usually wake up earlier than Charles and Y/N, having been always a morning person, and take command of the kitchen to make sure his parters had a good breakfast. "It's the most important meal of the day", he always said whenever the other two refused to eat in the morning. Charles was the worst when it came to food, he would always complain that eating so early made his stomach feel funny and that he needed some time before he could actually eat something. Max came up with a plan, to make sure Charles would eat, he would make something Charles liked for breakfast, that way the monegasque would never refuse to eat in the morning ever again. His plan worked, and with the addition of the Stroopwafel to their breakfast menu, Charles started to eat every morning without making a single complain. That's how the tradition started and Max loved it, he felt like he could tell his partners he loved them, without having to actually say it, something that made him feel kind of awkward.

To the breakfast tradition a new ritual was added when Y/N started to cook a traditional dish from her country every Sunday. She had traveled back to her parents house for a few days and noticed that she actually missed those Sunday family gatherings that used to occur every week when she was younger. Her family would spent the whole day together, playing board games, watching movies and listening to music. The point of Family Sunday was to create wonderful moments together to remember forever. And she remembered them all with love. With that nostalgia settled in her heart, she decided that she wanted to keep that tradition alive with her new family. Every weekend she would buy everything she needed to make the meal and dedicate the Sunday morning to cooking. Charles and Max had their own roles, Charles taking care of the getting all the board games they had in the house and setting up the table, while Max was the one that prepared the brewages and picked the movie or vinyl that would play in the background. Family Sundays were their favorites because they could manage to celebrate them anywhere in the world, all they needed was a grill for the food, some board game and music. If it was race weekend, they had dinner and if it was a free weekend, they had lunch. They spent some Family Sundays in hotel rooms, simply cooking their meal in the hospitality of Red Bull or Ferrari and then taking it to the room to eat it together. Y/N really liked those moments, it made her feel like they were officially family.

Charles, at some point, started to feel like he wasn't doing enough. Max made breakfast, Y/N made Family Sunday meal and he was always enjoying what they made instead of doing something for them. He wanted to do something, he wanted to give them as much as they gave him. He wanted them to know that he loves them. With this idea in mind, he tried to cook pasta a few times, but it didn't end up well. Max had ended up banning him from the kitchen because he was sure that Charles would burn the apartment down. Pasta was off the table and it was the only thing that Charles knew how to cook, even if he didn't do it well. He expressed this concern to his brothers, who instead of giving him some cooking ideas, suggested him to just simply express his affection with other actions. Charles refused, he wanted to make something and he was going to do it.

"I'm just so bad at this, Maman". He complained to his mother on the phone. "I mean, Y/N isn't that good, but at least she can pull something off! I'm not asking to cook as good as Max, I just want to do something right". His mother could hear the stress in his voice. She actually believed that Charles didn't need to cook anything for his partners, they already knew that he loves them and that he shows that love through different methods. Still, she decided to please her son's wishes.

"Okay Charles, I'll send you a recipe for Socca. It's an easy dish and you'll have no problem making it". Charles' spirits lifted quickly. "It's beginners level of complexity. You'll be fine"

"Thank you, Maman! You're the best. I love you!".

It was summer break and Charles had been practicing the recipe for three months. He did it at the Ferrari hospitality every week and it was his most sacred secret. He wanted it to be a surprise so Y/N and Max couldn't know about it. It took Charles a lot of effort to hide his cooking practices, but he was finally ready to cook Socca at home. His skill with the dish had improved a lot, he had to admit that the first ones he made were so bad he couldn't even eat them. His younger brother, Arthur, even gagged when he tried a piece once.

"Charles, if you feed them this, you'll end up single". The younger Leclerc said as he spit the food in the bin.

"Oh Lord. 'How to loose not one but two lovers in one go'. I can see that Buzzfeed article". Charles glared at Lorenzo, his older brother, who was laughing at Charles poor attempt of Socca while he threw that comment.

But, his Socca upgraded since then and while Max and Y/N were out for a jog, Charles told them that he wasn't feeling like running and stayed home. He had an hour until they were back, more than enough time to cook and surprise them. Only four ingredients were needed: Chickpea flour, water, extra-virgin olive oil and sea salt. Once he had everything on top of the kitchen island, he started to mix everything in a bowl. He whisked until there were no lumps in the mix and then set a timer to let the batter soak for thirty minutes. The oven at home was nothing like the one he used to practice with so he had a few set backs when trying to turn it on, but he finally did it and then placed the pan inside to make sure it'll preheated before pouring the batter on it. In the meantime, his mother called to know what plans they had for that weekend. Charles loved talking to his mother so he sat comfortably on the couch and proceeded to tell her all of his summer break plans while he waited for the batter to soak. After a few minutes, he went to the kitchen for a glass of water and when he looked at the kitchen counter he noticed that the timer wasn't working. Slightly panicked, he took the phone away from his ear and check the time of the call. He had been talking to his mother for twenty minutes and before that he had trouble with the oven, but how long did that took him? He didn't know. It was quite a struggle, maybe it actually took him another ten minutes. With a rushed apology and a promise to call later, he hung up and decided to concentrate on his task.

"Well, I'm sure that has to be ready". He said to himself. Sighing, he opened the oven to take the pan out, he forgot to grab a kitchen towel and ended up burning his right hand. An instant hiss left his lips and he dropped the pan. "Putain!". Charles cursed under his breath, he grabbed the kitchen towel and picked up the pan again. A lot more stressed than he expected to be when he started cooking, he poured the batter on the pan, put it inside the oven and closed it. Twenty minutes later, Max frowned the moment he set a foot inside the apartment, turning towards Y/N who was looking at him with the same expression. There was a funny smell coming from the kitchen and he knew that it wasn't good sign. Keeping Y/N behind him he walked into the living room area, Charles was nowhere to be seen, but his singing was in the air, clearly coming from the bedroom. Max went straight to the kitchen while Y/N went to the bedroom to look for Charles. She was about to turn on the light of the hallway when Max yelled from the kitchen.

"Schat, don't touch anything!". Charles peaked his head through the bedroom door and his eyes met with Y/N's, they smiled lovingly at each other, but Max's dutch curse words quickly caught their attention. Charles jogged to her side and pecked her lips as a silent greeting while the two walked to the kitchen.

"Max, what's wrong?". Y/N asked while the dutchman opened the kitchen window as wide as he could. "Did you find the source of that smell?"

"It's the oven, it was leaking gas". He looked at Charles. "Charlie, you turned on the gas but never lit it up".

"No! I did, I swear!". Max shook his head.

"Don't turn on any light, let's just open all the windows and let the wind from outside renovate the air". Charles went to the living room and sat on the couch, huffing and with a frown on his face.

"I don't get it!". Y/N sat next to him and grabbed his hand. "I lit it up".

"Sometimes closing the door to harsh or an object hitting the oven can kill the pilot light". She explained. Charles remembered the pan he dropped.

"I am stupid!". He said, his accent thick. "I dropped the pan when I burned my hand. That must have done it".

"You burned your hand!?". Max and Y/N asked worried, Max running to stand in front of him and checking on his hands.

"It's nothing". Charles assured them, embarrassment filling his chest. Max kept looking at his hands anyways. There was a small red mark on his right palm. Y/N went to the bathroom and grabbed a lotion for burns from the first aid kit. She gently ran in over Charles' palm, him letting out a sigh of content at the cool sensation against his burned skin. "I am stupid".

"You're not stupid, don't say that". Max looked at him sternly, he hated when Charles called himself that.

"But I am! It took me three months to learn how to do the easiest dish in Monaco, which already proves how useless I am, just for me to fuck it up when I finally try to do it for you!". He was pissed so the other two left him get it all out. "You always cook for me and I can't even make a fucking Socca for you, I just wanted you guys to feel like I love you... I suck".

"We do feel like you love us, Charlie". Y/N said as she caressed his arm. "We know that you love us".

"But I never do anything for you". Charles said looking at his lap.

"That's not true". Max sat criss-crossed on the floor in front of Charles. "You always try to cheer us up when we have a bad day, and you always know what we need without having to say it. I think that's something important to add to a relationship".

"That's right". Y/N agreed. "Who cares if you can't cook? You still took the time to learn how to do it just for us. You spent three months learning something that it's hard for you all to make us happy". She ran her hands through Charles' hair and he looked at her. "That makes me feel really loved".

"You mean it?". Charles asked looking between the other two. They nodded eagerly.

"We do". Max's voice assured him quietly. Charles smiled.

Maybe Charles was doing more than he thought.

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Well, I hope you like this one!

#charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #lestappen x reader #lestappen imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #lestappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max vestappen one shot

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brujahinaskirt · 1 year

Text

For the longest time, I couldn't figure out a pattern behind the strangers Arthur is drawn to -- the ones he likes, approves of, and generally enjoys. He seems to gravitate to wildly different types of people: dandy city boys and rugged mountaineers, perky showgirls and abrasive weirdos, gentle souls and circus "freaks," friendly socialites and social outcasts. At first glance, it appears he's simply drawn to people who are unlike him, perhaps out of a sense of curiosity. But I think it's a little more complex than that...

I think Arthur is drawn to people who flamboyantly and courageously defy the expectations placed upon them by their communities, parents, and social circles, whatever those circles may be.

[meta essay, mild side-quest spoilers below...]

While Arthur (being naturally artistic himself) definitely appreciates artists of every field, and while he definitely has a soft spot for young lovers (projection much…), that's only the tip of the iceberg.

Just look at the shortlist! Albert Mason, the hapless urbane gentleman who decided to strike out and chase his passion for wildlife even if it cost him his life and career. Penelope Braithwaite, the young suffragette who loathed tradition and the bumbling pretty-boy son of her wealthy family's arch-nemesis. Charles Châtenay, a gender-bending social troll of an artist who gleefully infuriates prudes and puritans everywhere he goes. Sally Nash, the perky aspiring "second-best woman lion-tamer" in the world. Acrisius and Proetus, the feuding academician brothers who eagerly partake in increasingly ridiculous tests of idiot daring. Charlotte Balfour, a rich big-city widow who eschews her former high-life to live simply with nothing but a rifle she doesn't know how to use. Algernon Wasp, the hapless dandy obsessed with eccentricities and craftswork few people appreciate (but who apparently makes excellent tea). Jaime Gillis, the aimless kid who knows nothing about himself except that he likes apples and can't bear to live the life his father wants for him. Hamish Sinclair, the one-legged veteran who rides, hunts, and remains self-sufficient despite the difficulty of rough-living with his amputation. Marko Dragic, the frankly unpleasant epitome of shunned mad scientist. Miss Marjorie and her "sons," who fight tooth and nail but somehow find a way to love each other in the face of civilization's rejection, a mirror image of Arthur's own outcast family.

Arthur doesn't just begrudgingly help these particular strangers; for the most part, he really likes these people, writes about and draws them favorably in his journal. Admires them, in a way, as foolish and imperiled as they often are.

While it seems the people he likes have little in common with each other, and often little in common with Arthur, they've all boldly done something Arthur himself is trying to find the courage to one day do...

They don't behave. As big and bad as Arthur is in the world at large, within the confines of his own community, he's extremely well-behaved. He does what's asked of him and plays the role of the big baddie gang lieutenant, which is what his elders tell him to be, even when it's in direct conflict with his wishes and (if honorable) his morals and perhaps even his "natural" personality.

tl;dr: Arthur likes defiers of all kinds, because they prove that defiance can be done. Not just simple defiance of laws, but a deeper, more complete defiance. Defiance of the expectations of family, of the roles dictated to you by those close to you, of responsibility heaped upon you without consent -- and yes, even of Dutch.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption #more meta alas #last one for a while i promise i know how to be quiet do NOT hit me with toxic moonshine uwu!!#redmeta

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