#personally? not going to write sunday i want to write WITH one a lot!!!

[lovegasmic]

i LOVEEEE ur writing !!! can I request a bff gojo x fem reader where gojo starts to get close to another girl n the reader is kinda sad/worried ??? idk i was just thinking about the song dark red by steve lacy and the lyrics “only you my girl,only you babe” IT CAN BE SMUT OR SFW AAA

⋆ slightly angsty but also fluff because of course, we don't believe in sad endings in this house ‹3. jealous reader + oblivious satoru.

 ⋆ I was hearing that song while writing this and hello?!? it's so good like !!! so bff satoru coded waaaah, also thank you for the compliment, sending you many hugs 🩷

I will work on the bff satoru masterlist soon ^^

there have been moments in Satoru’s life when he felt uneasy, although none of those moments were strong enough to stick for more than a couple of hours, much less for a whole week. but you are a mystery.

he’s not certain why you’ve been refusing his hang out invitations, Satoru senses your coldness even through texts, the usual back and forth teasing no longer there, and replaced by a disgusting ‘k.’

Satoru’s phone bounces on the bed for the fifth time in the night, followed by his palms rubbing on his face and the slight tug on his soft, white hair in sheer frustration, you’re messing with his head, making his chest tug, and palms itch. the phone call goes straight to your voice mail, —most likely filled with his pleading voice. the option of visiting you is always present, but the blue eyed is certain your short, black haired roommate is already sick of him, eyes rolling behind the crystal of her glasses as she speaks in that annoyed tone, “i told you she’s not here”.

it’s all lies, Satoru knows it, he is your best friend and has already memorized your schedule by heart, “can you tell her I seriously need to speak to her?” Satoru responds, eyes filled with worry as he leans on your apartment doorframe, attempting to take a peek into the place, but quickly getting his hopes broken by the door smashing right in front of his face. for the nth time.

walking down the memory line didn’t work either, his focus was on the last time you hung out, on how your mood suddenly shifted after Satoru casually met with one of his new colleagues, who happened to be going in the same direction to you both, and her hand was awkwardly eager to be holding onto the white haired’s bicep. but then again, you were not a jealous person, and Satoru made sure to remind you how he’ll never replace your spot as his best friend.

“are you sure you’re alright, sweetheart?” he had asked that night, watching you mindlessly play with the hem of the blanket draped over your laps as you watched a movie, concern etched on his words.

“mhm, just tired” you mumble back, yet your eyes didn’t sparkle like they should, nor did they miss the way his phone rang with a text from the girl you saw earlier.

we should hang out soon ;)

and Satoru was quick to send a ‘sure!’ completely and utterly oblivious of the girl’s flirting.

“want me to leave? so you can take a nap” he says, brows furrowed and eyes locked on your face from above the rim of his dark glasses, he did not want to leave, but your health was more important; although in your ears his suggestion sounded more like a ‘i’ll leave so I can hang out with that girl’ and that bothered you quite a lot.

“yeah,” you’re quick to reply, standing up abruptly and dragging the blanket with you, “see you another time” and that was another lie, since you did not meet with Satoru in the next 3 days.

“fuck” he mutters, staring at the ceiling, strands of messy hair splayed on the pillow, “you’re not that busy... are you?” Satoru asks himself, about to slam his head against the wall.

it’s Sunday and he’s most likely looking like a stalker right now, pacing back and forth in front of your apartment complex, waiting for anything, until the sign comes, your roommate is quick to leave the building, a gym bag and a strange stick-like tool under her arm, and he knows you’re at home, of course he knows.

Satoru is up in three steps, and two knocks on your door. “Maki, did you forget your keys again?” your voice echoes in the room and his heart skips a beat.

“dunno where are yours but you can ta— Satoru...?” you ask, eyes widened slightly at the imposing form of your best friend towering above you.

“mm, i’m glad you still remember my name” he murmurs, attempting to tease but the sight of your tired face burns in his chest, flicking a single hair strand away from your forehead, “can I come in?”

you swallow, “what are you doing here?”

“pfft, can’t I visit my stunning best friend who has been ignoring my calls?”

“i haven’t...” you murmur, drifting your gaze and stepping back to allow him to get in, it was obvious Satoru were not going to leave any time soon, “i’ve been busy”

he snorts, splaying on the couch in your living room with long legs resting on the coffee table, “you’ve been worse and yet at least answer my texts” he taps the seat next to him, expecting for your thighs to brush like you always sit, but instead, your distance hurts.

“tell me what’s wrong”

“nothing’s wrong!” you say, slightly defensive, “i told you i’m busy”

“you were just fine a week ago, but got mad out of nowhere” Satoru speaks softly, squeezing your knee, not realizing the slight tremor running down your spine, “doll, if you’re jealous of—”

you clasp your hand on his mouth, “don’t finish that sentence” and Satoru’s eyes fill with realization, nodding like an obedient child.

“come on, I told you you’re my only best friend, darling” he whispers, sliding his hand from your knee and up your thigh, across your side until it settles on your nape.

“i don’t think what I feel is simple friendly jealousy.” the grip on the back of your neck tightens as soon as the words leave your mouth, breath hitching and eyes widening slight.

there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his lip at your confession, leaning in just briefly, “yeah?” he mutters, attempting —and failing miserably — at concealing a smirk, “are you in love with me?”

“don’t get too cocky” you mumble back, frowning but unable to tear your gaze away from his lips and eyes.

“you just admitted it” he grins brightly, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, brushing his nose across your jaw, “so that was the problem, hm? you’re so cute when you’re jealous”

“Satoru, i swear...” you start, mixed feelings of embarrassment and longing settling in your chest.

he sighs deeply, breath fanning over your skin where Satoru slides his lips across, inhaling your scent deeply, fuck... how much he missed you, “don’t ignore me again...“ he starts, ghost touches now turning into brief kisses on your jawline, trailing up until his lips press on the corner of your mouth and his thumb slides under your bottom lip, long fingers caging the side of your face, “...i like you too...” he breathes, meeting your gaze and flicking to your lips, “i just want you, only you, my girl”

reblog and/or comment if you want me to write the smut for this 🤭🎤

[verstappen-cult]

PRAISE, M. VERSTAPPEN.

✶ SUMMARY. Max knows he’s good at his job, he was raised to be the best driver, the perfect son, and knows he’s talented. The bad thing is that he has to listen to people complimenting him almost everyday. He really thinks he’s good at hiding how shy and uncomfortable it makes him, and it’s just that Max can’t seem to take compliments from anyone but you.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. lots of fluff. my favorite kind of max: flustered max. P in V. sub/dom dynamics. praise kink. unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it kiddos. breeding kink. redbull racing slander because we are tired of them not doing their job. english is not my first language.

GWEN RAMBLES — i started writing this after the awful events of sunday, and finished it today! this was requested a while ago and to the person who asked for it – i’m sorry it took me so long! hope y’all like it. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Max gets uncomfortable when people compliment him. He knows he's good at what he does, knows he’s talented. And when people call him handsome? Compliment his hair? His arms? He has a hard time trying not to show how affected he actually is.

However, you know him in ways the rest of the world doesn't.

Max likes it when you compliment his cooking. It's not deserving of a five star Michelin rating, but good enough to eat and perfect the dish.

"How did you came up with this?" You ask, raising a spoonful of vegetables with a sweet and sour sauce.

Max can't keep his eyes off of you, waiting for your reaction patiently and anxiously. "I saw it in a video. But it was my idea to add the sauce to give it a little spin." He shrugs, his cheeks gaining a pretty pink color the second you make eye contact with him.

"It's delicious," You whisper, licking the rests of sauce from the spoon. Max's eyes glaze over and he forces himself to look away if he actually wants to make it through dinner. "You're such a good cook, Max. If you weren't a racing driver, I'm sure you would've had a restaurant."

Now, Max blushes furiously, the spoon falling from his fingers and on the plate. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind, and you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing at his flustered state.

Max likes it when you jump into his open arms after a good qualifying session or podium celebrations, all happy and giddy as he still tries to shake off the adrenaline.

"You did such a good job!" He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground. He's still pretty much on cloud nine and with you in his arms it can't get any more perfect. "You were flying out there!"

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” You are not looking at his precious face, but you know he’s blushing for the way his voice falters. Once he puts you down, Max hides his face away by busying himself with getting rid of his champagne-soaked race suit.

His reluctance to accept your compliment doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, he always brushes them off. You thought he didn't like it at first, it was really awkward when you started dating and he would ignore you, but as time went on you learned that he just doesn't know how to react to them. His PR training has helped him a lot for when the press and the public in general praise him for his excellent driving and fast reflexes almost every day of his life, but Max still gets flustered when you are the one complimenting him. You love to tease him about it.

Max likes it when you praise him during sex.

Especially when he surrenders himself to you.

"Look at you," You coo at him, the back of your hand caressing his cheek ever so slightly. "being so good for me." Max draws in a sharp breath, your touch burning in the most delicious way even if you're barely doing it.

You press a kiss on his naked shoulder, his smooth and warm skin shining with sweat.

“I’m always good.” He rasps, leaning his head to the side and presenting his neck to you.

You laugh softly, moving away to look into the depths of his ocean blue eyes. “Of course you are.” The smile he gives you makes your heart hammer in your ears.

Max opens his mouth to speak but falls silent as you continue to kiss along his collarbones, running your tongue and creating a path down over his chest, your soft lips making contact with his nipples.

He arches his back when you capture a nub between your teeth, hands grabbing the sheets because he knows he can’t touch you unless you allow him to. And he’s good. He wants to be good.

Max bites his bottom lip as you pinch his other nipple with your fingers. He’s having a hard time trying to stay still, his whole body shivers at your ministration.

“Always so sensitive.” You say, swiping your thumb over the pebbled flesh. Max only nods, his blushed face twisted in pleasure. “Such a good boy, uh?”

You lift your skirt up to straddle his hips, sitting just above his hard cock, still tucked away in his trousers.

“You did such a good job today.” You say, rocking your hips and planting your hands on his stomach. Max groans, shaking his head. “What was that?”

“It was,” He sighs, closing his eyes to try and regain some control over his body, but he’s sensitive and can feel your slick dripping over his clothed cock. “It was awful today.”

You tsk, nodding your approval. “It was.” His face falls for a moment, expression somber. “They don’t deserve you, not at all.” His eyes shine again, just like that. “You’re practically doing everything by yourself, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes.” His knuckles are white from gripping the sheets trying to follow your earlier instructions, so you take pity on him. Your touch is soft as you take his hands and place them on your waist, and Max doesn’t waste a second on gripping you so hard you know you’ll have bruises the size of his hands tomorrow. The mere thought of walking around with his bruises makes you clench around nothing.

“No one is doing it like you, Max.” You purr his name, and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Max lets out a low groan, hips thrusting up with force. He needs release. He needs you.

“Please.” He whispers, and you lower yourself to be at the same level, lips grazing his.

“What do you need?”

“Please,” He says again, almost whining. “Please.”

“You need to use your words. I don’t know what your please means, Max.” You pinch his nipple and he gasps, tilting his head.

His pupils are blown wide when he opens his eyes to look directly into yours. “I want – please I want you to ride me.” His voice breaks in a moan.

“See?” You cup his jaw, thumb caressing his bottom lip. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Max’s mind is blank except for thoughts of you. You on top of him. You taking care of him. You fucking him. You, you, you.

You use his chest for support as you help him get rid of his trousers and your skirt. Now, both of you are completely naked and Max can’t fight the moan that slips from his lips when he feels the heat of your cunt against his hard and leaking cock. It’s painful.

Max gazes down and his mouth waters. The thought of laying you down and claiming his favorite spot between your legs to taste you is almost enough to send him over the edge.

You trail your hand down his chest, not breaking eye contact, not wanting to miss any of his reactions. Like the way his entire face twist in pleasure, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth hanging open, when you wrap your hand around his cock.

Max still has a little of self control but it’s exhausting, he doesn’t know how much he can actually take before reaching his limit and spilling his seed. And he doesn’t want to waste it. He wants to come inside of you, wants to fill you up and stay there. So he says it.

And you shudder in response. You’re soaking wet, so it’s enough to not need prep, even though Max is big and he loves to prep you for it; you want it to hurt today, you want to be sore and feel him all day.

You guide his cock with trembling hands, feeling the tip fighting its way into your cunt.

You place both hands on his chest as he grips your hips as his life depends on it. You sink down on him, adjusting and pressing down slowly. It is torture for Max, you see it in the way his jaw tenses and sweat coats in his forehead. But he doesn’t protest, he takes everything you give him in silence.

“You feel,” You gasp at the sensation of finally having him deep inside of you. Max tosses his head back when he feels you clench around him. “so,” He moans louder, bucking his hips into you as you start riding him, fingernails scrapping his skin. “good.”

You take him deeper every time you raise your hips, letting yourself fall down hard, your clit grinding against his skin and making you moan loudly.

Max is mesmerized by the view.

And Max really doesn’t know where to look. If your contorted face and mouth open, moans and praises falling from your lips mixing with the squelching sounds of your cunt. Or your breast bouncing with every move. Or the connection between your bodies, how his cock disappears inside of you over and over again, driving him closer to the edge.

“Fucking me so good,” You start babbling, and Max knows you’re close to your orgasm.

He pulls you down against him and starts thrusting into you with urgency. You tuck your head against his neck and sink your teeth into his skin, marking him. Claiming him.

His cock digs deep inside, the tip rubbing against that sensitive spot that makes you tremble and see stars behind your eyelids.

Max reaches his climax with loud moans and calls of your name. He fills you up and continues to fuck his seed into you until your whole body goes still and the whole world cease to exist except for you and him.

Max doesn’t pull out until he’s certain you’ve taken every last drop. It is only when it gets cold and you want to cuddle under the blankets that you move off him, his pout at not having your weight on top of him making you giggle.

“Did so good.” You whisper, not recognising your own broken voice. “My sweet boy.”

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[hotpinkstars]

LOST POSSESSIONS - aventurine, boothill, x reader

- in which you lost your wedding band during a conflict with something/someone.

- novas comeback post guys I'm gonna be more fluent with writing I promise. hope you enjoy this though I was gonna add Sunday but my computer is literally at 1 percent sooooooo....

- a lot of crying, minor swearing, besides that all comfort... wc 912

When Aventurine walked into your shared home to the sight of you sobbing on the couch, he thought of the worst. Are you hurt? Did something happen while he was at work? He went up to you to seek for answers.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He internally panicked, not wanting to allow you to see his current emotions. He kept calm as you sat up, tear stained face poking a hole through his battered heart.

“You’re gonna be so pissed!” You sob, somehow starting to cry even harder. You dove back into the warm cushions of the couch when you felt the part near your shins dip, and a hand running through your hair and massaging the back of your scalp.

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be upset, I promise,” he gave you a sympathetic look before proceeding. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t push you.”

You hesitantly show him your bare hands, and he takes them in his. You roll over to face him and look at him with a pained expression, and that's when he seemed to realize. 

“Where's your wedding ring?” He said, his words quick. He looked at you slightly wide-eyed before you began bawling again. He began to swipe the tears out of your eyes, his thumb coming into contact with your lower lashes as he quietly attempts to hush you and calm you down.

“Was it stolen? Did you lose it?” 

You bring a hand up to your face before sniffling. “It got stolen. The diamond was too appealing to some bastard on the streets on Golden Hour, and it was swiped right off of my hand!” 

You curl back into yourself before Aventurine comes down to kiss your face. “I’m not mad at you, babe. I’m beyond pissed off with the person who did that. Nobody seems to have even a drop of human decency these days, do they?” 

You slightly shrugged before hugging him close. He returned the hug, and held you there until you quietly whispered a question into his ear. “What are we going to do about the ring?”

He slightly chuckled before bringing his head on top of yours. “I might as well get you a new one. The old one was rather… out of date, if I must say so myself. I could get you a bigger, brighter diamond.”You attempted to protest, attempting to say everything he knew you wanted to say- even something made out of paper would be good enough for me. But he thought you were worth the shiniest, biggest, rarest stone in the world. Worth much much more than that. And this incident wasn’t much of a setback for him, and really didn’t make his wallet cry very hard at all.

Boothill doesn’t play when his significant other is not doing very well. He’s immediately at your side, stroking your hair and trying to do or say anything he can to make you feel better. 

But in this instance, it didn’t really work. He realized after a few moments that he just had to be patient, and wait for you to come to him,

“You’re going to be so mad at me if I told you,” you hiccuped, before continuing to talk. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“Why would I ever yell at ya’?” He said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Whatever's got your pretty face all stained with tears can’t be that bad. I hate gettin’ mad at ya’, and ya’ know that.”

You nodded, but dug your face deeper into the pillows. Boothill simply put his metal hand on your back, and rubbed up and down. While the sensation felt cold, it seemed to work to help calm you down because you felt more at ease, and he could tell that too. 

“I lost my wedding ring. I don’t know where it went, but one moment it was there and then the next it wasn’t on my hand anymore,” you cut out, trying to hold back more tears. You could see his face change from scared to relaxed.

“Hey, don’t stress it. That’s just a lil’ setback, nothin’ to worry about. We’ll either find it or I’ll buy ya’ a new one,” he says as he picks up your now bare hand, a flash of sadness showing through his eyes. “What’ll make ya’ feel better? Cuddles? If we went out to try n’ find it?”

You shrugged, and he nodded. You buried yourself even deeper into the blankets, giving him the hint that you just wanted to stay inside for now. You felt too bad and your face was rose red from crying, your eyes puffy and your voice raspy. He climbed into the bed with you, wrapping his strong, metallic arm around your covered torso. 

“I’ll do a thorough investigation tomorrow. People don’t usually lie to Galaxy Rangers, but I doubt those adorable cutie pies would know somethin’ like that,” he immediately cringed, realizing how the sentence came out. His stupid synesthesia beacon. 

But he heard you laugh, and the cringe feeling dissipated into a warmth in his metal chest. His whole goal is to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. If he were to fail at one of those things, he’d fail at his own purpose. For now, his only thing is to cheer you up, and make sure you know that he would never be mad at you for a mistake that's not even your fault.

[caramelkoo]

warm as you

pairing : Jungkook x reader

genre : established relationship, boyfriend jungkook yayyy.

summary : Jungkook gives you a little surprise which causes you to fall more in love with him.

warnings : Jungkook is nervous as hell, he's so in love with the oc, oc can't help but baby him, slight smut, fluff, lots of kissing <3, act of service and quality time as love languages.

a/n : hey angels, I saw the latest episode of "are you sure?!" and couldn't help but write this little piece. Jungkook is such a roundie. I hope you enjoy and let me know how you like it. xoxo.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

To be very honest, you've never been a morning person but when you're with the love of your life, your boyfriend, you can't help but eagerly wait to sleep next to him and wakeup next to him. He has a way of waking you up with kisses on your smooth skin and fingers through your brown locks.

Your eyes want to flutter open but you know once you're awake, he will stop and that's something you don't want. Jungkook's lips graze yours lightly causing you to break into a slight smile. His lips peck your forehead gently following with your cheekbones, your closed eyes, your nose, your chin and lastly the hollow of your neck.

"I love you, sweetie. Good morning, i know you're awake." he whispers and much to your surprise, he knows you've been pretending to sleep.

you chuckle and open your eyes, looking at him with so much love. His eyes sparkle like stars above you. No one has loved you like this and honestly, you don't want anybody else to do so. The bond that you share with your boyfriend is different and special.

"Morning"

He caresses your left cheekbone, a lazy smile on his face. It's soft and everything pure.

"What do you wanna do today?" you ask him.

"Is wanting to be in your arms an option?" he nuzzles his face in your boobs. Purring like a cat.

"I don't think that's a bad idea" your hands rub his back up and down, up and down.

"God, I love hugging you. You're so warm, so cozy. It's my own personal heaven" Jungkook puts his whole weight on you, being careful now to crush you in the process.

He makes you feel safe, protected whenever he wraps his arms around you. Being physically affectionate has not been hard for you when it came to him. Physical touch, as much as you hate to admit, is hard for you to receive. You've been uncomfortable with people touching you plenty of times but with Jungkook, it has never been the case. You don't know why but he's had a certain warmth to him ever since you met him. It radiates and lights you up.

"I know, baby. I love hugging you too."

You both stay like this for a while before he grunts and lifts his face from your neck.

"Want me to make you some coffee?" he asks because he knows you can't function throughout your whole day without starting it off with a cup of coffee.

One thing about Jungkook is he's going to notice. He notices the tiniest of things and he's made a mental note of making you coffee every morning just the way you like it.

"Yes, please. I want something sweet to go with it too."

"Pancakes?"

"Perfect. You're the best" you kiss his cheek twice before he gets himself up and walk outside towards the kitchen. Before he opens the door, you call him out.

"Yeah, sweetie?" he looks back, shirtless and you try not to say something entirely different and nasty.

"I love you, too" his lips turn upwards before he leaves the room.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

After you and Jungkook finish your breakfast, he suggests reading together in the hall. Since it's a slow Sunday morning and you both have nothing else to do, you agree. Quality time with him is another thing you cherish the most. He knows that when it comes to receiving, it's one of your preferred love languages.

Since the day you let him know this tiny piece of information, he has tried his best to make it happen for you. Reading, baking, pottery classes, trying out new recipes, even letting you do his makeup, he has done it all.

"What are you reading?" Jungkook asks after picking up a book for himself and sitting beside you on the couch.

"I have been wanting to read this romance book for a while. You're reading thriller again?"

"You know it's my favorite" indeed it is. The thriller section on the bookshelf gives it away.

For the next twenty minutes or so, you both read quietly. Jungkook eventually puts his head on your lap demanding your hands in his hair. You chuckle lightly before giving in and run your fingers through it.

"Your hairs are so soft"

When you look down upon him, he has closed his eyes and gotten rid of the book.

"It's your shampoo"

"My shampoo? You've been using my shampoo?" you're a little surprised but not offended. On the contrary, you find it a little cute.

"Sweetie, it smells like vanilla and I was planning on using it just once but then I got a little obsessed. Couldn't help it." he whines.

"You're adorable, you know that?"

the hall gets filled with your laughter. You continue running your fingers through his hair while also reading your book and just when you think he has gone into a deep slumber, he gets up walking towards the washroom.

"Wh- WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" you yell behind him.

"GIVE ME A MINUTE" he yells back. He didn't go in there to jerk off, did he? you decide to leave him be and resume your reading.

Fifteen minutes later though when he comes outside and stands before you, you let out the biggest scream ever. It startles him.

"Is it that bad?"

"Jungkoo-", "what-", "I'm-"

He stands there with his long hair no more on his head, instead he has cut his hair in more of like a bowl cut. Yes, you screamed but not because you don't like his hair, it was because he looks cuter than ever like this. You were just a little surprised, that's about it.

"Seriously, is it that bad?" the nervous look on his face causes you to take few steps forward and hug him so tightly you're not sure if he can even breathe. His arms wrap around you in return. Hugging you has always calmed him.

"I love it"

"What was that, sweetie?"

"I said, I love it" you tell him again. You break the hug and look at him.

"Really?" his expression has turned into a an excited one now.

"Yes, baby. It makes you look so cute but can I ask why? why did you suddenly decide to cut your hair?" you can't help but touch his new hair.

"To be honest, I have been thinking about chopping them off for a while. I know you love my long hair so it was holding me back." he places a kiss on your temple. "I wasn't sure if you would like it."

"Jungkook, I loved your long hair but I wouldn't ever stop you from doing what you want. I love everything you love and you can always grow them back, right?" you smile up at him.

You loved his long hair a little too much. You had asked him to let his hair grow further and he had happily agreed to but you would rather poke your eyeballs out before you refrain him from doing something he has wanted to for a long time. You're just a little upset due to the fact that he even had to be nervous before doing so.

Jungkook nods, "Right. So you like them?"

"Absolutely" you kiss his nose.

"God, I could eat you right now." He hides his face in the crook of your neck and groans.

"Hmm, maybe later".

Later that night when you lay next to him he doesn't let you sleep before he buries his tongue inside you and asks you to grab his hair. When you do, you get reminded of his long hair but his tongue moving in a circular motion inside you makes you forget about it all. You moan, you scream and when he takes your nipples in his mouth while pushing two fingers inside you, you come so hard you're sure you see stars. You hear him whisper "You're mine" before you pass out hoping he'll wake you up the next morning again with his kisses and touches.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I love your writing btw! I’ve been perusing it for awhile haha- can we get cuddle headcanons for how the hoyo boyo’s cuddle? (Sunday, Argenti, Ratio, and Gallagher please? And any other ones you’d like!)

Sunday: possessive cuddles.

Probably watches over you in your sleep like a creep.

He will not let you go as you are kept caged to his chest within a firm hold as he slept peacefully.

Even as he slept, Sunday didn’t like you being far away from him and prefers to keep you close to him as humanly possible.

He’ll want you to rest your tired head against his chest and coddle you in his arms all the while pressing kisses into your head and upon your face as his wings fluttered softly, bathing your face with a gentle breeze.

His little wings only fluttered when he was feeling strong emotions such as love, anger, betrayal and happiness for instance. So needless to say you constantly felt his wings flutter softly in your face but you weren’t going to complain for such as cute display. That and the fact that his little wing flutters were great for when the nights got warmer, and when you didn’t want to cuddle up to Sunday as much.

Not like he’d let you, seeing as how he can’t stand you being a mere three inches away from him. He sleeps a lot better knowing that you’re by his side and the soft fluttering of his wings made you more than aware of that.

His preferred cuddling position is: chest rest

Argenti: this man needs to hold you against him as though he were trying to fuse your souls together. He won’t assume any other position that didn’t have you pressed against one another, or touching in some way shape or form.

He’d even press his forehead against your own while pulling you to his chest as his hands drew patters into your side and interlocking your legs either one another.

He craves the feel of your warm skin like no other.

He can’t sleep without your touch at all as he feels as though half of his soul was somewhere he couldn’t be.

He’s being dramatic, you’re literally in the same bed with the smallest amount of space between the two of you.

The downside of cuddling Argenti is that sometimes you’d wake up with a face full of his ruby red hair that oddly smelt of fresh roses. But other than that cuddling with Argenti was soft, warm, comforting and it made you feel safe being in the arms of your charming knight.

His preferred cuddling position would probably be the honeymoon hug.

Gallagher:

Clingy/playful.

This man is hugging you as though you were his personal pillow/plushie.

You weren’t complaining though as the man runs warm like a furnace and you got to have your face smothered into his tits. You were in heaven.

Will personally get offended when you try to move away from him.

‘Stop trying to escape will you? Unless you’ve got to piss, then I’m going to assume you don’t want to cuddle me anymore.’ He’d say groggily as he burrows his face into your neck, playfully biting it as you tried to swat him away.

He may even try to tickle you because he’s bored or can’t sleep, when in reality he just wants to hear you laugh one last time before falling asleep for real. He loves getting to be playful and affectionate with you when your both trying to find sleep. The moments shared during them were real, authentic and something to treasure for the future.

These moments were proven more precious to Gallagher when his dog then joins in on all the fun and slept at the foot of the bed.

His preferred cuddling position would be: leg cradle.

Ratio:

Average at cuddling unless he’s deep in his sleep.

Ratio looks like someone who doesn’t like the feeling of another person pressed up against him in fear of contracting their stupidity like a disease. 💀

The best he’ll do is touch pinkies and or have your backs pressed against one another. That’s it.

However when he’s deep in his sleep, he’ll be the big spoon and cuddle himself into your neck as his arms clutched at your waist firmly. It was cute and sweet in it’s own way, but it be best not to admit this to Ratio when he’s awake as he’ll try to prove why you’re wrong.

He’s secretly a cuddle bug but is too prideful to admit to it, obviously.

He’s a touch staved man who denies all allegations the fact that he’s touch starved and craves your touch to an extent where he feels it borderlines embarrassment. So as a result of his prideful ways, he’s left to yearn for something he couldn’t not and would not bring himself to speak up upon.

Veritas only finds comfort in seeking your touch when your fast asleep and cuddles himself into you back under the guise of being asleep, it was bound to work and work it did.

His preferred cuddling positioning would be: back to back/ spooning.

[finelinefae]

tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time. 

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves. 

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed. 

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another. 

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was. 

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter. 

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond. 

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk. 

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time. 

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday. 

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age. 

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade. 

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. 

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her. 

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?” 

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb. 

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.” 

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.” 

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to. 

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?” 

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.”  He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,” 

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.” 

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words. 

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter. 

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time. 

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise. 

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves. 

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn. 

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on. 

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.” 

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her. 

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically. 

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book. 

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.” 

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside. 

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.” 

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’ 

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.” 

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered. 

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time. 

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart. 

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad. 

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,” 

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement. 

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her. 

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily. 

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully. 

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom. 

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them. 

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning. 

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it. 

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom. 

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached. 

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak. 

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class. 

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door. 

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly. 

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well. 

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.” 

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class. 

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said. 

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist. 

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed. 

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her. 

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly. 

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked. 

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite. 

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly. 

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.” 

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

[natailiatulls07]

New wag in the paddock

Summary - Being the newest wag in the paddock can be quite daunting but with the right people around you, it's all okay

Warning - None <3

A/n - Slowly easing back into writing?? We'll see lol

-

Walking into the paddock with beyond nerve racking, with photographers just inside of the entrance and fans just outside of the entrance - I had no where to hide or breathe.

Luckily walking alongside me with Rebecca Donaldson, Carlos' partner. Because of our partners friendship, we were close friends. She had become someone who'd help me and become like a sister to me in the paddock and even beyond.

This morning particularly she had come over to mine and Landos suite to help me get ready for my first paddock day just after him and Carlos had left. Helping with picking out a gorgeous dress, helping with my makeup and also my hair. Like my own fairy godmother in a way.

'Wow there's a lot of people here...' I whisper in her direction, my eyes took in the busyness of a Sunday morning race day paddock. Next to me, I feel her laugh - She's used to this.

With a soft nod and a slip of an arm round my back, Rebecca is quick to reply. 'Yep it's a race day in Miami, you'll get used to it...' I feel her gently pushing me along, prompiting me not to run back out and go back to the safety of the hotel.

-

It wasn't long before she dropped me off at the McLaren hospitality. Wishing me good luck with a hug and a warm smile before I stand pathically watching her leave me to defend for myself - Almost like a child would whilst being dropped off for their first day of school. In a sense, it was exactly that; I had been dropped off and know expected to make friends until someone I knew would come and safe me.

I breathe in, turn on my heel and walk quietly into the McLaren hospitality. Inside it's modern and high tech, obviously very well thought out. There are multiple seating areas, some small groups accompanying a couple. I can smell fresh coffee as I walk over to a small sofa, sitting there anxiously.

Opening my phone, I can already see multiple notification from various social platforms. I hazard a guess that they are mostly all gossip sites tagging me in their posts.

But one notification stands out to me.

It's on instagram, informing me that I've been added to a groupchat. More specifically a groupchat for the f1 wags. My heart warms at their consideration and kindness, so this is what it feels like to be in a big friendship group of girls.

Soon a few messages start to load into the chat;

lilymhe - Heyyy Y/n! Welcome to the group, this is a safe space for you always xx

francisca.cgomes - Yeah all the girls are in this group so we all gossip, vent and help out in here! Girls support girls obv <3

carmenmmundt - Hi sweetheart!

kellypiquet - Literally if you need anything, send a quick message here and we'll help always x

alexandrasaintmleux - Babes I just saw the photos, you look STUNNING!!! <333

I don't even the big smile that forms on my lips, the feeling of acceptance heavy on my mind. Accidently I don't notice the person in front of me until I hear a soft cough. Looking up I recogise Lando trainer, Jon, stood waiting patiently with a small smile. I gasp at my oblivion. 'Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! You haven't been stood there long, gosh how oblivious can I get?' I nervously ramble.

I've only met him a hand full of times and to keep him waiting felt very rude of me. A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head, prompting me to breathe out a sigh of relief.

'No don't worry, I came to get you cause you're boyfriend wants to see you before the race starts...' He explains, watching as I quickly gather my things - I don't want to keep him waiting any longer. 'Hey, no need to rush...' He chuckles, sensing my nerves. It'd be hard not to.

Notable I slow down, no longer rushing to collect myself. I let out a soft sigh, a smile screwing itself onto my lips. And once I have everything, I let Jon lead the way through to Landos garage.

As soon as we walk into the garage, my eyes are immediately drawn to Lando who is stood talking to a few engineers. With his classic smile on his face, something I really do adore is watching as he talks about his job - He really does love it, possible more than me.

I stand there for a few seconds, not wanting to intrude on his conversation. Around me the team work around the garage, clearly buzzing with pre race excitement, nerves and preparation - Something Jon went along with when we arrived.

Then suddenly, I feel eyes on me and I notice Lando walking towards me enthusiastically. As soon as I am in arms reach, I feel his arms slip comfortably around my waist. 'Hi...' I smile, slipping my own arms around his neck. 'How are you doing?'

Lando takes a few seconds, just staring lovingly at me before smirking. 'Good, better now that you're here. How did this morning go? You and Rebecca get here alright?' He questioned, very grateful that I had someone to join this morning.

I nod keenly, moving on to explain about my morning as my hand start to play with some of his mullet. 'Oh I was added to the wag groupchat, they're all really nice people. They said that I can talk to them about anything and ask for advice you know. I've only really met Rebecca so they don't they even know me but they still like accept me, I thought that was the sweet thing ever...' Unintentionally I go onto ramble about the other wags befriending me, only really stopping when I notice his gaze and gentle warm smile. 'Sorry I'm rambling...'

Looking around us, I can see some engineers watching curiously. A mix of his gaze on me, my realization and the engineers watching all make me blush deeply. 'No it's okay...'

His british cuts through my thoughts, reassuring me. 'I'm really happy that you got them beside you, they know what you're going through a lot more than I will ever so that's great!' One of his hands moves up to caress my cheek lovingly.

A comfortable silence falls on us for a few seconds, before I speak up once again. 'So are you ready for the race today? Is the car good?' I ask, despite not really understanding the sport I'm desperate to learn through Lando.

He turns, watching as the engineers do their final preperations and work and nodding confidently. 'Yeah all good! I've got my good luck charm with me and the car is set to do magic today!' Even the way he explains everything, there is a lot of excitement in his voice. I nod, careful to take in all the information he's telling me.

Our conversation continues for a few more minutes before he's notified that he has to make a move to get the car out onto the track. Quick Lando turns back towards me, smiling and pulling me into a tender kiss. 'I love you! Wish me luck!'

I return the same energy and excitement. 'Good luck Lan! You've got this! I love you too!'

-

1.2K

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

In Sunday's chapter the madame mentioned that Aemond brought girls from the brothel to the fortress for his pleasure, you could make the reader one of those girls but she is a virgin and it is her first job

This took so long to write, but I was so invested in the story that it almost got to 3k...oops. I hope you enjoy this Aemond smut <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, virgin!reader, (brief) mention of child prostitution, prostitution, oral (m receiving), p + v

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

As soon as you stepped into the pleasure house for the night, Madam Sylvi collected you. She had been waiting for you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you followed her to the back saloon, fearing the worst. You wondered if there had been a complaint from a customer and if you were about to be fired.

‘’Scrub your body with a sponge and change into this,’’  she said, handing you a muted blue dress that tied at your neck. ‘’You will be working outside the house tonight.’’ 

You frowned, confusion washing over you. ‘’Outside the house?’’ you repeated. 

Whoever this customer was, he must be paying the Madam a lot of gold pieces to have girls brought to him because when you got hired, the Madam was clear about not going home with the customers. It was strictly forbidden. 

She nodded. ‘’A special customer. He used to come here regularly, but after a recent event, he now requests to have girls brought to him. It minimizes the risks of indiscretion.’’

You swallowed hard. You had been working at the pleasure house for a week and were only doing smaller services. A nervous feeling bubbled in your stomach. You knew that one day you would be required to expand your services, but you didn’t think it would be outside the safety of the house. What if this customer was violent with you? 

Madam Sylvi gave you a soft, reassuring smile. ‘’Worry not, child. I trust this customer to take good care of my girls. You will be well-paid and well-fed.’’

Once you were ready, you and two other girls were escorted to the gates of the Red Keep. A guard in armor was waiting for you, and walked you in silence through the winding corridors of the castle that you had never seen before. You kept your gaze low and walked quickly, intimidated by the impressive beauty of the keep and the royal quarters.

The guard stopped in front of two large doors. He knocked, and waited for a moment. One of the doors opened and a man ushered the three of you into the room. His hair was dark, not white. He must be at the service of a figure of the crown.

‘’Stand in line for the Prince Regent,’’ the man said.

The Prince Regent? The name sent a shiver down your spine. You had heard whispers about him, but never saw him in person. Like all Targaryen men, he must be of an alluring beauty. 

The door opened again and you all straightened your posture as Prince Aemond walked in. He was tall and dressed head to toe in black leather. An impressive sword was sheathed on one hip, a dagger on the other. He looked imposing, fierce, and insanely beautiful. 

‘’The girls have arrived, Your Grace. The Madam has sent her finest ones.’’ 

Aemond glanced at the three of you, standing in the middle of the room in your light dresses. ‘’Thank you, Ser Phillip. I will see for myself.’’ 

He moved past the first one, too plain faced for his liking. The girl was hurt by Prince Aemond’s rejection, but she tried to conceal it. You wanted to tell her that she looked good regardless of what the prince thought, but decided against it. You’ll offer her comfort later. Maybe you’ll both need it. 

The second one had large green eyes and nipples so dark you could see them through the thin fabric of her dress. Aemond glanced up and down, and then spoke in a monotone voice. ‘’Turn around.’’

The girl complied, and turned around on the spot. Aemond circled her, like a shark circling its prey. He was cold. Completely emotionless. He reached out to touch her, feeling the smoothness of her skin, looking for imperfections. 

‘’How lovely is she?’’ he said to Ser Phillip. 

‘’Very lovely, Your Grace.’’ 

Aemond pulled the tie of her dress behind her neck, causing the blue fabric to fall and pool down at her feet. The girl gasped softly, not expecting the prince to disrobe her. He reached to grab one of her breasts, her tan skin contrasting with his. 

‘’Do you like my breasts, my Prince?’’ the girl asked, a little too confident that he would pick her.  

‘’Not really.’’ Aemond retracted his hand. 

The girl’s face fell, but he didn’t care. 

He slowly walked towards you. You were terrified. Aemond had been quick to dismiss the two other girls. You didn’t notice any major flaws on either of them. He was extremely picky, or he was looking for something specific.

You tensed under his gaze, his single eye watching you like a cat with his prey. He studied your curves, your face. He took you in slowly. He seemed to like what he saw, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up like the last girl. 

‘’Turn around,’’ he commanded.

You obeyed, turning around slowly. He took in your backside, the shape of your hips. Unlike other girls at the pleasure house, you weren't gifted in the hips area, but Aemond didn't seem to dislike it. He reached out to touch the skin on your lower back. His fingers were long and elegant, and surprisingly gentle. He caressed up your back, pulling your hair to the side with his other hand so he could carry on to your neck. His touch sent shivers through your body. You felt like prey in a cage, and he was the hunter.

Your shoulders trembled slightly, and Aemond noticed. ‘’You look scared, little one,’’ he whispered.

‘’I’m sorry, my Prince— I mean, Your Grace.’’ You bit your cheek, cursing yourself. 

Technically, your title was not wrong, Aemond was still a prince. However, as he was acting as the regent in the stead of King Aegon, ‘Your Grace’ was more appropriate.

Behind you, Aemond smirked. He enjoyed the effect he had on you. ‘’Take the others and leave us,’’ he ordered Ser Phillip. ‘’Use them for yourself if you wish. I care not.’’ 

The man bowed his head and took the two other girls out of the room, leaving you alone with the prince. 

 Once the door closed behind Ser Phillip, Aemond stepped closer to you and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. ‘’You are a sight for sore eyes,'' he whispered, his one eye looking at yours.

His words left you flushed and stunned. You have been called beautiful in many degrading ways since working at the pleasure house. It was nice to hear true compliments. 

‘’I was disappointed with the Madam's girls tonight. All plain faced and overused. I remember my brother wetting his cock in the first one when I was a lad.’’

She didn't seem older than eight and ten, she must have been very young when she started working at Madam Sylvi's. 

''But you,'' Aemond said, letting go of your hand to lift your chin and gently force you to look up, still holding his gaze. 

You were so captivated by the prince's piercing eye that you didn't notice Aemond moving closer. His hand, firm and deliberate, slipped behind your neck, deftly tugging at the tie that held your dress in place. Before you realized what was happening, your dress slipped down your body, pooling silently at your feet, just as it had with the second girl moments before. 

The sudden chill of the room made you shiver, a cool breeze from the large windows brushing against your now-exposed skin.

Aemond ghosted a hand down your neck and over the goosebumps of your chest, watching your nipples turning into peaks invitingly. ‘’You must be a delight to fuck.’’ His palms covered your breasts, weighing them in his hand, kneading them.

‘’I…I would not know. I’ve never laid with a man.’’

Aemond raised a brow at your admission. ‘’Never?’’

‘’Never.’’

‘’How is it possible?’’ he asked. ‘’You work at Madam Sylvi’s pleasure house.’’

‘’I’ve only worked there as of recently. I used to be a baker, but with the False Queen’s blockade, we no longer get food in the city. The place was forced to shut down.’’

You were brief in your explanation, not wanting to bother him with smallfolk problems. It’s not what you were here for. The Madam warned all her girls about speaking of your private life to customers. 

‘’I apologize on the behalf of the crown, although my half-sister is to blame.’’ 

You gave him a nod, accepting his insincere apologies. He was probably taught to speak courtly and politically. ‘’That is kind of you, Your Grace, but I am not here to lament about the smallfolk’s misery.’’ You batted your best innocent eyes. ‘’What does the Prince wishes me to do?’’

Aemond brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. ''Get on your knees and that sweet mouth open wide.'' 

You knelt down and looked back up at him, waiting for another command. He took his time removing his sword belt and unbuckling his leather doublet. You pleasantly took awareness of the absence of a tunic under. 

He reached to unlace his breeches, pulling them down to his thighs and revealing his heavy, half-stiff cock. It was long and thick enough to make a tear drop between your legs. 

''Open wide, little bird,'' Aemond commanded, jerking himself to full hardness before feeding his cock to your awaiting mouth.

You wrapped your lips around him, bobbing down a few times to get him wet and slippery before grasping the bottom of his shaft and swiping your tongue over the slit at the head. Everytime you did this, the customers would moan loudly. 

But it didn't have the same effect on the prince. He stiffened, his jaw clenching, and pushed you down his cock by the back of your head. You were under his command tonight. You'll do what he wants. 

You continued bobbing your head up and down his length slowly as drool slipped past your lips and down his throbbing cock. The image was filthy and beautiful at the same time. You took him deeper, causing him to twitch in your mouth, and stopped before it hit the back of your throat. A quiet moan escaped your lips, his grip in your hair tightening. 

He released into your mouth with long spurts and quiet groans. You tried to swallow all he was giving you, but some ended up dripping down your chin and to your chest, painting your breasts with drops of thick white royal seeds. 

When he was finished, you pulled back and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.  ‘’What does His Grace wishes now?’’ you asked, looking up at him, waiting for his next instruction. 

He motioned for you to stand, a smirk tugging at his lips when he saw his seed on your body. He reached out and smeared it over your nipples. ''Go to my bed and wait for me.''

You nodded and walked across the large room, perceiving the bed in the distance. The sigils of House Targaryen were embroidered on the tapestries behind the headboard. You stared at it for a moment, then heard some shuffling, letting you know Aemond was approaching. 

Quickly, you hopped on the large bed and sat in the middle. 

Your jaw almost dropped when you saw him coming at you, fully naked. He was lean, but not too skinny, his muscles rippling over his body with every move. His chest was pale, and completely bare. 

Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men. You've never been a believer, but, with a body like his, Aemond Targaryen must have been crafted by the gods.

You tore your gaze away, looking down at your lap. ‘’I did not know how you wanted me…’’ you said, fiddling with your fingers.

Aemond lifted your chin. ‘’That’s alright. I’ll guide you.’’

He pushed you back against the sheets and settled between your legs. His hands felt along your skin, leaving more goosebumps behind. Except this time it wasn't because of the cool wind, but Aemond's simple touch. 

The prince looked down at you; rosy cheeks, bouncy breasts and soft thighs with enough meat to grab. He kissed between your breasts, and continued down your stomach and hips, pulling soft sighs from you as he got closer to your cunt. 

Was he like this with every girl that came to the Red Keep? 

Your question died on your tongue as his thumb pressed delicately against your clit. No customers had ever succeeded in finding it, forcing you to fake pleasure when they fumbled around. You pushed back against his thumb, wanting him to do it again. Aemond obliged, moving in motions you had never tried in the privacy of your bed before.

It was not allowed to kiss, but you didn't protest when his mouth crashed on yours. Your hand found way to his jaw, pulling him closer as he kissed you slowly. You were so enthralled by his lips that you barely noticed the two fingers that ran through your folds, prodding at your tight entrance.

You felt a slight uncomfortableness when his fingers slipped inside, your walls clenching around his digits. With how tight you felt, Aemond was looking forward to sinking his cock and pound into you. 

After a moment, he pulled you knees up, and a loud gasp escaped your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut suddenly as you felt him slowly pushing his cock deep into your walls. Your hands clenched in his hair and clawed at his hard chest, feeling like you were being teared open from the inside. 

You whimpered from the pain and scrunched your face, but Aemond didn't withdraw or pause. He continued pushing into you until he was buried to the hilt, causing you to gasp with wide eyes when you felt him hit something deep within you. 

He looked down at you, softly grazing your cheek with his thumb, then pulled out, watching your expression when he thrusted back in. His movements were steady and slow, getting you used to all the new sensations going through your body. He remembered when he was a young boy, his first time laying with a woman was a lot.

Aemond leaned down to kiss your neck, one hand still holding your knee up while his other grabbed one of your breasts, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moaned under him, praising his name and clenching around him as you snaked your arms around his shoulders, needing to anchor yourself. 

It was a pleasant change from what he did with the other girls, but slow sex was a dangerous zone. 

When it became too emotional for him, the prince moved you on your side and took you from behind. He did not let you time to speak before he hammered his hips into you, his heavy balls loudly smacking against your ass every time. The new position had you gripping the sheets, feeling something burning in your lower stomach as he picked up speed with his hips, going faster and deeper until you both reached the edge and your orgasm erupted. 

You made a sound as Aemond pulled out of you, but didn't move. You couldn’t. Your thighs were still shaking from your orgasm and your head was dizzy. So you looked up at the ceiling until your body recovered. 

You didn’t know how many hours had passed since you arrived at the castle, but you were completely exhausted. You will have to walk back to the city soon…unless the prince wanted to fuck you again. A smile curled on your face. You had sex with a Targaryen prince. Better. The Prince Regent had taken your maidenhood.  

Your thoughts got interrupted when Aemond rolled off the bed and stood. He grabbed a black silk robe with dark blue embroideries, and covered his naked body. 

‘’Come,’’ he said without looking back at you.

You followed him through the room, feeling his seed dripping down your inner thigh and leg. You should be embarrassed, but you secretly liked it. 

You stopped in your tracks when you saw a table with a whole feast set up. It was not there when you arrived in the room, meaning someone must have come in while you and the prince were— Red crept to your cheeks, mortified. 

You had not heard the door being opened nor the servants coming in with the food. There was lamb, mince pies, and even honey cakes. Madam Sylvi had not lied when she said you would be well taken care of. 

‘’Help yourself,’’ Aemond said, holding a small honey cake between his fingers. ‘’I assume you have not dined.’’ 

Your stomach was famished. You had been surviving on thinned soup and fish for weeks. The meat and the honey cakes made your mouth water. You missed the sweetness of pastries. 

You took a plate, but before you could start filling it with food, Aemond spoke. 

‘’The tea in the cup is obligatory. To…avoid unwanted bastards,’’ he explained, his eye pointing to a dark cup containing moontea brewed by the maester.

—

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[footygirl114]

Regreso (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

Better late than never is my motto, and as I try to continue to get back into writing here is the continuation to Soldado you should read that first if you want to know what is going on here. Hopefully we still have access to a parachute :)

Seeing Alexia in that park and having her react the way she did was exactly what you expected. You admitted you loved her and then you ran away to a war torn country for the last 8 years you would never be able to blame her for that reaction. So you did what any person would do for the next 2 weeks, you keep your head on a swivel and avoided any of the spots you heard the footballers frequented or the ones you used to know Alexia did. 

So when you were doing some early morning grocery shopping after coming off a night shift the last thing you expected to hear was a surprised “Y/N? is that you?” 

As you turn you meet the eyes of the women who for most of your teenage years was like a mother to you, after yours abandoned you. “Eli, wait I mean Mrs. Putellas?” you stutter out still in shock at seeing her.

As she moves closer to you, you can feel the nerves in your stomach and you brace your self for something as you assume she’s upset. When she wraps her arms around your shoulders pulling you into her for a strong hug you let out a surprised ‘Oh’ as she says “i am so glad you are okay Y/N.”

You sink into her hold and wrap your arms around her back as you softly say “i’m here, I’m okay.”

You remain in her hold for a few minutes and when you pull back you see the tears in her eyes as she says softly “oh Y/N, I am so happy to see you.” 

You immediately can feel all your walls fall at the soft comfort of the women who was the most like a mother to you, “I missed you Eli, and I am so sorry I never called” you tell her softly. 

“hush child, I know why you didn’t but I understood why you needed to do what you did” she says softly, she places her hand on yours squeezing softly as she asks “when did you come back?” 

“about a month ago, I am working for the police force now here, It was time to come home” you tell her with a small smile. 

She smiles and says “will you come to Sunday dinner?” 

Shaking your head you say “you know I can’t”

“she has Spain camp this week and wont be there, but Alba will be and we both missed you and love you Y/N. It’s time you spend sometime with your family” she says firmly and doesn’t give you the option to say no.

You smile and can feel the tears in your eyes listening to her and you nod and say “I end my night shifts Sunday morning so that works perfectly.” 

“good, I look forward to it. I have to go now but I will be expecting you on Sunday, usual time Y/N.” she says sternly and you nod and smile as she leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers “see you soon Y/N.” 

“bye” you tell her with a smile and you watch as she heads toward the checkouts. You take a moment to stand there and gather your mind as you cant help but smile to yourself as you feel a tiny piece of your heart heal after seeing her again. 

**

The following Sunday you get off night shift, and immediately go home and sleep. After resting and getting ready you make your way towards the Putellas family home. When you get there you pause on the end of the driveway and cant help but to think of the last time you were here. 8 years ago you walked up these steps and broke your heart in a million pieces and left the only real family you had ever known. 

Being back here brings back memories but you are not the same person you were 8 years ago, and you know you need to face your demons but having this family back by your side will make it a lot easier to do that. With that thought and the mental reminder that Alexia will not be there you move towards the door, clutching the bottle of wine you brought, you knock on the door and wait. 

After a few moments the door opens and you are face to face with Alba, and she looks pissed off. You take a step back and take a deep breath channeling the strength you have acquired over the years and the things that have hardened you. “hola Alba” you say with a small smile. 

She still doesn’t say anything but she moves towards you and immediately jumps on you wrapping her arms over your shoulders and legs around your waist. You can hear the soft sobs as she says “I am so glad you are okay” at this you wrap your arms around her back and hug her back. 

“Im right here now Alba, I am here and I am okay” you say softly, you see Eli come up to the door behind you and she smiles and grabs the wine from your hand. With your hands free now you rub up and down her back and you continue to reassure her that you are here and okay. 

After a few minutes she pulls her self together and drops down in front of you and she moves her hands to wipe her tears and she says a soft “sorry” and steps back and when she meets your eyes and you smile at her she reaches out and punches your shoulder hard. 

“ow! Alba what was that for?” you screech and jump back. 

“that was for leaving” she says and moves to hit you again and she says “and thats for not calling me and telling me you are okay.” 

You nod and say “okay I deserved that, any more?” 

She chuckles and says “I cant speak for my sister, but 2 punches is enough for me.” 

Before you can answer Eli comes back to the door and asks “if you two are done, I have wine open and dinner almost ready.” 

“Yes I need wine now after this.” Alba responds and walks into the house past her mother. 

You walk up to Eli and press a kiss to her cheek with a “Hola Eli.” 

She chuckles and says “come child we have so much to catch up on” and she moves into the house and you follow her into the kitchen. 

The three of you settle into the kitchen, where Eli keeps on eye on dinner and you and Alba spend the next half hour sitting in the kitchen drinking wine and catching up on everything that happened over the last 8 years. 

You can feel your self relax and let your guard down as you feel comfortable in the house that felt more like home than any other, with people who feel like family. You can feel the walls come down as you watch Eli move around the kitchen and you have Alba beside you sneaking food off her mothers cutting board. You can feel there is one thing missing but you leave that thought alone and enjoy the current mood you are enjoying. 

You are so relaxed you missed the front door opening but just like when you were teenagers you can feel Alexia’s presence before you see her round the corner from the front hall. Before you see her you can hear her yell out “mama? Alba?”

They both freeze and look at you and before anyone can say anything Alexia rounds the corner and immediately meets your eyes and freezes. 

Everything is still for a moment before Eli moves towards her daughter stepping in between the two of you to break your eye contact and she asks “Ale, I thought you were in Madrid?”

“Flights got moved to tomorrow and I thought I would surprise you, but I guess I was the one getting surprised” she answers sharply. 

You move to stand up and Eli turns and glares at you and you sit back down “I have all 3 of my girls in one place for the first time in 8 years, cant we just enjoy this?” 

Keeping your eyes downcast you know you do not want to be the one to make this decision and when no one else speaks up you know you should leave. Again you move to stand up and you start to say something but before you can someone else speaks up. 

“No I cant do this mama, I am sorry but you cant force me to” Alexia says and before anyone can say anything she turns and moves to walk down the hallway to the front door. 

“alexia wait.” both Alba and Eli say at the same time.

Before either of them can move you are out of your seat and chasing Alexia down the hallway, you exit the front door before she can get into her car and you yell out to her “Alexia wait, don’t you dare run away from this, let me explain.” 

She turns around on you and spits out  “Oh coming from the queen of running away thats rich Y/N, you wrote the book on running away and I am just taking a page out of it.” 

Feeling the hurt of the sentence you push through the sting and respond “you were always better then me Ale, don’t stoop to my level now.” 

The emotions that play across her face as you say that take you by surprise, you think she seems hurt by that but that was a dig at yourself more than anything else. She shakes her head and asks “what do you want from me Y/N? do you want me to admit that you hurt me and you broke my heart too? or that for the last 8 years I could barley breathe every time a news article came out about a soldier dieing? or do you want me to admit that when I saw you last week it felt like I could finally take a deep breath in knowing you were alive and well? What do you want from me Y/N, cause I have no idea what to even think anymore, and the last thing I expected was to walk in on you sitting in my mamas kitchen like nothing happened!” 

[freakassfemme]

chronically offline abby headcannons ✧˖*°

she is coping so well and thriving. i said i could fix her and i did

heyyyy so this is sort of kind of low-key a little bit of a continuation on beloved butch abby, the premise of the au and personality is the same. i got a request asking for more and i was thinking about this anyways and thought they worked well together

♫ above the chinese restaurant (laufey)

ೃ༄ abby is (unfortunately) a retired soldier, she's got a kid to look after, she runs a cafe downtown and she's got two dogs. all at like, 22. did we really think she has the time to go online for anything more than 🔍 thirty minute dinner recipes your vegan teenager isn't going to kill you over

ೃ༄ just kidding. she doesn't mind lev trying out new things lol. he is her whole fucking world, she's more than happy to spend time with him cooking something he remembers from home, giving each other grossed out faces when they fuck up the tofu again, and giving up and going to target 15 minutes before close to piece together some random junk food.

Manny will come over and cook with them sometimes, and that's always a fun time. he's got abby drunk before nine and she's just a laughing mess.

ೃ༄ she just loves being around Manny in general. they meet up for lunch a lot, go on runs together in the morning, work on each other's trucks, etc.,

now that she's living a normal life, she's able to take a serious Spanish class, and he's very supportive about it.

ೃ༄ definitely takes the dogs into the cafe with her. whenever someone complains about the pandora radio she puts on, she blames it on the dogs.

yeah she uses pandora until someone teaches her what Spotify is

ೃ༄ she's such a planner. she's got a huge chalkboard in the kitchen for the week and the month with both of their schedules drawn on it down to the hour if needed. hers is written in orange and lev's is written in green.

only watches tv once a week, and it's for a designated show that's so laid back, like the great British baking show.

"do you want to watch this show?" "no it's not Sunday"

ೃ༄ she's definitely the type to limit screen time, and lev himself isn't like partial to brain rot, but sometimes he says something that has her turning around like what did you just say eyes wide and everything

lev tells her to touch grass one day and she goes on a hike

ೃ༄ her favorite evening activities are taking the dogs on a sunset walk with lev, and then when lev's gone up to his room for the night, she will pack him like a little bento-type lunch. she'll cozy up in her lazy boy by the fireplace with Alice at her feet and journal away, sometimes until she falls asleep.

she's got BUCKETS of journals. it started in therapy after her dad passed, as like a coping mechanism to at least attempt to correct her thought processes, and it's always stuck. it's always made her feel like she's putting herself in order again.

after therapy, i feel like abby spent a lot of time thinking about religion. she never really found anything that clicks, but she reads a lot about buddhism and really appreciates the perspective.

ೃ༄ definitely has a weird phone setup going on. she's either got a really old like iPhone 7 with maybe 6 apps on it or one of those CAT flip phones lol. can you imagine flip phone selfies from her

ೃ༄ writes her grocery lists on a little piece of yellow paper that she'll tuck into her front pocket. carries specifically one of those bic ballpoint pens, has like 5 year old reusable grocery bags and a keychain for her Aldi quarter that she thinks is so clever and fun.

she definitely uses one of her favorite coins from her collection as her Aldi quarter.

ೃ༄ gets the paper delivered to her house. she prefers to read it that way, but she pays for lev to get a digital subscription to his kindle or something

ೃ༄ keeps her dads beat up, decaying quilt as a topper for her bed. she folds it up neatly every night and sets it in a rocking chair in the corner of her room, just to preserve it a little longer.

ೃ༄ knows how to get throughout almost the entire west coast without a map or gps or anything

ೃ༄ reading is HUGE in her house. lev's reading log was NEVER forged not once. she spent a whole summer building ceiling to floor bookshelves with a gorgeous trim and a mahogany stain. she loves to swing by the used bookstore after work every once in a while, the one where she can get a book for 25 cents or a big bag of them for two bucks.

every birthday, lev gives her a bag of books, and he always puts one in that he loves but isn't sure she will like. it's usually not her style, but she likes learning more about his interests and she thinks they're always very sweet books.

always secretly surprises lev with little books with transmasc characters or about real trans people. she will just leave them on his desk in their shared office or something with a little sticky note with a heart on it

ೃ༄ makes friends with the lanky manager of the record store with a weird fucked up tattoo when she's looking for more cassettes for her beat up truck.

"dude, you're the only person who has looked through this crate in like, six months. you can just take what you want."

"holy shit, really? it's the only thing i can play in my truck besides the radio."

"jesus, that's kind of funny. yeah, anytime you want, you can use my shit to make your little mixtapes. if I'm not here, just tell them Ellie said so."

ೃ༄ is definitely an active member of her local library, not only for reading material, but to check out music, and she loves to participate in the chess and book clubs.

really loves board games in general.

ೃ༄ I feel like abby loves Birkenstocks, but the clogs. she has a pair of sandals for the summer, but in my heart I know she's a clog girly.

ೃ༄ very simple, very minimalist wardrobe. I feel like she exclusively sticks to Levi's for jeans, and then she has like 8 black tee shirts and some thrifted sweatshirts and tee shirts.

would very much adore though if her girlfriend crocheted her a hat or a scarf or something <3

ೃ༄ speaking of girlfriends, I feel like abby really goes for opposites attract. she's so mild in appearance, that she loves someone that's a little over the top. maybe a little frilly, or adds odd little details to their outfits. she loves funky hairstyles and creativity in women.

ೃ༄ she loves making her own coffee. working at the cafe wasn't just convenience for her, abby loves the slowness of it. she loves packing the espresso, she loves checking on her sourdough every morning, she loved crafting her own tea blends. she definitely has a beat up metal French press, but she probably invests in her own espresso machine to keep at home too.

ೃ༄ i feel like eventually abby would coach for a sports team at lev's school. maybe he joined gymnastics or like, made the soccer team, and abby's packing-coolers-full-for-the-team and carpooling and excessive volunteering eventually takes her to leading after school drills and a best coach ever mug for the middle school boys soccer team lol.

this OR she becomes one of the most active parents any GSA has ever known to mankind

joins the pta

ೃ༄ is SO sentimental. has photos of people she loves all over the walls of her house, keeps tickets from movies and cuts out bits from the newspaper to keep in a little shoebox under her bed. she keeps her dad's medical journals and research on a special shelf above the fireplace.

her little flip hone has a blurry picture of her and Manny in the background

ೃ༄ Abby texts and types like this. She is a very formal typist. She will become very confused if someone texts her in lowercase or without punctuation.

[hurthermore]

Hi,dear!i really really love your writings like a lot! Can i maybe request a human alastor x reader who's a sister in a church,but also a killer like him?if that's okay for sure! have a good day/night:)

»»------► 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚞𝚗

Pairing:  𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙽𝚞𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warnings: 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍

A/N: 𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙺𝙺 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞! 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 >.< 𝙰𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚗𝚒𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚗𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍!

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗!

Ever since Alastor was a child, his mother made it compulsory for him to attend mass every sunday, which he always did with a fabricated smile on his face; just to make his mother happy. It was a boring occurrence that Alastor found redundant; he was partial to the practice of voodoo, and therefore preferred not to partake in the catholic religion, especially once he started to grow into his adult years.

Even when Alastor began his career in the broadcasting profession, and moved out of his family home, his mother demanded that he was still to attend mass with her; she didn’t care if they rota’d him in for sunday, he was to decline performing his broadcasts that morning of the week, or he’d have his ear shouted off. And Alastor was, and never had been the type of man to let his beloved mother down, even if it were something as mundane as church. He’d attend for her.

On one particular attendance, he noticed there was one more nun designated among the monastics of the church. She stuck out like a sore thumb due to the almost sinister way her smile etched upwards on the beautiful features of her face. He’d only seen that type of smile on one other person; himself. And he’d be a fool not to be intrigued by it.

He found himself thinking more and more about the secrets hidden behind that stretching smile as the weeks passed by, his glances against her only intensified the more he attended church. He often contemplated approaching her, but she never left the stage where the pastor spoke passages from the bible, and once the sermons ended, she was always gone in the blink of an eye.

It became an agitating occurrence as the want to converse with her, to discover what type of person she was seemed almost impossible. But eventually, he finally found a chance to finally introduce himself when the church hosted a function for the annual celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. as she stood among the attendees, handing out beverages; still attiring the same smile she always did. 

Yet before he could approach her, his mother dragged him in another direction, telling him he had to greet the pastor before he dabbled in the crowd. So he obeyed, slightly irritated, but complied with his mother’s demands. As he greeted and made small talk with the Pastor, he couldn’t help but overhear a group of nuns gossiping behind him.

“Why has the Pastor put her on the beverage stand?”

“A menace to society that girl, I can’t believe he’d allow her to prattle among the votaries.”

“I know, especially with the rumours about her burning her last church down too; I swear he’s going to get us all killed.”

Alastor couldn’t help how his eyebrows raised in interest as he focused on the tittle-tattle behind him. It made him wonder; was this girl like him? Did she also have the same refined tastes for murder? With how the only reported murders in New Orleans being his own, he was doubtful of the prospect. 

As he continued to attempt to approach the woman throughout the event, person after person kept interrupting his goal. His sense of murder was becoming heightened. People were always vermin, always in the way. And by the time he finally advanced toward the place he last saw her, she had been replaced with another nun. Turning his head in different directions, he attempted to find her among the crowd; but she was nowhere to be seen. Most likely confined to the bedding area of the church.

It was as if God himself was preventing him from acquainting her.

Grunting to himself, he made his way toward his mother, informing her that he was going to get some fresh air before he made his way outside. Plucking a cigarette from his pocket, he lit it up with a match as he rested his back against the outer walls of the church.

He was pissed to say the least; furious how the numerous sacks of living meat kept disturbing his plans.

All he wanted was to acquaint himself with that god forsaken beautiful smile.

As a puff of smoke vacated his lips, he perched as he heard rustling from the heavily wooded area to his right; eerily similar to how a caught rabbit would struggle as it attempted to leave the confines of its new found prison. Squinting his eyes, Alastor began to make his way into the wooded area to investigate the noise.

The further he moved through the forage and trunks of trees, the louder the rustling became; he swore he could start to hear grunts and strangled coughs. Pausing as he finally came across a sight to behold, his eyes landed on the nun that had been consuming his mind for months now. Her robes and apostolnik were covered in splatters of dark red blood as another nun laid underneath her; her neck sliced almost in half, clearly done moments before he had arrived due to the small amount of blood that squirted from her open neck; saturating the two women in red.

As he looked at the face of the corpse, he noticed it was one of the nuns from earlier that had whispered tales of the subject of his thoughts. Offering a smile, he made his presence known to the murderous nun who had caught his attention long before; taking a heavier step than usual as a way to alert her.

Her face fully faced him, and his smile only stretched in glee as he witnessed her blood soaked face attire that same smile she always did. If she was interesting before, then she was absolutely fascinating now. As the nun gazed at him, she didn’t attempt to run or attack him, only watching his movements.

“Can I help you?”

That voice. Alastor couldn’t help but adore how angelic her tone was; a wolf dressed in sheep's clothing. Just like him. Taking step after step toward her, Alastor offered her his hand as she sat atop the limp corpse. Placing her bloodied palm in his, he pulled her up to stand, kissing the back of her hand before she could pull away.

“Perhaps, but first, let’s get you clean, dear.”

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[yasemei]

Aventurine, Jing Yuan,Sunday, Blade and Wriothesley celebrating teen!reader’s birthday!!

🪷 Genre: Platonic + Found family

🌸 a/n: its my birthday so I decided to actually write something today!! :) english is not my native language so please excuse any errors

🪻 father figure characters / topaz, dr.ratio, yanqing, robin,kafka, silver wolf, elio and sigewinne mentioned / reader is a prisoner at fortress of meropide in wriothesley‘s part

~ Aventurine ~

Aventurine probably didnt celebrate many birthdays, including his own, but he really cared for you and wanted to make yours special.

He would buy something you really wanted, no matter how expensive it is, he is going to spoil you rotten.

He would also buy a very sweet and expensive cake for you, he always takes note of your preferences and likes, so he buys the most suited cake and gifts for you.

He tries to get a break from work to celebrate with you, if he cant manage to you would just celebrate at his office.

He has no problem if you want to celebrate just with him, but if you want more people and not feel lonely, he would try to get dr.ratio and topaz to celebrate with you. (with a lot of effort)

Ratio would be hard, but if youre a student of his and Aventurine manages to convince him enough, he would buy you a small gift and text happy birthday to you.

Topaz wouldnt mind celebrating your birthday, despite her not being too fond of Aventurine, it wouldnt take too much convincing to get her to celebrate your birthday. She would buy you a nice gift and personally wish you a happy birthday.

You two spend the all night having fun. He personally tucks you to bed when you get sleepy. (He might even carry you)

Seeing you grow up and enjoying your youthful years satisfies him than any gamble could ever do. He follows the path of preservation, he would do almost anything to preserve your youth and happiness— something that sadly wasnt done for him.

~ Jing Yuan ~

Jing Yuan is used to celebrating birthdays, he celebrates Yanqing’s every year after all.

He also buys you great gifts and cake. Like Aventurine he makes sure to remember your likes and preferences.

He is also pretty busy, but he would make time for you since its your birthday.

Yanqing would celebrate with you as well.

He tucks Yanqing and you to bed before going back to the endless paperwork on his desk.

He has a big soft spot for you and Yanqing, watching you two grow up makes him bittersweet, knowing that you two are going to be adults one day and not spend as much time with him as you do now.

But he believes that you two will be good and responsible adults thanks to his guidance.

~ Sunday ~

Sunday would be make extra time for you, also inviting Robin for your birthday

He would buy you a gift from a very luxurious store in Golden Hour, he even orders a special birthday cake for you.

Robin would personally sing happy birthday to you with her angelic voice

Sunday already has a tendency to dote on you, but not directly since he is busy, he leaves random gifts during the day and has bloodhounds watch over you to ensure your safety while he is busy working.

But for the sake of your birthday; you, him and Robin had lots of fun together.

~ Blade ~

Blade wasnt too sure what to for your birthday, ever since he adopted his new identity, he has been disconnected from people, only living as a weapon.

But you were special to him, he always felt the need to protect and care for you. Maybe you had bringed out the fatherly instincts that he didnt even know he had.

He goes to Silver Wolf and Kafka for advice.

He ultimately decides to make you a handmade gift, he used to make weapons after all, his crafting skills are incredible, maybe not as much as it was when he was still Yingxing, but he is still talented.

Kafka buys the cake and some accesories or clothing as gifts

Silver Wolf would hack into a rich persons account to get you something you really wanted.

Elio doesnt give you any missions, you and your fellow stellaron hunters celebrate together when they come back

Blade would carry you to bed when you get tired, he would even tuck you in if you ask nicely

~ Wriothesley ~

Wriothesley would buy a cake and gift for you from the overworld

You two and Sigewinne celebrate together by drinking tea and having cake

You and Wriothesley already spend a lot of time together since you work directely under him

Seeing you grow up safely makes him happy, even though you are a prisoner, he has a huge soft spot for you

He would also tuck you in, but he would do it secretly so the other inmates dont see him being a massive softie, he has a reputation to uphold after all and cant have the inmates misbehaving or maybe even using you against him

[ophelieverse]

Can you please write anything you want with Aegon and Tully!reader?I love this house and no one use them to write images🥺

ʚ the lovers ɞ 

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

I also like House Tully,even though i don’t like Cat and Lysa but I’m more than willing to write a Tully reader.

Aegon and Y/n are married,now that he is king he doesn’t have much time to spend with his wife so she takes the matter in her own hands.

A little smutty piece that i don’t know how to feel about😪

Thank you for requesting and let me know what you think💕

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The midday sun was burning in the sky with all the violence this time slot could offer on a mid-summer day.

The hot rays of the sun were beating on the streets markets,roofs and the chairs at the corner of their balcony.If she squeezed her eyes,Y/n could even see the air vibrating on the railing.

Till a moment ago,in the shared maritals chambers of their majesties a small servant girl was using a fan,moving the hot air from one side to the other,without really doing much to bring relief.

The temperature was so high that even the floor had cooled,and staying there lying on the ground was becoming counterproductive,as well as uncomfortable.

Y/n turned on her side,grunting when the hard stoned floor met her bones,the heat that killed her every initiative to get up was trailing up her bare legs till her back.

Not too bad... from the new location she could admire a much better view than the sky paled by the heat.

Aegon,the new King of the Seven Kingdoms and her adored husband,was sitting at the large table in the middle of their chambers a few steps away from her.The thin shirt sleeves rolled up over the elbows,the unbuttoned collar and a wrinkle of concentration between the eyebrows.In front of him a stack of backlog reports to complete.

His cheeks were redden thanks to the heat and the wine,pale hair stuck to nape of his sweaty neck and lilic eyes moving fast through the pages in his calloused hands.He was so beautiful when he was assorted,becoming king had changed his demeanor,taking the responsibilities and duties on his shoulders more seriously.

Y/n didn't understand why he decided to get to work with that heat,especially when it was Sunday morning and they could have done anything else.Also,the fact that she hasn't had his attention for almost an hour made her want to go there and tear up that paperwork in front of his beautiful eyes.And she would have done it even if she hadn't been too hot even to stand up.

Of course,it would have been great if he had gotten up to come to her instead.The two of them had been married for three years and knew each other for six,Y/n knew that Aegon would’ve done that.Seeing her,so beautifully tempting in her white transparent nightgown,long hair wild on her shoulders,full red lips and soft cheeks with sparkling needy eyes.He would’ve pounced her like a starving animal.

But that was prince Aegon,the same person that took her on Dragonstone beach,promising her that he would made her his queen,the mother of his children and that made love to her like it was their last night on earth.King Aegon was a different story,he had his head on his shoulders and his mother and grandfather on his back constantly.Ruling a whole continent was hard, tiring and took all of his attentions.

«Aaaegon.»Y/n called him,stretching the first syllable of his name,with a sweet voice.

«Mmh?»he replied with a distracted murmur,without even looking up from the table.

«Do you still have a lot of those?»she asked him,watching the pile of papers becoming smaller not fast enough.

He shook his head«I'm almost done.»

«You said that even half an hour ago!»she emitted a sound of affliction.

«I would do it faster if you got up and came to give me a hand,instead of standing there complaining.»he scolded her,not in the same teasing and playful way,but almost irritated.

Being Queen wasn’t easy and it was something that Y/n never wanted.Her mother had planned that future for her since she was a child,promising her to prince Jacaerys in the beginning and then to prince Aegon.The only thing that her mother taught her about marriage was being a good and docile wife and give her husband healthy and male heirs.No one taught her how to be a queen,not even her husband mother.

Y/n was good at being a gentle and loving wife,she supported and took care of her husband and gave him two beautiful sons,heirs to his throne.But she missed him,she knew he loved her very much and that they should have other children to strength the blood of the dragon,if only he wasn’t so busy all the time.

Not at all satisfied with the kind of reactions she was getting,Y/n pouted and reached out towards the golden cup lying on the floor:the only thing in her range that had a temperature of less than thirty-six degrees.She brought the cup to her mouth and the last residue of cold wine now vented into her throat.

When she finished,she passed the empty cup behind her neck and chest,continuing to observe Aegon out of the corner of her eye.

As much as he was trying to keep his eyes fixed on those papers,it was evident that his body was also suffering from the heat.The silver locks stuck to his sweaty forehead as his shoulders lifted and fell under the weight of long,fatigued breaths.He put the ink down for a second and sipped his wine too.

Y/n watched him arch his neck and swallow,adam’s apple moving rhythmically over the larynx.She bit her lower lip in front of the show,her hand automatically slipped below the hip line.

Fuck… “Family,duty,honor”as her House words said,looked so good on him.The ethereal aura of his royal presence,the way he carried himself and spoke in the throne room or in the Small Council,the crown on his head.Even though she missed care free prince Aegon,the King was something so divine to look at.

Seriously... they could have done anything else in the moment,she could still give him another child and show him how much of a great job he was doing as a ruler.Literally anything but staying there on the floor while he worked.

An idea caught on her mind.Suddenly the heat stopped being a problem.

«Aegon.»she called again,voice now lower.

And again,he replied without looking at her«What do you want?»

Y/n opened her mouth,then closed it.She reflected on what were the best words to use,those that would be best to persuade him.It was supposed to be something provocative,but not too much.Something sober,but impactful.

She rubbed her legs,the ache between them,and uttered candidly:«You,my King.»

She couldn't help but smile triumphantly, because at those words Aegon finally looked up from the table.His deep purple eyes stared at her,a spark of involvement and desire shining under his eyelashes as he took in all of her appearance.

It didn't last long.

«Not now.»was his calm answer,as he looked away and brought the focus back to his work.

As he spoke he wrote something with his pen and Y/n thought she wanted to bite his fingers.

«Also it's too hot for it at this hour,»he added,«better tonight,when the sun is down.»he continued.

Y/n stretched her limbs on the floor and lazily curved her back like a cat«I thought that dragons preferred the heat.»she smiled,licking her dry lips.

«Yes.But little,cute fishes like you are too sensitive for it.»the smirk in his voice made her shiver and smile even more.

He wasn’t wrong,she was still a pure maiden when they first laid together and since that time,as he showed her the immense and colorful world of pleasure,her appetite had been insatiable.Especially with a husband like him.He would take the lead and have her crying underneath or on top of him in less that five minutes.

«Hmm... I don't know if I'll be able to wait until tonight.»she purred with a vibrating throat.

Aegon scoffed,tracing the paper in his hand with a finger,rereading the same sentence for the third time«Then go on our bed,put a pillow between your legs and do it yourself.What do you want me to tell you?»he sounded exasperated.

They both were,pent up and dying by the hot weather.

«If this was a dirty talk attempt,know it was really terrible.»a laugh escaped from her.

Aegon stopped responding,bowed his chin and went back to immerse himself in the silence of concentration.

Y/n accepted the challenge.

It wasn't the first time she found herself playing with Aegon self-control since he was crowned and so far she had never lost.She had often enjoyed making him restless and starving for something else during dinners with his family:fleeting caresses under the table and winking glances between the glass bottles.

But it was easy to shake him like that when they were in public,surrounded by other eyes.The fact that they were now alone in their room,the only spectators and participants of their game,made Aegon less tense,and therefore more firm on his positions.

It would have taken a lot more to move him.

«All right...»she whispered,more to herself than to him.

Y/n stretched on her back on the floor,oriented her delicate hand vertically on her soft belly,and slid two fingers under the hem of her small cloth,trailing up her body the thin layer of her nightgown.She began to touch herself nonchalantly,lazily at the start,describing slow and interspersed circles around the clitoris.She kept her head turned to the side,ready to catch the slightest sign of distraction from Aegon.

She had to wait five long minutes before the pen slowed down on the paper.

Y/n grabbed the opportunity and began to speed up the work of her fingers.Her body was giving in to stimulation:a pleasant tingling was building up in the lower abdomen as moisture began to cover her fingertips.When a choked moan of his name formed in her throat she did nothing to repress it.

That's when Aegon raised his eyes for the second time.

His gaze on her was a mixture of surprise,opposition and embarrassment,with a small spark of lust.Y/n pointed at that.

«Y/n.»he began,with what clearly wanted to be a warning,but which did not go beyond her name.

She saw him licking his lips and swallowing.

«What?»she bent her lips into a smile«Wasn't what you told me to do it myself?»she asked sweetly.

Aegon blushed in spite of himself,he felt like a twelve years old again«Yes,but not here on the floor.»he said.

«Why?Am I distracting you?»she said with a fake tone of concern.

«What do you think?»he sarcastically said,his eyes not leaving the hand that was still moving between her legs.

The ache growing in his pants and the fire tickling his lower belly,made her proud of herself.The look he was giving her,filled with lust and irritation,told her that she was winning.

«Well,my love,as a refutation of your thesis:so far you didn't notice at all.And it's not like i started at this very moment.»she informed him with a breathy and witty response.

The blush on Aegon face reached the tip of his ears,but his gaze remained of ice«You've been... silent... so far.»he noted,trying to find a comfortable position on the chair.

«Oh?So if I keep my mouth shut I can continue without any problems?»Y/n immediately asked.

It took him a while to answer her.He stopped staring at the spot under her navel where her hand lay and took a big sip from his cup full of cold wine.The two countermeasures seemed to work.With his mind a little more lucid and the trail of freshness in his esophagus,he started talking to her with the same firmness as before.

«Absolutely not.Get up and go.»he said with the same seriousness he had adopted in the last year as a ruler.

In front of his serious face,Y/n smiled even more.He was cracking and was trying so hard to keep it together.

“As if you didn't want me here.”she though.

Y/n huffed«I don't want to.I'm too hot to move.»she said,returning to distractedly moving her fingers.

Aegon made an effort with all of himself not to look at her.He took the pen in his hand and began to turn it between his fingers to have something to engage his eyesight in.

«Your logic doesn't make any sense.»he pointed out to her.

And in fact no,it didn't have it.But in all honesty Y/n was starting to lose the thread of the argument,the need for release was becoming more pressing and Aegon had not yet moved from there.In the absence of a witty response to counter,she raised her hips and moaned his name deliberately,trying to appear as provocative as possible while doing so.

A few seconds of silence followed,then the ticking sound of the pen on the table,and finally a sigh.Y/n didn't bother to hide her immense satisfaction in finally having Aegon body bent over her.

«Can you stop?»He blew on her lips.The baritone voice with which he said it threw a burning pang between her legs.

Y/n raised her chin.The game of the challenge that made her blood tingle in her veins«Make me.»

Aegon wrinkled his forehead.He knew exactly what game his wife was playing,and he also knew he would win.He always won.He was the one in control.

«Gods,you can be so childish sometimes.»he said with a long exhale.

«And you can be serious and snoty like an old man... sometimes.»she told him with a childish attitude.

Yes,sometimes.

Aegon mind went involuntarily to the other times,where it was the exact opposite.Between him and Y/n it worked like this:they almost always ended up at the antipodes,at the two ends of the line,exchanging places with each other all the time.There was almost never a balance.And when he was there it didn't make it easier for him to define their relationship.

Sometimes Y/n was a little girl,hungry for affection and attention.An accomplice mistress who kissed and touched him when she didn't have to,who stretched out her fingers under his arm and who filled his glass when he didn't look.

Sometimes it was him,with his hands sneaking under her gowns,his lips trailing dow her neck in the empty hallways.Playing with her foot under the table.Whispering dirty thing in her ears and watch her blush in front of everyone.

Other times Y/n was an adult woman,with a deadly seriousness in her eyes and a melancholy over something lost.A kind of younger sister - or even a mother - who seemed to have lived a hundred lives,who applied patches to him even on the smallest scratches,and who stroked his hair when she realized he had cried.

Other times it was Aegon who takes the responsibility,guiding and sheltering her.Much like a king would,a husband who duties were to make her a happy wife,a old friend to keep her company and loving to read and sit together in their solarium.

When they were like this,when they took a part and left the second one for the other,Aegon remembered those few years of difference that separated them,remembered how much ambiguity there was in what they did and in the behaviors they adopted towards each other when he promised to marry her on that beach,the first time they had laid together on the cold sand when he was drunk and guided only by lust.

And an unpleasant cold ran on his back. Despite this,he had never done anything to change things.Because Y/n was still very young and was tremendously good on both sides,because - after all - condoing by that ambiguity was convenient for him... because he liked it.Because he did kept his promises and married her.

He liked to play lovers,he thought,looking for her lips.For two like them it was easier than really being king and queen.

Aegon lips were warm,but Y/n welcomed them as if they were the freshest and purest of waters.She liked it too.The lover was her favorite role.Not the wife,the mother or the queen,but his lover.

«The balcony... is open.»Aegon felt a duty to remind her of it,of all the servants that could be outside,snatching words from her increasingly insistent kisses.

She stroked his cheekbone with her tongue«Good,some fresh air.»she replied,letting him know that she didn't care.

«You are shameless.»he told her as if he didn’t taught her to be like this,but the balcony remained open and the papers abandoned on the table.

Y/n smiled as she felt his hand run down her stomach to get to surround her wrist.Her wet fingers slipped away from her throbbing sex,and her hand was carried to the height of their faces.The lack of contact caused her a bit of annoyance,but it took a back seat when Aegon put her hand close to his lips.

He began to place soft kisses on her knuckles, without stopping for a second looking at her. Slowly.Meticulously.Y/n closed her eyelids and breathed a sigh.She contemplated in awe of his lips opening,then the index and middle fingers disappear between them.Aegon moved his tongue under her phalanges,sucked them, enjoying the taste of her melting in his mouth.

«Aegon...»she called him,he groaned around her fingers in response,without interrupting his occupation.

«Take this thing off,»he continued,pointing to the skimpy nightgown she was wearing.«It's too hot.»

«You first.»Y/n whispered out and he smirked.

Receiving the message,Aegon began to unfasten his belt with his free hand,then his boots,and the first buttons on his shirt.He soon realized he couldn't do much else.Surrender,he let go of her fingers to allow both of them to undress.

Although he was now used to seeing her walking around their chambers with just one or two garments,Aegon would never stop appreciating his wife body.At that moment the sun in its apogee illuminated her nudity like white marble,skirting the curves of her profile with light.

If beauty was something describable in words,Aegon would have described it that way.

He stood to contemplate the play of light on her skin as he went back to lying down,unaware that similar thoughts were going through his wife mind.

In fact,the more Y/n looked at Aegon,the more she was convinced that there could be no such thing as graceful and aesthetically pleasing in the world.She would spend hours observing the way his moon locks cast shadows on the clear features of his face,or tracing the veins paths on the muscles of his arms.

As she thought about these things Aegon caught up with her,taking her wrists with his hands and slowly crossed them over her head.

Y/n gaze lit up,not surprised and intrigued.

She had never shown a particularly dominant personality during sex;she usually just indulged in his initiatives,following the instructions of his voice and body,doing and letting herself do whatever he decided.

Aegon was never displeased,on the contrary.In that way of behaving in intimacy he found the same confidence as when they risked their lives together: proof that she was ready to put herself in his hands in any circumstance.

That’s why seeing herself caged to the floor by his body,with his austere eyes scrutinizing her from above,made her lower belly languish in the same and delightful way.The idea of being the one who abandoned herself in his hands once again was tempting,having her king finally giving her all of his attention and devotion.

At the expense of his expression,Aegon 's grip was not very firm and the slowness in his actions betrayed a certain insecurity.It’s had been a hard week and he was tired.

Y/n caught him in a kiss to reassure him.She could still taste herself on his tongue,along with a vague aroma of cherries and wine.She was already addicted by the combination.

Aegon moved aside first,his lips ran down her jaw to the curve of her soft neck.Y/n did not oppose it,waiting for his next move with a rapid beat.She felt him adjust his grip on her wrists, then place his knee in the middle of her legs.

A soft command tickled her ear«Grind on it.»

Y/n gasped.She felt on fire,little fishes like her were too sensitive to the heat and her body's reaction was unexpectedly immediate.Her hips lifted obediently,then lowered,then went back up,until she found herself rocking against his knee at a fast pace.

Aegon kissed her neck with his mouth open, feeding on her accelerating heartbeat.He could feel her skin moistening at the point where she met his leg.

«Good girl.»he whispered in her ear,hot breath tickling her.

He bit her shoulder to suppress a moan,she arched her back and her breasts brushed his chest.His erection was throbbing in pain,but Aegon gritted his teeth.He thought of those backward papers that would force him to do the wee hours tonight,and pushed his femur forward,wishing for a little revenge.

Thanks to the previous stimulation,Y/n was already on the vege of an orgasm.She groaned restlessly,debated her hips and calves to the ground,squeezing his thighs around the bone bump.

Aegon free hand traveled along her waist and went to surround one of her tits,stroked the perky nipple with his thumb,soon replaced by his mouth.

It was hot.Y/n felt it inside and out,in every single particle of the air and in every single fiber of her body.

Sweat dripped from Aegon hair on her chest, his mouth left hot trails where he touched and his breathless breath condensed on her skin.But oh,he never wanted to stop.

Y/n moved her hips faster,craving that sweet, liquid pleasure that was heralding.

She was so close,so close...

«Stop.»the sound of the word reached her ear indistinctly,all her senses blurred,her body continuing to move tirelessly.

Just a little more...

«I said»Aegon grip on her wrists tightened,his hot palm pressing on her pulses«Stop.»with such an authority that made her even wetter.

One hand stuck her hip against the floor and Y/n stopped,stunned.Aegon bowed to one side and removed his knee,leaving fire in her lungs and her belly burning for release denied.

He looked at her,with the power of a man and curious like a child,his purple irises reduced to two thin circles around his dilated pupils.He waited in silence for her to calm down,then relaxed his fingers and released her wrists.

Y/n reached out for him,numb arms circling his neck to bring him closer.A compressed energy that still permeated it from head to toe.

«Aegon,please.»she whined,kissing his jaw and holding him.

«I know baby,you were close?»He asked her,kissing the reddened inside of her wrists with a mest expression.

She moved a lock of hair behind his ear and nodded enthusiastically«Yes.»with a cute pout on her lips.

Aegon nodded in turn,looking slightly relieved.

«I'll make you come,only if you promise that you won’t bother me and let me work for the rest of the night.»he caressed her cheeks,his thumb playing with her lower lip.

«B-but-»she tried to protest.

Aegon hand gripped her face,their noses touching«Will you do that?Will you be a good girl and do what your husband asks you?»he murmured on her lips slowly.

«Yes!I promise!»she immediately answered,trying to get him to kiss her again.

He ran his hands over her hips for a few seconds,focused,as if he was about to make an important decision.Y/n wasn’t surprised when from his mouth came another command,albeit more docile than the previous one.

«Turn around and lay on your stomach.»he ordered,before kissing her and caressing her hair.

She did as he had told her,turning around to give him her back.

The floor was warm and she was so sensitive that the mere pressure of her flattened belly against the stoned pavement was enough to snatch a moan from her.Meanwhile,a finger began to trace her spine,slowly flowing the vertebrae from the coccyx to the cervical.

Y/n curved her back under that touch,while looking for more friction under her hips.

«So desperate to get fucked on the floor?»Aegon murmured on the back of her neck,before licking the salt from her skin.

«F-fuck yes.»she whimpered out.

«Oh»Aegon said amused«I thought i married a proper lady not a slut.»his shoulders trembled with a laugh.

Y/n face was crimson red«I’m not a-a…a slut!»she answered embarrassed,but she knew he was right.

«Mmh,i should’ve know since you had let me fuck you on that beach before we were even betrothed.»he kissed and bit the skin of her back making her tremble.

He kissed her between her shoulder blades,with one arm separated her abdomen from the ground and held her to himself,hip to hip.And Y/n felt him,damp and hot,stinging her entrance.

«Please.»Y/n called for him,hands digging on the floor and wiggling her ass up to get more friction.

«Behave,or I’m leaving you here.»he spanked her,the sting of the slap and the way he caressed the redden skin of her ass made her choke on her saliva.

«With how eager you are,the castle should be filled with our children.»Aegon continued,massaging her.

«Maybe you should give me another,»Y/n breathed out,closing her eyes.

She felt him curse under his breath and holding her closer«Is that what you want?Another kid to keep yourself occupied with?»the idea of seeing her full with his child made his head spin.

The anticipation was a tongue of fire that tickled her from the inside,licking the walls of her stomach in an agonizing way.

She didn't have time to perform in the plea she had thought.Aegon grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him as he sank into her. The movement was unique and fluid,facilitated by abundant lubrication.

Her mouth opened,the air scratched her re-stuck throat.He began to move slowly,with soft and precise blows,while with his tongue he explored her mouth and swallowed her moans.

Her neck hurt from the position,but she still stretched out backwards when he brew the kiss to pay attention to her shoulder.Aegon moved his lips over the curve of her neck and marked the skin with his teeth.He bathed her with his tongue,feeling genuinely guilty.

He thought maybe he wasn't cut for a more dominant role in sex,but the moment he did,Y/n voice shouted«More!Please!»And his mind was silent.He was the one in control and yet he would give her anything she wants,even another child if that meant having her happy.

He anchored her to his body with one arm and used the other as a lever to increase the pace and intensity of the thrusts.And every time she asked to go deeper,faster, stronger,something stretched inside him,like a rubber band on the breaking point.

It was his turn to moan.To feel how warm,wet and tight her welcoming cunt was for him every time.Made by the gods for him.

The open balcony remained a distant detail,the world restricted to that fierce union of their bodies,a bubble of heat,blood and pleasure.Just like when they got married and unite House Targaryen and House Tully.

«You’re there already,baby?»he was out of breath as he felt her clench around him again.

All she did was nod and the hand he was pressing on abdomen dropped lower.One,two,three circles and the pleasure poured into her,dense and glowing like lava, poured out from that point deep that he kept hitting with his thrusts.

Above her Aegon looked at her with fascination and desire.The torso raised to admire her body contracting in irregular spasms,his head tilted to grasp fragments of her face.

«You are...so beautiful...Y/n.»he moaned.

Y/n hoisted herself on her elbows,bent her arm to reach his head,and kissed him as if he was the most precious thing in her life,because he was.He really was the love of her life.

Aegon moaned in the kiss,feeling Y/n last contractions taking him to the limit with her«You want it inside?»he asked her urgently.

«Yes.»she pleaded again.

Her approval,in a seductive tone and oblique smile,was the last straw.He poured into her,moaning and growling on her shoulder,until his muscles gave way.

They lay facing each other on the sticky floor, their limbs suffering and heated by the effort. Only when they both stopped having a shortness of breath,Aegon pulled her close to him to let her lay her head on his chest.

«We are going to have another baby.»Y/n suddenly murmured,placing a hand on her stomach.

Aegon didn't seem upset by the information.He remained silent looking at her,as if at the moment there was nothing else in the room that deserved more attention than her.And Y/n lived on moments like these,the exclusivity of his gaze on her,his needy touch on her skin, shared kisses,his worries.

«I pray for a girl.»he said then«Baeron and Rhaego are going to drive me insane.»he continued thinking about his sons and how much they were like him.

This time he wanted a baby girl that,even though she would probably look like him,taking in the Valyrian features,she would be just like her mother:sweet,gentle,a little playful.

«They just miss you.»she whispered,almost feeling guilty«Like I do.»she admitted with a sad tone.

Aegon held her closer,he felt ashamed for neglecting his wife and his own children.As soon as he become king he forgot that first he was a husband and a father.

«I’m sorry for interrupting your work-»she started to apologize.

«Don’t.»he stopped her immediately«I’m the one who’s sorry for not being around lately.»he said kissing her temple sweetly.

Y/n smiled warmly«How about we have dinner together tonight with the kids?»she asked hopefully.

He nodded,it felt like forever since he had last spent time with his little family all together«Sound perfect.»he kissed her on the lips one last time before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

[ataraxixia]

hiii can you write abt ratio and sunday w a reader who gets overstimmulated at parties or just hanging out with friends and they get really mean when overstimmulated <3 like how would they help their partner out yk

  ❦  𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. how they help you out when you're overstimulated ❧ tags. Ratio x reader, sunday x reader, fluff, comfort, sfw ❧. a/n. of course, and thank you for your request, love <3 btw i'm not familiar with what it's like to help an overstimulated person so I did some research before writing- I apologize if I wrote something wrong

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

"By the Aeons, do you people ever shut up?" you spat to a group of young students, meaner than you intended to, but you couldn't really help it at the moment. The hall was full to the brim- packed with endless members of the Intelligentsia Guild. There were just too many- bragging loudly about their scores of their last exams or simply discussing different subjects with no end. Without saying anything to the students, you quickly walked to one of the corners, covering your ears to shut out the noise. You had difficulties focusing, and the discomfort was creeping up your whole body. You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths and imagining being back home in your cozy and quiet living room. Yet, the constant talking, laughing and arguing made it entirely impossible.

You slumped down the wall, sitting down and resting your head between your legs. You groaned as you shut your eyes, not noticing the person standing beside you.

"―? What are you doing?" they asked. "Why do you care?"

"Because I'm your boyfriend, obviously."

You let out a noise of confusion before you lifted your head and looked to the side, seeing your boyfriend, Veritas, leaning on the wall and focused on you. He crouched down beside you and placed his hand on your forehead, a frown appearing on his face. Your face was pale yet your forehead was quite hot.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier? I would've brought you home." he said, removing his hand. Your gaze shifted to the side, your fingers twitching a little. "I didn't find you. There were a lot of people." it was the truth. From the moment your senses became a bit heated, you looked around, walking from venue to venue to find Ratio, yet it seemed like he just disappeared into thin air.

"I was looking for you as well. Figured out you didn't like it here." Ratio held you by the arms and helped you stand up straight, steadying your body with his from falling down. "Let's go home now." You thanked the Aeons as you nodded, and the two of you made your way to the exit.

"Ah, Dr. Ratio!" one of the members shouted. "I wanted to tell you about the integrals of inverse tri-"

"Your integrals of inverse trigonometric functions exam, in which you barely passed with 71%? I'd rather not. Now excuse me, we're making our leave."

Well that shut him up quickly, you thought.

-

"..." Veritas stayed silent when you were back home. The two of you sat on your shared couch and he massaged your back gently, never pressing anywhere too hard to help you relax. he also made something to drink and some snacks for you, but you simply stayed still as you relished in the massage. It always seemed to calm you down.

"Thanks, I feel better now."

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

"I'm fine, I already told you!"

The other members of The Family looked at you with wide eyes as you snapped at Sunday. He noticed you behaving rather different today and wanted to make sure you were okay, but after asking if you were feeling well- that was your last straw.

You quickly made your way, left through one of the many halls in Dewlight Pavilion and shut the door behind you vehemently. When you weren't hearing any chatter anymore, you relaxed a tiny bit, yet you couldn't stop fidgeting with your fingers, the voices of The Family lingering in your mind, still.

Being the lover of the head of the oak family was no easy matter by itself. Doubt amongst The Family members and the locals of Penacony occurred overnight and the feeling it left you with wasn't pleasant- not at all. Now, a gathering with all members of The Family, where the majority didn't like you and talked behind your back, was too much. You lost your focus at the very beginning already and the meltdown just now was what you needed to actually leave.

You sat down on one of the many couches that were scattered across the Pavilion and took a deep breath, focusing on you, and you only, your head hanging low. You had noticed the Origami Birds on the railings and thanked them in your mind for not chirping- or making any noise at all, actually.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to make you feel angry."

You recognized your lover's voice and sighed, shaking your head softly as you mumbled, "don't. I was just..."

Sunday sat beside you and draped a blanket over your shoulders. A weighted one, you noticed. He took your hand in his softly as he traced some circles on the back of your hand, the gesture making you actually quite calmer.

You focused on his hands and let relief wash over you with time- it must have been at least 10 minutes since he arrived and yet, he didn't stop, nor did he say anything in the time. You smiled to yourself as you felt your mind becoming clearer, shifting your gaze from your hand to his face.

"Thanks, I... really needed that." you said and he shared your glance, a small smile plastered on his lips again. "Just tell me if you need more time to relax. I'll give you all the time you need."

[pjflmga]

little things, alessia russo x reader

summary: based on little things by one direction (big fan yup) where r is a bit insecure about certain things and alessia makes sure to let r know she loves everything about r.

a/n: just smth random i came up w while i’m writing on chicago p2 bc i’m currently stuck lol. wrote this in the middle of the night so don’t mind eventual mistakes… send in recs if you want to :)

wc: 2,3k ish

enjoyy

—————————————————————

you and alessia had been together for a long time now, with your 2 years anniversary coming up in only a few weeks. you loved doing things together, watching movies or series, going out for a walk or shopping. literally anything

football might be your biggest shared interest though, whether it was watching a game or playing it. but it was not hard to see who was playing professionally and who played in a normal sunday league.

alessia played football for a living, her days consisted of training on and off the pitch and of course football games against big, top teams, weekly. whereas you were working as a chef at a restaurant and only had training 2-3 times a week plus a game on the weekends.

despite the big difference of professionalism you played in, you both were each others biggest fan and supporter. you were at all arsenal’s home games and even some away games if possible, and alessia was at yours. of course if you or her didn’t have your own game at the same time, which occasionally happened.

alessia never looked down at you for not being a professional footballer, rather the other way around. she was happy and proud that you got to the two things you loved the most, cooking food during the days and playing football in the evenings. but even if alessia never had an opinion about this, didn’t mean you nor especially the fans highlighted this at times.

as you were the girlfriend of the top player and front face of the lionesses and arsenal, people didn’t shy away from sharing their ignorant opinions. when alessia saw a rude comment about you she would always delete it, before she read half of it and especially before you got the chance to even know about it. but since you were together with alessia, you had around 30k followers on instagram yourself and a lot of the ignorant comments ended up in your comment section as well.

you knew you shouldn’t care, but you couldn’t help but read every single negative comment about you. it was everything from you using alessia for her being famous and having a lot of money, to not being good enough for her and being an ugly and bad person. the comments about you only “using” her didn’t really bother you, as you and not to mention, alessia knew that it wasn’t true. but it was rather the comments about you being too ugly, or not that a good enough person for her that made you feel like the smallest person on earth.

this had been going on ever since you got together and the public eye found out about it. at first it didn’t bother you, but as time went on it started to get to you. the blonde and you had talked about it before, but even if you weren’t, you always made sure to say that you were fine.

as of lately alessia had started to notice that you were feeling a bit more tired and down than usually. at first she thought it was because of your job and how hectic it was. but she shortly after realised it was because of all comments on social media.

and with that she started to make more efforts than usually to make you feel as special and loved as you deserved, not to mention how she felt about you.

————————————

as a person in general, you were a bit insecure about yourself. you didn’t like certain things with your body or the way you looked.

as time passed alessia started to figure out more of your small insecurities, how every time she tried to make a short video with you, you always stayed quiet because you didn’t like the way your voice sounded on camera.

how you never got changed in front of her, despite being together for a long, long time. because you didn’t like how your stomach or thighs looked. she obviously had seen you without clothes before, but it was different when you changed and got dressed. it made you feel more conscious about the way you looked, in a way you didn’t like and therefore didn’t want alessia to see.

but also how you recently had stopped coming along to nights out and dinners with her team, because you were insecure or what other people would think. despite alessia always telling you how much the team loved you and wanted you there.

alessia knew these things made you insecure, but these were also the things she loved about you the most. the way you looked, the way you were, the way you smiled and laughed. your voice, your body. everything.

at first she didn’t want these little things to slip out, in case it made you more insecure. but she quickly realised the best way to make you feel more comfortable and confident, was to bring your insecurities up, subtly and in a reassuring way, one by one.

every time you smiled you got small crinkles by your eyes and for some reason fans started to point that out, together with your freckled cheeks. alessia didn’t understand, as she thought those were two of the cutest things about you, but you hated them.

now when she started to see the comments more often, she realised that was the reason why you started to cover your freckles up with makeup, and at least try to smile less. not that it really worked when you were with alessia, who stumbled around and laughed all the time.

“babe, you’re so beautiful today.” alessia said as the two of you got ready to head out for a little walk in the park. “why are you putting on makeup? you’re just as beautiful without it.” she smiled softly.

“i dunno.” you mumbled. “don’t really like my freckles.” you said lowly. with that alessia walked up behind you, where you sat by the desk in your shared bedroom, and hugged you tightly from behind.

“you.” kiss. “are.” kiss. “more.” kiss. “beautiful”. kiss. “than.” kiss. “anyone.” kiss. “else. ” kiss. “in.” kiss. “the.” kiss. “world.” the blonde said as she kissed you freckles.

“stoppp less, you’re ruining my makeup.” you said, but couldn’t help but feeling a smile creeping up in the corner of your mouth.

“nooo!!” she said. “i’m just making sure your natural beauty is showing.” she continued as she bombed kisses on you again. you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “there’s the beautiful smile of yours.” alessia said simply.

it took you another 20 minutes to get ready before your headed out. instantly when you stepped out of the port of your stairwell, alessia grabbed you hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

“you know, your hands fits perfectly in mine.” the striker said softly.

“what do you mean less?” you asked confused, not quite catching what she meant.

“i don’t know, i just know it feels perfect to hold it in my hand.” she smiled with a chuckle. you nodded slowly, still not getting where she came from. but it was something with the way she had said it while squeezing your hand, that made you feel good. you felt yourself being thrown out of your thoughtss as alessia pulled you with her and started to walk towards the park, while babbling about her upcoming game against liverpool this weekend.

when you stopped in the middle of the park by a big tree alessia suggested that the two of you should make a tiktok together. a video where you’d have to rank her arsenal teammates.

“no i can’t do that.” you said with a laugh. “they’re gonna kill me.”

“noo, babe!! it’ll be fun, they will love it.” she laughed as she pulled up her phone.

“okay, just because i love you. but don’t post it!! i don’t uh, want people to hear my- to see what my ranking.” you said quietly.

“oh y/n, it’ll be fine. everyone will laugh at how pissed leah will be when she sees she’s not your number one.” alessia chuckled. “besides, everyone should get to hear that beautiful voice of yours when you explain your rankings.” she continued, subtly mentioning yet another insecurity. you instantly felt yourself relaxing a little when she said that. to be honest you hadn’t really realised that you had tensed up in the first place.

“let’s do this then, less.” you said as you grabbed her phone and started the ranking.

——————————

“i can’t believe you were about to put frida at number one.” alessia said with a grunt as you finished.

“well she is just the best, isn’t she?” you asked with a smile.

“well… no. i am supposed to be there, i swear if you weren’t with me right now, you would’ve put her as your number 1.” alessia answered with a unhappy voice.

“nooo babe, i’d never do that!!” you laughed. “you are obviously my number one!”

“and so are you y/n/n! you are my forever number one and i love you and everything about you.” the blonde said softly as she gave hugged you and kissed your cheek. “let’s post this and see how the girls reacts.” she continues as she posted the video.

just then she got a message from leah in the arsenal group chat, asking who’d be joining for dinner aka ordering food, and movie night at her place tomorrow night. a flood of “yes” and “me” came right away when alessia looked at you.

“you want to go?” she asked hopefully.

“uh i don’t know, don’t want to intrude your team bonding night.” you said lowly.

“no y/n babe, first you could never do that. the girls have been asking if you won’t being joining anytime soon anyways. and besides, it’s just movie night tmrw.” alessia explained as she took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“well, okay then i guess.” you said.

“YESSSS!!!” the england forward squealed as she sent a quick “me and y/n are coming!” to the group chat and right away an even bigger flood of “yes!”, “wohoo” and “finally” came.

as tomorrow evening eventually came around, you and the blonde got ready together. since it was just movie night and leah’s, you wouldn’t dress up fancy. so you grabbed a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt as you headed towards your bathroom to get changed. but before you managed to take a step alessia grabbed your arm and hugged you tightly.

“you know i don’t mind you changing clothes in front of me.” she said softly as she hugged you tighter.

“i know, it’s just uh me. i don’t know, it’s stupid. of course i should be able to change in front of my girlfriend of almost two years.” you said while you let go of alessia to look into her eyes.

“baby, it’s not stupid the way you feel. i just want you to know that i love you and i love every single thing about you. i love your eyes, your smile, how you look and oh my god, have you seen your body?” she said softly and you can’t help but smile a little. “if you don’t feel comfortable to change in front of me, i won’t stop you. but i want you to feel comfortable with me, no matter what. i don’t care what other people say or think and you shouldn’t either. because you are more perfect than anyone else. okay?” alessia continued.

all you could do was just stare at your girlfriends. you realised where she was coming from with all of this, but to be honest, it made you feel better. she was right, the only opinion you really cared about was hers, and you knew how much she loved you.

“i know, i just feel so self conscious and insecure sometimes. i wish i didn’t but i can’t help but being affected by it.” you answered.

“you know love, those things you are self conscious about, are some of the things i love the most you.” she said as she once again gave you one of her famous “lessi bear hugs”.

“yeah i know less, thank you so much.” you said hugging her back. after some time you finally let go of each other and you felt truly safe and loved by the striker. you took a deep breath and actually felt comfortable enough to change in front of your girlfriend.

all alessia could do was looking at you with the proudest smile ever. she was happy that her little side mission had worked out the way she wanted to, that you felt better about yourself and also felt more comfortable around her.

what took her by surprise though was that you for the first time in a long, long time didn’t cover up your freckles with makeup. all you did was curling your eyelashes and put on some mascara. alessia once again looked at you with the biggest and proudest smile as well as heart eyes. oh, that girl was head over heels for you.

“you’re so beautiful, my girl.” alessia said with a grin.

when you 20 minutes later arrived at leah’s house and went to knock on the door, it was instantly opened by a not super happy looking leah.

“how dare you not put as number 1 and not even number 2, but 3 on your list, miss?” she said while giving you a stern look, but you could hear the teasing in her voice.

“told you…” alessia whispered in your ear lowly, with a laugh. “i’ll leave the two of you to figure this out.” she continued and walked into great the rest of the team.

“well hello to you too leah…” you laughed. “i guess i just don’t love you as much as less.”

“okay that’s fair BUT YOU PUT FRIDA OVER ME??” leah shouted.

“well, if it makes you feel any better, i almost put frida above lessi. but then i wouldn’t have had a place to sleep in.” you laughed.

after some back and forth you finally settled on a fair ranking where, spoilers, leah ended up as your number 1. then leah finally let you into her house and let you in with a happy smile over a face so you could greet the other arsenal players there.

the night was amazing, just what you needed. you felt safe around alessia and her teammates and you didn’t feel like you were in the way and disturbing them. they made you laugh all the time, and now the crinkles by your eyes didn’t bother you anymore.

even if alessia’s mission was accomplished, she didn’t stop reminding you how much she loved you. everything about you. that the little things you were subconscious about, made you to the amazing person that you were and the person alessia loved so much.

[vetteltea]

To Be Free | CL16

Summary: You had always dreamed that your creativity would take you further than you could ever imagine. You never in your wildest dreams imagine it would take you to Monaco [5.8K, A]

Warnings: Implied Smut, Charles Leclerc being a Red Flag

Note: Hi. I’m not dead, far from it. Thank you all for being so patient as I post my first piece in over a year. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to @a-distantdreamer for always being my cheerleader, to @vinvantae for getting my out of the mid-writing funk and @percervall for giving me the balls to post. I love you all.

In order for art to tell a story, it has to be free.

At least, that is what your creative design professor told you the week before your final project was due. It was hard to be creative in a mundane town full of the same people, conversations and routines. Every day you would wake up while your mother told a story about how ‘Jenny at the gym seems to have filled out again!’ Your father would grunt, tell you he would be home late from work, and slip out the door, half-drunk coffee on the table.

Maybe simply being creative was difficult because you were crammed into a squadron of children—three brothers, two sisters. You were never referred to as an individual; it was always ‘She’s one of their kids.’ Your friends at school only became that because of their established relationship with your family. Nothing irritated you more than when a teacher would call you by a sibling's name. You were your own person, or at least, trying to be. It didn’t matter what colour you dyed your hair or how loud the clothes were you wore; your identity was tied to them.

Art was an escape; everybody had insisted you would be the same as everybody else in that town. In the fullness of time, you would fit into a job where you were paid to sit at a desk and answer the same two questions: No, I don’t want a coffee. Yes, I sent that report over. Your story would end traditionally, with a wedding and children.

The thought of being just another figure in suburbia terrified you. It may have been the dream for so many, but it was not yours. Each piece of art you created seemed to come back to the beginning. A frown from your teacher. She had told you once to drive outside of the town, go to the lake behind the Old Manor House, and see how it makes you feel.

Being five miles away from your hometown had created the piece of art that had skyrocketed your grades. You could only wonder what being five thousand miles away from home would feel like. It was the push you needed, the metaphorical map to make you leave.

Overnight, you packed away your life in a suitcase, kissed your mother’s cheek farewell, and set out to be free.

It turns out that being free was a lot more expensive when you didn’t have a degree behind you like the rest of your family.

Something had led to Toulouse, the classified city of art and history. With the money you had saved, you had been able to manage a week in Paris. (It was terribly overrated in your opinion, and the only highlight had been the overpriced pair of ears and waffles at Disneyland, but you couldn’t live like an artist when you couldn’t sell art.)

You have to succumb, moving away from the capital and towards the south, wondering why you didn’t come here in the first place. There was something romantic, peaceful. Neighbours said hello, and something seemed to be happening on every corner, not just middle-aged women doing pilates or another school bake sale. (Bake sales were fine, just not when the one English-speaking cafe you now had a job in seemed to have one every three days.)

There were perks to working there: Tuesday and Sunday off, where you could sit by the Garonne with a set of pastel-half sticks that had been crammed into your suitcase. It was a view you could draw over and over, the deep blue twinkling in the afternoon sun. The contrast of the great greenery on each bank of the river made for a beautiful sight—maybe, in your opinion, a beautiful piece, too. Once or twice the locals had raised their eyebrows at the girl in a fluorescent jacket and mismatched trainers, arched over a sketchbook, but even they had stopped, paused to take in her artworks, and nodded approvingly. One woman had even placed a twenty-euro note at your left-hand side in exchange for one of the copious drawings in your book.

You didn’t understand all of their words, still picking up snatches of French each day (and Duolingo had been a welcome companion on your phone), but their smiles and points between the paper and the view were enough to confirm you of their satisfaction.

On the fourth Tuesday of your arrival, your position had adjusted slightly, setting up shop on the bridge rather than the greenery. You almost drop your pencil into the river when somebody stops behind you, humming in admiration. This piece was different; inspired by Lindsay Fox; softer colours, harsher lines in an almost marble effect.

The man says something in French, but you have to shake your head; it’s way beyond a 34-Day Streak for Duolingo. He smiles, understandingly, changing to speak in English.

“That’s a beautiful piece.” He pauses. “Is it your own style?” His accent is clearly from this area but seems almost more reformed and classier.

“It’s inspired by another artist.” You explain, never bothering to go into further detail; nobody ever understands beyond that. “But it’s my own take. I never get bored of this view.”

“Can I see more?” He asks.

You still find it strange; hearing people around the area speak English isn’t uncommon, but their few words are usually to tell you they like what you’re working on or to order a coffee. There’s a hint of worry in your body language when you pass over the sketchbook, but he’s careful, fingers gently turning the pages, pausing every few moments to take in one piece, gently following his fingers across the sketch lines.

“It’s incredible.” He insists, handing the book back. “Tell me, do you take commissions?”

You have to pause. Commissions had come so few and far between; since being here, you had managed to expand your portfolio. Sometimes, locals would ask you to do a sketch of them or their loved ones, returning later in the day to pick up the piece and marvel at the design. You can’t offer a straightforward answer, so you have to just nod.

For the first time, you look at him properly, too. Dark hair, tousled, and clearly in need of a cut. His eyes are the same colour as the river you draw almost every day, with mismatched dimples on each cheek. He’s beautiful.

“Perfect.” He nods, feeling in the pocket of his loose jeans for a pen. You raise your eyebrows, watching as he holds out his hand, nodding for you to give yours over. Hesitantly, you do, eyes fixed as he scribbles a number down on the back of your palm.

“Do you know how to get to Monaco from here?” He asks casually. You have to pause.

“Is Monaco nearby?” You ask, dumbfounded. It’s worth it, you decide. For the smile on his face that appears.

“A few hours away.” He clarifies. “Can you... do that? I can just show you a photo and come back myself, but... the place. It’s special to me. I’d like to see how you would interpret it in your style.”

A frown appears on his face when you don’t answer immediately.

“I can pay you an advance now.” The man insists. “Eighty? Ninety?”

You have to pause then. Eighty or ninety euros may seem minimal in some precautions, but that could buy your groceries for a week; it was practically a day’s work at the coffee shop for a piece of art.

“That would be perfect.” You smile. “I’m off next Sunday. Would that work for you?” You ask. He’s smiling now, nodding in confirmation.

“It would work for me.” He clarifies. “Text me over your bank details." He nods, watching as I reach for my phone, typing in his phone number. “I’ll send you the advance and we can arrange a meeting time.” He finishes, looking down to his watch; his footsteps draw away from you, giving a final nod, but then holds out his hand.

“Charles.” The man introduces himself with his name. You don’t hesitate in taking his hand, shaking it back, and giving your own name to him. “Nice jacket, by the way.” He adds.

You raise your eyebrows, looking at the deep brown leather jacket around your shoulders. It oddly complimented your black and white plaid dress and deep green boots, or so you thought. A grin appears on your face when you pull off the garment, taking in the prancing horse on the back.

“It's a Ferrari.” You explain. “Pretty unique, but people don’t seem to realise it. Found it in a second-hand store.”

“Honestly.” Charles grins. “Some people wouldn’t recognise a Ferrari if it came and shouted in their face.”

Sometimes you need to clarify details before agreeing to something with a complete stranger.

To begin, he hadn’t told you that he meant Monte Carlo; you were being asked to commission in the most expensive city in one of the most expensive countries in the world. You had taken a train out of Toulouse on Saturday evening after your shift, bustling through the crowded town of people on their way out to enjoy the weekend. Suitcase in hand, you had curled up in the corner of a carriage, watching as the ocean and scenery passed you by, practically falling into bed when you arrived at the last-minute hostal bed you had booked, bypassing the sounds of the noisy couple above you.

Secondly, ninety turned out to be an incredibly misleading number.

You had let out the oddest mix between a scream and a gasp when you checked your bank later on that evening, seeing that ninety-thousand euros had been sent over under C.LECLERC. It not only gave you a heart attack, knowing that money could keep you afloat for a lot longer than it would take saving from working in the cafe, but it also gave you a name.

Typing the name into your Google search later that evening had been like discovering a state secret. Charles Leclerc, Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari. His face was plastered over your home screen, adorned in red fireproofs, atop a podium, in a car with aerodynamics you couldn’t even begin to understand.

Your stomach had twisted. A truly evil part of yourself had the idea of disappearing and never returning, ninety thousand euros richer. That money could lead to your freedom. But in your heart, you knew what you were. An artist, trying to path their way, and how would it look if you had disappeared after taking money from such a well-known being?

The train from Nice to Monte-Carlo is only forty minutes; before you know it, you’re stepping onto the train platform, mismatched converses in red and black complimenting the cherry red clip pinning back your hair. You had shoved the scrap of paper you had scribbled the meeting point on in your dungaree pocket, pulling it out and shuffling to the side of the platform. It’s only a short walk, but it’s made longer by the constant pauses, taking in the sight of the city. Extravagant, classy, old buildings piling up either side of the winding roads, peeks of an overcrowded harbour, boats that were worth more than you would ever make in your life on view. It was like walking around a movie scene; there was no other way to describe it.

The main character of the city is sitting at the bridge on the address, hands in his pockets, lips turning into a grin when he sees your figure, identical from the day back in Toulouse. Immediately, Charles has left his spot, smiling at your presence.

“You made it." He grins, starting to speak before your tone interrupts him.

“And you didn’t tell me who you were!” You exclaim, your moral compass falling over you. “Charles, I can’t accept that much.”

“I’m sorry?” He pauses. “I thought we discussed; that was just a pre-”

“It’s a pre-nothing!” You shake your head. “I’m not a proper artist—I can’t charge that much!”

“Really?” Charles pauses, nonchalantly. “You seem like a...proper artist to me. Your work is incredible.”

He doesn't give you time to argue further, offering his arm out and motioning to follow him. You can’t help but raise an eyebrow, falling into step alongside him. It suddenly makes sense; why is he keeping his head lower than when you originally met, keeping the sunglasses across his eyes? You want to try and make conversation; you want to feel less awkward than walking alongside a literal billionaire.

You don’t need to; he makes the conversation for you.

“Why Toulouse?” He asks, slowing down his pace, wanting to hear your answer. “Not many artists stay around the South of France for too long.”

“Paris was overrated.” You shrug, giving a completely honest answer. It doesn't hit you until you’ve said it that you had practically insulted the country where you were currently residing and your hand comes over your mouth in realization. “Oh my god, you’re not from Paris, are you?”

Charles is laughing. Something about your expressions made him grin. “You searched me up, but didn’t think to check where I was from?”

“I didn’t get to it.” You quip back. “I was kind of distracted by the fact you’re a multi-race winner in the biggest Motorsport in the world.”

“And you still didn’t recognise me on the bridge.” He pauses. “I’m from Monaco. I’m not French. Just…a lot of drivers live here.”

“A Tax-Haven, right?” Your personality comes through at long last, any sense of awkwardness washing away. “You set up camp here, but you’re not here most of the year, so... more money.” You can tell from the way Charles stays silent you’re banging on, correct in your guess.

“Monaco is my home, too. I am actually from here.”

Our pace slows as we reach a hill. The road is more prominent there, curving in a hairpin. Everything in its surroundings seems to complement it: the high buildings, the shrubbery, the bright red and white stripes outlining the road. Charles has frozen in his spot, and you can tell that this is the spot he was talking about. His commission. You can practically see the memories from track in his vision, almost as if he’s taking in every turn he’s ever made, every time he’s walked along this road since a toddler holding onto his mother's skirts.

“This is it.” You narrate for him. “This is your spot.”

He turns to you, eyes lifted, bright. “What do you think?” He asks, your own eyes still focused on the place.

“It’s beautiful.” You say it with sincerity. It is the way the entirety of Monaco, of its racing pedigree, seems to be captured in one shot. It almost feels too surreal; it almost feels as if you wouldn’t be able to do justice to this place with a mere canvas. “What kind of style?”

“That’s completely up to you.” Charles pauses. “Your creative style. How do you see this place? Because I think you see it the same way that I do, yes?”

“Yes.”

A lot can change in two weeks.

Your bedsit in Toulouse had been the biggest change; in the centre of the room was a large canvas, a curved road in the middle of the page clearly outlined. The sofa is littered with various paints, chalk, and pencils—a collage of rich reds, deep greens, and charcoal black.

The cafe hadn’t been forgotten; you had taken a sabbatical, insisting you needed two weeks—just two weeks—then you would be back to making overpowered coffee and refolding a newspaper four times in twenty minutes to place back on the front table.

Charles stays in contact; it’s a little difficult, within the midst of time zone differences and media releases. Sometimes it’s a text, and other times it's a video sent of where he is, insisting it would be good inspiration for your next portfolio piece. You don’t know how many times you have to explain it’s different; you need to feel it. Understand it further than a picture on the screen of your run-down phone. Sometimes it’s difficult to deny the flutter in your stomach when you receive one of these messages.

You get a FaceTime call on the Saturday night of his current race weekend in Barcelona. The weather is cloudy and there’s already been engine issues on his teammates home turf; Charles was frowning when he originally joined the call. Clearly a weak qualifying was looming in his head.

“Hey.” You’re starting the conversation, a paintbrush tucked behind your ear, a colourful shirt misbuttoned. “Is everything alright?”

“I just wanted to see how it was going.” Charles explains. “I mean, the painting—and well, you obviously. Did you find a chocolate pastry in the end this morning? I know you were craving one.”

A smile falls to your lips; in the midst of a race weekend with no luck, no speed, and no chance of getting into Q3, he has still found time to check in, lying back in the stupidly expensive sheets of his hotel bed, stubble and hair both overgrown, the buttons of his Ferrari Polo discarded, golden chest peeking outwards.

“It’s…going.” You shrug, “I want to do it justice—to find the colours and style that just...” One hand moves in a dramatic gesture. Charles nods understandingly as you continue your rant. “I’ve gone back there three times since the original visit, you know?”

A smirk appears on the driver’s face. “And you didn’t bother to let me know?”

“You were in Canada. You’re also my client; I want to make sure it’s what I promised.” You insist, walking back over to the array of shade pallets on your couch, fingers reaching down to select your third red chalk of the afternoon. Charles is content to watch your eyes focus, the nudge of the camera indicating you were rotating through your next tool.

“Hey.” His tone causes you to turn your attention back to the camera. “Do you want to see something cool?”

“I always want to see something cool.” You grin, watching as Charles sits himself up from his bed, the sound of his bare feet padding against the tiles of his Mediterranean hotel room. There’s telltale signs of his presence in the background: the phone charger by the mirror, the watch he had worn the first time you met him in Toulouse, a bundle of friendship bracelets, lovingly made by the Tifosi.

None of it, however, compares to when he lifts his phone, skin glowing in the soft sun, and flips the camera around to portray his balcony view.

The sight of Barcelona in the deep sun from Charles’ phone makes your heart stop. The sky a deep blue you crayoned as a child, roads twisting into an abstract stroke of tar and coloured dots of various sporting cars. There’s bright greens, specks of colour from the greenery. In the distance, you can still hear the ocean and the lapping of the waves.

You’ve always been clear that before you commit to creating art, you want to see the place and feel the place first. There’s almost certainty in your mind that the rule can be relaxed for the view you’re currently experiencing.

“It’s beautiful.” You finally whisper, after a full five minutes of transfixing through the phone screen.

“I’ll take you here one day.” Charles insists. “Paints and all.”

He doesn't miss the way your eyes flicker to the side, the pink that decorates your cheeks and matches the ribbon tying back your fringe whilst you work.

Monte-Carlo on the Saturday evening before the Monaco Grand Prix is an experience like no other.

Charles had pleaded to send a car to collect you from France, despite the fact the journey would have been faster by train—a whole two hours faster. In the end, the compromise is a ticket that would keep you safe and well-looked after in the First Class carriage. While you reclined in the leather seat, a high-end soda on your table, a canvas wrapped in brown paper, secured with nimble string, was nestled at your side.

You were certain you had spent an entire hour just…staring when it was completed. In your hearts, it was certainly your most intricate and perfect piece. A part of you could have spent the rest of eternity just staring at the landscape, the rest of your bedsit out of focus while you were transported back to that road in Monaco. It helps the mental stimulation that had overpowered you for the weeks; how you had spent an evening comparing your books on Sylvia Hikins’ minute but powerful detail and the reflection work of Dmity Oleyn.

It’s not a huge walk to Charles’ apartment from the train station; what makes it longer is the amount of racing fans, clad in bright red, papaya orange, or deep blue. A cacophony of colours lines the streets of Monte-Carlo, attention diverted to the paddock nestled alongside the arbor. Your heart rate increases as the crowds become thicker, desperately trying to keep your packaged painting away from nudges and knocks.

It’s only when you reach the edge of the city that the crowds loosen a little and there’s a chance for you to slide out your phone, thumb-tapping in the address on Google Maps, a reminder of your first encounter with Charles almost three weeks ago.

There was in fact no need for this in the end. You’re not sure which event takes place first: your map location updating to announce you were less than a one-minute walk from your destination or the shout from above you. Instinctively, your head turns upwards, feeling the long braid of hair fall down your back and locating the source of the noise as a smile beams from your mouth.

There’s two figures on the balcony, both leaning over the glass barriers. One is shorter, a mass of dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses, waving wildly to gain your attention. The other is blessed with brown hair and instantly turns from the balcony when he sees your figure.

A minute later, the door to the complex in front of you is opening, your client grinning as he steps out from the foyer, feet covered in just socks as he hops down the path to you. Maybe it’s the soft sunset, or the way his oversized tee shirt makes the muscles peeking from his arms look even more defined. You’re certain Charles Leclerc could look beautiful by any means necessary.

He doesn't give you time to process these thoughts any further as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, clearly in high spirits from his home race weekend.

“Is that for me?” He grins, eyes widening at the parcel as you shake your head.

“No.” You hum. “I just tend to carry around a giant square wherever I go.” You grin, looking down to your own outfit, then to his own. “Are you sure I’m in the right city? I feel very overdressed compared to the people in sports shirts.”

“You look perfect.” He insists, his arm falling from your shoulder to your bicep. “Come on. Come up and meet everybody.”

“I’m sorry?” You falter. “You want me to come and meet-“

“Please?” His hand falls lower, fingers tracing around your wrist as he slowly connects your palms together. “I want to introduce them to you. Put a name to a face.”

The insistence is good, and you refuse to move your hand away when he entwines your fingers together, praying that you aren’t going to drop the painting or your jaw from the unexpected intimacy.

The smile only grows on this face when you nod, letting him slip your threaded backpack from your shoulder, guiding you into the foyer.

The painting reveal goes…incredibly well.

Four hours ago, you had been led up to his apartment, introduced as ‘The next Van Gogh.’ He gives you a few moments to introduce yourself, noting to you that this wasn’t the entity of his group; you would meet some more faces tomorrow, should they be celebrating. When somebody had opened their mouth to argue that if you were really that good, you should have been nicknamed after Leonardo DaVinchi. Charles only grins when he gives his response.

“But DaVinchi was never a landscape painter like my girl, was he?”

You’re lucky enough to get to watch the reaction of several Monegasques seeing one of the most iconic portraits of their country come to life. There’s applause, cheers, and for the first time in your life, you feel like an artist. Not just somebody who places pencil and pastel to paper, hoping for the best. Your eyes can’t even focus on the work; the colours and strokes entwine into one. No, they fall to Charles; blinking back the tears, he's... overcome. You saw his vision. You got his understanding. You understood him.

He doesn't hold back from walking over to you, arms wrapping and squeezing you oh-so-tightly, applauding and thanking you over and over for your work.

In the remaining three hours and thirty-eight minutes since the reveal, there had been celebrations, soft drinks, and music. Your attention has been completely stolen by a golden dachshund—Leo, somebody tells you—who licks your ankle and insists on being lifted. Do you spend the rest of the gathering with the puppy in your arms? Quite possibly.

When the group dies down, Leo is placed in his sofa spot, chewing on one of his toys, occupied whilst you take the opportunity to look over the lights of the city—lights of buildings twinkling along the shoreline, a clear sky enveloped in black, how the deep blue of the ocean in the harbour is illuminated by the streetlamps.

You’re so engrossed that you jolt when you feel a hand on your back, before a string of apologies and a soft laugh fall from Charles’ lips. A comfortable silence settles for a moment before he speaks again, looking back over the skyline.

“I used to look out over the harbour when I was young.” He explains. “After I had a bad race or lost on something... I knew my home would always welcome me back.”

“It is quite beautiful.” You hum, shuffling from the open-aired area and back into the lounge. Your art piece now hangs in pride on the wall, next to a silver trophy. His first win, one of his friends had told you when they had caught you staring.

Both of you stare at the trophy and then the art piece, and the smile crawls back onto Charles’ face. Before he can fall into an endless spiral of gratitude again, you have to speak.

“Did you always want to be a racing driver?” You ask. Charles nods.

“It’s a part of me, no? Like I believe that being an artist is a part of you.” His expression softens as his vision finally meets the side of your cheek. “I want to know the other parts of you, too.”

It’s enough to make you turn your head from the view, and for the first time all evening, you see Charles. The same one you had seen at the hairpin turn all those weeks ago. Slowly, his hand comes back out, gently circling your wrist. You swear the entirety of Europe could feel your heartbeat, most certainly the man in front of you.

“I want to know about these paintings you love.” He murmurs. “About the necklace you always wear and why your eyes sparkle when you see open water.” His forehead skims across your own, noses bumping, lips dangerously close as his hand moves from your wrist, dancing up your arm, holding your chin.

“Will you come to the race tomorrow?” He asks softly.

Words seem almost incomprehensible until you softly breathe out. “Yes.”

That’s all it takes; the butterflies in your stomach swarm as he surges forward, finally pressing his lips to yours. The world seems almost right; everything finally makes sense; you don’t need to be free to create art; you just need to be found. Found by a man who understood art on the banks of France. Who understood the tri-colour shirts you wore on a phone call? Who understood you?

You had never felt more found then when your lips pressed back into his and he softly guided you back into his bedroom.

Being found washed over you for the next fifteen hours.

You had rolled out of the Navy Blue bed sheets that morning after a deep slumber, wrapped up against Charles’ bare body. Any detailing of his room had been completely bypassed when you had sauntered through his apartment, the top he had been wearing the previous night covering your frame.

Part of you is disappointed to see his golden torso now covered by a scarlet shirt as he bends down to give Leo his water bowl, humming in contentment as his puppy excitedly laps at the water. The happiness only grows further when he reaches back up, arms opening to envelope you into his chest, a hand threading into the back of your head as he tucks you into his neck.

“I didn’t expect you to be up so soon.” He murmurs. “Did I wake you?”

“Leo did.” You grin. “But I could never be mad at that face.” You insist, feeling Charles’ chest vibrate with laughter. Eventually, the hands on your hips have to pull away, a soft kiss being pressed to your hairline.

“Joris is going to be here in a couple of hours to bring you and Leo to the track.” He hums. “I left your Paddock Pass next on top of the mantelpiece. Otherwise the raptor would have chewed it.” He grins, his smile dropping when he sees you look out of the window, towards the track layout. “I’ll… You’re still coming?” He asks curiously.

“I am.” You smile. “I said I would.”

True to your word, you do so. True to his word, Joris appears at Charles’ apartment door one hour and a bit later. He greets you pleasantly enough, asking how you found Monaco and congratulating you again on your art piece. When he goes to collect Leo into his arms, the puppy backs away, sniffing at your legs as he practically demands to nestle back into your arms. You can’t help but laugh, letting him nuzzle into your chest.

Joris says nothing, but when he leads you to his car and you’re reunited with the group of friends who would be attending the race in the Paddock, he makes sure that he takes Leo so that you can enjoy the conversation with the remaining people in the group.

The conversation flows freely and happily, only interrupted when the puppy begins to bark, pulling on his lead towards a figure in front of the group. A beautiful, slender figure dressed in soft pink, dark hair glossy and neat, a smile worth a million stars as she steps in time with Charles.

Joris laughs as he lets go of the lead, and Leo goes bouncing over to the figure, clearly recognising her. When she stands back up, the puppy in her grasp, and steps closer to Charles, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, your stomach immediately drops.

Charles’ own eyes flicker to you for a split second. He’ll never erase the look that was washed over your face when the girl nudges him softly, telling the group that her Charles must have slept well the previous night, which he never usually does before a race day.

Part of you—a strong, passionate part of you as deep and as powerful as the paints in your works—wants to scream out and tell this woman that her Charles had been wrapped up in your hot touch less than twenty-something hours ago. That he had whispered in your ear as his hips rolled against yours, that he had told you soft stories of a promised future together as you had found rest in his arms.

In such a short amount of time, you had allowed yourself to be chained, to be latched into a rope of feeling from the beautiful man who had approached you in a city that was almost perfect. If it had been perfect, the man would have walked to you, squeezed your hand, and gently kissed you again. Instead, his hand finds the woman’s hip, walking with the rest of the group whilst you falter behind, barely giving a second glance, slipping away from the gaggle of conversation, unseen.

As Charles climbs into his car that afternoon, you slide the keys to your bedsit into a small envelope, leaving a wad of cash and an apology note for leaving your contract so early.

In order for art to tell its story, it has to be free.

Charles returns to Toulouse on Monday morning, low on the P8 result he had received the afternoon before and the way his girlfriend had kissed his cheek and told him not to worry, that his luck would change. All whilst she whispered praises into his lips, caught in a kiss at the back of some overpriced club, his mind is overpowered by the thoughts of you, as bright as the landscapes in your sketchbook.

He has to explain. He longs to pull you into his arms and tell you he meant what he said. When he arrives, he looks everywhere. In every art shop, every park, every museum. He remembers you mentioning a part-time job in a cafe. On his ninth attempt, he freezes when he steps through the entrance, the chime of a bell hitting the front foot in mid-ring when he sees a landscape displayed proudly on the wall.

He doesn't need to ask. Feet come over to the counter as he looks over. Two girls. Neither of them are you. One of them turns around and smiles nicely enough, asking what the man would like to order.

“The woman who painted that.” He nods to the picture of the Garrone. “Where did she go?” It’s clear the girl behind the counter knows something and bites down on her lip to stay silent. It only takes one more pleading look from Charles before the words spill from her lips.

“She’s gone. Left the city on Sunday.” She pauses. “She’s gone to be free. I don’t think she’ll be back."

Charles feels his heart crack as harshly as the damages in Manet sculpture on your phone screen wallpaper. Your story insisted on you being free. After all, you had been the art. The piece where no matter what he saw for the rest of his existence, he would never be able to forget.