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golden-cherry · 7 months ago

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deal - cl16 (34/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The boat that's actually a yacht - and it's just the two of you.

Warnings: fluff, minimal angst, Google translated French, no knowledge of boats

Word Count: 3.9k

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A/N: we're back bitches!!! love you. feedback is appreciated!

"What do we need?" you ask, taking a sip of your coffee. "Apart from Kika's spontaneous photos, I've only taken pictures of inanimate objects so far. And the one of you."

Charles shrugs his shoulders. "When Joris and I take photos together, we'll pack a bag of different clothes." When you raise an eyebrow in confusion, Charles purses his lips. "We always take several photos, for several posts. If we don't have time to take new pictures, we always have some in stock that we can use without them looking like old pictures."

"Okay." You put your mug down on the work surface in front of you. "Anything else?"

Your roommate grins. "Your camera."

"Haha." You toss it off with a kitchen towel. "I mean, do you need anything else in the way of props or anything?"

He shakes his head. "Actually, no. Everything you could possibly need for a photo shoot is already on the boat." He nods towards the hallway. "You just need long clothes in case it gets colder later."

You nod. "All right. Then you pack a bag with the things you need and I'll pack one with clothes I can wear if it gets cold later." You walk around the kitchen island towards the hallway.

"And don't forget your camera." You can even hear the smirk, which is why you give him the middle finger without turning around.

As you stand in your room, you don't really know what to pack.

Although it's supposed to be twenty degrees outside - which sounds totally surreal for a day before Christmas - your weather app tells you that it's going to be almost three degrees at night.

"How long are we staying on the boat?" you shout loudly so that Charles can hear you. You throw a large bag on the bed.

"No idea," says Charles calmly. When you turn around, he's standing in the doorway. "You and I can leave after the pictures. Or stay there all day. Or the night." He shrugs his shoulders. "There's no time when the boat has to be back in port."

You sigh. "I'm afraid that doesn't help me much." You point to the bag on the bed. "I can't pack my entire closet, Charles. Tell me what to pack." You look at him pleadingly.

"All right." He enters your bedroom and looks around before reaching for some clothes lying on the floor. "Here, the sweatpants are good. If you want to lie out on the sun bed in the evening, you'll need these." He tosses them to you. You catch them and fold them up to stow them neatly in your bag. "Do you have comfy socks or something?"

"Ehm, yeah," you say, pulling some out of the pile of clothes Kika left there and tucking them into the side pocket of the bag.

Charles kneels down on the floor and sifts through the pile at your feet. "You'll definitely need a thick sweater. It's going to be pretty windy when we're out at sea." He rummages around in your clothes until he fishes out a black sweater and holds it out to you. "Tada."

The first thing you notice about the sweater is that it's not yours. The black hoodie is too big to be yours. The second thing you notice about it is that it's the sweater Charles gave you the night you went to your favorite place.

The night Charles showed you his talent on the piano. The night you almost kissed. It feels like it was a lifetime ago.

You can't tell Charles that you don't want to wear the sweater, even though it's incredibly comfortable. It certainly still smells like Charles, although perhaps not as strongly - after all, he hasn't worn it for days. You don't want to be wrapped up in his scent and be at risk of getting weak. The distance that needs to exist between you is the right thing to do.

Charles looks at you questioningly from the floor and you realize you've already hesitated too long.

"That - that's not my sweater," you simply say.

Your friend examines the sweater in his hand. "Really?" he asks, confused, smelling the collar. "But it smells like you."

You shake your head. "That's yours. You - uh - you lent it to me when we went to petits mondes," you explain as he folds the fabric and puts it to one side.

"Oh. Right." He looks at the sweater before his gaze lands on you again. "You can keep it if you want."

You wave it off. "It's all right. Thanks for letting me borrow it. But it's yours after all, so..." You step nervously from one foot to the other.

Charles watches you for a moment and then turns away. "All right, then. How about this one then?" He pulls another sweater out of the pile of laundry. This time it's actually yours. It's white, with red stripes on it and the collar reaches up to your chin. You definitely won't catch a cold in this.

"It's good," you reply with a smile and catch it as he throws it to you. You fold it before putting it in your pocket as well. "What about your clothes? Do you want them in the bag too?" you ask him, hoping that he will take his clothes separately and not infect your clothes with his smell.

Charles gets up from the floor. "I'll pack my own bag. You still have to pack your camera," he smiles, patting non-existent dust off his pants. "About the trip to the port..." he begins, rubbing the back of his neck.

You grab your camera bag and stow it next to your clothes in your bag. Hopefully the spare battery is charged. "Hmm?"

"I suggest we take your car and I'll drop you off. Then you won't have to walk far to get to the boat," he explains. "I'll park your car in a side street and then join you. Then we won't be seen together."

You look at him, confused. "Can people just get on your boat like that? Aren't you afraid that some crazy fans will suddenly come out of - I don't know - your cabin?"

Charles has to smile. "Someone will be waiting for you there. They'll let you on the boat."

Embarrassed, you curl your lips into a thin line. Of course there's someone at the docks to make sure no one sneaks onto strangers' boats. "Okay."

You stand opposite each other, undecided, until Charles takes the first step. "I'll just pack my bag and then we can go." Smiling, he disappears from your bedroom.

While Charles stuffs everything he can find into a bag, you gather some snacks in the kitchen to take with you on the boat. Charles has hinted that there would be a cook on site, but you might not be there for too long, so a proper meal wouldn't be worth it.

As you prepare some sandwiches and put them in a bag, Charles appears behind you. "Are you ready?" he asks, leaning on the kitchen island.

"Yep," you reply and place a few small bottles of water next to the sandwiches. When you look at Charles, he grins. "What is it?"

"Nothing." His grin almost reaches his ears. "There's water on the boat too, you know."

You roll your eyes. "I've never been on a boat before."

Charles raises his eyebrows briefly before shrugging his shoulders. "It's not as special as you make it out to be."

You squint your eyes a little. "Only rich people say that."

He tilts his head. "Do you want to go on the boat or not?"

"Like I said," you start the sentence and grab the snacks, "only if I can steer it once."

Charles reaches for the keys to your Renault. "Don't you dare crash it," he warns you as you walk towards the elevator. He presses the button and a short time later the doors open. "That boat was expensive."

"Don't worry," you try to reassure him. "I'll just hold the wheel firmly and steer straight ahead." You wink at him and step into the elevator.

Charles has to smile and follows you. "I think I'll only let you take the wheel on the open sea. There's much less risk of you ramming other boats."

"You have a lot of faith in me," you say with mock hurt and put your hand on your chest.

"I do," he says seriously. "I'd trust you with my life."

You walk uncertainly around the various walkways.

Before you got out of the car, Charles said there would be a man standing in front of his boat to help you find it. You would also have to say a password so that you would be granted access to Charles' boat.

"For security," he explained. "We don't want everyone to get on the boat."

With your two bags on your shoulders, you walk past a few boats that certainly cost more than you'll ever earn. But nowhere is there a man to signal that you are in the right place.

There are a few people at the harbor, but no one pays you any attention. They are chatting with friends, frolicking on boats and enjoying the warmth of the sun one last time before the year is over and winter finally sets in. You walk past them with your head down.

Cautiously and indecisively, you walk on and the boats become yachts on which great parties are sure to take place in summer. They are big and nice and you wonder whether you should google one of the types to find out what price range the yachts of the rich and famous are in.

You are torn from your thoughts by a man. "Madame? Vous cherchez quelque chose?" are you looking for something?

Somewhat taken by surprise, you stop. You are standing in front of a large, white yacht. With its two floors, it towers above its neighbors by quite a bit.

"Uhm," you look at the man uncertainly. "Je cherche le bateau d'un ami," you explain. I'm looking for my friends boat.

The man raises an eyebrow as if he's wondering what you're doing here. Your uncertainty and searching eyes probably made you stand out immediately. You don't fit in here, that's for sure.

When the man doesn't answer, you try the password Charles told you. "Chicken?" you ask uncertainly, but when the man smiles at you and reaches for your pockets, you exhale with relief.

You've found the boat. Thank goodness.

The man helps you onto the yacht and leads you past the sun bed into the interior, which is much bigger than you imagined, and places your bags on a couch. A couch. On a boat. How crazy.

"Voulez-vous boire quelque chose?" would you like something to drink? He smiles kindly at you.

"Non, merci," you thank him and look around. On the floor, next to a couch and a small bar, is the steering wheel, which you hope you'll be able to take the plunge on later. To the right, a staircase leads down to the lower floor, where there are not just one, but three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen.

Astonished, you run your fingers over one of the large beds. The fabric is soft and pleasant against your skin and you can almost imagine how comfortable the bed would be if you snuggled up there after a day in the sun.

"I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't find my boat."

As you turn around, Charles is standing at the foot of the stairs, watching you. Without further ado, you sit down on the bed behind you. "I was looking for a boat too. Not a castle on the water."

He has to grin. "The boat is still relatively small compared to the ones that dock here in the harbor in summer."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

He takes a step towards you. "Really. I'm the outsider with my little boat. There's nothing under five stories." He bites the inside of his cheek. "How do you like my boat?"

You nod. "Your yacht is really nice." You grin at him and take a look at the bed you're on. "But why do you need so much space at sea?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I usually spend the summer break here with my family. Not all of the time, of course, but when we go out on it, it's quite a few days. And I'll be damned if I'm going to share a bed with Arthur."

You try to suppress your grin, but unfortunately you don't succeed. "Why? Does he kick while he sleeps?"

"No," says Charles, leaning against the bed at a little distance from you. "But he used to steal the blanket in the past and then I had to freeze all night."

You raise an eyebrow. "Couldn't you have just fought for it?"

"Believe me when I tell you I tried several times," he rubs the back of his neck with his hand. "He practically wraps himself up like a burrito and when that happens, you've lost."

"Then I know who I'd never share a bed with," you joke, but Charles looks a little more serious.

"I hope so." Before the mood can turn negative, he smiles at you. "Are you ready? Shall we go out?"

You look at him excitedly. "Oh yes." You jump off the bed and smooth out the creases you've left in the comforter. "How long will it take us to get outside?"

"Not long at all. I think twenty minutes and that's it," he explains, turning to head up the stairs.

When you reach the top, Charles gets behind the wheel. You look at him, confused. "Are you driving the yacht?"

"Yep."

"All the time?"

"Yep." He grins at you. "Except for the time you're at the wheel, of course."

You want to jump up and down with excitement. "And where's the man who let me on the boat?"

Charles presses a few buttons and the display in front of him comes to life. "Thomas? He's left the boat."

"Are we all alone?" you ask uncertainly and sit down on the couch. "I thought you still had a chef on board?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "You brought some snacks with you. Thomas also packed some food in the fridge in case you and I want to cook something later."

You purse your lips. You would spend the whole day on the water with Charles. Alone. And you would take pictures of him, which he would post on his official Instagram profile. And you would cook in the small kitchen in the basement. The distance you want to maintain between you seems to be shrinking somehow.

"You're not going out on the boat with me to kill me and get rid of me discreetly, are you?" you ask him jokingly.

"Believe me. If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it on our first day," he grins and puts his hands on the steering wheel. "Are you ready?" Charles asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. His green eyes sparkle in the sunlight and small dimples form in his cheeks as he looks at you.

Gorgeous.

You smile back. "I'm ready, captain."

He winks at you. "Let's go then."

Concentrating, Charles steers his yacht out of the harbor between the other boats. The rocking is surprisingly pleasant and not as bad as you expected, so you lie down on the couch and wait until you arrive at your destination. Charles remains silent for a while, so you don't say anything either, worried about disturbing his concentration, but while he steers the boat, you start working on your camera settings and think about which one would be best for your shoot.

After twenty minutes, the yacht comes to a halt and Charles turns to you. "Alright."

Excitedly, you get up from the couch and follow him outside to the sun bed you had your eye on when you boarded. As you look around, you are amazed. You can still see the land in the distance, but you are so far out that it almost merges with the horizon. Although there is a sea breeze blowing around you, the sun is so bright that you don't freeze. It's reflected on the clear water and you want to put on a bikini and jump in.

Charles seems to notice your gaze. "Next summer, I'll take you with me and then you can swim and sunbathe here until you get sunburnt."

You smile at him. "I'll gladly take you up on that offer." You glance back inside. "Do you need to get changed or are we going to start straight away?"

Charles snaps his fingers once before pulling his shirt over his head and disappearing towards the interior. You try not to stare after him and you ignore how wide his back is and how his muscles move under his skin as he puts his shirt down on the couch. He opens his bag and pulls out a white shirt. When he turns back to you, you turn away quickly, hoping he hasn't noticed you watching him.

"Ready when you are."

Charles changes clothes more often than you can imagine. He has different outfits ready for every pose and every location on his yacht, which he slips into in order to take the best possible picture. In between, you take a sandwich break on the sun bed and enjoy the warm sun on your skin before getting back to work.

It doesnt take long for you to figure that Charles is the perfect man for the job. He's so easy to work with, even though he jokes most of the time and you surely have more photos of him looking funny than serious. But you enjoy it the way it is. Happy, free, without a care in the world.

When you have finished and Charles is happy with the photos you took, he suggests going home in the evening. You nod and sit down on the couch.

When he looks at you expectantly, you raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What is it?"

"I thought you wanted to steer the boat." In his hand, he holds a bandana that he ties around his head to control his hair, which is messy from the constant changing of clothes.

You widen your eyes. "I thought you were messing with me."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Why would I do that? There's nothing and no one here that you can put at risk. And you won't be steering for long." He leans against the seat in front of the wheel. "If you want, the seat is yours."

Excited, you get up from the couch and get behind the wheel. Charles explains everything to you and you try to concentrate on his words as best you can, but he is so close to you that his scent of perfume, a little sweat and him envelops you.

With his help, the boat sets off and you jump up and down on the seat with joy. Your hair is blowing around your head and it's so loud that you almost scream. "Oh my God! How fucking awesome is that?" You don't even notice that you've let go of the steering wheel.

"Hands on the wheel, you crazy woman!" laughs Charles, holding the wheel tightly. As you look at him, you see a spark of the Charles you know. The Charles that existed before yesterday.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you apologize and put your hands back on the wheel. "Oh my God! Can you take a picture of me?"

Charles takes two steps back and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. "Smile, please."

You grin so wide it almost hurts, but you can't stop. It seems so unbelievable that you are on a yacht and even get to steer it.

You smile at Charles, tears stinging your eyes. A few days ago, you were almost homeless, all alone and on your own. There aren't enough words in the world to describe how grateful you are for the Monegasque who took you in. Who took you into his heart without hesitation. Who was there for you without batting an eyelid.

Fuck, you love him. And nothing in the world will ever change that.

"Thank you."

He lowers his cell phone. "For what?"

A tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek. "For everything."

Charles takes a step towards you and you would love to take him in your arms and never let him go again. But he stops an arm's length away from you and smiles at you. "I would do anything for you."

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks, so you avert your gaze and look ahead again. Monaco is getting closer, but you would prefer to stay here. On the yacht and on the sea. You don't want to go back to reality yet - not if you can be here with Charles. The way it was before.

"I don't want to go back yet," he voices your thoughts and puts a hand on the wheel. When you look at him, he smiles a little brokenly. "I don't want to go back yet because I'm afraid that things won't be the same between you and me. That I'll lose you. And I don't want that."

His words hit you so hard that you can't breathe. You would love to take him in your arms and kiss him and reassure him that you belong to him like the sand belongs to the sea, but that's not the way Charles means it.

But you don't care how Charles means it. You belong to him - no matter which way.

"Then let's not go back," you suggest. "We - we can stay here and we won't go back until tomorrow."

Charles' smile looks forced. "And then?"

"Then we'll go home." You bite the inside of your cheek and purse your lips. "To our home."

Charles exhales in relief, as if the elephant that had been standing on his chest had finally gotten off of him. As if he had been underwater for too long and could now take his first breath. He would love to stay here forever, with you, far away from the reality of all the pressure he is under.

As you smile at him, the pressure seems to fall off him. As if he has finally reached his destination, wherever that may be. Like he's home.

Fuck, he'd do anything for you if you just asked him to.

He motions for you to let him into the seat, and as you swap places, he brings the yacht to a halt. As the engine shuts down, he slides off the seat and turns to face you.

"Have you ever gotten drunk on a boat before?"

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velvetsainz · 1 year ago

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summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] charles is away in baku and you remind him of what he's missing. part two.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp, use of explicit language, phone sex, masturbation, google-translated french (lmao), a dash of fluff, i like em dashes too much

a/n: baby's first smutlet! i've been writing for like twelve years but i've never posted to tumblr, so here's to first times! there'll def be at least a part ii to this, but i'm also hoping to write for other drivers soon(ish). also giant mega thank you to @multiseb21 + @lecrep for your support—y'all have been so incredibly sweet & i am so thankful for you!! anyways, i hope y'all like this! enjoy, loves! xx

“Chérie,” his voice crooned over the line, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Don’t tease, mon ange—it’s already hard enough being away from you for so long.”

“Weren’t you the one who said he’d be fine just a month ago?,” you retorted, voice low. The cards were in your hands now, and Charles was desperate. He was a nomad lost in the desert and you were his oasis on the horizon, just the sound of your voice enough to slake his thirst.

“Yes, but then you sent me that picture and—” You hear him curse again under his breath, his fist acting as a poor substitute for the velvet heat of your walls. He swore he wasn’t going to let you leave that bed once he got his hands on you again.

Charles wasn’t entirely wrong: you were the biggest fucking tease known to mankind. Earlier that evening you sent him a semi-absentminded photo of you fresh from the shower, steam still obscuring the best parts of the photo with a fresh white towel around your hips and one gathering your hair on top of your head. He’d always had something about you fresh from the shower—every time he’d nearly pounce as soon as you’d pad back into the bedroom from the steamy confines of the bathroom, hair wrapped on top of your head just as it was now. (Part of you thought it was something primal in him: you’d washed away his scent on your skin and he needed to make his territory known again, that horn dog.) Still, he was ever the gentleman and would make the endeavor more than worth your while.

“Yeah, that was pretty bad of me, wasn’t it?,” you ceded with a knowing smirk on your lips as you sat back from your desk, closing your laptop slowly. You’d wanted to get a little more work done after your shower, but the Monégasque wasn’t keen to let sleeping dogs lie and needed to hear your voice for himself.

“So bad, chérie,” he agreed with tone of exasperation, a heavy sigh passing through the phone, “And you’re not even here to help a–”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help in other ways,” you were quick to remind him, the words coming from your mouth quicker than your shame would force you to bottle them up. Heat was creeping to your cheeks, and you could feel the familiar coil of desire tightening deep in the pit of your belly.

“Are you—?”

“That’s why you called, isn’t it, baby?,” you asked only to get a stifled groan from the other side. “You wanted me to tell you how I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you continued, “how I miss your hands on my hips, your cock so deep—”

“Fucking hell,” Charles practically whines as you push yourself away from the desk now, allowing yourself to relax into the seat of the chair and your hips to ease apart despite every part of you wanting to grind them together to relieve the dull ache that rested between them.

“What would you do if I was there now, Cha?,” you asked softly, hand splayed out over the plush of your thigh, eyes glazing over as you pictured him there with you. You wanted his hands everywhere; you couldn’t decide where you truly needed him most. Fingers curling against that hidden spot in your tight cunt, threaded through your hair and pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder, gripping your thighs so tight they’d leave bruises that he’d fuss over later—it all sounded like heaven compared to the lonely hell of your shared Monte Carlo flat.

“I want to taste you, mon cœur,” he replied shakily as his breath came faster, the sound of him fisting his cock becoming more and more prominent as time passed; he wasn’t going to last long like this, but you both already knew that—it wasn’t the point of this exercise. “I’d have you coming on my tongue, let you taste yourself when I kiss you—putain,” the driver cursed once more as his brow furrowed. He was leaking precum over his ironclad grip and all he wanted was to slide his fingers past your plump lips to feel the wet heat of your tongue take care of the mess.

You let out a tremulous breath over the line, one you hadn’t known you’d been holding onto so tightly until your head started swimming with need. Your hand had drifted from its origin, rubbing lazy circles over the cotton of the panties you’d slipped into after the inciting picture. On your top half was a worn, faded shirt of Charles that you’d taken a liking to as a nightshirt—especially when you were missing him as you were so desperately now.

“Need you in me,” you begged, the emptiness you felt so acutely coming to the forefront of your senses, “You always do such a good job filling me—my fingers don’t do you justice.”

You hear a groan on the other side of the line, the man now sitting on the edge of the bed as he tries to keep himself in check. He wasn’t ready for this to be over so soon; you had him feeling like a teenager again, ready to spill at a moment’s notice. Granted, this wasn't anything new: there's something so intoxicating about you that destroyed whatever semblance of restraint, of control he had over his lust.

“Want you in my mouth, give me something better to do than tease you like this,” to which you received a choked merde, the man hanging on your every word as the hand between your legs abandoned its objective—you could take care of that later. You were too caught in every little sound that passed his plush lips, listening for every little cue his body so willingly gave you.

“Want your hands in my hair, guiding me up and down your cock,” you keened for him on a whine, his breathing heavy and labored. He was running at full speed to the cliff's edge, and you were there watching, waiting in the grass. “Want your cum on my tongue, baby,” you whined.

“Promise not to waste any, minette?,” he grunted, gritting his teeth as you hummed your assurances. “Such a good girl f’me, yes–”

With a strained hiss and a groan he came sloppily over his hand, thankful enough that he wasn’t home in Monaco so he didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the mess he’d made. “Fuck,” he croaked, breathing heavy as he came down from the blinding high your words had catapulted him through. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been taking care of business when duty called, but something about your voice, the thought of you there…it clutched everything into a higher gear.

“Better?,” you asked, sly smile audible to the Ferrari driver; he didn’t need to see you to know the shit-eating, satisfied smile that took over your lips.

With a tired laugh he nodded, slumping back onto the cool rumpled sheets of the hotel bed as he stared absently at the dark ceiling. It was three in the morning in Baku, and he couldn’t sleep—the thoughts your cheeky picture had invited wouldn’t let him.

“Get some rest, tiger,” you teased him, knowing he’d have to be awake in a few short hours. You debated sending him another picture in the morning as motivation, tiding him over until you’d join him later that weekend.

“Que ferais-je sans toi, mon amour?,” he asked, sleep heavy in his voice as he rolled the right way onto the bed and running a hand through his hair. He’d deal with the mess he’d made in the morning along with the flowers he’d send you—he really didn’t know what he’d do without you.

“I guess we’ll never know, hm?,” you replied gently, smile melting into something softer as you fiddled with the gleaming ring on your left hand.

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fluentmoviequoter · 7 months ago

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Bats Need Lives Too

Requested Here!

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x wife!reader

Summary: Bruce and the boys have bad days, and as their mom, it's your job to make them better.

Warnings: Bruce and Damian are on the autism spectrum, Jason jokes about dying, mentions of murder and Joker, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | DC Masterlist | Request Info

Photo from Wayne Family Adventures on Webtoon (via Google)

A/N: I don't have autism so I based this depictions off research and common symptoms; if it's inaccurate, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it!

“Bruce!” you yell from the top of the stairs. “Damian!”

You pause, but there’s no reply. Taking a step down, you hit the creaky stair that Bruce hasn’t fixed (for security purposes).

“Ma,” Jason greets as he comes up the stairs. “I’m going to go get some sleep. I told B and the demon brat to do the same, but you know them.”

You smile at his attempt to stay on your good side and wave him past as you wish him a good night. He has a room at the manor like all of the kids do, but it depends on their day and Bruce’s mood as to whether or not they use it.

“Bruce, honey,” you call again as you descend into the Batcave. “It’s time for bed. You too, Damian.”

“We’re almost finished,” Damian replies without looking away from the screen.

“Bruce,” you repeat firmly.

“Almost done,” he mumbles.

You look up toward Wanye Manor, then reach over Bruce’s shoulder to turn the computer monitors off. Damian huffs as Bruce continues to stare at the black screen.

“Boys,” you begin again, squatting between them with a hand on their shoulders. “I know you’re getting close, but you have to sleep. Especially you, Dami.”

Damian considers it for a moment, then nods. Bruce turns toward you slowly, and you smile when his eyes meet yours.

“I’ll hug you both until you agree to go upstairs if that’s what it takes,” you threaten.

That threat used to be more effective before Damian came to expect your hugs daily. Both he and Bruce, all of the Bats for that matter, tend to run from love, but you’ve become the loving mother they need, even when they don’t like it.

“Go to bed, get some sleep, eat some breakfast in the morning, and I promise Gotham will still be here when you’re ready to investigate more.”

Damian slips away from your hand and walks toward the stairs. He calls a weak, “Goodnight,” over his shoulder as you take his previous seat and look at Bruce. He looks tired, though you’ve come to expect it now.

“Bad day?” you murmur, gently taking his face in your hands.

“Will I always be two steps behind?” he asks against your palm.

“If you don’t stop to rest, you’ll be three steps behind,” you answer honestly.

“You’re supposed to say, no, love and light of my life, you’re doing great,” Bruce teases.

“And you’re supposed to listen to me. Now, are you going to bed with me, or shall I invite Goliath to keep your spot warm?”

“When did you become the bad cop?” Bruce asks as he pulls you up and against his chest.

“Since your children started acting just like you.”

“What will Alfred think?” Bruce asks dramatically.

“That he deserves five times as much vacation time now that there’s so many of you.”

When Damian’s teacher at Gotham Preparatory called you in for her concerns about Damian’s behavior, you took what she said seriously. You knew about Damian’s past and his family, of course; when she kindly suggested having him screened for autism, you already knew what the doctor would say. You’ve suspected for years that Bruce was on the spectrum, but having him or his children screened would be a Gotham Gazette headline and a press nightmare that you did not need. So, you did your own research on how to help your boys whenever they need it. Within a few days, Damian was interested in your new approach and set out to learn about the disorder with you.

“Dick told me it was impolite to call people disgraces, but disordered is acceptable?” Damian asked as he read an article on the screening process.

“The person isn’t disordered, Dami, it’s a neurological and developmental disorder. That just means the way you learn, and act isn’t the same as normal people,” you explained. “Though, personally, normal has always felt like more of an insult.”

Damian tutted in agreement before he continued reading, and you smiled as you flipped through a list of symptoms you’ve seen in the manor for years. Many of them had occurred before Damian came along.

“Hey!” Dick calls as he and Jason enter the manor. “So, gala tonight. Is it mandatory?”

“It is,” you answer with a sympathetic frown. “Though if you bring a date, I’d be more than happy to make up excuses for why you leave early.”

“That’s never gotten me out of patrol before,” Jason argues.

“Are you talking about when Poison Ivy doused you with her plant toxin?” you reply.

“I wanted to leave early with a date.”

“She would have killed you,” Dick interjects. “What is wrong with you?”

Jason shrugs as he uses his default answer of, “Died once.”

“That’s enough,” you stop them with a chuckle. “Yes, you have to come to the gala, but you don’t have to stay the whole time. Especially if you’d like to take Damian with you when you leave.”

“I thought he was doing better,” Jason says.

“He’s getting better at the social communication issues, but, you know, it’s Gotham and he’s got a social battery just like the rest of us.”

“Is that why you’ve been separating him and Bruce?” Dick asks.

“Just on the bad days. They need space and a chance to do something they actually like. It’s worked better than anything else, and then, when they’re ready, I force them to receive my love.”

Jason shudders dramatically before you direct them to see Alfred for their suits for the gala. Dick and Jason both hug you on their way out, and you sigh as you return your attention to a memo for Wayne Enterprises about Bruce’s upcoming sabbatical. He doesn’t know it’s coming, but he needs it, and you will make him take it.

The night after the gala, you roll over in bed and reach for Bruce. His side of the bed is empty, and you open your eyes after your arm meets the cold sheet where your husband should be. You swing your legs off the bed, reach for your robe, and sigh tiredly. Bruce has been running himself ragged recently. You know why, there’s been a string of murders and timed escapes from Arkham, but he can’t solve everything in a night sitting in the Batcave.

He's been Batman more than Bruce the last week, and it’s time for you to step in and intervene. The Batcave is cold at night, and you pull your robe tighter around you as you walk toward Bruce’s back. He’s still in his cape and cowl, and when you sit beside him, he glances over quickly but pointedly avoids your eyes. You lay your hand on his arm, but he rolls his shoulder and opens the same file for the third time since you arrived. He’s getting obsessive and repetitive, and if you don’t stop him now, he’ll get impulsive and get himself or one of your kids hurt.

“Bruce are you okay?” you ask softly.

Bruce stands quickly, knocking his chair over and letting your hand fall back to your lap. “Do I look okay?” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

You raise your hands but don’t speak. Bruce turns away quickly and reaches for the computer controls. Slowly, you stand and place your fingers over his wrist. Bruce slows but doesn’t stop or look at you.

“Why are you wearing the cowl?” you ask.

“I have to stop him before he does it to someone else.”

“Joker?” you guess.

Bruce’s jaw tightens, and his forearm stiffens beneath your touch as his fingers curl into a fist.

“Bruce, you need a break. A real break, not just a walk around the manor while you think about it.”

“And if it happens while I’m on a break? Then I have even more blood on my hands!”

You shake your head and take his hands in yours. “It will be on mine, too, then. But do not take yourself away from me and the boys because of him. He’s done more than enough.”

“I have to finish. Batman has to end this.”

“And you will, but right now, you’re only hurting yourself and the people closest to you. Exactly what he wants.”

Bruce drops his head before he releases your hand to rip the cowl away from his face. You smile at him, but his eyes are on the floor.

“You need sleep,” you whisper.

Bruce nods and turns away from you to remove the rest of his equipment. Your love may be tough love sometimes, but it is what Bruce needs on days like today.

“Where are the boys?” you ask.

“Damian’s here, in bed. Dick and Jason are in Blüdhaven and Tim is on patrol.”

“Alone?”

“Helena’s with him,” Bruce assures you. “He’s safe.”

“Then leave Batman, the files, the lack of sleep, all of it down here, and let’s get you somewhere safe, too.”

Bruce allows you to lead him upstairs and into bed, but before you can ask if he feels better, his arm tightens around you as he drifts to sleep.

“Good morning,” Alfred greets.

“Good morning, Alfred,” you reply. “Bruce won’t be joining us just yet.”

“Thank goodness. If only his child felt the same urge for resting.”

“Damian?” you assume.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll bring him to breakfast. Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred nods and resumes cooking as you begin searching the manor for Damian. He tends to gravitate toward the room with the most swords, the display room on the third floor. As you enter with a knock, Damian keeps his eyes on the floor. A row of model cars is lined up before him, and the weapons on the wall are untouched.

“Hi, Dami,” you say.

“Mother,” he answers quickly.

“Are you practicing or playing?”

“There is no reason to continue practicing,” he answers.

You take a deep breath as you lean against the back of the chair. Damian has done this before, restricted himself from one of his hobbies, and it’s the hardest thing to bring him back from.

“Why not?” you inquire.

“I understand that there are more things I should know how to do, regardless of my interest in it.”

“Dami, you can do what you like. You don’t have to be a stereotype.”

“I am not a stereotype; I am simply expanding my skillset.”

“By…”

“Memorizing the make, model, and best year of popular cars.”

“I see,” you respond as you sit in the chair. “And these are in… year order?”

“Alphabetical model.”

You nod and look at the row of cars. “Is the blue one a Corvette? Because it should be on the other side of the Camaro.”

Damian freezes momentarily before he sinks to his knees and flips the car over. He sets it down and shoves it harshly, sending it into the wall as he presses his fists into the floor. You move to sit beside him but don’t touch him.

“Breathe,” you encourage. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t change them,” he mumbles. “It doesn’t work.”

“That’s okay. Put them however you want.”

“Will Baba allow me to patrol this evening?” he asks, changing the topic.

“That depends. He’s taking a break right now.”

“Then I should be out defending Gotham!”

Damian stands quickly and pulls a katana from the display case. He looks at it, then returns it.

“Dami, not right now,” you say as you stand.

“I don’t need Batman with me!” he argues.

“I’m not saying you do, Damian. What do you need here, in the manor?”

Damian shakes his head, and you remain in your place. Damian’s shoulders drop slowly, and he picks up the Corvette he shoved away to return it to its place. You smile when he looks up at you, and Damian stands closer to you as you tell him that Alfred is making breakfast.

“C’mon,” you urge him. “Let’s go eat and when Bruce wakes up, you can ask him about patrol.”

“Perhaps I could take a break as well,” he suggests.

“That would be nice,” you agree. “Maybe you’d like to join me for a movie night.”

“Movie night?!” Dick yells from the dining room. “I’m in!”

You and Damian shake your heads together as you walk in.

“Maybe it should be a family night,” Bruce interjects from the head of the table.

Damian sits beside you as you begin discussing which movie to watch. While Damian joins the discussion, Bruce meets your eyes from across the table and mouths, Thank you.

You shrug. You’re the mom of Gotham’s Bats, it’s your job to keep them in line and remind them to live.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne oneshot #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #fem!reader #requests #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #hanna writes✯

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sl-vega · 8 months ago

Text

✮⋆｡ MEMORIES OF YOU

pairings: Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, x [FEM!] Reader

genre: fluff, oneshot(s), drabble/imagines, established relationship (for some), implied angst if you squint (?), first love, post-u 20 arc, canon compliant

synopsis: in which their friends stumble across photos of you, their first, and only love

CW/additional tags: mild language, potententially ooc, Google translated Spanish in sae's part, English = Japanese in this, might make more scenarios with other characters if people request it

ITOSHI SAE

Sae was slumped across the cushions of his couch as Shidou rummaged through some of his storage boxes.

The other boy had been rather insistent on coming over to his new appartement, and helping him properly move all his stuff into his new living space.

"So does this mean I can finally move in with you?~"

"Keep dreaming."

Shidou pouted, giving Sae uncharacteristically begging eyes, almost like a sad lost puppy, naturally he didn't fall for this and settled for returning his pathetic look with his signature cold glare.

He simply gave him a sickeningly sweet smile in return, and continued taking objects out of the boxes, among the possessions were a lamp, a few photo frames, and an album.

Ryusei's eyes widened in surprise as his eyes came into contact with the book.

"Oh, what do we have here?"

Shidou said with a slight lilt in his voice clearly intrigued. Sae lifted his head from his phone to see what Shidou was doing, surely if something of his managed to pique the interest of Shidou's filthy mind, it would probably be in his best interests to throw it out-

Is what Sae would've said before he spotted the photo album in the taller boy's hands, Shidou fingers gingerly opening the front cover.

Sae reacted before he could even think.

"Put it down."

His voice is cold and sharp, not threatening, more defensive-scared almost, if he was even capable of fear that is.

Shidou's eyes widened momentarily at Sae's reaction before his face shifted back to his usual shit eating grin.

"Why Itoshi? Got some dirty photos you don't want me seeing? I promise I won't tell y'know."

Sae rolled his eyes and grabbed the album out of the blonde's hands.

"They aren't dirty, for your information."

He paused, as he looked at the cover of the book, dust was collecting on it, and there were a few marker stains that he couldn't get off.

"I'd just rather forget about them..."

He muttered, as he gently stroked the spine of the book with his thumb.

"Why'd you keep it then? You seem awfully attached to it."

Shidou's voice dropped lower and took a momentarily more serious tone before switching back to his flamboyant and teasing demeanor.

"I'm kinda jealous of it~."

Sae rolled his eyes, more playfully this time. He opened the book-making a point to hide the rest of the pages from Shidou's view-and took out a single photograph and handed it to him.

It was a photo of Sae and you. He didn't talk about you much, but he maybe he should change that.

"You clearly won't stop bothering me about it."

He waved the piece of paper before Shidou prompty snatched it and eyed it carefully, his eyes widening.

It was a photo of the two of you by some beach in Spain, hands interlocked, and a rare smile on a younger Sae's face. You were wearing a white sundress with a hat as you ran across the shoreline, taking Sae right along with you as the two of you stumbled across the sand together.

He remembered that day crystal clear, you brought a Polaroid camera with you and you got one of the locals to take the photograph for you. You had forced him to take a break from constant training, and before he knew it. He was far from Madrid in that moment, just you, him, and the ocean.

Shidou's eyes flickered with a brief moment of sincerity, Sae looked genuinely happy in the photo.

"And here I thought I actually had a chance with you."

Sae blushed, yet another look that Shidou wasn't used to seeing on him.

"We aren't-She wasn't-"

He stuttered, unable to express the nature of his relationship with you. Sure he had thoughts, but he never acted on them, which he regretted.

"Aww, so Mr. Itoshi Sae had an unrequited crush back in Spain? How tragic."

Shidou teased as he fidgeted with the sides of the photograph still in his hand.

"It wasn't unrequited."

Sae replied, quicker than he should have.

Shidou quirked a brow in response.

"Care to elaborate?"

Sae sighed, memories of you flooding back into his brain. Repressed feelings that he had long since left for time to slowly erode, yet a single reminder brought them all back.

"We... ran into each other a lot back when I was still in Spain."

He trailed off, recalling when you first interacted.

Sae was around fifteen when he first met you, he was at a cafe in the city, when he was on an annoyingly mandated week long break, issued by the heads of Real Madrid themselves. It just happened to align with the holiday of your school, and the cafe was a pretty popular spot among the locals. It was crowded, with students and several other adults given the day off. From what Sae remembered, you didn't come with the intention of being with a friend, but rather to spend time alone, it was rather difficult though with how many people were currently in the cafe. So before he knew it, a stranger-albeit a very pretty one-had sat right next to him, drink in hand. You only realized you were sitting next to him after you had actually made yourself uncomfortable. "Oh, lo siento, ¿está bien si me siento aquí? Hay mucha gente aquí…" You seemed to have muttered a quick apology in Spanish, while he had lived here for the past two years, he was ashamed to admit that his fluency in this country's native tongue was rather rusty. He had mainly prioritized learning all the needed terminology for soccer and for any interviews, but he could tell that you were apologizing, and probably asked him if you could sit with him. He tried to muster together a coherent response "Está bien... no me importa...?" He trailed off, unsure if what he said was right, or if you could even understand him with his heavy Japanese accent. Your eyes blinked in surprise, maybe he completely butchered that without knowing. Then your eyes widened in surprise for a moment, almost as if you just pieced together something about him. "Ay dios mio! You're Itoshi Sae! I knew you looked familiar!" You responded, in Japanese this time, almost as if it was second nature to you. "You speak Japanese?" It was more of a statement rather than a question, he sounded impressed, it had been a long time since he's actually been able to converse with someone else in his own language. You nodded, eyes sparkling, still clearly hung up on his identity. "I took some classes online, sorry if I'm hard to understand." You weren't hard to understand at all, sure, it was tinged with a slight accent, but if anything that just added to your charm. "I'm (Y/N), huge fan." You extended your hand to him, a bright smile adorning your already beautiful face. He took your hand and shook it. "Sae." He responded, his usual nonchalant tone fading. "You already know that though..." Was he blushing? You giggled at his sudden bashfulness, your laughter was a sweet melodic sound, it was almost embarrassing of how much it affected him. "You know, I'd thought you'd be a lot colder in person, you're actually really sweet huh?" You laughed once more, and this time, Sae actually cracked a grin.

Sae finished his story to Shidou, his friend had listened intently.

"Aww, so you were whipped from the start?~"

Shidou teased, smirking at him.

"Care to share more? I'd love to learn more

He asked, a slightly playful lilt to his voice.

"If you score another hat trick next time I might just tell you."

Sae responded, his playful tone contrasting his nonchalant demeanor. Shidou smirked, clearly pleased by the offer.

"And will you let me move in?~"

"Maybe."

Sae smiled, gentle and hidden. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. After all, it would give him an excuse to talk about you once more.

"If you score another hat trick next time I might just tell you."

Shidou smirked, clearly pleased by the offer.

"And will you let me move in?~"

"Maybe."

Sae smiled, gentle and hidden. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. After all, it would give him an excuse to talk about you once more.

BONUS; TRANSLATIONS (potentially inaccurate)

"Oh, lo siento, ¿está bien si me siento aquí? Hay mucha gente aquí…"

╰┈➤ "Oh, I'm sorry, is it okay if I sit with you? It's super crowded in here..."

"Está bien... no me importa...?"

╰┈➤ "It's okay...I don't mind..?

"Ay dios mio!

╰┈➤ "Oh my God!"

ITOSHI RIN

"Bachira! I swear to God if Rin kills us because of this-"

"Lighten up Isagi! He's not gonna catch us."

It was a miracle that Rin had already agreed to Isagi and Bachira coming over to his place, though it was more because his mom was constantly nagging him about "needing more friends" or "being more social with the rest of the boys from Blue Lock"

Of course Bachira took this as an opportunity to snoop around Rin's room.

"If we find anything too private, we'll just put it right back and pretend we never saw it, simple as that."

Isagi sighed, bemoaning their current actions against their teammate's own personal life.

"You make it sound like Rin of all people would actually have something incriminating to hide."

Bachira shot him an unimpressed look.

"Are we talking about the same Rin? I'm like 90% sure the guy has some kind of criminal record, I wouldn't be surprised if he had a dead body hiding around in here somewhere..."

He continued looking around the room, glancing at crooks and small gaps in-between shelves as if some hidden treasure was stuck in them.

"Bachira you aren't going to find anything-"

Isagi was promptly cut off by Bachira, who in fact, found something.

A photograph taped to the side of Rin's closet, it seemed a little old, and dusty, but it looked well taken care of.

"Rin never striked me as the sentimental type..."

Bachira flipped the photo back and fourth in his hands before actually focusing on what the picture itself was holding.

Of course before he could actually view the photo himself, it was quickly snatched from him.

Rin was back, and he gave Bachira his signature cold glare, that probably translated into "One more wrong move and I'm throwing you off a cliff in your fucking sleep." or some worse same intentioned threat that Rin would probably use.

"What were the two of you doing?"

Rin asked in a condescending, accusing tone, and rightfully so.

"Rin, we're sorry-"

Isagi was about to apologize, but then Bachira fell to the floor, gripped the younger Itoshi's leg and wailed out a far more incoherent apology than his friend.

"I'm sorry Rin-chan! I promise I won't do it again!"

He was wailing at this point, a string of even more whiny apologies coming from him.

Rin shook Bachira off his leg and sighed.

"It's fine..."

He murmured as he trailed off, his attention completely stolen by the photograph he had just took back.

It was a picture of the two of you at the beach, he was around fourteen in this photo, it probably took place during the final months of his last year at middle school. The two of you had gone on a stroll by the ocean earlier before finding a resting spot nearby. You had pulled out a camera out of nowhere and snapped the photo almost without Rin notcing. You were flashing a big smile at the camera, while Rin's face was nuzzled into your neck, clearly camera shy. If you looked closely however, you could spot the blush slowly creeping up his cheeks.

Without noticing, Bachira had gotten a little too close for Rin's comfort. The older boy's head rested on his shoulder as he ogled the picture alongside him.

"Is she your girlfriend or somethin'?"

Rin shoved Bachira off his shoulder, the other boy laughed as he stumbled away.

"Shut up... she's just a friend."

"I dunno, the two of you look awfully cozy in that photo~"

If only you saw the others...

Rin had held on to the photo for longer than he would like to admit, the two of you hadn't talked for a while, especially after graduation.

But now that his annoying lukewarm teammates had decided to scour around his room for no reason, Rin was met with a wave of memories.

All of which were about you.

The most prominent memory he had of you was the day of middle school graduation.

The cherry blossoms were in bloom, and the third years were about to assemble in the auditorium for the farewell ceremony. Several of Rin's classmates were gushing about graduation, and how they would miss each other, some were already planning methods of communication after moving on to high school. Another hot topic of conversation among his classmates (mainly the girls) was the topic of button giving. In Japan, a guy giving the second button of his uniform to a girl on the day of graduation was essentially a love confession, Rin thought that the tradition was rather stupid. For one thing, he had no time for romance when he was trying to become the best in the world, nor did he have any interest in the subject. Or as he would say 'everyone here is way too lukewarm for my tastes' Well, that's what he would have said if he wasn't so preoccupied with you, but here he was, just outside of the auditorium, fidgeting with his uniform trying to get a button off. Normally the girl would have to ask the guy for the button, but Rin was never one for tradition-then again he was already going along with this stupid love confession so there was a first time for everything-and it didn't look like you were going to talk to him anytime soon, you were constantly hanging around with your friends for most of the day, so he never found the right time. So he didn't know what came over him when he dragged you aside in some secluded area of the courtyard, all his courage had been used up in that very moment because of that moment, he had been reduced to a blushing and bashful mess. "What did you need me for RIn?" You asked with curious doe eyes, clearly oblivious to the fact that there was a button missing from his uniform. Rin gave you a blank stare for a few minutes, taking in your appearance. Your hair was adorned with several hair pins, all engraved with special patterns and decorated with pretty charms. You were wearing make up today, not super noticeable, but noticeable enough for it to enhance your natural beauty. "Rin?" You called his name, snapping him out of his thoughts. Oh right, he was supposed to give you the buttton "Can I have your hand for a second..?" He asked bashfully, you extended your hand to his, this time, you were blushing as well. You muttered a quick 'sure' as you avoided eye contact with him. He gently dropped the button into your hands. "I-I wanted you to have this." This time, Rin was looking directly into your eyes, the same cold teal that always seemed to have no light behind them, but this time, they were filled with warmth and sincerity. The two of you stood in silence for a few more moments, before you heard the teachers calling you and the rest of the third years over for the ceremony. As Rin walked into the auditorium with the rest of his classmates, one of his teammates from the soccer team leaned down and whispered something in his ear. "So who's the lucky lady Itoshi?" He turned to his friend, noticing that his button was missing too. Rin simply shrugged, feigning nonchalance and muttered; "Wouldn't you like to know?" That graduation photo captured a very rare smile from him.

Bachira accidentally knocking something over promptly snapped Rin out of his nostalgia.

"Oh my God you're actually smiling in this photo?!"

Bachira waved Rin's middle school grad photo in his face, clearly shocked by the notion that the younger Itoshi could actually feel happiness.

Suddenly, Rin's mother came into his room.

"I know, it's one of the few photos I have of him that actually feature him smiling."

She sighed.

"Anyways, I just made dinner in case you boys are hungry."

Mrs. Itoshi smiled at the boys.

"And maybe you could tell them all about (Y/N) hm?"

Rin's face grew very hot all of a sudden.

God, he was in for it now...

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requiemforthepoets · 26 days ago

Text

spain ⟢ FA14

⟢ part three of this time, i’ll love you much better

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part four ☽

PAIRINGS: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader

SUMMARY: everything was going well for jullianna: finally meeting her father, fernando, after twelve years and getting to spend some time with him. that is until a new person inserts herself into the picture.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, the parent trap inspo + plot, named side characters (except reader), twins switching places, poorly google translated spanish & french, inaccuracies with information, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 10k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is a part 3 of my FA14 series that was inspired by ‘the parent trap.’ i’m so sorry if it took too long, but i hope you’ll enjoy this one! your comments/reblogs is highly appreciated. the taglist for this series is open, just comment or message me if you want to be tagged on the next part.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the sprawling estate, and Jullianna stepped out, eyes widening in awe. The house—no, the mansion, was even grander than the photos Sofia had shown her. The façade was a blend of old-world Spanish charm that Jullianna would often see in magazines, and it was blended with modern elegance—terracotta roofs, white stucco walls, and large arched windows that reflected the warm Spanish afternoon sun. The driveway was lined with towering cypress trees, and colorful bougainvillea climbing along one side of the building, adding a vibrant touch to the pristine exterior.

Before Jullianna could fully take in the whole grandeur of the place, a petite older woman with salt and pepper hair came rushing down the front steps. She was wearing casual clothes—a white loose shirt that is tucked in navy-blue jeans, and topped with a pair of Birkenstock sandals. Her face lit up with a radiant smile. This had to be Alejandra—it is Alejandra.

“¡Mi niña! Mi pequeña Sofía!” Alejandra exclaimed, her voice ringing with excitement as she hurried towards Jullianna.

Alejandra had wrapped Jullianna in a tight hug, arms surprisingly strong for someone her size. There was a hint of lavender scent soap clinging to her, and it almost felt like a comforting and familiar aroma that made Jullianna smile nervously.

“Hola, Alejandra,” Jullianna greeted, trying her best to hide her hesitation as Alejandra’s rapid Spanish filled her ears.

Well, Jullianna did catch bits and pieces of it—something about how grown-up she looked and how much Alejandra missed her, but the rest flew over her head. It was putting Jullianna’s basic Spanish knowledge that she learned a few years ago to the test.

Alejandra pulled back, holding Jullianna at arm’s length to get a good look at her. “¡Mírate! Eres toda una señorita ahora,” she said, beaming. Then, without missing a beat, she began firing off another set of questions. “¿Cómo fue el campamento? Have you made any new friends this year? Did you have a lot of fun?”

Jullianna blinked, trying very hard to process the torrent of words. But then quickly nodded in return, forcing a bright smile as she replied. “Sí, Alejandra. Fue muy divertido.” she hesitated for a moment, then added, “I did make a lot of friends this year.”

She clapped her hands together, clearly very delighted by Jullianna’s response. “¡Eso me alegra mucho, Sofía! I’m so proud of you, you’ve always been sociable.”

Jullianna bit back a nervous laugh. Sociable? Oh if only Alejandra knew.

“Ven, ven, entra,” Alejandra urged, already reaching for Jullianna’s bag. “Here, let me help you with your bags. How did you even handle all of these by yourself? Ay, niña, siempre tan independiente.”

Jullianna followed Alejandra inside, murmuring a quiet thank you as the older woman hoisted one of her bags with surprising ease.

The moment they stepped through the grand double doors, Jullianna was struck by the sheer scale of the interior. High ceilings were all adorned with intricate wooden beams, and sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the polished terracotta floors and elegant furnishings. The space was both luxurious and warm, with an undeniable Spanish charm in every corner of the house.

“Tu papá todavía está en Bélgica,” Alejandra informed her as they walked through the foyer, voice tinged with fondness as she mentioned Fernando. “But you don’t need to worry, he’ll be home right after the race. I’ll also inform him that you’re already home.”

Jullianna nodded, hiding her relief. “Okay. Thank you, Alejandra.”

They passed by a grand staircase that curved gracefully to the upper floors. Jullianna made a mental note of it, trying to remember the layout that Sofia had described. The last thing that she wanted was to get lost and raise suspicion.

“Deja tus cosas aquí,” Alejandra said, gesturing to a spot near the staircase. She smiled warmly. “I’ll go and prepare something to eat, I know you’re hungry after a long trip.”

Jullianna smiled back, grateful for the excuse to explore on her own. “Gracias, Alejandra. Suena bien.”

Once Alejandra disappeared toward what Jullianna assumed was the kitchen, she let out a quiet breath. This was her chance. She turned on her heels quickly and began making her way throughout the house, determined to familiarize herself with the layout.

Every room that she passed seemed to rival the last in terms of grandeur. The living room was massive, with plush sofas arranged around a stone fireplace and a large television mounted on the wall. Bookshelves lined one side of the room, filled with an eclectic mix of novels, biographies, and racing memorabilia.

The dining room was equally impressive, with a long wooden table that could easily seat twenty people. A stunning chandelier hung overhead, and the walls were adorned with tasteful artwork that reflected Spain’s rich culture, and a few expensive art pieces from famous painters that Jullianna can easily identify.

Jullianna then found herself wandering into a sunlit corridor that leads to what appeared to be a study. The walls were lined with trophies, medals, and framed photos of Fernando throughout his career. She paused as one framed photo caught her eyes—a framed photo of Fernando holding a baby in his arms. She quickly recognized the baby as Sofia—or herself, as everyone believed. Jullianna’s heart twisted slightly, she couldn’t deny the love that radiated from Fernando’s smile in the photo.

She didn’t know that there was a single tear that escaped her eyes, so she immediately wiped it away and shook herself out of her thoughts, and decided to move along. Jullianna eventually found the staircase that led to the upper floors, and step-by-step, she ascended, taking in the intricate wrought-iron railing and the soft runner underfoot.

The hallway upstairs was just as grand, lined with even more family photos and doors that seemed to stretch endlessly. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath. “If I were Sofia’s—my room, where would I be?”

She glanced at the guide Sofia had sent her on her phone, thankful for the clear instructions. A few doors down on the left, near the end of the hallway. When she finally reached the room, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Sofia’s room was very spacious and elegant, with a large bed draped in soft linens and pillows. One wall was entirely made up of windows, offering stunning views of the estate grounds. A walk-in closet and en-suite bathroom completed the space, it was very luxurious.

“Not bad, Sofia,” she muttered to herself. “Not bad at all.”

Jullianna took the time to roam around Sofia’s room, assessing every clothes and things she has, maybe judging a few outfit pieces that Sofia has. Their style when it comes to clothing is very different, both at the opposite end of the scale, but even though it’s not something that Jullianna would wear, she can make it work.

“Alright. You can do this, Jullianna,” she whispered, sitting down at the end of the bed. “You just have to keep it together. Breathe in, breathe out.”

The next day came. Morning light began to spill into the living room, the soft warmth brightening the white walls and casting a long shadow on the terracotta tiled floor. Jullianna walked in hesitantly, her steps light as she took in the scene. The large flat-screen television mounted on the wall was turned to a pre-race broadcast, showing a group of reporters passionately discussing the upcoming event. The whole room smelled faintly of fresh pastries and coffee, and the low hum of the TV added to the cozy atmosphere.

Alejandra was already seated on the plush white sofa, a wide grin spreading across her face when she saw Jullianna enter. “Sofia! Good morning! Come, come sit with me,” she said, patting the spot beside her.

Jullianna offered a polite smile, trying to suppress the nervousness bubbly in her chest. “¿Es…el día de la carrera?” she asked, recalling the Spanish words Sofia had insisted she memorize.

“¡Sí, exactamente!” Alejandra said enthusiastically, her face lighting up. “It’s the Belgian Grand Prix, and your papá will be racing today.”

Jullianna blinked, really unsure of how to respond. She hadn’t realized Formula 1 was so integral to Fernando’s life—Sofia hadn’t gone into much details about it during their swap planning, and in Jullianna’s defense, she’s not exposed in this kind of environment. But this was an opportunity to learn. She nodded and made her way to the sofa, taking a seat beside Alejandra.

On the coffee table in front of them, an impressive spread of snacks had been carefully arranged. There were small bowls of popcorn, sliced fruits, chips, and a plate of churros with a small dish of chocolate sauce on the side. Two glasses of freshly squeezed lemon juice sat next to the snacks, condensation dripping down the side of the glasses.

Jullianna glanced over the selection, noting how thoughtfully it had been prepared. She guessed that these snacks were all Sofia’s favorite treats.

“Alejandra, did you prepare all of these?” she asked, gesturing to the food.

“Claro que sí,” Alejandra replied with a proud smile on her face. “I always know that you love to nibble on something while we watch the race. Aren’t they your favorites?”

Jullianna hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sí, sí. Gracias, Alejandra. It all looks very delicious.” she reached for a churro to keep up the appearance, dipping it in the chocolate sauce and taking a small bite.

Before long, the broadcast had shifted to the pre-race grid, and Alejandra’s excitement grew ever more. She pointed out the various cars and drivers as the camera panned across the starting line.

“Look, there’s your papá,” Alejandra said, leaning forward and pointing to Fernando’s green Aston Martin car. “He’s in eighth position today, it’s a good place to start.”

Jullianna squinted at the screen, catching a brief glimpse of Fernando’s face on the television as the commentator spoke about him. She nodded, hoping her feigned interest looked convincing. “That’s well…isn’t it?”

“Sí, very good,” Alejandra confirmed, her eyes glued to the screen. “¡Puede conseguir puntos desde allí!”

Jullianna tried to focus on the broadcast, but the flurry of information from the commentators was really overwhelming. They spoke rapidly, mentioning tyre strategies, DRS zones, and lap times—terms that meant nothing to her. She glanced at Alejandra slightly, who was fully engrossed, her hands occasionally clapping together in excitement.

As soon as the race started, the loud roar of engines filled the whole room, and the on-screen cars darted off the starting line like streaks of color. Jullianna leaned back into the sofa, watching as the camera cut from one car to another. Alejandra cheered every time Fernando’s car appeared, shouting words of encouragement as though he could hear her.

Jullianna, meanwhile, felt utterly lost. The cars all looked similar to her, their numbers and team liveries blurring together as they all zoomed around the circuit. The commentators’ explanations didn’t really help much, to her dismay. They had mentioned pit stops, overtakes, and track limits, but none of it registered in her brain.

During a commercial break, Alejandra excused herself to use the bathroom, leaving Jullianna alone in the living room. She seized the opportunity to grab her phone, quickly typing Formula 1 scoring system into Google. The first result explained that the top ten finishers earned points, with the winner getting 25 points and tenth place earning one.

“Okay,” she murmured to herself, scrolling further. “So, let’s see. Papá’s currently in P8, and it means that if he finishes in P8, he’ll get…four points?” Jullianna made a mental note, hoping that the information would stick.

When Alejandra returned, the race had resumed, and Jullianna did her best to appear engaged. She occasionally echoed Alejandra’s cheers, clapping along whenever Fernando completed a clean overtake. By the time that the race ended, Fernando had secured eighth place—started eighth and finished in eighth. Alejandra erupted in celebration.

“¡Lo hizo! ¡Fernando consiguió puntos otra vez!” she exclaimed, her happiness infectious.

Jullianna smiled, genuinely happy to see Alejandra so excited. “Estoy muy orgullosa de él,” she said, the words feeling a little bit more natural now.

Alejandra nodded, face still glowing with pride. “Tu papá es increíble. Siempre da lo mejor de sí.”

As Alejandra began tidying up the snacks from the coffee table, Jullianna leaned back against the sofa with a sigh, thoughts drifting away. Formula 1 was far more complicated than she had imagined, and the whole environment seemed very intense and all-consuming. She couldn’t help but think of how you must have navigated all of it, being married to someone like Fernando.

“It must take a lot of patience,” she thought to herself, her admiration for you growing.

She resolved to learn more about the sport. Jullianna knew that it was not just about cars, it was about understanding a significant part of Fernando’s life that she didn’t have the chance to get to know.

It has been a total of five days now of Jullianna being in Spain. The morning air was crisp, carrying a faint floral scent from the garden below as Jullianna sat curled up in a plush chair on the balcony. The blanket draped around her shoulders provided a sense of comfort, though it did little to settle the anxious thrum of her heart. The sunrise had been stunning—a gentle gradient of oranges and pinks melting into a clear blue sky, but Jullianna’s thoughts had been too preoccupied to truly enjoy it.

The balcony overlooked the sprawling estate, with its winding driveway framed by tall cypress trees. Jullianna’s gaze drifted to that driveway now, her stomach twisting into tight knots at the thought of Fernando’s arrival. She had not seen her father—Sofia’s father, in years, or perhaps, in Jullianna’s case, ever.

Her phone vibrated softly on the small table beside her, the screen lighting up to display the time. 9:07 AM. The sun was already high, casting golden light across the stone terrace. Jullianna sighed, stretching out her legs beneath the blanket. Just as she stood up, folding the blanket over the chair, the faint hum of an engine reached her ears. Jullianna’s breath suddenly hitched. She decided to walk towards the edge of the balcony, as she peered down, Jullianna saw an Aston Martin turn into the driveway, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight, and it came to a smooth stop near the entrance. As the driver’s side opened, there he was, her father that she had not seen in twelve years. Fernando Alonso.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as she took in the sight of her father—taller than she had imagined, his posture confident yet natural. Fernando was dressed casually, a plain white polo shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. His hair was slightly tousled, and even from the distance, Jullianna could see the tired lines on his face, evidence of his grueling travel schedule.

The anxiety hit Jullianna like a wave, and she stumbled back from the railing, clutching her chest. Her breathing had quickened, and she immediately started the breathing exercises she had learned to overcome situations like this. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. She repeated the process, Jullianna’s trembling hands slowly steadying.

“Jullianna,” she whispered to herself, as if the name would ground her. “No. Sofia. You’re Sofia.”

Before Jullianna could regroup completely, a familiar voice broke the silence. “¡Sofia!” Alejandra’s cheerful call carried up from below. “Tu papá ha llegado. Ven, baja.”

The warmth in Martha’s voice was enough to make Jullianna’s chest tighten further. She took one last deep breath, trying to push down the storm of emotions swirling inside her. You’ve prepared for this. You’ll be okay.

“I’ll be right down,” she called back, trying to keep her voice even and cheerful despite the nerves clawing at her throat.

Jullianna glanced at her own reflection at the balcony door’s glass, smoothing her hair and adjusting her posture. Taking one final deep breath, she whispered to herself again, “Remember, you’re Sofia. Sofia Alonso.”

Then, she turned and headed back into the house, ready—or as ready as she could be, to meet the man that she had spent her whole life wondering about.

As Jullianna descended the stairs slowly, her heart was hammering in her chest. She could hear voices below—Fernando’s deep, commanding tone interspersed with Alejandra’s lighter and cheerful one. They were speaking in rapid Spanish, far too fast for her to catch every word. She tried her best to pick out phrases but only managed to catch something about a one month break. It was clear that they were discussing plans, but Jullianna’s nerves would not allow her to focus.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, her feet rooted to the polished wooden floor. There he was, in the flesh—Fernando Alonso. His back was facing her as he gestured while speaking, the confidence in Fernando’s demeanor unmistakable—posture very relaxed yet purposeful. Jullianna found herself staring, taking in every detail.

This was the man she had seen countless times in photos, television, online articles, and in the news. The man Jullianna had imagined meeting more times than she could count, and now, here he was, standing just a few feet away from her.

Alejandra turned, her sharp eyes noticing Jullianna’s presence immediately. Her eyes brightened, and she called out cheerfully, “¡Buenos días, Sofia! ¿Ya te levantaste?”

The sound of Alejandra’s voice drew Fernando’s attention. He turned around, expression softening as his eyes landed on Jullianna. A wide smile spread across his face, and he greeted her in a warm, excited tone, effortlessly switching between Spanish and English.

“¡Buenos días, mi niña! I missed you so much,” he said, holding out his arms invitingly. “Come here, give your old man a hug!”

For a brief moment, Jullianna froze. Her emotions hit her all at once—a mix of awe, nervousness, and deep aching sadness she had not fully anticipated. This is him, she thought. My father. He’s real. He’s here.

Before she could second guess herself, Jullianna rushed towards him, wrapping her arms tightly around Fernando. The hug was immediate and overwhelming. She clung to him, burying her face into his chest as tears began to stream down her face. Fernando’s arms closed around her in a strong, comforting embrace.

Fernando chuckled softly, though his voice was filled with tenderness. “¿Por qué estás llorando, Sofí? Why are you crying, mi vida?”

Jullianna didn’t answer right away. Her emotions were too tangled, mind too flooded with thoughts to form a coherent sentence. She could feel the warmth of his hand gently patting her back, and his other hand lightly brushing her hair as Fernando tried to soothe her. Alejandra just stood off to the side, watching the scene with a pleased smile.

“Mira lo feliz que está contigo en casa,” she said softly, more to herself than to Fernando. “La casa es tan tranquila cuando ella no está.”

Fernando pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt Jullianna’s chin up with his hand. His smile was teasing, eyes glinting with affection. “You missed me this much, huh?” he asked, tone playful.

Jullianna wiped at her tears hastily, embarrassed by her reaction, but unable to stop herself from smiling. “I did,” she said, voice shaky but sincere. “I missed you so much, papá.”

His face softened at her words. Fernando used his thumb to brush away the last of her tears, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Well, I missed you too, princesa. But no more tears, okay? You’re going to make me look so bad.”

Jullianna let out a shaky laugh, nodding as she stepped back. She felt lighter now, though the weight of the moment still lingered.

“How was camp?” Fernando asked, leaning casually against the edge of a nearby chair. “Did you have fun? Or should I never send you away again?”

Jullianna laughed again, this time more genuinely. “It was great,” she said, careful to choose her words. “I made new friends this year and had a lot of fun. But I did miss being home.”

“Good,” Fernando said with a satisfied nod. “I don’t like when you’re away for too long. It’s always too quiet here without you.”

Alejandra chimed in with a laugh. ”¡Eso es verdad! I told her the same thing when she arrived from summer camp. La casa no es igu sin ella.”

Fernando glanced at Jullianna, expression turning more serious but still warm. “Well, I’m here now,” he said. “And I have a one month break before the next race in the Netherlands. So we’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”

Jullianna hesitated for only a moment before blurting out, “can I come with you?”

“Come with me?” Fernando blinked, clearly caught off guard by her question. “To the Netherlands?”

She nodded quickly, heart pounding. “Yes. I mean, it’s a whole month, and I think we should spend as much time together as we can. School hasn’t started yet, so…”

Fernando studied her with a curious expression, tilting his head slightly. “You usually hate traveling to races, cariño,” he pointed out. “You always tell me it’s too much flying from one country to another, and too chaotic.”

Jullianna swallowed, hoping her enthusiasm didn’t seem out of character. “I just…I think it would be nice to go, and I want to spend more time with you. One month is not enough.”

His eyes softened, and after a moment of consideration, Fernando nodded. “Alright, princesa,” he said with a small smile. “If that’s what you want, then you can come with me. But don’t blame me if you get tired of all the chaos.”

“I won’t,” Jullianna promised, smile widening.

Fernando just laughed, shaking his head as he reached out to ruffle her hair. “We’ll see about that.”

Lunch was set up on the sprawling terrace overlooking the estate’s lush gardens. The table was adorned with simple yet elegant dishes—grilled vegetables, fresh bread, and a flavorful paella that Alejandra had prepared earlier. Fernando sat at the head of the table, comfortably relaxed, while Jullianna sat on his right side, attempting to mimic Sofia’s usual confident demeanor.

Fernando glanced at Jullianna with an easy smile, breaking the silence. “So, Sofia,” he began, setting his glass down, “how about some karting later this afternoon? Just you and me. A little father-daughter bonding time at the karting circuit.”

The fork in Jullianna’s hand froze midair, scraping against the ceramic plate as it slid sideways. The unpleasant screeching noise seemed to echo in her ears, and she winced, immediately setting the fork down as she forced a smile.

“Karting?” she repeated, voice an octave higher than usual.

“Yes, karting.” Fernando nodded, clearly amused by her reaction. “I thought that it would be fun. It has been a while since you came with me, and you used to love it when you were younger.”

Karting? Oh no, no, no. This is bad.

Jullianna’s mind began to race. Sofia’s guide had not prepared her for this. The closest thing she had ever done to karting was bumper cars at the carnival, and even then, she was not that great at it. The idea of climbing into a real kart and navigating an actual track was enough to send her anxiety into overdrive. but Fernando was watching her, his expression warm and expectant. How could she possibly say no without raising suspicions? She swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of courage she had.

“Well…” she trailed off hesitantly, trying to keep her tone light. “I mean, sure. Why not? It could be…fun.”

Fernando’s eyes twinkled with delight at Jullianna’s response. “That’s my girl!” he said enthusiastically, giving her a proud smile. “We’ll head out in the afternoon. Who knows? Maybe you’ll finally beat me this time, huh?”

She let out a nervous laugh, avoiding his gaze as she fiddled with her napkin. “Maybe,” Jullianna murmured, heart pounding.

Okay. It can’t be that hard, right? It’s just like bumper cars…only faster…and on a track…with actual rules. Oh no, this is a disaster waiting to happen.

Fernando, obvious to her inner turmoil, continued talking, his voice animated. “We’ll head over in the afternoon once it cools down a bit. I’ll teach you a few tricks, and we’ll have a little competition. Sounds good?”

“Sounds great,” Jullianna replied, forcing another smile.

When lunch finally came to an end, Jullianna excused herself, retreating back to the bedroom under the guise of ‘freshening up.’ But in truth, she needed a moment to collect herself. Her nerves were already frayed, but reminded herself that she had survived switching places with Sofia and meeting Fernando. Surely, she could survive a few laps in a kart. What is the worst thing that could happen?

The car hummed softly as it sped through the quiet streets on its way to the airport. Fernando was in the driver’s seat, hands casually resting on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing in the rear view mirror to check on Alejandra and Jullianna, who were sitting in the back. Alejandra, always chatty, was in the middle of telling a story about one of her family members.

Jullianna, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves. She tried really hard to focus on Alejandra’s stories, nodding at the right moments and forcing a polite smile, but her mind was elsewhere. Earlier this day, Jullianna had managed to sneak in a quick call with Sofia, desperate for guidance.

“You forgot to prep me about karting!” Jullianna had whispered urgently into the phone, pacing back and forth in Sofia’s bedroom.

Sofia’s voice on the other end had been rushed. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think it would come up this soon. Okay, okay, listen carefully.”

What followed was a rapid-fire explanation about how to operate a kart. Sofia rattle off terms like throttle, apex, and breaking zones, leaving Jullianna guessing and more confused than ever.

“Wait, what’s an apex?” Jullianna interrupted, voice tinged with panic.

“It’s—ugh, it’s the inside curve of a corner where you need to turn. Just remember to break before you get to it, then accelerate out. That’s the basic idea.”

“Well that’s not basic at all, Sofia!” Jullianna hissed, glancing nervously towards the door to make sure that no one was eavesdropping.

Sofia sighed. “You’ll be fine! Just take it slow, follow papá’s lead, and don’t overthink it.”

Before Jullianna could protest any further, Sofia had abruptly said, “I gotta go! Dinner plans with—uh, never mind. You’ll do great, I promise!” then she hung up, leaving Jullianna staring at her phone in utter disbelief.

Now, sitting in the car, Jullianna groaned internally. She leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes in frustration. Thanks a lot, Sofia.

The rhythmic motion of the car and the faint hum of the engine eventually pulled her into a light doze. She figured an hour of sleep might help her reset, at least mentally.

Meanwhile, Fernando glanced in the rear view mirror, noticing Jullianna was resting against the window, face soft and peaceful in sleep. He smiled to himself, feeling a rare sense of contentment. It was not often they had uninterrupted time together, and he was really looking forward to the afternoon ahead.

As they neared the airport, Fernando lowered the volume of the music playing softly in the background. Alejandra, always the attentive one, leaned forward and whispered, “should we wake her?”

Fernando shook his head. “Let her sleep. She must still be tired, I’ll wake her when we’re boarding.”

The plane landed smoothly on the Asturias runway, the soft jolt waking Jullianna briefly before she drifted off to sleep again, only to be gently shaken awake by Fernando once they had fully disembarked.

“Vamos, Sofía, we’ve landed,” Fernando said softly, his voice a mix of excitement.

Jullianna blinked groggily, taking a moment to orient herself as she was ushered off the plane. The bright daylight of Asturias was a stark contrast to the dim interior of the cabin, and she shielded her eyes with her hand. From the plane, all of them moved seamlessly into a car that was waiting for them on the tarmac. The driver greeted Fernando warmly, and once everyone was settled, the drive to Llanera began.

The drive was peaceful and scenic, the lush greenery of Asturias that was surrounding them can be seen, looking like it came straight out of a painting. Jullianna was seated at the backseat, trying to appear calm despite the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface. Fernando, sitting in the front, chatted with the driver in rapid Spanish, leaving Jullianna to her thoughts.

It wasn’t until they pulled into the gates of Fernando’s karting circuit that Jullianna’s attention snapped to the present. Her jaw dropped as she took in the sheer size of the whole place. It was not just a track, it was an entire complex. The main building loomed impressively, with sleek modern architecture that felt welcoming yet very professional.

“Wow…” Jullianna murmured under her breath, wide eyes betraying her awe.

Fernando turned around to glance at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “You like it, princesa? It was remodeled while you were away for summer camp. A little piece of home here Asturias.”

Jullianna nodded, unsure of what to say. Little? This is anything but little! As they all stepped out of the car, a group of staff members approached to greet Fernando, their faces lighting up with genuine enthusiasm.

“Ah! Buenos días, boss!” one of them said, before their gaze shifted towards Jullianna. “Hola, Sofía! Been a long time, huh?”

She smiled politely, nodding at them. “Hola!” she replied, voice steady despite the sudden knot in her stomach.

Jullianna could tell they assumed she was Sofia. Their warm, familiar greetings made her feel both welcomed and uneasy—uneasy because what if one of them picked up on something off? But she forced herself to focus, mirroring the relaxed but confident demeanor she had observed in Sofia during their time at camp. Once the greetings were out of the way, Fernando gestured for her to follow him inside.

“I had the track closed for today,” he explained casually. “Just for us, no interruptions.”

The weight of Fernando’s words hit her. No interruptions. No distractions. Just me and papá. The idea should have been comforting, but instead, it magnified her anxiety. Inside, a staff member handed Fernando a black bag, which he opened to reveal a pristine racing suit. He then handed it to Jullianna with a proud smile.

“Here mi vida. Go change, the fun starts soon.”

Jullianna took the suit gingerly, its fabric heavier than she had expected. “Where should I, uh, change?”

Fernando pointed toward a nearby hallway. “Second door on the left. You’ll see the sign.”

Nodding, she turned and walked towards the changing room. Thankfully, she found it on the first try. When she opened the door, Jullianna was greeted by a spacious and clean room, with a row of lockers lining one wall with a long mirror on the other. Jullianna held up the racing suit, inspecting it like it was some kind of puzzle—zippers, straps, and padding made it all look more complex than it probably was, and she just sighed deeply.

“Calm down, Jullianna. Calm down.” she muttered to herself as she set the suit down on a nearby bench. “This is fine, okay? Totally fine.” she then pulled out her phone and opened youtube.

How to wear a racing suit. Jullianna quickly typed it into the search bar, scrolling through the results until she found a decent one—a step-by-step tutorial. The video began, and she started to follow along, pausing frequently to ensure she doesn’t miss anything. She slipped one leg in, then the other, zipping up the suit carefully.

“Okay, alright…not too shabby. I think I can be a racer someday, huh,” she murmured, smoothing down the fabric in front of the mirror. “Oh who am I even kidding?”

The gloves and boots were next, and Jullianna paused the video again to double check everything if she had put them on correctly. By the time she finished, she was feeling a mix of relief and pride. I did it. To be sure with everything, she turned back to the mirror again, doing a quick once-over. The suit fits perfectly, hugging her frame without being restrictive.

“And one last thing…” she clicked on another video, this time, it was titled karting for beginners. The tips were pretty basic—how to start, use the pedals, and steer, but even those felt overwhelming.

“The things that I go through.” Jullianna grumbled under her breath, closing the youtube app.

Satisfied that she was at least presentable, Jullianna took one last deep breath, patting her own shoulder, and whispered, “good luck and don’t die.”

Jullianna stepped onto the track, the warm afternoon now casting long shadows over the asphalt. Fernando stood nearby, adjusting his gloves, excitement unmistakable as he began to explain the basics of karting.

“Alright, Sofí, I know it’s been a while since you last karted, but you’ll pick it up quickly,” he said, voice light and encouraging. “It’s like riding a bike—you don’t forget.”

She nodded, forcing a confident smile. “Yeah…just like riding a bike,” she repeated, though her nerves were humming.

Fernando led her to the kart she would be driving. “I brought out your own kart, and checked it.” he said, patting the side affectionately.

As Fernando explained the controls, Jullianna focused intently, trying to absorb every word as much as possible. “I know it’s been a while, but just a refresher, this pedal is for the gas, this one for the break, and your grip should always be at nine o’clock and three o’clock. Always ease into the throttle—don’t slam it, and when you’re cornering, don’t break too hard, just enough to control the speed.”

“Yes, papá, don’t worry. I got it. It’s not like it’s my first time driving a kart,” she said, chuckling nervously as her heart was beating rapidly.

Fernando crouched beside Jullianna’s kart, inspecting it one last time. “I’ll go easy on you first,” he teased, flashing her a grin. “But don’t expect me to let you win that easily.”

Jullianna chuckled again, still nervous, as she climbed into the kart. She adjusted the seat and gripped the steering wheel, hand slightly getting all clammy. Fernando handed her a helmet, which she slipped on carefully, ensuring it fits snugly.

“Ready to beat your old man?” he asked, stepping back.

“Ready!” Jullianna replied, voice muffled by the helmet.

Fernando climbed into his own kart, matching the ones Jullianna was on, and started the engine with practiced ease. Jullianna followed his lead, turning on the power and feeling a thrill as the engine roared to life beneath her.

“Follow me for a few laps,” Fernando instructed over the headset built into their helmets. “Get a feel first of the track, and then we’ll race.”

Jullianna nodded, gripping the steering wheel tighter as she eased onto the track behind him. The kart felt different than she expected—lighter, faster, more responsive. Of course she wobbled slightly on the first corner, foot instinctively slamming on the brakes.

“Easy on the break,” Fernando’s voice came through, calm and steady. “Let the kart flow through the corner.”

“Right,” Jullianna muttered, adjusting her grip. She tried again, this time pressing the brakes more gently and allowing the kart to glide smoothly.

After a few laps around the track, Jullianna began to relax. The initial awkwardness fading as she found her rhythm, her confidence building with each turn. The sensation of speed was exhilarating, with the kart zipping along the track like an extension of her own body.

“Good job, Sofí!” Fernando praised. “You’re getting it.”

Jullianna couldn’t help but smile under her helmet. She admitted that she was really enjoying herself. Once Fernando was satisfied with her progress, he pulled over to the side of the track and gestured to her to do the same.

“Alright, now for the fun part,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“What’s that?” Jullianna asked, even if she already knew the answer.

“The race,” Fernando replied with a grin. “We’ll do three laps, and the winner gets bragging rights.”

“Bragging rights?” she echoed, laughing.

“Trust me, they’re worth it.” he replied. They both lined up at the starting line, with Fernando counting them off. “Three, two, one, go!”

Jullianna floored the gas pedal, the kart surging forward. Fernando quickly took the lead, as expected, with his kart weaving effortlessly through the first series of turns. Jullianna followed close behind, determined not to fall too far behind. She focused on her technique, remembering Fernando’s earlier advice. Brake gently, accelerate smoothly, and stay on the racing line. Then, by the second lap, she was gaining on Fernando, and he was clearly impressed.

She laughed, her nerves melting away in the heat of the competition. Jullianna took the next corner perfectly, closing the gap between them. On the final lap, she saw an opening on the inside of a tight turn. Summoning all of her courage, she took the risk, slipping past Fernando with a bold move. With the finish line just up ahead, Jullianna pushed the kart to its limit, crossing first by a fraction of a second.

As Jullianna rolled to a stop, she pulled off her helmet, cheeks flushed and heart racing. Fernando parked beside her, laughing as he removed his own helmet.

“Well done, mi vida! Can’t believe you beat your old man!” Fernando exclaimed, pride evident.

Jullianna grinned, trying to catch her breath. “I had a good teacher.”

Fernando just laughed at her reply, and pulled her into a quick hug. “That was impressive. I’ll have to step up my game next time, eh?”

Jullianna felt really proud of her accomplishment. She had managed to hold her own, and for a brief moment, she forgot all about her nerves and the pressure of pretending to be Sofia. For now, she was just a girl spending time and having fun with her father.

After the race, it had been decided to take a rest for a while, and now, Jullianna is currently crouched next to the kart, nodding along as Fernando patiently explained the mechanics of the engine. He was animated, gesturing as he described how the karts power translated to see its speed, his enthusiasm contagious.

“You see this part here? This regulates the throttle response,” he said, tapping the side of the kart with a wrench.

Jullianna nodded again, her focus intense. “Okay, got it,” she murmured.

Her mind was still processing the earlier laps and how much she had actually enjoyed the experience. But just as Fernando leaned in to point out another detail, a high pitched shriek shattered the air, causing both Jullianna and Fernando to freeze. They exchanged confused glances before turning toward the source of the commotion—a young woman. She ran towards them at full speed, her excitement evident.

“¡Fernando! Estás aquí!” she squealed, voice shrill as she closed the distance.

Before Fernando could react, the woman threw herself into his arms, wrapping them around his neck and planting kisses all over her face. Fernando looked momentarily startled before managing a polite laugh, gently easing the woman off of him.

“Stephanie,” he said, tone a mix of surprise and mild discomfort.

Jullianna blinked, mouth slightly agape as she watched the whole scene unfold, processing everything even. The woman—Stephanie, looked young, probably a few years older than herself, with long, perfectly styled hair, and an outfit that screamed designer labels, which were all common brands but would not see you wearing. Jullianna could immediately sense the tension in the air, especially when she caught a glimpse of Alejandra standing off to the side, expression cold and disapproving.

Stephanie had finally decided to step back, with her hands lingering on Fernando’s arm as she beamed up at him. “I had no idea you’d be here today! You didn’t tell me you were coming home!” she exclaimed, tone overly sweet to Jullianna’s liking.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Fernando replied with a small chuckle, stepping subtly away from her. “This was a last minute decision.”

Stephanie’s gaze shifted to Jullianna, her smile widening in a way that made Jullianna’s stomach churn. “And who’s this cute little girl?” she asked, voice dripping with curiosity.

Fernando turned to Jullianna, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This is Sofía,” he said proudly. “My daughter.”

“¡Ay dios mío!” Stephanie’s eyes widened in an exaggerated display of delight. “I’ve heard so much about you!” she gushed, stepping forward and extending a hand.

Jullianna forced a polite smile, shaking Stephanie’s hand briefly. “Nice to meet you,” she said, voice carefully neutral.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to meet you,” Stephanie continued, words spilling out in rapid succession. “Fernando talks about you all the time! I wanted to visit you this summer, but you were at camp, and—oh, you’re even gorgeous in person!”

Yeah, bet you did do that. Thanks for the compliment, I totally got it from both papá and mamá, but mostly mamá.

“Thanks,” Jullianna said simply, overwhelmed by the onslaught of words and overly saccharine tone. At this point, she doesn’t trust herself to say more.

As Stephanie continued to chatter, Jullianna glanced at Fernando, who looked slightly uncomfortable, and then at Alejandra, who stood with her arms crossed, her disapproval practically radiating.

“So, what are you two doing here? A little father and daughter bonding time?” Stephanie asked, eyes farting between them.

What do you think, Cruella?

“Yes,” Jullianna replied quickly, tone more firmer than she intended. “Papá and I are spending time together.”

“Qué lindo!” Stephanie cooed, completely ignoring the slight edge on Jullianna’s voice.

Stephanie turned back to Fernando, launching into a story about something that happened while he was away. Jullianna could feel her own patience wearing thin. The day had been going so well, and now, this woman—stranger, had swooped in and disrupted everything. She tried to tune out Stephanie’s really annoying voice, but the exaggerated laughter and overly familiar gestures were grating on her.

Finally, Jullianna couldn’t take anymore of it. She took a step back, clearing her throat. “Excuse me,” she said, tone polite but curt. “I need a moment.”

Fernando looked at her with mild concern. “Sofí, are you okay mi vida?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, forcing a small smile. “Just need some air.”

Without waiting for any response from Fernando, Jullianna turned and walked away, heading towards the quieter edge of the circuit. Despite walking farther away from them, she could still hear Stephanie’s annoying voice in the background, but it all soon faded as Jullianna put distance between herself and the group.

Upon reaching a shaded spot near a row of trees, Jullianna let out a deep sigh, sat down criss crossed and arms folded to her chest, and leaned back on the tree. The frustration bubbled inside her. This day was supposed to be about her and Fernando, a rare chance to bond with her papá, and now it felt like she was competing for his own father’s attention.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her thoughts. Turning her head slightly, Jullianna saw Alejandra making her way over, her expression was soft but tinged with concern. Alejandra stopped beside her, tilting her head to study her closely.

“¿Estás bien, Sofí?” Alejandra asked, voice gentle.

Jullianna hesitated, glancing back towards the circuit where Fernando and Stephanie’s figures were still visible in the distance.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, word slipping out before she could stop them. She sighed heavily, deciding to just let it all out. “Actually, no. I’m not okay.”

Alejandra’s brows furrowed. “Is it Stephanie?”

She nodded, voice growing more animated as she began to explain. “She just…she just ruined everything. This was supposed to be papá and I’s day, and then that woman shows up out of nowhere, clinging to papá like some leech, acting like she owns the place. I don’t even know who she is in our lives, but I can tell that she’s not even genuine.”

Alejandra nodded slowly, lips pressing into a thin line. “I thought you might feel this way,” she said quietly. After a moment of hesitation, she took a deep breath.

“Stephanie,” Alejandra started, “is someone your papá met at a charity gala a few months ago. She was very persistent, made sure to stay in his orbit, always showing up where she was. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, but it became clear to me that she was doing all of it on purpose.”

Jullianna’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her crossed arms.

“She began to visit the house not long after. Always unannounced, always with some excuse. She claimed she wanted to get to know the family better, but I could see through her act,” Alejandra continued, tone growing sharper. “She’s very good at pretending to be sweet, but underneath all that makeup and designer clothes…Está podrida hasta el fondo, mi chica. A manipulative woman who only cares about herself.”

Jullianna’s jaw clenched as Alejandra’s words sank in. “Does papá even know all about this?” she asked carefully, though a part of her already suspected the answer.

Alejandra shrugged, shaking her head. “Your papá’s not blind, but he can be too trusting. That woman really does know how to pull someone in, but I see right through her. She’s only after what she can gain from being with your papá—money, status, connections. Todo eso. Your papá is a kind man, but that makes him vulnerable to people like Stephanie.”

Jullianna blinked, she was stunned into silence. Her mind raced with questions, but one thing Alejandra said suddenly clicked in her brain. “Wait a minute. Alejandra, how old is she?”

Alejandra hesitated before answering. “Veintiocho,” she said, tone casual, as if trying to downplay it.

“What?!” Jullianna’s reaction was immediate, her voice was loud enough to make a few nearby birds flutter away. “That woman is twenty-eight?! She’s old enough to be my sister!”

“Yes, exactly.” Alejandra couldn’t help but smirk at Jullianna’s sudden outburst. “And she behaves like a spoiled child, that’s why I don’t trust her. Everything about her is calculated, from her clothes to the way she speaks. Esa mujer sabe jugar el juego.”

Jullianna felt her blood boiling now, anger mixing with her earlier disappointment. “And she’s been coming here? While I was at camp?”

Alejandra nodded again, folding her arms. “Almost every week. She claimed it was to ‘support’ your father, but I know better. That woman wants to attach herself to everything, and she’s made it clear she’ll do whatever it takes.”

Jullianna then looked back towards the circuit, where Stephanie was now all over Fernando, laughing at something her papá had said. The sight made her stomach churn.

“I can’t believe this,” she muttered, voice tight with frustration. “Todo el día está arruinado. I don’t even want to be here anymore.”

“I know it’s frustrating, mi niña,” Alejandra placed a reassuring hand on Jullianna’s shoulder. “But don’t let her ruin your time with your papá. That woman thrives on attention, if you ignore her and focus on what matters, she’s defenseless against you.”

Jullianna nodded slowly, though her anger and disappointment still burned in her chest. She looked back at the circuit, her mood now completely soured.

“I just want to go home,” she muttered. “I’m done with today.”

Alejandra sighed, giving Jullianna’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s head back. Necesitas descansar. Don’t worry about her, cariño. She’s not worth your energy.”

The journey back to their home in Madrid was subdued, the tension almost palpable in the air. Jullianna sat in the backseat, her face turned toward the window as the evening sun cast streaks of orange and gold across the countryside. Fernando glanced at her through the rearview mirror a few times, concern etched on his face, but he chose not to push it. Jullianna’s silence spoke volumes, and he didn’t want to risk saying something that might upset her further.

Alejandra, who was seated beside Jullianna, kept her eyes at the window, hands folded neatly on her lap. She had already decided that this was something Jullianna needed to process on her own. When they finally pulled into the driveway, Fernando parked the car and turned to Jullianna.

“Sofia, we were supposed to visit your abuelo and abuela today, but maybe we can do it some other time, sí?” his voice was soft, almost tentative.

Jullianna just gave Fernando a small nod, gaze still fixed on the floor of the car as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She then murmured, “okay,” before slipping out of the car and heading towards the house, with Fernando and Alejandra following suit.

Fernando sighed as he watched Jullianna’s retreating figure. “¿Qué le pasa?” he asked, turning to Alejandra. “She was fine earlier. Did something happen that I didn’t see?”

Alejandra hesitated, feigning ignorance. “I’m not sure, Fernando. Maybe she’s just tired, you know how moody teenagers can be—moods change so quickly. Give her some time, I’m sure she’ll feel better by tomorrow.”

Fernando nodded, though his worry didn’t dissipate. “Maybe I pushed her too much today,” he said, almost to himself. “It was supposed to be fun, but…”

“No, no, tranquilo,” Alejandra interjected, tone firm but kind. “This isn’t your fault. She just needs space right now, don’t overthink it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, brows furrowed. “I hate seeing her like this. She was smiling earlier, laughing even. Now…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

Alejandra offered him a reassuring smile. “She’ll be okay, Fernando. Trust me. Déjala descansar esta noche, ¿de acuerdo?”

As Alejandra turned to leave, Fernando called after her. “Wait, Alejandra, I won’t be home tomorrow. I have some things to take care of, but I’ll be back by the evening.”

Alejandra nodded. “Alright. I’ll take care of things here, don’t worry.”

“And…” Fernando hesitated for a moment. “Can you cook Sofia’s favorite meal tomorrow for breakfast? Maybe that will cheer her up a bit.”

She smiled. “Por supuesto, consideralo hecho.”

Fernando sighed, leaning back against the wall as Alejandra left the room. Despite her reassurances, a pang of guilt still lingered in his chest.

The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns across the bedroom walls as Jullianna slowly blinked awake. She lay still for a moment, cocooned in the quiet of the house. The event of yesterday lingered in her mind, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. She groaned softly, pulling the blanket over her head.

A sharp knock at the door startled her. “Sofia,” Alejandra’s voice called out, light but firm. “Breakfast is ready. Come down soon, okay?”

Jullianna exhaled deeply and sat up, the blanket falling to her lap. She stretched, joints cracking softly in the stillness. After taking a few moments to gather herself, she slipped out of bed and padded over the door.

When she got down, the house was quiet, eerily so, as she made her way downstairs. The faint aroma of freshly toasted bread and coffee drifted from the kitchen. Jullianna noticed Fernando’s absence immediately and glanced at Alejandra, who was tidying the kitchen counters.

“Alejandra, where’s papá?” she asked, voice soft.

Alejandra turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “He left early this morning. Said he had something important to take care of, but he’ll be back by evening.”

Jullianna just nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the table. The breakfast spread was simple yet inviting—fresh bread, tortilla española, slices of jamón, pan con tomate, and a small dish of olives. It was distinctly Spanish, and Jullianna assumed that it was all Sofia’s favorite. She sat down without a word, her stomach grumbling faintly.

As she began to eat, she glanced at Alejandra. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Alejandra shook her head with a small smile. “I’ve already had my breakfast, chica. This is all for you.”

Jullianna nodded again, her focus returning to her plate. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the gentle clinking of pans as Alejandra washed up. Then, after breakfast, Jullianna decided she needed a distraction, something to clear her head. So she went back to her room and rummaged through her suitcase, pulling out a simple one-piece swimsuit. Over it, she threw on an oversized shirt that fell past her thighs, providing just enough coverage to make her comfortable.

The pool had been a quiet haven during her stay, and she hoped for the same serenity this time. As she descended the stairs, her mood soured instantly. Stephanie was in the living room. She was perched on the edge of a plush armchair, scrolling through her phone, legs crossed elegantly. The sound of her clicking heels on the floor must have been what Jullianna heard earlier.

Alejandra, who was arranging some magazines on the coffee table, caught Jullianna’s eye and gave her a look, one that said, I don’t know why she’s here, I didn’t invite her. Jullianna sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. Stephanie, of course, noticed her immediately and squealed in delight.

“¡Sofía!” Stephanie practically jumped out of the armchair, her excitement so exaggerated that Jullianna instinctively covered her ears. “Oh my goodness, I was hoping I’d run into you!”

Jullianna fought all of her urges to roll her eyes. Instead, she forced a polite smile. “If you’re here for papá, you’re out of luck,” she said, tone flat. “Papá won’t be home until this evening.”

Stephanie blinked, her smile faltering slightly. “Oh, well, I didn’t know that.” she quickly recovered, brushing a strand of perfectly styled hair behind her ear. “But that’s fine! I can wait. We can hangout, just the two of us for the meantime.”

Jullianna froze for a split second, Stephanie’s words sending a chill down her spine. “Je vais laisser tomber,” she muttered quietly under her breath, turning on her heel and heading for the pool.

Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of clicking heels. Jullianna groaned inwardly as she realized Stephanie was following her. She stopped abruptly at the door leading to the pool, turning to face the woman.

“What are you doing?” Jullianna questioned, trying not to sound snappy.

Stephanie gave her a puzzled look. “I’m coming with you, of course! It’ll be so fun! We can sunbathe, maybe take some selfies.”

Jullianna stared at her for a long moment before sighing heavily. “Sure,” she said finally, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Fun.”

Without waiting for a response, she pushed open the door and stepped outside, the warm sun hitting her face. The pool glistened invitingly, but the thought of spending even a second more with Stephanie was enough to sap any excitement she had felt earlier.

“Ay dios mío,” Jullianna muttered to herself as she still heard Stephanie’s heels clicking against the patio. “La journée va être longue.”

Jullianna placed her towel neatly on one of the sun beds, the fabric a stark white against the bright blue of the pool tiles. She adjusted it carefully, ensuring no corner was left out of place, before tugging off the oversized shirt she wore over her swimsuit. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Stephanie perched on a nearby sun bed, watching her with curious intensity that made Jullianna’s skin crawl.

With deliberate calm, Jullianna folded her shirt and set it next to her towel, ignoring the scrutiny. Without a word, she walked to the edge of the pool, took a quick breath, and leapt in, her body slicing through the water before surfacing with an intentionally big splash. The spray of cool water arched through the air, some of it landing on Stephanie, who let out an exaggerated squeal.

“¡Ay!” Stephanie cried, jerking backward as though she had been doused with a bucket of water. She reached for a towel, dabbing delicately at her face and arms.

Jullianna resurfaced, brushing her wet hair out of her eyes and blinking innocently. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she said, voice dripping with mock concern. “I didn’t mean to splash you, Steph.”

Stephanie glanced at her, the corners of her mouth pulled into a strained smile. “It’s okay, cariño,” she said, though her tight grip on the towel showed her irritation. “Really.”

Jullianna suppressed a smirk, knowing full well that Stephanie was seething because one of her designer clothes was splashed with water. With a nonchalant shrug, she swam towards one of the floaties bobbing near the middle of the pool. She grabbed it, resting her arms on the inflatable surface as she turned to face Stephanie.

Stephanie had settled back on her sun bed, legs crossed elegantly as she faced Jullianna directly. Her eyes scanned Jullianna for a moment before she began to speak.

“So, Fernando had told me so much about you,” Stephanie said, tone saccharine. “I had no idea how close you two were.”

Jullianna raised a brow, tilting her head slightly as she tread water. “Well,” she said, a faint smile playing on her lips, “that’s because we’re each other’s halves.”

Stephanie blinked, caught off guard by the response, but quickly recovered. She leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “That’s sweet,” she said. “I mean, it’s obvious how much he loves you. He talks about you all the time.”

Jullianna hummed, the sound of it almost dismissive. She rested her chin on the floatie, watching Stephanie with a calm that belied her irritation. Stephanie’s gaze flickered briefly, confidence faltering for a moment before she plastered on another smile.

“Actually,” she began, tone light, “while you were away at camp, your papá took me karting. It was so much fun, and—well, I hope you don’t mind, but he let me use your kart.”

The faintest flicker of annoyance flashed across Jullianna’s face, but she quickly masked it. “Oh, that’s fine,” she said breezily, waving a hand in the water. “It’s pretty normal for him to let someone ride my kart.”

Stephanie smiled, seemingly appeased, but Jullianna was not done. She let her lips curl into a sly smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re actually number twenty-nine on his list, you know.”

“What…list?” her smile faltered.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Jullianna said, feigning surprise. She propped herself up on the floatie, her tone conspiratorial. “It’s just this thing papá does. Whenever someone new comes into his life, he always takes them to his circuit. It’s kind of his way of testing people, I guess. There was Paula before you, and then Francesca before her…honestly, I’ve lost track of the names. But if I’m not mistaken, you’re number twenty-nine, and twenty-nine is a lucky number.”

Stephanie stared at her, expressing a mix of confusion and growing irritation. “I…didn’t realize,” she said slowly, voice tight.

“Yeah, it’s just one of his quirks. I guess he really likes seeing how people handle themselves at the circuit, well in life, generally. Some do great, others…not so much.” Jullianna shrugged, pushing off the floatie and swimming lazily towards the pool’s edge. “I’m sure you’ve made your mark since papá decided to keep you around. But I always say, it’s none of my business if a man his age wants to make a fool out of himself. Although, maybe he’s changed and you’re the real thing, Steph.”

Pulling herself out of the pool, Jullianna stood, water dripping from her as she grabbed her own towel. She dried herself off slowly, the teasing smile never leaving her face as she glanced back at Stephanie.

“Oh, one more thing, Steph,” Jullianna said casually as she flung the towel over her shoulder. “If you’re planning on being with him in the long run, you’ll have to try a little harder. Papá’s got a pretty high standard when it comes to people he lets stick around.”

Stephanie’s mouth opened slightly, as though she wanted to respond, but Jullianna didn’t give her the chance.

“Well, it has been a pleasure meeting you, but I’ve got some things to do,” Jullianna said, turning towards the house. “Enjoy the pool, Steph. It’s all yours. Toodles!”

taglist : @qghosty , @seonghwaexile , @linnygirl09 , @tallrock35

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