My Book of Fics

Monaco Daydream (2) - Mason Mount

The next morning you jump awake at the sound of a loud knock on your bedroom door. "Y/N! COME ON ITS QUALI DAY!" Phil shouts, you groan and push your face into your pillow. Once you don't hear anymore noise you relax into the covers, wanting to catch up on the sleep you missed because of your overactive mind. Suddenly your door is throw open making you gasp and sit up with a hand against your chest. "DUDE WHAT THE HELL!" you shout while glaring at the Man City footballer that is now in your room.

He opens his mouth to reply but doesn't say anything, you notice his eyes move to your face before his jaw clenches. "What did he do?" your breath catches at his question, "what are you talking about?" he strides over and sits on the edge of the bed, "you've been crying and we all saw you leave in a hurry last night so tell me what Mason did" you lower your gaze to your lap and play with your fingers. "Or I can just ask him myself" you lift your head and shake it, "no don't" he frowns so you put your hands on his, "it wasn't him it was me, he's so kind and took care of me but I bolted because I don't want to find out what'll happen after Monaco, after this dream-like weekend ends" Phil sighs before pulling you into a hug. "I'm basically family and because of that I have this need to protect you from anyone that could hurt you, but I need you to know that I think Mason is a really good lad who wouldn't hurt anyone" you pull back from his hug with a look of disbelief on your face, "you've got to be kidding me" he shrugs so you shove him, "after all of the guys you absolutely did not approve of for me you think the Chelsea golden boy is a really good lad I can't handle this, I'm staying here you go watch quali, I'll just sit on the balcony and listen to the cars" he pouts but you just push him off the bed and out the door, "not gonna work this time Foden" he sighs but doesn't fight you on the matter.

When the rental flat is quiet you sigh and run your fingers through your tangled hair, deciding that a hot shower is in order before making any breakfast. You venture to the kitchenette an hour later, feeling much better after getting clean, humming along to the music coming from your phone as you make some food. As you're carrying your full plate to the small balcony attached to the flat you hear cheers and engines coming alive outside so you rush your steps to take a seat on one of the chairs set up to overlook the view. You sit forward when you see a handful of Formula 1 cars speed by, a smile growing on your face because of the joy they bring in such a short moment.

••••

Qualifying ends with the two expected drivers at the front so you shuffle back into the flat to clean up the kitchen. As you're drying everything your phone vibrates a couple of times in rapid succession. The sound makes you look over at the device with furrowed brows, it starts ringing making your expression shift to an even more worried one so you rush over. When you see Man City's PR manager's name on your screen you feel your stomach flip. Once you accept the call you brace for the worst, "have you been on social media at all today?" she asks immediately, "no, why?" you reply while bringing a hand up to twirl a strand of hair, a nervous tick of yours, "shit Y/N, the photos of you and Mason Mount getting cozy in Monaco are everywhere" you feel the colour drain from your face and you nearly drop your phone, "what" she huffs and you know that she's probably pacing in her office at the Etihad.

You sit on the couch trying to process the information, "this is bad" you add quietly, "especially since you're wearing a fucking Man City bikini top in the photos" she exclaims, "I'm gonna kill him" you mutter while moving on to tugging at your hair, "who're you gonna kill now?" you go to respond but the door to the flat opens so you look up, "Phil Foden" you tell her with a bite in your voice, making said footballer's eyes widen as he spots you.  "Please don't Y/N, he's worth a lotta money" you snort but continue to glare at your mate, "fine, and keep me updated on the situation" she hums so you hang up the call.

"Whatever it is I'm sorry" you stand up before approaching Phil, "someone took pictures of me and Mason at the stupid pool party, so now i'm the new cleat chaser going after golden boy Mount, and all while wearing that horrendous Man City bikini you gave me, so this'll need more than an apology" he curses while kicking off his trainers, "is that why people kept asking him about some mystery girl" you groan and bring your hands up to rub at your temples feeling a headache coming on from this unwanted mess, wishing that you never went to the party in the first place. "Well there's nothing more for me to do here so I'm going back home" you explain while grabbing your phone again to book the next flight back to London, "no don't go Y/N" he pleads, "this dream just turned into a nightmare, I'd rather be anywhere but here" you explain and go back to typing your information for the new booking you're making.

••••

After the fastest packing of your life you leave your flat key on the kitchen counter before hugging Phil one last time. "I'm really sorry Y/N, I didn't mean for this to happen" you smile and press a kiss to his cheek, "I know and now you'll have to buy me ice cream for the rest of the year" he nods and you grab the handle of your suitcase. "Text me when you get back alright" you nod and finally leave the flat, rushing into the Uber that'll take you to the airport. Letting out a sigh as you look forward to being back in London after the chaos of two days in Monaco.