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pucksandpower · 2 months

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The Princess and the Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Princess of Denmark!Reader

Summary: in which you follow the time-honored tradition of Danish royalty falling in love with Australians

Note: dedicated to my favorite Dane, @struggling-with-drivers, who had to put up with me taking months to finally get the proper inspiration to write this

“And if you’ll just follow me, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses, I’ll take you to meet Kevin now,” the overly peppy Haas PR representative says as she gestures down the garage.

You force a smile, trying not to physically recoil as you take in the assault of garish Haas branding surrounding you. The white, red, and black color scheme is far too harsh on the eyes this early on a Saturday morning.

“Oh goody,” your younger sister Josephine says flatly, eliciting a snort from your younger brother Vincent.

Your mother, Queen Mary, shoots the two a reproachful look before turning back to the PR rep with a polished smile. “We’re very excited to meet Kevin and support Denmark’s driver.”

The PR rep beams and starts leading you further into the Haas garage, rattling on about Haas’ ambitious goals for the season as you pass mechanics in matching black Haas polos barely paying you any mind.

You internally groan, already dreading the interaction ahead. As the Crown Princess, you’ve long perfected the art of feigning interest, but this weekend has tested even your limits.

“And I know meeting the future queen will just make Kevin’s day!” The rep continues enthusiastically. “He was so honored when King Frederik reached out about you all coming this weekend to support him.”

You resist the urge to snort. More like the royal communications secretary reached out when they realized the Australian Grand Prix overlapped with your visit to your mother’s family in Australia. Nothing like conveniently timing a royal appearance to drum up positive press.

Your younger sister, Isabella, sidles up next to you, linking her arm through yours commiseratingly. At 16, she’s already mastered your family’s signature skill — conveying boredom through a pleasant facial expression.

“I have some fresh sets of Haas merch we would love for you to wear when you meet Kevin,” the rep says, holding out stacks of Haas emblazoned caps and shirts insistently. “It would mean so much to the team for you to showcase your support.”

You force a smile, already shaking your head. “Oh, I’m afraid we can’t wear anything with advertisements or sponsors per royal protocol.”

The PR rep’s face falls slightly before she plasters the smile back on. “Of course, Your Royal Highness, I understand. Shall we?”

She gestures further down the garage to where the Haas drivers are standing with team personnel. Kevin Magnussen spots your approach, nudging his teammate before they turn towards you.

As you reach them, Kevin steps forward first, offering a short bow. “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, it’s an honor to meet you.”

You offer your hand, which he takes, bowing again as he brushes his lips over your knuckles. “The honor is ours, Mr. Magnussen. Denmark is proud to have you representing us in Formula 1.”

Kevin smiles bashfully as you drop his hand. “Please, call me Kevin.”

You return his smile politely. “Very well, Kevin it is.”

The rest of your family exchanges pleasantries with Kevin before the PR rep guides you towards the pit wall to observe the action on track. Practice is getting underway, and you’re grateful for any chance to extract yourself from the oppressive Haas environment.

As you exit the garage into the sunlight, you breathe a sigh of relief. Two bodyguards fall smoothly in step behind you as you start down the paddock, taking in the buzz of activity.

You smile softly, the excitement infectious despite your general disinterest in motorsports. There’s something about the frenetic energy at a race that gets your blood pumping.

Your eyes light up as you spot the unmistakable papaya motorhome of McLaren up ahead. Now that’s a team you can get behind. Cool retro appeal and a driver line-up you’ve heard is full of young talent — what’s not to love?

You pick up your pace, eager to get a closer look at the iconic livery, when suddenly you collide headlong into a firm, muscular body.

You gasp as strong arms wrap around you, stopping your momentum abruptly. Your hands brace against a solid chest as you glance up, prepared to stammer out an apology.

But the words die on your lips as you find yourself staring into warm brown eyes set in an unfairly handsome face. The eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having expected the Crown Princess of Denmark to go careening into his arms.

His mouth opens, no doubt to ask if you’re okay, but you stand frozen as the hustle of the paddock fades into background noise.

In this moment, it’s just you and this beautiful stranger. A stranger who hasn’t let go of you yet, one hand still pressed gently against your back.

You know you should pull away, apologize for your clumsiness and be on your way. But something about his eyes makes you want to stay right here, wrapped safely in his arms.

You stand frozen, lost in the stranger’s mesmerizing brown eyes. You vaguely register your bodyguards stepping forward on either side of you.

“Your Royal Highness, are you alright?” Henrik, your lead bodyguard, asks urgently.

You blink, the spell broken as Henrik’s hand lands on your shoulder, gently tugging you back.

The stranger’s eyes widen further as understanding seems to dawn. His eyes flick over the royal crest on Henrik’s suit jacket before moving back to your face, a hint of panic in his gaze.

Before you can offer any reassurance, a voice calls out sharply from behind the man.

“Oscar! What are you doing, mate? We’ve got the strategy briefing in five!”

You watch as the man — Oscar, apparently — glances reluctantly over his shoulder to where a thin harried man bearing a McLaren team pass stands tapping his foot impatiently.

Oscar’s hands slip from your waist as he takes a small step back. “Sorry, I—”

But whatever he was going to say gets lost as the man strides forward, clapping a firm hand on Oscar’s shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go. No time for chatting up fans when we’ve got quali coming up.”

Oscar allows himself to be steered away, casting one last, almost wistful look back at you before the brisk man hustles him around the corner.

You stare after them for a long moment before Henrik’s voice breaks through your daze once more.

“Your Highness, are you injured at all? Shall I call for a medic?”

You blink, shaking your head quickly as heat floods your cheeks. Honestly, they must think you a simpleton, standing here gaping after a man you collided with.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him quickly. “Just a bit clumsy this morning it seems.”

You force out a breathy laugh, hoping your flaming cheeks can be explained away as embarrassment from your blunder.

Henrik eyes you skeptically for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But please be more careful, Your Highness. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

You nod contritely before allowing Henrik to usher you back towards the Haas garage, your other bodyguard falling smoothly back in step behind you.

As you near the garage, you spot your family gathered by the pit wall, watching as a group of track marshals examines a particularly suspicious drain cover. Your younger siblings all turn as one to look at you, eerily in sync.

The knowing looks on their faces make you shudder. Of the many curses of growing up in a big family, the inability to keep secrets ranks near the top. You’re sure they’ll have the truth out of you before long.

“Nice of you to join us, Y/N,” your younger brother Christian remarks wryly as you reach them. “Have a nice stroll?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. Barely.

“Lovely, thank you,” you reply breezily instead, moving to stand between your mother and Isabella.

You determinedly avoid meeting any of your siblings’ gazes, focusing on the timing sheets instead. But you can feel their curious stares boring into you.

“You look a bit flushed, darling. Are you feeling quite alright?” Your mother murmurs, pressing a hand to your forehead in concern.

“Just peachy!” You chirp in response, internally cringing at the unnatural brightness in your tone.

From your other side, Isabella leans in, voice sly. “You do seem rather … distracted. Anything you want to share with the class?”

You glance at her sharply, taking in her knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes in warning, but Isabella just smiles innocently.

“Oh leave your sister be,” your mother chides. “I’m sure Y/N is just overwhelmed by the excitement of experiencing her first Grand Prix.”

You make a noncommittal noise of agreement, turning your focus back to the timing sheets. Isabella elbows you subtly and you pointedly ignore her, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

You’re immensely thankful when the Haas PR rep appears again, ushering you towards the back to “give the team space to prepare for qualifying,” and drawing your family’s attention away from you.

You trail after your family to the cordoned off hospitality area, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from the proffered cooler.

As the mechanics spring into action around you, Isabella sidles up next to you again, playful smile still in place.

“Soooo,” she drawls, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Who’s got you all flustered then?”

You nearly choke on your water, whipping your head to face her. “What? No one! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Even to your own ears, the denial sounds feeble. Isabella merely arches one perfect brow, clearly not buying it.

You huff out a breath, scanning the room quickly to ensure none of your other family members are in earshot before hissing under your breath. “I may have accidentally careened into a McLaren crew member during my walk.”

Isabella’s grin turns positively feline. “Oh, do tell ...”

“There’s nothing to tell!” you insist, face flaming once more. “We collided and his reflexes were quick enough to catch me before I fell. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure that blush is just because you’re so very embarrassed by your clumsiness and nothing else.”

You scowl and take a long swig of your water.

Isabella chuckles. “So was this mystery McLaren man at least handsome?”

You nearly choke again. “Isabella!” You admonish under your breath.

She holds up both hands innocently, still grinning. “What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. No judgment here, promise.”

You narrow your eyes, considering her carefully. Before you can think better of it, you mutter reluctantly, “He … wasn’t entirely unfortunate looking.”

“Aha!” Isabella crows triumphantly. “I knew it!”

You shush her frantically, glancing around to make sure her outburst didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

“Do you know his name at least?” Isabella asks, slightly more quietly this time.

You hesitate before admitting, "... Oscar, I think. His colleague called him that.”

Isabella hums thoughtfully. “Very mysterious ...”

You roll your eyes, shoving her shoulder. “Oh stop it. Can we please just drop this?”

“Of course, of course,” Isabella relents, though the impish twinkle remains in her eye.

You’re prevented from further interrogation by the start of qualifying. You rejoin your family, studiously keeping your gaze away from your siblings’ knowing looks.

You determinedly put the morning’s events from your mind, focusing on Kevin’s qualifying efforts. Though you can’t help the occasional wish that the handsome stranger from McLaren — Oscar — was the one flying around the track instead.

The session proceeds fairly predictably, with the top teams claiming the top spots and the backmarkers bringing up the rear.

As Kevin pulls into the garage after qualifying 17th, you paste on an encouraging smile.

“Excellent job out there, Kevin! You and the team should be very proud.”

Kevin smiles wryly back at you. “You’re too kind, Your Highness. But I think we all know 17th is nothing to celebrate for a team with our aspirations.”

You nod sympathetically. “Of course, there’s always room for improvement. But you showed admirable pace given the circumstances.”

Kevin inclines his head gratefully at your measured response. “You have a bright future ahead as queen with such judicious words.”

You thank him sincerely for the compliment before your family takes their leave, the day’s obligations finally complete.

As you all pile into the waiting cars, Isabella leans over and whispers, “Do you think Kevin would’ve qualified higher if Haas wasn’t so slow?”

You have to smother your snort of laughter into your hand.

“Without question,” you whisper back. “I think a snail could qualify ahead of Haas at this point.”

Isabella dissolves into muffled giggles next to you as the cars pull away from the circuit, leaving the chaotic world of Formula 1 behind. At least until tomorrow.

***

You stare contemplatively out the car window as the city lights of Melbourne streak by in the darkness. Despite your family’s teasing, you can’t seem to remove a certain McLaren crew member from your thoughts.

Oscar. Even his name sends a flutter through your stomach.

You know it’s foolish to get caught up over a brief collision with a stranger. And yet … those eyes. You can’t shake the connection you felt in that moment, however fleeting.

The car slows to a stop outside your hotel and you make a split-second decision. Turning to your mother, you adopt your most winsome tone.

“Mor, I was hoping you might allow me to go out for the evening. To experience the Melbourne nightlife before we depart.”

Your mother’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Go out? Alone?”

You rush to reassure her. “Oh no, I’ll take Henrik and Simone with me of course. I would just love the chance to explore the city a bit, like a normal young woman.”

You see a flash of understanding on your mother’s face and press your advantage. “In fact, didn’t you and Far meet during a pub crawl?”

Pink stains your mother’s cheeks but her lips quirk up. “I suppose we did. But those were different times ...”

“Please Mor?” You plead. “When will I have a chance like this again?”

Your mother regards you shrewdly for a long moment before sighing. “Oh very well. But Henrik and Simone must accompany you at all times. And I want you back by midnight at the latest.”

You beam, leaning over to smack a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll stay safe.”

As you exit the car, your younger brother Christian pipes up from behind you. “Hey, can I come too?”

“Absolutely not,” your mother shuts him down swiftly, leveling a quelling look at his crestfallen face.

You hide a smile as you sweep into the hotel to change, giddiness rising in your chest. A night out is just what you need to clear your head from a certain handsome distraction.

An hour later you slide into the backseat of one of the discreet royal security vehicles, now wearing jeans, heels, and a silky camisole, your long hair spilling over your shoulders.

Henrik raises his eyebrows at your outfit but doesn’t comment as he pulls away from the hotel, heading for the club district.

When you arrive, the bouncer’s eyes widen at the royal crests adorning your bodyguards’ suits. But a few quick words from Henrik and you’re granted access without a fuss.

The heavy beat of the music washes over you as you enter the fashionable club. Bright lights flash hypnotically over the crowded dance floor. You glance back at Henrik and Simone stationed near the entrance, allowing the music to carry you further inside.

You weave your way to the bar, excitement simmering in your veins. Tonight you’re just Y/N, anonymous clubgoer. No titles, no expectations, no watching eyes judging your every move.

Well, except for your bodyguards of course. But they’re discreet enough to give you space.

You’re so lost in the heady freedom of anonymity that you don’t notice the nearby figure doing a double take. But as you step up to the bar, waiting to order, a now familiar voice sounds behind you.

“Y-Your Highness!” He stammers, nearly dropping the drinks he just received. “I mean, Princess, uh Crown Princess? Sorry, I’m not actually sure—”

You whirl around to see Oscar standing there, looking devastatingly handsome in a button-down and jeans.

“Oscar!” You gasp, a smile breaking across your face unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Pink stains Oscar’s tanned cheeks. “Ah, well my mates from the team wanted to go out and blow off some steam before the race tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But what brings Denmark’s future queen out to the clubs?”

You shrug lightly, grin turning impish. “Can’t a girl just want to dance and have some fun?”

Oscar’s eyes gleam with understanding. “Suppose she can. Well then, may I get you a drink … er ...”

He trails off, clearly unsure how to address you in this unusual context.

You take pity on him and lean in conspiratorially. “Tonight, I’m just Y/N. No need for fancy titles.”

Relief flashes across Oscar’s face and he smiles. “Y/N it is.”

Soon you’ve got drinks in hand and are chatting easily at a tall table beside the dance floor. Oscar is witty and charming, and laughs freely at your sarcastic commentary about Formula 1.

You’re amazed by how at ease you feel in his presence, the crown’s ever-present weight lifted from your shoulders. With Oscar, you’re not an heiress apparent, but just a girl talking to a boy she really really likes.

When he asks what you think of McLaren, you perk up eagerly. “Oh yes, what is it exactly that you do there? Are you an engineer or mechanic of some sort?”

Oscar’s eyes shutter briefly and he clears his throat. “Ah, something like that. Mostly just tinkering to try and make the car faster.”

He steers the conversation to safer waters before you can inquire further. You make a mental note to look up the full McLaren staff list later and figure out his specific role.

The night flies by in a blur of laughter and stolen glances. Oscar gamely joins you on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on your waist as you sway together.

When at last you note the time, disappointment sinks heavy in your gut. Oscar’s face mirrors your own regret as he insists on walking you to meet your bodyguards.

Outside the club, you turn to him reluctantly. “I wish this didn’t have to end. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

Oscar shuffles his feet, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “Would … would you want to meet up again tomorrow? Maybe outside the McLaren garage before the race?”

Your face lights up. “I’d love that.” Overcome by boldness, you lean in and brush a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Oscar’s hand drifts up to his cheek, eyes dazed. “Brilliant. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You bid him goodnight before allowing Henrik and Simone to usher you into the waiting car, unable to keep the giddy smile from your face the entire ride back.

***

The next morning, you awake with a smile stretching across your face. The memory of Oscar’s brown eyes gazing into yours as you swayed together in the club fills you with warmth.

As you dress and prepare to head to the circuit, an idea strikes. There’s no rule saying you have to spend the entire pre-race hours cooped up in the Haas garage after all.

You slip into the hotel dining room, grabbing a piece of toast. “I’m afraid the petrol fumes in the garage were giving me a dreadful headache yesterday. I think I’ll take a walk around the paddock this morning for some fresh air before the race.”

Your mother’s brows furrow in concern. “Oh dear, that won’t do at all! Yes, a nice walk sounds wise.”

You thank her profusely on your way out, hiding your triumphant smile until the door closes behind you. Phase one complete.

You hold yourself back from rushing through the paddock once at the circuit, maintaining a sedate royal pace. But inside, excitement bubbles through your veins at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

As you make your way to the McLaren garage, your steps falter at the larger-than-life image emblazoned on the wall. Oscar beams back at you, brown hair just barely poking out from under his McLaren cap. The block letters beside the photo proclaim OSCAR PIASTRI #81.

You press a hand to your mouth to smother your gasp. Oscar is a driver? Your Oscar?

Speak of the devil, you spot him emerging from the garage, already dressed in fireproofs with his race suit half hanging around his waist. His face lights up when he sees you, lips curving into that boyish grin that makes your knees weak.

“Good morning!” He chirps, moving in for a brief hug.

You return the hug distractedly, still grappling with this new discovery. As you pull back, you arch a questioning brow at him.

“So … you’re a driver. Funny, I don’t recall you mentioning that last night.”

Pink stains Oscar’s cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, right. I may have omitted certain details about my role here.” His eyes turn pleading. “I hope you can forgive me? I just liked talking to someone who didn’t already know everything about me for once.”

You regard him thoughtfully before allowing a teasing grin to emerge. “Well, I suppose I can understand the appeal of a fresh slate. And it’s not as if I was fully forthcoming either.”

Oscar’s shoulders sag in relief. “Too right. Quite the pair we make, Princess.” His eyes dance playfully.

You open your mouth to respond but are interrupted by a shout from the garage. “Oscar! Debrief in two minutes, let’s go!”

Oscar smiles apologetically. “Duty calls. But let’s continue this later?”

At your nod, he squeezes your hand briefly before jogging back inside. You make your way back to Haas, butterflies still fluttering wildly.

Once the race starts, you have to work to restrain your enthusiasm as Oscar quickly moves up the field. More than once, you catch your lips curving upward as he deftly overtakes a competitor, and have to rearrange them into careful neutrality.

A discreet glance sideways shows your family members focused intently on Kevin’s efforts in the Haas. You allow yourself a small smile. Watching Oscar race with no one the wiser feels like getting away with something deliciously secretive.

The checkered flag finally waves after 58 intense laps. Your heart leaps as the McLaren crew begins celebrating Oscar’s podium finish. You have to force yourself not to join the applause as he climbs from his car, settling for clasping your hands tightly to contain your glee.

Meanwhile, Kevin finishes in 18th position while his teammate Nico suffered a mechanical retirement. You paste on an encouraging smile, tamping down your excitement over Oscar’s podium.

“Nice recovery there at the end, Kevin. Surely the team can build on this result in the next race.”

Privately, you think Haas would be lucky to keep a wheel attached long enough to make it to the end of a full race, let alone fight for points. But you keep that thought to yourself for now.

As your family rises to congratulate a dejected Kevin on completing the race, Isabella leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Not a great showing, I dare say. Perhaps you are considering transferring allegiance to a certain papaya team instead?”

You press your lips together to contain your smile. Trust Isabella to have guessed your conflicted loyalties.

“Indeed,” you murmur back. “One must be open to supporting all teams in the spirit of global unity.”

Isabella’s eyes dance with mirth, but she simply links her arm through yours, giving a sage nod. “Spoken like a true diplomat.”

As the celebrations kick off for Oscar’s first home race podium, you sneak glances over your shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of him through the chaos.

Someday soon, perhaps you’ll be able to cheer for him openly. For now, you hold the image of his smiling face in your mind as you reluctantly follow your family back out of the disappointing Haas garage.

If nothing else, this surprise-filled weekend has shown you that your heart will not be so easily commanded. And it seems to have rather fixated itself on a certain charismatic McLaren driver.

***

You hover near the paddock exit, half hoping to catch one last glimpse of Oscar before your departure. Your family made their polite farewells to the Haas team and you seized the opportunity to slip away.

You’ve just resigned yourself to missing him when hurried footsteps sound behind you.

“Princess! Wait up!”

You whirl around to see Oscar jogging towards you, face freshly showered but still flushed with elation. He draws up before you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I’m so glad I caught you before I had to leave,” you smile brightly. “I had to come say a proper congratulations for your podium first!”

Oscar ducks his head bashfully even as his eyes shine. “And, well, I hoped maybe you were cheering me on out there today?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you let out an embarrassed laugh. “You know I can’t answer that. But I will say you drove brilliantly and I’m so pleased for your result.”

Oscar’s grin widens, clearly reading between the lines of your diplomatic answer.

“Well I’m glad I could end your weekend on a high note after the woeful introduction to Formula 1 from Haas.”

You groan good-naturedly. “Ugh yes, I think Kevin was grateful when I finally made myself scarce from that garage of doom.”

Oscar chuckles before his expression turns wistful. “I suppose this means you’ll be heading back to Denmark now though?”

You shake your head, curls spilling over your shoulders. “Oh no, we’re spending a few more weeks visiting my mother’s family in Tasmania first.”

At Oscar’s look of surprise, you elaborate, “My mother is originally Australian. Her family is from Tasmania.”

Understanding dawns on Oscar’s face. “Well how about that! Danish royalty certainly seems to have a taste for us Aussies.” He winks playfully.

Heat blooms in your cheeks but you rally to return his banter. “I suppose we do. Though from what I hear, McLaren seemed rather keen on Danes once upon a time as well.”

A rather in-depth Google search earlier that day taught you that Kevin Magnussen once raced for the papaya team. You rather wish he never left, if only so you did not have to suffer through the tedium of being in the Haas garage for the past two days.

Oscar barks out a laugh, eyes dancing with mirth. “Too right, you’ve got me there.” His laughter fades to a soft smile. “But I can’t say I blame my predecessors in the slightest.”

The tender look in his eyes makes your breath catch. Before you lose your nerve, you hurriedly dig out your phone.

“I should give you my number. So we can keep in touch.”

Oscar’s face lights up as he scrambles for his own phone. You quickly swap devices, inputting your contact info and trying not to notice how his name looks lighting up your screen.

Once you’ve traded phones again, an awkward silence descends. You clutch your phone tightly, unsure how to say goodbye when this thing between you feels so new and delicate.

Oscar clears his throat, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. “Well, I suppose I should let you get on your way ...”

“Right, yes ...” You trail off, searching for the right words. Because as silly as it sounds, the thought of not seeing Oscar’s smile for who knows how long makes your chest unexpectedly tight.

Acting on impulse, you step forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug. Oscar’s arms immediately curl around your back, clutching you close.

You breathe him in, imprinting this moment in your memory. The noise of the paddock fades away until it’s just this — the two of you suspended in time.

Far too soon, Oscar pulls back reluctantly. His eyes search your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Travel safely, Princess. I’ll see you soon.” His voice holds a promise.

You nod, not trusting your voice. With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk steadily towards the exit. Your bodyguards fall in step behind you.

You don’t look back, though you can feel Oscar’s gaze on you until you disappear from view. As your car pulls away, you finally chance a glance backwards, just in time to see Oscar still watching wistfully after you.

Your breath escapes in a shaky exhale and you clutch your phone like a lifeline. Everywhere else suddenly feels much too far away.

***

You collapse back onto your bed, phone already pressed to your ear before the first ring even finishes. Oscar picks up on the second, voice warm and teasing as always.

“Eager today, are we Princess?”

You roll your eyes even as your lips quirk up. “Oh hush, you know you wait just as anxiously for my calls.”

Oscar’s answering chuckle makes your heart skip a beat. “Guilty. I’ll gladly admit your voice is the highlight of my day.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as you get comfortable against the pillows. “Flatterer. Now distract me from the drudgery of royal life with some F1 gossip. How go things in the glamorous world of racing?”

“Oh where to even start!” Oscar launches eagerly into the latest paddock drama — teammate clashes, contract disputes, and salacious hookups. You listen eagerly, living vicariously through his tales.

“Meanwhile Lando has been his usual chaos gremlin self ...” Oscar continues, recounting his teammate’s latest antics.

You laugh until your sides ache, picturing the outrageous scenes. “Honestly, I don’t know how McLaren copes with you two!”

“We keep things lively, that’s for sure,” Oscar agrees, audibly grinning. “Although we’d love an even livelier paddock with a certain Danish princess around again ...”

He leaves the statement hanging tentatively. You chew your lip, heart racing as you gather your courage.

“Funny you should mention that … I’ve been thinking lately that it would be nice to attend a race again soon.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale crackles through the phone. “Really? You’d come to another race?” His voice turns playful. “Any particular reason for the sudden interest?”

You laugh, hoping he can’t hear the breathlessness in it. “Oh you know, miss the atmosphere, the excitement ...” You pause before adding softly, “Getting to see a certain Aussie driver again.”

Oscar makes a pleased little noise that sends butterflies swirling wildly. “Well I’m sure that driver would be absolutely thrilled to see your face in the paddock again.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, emboldening you further. “As it happens, my godmother is the Queen of Belgium. So it should be easy enough to arrange an appearance at the Belgian Grand Prix.”

“That’s perfect!” Oscar enthuses. “Spa is one of my favorite circuits too. Say you’ll be there?”

His boyish eagerness melts your heart. “I’ll speak to our communications secretary this week. I’m sure they can make it happen.”

“Brilliant.” The tender hope in Oscar’s voice finds its mirror in your own thudding heart. A new chapter is beginning.

You chat longer about lighter topics until Oscar reluctantly says he should get some rest before practice tomorrow.

“I suppose I should let you go then ...” He trails off reluctantly, neither wanting to be the one to end the call.

You clutch the phone tighter, casting wildly for an excuse to keep him on the line. “Wait, you haven’t told me what ridiculous outfit Lando is wearing today!”

Oscar huffs out a laugh. “Trust me, words don’t do justice to the monstrosity. I’ll send pictures so you can experience it fully.”

“It’s a deal.” You know you’re only delaying the inevitable, but the thought of hanging up is unbearable.

Just then, the bedroom door crashes open and your younger brother Christian strolls in.

“Hey Y/N, Mor wants to know if … is that Oscar you’re talking to?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

You frantically shoo him away but Christian swoops in and plucks the phone from your hand. “Sorry mate, gotta steal my sister back. Royal duties call and all that. But great chatting, bye now!”

Before you can wrestle the phone away, Christian ends the call with a cheeky grin.

You smack his shoulder indignantly. “You little brat! I was right in the middle of important diplomatic relations!”

Christian just cackles gleefully. “Oh yeah, I could tell. Your dopey romantic sighing was a big clue.” He laughs harder at your outraged stammers.

“Just you wait until you’re madly pining over someone, I’ll get my revenge,” you threaten.

But inside, not even Christian’s teasing can diminish your euphoria. The promise of seeing Oscar again soon eclipses all else.

***

Your heels click rapidly over the pavement as you sweep through the Spa paddock gates. Bodyguards trail discreetly behind but you barely notice them, eyes scanning the bustling crowd for one face.

And then you see him. Oscar stands just ahead, back turned as he bounces on his toes, head swiveling in search of you.

Joy bubbles up in your chest. You break into a run, calling his name. “Oscar!”

He whips around, eyes lighting up when they land on you. His arms open wide and you launch yourself into them with a breathless laugh.

Strong hands grip your waist, swinging you in an enthusiastic circle before setting you back on your feet. Neither of you make any move to step back, standing tangled together.

“You came,” Oscar murmurs, voice awed like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

You lean into him, his warmth chasing away the months spent missing him. “Of course. After all, I made a promise to a certain driver.”

Oscar’s answering smile outshines the sun. Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, keeping one hand entwined with yours.

“Well then, allow me to escort you inside properly.” He presses a quick kiss to your knuckles before leading you towards the paddock entrance.

After scanning your VIP guest pass, courtesy of Oscar, you pass through security hand-in-hand, giddy smiles fixed in place.

The paddock buzzes with activity but you only have eyes for Oscar as he guides you straight to the McLaren garage.

Mechanics glance up curiously as you enter behind Oscar. He squeezes your hand, leaning in close.

“Ready to meet the team, Princess?” At your answering nod, he steers you confidently through the organized chaos.

You run a suddenly nervous hand over your hair as Oscar approaches a genial looking man conversing with a slimmer bearded man.

“Zak, Andrea — there’s someone special I want you both to meet.”

The two men turn, eyebrows raising in polite expectation. Oscar gently tugs you forward.

“This is Crown Princess Y/N of Denmark. Y/N, meet Zak Brown, our CEO, and Andrea Stella, team principal.”

Zak’s eyebrows climb higher but he recovers smoothly, extending a hand. “Your Royal Highness, welcome. We’re honored to host you in our garage.”

You return his firm handshake. “The honor is mine, thank you. Your team has been so welcoming.”

After greeting Andrea as well, Oscar steers you further inside just as a mop of fluffy brown hair zooms by.

“Oscar, mate! There you are, I’ve been ...” The words die on his lips as he spots you, mouth falling open comically. His eyes dart between you and Oscar rapidly.

“Lando, come meet the princess!” Oscar calls out cheekily.

Lando snaps his jaw shut, looking utterly bewildered but offering you a hasty bow. “Your Highness! I mean, lovely to meet you, really.”

Amusement flickers through you at his gobsmacked expression. Oscar shoots you a playful wink over Lando’s shoulder as he scrambles to regain composure.

“But, wait.” Lando glances between you again in confusion. “You mean all those times you cooed ’good morning, Princess’ over the phone … you were talking to an actual princess!”

Oscar bursts out laughing while you press a hand to your mouth to smother your own giggles. Lando flushes but eventually joins in your laughter.

After extracting a promise to explain everything later, Oscar steers you away so they can focus on final prep.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of during the race before I have to suit up,” he promises, getting you settled with refreshments.

The anticipation builds until finally the cars are screaming away from the grid in a blur of color. Your nails dig into your palms as positions shuffle wildly on the first lap.

But soon Oscar settles into a rhythm, battling wheel to wheel with Lewis Hamilton. You’re on your feet with every overtake, yelling yourself hoarse.

The final laps loom with Oscar still fighting for a podium finish. But suddenly disaster strikes for the leaders. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc collide attempting to lap a backmarker on the Kemmel Straight.

You watch in disbelief as both the Red Bull and Ferrari limp to a stop off the track, clearing the path for Oscar to sweep through into the lead.

The McLaren garage roars in elation as Oscar maintains the gap and finally, finally crosses the line to claim his maiden Grand Prix win.

Chaos erupts as a stampede of papaya uniforms makes its way towards parc fermé but Oscar’s performance coach Kim grasps your arm urgently. “Quickly, he’ll want you there for this!”

Kim rushes you down towards the area where Oscar guides his car to a stop. He vaults out, pumping both fists and clambering atop the chassis in triumph.

Your breath catches at the sight of his windswept hair and exultant grin. As McLaren swarms Oscar, his gaze catches on you at the barrier, pressed close by Kim.

In two strides Oscar is right there, joy and adrenaline shining in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek … and then his lips find yours.

The roar around you fades away. For one perfect, suspended moment, your world narrows down to Oscar’s lips slanted over yours, his fingers tangled in your hair.

When you break apart, eyes flying open, the full reality crashes back in. But with Oscar’s breathless laugh warming your skin, the rest of the world no longer matters.

***

You pace the plush hotel carpet, nerves jangling as you await the imminent video call with your family. Since Oscar’s podium kiss yesterday, you’ve been hyper aware of your phone blowing up with notifications but too anxious to check them.

A brisk knock precedes your royal secretary poking his head in. “The call is ready whenever you are, Your Highness.”

Squaring your shoulders, you take a seat at the polished desk as the large monitor springs to life. Your family’s faces fill the screen, ranging from sympathetic (Isabella) to highly amused (Christian).

Before you can get a word in, the royal PR advisors elbow into view, expressions like thunderclouds.

“Your Royal Highness, might we have a word about this … incident from the race?” The chief advisor’s tone drips disapproval.

Ice trickles down your spine but you keep your face neutral. “Of course.”

“I trust you’ve seen the coverage?” At your hesitant nod, the advisor continues, “Then you understand what an embarrassment this is, how damaging to the dignity of the crown.”

You clench your jaw, anger rising. But he barrels on, “Such scandalous behavior, and broadcast globally! You must see how this recklessness reflects poorly on Denmark.”

The rest of the advisors murmur emphatic agreement. Your cheeks burn in humiliation even as you desperately blink back furious tears.

“The narrative has already spiraled out of control. Such associations cannot be tolerated from the future queen.”

The scorn in his tone ignites your temper. But before you can spit out a scathing retort, a commanding voice interrupts.

“Enough!” Your father’s stern face fills the screen, pinning the advisors with an icy glare. They recoil, mouths snapping shut.

Satisfied, your father turns to you, expression softening. “My dear, you’ve done nothing wrong. What matters most is that you’re happy.”

Hope flickers tentatively inside you as the advisors gape. But your father silences them with another quelling look.

“I know a thing or two about duty versus matters of the heart.” His eyes soften, finding your mother. “I’ll not see my daughter denied the same chance at love that brought me such joy.”

Your mother smiles gently, affection shining through the screen. On her other side, Isabella squeezes her shoulder in solidarity.

The fight drains from the advisors under your father’s resolute gaze. With a few grumbled concessions, they disconnect from the call.

Your muscles uncoil in relief as your attention returns fully to your family. Isabella waggles her eyebrows.

“Soooo … looks like someone had an eventful race!”

Heat floods your cheeks but you can’t suppress a giddy smile. “It just sort of happened in the heat of the moment.”

“This Oscar must be something special,” your mother remarks kindly.

Your insides turn to mush at the memory of Oscar’s kiss. “He really is. I can’t explain it, but it feels … right with him.”

Your normally stoic mother looks touched. “Then he has my blessing.”

On her other side, Christian smirks. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re in looooove.” He exaggerates a swoon, cackling when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hush dear, let your sister be happy,” your mother chides, swatting his shoulder before smiling indulgently. “Reminds me of another young prince long ago, besotted with an Australian girl ...”

Your father laughs, eyes crinkling. “Too right, darling. Clearly our Y/N takes after me.” He winks at you. “We Danes do seem to have a weakness for Aussies.”

You groan good-naturedly at the gentle teasing, buoyed by your family’s support. With their love behind you, the rest no longer matters.

You conclude the call with hugs blown through the screen and a heart full to bursting. No matter what the coming days hold, you won’t be facing them alone.

Later, a hesitant knock interrupts your contented musings. You open the door to find Oscar, eyebrows pinched anxiously.

But at the sight of your radiant smile, the tension melts from his frame. His hands settle comfortably on your waist like coming home.

“So ...” he begins, nose scrunching up adorably, “Think your family will let you keep me around?”

You answer by pulling him down into a long, sweet kiss. When you finally separate, foreheads pressed together, Oscar sighs out, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Your answering laugh fills the space between you as he lifts you effortlessly into a spinning embrace. The setting sun gilds the hotel room in amber, basking you both in warmth and promise.

Let the world say what they will. You’ve made your choice, the only one your heart would allow. And with Oscar’s arms encircling you now, you know you’re right where you belong.

***

“Come on, it’ll be great! When’s the next chance you’ll get to come down under?”

Oscar’s pleading face fills your laptop screen, bottom lip poking out beseechingly. You try to stand firm, but your resolve is crumbling.

“I don’t know … won’t I be imposing on your family time?”

Oscar waves a hand breezily. “Nah, Mum and Dad have been hassling me nonstop to bring you for a visit. Trust me, they’ll smother you with Aussie hospitality.”

You chew your lip thoughtfully. A trip together does sound tempting. And you’re endlessly curious to see where Oscar grew up.

Sensing your wavering, Oscar presses his advantage. “There’s so much I want to show you! The beach I learned to surf at, my favorite cafes and shops ...”

His voice turns coaxing. “And just think, falling asleep under the southern stars ...”

Your heart flutters traitorously. Oscar knows your weakness for astronomy. With a defeated huff, you nod.

“Oh alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll see if I can clear my schedule for next month.”

Oscar whoops, pumping a victorious fist. “Yes! You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The rest of the call passes in eager planning until Oscar reluctantly disconnects to start his day. As the screen goes dark, butterflies swell in your stomach. A whole trip together!

The weeks crawl by agonizingly until finally you’re boarding the royal jet bound for Melbourne, giddiness rising with each mile.

Oscar is waiting when you deplane, sweeping you up joyfully the second your feet hit the tarmac. You cling to him, breathing in the scent of home you’ve missed so much.

As the hug extends well past proper etiquette, your bodyguard Henrik pointedly clears his throat. You spring apart, blushing when you meet his knowing gaze.

Oscar just grins unrepentantly, grabbing your hand to lead you towards where his parents are waiting.

You spot them immediately — Oscar’s smile mirrored on his mother’s face and his kind eyes reflected in his father’s crinkled gaze. They hurry over, clasping your hands warmly.

“Your Royal Highness, we’re so honored to finally meet you!” His mother gushes. “Oscar’s told us so much, I feel as if we know you already.”

You smile, charmed by her easy manner. “The honor is mine, Mrs. Piastri. Please, call me Y/N.”

She pats your hand merrily. “Of course, dear! And you must call me Nicole. Now come, let’s get you home and settled.”

The ride to Oscar’s childhood home passes quickly, filled with lively conversation. His parents’ sweet banter reminds you so much of your own.

When you arrive, Nicole loops her arm through yours, bustling you inside. “We’ve freshened up Oscar’s old room for you, I do hope it’s comfortable.”

You take in the posters of racing legends and cricketers adorning the walls, the cluttered bookshelves full of well-loved texts. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Excellent!” Nicole claps her hands. “Now, you two get settled. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

She disappears down the hall with a parting wink that makes Oscar flush beet red. You stifle a laugh and let him tug you further inside.

Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and easy laughter. Chris’ eyes twinkle knowingly as he refills your wine.

“We’re just delighted to finally meet the girl who’s made our Oscar so happy.”

Oscar covers his face in exaggerated mortification, but his fingers squeeze yours under the table. You lift your joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles when his parents aren’t looking.

The peaceful mood continues as Nicole breaks out photo albums. You coo over baby pictures of Oscar, smothering laughter at his gap-toothed grin and wild hair.

Yawns eventually take over and everyone reluctantly shuffles off to bed. In Oscar’s room, you borrow his old karting club shirt to sleep in.

Oscar looks up from turning down the duvet, eyes darkening as he takes you in. “This was a terrible idea, you looking so cute in my clothes.”

You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose before climbing into bed and patting the space next to you. Oscar obliges, pulling you close and nuzzling into your hair.

Outside the window, the infinity of the southern skies beckons. But here in Oscar’s arms, you have everything you need.

Oscar hums contentedly, dropping a kiss to your hair as your eyes drift closed.

“Sweet dreams, my princess,” he whispers. You float off cradled in his warmth, perfectly at peace.

The rest of the trip passes in blissful domesticity — lazy beach days, intimate dinners, long talks under the stars. Meeting Oscar’s family feels like coming to a second home.

On your last night, you creep outside to sit curled against him on the back porch, committing every detail to memory.

“I don’t want this to end,” you whisper into the quiet night.

Oscar presses a lingering kiss below your ear. “It’s only the start for us.”

And basking in his touch, the infinite potential of the future unfolding before you, you know he’s right. This is just the beginning.

***

You smooth your hands over your dress, peering anxiously out the palace window overlooking the winding driveway. Any moment now, the car bringing Oscar should pull through the gates.

It’s his first time visiting the palace and meeting your family officially as your boyfriend. You know they’ll love him, but nerves still flutter in your chest.

The crunch of tires on gravel draws your gaze back outside. You watch Oscar emerge from the car, craning his head back to take in the towering palace facade.

Unable to wait any longer, you gather your skirts and hurry downstairs just as he steps inside the grand entryway.

Oscar turns at the click of your heels, face melting into a smile. In a few quick strides, he sweeps you into his arms, spinning you joyfully.

You cling to him, breathing in the soothing scent of home you’ve missed. When he sets you down, hands come up to frame your face tenderly, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“There’s my beautiful girl. I’ve missed you so much, Princess.”

Heart swelling, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss that conveys weeks of longing. Oscar responds urgently, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

A pointed cough interrupts your reunion. You pull back to see your brother Christian smirking knowingly.

“Well now I see why you were so eager for Oscar’s visit. Should I come back later?”

You stick your tongue out at him even as a blush stains your cheeks. Taking Oscar’s hand, you lead him towards the family wing.

“Come on, everyone’s excited to finally meet you properly.”

Voices carry from the dining room as you approach. Inside, your family looks up, faces alight with warmth and curiosity.

Your father strides forward first, clasping Oscar’s hand firmly. “Oscar, welcome. We’re delighted to have you here.”

Oscar returns the handshake graciously. “The honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.”

More greetings follow before your mother guides everyone to the table. Oscar pulls out your chair, pressing a discreet kiss to your temple as you sit. Happiness bubbles up inside at having him here with your family.

Dinner passes enjoyably, conversation flowing. Oscar charms them all effortlessly with his quick wit and humor. Laughter fills the room, the atmosphere light and intimate.

With dessert finished, your siblings seize their chance to grill Oscar playfully.

“Sooo tell us,” Isabella begins, propping her chin on her hands. “What exactly are your intentions with our dear sister?”

Oscar just grins, unfazed. “Why, to make her happy every single day, of course.”

You melt at his simple sincerity, grasping his hand under the table.

“Good answer!” Christian crows. “But know if you ever hurt her, you’ll have the entire Danish army to answer to.”

Despite his teasing tone, you know Christian means every word. Oscar inclines his head solemnly.

“You have my word such a day will never come. Her happiness means everything to me.”

Your siblings appear satisfied, moving on to pepper Oscar with questions about his career and interests. He takes their antics in stride, witty comebacks drawing fond laughter from your parents.

The relaxed family atmosphere reminds you so much of that first dinner at Oscar’s childhood home. Your heart swells with quiet joy at how seamlessly he fits here too.

Eventually Oscar politely extracts you both, citing early flights in the morning. Alone in the hall, he sags against the wall in exaggerated relief.

“Whew, your family is something else! I think that interrogation was more intense than any press conference.”

You laugh and swat his shoulder before lifting on your toes to kiss him sweetly. “You were wonderful. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Oscar’s eyes soften. “Me too, Princess. Being here with you feels like home.”

Heedless of any lingering eyes, you kiss him again under the twinkling chandelier.

A loud retching sound interrupts you. “Ugh, get a room you two!” Christian complains, dodging your swat.

Oscar just tugs you closer with a chuckle. “Don’t worry mate, I plan to.”

He silences Christian’s protests with another searing kiss. And surrounded by Oscar’s warmth, you can’t bring yourself to care who sees.

***

Moonlight filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. You lay curled against Oscar’s chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over his heart.

The steady rhythm soothes you, but your own heart feels anything but calm. There’s something you need to discuss, but nerves stall your tongue.

Sensing your tension, Oscar’s hand comes up to sift gently through your hair. “Penny for your thoughts, love?”

You lean into his touch, gathering courage. “I was just thinking about the future. Our future.” You twist to meet his gaze. “I know it’s still early days for us, but if this continues to get more serious ...”

You trail off uncertainly, but Oscar’s eyes are warm with encouragement. Bolstered, you continue.

“There are certain expectations that come with being attached to the heir to the throne. Traditions and duties to learn.”

You watch Oscar’s face closely, but he simply nods thoughtfully. “Of course, that makes sense. I’m happy to learn whatever I need to.”

Relief trickles through you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, smiling softly down at him.

“For example, even before my mother was engaged to my father, she decided to learn Danish. The protocol and duties, the public role … it was a massive life change.”

You take a bracing breath. “I don’t expect you to make such changes overnight. But someday, if this continues on the path we hope ...”

You trail off meaningfully. Oscar’s hand comes up to cradle your face. “Hey, if being with you means learning Danish, or attending stuffy banquets, or anything else, I’m in this 100%.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to build a life together.”

Emotion clogs your throat. You have to swallow thickly before responding. “Well, maybe we start small then. How about I teach you a few phrases?”

Oscar grins, pulling you back down against him. “Ja, det lyder perfekt.”

You jerk back in surprise, swatting his chest. “You brat, have you been practicing without telling me?”

Oscar’s eyes dance with laughter. “Maybe just a few key phrases. Wanted to surprise you.”

His smile turns tender. “I’d love nothing more than for you to teach me, sweetheart.”

Happiness bubbles up inside you. You snuggle closer, thinking. “Alright, let’s start simple. Like hej simply means hello.”

Oscar repeats the phrase dutifully, brow furrowing in concentration. You cover his hand with yours.

“Jeg elsker dig,” you murmur, gazing into his eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” Oscar echoes. “What does it mean?”

Sudden shyness has you ducking your head. “It means I love you.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale lifts your head. He grasps both of your hands, staring deeply into your eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” he repeats reverently.

Emotion clogs your throat. You lean in, whispering against his lips, “Jeg elsker dig, Oscar.”

The kiss starts soft and unhurried, a confirmation of feelings conveyed best without words. Oscar’s arms wrap securely around you as the kiss deepens, pouring every ounce of love and promise into it.

When you eventually break apart, Oscar keeps you cradled close, dropping kisses into your hair. “What else can you teach me?”

Happiness bubbles up at his tentative Danish endearment. You settle back against him, whispering translations as his steady heartbeat lulls you towards sleep.

But too soon, Oscar is reluctantly packing to leave, both clinging to these last private hours before he has to set off for the next race.

You wind yourself around him, unwilling to let go. Oscar holds you close, murmuring promises of next visits and calls into your hair.

As you finally part at the airport, his whispered “jeg elsker dig” warms you from the inside out. No matter the miles between you, your hearts remain entwined.

***

You adjust the diamond clips in your elegantly twisted updo, scanning your reflection critically. The deep blue gown hugs your frame perfectly, but nerves still flutter in your stomach.

Because tonight, Oscar will be attending his first official function as your partner — a lavish gala in honor of the new children’s hospital bearing your mother’s name.

A knock precedes Oscar peeking his head in, hands clapped over his eyes. “Safe to look?”

You smooth your skirt with a shaky exhale. “Yes, come in.”

Oscar drops his hands, mouth falling open. “Wow. You look absolutely stunning tonight, my love.”

He takes your hands, eyes roving appreciatively over you. “Going to have to beat all the envious blokes away with a stick.”

You laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Oh hush. You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Piastri.”

And he does in his impeccably tailored tuxedo, hair swept back neatly. You brush a piece of imaginary lint from his lapel, nerves melting away under his warm gaze.

“Shall we?” He offers his arm gallantly. You lay your hand atop it, spine straightening.

“We shall.”

The ballroom glitters under fairy lights as you make your entrance, immediately garnering interested looks and murmurs. On your arm, Oscar draws admiring glances of his own with his rakish good looks and easy confidence.

You greet various dignitaries and philanthropists, Oscar a steady, charming presence at your side. As you speak with the hospital’s key figures, his hand at the small of your back anchors you.

But as the speeches drag on, Oscar leans in subtly. “Is it terrible I’m already bored senseless? I’d rather actually meet these kids we’re meant to be helping.”

You hide a smile behind your wine glass. The same restlessness plagues you as schmoozing patrons preen and prattle.

As dessert wraps up, an idea strikes you. You catch Oscar’s eye, tilting your head meaningfully at a side exit before excusing yourself discretely.

Understanding dawns on his face and he trails casually after you. In the entry hall, you hurry to a secluded alcove, grabbing his hand.

“Quick, while we won’t be missed. Let’s actually go see the children.”

Excitement flashes across Oscar’s face. “Brilliant thinking. Lead the way, Princess.”

Adrenaline courses through you as you sneak out to the waiting car, bodyguards eyeing you curiously.

“Rigshospitalet, please. Quickly.”

At the children’s hospital, you sweep inside, Oscar at your heels. The receptionist gapes as you approach.

“So sorry to drop by unannounced. We were hoping there might be a chance for us to visit with some of the patients?”

The receptionist’s mouth opens and closes before she stutters, “O-of course, Your Highness, right away!” Clearly your boldness has paid off.

You exchange exhilarated looks with Oscar as she pages a nurse to escort you up. On the cheery pediatric ward, you peek into rooms, greeting curious families.

At one doorway, a gasp stops you short. A little girl sits up in bed, pointing.

“Mama, it’s the princess! And her boyfriend!”

You glance at Oscar to find him rubbing his neck bashfully. Clearly his fame extends beyond the F1 sphere here.

You laugh and enter slowly. “We were hoping we might visit you, if that’s alright?”

The girl — Else — nods eagerly, blond braids bouncing. Her mother rises to curtsy but you wave her off kindly as Oscar produces a small plush racecar from his pocket, to Else’s delight.

As you chat and play with Else, joy lights up her face. For a short time, she’s just a normal girl again. Your chest aches at her bright spirit despite her poor health.

All too soon, a nurse taps her watch. As you make your goodbyes, Else throws her thin arms around your waist.

“Thank you! This was like a fairytale.” Over her head, her mother mouths a tearful thank you of her own.

You hug Else gently before kneeling down. “It was our honor. You stay strong, little one.”

Her returning whisper warms your heart. “Don’t worry, I will!”

Similar scenes play out in room after room. Your cheeks ache from smiling but it’s a welcome ache. The children’s awed joy makes the real reason for tonight crystal clear.

Watching Oscar kneel patiently as a shy boy shows him a prized toy car, your heart clenches with love. Catching your gaze, Oscar’s eyes mirror the same emotion.

Far too soon, your bodyguards notify you it’s time to return before your absence draws notice. A chorus of disappointed groans follows you out.

Back at the gala, you slip in just in time for closing toasts. No one seems the wiser about your little detour.

Under the table, Oscar squeezes your hand. The contact says it all — this is what truly matters. Not accolades or commendations, but joy brought to hurting hearts.

You know you’ll be back. Both of you. Not for galas or acclaim, but for the chance to see young faces light up, if only for a moment.

Late that night, you slow dance alone in the empty ballroom, music and laughter faded. Oscar’s arms circle you from behind, chin tucking onto your shoulder.

“I think tonight was the most important royal function I’ve ever attended,” he murmurs.

You cover his hands with yours, leaning back into him with a contented sigh. No more words need be said.

The rest of the world may see events like tonight as social currency and networking. But you hold the truth in your heart — the only currency that counts can’t be bought, only given freely through love.

***

Two Years Later

You smooth your hands over your dress, pulse thrumming as you await the imminent news conference. Just hours ago, the palace formally announced your engagement to Oscar, sending the public into a frenzy.

Now, you’re about to face the media together for the first time as an engaged couple. Press stands crowd the palace gardens, cameras poised and ready.

At your side, Oscar seems calm and collected, fingers threaded loosely with yours. But you sense the storm brewing beneath his tranquil surface.

You reach up and gently adjust his suit collar, fingers lingering on the lapels as you meet his eyes. He gives you a small, grateful smile before you both turn to face the expectant crowd.

Because today also brings another announcement — one that will upend Oscar’s world irreversibly.

Your father steps forward first to formally confirm the engagement and expound on Oscar’s character. As he returns to your side, Oscar squeezes your hand and you nod in encouragement.

Oscar clears his throat, stepping closer to the microphones. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Y/N and I are over the moon at the chance to spend our lives together.”

He gazes at you softly before continuing. “I’m truly the luckiest man in the world to have won the heart of Denmark’s lovely princess.”

You have to resist the urge to kiss him senseless then and there. Cameras flash brightly as Oscar details your romantic (and heavily abridged) love story, punctuated with charming wit.

But gradually, his mirth fades. With another fortifying hand squeeze, he steels himself for the harder part.

“While I’m elated at this new chapter ahead, it also brings difficult changes. I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1 following this season’s conclusion.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Oscar’s grip tightens as he pushes forward.

“As a member of the royal family, I will no longer be able to continue racing competitively. I am grateful to have achieved my dream this year of winning the championship.”

His voice falters briefly and your heart clenches. Racing is Oscar’s passion — having to walk away is unimaginably hard.

Oscar visibly gathers himself. “But as difficult as this is, marrying Y/N is worth any sacrifice. She is my true dream now.”

He turns to you then, eyes glistening. “The honor of being your husband eclipses any trophy or medal. You are my greatest victory.”

Emotion clogs your throat and without thinking, you wrap him in a fierce embrace. The rules of propriety fade away, only your pride and love for Oscar remain.

His arms clutch you close as flashes erupt around you. But in this moment, you see only each other.

Eventually you separate and Oscar takes your hand once more, gracing you with a tender smile. He turns back to the microphones for one last address.

“Til Danmark og det danske folk. Jeg lover at tjene jer med ære, respekt og kærlighed.”

The Danish press reacts first, visibly surprised and impressed at Oscar’s speech in their native tongue.

You blink back a fresh wave of tears at his poignant promise — to serve Denmark with honor, respect, and love.

Overcome with emotion, you step forward to the microphones as well.

“Oscar’s love for me and Denmark is clear to all who meet him. I am truly blessed to have found such a selfless, caring partner.”

Your voice wavers with feeling. “Though it grieves me to see his racing career ended prematurely, I could not be more proud of the man he is.”

You reach for Oscar’s hand, gazing at him through tear-filled eyes. “He gives up much out of love for me. I only hope I can bring him a fraction of the joy in return.”

Oscar’s fingers tighten around yours, eyes shining with affection. Cameras flash furiously at your raw display of love and emotion.

But you remain lost in Oscar’s eyes, the rest of the world fading away. In this moment, all that matters is your shared devotion and the bright future stretching before you.

Questions start flying from the excited press corps but Oscar politely extracts you both, ceding the floor to the waiting palace officials.

Alone inside once more, Oscar sags against the wall in clear emotional exhaustion. You wrap him in your arms, heart aching for the pain this transition causes.

Oscar clings to you tightly, face pressed into your hair. “I meant every word,” he whispers fiercely. “You are my whole world now.”

You draw back just far enough to meet his eyes, hoping he can see the depths of your love reflected there.

“I know, min kæreste. We’ll face this new future together.”

The answering kiss speaks what words cannot. No matter what comes, your love remains constant.

A new path lies ahead now, one you will walk hand in hand, till the end of your days.

***

Five Years Later

The roar of engines draws nearer as your car nears the Copenhagen street circuit. In the seat beside you, Oscar bounces his leg restlessly, face alight with anticipation.

In the backseat, your three-year-old daughter, Margrethe (affectionately called Maise for short), mimics her father’s excitement, chattering cheerfully about anything and everything.

You reach over to still Oscar’s jostling knee, smiling indulgently. “Easy there, we’ve barely arrived and you’re already wound up.”

Oscar shoots you a boyish grin. “Can you blame me? It’s been so long since I was last in the paddock. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Your heart swells with quiet awe once more at the sacrifices Oscar has made for your future together. While racing still runs through his veins, his duties as Crown Prince of Denmark now take precedence.

But today offers a joyous reunion, with Oscar instrumental in bringing Formula 1 racing back to Danish soil for the first time since 1962.

As the car pulls through the paddock entrance, Oscar cranes his neck eagerly, drinking in the familiar organized chaos. Before the door even opens, you hear a familiar voice shouting.

“He lives! The prodigal prince returns!” A blur of McLaren papaya hurtles towards Oscar as he steps out.

Oscar just manages to brace himself before Lando Norris tackles him in an exuberant hug. Laughter bubbles out of Oscar as he returns the embrace.

“Good to see you too, mate. It’s been way too long.”

You round the car to find Oscar’s former team already swarming him, clapping his back and jostling each other good-naturedly to greet their long-lost driver.

Oscar’s eyes shine as he falls back into easy banter, trading inside jokes and reminiscing. With Maise balanced on your hip, you hang back contentedly, letting Oscar have this moment.

As the reunion finally winds down, Lando gestures to you and Maise. “And who do we have here? Don��t tell me this little beauty is your daughter?”

Oscar beams, waving you both over. “She is indeed! Lando, meet my little girl.”

Lando pretends to stagger back in shock. “No way, our little Oscar is all grown up and domesticated now!”

Oscar shoves him playfully before sweeping Maise into his arms. “What can I say, my fast living days are behind me now.” He kisses Maise’s wavy hair, eyes finding yours. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

Your insides turn mushy at the adoration in his voice. The years have only deepened your love further.

More drivers trickle over to greet Oscar, ribbing him good-naturedly about his new royal status. But the obvious affection underlying the teasing is clear.

Zak Brown claps Oscar on the back. “It’s so good to have you back, even just for a day. You and your family should stay, watch the race from the garage!”

For a fleeting moment, naked longing flashes across Oscar’s face at the thought of experiencing race day excitement again up close.

But reality settles back in quickly, his expression turning regretful. “That’s a lovely offer, truly. But I’m afraid we’ll have to make our way to the royal box.”

He bounces Maise gently, tone wry. “Some of us have a job to do handing out trophies later.” Maise giggles and tugs at his ear happily, blissfully unaware of the wistfulness simmering beneath her father’s smile.

You slip your arm through Oscar’s, offering a comforting squeeze. His answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After more fond farewells, you exit the nostalgic bubble of the garage. Oscar pauses, taking a moment to just breathe and gather himself.

You shift Maise to your other hip, wrapping your free arm around his waist. Oscar leans into you gratefully, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Can’t believe it’s been five years already,” he murmurs. “Feels like another lifetime.”

You smile up at him sadly. “I know, my love. But look at everything you’ve accomplished for Denmark in that time. This race wouldn’t even be happening without you.”

Oscar huffs a small laugh. “Too right. Who needs driving when I’ve got you two anyway?”

He tickles Maise playfully, eliciting delighted giggles. The melancholy edge has left his eyes now, replaced by contentment.

Hand in hand, with Maise toddling happily between you, the three of you set off together towards the royal box. The Danish Grand Prix awaits, along with the bright future you continue building as a family.

This may no longer be Oscar’s world, but he now shapes the path for future generations of drivers. After the race, as Oscar graciously awards the beaming winner while Maise excitedly cheers from the side of the podium, you know this is precisely where he’s meant to be.

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uranometrias · 10 days

Text

✮ꜜ : ❛ guilt's a motherfucker : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

summary: denial was an art, especially in a field like the one that you worked in. as a profiler, it was almost impossible for anyone to pull the wool over your eyes. you'd spent enough time with your team to know that this gift, this specific sort of perception was not something you were immune to either. meaning, no matter how much you tried to keep things a secret, someone on your team was bound to read right through you. especially spencer. 🔱 ━━ alternatively: the one where your inability to say what you want leads spencer to accept the affections of someone else.

content warnings: i think this could be considered angst . spencer reid having a crush on reader. reader being jealous of spencer getting attention from someone else. cute friendship between derek+ emily + reader. reader is the youngest on the team. set in s6, pre- jj’s departure.

────────────────────────

“You doing alright, babygirl?” Derek’s voice isn’t hard to miss, and the obvious smugness that was attached made your eyes roll. You knew from the moment that you’d leaned forward in your chair, lips pulling down into a deep pout that someone would clock you and quite quickly put two and two together. You didn’t mean to be obvious, in fact, usually you did a much better job at keeping your cool. However, there was something glaringly different today.

Spencer had gone for a new look, you remembered the day he walked in with his hair freshly cropped, shoulder-length tresses replaced with what Hotch had affectionately referred to as "boy band" hair. The rest of the team had laughed, you'd even cutely hid your own snicker behind your hand, but you couldn't deny that it fit him. It was flattering, dare you say cute as hell. In the weeks that followed though, he'd went even shorter, gone were all traces of boy band.

The look he sported now was distracting, incredibly so. He looked good, and it seemed you weren't the only that seemed to notice.

"She's eating him with her eyes." you grumble, arms crossing as Derek comes up behind you. He's got his chin pressed to your shoulder, following your line of sight, as a boisterous laugh escapes him. "It's not funny, Derek." this hiss of yours only seems to fuel his amusement as he starts to chuckle even louder.

"You've been mean mugging that girl since she walked in this morning." Derek rounds your desk now, obstructing your view of the betrayal taking place across the bullpen. It was a slow day, a good day. No cases, but loads of paperwork. Your desk was covered in nothing but files, some you'd started, some you'd finished. You're still cross, but you allow yourself to look up at your long time friend.

"I'm not mean mugging." you huff, blinking slow as you think over your clear fib. "There's just something in my eye." you whisper, and it's not convincing. You can tell by the way Derek's bag chuckling.

"Yeah, a green monster." he retorts quickly, and you can't deny the way it catches you off guard, as a choked laugh at your own expense escapes you. "Jealousy's not a good look on you, little bit." he hums and you droop, because of course you know that. "Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling?" he asks, and despite all his jokes and quips, Derek Morgan was perceptive, and he cared about you.

"That's a horrible idea." you exclaim, and your entire body jerks back, recoiling as if you'd been stung. "God, aren't you supposed to be some kind of smooth criminal?" your eyebrows quirk upward, "What type of advice is that?" you proceed, and Derek's bemused, looking down at you as he waits for you to finish your spiel.

"Just tell him straight up how you feel?" you deepen your voice to mock his, "Why don't I just run around the bullpen in underwear too, since we're doing dumb things." you huff, and your dramatics are amusing. They always have been. You'd been a member of the team going on two years, and you'd made a mark so deep it almost felt like you'd always been a part of the Unit.

You were a stark contrast to Emily and JJ, and a complete 180 from the angsty bombshell that had been Elle Greenaway. You were a wide-eyed 20-something year old that still had so much light behind your eyes, and a hope that you wouldn't shake. You had a way of making everyone laugh. You could pull anyone out of their heads, even Hotch, who Derek had caught many times fighting back small content smizes as you took the team's mind off the gore of the job.

"That's one way to get attention." he hums, and you huff again.

"Derek, you're not being helpful. If you're just here to laugh at my misery, I'm gonna start rethinking your place in my life." you hum, and you lean forward, chin resting against your palms. Derek appraises you, head tipping to the side as he offers you a charming grin.

"All I'm saying is, you've been crushing on the kid since you got here." he reminds you, and your frown deepens. "And the world wont be blind forever." he mumbles, and you know what he means. Spencer Reid to you had always been the most beautiful guy, but he'd been buried under mountains of trauma and insecurities that he had never been able to accept that. With time though, Spencer had begun to blossom, and this new haircut seemed to be a testament of this.

He was coming into himself, there was a new confidence budding in his steps, less stammers between phrases, and you didn't really have to fight for eye contact much anymore. He was still Spence, and in his words, he was far from an Alpha Male, but he could be. And he would be, you just knew it. Which meant that the more confident he became, the more women would see him the way you saw him. Damn. Derek sees the way the cogs in your mind move, and he sighs.

"Take it from someone who's been around-." you can't help but to insert with your own little quip. "What are you calling yourself a dog?" you tease, and his eyes roll, but he still grins wide.

"Listen." he stretches the word a bit, and he's looking you right in the eye. You can see sympathy swirling through the pretty pools of brown, and you believe that maybe if you were a bit older, and had met Derek first, you'd be swooning for him the way you were swooning for Spencer. You shake these thoughts of his beauty away, as you give him the space to speak freely. "I know what it's like to miss a window." he reminds you. "Rejection's a bitch." he adds.

True. It was precisely why you'd never bothered to say anything to Spencer. You got through life by pretending things were fine, by making a joke out of the hard stuff. You wouldn't be able to handle opening your heart to someone, and being told 'No'. That you weren't good enough, that you weren't what they needed. Maybe that was selfish, rejection was a part of life. It was necessary, but still. You'd rather deal with your unresolved issues alone. You saw no need to bring Spencer into conversations about your feelings for him at all.

"But guilt's a motherfucker." and Derek's words stop you short. You blink. What was worse? The sting that rejection could cause or the gaping hole that guilt would bring? The thought of getting an invite to a wedding day for a future Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Reid while you sitll held romantic feelings close to your chest made you want to vomit. Perhaps Derek had a point. At least if Spence turned you down with time the two of you could work around it, become friends again.

If you never said anything though, you'd have no right to be angry or hurt or jealous if some woman with much more confidence than you managed to swoop in and knock him off his feet Damn, you hated when Derek was right. His chuckle is what alerts you that your begrudging inner thoughts had been uttered aloud.

"What's Derek right about?" you smell the familiar scent of Prentiss' perfume before you see her face. It's subtle but comforting, and it makes you unconsciously relax in your seat. Derek's moving out of your line of sight, and you're met with the sight of Spencer still talking to the woman. She had a firm grip on a mug of coffee in one hand, her other hand leisurely tracing circles on Spencer's arms. You inhale sharply, swiveling in your seat as you turn to face Emily.

"Everything." Derek takes the swing, winking as you and Emily share a dry glance. He then subtly nods his head towards the woman crowding Spencer at the kitchenette and Emily's lips form a thin line of understanding. She turns to you, hand resting on your shoulder as she gives it a firm squeeze.

"Don't you think it's time to take a swing?" she offers, and you hate that immediately she falls into step with Derek. The duo forming a united front against you to ensure you put your big girl pants on and tell him the way you're feeling. "Here's an idea," And Emily's looking for a second to make sure Spencer is still too preoccupied to make his way over. "You've been trying to find someone to go with you to that new movie... what was it?" Emily snaps her fingers.

"Crash of the-" you cut her off with a deep sigh.

"Clash... it's Called Clash of the Titans." you mutter, and you pout. You had been trying to convince Emily, JJ, and Penelope to give the action film a shot. What could be better than watching Sam Worthington run across your scream for nearly two hours as you're transported to Ancient Greece? But, alas... the girls were far more interested in other things. In truth, they'd all agreed that they'd prefer to see something a little less packed with gore and violence.

Just for a change of pace.

You couldn't slight them for their polite rejection of your plans. The last case you'd been on had been especially taxing and nightmare inducing. "Why don't you ask him instead?" she hums, and you look over at the chatting duo, they'd really been talking for a while. There's this easygoing sort of look on Spencer's face, and the beauty across from him has turned about the same shade of red as the lipstick smeared across her full pout.

"Looks like she beat me to it." you mutter, and you think maybe God hates you, because as you let the words out, the girl is beaming even brighter, slipping something she'd written on a napkin into the palm of his hand. She offers a flirty wink before she's sashaying off, hips moving from side to side as she makes her way back to her own little cubby. "Ah well, who cares?" you try your hand at playing nonchalant. "It's not like I was in love with him or anything."

And the thing about Denial was that you'd spent so long making it your security blanket that you often forgot you were working with some of the most brilliant minds the FBI had ever produced.

Derek pats your shoulder, he's sympathetic to your plight. He was probably the only person you had been the most forthcoming with about these feelings you harbored. Emily frowns, and she offers you a side hug, chin resting on the top of your head. Their comfort makes you feel better, but the coil of feelings in your gut only seems to tighten. You wanted to be alone, you'd been perceived enough, if any of them pushed any further you may have broken into tears.

"I-I should get back to work." you mutter quietly, and they both know what you're doing. For once they resist the urge to comment, and they leave you be. Your desk was farthest away from the rest of the team. You and Hotch had agreed it was necessity. You could focus more when your back was to the rest of them. You let out a quiet sigh, fingers drumming against the table as you swallowed your emotions. You tiredly reach for an unfinished file, flipping it open.

Blurry words peer back at you, and you're shocked to realize that despite all your efforts you were still about to cry. Fuck.

You close your eyes, counting up to thirty in both english and spanish, by the time you'd finished breathing treinta under your breath, you had a new guest in front of you. Spencer stretched up for what felt like miles, his eyebrows furrowed as he stood before your desk with a look of confusion on his face. "Hey, are you alright?" he asks, and his voice always has this tenderness throughout.

"J-Just fine." and your stammer gives you away. Your voice is coated with mucus, a surefire signal that you were about a few seconds shy of having an immature meltdown. How silly of you to be this shaken up over the prospect of Spencer being with someone else. How dare you? You didn't even have the balls to admit that your playful flirting was just you overcompensating for the fact you couldn't do it foreal.

"I read somewhere that breathing exercises help you get through boring things." you motion to the file, and you've perfected your fake grin. Spencer doesn't look convinced, but he plays along.

"Oh, yeah? Where'd you read that?" he asks and you blanche.

"Uh. Just somewhere." you answer, and he's raised both his eyebrows. You recover quickly, clearing your throat. "You've replaced me, huh?" you ask, and you're playing it off like one of your jokes. Spencer looks shocked for a second, before he tips his head to the side as he looks down at you as if you were the most important thing in his world. If only.

"What do you mean?" he pries, and you motion with your head to the coffee station.

"Found another pretty girl to boost your head up, huh?" you mutter, and there's this flash. Something you can't quite catch, mostly because you're not in the mood to profile and analyze what all his facial expressions meant now. "You guys looked like you were having a good time." you add, and you hope you don't sound bitter. Jealousy or not, if Spencer was happy, you'd be happy too. You'd try.

"Yeah." he replies, and his face is turning red. "S-She was just being nice." he answers, and you hate that the first thing you notice is how he hasn't said 'No, I haven't replaced you.' You sour all the more.

"That's nice, Spence." you hum, and it's clear you've now become uninterested. So much for trying.

Still, Spencer was nothing if not selectively oblivious. You guys had been playing this game for almost a year, he wasn't going to make it easy for you to cop out and make him the bad guy. "She actually asked me to go see-" the rest of his joy-ridden words are mush in your head, and you can imagine how unamused you looked as you half-listened to him go on about how they were going out Saturday.

Yippee.

You don't mean to be rude, not really. But you couldn't bring yourself to listen to anymore. "Congratulations, Spencer." you cut him off abruptly. "But I've got to finish this, so if you could just-" and you're ushering him off as he stares at you aghast.

"What's your problem?" he pries, and you blink owlishly.

"Nothing." you insist, and you look over your shoulder. The team was not-so-subtly watching the exchange. Typical.

"I find that hard to believe." Spencer retorts, and he's got this unimpressed look on his face, like he knows something you don't. His genius has never irked you before, but right now it just makes you feel more perceived. Like he knew how you felt and was rubbing this all in your face. He couldn't possibly be that cruel though, right?

"Well that's not really my problem is it?" you snap, and Spencer's reaction is instantaneous. His scoff rings in your ears.

"Yeah, actually it is." he shoots back, and you rear back in surprise. What was that supposed to mean. "You know this is getting really old." and your strangled gasp escapes you before you can stop it.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you narrow your eyes as you set your glare on him. He's got his own challenging sort of glance on his face, almost like he's daring you to keep playing dumb. You will. If only to push him to spit out whatever was so clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue. "Go on. Please tell me, Mr. All knowing." you press and his eyes roll. You look like a perturbed toddler ready to fling yourself on the ground and scream.

"Grow up." is all he says, and it slices you clean in half. "If you're gonna play the role of the jealous little girl, at least respect me enough to not play dumb about it when you're caught." and then he's leaving you sitting at your desk, and you're gawking.

Fuck.

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foreveralbon · 3 months

Text

“my model, my inspiration, my muse, my everything” - ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader

in which lando becomes a stranger’s muse and more

word count: 3.5k

content warnings: swearing, i am not an art girlie so very limited (and crappy) descriptions of artworks enjoy!! <3

masterlist

lando doesn’t want to be there. sure, he’s never going to turn down an invitation to go to the club with oscar and the rest of the team, but is he always going to want to be there? not really.

because between what felt like a shit sprint, an even shittier race and the shittiest weekend he’s ever had with the car in qatar, he’d rather be at home, wallowing in his own self pity, half asleep while watching friends reruns. but things don’t always go his way, so being dragged out of the hotel by oscar and the others to a club he doesn’t want to be at against his will seems quite on brand for lando norris.

he’s decided to make the shadows his hiding spot, sitting at the corner of the bar where he can drown himself in enough shots and self-pity that it could rival charles’ mood after a dnf with ferrari. he makes it through five shots, seven songs, and manages one pathetic rundown of the race in his head before two bodies slide up to the bar beside him. he’s known max too long to not be able to tell when his best friend is to the left beside him, so he instantly assumes pietra’s to his right.

“p,” he says, not turning to look at the girl. “do you reckon we can-”

there’s a small pause before an uncertain, “me?” is said in his direction. the unfamiliar voice has him raising his head to see a girl who is definitely not max’s girlfriend staring back at him. it takes him an extra second to register that it’s a very pretty girl staring back at him.

it probably must be the alcohol giving him a boost of unexpected confidence because it takes just the smallest of glances at her before he’s blurting out, “can i buy you a drink?”

he can hear max sputter behind him because where the hell did that come from, lando? yeah, definitely the alcohol.

but her eyes can barely hide her amusement and she can barely contain her giggles, a bubbly laugh that’s music to lando’s ears. “i’m sorry, but i don’t even know your name.”

with his cheeks tinged pink, the man holds his hand out. “i’m lando.”

her grip is strong in his, the rings on her fingers cool against his warm skin. “y/n. you don’t look like you’re having too much fun, lando.” she jerks her head toward the exit, turning back to him with a smirk that has lando’s insides melting. “how do you feel about ditching?”

her hand never leaves lando’s as he tells max he’ll call him when he gets the chance and then she’s leading him out the bar and onto the main street. he finds himself questioning whether he should trust some random girl he just met to take him around in a foreign country but the voice of reason in his head shuts up when she looks up at him with a smile that instantly has his knees weak and his dimples on full display.

maybe this weekend might not end so bad after all.

—

they converse over sodas and shawarma because nothing else is really open at that time of night in qatar, and with every passing minute of their “date”, lando finds himself more intrigued by her than he ever thought could be possible.

maybe it’s the way her hair falls over her shoulder when she leans forward to listen to him and give him her utmost attention. or it could be the way her eyes soften whenever she makes him laugh. maybe it’s the way her lips curve up into the most beautifully cheeky smile whenever he says something so out of pocket that it makes her head drop down as her shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“so, what do you do?”

her question comes as a surprise to lando. not that he expected her to really know, but qatar is a small country and he wouldn’t think much would happen at the same time as the doha grand peix.

“i’m a formula one driver,” he says.

“that is so cool,” she gasps. “i wish i could have a cool job like that. i’m an artist, and i guess there’s not much to say about that. i’m in a bit of a slump though, that’s why i came to qatar, for inspiration.”

“and have you found any? inspiration, i mean.”

“not yet. but if you want, maybe you can be my muse.”

he just laughs and moves the conversation along, but his mind doesn’t stop racing, keeps screaming, yeah, maybe i can.

—

lando decides it quickly: he’s had y/n for two weeks and he would go to the ends of the world and back for her.

after their late night date in qatar, they exchanged numbers after finding out they both live in london, under the promise they would see each other again when they were both back home.

since then, they’d spent hours messaging each other. lando talks about his driver friends, his childhood in karting and his favourite places to visit. she talks about her art, university and her favourite foods to eat. she makes him promise her that he’ll take her all around the world, and he makes her promise him that she’ll never make him eat any foods with fish.

he tells himself it’s not normal to feel like this, to tone it down a little bit. when, really, all he wants to do is just giggle and swing his legs like a little schoolgirl with a crush.

“guys, i’m in love,” he announces two weeks later, falling onto the couch of oscar’s driver room in the austin gp.

“are you now?” oscar muses, pushing lando’s legs from off the couch so he can sit down beside him. lando throws him a snarky look but continues talking when he realises the aussie’s on his phone and paying him no attention.

“no, seriously. her name’s y/n, she’s from england too. she’s funny, kind, smart, talented, artistic. she’s a painter and all that.”

“a painter?” oscar looks up. “where’d you go that you met an artist?”

lando quickly fills oscar in on the last two weeks, from leaving the celebrations early to their nightly conversations. he even mentions her creative slump, how he’s trying to help find ways to inspire her.

he doesn’t register the look of affection oscar’s giving him, but when he does, he stutters to a stop. “oi, why are you giving me that look?”

“i’m glad you’ve found someone, mate.” he stands up and heads toward the door before stopping slightly. “just don’t fuck it up, yeah?”

the door swings shut behind oscar and lando slumps back onto the couch, a smitten look on his face. “me too, mate. me too.”

and when his phone lights up with a photo of her smiling face taken the night they met, he’s never felt more lovestruck.

—

lando asks her to be his girlfriend over the phone in oscar’s driver room in texas. he could’ve sworn his heart doubled in size hearing her laugh out the sweetest chorus of “yes” he’d ever heard in his life.

he spends the next four weeks leading to the winter break on the phone with his girlfriend - his girlfriend! - and his first day off on a plane to see her. she greets him at the airport, practically jumping into his arms when she sees him.

from the moment he gets her in his arms, he knows he’s never going to let her go. and he quite literally doesn’t the first few days. his hand is glued to her thigh in the car, his arms wrapped around her shoulders or waist whenever he can get behind her, or he’s got a hand in her pocket as they walk around. it’s only until she has to go to art studio that she manages to peel him off her.

“listen, lan, baby,” she says between the kisses he presses onto her lips, “i need to go now, but i’ll be back to pick you up later.”

“but i don’t want you to go,” he whines. she presses her palm to his cheek lovingly before walking out the front door of his london home and leaving him alone.

but true to her word, she’s back a couple hours later, urging him into the car, and when he asks where she’s taking him, she simply says somewhere.

it doesn’t take long for them to pull up in front of a small building, and he doesn’t question it when she tells him to close his eyes before she takes his hand and leads him inside.

“promise me you’re not looking, lan.” her own hands now cover his eyes as she guides him through the building.

“promise, love,” he says.

it’s not until he feels her hands moving away and the creak of a door swinging open that he opens his eyes and is meant with a paint-splattered room full of used and empty canvases. but then she turns his attention to a certain corner of the room, a display of canvases stood on easels staring back at him - it takes a moment for him to notice that it’s his face staring back at him. multiple portraits of close up shots, to him on the podium, to even a formula one car going around a corner of the track.

“i have an art exhibition coming up and i didn’t know what to do, but when i saw you, i just knew i had to paint you,” she explains, following him closer to the paintings. she lets him brush his fingers across the fabric, watches him trail every detail along the curve of his painted faces, the glint of his p2 trophy from his podium in brazil, the shape of the car - max’s, he realises. he tears his gaze away just as she continues talking.

“i know it’s not a lot, and it might seem a bit creepy because i did go through pinterest for a bunch of good photos of you, and i took screenshots of you whenever skysports showed you on screen. but you’re just so pretty, and i really, really wanted to paint you and-” she registers the look he’s giving her, arms crossed, head tilted to the side as his face stretches into a smile so big his eyes squint. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you think i’m pretty?”

she scoffs and pushes him back, a laugh bubbling out of lando’s mouth as he grabs her wrist and hold her to him. she loops her arms around his neck before saying, “you know, i almost forgot why i loved this.” she pauses, and he gives a look, prodding her on. “but you’ve reminded me why. it’s like being with you makes the world seem different. brighter. better. happier.”

lando wishes he had his camera, wishes he could be a painter like her just so he could capture the pure joy in her eyes and keep it forever, because even if her face in that moment was the last thing he saw, lando’s sure he would die a happy man.

he doesn’t know what to say, so he just kisses her instead, letting her know all he was trying to say with that one sweet motion. and when he rests his forehead on hers, he grins cheekily and says, “looks like i became your muse after all, huh?”

—

the gallery is bustling with noise as he pushes past the double doors into y/n’s art exhibition four months later. four months of late nights and long days, multiple stress breaks and even more mental breakdowns. though most of the work took place during the winter break, lando wouldn’t have traded it for the world, because no matter how he spent it, there was nothing better than being by his girl’s side.

oscar stands to his right, a woah of appreciation escaping his lips as they take in the gallery.

paintings in shades of orange, pink and yellow hang along one wall - her perception of him watches everyone from its place on the wall opposite. oscar and lando stand tall in their own separate large frame, and it’s hard to miss the signature colours of mclaren, but dimmer, almost warmer, a style lando would recognise anywhere as y/n’s having spent so long around it.

the way everyone marvels over his girl’s artwork is music to his ears and he can’t help but flush when people recognise him as the man in the portraits.

“young lando norris,” someone booms from behind him. he recognises y/n’s art professor emerging from the crowd and greets the older man with a firm handshake.

“sir! good to see you,” lando says politely.

he gestures around him. “your girl’s done well, lando.”

lando nods. “she has. i’m very proud of her, i always knew she could do it.”

“have you seen her yet?”

“no, i haven’t, actually. i came with oscar, so.”

the older man ahhs, giving him a knowing smile. “well, don’t let me hold you up. go get her.”

lando leaves them with a gracious nod, moving through the crowd to his girl, all the while accepting handshakes from supportive friends and small wishes of “congratulations”, “well done” and “tell her we’re proud of her”. he finally spots her, hair pinned to perfection and dress perfectly hugging every curve of her body, making small talk with a well-dressed couple in the corner of the room.

he catches the exact moment she realises he’s there, revels in the grin that splits her face as she excuses herself. it’s barely a minute between that moment to when she’s barreling into his arms, head furrowing in the crook of his neck as she mumbles, “you made it.”

he presses her tighter to his body. “i wouldn’t miss this for the world, love.”

their moment short-lived though when someone kindly taps on her shoulder. y/n pulls away from him and, with one glance at the woman, turns back to him. “i have to go make a speech, but i’ll be back right after.”

he lets her go with a quick kiss to her lips and forehead and never takes his eyes of her as she makes her way through the crowd to the front of the room, his cheeks flushing when she catches sight of him and blows him a quick kiss. he feels oscar come up beside him, handing him a glass before resting his now-free hand on lando’s shoulder, muttering a low, “simp.”

shut up he shoots back, just as y/n taps the microphone in her hand once, twice, getting the guests’ attention.

“hello everyone, i just wanted thank you all for coming out here tonight. it means so much to me.” she pauses for the ‘you’re welcome’s’ before continuing, “i know i’ve already addressed everyone here and said my thank you’s, but i’d like to mention two more people. oscar, who was patient enough to pose for me for one of my paintings. it means the world to me, thank you, osc.

“and to lando, the boy who inspired me to do all this. if you don’t know who he is, just look around, you’ll find him, he looks really similar to the big guy on the wall.” a chorus of laughter rings out. “without you, lan, i couldn’t have done any of this. thank you for sitting there on facetime so that i could sketch you because i was scared i wouldn’t do you justice from memory, thank you for bringing me takeout when i was stuck in the studio late at night, hyper-fixating on the smallest of details and so much more. i love you, so so much.”

and as the crowd erupts into applause, he just raises his glass in the smallest of gestures to her, and whispers, “anything for you, baby.”

—

it’s later that night when they’re both in the comforting darkness of their room, still tipsy off too many glasses of champagne and each other. he runs a hand through her hair, her naked body warm against his. they’re already so close he can’t even tell where he starts and she stops, but he needs to be closer. he tugs her toward him, bringing her leg over his hip and tucking her face in the crook of his neck before wrapping his arms around her torso.

“lando, i can’t breathe,” she laughs, but she still furrows closer to him.

“it’s a great way to go, don’t you think?”

“mmm, the best way.”

“baby?”

“yes.”

he knots his hand through her hair once more, pulling her away from his neck and forcing her to look at him. “you know i live for you, right?”

“do you?” her voice is incredulous, like she can’t tell if he’s being serious or not.

“only you, because of you. no one else.”

she’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of their even breaths filling the room. and then she’s pressing the softest kisses to his face. his eyes - “my model” - cheeks - “my inspiration” - nose - “my muse” - and then his lips: “my everything.”

“i love you, lando.”

“i love you, too, baby.”

“only me?”

her voice is small and muffled and he can’t help but laugh. “yeah, darling, only you.”

—

author’s note: helloo, firstly, thank you soso much to @disneyprincemuke for encouraging me to finish this mwah <3

secondly, i don’t normally write fics, i mainly write other original works and my main genre is normally thriller and suspense so this is very far off what i normally write. feedback is so appreciated so please don’t hesitate to critique :)

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #actually reading it back i kinda like it #liyah writes

1K notes · View notes

rileyslibrary · 11 months

Note

I love your sense of humour and have cracked up at your stories multible times. Maby you can find some inspiration in this:

Price ordering the team to an etiquette training so they know how to behave in case they have to go under cover in a more "fancy" environment (or the upcoming mission may require something like this). I'm thinking about Ghosts "sausage fingers" from the origami bit on a delicate litte cake fork... Or him needing to *converse* with someone.

I think putting these hard soldiers in a situation that's out of their comfort zone is always a fun read!

Thank you for letting us enjoy your fantastic writing! <3

Be gentle, man!

Relationship: TF141 x F!Reader with a potential Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader (platonic?) on the horizon. Also there’s an OC in the story.

Word Count: 1,598 (approx. 7-8 min reading time)

Notes: I began writing this last night as a joke, and couldn’t stop. Thank you SO MUCH for inspiring me to do this, anon. It’s a crackfic btw. (There’s a part 2 now here)

———————————————————————

The training room feels out of place compared to its usual purpose. Bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the once-busy gym has been transformed into a classroom for an unlikely lesson—manners, of all things. Table manners, to be precise.

“Talk about Fitness Vs. Finesse,” Soap whispers, and you playfully nudge his side. The comment reaches Gaz’s ears, and he lets out a chuckle. Yet, Price’s death stare reclaims your attention and brings you back to focus.

You all sit around a long, polished mahogany table atop the gym’s boxing ring, admiring the delicate china and crystal glassware set before you. It reminds you of Aunt Claire’s preserved collection, which rarely leaves its cabinet. Lady Theodora, your etiquette instructor, assures you that each piece serves a purpose, and you will put them all to use. Every. Single. One of them.

Lady Theodora, the epitome of timeless confidence, moves gracefully around the table. Her silver hair is slicked back, framing a face that exudes years of wisdom and experience. Her Bordeaux-coloured shawl billows behind her as she glides, catching the gentle breeze her steps create. She pauses behind Price’s chair and reveals the reason behind today’s masterclass: an undercover operation.

“In the world of espionage, where appearances can mean the difference between life and death,” she says in a soft voice, “the art of etiquette becomes a weapon, a shield, and,” she concludes, resting her hand on Price’s shoulder, “your ticket to survival.”

“Bollocks.”

All eyes are drawn to the far end of the table, where a shadowy figure prefers to go unnoticed but isn’t afraid to express doubts. The only visible sign of life is a hand fidgeting with the butterknife.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.” Lady Theodora says, and Ghost leans forward, revealing his unmasked—and visibly annoyed—face.

“We’re soldiers, not knights,” he claims. “Teaching us how to use all these,” he says, motioning to the various utensils before him, “is a waste of time, both yours and mine.”

Lady Theodora regards him gently as if looking at a child throwing a tantrum. She smiles and walks behind him, gripping the back of his chair.

“You seem quite certain of your own competence and doubtful of mine, Mr Riley,” she says, amused.

Ghost tilts his head to the side, partially facing her.

“With all due respect, Lady Theodora,” he replies, “I don’t believe you fully comprehend how such missions operate.”

Lady Theodora lets a light chuckle as she moves closer to Ghost’s face.

“My record of 25 confirmed kills, three of which were accomplished with a butterknife like the one in your hand, might suggest otherwise,” she admits. “Now, would you kindly move your seat forward, Lieutenant? I’ll show you how to act like a proper gentleman.”

Ghost’s Adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows hard. He returns the butterknife to its original position and pushes his chair forward with Lady Theodora’s help.

Gaz clears his throat and looks at Soap.

“Imagine her dinner parties,” he whispers so Price doesn’t hear him, “they must be perfectly executed.”

“Bet she makes a killer soufflé,” Soap whispers back.

You look at them and mutter, “You two are beyond help.” Unfortunately, it’s your own comment that catches Price’s attention this time, and he gives you a stern warning to behave.

“Let’s get started,” Lady Theodora says. “Projecting confidence and grace requires proper posture: sit up straight, shoulders back, and imagine a string pulling you upward from the crown of your head.”

You all adjust your posture, attempting to imitate Lady Theodora. Ghost used to a more relaxed posture, finds it difficult to maintain the required formality. His broad shoulders hunch forward, and he struggles to keep his legs straight.

“Excellent,” Lady Theodora remarks, catching Ghost’s struggle but choosing not to comment further. “Next, we shall delve into the art of dining. Each utensil on the table has a specific purpose, and it is essential to use them correctly.”

She points to the array of utensils laid out before you. Multiple forks, knives, and spoons of various sizes and shapes make the sight overwhelming.

“The outermost utensils are for the earlier courses, while the inner ones are for the later ones.” Lady Theodora says, “It’s like unwrapping a gift, one course at a time.”

You all nod and place the napkin on your lap to begin the process.

Ghost’s ingrained military habits take over when food is served, causing him to devour it quickly. He shovels forkfuls of food into his mouth without looking up and barely pausing to chew.

“Mr Riley,” Lady Theodora addresses Ghost, who shoots his head up to look at her. “I understand the military inclination to eat fast, but we must remember that the food isn’t going anywhere. Take your time, savour each bite, and enjoy your meal, please.”

“Sorry ’bout that.” Ghost mumbles with his mouth full.

Lady Theodora raises an eyebrow. “Mr Riley, it is impolite to speak with your mouth full,” she reminds him. “Please, swallow your food before continuing.”

Ghost swallows and clears his throat. “Apologies, Lady Theodora,” he mutters.

Lady Theodora smiles and nods at Ghost’s response. “Very well, Lieutenant Riley,” she says. “Remember, dining is about more than just the food; it’s also about the company and the experience.”

As the training continues, you witness Soap’s attempts to initiate a proper conversation, only to subconsciously bring up military strategies. Gaz, on the other hand, struggles with small talk and, when asked about his hobbies, blurts out his love of explosions.

“Kerosene is one hell of a—”

“No kerosene talk on the table, Sergeant,” Lady Theodora interrupts. “How about we talk about something more appropriate, like, for example, what did you do today?”

“You’re not going to like it.” He replies.

“Did it involve kerosene?” She asks and receives multiple excited nods from Gaz.

Ghost forgets about his napkin while using the finger bowl and instinctively flicks his hands to dry them. Droplets of water scatter across the table, and Lady Theodora steps forward with a calm smile. She retrieves his napkin and hands it to him. “Remember, Lieutenant,” she whispers, “the napkin is your ally.”

Throughout this ordeal, Price seems to be the only one who already has a natural fluidity in his movements. Like he already knows about etiquette.

You compliment his impeccable manners, but Lady Theodora intervenes before Price can respond.

“Oh, that’s because the Captain already received my services a few years ago,” she reveals, winking.

Price, caught off guard, coughs and sputters, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. After regaining his composure, he clears his throat and grins.

“Yes, well, Lady Theodora’s guidance has been, um, invaluable,” he manages to say and lowers his gaze to his plate. Gaz raises an eyebrow, and Soap gives a sly smile.

With the etiquette training completed, Price gracefully positions his utensils on his plate and folds his napkin. Lady Theodora hands him a file stack, which he distributes to you.

“These files contain detailed background information for your assigned roles,” he explains. “Study them carefully; familiarise yourselves with the personas you will embody, and don’t worry; with Lady Theodora’s help, you’ll have plenty of time to learn how to carry yourselves.”

He watches you all as you take hold of your respective files, scanning the pages and absorbing the details that will shape your performances.

“Gaz, within those pages, you’ll uncover the roadmap to shape your tech persona, along with essential contacts and valuable industry insights,” Price declares.

“A startup entrepreneur,” Gaz mutters and nods, “nice.”

“Soap,” Price continues, “your file contains the lineage and history of an alleged oil tycoon family; you’ll assume the identity of their sole son and heir to the business.”

“Why do I get the oil-moneyed spoiled brat?” Soap protests, “Gaz is the one obsessed with fossil fuel!”

Price looks at Lady Theodora, silently begging her to take the lead.

“Focus on embodying the demeanour of an heir, Sergeant MacTavish,” she comforts Soap. “Acquiring in-depth knowledge of the business is not a top priority now.”

Finally, Price shifts his focus to you and Ghost. His voice softens, and a smile appears on his lips.

“As for the two of you,” he says, “your assignment requires a convincing portrayal of a couple.”

You and Ghost exchange a brief look before returning your focus to the files in your hands.

“Laswell will provide you with a forged marriage certificate and photos of your alleged relationship,” Price continues. “The documents will serve as tangible proof if the need to validate your connection arises.”

“Any chance to let us know who or what we’re after?” Gaz asks, and Price shakes his head.

“Baby steps, Sergeant; we’re waiting for Laswell to give us more intel,” he explains, “but as far as we know, we’re dealing with people who can buy their way out of some very sketchy shit.”

“Language, Captain.” Lady Theodora reminds him.

“Please accept my sincere apologies, Theodora,” he says and turns to Gaz. “I meant sketchy things, Sergeant.”

As they continue discussing the mission, your mind wanders on the latest information. Ghost’s partner? How? You look at the file and then back at Ghost. You see Lady Theodora walking behind Ghost’s chair and leaning close to his ear. She looks at you and whispers to him.

“I told you, Lieutenant,” she says, “I’ll mould you into a proper gentleman.”

Ghost turns to face you as well. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Lady Theodora,” he replies.

But Lady Theodora smiles and touches his shoulder, “Oh, you’ll see, Mr Riley—you’re my gift to unwrap, one course at a time.”

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

1K notes · View notes

iznsfw · 9 months

Text

Like a Feather From a Swan’s Broken Wing

LE SSERAFIM's Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader Smut

7,468 words

Categories | agent!You, ballerina!Kazuha, cunnilingus, daddy kink, spanking, fingering, slight bondage

Masterlist | Mobile Masterlist | Commission me!

This is a commission in which I was given the task to write literally anything I wanted (thank you!)

“The art of pleasing is the art of deception.”

— Luc de Clapiers

The gun’s in a steady direction, only looking forward. It’s aimed at the dark, at wherever the partners of the man you’ve been hunting for months might hide. On the darker side, you wish that if there would be anyone coming out, it would be the man himself so you'd be able to shoot him. He's the source of more headaches than you could count and the one who keeps you up late at night, and never for a good reason.

It's the selfish part of you speaking. You shouldn't let that interfere with the operation.

You're in uniform, wrapped head to toe in camouflage green. It feels heavy on your skin, but that doesn't stop your determination. You'll carry the weight of your uniform before you carry the burden that is him, who prolongs the operation, leaves your coffee powder short, and keeps the nation in distress.

Today, you'll catch him, once and for all.

Look around briefly. The night covers you completely, and hopefully doesn't cover the enemy, too. You only take a flashed look; quickness is a skill you once were unlearned in but developed later into the senior years of your profession.

Physical strength is another—the door meets the ground with a harsh thud after you kick it down. Training isn't easy by any means, but it's worth it. Hopefully this mission is the same as well.

Teamwork is a skill you learned, too, for like a flock of crows, you and the squad enter the warehouse. Altogether, they're shouting. They call for the victim (add an "s" for plural form, if necessary), telling her she's okay. Everything's going to be alright, they say, no need to worry.

However, they promise a much bloodier end for the kidnapper, who's probably lurking in the shadows.

"Come out now!" Yunjin shouts. She's frightening when she's angry; her brows are downturned and her fierce eyes are locked onto any movement. Hands on her gun, she's always prepared. "We're not going to ask again!"

"Scan the whole place," Sakura, your leader and chief, commands the rest of your team. The hate for the man glistens in her eyes; for her fierce predator looks, the team often dubs her as the cat of your group. "Don't leave one stone unturned."

The cramped warehouse is emptied out by the sounds of boots on the stairs. You take over the mission half and half: you, Sakura, and Yunjin on the first floor and Chaewon, Wonyoung, and Minju on the second.

Your half of the team knocks over the boxes. They spill out packing peanuts and hints of drugs packed in Ziploc bags. Doors fly open and welcome you into empty darkness. Above you, you hear the newer ones in the squad yelling. It's an amateur habit, but maybe it would work. Maybe it would finally draw the criminals out to justice, and all of this would be over.

But, of course, when they run down the stairs with faces devoid of any recognition and your face mirroring theirs with disappointment, it's clear that this whole thing is far from its end.

In fact, you're only at the beginning of a long, uncertain road.

Thread twisted around pins lead to everywhere but the answer. You've been staring at the billboard for too long, trying to piece together the olden newspaper scraps and sticky notes, but there's nothing. Any signs of an answer bring you to nothing. Each path, strung by thread and yarn of colors signifying this and that, draws to a dead end.

If you don't work harder with your team, Bae Suzy would be dead, too.

So why haven't you caught the abductor yet?

You and your team sit at the rounded table. They look solemn, and perhaps a little irritated. You can't blame them—the mission you thought would be the last became another one to the list of failed rescue operations.

They're getting tired of this, and if it were any other case, they'd let go of it. But this is Bae Suzy you're talking about—she's famous, reputable, and intelligent. She's an accomplished actress, a loveable idol, and an excellent model. All of these make her the treasure of many high-class individuals who’d pay billions and fans who'd give their lives to have her back, so you have to go through. Whether you like it or not, that’s how the story goes.

Your boss, chief Miyawaki Sakura, crosses her arms sternly. High curved nose, straight-set lips, and eyes that never failed to scour through the team, she nods at you. It doesn't take a sign language translator to get what she means: start talking.

"The mission was aborted due to fallacies in translation and sources," you say. You're using your classic, signature neutral tone for meetings like this one. There's an edge to it today, though. No one dares to tell you about it. "One of our sources translated the location and transferred the information to us incorrectly, hence bringing us to another failed operation."

Your teammates nod. Sakura sighs, pinching her nose.

"Due to this," you continue, slapping down on the table a picture of Bae Suzy, in which she smiles charmingly and waves to a mass of reporters, "we must conduct further readings into the case to ensure that the information is accurate. For Bae Suzy, and for us."

Another series of nods from across the room. Most of them are half hearted.

"So, do any of you have a proposal as to where the kidnapper is now? And where he might have brought miss Bae?"

The quiet Kim Chaewon raises her hand. She used to be the one who brought and made the coffee, but after she helped you solve a cold case during her night shifts, you brought it upon yourself to let her join the team. She listened to the seminars well and was excellent in the training. She had potential, is what you're saying, so you're more than glad to hear from her side.

"I believe the kidnapper is a dancer. Maybe he’s brought her to a studio."

"That isn't relevant," says Sakura, venom in her voice. It’s wholly unintended for her to lash out at the new member of the squad, but her exhaustion is getting the better of her today.

Chaewon blushes. "I believe it is, chief," she retorts timidly. "He left ballet shoes and leotards in the last operation. It might lead us to his location, especially if he's the sentimental type."

"And you say that after we ransacked an old man's warehouse? After he thought we were little shits playing soldiers and looking for some coke?"

“B-but the operation was your idea!”

"I launch all operations, honey," Sakura informs her, smiling with fake sweetness. "What do you do?"

"Sakura," you warn. Your words are tight. You don't have it in your soul to deal with her feistiness today. Any other day you would have let the bickering go on, but the failed mission has downed your spirits.

Silence passes around the table. Wonyoung's looking around, waiting for someone to speak. Sakura's staring daggers into the flushed Chaewon. Minju and Yunjin are as quiet as they can be.

Let the silence ferment with acknowledgement: "Thank you, Chaewon, for your input. Any other ideas?"

"I believe Chaewon is right,” Minju pipes up. “We received a letter from the suspect after the operation.”

You smile, both at the good news and the fact that Minju is, so far, the prettiest out of the squad, and doesn't have only a pretty face but the good wits to back it up, too. That's part of the reason why you love welcoming her point of view, but a letter sounds interesting. Probably even more interesting than getting close with Minju, a thought you entertained more than you should.

“Were there fingerprints?” you ask.

She hands you the letter, which is wrapped in an envelope with newspaper and magazine letters carefully pasted on its front. “No. He probably used gloves.”

You carefully rip the hood of the envelope upwards and pull out the folded paper. You then read it out loud:

"To the police, agents, and detective teams—

"You won't ever find me. I float through the crowds unseen. I glide through the lake of circumstance like a swan. I bring her along, and though she's a kitten scared of water, she's mine now. Forever.

"It would take years before you're even able to save your precious little Suzy. It might not even happen at all.

"For that reason, although I abhor you more than you'd think for you all are built on a system of lies and corruption, I offer you this clue:

"I have flown to other nations where my flock calls for me in our garden. Will you be able to shoot me down?

"Soar with me,

"The One Who Dances, A Flame Eternal."

It must have taken hours to cut out all those magazine letters. That's one thing you'll commend the abductor for.

"'The One Who Dances,'" says Wonyoung in awe. She realizes that Chaewon was right about him being a dancer. For someone as young and new to this side of the profession, it’s like watching a thing straight out of a thriller movie.

"'The One Who Dances,'" Sakura repeats, but in a more sarcastic tone than the interested girl. She scoffs. There's a smile on her face that’s amused despite the situation. "Boo, what a fucking nerd. Did he take up human sciences or something?"

"That's not relevant," you tell her, avenging Chaewon (and defending yourself, too, because you also studied human sciences. That's not fair. You aren't a nerd.)

"I’m telling you, those essays they make those kids do rot their brains. Oh, and shut the fuck up. This is why you aren't a team leader."

Choose to ignore her. "I… I just don't get it," you say hopelessly.

Your hair is thin between your fingers as you crawl your digits into it. They're tense, just like you are. You've been tight and stressed through the whole investigation process, in fact, because you've rolled through every possible location: a school, a secret hideout, an old building. None of them are occupied by the criminals. None of them have Bae Suzy.

"We're getting there," replies Yunjin softly. She pats your shoulder and looks at your billboard of pictures and clues, too. "We already know Suzy's being held captive. We just don't know where."

She's lying. That's what friends are for: to lie to make you feel better in situations where it's impossible to be. In that case, Yunjin’s an excellent friend because you're getting abso-fucking-lutely nowhere. It's been one failed rescue mission after another, and it doesn't seem like the next one would be successful either.

"That's the problem, Yunjin." Twirling the black ocean of coffee with a teaspoon, you point to a newspaper clipping thumbtacked to the west side of the board. "Last time, they said the kidnapper took her to the USA because she was seen at the airport."

You rise from your swivel chair to tug out a printed screenshot of the CCTV at said place, and raise it for everyone to see. It shows the timestamps and Bae Suzy looking scared as she stares into the crowds.

"But then she went back to Dutchland," Sakura adds.

“Correct.” Take another grayscale photo where Bae Suzy waits unwillingly at the airport, and tap on the sign at the very front of the line she's in that says the name of the country. "The sources are just as confused as we are."

Yunjin's furrowed brow quirks. She picks up the folder and goes through it. The papers reflect in her black-rimmed glasses. "Why would she be in Dutchland?"

"Because," jab a thumb into the picture of Suzy again, "Dutchland means something to the kidnapper. He wouldn't have gone with Suzy there for nothing. It risks everything."

Dutchland is the main setting of the case, actually. Everything begins and ends there. Everything you know about the kidnapper lies in the note he addressed to the police, issued by Minju earlier.

Wait—

Pull out the kidnapper's letter again. It's impossible to mistake it for anything else even through the mess on the table when it's smoother than the other scratch papers. The identifying marks are your fingerprints from pen ink branded onto the thin piece of parchment.

Open it, rolling it out on the table like a mantle. It's a mantle of clues you run your finger on. Flown to other nations… soar with me… our garden… The One Who Dances…

Your breath catches in your throat. "Chaewon," you say, looking up at her, “you’re a fucking genius.”

One Leaf Academy is a rich, well-established school for aspiring ballerinas and professional dancers alike. There can't be any other the abductor was referring to. There's only one particularly famous ballet academy in Dutchland, and since he's mentioned that he was the one who danced, this was it. The "garden" mentioned in the letter helped map it down to one location.

It looks good even from bird's eye view. You can see it properly without the pane of a window standing in the way. When you’re part of the squad, flights aren’t taken on planes. Instead, you use helicopters, government-owned and government-approved.

It took only two days for Dutchland to issue an agreement to let you through the borders. They love Bae Suzy, too, apparently. They love her so much that the process went by quickly and you weren’t even stressed about it. There’s more things to stress about later on, but there’s no use in lamenting the future when the present is already good as is.

The green helicopter lands in the forest behind the school. It camouflages among the leaves and trees, giving you the freedom to hop out of it as noisily as you’d like.

Twigs and branches snap under your feet as you do, and you have to catch Sakura to stifle her trip.

She slaps your hands away and brushes down her dress, as if your touch ruined it. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself."

"You're welcome, Sakura," you say, shrugging.

"Can you two please stop fighting?" Wonyoung asks. Her delicate voice, irresistible even to the hardhearted Sakura, ceases the argument before it could continue.

Pull the ridiculous blazer they made you wear on and look at the team. "Everyone ready? You know your jobs?" you ask.

"I'm the mother," says Sakura spitefully. She glares down at the gradient dress assigned to her. "I'll pretend to take pictures and talk to you through the phone."

"Who's the baby daddy?"

"For once, I beg, shut the fuck—"

"Guys," Wonyoung repeats with a more pleading voice.

Sigh. The fight was on you and it's up to you to end it as well. So, turn to: "Wonyoung?"

"I stay behind and watch out for suspicious people," she replies, back to her usual bright but professional self. You hope she doesn't lose the shimmer in her eyes years down the road of being on the investigative team. You'd hate for her to go through what you had to deal with.

"Yunjin?"

"First round of backup with Chaewon unnie." Yunjin taps the gun hidden in the loop of her jeans.

"Minju?"

The girl blushes. "Look for Bae Suzy," she says in a small voice. She looks pointedly at you. "And you?"

"Find the abductor." Look down at your shoes and wonder if they'd ever experience a trip that isn't about work. "Put an end to everything."

Everything's been fleshed out already. There are backup plans of backup plans, earpieces hidden on the sides of your head when the need to communicate comes. This is how it usually is with undercover work.

You ponder, for a moment, and think if it would forever be like this: a game of cat and mouse, always led on but never going through. It just fuels your passion to find Bae Suzy once and for all.

"Remember, this is a recital," Sakura informs all of you. She points to the backdoors of the ballet academy, which suppresses classical music from the inside. "We have to fit in. Don't drop your cover."

She looks at you and narrows her eyes. “Even if somebody tempts you.”

"Operation One Leaf, launched immediately."

You enter the recital with the subtle earpiece strapped to your lobe and your steps light. You carry your posture well, and with the suit, draw looks from the other parents and from children, too. They're wondering if you're the owner of the place, or maybe you're a well-dressed teacher? A wealthy father? They'll never know because you won't dare tell them.

Regard them with a cold yet polite nod and walk through the sides of the chairs. There's not much of the audience left, but you still have to play your part.

You lock eyes with Minju, who steps into the recital wearing preppy yet casual wear. Mouth her good luck. She smiles, but proceeds into the backrooms without another word. Right. She plays a part in the mission, too. You shouldn't disturb her.

"You're here, agent," she says anyway, tapping onto her own earpiece. Her voice rings in your ear. "Break a leg."

Sakura gets in a little while later. As per her job, she pulls out the communication device disguised as a phone and lifts it to the air, "recording" the dancer on the stage.

Blend in with the crowd as you will. You're a little embarrassed by the attention you draw with your suit since the whole thing is supposed to be undercover, but there's no going back now. You have to act the part.

So: stride confidently into the room, never looking down. Take the first seat you see at the very front and look at the performance.

That's kind of how it all started: a look. It wasn't supposed to be anything else, but yes, one single look keeps you hypnotized, not just because of the dance, but the girl who performs it.

She might as well be a swan in disguise. She's got this resilient, princess-like look on her face that's more alluring than it should be. Even her hair serves her royalty; it elegantly floats around her neck and shoulders as she prances and twists.

The uniform, a long-sleeved blouse finished off with a flattering tie and a flowing skirt, doesn't hide her gracefulness. She moves in it as if she were the swan lake herself. Her movements are as fluid as can be. Each rush and lift of her leg guarantees an upskirted moment in which you're allowed to bask in the beauty of her legs and the fullness of her butt, and you know you shouldn't look. You're better than that; you shouldn't let a young, pretty girl stall your job, but there you are, front seat at a recital for professional senior high ballerinas, hypnotized by a ballerina's dance.

You have to snap out of it. You have better and more important things to do than mentally undress a pretty dancer, yet your eyes are glued on her. It's like your vision was programmed to catch every twirl and glide she makes across the platform, to relish the poke of her chest through the blouse that's a little too small, to yearn for her.

The music is just a dreamful background to her. You're dazed. Hypnotized. Locked into a passive position because of her.

You want this ballerina. You can't do anything but look and want and long.

It's almost heartbreaking when her performance ends. She bows deeply, and you swear she's fired you a wink right before she rises up again.

You have to get to know her. You want to ask her out, maybe even escalate things further on the first date if she’s willing. But you have a mission to do. The squad and saving Bae Suzy come first.

Regretfully, you stand from the monobloc chair and turn your heel. But then there she is, dressed in perfection and uniform, and looking prettier up close when she shouldn't be that close but she is close and you swear one more centimeter closer and you'd be closed up to her lips.

"Hi," she says, casually.

That deep voice, fuck.

Wait, when did she get here?

"I, uh, hi? Wait, how did you… why are you—"

"Please." She rolls her eyes, sets a hand on her tiny pinch of a waist. "Did you think you weren't obvious staring me down?"

"Well, uh—"

(What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you stuttering and stammering and stumbling over your words like you aren't more mature and older than her? How could she say that to you and disregard that fact?

You couldn't be assed to know, but she's intimidating you in a whole different way: making you feel like the platform she dances on by acting sweet but not too sweet, flirty but not over the top. That's what you know, but here's the problem: you have little idea what to do.)

"Calm down," she says. She's a tall girl, but smaller enough to smooth down your blazer and close it softly around your chest. Her eyes are enticing. "I'm just playing with you."

Swallow. Try to collect your composure back into a neat pile, but it overflows and ceases. "Excuse me," you say, voice shaking, "do I know you?"

She pushes out her pink bottom lip, bites it, then shakes her head. "It's Kazuha, if that rings a bell."

"If I didn't know your name, Kazuha," you say, "I'd say I recognize you from somewhere."

"You do?"

"Yeah." The more you talk, the more she looks like Bae Suzy. "You, y-you kind of look like someone I'm looking for."

Kazuha guides you with a hand around your wrist and walks you to the backroom. You have no sense of direction when your eyes are sealed onto her gorgeous face, perfect with their brown eyes and sculpted nose. It's a tour guide to danger, and you don't even know that you're hiking.

"Is she your wife?" She rubs the back of your hand with a thumb, looking at you with such authentic concern that you almost fall for it. Almost. "Girlfriend?"

"No." Breathe through your nose. "Just someone I have to look for."

Slam. The door shuts, and now you're effectively pinned upon its wood like a poster. Amazing how a woman smaller than you could do you like that: have you weak at your knees as she keeps you on the flat of the door, stares you down with no hatred in her eyes, but sultriness. You don't know how you pick up all those clues when she's not speaking, but Kazuha, as you come to find out, isn't like any other girl. She's known her whole life to speak through her body, and the message from her hands pushing you into a flattened position and her leg propped next to your hip is clear.

You’re not sure if you want to open her note and read it.

"Tell me," Kazuha says, chastely, although her actions are anything but, "am I as hot as her?"

Your eyes widen. It's utterly unprofessional; you as an agent shouldn't even begin to engage in a conversation about how the victim's sexually attractive when she might be in the most vulnerable place right now.

Stutter again. Broken words become a new language you're fluent in, and might as well be a native speaker of with how much Kazuha learned you into it. You have her slim, hot body pressed up against yours to thank, and the look in her eyes. The tilt of her pretty little head. Her subtle, knowing smirk.

"I can't talk about that with you," you say, because it's true—you can't. You have a mission to do and your morals to keep.

"Sure you can," Kazuha counters. Her eyes glimmer. "I'm the top student in One Leaf. They basically made me a star when they knew that my name meant 'one leaf,' too. Isn't that funny?"

"What's your point here?"

"The point is," she says, leveling your gaze, "if I fuck you right here in this room, they wouldn't give a damn."

She has a hold of your hands, imprisoning them and trapping them on the slopes of her sizable chest. Your breath hooks on nothing and is released incompletely. Kazuha's breasts are so soft, not the biggest but fill your hands up so well that you'd take them over any other pair.

Have to resist the voice inside you telling you to squeeze. "What are you doing?" you ask.

"Tell me, what do men like you want?"

Kazuha curls your hand into her flesh so that she's making you squeeze—

"Tits—"

—then leads it below her pleated skirt, lets it cup the globes and touch places that should otherwise be left untouched—

"—or ass?"

Both are tastes of heaven. The two choices are soft yet alluring. But you really shouldn't, though you want to rip that skirt clean off her legs and spank her till her cheeks are red. She deserves that for tempting you, for being such a bad girl when she's otherwise excellent at being a ballerina.

"I can't talk to you about that," you have to repeat. But it sounds more like you're convincing yourself rather than her.

Oh, and she's far from being budged.

Kazuha pulls you by the tie and drags you to the nearest monobloc chair. There are plenty of other seats just like that here in the utility room, but she chooses to throw a beautiful, toned leg over each side of your hips and sit on your lap instead. Her ass snuggles your crotch and her legs keep you trapped onto the chair.

"What about now?" she asks.

Then her hips start to sway—it's another coax for you to drag out of your shell and do what you shouldn't. It's another dance besides ballet that she knows well, and you can tell from how her thighs flex and bounce underneath your touch, she's very good at it.

"K-Kazuha… fuck—"

"Come on." She's straight up dry humping you, dragging her perfect pussy up and down your growing erection. Her eyes and mouth both pose a challenge: "Tell me I should stop. Tell me you want to do anything that isn't to fuck me."

Kazuha rubs herself on you. She uses your clothed cock as a personal toy for a few delicious seconds, then rises from your lap to unbutton her blouse. One by one, they undo themselves and the pale skin of her chest is revealed. There's her small cleavage. A collarbone carved from perfection. Her beautiful chest. Too much is what it is, yet your perverted self can't stop gawking.

You remember Sakura's words earlier. She told you not to drop your cover, not to get tempted. You dislike Sakura, yet it's her warning that ignites your hesitation. She suspected that you'd fall like this. She was only trying to hold you back.

"Well? What's gonna happen then?" Kazuha crosses her arms. They frame the underside of her tits, a perfect picture. "Do you want to go out there and find some stupid girl or fuck the one on your lap? What's it gonna be, daddy?"

You're not a daddy kink type of person. In fact, you don't really have that much of a sex drive. Intercourse and the like are things you have no time for when your job is like this, much less a discovery of a daddy kink.

So why is your dick so much harder now that she's said it?

Why are your hands on her hips?

Why are you carrying Kazuha's lithe form and placing her right on a desk?

Why are you kissing her?

When your lips and hers meet, an apocalypse is birthed. An apocalypse of sex, hunger, and desire breaks out. Your eyes are closed, yet your hands and Kazuha's own know exactly where to touch and hold. She unbuckles your belt and pulls down your pants. You slide your greedy fingers over Kazuha's perfect buttcheeks. Tug off the ridiculous shorts that saved her performance from being pornographic. Rip off the panties that are sticky with need.

"Oh, ohhh, you like that?" Kazuha moans while you kiss her neck and chest. Don't bother to rip off the uniform when it looks incredibly sexy on her fit body. "You like me calling you that, daddy?"

"Quiet. We're making this quick."

"So you do want to fuck me."

Thighs touch your lips when you make your way down. Or is it the other way around? Whatever, the point is that Kazuha's thighs are a delicacy. They're full yet sculpted and would look great looped around your head. Luckily, you find that the sopped core between them is more delicious.

Lick a line from the bottom of her slit right up to her bundle of nerves. "Who says I want to fuck you?"

"D-daddy!" Kazuha gasps, covering her mouth.

"You're quick to call me that." You kiss the insides of thighs then start trailing your tongue around her clit. On top of it. Under it. Each side is subject to immense pleasure. "Where's the shame, little dancer?"

"Right on with the nicknames."

You splay Kazuha's pink lips and stick your tongue in between them. Her hips buckle forward. Her eyes are all wide and eager and needy, and it takes a few more thrusts of your tongue to have them shut.

However, it doesn't take a lot for Kazuha to moan. Her voice is tinged with deep tones, and they pronounce out prolonged cries as you toy her cunt with your tongue. Her thighs threaten to crush your head, but, if anything, you'd welcome it. You're happy to be trapped in between her luscious legs and keep the feminine scent of her pussy right up close. Her juices could be your water, the food would be her core itself—you're already eating it like a meal anyway.

"Of course. If you want to play games, I'll give in." Toy with her clit, then proceed to give it harsh sucks and slurps that her lower body spasms. "I'm just playing along."

Kazuha bites on a bated breath and beats the table with a bent hand. "What if I'm not playing around, daddy?"

"Hm?"

"What if, fuck, I'm not playing around?" She pushes you deeper between her legs and wraps them around your head. She toys with the sides of your ears. "Maybe I like fucking people who obviously shouldn't be doing it. Maybe I like calling a hot man daddy. It just feels so good for me. Did you ever think about that?"

And maybe you like fucking a girl who's a hindrance to your mission. Maybe you like eating out her wet cunt, driving your tongue deeper into the soaked fuckhole, and doing everything you wanted to do to her when she was onstage.

But all of that is just one maybe after another. As far as you're concerned, you don't actually like doing it, yet when Kazuha whines and squirms like that, your mind is quickly changed.

Self-discovery, you guess.

"So do it," you challenge her. Look up at her while you quickly rub her clit. "Call me daddy."

"Daddy, hngnnn, fuck, daddy!"

Kazuha's pussy creates the most obscene wet sounds. Your index finger doesn't rest; it fires away at her clit, her most sensitive spot, and urges it to become more swollen. More sensitive. More desperate.

Push her other leg up for more access. As you expected, it effortlessly rises. Who knew that her years of dancing as a professional ballerina would translate well when eating her pussy? You love how her thigh quivers and tries to stay upward while you eat her out. That's one thing ballet didn't teach her: to stay stabilized when there's a tongue and finger assaulting her center.

"Are you usually this wet, Kazuha? After you dance out there with your legs and thighs out for everyone to see?"

"No, no, I'm not wet! You're, hnnn, daddy," her eyes lose focus and she rolls her head back, mouth gaped, "oh, fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum!"

Start to jack yourself off to the unholy, R-18 scene of Kazuha approaching orgasm. Is it a known thing that ballerinas are the most beautiful when they cum? If not, it should be, for Kazuha's blissful face—eyes shut, mouth wide with moans—and her shaking legs enchant you. They draw you into her and have you rubbing and tapping at her core to coax out more euphoric reactions from her.

Slip your fingers inside her. Be greeted with a fountain of liquid and scent. Appreciate how tight she is when it's only your fingers in her.

"God, daddy, not there!" Kazuha screams. Have to dodge a few times for her kicking and flailing legs to miss your face. "I'm so sensitive there, oh no, you can't—oh, fuck—daddy!"

Her deep voice thrills your erection, and you could have cum on the spot with her if you were more focused on rubbing her orgasm out. A bit of squirt stains your fingers, but you end up getting more stains of girl cum on yourself as you go on fingering and rubbing.

Kazuha rubs her own nipples as she settles down from her high. "That, that was—daddy—"

You hush her. There's no time to talk. You unravel Kazuha's tie and wrap the little gray thing around her wrists. You knot them tightly after you wring her arms behind her back. She watches on with confusion, wondering why you're suddenly being so horny.

If she asked, you'd explain that it's because of her. Who else could be the culprit when she's there with her incredible thighs and perfect, fuckable body? When she's the feistiest little thing who just turns out to crumble if the right guy crosses her? Everything about Kazuha seems to be designed and fabricated to tempt you, and look at you giving in.

"You're tying me up, daddy?" she asks, tone varying between disappointment and excitement.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

She's so cute, really—she closes up to you with the biggest eyes of hurt and want, with her slim lips curved downwards into a pout. "You have to fuck me," she says, like it's a promise you made that she's been waiting on to be granted for a while. "It's not fair. You can't even fuck well, daddy, and you're tying me up? You must be joking."

Scoff. "I wasn't so bad at fucking when I ate your pussy."

"I was just moaning to make you happy." Kazuha leans forward, presenting her exposed cleavage and face that looks otherwise innocent besides the smirk. "I love making big handsome daddies like you happy."

Her words and cutesy tone send chills down your spine. She's so attractive that it's becoming scary, even when she's bound by the hands.

"Don't you feel bad, daddy?" she asks with a timely lull of her head to the side. "You're giving your whole career away to fuck me. You're supposed to be doing something else, aren't you? Something other than fucking me? So why are you here?"

Her words hit too close to home. "You don't know anything about me, Kazuha."

"Sure I do."

"Turn around."

"Make me. Holy shit, daddy, you have such a big cock, but you're so pathetic. You didn't expect to fuck a girl tonight, did you? But you saw me and thought about it. And now that I've figured you out, you got mad. Why's it the fault of a good little girl like me that you're doing the wrong thing? Maybe it's because you know you're such a bad person, a bad guy—"

You grab her and push her stomach down on the table. Your rod slips inside the ballerina, and she breaks.

And it's everything you've ever wanted: she's hot and tight and wet around you. Her bouncy ass lives up to its description as you pump at a rapid fire pace inside her. Her pussy's so tight that it feels like it's pinching you to keep you inside, and you do exactly that. You'd never want to be anywhere else.

But you still make sure to pull out to let your length breathe, then submerge them into the tightness of her vagina again. Her lips cling to your dick. They don't want you to be anywhere else either.

“Say you’re sorry.”

"S-sorry, daddy!" she's quick to say. A broken mirror lies across the table, and from there you can see the expressions of winces and moans on her beautiful face.

"Fucking mean it."

"Kazu… ha, Kazuha… Kazuha's sorry, daddy!"

There's a certain power you impel on this thrust specifically, and it sends her legs buckling. Place a hand on her bound wrists to keep her in place just like she did when she had you trapped to the door.

Frankly, you did it for the chance to slap her cheeks. Spank one and it jiggles beautifully. Spank the other and her hole tightens. Make it a point of yours to spank there particularly, all while keeping the unyielding quality of her hole. It's how you keep the brat that is Kazuha on a leash.

"Daddy, daddy, fuck!" she screams. "You're so, so good, please keep fucking me!"

"Contradicting yourself." Pull out, much to her disappointment, and slide your cock up and down in the plateau of her asscheeks. The flesh of her ass hugs you.

"Why'd you pull out, daddy?" Kazuha asks. She looks back at you and pleads with the shimmer in her eyes.

"I wanted to see if this ass is as soft as it looks."

For a few blissful moments you fuck Kazuha's ass cheeks, but never really entering her puckered pink hole. It causes her to whine and pout. It's impossible to not give in to such a pretty face, so you continue for a few seconds, letting the pleasure entice your cock to a full solidness, then pause.

"Are you a good girl, Kazuha?" Rub her pussy then bring your slick digits to her mouth.

Kazuha licks them clean and nods repeatedly. If you weren't so focused on riling her up, you'd go back to the moment your squad nodded their heads as you went over the mission plan. "Yesss, daddy."

"So much you'd let me fuck this perfect pussy till I'm spent?"

"Yes!"

Twist Kazuha around and prop her on the desk. Then, you tear her blouse. Buttons soar in the air to make way for her full, ab-ridden midriff to be exposed. Her tiny slutty waist has your mouth agape. Her small breasts peek through her black lace bra.

"And let me cum all over this midriff?" you ask, staking the deal higher.

"Oh, what's that?" Kazuha smirks. "Is little old daddy scared to breed me?"

Her character when she's not being fucked confuses you just as much as it arouses you. She looks way better when she's being a submissive little dancer, though.

"Bad girls don't get to be bred."

Push inside her. Yes, you're doing this again. Kazuha's abs flex, and the breaths she takes and releases become more strained.

As you pound her, she looks at you with this face that's lost any elegance from dancing. It's looking like she's slightly sleepy with pleasure, like she wanted to lay there while she let you have your way with her. And you'd be glad to—her ripped uniform and pretty legs would spur you on in no time.

You grab her ass and start dragging her to yourself, too, to fill her deeper. It works; your tip makes it to her womb and right then and there you're tempted to be hypocritical and breed her anyway. You'd love to imagine how her face basked in pleasure would look when you fill her with your load. You'd love to see her pull the weight of being bred well and dance out there with no care that your semen's rolling down her soft legs.

But she doesn't deserve it.

"Pleaaaase, I'll be so good!" she says. Her hands end up on your shoulders and she's kissing you everywhere. "I'll be a good girl, daddy, just fffucking fill me up. I'll never… I'll be…. oh!"

You're going too fast. Your sudden burst of energy leaves her on the edge. On the wall, to be more precise, because you're ruining and rearranging her insides so well that she's knocked onto the walls again and again.

"Daddy…"

Kazuha winces. Moans. C-cries? She doesn't know what to do. Her legs feel hot and she feels like she's going to burst anytime soon. Your cock's impaling her in all the right ways, grazing her cervix and G-spot but also parting her walls just so that the pain transforms into pleasure. "Gonna cum now, daddy, please let me—oh, please—"

The last word comes out wrung in between pitches. Kazuha shudders and squeals. The pleasure's overwhelming her so much that she's let go of her strength. Her legs feel too weak. Her throat, although you haven't fucked it, is sore. Then you're painting her abs, white fluid against and above and over white skin, and she immediately fingers some of your release and pushes a digit inside herself. She's a resourceful girl besides being an excellent ballerina. Good to know.

"You really didn't breed me, daddy?" she asks sadly.

You regret not doing so seeing the hopeless look on her face. "Sorry, but I've got to—"

Your eyes size up to planets.

—"go."

It's only at the finish of your sentence that you realize that you're right. You do have to go. Why are you here when you have a mission to find the abductor?

"Shit, shit, shit!" Pull your pants up and fix your blazer. It's cool inside the utility room, but your blood's run cold. "I have to go, Kazuha. I—"

Kazuha rolls her eyes. "Fix your earpiece first, daddy. You're a mess."

You blindly follow her words before you even suspect why she knew about the earpiece, or why it's off. After you tap on it, you hear the following, haunting words:

"Mission aborted. Mission aborted. We've been betrayed."

"No, no, no." You shake your head over and over. You can’t believe that was happening and you missed out on assisting your teammates out. Speak through the piece in a shaken voice, "What's going on? Yunjin? Yunjin, what's going on?"

"What the fuck?" she says, obviously infuriated. "I've been trying to reach you, agent! Where the hell are you?"

Look around. "Uh… I met a girl. We're in the back."

"Fuck. What's her name?"

"Kazuha."

Yunjin's voice reaches an alarm you've never heard from her. "Get the fuck out of there, agent! Get away from her, kill her, I don't give a fuck, just run!"

"B-but why?"

"The kidnapper's not a 'him,' she's a 'she'! It's a trap!"

As Yunjin's voice echoes from your earpiece in the small room, Kazuha's creepy smile grows.

"Yunjin," flash a look at the ballerina, who’s still smiling, then at the ceiling, "I don't understand."

"Get your fucking head in the game. 'The One Who Dances', agent. 'One Leaf'! The answer was right in our face, it's her!" Yunjin's practically shouting now. It deafens you, but you hear every word loud and clear. "She impersonated Bae Suzy at the airport, agent. The ‘cat’ in the letter wasn’t about Suzy, it’s about Sakura! She betrayed us!”

You look at Kazuha, and suddenly her smile isn’t as alluring as it was when you were fucking her. It speaks of an impending doom. It tells you that you should really run, but there wouldn’t be much change if you did because she’d still catch you. You’d still end up dead.

Suddenly, all the pieces to the story that played behind the scenes fall into place. They connect too well for it to be false. You never questioned once why Sakura led you in each of the operations, and now it’s clear why she did: she was holding you back from saving Suzy. There was a reason why she was team leader. How did you not catch it?

And Kazuha… she didn’t come up to you just because she wanted to, did she? She had a partner and a purpose. You were searching for the culprit ever since you stepped foot into the academy. It didn’t hit you once that you might be fucking her.

Kazuha takes a few steps towards you and lays her forehead into your chest. “You’re not mad, are you, daddy?”

How did her tie suddenly disappear from her wrists?

#kpop smut #female idol smut #idol smut #girl group smut #genshin smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut #nakamura kazuha smut #kazuha smut #lesserafim kazuha smut #le sserafim kazuha smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #pov smut #kofimission #commission

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mandomaterial · 10 months

Note

Yo I got something! How ea tonowari x reader x Ronal? Let's saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay after 1-2 years after the war, a human goes to visit the sully family (for whatever reason) and the leaders saw her being covered in tattoos but are vastly different and are immediately intrigued by her. I'm going through a viking phase and I saw theirs tattoo designs and I'm like AAAAAAAAAHHH THEY LOOK SEXY!!!

Familiar Markings

Ask and you shall receive, boo~ I got a little carried away here… it’s 2.6k… but that’s fine! :3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- It had been all too long. You were there every step of the way and you missed them dearly. What were their lives like now? Were they all okay? Those were the questions you asked yourself almost daily. So you made up your mind and decided to visit them. You were a pilot, so transportation posed no problem but still, you asked Norm what he thought about your idea. After all, you couldn’t just show up there out of the blue (pun intended).

- Norm was a little hesitant at first but saw no big problem with visiting, so the two of you decided to give Jake a heads up to not cause a mass panic when you arrived. And then you were on your way.

- You got in your trusty old helicopter and off you were! It was a pretty long flight, so you had enough time to think about what to do when you got there. The only exciting news that you had was your new tattoo. You got it done a few months ago, on your left upper arm, a nice addition to the little collection you’d accumulated over the years.

- You’d always wanted to get tattoos but you never felt like you had a real reason to. To you, it was more than just body art, it was more of a sign of accomplishment or life-changing events. So when you joined the avatar program you decided that was the perfect occasion for your first tattoo. With the help of Grace and her team, you chose a relatively simple design of an Atokarina. You’d seen one in real life when you accompanied Grace to her school and accidentally got lost. It led you back and you were in total awe.

- This time around you chose a runic design. Back on earth, you were a real fan of the complex runic language and you tried your best to learn it. If you hadn’t ultimately decided to join the Pandora project, you probably would have studied them for the rest of your life. Sadly, over the years you lost touch with your love for runes, and most of your knowledge of them faded into a blur. It made you quite sad because you felt like you lost a piece of yourself, so you decided that you’d get something of your passion engraved on your body.

- Soon enough, the islands that formed Awa'atlu came into view and you shoved your thoughts aside, preparing for landing. There were already Na’vi gathering around your planned landing spot, so you had to be extra careful. You stuck the landing with ease and as soon as you stepped foot out of the aircraft, you spotted familiar figures. The little Sully’s! Well maybe not that little anymore, even Tuk was taller than you now. “Auntieee!” the young girl yelled as she rushed to tackle you.

- you could barely keep yourself on your feet as she wrapped her arms around you and gave you a bear hug. Of course, you hugged her back but as you looked over her shoulder, you saw two new faces approach. The others moved aside for them so you assumed that was the leader and the Tsahìk. You gently wiggled out of Tuk’s grip and got ready to face them.

- At first no one said anything, all of them staring at you with blown wide, turquoise eyes. You assumed that it was just because you were a human, significantly smaller, and even a different color! But that wasn’t it, they were staring at the markings on your skin. They seemed way too unnatural to just be born with, they’d never seen a human with markings similar to their people’s tattoos. So of course they were intrigued.

- after only a few seconds of motionless silence Ronal, the Tsahìk stepped forward and started to circle you. She wanted to take a closer look at these newfound markings, were these similar to her own? You just stood still and let her do her thing, avoiding eye contact with the chilling Tsahìk of the Metkayina. To be honest, you were a little afraid, Norm had told you that she was very protective of her people and was very unwelcoming towards outsiders, so when she suddenly grabbed your arm, you winced and visibly shrunk together, trying to make ourself seem even less threatening even if they didn’t even consider you being something even close to a threat.

- Ronal pulled your arm up, almost lifting you, to inspect the strange marks. As she traced them with her hand you wondered what she thought of them. Did she with ink they were weird. Did she like them? Why was she looking for so long? Didn’t her people also have tattoos? Your thoughts were cut short abruptly as she ran her fingers over your new tattoo, even if it seemed healed, it wasn’t and you almost doubled over at the pain if she weren’t holding you by your arm.

- Of course the well-trained Tsahìk noticed this and instantly a small wave of regret and guilt washed over her. She hadn’t meant to physically hurt you, maybe intimidate you a little but not like this. She saw your eyes water a little, as you tried to calm down and not let yourself cry in front of the crowd. She gently loosened her grip on you, making sure that you were stable on your feet before ultimately letting go. Right after you gently rubbed over your arm, trying to make the pain go away but it only helped a little.

- in Ronal’s mind she had hurt you, so it was her responsibility to make you feel better again. She crouched down a little, making eye contact with you before she asked “Do you understand our language?” Of course, you understood, but you were still a little shaky so the only thing you could muster was a timid nod. The tall woman let out a little huff as she gently placed her large hand between your shoulders and gave you a little nudge. You didn’t know what was going on so you just took a step forward, your attention shifted to the little crowd that was still lingering around you. The chief seemed to be looking at his mate, making a few facial expressions. It was as if they were communicating just by looking at each other. Before they even finished, you felt the hand gently push you along, guiding you along the path that the people cleared for the two of you.

- soon enough you understood that the Tsahìk was leading you somewhere, you were quite curious and it was just the two of you so you asked: “Where are we going?” Ronal almost seemed surprised when you spoke in her language, she understood every word and you were very fluent, albeit you had a bit of an accent. It took her a moment to reply but she explained that the was taking you to her hut, but she didn’t explain why. All in all, she was a little embarrassed so she chose not to share the reason.

- Once you finally reached the large tent she carefully held open the flap and motioned for you to get in. You followed her instructions and awkwardly stood in the middle of it, waiting for her to do or say something. And do something she did. She strode over to a few baskets in a corner, kneeled down in front of them, and started looking through them. Soon enough she pulled out a little packet that was trapped in a large dried leaf.

- “Come closer” she murmured. You shuffled over and stood in front of her. Even then she was taller than you. “Sit” came out of her mouth as she stared at you with wide glossy eyes. You shifted your body into a kneeling position but kept your eyes fixed on hers. She let out a little hum and started unwrapping the packet. Inside was a generous amount of powder that shimmered and glimmered, setting it down she turned around again grabbing something from a different basket. It was a little mortar and pestle made out of what seemed like shaved-down corrals. She put a small amount of the powder into the mortar before she added a light blue liquid that she took out along with the powder. She mixed the two together for a good minute and then looked at you again.

- For a second you just blankly stared at each other before she quietly questioned “Your arm?” Whilst tilting her head a little. “Oh..” you replied while warmth flushed your cheeks. You didn’t quite know why you were embarrassed, maybe it was that there was this gorgeous tall blue woman in front of you, or that you’d never been treated like this before. Normally everyone was a little intimidated by because of your tattoos and chose to avoid you instead of getting to know you.

- Embarrassed you lifted your arm and shifted so that she faced your side and had better access to your upper arm. Seeing this, Ronal had to crack a smile, you were so good at following instructions, not at all Ike the other humans she encountered, she liked you, you were okay, she thought while she started spreading the paste over the inflamed area of your arm. You winced a little any time her fringes brushed over your skin, so she tried to be as gentle as possible, so as not to make you feel more pain than you had to.

- just then someone entered the tenant, you were curious, you sneakily turned your head and saw that the Olo’eyktan had entered. Of course, you wanted to show respect, so you started standing up but Ronal had something other in mind. She gave your lower arm a little tug that pulled you back to the floor instantly “I said sit.“ you were utterly surprised and your head whipped around between the two, not knowing what to do, he was the leader so you had to show him respect but his wife who was also a leader wouldn’t let you? You started getting dizzy and hyperventilating a little before Tonowari took a couple of steps forward and lowered himself to one knee saying “Mawey” with a stern tone, staring directly at your eyes.

- While you were distracted by Tonowari, Ronal quickly finished bandaging your arm, thinking about your markings. Why did you have them? How did you get them? To say it simply she was just too curious so she gave you a light tap on the shoulder pulling your attention to her. “Why do you have these markings?” She asked motioning to your arm.

- you were a little surprised but cleared your throat and said “I got them when I accomplished something. I think that it’s similar to why you get tattoos…” Ronal let out a little hum, satisfied with your response. Soon enough she let you go and sent her mate to show you where you’d be staying. Conveniently, you were staying in a hut that was close to theirs. Tonowari knew from just watching his mate interact with you, that she had a special interest in you and to be honest he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was something special about you. So he decided to keep an eye on you, just to see what you’d do here in his village.

- The next day, you decided to go see what the Sully’s were doing, after all, that was the actual reason that you came. As soon as you entered their home, you were tackled by Tuk again. “AUNNTTTIIEEE” she yelled in a high-pitched voice. You giggled and hugged her back. The other members of the Family all stopped doing whatever it was that they were doing to come and greet you.

- Jake offered you his hand to pull you up from the floor and you gladly grasped it, giving him a bro hug right after. “How are you Jakie?“ you jokingly asked with a grin on your face. “Well- I'm doing ‘aight.” He replied while giving you a head pat. When he was still part of the avatar program you were like the whole department’s kid. You were a highly skilled pilot and that with just being barely an adult, so everyone mostly treated you like a little sibling once they got to know you. More often than not, Jake had to physically hold you back from doing something dangerous or stupid, like testing the new flying gear by doing aerial stunts. The two of you had grown close over time and he saw you as his little sister, so he was more than ecstatic when he heard that you were going to come over for a visit.

- Next you walked over to Neytiri and gave her a loose hug “Hey, where are my other niece and the two troublemakers?” you questioned jokingly. “It’s good to see you as well.” she smiled “I think they’re out in the reef.” As soon as those words left her mouth Tuk yelled “Oh- I can take you to them! C’mon!” she started jumping around, motioning for you to follow her “I'll show you my Ilu!!” You laughed a little before stepping out and following the young girl.

- Soon enough you were out in the reef playing and hanging out with your nieces and nephews and just a short while after a few other kids show up as well. They’re all interested in you, they don’t seem to be afraid at all! Even the adults of the clan didn’t seem to be reserved about you. Maybe it was that you also had tattoos? You knew that these people had to earn their tattoos and that it was how they earned their respect in the clan. Maybe that’s why they respected you.

- what you didn’t know though, was that two pairs of eyes were fixated on you. The two stood near the shore and watched you play and interact with the young clan members, not a worry in their minds, they were clearly both intrigued and they both knew it. The two shared a look, making their intentions clear to one another, they liked you and wanted you around. They just didn’t know how to get you to stay.

- That’s how it started. Soon you were a regular visitor and almost even a honorary clan member. Every time your visits got longer and longer and the time you weren’t there shorter and shorter.

- one time, Tonowari asked you if you wanted to try riding an Ilu, and of course, you said yes! So the two of you trotted to the beach and he called for one. It was a pretty Ilu and very friendly. It came close and snuggled its face to yours as you giggled. Tonowari could barely hold it together cause of your cuteness! He gently held the Ilu and bonded with it, getting on and offering you his hand. You placed your hand in his as he pulled you in front of him, securing you on the Ilu.

- The Ilu began swimming and you felt the water rush past your legs as they dangled off the sides. You dipped your fingertips in the water and couldn’t stop your smile from growing as a bit of sea foam got stuck. Tonowari was utterly happy when he got to share time with you, so he made sure to give you lots of rides, even on his tsurak!

- the two of them enjoyed spending time with you and showing you their ways and it filled them with nothing but happiness when you showed so much interest in their way of life. You even had your own hut that they kept neat for whenever you came to visit, it was your home away from home but lately, it seemed that it was the other way around, that the Forrest was your second home and the sea your first, along with the people you treasured most.

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hearts4youz · 7 months

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"Captains Daughter" ● Chapter One ●

A/N Heyy!! welcome to the first chapter of my first fic posted on Tumblr!!! I want to thank you in advance for reading my work, please provide criticism and feedback, I would greatly appreciate it :) I want to keep this authors note short so without further ado (ew) heres chapter one!

Word count 954

You strode into the mess hall like you've done many times before. Only this time, you worked here. When you were younger your father, Captain John Price, would bring you up to the base some days. You remembered ogling at the huge Humvee's and armored tanks in the garages, and the rooms full of state of the art weaponry you would see in the video games you had on the xbox your dad had bought you for Christmas one year. Smiling at the memory, you hopped in line to get a bite to eat before your meeting, which immediately followed the allotted time for breakfast.

Steak and eggs were being served today, based on the relatively low level of complaining from the people around you, you assumed it was one of the better meals served on base. As a kid, you never ate on base when your dad would bring you. When you were really young he would go out to McDonalds to get a happy meal for you. As you got older you packed your own lunch.

After you received your meal, you found an open spot at a half filled table. Nodding at those who were already seated there, you settled in at the other end of the table, savoring what would likely be your last bit of alone time for the rest of the day.

Your first day at a new base felt almost like your first day at a new school, you thought as you wandered the corridors trying to find the meeting room your father had told you to report to. You scanned the endless doorways, looking for one labelled "Meeting room 7." Cursing as you passed another one labeled storage, you thought you would be late. Turning another corner in this Labyrinth that was supposed to become your second home, you finally found it. You twisted the handle and stepped into a room with a long wooden table, a whiteboard streaked with poorly erased marker lines, and five men seated around the table.

You were greeted with a beaming smile from your father as you stepped inside and shut the door behind you.

"Gentlemen, this is my daughter Y/N, she has been recently assigned to our unit and will begin training with us and joining us for missions today," your father beamed, proud that the young woman he raised would be joining his team.

You offered a shy wave and a smile to the rest of the room, you studied each of them as they introduced themselves.

"I'm Sergeant Kyle Garrick, but you can call me Gaz, one sporting a ball cap with the British flag imprinted on the front said. he had a light stubble on his chin and above his lip.

"Everyone calls me soap 'round here," The guy with the mohawk grinned, he appeared to be the goofiest out of the group. Next to him was a tall man, face obscured by a skull mask. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

"Ghost, Lieutenant," His thick Manchester accent stated. The exposed portion of his face was unreadable as he looked at you.

"Alejandro Vargas, Colonel, Mexican Special Forces," The last one to introduce himself said with a smile.

"Well, I'm excited to start working alongside you all, and i'm looking forward to getting to know you all," you responded kindly, receiving nods and murmured agreements in return.

The one who called himself soap beckoned you over and patted the seat next to him as your father started yakking about the day's tasks. He grinned as you sat down next to him.

"Price says your a sergeant," he queried.

"I am, and you?" you responded.

"twins," he laughed.

While Price droned on, you and Soap chatted about anything and everything. You half listened to your dad, not wanting to miss important information and have a huge fuck up your first day on the job.

Eventually, Soap gave you the run down on each member of the unit. You learned that him and Gaz were good friends, Alejandro leads another group called Los Vaqueros, and the real name of the scary ghost guy was Simon Riley.

"He's a man of few words at first, well actually he's always a man of few words," Soap corrected himself. "but he's a good guy when you get to know him, he's an excellent soldier too," he continued.

"I don't think he's very fond of me joining," you said.

"Naw, he'll come around eventually, he's just trying to act all tough" Soap insisted.

you hummed, tuning back into the meeting. Towards the end of it, your father mentioned assigning a training partner for you. Task Force 141 was in much more violent territory, with tougher foes. You would need extra help to catch up to the skill level of the rest of the group

"I'd like Ghost to assist Y/N in training," Price finished.

You could see Ghost's brows furrowing from the eye holes in his mask, You could see Ghosts brows furrow from the eye holes in his mask, they were a shade of light blue, almost grey. Other than that, Ghost had no comment about the order. Price dismissed the meeting.

You waited for everyone to clear out before walking up to your dad, he kissed your forehead and smiled at you "Need something kiddo?" He asked.

"Well I can't find where my bunk is for starters," you said sheepishly.

This new base was huge, in your old one everyone slept in barracks. Here, everyone gets their own room.

"Of course kid," He chuckled as you made your way out of the meeting room.

Today, you would settle in. Tomorrow, the real work begins.

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snaccpopstudios · 9 months

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Hi everyone! We're here with the long awaited post on our newest bachelor, Simoun. We know you've all been abuzz with questions about him so we hope to answer some of that in this deep dive into his creation. This post is in lieu of our usual Wednesday devlogs as we've been writing this over the span of several weeks, and was co-authored, edited, and reviewed by Tobias, Jude, ToyboxToonz, Primarvelous, and Sauce. The above image was drawn by @toyboxtoonz.

You can read the full post for free on Patreon, or click the readmore to see it all!

Personally speaking, some of my concerns since Simoun's debut are thoughts like "Do people think I'm making SnaccPop Studios push an agenda?" and "Do people think I'm going through a checklist while making new characters?" It's made it difficult for us to write this quickly because this is quite personal to myself and the rest of the sensitivity consultation team on the DachaBo team.

Concept to Creation

The story of DachaBo begins way before SnaccPop Studios itself was even a concept (that's Sauce's story to tell though). Early Patreon art of Simoun exists from November 2022, back before I was signed on to manage the Patreon and any other projects besides Sunny Day Jack. Sauce had some ideas laying around for several other characters in the DachaBo universe that didn't make it into the proof-of-concept demo:

I dug up an old draft for the DachaBo cat character we teased and it featured a story concept where the cat character was originally a female DachaBo character, referencing the original female design. And overtime he got tired of how he was being treated and decided to change his own self to reflect who he wanted to be, not the sycophants who collected the toys and whatnot ... It was shelved because I didnt have the means to sensitivity check it The designs are half cooked is all but he was supposed to be Indian ethnicity coded for no other reason than I've never seen a character like that

One thing that's important to note is that there definitely are Indian folks who are gender diverse (see Hijra on Wikipedia for a quick primer on one of the traditionally recognized nonbinary genders in South Asia) so it's not a novel concept by any means, but it's also not very common in media whatsoever.

Why The Long Wait?

One of the other contributing reasons as to why Sauce wasn't able to do much with the concept at the time is because we didn't have a VA for him confirmed yet, as I explained in May:

One thing that's rather unique to SnaccPop Studios in all of my experience as a game developer is the fact that all of our series involve coordinating with Voice Actors from the start, which means we need to take the VAs themselves into account when making characters. Adding another layer of complexity in hiring is the fact that SnaccPop Studios is a strictly Erotic Adult brand focusing on masculine love interests, and even if we focus more on the softcore, there's still the unfortunate stigma that any 18+ work has when attached to your name. All of these contributing factors make the potential talent pool that much smaller. This isn't to make excuses: I know SnaccPop Studios can do better on this front. While we can't make changes to some of the existing series' main cast (we don't want to put people out of a role they've been promised), we will do better moving forward to incorporate more diverse characters into our future titles, and that's a pledge

In the field of voice acting, it's best practice to cast actors with similar backgrounds to the character they're voicing, particularly for characters from marginalized populations (ethnicity, culture, gender, etc.), because it's a recurring issue in all professions where marginalized folks are regularly turned down for employment or career opportunities. You don't have to look far for instances where other voice directors failed to cast the proper talent for a character, even in the AAA sphere where they ought to have the resources to be able to find the proper talent; at SnaccPop, we wanted to avoid that situation at all costs.

Finding Simoun's Voice

So we had to confirm a VA first before we could do anything. Sauce, Reece, and I all tried to put private ads out for a trans masc POC (any ethnicity with dark skin) actor for a R18 game, which was largely met with silence at first, then responded to by folks who didn't fit the role in a full capacity (many only hit one or two of the criteria we laid out, some of them none at all). And it's not hard to imagine why: it's common knowledge that the majority of erotic works often fetishize marginalized people who are otherwise underrepresented in mainstream media. Things such as skin color, body type, hair color, age, etc. are treated as traits to be objectified, and on the off chance that queer folks or people of color might see themselves in porn… it's usually not for the most flattering or empowering of reasons. How could we, an exclusively Adults-only studio, convince someone who isn't familiar with us that we wanted to make something for people like them rather than something that turns them into mere masturbating material?

We were almost about to give up on the Catboy until I decided to take a chance on contacting a VA whom I hadn't had any formal and proper interactions with before. I'd been a fan of his work and knew him from an audition he sent in from a previous game I had worked on, but he knew me solely by name at best since we were following each other on Twitter. Still, it was a lead, and after chewing my nails for half a day, I shot off a message to Soren Viloria.

And what do you know? He said he'd give it a shot as his first NSFW role.

Naming the Lad

Soren is a Filipino VA, and despite the fact that I myself seem to be mistaken as Filipino by other Asians quite regularly, I'm actually not as well-versed in that culture as I ought to be.

There's actually a reason why we were so secretive with Simoun's name for a while: he didn't have one yet, so internally we just kept calling him "the Catboy." We wanted to pick a culture-appropriate name for him, something that was meaningful: Soren initially suggested "Siopao" as it was a common cat name (it's a type of Filipino Steamed Bun, so think of how many pets you've seen who have names like Cupcake or Nacho Supreme), but that didn't seem serious enough for a tsundere catboy like him. A few days later, Soren did a little research on a few well-known characters from Philippine media/culture that fit the bill a bit better:

Elías from the Philippine Revolution novel Noli Me Tángere (a required reading in the Philippines). Cat may like his radical tendencies for revolution and his deep, devoted connections.

Simoun from Noli's sequel, El filibusterismo. Holds revolutionary values similar to Elías, but far less noble and more of a loner. Violent at times, and will do what it takes to get his way.

Panday/Flavio, a very popular hero. Part of his charm is that he doesn't have special powers, but took matters into his own hands and forged a magical blade. Has been portrayed in both 'cool' and comedic ways.

Ricardo "Cardo" from the Philippines' longest-running TV drama Ang Probinsyano. Just a cool action hero dude who cares about family, but is also very ambitious and angy.

Seeing as how we already had an Elias Gallagher, Simoun seemed to be the perfect fit, and the name stuck pretty easily.

Simoun's Boundaries

Now that Simoun had a name, we were able to talk about him more seriously beyond the simple "tsundere cat" tropes. You've all already met Gil Finnegan, who we originally brought into SnaccPop Studios to handle the narrative design for DachaBo but was then onboarded to help with Sunny Day Jack, and those of you in the Patreon Discord server are familiar with our mods Tobias and Jude; along with me and Soren Viloria, that brought the grand total of openly trans masculine members on the team.

We all talked about our personal experiences as trans masc/AFAB people, what things we rarely saw reflected in both mainstream and indie media, things we wanted to see more of. Something we all agreed that was difficult to find was trans masculine folks in sexually dominant roles in erotic media, whether that was live video, audio, writing, art, or a combination thereof; there was only a handful of series we could count on our fingers as far as sexually explicit content that featured trans masculine people in roles that weren't exclusively submissive/bottoms, and the majority of us had already seen those or at least heard of them before (ie. Gummy and the Doctor and Sasha From The Gym were prominent ones). Either discovering this content was difficult due to Search Engine Optimization favoring depictions of trans feminine folks, or it simply didn't exist.

All of this, along with the backstory that Sauce had for Simoun, led us to determine that Simoun would be adverse to submissive roles in intimate situations. Simoun isn't the type to want to be penetrated either due to previous trauma surrounding his gender. Bear in mind that this isn't meant to imply or suggest that there is only one "acceptable" sexual preference for trans masculine folks, nor is Simoun meant to represent all of trans masculinity; he may be our first trans masculine character but certainly isn't the last, as we hope to feature more types of characters at SnaccPop Studios.

As an aside, it should be noted that the trend of erotic trans feminine content being more readily available doesn't necessarily mean that trans women have more positive representation per se; for every kinky piece of art created by trans feminine folks out there, there could be ten more works that fetishize and objectify their bodies. We probably don't need to tell you about the common derogatory slurs that have been used to refer to them; trans feminine and trans masculine people deal with varying levels and types of transphobia as well as situations that oversexualize (or even undersexualize) them, and it's important to focus on content that doesn't strip them of their autonomy.

There actually was a period of time between the release of his concept art after Soren was onboarded where the team observed comments both on Patreon and in the Discord regarding Simoun, and we discussed how we could avoid having people try to ship Bo and Simoun together; because Simoun hasn't had bottom surgery of any kind, we wanted to ensure that tokophobia (fear of pregnancy) or dysphoria wouldn't become a thing for any of us involved in the team or for our trans masculine Patrons. It was a bit of a chicken or the egg situation, trying to keep up with the evolving comments about Simoun to try and anticipate what people might accidentally say.

Debut Day Thoughts, & Moving Forward

We were quite happy with the general reception everyone had with Simoun, and we're excited to see so many people taking a liking to Simoun after his reveal. SnaccPop Studios has always strived to provide inclusive and diverse stories for those who don't often get represented in media, much less NSFW media, and the team was quite elated to see folks who were just as happy to see Simoun.

We hope that the love and care we put into building Simoun has shone through in this post and will continue to shine as we write more of him for DachaBo, because we're just getting started.

#dachabo #character design #trans masc #transmasculine #transgender #minors dni #gamedev

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trigun-manga-overhaul · 3 months

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TRIGUN ULTIMATE OVERHAUL FEBRUARY 2024 UPDATE

OVERHAUL UPDATE 02/02/24 - New manga only server and more double page spreads.

Hey there, everyone!

After asking for help last update, we were able to find someone who could take over the job of compiling and translating sound effects. We are thankful for the people offering their help and those boosting our post with reblogs, helping in their own way by bringing attention to our post. We are excited to accept this new person into our team, as we are yet to fully get them introduced to the rest of the team.

BIG NEWS: WE'LL BE OPENING A NEW DISCORD SERVER FOR MANGA ONLY CONTENT.

This server will be both for fans of the Trigun manga, and people who want to get into the manga. It can also help everyone with finding the physical copies of the manga and other manga merch, like the magazine or official Nightow art.

Beyond that, it will also work as a point for people to more directly interact with the Trigun Ultimate Overhaul team, for both receiving updates or asking questions. The cleaning process of the manga will also be regularly streamed for people to watch the magic happen, and how exactly that entire process looks like.

Furthermore, it will be a collaboration with the @trigunbookclub to have a centralized point for organizing events and event announcements. This puts Trigun Tumblr's two projects under one roof, but will an always open door to accept collaboration with even more projects in the future.

More specifics details about the server:

It will be a SFW server for both adults and minors

It will attempt to remain manga focused with no channels dedicated to discussing the two animes and the movie.

The link to the server will only be shared and should only be shared on Tumblr to keep the number of users to a reasonable level, but also to keep the atmosphere akin to what we're all hopefully familiar with.

Fanart channels will be made, and an option to share the art of others with the proper credit. We will have very artist friendly rules about feedback and sharing other people's art.

Server will be handled by people with experience in running servers, but potentially also by people wishing to try their hand at modding for the first time.

We will be posting the link to the server when it's ready some time next week! Keep an eye out!

Lastly, we didn't give you any cleaned double page spreads last month, so we brought some really fine ones from Vol 5 this time around. Beware of manga spoilers!

That's all for this update, look forward to interacting more with everyone in our new server!

SEE YOU GUYS NEXT MONTH!

#trigun #trigun maximum #trimax #trigun manga #manga #fan project #trigun overhaul #trigun ultimate #trigun ultimate overhaul #infodump #overhaul monthly update

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bowtiepastabitch · 6 months

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Let's talk costuming: Angelic Robes and The Unreliable Narrator

It's two am, I have to be up at six, but this has been fermenting in the back of my head for the past five hours I've spent doing homework and if I don't get it out I shan't sleep.

The costumes we see representing angelic character in Season Two are VASTLY different from those we see in Season One. (See my post on Aziraphale's Job Robe for an in-depth art history analysis of this individual costume piece.) In season one, the angelic flashback clothing we see is rather humble and uncomplicated. As all things in this show, this serves a very important narrative purpose.

Let's first compare these gorgeous gorgeous girls to their S1 counterparts, shall we?

Just look at the collar on that robe! In S1, we're introduced to Aziraphale in a very plain tunic-style robe with an unfinished neckline. Aside from a slight gold decoration and draping on the shoulders, this could easily be mistaken for rather primitive human garb. S2, by comparison, introduces angelic costume as non-ostentatious but still refined with a gold-trimmed gathered neckline and wide sleeves. The fabric itself, on a textile level, is much finer and softer. Overall, the robes give an air of innocence and angelic purity that is lacking from Aziraphale's S1 'fit. Let's look at another example:

Their Rome costumes are strewn with so many incredible details (check out this incredible post from 2019) but they still retain a bit of that historical ruggedness. Same for these:

The argument could be made for pure historical compliance, sure, but to claim a lack of anachronisms in this show would be a flat-out lie. No, S1 Crowley and Aziraphale are very distinctively human in their dress. The cloth has a wider weave, the ornamentation is minimal, all around it serves to highlight their fitting-in with humans and the humanization of their characters. They're 'going native,' as it were, no doubt about it.

So why, in S2, is Aziraphale suddenly showing up looking like he just popped out of a renaissance painter's wet dream?

Simple. Suddenly, Aziraphale isn't an angel among humans acting human, he's an angel being an angel doing angel things. We get to see the rest of the heaven gang in full angelic decadence as well, a bold departure from the starkness of 'modern' heaven. If this is, as many of you lovely folk have speculated, a series of flashbacks from Aziraphale's memory, the design choices designate very clearly Aziraphale's perception of himself as an angel. A perception which, mind you, would likely be influenced by later human ideas of angelic and heavenly aesthetics. As an unreliable narrator, Aziraphale is showing us not his actual wardrobe as an angelic being but his perception of his past self.

Crowley, too, is affected by this shift in dress. Bildad the Shuhite is everything S1 flashback Crowley is not: fashion-forward, smooth-talking, and impeccably well-dressed. We've got three different fabric textures (that's three times as many as any of his biblical S1 robing) and a definable silhouette. He's practically a fashionista.

If this were all taken as an objective narrative, the shift back to billowing-void peasant Crowley at Golgotha, where we next see her chronologically, would be strange to say the least.

So why is the costuming of the S2 pre-modern flashbacks so much more elaborate? There's three possibilities I can imagine for a change in costume design for any show:

Budget: this is highly unlikely an instant rule-out for me. I've seen what costumers can do on a shoestring budget, and besides the later period costumes make this demonstrably false.

Change in production design team: Technically possible, yes, but if there's one thing Good Omens does well between seasons it's continuity. I mean, they burned the fucking bookshop and then hand-painted tiles to recreate it exactly for the second season. This is not Harry Potter. This isn't it.

An intentional design: Everything, and I mean everything, in this show is intentional. While not everything the wardrobe team does is easily decodable (see Crowley's shapeshifting sunglasses) we've got a pretty comfortable bit of time to figure such things out. This is the only option that makes a lick of sense.

Wonderful, so we've established that this is a narrative choice.

So if it's a narrative choice, and it's distinct from the stylistic choices of Season One, then someone is lying to us. Or rather, we have an unreliable narrator somewhere along the way.

Most of the buzz on ye olde tumblr focuses on the idea of Aziraphale as narrator and memory-holder for S2, and that would certainly make sense from both a story and design. Of course he would see Angel Crowley as adorable and innocent and angelic (the hair is not helping his case either omg I love her), and of course he would see himself as grandly, exaggeratedly, almost dissonantly angelic at the major turning point in his faith.

If Crowley is narrating, then it calls into question why he would choose to remember himself this way. It holds a sort of nostalgic sadness, a memory of a joyful innocence permanently lost to God's cruelty. When we see Aziraphale in angelic splendor later, we're reminded again of what Crowley has lost. It echoes the aesthetic of his former angel self, the gathering and gold trim and bright white fabric, but also introduces a much more elaborate silhouette that reflects the shift toward heaven's new high-and-mighty attitude.

Finally, I'd like to point out that by contrast Season One focuses heavily on themes of humanity rather than ethereality. Narrated by God, no less, who probably has thoughts on their assimilation. While I think we can assume God to be a more reliable narrator than Crowley or Aziraphale, it's not out of the question that She would have her own story to spin about our Ineffable Idiots' shared history.

Ultimately, I think it's safe to say that whatever's going on in costume design is a Clue to the story we're being told in S2 and the one we will be told in S3.

#I would commit unspeakable crimes to work wardrobe for this show #just let me sew on some buttons and I'll be happy as a clam #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens costumes #costume design #ineffable husbands #unreliable narrators #angel crowley #go2 #neil gaiman

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gabessquishytum · 2 months

Note

The Endless family are nothing, if not the most horrible of people. They don't care who/what they hurt to lord it over people.

Morpheus tries to have as little to do with his adoptive family (he along with a number of his other siblings were foundlings) as possible, but the family still own his apartment building and probably have found a sneaky underhanded way to have a stake in his fledgling art career. This is part of the reason he appeared when summoned to the most recent family dinner/shitty people party.

For some yet undisclosed reason, Morpheus parents were particularly smug about whatever was going to happen at the party - he just hopes it's not overt and open criming, he doesn't really want to be pressed into hiding bodies and depending on how long it takes to get to whatever their "surprise" is, Morpheus will have to stay at the party for longer than he would ever want.

The surprise is wheeled out, in a giant tank -- a captured male merperson. To Morpheus's eyes, he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen - long brown hair flowing in the water, strong chest and arms flowing seamlessly down to a golden tail, shot through with warm browns, yellows and greens. Just the colors alone spoke to Morpheus's artist soul. He knew he could happily spend the rest of his life doing nothing but attempting to recreate this beauty.

And then he locked eyes with the angry brown eyes of what was obviously the rest of his existence,,,,,,,and Morpheus's soul mark burned.

Ahhhh this is so chilling!! I like the idea of Hob being beautiful but terrifying.

Of course Dream has to do something. So he asks to stay the night at his "parents" awful mansion. After midnight he sneaks down the damp basement where the huge tank has been stored. The merman is skulking around the bottom of the tank, and those brown-gold eyes glare out through the darkness. Dream can't stop himself from stepping forward and pressing the palm of his hand against the glass.

"Well." The merman says, sending bubbles shooting out to the surface of the tank. "How are you going to get me out of here?"

It turns into a proper mini heist. Dream recruits a team to get his soulmate out: his estranged adoptive brother Ollie, his youngest sister (who still lives at home, and can let them all into the mansion), a few sketchy friends he made at university (Matthew and Cori) and, bizarrely, the director of the gallery that shows his art. Gilbert may be older in years, but he is very good with a weapon.

They take an old bathtub that Matthew dug out of a skip to the mansion in Cori's truck. And then they lug the damn thing down to the basement. Hob looks distinctly unimpressed. But when Dream begs him to get in the bath, his fierce attitude softens. Muttering about dumb humans, he flops out from the top of the tank, into the bath - bringing plenty of water along with him.

Then they have to get him back up the stairs. Dream is not super helpful tbh, he's too fixated on Hob’s beautiful tail. And his eyes. And just everything, really. Thank goodness Ollie hits the gym regularly - they make it out of the mansion before dawn. Delirium gives Hob a big kiss on the cheek, and he gets all soft and mushy, giving her a soggy hug in return before they wave goodbye and get the hell out of there. They head for Gilbert's gallery (since its on the ground floor), where Hob's eyes get all big and shiny as he looks at Dream’s art.

What the hell do they do now? No doubt Dream’s parents will notice the missing merman. And Hob can't live in a bathtub forever. Maybe it's time for Dream to get the nice cottage by the sea that he's always fancied. The question is - will Hob want to hang around, when he's free to swim away?

The answer is a grumpy "yes". As long as Dream agrees to paint him. Which obviously isn't going to be an issue at all 😄

#the sandman #dreamling

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anki-of-beleriand · 5 months

Text

Bad Liar ch.7

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers

Warnings: Slow burn - slightly Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - idiots in love - homophobia - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: Here is a new chapter and right now there is no place to run, many secrets are out and it is time for everyone to start playing a part in the game.

As always, English is no my mother tongue, so please forgive the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 7

Whispered secrets

The Innovation Classroom had been a donation by the Bishop Family a couple of years ago. The main goal was to provide the school with the latest technological gadgets and programs so their students could always be up to date offering their students the right tools to keep up with their education. Everyone had access to the computers and the red of the school, but in reality only a few select students excel in the art of encrypted information.

America hated pne of those peoople, mainly because ever since she arrived at school her main goal had been to hit on a very clueless, and very exasperating Kate Bishop. But, after the long conversation she held with the team, America knew this would be their only chance to get some answers.

Everyone had their attention on Riri Williams.

The young woman chewed on the gun in her mouth, her brows knitted together while her brown eyes pierce every member of the advance class with a glint of curiosity in her eyes. Riri stopped for a moment on America, before her eyes set on Kate who was bouncing restlessly right behind her best friend.

Kate tensed lightly, her heart beating fast just as Riri smirked winking at her. Kate felt her cheeks warm, and America cleared her throat while positioning herself in the line of vision of Riri. The black-skinned woman chuckled tilting her head while resting her elbows on the table arching her back pinning America with her eyes.

"So, you guys want me to hack into personal files, get information from a private company and… What do I have in exchange?"

Riri could tell her question caught everyone in the group off guard, they were not expecting such an answer and this was the perfect opportunity for her to make the right move.

"Money wouldn't be an issue." America intervened stepping forward.

"Money can't buy everything in life, Chavez." Riri rolled her eyes leaning forward while scratching the back of her neck.

America opened her mouth but Riri tilted her head, soon her eyes found those of Kate who looked around before settling her eyes on her.

"How about a date?"

The silence that followed could be broken by a needle falling to the floor. America was left frozen in place, her shoulders put back and her brows knitting together while she clenched her fists closed. Kate from her part was slightly confused, her heart beating fast just as she turned to America then back to Riri.

Kamala had her eyes on Kate, whereas Yelena and Loki were looking intently at America. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, and America had to hold herself for doing or saying something that she could regret. Riri for her part chuckled, playing the part she was asked to play.

“Come on, it shouldn’t be that hard! You guys came to me, after all.” Kate turned to America, and America hesitated for a moment. It was Loki the one who decided to break the silence.

“I believe we are very curious in knowing who you have in mind, Riri. We cannot force anyone to date you, as you so eloquently put it, money can’t buy everything and this would need to be a decision made by said person.”

“Always big with the words, and the fanfare, Odinson.” Riri rolled her eyes before she nodded towards Kate. “I was thinking, Bishop over there. What do you say? The Winter break is almost here, and I heard the Ball this year would be fantastic…so…Bishop comes with me, and I will give you what you want.”

That comment did it.

America straightened up, jerking her head to the side so her eyes locked onto those of Kate. The other teen was just as shocked as America, though America could swear she saw curiosity in them too. The young woman clenched her fist closed, while Kate started babbling away while trying to explain, and ask, and said a hundredth things at the same time.

"Well, what is it gonna be? Unless this information isn't as important as you made it look."

In all honestly, everyone was wondering the same.

While it was truth that during her babysitting duty, America had become overly found of the twins, their snooping around in the life of their newest teacher had become somehow America’s recent obsession. The young woman had not dared to revel that much, but Kate knew America had been worrying about her sister and the recent attraction she had developed for Wanda. When the black-haired woman turned to America she could see the conflict in her stance, and the way her eyes went from Riri to her.

Kamala stepped forward, chewing on her lower lip while crossing stares with Yelena. America for her part stood on her spot, her mind going over the different options they had. Why was it so important to find out about this woman? Why was she so curious about Wanda Maximoff? It seemed that everyone was wondering the same, and all eyes were now in America.

Kate chewed on her lower lip, the decision should be easier than what it looked at the moment. Kate understood America’s worries, but they had other ways to find out about Wanda. They could use other means, and Kate had a hope that perhaps…that maybe America and her could go…

For a brief moment, America turned to Kate who was glancing at Riri, and Riri was looking back at her. A waved of jealousy grew inside America and she just clenched her jaw closed. This was such a mess, and it should be an easy decision on her part, still…

“America?" Kate asked, and all of a sudden her expression changed. Her face hardened and America could recognize the spark of annoyance in her eyes. "The decision should be easy, you know?"

And of course, America knew it should be easier. But as of late she had seen the change in you, she had read the messages you and Wanda had exchanged and America couldn't help but think of the twins with their scars and the fear in their eyes.

Loki locked eyes with Yelena, and both of them were as expectant as everyone in the room. Then Kate shook her head, she huffed, pushing America out of the way and walking straight towards Riri.

"You have a deal, Riri." Then she softened her features, her tone of voice changing into one of pure sweetness flirtation. "And now that I think about it, I would be more than happy to go with you to the Ball…I promise you, it will be unforgettable."

Kate leaned in, placing a single kiss on the woman's cheek before turning around, she walked past America towards Kamala, grabbing the hand of the other girl she left the room without saying another word.

America felt a knot on her throat, the display of cowardice she just showed to Kate and her friends heavy on her shoulders.

"Well, then who are we looking for?" Riri smirked, stretching her arms and getting ready to work.

Loki hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to provide the names and what they were looking for. Yelena made her way towards America who seemed to be unable to move.

"You are an idiot." Yelena hissed, shaking her head. "All you have to do is admit to her that you are in love with her and then she would have still done it but without the theatrics."

"I could not… She is… Kate is free to do what she wants." America replied quite stubbornly.

"She is doing this for you, America." Yelena shot her a disappointed stare. "You better fix this or you will really lose her forever."

"Okay, found it!" Riri exclaimed and America dropped her eyes before going to the older woman.

Yelena was tempted to hit America, but she decided against it. Loki shrugged and the both of them knew this would be the last chance Kate and America would have to finally be honest with one another and give into what they really want.

“Fuck, you guys better take a look at this.” Loki said leaning forward, he and Riri wore the same angered expression.

America frowned moving closer while standing behind them. Her breath caught in her throat at the file, and Yelena cursed in Russian, the pictures, and the police records as well as the medical files were all there. Whatever or whomever Wanda was before getting to the school was not something nice, or even a happy life; the found the restriction order against her husband, the petition for divorce and the fight for custody. Riri whistled, she felt sorry for even asking for payment for something like this.

“Wanda Maximoff, isn’t she the new literature Professor? The one in charge of your class, Chavez?”

“Yeah, she is.” America replied softly.

“Damn, she really…this is…” Riri turned to the other girl shaking her head. “This is some heavy stuff, you know?”

“I know.”

“Please, Riri, no one can know about this.” Yelena intervened, Riri snorted pointing to the file on the computer.

“Of course not! She is hiding from her maniac husband, here let me show you the new underground railroad…It seems that she has been receiving help from some powerful people.” Riri stated tapping on some keys before showing the group a classified document.

_________________________

The halls inside the adjacent building to her school were empty and cold. America could hear the echoes of her footsteps and that of her friends following her to the main playroom. Loki and Yelena had been discussing the findings in whispered tones, none of them had been completely happy with the discovery but now many pieces in the puzzle that was their new Professor finally fell into place.

America stopped right outside the playroom, her eyes falling on Kate who was laughing with Kamala while Balder and the twins played around the slides.

“You better fix your screw up, America, and soon, Riri is quite the catch and Kate doesn't seem that indifferent to her.”

With those words, Loki went in stretching his hand out to stop Balder from hugging him. The both of them engaged in their ritualistic banter of bickering, while the twins waved at America who shifted her weight from one foot to the other before going in.

Tommy and Billy had changed in the last couple of months. America remembered the first time she met them, they were quiet and quite shy. At first America thought it was because they didn't know her and were still testing the waters around her. But then, she saw the fear in their eyes, how they would look at the clock and then at the door, how jumpy they were with loud noises, or how they would wake up sweaty and crying. Now for America it was obvious the shy, almost submissive nature of Wanda, how protective she was of her intimacy, or the fact the boys and her never used short sleeve clothing or why the twins had learnt to bathe alone without any help.

Not that it helped a lot.

America and Y/N had seen the scars, and while no words had been exchanged between them, they knew what was behind the Maximoff family. And America now had enough proof to prove her sister with the full background of Wanda.

The question was, when should she tell her about it?

“You are thinking too loud.” Kate approached her with her eyes never leaving America's ones.

“I have a lot to think about.” She mumbled shrugging, the twins went back to their stuff putting everything away while Balder whined.

“Yelena told us what Riri found.” Kate softened her stare putting her right hand around her left elbow. “It must be awful…”

“You know you don't have to go with Williams to the Ball, right?”

Kate cocked her head, glancing at America out of the corner of her eyes. America waited patiently, her eyes glancing everywhere but at her best friend and Kate sighed shaking her head, she turned around closing the distance between herself and America, the dark haired teen tensed with her heart leaping inside her chest.

“I know, but you know what?” Kate said breaking her lips into a smirk America had never seen in her. “I realised that if the woman I want doesn't want me back, then I can't wait any longer… I’m going to explore my options. Thank you, America. I think I wouldn't have done this without your help.”

America stood there, dumbstruck while Kate winked at her, turning around to join the others. She could tell America was still watching her, and Kate smiled in satisfaction knowing her words had the desired effect on America. She just hoped America would do something, or else she would never forgive her for letting this chance go away.

_____________________________________

Wanda glanced at the watch on her wrist, she winced noticing the time while her face turned to the rain right outside her windows. She had taken far too long grading some papers, the twins must be waiting for her getting restless back in the playroom in the small building in the compound.

The young woman yawned, picking up her papers and her stuff before her hand went to grab her mobile. She hesitated for a moment until her eyes fell on the last message she received. Your name on her contact list was familiar, as well as the obvious signs that she was ignoring you completely. For more than a week, all Wanda had done was put your messages to the side, and those encounters she had come to look at with an eager heart were now almost non-existent as she made sure to always be out of her home before you.

A part of Wanda, the rational one, knew she was being childish and that what she was doing was prolonging the inevitable. Another part, the emotional one, the damaged one… Was afraid. She was afraid of what everything meant for her, of the sudden surge of emotions she was experimenting for you.

Wanda knew she was damaged goods, and that she had her children to look after. You on the other hand were free, intelligent, beautiful, and you already had someone in your life that apparently made you happy. Why would anyone want Wanda at some point?

Not that Wanda was thinking about being with you. That would mean she liked you, and not in a platonic way. That perhaps her dreams, and the speeding of her heart at the thought of you, meant she was attracted to you, which was impossible because she was not like that. She liked men. Penis. Yeah, she liked that.

So, you do like her in a sexual way, eh?

A voice in her head asked, and Wanda hated to find the teasing tone of Pietro behind such a statement. She could imagine him, with his smirk and teasing glint, dancing around her while saying innapropiate things that would make her blush a hundred different shades of red. She missed her twin, and in moments like this, she wished he was still with her.

“I don't like her like that, I can't.” Wanda replied softly to no one in particular.

Wanda never thought her life would have changed the way it did.

The weeks had turned into months, and she found herself experimenting changes that were affecting her in positive ways. No longer was she afraid of getting home knowing dinner was not done yet, or to get something wrong and get mistreated for it. She could finally have a voice and an opinion and people around her respect her, and actually took her word with admiration. Sometimes the dark clouds of her past came forward, and in those moments she went to her children to find the energy to continue.

Wanda felt her life was finally getting into the right path. Her students had been amazing with her, and as of late it seemed as if their motivation had shifted and the young woman had never felt more supported than ever.

She didn't need complications, and you had become one. A complication she never thought possible, a complication she couldn't afford to have.

Whatever sadness she reflected in her face was soon wiped out when she caught the sound of laughter. She let out a sigh of relief knowing her children had not been alone for so long, and the fact the voice of her students reached her ears told her they had been in good hands. Her phone vibrated once more, but she ignored it completely, she never thought or even contemplated the fact that you might be there.

She entered the room with a confidence she soon lost as soon as her eyes found yours. And whatever she was trying to not feel came back tenfold. Her sweaty hands, the tingling on her lower abdomen and the summersault from her heart. Everything came accompanied by a flush of her cheeks and the widening of her stare.

You stood there rather conflicted, at this sudden appearance. The sound of laughter and conversation became too deafening, but you put your mobile away and took a few steps towards Wanda.

“So, you are alive.” You promised yourself you wouldn't let the bitterness you felt at Wanda's lack of response get to you.

But that was easier said than done, the young woman was standing before you quite healthy and rather unfazed by the fact you had written to her a couple of times until you gave up on any answer. You felt humiliated, and also a little hurt, you thought the both of you were friends. And you felt ridiculous for hoping that maybe…

“I… I was… Yes, I mean…” Wanda made a gesture with her hands, her eyes looking everywhere but at you. “I've been busy, uh with school and…”

“Hey,Maximoff, I'm not asking for explanations.” You replied nonchalantly, your stare hardening. “I was just curious because Tasha told me you and I were supposed to organise the Winter Festival.”

"The winter festival, yes! Yes, she did.We are!” Wanda interrupted her voice, raising slightly with a high pitch at the end.

You arched a single eyebrow, your lips quirking upwards in silent amusement. Wanda almost slapped her face at such an answer, she tried to recover her momentum by clearing her throat and grabbing her purse with both hands.

"I didn't understand much, but we'll, I guess we are in a committee…"

"We are the committee." You interrupted tilting your head, this time around you were frowning. "Nat didn't explain everything, did she?"

Wanda pursed her lips and after a moment she gave in, shaking her head. You could only roll your eyes glancing at the ceiling, of course Natasha had not said anything to the other woman and it would be up to you to explain to her everything that needed to be done. You had a feeling this was the older woman's doing, a well-exécuté plan to torture you and make you spent time with the very woman that had been shaking your world as of late.

"What else did she have to explain?" Wanda finally asked, she dreaded your answer for she had been trying to avoid you for more than a week and this sudden event would only make her spend time with you.

She knew Natasha had placed the responsibility on her shoulders a week ago but Wanda had been down a road she was not familiar with. She hated the beating of her heart, the sweaty palms of her hands, the nervous tingling in her stomach and the flush on her cheeks whenever she was in front of you. Or whenever she received one of your messages that she had been ignoring for quite some time.

She hated the fact she was standing in front of you and you seemed at ease, knowing Wanda was the only one suffering such conflicting emotions and not being able to do nothing to appease such emotions.

"Well, this event is quite important, you know?" You lifted your hand to scratch he nape of your neck, a nervous trait you had picked up when faced with your reality.

Wanda was about to speak when the twins and the rest of the teens came towards you. Her students were mostly smiling, while America seemed rather gloomy at the moment.

"Mom!" The twins came running towards Wanda hugging her around her waist, Wanda smiled softly placing a tender hand on their heads.

"Hey, boys, how was your day?"

"It was awesome!" Billy exlciamed and Tommy nodded in agreement, you softened your stare watching the scene with a heavy heart.

Soon Tommy and Billy were telling their mom all about their adventures, and you had to look away with a frown in your face. America and Loki glanced at one another, a plan already forming inside her head as to what she should do.

“So, Y/N, we were thinking… It is late, and everyone in the room is hungry, right guys.?” America turned to her friends, you narrowed your eyes when it took them half a second to react with nodding heads and hands on their stomachs.

“Right, so hungry much, eh?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, it has been a while since you last take us to Olympia and we could take the twins there too and Professor Maximoff of course.”

Kate grabbed your arm, she put on her best puppy stare while Kamala grabbed your other arms and America tilted her head amused. You snorted shaking your head, lifting your eyes you could see Wanda glancing at you and the twins frowning in confusion.

“What is Olympia? “ Tommy asked tasting the word on his lips, Balder opened his eyes wide, grabbing the young twin by his shoulders.

“You don't know??” Tommy scowled, lowering his eyes and shaking his head.

“It's the best place on earth!!” Balder turned to you and Loki. “Pleaseee, can we go?”

You raised your brows at Wanda, your eyes finding hers. The young woman was just as confused as her children, your heart shrank st the sheer familiarity you saw on those three faces. America pressed her lips together, she could see the conflicting emotions running through your eyes, the change in your posture, the softening in your expression.

The young woman clenched her jaw tightly, fighting over the myriad of thoughts passing through her mind. America was ready to burst out until a familiar hand grabbed her softly, she turned to see Kate offering a single shake of her head while pulling her aside.

“so, what do you say? We could have something to eat and discuss the preparations for the Ball.” You proposed shrugging, you could see the conflicting emotions running through those green eyes, but you could also see the lost battle as soon as the twins turned to her with begging eyes.

“I guess we could…” Wanda winced when the twins squealed and soon everyone was just walking outside the building.

Yelena caught up to America and Kate, her hand closing on America's wrist.

“What are you doing? Aren't you going to tell your sister about Maximoff?”

America hesitated for a moment, she turned to see you talking lightly with the other woman. Your face had changed completely, no longer wearing the wrinkles of concern or boredom you usually wear after a long day in the office. There weren't any signs of tiredness or anxiousness you got whenever you were with Carol. There wasn't even the dark cloud above your head, the one you had been wearing all week long, whatever was happening through your head, America could see the positive effect Wanda had on you. And without a doubt, the young woman knew you had a positive effect on Wanda.

“I think she should know.” Kate commented to America's side.

“It is only right.” Loki chimed in, America hesitated and it was Kamala the only one to actually voice what America had been thinking all along.

“But it is Professor Manximoff's secret, we can't go around telling everyone much less Y/N about this.” Kamala crossed her arms standing her ground.

“Why not?”

“Have you seen Y/N? Or, Professor Maximoff for that matter?” The group all turned to Y/N and Wanda. “Whatever we say or do right now could be bad for…”

“For them.” America shook her head turning to her friends with a determined stare in her eyes. “Let's give them time, I agreed that this can't be kept a secret, but for now we should be able to protect Wanda's privacy.”

The group hesitated for a moment before all of them nodded. They could keep the secret, for now. But for America the situation was turning into something really problematic, and her first instinct was to make sure you were okay, that you were happy. Thus, with a pursed of her lips she decided it was time for her to give you a push in the right direction.

_______________________

Olympia ended up being a restaurant right outside the city.

It was a five storey building, it was surrounded by a beautiful garden with fountains made of Led lights. The twins were dumbstruck, walking down the road leading from the parking lot to the main entrance. To their side Balder had taken the task to explain what they would find inside, and you had taken your spot right beside Wanda to do just the same.

“I can't believe you never heard of this place.” Wanda tilted her head, her eyes watching with some amusement your childish excitement and the small smile playing upon your lips.

She thought your giddiness was quite adorable, and she had to stop herself from just leaning in and grab your hand in hers. Her heart hammering against her chest at the mere thought.

The restaurant was owned by the most peculiar family; they had built the place as a theme restaurant in which families and friends could come over to enjoy games, shows and nice warm meals. Wanda and the twins were awestruck at the sight of mythological creatures and decorations welcoming newest arrivals.

The smile on your lips softened at the sight of Wanda walking around the place with the twins shying away with big eyes glancing around the place. You could tell this was her first time in such a place, and a part of you had to wonder if Wanda had never been in a place like this one.

“Mommy, can we go?” Tommy asked shyly pointing at the playground to the right, Wanda hesitated with her breath caught in her throat when your hand rested on hers.

“It is completely secure, and they would have America and the others watching over them while we look for a table.” You said to Wanda, your thumb making soothing circles on the back of her hand. “What do you say, Princess? I know it must be quite the tortuous experience to be with me but we can…”

“It's not a tortuous experience.”Wanda replied, cutting herself off before she could reveal something else.

You nodded curtly letting go of her hand before nodding towards the lifts.

“I know just the place for you and the twins to enjoy this first time.”

You waited patiently for an answer, you were trying to quiet down the thoughts running inside your head. The best policy you could apply to just ignore the growing need to connect with the redhead standing in front of you. You had missed your conversations with her, the banter you had formed with the woman after a fateful day in which you had come to appreciate the twins. For more than a week you had tried to reason with yourself and the piercing need to talk to Wanda.

When she didn't answer, and it was quite evident she was avoiding you, something in you broke a little. You were not one to beg, so you stopped writing after two days, but seeing her again you knew you couldn't let go without, at least, trying to forge a friendship with Wanda.

Because that was all you wanted, right?

Friendship.

And that was all Wanda was ready to give you, right?

Friendship.

“Don't worry, Professor, they are in the best…Yelena, No!”

Kamala screamed running after Yelena who was already trying to steal a Nerf gun from a kid, Balder and the twins were already getting armed with Loki giving clear instructions. America winced chuckling while Kate rolled her eyes crossing her arms.

“Guys…” You said and America waved at you.

“I know, I know.”

Kate turned to Wanda, wincing a little, “Don't worry, I made sure they are okay.”

Wanda chewed on her lower lip, her eyes had not stopped checking the crowded restaurant while her own panic rose inside her throat at the sight of the twins mixing up with the rest of the children. You could tell she was tensed, her eyes worrying but what you saw there was actually terror.

In just a second, Wanda was breathing hard, her eyes going wide open and body covered with a thin layer of cold sweat. She started trembling, and you could tell she was about to have a breakdown. Without thinking too much you stood in her line of vision, your hand grabbing hers in yours.

“Hey, Wands, it's okay, they are going to be fine.” You spoke softly, soothing words and brushed caresses on her hands while you dragged her away from the crowded hall. “It's okay, come…you're going to be fine.”

Wanda clenched her eyes closed, and she let you take her away until the sound of a bell echoed in a closed room and soon. The sound of people disappeared. Wanda opened her eyes only to see you looking back at her, you offered a reassuring smile with the lift sliding all the way to the last floor.

“Are you okay?” You finally asked, Wanda flushed looking away.

“Yes.” Her tone was cold, and you could tell she was embarrassed by the scene.

“You know, there is nothing to be emb…”

“I know.” She cut in exiting the lift as soon as the doors opened.

You scowled, glancing at your reflection before following the young woman out. The fifth floor was something out of a Jurassic Park movie, wherever she turned there was a jungle like atmosphere with replicas of dinosaurs around. You couldn't help the half smile stepping inside the floor while locating a good table. This was, by far, your favourite place to be; you walked past Wanda, your eyes sweeping the place really quick until you found the person you had been looking for.

“Ajak!”

The woman straightened up, turning sharply towards you, her eyes going big while a grin broke on her face. She gave some final instructions before approaching you with arms outstretched to engulf you in a tight embrace.

“Y/N! And here I thought you had forgotten all about me, mija.” Ajak stepped back giving you a once over, her eyes sharp and witty taking into the form of Wanda who was standing at a safe distance before they settled on you.

“Never, Ajak, but work and life has consumed most of my time.” You winced apologetically. “But I am here and I have new guests that have never tasted your amazing cuisine.”

Wanda found herself under black, piercing eyes that were a mixture of warmth and curiosity. The woman stretched out her hand, Wanda took it in hers almost wincing at the tight grasp.

“Now, a guest of Y/N will always be welcome, I'm Ajak.”

Wanda offered a tentative smile, her eyes going to you then back at Ajak.

“I'm Wanda.”

“Well, we cannot have this! A table for two? For you and your date.”

“No!” The quick, rather panicky scream coming from Wanda and yourself made Ajak turn suspicious eyes to you then to Wanda.

You knew you were blushing, but you didn't dare to look over at Wanda before clearing your throat to clarify the situation.

“We're not… She is not.. I mean… She is my sister's teacher so we just…”

“Yeah, no date or, her sister is my babysitter and…”

Whatever else the both of you were going to add soon died off while you just stood there rather awkwardly. Ajak snorted, shaking her head while pointing to the tables.

“So not table for two…”

“We came here with everyone, America and her friends and Wanda's children.”

Ajak nodded in understanding, finally pointing to the furthest corner in the room pointing to a balcony and a couple of torches.

“Well, you can have the spot by the balcony, I will send someone soon…” Ajak then winked at you, and there was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she continued. “It's always good to have you back, and this time around with such a beautiful woman by your side.”

You put a hand on your face hiding away your embarrassment, Wanda merely clapped her lips closed blushing lightly at the implications of those words. Without nothing much to say, you and her were led directly to the last spot.

“This is beautiful.” Wanda sighed dreamily, lifting her eyes to the sky above their heads lowering her gaze to see the outline of the city on the horizon.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, you furrowed your brows turning away to glance outside the balcony.

“I still can't believe you didn't know about this place.” You commented lightly. “This is the best restaurant in the whole East Coast, and it can be quite fun to spend some time with friends and family.”

Wanda sighed knowing she had missed the chance to get to know the world right outside her universe. She did not know much about the world, or places outside Westview or the events Vision used to take her to. The only holidays they had shared had been to Sokovia for the funeral of her father, a holiday she would always remember. Wanda jerked awake when a warm hand placed softly in her hand, she turned sharply to you and her breath caught on her throat.

“Are you okay?” You asked tentatively, Wanda stepped back from your grasp offering a shaky smile.

But before she could answer or you could say anything else the sound of laughter and loud conversation distracted the both of you and the group of teens with the three boys came around to occupy a chair in the big table. The twins ran directly to Wanda, and their excited chatter was enough to distract Wanda of her thoughts and the emotional situation she found herself in.

Dinner was a strange event for Wanda and yourself. You both found yourselves sitting side by side with everyone sharing stories about school and Summer holidays, the twins were quiet watching and hearing everything while enjoying the dinner. Your eyes never drifted away from Wanda for too long, the young woman was quiet at first, her fingers tapping on the table while holding a strained smile hovering protectively around the twins.

Wanda had always been a mystery for you, from the moment you met her she had been a contradiction of shyness and resolution. There were moments in which you could see a fire inside her eyes, the sharpness of her tongue and her intelligence always challenging you in ways you found fresh and exciting. There were other times in which she made herself small, the dark clouds of fear and uncertainty shadowing those flames while offering a vulnerable side you wished you could protect.

You snorted, shaking your head while everyone at the table laughed, your eyes drifted slightly only to see Wanda glancing at you with amusement.

“And then, of course, Y/N had to come out of there all dressed up in clothes that were not even hers and mom and dad decided to have the talk with both of us.”

All the twins winced while Wanda chuckled, raising a single eyebrow. You rolled your eyes hiding your blush, the twins scrunched up their noses looking around until Billy decided to speak.

“What talk?” He asked innocently, and the question soon quieted down the laughter making everyone squirmed on their spots.

This time around you raised a brow at Wanda, daring her to answer that question to them.

“Want to explain that, Mommy Wanda?”

The deep shade of red that decorated the woman's cheeks caught you off guard. The woman looked away hiding her flustered expression, you didn't expect that reaction to your comment. Something inside you ignited with curiosity to explore that sudden discovery, but soon Balder decided to break the uncomfortable tension in the room with his own innocent comment.

“The talk about sex, dummy!”

“Balder!”Loki exclaimed, slapping his hand while his little brother turned big curious eyes his way.

“How does he know about that?” Kamala asked, but Loki made a face.

“He overheard Thor, and he is a little brat that can't keep his mouth shut.”

“You’re the brat!”

Loki opened his mouth to retort but you lifted your hand shaking your head. The uncomfortable moment had passed, but you were still thinking about Wanda's reaction.

“Okay, you two stop it, let's choose the desert.”

“Dessert?” Tommy turned to Wanda. “Can we have dessert, mommy?”

You smirked watching as Wanda squirmed under your stare, she was trying really hard to ignore you but you made sure this time around it was impossible for her to do so.

“Oh, what do you say mommy, can we?” You spoke before you could censor yourself, Wanda glared at you clenching her fists closed.

“Y/N, really?” America asked in disbelief, she glared at you and you opened your mouth.

“Just stop, it is not as funny as you think it is.” Wanda turned around, softening her facial expression while placing a hand on Tommy's head. “I think we should go. Perhaps another time.”

You yelped, feeling the kick in your chin, turning around you saw America flaring at you still but this time around she was pointing to the other woman, her eyes big and eyebrows raised trying to speak to you without words.

The twins moaned in protest, but Wanda was already standing up until she felt your hand on hers. She didn't turn around, but you didn't need to, you stood up and circled the young woman standing in front of her, your free hand on Tommy's shoulder.

“Please, desserts here are delicious and… It's on me.”

“I don't think…” Wanda started but her resolution crumbled as soon as you stepped forward. Your eyes softened greatly, and your next words piercing Wanda's resolution.

“Please, sorry I was an ass, I just don't know how to act when I'm around someone like you.” You didn't mean to be this honest, you knew everyone was watching the interaction and probably this conversation would be something America wouldn't let go anytime soon.

“Like me?” Wanda asked confusedly.

You broke into a bitter smile shrugging, “like you.”

The silence would have grown even more uncomfortable if it hadn't been by Kamala and Kate that soon were making quite the ruckus to select the best dessert of the night.

“Why do you like to make my life more difficult than it already is?” The question left her lips before she could stop it, and while she didn't quite mean to ask that, once she had said it a burning desire to know grew in her.

You blinked a couple of times, looking away while shrugging.

“I don't know.” You sighed lifting your gaze to the woman in front of you. “You just…Make it too easy and I just can't help it.”

Wanda let go of Tommy who had joined the others around America and Kate that were now explaining what each dessert had. Wanda had enjoyed her afternoon with her children and her students, that you were there with her had been just a plus she was still trying to pretend she didn't enjoy.

Truth was, if she were to accept why she was so conflicted with your presence, why she had been avoiding you for the last couple of days, why she got so nervous around you. She would be admitting to something up until a couple of months ago she thought was a sin with someone that was already engaged in a relationship.

Wanda had a lot to lose and nothing to gain. So it was better to pretend nothing was happening, it was easier to break something that was just starting to grow.

“My grandparents and Tony's parents started the tradition of the Winter Festival.” Your voice broke into Wanda's thoughts, she turned to you quite surprised and you offered a single smile nodding towards the balcony.

The morning breeze brushed against your cheeks, you leaned forward with the palm of your hand stretched out to receive the first snowflakes of the season.

“My grandmother was a writer, and she was quite the romantic fella.” You chuckled remembering your childhood, the stories your grandmother used to tell right before going to bed. “She thought that a Ball and a festival around the Holidays would bring everyone together and would make a good way to find love.”

“A dreamer, then.” Wanda offered a half smile, she wrapped her arms around herself standing a few feet away from you.

The night had been strange, but not unpleasant. She couldn’t remember the last time she went out to a nice restaurant to eat, or to have some amount of fun and see her children free the way they had been that night. She looked at you out of the corner of her eyes, her heart fluttering lightly when you continued talking about your family and the traditions of the school, your tone of voice softening with the weight of memories and wishfulness. The confusion Wanda had been experimenting as of late was diminishing as you continue speaking, and the young woman knew sooner or later she would need to face whatever was growing inside her heart.

But for now, she could pretend.

“Then, whatever we do, whatever we plan, must be incredible.” Wanda stated after you had finished talking, you snorted shrugging.

“It’s a matter of honour.” You replied conspiratorially, your eyes twinkling at her reaction. “Believe me, we have been at this since we were at school so…”

Wanda chuckled shaking her head, for what little she knew about you and the others, everyone had gone to the same school and your friendship was based on banter and familiarity. She had seen firsthand how competitive all of them were, the great friendship amongst the families that controlled a whole school and many important businesses in the world. Wanda’s face fell for a moment, she had entered a world that could turn against her at any moment, one wrong step, or one wrong word could kick her out and leave her exposed to the man she had been running from. Natasha had been right when she said this would be important for her, and while Wanda didn’t think for one moment the older woman had tricked her in any way, she knew right now great things were expected from her, a payment for the favours she had received so far.

Movement to her side called her attention, and Wanda soon found herself far too close to you. From this distance she could see the light in your eyes, the small happy wrinkles around your eyes and the curve of your lips. She could also feel the warm emanating from your body, and a part of her, a crazy almost childish part of her, wondered what would happen if she were to close the distance…

Have you ever been attracted to someone other than Vision? Have you wondered what would have happened if people didn’t try to tell you who you should love or be with?

The words of her last therapy session with Hope resounded inside Wanda’s head, but before anything happened you chuckled nodding your head towards the restaurant.

“You’re gonna have two kids running on sugar rush in a moment, you know that, right?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the glance of pure horror she put on as soon as she realized the twins were eating a huge plate of dessert while bouncing restlessly on the chairs.

“They have never had so much sweet before…” Wanda started worriedly, your grabbed her hand winking playfully at her.

“Then, let me help you with tiring them up so you won’t suffer later on.”

“What do you mean..?”

“Well, this restaurant has many playgrounds, and I’m friends with the owner so…let’s go, time for you and me to play some!”

Wanda was not sure what was happening, or what exactly were you talking about. But whatever it was, she didn’t care at the moment, the only think she could think was your hand wrapped tenderly around hers, and the childish grin playing on your lips. Everything else was forgotten.

______________________________________

It was way past midnight by the time you parked Wanda’s car in the garage.

“You didn’t have to come with me.” Wanda shifted her position on the front seat, she turned slightly to see Tommy and Billy fast asleep.

You turned off the care tilting your head to see the twins then at Wanda who was looking completely tired. While it was true that you didn’t need to drive Wanda and the twins back home, but you couldn’t help yourself; you offered while lending your car to America so she could take the other’s home.

A part of you didn’t want the night to be over yet.

“I know but I just figured you may need some help with those two.” You pointed to the twins, Wanda smiled softly.

“Thank you.” She mumbled lowering her gaze, her hand closer to yours. “I don’t remember the last time I have so much fun.”

You smiled satisfied, “I’m glad to hear that.”

There was a moment of silence filled only with the knowledge that you were lost. As soon as you lifted your gaze you could see those green eyes glancing back at you, Wanda was looking confused and tired. But there was evidently some sort of happiness in her face, she was relaxed and for a moment your thought perhaps the weight she had been carrying was lifted. Not for the first time you wondered what had happened to her, what had really brought her to your doorstep with two kids and not husband.

It's not my secret to share.

“I think you should have more moments like this one, you and the kids.” You said after a moment, breaking the growing silence in the car.

“I think we are still getting use to this.” Wanda replied softly, and while she didn’t elaborate you could tell that this was part of the past you were dying to get to know.

“Well, if there is any way for me to help you loosen up more, Princess, don’t hesitate to tell me.” You winked at her enjoying the soft colouring on her cheeks, Wanda straightened up trying to gather her thoughts.

“Right, I think we need to first work on the preparations for the festival and…” She trailed off when you placed a hand on hers.

“Yes, yes…don’t worry about that, Princess.” You then opened the door and grabbed the car keys. “Come, I will help you take these two to bed.”

It didn’t take too long to take the twins into their room, both of them protested and turned around as soon as their bodies touched their beds. The only thing Wanda could take off of them were his shoes and jackets, she was about to insist on them getting in their pyjamas but your hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Let them be, we really tired them up in the laser tag.” You whispered by the door, Wanda hesitated for a moment making sure that the boys were only on their shirts and with a blanket on top of them.

“I guess it wouldn’t make any difference.”

Wanda whispered back making her way towards you, finally the tiredness of the day was catching up to her and you could see the bags under her eyes and the cold of night sneaking inside her clothes. You pulled her out of the room gently, closing the door behind you leading the young woman to the hall and the stairs, Wanda stood by the stairs glancing at you then at the door down the hall. You shifted on your feet before glancing down the stairs.

“Look, today was nice.” You stated scratching the nape of your neck. “I haven’t had so much fun in a long time.”

“Me neither.” Wanda answered truthfully, her lisp curling slightly at the memory. “And the twins, they were happy too.”

You nodded smiling, “yeah, I could tell.”

Wanda put her right arm on her forearm, she glanced down then back at you.

“I’m sorry I was avoiding you this last week.” Wanda finally said without looking you in the eye, this was easier said than done, and while the reasons of her avoiding you were not clear for you, Wanda was not about to admit them yet.

“I’ve been having a long week, and I just…”

“Hey, that’s okay, I guess. I understand.” You replied leaning in, making it impossible for Wanda to look away. “I just hope you’re not doing it anymore because we need to start making preparations, and I was hoping you would come to my place and have some lunch.”

Wanda opened her eyes; she nodded slowly still a little confused until you rolled your eyes at her.

“You know? So we can start planning the Winter Festival.”

“Oh, right, yes, sure.” Wanda bounced slightly, flustered she tried to hide her yawn but it was almost impossible to do so.

“Go to sleep, Wands. See you tomorrow.”

Before either of you could do something, anything at all, you decided to lean in and kiss Wanda on her cheek. It was a short brush of lips, but it was enough to make her catch her breath and warm all over.

And just like that, you turned around and left before anything could be done or said.

_____________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: Reader and Wanda start getting closer, the twins like this new addition to their family. America and Kate find themselves at a crossroads after Riri decides to play a flirty game, and Carol is at her wit's end with Reader. Someone from Wanda's past come into the scene, and Reader is dangerously clueless about the whole situation.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #MCU AU #Modern MCU #Wanda Maximoff/Feamle!reader

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woso-fan13 · 6 months

Text

Whumptober 2023: 15 (Barca)

No. 15: “I don’t need you to help me, I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

It was so easy to hide. Although you were usually relatively active on social media, you had a backlog of photos that you wanted to post. Nobody noticed that you were posting photos from previous months, and, if they did, nobody cared.

You had mastered the art of ignoring a phone call and texting the person back after a few minutes apologizing for missing their call. Your teammates knew that you lived on a random schedule, it wasn’t hard to convince them that you actually had completely missed the dozen calls that you had received that day. You hadn’t, watching your phone screen, waiting for the call to go to voicemail every time.

You called out of practice for the week, insisting that you were sick. Once this week had passed, there were a few scheduled days off. You could take almost two weeks to try and regain control over yourself. You were spiraling, but no one could know. No one would know.

—-

A persistent knock grabs your attention. You had previously been zoned out in the living room for an undetermined amount of time. You try to ignore the sound and go back into your haze, but the pounding repeats. Again and again.

Finally, you pull yourself up from the floor, making your way to the door. Expecting a delivery that needs to be signed for or a salesperson, you open the door without looking through the peephole.

That was a mistake. A very mad Lucy Bronze is standing, hands on her hips.

“Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” she says sternly, “where have you been? The whole team’s been worried about you, you’ve been ignoring us.”

You don’t respond, staring down at the floor in the doorway. Lucy grows more impatient.

“I’m waiting. You better have a bloody good explanation, young lady.”

“I’m sorry.”

It's barely a whisper. It’s all you can say, but you know it won’t satisfy her.

“You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?! No, you’re sorry when you hit someone with a football, or when you make a mistake. You’re not ‘sorry’ when you disappear. You’re not ‘sorry’ when you leave the team.”

Lucy is ranting at this point, her anger clear. Every ‘sorry’ she said was spit, mocking you harshly.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Lucy heaves a sigh, breathing in deeply. She’s trying to control herself, you know it. You would understand if she kept yelling. She should keep yelling, you have let everyone down. That’s all you do- constantly disappointing people.

It’s silent for a moment, Lucy refocusing. She looks at you for the first time, really looks at you. She sees the lack of colour in your face- your normally rosie cheeks drained to an almost translucent. She sees the dark circles under your eyes, begging for rest. She sees the red rims around your eyes, sees the dried tear tracks. She also sees the fresh tears pooling, likely a result of her harsh words.

Oh. She feels like a terrible bully.

“Y/N, kiddo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of that, I was just scared. No one’s heard from you in over a week, we were all worried. I shouldn’t have shouted, I’m sorry.”

You shrug, whispering, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she says firmly before lowering her voice to just above a whisper and repeating, “it’s not okay.”

Silence fills the air, neither of you know what to say. Lucy’s deciding how to best convince you to let her in, you’re deciding if it would be more effective to talk Lucy into leaving or to simply slam the door and lock it quickly. You’re leaning towards the second option.

“Can I come in?” she asks.

Every part of you is screaming not to let her in. Every part of you is screaming that if you let her in, she’s going to find out everything. Every part of you is screaming that if you let her in and she finds out the truth, she’ll leave you.

And, yet, you nod. You step aside, letting her in.

She smiles softly, stepping forward. She waits until you shut the door and turn to head back into the main area, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. She pulls you tight to her side, the touch firm.

The two of you walk to the living room, settling on the sofa. It’s quiet again, the silence suffocating. But neither of you can say a word.

“I’m okay,” you insist, knowing that’s what she needs to hear, “I can handle things myself. You should go.”

That was good. Maybe she would leave, walk right out the door. Maybe, maybe, if she walked out now, she could walk back in later. If she stayed, she would walk out and stay away.

Lucy looks closely at you, as if trying to read you.

“You’re not okay.”

You go to insist that you’re fine, but as your mouth opens, you’re cut off.

“You’re not okay.”

And something, somewhere breaks. You throw towards Lucy, tears already dripping off of your face. You bury your head into her chest, your breath stuttering. She doesn’t know what to do.

“That’s it, get it all out,” she says.

She pulls you to be sitting in her lap, facing her as she hugs your body tightly. Your head is pressed into her neck, the skin instantly turning wet.

“Good, get it all out. Nice, deep breaths. Good girl, big breaths. Keep taking those nice, big breaths. You’re going to be okay, everything’s going to be okay. I’m right here, sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”

She continues speaking quietly to you, the words soothing. One of her hands is cradling the back of your head, the other running firmly up and down your back. The pressure helps calm you, and Lucy knows this. It’s also the reason that her cheek is pressed to the top of your head, grounding you.

Lucy knows you. And Lucy’s here. She’s not going anywhere, firmly connected to you now.

#woso imagine #woso imagines #womens soccer #reader insert #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #england wnt #england #barca femeni #barca #barcelona femeni #fc barca #fc barcelona #lucy bronze

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wonder-kid-pugh · 11 months

Text

In the Eye of the Beholder Pt 2 - (Alexia Putellas x reader)

Hey guys! So many of you wanted to see a part 2 so here it is! Honestly I think it was kinda rushed so I don't think it's the best. But I hope you enjoy it!!!

Ever since that day at the stadium you and Alexia had been texting back and forth nearly everyday.

It had started to become one of the things Alexia looked forward to everyday.

She enjoyed your conversations. From all the silly thoughts you shared with her to all the serious conversations you had about life and experiences. You talked about anything and everything.

But Alexia couldn't help but feel slightly guilty.

She still hadn't told you who she was.

Well to a certain degree. Alexia had never lied to you. Not specifically at least. She still talked about how stressful her job was and all the antics her teammates got up to.

But she never said what her job was or the fact that she was actually Alexia Putellas a very public figure in the soccer world.

You knew the fundamental parts of her. You had talked about family, friends, work everything. But Alexia couldn't help but feel she wasn't being entirely honest with you.

Here you were sharing such intimate details of your life with her. Your likes and interests. Your love of art. Even the rift between you and your parents.

And she couldn't even tell you her full name.

It felt deceitful to Alexia. But she couldn't help it. She didn't want to ruin one of the best things in her life right now. You were her escape when life got to hard. You were her first call after a hard session or a long day of media. You made her the happiest she had ever been.

Unfortunately, everyone was starting to take notice.

"I see mystery girl has blessed you with her daily texts" Mapi teases as she drops down onto the chair beside her captain.

Alexia blushed as she bit the inside of her cheek. "I don't know what you're talking about..." She immediately hides her phone when she sees Mapi try to sneak a peak.

Mapi rolls her eyes. "C'mon Ale! We all know there's a girl at this stage!" She teasingly pokes at Alexia's reddened cheek. "We have all noticed that you've been glued to your phone more recently and actually smiling at it rather than your serious face".

Alexia shoots Mapi a look but Mapi just grins and points at her. "That's the face!"

Alexia rolls her eyes but can't help but chuckle at her best friend.

Mapi threw an arm over her captains shoulders. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing Ale". She squeezes her in a side hug, "We've all just noticed how much happier you've been recently. And it's nice". The blonde defender shoots her a soft smile. "Whoever it is we can all tell they're good for you Ale".

Alexia couldn't stop the smile spreading on her face. "Yeah she is". But she couldn't help but sigh as she looked down at her phone.

"What's wrong?" Mapi asked concerned. Alexia had been fine moments ago.

Alexia bit her lip before sighing rubbing her eyes. It couldn't hurt to talk to Mapi about it.

Right?

"There's this girl" Alexia admits to which Mapi squeals loudly but is quickly silenced by a swift slap to the arm by Alexia. "Shut up or I won't tell you" she mumbles looking around to see if anyone catch them but thankfully they were all too wrapped up in what they were doing themselves.

"Okay okay okay" Mapi says calming down allowing Alexia to continue.

Alexia sighs but smiles as she thinks of you. "She's... amazing" Alexia breathes out with a love sick smile. "She's just so happy and she's really funny. She always makes me laugh". Alexia's faces starts to darken. "And she's really really beautiful" she says dropping to a whisper.

Mapi couldn't help it. She was just about able to latch her hand over her mouth before she let out a loud squeal alerting the rest of the team. She muffles her yelps of glee while Alexia's blush gets even worse as she shoves the defender.

But Mapi couldn't help it. It had been a while since she had seen her best friend this happy.

Especially something that wasn't related back to work or football. The last time she must of saw her anywhere near this happy must of been when she was dating Jenni.

"Well she sounds very special" Mapi smiles as she nudges her shoulder against Alexia's.

Alexia smiles with a subtle nod. But Mapi can see the way her hands are locked together and how her smile drops the tiniest bit as she gets a faraway look. "Yeah. She is".

"So what's wrong?" Mapi asks softly.

Alexia plays with her hands for a second longer before deciding to bite the bullet. "She doesn't.. exactly...know who I am".

When she saw how Mapi raised an eyebrow at her she continued on. "Look she doesn't know I'm Alexia Putellas. Famous Footballer". "She has no clue about football so when I first met her I just told her my name is Ale and I really like football" Alexia explained as she ran a hand through her hair. "And since then we've been texting and calling back and forth and...I still haven't told her who I really am".

Mapi just nods feeling that Alexia right now just needs a sounding board to talk out her problems. As the person she would probably go to, is the very person she's talking about.

Alexia frowns, "I just feel like I'm not being honest with her". Alexia pursued her lips, "We have such great talks and she's been really honest with me and I feel I'm hiding such a huge thing from her". Alexia shakes her head, "I don't think I'm being fair to her".

Mapi hums. "But what's stopping you from telling her?"

Alexia bite her lip not knowing how to tell her. "It's...nice" she starts tentatively, "Not having any expectations of who I am or how I'm meant to act". "It was like for the first time in a long time someone saw me and not for my career" Alexia revealed before biting her lip. "And as selfish as it may seem. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to ruin one of the best things in my life right now".

Mapi nods fighting everything in her to crack a joke right now seeing how serious this was for Alexia. "Well if you're asking me" Mapi started smiling at her captain, "I would tell her".

Mapi gripped Alexia's shoulder, "If she hasn't given you a reason not too and if she's really as special and amazing as you say she is". Mapi smiled at her, "Then I see no reason for you not to tell her".

Alexia nods slowly. "Your right" she concedes agreeing with the blonde.

Mapi just snorts with a playful grin, "Of course I am".

Alexia rolls her eyes as she shoves Mapi off her. And for a split second Alexia can't help but think how well you and the blonde would get along. "I just don't want anything to change".

"And they won't" Mapi says calmly. "But if they do then it's her lost". "Besides" Mapi scoffs, "she doesn't even know anything about football".

Alexia scoffs but can't help but let a chuckle slip through.

"Seriously though!" Mapi exclaims as they walk out to the field for training. "What the hell do you talk about? Like is it even possible for you to have a conversation not involving Football?"

"We talk about lots of things!" Alexia defends while her best friend gives her a look of disbelief. "We talk about our days, family, places in Barcelona, work".

Mapi raises an eyebrow. "How do you talk about work without telling her?"

"Well she knows you as my coworkers rather than my teammates" Alexia says sheepishly while rubbing her neck.

Mapi let's out a gasp as she holds her chest in mock hurt. "I would like to think we're a little more than just coworkers Ale!"

Alexia rolls her eyes but quietens when everyone starts to fall in for the start of training.

"You should tell her Ale" Mapi lowers her voice so no one could heard. "If you really like this girl you should be honest with her. Give her a chance to know you. All of you". Mapi throws an arm around the brunette and messes up her hair. "Even the crazy football maniac you".

Alexia glares at her and fixes her hair before she switches her focus to training.

But when she goes home that day after training she decides to follow Mapi's advice. She quickly opened her phone and sends you a quick message before she could talk herself out of it.

Once she pressed send, Alexia tries to busy herself with things around her apartment but she always catches herself checking her phone constantly.

She is eventually pulled from it by a call from her mother. The call serves as a good distraction from waiting for your reply. So well in fact that the whole day catches up with her as she soon drifts off after finishing the call.

However, three days later Alexia still hasn't heard from you. It's the longest you had ever gone without texting each other since the two of you have met.

But your silence was beginning to worry the football player. Her mind couldn't help but create all these scenarios for your lack of contact. She tried to convince herself that you were simply busy and never got around to messaging her back.

But her mind couldn't help but wander. Wondering if you were in trouble. If something had happened to you.

Or worst, you had somehow found out the massive secret she had been keeping from you and you were mad at you.

Alexia didn't know what to think for the past few days. She thought about messaging you again. Hell even calling you so she could hear your soothing tone over the call reassuring her you were okay.

But if you were really mad at her, she didn't think you would want her bombarding you with messages. Or distracting her with calls if you busy.

Even though Mapi suspected that her captain didn't want to come off as desperate........

"I don't know what to do!" Alexia groaned to the defender as they messed about with a ball before training was set to begin. "It's been 3 days! And she still hasn't responded to me!"

Mapi wiggles her eyebrows at her. "What?" She starts, "you expect her to be waiting by the phone to message you back?"

Alexia sighs her shoulders slumping. "No" she answers as she runs a hand over her hair. "But I would have thought she would have messaged me back by now". Her eyes shone with worry. "What if she's ignoring me? What if she found out and she's mad at me?"

"Why would she be mad at you?" Mapi asks confused.

Alexia narrows her eyes at her. "Because she found out and she's mad I didn't tell her!" Alexia exclaimed quietly as he threw up her arms. "God! How do you have a girlfriend?"

"Hey!" Mapi says indignantly sending the ball at her feet at Alexia's legs which she narrowly dodges. "I'm a fucking catch!"

Alexia huffs but Mapi can see how truly worried she is that she possibly offended the girl that she liked. Mapi sighed and squeezed her shoulder. "Look Ale. I'm sure there is a perfectly good reason she hasn't messaged you back yet". Mapi shrugged her shoulder, "Maybe she's just been busy and forgot to message you back. Or maybe she's having trouble with her phone. Who knows". Mapi fixes her with a look, "But I'm sure it's nothing".

Alexia took a deep breath before nodding. "Yeah your probably right".

Mapi couldn't help but chuckle. Alexia furrowed her brow. "What?"

Mapi shrugged as she continued to giggle at her captain. "It's funny. Seeing you like this". Mapi has only what could be described as a shit eating grin, "Usually you're so calm and confident. It's funny seeing you stress over a girl". Mapi raised an eyebrow, "Honestly I don't even think you were like this with Jenni".

Alexia sighed as she dragged a hand down her face. "I just don't want to mess it up before I even get a chance with her".

Mapi opens her mouth to say something but her eyes catch something over Alexia's shoulder. She juts her chin at something behind her which causes Alexia to tilt her head at her but before she even has a chance to turn she's already being called.

Her eyes quickly meet Jonatan's but she freezes when she sees the person standing beside him.

"Alexia!" He greets with a wide smile unaware of the internal panic she's currently experiencing. "How are you today?"

Alexia nods absent mindedly. "Y-yeah good".

Jonatan looks at her weirdly but chooses to ignore it as he gestures to behind him. "Well I just wanted to introduce you to the artist who's going to be designing the murals for the stadium".

You try to pursue your lips to hide the smile as you watch Alexia break down in front of you.

"It's lovely to meet you Alexia" you say holding out a hand as you dragging out her name teasingly.

But it's seems that it doesn't have the desired effect as Alexia winces slightly but shakes your hand. "Y-yeah you too". Mapi and Jonatan share looks at Alexia but decide to move on.

"She's recently done a mural for the men's team and it was so incredible that we decided to ask her to do one for the women's team" Jonatan explains.

You hum for once taking the praise in stride as you lock eyes with Alexia. "Well it helped that I had a good history of the club".

Alexia swallows hard as she looks down hoping that her blush wasn't too noticeable.

Jonatan excuses himself as he moves away to talk to some other club officials. Mapi does the same having an inkling why her captain is suddenly acting unusual.

Alexia swallowed hard, "Uh what are you doing here?" Her eyes widened realising how bad that sounded. "Not that I'm not happy to see you! Cause I am! I'm really happy to see you. I'm just surprised!"

Alexia can't seem to stop the words tumbling from her mouth but you seem to take pity on her as you gently touch her elbow.

"Ale" you say with a hint of amusement stopping her rambles. "I came here to meet the players I was going to be drawing". You shrugged, "Thought if I was going to be doing a mural for you I would need to meet you to get an idea of what you would want for it".

Alexia nods understanding that you wanted the mural to be the best it could be. Once again going above and beyond for your art.

"Right" Alexia nods before she rubs the back of her neck. "Look I want to say I'm sorry..." She starts but doesn't make it very far.

"For what?" You ask before crossing your arms. "For not telling me you were actually a world famous Footballer and was a bit more than 'just a fan'?"

Alexia frowns and winces hearing your change in tone. She didn't want to meet your eyes seeing how angry you are with her. Her eyes closed as she internally scolds herself from keeping it from you. For ruining everything before she had even gotten a proper chance with you.

She was about to open her mouth an apologise profusely when she was interrupted by a giggle.

She tilts her head at you as she looks up to see you trying to muffle your laughter with your hand.

"I'm sorry" you let out with a giggle. "I couldn't even keep a straight face". You smiled brightly at her. "You looked like a kicked puppy I couldn't do it".

You pursued your lips when you saw how confused the footballer was. "Alexia" you said softly with a reassuring smile. "I've known who you are for a while now". You had to do everything in your power not to laugh as Alexia's eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

"You knew the whole time?" She asked quietly.

You shook your head. "Not at first" you admitted, "the day we met I had no idea who you were". You grinned at her, "Like I said I know nothing about Football".

"It wasn't until the day after when I was doing some research online about the players to start practicing sketching them that I came across you" you explained. "I must say you're very impressive Ms Putellas".

Alexia's face darkened with the compliment but quickly brushed it off. She had more important things to worry about.

Mainly what you thought about her.

"So the whole time we were talking...you knew?" She asked and you just nodded. "Are you mad?" Alexia asks quietly. "That I never told you?"

You couldn't help but coo at the footballer and almost as if you hand had a mind of its own your hand went up to cup Alexia's cheek forcing her gaze back on you. Your train of thought temporarily lost when her eyes looked into yours with a softness you had never experienced before.

"No I'm not mad Ale" you answered truthfully smiling lightly when you see how her eyes lit up the tiniest bit when she realised you weren't mad at her.

"You're a very impressive read Alexia. Just from what I could see when I was doing my research you're very accomplished" you compliment. "But I could see it the day we met. Before I knew who you were that day we met you looked like you had this heavy weight on your shoulders".

You shrugged, "Now I just thought you were having a bad day when we first met and thankfully as the day went on it seemed to get better". You smiled kindly at her, "But when I found out who you were I made a lot of sense".

You rolled your eyes, "Although it should have been obvious from the way you talked about Football and the feeling of playing on the pitch".

You smile when you hear Alexia laugh feeling quite accomplished yourself for that.

"Being as accomplished and well-known as you comes with a certain weight and expectation and a burden of responsibility. Especially as Captain". You squeezed her hand, "I didn't want you to feel like you had to live up to those expectations with me. So I understood that you wanted to tell me in your own time".

You shrug, "It doesn't matter to me that you're some world class famous Footballer". You got a michevious smirk on your face. "Your still the weirdo who agreed to go on a stadium tour with a complete stranger to me".

Alexia scoffed while you fell into giggles. Even though it was at her own expense, Alexia thought it was worth it to hear you laugh.

Alexia shrugs, "What can I say?" She smiles softly at you as her eyes scan your face. "She was a very pretty stranger".

You bite your lip unable to fight off the red fue overtaking her face.

Alexia felt her chest puff over slightly feeling immensely proud to have that effect of you.

You cleared your throat as you nodded towards the field. "Well you better go lead Captain". You wink at her. "I want to see you in action for myself. See if you're everything people say you are" you tease.

Alexia smirks at you feeling even more ready for training than before. She had someone to impress. "I'm not" she started with her own wink. "I'm better" she whispers as she moves in closer to you as her voice dropped slightly.

Your blush darkens even more as you can't help but find her surge of confidence even more attractive.

Your eyes briefly flicker down to her lips before moving back up to her gorgeous eyes. But you don't do anything other than bite your lip knowing that simple action has caught her attention as Alexia's eyes seem to darken.

Alexia seems to forgot where she is in the moment as it looks like she's seconds away from closing the gap between them before you gently push her towards the field. "You better go. Seems I'm not the only one vying for your attention".

Alexia looks over her shoulder to see you're right as most of the team are looking over and waiting for her. With many of the youngsters eagerly awaiting her presence.

"Yeah" Alexia agrees turning back to you. Alexia started walking backwards, "Besides!" She grins widely at you. "I have someone I need to impress!"

And impress she did.

You know you were there to watch the team but you couldn't help it. Your eyes always seemed to trail back to the captain.

Your eyes flickering between the field and your sketchbook. Doing quick sketches of different players. You were in awe watching them all together. How close they all were and how well they all worked together as one.

Alexia showed you why she was considered the best in the world. She was a strategic leader, encouraging motivator and a ruthless opponent. To you it seemed like she was almost dancing across the field as she got past players.

However, you didn't miss how every time she scored or did well, she would look up to where you were in the stands almost like a child who craved praise and attention. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction though, you pretended to busy yourself with your sketchbook.

You had been so caught up in drawing that you hadn't realised that practice had finished.

"So that's her huh?" Mapi asked as she caught Alexia staring at you once everyone had finished up.

Alexia simply hummed not taking her eyes off you as your sole focus was on your sketchbook.

"Is she the reason that Ale was showing off today?" Ingrid asked as she came up beside her girlfriend.

Alexia threw the blonde a look who I'm response just threw her hands up in surrender. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone!" Alexia exclaimed.

Aitana scoffed as she joined the group. "Please everyone can see you making heart eyes up to her throughout practice".

Everyone laughed as Alexia hid her face in her hands.

Patri chuckled as she nodded up towards the stands where you were. "Looks like you have some competition Captain".

Alexia's head shot up to where you were but relaxed when she saw it was only Pina talking animatedly to you in the stands.

Deciding she had enough teasing, Alexia made her way over to the two of you. She didn't even have time to say hello before Pina was bouncing over to her with a page in her hand.

"Alexia! Look at this!" She cheered as she thrust the page in front of her.

Alexia delicately took the page to see it was another one of your sketches. This time though it was of both her and Pina. Claudia was beaming as Alexia had an arm wrapped around her as she pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

Another masterpiece.

"It's amazing" Alexia agreed as she laughed seeing how happy it made the younger girl.

"Can I keep it?" Pina asked as she turned back to you. Her eyes gleaming with hope as she clutched the page into her chest. It made you ecstatic seeing how happy the drawing had made the young player.

And as much as you didn't want to part with another drawing of the captain, you couldn't help it seeing how happy it made her.

"Of course" you smiled as your eyes flickered to Alexia. "As long as Alexia doesn't want it".

Claudia turned to Alexia who just nodded to her, "No it's alright you have it Pina".

Pina let out a small squeal of delight as she ran off to show the rest of the team the drawing leaving the two of you alone.

"That was nice of you" you quipped as you closed your sketchbook giving her your full attention.

Alexia just shrugged playfully. "I'll just have to get the artist to draw another one for me" she teased as she sent you a wink.

You just hummed as you went along with her. "Hmmm I don't know. I hear her work isn't cheap. It definitely wouldn't be for free".

Alexia met your challenging stare but she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. Emboldened she leaned forward with a grin. "How about it I took her out for dinner? As payment of course".

You had tried to bite you lip but even that couldn't stop the smile blooming on your face. "I think that might be arranged".

Alexia's smile took uo her whole face. She knew what winning a Champions League felt like.

But somehow this felt even better.

"How about now?" Alexia asks not wanting to waste any time.

You raised an eyebrow at her, ""Someone's eagar". You chuckled but Alexia just shrugged happily with a wide smile. "How about you go have a shower and I'll be waiting outside for you" you say as you raise to your feet.

Alexia nods as she starts backpedaling towards the dressing rooms. "Better get moving so. Don't want to keep the beautiful lady like yourself waiting".

She shoots you a quick wink and turns running towards the dressing room.

You can't help but laugh as you watch Alexia all but sprint out of sight. You were so busy watching her that you didn't notice the blonde defender coming up to you.

"She really likes you you know?"

You jumped lightly before turning to the blonde who grinned at you. Not looking apologetic in the slightest at scaring you. "Sorry" she say but you doubt she meant it not that you mind.

You just wave her off. "It's fine". You bite your lip as you look in the direction she disappeared. "And the feeling is definitely mutual".

Mapi nods wanting to choose her words carefully as to not ruin her captain's chances but also wanting to be protective. "She's been a lot happier recently. Everyone can see it and I guess we have you to thank for that". Mapi rolled her eyes lightly, "She was losing her mind when you didn't message her back".

You scrunched your face up at the blonde before her face drops in realisation as you blush shyly. "When was this?"

Mapi shrugged as if Alexia hadn't been freaking out about it earlier. "Three days ago why?"

You let out a little scoff but you scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "That explains it. So I kinda dropped my phone in a pot of paint and absolutely destroyed it". You winced lightly, "And I haven't gotten a chance to replace it yet".

Mapi nods, happy to know that you were flat out ignoring her best friend, "You better get on that". Seeing Alexia running up to you seeing, Mapi takes her chance to tease her best friend. "After all Alexia couldn't bare not talking to you for so long".

You burst out laughing as Alexia runs up to you catching the tailend of the conversation. Alexia glares at the blonde defender and swiftly slips her hand into yours.

"That was quick" you quip trying to fix Alexia's glare.

It works as Alexia looks at you with a smile squeezing your hand. "Couldn't keep you waiting now could I?"

You hum, "Well seeing how well the first one went. You wanna give me another tour? I don't know Barcelona very well".

Alexia smiles widely already knowing exactly what places to bring you. "Absolutely let's go".

Mapi didn't even get a chance to say goodbye before Alexia was eagarly pulling (more like dragging you) to the exit.

"God you must really like me if you're this eagar to get me all to yourself" you joke but Alexia freezes for a split second as Alexia takes in your words.

"Sorry" she says quietly as they come to a stop realising how she was acting.

You smile lightly as you brush some wet hair behind her ear then move your thumb over her cheek. "Alexia" you let a breathy sigh. "You need to calm down okay?" You squeezed her hand as you looked into her eyes. "I really like you okay? You need to relax".

Alexia let out a deep sigh as she nodded. "I'm sorry. It's just I really like you too and I don't want to mess up".

You smile as how cute she is right now. "Well if you couldn't tell I'm pretty smitten with you so I don't know if it's possible for you to mess up". You tilt your head at her, "If anything I should be worried. I know absolutely nothing about Football".

Alexia laughs as she shakes her head, "I think I can get over it".

You bump her hip, "Don't lie".

Alexia laughs even harder, "Fine. Then I'll just have to teach you everything you need to know about Football".

"Think you can handle it?" You ask but Alexia just smiles back at you.

"For you? Definitely".

God I feel this ending is so bad.......

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas segura #alexia putellas #barcelona femini #maybe a part 3....

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