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jazzyspams · 10 months

Text

Scared

pairing: aemond × fem!reader (afab, use of she/her)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

summary: he grabbed your face hard. stopping you both from the dance as he said “i will destroy you before i dare to see you happy with a husband. i promise you that princess. so please enjoy your time here before you have to tour because while you’re touring ill be there. watching you and ruining any chance you have of happiness or any chance of you getting a husband”

requested: no lol, just something that came to mind :)

warnings: smut (PiV, unprotected), creampie, overstimulation, choking, begging, a lot of dirty talk, dom! aemond, rough sex, teasing, slight knife kink, praising kink, lotss of begging, kind of degradation kink lol, overall just a veryyy bold & shameless smut, so enjoy ;)

part two!

✭・.・✫

kings landing was such a beautiful place, the people were kind and loving and the red atmosphere just made it much more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen, as king viserys niece it’s surprising that this is your first time at kings landing

considering yourself royalty was out of the ordinary for people such as yourself, only a few moons ago you were just a farmer’s daughter until the queen found out you’re father was daemon targaryen which made you a bastardettes considering the fact that your mother and father were never married

it is extremely rare for a bastard or bastardettes to be taken in but your story was different

the queen is only using you to try and once get on the good side of her old friends heart who happens to be princess rhaenyra, your fathers wife

the king was one step away from death and it is mere moments before a war breaks out and aegon and rhaenyra start fighting over who shall wear the crown and everyone knew it

you knew you were being used as a little pawn in their game of thrones but it was oddly working out in your favor because once the kingdoms knew of your “pristine beauty” the queen decided that you must find a suitor

you honestly didn’t have any intention of coming to the red keep or finding a suitor but what’s the worse that could happen?

as you walked out the carriage you looked around at the beautiful entrance of the red keep where there were maids, carrying buckets of water. guards, guarding doors and people standing in circles socializing

as your father, rhaenyra, baela and rhaena went inside to rest before supper you followed behind your step brothers, luke and jace as they walked around observing the atmosphere since it had been years since they have been here at the red keep

as you three stood at a large desk that displayed many swords and other weapons you heard bang that quickly caught your attention, you all walked over to the circle where the people had been gathered around as if they were watching a show

and they were in deed watching a show, two men fighting and it didn’t take you long to figure out who the two men were

ser criston cole and aemond targaryen.

you’ve heard many stories of them both. ser criston cole, once used to serve princess rhaenyra until her wedding night when he bashed her late husband’s best friends head into the ground and later that night went to serve the queen and no longer served rhaenyra

aemond the one eyed, everyone in your family hates him because he took baela and rhaena’s late mothers dragon which was the biggest dragon in kings landing and in return of him stealing their dragon, luke took his eye

you all stood behind the circle still getting a clear view on the men fighting

as both men fought your eyes stayed fixated on aemond, he was determined and patient with every move he made, his beautiful long white hair stopping midway down his back and swinging with his every movement

despite him having one eye his looks still captivated you as you watched him fight, winning so effortlessly too. even though you weren’t the one fighting him you still felt so intimidated

your breath picking up slowly as you watched him, everyone and everything slowly started to disappear and it was just you, watching him fight

but your moment was quickly ruined by the feeling of someone pulling on your arm, “stay away from him, he is nothing but trouble” jace said, snapping you back to reality

“i- i have no intention of going near him, im quite aware of who he is and i intend on staying far away from that” you said, trying to convince him and yourself

he nodded his head “good.”

“nephews have you come to train” you heard a voice call out, snapping you and jace away from your conversation

everyone in front of you, jace, and luke moving, giving you all a clear path way to the man speaking. aemond.

aemond looked at jace and luke, not paying you any mind while his sword was pointed at ser criston cole’s throat

“only watching uncle” luke spoke out

aemond dropped his sword and walked down the pathway the people had made, he stops right in front of all 3 of you

he was tall and his disposition dripped of dominance as he turned and looked down at you, the height difference slightly intimidating you

and there he stood, just looking at you as if everyone else around you both had never existed. his one eye was just green and devastating,

finally deciding to break the silence, you let down a low bow and stated your name

“it’s lovely to finally meet you, i’ve heard many things my prince” you say, waiting for him so say something

but he doesn’t say anything at all, he just nods and turns away, continuing his practice with ser criston

your advisor had taught you all the formalities, what to say to the higher ups and what they would say in return

and yet he didn’t say anything. which made you offended and slightly embarrassed

you weren’t quick to judge someone’s character only two words kept playing in your head after that encounter , rude and condescending. that was obviously what he is you thought to yourself

jace and luke step in front of you both with a lingering look worry on their faces. jace starts waving his hand and you snap out of your little day dream and let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in

“are you quite alright?” jace finally asks

you put on a fake smile “of course, why do you ask” you say obviously knowing why he’s asking

“well,” luke interrupts “you look as if you’re about to breathe out fire” he says with a snort and jace slightly hits him on his arm

you let out a little laugh, “what luke is trying to say is that you look a little distraught, maybe you should go to your chambers and rest before supper”

you didn’t need to rest but maybe you could explore the castle a little bit before supper without them so you just nod

“do you need us to help you find your chambers?” jace asks

“no no i can manage that on my own but i shall see you two at supper” you say, letting down a low bow

they both return the bow as you walk off

you spent most of the afternoon exploring the great hall and the black cells. you wondered all around the red keep until you found your way to godswoods

godswoods is a large wooded sanctuary, used for meditation and worshiping the old gods, it was kind of like a garden except it only had one tree, a single large heart tree it was beautiful nonetheless, it had a sweet piney smell with large red leaves growing out if it

as you walked closer to the tree you saw beautiful pink flowers that you’d recognize from anywhere, snapdragons

you rushed over to the flowers and picked a couple, smelling them and smiling, it reminded you of your mother they were her favor-

“those are my mother’s flowers” you heard a familiar voice call out, snapping you away from your very thought

you signed before you even turned around, already having a clue on who it already was

you turned around and to your surprise you were right, it was aemond the rude prince and of course he just had to be ruining your mood once again

“my apologies my prince i had no knowledge that these were the queens” you said

“of course you didn’t” he quickly replied in such a dull manner

you let out a scoff and quickly drew yourself to him, “im sorry my prince but have i done something to you for you to be so cruel towards me” you finally let out

a fire burning in you as you spoke, you just wanted to know why he was giving you such a hard time as if you’ve done something to him

he looked you in the eyes not once breaking eye contact as he stepped closer to you, breaking the distance between you two as he lowered himself to whisper in your ear

“you simply do not belong here”

a wave of chills flashed through your body as he whispered those rude things into your ear, the heat of his breath on your earlobe made your speed of breath pick up

the way he talked down on you made you feel some type of way you couldn’t explain

you open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out

he steps back, waiting for you to say something and you know you have to say something back. you will not let him degrade you, you told yourself

you smile and slightly turn your head “and yet im still here my prince, isn’t that funny?” you question him

“and yet your here because of my mother, the queen, whom is only using you to get what she wants, thus is not be being cruel this is me humbling you to let you know you are not special, you are being used like the nothing you are”

everything around you had stopped and the word “nothing” just kept playing in your head

you looked up at him and before you knew it your hand went flying across his face. and you didn’t feel bad not one bit

he just ate the slap up. not flinching, not moving, nothing. which made you even more upset, so you just stormed off, happening to throw the flowers in the process

as you stomped around the red keep slowly trying to ease your mind you couldn’t stop thinking about why aemond was so cruel to you

you knew you deserved to be here. who cares what stupid aemond thought, its not like he’s the queen or the king so why should you care

but his mother is the queen and his father is the king, what if the queen or king think you don’t belong as well???

no, because why would you be here if they didn’t think you bel-

your inner thoughts stop as you felt your body smash into something hard and loud and you felt your body falling to the ground

you slowly rubbed your head looking up and what you just smashed into and to your surprise it was ser criston

you quickly stood up, not realizing he was holding out his arms in a attempt to help you up

“my apologies princess i did not see you there” he spoke in a such a formal voice as he placed his hands behind his back

“oh no it was completely my fault, i was so caught up in my thoughts i wasn’t even looking and please no need for the formalities,” you replied ask you told him your name

“if anything i should be acting that way towards you, i’ve heard such good things about you” you continued

he smiled. his smile was charming and sweet

“ i should hope they are only good things” he said

you nodded politely “ i must take my leave to prepare for supper but it was truly lovely to meet you, i hope we’ll become good friends” you said with a smile

“i shall hope so too” he replied with a low bow as you walked away

time had finally passed and you were ready for supper, your advisor had put you in this lovely red, shoulder less dress that had beautiful gold markings all over it

it was the most beautiful dress you had ever worn but it was heavy, you groaned at the fact that you would have to move in it

“you’ll get used to it” you advisor rose said as she grabbed your shoulders, trying to cheer you up

you truly liked rose, she wasn’t a mean or stuck up advisor she was honestly sweet, she taught you everything you know about formalities and dancing and marriage, she was like an older sister to you and plus she always knew how to make you feel better

she never made you feel out of place or never looked at you stupid for not knowing the simplest things. she was the perfect advisor in your eyes

“at least i wont have to do anything in it” you said, attempting to look on the bright side of wearing this heavy dress

roses face change “actually uhm, you might have to dance”

your face dropped, and suddenly you take back what you said. she isn’t perfect

“what!” you yelled as she jumped

“dont be scared at all, we’ve practiced all the the dances that the red keep practices.”

you rubbed your sore head, which was still sore from smashing into ser criston

“great” you muttered

“look on the bright side i mean, hopefully aemond will request a dance to apologize for how he treated you all day” rose smiled

“please wipe that smile off your face, i will respectfully decline because i truly have no desire of even breathing in the same air as that spoiled cunt of a prince”

you and rose both jumped as we heard a loud cough coming from the front of the room

ser criston. did he hear what you said?! and why was he in here and more importantly why didn’t he knock

rose quickly came in defense about that “excuse me ser criston you shall knock before you enter a princesses room” she said power walking towards him

“i did. 4 times my lady.” he simply muttered with an annoyed expression plastered on his face

“oh…well we were in deep conversation” rose continued

“yes, i heard” he replied

oh my seven gods, he most certainly heard you. you tightly closed your eye’s wishing you could just redo the whole day over

“i am here to escort the princess to supper” he finished

“oh yes of course” rose said as she rushed back over to you, finishing up your look as she placed a silver pendant necklace around your neck

as you looked down your eyes widened, your mother’s necklace, you’d thought you lost it when you arrived to dragonstone but here it was

and rose found it. she truly was perfect. you looked back at her and she just winked, slightly pushing you towards ser criston

as you and ser criston exited your room, he questioned what aemond had did to make you say what you said and you told him the honest truth about what happened earlier, for some reason you felt as if you could trust ser criston

ser criston shook his head in a disappointed manner before he quickly said “you must forgive him, he’s only like this because his touring for a wife was stopped so that yours could start”

your eyes widened at this new surprising information. this was very interesting you thought as you arrived at the great hall

ser criston opened the large long black door as he announced your name, as you walked in you’d seen everyone sitting at the supper table

and you were the last person to arrive, so all eyes were on you

as you walked over to the table, one of the many servants pulled out a chair, placing you right next to jace and you obviously didn’t mind at all, jace was quite entertaining but aemond happened to be sitting across the other side of the table staring right at you and jace

the supper was quite awkward, the room filled with silence and some music as well but the silence was much louder

no one talked and you were surprised, you knew the history between both families but at the end of the day they were a family and families pull through together and work out the differences and challenges, and you refused to be apart of this family if this was how it was going to be

so everyone’s surprise the king slowly stood up from chair, the queen who was sitting next to him quickly tried to help him but he waved her away with his hand

“it feels me with sorrow,” he struggled to get out

“to see all these faces i hold so dearly, be so distant towards eachother but please let us set aside out differences tonight, if not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man whom loves you all so dearly” he finished as he sat back down

jace quickly stood up and continued off the king “grandsire is right, let us all forgive even if it is only for the night but let us all dance”

the king agreed, waving the servants to play slow dancing music

your father danced with his wife rhaenyra, luke and jace danced with their betrothed baela and rhaena, aegon danced with helaena, queen alicent danced with her father because the king wasn’t able to dance so he just sat and watched his family enjoy their time together

yet here you were alone and so was aemond, you two just sat across from eachother

both of you refused to dance with one another, well not really but neither of you had asked the other to dance and you damn sure weren’t after how he treated you today

the king tapped his cane on the ground hard

“my son, why haven’t you requested a dance from our new guest? have you lost all your manners. i must apologize for my son princess” the king said

you shook your head “oh no it’s quite alright my king. i have no desi-“

“oh well thats two bad. aemond get up and dance with princess” the king quickly replied cutting you off

aemond stood and walked to the other side of the table, he placed his hand out “princess would you please be so kind and give me the pleasure of a dance”

you signed looking to the right and noticing ser criston and he just nodded, signaling you to say yes

you nodded and place your hand in his, his hands were large and rough

he held your hand tight as he escorted you to where everyone else was dancing

he pulled you in tight, his left hand lowered to your lower back and his right hand stayed in yours

aemond was strong and so dominant it made you scared but you couldn’t help yourself wanting more as he held you tight for the dance

you looked up at him and he was just staring at you, like you were something he had never seen before

and before you knew it, you had ruined the moment

“i truly do not like you aemond” you confessed

“i truly do not care” he replied back

“well you should because i know that your touring was cancelled because of me and its pathetic that you don’t like me over some stupid touring” you continued

his eyes darkened at the conversation “you don’t know anything princess”

“maybe but what i do know is that while im out touring happily with my new husband, you’ll be here alone. groveling at your mothers feet begging for her to let you tour”

“watch yourself princess before you get yourself into something you will fail to get yourself out of” he warned you, and you knew you had to stop but you were already fired up

you wanted him to get angry, it was payback afterall.

“its sad, everyone talks about how scary you are but as we stand here now i can see right through you and im not scared. i see you for who and what you truly are, nothing.” you finished mocking the words he said to you earlier

and it felt good seeing him angry until his hand went flying to your face

he grabbed your face hard. stopping you both from the dance as he said “i will destroy you before i dare to see you happy with a husband. i promise you that princess. so please enjoy your time here before you have to tour because while you’re touring ill be there. watching you and ruining any chance you have of happiness or any chance of you getting a husband”

you didn’t know what to say. you wanted to believe he was lying but the rage in his eyes said otherwise, he removed his hand and walked away

the anger built inside you once again as he walked away, getting the last word once again

supper had ended worse than it had started, before supper you were just uncomfortable because of the dress and the fact that you had to face aemond but now you were uncomfortable because of the dress and angry because of aemond

as you stomped back to your chambers ser criston was looking at you like you were a mad woman as he escorted you back

he had asked you what had happened, not because of the way you were stomping around like a baby but merely because he had saw what happened on the dancing court and he was no fool

you begged him not even to speak about it because it was far too embarrassing, him getting the last word and ser criston watching him get the last word and walking away whilst leaving you speechless

“you two seem to have a lot of tension towards eachother princess” you raised and eyebrow at ser cristons words

“tension? what is that” you questioned

“tension is like a lingering feeling in the air it could be a nervous feeling, angry feeling…..or maybe sexual” he said slowly dragging out his words

sexual? you certainly did not see aemond in that light because he was cruel and conniving little twat. he was attractive but cruel!

“pfft, probably the angry one, i have never disliked someone so much” you replied

“right right…” he finished in unbelieving tone

you just rolled your eyes

the rest of the the walk to you chambers were quiet, thankfully. you really did not want to hear anymore from ser criston about aemond but you couldn’t help but to think about what aemond meant when he said he would destroy you

would he kill you? or your future husband just to not see you happy

forget it. you thought as you stormed into your chamber

“how was the supper” rose said quickly rushing towards you and you groaned not even wanting to think about it or him.

“fuck the dinner. now please cut me out of this dress”

a little time passed and you had told rose what had happened as she was trying to get you out of the dress

“i still wonder what he meant by destroy you” she questioned

“me as well!” you replied with the question growing stronger the more and more you thought about it

“you should just storm in his room and question him” she said jokingly with a snorting laugh

rose was obviously joking but you thought it was quite a good idea

you looked back at poor rose as she was pulling the strings out of your dress and you just smiled

she stopped and shook her head “no no no princess i was just joking!!” she said in such concerning manner

“i know but would it be such a bad idea? i mean he did kinda threaten me and i have a right to know what he meant” you said trying to make some sense

“exactly! he threatened you and grabbed you with your whole family there so please imagine what he would do whilst you two were alone”

even after all the cruel things he said to you and the threat you somehow felt like aemond would hurt you

you shook your head in a dismissive manner “just get me out of this dress” you finished

and rose just sighed knowing she couldn’t do anything now because once you were started no one could get you to stop

you waited until rose had left to execute your plan

rose had put you in this almost see through night gown so you put on this white robe with gold outlining and wrapped it tight as you walked out of your chambers on the search for aemonds room

the red keep was so large you had no idea where to start so you did the easiest thing, you stopped a servant and simply asked them where prince aemonds room was and she led you there

as you got closer you noticed a guard at his door and you wondered how you would convince him to let you in, you didn’t feel like causing a scene so you just patiently waited for him to leave, certainly he had to use the restroom sometime soon

but he didn’t. you waited for what felt across the all for what felt like forever until the nightsguard left and you rushed as soon as he left, not knowing when he would return

you stormed into aemonds room, struggling to push open the big black heavy doors but when you did you shut the doors and yelled his name

you looked around observing his room, the dark demeanor. his room was so calming and clean, you didn’t know what you were expecting but it surly was not this

“why are you in my chambers” you finally heard him say as you saw him appear from the dim light

you had practiced what you planned to say but when you saw him it was nothing like what you had planned. he looked so beautiful in the dim candle light

“i won’t ask you again” he warned you, raising his voice

“i- i want to know what did you mean when you said you would destroy me… would you really kill me just to never see me happy? why aemond”

he let out a low smirk “you’ve barged into my room at the darkest of hours over this ridiculous question” he questioned you, drawing closer to you

only inches away and he towered over you and you could feel the heat radiating off his body “i can destroy you in so many ways without killing you”

he lifted your face with his fingers, forcing you to look him right in the eyes as whispered “i can show you how”

the look in his eye filled with desire and lust you didn’t know if you should have said yes or no so you said nothing at all

he placed his thumb on your lip, slowly and gently tracing it as he leaned closer to you

your breathing was heavy and so was his. you both wanted this, wanted eachother. “say yes” he whispered again yet this time you could hear the desperation in his voice

“let me touch you” he said as he slowly trailed his hands over your covered body

starting at your bare neck and working his way down your covered breasts, apply more tension as he slowly felt them in his hand

but he stopped. and continued to trail his hand down until he stopped at your stomach and felt the strings of your robe. all he he had to do was untie them, just to reveal enough of you

and he did, you felt the cold air hit your skin as the robe released slowly from your body, aemond continued where he started now that he had more access to you

as his hand slid down from your stomach until he reached your clit. he lifted up your nightgown as he continued to play with your wet clit

his name escaped your lips, “aemond” you softly breathed, eyes closed at his teasing. desperately trying not to clench around his rough fingers. he didn’t answer you, instead he removed his fingers which made your eyes shoot open

you opened your mouth to say something but he was faster

“beg for it,” he told you. you stopped trying to comprehend what he just said.

“please aemond i need to feel you. please” you whispered so desperately. which made his arousal grow. you felt him hardening against you

“destroy every part of me. please” as you whispered those dirty words you could see the look in aemonds eye was no long filled with desire but with need.

aemond smashed his lips into yours and he kissed you hard as he pulled you in closer, he wanted to feel you against him as your bodies moved in sync as you kissed

he moved his hands behind your body and grabbed your ass hard just before he lifted you up to give both of you more access to eachother as you kissed without him breaking his neck because he was quite tall

you wrapped your legs around him as you moved your hands to his long white hair and slightly tugged on as he lowered his kisses down your neck, roughly biting on your neck the feeling of pain and pleasure mixing together perfectly.

you tilted your head back at the pleasure. aemond wasn’t much older than you and he was so experienced, he knew how to pleasure you

and the fact that you hated him made you want it all the more. it was like a taste of forbidden fruit, and you loved every second of it

aemond still held you in his arms as he walked over to his desk, there were many papers on top of the desk but he didn’t care as he swiped them off, letting them fall to the ground as layed you on top

he admired the view. you sat yourself up on your elbows and looked down remembering the nightgown was slightly see through. a confident smirk grew on your face

“do you like what you see” you asked in such a seductive voice as you leaned up against him

you took your hand and licked it, making sure it was wet enough just before you slid it in his pants

he was thick and long, you grabbed his cock and jerked it in his pants

he groaned, and it was like music to your ears but that music quickly stopped as he pulled your hand out and simply whispered “if you put your hands somewhere i didn’t tell you to put them then i will tie you to this table and leave you here. do you understand” he said in such a dark and sexy voice

you nodded, which made him slide his hand up your neck he applied pressure and said “use your words”

“yes aemond, i understand” you complied

“good girl” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine, causing your nipples to harden at the chills

he walked away towards his bed and grabbed something off his nightstand, you tried to peak over to see what he grabbed but he yelled “lay back down” and you did

the table felt cold on your hot skin as you layed back down. you heard his footsteps coming closer

you got excited thinking about what he would do to you. you might have hated him but you loved how excited he got you

when you felt him closer you lifted yourself up on your elbows once again to see him or to see what he had

and it was a knife, a very small yet very sharp

you felt the pace of your breathing picking up as he slowly slid the knife from your stomach to your neck. he grabbed your dress at the collar and sliced your dress right down the middle

“aemond!” you yelled as the ruined dress fell from your sides. he lifted your face with the knife with a smile, making sure you were looking at him as he whispered “it wasn’t revealing enough. i want to have access to all of you” pulling your naked body body closer to him. you jump at the feeling, your naked wet clit against his crotch

the notices and uses it against his full advantage. his hand wrapped around your throat slightly pulling you closer against him

“you will do as i say when i fuck you,” he muttered low. arousal floods you at his words and you nod silently

“so no talking back like how you did at supper or i will punish you in ways you cannot imagine. i only want to hear yes or no, do you understand”

you buck up against him, aching to feel something, anything. his grip tightens around your neck “do you hear me” he demands you to answer

his dominance causing your face to heat up. you weren’t expecting him to seduce you into submission but nonetheless you love it. “y-yes, yes, aemond. i hear you and i understand.” you gasp, your arousal becoming more needy as the words leave you

he smiles darkly then nods. “good”

he lifted you up off the table and removed the torn dress completely, as he grabbed your hand and led you a few feet away from the table

“get on your knees” he demanded, and you did

the floor was cold and rough on your knees. he walked back towards the table and grabbed the chair that was on the other side of the table. he moved the chair where you two were moments before, where your torn dress had layed

he sat down in the chair and widened his legs as he rested his arms on the armrests. “crawl.” he muttered

making the chills you once had come back with just one word as you placed you hands on the floor. you slowly crawled towards him, you could feel your juices slowly flowing down your legs as you crawled to him, naked and exposed

aemond is everywhere. his smell, his staring, his hands, his lust. you want him to be inside you and you want to taste him.

once you crawled to him, he made you stop he lifted your face up to make sure you were looking directly at him as he whispered “ i want you to suck my cock and i wanna see tears in those pretty little eyes as i cum in that little mouth” his dirty words sending shivers down your spine

“and when im done you’re gonna spit the cum back on my cock so i can fuck it right back into you, do you understand?” he whispered again

“yes aemond”

as he pulled his pants down you gazed up at him, wide eyed and innocent waiting patiently for him as he finally releasing his hard cock. the precum dripping onto his pale legs

as he pulled out his cock you caught a glimpse of all the veins, so pretty against his skin. your mouth watered at the sight

taking the tip of his cock in your hand as you ran the tip of your tongue along each vein, teasing him ever so slightly as he threw his head back, choking on his breath. you smiled against his tip, god you loved this sight. seeing him so pleasured over the smallest touch u gave him. so desperate for your tongue and your hot mouth

twisting your hair into a ponytail as he gripped it, guiding you to where he wanted. taking all of him in your mouth, you moaned at the taste of his precum filling the back of your throat. the vibrations of your moans enhanced his sensations against your mouth

once youd stabled your pace and adjusted your mouth to his big size he pulled you in deeper. he wanted to feel all of you and he most certainly did. it was messy, your spit and his precum everywhere. the sound of his groans sending waves of pleasure to your wet and untouched clit. you rubbed your legs together trying to feel something as you wait patiently and desperately for him to touch you

he looked down at the beautiful sight of his cock so full in your mouth. and fuck it was a sight for sore eyes.

the tip of his cock grazed the back of your throat, making you gag slightly as he ran his thumb across your jaw “thats my girl. fucking take it. all of it” he groaned so deep and sexy

fuck you need him.

he began thrusting inside your mouth, the tears began to gather in your eyes and then slowly ran down your cheeks. wiping away your tears with his thumbs as he pulled back, allowing you to breathe before thrusting it back into your throat but even harder than before. he could see he was stretching out your throat. “such a good girl, such a good fucking girl” he moaned as he neared his orgasm

he pulled you head back with your hair “gonna cum….fuck im gonna cum” he whimpered. pulling back slightly as he came on your tongue, yanking you up by your hair to force you to look at him through your wet eyelashes

“spit it out” he demanded, his stare intense and long before you dribbled it right on his tip, mixed with some of your saliva and a little bit of precum

he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you on top of him, you felt his wet cock against your wet aching clit and you whimpered at the feeling

he grabbed his cock and teased you. just moving the tip of his cock against your wet clit, not daring to put it in

“please aemond please” you whimpered so desperate and destroyed but he liked it like that

“god you’re so fucking wet and just for me” you nodded

“yes aemond, just for you baby” you moaned, slightly grinding against his tip. taking anything he gave you. and fuck he loved it like that

to see you so desperate and destroyed that you would take anything and go with it. he did make a promise after that he indeed intended to keep

“show me how bad you want it. fuck me like a good girl” he said before he slowly slid it inside of you, without warning as you felt him stretching you out

you shot your head back, eyes rolling as you begin bouncing on his cock and gripped your waist hard, feeling your hips move against him. “fuck” he whimpered “go fucking slow”. slowing your pace you rolled your hips back and forth

you gripped at his shirt, desperate to ground yourself as you felt his cock hitting in places you didn’t think you could handle. “aemond” you moaned, he groaned at the way his name left your lips. it drove him feral. he grabbed you by your face, keeping the sexy eye contact between you both

“cum on my cock, i know you can do it. show me how good i make you feel” you were near your high but his praising made you even closer, your hips becoming lazy and slow. as you ground your hips he thrusts inside you, making you almost scream as you reach your high

your head falls into his neck as you came. finally being able to breathe but he grabs your face and by the look in his eye you can tell you’re not done yet

“one more time baby, you can do it.” he reassured you as he picked you up, you struggled to wrap your legs around him but you did. he layed you on the table once again

he wastes no time in thrusting himself in you, the stretch is unimaginable and he gives you no time to adjust, his hips are unforgiving, fucking you open and letting the juices of your arousal spill everywhere

“why so quiet now princess? you had so much to say at supper. but now your laying on my table on full display only for me” he said with an evil chuckle

fuck. his words turned you on.

“you would let me do anything to you? wouldn’t you?” he asked as his thrusts got harder

“fuck. yes anything you want aemond” you gasped out, one hand gripping your jaw until it opens for him, your mind clouded only thinking about your high

he spits into your mouth, saliva warm and intoxicating as you swallow it happily, nodding in a daze “ im gonna fuck you crazy aren’t i? and you won’t think about nothing but me for days”

he’s right, and he fucking knows it

you just keep nodding, unable to form the words as he hits your spot again and again and it nearly makes you pass out. your hands ache from gripping on the table so you wrap them around his back, pulling him closer as he splits you wide open and takes you apart

your nails dig into his pale skin, you know it will leave marks and good. you want him to think about you as much as you will of him

you’re so close you might cry as the sensation of tingling lingers through your thighs, leaving your toes curling snd your legs shaking

he’s close too, his thrusts are getting slower and sloppier

“whose pussy is this?” aemond grunts, his movements soon deep and desperate. you can’t form the words over the pain, the pain is fucking delicious as you dig your nails up in down all over his skin

he slightly slaps your abused clit “-y-yours, fuck aemond- yours, i belong to you” you cry breathless

you feel his smirk grow against your neck as you both reach your high together, both breathless as he lays on top of you

he gets off of you and you close your eyes for a couple of moments before they shoot open, realizing what you have just done

you will be ruined you thought as you shot up. aemond was sitting in the chair you were not so long ago in, putting on his pants and his shirt

you jumped off the table struggling to stand. you looked for your shoes as you heard aemond call you name

“god i will be ruined” you kept repeating

“you need to relax, you shouldn’t be walking yet” he warned you

“fuck you” you muttered, hoping he didn’t hear you but be did

he laughed “well you just did”

you glared at him as you grabbed your robe and tied it around you “this never happened” you simply said before you pushed open the big doors and left

————

A/N - omg i hope you guys enjoyed, requests are open!

#aemond x fem!reader #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond fic #smut writing #smut #house of the dragon #fem!reader

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

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𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: idol!minho. hurt/comfort. angry/protective!minho. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. lotss of angst. reader has long hair/fear of the salon. minho is protective in this one. reader's appt at the salon has a huge mishap. pet names (affectionately). lots of adorableness from minho.

word count: 3.7k

summary: for as long as you can remember, you've always hated going to the salon - always hated others touching your delicate hair. and now, as an adult, you want to change that... want to face your fears. but you've never had good luck, which becomes clearly apparent after your appointment at the salon.

a/n: this one goes out to all my girlies who have issues with their hair. i, myself, have very long hair and am very particular about the way that i take care of it. i hate salons lmao so i thought i'd write a quick, angsty minho hurt/comfort fic surrounding my own experiences/feelings. hope ya'll enjoy~ 🥰

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

“You’ll text me when you’re done, kitten?” Your boyfriend Minho asked you, as he leaned in and pressed a tentative kiss against your forehead.

“Yeah, of course, baby.” You peered up at him, offering him an easy smile. Trying to play off your anxiety. For your shared day off, the two of you had chosen to run some errands together. Minho needed to pick up some new fitness gear he had purchased from a store near your shared apartment. And you… well, you had an appointment to get your hair cut.

But honestly, you were fucking dreading it. Ever since you were a little girl, you had always held a lot of anxiety around the concept of going to the hair salon. Since, growing up, your mother had forced you to go to get your length trimmed once every three months, and you always threw a fit during such a time. You didn’t like anyone else touching your hair - especially a strange man or woman who applied weird, smelly products to your locks afterward.

Plus, you were very particular about the length of your hair. You didn’t like to have any sort of fringe - your mother had had you try it out when you were in high school, and the continual swipe of your wispy hair had always irritated the sensitive skin on your forehead. You also didn’t like having your hair super short, and instead opted to keep it at a length that reached just a little below your hips.

It was excessive, you knew, from how downright obsessed you were with your hair and who was allowed to touch it. Then, to your surprise, Lee Minho had come into your life, and your qualms about such things somewhat dissipated. At first, you cringed whenever he’d touch your hair - even if he merely ran a few fingers through it. But, over time, with enough space given to you by him, and because he was so understanding and loving about the whole thing, you slowly started to open up to him; you slowly started to allow him such a privilege.

And ever since, you two had never looked back. It seemed like every second he could get, your boyfriend had his hands buried in your hair - whether it was in a purely romantic or sensual way. He just loved your hair… the lusciousness of it, the length, the care that you took every day to keep it clean and healthy. Minho had told you on multiple occasions that he admired your attention to your long locks, how you washed them every few days in a particular way, and how you were always researching new and improved clean-beauty products to use on your hair.

So, it came as a total surprise to him when you suddenly proclaimed that you had booked an appointment at a nearby hair salon. For a moment, he was completely thrown for one… because, his baby, wanting to get her hair touched by some random stranger? After she hadn’t been to a salon since she was a freshman in university? Well, that was just so unlike you…

You didn’t want to tell him, because you knew what he’d say, but in all honesty, you had suddenly felt motivated to go to the salon because you had seen some of your favorite hair influencers on Instagram recently get their hair trimmed. They made it look so easy - sitting there for hours, letting the stylists run their hands through their luscious locks, getting perms done and quirky, bright colours poured onto their scalps.

But you had never been like them. And for once, you wanted to change that. You wanted to face your fears of the salon, walk in there with a proud face and head held high, and get something done - even if it was just a simple trimming of your ends. Which, you kind of desperately needed anyway. And, being the ever-supportive boyfriend that he was, Minho even decided to tag along with you on the day of your appointment since it conveniently aligned with the day off that he had been looking forward to for the past few months.

It was a rarity, that you got to spend all day with your boyfriend since his schedule was always so jam-packed with photoshoots, recordings, and practices. So, you savoured the Wednesday afternoon spent with him, basking in the late-winter sunshine and clutching onto him as you traipsed through the many streets of your local neighborhood.

And for a while, you almost forgot about your appointment altogether.

But then Minho reminded you of it, and when you checked your phone, you read that it was close to three in the afternoon. You had set the appointment for three-thirty. So, in a hustle of anxiety, you yanked Minho along the side streets with you, following the GPS on your phone for directions.

The two of you stopped just outside the shop, and you noticed the bustle of people inside. It was a good sign that it was so popular and busy, right?

At your silence, you had felt a hand find yours, fingers squeezing between fingers gently. “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, darling,” Minho had said in a soft tone, tugging on your hand a little bit so that he caught your gaze. His eyes were dancing with a myriad of emotions, the predominant one being concern. Because you didn’t have to say anything to tell him how you felt about it all. Minho might’ve been on the quieter side of things, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t know you like the back of his hand- that he couldn’t read each of your innermost emotions without you ever having to voice them. “No one’s forcing you to get your hair done.”

“I know, babe…” Your voice had trailed off, as you squeezed his hand back and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “But, I need to do this. To prove to myself that it’s not that bad.”

He nodded, once. Then, he was tucking a few strands of your loose hair behind your ear, delicate pads of his fingers swiping across the warmth of your cheeks. “Alright, well, I’ll be waiting around until you’re done.” He gave your shoulder a tentative squeeze and flashed you a tiny smile before stepping away and letting you walk past.

You trailed up the front steps of the salon, turning back to your boyfriend just as you took hold of the front door’s handle. “Wish me luck.” You said in a breathless voice, heart beating wildly against your ribcage, anxiety constricting your throat just a little bit.

Minho gave you two thumbs up, a bright, reassuring grin spreading across his lips. “You’re gonna do great, kitten… love you.”

“Thanks, and… I love you too.” You swallowed down the restlessness that had been steadily building up inside of you, finally pushing through the salon’s front doors.

Almost immediately, you were overtaken by the strong scents of hairspray, lilac-rose shampoo, and powerful bleach. The noise was also elevated, as patrons and stylists alike chatted about life and talked about different hair techniques.

Yup, nothing had changed since your childhood.

“And… done. You can turn around now, Y/N.” Your stylist Rina said a few hours later. She was fairly nice, but you could tell that was new to the craft - probably fresh out of cosmetology school. She was quite flighty with her movements, doing quick, sharp cuts and washing your scalp pretty roughly.

The entire time she worked on you, you had your eyes screwed shut. Trying to ignore the crawling icy fingers that laced up your spine at the very feeling of this near-stranger working on your hair. But somehow - by some miraculous miracle - you had managed to make it through the entire appointment.

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open.

And your heart immediately dropped into the pit of your stomach.

Because the sight you found there left you too shocked and… and heartbroken to do anything else but just stare in utter disbelief.

The person staring back at you wasn’t you.

It fucking wasn’t.

Not with the short, above-shoulder-length hair,

Not with the thick fringe that spanned across your forehead,

Not with the layers cascading down the sides of your face.

You had asked her for just a trim - you had asked her not to cut off a lot of your length, you had asked her for no fringe. But maybe, you hadn’t. In your anxiety, maybe you hadn’t said such things and decided to leave it up to her.

But no, no, no, this wasn’t right at all and-

“What do you think of it?” Rina asked in an elated, high-pitched voice. She was beaming down at you, admiring her work through the mirror.

And at that moment, you didn’t have the heart to tell her what you felt. The people-pleaser came out from deep inside of you, and you shoved down the rising panic, swallowing the coming tears. “I-It’s great, but… I thought I asked for just a trim and no fringe?”

She waved a nonchalant hand in the air, “Yeah, but I thought you’d look so much better with this style,” she reached forward, combing a hand through your hair and pulling apart your thick layers. “See? The layers and fringe add so much more dimension to your hair… it looks amazing!”

You barely managed to hold in your sobs, deciding on nodding slowly in agreement. “Thanks, I love it…” You said in a quiet voice, but Rina still heard you nonetheless and beamed with pride.

In no time at all, you were up from your seat and paying at the front desk. The woman there admired your new look and praised you for how good it looked.

You wanted to fucking vomit inside your mouth just then, but you held it all in. Just a little bit longer, just a little bit farther, and then you could let go and give in to your despair. Into the grief of losing such a big part of yourself - after all, you had been growing your hair out to such a long length since you were a newbie in university years before, and it was a key factor in your identity.

But just like that, it was gone.

In the blink of an eye,

With just a few snips of a pair of scissors and some quick hands,

Years of care and planning and admiring… gone.

Most of all, you were dreading the thought of meeting up with your boyfriend after the appointment. But, what were you to do? Ignore him for the rest of the day - hide from him?

So, you did what you could only do at the moment, and texted him that you were ready to go. Not two minutes later, he replied with a ‘be there soon.’

You sat down on a nearby bench just outside of the still-bustling salon, basking in the silence. The sky was slowly starting to darken with night, as it was nearing dinnertime. The absence of the weight of your long hair pulled at your heartstrings, and the oddity of your hair hanging in front of your forehead left you in an odd sort of limbo state between miserableness and pain.

“Kitten… is that you?”

The voice came out breathless, meant for only you to hear. And you turned to your right to see Minho stopped in his tracks just beside you, giving you the most peculiar look. It was a mask between surprise and… worry.

“Y-Yeah, hi…” You said meekly, as he came over to you and sat down on the other side of the bench.

Minho studied your new look in quiet for a few beats, inspecting and adjusting to it all. “Wow, baby… I’m- I’m so surprised by the style, I thought you wanted just a trim.”

You turned your face away from his then, not being able to handle the way his eyes softened in the wake of his surprise. “The… the stylist said I needed a change, that this suits me better.”

“But do you like it?”

And you grew silent from his question, telling your boyfriend all he needed to know about your answer. Your entire body froze up, your heart racing in the pit of your chest at such a big change to your entire persona and aesthetic.

“Baby-”

The breakdown started then,

The tears freely flowing down your cheeks,

The emotion warming your cheeks into a rosy-red colour,

Chest pounding with your quick, rapid breaths.

Your entire body shook, as Minho pulled you against him then. He wrapped two arms around you, holding you close to him by the waist, squeezing you tight to ground you down again and bring you back to the present. Your boyfriend gently caressed a hand down the length of your short hair, whispering sweet words of love into your ear.

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, with him holding you, and you crying into his shoulder. But finally, when you had gained some semblance of control over yourself and the tears, you pulled away from his form slightly.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying… it’s not that big of a deal, it’s stupid.” You said, your voice a little shaky from all of the emotions jumbling around deep inside your stomach.

Minho tilted your chin up with a gentle finger, meeting your gaze, “First of all, you don’t have to apologize for anything, you did nothing wrong. Second, it is a big deal, darling - your hair is a huge part of your identity, and you having such a thing done to you isn’t stupid.” One of his hands found yous, and he squeezed the skin of your palm gently. “The stylist that did this to you is just downright cruel.”

And just like that, his entire demeanor shifted in front of your eyes. From one of comfort and heartbreak for you, to one of anger and appalment. His face darkened, jaw clenching tightly, pupils dilating in his rage. He was standing up from the bench in one fluid motion, so quick that you almost didn’t catch onto his coat sleeve.

You yanked at it, desperately trying to break through his daze of sudden wrath. “P-Please, Min, let’s just go home… don’t want you to make a big fuss out of it.” You said in a frantic tone, pulling and pulling at his hand. Minho rarely got mad, but when he did - people better watch out. Usually, he only got mad on the rare occasion that the two of you would fight. But sometimes, it was on your part- for something that someone had done to you, and he saw fit to ‘put them back in their place.’

Your boyfriend gave you a dark glare, but you knew that it wasn’t leveled at you. It was leveled at the person that had caused you to cry. He hated seeing you cry. It always took a year off of his life, always killed him inside to see his better half - the love of his life - in such distress. “Oh, I think this deserves a ‘big fuss.’” He said in a low voice before he was grasping for your hand and pulling you from the bench.

And before you knew it, you both were storming through the front doors of the salon, already turning heads with the loud slam of the door.

“Where’s the woman who worked on my girlfriend?” Minho shouted out across the shop, and immediately, everyone froze up from the look that was adamant on his face. Which was pure, unbitten fury. Minho was clutching onto you, an arm wrapped protectively around your waist as he held your shaking form close to his side.

Then, Rina appeared from somewhere near the back of the salon. She walked up to the two of you with hesitant footsteps. “Hello, how can I help you?” She asked, offering a tight smile that bordered on a grimace of pain.

“Were you the one who worked on my girlfriend?”

“Yes, I was-”

“Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done to her?!” He was full-on shouting this time around, his voice raising so loud that it seemed to vibrate across the room. You could hear a pin drop just then, as all eyes were focused on you and your boyfriend. “Her hair was her identity- she’s been growing it out for eight fucking years now! And then you have the audacity to ruin all of her hard work because you ‘thought she’d look good with a different style.’”

He was downright seething, the anger seeming to pool out of him in waves of dark crimson. You were still quavering beside him, holding onto his elbow shakily, your focus on Rina as she stared on at the two of you with a jaw slacked in shock.

Her bottom lip quivered with unbidden tears, as she was at a loss for words from such an outburst. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, I’m sure you fucking didn’t,” Minho said in a deathly-low voice, the deepness of it cascading down the length of your spine and sending an icy chill racing through your veins. “She asked for a simple trim, not- this shit!” He wildly motioned to the new style of your hair, and all of your locks in their chopped glory.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Rina was soon asking, but she directed the question towards you, guilt bringing her shoulders down low and brow furrowed with distress. “How can I fix this?”

“You can start by giving us a full refund.” Your boyfriend spoke up for you, and honestly, you were grateful for him at that moment. You were still so overwhelmed by all of the changes, and his explosion of rage sent a curveball of surprise your way.

Rina was bowing low then, mumbling another handful of apologies as she neared the front desk. Within no time at all, she had typed up something on the computer and had your info pulled up. “The appointment has been fully refunded. Once again, I am so incredibly sorry.” Rina said, coming away from the desk and giving the two of you another deep bow of apology.

“Thanks.” You managed to get out in a quiet voice, words fluttering with strain on your tongue. You turned to your boyfriend, pulling at his sleeve, “C’mon Min, let’s just go…”

He fully turned to you, assessing all of the damage - noting the shaking in your shoulders and the pink on your cheeks, and the glossiness of your eyes. He nodded in surrender, before turning back to Rina. “And I’ll have you know that we’ll never give this establishment any form of business in the future.”

Minho held you close as you shuffled out of the salon’s front doors. You could feel the stares of stylists and customers alike burning literal holes into your back as you left. It was so anxiety-inducing, you almost broke down again right there on the steps leading outside.

When you guys had walked far enough down the street that the salon was out of view, Minho suddenly stopped the two of you. Your gazes locked, as his eyes roved over your form - testing, and judging your current state.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice returning to the delicate tone that he always used on you. It was sweet and gentle, and the way that he reached up to brush a few dried tears away from your warmed cheeks only made your heart leap even more in the pit of your chest.

“Y-Yeah, I think so, just… a little shaken up, that’s all,” you peered up at him, and this time, when you smiled, the little thing was genuine. “Thank you for doing that back there… I-I never would’ve had the balls to say what I felt in front of all those people, let alone in a salon.”

Minho wrung both arms around your waist, your hips meeting together in the middle of the street. Leaning in slowly, he placed a tentative kiss against your lips. “Of course, kitten… I’ll always be here to be your voice when you can’t find the strength to speak your thoughts.” You smiled against his lips and kissed him back with a tiny giggle bubbling out of you. “By the way, I like the new look- it’s a big change, but it suits you nonetheless.”

You pulled away from him a little bit, carding a few delicate fingers through your freshly-washed, silky hair, “Really? You truly like it?” You stared up at him with big, wide eyes, utterly surprised by his admission.

“Mmhm- but don’t get me wrong, I loved your old style too. But this… this is something new, and I like it just as much.” His arms around your torso squeezed a little tighter, as he nuzzled his nose into the thick of your hair and inhaled deeply, catching the scent of peach-and-lavender shampoo that the stylist had used on you. “And you smell amazing too- so lovely and beautiful.”

Laughing softly, you roped your arms around his neck, yanking his face close to yours and gently kissing him once more, “Thanks, and… I think the new style is growing on me too.”

A bright smile cracked across Minho’s lips at your confession, “Good- I’m glad… my baby girl deserves to feel comfortable and confident in her skin, no matter what hairstyle she has.”

There you guys stood, in that empty, dark side street, late one Wednesday evening, basking in each other’s presence. Holding onto each other for dear life, melting into one another’s grasps and kisses and precious touches.

Maybe you weren’t the best at voicing your opinion in times of distress,

And maybe you still hadn’t gotten over your fear of the salon,

But at the end of the day, none of those things mattered.

What mattered most was that you had Minho always by your side - your continual support, your continual voice of reason, your continual love,

Always there, whenever you need him the most.

Fin.

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cieloclercs · 11 months

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𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 | chapter two

pairings: charles leclerc x senna!oc part: 2/? warnings: angst, fluff!! mini charles being cute, gabriel and noa being dad and daughter goals, lotss of google translate word count: 5.6k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

02. it’s supposed to be fun

author’s note. i absolutely loved writing this chapter! the flashbacks are going to come into play a bit more in the next couple, and i’m so excited to write them! young noa and charles are just adorable 🥰 hope you guys liked this, and as always a like, comment or reblog would really be appreciated <3

read it on wattpad!

previous: chapter 1 next ➜ chapter 3

18 September 2011 Sarno-Napoli, Italy KF3 CIK-FIA World Cup

TEN-YEAR-OLD ARTHUR LECLERC is bored. He’s been stood with his parents, who are talking quietly amongst themselves, for at least an hour, waiting for his older brother Charles to return. Now, Arthur loves karting as much as the next person, but when he’s not competing, it really does drag. There’s so much in-between time, where racers and their managers talk strategy, or slight mechanical changes are made to karts. Arthur never really realised it until now, when he’s got nothing to do but watch the others hurry about doing what he normally would be. It’s nothing short of tedious. And besides that, he’s annoyed – he’s only missed out on being eligible to compete in Charles’ age category by a couple of months, and to him, it seems mightily unfair that just because he’s born in October he has to stand by the wayside.

But there’s nothing Arthur can do about it now. He’s here to watch his brother race, not mope around. So, in an attempt to entertain himself, he settles for a spot of people-watching. There are always lots of interesting characters in the paddock: from overbearing fathers who seem to think just because they’ve sat in a kart before they’re now experts on the sport, to worried mothers, and even a few celebrities here and there. After all, there are some kids both he and Charles have raced against before who are the children of some pretty famous racers. It’s mostly them Arthur is keeping a look out for, but he doesn’t get his hopes up – he’s learnt that they mostly stay out of the spotlight, presumably to avoid being mobbed by a bunch of teenagers begging for autographs. He says that as if he wouldn’t be a part of that mob. Still, it’s fun to hope. Or, as fun as anything can be when he’s had absolutely nothing to do for an hour.

“Maman, quand est-ce que Charles revient?” Mum, when is Charles coming back? He asks, turning his head up to gaze at his mother, who smiles down at him sympathetically.

“Bientôt, mon petit.” Soon, little one. She assures him, running a gentle hand through his hair. Arthur tries not to huff too loudly. She said the exact same thing half an hour ago.

He turns back to his people watching, a frown knitting his eyebrows together. For a moment, he’s too annoyed to pay attention to what’s right in front of him – it goes straight over his head. Then his vision clears, and the frown lifts from his face, immediately replaced by a look of shock.

It can’t be, he thinks. Arthur breaks free of his mother’s hold to step forward on his tiptoes, craning his neck over the sea of heads. He’s sure he must have been hallucinating when he can’t pick out that all-too-familiar figure in the crowd. Disappointment rushes through him, and he rocks back on his heels again. His head turns ever-so-slightly to the side.

And there it is once more. Arthur practically jumps, as, sure enough, a little over to his left across the other side of the paddock, there is one of his greatest Formula 1 idols. Gabriel Carvalho Borges. He stands there, seemingly without a care in the world, gazing down fondly at a young girl in racing gear who is standing close to his side. There are two other people with him as well – the first, a beautiful woman, with dark curls that reach just past her shoulders; and the second, a little boy, maybe a year or so younger than Arthur himself, who is swinging off the woman’s arm excitably. Arthur assumes she must be his wife: Flávia Senna. The young Monégasque can scarcely believe it. A moment ago, he’d been bored out of his mind, but now he’s stood barely even ten metres away from Gabriel Borges and Ayrton Senna’s beloved younger sister.

“Papa!” Arthur says, reaching over to tug on his father’s arm, who is currently gazing in the opposite direction. Hervé looks down at his son with a confused smile, "Regardez là-bas ! Regarde!" Look over there! Look! he hisses under his breath in a strange sort of half-whisper, half-shout. Both Hervé and his wife glance towards where the young boy is jabbing his finger and jumping up and down excitedly.

“C’est Gabriel Borges!”

The couple glance between each other in surprise. Sure enough, the Brazilian legend is stood right where Arthur is pointing, still smiling down at the little girl on his arm. She’s chattering rapidly, stars in her eyes as she practically bounces up and down in excitement.

Hervé grins. He knew Gabriel Borges’ young daughter was competing today, but he never really expected him to make an appearance – his wife and son maybe, but not him. Honestly, it’s a wonder he hasn’t been mobbed yet. The name Borges in the Formula 1 world is almost as big as Schumacher or Senna; and considering he’s also basically a Senna by marriage, he’s got double the importance. Hervé figures it’s only because he’s with his family that he’s being left alone. The second they leave, it’ll be carnage.

“Que fait-il ici?” What’s he doing here? Arthur hisses again when neither of his parents reply. Hervé chuckles at his son, who is suddenly anxious and all over the place, glancing between them and Gabriel as if he’s scared his idol might disappear the second he turns away, but also terrified to get any closer.

"Sa fille participe à la compétition.” His daughter is competing. Hervé explains. Arthur frowns, turning back to stare at Gabriel with furrowed eyebrows.

"Je ne savais pas qu'il avait une fille." I didn’t know he had a daughter. He says aloud, but it’s mostly to himself. Hervé and Pascale glance between themselves again, sharing smiles.

"C'est une famille très privée, 'Thur." They’re a very private family, ‘Thur. His mother explains this time in a gentle voice. It’s true that the Senna Borges’ keep themselves to themselves. After Gabriel’s retirement in 2006, they’ve all but fallen off the radar. His kids, Noêmia and Luiz, who used to accompany him to almost every race possible were suddenly removed from the public eye – no doubt, for their own good, knowing the pressure that can be put upon the children of legends such as Gabriel. Yet now, with Noêmia rising rapidly through the karting ranks, it seems the family are making their way back into the spotlight a little.

"Je ne peux donc pas lui demander une photo?" So I can’t ask him for a picture? Arthur asks quietly, trying to mask his disappointment. He may be young, but he’s noticed that no one else in the paddock is approaching Gabriel, even if almost every single pair of eyes there is on him. He must not want to be disturbed while he’s with his family. Hervé and Pascale share another look, before the latter crouches down a little to press a kiss to her son’s forehead.

"Peut-être après la course, d'accord? Je suis sûr qu'il aimerait rencontrer un jeune fan comme toi." Maybe after the race, ok? I’m sure he’d love to meet a young fan like you. She says softly. That seems to do the trick, and before long, Arthur is all smiles once more, bouncing around between his parents with eyes so bright they could have held entire constellations. He’s so excited by the prospect of meeting his idol that he doesn’t even notice him walking away, the young girl in a race suit gripping onto his hand tightly. Hervé can’t help but laugh.

Across the other end of the paddock, thirteen-year-old Charles Leclerc is walking out of his garage after a few last minute inspections on his kart, ready to search for his family again. He has a good feeling about this race – it’s like everything is falling into place for him. He feels more confident than ever, that this is the year he will win the Kart World Cup.

He can picture it so vividly in his mind – crossing the finish line victorious, watching the black and white of the chequered flag fly high in the air. He’d be able to hear the other karts behind him in the distance. None of them even get close to him. He’ll take the cup as the undisputed champion, and lift it above his head on the podium, watching his family cheer him on below. Charles wants to win it just to see their smiles. They’re what makes him happiest, with every race win, and even every failure: his family are there with him every step of the way. Through hell or high water, he knows they’ll always be by his side.

Charles is so lost in his daydream that he doesn’t notice the small figure striding purposefully towards him. Seemingly, she doesn’t notice him either – she’s too engrossed in her conversation with her father to pay any mind to her surroundings. It happens so quickly Charles doesn’t even have time to look up at the person he collides with before his chest runs into her forehead. All he hears is a gasp and a thud as she’s sent flying backwards into her father’s waiting arms. He stumbles back in shock, almost tripping over his own feet, apologies already flying out of his mouth at record speed – and perhaps in jumbled languages. He’s not entirely sure.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” an angry yet childish voice breaks him out of his dazed stupor. Charles’ eyebrows furrow as he looks down at the owner of the voice. It’s a young girl, perhaps two or three years younger than him, from the looks of it, with quite possibly the fiercest scowl he’s ever seen on a person. She’s dressed in a green racing suit, with her balaclava clutched tightly in her hand. His furrowed eyebrows lift a little in surprise. He didn’t know there would be a girl competing with him.

Charles is about to open his mouth to apologise again, when he notices the helmet hovering over her left shoulder – or rather, being held, by someone much taller. It’s green, just like her race suit, with yellow highlights and, he realises with a jolt, the number 27. Then his eyes are drawn back to her suit. There’s a patch sewn on just below her ribs, where her name is written. Senna, it says, in bold white writing. It can’t be, Charles thinks.

Slowly, he lifts his eyes up, past the girl’s still scowling face, to the person who is holding her helmet, gazing at him with an apologetic smile. He feels all the breath leave his body momentarily, like its been forced out by a sucker-punch to the gut. Standing in front of him, still smiling, is one of his Formula 1 idols; a man who he’d grown up watching on the TV, who was half the reason why Charles got into racing in the first place. Gabriel Borges.

“Sorry about that, son.” He says brightly, as if they’re normal people who have bumped into each other in the street – not a legend and possibly his biggest fan, “Minha estrela, you forget your manners.” My star. He scolds the young girl gently, still stood between his arms and still scowling fiercely at Charles. Her expression shifts when she looks up at Gabriel – who Charles assumes is her father, considering how similar they look – and softens into something almost imperceptible. Adoration. When she turns to look back at the young Monégasque, her scowl is completely gone.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” she says sweetly, a small smile passing across her face. Charles thinks she should, by any right, have got whiplash from how quickly her attitude towards him changes. He’s still in a state of shock, and the breath hasn’t quite returned to his body, so all he can do is nod in reply.

The young girl looks up at her father questioningly. Gabriel shoots her an encouraging look. So next, she steps forwards, and sticks her arm out towards him, eyebrows arched expectantly.

“I’m Noêmia – uh, Senna Borges. But you can call me Noa,” she introduces herself. Charles stares down stupidly at her outstretched hand. The words Senna Borges run on a loop in his mind. Two of the greatest names in Formula 1 history, and this girl – Noa – carries both of them. And he’s supposed to be racing against her in just over an hour! How is he supposed to compete with that?

Luckily, Charles comes back to his senses before his silence can be perceived as rude. He takes Noa’s hand in his own, and shakes it gently, ignoring the anxious thoughts in the back of his mind to not do anything stupid – what if he squeezes her hand too hard and breaks one of her fingers? What a first impression injuring the daughter of his childhood idol would make. Charles drops Noa’s hand as soon as he’s shaken it, like it’s made out of hot coals. He winces at the strange look she shoots him.

“I’m – uh – Charles.” he introduces himself with a stiff nod. His eyes flicker upwards to where Gabriel is also watching him, an amused grin playing on his lips. He gulps, looking away quickly, “Charles L-Leclerc.”

“Nice to meet you, Charles.” Noa chirps brightly, “Are you French?” she enquires, tilting her head to the side curiously. He can’t shake the feeling that the way she’s looking at him, it’s as if she can see right through him. Like he’s her test subject, and she’s the investigator.

“Uh – no, Monégasque.” he croaks. Noa’s eyebrows furrow.

“Oh. As in Monaco?” she asks again. He nods, “Is that not in France?”

Charles mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. He really doesn’t know how to answer that – not without accidentally offending Noa, which, of course, would be a disaster with her father standing right there. Involuntarily, his gaze drifts towards the former driver, who, once again, shoots him a sympathetic smile.

“No, anjinho, it’s a different country.” Little angel. Gabriel tells his daughter softly, “You’ve been there before, remember?”

“Oh, right!” Noa giggles to herself, grinning up at her father in a way that makes him light up and ruffle her hair playfully. Then she turns to Charles again, her grin now a little more sheepish, “Sorry.”

“I-It’s ok.” he stammers. Somehow, he manages to muster a small smile in return, though where he gets the courage from, he’s not sure. It only seems to encourage Noa more, however, and soon enough she’s talking again. Charles catches Gabriel shaking his head fondly, as if he’s despairing with his chatty daughter, but can’t bring himself to tell her to stop.

“Are you racing today?” she asks him. He nods once, opening his mouth to add something in reply, but before he has the chance she’s talking again, “Cool! Me too! Are you fast?”

Charles’ mind stutters, trying to catch up with the breakneck speed at which this strange girl talks, “Uh – I mean, I like to think so?” he says. It sounds more like a question. He doesn’t want to appear too arrogant, not in front of Gabriel Borges, and especially not if he ends up bombing out of this race. Then he’ll seem like a complete idiot.

“Great!” Noa beams, “Then I’ll see you at the front!”

Charles’ eyebrows raise, but for some reason, he can’t help but smile a little at her confidence and enthusiasm. He can’t sense any arrogance behind her words – well, she is only young, but being the daughter of such a legendary driver can be a massive ego boost, even for a kid – and he gets the sense that she’s merely excited at the prospect of some strong competition. It’s something Charles really understands. Though he is, admittedly, a little terrified to be going up against Gabriel Borges’ daughter, he’s looking forward to the challenge he’s sure she’ll pose to him. It ought to be a good race, he thinks.

“Uh – yeah, sure.” He smiles, cautiously at first, but when Noa’s face lights up, it breaks into a fully-fledged grin. He doesn’t notice Gabriel watching them this time, too focussed instead on the young girl and the way she seems to light everything up around her when she smiles. The man smirks to himself. He makes a mental note to look for this boy’s family after the race. Noa could use a few more friends around the paddock, and it seems to him that these two are hitting it off.

Eventually, Gabriel has to cut short their conversation, conscious that if he and his daughter don’t get back to her garage soon, they might not have time to complete their usual warm-up routine and inspect her kart. Noa looks up at him, frowning disappointedly when he tells her in quiet Portuguese, that it’s time to go.

"But I want to talk to Charles.” She says quietly, the corners of her mouth turning down into a pout. Gabriel shakes his head when she looks up at him with those wide, puppy eyes – the one his wife has told him again and again she only uses on him, because she knows he’s too soft to say no to her when she does. Well, Gabriel decides he won’t fall for it this time. As much as he’s happy Noa has made a friend, right now, the race is more important.

“You’ll see him again later.” He assures her, ruffling her hair playfully. She pushes his hand away, turning back to look at Charles again with a grin. Gabriel watches the young boy’s eyes fix on her, shining brightly, as a tiny, shy smile stretches across his lips. He moves Noa forwards gently by the shoulder, directing her towards her garage. As they pass each other, she shoots Charles a small wave, which he returns.

“See you!” the young girl calls, “And good luck with the race!”

She’s too far gone when he finally finds the words for a half-decent response. He sighs, his head spinning. It’s only when both figures disappear from sight completely that he remembers – he didn’t even ask Gabriel for a picture.

Arthur is still bouncing when his older brother returns. Pascale and Hervé notice his quiet demeanour straight away, and his ashen face. Charles looks almost like he’s seen a ghost. They’d be worried if it weren’t for the faint, half-smile that rests on his lips as he looks down at the ground with glassy eyes. His parents share a look. Hervé shrugs.

Charles looks up from the ground. He’s still dazed, and still in a partial state of shock, but it’s beginning to hit him now, and he can’t help but grin. It only confuses his parents even more. Arthur is paying attention now, gazing up at his older brother with his head tilted to the side in confusion.

"Je viens de rencontrer Gabriel Borges et sa fille." I just met Gabriel Borges and his daughter. He blurts out. The reaction is immediate – Hervé and Pascale turn to look at their youngest son, who for a moment, is dumbfounded. Then, Arthur lets out a strangled shriek, so loud and so sudden that it makes Charles jump, and launches himself at his brother, mouth moving at a hundred miles an hour.

"Quoi? Vous plaisantez? Comment était-il ? Il était gentil? Tu as pris une photo avec lui?" What? Are you joking? Was he nice? Did you get a picture with him? He rushes out, all in one breath. Charles’ head begins to spin again, as he tries to pick out one thing to answer first amongst Arthur’s onslaught of questions.

“Non, j'ai oublié de lui demander une photo." No, I forgot to ask him for a picture. He says sadly.

"Quel idiot!" What an idiot! Arthur hisses, shaking his head at his older brother in disappointment.

"Arthur! Ne traite pas ton frère d'idiot!" Arthur! Don’t call your brother an idiot! Pascale scolds, glaring down at her youngest son. He looks back up at her sheepishly.

Charles turns towards his father. Hervé shoots him a grin, reaching out to ruffle his hair proudly.

"Elle s'appelle Noa." She’s called Noa. He says quietly, "Sa fille. On peut aller la voir après la course?" His daughter. Can we go see her after the race? He looks between his parents, eyes wide and hopeful. Hervé ruffles his hair again.

"Bien sûr. Tout ce que tu veux, champion." Of course. Whatever you want, champ.

13 January 2021 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

NOA LISTENS TO the sounds of her family’s laughter from the back garden of her parents’ beach front mansion. She dips her feet into the pool, lit up in the evening darkness with a soft blue glow. A glass of wine is nursed in one hand, and her chin is placed tiredly on the other. It’s quiet and distant – a welcome break from the energy of her aunts, uncles and cousins. Though she loves them to pieces, they can be very full on; especially on a day like today, when she has so much to think about.

Her twenty-first birthday is supposed to be one of the happiest of her life – and Noa is happy, but it feels like there’s something missing. Every year since 2018 has felt that way. Her family really are wonderful about it, always trying their best to take her mind off everything. Like today, Noa had been expecting nothing more than a quiet celebration with parents and Luiz: but they truly went above and beyond. She barely had any time to dress up before her cousins, aunts and uncles arrived, from all across Brazil. It’s a wonder they all managed to keep the surprise a secret, because knowing them (especially her uncle Thales’ kids) they had notoriously big mouths.

With the entire family gathered ready for a party, of course her father had one final surprise to truly top it all off. A brand new, scarlet red Ferrari SF90 Stradale, with her race number, 27, engraved on the side in gold. She had to fight off the urge to cry when she saw it parked outside the garage, gleaming in the sunlight like a ruby. Noa gave her father the biggest hug of all, and naturally, the next thing she did was take the car for a spin. Her Aston Martin was wonderful, but it really couldn’t compare to a Ferrari like this, one which she had only ever dreamed of owning. She felt a little guilty that she hadn’t paid for it herself, though Gabriel always did like spoiling her – so she quickly pushed the feeling aside. It was as he said to her later: seeing her smile was more than enough of a reward for him.

In short, Noa has the best dad in the world.

But despite all the lavish gifts and the time spent with her family, she still can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right. There’s a hole inside her heart, left behind after that night over two years ago now, and no amount of spoiling can ever hope to fill it.

Noa remembers, when Charles had just turned eighteen, and she fifteen, they made a pact. It was after she’d been unable to travel to see him on his birthday, because of their separate races on opposite ends of the globe. It was a few weeks later that they finally saw each other again, and Noa insisted on throwing her own party for Charles. Late into the night, lying side by side under the stars, they’d promised not to miss any more major milestones in each other’s lives; no matter what obstacles stood in their way. Their twenty-first birthdays were the most important of them all, and on that night, they planned out exactly what they were going to do. Noa would be in Monaco for his with his family. She’d be eighteen by then, so they could go out drinking and dancing until the night faded with the rising sun. Charles would travel to Brazil for hers, of course – her parents wouldn’t have had it any other way, after all. He’d be part of the family for the night, until everything became too hectic, and then they’d run away, hand in hand, down the street to the beach.

Where is he now? Noa wonders. It’s been almost six years since they made that pact, but the memory of it is still fresh, and the wound his absence has created hurts like nothing she’s ever felt before. They’ve broken their promise twice over – Charles’ twenty-first being spent in Monaco, whilst Noa did everything she could to avoid him after their argument. Now she’s here, surrounded by the people who love her the most, but at the same time, utterly alone; and he’s somewhere halfway across the other side of the world, probably not even sparing a single thought to their promise.

She’s been trying so hard not to think about him lately, yet, with the shadow of the Chanel contract looming over her head, Noa has no way to avoid the memories. She knows she’ll have to face him again at some point, probably sooner rather than later if she wants this deal to go ahead smoothly.

“Princesa? O que você está fazendo aqui fora?" Princess? What are you doing out here? A voice sounds from behind her, and she turns around to face her father with a weak smile. Noa doesn’t have to say anything. Gabriel can tell exactly what’s wrong from nothing more than the look in her eye. He knew, of course, that this day would be difficult for her. In a way, it’s difficult for all of them. Charles had been like a son to Gabriel and Flávia, and a big brother to Luiz. But now he’s long gone. His and Noa’s friendship is nothing but ash, the remains of something they both unknowingly helped to burn down. They feel Charles’ absence too. Though for Noa, he knows it’s something much deeper – even if she herself hasn’t realised it.

"Só estou pensando." Just thinking. She says, her smile only weakening even further. Gabriel sighs. The noise coming from inside seems to fade out; perhaps someone has closed a door, or they’ve moved out of the living room. Slowly, he walks over to the side of the pool where she’s sat, careful not to get his Louboutin leather derbies anywhere near the lapping water.

"Sobre Charles?" About Charles? He prompts, raising an eyebrow. Noa sighs, turning to shoot him a pained look. Gabriel smiles in spite of himself. He sees more and more of his younger self in his daughter with each passing day, but this is one of the things he wishes she hadn’t inherited from him. Noa likes to think that she needs to be completely independent, to be able to control her emotions and show a calm, put-together demeanour to the rest of the world. Gabriel used to be the exact same – until he met Flávia, of course, and then he finally had someone to confide in. Not so long, Charles had been to Noa what his wife is to him: a confidant, a shoulder to cry on. Without him there, she bottles everything up, trying to act as if nothing is wrong, when in fact, that is far from the truth.

"You’re allowed to miss him, you know.” Gabriel reminds her gently; and of course she knows, but she can’t bring herself to fully accept it. Two years have passed after all. By any right, Noa feels she should be over it; she should be moving on, cherishing their friendship for what it used to be, but laying it to rest. Somehow, she just can’t bring herself to.

“Mas não quero perdê-lo." But I don’t want to miss him. She sighs frustratedly, "He hurt me. He betrayed me. I should hate him for it, not miss him.”

Noa’s fists clench involuntarily at the memory of that night, the last time she ever spoke to him. She still isn’t over some of the things he said to her. Even now, they appear in her dreams, haunting her. How could she ever be over it? But it was sadness and longing she felt before, something like mourning for her former best friend. Now it’s the familiar, scorching flame of anger. Somehow, that feels better. At least then she doesn’t have to deal with the guilt of needing someone she should have long since forgotten.

"I don’t think you could ever hate him, Noa.” Gabriel says, almost in a whisper, but his tone is knowing. He’s more serious now, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, forming a worried frown.

She knows her father’s words are nothing but the truth. She has never, and will never hate Charles, no matter the distance between them and no matter the hurtful words he may have said to her when she was at her most vulnerable. Noa simply can’t, even though she so desperately wants to. He still means far too much to her.

“Sim.” Yeah. She mutters. It grows darker outside, the sun finally fading completely from the sky, as the moon takes its place. Silver beams illuminate everything around her in a pale, ghostly glow. She dips her hand into the water, watching the way it ripples, all the way to the other side, carrying the light with it. In turn, Gabriel watches her. Even if she’s an adult now, he will always see Noa as his little girl, who used to cling onto his arm on race days like it was her life support. She may not need him now as much as she used to, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t look out for her – especially when he can see how much she’s bottling up inside, and the rapidly crumbling façade she uses to trick the world into believing she’s fine: more than fine. It’s not healthy, and it’s bound to come out in some ugly ways if she can’t learn to cope with it.

"Você já falou com ele?" Have you spoken to him yet? Gabriel asks, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. Noa chuckles sardonically.

"Não." No. Her smile is wry and bitter as she shakes her head, "He must have been told by now.”

Gabriel hums in agreement. He falls silent for a moment, contemplating the best way to tell her what she needs to hear without her flying off the handle at him – as often seems to be the case when Charles is involved.

“Noa…” he begins, trailing off as he waits a moment for her to look at him, “You really need to think about going to see him.” he says with a faint grimace. Noa’s eyebrows immediately knit together into a scowl, but he’s speaking again before she has the chance to interrupt, “I’m not saying you should forgive him, or anything like that. But you two need to at least settle your differences on the surface; talk things through. Or it’s going to be a difficult season for the both of you.”

That’s the annoying thing about having Gabriel Borges as a father – he’s almost always right, and Noa knows that full well. She’s been battling with the idea of seeing Charles again for almost a month, an idea that, quite honestly, makes her feel sick to her stomach; then along Gabriel comes, voicing the words she’s been trying to push to the back of her mind ever since she found out about the Chanel contract. Noa can’t ignore the fact that he’s right. Even if it’s painful, she needs to talk to Charles.

"Eu sei, papai." I know, dad. She replies, just about managing to muster a small, reassuring smile. "Estou trabalhando nisso." I’m working on it.

Gabriel looks to his daughter proudly, automatically reaching over to ruffle her hair. In her youth, she’d never attempted to push him away; yet even if she does now, he knows the gesture is just as comforting as it always used to be. It’s grounding – a reminder that he’ll always be there for her.

Happy in the knowledge that he’s managed to get through to her, Gabriel struggles slowly to his feet. Noa makes no move to follow him, but he’s ok with that. He understands that she might need some time to herself to think everything over, and he’s more than happy to give her that, as long as at the end of the day, she makes the decision that is right for her.

“Promise me you’ll talk to him.” Gabriel says finally, just before he begins to walk away. It’s more for confirmation than anything else, just to hear the words from her own mouth. He knows if she says them now, she’ll mean it. Noa has never once broken a promise she’s made him, and though this is something far more consequential than usual, somehow Gabriel knows this isn’t about to be the first time.

It’s dark, but he’s sure he sees the ghost of a smile – a true, genuine one – pass across Noa’s lips.

“I promise.”

This time, she fully intends to keep it.

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noasenna not to contradict mother (@/taylorswift I LOVE YOU) but turning 21 IS pretty fun 💗

mãe e pai - obrigada pela melhor festa surpresa de todos os tempos! eu amo vocês <3 / thank you for the best surprise party ever! i love you guys <3

outro agradecimento especial a @/gabrielborgesoficial o melhor pai do mundo por me surpreender com o carro dos meus sonhos! vou cuidar bem dele 🫡

another special thank you to the best dad in the world for surprising me with the car of my dreams! i’ll take good care of it 🫡

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lewishamilton Feliz aniversário, Noa!

noasenna obrigada, lew! 💕

brunamarquezine Espero que você tenha tido um ótimo dia, querida xx / Hope you had a great day, lovely xx

noasenna obrigada, bru! sinto sua falta 🥹 / i miss you

gabrielborgesoficial Somente o melhor para minha princesinha ❤️ / Only the best for my little princess

noasenna aww pai 🥺 eu amo você 🫶 / i love you

gabrielborgesoficial Eu também amo você xx / I love you too xx

username STOP they’re adorable 😭

pierregasly Happy birthday!

*noasenna liked this comment

username omg pierre’s here! can we get charles next??

luizsenna feliz aniversário, feioso 🙄 / happy birthday, ugly

noasenna obrigada, babaca 😚 / thanks, asshole

username HAHAHA I LOVE THEM

gabrielborgesoficial Feliz aniversário para nossa linda garota 😘 - mãe e pai / Happy birthday to our beautiful girl - mom and dad

noasenna vocês são os melhores 💓 / you guys are the best

username my favourite f1 family 🥹

izav_borges legal nos estados unidos? vá rasgá-looo 🍾🍾 / legal in america? go tear it uppp

noasenna sim, senhora 🫡 / yes ma’am

eloisaalves feliz aniversário 💖

noasenna obrigada, lísa! 🥰

raffaella_diangelo happy birthdayy ❤️ see you soon! x

noasenna thank you, raffa! i knew you’d miss me 😏

raffaella_diangelo don’t push it

username you’re telling me gabriel bought her a custom ferrari sf90 stradale as a surprise as if it doesn’t cost well over £500,000 😭

username fr…how can i trick them into adopting me?

username every year i pray for a charles interaction and every year i’m disappointed ☹️

taglist: @harrysdimple05 @ricciardosheart @azxulaa @dakotali @hopingforpeace @flowerchild-96 @destourtereaux @wordsthatwaterflowersinyoursoul @luckyladycreator2 @roseamongthorns13

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