#I can’t wait to see his in-game model
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WUTHERING WAVES HUH

YOU CAN’T TEASE THIS MAN OUT OF NOWHERE NOOO
#he’s so fucking gorgeous what do you MEAN#after Lupa everything is going to this man because like LOOK AT HIM#on the floor#I need to play him on a team like please#I can’t wait to see his in-game model#Qiuyuan#Qiuyuan wuwa#Qiuyuan wuthering waves#wuwa#wuthering waves#blog stuff
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— nobody’s business.
feat. itoshi sae. a little sensual. 700+ wc. self indulgent :> publicizing your relationship with japan’s star player.
itoshi sae is holding onto your hand, a little more firmly than ever before. teal eyes out ahead on the field in front of you both searching for something you can’t name. you follow his gaze— it’s on the bleachers first, then hastily eyeing every player on the pitch. it’s on the spectators one second, then it’s on the cameras panning and zooming in from every direction.
sae grimaces when one such camera directs at the two of you, pulling you behind and away from the prying eyes of the media eager to catch just a glimpse of japan’s prized player and his partner who he keeps oh so hidden from the world.
he’s never denied being in a relationship. never tried to refute dating allegations with a non-celebrity, never once fazed to address the blurred pictures of him making out with someone in his car, never tried to hide the bruises on his neck that catch the eye of every fan leaving nobody wondering what it really is. he knows what they’ll do once they really know who you are— the paparazzi wouldn’t fucking leave you alone, following you everywhere. magazines would be willing to kill to get just one word from you and twist it to their likings. sae’s discreet with his words though, never gives them something to work with.
it was not until you addressed it to him yourself. just another article surfacing all around social media. something that had left a bitter taste on your tongue. ‘ itoshi sae and his supposed girlfriend ! ’ — it’s a picture of sae with a model you don’t know the name of, attending an event you weren’t invited to. he looks clearly unimpressed. but it helps little when every single comment under the article is how of well the two look together.
how well itoshi sae looks with someone who’s not you.
“you’ve already denied the rumours, so then why...” you’d said, avoiding his gaze for reasons you can’t pinpoint. “they always make up shit to write when their lukewarm ass doesn’t have real shit to sell.” he’d answered, “don’t think much about it. they’ll forget about it soon.”
when you didn’t say anything back, sae had known what he was to do. he’d known what it was you were asking of him with your silence. and for you, he was more than willing.
he’s sure a few cameras would’ve captured him with you by now, your face clear and beautiful for everyone to see and engrave on their papers and headlines. they’ll adorn you with pretty words and pretty adjectives, and he’ll have to share you with the eyes of the world now. something about it leaves a bitter flavor on his tongue, so he kisses you instead to taste the sweetness of your lips.
“don’t take your eyes off me,” he rasps between the kisses, one hand coming to cradle your jaw while the other hooks around your waist. “look at only me.”
“only you.” you say and sae breathes you in. he leans down closer, lips moving against yours more desperately than ever. he’s pleased with your answer. phantom touches of his hands slithering under your shirt and tracing the skin of your abdomen.
you forget about the match about to start in a mere minutes, about the cameras still desperate to get one glimpse of this very scene, and if you do remember that his teammates would march out any second now— sae makes you forget about everyone else when he tugs on your bottom lip lightly, “afraid? ” he challenges you with a long, languid glide of his tongue, “of what? I’m the only thing on your mind. ”
later when the game ends with the final pass from sae leading to a goal, the camera pans to you sitting in the vip section and cheering for sae and his team. another pans to sae when he notices you on the screen. sae ignores the roars of the crowd, ignores his teammates gathering around him, screaming for their win. he looks at you, waiting intently. you know what he’s asking of you — did you watch? he shifts forward ever so slightly — was i good?
you’re smiling as you mouth a clear I’m so proud of you — and only then does sae feels like he’s won.
© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]
why am I posting this it's a year old 🧘🏻♀️🧘🏻♀️
#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae x you#blue lock x reader#itoshi sae fluff#sae x reader#sae x you#blue lock x you#blue lock x reader fluff#sae itoshi x reader#sae itoshi x you#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk fluff
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AAAAAAA MAKE NAGI MEET HIS S/O'S PARENTS
“𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞”
a/n: i'm obsessed with BMF by SZA
you warned him. you definitely warned nagi seishiro that your parents were two completely different bosses in the same game level – your mom, who’d probably spoil him within minutes, and your dad, who’d see him as a walking red flag until further notice.
“you sure i can’t just meet them in my sleep?” nagi mutters for the fifth time, dragging his feet up your parents’ porch like you’re dragging him to his final boss battle.
“nope,” you chirp, knocking on the door with fake enthusiasm. “and if you fall asleep during dinner, i will kick you under the table.��
he groans. “unfair.”
the door opens before you can respond, and your mom stands there in all her warm, floral-apron glory, face lighting up the second she sees you, and then really lighting up when her eyes land on nagi.
“oh my gosh,” she gasps, clutching her chest like she just saw a k-drama actor in 4K. “this is him?! this is your boyfriend?!”
“uh… hi,” nagi says, suddenly standing much straighter, blinking slowly like she’s a flashbang in human form.
your mom’s already stepping aside to let you both in, zeroing in on nagi like a hawk. “my goodness, look at you! you’re so tall… and those eyes! and that hair! wow, you’re just… beautiful. what skincare do you use, sweetie?”
“uh… body wash,” nagi replies, deadpan.
you nearly choke.
your mom lets out the most delighted cackle you’ve ever heard. “oh, you’re funny, too. i like him! good taste, sweetheart,” she tells you, squeezing your hand like you just won the lottery.
“thanks,” you say dryly. “wait till dad gets here.”
and speak of the devil. your dad walks in from the backyard just in time to hear the words ‘body wash’ and ‘beautiful’, and you swear you feel the entire atmosphere drop ten degrees.
he doesn’t say anything right away. just crosses his arms over his chest, gives nagi a look, and then slowly says: “so. you’re the soccer boy.”
nagi gulps. “uh… yeah.”
“huh.” your dad narrows his eyes. “can you even support a family on that?”
“dad–” you start, but nagi, bless his soul, answers.
“maybe if we win a lot.”
you slap a hand to your forehead. your mom snorts into her wine glass.
the rest of dinner is like watching nagi play dodgeball blindfolded. your mom keeps gushing over him (“you have to give me your shampoo brand, i’m serious”), offering him second helpings, complimenting his cheekbones like he’s not sitting right there trying not to die. and every time he cracks a lazy, genuine little smile, your mom practically swoons.
your dad, meanwhile, has adopted a job interview tone.
“what are your intentions with my daughter?”
“i dunno. hang out. be cool.”
“what are your five-year plans?”
“… nap.”
“do you know how to change a tire?”
“… no.”
“do you want to learn?”
“not really.”
you can see the vein popping in your dad’s temple. nagi just sips his miso soup like he’s on a beach. when your mom tells him he’s “so chill, like a little kitten,” your dad’s soul visibly exits his body.
after dinner, your dad corners nagi in the hallway like a final interrogation round while your mom helps you clean up.
“i don’t like guys who slack off,” your dad says, low and stern.
“me neither,” nagi replies, deadpan. “they’re annoying.”
your dad stares at him. nagi stares back.
finally, your dad lets out a reluctant grunt. “you’re honest. i’ll give you that.”
when you come back into the room, nagi has a slightly traumatized look on his face and your dad is sipping tea like he didn’t just threaten a man with his eyes.
on the drive back, nagi’s slouched in the passenger seat, staring at the ceiling. “your dad’s intense.”
“he let you live. that’s progress.”
“your mom touched my hair. twice.”
you laugh. “she’s obsessed with you. she said you could model for those korean face mask commercials.”
nagi hums, turning his head to look at you. “maybe i should date her instead.”
you elbow him in the side.
“ow. kidding. you’re cooler. and younger,” he mumbles. “but seriously… your parents are weird.”
“yeah?”
“kinda like you.”
you glance over at him, and he’s smiling – small and tired, but sweet. and something in your chest tugs when he adds, softly: “i think i like them.”
you grin. “good,” you say, grabbing his hand as you drive, “because next time, you’re cooking.”
“what?!”
“yep. dad said he wants to see if you’re ‘useful in the kitchen.’”
nagi groans so dramatically, you’re shocked he doesn’t actually pass out on the spot.
you can’t stop laughing the whole way home.
© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢
#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk#bllk x reader#nagi seishiro#seishiro nagi#nagi seishiro x reader#seishiro nagi x reader#young and he fine and he tall and he handsome
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Just a Crush || OP81
☆ summary: Swimmer, y/n, is headed to the olympics and little does she know she’s f1 driver oscar piastri’s celebrity crush
☆ pairing: oscar pisatri x olympian!reader
☆ f/c and warnings: none
☆ requested: this was suggested!! tysm for the wonderful idea for a swimmer reader 🫶🏻
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚⠀
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liked by yourbff, thenzteam, vogue, yoursibling, oscarpiastri, iamrebeccad, and 87,457 others
ynuser: your girl is in her model era 🌿 thank you to vogue for having me! make sure to check out the july issue where i talk about what it means to me to be headed to the olympics to represent new zealand, my daily routines, and my life outside of swimming! see you all in paris 🤍
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yourbff: you are so effortlessly gorgeous please 😫
thenzteam: we are lucky to have you y/n!
user1: my favorite kiwi
user2: omg not y/n revealing she’s a huge fan of f1!! wait till oscar hears about this
user3: oscar who?
user2: he’s a formula 1 driver who has a massive crush on y/n
user3: omg not a vroom vroom aussie for my girl 😭
user4: stop they would be perfect 😭 they give the same energy
user2: he’s hiding in the likes 👀
iamrebeccad: some of the best shots i’ve ever seen! congrats on being in vogue and going to the olympics ❤️
ynuser: i took notes from the pro 🫶🏻
user2: omg rebecca is here too
williamsracing has posted a video

user12: LOSCAR MY LOVES
user5: alex and logan are my fav duo im going to miss them so much
user6: james when i catch you!!! how dare you break up our family
user4: GUYS Y/N MENTIONED
user9: the way oscar blushes omg
user10: mans is down bad we have to get her to notice him
user11: alex best be texting lily rn to make that connection! our boy has like no game
user12: stoppp i’m sure he has some 😭
user11: idk he’s so quiet and reserved
user12: nahhh it’s always the quiet ones ok
user8: y/noscar is my roman empire
user13: let’s get my man to the paris
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user10: hey babes, congrats on the olympics. im here to lyk abt a very cool, very polite young man named oscar piastri
yourbff: make us proud y/n
ynuser: i’ll do my best 😭
user2: you should visit monaco and oscar piastri next
lilymhe: yayyyy let’s goooooo y/n!!! i’ll be cheering for you!!
ynuser: omg lily!! it’s been too long since i’ve seen you! let’s do something once i’ve won the gold 😉
lilymhe: yes please 🫶🏻
lilymhe: also alex told me to tell you that you have got to come to a grand prix soon - zandvoort maybe?
oscarpiastri: good luck y/n!
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ynuser: you’re looking at the fastest woman in the 1500 freestyle! semifinals here we come 🇳🇿
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yourbff: being able to be poolside cheering you on is my favorite thing
ynuser: i love you
alex_albon: congrats y/n! can’t wait to see you soon 😉
user16: ALEX WHAT ARE YOU EOING HERE
user18: SEE YOU SOON????
user22: alex is taking his job as matchmaker seriously
thenzteam: aotearoa is so proud you ❤️
ynuser: 🤍
oscarpiastri: congrats y/n!! you’re going to get the gold i just know it
ynuser: thank you oscar!! i’m certainly going to try
user2: oscar jumping up and down in his driver room rn
landonorris: user2 he is celebrating yes
user2: LANDODNJE
logansargeant: oscarpiastri thanks for saving my dog from that burning building the other day
alex_albon: thanks oscarpiastri for lending me your lambo last week
ynuser: wow! oscarpiastri can you lend me your lambo?
oscarpiastri: ynuser that can be arranged
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thenzteam: she’s done it!!! y/n has won gold in the 1500 freestyle! you have made new zealand, aotearoa so very proud 🌿🇳🇿
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ynuser: beyond proud to be a kiwi! 🤍
yourbff: you are a star!!! i’m so proud of you
thenzteam: we love you 🫶🏻 now it’s time for you to get some rest!
user18: LETS GOOO Y/N!!!!
user20: i love watching women succeed
lilymhe: CONGRATS MS GIRL
alex_albon: yes!!! congrats ms y/n!!!!!
oscarpiastri: bwoah!! let’s go!
user22: oh oscar is this all you’ve got
landonorris: user22 nah he’s got more just give him a minute
oscarpiastri: lando please

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lilymhe: i missed you so much my olympic golden girl. i’m so glad you’re here 🫶🏻
ynuser: i missed you too my queen 🧡
user28: OMG YOURE IN ZANDVOORT OMG OMGOMGOGKGOGMGMGG
iamrebeccad: the way i jumped for joy when you told me you were coming!!! i can’t wait for dinner tonight
ynuser: neither can i!! i am really looking forward to meeting carlos too
user44: zandvoort!!! on race weekend!!!!! you’re giving our polite cat a chance!!!!
user45: girly we know exactly where you are 🤭
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liked by alex_albon, iamrebeccad, lilymhe, oscarpiastri, thenzteam, and 91,234 others
ynuser: some much needed downtime after paris but don’t worry i still got some laps in 🥹
tagged: lilymhe, iamrebeccad, mclarenf1
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user56: not her tagging mclaren and not oscar LOL
user87: THOUGHT YOU COULD SNEAK IN THATBLAST PIC HUH
user45: that’s gotta be oscar
user87: it’s absolutely him ain’t no way
mclarenf1: was wonderful getting to have an olympic gold medalist in our garage this weekend!! thank you for visiting 🧡
ynuser: thank you for having me mclaren 🧡
oscarpiastri: hey that’s my car
ynuser: yeah and you didn’t let me borrow it like you said you would 😭
oscarpiastri: i’ll lend you one that’s a little less dangerous! you’re precious cargo after all 😉
landonorris: ok , leave me out of the pics… i thought we were friends??
ynuser: my bad dawg! didn’t realize we were chill like that
landonorris: well we’re not anymore!!
alex_albon: my work here is done! team torque for the win
logansargeant: mission accomplished
lilymhe: girls u know everyone can see your comments
user45: CONFIRMED! THANKS ALBONO AND LOGIE
user46: AHHHHHHHHHHHH
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚⠀
a/n: another olympic reader!!! i love sports player reader. next up - olympic!tennis!reader.
a/n: made some updates to my blog and made a masterlist wahoo!! ty for all the support
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚⠀
© norrisainz33: please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform
#f1 fandom#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#op81#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#op81 fic#op81 fluff#op81 x you#op81 x y/n#op81 smau#op81 social media au#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri social media au#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fanfic
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Radio Silence | Chapter Six
Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)
Series Masterlist
Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.
Then Lando Norris happens.
One moment. One line crossed. No going back.
Warnings — Autistic!OFC, still quite angsty (sry), strong language.
Notes — Lots of plot, we're closing out the 2019 year in this one! Not much Lando in this one (Im still mad at him). This gets crazy. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts!
Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x
2019
Two weeks after Spa, Amelia stood outside her dad’s office at the MTC with a manila file in her hands and the taste of copper in her mouth.
The door was open, but she still knocked.
Zak looked up, startled, like he wasn’t used to seeing her there anymore — and maybe he wasn’t. She’d stayed away from the MTC for the past few weeks.
“Hey,” he said, getting up too quickly. “You want to come in?”
She stepped inside, cringing when her new trainers squeaked against the floor. Her arms were stiff from holding the file too tight. “Brought you something,” she said, and handed it over. No eye contact. She stared at a plaque on his shelf instead — a dusty one from 2007, still etched with a podium that felt like another lifetime.
Zak took the file and sat back down behind his desk. “You put this together?”
She nodded once. “It’s just data. Analysis. Trends.”
He opened the folder and started flipping through, slower than she wanted, be he was a much slower reader than she was. Pages of her notes, charts, predictive modelling, comparative pace metrics, aero versus power unit deltas from the season so far. Even some basic projections based on engine supplier performance curves over the last six years.
He hesitated, eyes scanning the pages. “What is this, Amelia?”
“McLaren’s had a better season,” she said, not bothering to hide the way her nose scrunched. “You’ll probably finish fourth in the Constructors’. Best of the rest. Everyone is going to be very happy.”
He looked up at her, sensing the ‘but’ before she even said it.
“I am not,” she said. “I don’t think we should be happy with fourth. I think we should be aiming for much higher.”
Zak leaned back slightly in his chair, file still open in front of him. “Amelia…”
“I think we should drop Renault after next season,” she said, cutting him off.
He blinked. “Jesus,” he muttered. “That’s a big swing.”
“I’ve run the numbers,” she said, a little sharper now. “Reliability. Raw power. Upgrade cycles. Driver feedback. Even manufacturer investment in long-term hybrid development. Renault is… not consistent, and they’re not progressing fast enough. Mercedes is more efficient, more stable, more scalable. If we want consistent podiums, a chance at race wins, then we need to align with a manufacturer that knows how to win. Not just how to score points.”
Zak sat back again, slower this time, like the weight of the idea was physically pressing into him. He tapped the edge of the file absently with his fingers.
“You know how much this would rock the boat, right?” he said. “We’ve spent years building this partnership. Renault’s got skin in the game. Contracts. Commitments. There’ll be consequences if we walk away.”
“I know,” she said. “But you always said we should act like a front-running team, even when we weren’t. So act like one. Make a decision like one.”
Zak was quiet. Still.
“I started working on this after Hockenheim,” she added, voice lower now. “I just… didn’t show anyone.”
He closed the file. “This isn’t a light suggestion, Amelia.” He sighed.
“I know,” she said again. “But I think it’s the right one.”
He exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand across his mouth, then looked at her; really looked at her.
She was calmer than she’d been the last time they’d spoken. Still paler than usual, still guarded, but steadier somehow. Like something had hardened and solidified inside her in the silence of the past few weeks.
“I’ll take it to the board,” he said finally. “Quietly. Just to test the water. No promises.”
“Okay,” she said.
There was a beat. She stared at the paperweight on his desk, the one she’d bought him for Father’s Day when she was thirteen.
“I just want us to stop being afraid of wanting more,” she added, softer now. “That’s all.”
Zak didn’t respond right away.
And as she turned to go, hand already on the doorframe, he couldn’t help but ask, “You didn’t just do this for him, did you?”
She paused. “No,” she said. “I did it for the team. I did it for you.”
She walked out.
—
The press release dropped on a Thursday.
A neatly timed, efficiently worded, professionally curated announcement: McLaren Racing to become Mercedes-AMG Powertrain customer team from 2021 onwards.
Quotes from her dad. From Toto. From Andreas.
A photo of a handshake she wasn’t in.
No mention of the folder. No mention of the analysis. No mention of her.
Of course there wasn’t. She hadn’t expected it.
Not really.
And yet she sat at her desk, surrounded by pages and pages of sketches of cooling architecture redesigns, and felt… strange.
Not angry. Not exactly.
Not proud either.
Mostly just quiet.
She clicked out of the article. Closed her browser. Opened a new tab, then immediately forgot why.
When she'd handed her dad the folder two weeks ago, it hadn’t even been about recognition. She hadn’t cared about credit. She’d just wanted them to be better. To try harder. To take a worthwhile risk.
And when he’d said, I’ll take it to the board, she’d believed him.
She just didn’t think that would be the end of it.
He hadn’t spoken to her about it since. No follow-up. No texts. No update. No “you were right.” Not even a half-hearted thank-you over dinner or a passing “good job” in the hallway.
The decision had come. And it had come without her.
Which made sense. She wasn’t a department head. She wasn’t on the executive team. She didn’t even have an official job title.
She wasn’t owed anything.
But still… still, she sat there with her heart lodged high in her throat and her fingernails digging crescents into the seam of her jeans, wondering why she suddenly felt like a ghost.
Why it felt like this was supposed to mean something.
And why it hurt so much to realise that her dad was okay with taking her work, her time, her thinking, the thing she’d built, and not giving her even a whisper of recognition.
Because he was used to it.
Used to her just handing things over for free.
And the worst part was, he wasn’t the only one.
She’d been doing this for years, hadn’t she? Offering up all the sharpest pieces of herself like they were scraps. Little theories, little fixes, the way she could spot patterns no one else could, pick through race data like thread. Suggestions left on the kitchen counter, ideas floated during test weekends, whispers passed to engineers when no one else was listening. Quiet contributions, all of them. Invisible fingerprints.
She’d given it away. All of it. Every clever thought, every hard-earned observation; just laid it down, like it didn’t belong to her in the first place.
And now someone else got the credit. Again. And she wasn’t even surprised.
She was just tired. And quietly furious.
—
The house smelled like woodsmoke and dog shampoo. Roscoe was already halfway into Amelia’s lap, snoring, his head heavy against her stomach as Lewis slid a mug of tea across the coffee table.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he said, settling into the armchair across from her. “He’ll try and sleep there all day.”
“I won’t complain about that,” she murmured, scratching behind Roscoe’s ears. He was a big dog, solid and heavy. He felt a bit like her weighted blanket. Anchoring.
Outside the windows, snow clung to the corners of Lewis’ sprawling. Quiet. Still. The way winter was meant to be. Amelia pulled her sleeves down over her hands and stared at the steaming mug.
Lewis leaned back, watching her over the rim of his cup. “You keeping up with the silly season chaos this year?”
“As always.” She nodded.
“Gasly back to AlphaTauri, Hulkenberg out, Ocon sliding into Renault. There will be a bit of a bloodbath next year.” He said.
She nodded, though her mind was elsewhere.
Lewis gave her a second longer before asking, “What about Lando? You two—”
“I don’t want to talk about Lando,” she said quickly, too quickly. Her eyes stayed on Roscoe’s fur.
Lewis didn’t press. He just leaned forward, brows faintly furrowed. “Right. Okay.”
They let the silence settle again. Roscoe shifted in his sleep, his paws twitching as if chasing something through a dream. Then, quietly, Amelia spoke. “The Mercedes-McLaren deal,” she said, voice low. “That was mine.”
Lewis blinked, gave himself a second to repeat her words in his head, and then said. “What?”
“McLaren dropping Renault, becoming a Mercedes customer team.” She rubbed a thumb over Roscoe’s collar. “I ran all the projections. Power unit deltas, reliability, development pace, all of it. I put together the entire case. Handed it to my dad in a file. And two weeks later, they made the announcement.”
Lewis stared at her. “You’re serious?”
She nodded, swallowing. “No one said anything. Not to me. And I wasn’t… part of the meeting, or the rollout. He never even followed up. I just saw it in the press release like everyone else.” Her voice wavered, but didn’t break. “And I know I don’t work for McLaren. But I thought; I thought maybe it would mean something.”
Lewis’s jaw twitched and his eyes looked darker than they usually did. “Amelia. That… that’s a big deal, you know that? That was your intellectual property.”
“I know.” She hugged her arms tight around herself. “It just… it feels wrong to be angry. Like I should’ve known better. Like it’s my fault for not asking for anything in return. For just giving it away.”
“That’s not on you,” Lewis said, voice hardening. “That’s on him. Your dad. And on the team. They’ve taken advantage of you. You should get credit. You should get a bloody job offer and a signing bonus. Not… whatever the fuck this is.”
She sniffed. “I don’t have a degree.”
Lewis scoffed. “So what? Since when does a piece of paper mean more than years of proven genius?”
That made her pause.
“You are one of the sharpest minds I’ve seen in this sport,” he said. “And I’ve been in it a long time. You see things before they happen. You think ahead of the curve. That’s what teams dream of having. And if McLaren can’t see that, if your own dad can’t see that, it’s not because it’s not there. It’s because he doesn’t know how to recognise it in you.”
She nodded. She already knew exactly what the problem was. “He doesn’t know how to see me as anything but his daughter.”
“Toto does,” Lewis said. “And that offer is still on the table, by the way.”
Amelia looked away, cheeks flushing.
“I’m not trying to pressure you. I just want you to know that you’ve got options,” Lewis said, softer now. “Real ones. And you don’t have to keep waiting around for your dad to finally recognise your potential.”
She didn’t answer, but her hands were steady on Roscoe’s back now. And when she finally did glance at him, there was something a little sharp in her chest. Something that felt a lot like clarity.
—
WhatsApp Groupchat — 2019 F1 Grid
Lewis H. @Lando You are an absolute prick.
Sebastian V. Good morning to you too?
Daniel R. Shit. What’d he do this time?
Charles L. Ah, this does not seem good.
Lando N. what the fuck did i do
Lewis H. You ghosted her. Like a child.
Carlos S. What??????????
George R. Wait are you serious?
Lewis H. Dead serious.
Lando N. oh my god can you not it’s literally none of your business ok
Max V. You’re an idiot, Norris.
Pierre G. Landooooo bro.
Alex A. Yeah nah that’s rough. You ghosted her? I actually thought you liked her, man.
Daniel R. She was so nice. Bet she feels like shit now.
Sebastian V. Is she okay? @Lewis
Lewis H. She’s fine. Too good for him anyway.
George R. I can’t believe this. Didn’t he literally write his racing number on her shoes? Or was that a fever dream??
Max V. @George He did. He’s just a right dickhead.
Carlos S. 😐 Told you not to screw it up, @Lando
Lando N. ok fucksake i get it You can all stop now i already feel like a piece of shit
Charles L. Why would you ghost her when she is so pretty and smart? I do not understand.
Daniel R. He’s still a kid. Dumb as hell. He’ll regret it in a few months, trust me.
Lewis H. He should be regretting it already.
Max V. Extremely dumb move. I wouldn’t have ghosted her and I’m famously difficult.
Sebastian V. Maybe I will set her up with my younger brother. He’s very clever. And rich.
George R. Is it weird if I throw my uncle’s name in the hat? He’s only 24. Really lovely guy.
Carlos S. My cousin Carlo is already in love. He will be thrilled to know she’s single.
Lando N. fuck off i get it I’m the villain Jesus christ can we drop it now
Daniel R. Glad you’re finally on the same page, mate!
Alex A. You could’ve just talked to her. Didn’t need to ghost her. That was cold, man.
Kimi R. 👍
—
Interlagos was hot and loud and humming with tension, and Amelia made sure to stay pressed to the edges of it; a shadow against the garage walls, an expressionless face hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses.
It was her first time at any track since before Belgium. Her first time being in the same place as Lando since he’d decided that she was not worth knowing. And she was careful. Careful to keep to service corridors and briefing rooms, careful not to risk running into him. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she looked did.
Nothing, probably. He would just ignore her, like he had been for two months.
She had just slipped away from the hospitality bar, iced-coffee in hand, when a voice called out to her from the outside deck; warm, accented.
“Chica! Are you too busy to stop and talk with a very ignorant old man?”
She turned and found Carlos Sainz Sr. waving her over, a bottle of water in one hand and a wary smile on his sun-worn face.
“I was just—” she started, but he was already rising from his seat, gesturing for her to come join him.
“Come, come. Sit. I have good seats here.”
She hesitated for a breath, then nodded and climbed the short steps up to the guest viewing area. The chaos of pit lane sprawled out below. Mechanics scrambled. Tyres stacked like soldiers. Race engines sang in the background, vicious and alive.
“Gracias,” she murmured, sliding into the chair beside him.
He nodded, then stared at her for a long, quiet second. “I wanted to say,” he said, his English thick with Madrid roots, but kind. “I think that… earlier in the year, I judged you too quickly.”
Amelia frowned at him. “Yes, you did.”
He sighed and nodded. “I assumed that you were just a pretty girl in the paddock.” He said. “And you see, my son has a terrible habit of becoming fixated on pretty things. But I realise now that I was wrong. You were there to, eh, help. To fix.” He sounded worn, like he’d had to work hard to say that out loud.
She shrugged, staring out at the grandstands. They were full. “I was upset about it, I think. But it was not a big deal.”
“It was,” Carlos said, serious now. “It was a very big deal. My son made that clear to me. You are very clever. A real asset to the McLaren team.” He told her, firm and steady.
She didn’t have anything to say to that. Just gave him a tight, (hopefully) polite smile and turned her eyes to the pit-lane as the cars peeled out of the garage to line up on the grid.
The race was long, and she stayed on the balcony throughout it all. Heat shimmered off the asphalt. Pit strategies flexed and fractured as the laps ticked down, and through it all, Amelia sat with her hands still in her lap, her mind sharper than the TV graphics overhead.
And when Carlos Sainz, the younger one, made it to third after a messy, brilliant final few laps, when the checkered flag waved and the paddock exploded into cheers and disbelief, she turned to his father and smiled, truly smiled, for the first time all day.
“Felicidades,” she said, voice soft but real. “That was very well done.”
Carlos Sr. beamed, pride etched into every line of his face. He stood up quickly, hurrying down to find his son and the rest of the team.
Amelia stayed.
The viewing deck emptied fast. Celebration echoed below. But she just slipped back into the motorhome, past the catering crew and out of the line of sight, into a quiet alcove near the storage lockers where no one would think to look for her.
She sat down on the floor, pressed her back against the cool wall, and closed her eyes.
She was proud. Of Carlos. Of the car she had helped make faster. Of the whisper of her fingerprints across the strategy that had put him on the podium.
But the truth still sat heavy on her ribs; that it had all happened without her. That even here, even now, she felt like a ghost.
—
The paddock at night after a race was one of her favourite places in the world. Empty water bottles clattered in the wind, discarded tyre blankets lay forgotten in corners, and the once-buzzing garages now hummed low and tired beneath the fluorescent lights. Amelia walked slowly, hands in her pockets, trainers scuffing against the tarmac, the cool Brazilian evening pulling the heat from her skin.
She passed the Mercedes motorhome, its sleek black exterior reflecting the dim light. Through the tinted glass, she caught a glimpse of Toto Wolff, head bent in conversation with one of his engineers. Calm. Assured. In control.
She didn’t stop walking, but something in her twisted. Guilt, maybe. Or the quiet ache of uncertainty.
Red Bull had been circling for a while. Quiet at first; emails she half-dismissed, a few engineers asking her strangely specific questions, casual feelers through people she didn’t realise even knew her name. Then Christian on Dutch TV, mentioning her potential. Helmut at COTA, watching her from the edge of the pit wall like a cowboy evaluating livestock. And Adrian Newey, who bypassed all of them and emailed her directly in early November. Short. Direct. Complimentary in a way that didn’t feel rehearsed.
She hadn’t told her dad. Not yet.
Nothing was official, anyway.
“Brown,” came a voice behind her.
She turned, blinking as Max strode over from the Red Bull suite. His jacket was unzipped, and he still reeked faintly of champagne. Hair a bit damp. Grin lazy.
“Christian asked me to make sure you knew where to go,” he said, lifting his brows. “You’ve got ten minutes before Jos starts vibrating.”
She pulled a face. “Is everyone going to be there? Like… your dad is going to be there?”
“Obviously. It’s Red Bull. We are very theatric,” he said, deadpan. “Zusje, you are the most in-demand person in Formula 1 right now, of course everybody wants to be in the room when we finally win the battle for your brain.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t call me that. Zusje. I don’t know what it means.”
“Little sister,” he said, Dutch accent thick, shrugging as he fell into step beside her. “It suits you. You talk just as much as I do, and you are equally annoying as me. We will give Christian many headaches, I think.”
“I always carry ibuprofen in my handbag.” She tried to joke, but it came out flat.
Max looked at her for a moment, but then he grinned, so she imagined he must have thought her joke was funny. At least somewhat. “Adrian’s been trying to steal you since Canada.” He told her.
She sighed. “That explains the espresso machine he sent to me during the summer break. I was very confused.”
He gave her a look. “You kept it?” He asked curiously.
She nodded. “It is a good machine. Expensive.”
“Of course it was. It’s Adrian.” Max shrugged.
They stopped a few feet from the Red Bull motorhome, which buzzed under the night lights like it was wired into a different voltage. Something kinetic hung in the air; possibility, maybe. Restlessness. Momentum.
She stared. “This feels like betrayal.”
Max rolled his eyes. “It is not betrayal.”
He nudged her shoulder. She recoiled, glaring at him. He raised his hands in defence. “Sorry. Sorry.” Then, quieter, he said. “You’ve outgrown the shadows, zusje. It is not your fault that your dad doesn’t know what to do with you. But we do. Adrian does. Christian definitely does. You belong somewhere that doesn’t try to keep you small.”
She started to chew on her bottom lip anxiously, “Do you really think that I am worth all of this?”
He didn’t even blink. “I think you’re going to make me a world champion, Amelia Brown.”
—
The Yas Marina Circuit gleamed beneath the Abu Dhabi sun, all smooth marble floors and overly modern hospitality suites. It felt more like a luxury mall than a racetrack, but Amelia liked it. Everything was polished, controlled.
She slipped through the back corridors of the McLaren unit with practiced ease, unnoticed as usual. It was early, quiet, the calm before the chaos of FP1.
In Carlos’s driver room, she placed a neatly bound packet on the table beneath the television. His telemetry from the entire season, annotated and colour-coded: green for improvements, yellow for repeat tendencies, red for danger zones. She’d included braking inconsistencies, corner exit deltas, and fuel load trends, with suggestions tailored to the 2020 chassis.
He’d get it. He always did. Carlos read data like scripture.
In Lando’s room, she left the same. A different binder. Different tendencies. More throttle hesitation in traffic, sharper degradation when chasing, lapses in tire preservation across high-deg circuits. A note in the front, written in her smallest, sharpest handwriting.
You are an asshole. You are also better than your instincts. Learn the difference between fast and frantic. Good luck.
She didn’t linger. She didn’t need to. No one would know she’d been there except the two of them, and even then, it didn’t matter anymore. She’d done it. Helped them. One last time.
She turned down the corridor toward the exit, and almost walked straight into a man who was standing too stiffly in her path.
He was older, expensively dressed, with the familiar face of someone she’d seen on enough pit walls to know he didn’t belong there out of curiosity. Adam Norris.
He looked her up and down, his voice clipped. “Ah. Amelia, is it?”
“That’s right.” She muttered.
“I suppose we haven’t met.” He said.
“No,” she said. “Not really.”
He hesitated. A beat passed. Two.
“I’ve… heard you’re very capable,” he said finally. “Talented. Bright.” He said it like he didn’t really believe it.
She tilted her head. Frowned at him. “Did you tell Lando to stay away from me?”
He flinched, just barely. “I advised him to focus on his career.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It wasn’t a happy smile. “You should teach your son better manners.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She stepped around him, slow, deliberate, and kept walking. Past the orange panels, past the McLaren logo, past the team she’d poured her entire self into.
By the time the sun dipped below the grandstands and the lights came on for the weekend's final showdown, she was long gone from the paddock. A flight booked for her under a new team name. A seat at a new table. A blank page waiting for her red inked scrawl.
Red Bull knew she was coming.
They just didn’t know what she was prepared to become.
—
The Browns’ living room was filled with the scent of cinnamon, pine, and whatever Christmas candle Tracy had been obsessed with that week. The fireplace crackled softly, fairy lights twinkled around the windows, and somewhere in the background, Ella Fitzgerald was crooning something vintage and sentimental.
Amelia sat cross-legged on the floor in sweatpants and a hoodie, half-watching as her dad unwrapped a book about American muscle cars from the 1960s. He grinned like a kid, holding it up for Tracy to see.
“This is great,” Zak said. “I’ve been looking for this one.”
“I know,” Tracy said, leaning in to kiss his cheek before returning to her place at the table with a glass of wine. “I listen, you know. I’m a good wife.”
Amelia smiled faintly. She hadn’t said much all day. She’d made breakfast. Helped put the chicken in the oven. Unwrapped the gifts they handed her; socks, a new set of sketching pencils, a silver pen engraved with her initials, and said thank you each time. But the weight in her chest hadn’t lifted, not even when her mother handed her a plate stacked high with garlicky roast potatoes.
Zak was still talking, flipping through the book, animated now. “I’ve got such a good feeling about next season,” he said, his eyes bright. “The team’s in a good place. Carlos is dialled in, Lando’s matured a lot. And the Mercedes power unit; I know we’re still with Renault this year, but it’ll be a game-changer for us in twenty-one. Might be the year we really start bothering the top three again.”
Amelia swallowed hard. Her fork hovered above her plate, untouched. She glanced down at her food. It was getting cold. Her stomach turned.
Across the table, Tracy watched her. Her gaze was soft but sharp, a mother’s intuition in full force.
“Everything okay, Amelia?” She asked gently.
Amelia nodded. “Yeah,” she said, quickly. “Just tired. Long few months.”
Tracy didn’t push, but Amelia could tell she wasn’t convinced.
Her phone buzzed once, facedown on the table beside her glass of water. She flipped it over, half expecting a message from Carlos, or worse, from her dad, who had a terrible habit of sending her random articles from F1Tech like she wasn’t sitting five feet away.
But it wasn’t Carlos.
iMessage — 17:02pm
Vrolijk Kerstfeest,
Can’t wait for you to build my championship-winning car. – M.V.
She exhaled, barely more than a breath. The corner of her mouth lifted. Not a smile, not really, but the closest she’d come to one all day. She tapped her fingers against the table, hiding the message beneath her palm.
Of all the gifts she’d been given that morning — the socks, the pen, the awkward hug from her dad that still smelled faintly of cinnamon and gasoline — this was the only one that made her feel something. Recognition.
She glanced at her dad, still rambling about wind tunnel simulations and team morale like the world hadn’t shifted beneath their feet. Then she looked back down at her plate, her fork still untouched.
She hadn’t told him yet. She didn’t know when she would.
Maybe she wouldn’t at all.
Maybe she’d take a page out of his book.
—
“Red Bull Racing Hire Amelia Brown as Technical Design Intern, Working Under Adrian Newey”
— Motorsport.com
Red Bull Racing Announces Amelia Brown as New Technical Design Intern “Mini Newey” Joins Office of the CTO Ahead of 2020 F1 Season
Red Bull Racing has officially confirmed the addition of Amelia Brown to its technical department, naming her as a Technical Design Intern working directly under Chief Technical Officer Adrian Newey.
Brown, 19, has quietly gained a reputation in Formula 1 circles for her analytical precision and instinctive approach to problem-solving. Though never officially affiliated with a team, her behind-the-scenes contributions have turned heads up and down the paddock — especially within the aerodynamic development community.
“She’s one of the sharpest minds I’ve come across in years,” said Newey in a brief statement. “She has an innate understanding of car behaviour, balance, and airflow mapping that’s rare at any level of engineering, let alone someone so early in their career.”
While her appointment as an “intern” may sound modest, Red Bull insiders are already referring to Brown as “Mini Newey,” a nod to the technical savant under whom she will be working and a reflection of the high expectations within the team.
Team Principal Christian Horner added, “We’ve always prided ourselves on fostering talent, and Amelia represents the next generation of creative engineering thought. Her insight, even during early informal conversations, has already helped shape some of our thinking going into 2020.”
When asked about her appointment, Brown declined to comment directly, but sources inside the team say she will be working across simulation, aero development, and design review cycles throughout the season.
“She’s not here to make coffee,” said Gianpiero Lambiase, Verstappen's race engineer. “She’s here to change the game.”
Red Bull Racing’s 2020 challenger is set to be unveiled in Bahrain next month. Whether Brown’s influence will be visible from day one remains to be seen — but if early whispers are any indication, she won’t stay behind the curtain for long.
NEXT CHAPTER
#radio silence#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x ofc#formula one x reader#f1 x female reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando x y/n#lando fluff#lando x you#lando fanfic#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris#mclaren#formula one smut#formula one imagine#formula 1#formula one#f1 x y/n#f1 smut#f1 x you#f1 grid x reader#f1 grid fic#f1 grid imagine#max verstappen x female oc
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Careful, kitten
Summary: Sylus is tense, quiet, and clearly off his game and you can’t help but poke at him to figure out why.
Character: Sylus & MC/You
Genre: unresolved romantic-sexual tension, pre-relationship, teasing
Word count: 3.5k | Reading Time: 14 min | AO3
A/N: Had this for a while in the draft, I needed to see Sylus flustered somehow, without getting off character. Story is base on the moment with the Lipstick and the helmet, but not the moment itself. Picture source
Second part > Dreamy Date - Careful Kitten II
You crouch down, placing a small dish of food near a group of stray cats. It has almost become a ritual to go feed the cats in the park. Sylus picks you up on his bike on those days in the morning, sometimes you still notice the tiredness and the dark circles under his eyes from not having slept enough. Or not having gone to bed at all. You have told him many times that you don't have to see each other so early, that you want him to sleep a few hours at least. But the gentleman insists that he doesn't want to keep you waiting and prefers it this way. He's just as stubborn as you sometimes are. Sylus is standing behind you, sunglasses on. It's a gorgeous day this morning, it's getting warmer. You enjoy the rays of the sun that caress your skin.
The usual trio of cats approached, the cautious steps quickly turning into eager little trots as the scents of food reached them. You smile when you see them eating.
“Not so fast… you will choke, Marshmallow”. You are very immersed in the scene of the three cats eating with fervor.
His lips parted slightly before he closed them again, exhaling through his nose. “You’ve started naming them?”
“Of course I have”. You gestured lazily at the largest of the three. A round, fluffy white cat with a soft gray patch over one ear, currently inhaling its food like it hadn’t eaten in days. “That’s Marshmallow. He eats like he’s in a competition. Every time.”
Then pointed to the second one, a lean, all-black cat with striking green eyes, the one who always lingered just a bit further back, observing before approaching. “That one’s Phantom. He’s a little dramatic.”
You grinned in satisfaction before finally gesturing to the last one. A scrappy little tabby with a torn ear, the smallest of the three but easily the most energetic. “And that’s Bandit. Tries to steal everyone else’s food and somehow still stays tiny.”
Then, with a smirk, he said “Mephisto will get jealous of all these new friends you're making.”
You scoffed, nudging his arm lightly. “Oh, please. Mephisto knows he’s irreplaceable. This is just my little morning gang.”
Sylus hummed, gaze flicking to the trio of cats devouring their meal. He coursed down, eyes flickering back to you. The way you sat comfortably on the pavement, fingers gently brushing against one of the cats, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, it was an oddly soft image. More cats approved, Sylus pulls out more small food out of a bag. As soon as he popped the lid, the cats perked up, their ears twitching at the familiar sound. You watch him with an amused smile.
“It still surprises me, for someone who acts all untouchable, you sure are soft on them.”
Sylus huff, not looking up “They’re be a nuisance if they were starving and desperate.”
“Uh-huh” You don't say anything else. Marshmallow gets closer to him. Sylus just scratched him behind the ear, the cat leaned into this touch, purring loud enough. A small chuckle escaped you.
“Your hands are really beautiful, you know.”
Sylus froze. His fingers stopped mid-motion, his eyes moved to you. You weren't even looking at him, when you said that. You were still watching the cats, head tilted slightly, your expression thoughtful “Long fingers, clean nails, nice veins… a bit rough. I bet people would pay just to see them in those hand model ads.”
Sylus blinked. He flexed his fingers instinctively, as if trying to understand what you were seeing. They were just hands, functional, efficients, and dangerous. These hands had killed many times. Ended lives without hesitation or remorse. The blood that had once coated them wasn't something that could ever truly be washed away. And yet, here you are, calling them beautiful.
He scoffed, still trying to follow you. “Don’t say weird things first thing in the morning.”
You just hummed, Sylus exhaled sharply, looking away. He massages his eyes, slightly lifting his sunglasses. He wasn't a morning person. Never had been. And this one was especially hard. You’ve started to blurt out things like that latly, without a second thought, throwing him off in ways he wasn’t prepared. Normally, he’d have some sharp remark, a smirk, a teasing jab to keep the balance from tipping too far. But today? No chance. He hadn't slept much. With that bit of sleep he had gotten was plagued by a dream so vivid, so tangible, that waking up had felt like a cruel joke. You were tangled in his sheets. Fingers gripping his shoulder. Lips parting in breathless whispers saying his name…
So vivid that when he woke up, the first thing he had done was grip the sheets in frustration, jaw tight, body thrumming with leftover heat that had nowhere to go. Even if he had taken the time to deal with his painful erection that very morning, it wasn't enough. Not after a dream like that. It was getting difficult.
Difficult to sit next to you without his mind wandering. Harder to keep his gaze from lingering on the curve of your neck, the way your lips parted slightly when you focused too hard. Harder to pretend like he wasn’t aching every time you said something dangerous without even realizing it. It wasn’t fair. Today, he was tired. His patience was worn too thin, his self-control stretched to its absolute limit.
“You okay? You look kind of out of it”
“Didn’t sleep much”
“Nightmares?” you frowned slightly.
Sylus snorted, shaking his head. “Not exactly” Far from it. If it had been nightmares, that would have been easier. This was needed. It was hunger, deep and aching, wrapped around him like a slow-burning fire that refused to go out.
“You sure? You seem…”
“I’m fine.” He cut in too quickly, voice rougher than intended.
Your lips pressed into a thin line. Clearly, you aren't buying it. But you didn’t push but you didn't drop it entirely either. Instead, you turned back to the cats, scratching Phantom under the chin as the sleek black cat purred in contentment.
His mind was still stuck on your voice, breathy and needy from his dream, whispering his name in ways you never had in reality.
“Well, whatever kept you up, it must’ve been pretty intense.” His brain was still rebooting when you smirked lightly. “Was it a mission thing? Or something else?”
You rested your chin on your hand, watching him like you were solving a puzzle. “Wait… don’t tell me you got into a fight with Mephisto again.” Sylus blinked. You nodded to yourself, looking way too serious now. “It makes sense. The broody look, the weird tension, the fact that you’re avoiding eye contact. Did you two have a jealousy spat over the cats?”
“You think this is about the cats? What's wrong with your head?” Sylus shakes his head then he runs a hand down his face, his fingers pressing against his temples. He needed this conversation to end. Immediately. “We are leaving. I need a coffee.”
Still sitting on the pavement, you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. "Okay…? You could’ve just said that instead of having a mini crisis."
Sylus didn’t respond. He was already walking away, jaw tight, hands shoved into his pockets.
You frowned slightly before glancing down at the cats. "What’s his deal?" Phantom, as if in solidarity, flicked his tail and turned his head away with an exaggerated huff. You chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, I don’t get him either.”
Today, he’s weirdly quiet.
He keeps rubbing his fingers over his temple like he’s trying to will away whatever is bothering him. He runs a hand through his hair too often, exhales too heavily. You tilt your head, watching him, amusement bubbling in your chest. Oh. Oh, this could be fun. Maybe if you push him a little, just a little, you’ll figure out what’s wrong. What could possibly go wrong?
The engine growls beneath you as Sylus kicks the bike into motion, but you can feel the hesitation in his movements, the slight rigidity that wasn’t there before. Sylus inhales sharply, fingers gripping the handlebars tighter.
"Hold on" he mutters, voice tight. You grin. You press yourself closer than usual on the back of his motorcycle, arms wrapped snugly around his waist. Normally, you keep a respectable grip, not too loose, not too tight. But, you let your fingers drift just a bit lower, brushing the firm muscle at his waist. You don’t miss the way his entire body tenses beneath you. Oh… Interesting. You’re sure he curses under his breath.
By the time he pulls up to your destination, you can tell he’s barely holding himself together. The moment the bike comes to a stop, he mutters a firm “Get off.”
You blink innocently. Sylus twists around to look at you, and he’s struggling. His red eyes are dark, sharp, his jaw tight like he’s fighting something. And it’s glorious.
“Off. Now.”
You huff playfully, but slide off the bike, stretching as if nothing happened. Sylus stays seated for a moment longer, like he needs to breathe. This is too good.
At first, you thought maybe he was just tired, maybe a little irritated about something mission-related. But now? Now, you’re starting to suspect it’s something else entirely.
Because every little touch, every offhand comment, every time you press even slightly into his space, he reacts. Not in a big way, no, he’s too good at keeping himself composed for that. But you see it. The flicker in his eyes. It’s like he’s… sensitive. And then it hits you.
Oh. Ohhh. Maybe he just…
…hasn’t gotten fucked in a while. Sylus is an attractive man who could have anyone relieve his stress. You've read in some articles that men with so much power often forget to relax. You almost laugh at the thought. Is that what’s wrong with him? Is that why he’s all tense and restless? Well. You’re not cruel. But you are curious. Which is why you decide to push. You wait until you're sitting across from him at a café, sipping on coffee, watching him struggle to act normal. His usual confidence is still there, but it’s fragile, like it could crack at any second.
You smirk. "You know, Sylus…" you start, propping your chin in your hand, voice slow and thoughtful.
He lifts a brow, already looking suspicious. "What?"
Your smirk widens. "I read something interesting earlier."
Sylus exhales, dragging his fingers over the rim of his cup, gaze flicking to you warily. "Should I be worried?"
You shrug, swirling your drink absentmindedly. "Apparently, if someone goes too long without… a release…." you pause just long enough to see his fingers tighten slightly "...their body starts getting all restless. Irritable. Sensitive."
His eyebrow twitches. Sylus lifts his cup to his lips. You continue, your voice taking on a casual, almost curious lilt. “Have you… released yourself lately?”
And then he chokes on his coffee. You blink, watching in fascination as he coughs into his fist, setting the cup down too aggressively. He tilts his head slightly down, running a hand over his mouth, exhaling sharply like he’s trying to stay alive.
You purse your lips. "Wow. That was dramatic."
Sylus glares at you, voice rougher than usual. "What kind of question is that?"
You lift your shoulders in an innocent shrug. “It just made me think. Maybe that’s why you’ve been all weird today. Maybe you just need to, you know…” You gesture vaguely with your fingers. “Take care of…”
Before you can finish, Sylus snatches the small bun from your plate and shoves it into your mouth, effectively silencing you. Your eyes widen in pure betrayal as you glare up at him, muffled by the mouthful of bread.
"Kitten…" he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he’s suffering some great burden. "You know very well that I adore you, but do me a favor and keep those ideas to yourself."
You chew slowly, staring at him, piecing things together. His grip on his cup, his stiff posture, the way his gaze seem desperately focused on anywhere but you. He’s embarrassed. Flustered.
You swallow the bite of bread, smirking as you tilt your head. "You’re blushing." You lean in, resting your chin in your hand. "You’re really telling me you’ve never gotten like that?"
Sylus exhales sharply, shifting in his seat. "Sweetie…" he said, warning.
"Come on," you press, voice dipping just a little, teasing. "You’re all moody, tense, acting like you haven’t had a moment to yourself in forever."
Sylus suddenly leans forward, his face mere inches from yours. You freeze. The café noise around you fades as his eyes flicker with something you hadn't seen.
"Kitten," he murmurs, low and smooth, "do you really want to know the answer to that question?"
You blink. Your heart does an unexpected little flip. …Wait. Did you just? Did you accidentally walk into his trap? Your throat bobs. Sylus’ smirk curls back into natural place. He sees it, sees the moment the teasing turns back on you. And that’s when he leans back, taking a slow sip of his coffee like nothing happened.
"Eat up."
You stay silent, but your mind is racing. He thinks he won. He thinks he got the last word. But no, oh no, you’re not letting this go. You know you’re right. You just need to make him admit it. Still, you force yourself to drop the subject for now, watching as he takes another casual sip of his coffee, like he didn’t just send your thoughts spiraling with that stupid smirk.
You spend the rest of the day together, running errands, taking the long way back through the city. Sylus, despite his usual sharp awareness, seems tired. It’s the kind of exhaustion he hates showing, but even he can’t hide it completely.
By the time you both make it back to your place, the sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the floor. You unlock the door, stepping inside as Sylus leans against the frame, rubbing again his tired eyes.
You glance over at him. "You should take a nap."
“I'm fine, I can go home.”
You gesture toward the couch. "Nap here. You can leave after." Sylus stares at you for a moment. Then, in a move that genuinely surprises you, he actually sighs in defeat. He shrugs off his coat, tossing it over the armrest before sinking onto the couch. You make space, removing some plushies and pulling out a blanket. You move away to get some water when a strong hand suddenly grabs your wrist.
Your voice hitches. "Sy-!?" pulling you down onto the couch, straight into him. Your back hits solid warmth, his body firm beneath yours, and for a brief moment, you forget how to breathe. His head drops forward, resting against your back. A slow, steady breath fans against your shoulder. Your carefully crafted schemes? Gone. Vanished. Replaced by the very real, very warm reality of Sylus beneath you, his breath slow and steady, his body solid and impossibly close.
"C-Can you sleep like this?"
Sylus doesn’t answer. Instead, he just lets out a low growl, shifting slightly as if trying to get comfortable. You swear you feel the vibration of it through your whole body. You shift slightly, trying to regain some sense of control. "Sylus?"
Again, no verbal response. Just another slow breath, another barely-there rumble of a sound. His arms tighten just a little more around your waist. You swear he’s doing this on purpose. You stay completely still, your mind racing, desperately trying to figure out your next move. But then Sylus nuzzles slightly against your back, and every single thought leaves your brain. Oh, this bastard.
You huff, twisting slightly to get a look at his face. "Hey, are you actually asleep or just pretending so you can mess with me?"
Nothing. Just the slow rise and fall of his chest, the completely at ease expression on his face, his lips slightly parted, his head still resting against your shoulder blade.
…Okay. Maybe he actually is asleep. That was quick. He must be really at the end of his strength. You bite your lip, debating your options. You could move, try to wiggle out of his grasp, but that would mean more contact, and you’re not sure if you can break free that easily. Or you could be evil. Your lips curl slightly.
You shift again, this time, intentionally. A slow, careful movement, rolling your hips just slightly in his lap, like you’re innocently adjusting your position. The reaction is instantaneous. Sylus lets out a low, sharp inhale, his grip tightening just a fraction before his entire body freezes. For a moment, there’s silence.
So, you do it again. Another small roll of your hips, your weight pressing slightly into his lap. Still nothing. You try it a few more times and then you feel it. Something hard presses against your butt, unmistakable even through layers of fabric. Your breath catches. Your entire body locks up in realization, the warmth rushing up your spine now burning at your face. Oh. Oh, shit.
You freeze completely, pulse hammering, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. The firm press of Sylus' thighs beneath you, the heat of him against your back, the fact that you started something you weren’t sure would lead. You just wanted to tease him and now he is hard under you.
“Kitten...” Your heartbeat slams against your ribs. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Stay still.”
You bite your lip, waiting, expecting him to react, to throw some cocky remark your way but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays completely still like he’s fighting something, like he’s trying to force this moment back under control. You’re not going to let him. Slowly you shift your hips again. Sylus exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching where they rest against your waist.
You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "Are you going to tell me why you’re so tense?" You push further. "I mean, you’ve been acting weird all day." You let your voice dip just slightly, playing into the innocence of it. "Wouldn’t have anything to do with what we talked about this morning, would it?"
Sylus finally speaks with a dangerous rasp against your ear.
"You should stop."
A shiver actually runs down your spine because of that tone. That is not his usual teasing. Slowly, cautiously, you turn your head to look at him, really look at him. And that’s when you see it. Sylus’ face is flushed. His jaw is tight, his lips slightly parted like he’s struggling to breathe evenly. His hair is slightly messy, strands fallen across his flushed forehead.
His eyes flick to your lips… then lower, linger on your thighs, before dragging back up to meet yours. That paralyzes you because Sylus never looks like this. Your mouth goes dry. You’ve seen Sylus in many states: bored, smug, amused, deadly. But this? This is something else entirely. You’ve imagined it, sure. On lonely nights, in quiet fantasies, in those dangerous thoughts you don’t usually entertain for long. And it’s such an erotic image that the idea of getting off his lap now feels like a death sentence. Like stepping away from something you might never get the chance to see again.
You want to burn this into your memory. Your heart is thudding, loud in your ears. You swallow, barely trusting your voice as you whisper.
“…Why?”
His eyes darken instantly. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand comes to rest on your thigh. Is light but the heat of it burns through the fabric.
“Because if you keep going…” he murmurs, but stops himself. A mocking smile appears on his lips again. “Why do you want to know so badly?” His thumb brushes the inside of your thigh, maddeningly light. “Is it curiosity?” he continues. “Is it the power? Or…” his eyes flicker to your lips again, “do you just like imagining it?”
Your heart stutters. He leans in, just enough that you feel the heat of his breath ghost over your cheek, his voice a whisper meant for no one but you.
“Be honest, kitten. Is it me you’re thinking about… when you’re restless?”
Your pulse trips.
“You ask that like you want it to be you.” You tilt your head, eyes dancing with mock thoughtfulness. “I mean, it could be. But there are so many options. It’d be unfair to name just one. Why so curious?” you murmur. “Feeling a little... worked up yourself?” You move a bit more on his lap. He is still hard, you bit your lip.
“If I said yes,” he murmurs, voice low and velvety, “would that change anything?”
Your lips twitch with a teasing smile. “Maybe,” you say, leaning in just enough to make it sting. “Or maybe I’d just watch.”
“Careful, kitten. If you watch too long… you might beg to join.”
Second part > Dreamy Date - Careful Kitten II
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#love and deepspace#lads sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#sylus love and deepspace#lads#lnds sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lads x reader#sylus blushig#cute sylus#sylus fanfic#sylus fanfiction
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Ken Sato with a supermodel!reader pls pls pls
Like they're dating in secret but accidentally reveals their situation and their fans go wild
OMG sure! Sorry this took time for me to write and I really do hope you'll like it <3
runway to your heart (ken sato x supermodel!fem!reader)
Summary: A baseball player and a supermodel, both celebrities in their respective fields. A relationship that had to be kept under wraps.
It was supposed to be a secret... until it wasn't.
Word count: 6,913
CW: Fluff, slightly suggestive (he def talks you through it), Ken Sato being the boyfriend of the year
A/N: I tried my best in writing this because I am not familiar with both fields (baseball and modelling) so here you go! This was purely out of my own imagination and is very, very self-indulgent because damn, who wouldn't want Ken Sato in their life? Rich, soft spoken, a good father, and the list goes on. Hope you enjoy this one just like how I kicked my feet every single time Ken becomes THE boyfriend.
***
Cheers erupted throughout the whole stadium and through the speakers, mixing in with the noise in the dressing room.
Hair rollers tucked in, brush with powder dancing across your face, and a neutral expression to let the makeup artist do his magic. Your eyes dutifully closed as the artist worked on your eyelids, but your ears got sharper to hear the conversations around you.
You knew who the main topic in the room would be, and that was the man that had just scored another point in the game on screen.
“Oh God,” you heard one of your model colleagues groan. “Ken Sato is too attractive. Look at that smile, that body-” she stopped talking and addressed you next. “Y/N, isn’t Ken Sato so handsome? Imagine being his girlfriend. That would be a-ma-zing.”
Your eyes were still closed and you hummed an immediate reply. “He’s okay. I’ve seen better and-” You opened your eyes when the makeup artist told you that he’s done with your eyes. “He seems like a cocky bastard.”
Your colleague, Hina, gave an exaggerated gasp as she heard your reply. “You did not just say that about Ken Sato. If he isn’t your type, I wouldn’t know who else would be able to satisfy you. He is the most sought-after man.”
You shrugged. “You never know. Maybe I like a single dad who has to raise a kid on his own, with him himself having daddy issues.”
Hina narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously, before prancing over and stared at you. “You know that whatever you described was very specific? Y/N,” she said, almost quietly, “are you seeing someone?”
“Yeah, I’m seeing you, Hina.”
She clicked her tongue. “You know, you always answer so smartly. One day, Y/N, I will discover your secret!”
You chuckled, watching as Hina got dragged by the stylist, prepping her to get her up to the runway. Your turn was still a long way to go, so you were left with your hair held up by rollers, while your eyes caught a notification on your phone. You read the notification and smiled, but quickly returned to a neutral expression.
The message read: It’s another win for us tonight, baby. Can’t wait to see you after this. Good luck for your show today, and break a leg. I know you’ll do great.
You typed in a reply, quickly snapping a picture of your prepped face and sending it over to the recipient. You weren’t even able to put down your phone when the next reply came in the next second.
You swore, this person could make you smile without even knowing, which could be a very risky thing considering the nature of both of your relationship.
Looking gorgeous as always, baby. The text message read. I really am the luckiest man to have you.
You put down your phone as your name was called over; your turn was approaching fast. You were practically floating around from one point to another, having different hands adding last-minute touch ups.
The line was moving fast before it was your turn, and you could see that every one of the models who finished their turn returned with a grim look on their faces backstage. You looked at the small entrance, and when you spotted Hina, you quickly signaled for her to come over.
“Was the runway condition that bad?” you whispered to her, whose hair was going in different directions at once.
“They said they wanted to simulate an ‘extreme condition’ on the runway, right?” She did quotation marks.
You nodded, agreeing to her. “Yeah.” You inched up the line. “The theme for today’s show is extreme weather.”
Hina exhaled slowly as she attempted to fix her hair. “All I can say is that they managed to replicate it well.” She shook her head. “Good luck, Y/N. You’ll need it.”
You turned your head back to the front, your turn coming closer as the models in front of you went out to continue the show. It was a rapid show, where you finally had your turn right after Hina disappeared behind a row of clothes.
You understood what Hina meant as soon as one foot was out from behind the scenes. The runway was boxed within a transparent glass, protecting the simulation from the audience.
From years of experience, you put on your best face before walking down the runway, doing your best in showing off the collection.
You were sure they were trying to imitate a blizzard, but the worst they could offer to models wearing heavy dresses and high heels. You saw the model in front of you fall first, the strong winds knocking her back before as she couldn’t fight it back.
One rule on the runway: you keep on walking, no matter the condition. Walk over your fellow models, maintain your expression and show off what you have. It’s an unapologetic world out here.
But that’s exactly the reason why you’re known as the rule breaker around here.
While maintaining your face, you did a show of reaching out to the fallen model, helping her up to let her continue, but you figured this time around, being a rule breaker did have its consequences.
You knew the fallen model; she considered herself as your rival, always trying to one up you in every single aspect. Every, single, aspect including boasting about having a ‘sweetheart’ while you don’t.
Your rival, Mei, quickly took this as a chance to get back at you and embarrass you in front of the audience. She accepted your hand at first, but you realised that she was pulling you down instead of pushing herself up. Not enough with it, she added an extra push, disguised under the pretext of accepting your help to get up.
You were thrown to the side, and coupled with the condition on the runway, you almost tumbled off the path. Luckily, you managed to break the fall but as you landed sideways, you could feel the bruise forming near your right ankle. You cursed silently as you saw Mei picking herself back up and smirking in a split second before strutting away, leaving you stranded.
You knew no one was going to help you up as long as the show was on, so you braced yourself while continuing. Throughout the whole show, you managed to finish without breaking rhythm. You didn’t let the pain hinder you, although all you wished to do was to be lying down, giving your body a much needed rest.
Backstage after the end of the show, your manager, a sweet woman in her 40s, quickly rushed to you. A single mother of 2, Ms. Tornado as you’d like to call her, as she always seemed like she was caught up in something chaotic. She fussed over you, but you quickly brushed her away.
”Ms. Tor,” you cooed, hiding the pain with a calm demeanour, “I’m done for the day. Let’s go back.”
On the way out, you gave a signal of reassurance towards Hina, who looked worried while her right fingers were tapping on her left knuckles. You saw Mei smirking at you, offering no words to you. You gave her no satisfaction of seeing you in pain as you smiled back.
You knew that everyone had seen you fall on the runway, but that didn’t disturb you.
Your phone pinged with a notification. As you read the message in the car, you turned to Ms. Tornado on the driver’s seat. She understood your signal.
”Usual place?” she asked.
Unable to hide your excitement, you quickly nodded.
No further questions asked as she drove towards the city border, bringing you to one special spot you had practically owned with that one person. In fact, you’re sure that he had bought ownership over the whole area. Your smile grew wider as you spotted the person waiting on a camping chair with an empty one next to it, a campfire lit up.
You sneaked up from behind, forgetting the pain in your legs as you broke into a run, almost causing the person to tumble forward as you hugged him from behind.
”Kenji!” You exclaimed, your character a total 180 degrees from whatever you put on when you were ‘the supermodel who revived the fashion scene’.
With him, you allowed yourself to be comfortable; no pretense of having to check your posture, controlling your expressions or giving off a cold demeanour. With him, you were just Y/N, the girl who preferred to be nested in your home, finishing your time up by watching your same favourite shows over and over again.
Kind of ironic how you considered yourself an introvert yet landed a job that essentially thrusted you into the spotlight.
Kenji exclaimed your name back in the same energy you gave him, hugging your arms as he planted a kiss on the back of your hand. He stood up and dear God, you love this man so much. One of your features that contributed to your modelling career was your height, but you loved the fact that even then, he towered over you.
Ken Sato, the name that had revived Japan’s baseball team, who had acquired a celebrity status after essentially becoming the saviour.
Ken Sato, the man who had kept the audience on the edge of their seats as he scored yet another point in the game.
Ken Sato, the one man who had essentially saved your life while unironically revealing his one kept secret to you.
And Ken Sato, your boyfriend.
Though both of your relationships had to be kept under the radar due to your statuses, you were content with what you’re having now.
Who cares if people think you’re too ‘cold’ and that’s why no one wants you? A small smile played on your lips as you thought, Well, Ken Sato does.
How both of you met was bizarre, to say the least. You were out eating dinner alone, under the disguise that you always wore when you’re just a ‘normal’ citizen, when the ground shook. You were sure that there was a monster attack somewhere, but you were calmly eating dinner when the restaurant’s roof got lifted up.
Ultraman’s giant figure was punching the monster, and you were left gaping at the sudden loss of roof above your head. You quickly finished up your dinner, and when you were about to walk back to your condo, you saw the one thing that you were sure you shouldn’t.
You saw Ultraman shifting back into a human-sized figure and lo and behold, it was Ken Sato. Before, you never bothered to dig deeper into his life because you figured out that you would never be affiliated with the baseball scene. You knew he was famous and that was it.
You couldn’t believe your eyes so you gasped, but your hand wasn’t quick enough to muffle the sound until he turned back to look at you. Both were stone statues for a good minute before he finally spoke up at that time, “Um… can you keep… uh the… secret?”
You sure as hell did keep the secret that even after a drunken stupor, a one night stand then turned into a secret relationship with him, it was still safe with you.
You were so comfortable with him up to the point that it was nice to be yourself with him.
”What’s wrong, baby?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, bringing you back to the present. You inhaled his scent as you buried your face in his chest. “You’re thinking of something?”
You shook your head, tightening your grip around his waist. “Nah,” you mumbled. “Just thinking about the time we first met.”
He chuckled as he ruffled your hair. “I’m sure you did great in your show just now, hmm?”
You stayed quiet, debating or not whether you’d like to tell him what actually happened. He most likely hadn’t seen the show yet, but sooner or later he’d find out. It’s just a matter of now or later.
You were in your comfortable clothes; baggy t-shirt with cargo pants and hair tucked underneath a beanie. In public, people would usually leave you alone when you’re in this attire. Today though, the long pants were also an attempt for you to cover up the growing bruise.
You decided to keep quiet about the bruise, figuring later that he would find out and by then, you hoped it wouldn’t look as bad as it was now. You detached yourself from his hug, careful to not make it so obvious that you were limping. You took a seat, beckoning for him to come over.
Ken traced you with his eyes, lips locked before he smiled. He passed by his seat but didn’t settle down. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the sand, facing you. He leaned forward, crossing his arms with each other on your legs and rested his chin on top. He looked up at you, that same boyish smile he had whenever he was with you.
You looked at him, uttering, “Looks like my boyfriend won yet another game today.” You patted his cheeks, and he quickly grabbed your hands to hold them.
”It was the team, really,” he said humbly, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I was just one of the players.”
”Whatever you say, Mr.-eligible-bachelor-with-thousands-of-adoring-fans-waiting-to-be-picked.” You rolled your eyes.
He chuckled. “Little do they know,” he drew circles on your palm, “that I’m no longer available.”
He stared at you as you looked into the distance, the crashing of the waves filling in the silence between both of you. He stood up, cocking his head towards the shoreline. “Wanna go for a walk?”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, the trouble you had with your feet coming once again. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he knelt in front of you with his back towards you.
He gently pulled you on his back, your legs dangling on either side of his body as he piggybacked you. “Okay, let’s go for a walk,” he said, firmly placing his hands under your thighs.
You said nothing, circling your arms around his shoulders, your face buried at the nape of his neck. You loved the fact that you’re always calm around him, something that you’d always need after spending hours in a fast-paced environment for work every day.
As you walked along the shoreline, both of you pointed out stars shaped like objects, and he stopped at one point when you suddenly said, “I love you so much, do you know that?”
He laughed. “What’s with the sudden confession? I love you too, baby.” He gave your thigh a light slap. “And I’m glad to call you mine.”
”It’s time to go back, isn’t it?” You asked, hoping the answer would be no but knew the world would have to end for it to be.
He threw back his head to get a look of your face before uttering, “Sorry. I have a game tomorrow.”
You pouted slightly but knew that the circumstances wouldn’t change. Whether you’d like it or not, even though you didn’t mind your relationship was playing this way, both of you had your individual lives that didn’t intersect with each other.
Dates would always be a secret with limited areas you could go to, and you had to make sure you’re not seen within the vicinity of each other. If both of you needed to go to each other’s house, it felt more like you’re on an undercover mission.
Today, though, with you still on his back, he held onto you firmly and made his way back to his bike parked nearby some bushes.
”Kenji-“ you started, figuring that maybe he forgot that both of you were supposed to follow separate ways.
”Tell Ms. Tornado you’re staying at my house tonight,” he uttered, placing you on his bike’s seat, taking a helmet and helping you to put it on. “You’re sleeping at my house today.” He checked his watch. “I know that you don’t have any work scheduled for the next few days, right?”
You shook your head slowly, secretly happy that he actually kept track of your schedule. Your eyes searched for his from behind the visor, and you blinked slowly as he tapped your helmet.
“Stay at my house until you’re fully healed. Mina can take care of you.” He’s referring to the supercomputer his parents had programmed. He wore his helmet and leaned forward. If not for both of your helmets in place, he’d be resting his forehead against yours. “Of course, you’re welcome to continue staying until…” he winked, “whenever.”
He positioned himself in front of you, powering up his bike. You leaned forward, circling your arms around his waist.
Before your voice got swallowed by the roar of his bike, you said, “You knew I was hurt.”
Underneath his helmet he smiled. “I always do, baby. Always.”
***
One of the reasons you didn’t want to stay at his house for too long was because you knew you’d be too comfortable. It seemed that after the fiasco you ran into with Mei, Ms. Tornado told you that she was suspended from any work and your agency gave you time off.
So here you were, warm mug of coffee in hand, cross-legged on Ken’s sofa while wearing one of his hoodies. So far from your side, your manager was the only person who��d known about your secret relationship with the baseball player. You’re grateful that your agency was not the type to pry into your private life, so long it didn’t affect your work.
You made yourself right at home at Ken’s house. You could say that you became best friends with Mina, with her occasionally sharing stories about how Ken was when growing up and you helping her around the house.
You sunk in the plush sofa, watching a live show of another one of Ken’s games. You saw him turn to the camera, winked and did a secret sign that was directed at you. Seeing how he’s so expressive, you wondered whether Ken actually wanted your relationship to be public.
Even then, you wondered whether anyone actually noticed that Ken started doing the same pose to the camera whenever he scored a point, after he got into the relationship with you. Maybe the secrecy of your relationship was just held back by a single click to post on the Net.
As far as you knew, only five were aware of this relationship; both of you, your manager, Mina and Kenji’s father.
Rather than your own reputation, you’re worried more for Ken’s image. He just moved here from America, carrying the expectations of everyone who had set their eyes upon him. He rose to fame real quick, while you’d already established your foundation right in your hometown as you were raised through a family generation of models.
Night was approaching, and you did catch a message from Ken updating you that he would be joining the group dinner to celebrate their win first. He promised to come back as soon as the dinner was finished. While waiting for him, you caught Mina’s red bar from the corner of your eyes and you smiled at her.
“Y/N, Ken had actually asked me to ask you one important question.”
“Sure, what is it, Mina?”
Immediately, Mina displayed a projection showing a website of a furniture store. She changed the page to the ‘bed frames’ category.
“I was told that the bed broke last night. Ken told me this morning to ask you which ones would you prefer,” Mina said without any hint of emotion. “He didn’t want to disturb you while you’re sleeping this morning.” After remembering another point she added, “He said make sure to pick the strong ones.”
You, on the other hand, were already burying your face in your hand as your cheeks reddened. “Oh my God,” you groaned. He could go one day, one day, without making you blush. It didn’t help that Mina was delivering the message so robotically. Well, she was one, but you get the point. “Mina, can we talk about this… some other time? Don’t worry,” you pressed your lips into a thin line as you remembered how exactly the bed broke last night. “I’ll tell Ken that you delivered the message well.”
Mina backed up, doing her gesture akin to a nod. “Sure, Y/N.”
You turned your head towards the front door when you heard the door opening, and you stalked your way to your boyfriend, who was holding his jacket in his left hand. Your face fell when you saw that he was wincing, the skin near his eye bruised and his right hand gently pressing over the injury.
“What happened to you?” You fussed over him, requesting Mina to take a bucket of ice and a cloth. “Who did this?”
He winced once again, but grinned soon after. He threw his jacket on the sofa and grabbed your waist, kissing you, hard. It was like he was releasing whatever pent up frustrations he had the whole day, drunk in your kiss that you felt out of breath as soon as he let go.
You saw Mina hovering nearby, clearly not wanting to disturb both of you. You cleared your throat and Ken ran a hand through his hair.
Mina set down the requested bowl of ice and cloth, but Ken shook his head.
Ken uttered, “Mina, can you please bring a bucket of ice to the bathroom? I’d like to soak myself in the tub.”
“Sure, Ken.”
“Ken, you need to tell me what happened to you. You’re injured, for God’s sake!” Your eyebrows knitted in worry, but your boyfriend was displaying the opposite as he was happily dragging you along to the bathroom.
He only gave you a peck on your forehead as Mina helped to prepare the bath.
You wouldn’t let your eyes off his injuries, assessing how badly he was hurt. As Mina excused herself to leave both of you in the bathroom alone, he stripped and stepped into the tub. The water sloshed around as he settled down, and you gritted your teeth as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.
He lifted up his eyebrows, clearly teasing you. “Care to join me?”
You sighed, clearly dissatisfied at how he’s acting while not disclosing about what had happened to him until he returned with a black eye. You crossed your arms, not wanting to submit to his pleading eyes, not until he told you what happened.
Clearly, you were not strong against this man because now both of you were stark naked in the cold water, Ken hugging you from behind as he rested his chin on your shoulder.
“Now tell me what happened.”
Ken obliged. “So we went for a celebratory dinner at this one grilled meat restaurant.” He buried his face at the nape of your neck. “There was this one group of guys who clearly were too drunk. One of them,” you felt his arms tightening around your waist. “Was making inappropriate comments about your body. My girlfriend. Of course I got pissed and punched him. It was an easy fight, but I was unlucky to get this one hit. I won, of course.”
The knot in your stomach got undone, that heavy feeling finally lifting off as you laughed, relieved. You leaned backwards, muttering, “Oh, Kenji. My idiot Kenji. I really thought you had an encounter with a hater, someone that wasn’t afraid to punch you in public just because they hate you. I was so worried. But didn’t your teammates suspect anything? For you to react that way when they’re talking about me.”
“Even if they do find out, it doesn’t matter. Anyone who speaks like that about you deserves to be punched, baby.” The water sloshed around as he turned you around so that both of you were facing each other. He rubbed a thumb over your lips, his mouth lifting at the corners. “And guess what?”
You narrowed your eyes. “What?”
“I got a personal invitation from one of the biggest sports brands here. They’re inviting me for an official photo shoot for their new attire collection.”
“That’s amazing, Kenji!” you exclaimed, and he shook his head, a smile plastered on his face.
“And you know what’s the best part? It’ll be a duo photo shoot, a collab with one of Japan’s famous models.”
“A man?” you asked, still clueless.
“A woman.” He grinned, “With my woman.”
“Oh!” You slapped a hand to your forehead, not believing that you hadn’t caught on when your manager had told you that you would be having an upcoming photo shoot with one of the most famous athletes. No wonder Ms. Tornado looked all smiley when she was delivering the news.
“They were surprised when I agreed to it without much questions,” he said. “Said yes as soon as I heard your name.”
***
Your leg was all healed, Ken’s bruise subsided, and it was finally the day of the photo shoot. Obviously, both of you had to come from a different place and at a different time to avoid any suspicion, so the night before you had returned to your house, despite Ken showing you his puppy eyes to make you stay.
You left without looking back, having to reassure him that both of you would see each other tomorrow.
The day came. In the makeup room, both of you had your lips locked, only a slight nod of greeting when he first came in before you returned your attention back to the mirror in front.
God knew how much Ken Sato was holding back from pulling you into a hug as soon as he saw you in the room.
You saw him from the corner of your eyes, his eyes closed as he let the brushes and artist do their work. You smiled, your mind thinking about how Hina would most likely go crazy once she heard that you had landed a job with this famous baseball player. You figured that you’d let her find out by herself once the official photo shoot had come out.
In the studio, both of you exchanged a formal greeting before the photo shoot started, and you could see that Ken was trying to hide from forming a smile on his face. As the camera started clicking and poses were thrown, you could hear the photographer yelling out encouragement, including ‘Don’t be shy with each other’ and ‘Stand closer’.
You heard Ken slightly snicker, and he whispered to you subtly, his lips slightly brushing your earlobe. You shivered, and he was smart enough to not let anyone see what he was doing. “If only they know how close we are.”
“Last set!” The photographer announced. “This time around, I’d like to see some contact with each other. No looking like you’re two magnets repelling each other, but attracting each other instead.”
“Oh I can do that,” Ken said smugly as he followed the photographer’s instructions.
Funnily enough, he was the one looking like he had more experience in modelling as he followed the photographer’s instructions to a T, while you felt more like a deflated balloon guided by your boyfriend.
You promised you were a professional model, but with him, well, you faltered and posed like you’re a novice instead. Still, you managed to pull through the photo shoot as the photographer gave a thumbs up, fully satisfied with the session today.
You took some time to relax after the photo shoot alone in the dressing room. As you were leaning against the chair, your head turned to look at the door that just opened.
Ken’s head popped up through the space and he waved his hand. “Hey,” he whispered. He looked over his shoulder before slipping into the room, locking the door behind him.
“Ken Sato,” you said, more of a warning. “What if someone sees you coming in?”
“It’s fine,” he walked over to you, and lifted you up in a hug.
Naturally, your legs coiled around him as he firmly placed his arms around you.
“I wanted to say goodbye in person before I leave for my game this evening. You’ll watch the game live, right?”
“Of course, I’ll be there.”
You practically jumped away from him as a knock came on the door and panicked, you opened the closet door before shoving him inside. You shut the closet tight, catching his eyes trailing your movement through the bars before putting a finger over your lips to signal silence. Steadying your breath, you opened the door to find the photographer standing outside.
“Oh hey, uh…” you trailed off as you realised that you didn’t know the camera man’s name.
“I’m Yuichiro,” he extended his hand to offer a handshake, but you politely declined with a nod of your head. “It’s uh,” he nervously chuckled. “I thought that you looked great and I found out that we’re the same age. I was wondering if you would like to, you know, go have coffee sometime. As in, uh, I’d like to take you out sometime.”
“Oh, really?” You swore you could feel Kenji’s stare digging through the man’s skull as you stole a glance towards the closet behind you. “That’s too bad because I uh,” You silently prayed that Ken wouldn’t suddenly spring out of the closet. “I am too busy. I don’t even have time to drink coffee myself.” You gave a professional smile, hoping that the man would take the hint and walk away.
“Not even coffee?”
“Not even coffee.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t drink coffee, actually.”
“Oh.” He looked surprised. “But I thought I saw you drinking coffee this morning at the set.”
You shook your head, pretending to be disappointed. “I’m afraid you are hallucinating, my friend. I don’t drink coffee. Anyway,” you clapped your hand, “I need to get ready to go to my next destination for another photo shoot, so if you could please leave?”
He looked disappointed as he nodded. “I mean, yeah. Please go on your way. Sorry to take your time.”
You smiled politely but as soon as you closed the door and locked it, you jumped over to the closet, the door creaking as you pried it open. You saw Ken sitting on the floor, elbows resting on his knees as his bangs curtained his eyes. You sat down in front of him, moving his bangs out of his vision.
“Kenji…?” you started, trying to gauge his emotions.
He stayed quiet for a few moments, and you poked his stomach when it seemed like he’s not budging.
“Are you okay?”
He breathed in and out, before looking up. His eyes caught yours, but still you couldn’t read his expressions. “I experienced this new emotion,” he finally said.
You inched forward.
“You’re doing great, baby.” The compliment came out of nowhere that you were slightly taken aback.
“Kenji,” the grin on your face grew wider, “were you jealous?”
He never broke off his stare to you, and you found it so attractive. “I was.” His eyes dropped to your lips. “I was stopping myself from jumping out of the closet and announcing that you’re mine.”
“I am,” you uttered, ruffling his hair. “You better get going. You have a game to win.”
“I sure do.” He stood up and you mirrored his actions. Before he turned to leave, he kissed you on the lips and whispered again as he peppered kisses on your neck. “With this jealousy, let’s just hope the bed won’t break again tonight.”
***
Of course you lied to the photographer to politely decline his advances. Your schedule was free this evening and you had promised Ken you would see his game live. You dressed as inconspicuously as possible, donning on the merchandise jersey they sold to the public.
Ken had offered you to wear his jersey, but that would practically mean announcing your relationship to the public. Tucking your hair under the cap, putting on fake glasses and looking at yourself in the mirror, you figured how Clark Kent had managed to turn people’s suspicions away from him being the superhero.
Now, you’re just one person among the thousands of show-goers filling up the stadium. You took up your seat, eager to witness the game Ken would be joining. Announcement blared throughout the stadium, signalling that the game was about to start. You heard your boyfriend’s name announced as he stepped onto the field.
Giants’ supporters cheered for him, and you joined in on the hype as you saw him giving his million-dollar smile to the crowd. You waited for the game to start, and truth be told, no matter how many times Ken had explained the rules of the game, anything barely stuck to your brain. Still, you tried your best to support him even though that meant cheering for him blindly whenever the others did.
The crowd went wild again as the Giants scored yet another point.
You got distracted by a notification coming to your phone. You wanted to ignore it, but as you saw Hina’s name as the sender, you had to sit down and open the message. She rarely texts you out of work, so there must have been something out of the ordinary. You felt your heart drop as you read the message, and a link towards a news website was sent together.
Your eyes caught her message first. Oh my God?! You’ve been dating Ken Sato?
You read the headline next. BREAKING NEWS: BASEBALL PLAYER KEN SATO AND SUPERMODEL Y/N IN A RELATIONSHIP?
You stood up together with the rest of the cheering crowd, but you had to wrestle your way through to make your way out of the stadium. You didn’t know what to do, Kenji was still in game and your feet almost gave way as your shaky hands opened the link to read the news.
Everything was summed up in one news article, and you felt your world getting smaller as you saw the pictures of the night Ken had piggybacked you after you hurt your leg, all obviously looking like they were taken in secret. You read through the whole article, your ears deafened by the sound of roaring cheers inside the stadium.
You were standing outside the stadium, and you looked back at the giant screen you could see displaying yet another shot of Ken doing his signature pose to the camera. You turned back to the news article in your hands, and read through the whole thing over and over again. Several lines caught your eyes, and you finally caught on who was behind this.
Photographer Yuichiro handed over the pictures of the two lovebirds having a secret date at the private beach, which was purportedly owned by Ken Sato. From the pictures taken, I’m sure everyone would come to one very obvious conclusion. The question is; do you find the relationship surprising, or are they a perfect match for each other?
You wondered if it was all planned by him; the photo shoot together with Ken. Was he testing to see whether you’d accept a date with him to assume whether you’d have a boyfriend or not?
You wanted to run away. But from what, exactly? Running away wouldn’t solve this problem.
Well, if it turned into a problem.
Cheers erupted again as you returned to the stadium, just in time to see the final score and then celebrating the Giants’ victory. Chanting swimmed through the crowd, and you gripped your phone tightly as you searched for Ken among the players.
You finally spotted him at the bench, and your mind was as equally noisy as the audience around you.
He looked in your direction, trying to search for you but before he could catch your eyes, his shoulder was tapped by a fellow teammate, showing him an article displayed on the screen.
Everything happened fast, you didn’t know that it was possible as your worst fear came to life in front of everyone. The giant screen in the stadium displayed the news article and the pictures of the both of you displayed in a slideshow. You could hear shouts of confusion and gasps among the crowd as all of them were looking at the same thing.
The noise of the crowd died down as Ken made his way to the edge of the field, where an interviewer was waiting to start the session. The topic of the interview was supposed to be about the win at first, but it had clearly turned into a different direction.
The camera focused on Ken, and you knew he was directly looking at you. He looked calm, the practised smile he had on whenever he appeared on screen.
“Ken Sato,” the interviewer started, as he looked into the camera, “The name that is no longer a stranger to every household. His return to Japan brought waves and hope to the Giants. But today,” she turned to him, “it seemed like you’re the focus on the interview for an entirely different topic. Who knew that this eligible bachelor was actually already taken? I have the man here with me, so, what would you like to say?”
The crowd was obediently silent as they waited for his answer. You felt your heart beating loud in your chest as you, too, anticipated what he would say.
For a split second your mind wondered whether he would vehemently deny the news, but you brushed that thought away. You trusted him.
“I do have a question for everyone here, first, though.” Ken swept his vision across the crowd. “Is it a sin for a celebrity, or at least someone who is quite well known by the public, I mean,” he shrugged, “I don’t wanna sound like I’m boasting or that I’m too full of myself thinking that I’m famous.”
There was a ripple of laughter through the whole crowd.
“Is it wrong for me to be in a relationship?”
Silence. A dread coming over you as you quietly anticipated that there might be protests coming from the crowd. No one spoke up until you heard a female shouting from the crowd, “No, it’s not a sin! Well, we would be slightly sad that our favourite bachelor is no longer available, but you’re still human!”
Your eyes travelled to the female shouting, and realised why the voice was so familiar. It was Hina. She saw you looking at her and she grinned, giving a thumbs-up.
“Thank you, random woman from the crowd,” Ken uttered. He turned back to the camera. “I think that answered the question. I’m still human,” he shrugged, his eyebrows lifting up as he announced, “and I fell in love with Y/N. We are happily in a relationship. I’m proud to say that she’s mine.” His eyes finally fall towards your direction. You could only discern his expressions and gestures from the big screen because he was too far from you. “I love you, Y/N.”
There was a momentary moment of silence that you could hear a pin dropping, and you feared that maybe, the public wouldn’t take it so nicely.
But soon, the whole stadium shook with cheers from the crowd. This time around, they were chanting both Ken's and your names.
Okay, so this was not the reaction that you had expected.
You saw Ken gesturing to you, asking to meet you privately after the game. You nodded, pointing to your phone to say that you would communicate through text.
He sent you a message for the meetup point, and you practically ran towards where he had wanted to meet you.
You saw him at the end of the empty hallway, the noise in the stadium a distant sound now that it was only the two of you. You ran into his arms and he caught you, laughing. You let your breath steady first before saying anything.
“Ken Sato… you…” you started. “You have this way of wording things. I never expected the whole crowd to just agree with you.”
“Hey, look at me.” He tilted your chin, and he gazed upon you. “Like I said, we’re still humans.” He kissed your lips. “And I fell in love with you.”
“Hmm…” You hummed, still feeling slightly worried.
Ken opened the article, scrolled down to the comments and showed them to you. “See, they’re all positive comments.” He cleared his throat, doing his best imitation while reading the comments. “Oh my God, they’re a perfect match for each other! I knew they were dating, it would be weird if they didn't date. Honestly, I don’t know how it happened, but I’m happy for them. Y/N, you’d be better off with me-” He stopped reading when he read one comment that irked him. “You know what, I’m going to report that last comment.”
You burst into laughter seeing how he was tapping furiously at the screen, blowing out an air of satisfaction as he finally reported the comment.
“There, problem solved,” he announced.
“You know that probably some time in the future that there will probably be people who won’t be satisfied.” You sniffed.
“Well that’s too bad.” He bumped his forehead against yours. “Because you’re already mine.”
#ken sato#kenji sato#ultraman#ultraman rising#ken sato x reader#kenji sato x reader#ken sato x you#kenji sato x you#x reader#ken sato x y/n#kenji sato x y/n#ultraman: rising#wr: mine
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⋆ ˚。⋆౨ৎ˚ Diet Pepsi
♥ masterlist | request rules
♥ pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader
♥ synopsis: early in the f1 season fans found their love for you, carlos sainz new girlfriend who loves to write him poems. however the fans realized the secret letters you wrote to him were nothing like they thought when you unexpectedly dropped a spicy new song with lyrics taken from the poems.
♥ smau - fc: addison rae - as always none of the pictures are mine
♥ warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes, and one hate comment !!!
♥ a/n: ME? posting TWICE in one week?! we're so back. thank you for suggesting this fic idea @1800-love-me <3
-March 19, 2024-
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liked by carlossainz55, lilymunihe, landonorris, and 230,583 more
yourusername p1 in melbourne. congrats amor <3
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carlossainz55 mi amuleto de buena suerte 😘 - (my good luck charm)
♡ by yourusername
lilymhe it was great to meet you! alex and I had an amazing time :)
yourusername same here! let me know the next time you wanna meet up 🫶
oscarpiastri @/alex_albon double date without me and @/lilyzneimer...
oscarpiastri its literally my home race
alex_albon you don't even know carlos that well 😭
oscarpiastri @/alex_albon do you??
alex_albon @/oscarpiastri ...
yourusername what did I get myself into
user8 she is STUNNING
user4 oh my gosh shes already friends with lily m? I love her already
user7 if the girls love her so do we
landonorris he finally pulled
carlossainz55 "finally"?
landonorris @/carlossainz55 yeah
carlossainz55 @/landonorris says lando norizz
landonorris 😧
user3 I know Carlos did NOT JUST CALL HIM LANDO NORIZZ 😭
user5 HOW DOES CARLOS EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT
-Post Race Interview Highlights-
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liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and 463,949
carlossainz55 caught her in the act
tagged; @/yourusername
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yourusername i’m literally just a girl
lilymhe have some respect for your girlfriend !!
yourusername thanks lily
yourusername fine sue me for loving you too much ☹️
landonorris you hold onto her @/carlossainz55
yourusername AWW LANDO 🥹
user1 LANDOO :(
user8 he's the sweetest thing
user3 imagine your girlfriend writing letters to you
user7 she’s a POET
user6 trapped inside the body of a finance guy
♡ by yourusername
user10 oh I love her
user4 the lipstick stains-
user12 shes such a romantic
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✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, madelineargy, and more
🔒 yn.priv my boy’s a winner, he loves the game, my lips reflect off his cross gold chain
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francisca.cgomes luv you
alexandracooper can’t wait to see you ladies 😘
yourusername <3
yourbestfriend are you working on something…
jyourusername perhaps 🙈
landonorris 🤨
carlossainz55 nos vemos pronto x (i’ll see you soon)
♡ by yourusername
haileybieber you are gorgeous
yourusername no you
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APRIL 9TH
Y/n and Kika: Wag Life, Industry Parties, & Age-gaps | Call Her Daddy
Join Alex in the studio for an interview with Y/n L/n and Francisca C. Gomes. The two open up about being reduced to their partner's fame, finding independency, and working on their own public brands. They discuss chaotic industry parties, not just within modeling, but the secretive business of Formula One and entering their healthiest relationships. Enjoy!
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"Y/n and Kika welcome to Call Her Daddy, I'm so happy we're doing this, it's honestly been way too long since we've seen each other," Alex says, beginning the episode. "A lot of people don't know but I've known you for a while now, you were friends with Mads [Argy] first."
"Yeah the two of us met through her but I don't think you've met Kika yet, right?" you ask, looking over towards Francisca.
"No we haven't, so it's really great to meet you," she smiles. "Your modeling careers have been going amazing I saw Kika you worked with ALO and Rhode recently, and Y/n we've been trying to get you on the podcast for like a year now but the thing that solidified this episode in my mind was when I saw Carlos post about your little letters to him."
"Oh my god," you muttered, hiding your face as the other two girls laughed.
"She carries this pink notepad around with her in the paddock," Kika gestures with her fingers.
"We’ve been itching to read your writing so if you ever get around to releasing something definitely hit me up," Alex spoke into the mic.
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liked by carlossainz55, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 302,583 more
yourusername who's ready for miami?
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haileybieber me !
yourusername can’t wait to see you 🫶
user1 the collab we indeed knew we needed
user6 yn model career when
user4 @/user6 right?! she’s so stunning
user23 don’t you think it’s weird that she’d get a career bc her boyfriend is famous?
alexandracooper @/user23 looks like someone missed an episode of CHD :/
user8 clock their ass alex
carlossainz55 🕯️ ferrari front row 🕯️
landonorris @/carlossainz55 hey 😕
yourusername 🕯️ logan sargeant podium 🕯️ haas 1-2 🕯️
carlossainz55 @/yourusername …
user13 🗣️🇺🇸🦅
user7 i can’t wait to see yn in the paddock again
user10 same! i wonder how many of the girls are gonna be there
liked by landonorris, yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,304,843 more
carlossainz55 amazing drive out there today. proud of you @/landonorris.
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landonorris gracias cabron
♡ by carlossainz55
yourusername *sniffles*
user2 stoppp 🥹
user3 carlando!
user7 they should be a throuple
yourusername i’m considering it
carlossainz55 @/yourusername i saw that
yourusername congrats lando 🧡
landonorris thanks yn ❤️
user1 i’m gonna psychoanalyze the hearts btw
user8 i’m so normal about this 🙂↕️
user10 @/user1 they’re mclaren and ferrari colors 🥹
liked by haileybieber, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55, and more
🔒 yn.priv modeling for @/rhode out here in miami
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haileybieber gorgeous as always. thanks for meeting with us 🤍
yn.priv any time! thank you so much for the opportunity
haileybieber 💋
alexandrasaintmleux literally stunning
yn.priv no you !! have we seen the pictures they took of you for the case?! phenomenal
carlossainz55 ven a casa rápido 😘 (come home quick)
yn.priv sí, señor 🙈
landonorris i wish i could unread this
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ynfan1 ok but seriously, what’s up with yn and carlos? for some reason everyone's saying they broke up but I can't find any proof at all?
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user4 something something "she's not at every race". she’s got her own life bro huh 😭
user5 didn’t alex cooper say yn was working on a project
user4 @/user5 she did! yn is probably working on that. they both have tight schedules so it’s not like they’ll be around each other 24/7
user7 I miss the yncarlos content so bad
ynfan1 don’t we all
user10 i really hope they didn’t break up
user5 im starting to think they did…
user11 this is such a non issue 😭 it’s been like a few weeks since we heard from them
user6 EXACTLY yall are making up stuff at this point
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liked by carlossainz55, tatemcrae, madelineargy, and 1,843,950 more
yourusername im so grateful to announce you can now stream my new song diet pepsi on all platforms. the lyrics were taken from the poems i wrote to my lovely boyfriend @/carlossainz55 over the (almost) year we’ve been together. 🤍
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user1 when yn said she wrote poems to carlos this is NOT what i was expecting 😳
user3 SITTIN ON HIS LAP SIPPIN DIET PEPSI
user7 “my boy’s a winner” YES HE IS
user6 releasing this right before monaco? power move.
user2 she’s manifesting for carlos
user1 ferrari 1-2 cmon
tatemcrae i’m obsessed with this song actually
yourusername thank you tate 🫶
user12 CARLOS IS IN THE MV. I REPEAT. CARLOS IS IN THE MV
lilymhe @/alex_albon so this is what you were humming to today 🤔
alex_albon its catchy 🤷♂️
landonorris @/yourusername did alex get to hear this song before me
yourusername @/landonorris whaaattt noo that’s crazy
carlossainz55 @/yourusername mi amor he’s sensitive about these things
user8 never beating the throuple allegations
liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, alexandrasaintmleux, and 592,506 more
yourusername congratulations on your win @/charles_leclerc you really are the prince of Monaco. I'm not in person to support my team but I'm there in spirit! I love you @/carlossainz55 congrats on p3 <3
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charles_leclerc merci yn
♡ by yourusername
carlossainz55 thank you amor 🫶 I'm so proud of you as well
yourusername ❤️
user1 are we gonna ignore diet pepsi...
user2 EXACTLY what I was thinking about
alexandrasaintmleux we missed you in the paddock
yourusername missed you too !!
user8 the queen herself
lilymhe obsessed with the new song
yourusername thank you lily 🥹
user10 SOSO impressed with the song. shes an artist now !
user7 right?! the vibes are absolutely immaculate
user9 the imagery >>>
user6 carlos is a lucky man omg
liked by carlossainz55, tatemcrae, landonorris, and 1,030,180 more
yourusername I write my name with lipstick on your chest, I leave a mark so you know I'm the best 💋
comments are restricted
#𝒍𝒊𝒗'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 ౨ৎ#carlos sainz smau#carlos sainz social media au#carlos sainz jr x reader#carlos sainz jr x you#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz jr fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 social media au
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the designer vs. the model | charles leclerc x fem! reader
summary; fans begged and begged fashion icon and designer y/n to help charles out, luckily for him, she gave him the girlfriend effect
fc; jennie kim
warnings; ?
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs
note; requested !
masterlist !

liked by yourbestfriend, and others
yourusername: cannes film festival; the design, before & after 🎀
username: AN ICON
username: i knew she’d eat this gala up😩
yourbestfriend: my beautiful talented best friendddd😻
yourusername: hehe love u xx
username: her talent needs to be studied
username: pls style charles_leclerc he needs help
username: studying fashion to be just like y/n!
username: y/n we need your talent on the f1 grid specifically in the ferrari garage specifically charles_leclerc
username: heyyy girl, u gonna need to share your styling talents w a certain monegasque 😁
username: oh i just know she’d give charles the girlfriend effect
username: STYLE CHARLES_LECLERC
yourusername: whaaaa ö

liked by pierregasly, yourusername, and others !
charles_leclerc: new profession: photographer
username: omg y/n liked!
username: we bullied him into only wearing sweatshirts and jeans omg 😭😭
username: thats what he gets for his horrendous style…
pierregasly: imagine you as a photographer 😂
charles_leclerc: hey! i’m not too bad!
username: yourusername pls help this poor man , he has very poor fashion taste🙏
username: ok this fit isn’t too bad, plain! but not that bad!
username: yourusername mother pls help father out
yourusername: i think the people want me to style you , haha !
charles_leclerc: my style can’t be that bad, no?
yourusername: it could use some improvement…
charles_leclerc: well, i’m open for suggestions!
yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; don’t worry ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna make sure he has a good wardrobe 😇!] [caption 2; designing n making some new pieces for his closet 😵💫]
charles_leclerc uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; the forced smile after i showed her some outfit ideas…] [caption 2; her real smile after i got her a latte for being patient w my poor fashion skills😁

liked by yourusername, carlossainz5, and others !
charles_leclerc: photo dump , but do you notice any new fashion improvements ? 😁
yourusername: much better than those horrendous blue and white pants …
charles_leclerc: they weren’t that bad
yourusername: cha…… they were horrid
username: wait…. he fr looks good
yourusername: he’s got a pretty face but thats just enhanced by the better fashion sense!😁
charles_leclerc: u think i’m pretty?😊
yourusername: ur my prettiest model
username: OH HELLO
username: hes 100% dating y/n bc thats an improvement from that horrid blue outfit 😭
username: muy buenos días y que vivan los hombres 😍 [very good morning and long live men]
username: his style is improving, everyone cheered!
username: the sigh of relief i just let out
carlossainz55: mate, you have everyone relieved from your new fashion improvements 🤣
charles_leclerc: and i can see why after i looked at my old outfits…

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, and others !
yourusername: the designer vs. the model 🌸
tagged; charles_leclerc
charles_leclerc: where would my closet be w/o you, chérie…
yourusername: unfortunately, seen in the public
charles_leclerc: my favorite and the most prettiest designer ❤️
yourusername: you’re my favorite and the most prettiest model 💞
username: oh my goodness gracious me
username: STOPP THEYRE SO CUTE😖😖
username: she got him a good pair of glasses thank u queen y/n
username: them at the basketball game together 🥹🥹🥹🥹
username: we’re abt to get the best charles outfits thank u y/n😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏
yourbestfriend: watch your back sharl she was mine first
charles_leclerc: womp womp she’s mine now
yourusername: ladies, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around ( btw yourbestfriend come over asap i need to do another fitting on u )
#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 scenario#formula one scenarios#f1 imagine#formula one imagines#formula one imagine#f1 scenarios#formula one social media au#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc scenarios#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine
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“𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕔𝕠’𝕤 𝔹𝕖𝕤𝕥-𝕂𝕖𝕡𝕥 𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥”
Charles Leclerc x Model!reader
summary: How a weekend in the paddock turned into the perfect reveal.
yourusername



Liked by adrianalima, victoriassecret and 1,043,354 others
yourusername First time in the paddock – feeling the thrill of the track!
Charles_leclerc Welcome to the madness!
adrianalima: You’re killing it, love!
barbarapalvin: Who let this goddess near those boys?
carlamakeupartist: It’s giving Monaco muse and I’m here for it.
landonorris: Spotted: the new paddock princess.
maxverstappen1: Living your best life, huh?
f1updates: Worlds collide and we’re obsessed!
Charles_leclerc

Liked by carlossainz55, Pierregasly and 875,484 other
Charles_leclerc Monaco magic and a little extra sparkle today
pierregasly: Someone’s feeling poetic.
danielricciardo: Charles being smooth as always.
barbarapalvin: We see the sparkle!
adrianalima: Don’t play coy, Charles.
f1memesdaily: The soft launch we’ve all been waiting for.
landonorris: Monaco’s finest indeed.
ferrari: Always bringing the style, Charles.
yourusername



Liked by barbarapalvin, Charles_leclerc and 937,364 others
yourusername Caffeine and chaos, Monaco style. ☕️😉
charles_leclerc: You’re trouble and I love it.
adrianalima: I’m obsessed with this vibe.
barbarapalvin: Plot twist: she’s the real Monaco GP star!
carlamakeupartist: Aesthetic game: 1000/10.
danielricciardo: Coffee? Or are we talking about Charles’s new favorite addiction?
landonorris: That’s not just caffeine, it’s something else… 😉
Charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, ocarpia81 and 1,937,384 other
Charles_leclerc Nothing better than some fresh air… and good company 🌊
yourusername: Sun, sea, and someone special. ❤️
danielricciardo: Charles looking like he’s in a romance movie.
pierregasly: The calm before the (race) storm.
adrianalima: Can’t get enough of these two.
barbarapalvin: A whole mood.
landonorris: Charles living that summer romance dream.
maxverstappen1: Where’s the invite, mate? 😂
f1updates: Our Monaco prince in his natural habitat.
yourusername

Liked by Charles_leclerc, adrianalima and 2,348,494 others
yourusername Turns out Monaco has more than just fast cars❤️
charles_leclerc: Fast cars and even faster heartbeats❤️
adrianalima: THE moment. Love you two!
barbarapalvin: The Monaco power couple! This is everything.
carlamakeupartist: I’m not crying, you’re crying.
danielricciardo: That’s the real Monaco trophy 🏆
pierregasly: Plot twist: it was love all along!
landonorris: Now this is a reveal! 🥰
maxverstappen1: Finally, no more soft launches—just the launch!
f1memesdaily: The internet’s collectively losing it, in the best way.
ferrari: The dream team on and off the track.
Requests are open! DM Me💕
#f1#f1 x y/n#formula 1#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#f1 fic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#social media au#f1 smau#smau#max verstappen#lando norris#daniel ricciardo#fashion model#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#model reader#romance#carlos sainz#pierre gasly#oscar piastri#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula one#charles leclerc smau
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Omg I loved your obey me headcanons, do you think you could do some for the brothers what you think they’d do if they missed MC? Like certain things they do to comfort or remind themselves of their beloved sheep 🙏
Hi anon, thank you so much omg🫶!! I hope you like these, I think I ended up making them a bit more sad than intended so I added their reactions to you coming back home to them!
Obey me headcannons— the seven brothers

Things the brothers do when you’re away, and how they react when you come back home to them <3
A tiny bit of hurt and a lot of comfort!
Credit to the lovely @strangergraphics for the dividers!
Lucifer
He buries himself in his work, convincing himself it's better than dwelling on the ache of your absence. His office fills with your ghost— he catches himself glancing at the empty chair you’d occupy during late-night talks, and every note you’ve left him sits neatly on his desk like a shrine. He wears the cologne you once complimented, hoping the familiar scent will carry your presence. His piano becomes his greatest solace; he plays songs that remind him of you, the notes heavy with longing.
When you return and he sees you, it’s as though the weight of millennia slips from his shoulders. His mask of calm falters as he quietly pulls you into his arms, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. He murmurs something like, “You shouldn’t leave me for so long,” but his voice cracks at the end, betraying just how much he missed you. Later, he’ll pour you demonus and ask you to stay with him while he plays for you, his music much softer and warmer now that you’ve returned.
Mams
He gets restless, roaming the halls of the House of Lamentation as though he might find you around the next corner. He tends to talk to your things— your jacket left on his desk chair, your favorite blanket— telling them stories he wishes he could tell you. At night, he holds onto a trinket you gave him, flipping it in his hands like a talisman. His brother’s tease him for constantly staring at his D.D.D., waiting for a text that doesn’t come fast enough.
Mammon’s reaction is immediate and chaotic when you return. He practically trips over himself to get to you, scooping you up in a hug so tight it almost knocks the air out of your lungs. He doesn’t stop talking— apologizing for nothing in particular, asking if you missed him, bragging that he knew you couldn’t stay away for long. Later, when you’re alone, he’ll quietly place your trinket back in your hand and confesses, “I couldn’t let this outta my sight while you were gone.”
Levi
He surrounds himself with distractions, marathoning your favorite shows and games just to feel closer to you. He tries to send you messages about every little thing, but halfway through his typing, he worries he’s being annoying and deletes them. His room becomes a shrine to your shared moments— he keeps a space clear for you on the couch, even though he knows you’re not there. The silence feels heavier without your laughter during cutscenes.
When you return, he’s so overwhelmed that he freezes in place when he sees you, blushing furiously and stammering about how he “didn’t even miss you that much.” But when you sit beside him and grab a controller, he can’t help the grin that breaks across his face. Later, he’ll shyly gift you a little figurine he made while you were gone— a character modeled after you, his way of saying you’re always a hero to him.
Satan
He writes. He fills pages with letters he’ll never send, his thoughts spilling out in poetic lines that ache with longing. He haunts the bookstores and libraries of the Devildom, searching for volumes you might have enjoyed, and carefully sets them aside for you. At night, he reads your favorite book, fingers brushing the margins where your handwriting lingers. He leaves a single fresh flower in your room each morning, a silent reminder of his quiet devotion.
When you return, Satan greets you with perfect composure, though his trembling hands give him away when he places the flower of the day into yours. “You’ve kept me waiting,” he says with a teasing smile, but his eyes are glassy, full of relief. Later, he’ll read to you by the fire, pausing to press his forehead into yours between chapters. You’ll find his letters hidden in your room days later, each one an unspoken promise of how deeply he missed you.
Asmo
His world feels dull without you. He dresses up every day, hoping to catch your attention from afar, even though you’re nowhere near to notice. He talks to the mirror as if it were you, imagining what you’d say about his newest outfit or skincare routine. His D.D.D. becomes his lifeline, full of selfies and voice messages he’s too nervous to send. Every love song feels like it was written for you, and he hums them softly, thinking of you.
When you return, Asmo runs to you in a whirlwind of perfume and tears, wrapping you in the sweetest embrace. “Darling, don’t ever leave me again!” He cries, holding your face in his hands as if to memorize every inch of it. He pulls you into his room to show you all the things he’s been saving to share with you— lipsticks, photos, and little notes he wrote about how much he loves you. That night, he clings to you, whispering over and over how radiant you make his world.
Beel
He finds himself lingering in the kitchen, making your favorite meals and waiting for you to join him. He starts carrying extra snacks that remind him of you, just in case he runs into you somehow. He visits all the places you used to go together, hoping the memories will starve off the hollow feeling in his chest. At night, he leaves an extra plate at the dinner table, unable to bring himself to break the habit of setting a spot for you.
When you return, Beels smile is so wide it feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. He immediately offers you something to eat, wanting to share every meal he made while you were gone. When he hugs you, it’s gentle but firm, as though he’s grounding himself in the fact that you’re really there. “I made too much food while you were gone,” he admits bashfully, “but now we can eat it together.”
Belphie
His dreams are filled with you, and he sleeps more than usual to chase the feeling of having you near. He steals one of your pillows or blankets, keeping it close so the scent of you lulls him to sleep. On sleepless nights, he stares at the stars, thinking about all the times you’ve stargazed together. He pretends he doesn’t care, but his room feels colder without you, and his naps are restless.
When you return, Belphie’s reaction is subtle but heartfelt. He’ll act nonchalant, lying on the couch with his hat pulled low, but his hand reaches out for yours the moment you’re close. “Took you long enough,” he says with a smirk, tugging you down to lay beside him. He’ll wrap his arms around you like a cocoon, murmuring softly, “Don’t go anywhere this time.” His breathing evens out quickly, finally content with you in his arms again.
#fluff#x reader#obey me devildom#obey me imagines#obey me headcanons#obey me x reader#obey me shall we date#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#headcanon#headcannons#anon request
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the favourite II Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2349
a/n: hi everyone, this oneshot is a longer one, so get cozy. <3
The golden hour has just begun in the beautiful city of Barcelona, you were finally done with correcting your student’s paper, so you were able to continue reading the book on the sofa, which was the perfect way to clock off of work in your opinion.
The happy mood slightly shifted when you thought back to the phone call you had with your girlfriend earlier that day. Aitana told you she was injured and that she was coming back home this evening.
You felt guilty, because partly you were happy about the fact that your lover was about to return to you, this year has been a lot for her work wise, and you rarely got time to spend together as a couple, apart from you trying to be there in the stands at every home game or final. It didn’t surprise you that the midfielder’s body was exhausted from all of this.
On the other hand, Aitana loved playing football so much, so it would be hard to not see her doing what she was so passionate about. You realized reading at this point was impossible, there were too many thoughts running through your mind.
“Hola, mi amor.”, you greeted her warmly, as you heard her opening the front door.
“Hola.”, the football player replied in a cheerful tone which tried to hide the disappointment the brunette felt.
Immediately you jumped off the sofa to give her a much-needed hug. “How are you? I know you had to leave national team camp early.”
“It’s nothing too bad, don’t worry.”, Aitana reassured you with a weak smile on her lips.
“But I do worry a little.”, you admitted concerned while running a hand through your girlfriends open hair, something you knew she liked, because it had a soothing effect on her.
You caught her looking at the papers which were still laying on your kitchen table, so you added quickly:” Sorry, I’ll take those to my office.”
“No, it’s fine. Stay, you’re busy.”, the midfielder slowly shook her head.
“I’m actually done with going through them. My students wrote about their role models, and I spotted some familiar names quite a few times.”, you remembered, smiling fondly at the memory.
“Oh really? Like whose names?”, Aitana looked up curiously.
“Like Patri, Alexia, Salma, but you’ve been mentioned the most. Wait-”, you counted them off on your fingers. You proudly showed your girlfriend the texts which were about her.
“I didn’t know your students cared so much about football, specifically women’s football.”, the midfielder muttered amazed, while devouring the handwritten pages.
“I know, the view definitely changed in recent years… Remember when we were at school and no one seemed to care about women’s football?”, you asked, thinking back to the time when you and Aitana met for the first time. You were best friends in school, always stuck together. Until things changed in your teenage years.
Unhappily, your girlfriend put the papers back on the table: “They always said that we can’t play with the boys.”
“Or that we would never be as good as them.“, you added. “Which I was okay with because I always preferred books over balls, but I admired you for not listening to these voices.”
You had loved a good football match when you were younger, but you never had the same burning desire to play that Aitana possessed.
“That’s all I ever wanted to do, kick a ball around.”, Aitana shrugged and even though a lot had changed since your school days, you felt reminded of the younger Aitana. The quiet girl that defiantly fought for her right to play football.
You smiled softly: “I know, and it got you very far.”
“I never knew it would.”, Aitana replied, clearly lost in her own thoughts about her career.
“But it did.” You took a deep breath. The idea that had been floating around your head since you read the papers started to take form on the tip of your tongue. “Could you do me a favour?”
“Sure, which one?”, your girlfriend answered quickly.
“Maybe you could visit my class to talk a bit about your life as a football player? It would mean the world to them. You’re clearly one of their favorites.” You nodded in the direction of the pages piled on the table.
Aitana did not answer. She stared at you speechlessly until she found her voice a second later: “Your students want to see… me?”
She looked so surprised that you had to bite back a laugh. “Yes, they would love that.”
Aitana beamed: “Sure. Of course I’m coming.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
You leaned over for a quick kiss: “I really appreciate it.”
“It’s a pleasure.”
“But for now…”
Your girlfriend raised her eyebrows in expectancy: “Yes?”
“Cuddles?”, you asked innocently, ready to wrap your arms around her.
“Please.”, she smiled. You threw yourself against her body, tightly hugging her.
Laughing, Aitana let herself fall backwards against the armrest of the sofa so you could lay on top of her.
She started to run her fingers across your back: “This is nice.”
Your girlfriend paused for a moment, before adding with a smirk on her lips:” But not as comfortable as in our bed.”
“You’re right let’s go to our bedroom.”, you agreed as you helped her getting into a standing position.
“Coming.”, Aitana answered. With a soft sigh the midfielder landed on your double bed.
“This is so much better.”, she declared, eyes closed. The bedding felt pleasantly cool underneath her body while you laid down next to her.
“Perfect.”, you mumbled. Grinning you continued:” Do you want me to read out to you a little?”
“Sure.”, the football player nodded, there was nothing in the world she found more soothing than listening to your voice.
“Okay.”, you happily obliged to it. After a couple of pages, you realized that your girlfriend was becoming sleepy. Quietly you put your book on the nightstand.
“Sleep well, Tana.”
“Night.”, Aitana whispered before inevitably sleep took it’s hold over her.
In the mornings you were always the first of you two to get up, as you needed to be ready for school. Much to your own surprise you realized that the midfielder was awake too:” Good morning.”
“Morning, amor.”, she replied, before placing a sweet kiss to your mouth.
“You know that you can still stay in bed, right?”, you muttered blushing. After all those years the brunette still had that effect on you.
“I know, but I couldn’t sleep anymore.”, Aitana admitted smiling sheepishly.
“I guess I’ll make two cups of coffees this morning.”, you remarked.
“Please.”, your girlfriend responded. When the dark-haired woman was holding the warm drink in her hand, she thanked you with another kiss.
“You’re welcome.”, you replied, enjoying one of the rare mornings you both had together.
You wished you could enjoy that moment for a little bit longer but looking at the clock on the wall you cursed under your breath:” Oh shit, I need to go!”
“Have fun. I’ll see you later.”, Aitana winked at you.
“Bye.”, you blew her a kiss, before making your way out of your home, ready for another day with your classes which were all dear to your heart.
The day arrived when Aitana was about to meet them for a lesson, you beamed excited at her:” Ready, love?”
“Ready.”, she nodded, your girlfriend was glad to have some distraction from her injury for at least the upcoming two hours. For a second you pressed her hand encouragingly, before leading her into the classroom.
“Good morning, everyone. Today we’ve a very special guest.”, you announced cheerfully.
A young girl with blonde hair called Imma sat in the front row and gasped audibly: “Oh my god, Aitana!“
She stared at the football player with widened eyes.
Your girlfriend smiled politely before introducing herself: “Hi, I’m Aitana Bonmatí. I’m a football player for FC Barcelona.“
“Can we ask her some questions?“, Jordi asked curiously. You knew that the lanky boy had vast interest in all kinds of football, no matter if the players were male or female.
You nodded, watching as his eyes sparkled in excitement: “Sure, that’s why she came.“
“Go ahead.“, Aitana prompted, trying to get the children to ask questions.
Imma raised her hand hesitantly: “From where do you know, Miss y/l/n?“
Your girlfriends gaze subconsciously drifted into your direction. You shared a smile for a split second.
With an eye-roll, Jordi complained: “That’s such a boring question, Imma!“
“I think that’s a very good question. We went to school together years ago.“, Aitana answered the question truthfully.
Jordi snorted: “Was she reading books back then too?“
You had to stop yourself from telling him, once again that reading was not only good for them but also a lot of fun. You tried to encourage your class to read every chance they got.
Before you could say anything, Aitana grinned: “Oh yes. She always loved books.“
“But I can play a bit too.“, you added innocently.
“Yeah. She’s pretty good.“, your girlfriend had to agree.
For once, Jordi was silent, looking from you to Aitana and back. A challenging smile appeared on his face: “We need to see that after class. But how did it feel to win the Ballon d’Or?“
“Amazing. It was a great honour but I couldn’t have done it without my team.“
“And you also won the Champions League!“, a red-haired girl interrupted with a big toothy grin.
“Yes, that was amazing too.“, the football player nodded.
Julias cheeks turned almost as red as her hair from exhilaration: “So cool!“
“I’m lucky to have such a great team around me.“, you heard Aitana say and you almost grimaced at how humble she was in front of your students.
Julia immediately followed with the next question, not allowing your girlfriend a break: “Do you have a favourite teammate? And is it Rolfö?“
Aitana laughed, surprised by the question: “I have a lot of favourite teammates. And Frido is one of them. She’s great, very sweet.“
“Like a team mum?“, Imma piped up.
“A bit, yes.“
“That’s cute.“, Imma commented happily.
“But we have a lot of people who can step up as team mums.“, the midfielder continued.
“Aitana, how’s your injury?”, Jordi changed the subject to a more serious one.
“It’s not too bad. They just wanted to be careful, so it doesn’t get worse.”, the midfielder waved it off in a reassuring way.
“Oh, good.”, he sighed relieved.
“So now I’m here and can hang out with you guys.”, Aitana clapped enthusiastically her hands.
“Exactly.”, you smiled proudly at her.
“Sorry, did you want to continue, amor?”, your girlfriend looked at you expectantly.
“No, I just wanted to say that the class is ending soon.”, you shook your head.
“Any more questions?”, the football player turned her attention to your students again.
“Can we play now?”, Jordi asked her innocently.
“Of course. Let’s go and play some football.”, Aitana agreed, her eyes mirroring the excitement of the little boy who was very thrilled to play with a Barcelona player.
On her way out, she couldn’t help but to tease you in front of the children:” Let’s see how good your teacher still is.”
“I’ll show you!”, you laughed.
“Prove it.”, the midfielder gave you a playful challenging look.
One of your students was handing you the football, so you did one of the football tricks you still knew before kicking it into the empty goal, making the boys and girls erupt into a loud cheer.
“See? She didn’t forget anything.”, Aitana said, her voice full of admiration.
“Wow.”, Jordi followed your moves with the football amazed.
“Not, bad, right?”, Aitana questioned him amused.
“Not as good as you are though.”, you whispered into her ear.
“Oh, if you got paid to play football all day, you’d also be good.”, she stated firmly.
“Yes, but I love my job, just look at their eyes.”, you replied, your girlfriend did what you asked her to do. The girls and boys faces lit up while playing football in front of one of their idols.
Afterwards she looked back at you in adoration: “I only must look in your eyes. You were made to work with children. They adore you.”
You weren’t even a big Taylor Swift fan, but your friends and the older students were and there was a line in one of her songs, which you quietly sung to her, before you looped the ball over the midfielder:” You know how to ball, I know Aristotle.”
“Excuse me?! What was that?!”, Aitana’s mouth fell wide open.
“I don’t know how I did it either!”, you confessed.
“That was impressive as hell!”, Jordi told you.
With sparkling eyes, Imma demanded: “Do it again!“
“Yes, do it again.“, Aitana smirked.
“Like this?“, you asked before trying to play the ball over the worlds best female footballer again. This time, you were less lucky and the ball came at the perfect height for Aitana to easily head it back to you.
“Oh no, it didn’t work.“ Julia sounded slightly disappointed.
You shrugged, trying to use the opportunity to teach your students a valuable lesson: “The good thing is, one can always try again.“
Aitana instead winked at them: “Don’t worry, I’ll teach her at home.“
Imma frowned in confusion: “At home? Do you two live together?“
“Are you stupid? She called her amor earlier!“, Jordi groaned.
The smaller girls eyes widened: “She did?“
“Yes!“
Aitana smiled at you, subtly linking your pinkies together: “She’s my best friend but also my girlfriend.“
“Oh.“ Julia made a delighted sound.
Jordi rolled his eyes: “They love each other, it’s so obvious, girls.“
And then he was back to kicking the ball around. Julia and Imma quickly chased after him, trying to get the ball.
You and your girlfriend stood in comfortable silence, still holding hands and watching the children run around you.
In this moment you were hit with the realization that this was exactly all you ever wanted from life.
#aitana bonmati#aitana bonmati x reader#aitana bonmati imagine#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso one shot#woso oneshot#woso#woso community#barcelona femeni
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hii, can you please make blue lock characters x model s/o but they wear a wig and lenses different from their hair and eye color?
“𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐨”
a/n: hiii, i was a little confused on if you meant the reader wearing a wig and lenses or the boys, but i hope this was along the lines of what you had in mind!
i also really didn’t know where to go with this request either, so i made this into headcanons of the blue lock boys reacting to you wearing a wig and contact lenses different from your natural colors because a pro soccer player and famous model seen out in public would give the media way too much to talk about (you wanna keep it private)
ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, mikage reo, kaiser michael, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei
♡ isagi yoichi
doesn’t recognize you at all at first.
you walk up to him, all disguised, and he just gives you a polite little nod like you’re a stranger.
“uh… hey. do i know you?”
bro thinks he’s being hit on in public.
when you roll your eyes and call his name, he visibly glitches.
“HUH?! WAIT, THAT’S YOU?!”
loses his mind for a full five minutes. pokes at your wig. waves a hand in front of your contacts.
lowkey impressed once he calms down. “damn… this might actually work.”
gets super serious about the disguise mission after that.
if anyone even glances at you for too long, he shields you with his whole body.
slowly begins to get weirdly stressed about whether the disguise is convincing enough and suggests wearing sunglasses, too.
if someone stares at you for too long, he gets all tense and mutters, “they recognize you, don’t they?” even if they’re just looking at the menu.
♡ bachira meguru
way too excited about this.
“ohhhh, are we in a secret forbidden romance now?”
treats it like a game. starts acting like a spy in public, whispering, “stay low, agent, we’re being watched.”
purposely flirts with you like a stranger just for fun. “damn, you look like my type. wanna ditch your boyfriend and run away with me?”
completely defeats the purpose by making a scene just because he thinks it’s funny.
but if the paparazzi actually appear, he’s surprisingly good at slipping away unnoticed – grabs your hand and disappears into a side street like he’s done this before.
BONUS:
if paparazzi ever get too close, he’d just start acting crazy so the headlines would be about him instead.
♡ mikage reo
fully supports the disguise mission.
“yeah, good call. the media’s insane. we need to be careful.”
takes it way too seriously. buys you the best wigs, lenses, and even clothes to match your new ‘identity.’
“this wig is 100% human hair. the lace is so seamless even i can’t tell. and these lenses? custom-made by a top-tier designer. you’re welcome.”
treats it like a full-on production. if you’re changing your appearance, then you need a backstory.
way too good at being undercover. rich-kid instincts from dodging gold diggers and clout chasers have prepared him for this moment.
he can go completely unrecognizable just by switching up his walk and posture.
so proud when paparazzi can’t figure out who you are.
“some random article called you ‘a mysterious woman with expensive taste.’ they have no idea.”
but lowkey sad that he can’t openly spoil you.
“man… i wanna post you on my story” with a dramatic pout.
♡ kaiser michael
has the most fun with this.
“so i get to take my hot girlfriend out, and the world has no idea who she is? how thrilling.”
treats this like a performance. will deliberately flirt with you in public just to stir up speculation.
"who is this mysterious beauty?" "new fling for kaiser?"
gives the paparazzi NOTHING to work with.
“her? oh, just someone i met recently.”
knows damn well you’re his long-term girlfriend.
constantly switches up your disguises just to mess with reporters.
“let’s see how many different ‘mystery women’ i can date this month.”
if anyone starts catching on? gaslights the entire media.
“pfft, dating? me? please, i’m just enjoying life.”
but gets super smug in private.
“schatz, you’re literally the hottest unsolvable mystery.”
♡ itoshi rin
annoyed but committed.
“this is stupid.”
still recognizes you instantly. “fix your wig. the hairline is slightly off.”
lowkey the best at staying unbothered. if reporters start taking pics, he just ignores them like they’re irrelevant.
but fully committed to the ‘anonymous girlfriend’ act.
“oh. her? she’s just someone i’m seeing.”
just someone?! you glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch.
absolutely refuses to call you by name in public.
“we don’t know each other.”
“rin, we’re literally on a date.”
hates interviews, so he purposely makes things vague to shut down questions.
"is she your girlfriend?"
“dunno. maybe.”
enjoys how the media keeps failing to ID you.
"they're still trying to match your face to a celebrity. idiots."
♡ itoshi sae
completely unimpressed.
“you look ridiculous” with a deadpan face.
but still lets you do it because he really doesn’t want your relationship going public.
if you try to stay in character and avoid calling him by name, he refuses to play along.
“i’m not calling you camila or whatever fake name you came up with. that’s dumb.”
cold as hell if anyone gets suspicious.
paparazzi: “hey, sae, is this your girlfriend?”
sae, walking away: “no.”
but if they actually try to harass you? instant death glare.
one look from him and they’re backing off like their life depends on it.
BONUS:
at the end of the day, he’ll throw you a half-grin when you’re back at his place.
“see? we made it through.”
he leans in, his scent intoxicating your lungs. “now you owe me for this.”
♡ shidou ryusei
the absolute WORST at keeping things subtle.
“hell yeah, i got the hottest mystery girlfriend. let’s give the press something to cry about.”
deliberately hypes you up in public.
“yo, check out my girl! ain’t she the baddest?!”
“sir, who is she?”
“wouldn’t you like to know?”
ruins the whole ‘keep it lowkey’ plan by being loud as hell.
“yo, babe, let’s hit a five-star restaurant and REALLY make ‘em wonder who you are.”
genuinely enjoys the media’s confusion.
"they think you're a brazilian actress this time. last week, you were some heiress from spain."
but the second anyone gets too close to figuring it out?
“BACK OFF. NO PICS UNLESS YOU PAY ME, LOSERS.”
somehow turns this into an ego boost.
“damn, babe, you’re making headlines every week. i really got the hottest girl out there.”
© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢
#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk#bllk x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#yoichi isagi x reader#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi sae x reader#sae itoshi x reader#bachira meguru x reader#meguru bachira x reader#reo mikage x reader#mikage reo x reader#michael kaiser x reader#kaiser michael x reader#shidou ryusei x reader#ryusei shidou x reader#blue lock headcanons#incognito
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Santa red-J. Hughes



Jack Hughes x fem! Reader
Jack gifts you an early Christmas gift and asks you to model it for him
Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(a no no), teasing, pet names, dirty talk, grinding, cursing, kissing, porn with a small plot, this was supposed to be out before Christmas so I apologize😭, sorry for any errors!
Day 10 of my ficmas celebration!
The ride home from the prudential center was quiet, not a word spoken even as Jack pulled into his parking spot and exited the car.
You could see he was still tense from the game, you could hear Lindy screaming at them from the hallway where you and Jim waited for the boys to come out.
The tips of his ears were still red with anger, and you knew him well enough to know he was still pissed about being sent to the box and the added loss had fueled his anger further.
Once you entered the shared apartment he took off towards your bedroom while you went into the kitchen, You were taking a drink of water when you heard his stiff voice call out for you.
“Everything okay?” You questioned as you appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.
Jack was sitting on the bed, shoes and coat off but his game day suit still hugged his body deliciously. Beside him was a Christmas bag, tissue paper coming from the top.
“Can you put this on?” He asked, extending the bag out towards you.
“What is it?” You questioned, taking the bag from his outstretched hand.
“Was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but I can’t wait any longer.” His voice was low, not longer only filled with anger and embarrassment but something more.
“Okay.” You shrugged, setting it down on the dresser beside you as you went to strip off your devils crewneck, however a large hand on your arm stopped you.
“C-can you put it on in the bathroom? Wanna watch you walk out in it.” He blushed.
“Of course.” You smiled, picking the bag back up you made your way into the large bathroom connected to your bedroom.
Opening the bag you found a box, one that belonged to Jacks favorite lingerie store. You had bought a set for his birthday one year and since then he had been in love with the place.
Opening the box you were met with a deep red set, a tad bit darker than traditional Christmas red. Running a finger over the lace you took in how delicate it was.
You would never understand why he spent so much money on sets just for him to always end up ripping some part of it during the night.
Stripping off your clothes you slid the set onto your body, admiring yourself in mirror. Your eyes caught how well the color complimented your skin tone and the way the cups of the bra pushed your boobs up perfectly.
“Once again, you have magnificent taste.” You laughed as you stepped out of the bathroom.
Jacks head whipped in your direction as he heard your voice, a breath getting caught in his throat as his eyes locked on your body.
The set was perfect, the panties making your legs looks even more delicious, and your breasts-god your breasts, Jack wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to control himself.
“Oh fuck me.” He mumbled, running his hands over his face.
“I mean if you want me to.” You teased the man, making your way over to stand between his legs.
“You look breathtaking.” He spoke lowly, eyes taking in your body at a closer angle.
“Thank you.” You smiled, leaning down to give him a soft peck.
The boy whined as you tried to pull away, his large hands wrapping around your bare waist to keep you trapped between his spread legs.
“Give me a real kiss.” He whispered, lips just inches from yours.
“That was a real kiss” you giggled, but Jack didn’t find any amusement in your words and he quickly showed you that by tangling one of his hands in your hair and pulling your lips to his.
It was hot and breathtaking as his tongue traced against yours before it quickly won dominance, your lips moved feverishly in sync earning him a low moan from your throat.
His hand that still rested on your waist slipped down to the back of your thigh, lifting it lightly he signaled that he wanted you to sit on his lap.
You pulled your lips away from his to take your position overtop of him but the make out hastily resumed as you pulled the beanie off his head and tangled your fingers in his damp hair.
The dark locks were still damp from his post game shower but that didn’t stop you from tugging and pulling on the locks just the way he liked.
A smirk overtook your face at the hoarse cry that broke from his throat when you grounded your core over the tent in his pants.
“Baby.” He groaned, hands coming to still your moving hips.
“What do you need Jacky?.” You teased, lips trailing all around his throat.
“You. Need to fuck you.” He groaned, head tipping back instinctively allowing you more skin to roam.
He shivered as you smirked against his skin, heat growing in his stomach as you pulled away and looked down at him.
His eyes followed you as you moved yourself off of his lap and moved your hands up to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, however Jack was a bit to impatient and moved your hands to rip it open instead.
You giggled before trailing your hands down his toned abdomen to his belt, hands working quickly to undo the buckle and pull his pants and boxers down.
And while Jack expected you to climb back on his lap he was filled with confusion as you stepped back and moved to sit against the head board.
“You said you wanted to fuck me, so fuck me.” You smirked down at him with eyes full of lust.
Jack could feel the heat spread from his lower stomach up to his spine as you trailed a hand down to slowly rub over your clit through your lacy panties.
Shaking out of his haze jack shot up and removed his remaining clothing before his body was hovering over yours.
His large hand wrapped around yours and moved it to the side with a soft ‘tsk’ as his own hand came to push the lace to the side.
A groan left his mouth at the sight of how wet you were for him, your cunt glistening in the low light of the bedroom.
A deep cry came from you as he ran his cock through your folds, his head pushing into your entrance with ease.
His hips thrusted forward as a fast pace, the anger that had once been building up in his body now being filtered into his thrusts.
“Jack!” You cried as he shifted one of your legs over his shoulders, his length now hitting the spongy spot deep inside you.
“So good for me baby, feel so fucking good.” He groaned hoarsely.
One of his hands came down to pull the cups of your bra down, hands coming down to palm your breasts, His thumbs tweaked and pulled at your nipples earning sweet cries of pleasure from you.
“Shi-Jacky, you’re so deep.” You whimpered as you felt his tip once again nudging that spot deep within you.
Jack admired the way your body reacted to his menstruations, how your hands clenched the sheets beside you and how your head was thrown back in nothing but pure pleasure.
He could feel you clenching him tightly, and by the way your moans had subsided to drawn out whimpers and mumbles he knew you were getting close.
“Gonna come for me baby?” He questioned as one of his hands came down to rub cricles over your clit.
“Mhm” you moaned with a drunken nod.
Jack smirked at the state of you, he loved nothing more than watching you completely fucked out for him.
“Come on baby, give it to me.” He encouraged, thumb moving at the same pace as his snapping hips as he chased a high of his own.
A loud cry broke through the room as your climax overtook you, the leg that was hooked over jacks shoulder shaking while your back arched and eyes clenched shut.
“So beautiful.” He praised as he placed light kisses to your lips, swallowing your whimpers of overstimulation.
“I know baby, I know. I’m almost there.” He groaned, forehead resting against yours as his thrusts began to get sloppy and deeper.
With a few more deep thrusts the air was filled with a deep groan as Jack came deep inside you, painting your warm walls white with his release.
His large body collapsed on top of yours as his head snuggled into your neck, lips leaving small kisses on the skin.
“Feel better?” You spoke quietly bringing a hand to run through his damp hair.
“Much. Thank you baby.” He smiled giving you a proper kiss before he slid out of you and went to grab a towel to clean you up.
A few minutes later you were both snuggled on the couch, the soft light of the Christmas tree filling the living room while you two let out soft giggles while watching elf.
-
#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes smut#jack hughes fluff#jack hughes#jack x reader#nhl#nhl fanfiction#hockey imagine#nhl imagine#nhl smut#nhl blurb#jay’sficmas
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Can you please, pretty pretty please do another Zendaya one??
fake social media
okay i’m kinda nervous bc this is the first time i post for someone who’s not harry so HI i do social media au blurbs and i hope you like this one i did for tom 🥲 let me know your thoughts and send in requests if you have any !
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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yourinstagram Thank you so much @vogueitalia for having me 🤍 Interview out tomorrow
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ynfan1 STUNNING
alexademie ❤️⭐️!!!
ynfan2 models should be glad she chose acting as a career
dualipa MOTHER 🤍
ynfan3 i wonder what kind of tea she spilled on the interview
tomblyth ❤️
↳ tomfan1 HELLO?
↳ tomfan2 ariana what are you doing here

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enews We’re losing our minds over this new Hollywood romance. 🥹 Link in bio to see how YN hard launched their relationship (📸: Getty)
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tomfan1 OMFGGGG
ynfan1 THIS IS GIVING ME LIFE
tomfan2 NOOOO 💔
ynfan2 “my love life has always been private but this time just feels right to let the world know” NO I CANT MY HEART
↳ tomfan3 DYING

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tomblyth Sneak peak at our inconspicuous movie about 2 totally chill birdwatchers with no emotional damage whatsoever… 😏
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tomfan1 AHHHHHHHHHHH
ynfan1 this movie is going to be so good
hunterschafer ❤️
tomfan2 THE SLAY OF THE CENTURY
ynfan2 okay now i get yn
yourinstagram Those are my babies 🤍
↳ ynfan3 we love a supportive girlfriend
↳ tomfan3 i’m definitely not jealous

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tomupdates Tom and YN in Los Angeles today !
view all 509 comments
tomfan1 STOP THIS
ynfan1 WELL
tomfan2 AHHHHHH
ynfan2 people who don’t support this relationship are so lame bc look at them
tomfan3 she visited him on set 👀

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tomblyth Come back to the beginning of the games with us @songbirdsandsnakes
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tomfan1 AHHH OMG
ynfan1 what a time to be alive
rachelzegler YES !!!
songbirdsandsnakes We are SO there! ❤️
yourinstagram SUPER PROUD MY LOVE 🤍🤍
↳ ynfan2 AHHHHHH
↳ tomblyth I love you ❤️
↳ tomfan2 I JUST DIED DEAD

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yourinstagram Exciting things coming
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ynfan1 SAY SIKE
tomfan1 she’s dating my man i can’t
hunterschafer they’re not ready
↳ ynfan2 SPILL THE BEANS
ynfan3 the way this could literally be anything
tomblyth Gorgeous ❤️
↳ tomfan2 im still in the denial phase btw
FANS VIA TWITTER


//

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yourinstagram CAN’T CATCH ME NOW from @songbirdsandsnakes will be out today. The film and the rest of the soundtrack are out November 17th. Thank you to sweet angel @oliviarodrigo for writing this song and letting me sing it, this is so special to me 🤍
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ynfan1 OMFGGGGG
mtv Our skin is clear. Our grades are all A’s. This is exactly what we needed
ynfan2 SINGER YN IS SO ALIVE
tomfan1 OHHHH LORDDDDD
hunterschafer ❤️❤️❤️😭
tomfan2 she 🥹 did this 🥹 for tom 🥹
ynfan3 the things she does for love i guess bc i thought she was allergic to studios
tomblyth So proud of you 🤍
↳ tomfan3 WHAT IF CRY
↳ yourinstagram Wouldn’t have done with without your encouragement 🥺
↳ ynfan4 IM MELTING

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tomblyth HG film dump. Just some of the many people I love who breathed life into this movie. @songbirdsandsnakes opens tomorrow 🤍
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tomfan1 CRYING
rachelzegler See you on the big screen 🙌🏻
ynfan1 i can’t wait to see it omg
yourinstagram SUPER PROUD ❤️ I love you !
↳ ynfan2 AHHH SO CUTE
↳ tomfan2 that should be me
tomfan3 i was here before hunger games

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yourinstagram TBOSBAS is on theaters now and all I can say is that I love every single human being involved in it and I’m so proud of them 🤍 Oh and thank you for all the support for Can’t Catch Me Now, you make me all mushy 🥲
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ynfan1 AWEEEEEE
tomfan1 LOOK AT MY BABY
rachelzegler We love you sweet angel ! Having you on set was a blast❤
↳ ynfan2 MY BABIEEEEES
tomfan2 WE NEED MORE TOM BTS CONTENT
ynfan3 okay can we get a full album now
↳ yourinstagram I only release music for special occasions 🤍
↳ tomfan3 AHHH SHE DID IT FOR TOM
tomblyth Thank you for being my rock and bringing me bagels, I love you honey ❤
↳ tomfan1 OH TO BE CALLED HONEY BY TOM
↳ ynfan1 i'm melting

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people Our favorite off-screen couple has arrived to the #BalladOfSongbirdsAndSnakes premiere ! Link in our bio for more pictures.
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tomfan1 AHHHHH I CANT
ynfan1 they're matching my heart
tomfan2 THEIR RED CARPET SLASH PREMIERE DEBUT
ynfan2 yn is such a supportive girlfriend tom is so lucky
↳ tomfan3 they're so lucky to have each other 🥺
INTERVIEWS BY TOM AND THE CAST DURING THE PREMIERE
//

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tomupdates Tom and YN at the TBOSAS premiere ! 🥺
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tomfan1 AHHHH
ynfan1 i can’t take their cuteness anymore
tomfan2 i’m so damn jealous ngl
ynfan2 WHIPPED
tomfan3 i’m bisexual bc of them

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yourinstagram Snow lands on top. The man of the hour
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ynfan1 AHHHHH
tomfan1 SO TRUE IT BOY
hunterschafer Love you both 🤍
ynfan2 she’s down horrendousss omg
tomfan2 i get her if tom was my boyfriend i would post pics of him all the time
tomblyth I love you so much ❤️
↳ tomfan3 WHAT IF I CRY
↳ ynfan3 they’re equally down bad

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tomblyth Dream girl ❤️
view all 21,299 comments
tomfan1 NO WAY
ynfan1 IM CRYING
alexiademie 💘⭐️
ynfan2 ahhh this is what she deserves
tomfan2 tom is such a soft boyfriend i could cry
yourinstagram 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹❤️
↳ ynfan3 they’re endgame i swear
#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth imagine#tom blyth blurb#tom blyth x you#tom blyth fake instagram#tom blyth social media au#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#tom blyth fic#harrysfolklore#tom blyth fluff#tom blyth smut#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow smut#social media au#tom blyth au#tom blyth story#tom blyth masterlist
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Ludos Imperiales II
Summary: Princess!Reader makes a deal with the Emperor to try and save her mates.
Content Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore, Gladiator Tournament, Physical Abuse.
Part One
---------------------------------
I can’t breathe. The world spins in dizzying swirls around me. Mates.
Not one.
Not two.
Three!
All of them enemies of the Empire. Rebels scheduled for execution. Fate has always been a cruel bastard in all matters concerning me, but this feels like a personal attack on my existence. Someone in the Celestial Plain is laughing at this twisted attempt of a joke. How could I be so close to happiness and be forced to sit here and watch it be ripped from me one blood splatter at a time?
The Game Maker starts speaking again, his voice booming across the arena. I can’t make out any of the words; they’re all muddled together in my ears. This cannot be happening to me! It’s not fair! I’ve been the perfect daughter, even when it shattered me; I was a model student; I’ve upheld the law to the very letter; I make weekly sacrifices to the Mother; I built my own lararium to offer nightly prayers to the gods. I have been devought and loyal to both the gods and the Empire and this is the thanks I get?
I can’t tear my eyes away from where the three of them stand in the center of the Pit, waiting for the gates to open again. The violet eyed one, Rhysand-- gods even his name is pretty--won’t stop staring at my Father, challenging him to speak, to fight, to do something other than sit there like a coward while someone else kills for him.
My Father must understand the challenge in that gaze, because he finally stands and goes to the edge of the booth, weathered hands splayed out against the worn stones bearing a flag with his crest embroidered upon it. “Citizens of the Empire!”
The crowd gives a raucous shout.
I simply scoot a little closer to Brannagh to be able to see around Father.
My movements do not break the silent battle happening with Rhysand, but it does draw the eye of Azriel, who’s bloodied head tilts to the side quizzically as he takes me in. I feel a blush creep its way up my cheeks, the booth suddenly too hot as I try to meet his gaze. That hazel gaze bears an intensity that keeps me in place, but I cannot help but feel like I’ve been stripped bare, as if he can see straight into my chest, where my heart still pounds an uneven beat.
“Before you stands that which threatens our peace, our security, and most importantly the prosperity that our people hold so dear.”
The tall one, Cassian frowns at that, but Rhysand grins, as if he has won whatever silent battle he’s been having with my Father. He tips his head back and bellows, so that not a single soul here misses it, “There is no prosperity or peace in the Empire! There is only enslavement and death!”
The boos that had started coming from the crowd die, as if someone had collectively cut off their air supply.
The muscles in my Father’s back tighten as he realizes what is happening.
“Outside these walls we all starve! Supplies to every corner of the Empire have dwindled to single bags of grain, meant only to feed the soldiers that terrorize us in every corner of the world. You do not hear from your families in the far reaches because your mail is censored. Your loved ones have been dragged from their beds and crucified without trial. The only prosperity in this Empire is for Hybern himself.”
I finally tear my gaze away from Azriel’s silent study to look at Amarantha for confirmation that it is true.
“You should have slit his throat on the battlefield,” Dagdan snarls in her direction.
The power seeping from my fingers tears a hole through my skirts, singing across my thighs. The errant strand only hidden by the way I keep the fabric bunched in my hands. I do not allow myself to wince against the sting and give myself away.
“Those were not my orders!” Amarantha snarls, her teeth flashing as she stands. Her slaves jump out of her way, cowering against each other for safety. “Your Highness, silence him before he incites a riot!”
No! No! No! This can’t be happening to me! Not again. It is like watching my Mother be taken away all over again. I had just stood there. Unable to cry or scream or fight. I could only watch. That was what she trained me to do. She had even nodded her approval to my stillness as they’d dragged her away, as if it had been right. None of it was right. None of this was right!
“Your Master will tell you pretty stories but we are all his slaves in the end. Illyria has had enough! We will not sit by and let our women and children starve! If that makes us rebels and traitors to the crown, so be it! But what would you do if it was your children in the streets? Your wives being carted off to service foreign elites? Your sons forced to kill and die for an Empire that can’t even feed you?” Rhysand screams.
My Father, silently, motions to one of his Praetorians, a crossbow already swinging from the clip at his back.
The pounding of my heart in my ears will swallow me. Everything in the world slows and narrows into the motion of an arrow being fit into the crossbow.
Move! Move! Move! A dark ether of my power slithers up my wrists, catching Brannagh’s attention. She must make some snide remark about it, because I, distantly, see her lips move but no sound ever reaches my ears. I have to stop this. I have to do something!
I’m on my feet without conscious thought of what I’m doing. “Father, wait!” My hands reach for him, the sizzle of pain as my power skitters across his skin enough to make him turn and face me. I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I’m saying, the words spew as if they have a mind of their own.
“If you kill him now like this you will incite a riot!”
His face twists, a snarl slipping past his clenched teeth. I have royally pissed him off, disgraced him here in front of his Inner Circle, where they watch from nearby booths. The thought would usually send me cowering like a dog with its tail between its legs, but the fear I feel for him is nothing against the fear I feel for them. The thing that links our souls together burns and rattles beneath my rib cage, needing to defend, to fight.
“Call off your guard!” I hiss, reaching out a hand and letting that dark power that lives inside me show. I’ll strike him dead if he so much as moves a finger towards the trigger. “Let us be diplomatic about this.”
“Who are you,” Father snarls, taking an advancing step towards me. The booth shakes as his own dark power rises to meet mine. “To challenge me, child?!”
I hold my ground, even though my body trembles. It is only the dutiful teachings of my Mother that keep my chin up instead of bowing it to my chest as every muscle screams for me to do. “I am not challenging you, I am trying to think about our people.”
I clench my fists again, dimming my power in feigned submission. “Go about this a different way. Show the people that ruthlessness is not always the answer to our nation’s problems.”
“Are you suggesting I spare an enemy?” Father snarls.
I honestly don’t know what my plan is here. I’m just throwing things against the wall and hoping something, anything, sticks, otherwise my only option is to fling myself down into the Pit and hope the power thrumming in my veins is enough to save my mates.
“No,” if I am to keep all of our heads, I must be crafty. I must play the games my Father plays. My gaze flicks to where Amarantha’s slaves remain huddled together, a desperate thought forming in my head. My stomach turns at the mere idea, but if it can save them…?
“You mean to entertain the people and quell all possible chances of further rebellion, but we have seen time and time again that no execution or crucifixion has done that. We merely make martyr after martyr. We encourage others to take up the cause.”
“Let them fight,” I’m going to be sick! It feels like there’s a knot forming in my chest. “And if they survive, let them live, let them be gladiators.” It’s unthinkable, it puts them in danger time and time again. “The betting will be astronomical. The people will return time and time again in hopes of seeing them fall. That money can provide support to the edges of the Empire. Prove him wrong by sending extra aid to those outside our walls.”
To his credit, my Father does listen to me ramble. The Mother has smiled on me for once, if he had been in one of his fits today he would have had Amarantha kill me where I stood. It is a miracle the Praetorian didn’t take me out for wielding so close to him in the first place.
“And you would have them what? Live in the slave quarters where they can incite a riot with all the dregs?” Amarantha hisses.
I’ll lose him if I let her forked tongue keep whispering in his ear. I am not blind, I know that she has more favor with him than I ever have. “No. Leaving them free to whisper with the other gladiators would be a mistake. Let someone claim responsibility for them.”
The plan forms in my mind as I speak. I don’t like it. I’m not sure that it’ll even work, but I have to try and save them. I cannot let them die while I stand here uselessly watching as I did with my Mother. I will never be useless or silent again. “Give them to me.”
Brannagh chokes on her wine behind me.
Amarantha’s jaw actually drops in shock.
“I will take responsibility for them. They will be monitored by my guard. To our people it will look like you mean to humiliate three great warriors, by shackling them to me. It is no secret what our people think of me.”
Dagdan’s snort is proof enough how weak I look in the eyes of our people. I am nothing but a sheltered, pampered princess to them. Up until today they didn’t even know that I’d inherited my Father’s powers. Good, let them all think me weak and useless and meek, they will never know the claws and fangs that hide beneath my skin until it is too late. Father included.
“She is not strong enough to keep them in check,” Amarantha hisses. “If you are to do it, give them to me.”
I barely reign in my powers, barely keep my teeth behind my lips. They are mine and I will be damned before I let her put her grubby little paws on them!
“You may monitor them as often or as random as you wish, Father,” I speak over her instead, fighting to keep his attention. “I will move back into the Palace. I will sit in every meeting. I…” There is one sure thing that will guarantee his approval of this awful plan of mine. “I will marry whoever you choose for me.”
His dark brows raise in surprise. “And what would prompt this sudden loyalty to me, child?”
I raise my chin. “I have sat too long in the dark, and I could not see it until…” I have already bartered my soul, what will some more empty words mean in the end? “I could not see it until you removed that traitor and her poisoned tongue from the house. I see it now. I have failed our people and I mean to make it right.”
He flicks his gaze over his shoulder, down into the Pit. “The gorsian stone should keep Rhysand in line. And with enough guards, you might be able to keep them locked up. If they should survive the fight.”
“Sometimes death is a mercy,” I say, the words tasting like bile.
He takes a step closer, so we’re nearly nose to nose. “And if you fail to keep them in line, it will be you that dies in this arena, do you understand?”
Better me than them.
“You cannot be serious, Your Highness!” Amarantha squeaks, her voice shrill.
I nod, trying not to gloat in my victory over her. “I understand.”
Father grins, pleased with himself as he snags my hand and brings me back into view of the arena. “Please forgive the delay, the Princess and I were just discussing what our guests had to say about the state of our Empire.”
I feel three sets of eyes settle on me like a brand. The bond, still so new and raw in my chest, feels like chains rattling against my ribcage. I cannot tell if it is their anxiety or my own.
“Let it be known that this Empire is a democracy, and that I, as your Emperor, care about the state of affairs that all of our people live in.”
I try to meet the gaze of the senators and highly decorated soldiers sitting in the booths that line the upper ring of the arena. These will be the most upset by the news. The next ring of wealthy merchants and shopkeepers, tradesmen and fleet keeps will be the ones that take what they hear here back to the streets. Word will spread. The people will know what happened here, how the Emperor suddenly decided to care about them. It will be a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
I try to not look down at the Pit; try not to think about the life I’m condemning them to.
“Our beloved Princess is very concerned about your well-being,” Father continues and there’s a collective cheer from the lower levels. “And so, we have decided not to execute these rebels today.”
The tone immediately shifts to one of confusion.
“They will compete as gladiators. Should they prove resourceful enough to survive, they will be branded as gladiators, and sponsored by our Princess.” Great, not only do they have to survive the damned arena, they have to survive any threats from other gladiators who will seek to take out well-sponsored competition.
Even from our vantage point I hear Cassian curse in disbelief.
“She has so graciously decided that all their winnings will be sent to any hurting corners of the Empire, should there be any to be found.”
The crowd takes a moment to process what he says. It even takes me a minute to comprehend the last part. He’d really send all the money that I’d earn as their sponsor to the poor? That’s a hefty bit of charity, even for him. There has to be some sort of catch?
“So, let these males fight! Let’s see how far they are willing to go for their people.”
There it is. They could choose to sit down and die in the arena, making themselves martyrs as Amarantha thinks they intended, and then, instead, they would look like they were not willing to make sacrifices for their people. If they fought, competed for whatever earnings were bet on them, then they would be heroes. A symbol of strength only the great Emperor Hybern could make. Father really is the best at these political games.
The crowd roars as trumpets blow three times.
Father motions me back to our seats.
“You don’t really think they can win, do you, cousin?” Dagdan questions.
The ground shakes as a giant strolls out of the tunnels. The creature is so large he has to bend over nearly double to fit. When he stands to his full height, his bald head is practically even with the edge of our booth. Terrible scars crisscross over his body like spiderwebs. Hybern went to war first with the land of Giants, the war had lasted decades. My Grandfather had taken many giants as slaves and forced them to kill each other in this arena. Some gladiators were able to earn their freedom, but the devastation that the Giants had wrought on our people made my Grandfather declare that no Giant could ever be made free. The poor creature had probably been chained here, fighting in the Pit long before I was even born.
“They survived Amarantha,” I retort.
The General bristles. “I thought you didn’t place bets on the first day?”
I reach for another glass of wine, trying to settle my nerves. “There’s a first time for everything.” Perhaps making an enemy out of her is unwise, but the bond chafes against my ribcage at the thought of her being anywhere near any of them. Better to keep her attention on me than on them.
Another horn blows, prompting the giant to move and I hold my breath as he reaches a meaty hand down to grab one of the Illyrians. The males scatter, Cassian going into a roll between the Giant’s legs, using the blind spot to his advantage while Rhysand drags Azriel out of the way with an arm around his waist. He’s practically carrying Azriel now, who’s broken wings seem to be getting heavier by the minute.
Cassian roars as he stretches out a hand, a wave of red tinted energy blasting from his palm. The arch or power slams into the Giant’s calf, blasting away a chunk of skin and muscle, splattering blood across the nearest wall.
The Giant roars as he falls to one knee.
Cassian sprints behind him, out of reach of the hand that comes sweeping down at him. This time, he’s the distraction as Rhysand uses the hand not holding Azriel upright to unleash a blast of dark, obsidian power.
My own magic flares in response. It is a darkness so like my own, the sight of it a siren call that has me leaning forward in my seat. If he can unleash a blast powerful enough to leave a gash across the Giant’s bare chest with those gorsian chains around his neck, how much damage can he do without it?
The Giant’s cries of pain echo throughout the amphitheater; using the distraction, Cassian continues to blast away at it’s leg while Rhys throws blow after blow at it’s chest. They fair far better than I anticipated they would, but I know better than to let hope get the better of me. It is far too easily ripped away in this arena.
As if on cue, the gates open again and a pack of wargs come sprinting into the arena.
The crowd erupts in cheers, and my heart once again thunders in my chest. What have I done? It takes all my training to not start chewing on my thumbnail. How am I supposed to save them from this?
Amarantha claps gleefully as one of the wargs breaks away from the pack to lunge straight for Azriel’s throat.
No! No! No- Azriel raises a scarred hand to blast the beast backward with a wave of blue tinted magic. There isn’t enough time to sigh in relief, not as the rest of the pack splits in two, one circling Rhysand and Azriel, the other taking a shot at the Giant. Those rows of razor sharp and needle thin teeth sink into the Giant’s already bleeding leg, momentarily distracting it as it swings wildly around the arena, arms pinwheeling as it fights to balance on one leg while the other flails in an attempt to shake the beasts off.
“They’re not supposed to attack the Giant!” Brannagh whines.
I gulp down my wine, hoping it will push the wave of nausea that rolls through me down. I’ve signed their death warrants. I’ve gotten my mates killed.
Cassian, in the chaos, has managed to find half of a spear, the blade rusted from the recent rain, but he hurls it with acute precision nonetheless, piercing through the oddly shaped skull of a warg snapping at Azriel’s wings.
Rhysand and Azriel have moved to stand back to back, their varying shades of magic weaving between their fingers as they prepare to strike the snapping beasts that circle them.
The Giant topples over as the three wargs held tight to it’s wounded calf find a nerve. There’s not enough room in the arena to let him fall without incident. The poor creature topples right into the wall opposite us, knocking away a section of stone and nearly dragging a Senator and his mistress into the Pit.
The Praetorians launch from our booth to aid the screaming couple.
It might have been funny under different circumstances, but I cannot peel my eyes away from my mates as the blast beast after beast away with their magic. Even wounded, even stunted by the chains, they are the most powerful wielders I’ve ever seen. Even if Cassian’s and Azriel’s magic sprays with less precision than usual without the siphons Illyrians are known for, every blow is calculated. They do not miss. Warg after warg falls, their leathery skin blistered or blasted away from multiple blows. Even wounded, the males remain in perfect sync, filling in any gaps the other might lack. They manage to kill five of the eight beasts, the other three still mercilessly tearing through the Giant’s leg, even as the guards try to push him off the wall.
Brannagh laughs at the tears that fall from the Giant’s eyes as he swats uselessly at the beasts. No matter how many times his massive fists slams against them, they will not let go. His blood runs like a river through the center of the Pit.
Many of the crowd laugh too.
These are my people? This is what I am to inherit? This misery and suffering and apathy towards the suffering of others? We are monsters!
As soon as I can get my mates out of this godsforsaken Pit, I will find a way to get them far, far away from this place, where it can never hurt them again. And then, when I know they are safe, I will make sure that this place burns.
Rhysand seems to take pity on his opponent, as he steps away from Azriel’s back to blast one of the remaining wargs off the Giant’s calf. From the distance across the arena, the blow is not a killing one, and aggravated, the warg turns its attack to Rhysand.
My breath hitches in my throat as he lowers himself into a crouch, hands splaying in the damp earth. There is a sword a couple feet from him, if he runs, he might make it there first. But he doesn’t run, he waits until the beast gets close before hurling dust in it’s eyes. While it’s distracted, a rope of star studded magic unfurls from his palm and wraps around the beast’s throat. Instead of killing it, he hurls it back at the others, knocking all of them free from the Giant’s leg.
The crowd boos.
My heart clenches in my chest. He could have let them end this fight now, could have let those beasts tear clean through the Giant’s leg and won by default, but he didn’t. He chose to fight fair, to do the dirty work himself.
The three beasts turn on him as he sprints for the sword. There’s just enough time for him to get a firm grip on the hilt before the first lunges, its claws tearing through his forearm as he fights to get the angle he needs to win. Blood splatters, those handsome features twisting in pain as he adjusts his stance. Cassian runs towards him, but he won’t make it in time.
There’s no more wine to distract me, I’ve fully bitten through my lip now. Please if there are any gods left to hear me, don’t let him die here!
Rhysand moves with the grace of a well-practiced swordsman, each step flowing into the next like a dance as he cleaves through one beast's head, and severs the paw of a second. In mere seconds, he manages to dispatch the rest, leaving the mangled bodies at his feet. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath and under different circumstances I might have been too distracted by his beauty to notice the Giant move.
Rhysand might have been the better male, but that didn’t save him from the Giant’s hand as it swatted him across the battlefield like he was a pesky fly. I bite deeper through my lip to keep back a scream as his body bounces across the muddy floor until he meets a wall.
Cassian and Azriel roar in outrage and the tether that sits in my chest rattles so hard against my rib cage I think it might rip right out of me. This can’t be happening!
The Giant rises on shaking legs, then falls back onto its knees, using its meaty fists to bash against the arena floor, in what looks like the world’s deadliest game of Whack-A-Mole. Red and blue magic flashes across the arena as the Illyrian’s throw blow after blow, leaving bleeding gashes in the Giant’s fist. Across the arena, Rhysand rolls onto his back, forehead covered in blood as he struggles to get upright. He’s alive at least. Barely. But alive.
I vow to the Mother and any other god that can hear me that if they survive the fight I will find somewhere safe for them. I will do whatever it takes to keep them out of this arena for good.
“They are persistent, I’ll give them that,” Dagdan muses.
I feel rather than see my Father’s frown as he takes in all the chaos with the experience of a seasoned strategist. I know that he is calculating their odds, mapping out every possible outcome. I wonder if Cassian launching into the air, wings beating so hard to get him airborne that I feel a gust of hot air on my face, was part of his calculations? If he could have foreseen the blast of energy Cassian’s hurls into the Giant’s eyes, blinding him?
The Giant abandons his attempts at smashing them to grab at his eyes, large hands clawing at his sizzling flesh. The whole arena can smell burnt skin, but Cassian doesn’t let up, he aims blow after blow at the Giant’s head, until he finally falls over backwards, neck slamming hard against the already broken stone.
I look away, stomach in my throat as the resounding crack fills the amphitheater.
The crowd roars in disbelief as Cassian tucks in his wings and descends back into the Pit. He hits the ground running, footfalls heavy in the mud as he rushes to Rhysand’s side. Azriel is not far behind him. With their combined strength, they manage to get Rhysand back on his feet.
I pinch myself to make sure I’m awake. They’re alive!
Father stands and makes his way to the edge of the booth again. “For whatever reason, the Goddess has smiled upon you three today! Today, you will live. Let us hope you remain in Her favor.” He doesn’t sound super thrilled by the prospect as he turns his back to the crowd, slate gray eyes pinched as they fall to me.
“Walk with me.”
I stand, trying to keep my singed skirts in my hands so he cannot see the damage I’d done. Or the blood from my palms. If he suspects I was at all nervous for the outcome, I could ruin everything. I must keep my composure.
And not run down the stairs to the gates and throw myself at my mates like every fiber of my being screams at me to do.
The guards follow as we exit the booth. In moments there will be chaos as beings scatter to find the Games Keepers and collect their winnings, or pay their debts, but for a moment, the crowd lingers in their seats, watching as the Illyrians are led out of the Pit.
“You embarrassed us today,” he hisses once we’re out of Amarantha’s earshot. The anger in his tone is enough to make me try and take a step away from him, but he throws an arm around my shoulders to keep me against his side. To any onlookers, we are just father and daughter having a chat. His voice is low enough that no one will hear the threats he hisses in my ear.
“You hide away in the River House for months, mourning a traitor who was plotting to overthrow me and now you make a spectacle of yourself! I should have you cast out into the streets!”
My only way out is to placate him. “I am sorry, Father.”
“Sorry,” he snarls, fingers digging tight enough into my shoulder to bruise. “Your apologies mean nothing! I swear, if you do not do everything you promised to do today, I will throw you into this arena! And I will use your own advice to keep you alive long enough to ensure you have a couple matches to prolong your suffering.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I meant what I said, Father.” Mostly. Perhaps I can secure passage for all of us out of here and we never have to think about the Empire again. The more I think about it, the more pleased I am with the idea. Yes, I just need to make it look like I am taking them as slaves, and once we’re out from the watchful eye of my Father, we can all run far, far away. Maybe I am more clever than I thought.
He leads us down the steps to a door that will eventually lead us to the gladiator cages and a guard swings open the heavy iron for us. Once we’re out from under the eye of the people, the rough stone walls closing in tight--a means to ensure none of the larger gladiators can make a run for the door and escape--he releases his grip on me.
Torches line the walls casting his face in near shadow as he pauses at the bottom of a second, smaller, set of stairs. I shiver despite myself as the door slams shut, sealing me in. I suppose at this point I should be prepared, but I’m not, and when his open hand slams across my cheek I lose my balance and slip down the last two steps of the staircase.
“Don’t ever question me again!” He hisses.
The guards pretend to not notice, as they always have.
I grit my teeth against the ringing in my ears, against the hot tears that threaten to escape me, focusing instead on carefully getting back on my feet. Stay down too long he’ll kick in my ribs like he used to when I was a child. Get up too fast and he’ll assume he hadn’t hit me hard enough. I put over emphasis into finding a handhold in the wall, making sure I keep my stinging cheek against my shoulder. The tremor in my hands is not feigned fear, I’ve been terrified of him my entire life, but I do exaggerate it just as my Mother taught me.
“Spoiled brat!” He grumbles as he stalks forward into the tunnel. “I coddled you too much.”
I glare at his back once I’m sure he’s no longer looking at me. I hate him! I’ve hated him my entire fucking life. He’s ruined everything. Taken everything from me. Everything I’d ever loved he’d wiped off the face of the earth, all because I had the misfortune of being a female. All because he couldn’t have a precious son.
I grit my teeth so hard they hurt as I brush my skirts off and follow after him. I will be glad when I am finally out of his sight. Far, far away from this stupid Empire. At least I have mates; someone out in this Mother forsaken world who will care about me; who won’t hate me just for existing. At least there is one thing he can’t ruin for me.
I am too distracted with my thoughts to note the paths we take. I distantly hear the sound of injured men groaning, catch a whiff of filth and animal waste, but it’s all a blur. This will all be a bad dream soon. Soon I will have my mates and I will never have to deal with him again. I can be happy. I will be happy.
By the time he finally stops walking, I’ve schooled my features into a perfect mask; have brushed a few loose strands of hair in front of my face to hide the red mark across my cheek. He will suspect nothing until it is too late. Then he can have his precious Empire. It will be the only thing left he can control.
A guard opens what looks like a cage door, the iron old and rusted, and the guards that have been trailing behind us step in first.
“Against the wall!” They bark.
There’s no light in the cell, just the flickering of the torch on the wall behind us. I don’t know what to expect.
“Fuck you, Imperial Pig!” Cassian.
I bite my tongue to keep back the grin that threatens to escape me, my mask slipping. He’s not so hurt that he can’t put up a fight. The thought warms something in my chest. Headstrong, stubborn, if the sound of scuffling coming from inside the dark cell is anything to go by, and sarcastic--everything I need to counter my reserved nature. I need that energy. I need him. The surety of that makes me square my shoulders.
“Easy, Cass.” Rhysand. His voice is smooth as silk, even if the words are a little slurred. “We don’t want trouble.”
“The fuck we don’t!” Cassian shouts. “I’m no one’s fucking pet!”
The guard at the door, once sure the others inside are secure, steps away to grab the torch off its perch in the hallway, and sets it into an old rung on the inside of the cell, bathing the room in its soft glow.
Father steps in first.
For a moment, I hesitate, heart in my throat. I need them. I need that strength I saw in the arena. Need that fire Cassian spews. The surety that Rhysand carries himself with. I need them. And if I show any sign of that, they're dead.
The guard, now back at the door, eyes me quizzically.
I draw a shaky breath and school my features back into a perfectly bored mask.
I can do this.
I will do this.
I won’t let Hybern take anything else from me, no matter the games I have to play.
I tell it to myself over and over as I step into the cell.
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