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planetsstarsandmoons · 3 days ago

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Synastry observations (partly) based on personal experience, part 6:

(18+!!)

(Back after a year! Lol🌜🌛)

Moon conjunct mars: can be one sided asfuhck. I’ve seen it play out. Fully accepting that deeply personal intimacy of having someone’s sex aspecting your deepest emotions and/or the other way around is a sort of intimacy that some people just.. don’t…. want with that other person. This comes as a shocker because to most people, having a synastry aspect automatically means you have to like that with the other person, but Some people are just not into the other person like that! Or have trouble with intimacy. And even though the very primal emotional bridge between (possible) intensity of emotions and (possible) intensity of sexuality really ‘clicks’ and hits like no other, it doesn’t mean that the emotions or sexuality of both of the people will be intense within themselves… or that they will be seen in the same way. Many times I’ve seen this aspect play out in two people who worked really well together, were natural kissers and such, had almost iconically amazing fullfilling sex together, but one person wanted to marry and move into the other person and the other person simply did not want that, got the ick maybe, or simply closed themselves off from that meaning to the connection that one party attached to it but they themselves could not get in touch with, and either abused that power dynamic as much as they could or they ran away. Meanwhile thatother person, and I’ve seen both the moon and the mars person in that situation, is left completely addicted and insecure and an unstable mess because of this, because this aspects didn’t cause them so much to be in love, it caused them to have an addiction to this perfectly fullfilling passion and intimacy that they fundamentally lack in their life. They wanted to marry this person because of that. A friend (the mars person) of mine once puked when they saw their recent mars-conjunct-moon-synastey ex (it was a 1,5 month relationship) walk into a room. He later discovered that for some reason, that extremely intense feeling heartbreak didn’t really have anything to do with her, but more about the affection he lacked from an absent parent in his childhood, and the (obvious to everyone else) fact that he was bordering on a complete burn-out. He desperately needed that dopamine and those endorphins. Meanwhile the moon person was nowhere near in the headspace to have that kind of emotional intimacy so fast in her 1st relationship, so she started finding him less and less attractive, and then it was over. I once had an international student (moon) I think fall in love with me (and later stalk me) after 2 dates. He was a lonely international student in this Nordic country and his mother was sick in Egypt. We could not hold an interesting conversation on our own if we tried, but we were -very good kissers-and the almost-sex was extremely good. I didn’t want to cross that line, because for lack of better words I felt like it would go on to mean too much, be too emotional and too intimate and the thought crossing that border with him gave me the ick/ a fight or flight response, like I would just let this man be wayy too intimate with me if it happened, so I cut it off 🤷‍♀️ All the hormones of interpreting yourself to be totally ‘in love’ are there in the synastry, but it’s not *really* that, and most people in the sorry position even secretely know that, even though it’s confusing because they forever remain adamant that there here was something bomb in their connection.. because there was. But imagine: the moon feels emotionally hit in their core by mars’s… sexuality/attractiveness. Mars sees the deepest inner emotions of the moon and feels… turned on. You see where I’m going with this? The intensity and intimacy is great, but for a real love connection you need synastry on things that lead to mental, spiritual and emotional connectivity too. Can you even have a good conversation with this person for longer than 25 minutes? Do you even.. care about them? and vice versa? Would you love them if they were a worm? I have even more stories but they’re for another time 💆‍♀️

Moon trine mars: so. This one is kind of different. What do I mean? Well I believe that in synastry aspects, planetary influence comes to exist in the context of the aspect. Mars conjunct a planet will get all of mars. Mars square a planet will get the worst/most challenging side of mars (brought out by both). Mars opposite will get the antihero kind of mars -the conjunct mars on a possible (and needed) character delevopment journey if you will- and mars trine and sextile will get the harmonious benific, kind of ‘angelic’ sides of mars. He becomes the Aiden from Sex And The City, the soft woodchipper. This mars is in relation to the moon person a 10th house oriented, responsibility taking man who makes you laugh in the form of making you smile. The moon person becomes enamored with the mars person’s standing for something, his way of solving problems, overcoming obstacles, his professionality and his energetic form of taking action. The mars here becomes the kind of mars that is serious about protecting and heartily keeping what he feels is hitting his mars, instead of fighting with it or having sex with it necessarily. The moon’s emotional being becomes like his healthy objective, that he will protect and will fight/work himself up for in a way that he can control. A trine is harmonious which is kind of how you’ll see the mars person get into that civilised and gentlemanly role (to the emotions of the!!👌) moon partner. Where mars squaring the moon is like a mean alcoholic to the moon, the mars trining the moon will be a driven, shaved man in a suit or a spencer, kissing his wife goodbye before going to work. The moon in this aspect is different too: like water, the moons energy decides to flow depending on the factors and tides of the environment: If the moon has no reason to feel stabbed all the time, the moon won’t act overly sensitive or insecure or reactive to every little thing. Being shown the harmonious and safe/secure part of such a powerful planet like mars, the moon person will let their guard down big time. Typically, in this aspect, the moon person opens up, becomes very emotionally comfortable and shows their real and raw private selves to the mars person in a way that even surprises the mars person. There will be lots of oohs and aahs from the mars person who is *absolutely thrilled* to discover that the moon person is actually way softer than they come across in their personality, or more insecure than they wear on their sleeve, or are actually way weirder than anyone would expect. This is like an emotional theme in the relationship for mars. Granted to mars, it actually is a kind of odd way of special, because Real selves are often only shown to others in despair, crisis, moments of survival, very few deep talks, or during sex, but here the moon person is comfortable being their quirky and complete and utter selves with the mars person just during ‘daylight’ so to speak, as if they were alone in their room doing a talk show monologue in the mirror. It’s because mars made themselves this safe haven but is also a good reason to get excited and happy. So this aspect isn’t so much about physical/primary (so sexual attraction) passionate intimacy as you see, it becomes a personality thing of more mental and earthy(?) substance imo. In couples this aspect creates a forever-kind of ‘fondness’ of each other. In this relationship it’s the sex that becomes the highest feat of romantic bonding, not commitment to each other or affirming affection like with the conjunct or the square, which needs those components to make or strengthen the connection as a romantic one.

Mars conjunct mercury: best friends aspect! Being able to talk for hours, do any activity together, spend an entire day doing stuff together or going to a daylong event with just the two of you without it ever being awkward. Being able to do groceries together for a pregame with each other before going to do an activity that you’ll also be doing together. Energy, jokes, and things to talk about never run out. Mars’s energy lets mercury’s thoughts and mind race through multiple subjects and important comments at once, and mercury’s thoughts excite slash fire up mars’s energy. Their response becomes fuel for mercury again and so fort. I know two best friends who have this in double whammy almost exact and they are *always* together. Like in the same day, they would hang out, go to do something else/hang out with someone else, then go hang out with each other again, then in the evening one would visit the other at work. I have this aspect with one good friend that I can talk for hours with. Catching up is never awkward and we constantly learn from each other, plus we’re interested in the same things, because his mind/daily thoughts/the things he pays attention to and tells me (his mercury), fires me up and consistently happens to catch my fixation (mars). And what I *do* in my life, the things that were motivation by nature of taking action, triggers his insight! Isn’t that the perfect combination? This aspect makes you very good and close friends, but this alone doesn’t grant an emotional bond. Those two best friends I talked about lacked in moon connections, so they kept surprisingly much of their feelings and what went on in their life/emotional world private from one another, including crushes they had on mutual friends 💀 like how was that possible?

Moon square moon: a link is a link, an attachment is an attachment, so moon square moon is that too. You will ‘see’ each other for who that person emotionally is from the inside. You will acknowledge it, you can even understand it, but trying to emotionally ‘relate’ or connect to the other’s emotional world causes a short-circuit. This sounds like a finished deal, and marriage it often is. This aspect imo means kind of sacrifing a part of crucial understanding of the other partner. But there is another important part: some people do not have moon to moon aspects in their partnerships. Some people can connect with a moon through their sun mercury venus and mars for example, but not be able to deeply feel the other person next to them with their own moon, like what’s possible in a moon to moon aspect. With moon square moon, the two people deeply *see* each other. It’s hard not to because the friction of the square makes them very neon noticable to each other. One moon person might not be able to touch or soothe the other moon person from and with their own emotional angle, because through the square it will inherently cause a (n immediate often) frictive disconnect, but their presence will be enough. They will learn from each other and with enough respect for the other, (seriously) they will be able to teach themselves how to manually get their moons to relate, by in their empathy intuitively touching and patting to learn what the other person feels, and sleutelingen on their own emotional patterns. With the man I had this with. I completely saw and understood how he was. We, to each other’s emotional automatic ways of thinking, understood each other, but could never relate, so in our most intimate conversations we saw each other raw, but were also like.. damn,, you live like this? you do you! 😂

Male Venus conjunct woman’s moon, but the man has venus square moon natal: so this is really too specific, I know, it’s from my personal life, but the observation is such an almost lawful rule that it needs to be said. So the man has a problem with women in a romantic or otherwise emotionally intimate sense. He either sees them as charmless but safe, emotional, and boring ‘kin’, who fullfills his emotional needs but in a way that cannot fullfill his romantic wants, because they fundamentally clash, or he sees them as these charming, pretty, sexy sensual creative people or muses that fullfill his wants and desires, but cannot fullfill his emotional needs because they fundamentally do not mesh/are able to ‘melt’ with each other. So men with this aspect are doomed to have a lonely romantic life where they deeply hurt a lot of women but in the long run also themselves. This is ofc unless the man is capable of self reflection and is willing to do the work and *respect* the challenge that squares require, but since misogyny is a thing that challenge and perceived radically different worldview of the woman practically never gets respected, found interesting/compelling enough for the man to study, or romanticised like the way in which women will handle a natal moon square mars for example. BUT! If a woman’s moon conjuncts that squared venus, they kind of crack the code in a weird sense!? And become sort of “the only woman that can tame this man blabla that he actually respects”. Because the woman becomes like a domineering mother to him. In his moon square/battle/tension her moon, so where his emotional ‘needs’ are challenged by another person’s needs, his moon yields to the woman’s moon because his venus is enamored by the woman’s moon emotional world. You will get two people who are weirdly intimate friends, because both square moons emotionally ‘acknowlegde’ each other’s emotional life and wavelength, in a kind of bizarre to witness way that will have the woman wear the pants and the often so misogynistic and macho guy follow her and her needs around like a (doggo)💀, acting like each other’s bf/gf, but sitting too close to each other?? Kissing? The thought of having s**?? Will make them revolt. From an astrological standpoint, this may be the most significant planetary relationship with a woman that this man will ever have in his life.

A woman’s venus conjunct that sort of man’s moon I have never seen, only conjunct other planets, but I imagine it would be the same but the other way around at the same time. I think she would be only possible romantically intimate partner for the man, the only girlfriend to exist, only girl that he can wholeheartedly register as ‘girlfriend’, who will hold that *romantic* muse place forever, the only one to forever fullfill his emotional needs like a romantic partner does and can, but he doesn’t like her as a person, he couldn’t be friends with her, can’t talk with her, was never even his type, wants to cheat on her, can’t admire her really. This female venus is the sensual and sexual but disrespected girlfriend to the female moon’s sexless but elevated wife. If that man ruled the world and had all the money and the woman who marries him would win the universe, these were both equally bad but extremley solid places you would want to be in, because you’d be one of the only two women that he will ever seriously consider in his life.

Venus square jupiter: I have this with almost every man I get involved with, because their venus is in that way also conjuncting my scorpio sun and mercury. I’ve found with these people that they are confused if they should be charmed by the grand/optimistic/philosophical side of me, or cringe. Either way they are overwhelmed. Venus in crush-mode will be especially interested in jupiters views and opinions and outlook on situations and jupiter is enthusiastic about the romantic muse that they see in venus and become a kind of a philosophical rant-y person near them, in a good way, because they see venus as an equally inspiring and interesting and beautiful (big ideas and emotions) creative peer of their outlook on life. Venus listens and is in awe. Jupiter is like a positive-energy bomber to venus and venus can be confused, overwhelmed, but gets all the butterflies and wants to be swept in. This is an aspect where the other knows or can relate to what the other is feeling the least, because jupiter is making venus live in their own world and venus is in their head thinking out loud. Astrologers say this easily dies out because of it, like an inflated balloon, but I don’t agree. Don’t let your relationship completely ride on this aspect alone and you’ll be fine and it won’t end with a big bang, but stay flickering like smoldering fire like any other venus or jupiter aspect.

Saturn conjunct moon: saturn wants to snatch moon off the market and moon is like “yeesssss”

Mars overlaying 8th house: it’s true what they say… i won’t elaborate 😶‍🌫️ just kidding I will of course. Having been the 8th house person, it’s actually very straightforward: whenever we talked about serious matters like trauma, (lost) finances, our heritage, and our secrets, fears, that’s when I became most attracted to his masculine/sexual side. Those were the moments I would find myself like ‘daym’, just like a 7th house having mars overlay there would have that during moments of romance and partnership.

Moon opposite mars: I talk about this aspect a lot because it just fascinates me. Moon opposite mars in the context of all the other mars aspects is almost funny because in the beginning, when the insane kind of unsettling attraction is noticed between two people, mars doesn’t really want to be in this situation and moon doesn’t like the fact that it exists at all. I feel like it’s a karmic aspect for mars and somewhat for the moon. Moon will feel every single jab from this aspect but because that jab fundamentally hits them in their *feelings* they will just think: “what was that, what even is that? Who is this mars person making me feel single intense emotion at once?” Even typing this synastry aspect out is making me laugh. It’s moon doing what? Opposing. Oh god. And the lucky planet it’s being opposed is… mars 😂🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️! Imagine the moon one day going like: “f*ck you! And you, and you, and you,” then pointing to mars “and ESPECIALLY you!” Mars turning around and saying: “what are you saying f*ck me for?” looks at moon, boom, falls in love. Kind of disrespectful, but it isn’t meant that way? Which can in short make the connection even more uncomfortable for the moon, or completely the opposite. The intrigue in this aspect lies in how fundamentally foreign (because they’re opposites!!) these people are to each other. This aspect is an up and down and up and down one, because to have the closeness that they both desire and even need, they have to do the work and understanding to become closer and win each other’s trust and affirmation. Mars is challenged to channel powerful frictive energy from the fixation that the opposition creates into creating an environment that caters to the moon’s emotional needs. It challenges itself to encompass all of mars’s qualities, both the ying (harmonious) and the yang (not necessarily that) in a hyperaware manner, and that’s one of the reasons he comes to have like ‘multiple personalities’ in this aspect. It doesn’t help that mars always manages to come across the wrong way to the moon person, can hurt the moon unintentionally, but can also in a burst of martian energy try to fight with the moon when aggravated (caused by their opposing natures), can come across too sexual and disrespectful by the moon person when they intensely show their attraction and preferred treatment to the moon. When Mars tries to be nice, it doesn’t come natural for them to do that imagining what the completely opposite person would want. When mars succeeds, a very real and mental bond is created that is extremely raw. In the healthy romantic version of this, the moon isn’t really easy sex for mars like I’ve seen male astrologers describe it. I’ve seen men describe it as ‘deer’, which can create reaally different outlooks depending on your respect and goodwill to the more vurnurable person. Goodwill especially can make or break this aspect. I feel like this can either be one of the most pain-in-your-stomach disrespectful cortisol aspects, or the sweetest and most genuine and wholsesome emotionally intimate aspects.

A little story I wanted to share: an astrologer on 27th november 2023 gifted me a moon badge on tumblr and I only opened it on 21th november 2024, because I thought it the little pop-up present on my home page was a tumblr advert 🥲 I almost cried because it was such a lovely present around my birthday and as it goes I didn’t say thank you or acknowledged it for a year even though it was an awfully sweet gesture and I really appreciate her 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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dissapointu · 19 hours ago

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hiii can i request a fic of the reader having a crush on viktor but theyre too dense to realize that viktor reciprocates the feelings so they try setting him up with someone but viktor only wants them? <3

“Just a bit Dense” (viktor x reader)

You had always been the kind of person who focused on fixing others rather than yourself. Whether it was patching up bruises or tweaking machines, you were always the one in the background, quietly doing what you could. Viktor, however, was the one constant in your life, the one person whose intelligence and determination captivated you. He was kind, brilliant, and compassionate, and he had always taken the time to notice the small things about you.

But you didn’t see it. You were too thick-headed to realize Viktor’s subtle glances, the small touches that lingered just a bit too long, or the way he leaned toward you during conversations. You were too busy convincing yourself that you were just friends—just colleagues. That’s what you told yourself every time your heart fluttered at his smile, or when your face grew warm after a few too many innocent exchanges.

You noticed, of course, the way others seemed to admire Viktor too. His brilliance, his charm—how could anyone not? And that’s why you had a plan, an idea that had been brewing for weeks: if Viktor was going to be swept off his feet by someone, it might as well be someone who would appreciate him like he deserved.

So, you decided to play matchmaker.

One evening, while you two were working late in the lab, you casually mentioned someone you’d been thinking about. “You know, Viktor, I met someone today,” you said, carefully watching his reaction. “They’re really nice, and I think you’d get along great.”

Viktor paused, his pen still in hand, his attention fully on you. “Is that so?” His voice was soft, almost amused. “And who might this person be?”

You described them, knowing full well Viktor wasn’t quite as perceptive about relationships as you were. “They’ve got this brilliant mind, and they share so many of your interests. I think you two would make a perfect pair.”

Viktor set his pen down and looked at you, his eyes sharp with an intensity you didn’t understand. “I see.” There was a moment of silence as he watched you, and you couldn’t help but shift under his gaze. “But… what if I’m not interested in them?”

You froze, blinking. “Oh, come on, Viktor, don’t be shy. You’re a great catch. They’re a great catch. I’m just trying to make sure you’re happy.” You laughed nervously, your heart racing as you shifted in your seat. You weren’t sure what to expect, but Viktor’s reaction didn’t seem to match the excitement you’d imagined.

He leaned back in his chair, his hands folding together, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You’re quite the matchmaker, aren’t you?” He leaned in a little closer. “But the thing is… I’m not interested in anyone else.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Viktor’s smile softened, and for the first time that night, you saw something in his gaze that you had never noticed before—something almost shy, but incredibly sincere. “I’m only interested in you,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the warmth that spread across your cheeks.

You blinked a few times, your mind racing. “Wait, what? Me?” You couldn’t fathom what he meant. “But… I’m just your friend, Viktor…”

He shook his head slowly, leaning forward now with a hint of vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re more than that to me. I’ve been trying to show you for some time, but… you seem to be rather dense about it.”

You were caught off guard. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. All the times he’d touched your arm, the gentle conversations late into the night, the way his eyes lingered on you—it all clicked in your head like a jigsaw puzzle finally coming together.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out, and Viktor chuckled softly, reaching out to gently brush your cheek with his fingertips. “It’s alright, my dear. I know it’s a lot to process. But I’m not looking for anyone else. Just you.”

Your mind raced, but your heart… your heart was already telling you what you wanted, even if your brain was still catching up. You bit your lip, feeling like an idiot for not realizing sooner. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I didn’t… I didn’t realize…”

Viktor smiled, a mixture of amusement and warmth in his eyes. “It’s alright. I’ll give you some time to process it.” He pulled back slightly, but not entirely, his gaze still focused on you with an intensity that made your heart flutter. “Just know that I’m not going anywhere.”

The weight of his words settled in, and you finally allowed yourself to breathe again. Maybe you were a bit dense, but with Viktor, you knew you were safe to be a little slow to realize the obvious. And in that moment, it felt like the world was finally in place.

Viktor had always been the one who patiently pieced things together—his machines, his plans, and now, maybe… your heart.

#victor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor arcane #viktor lol #x reader #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #arcane headcanon #character x reader #arcane

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madschiavelique · 3 days ago

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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 5 - Temperance

summary : viktor and reader work together in the library (so much banter, it's insane), then maybe there's a small fight because a guy called viktor a cripple and that causes some issues

content warnings : mentions of blood but really not that much tbh

word count : 5,4k

author's note : you thought i was gone on this one huh ? WRONG. we're so back babies! i know it's been 2 years since i've touched this baby okay, but i'm back now! hopefully i will get more time to write about this lil guy bc i love this fic.

masterlist : 1 — 2 — 3 — 4 — 5

(not proofread, english is not my first language ✦)

taglist : @doctorho

For the rest of the two long hours, Heimerdinger continued his lesson.

The class had come to an end, you silent, the class teeming with gossip. Professor Heimerdinger had distributed the subjects one by one to the students at the end of the lesson. He was a perfectly reasonable, friendly teacher who tried to make his pupils laugh at the expense of their historical knowledge.

When you had a lesson with him, you knew you were listening to a teacher who was wise enough to turn events and experiences into jokes to lighten the burden of his history lessons.

He was always on the lookout for questions and comments from the students, not hesitating for a moment as he gave the subjects to the groups one by one to point out the difficulties they might find and the pitfalls that might await them.

In short, Heimerdinger wanted his students to succeed, not to see a decline in the Piltover Academy's chances of success, which in the eyes of many seemed to be something to crow about rather than something to be ashamed of.

The very idea of being one of the few students to overcome these difficulties and succeed was, in your eyes, the greatest reward that could ever be given to you.

“Young folks,” he said, pointing to the two of you. “Come this way. I have reserved a subject especially for you.”

Heimerdinger didn't do things haphazardly. He gave students subjects that reflected them, or at least where he knew the results would be most interesting. You couldn't help but fear what he was up to.

When the students had dispersed, the tinkle of Viktor's cane sounded until he arrived at your side. You sighed audibly as you looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest as he gave you a winning smile.

He seemed to enjoy it when you got angry, and took great pleasure in teasing you constantly. Had he been a friend, you wouldn't have held it against him, even though your list of friends consisted mainly of Eris, Sky and Jayce. However, a friend wasn't supposed to be a problem for your success. There's only so much space in the academy for students who come out on top, and you weren't about to give yours away.

“Good,” he said at last as the last student passed through the doorway. “There's no need to point out that you two are the sharpest elements of this class, you're well enough aware of that, as is the rest of the school certainly.”

Your bickering and petty battles almost made the corridors of the school come alive again with the excitement of rumour and gossip partaking in your reputation.

“None of the fellow teachers in this establishment seem to have brought to the table, however, a possibility which seems to me to be the most interesting for both of you: teamwork.”

You arched an eyebrow, finding the reasoning profoundly moronic.

“Sir,” you couldn't help but point out, “this school is eliminatory. Why would you want to associate students who won't necessarily all have the chance to pass the exams?”

Heimerdinger chuckled, “I'm not doing it with the prospect of a pass or a gold medal waiting for you at the finish line, Miss.”

You tilted your chin up in a slight pout of surprise.

“You see, I'm not necessarily trying to prepare you for the exams, but for what will happen once they're over. Having a diploma is all very well on paper, but what counts most in the end will be what you achieve.”

“All right,” you admit, “but why put us in a pair like this?”

“It's quite simple,” he jumped up from his desk, trotting across the floor to stand in front of you, your eyes downcast on him. “In the working environment, you don't always find a shoe to fit. And when you don't have the power to dismiss your colleague just because you don't like them, you have to learn to sacrifice your temperament for the sake of the common good. Now, I'm not asking you to make sacrifices, that word is far too violent, but I am asking you to compromise.”

You exchanged a look with Viktor, your fists clenching until your knuckles were white. You'd already made enough compromises for one lifetime, and now you had to go on? He, for his part, didn't seem too bothered by the situation. How could he be so calm? So serene about the idea of cooperating?

“You don't always work with the person of your choice, and not always on the subjects you'd prefer. Oh, that's just it! Speaking of subjects…”

He stood on tiptoe, grabbing the last sheet of paper from his desk and holding it out to Viktor.

The latter, for once, frowned in pure confusion and even perhaps... irritation?

“The evolution of Zaun's power?”

Your eyes narrowed before shifting from Viktor to Heimerdinger, “Are you joking?”

“I do love to laugh young lady but the shortest jokes are the best. You both seem, for different reasons, to have an excellent knowledge of Zaun. Its political power, its evolution, and even the iconic figures who can make themselves forgotten in the shadows of its depths.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, trying to remain upright and not revolt on the spot. Heimerdinger seemed way too amused and happy of his little scheme.

“Any questions?”

Viktor read the subject and what you had to complete, “Do you have any books to recommend to us Professor?”

Heimerdinger's voice became a blur as your thoughts drifted like the Grey in Zaun. Every corner of this city was out to kill you, and even when you were out of it, it followed you like your shadow.

Were you ever going to get out of such a cycle, out of this city’s grasp ?

“Miss?”

The teacher's voice brought you back down to earth. Distracted, you simply offered a confused hum in question so that he would repeat his last words.

“Your assignment is due in a month. That gives you time to put your differences aside and find a way of working together. If you'll excuse me, my next class is coming up soon.”

He gestured towards the exit, and soon enough you found yourselves in the corridor. The momentary emptiness of the hall almost seemed to bring you back to reality.

You drew in a breath, meeting Viktor's gaze beside you. You couldn't afford to get a bad mark, especially not for a Heimerdinger course. He was one of the most renowned scientists in the country, with his own seat on the Piltover council. To produce mediocre work would be to end your career on the spot, and you were prepared to at least try to cooperate with someone like Viktor.

“Why are you not begging the teacher to put us both in different duos?” you asked while Viktor was still reading the subject content.

“Hm, I think it might be fun.” he said, not even glancing at you.

You scoffed, “You and me?” your trigger finger pointing back and forth between the two of you, “Together? Fun?”

His eyes dropped from the paper, scanning you with a changed interest.

“You'd rather go back in there and ask for a rematch like a loser?”

A muscle near your eye tensed for a moment.

He sighed, his eyes returning to the subject, “Admitting defeat takes strength.”

“So you think I'm weak ?”

But Viktor didn't seem to have the slightest interest in you at the moment.

You relaxed your shoulders, sighing. There was no point in trying to beat him, you weren't - on that subject at least - in competition.

“Can I see the subject?” you asked, reaching for the paper, but he removed it from your reach in an instant.

You frowned, this wasn't going to be easy.

“Do I disgust you?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard, your eyes blinking several times as you almost looked at him with fresh eyes.

If the question was purely physical, no, Viktor didn't disgust you. He was always accompanied at all times and in all places by that same invariable weariness that gave him a particular elegance. He had features common in Zaun, brown hair, amber eyes, and an accent that made some of the girls in your class drop like flies.

When it came to his character and personality though, it was another thing entirely.

“You annoy me,” you replied, managing to snatch the subject of his hand with enough agility that the gesture left him surprised, “but you don't disgust me.”

He remained silent for a moment. You could feel his eyes on you as yours fell on those of the subject.

“The only thing that disgusts me is your taste in pasta,” you confirmed.

He let out a little laugh, the kind that mixes humming and nose blowing, the kind you do when a remark makes you nostalgic.

“Friday, 5pm, library, don't be late.” he said simply, the clink of his cane echoing on the floor as he began to walk away.

As your eyes roamed over the page, you couldn't help but take in nothing of what was written. Your mind was stuck on him, on the trick Heimerdinger had just played on you.

He had just orchestrated a game that the whole school was going to bet on, the teachers were going to look at your situation in a new light, and in the worst case scenario, multiply the group work to put you both in pairs.

Your heart looped as you realised that this was undoubtedly another test. Heimerdinger was going to observe which of you was the best performer, the most pliable, the best at teamwork.

You had to be flawless, you had to.

Friday came earlier than you imagined, and you weren't looking forward to it in the least. You hadn't stopped thinking about it, finding yourself on numerous occasions distracted during your homework.

The card of the day you had drawn was Temperance, and the little booklet told you:

Alchemy. Mixing and harmonising opposing forces and concepts. Maintaining opposing ideas and encouraging complexity in life. Fusion produces evolution.

The archangel Gabriel, the angel messenger, is represented on the card. He wears the sign of the sun on his forehead. This is also the alchemist's symbol for gold. This card reflects the changing of the seasons and the adoption of new ideas. Temper in Latin is the act of repetition to invoke skill or to refine something, to make it sharper like a sword.

What a pain that was, and to think you'd have to endure this for a whole month of deep research and hours spent by his side working, together.

You dragged your feet as you made your way to the academy library.

It was a magnificent place, filled with the smell of varnished wood, old paper and dried ink. The ceiling was arched, the bookshelves forming real walls that separated the room like rows of pews in a church. If it hadn't been reserved for the academy's research students, it would surely have been on Piltover's list of monuments to visit.

There weren't many people there, apart from a small handful of students finishing their homework before basking in the arrival of the weekend. You were a good fifteen minutes early, and didn't see Viktor at all.

You were just about to put your bag and things down by a table and start your research, when a voice you wouldn't have preferred to hear at the time greeted you:

“Ah, there you are,” Viktor approached, coming out of one of the library corridors, “I just needed some help to get to the higher tomes.”

With his free hand, he held up a small stack of tomes, pressing them under his chin before placing them on a table with two or three other books already laid out.

You sighed, moving your things over to his table, “Have you been there for long already?”

“Why, do you care about me?” his cheeky grin made you roll your eyes.

“I think you overestimated my greatness. Which shelf?”

He said nothing, making his way to one of the shelves. You followed him. Fortunately, the women's uniforms at the academy had trousers. You wouldn't have known what to do if it had been otherwise and you'd ended up on a ladder above him.

“You know,” he began as you reached the meagre ladder to the upper shelves, “I've been looking forward to working with you.”

You arched an eyebrow, your hand gripping the ladder as you looked at him in confusion.

“Why?”

The two of you were only picking on each other, you were avoiding him like the plague, and you'd made it clear to him several times that your situation was that of a competition. So obviously you had a right to be surprised as to why he'd want to work with you.

He shrugged. “You were the top student before I came here, surely there must be a reason behind it.”

You expelled an abrupt puff from your lungs, your breath taken away by his insolence. You could only expect it after all.

You climbed a few steps up the ladder, looking for Zaun's historical tomes.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, or am I to believe my working buddy seeks to diminish me to a fictive second rank?”

“We're in a library, alas, reality catches up to this fiction, miss number two.”

You clutched the volume in your hand, your nostrils flaring for a moment in anger. He knew how to annoy you, and you never seemed to find a single point on which you could reciprocate.

You held out the tomes one by one for him to take. “Guess I could work on a pet name for you too.”

“Be my guess.”

Once his arm was full, you took a few tomes in your hands before climbing down the ladder and walking towards the table. “And make you the honour of thinking of something to be done for you ? I'd rather lick sandpaper.”

He feigned disappointment, “So I do disgust you, this pains me.”

You set the pile of volumes down on the table, reaching into your bag to pull out paper and pens.

“Yeah well, You were supposed to pretend I didn't exist, not try to bother me to death. So I guess we're both disappointed.”

He took a seat, grabbing a volume and placing it in front of him. “So I bother you ?”

You sat down opposite him, imitating his gesture as you searched with interest for a tome to start with.

“What a transcending sense of observation you have.”

He brought both his hands up in front of him, resting his chin on the backs of his fingers.

“How do I bother you?”

You were starting to get annoyed by his questions. You had come here to work, not to chat.

“Your simple existence?” you replied, staring into his eyes.

He sighed, opening his book and noting on the page its title.

“As if yours wasn't proof that failure has a sense of humour.”

You said nothing, letting his comment wander in the air as you started your own research in silence, locating the chapter of interest to you in the table of contents.

“But seriously,” Viktor continued, “why do I bother you?”

You sighed, pinching the page you were on before shifting your eyes from the words on it to Viktor's curious amber gaze.

“You want an honest answer ?”

He nodded. You let go of the page, straightening up.

“You come into my life and wreck everything I've built brick by brick, wouldn't you be the slightest bit frustrated if that happened to you ?”

It was his turn to be silent this time. He seemed to look at you differently, as if, by some miracle perhaps, he'd just realised what was at stake for you in this situation.

He wasn't even touching the tip of the iceberg of why you'd come to the Academy, but for a moment he seemed to understand how important it could be for you.

Your eyes returned to your page, trying to find keywords to write down or information to record.

“You surpassed me in the exam, teachers love you, you make great friends…”

“Almost sounds like you're obsessed with me.”

Your lips parted, eyes wide as you looked at him as if he'd just slapped you, leaving your cheek and your thoughts with a warm tingle. You were so surprised that nothing came from your lips, which was beginning to be enough for a flash of mischief to cross Viktor's eyes and for the corner of his lips to form a sneer.

“I'm not.” You finally reply, trying to remain composed and not to stammer for anything in the world.

“Denial would've worked before the long vacant stare,” he says, advancing slightly on the table.

“Why do you have to be like that?”

“Like what?”

You humph, dropping back in your chair in despair.

“Better than me.”

He recoiled slightly, as if the remark was completely far-fetched and unfounded.

“There are thousands of people better than me, why do you have to focus on my poor self, hm? Did I barge in your territory?”

He had, unconsciously he truly had. It was you who was supposed to be first, otherwise the consequences would've been mentally dire.

“Take it this way,” he continued, “there's surely something you're better at than me.”

You couldn't think of much on the spot, especially not when there was a possibility of you making a list of things he topped you in. There was surely one thing though.

“Running.”

He opened his lips in surprise, a smile stretching across his face which he hid with his hand. You were already regretting what you'd just said.

“Jayce is going to be the first one hearing about this.”

“No it's-”

“So you're participating in a system made against disabilities.”

“I never-”

“Are you going to steal my crutch next in hopes of beating me to a race?”

“You're never going to drop this now are you ?”

“With such a statement ? Never.”

“Whatever let's just- let's just work.” you mumble, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and shame as you desperately try to move on.

He gave one last chuckle before getting back to work. He seemed to be reading a tome on the history of the masters of Zaun.

“About Tytos, I still think you've got that wrong.” he said as he read another page from the tome.

“I think I'm going to smash your face in.” you replied calmly without looking at him.

“As if you could reach me.”

“You know what-” you began, raising your voice.

However, somebody shushed you in the room, restricting you to remaining calm.

“Raising your voice in a library? You'd have to be a stupid fool.”

“Trying to contradict me when even Heimerdinger considered my answer excellent is not the wisest either.”

“Heimerdinger would tell a snail that goes slightly faster than the norm it's excellent. But maybe your low self esteem is just common sense.”

“Maybe my self esteem will just leave this library right now.” you say, crossing your arms on the table.

“And leave me to pursue this matter on my own? That wouldn't be very serious, miss number two.”

You sighed, getting back to work. Your blood was boiling in your veins just from sitting at this table.

“None of the books mention Tytos.”

“Since when do you trust Piltover books on the accounts of the history of Zaun ?”

Touché. He raised his eyebrows as if it were the only relevant thing you could have said.

“You never said where you were from, in Zaun,” he remarked.

You tensed slightly. “Why do you want to know that ?”

“We're making an exposé on Zaun, we're both from there, might as well just know it,” he said, raising his eyes to yours.

You watched him for a moment, he didn't seem to want to make a joke of you once your answer was out of your mouth. But in any case, you weren't going to give it to him.

“You wouldn't know,” you replied simply as you jotted down another date.

‘I'm sure that I-”

“You don't want to know.’ you said firmly, the seriousness taking over your face to assure him that this was certainly not territory he wished to venture into.

He frowned, confused. He seemed deeply intrigued by you, and that made you uncomfortable. Never before in your life had anyone asked you so many questions about yourself in such a short space of time. And so here he was, shaking up every one of your pillars like a bowling ball knocking over pins.

This one, however, was not about to give way.

You looked at your watch for a moment, sighing.

“Let's work for one more hour. We'll make a plan and subparts of what we'll talk about at the end of it.”

This time Viktor seemed to get the message: silence.

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. You noticed the way his long fingers flicked across the pages, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he read, the way he rested his cheek on the back of his hand with a sigh as he read a boring piece of writing.

Or when he would click his pencil for a moment to write something down, and his handwriting would lie gracefully on the paper, scratching the grain of the paper.

It was not without surprise that, once the hour had passed, there was hardly anyone in the library but the two of you.

When you explained your plan for the presentation to Viktor, he agreed, simply giving a few perfectly critical and serious remarks without condescending to him in any way.

“Good. I think this is a good time to stop for today,” you said as you stood up, taking a stack of books in your arms.

All in all, working with Viktor like this wasn't so bad, when it was done in silence. But as soon as either of you opened your lips to say anything, politeness left the room in great strides.

You put each tome away in its old place, both of you taking your things, and left the library. The academy wasn't closed yet, and some people still had classes or were hanging around in the corridors.

You walked side by side, your pace the same as Viktor's. All the students seemed to turn around as you passed, your duo seeming like a pair of circus animals.

You glanced at Viktor, who didn't seem in the least affected by this.

However, a trio of students were watching you with evil, mocking eyes. You couldn't help but tense up, however, when the one who seemed as tall as he was stupid remarked:

“Die already, cripple. You're slowing the traffic.”

Your shoulders tensed as you walked, expecting to do what you'd always had to do here despite the taunts: ignore and move on.

But Viktor wasn't going to listen to you like that.

“Thank you for your advice, I'll try euthanasia once you'll be able to count higher than the number of butterfingers you've got.”

A few chuckles echoed in the corridor at his reply, but the young man seemed to be boiling with hatred. It was as you passed in front of them that, in a cowardly move, he kicked Viktor's cane.

He lost his balance, falling face first to the ground as his cane fell beside him. The air stopped for a moment with the shock of the gesture, your eyes shifting from Viktor on the ground to the idiot who had just knocked him over. Students knelt down beside him immediately to help him.

“Oops, my foot slipped. Sorry.”

But nothing, of course, conveyed any regret at this behaviour.

He turned his back and walked off with his group of friends. Your blood ran cold.

Quickly, you grabbed Viktor's cane, which was still on the ground, and made it whistle through the air before it struck the back of the student's knees. It was his turn to shrivel up on the floor, and he immediately turned to you, his cheeks red with anger.

“Oops, my hand slipped,” you said, glancing at the crutch for a moment before returning to him. “Sorry.”

You turned back to Viktor, handing him his crutch. He looked at you with fried whiting eyes, deeply surprised by your gesture without moving a muscle.

“You fucking slut…” you heard behind you.

But as soon as you turned around, a sharp blow hit you in the cheek. The force of it knocked you back two steps, a metallic taste spreading through your mouth. You brought your fingers to your lips, hissing as you touched them, your bottom lip burning. Bringing your fingers back into line of sight, you found them bloodied.

You turned to the student, his face far too satisfied for your liking.

‘’What a brilliant idea,‘’ you breathed as, in one swift movement, you struck his crotch with the crutch.

He bent over instinctively, gasping for breath, before you punched him right in the nose. He fell, cowering on the ground like a miserable insect.

"What's going on here?" asked a stern voice.

Madame Agrane, one of your teachers, came into the corridor. Her eyes fell on Viktor on the floor, your lip split, the student on the ground surrounded by his two friends.

“Everyone in my office, now.”

You pressed a bag of ice cubes to your cheek, sitting next to Viktor who was clutching his crutch in his hands. As for the idiot, he kept grumbling and giving you nasty looks.

"Can someone explain to me what happened for you all to end up in such states?" questioned Agrane.

You were about to start but the idiot beat you to it.

"Madame Agrane, I was just minding my own business in the corridor when these two pupils came up to me! One was hitting me with his crutch while the other was punching me. I don't know what I've done to deserve this.' He exclaimed theatrically, Viktor and you looking at him like the most ridiculous being to ever be.

If there was one thing that helped your reputation, it was that you were known as serious students, who didn't fall into the category of those who would start a fight in the corridors for no particular reason.

"That is far from the truth," Viktor retorted calmly. "He insulted me, then made me fall, and then...’

He seemed to be hesitating over his words, or at least looking for the right term. He turned to you, letting his eyes drift for a moment to your split lip, and then back to Madame Agrane's gaze.

"... My friend protected me."

Friend? the word made you clench your jaw, inhaling. It was just a lie, just a word brought to the front to give your teacher sympathy. No, he certainly didn't mean it.

The teacher looked at you, seeming more convinced by your story than the other. Noticing this, the student couldn't help but plead his own case:

"Madam, these two students come from Zaun. The blood of violence will always run in their veins."

Agrane seemed to give you a new look, as if you and Viktor were ready to pounce on her like two wolves.

"Is this a joke? You started all this," you said, offended.

"Beating you up would have brought greatness to Piltover." he replied.

"Oh, look at you, attempting greatness! Pity it's just an attempt." you sighed, pressing the ice pack a little closer to your cheek to put out the fire your anger was beginning to spread.

"Madam Agrane," he continued, turning to her, "you know what my patron will think about this. Imagine his reaction when he will hear how you have treated his favoured student?"

You had no idea who his patron could possibly have been, but she didn't hesitate for a second to say:

"Miss, you'll get an hour's detention for your violent behaviour in the corridors. I hope I don't have to catch you again doing such barbaric acts."

Your eyes widened just as much as Viktor's.

"What?! But he's the one who-" you tried, pointing at the idiot who was smiling victoriously.

"There's no buts about it. The discussion is closed. You'll have your detention period this Monday."

"Madam, I think there's been a mistake." Viktor began.

"Do you want to be given detention too, young man?"

Viktor remained silent, sighing before lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Good, see you on Monday, then."

The fool stood up first, walking past you with a foolish grin on his face.

"Bet it feels just like home to be in prison by monday, hm?"

Your lip hemmed in disgust, your nose scrunching up.

"Try what you've done just once more, and I'll personally make sure you have no offspring."

He looked slightly frightened for a moment, then frowned like a child before leaving the room.

You sighed, standing up. You wanted to get out of here right away, away from the horrible feeling of injustice in your heart, away from the word ‘punishment’ burning into your skin.

Your free hand instinctively came to rest on your shoulder for comfort, and you stood up to get your things.

“You didn’t have to do this earlier, you know.” Viktor said.

You sighed, walking towards the door. “Whatever, what is done is done.”

"Hey," Viktor said, standing up behind you.

You didn't even turn to him.

"Thanks, I wasn't expecting that at all."

You waited for something, for anything that would come after what he had just said, but nothing came. Your turned to him.

"Is that all? No remarks about how I'd have been better off hitting him somewhere else, or stupid sarcasm about my action?"

He seemed surprised by your reaction, his face puzzled and almost saddened.

"We're not friends, Viktor." you said, your face as cold as the ice pack on your cheek. "We're..."

But what were you apart from rivals? Two rivals working together to do a job that would rely on both of you, that wasn't really rivalry. It was camaraderie in a way, you were classmates, but friends?

You pursed your lips, a slight trickle of blood beading from them.

"See you next week."

Without further ado, you left the room. You walked down the corridors, the students staring at you like an alien. You were suffocating under all those sharp, curious, numerous stares. You pressed on, leaving the academy as quickly as possible.

Once outside, you took the first quiet alley you could find.

“Shit!” you swore, pressing your back against the first wall you could find.

You brought your hand up to your forehead, sighing until you almost felt your body slide down the wall, running your palm over your face in frustration and exhaustion.

You wanted to cry, the weight of everything feeling like it was zipping up on you like a body bag. You'd been stupid, acting on your emotions. You should have kept your head down, let the administration do its job, not invented a life of heroism trying to redress the balance that some fool had tipped.

You didn't even like Viktor, but you'd still jumped at the chance to do him justice. No, you didn't like Viktor any more than that.

But you respected him.

Could you be friends with him?

The question passed through your mind for a moment, but you ended up putting it out of your mind.

You let your head fall back against the wall. The thought of an hour's detention in your perfect record seemed to you like a thread sticking out of a beautiful dress, itching to be pulled on. You tried to console yourself, to come to terms with the fact that it was just another hour of extra study. But you couldn't help feeling heavy with pain.

Eventually you gathered up your things and walked home, hoping that the cool night air would help to quench the fire that was still boiling inside you. Winter was on your doorstep, and ready to complicate things.

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#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#a crown of ink #acoi #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #arcane reader x you #academic rivals to lovers #academic rivals #arcane #viktor arcane #arcane x reader #slow burn #viktor imagine

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noellefan101 · 2 days ago

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Silent Living

Characters: Noelle, Kinich, Lynette, Beidou, Diluc x mute GN!reader

Summary: You're mute, and cant talk? not a problem for your partner, they can find other ways to communicate, and honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: mute reader, most of them dont know sign language but there are people where i think they would either have learned it already or will learn it for you, gn reader as always

Note: hehe its kinda hard to write for Noelle tbh, i just can't see her romantically if that makes sense, its like a platonic obsession i have for her. but i chose to write for some girlies bc i felt like it, luv you :P

Noelle

She's a sweetheart and i fully believe she would try to learn sign language the day you meet for the first time. but for the sake of the cute gestures lets pretend she barely knows any words in it, or that you arent the best yourself despite probably needing it heh.

(she would teach you some if so, or learn with you)

In a classic Noelle fashion, she does literally anything for you, though people would normally just have to speak her name, you can't. so she always keeps an extra eye on you to ensure she's there when you need her help. that may be a given, but its truly what shes best at doing.

Loves writing little notes for you, whether its just so you can remember something or if its to invite you anywhere, she loves it. and she has definitely not been carrying pen and paper with her for weeks so you could write notes for each other, no no.

I dont imagine her being the best with words, but is always very good at comforting. so if you need some reassurance or just comfort you can come to her. and you can let her know to be silent by putting a finger over her mouth if you like the silence more. she wont be offended don't worry.

Kinich

Not very good with words and likes silence when possible, so it's very common for you to sit in silence doing an activity together. he's best with actions at least, both giving and receiving, so just doing a tiny chore for him would mean more than words could.

Though it may be difficult to do anything for each other since he's quite busy, and so could you be. but he always has time to sit with you for at least 30 minutes a day and just spend quality time together.

if you ever need anything from him, he has a notebook on him at all times that you're free to write in. Although Ajaw has made a fuss about it being annoying to wait for you, but he'll shut up if Kinich locks him up.

Lynette

She loves the silence you bring. being around her brother all the time can get annoying, no matter how much she loves him, so a quiet tea time with you is often just what she needs. she knows you can feel out of place or left out even since you cant communicate as easily with her siblings. but she is always ready to talk for you.

No matter how much she hates public speaking, and how often she gets her brother to speak for her, she'll speak for you. if there's anything you'd like to say, just write it down and show it to her. she might even know what you wanted to say, by how you stand and how your muscles move. so she will sometimes speak for you before you even get to start writing it down.

She has made sure you're a part of the conversation, not just there and looking around. she might have some knowledge about sign language, but she knows many do not and makes sure everyone understands you.

(she might even ask father if they can get classes in sign language, or at least the siblings of hers that you interact with most often)

Beidou

Maybe not the best at silent communication, but she tries her very best. if she doesnt know sign language she'll learn it, mostly because she feels it would make you more comfortable, but its also something that she may find interesting.

She is very good at dealing with different kinds of people though, so expect yourself to feel right at home wherever you are on her ship. she might even have started teaching her crew how to talk with you properly, whether thats getting you something write down on or learning them a bit of sign language that im not sure of.

Unfortunately it all goes in weird directions when she's drunk, while she talks for you it might be hard to get her to pay attention enough or even speak your thoughts properly. Kazuha is your savior in this case.

Diluc

He has made sure every single maid and anyone he hires learn to speak through their hands. he might even have prepared for it before you started dating, and even some of his staff you have never met before just knows how to speak with you.

Its a given that you're going to be well treated at the dawn winery, but Diluc makes sure you feel the most at home you'll ever experience. you have at least 1 maid whos ready to tend to you in a seconds notice, whether its jsut that you need something to write on or you need to know where you lover is.

Will literally drop anything for you with just a finger on his shoulder. whatever you need, he'll do it. need a hug? no need to even gesture it he knows, someone doesnt understand you at all? he's ready to talk in your place for hours on end.

I might have written it weirdly again sry, im not mute and i just like writing, Luv Ya- Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #gn reader #noelle´s maiden #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #noelle genshin impact #noelle x reader #beidou x reader #beidou #lynette x reader #lynette #kinich #kinich x reader #k'uhul ajaw #genshin impact x reader

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eu-nicola · 2 days ago

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the ferrari couple

summary: when Charles signs with Ferrari, his life takes an unexpected turn when he falls in love with you "Princess Ferrari". Together both become the perfect couple, but behind public perfection, the pressure of your careers leads both in other ways

warnings: nothing

word counter: 4559

author's note: english is not my first language

this is a request from @pperlaaiy

The sound of engines rumbled across the Monza circuit. It was the 2018 Italian Grand Prix, and Charles Leclerc, still a Sauber driver, walked around the paddock with a mix of pride and nervousness. That year had been crucial for him; rumours of his possible promotion to Ferrari felt increasingly real. However, the pressure of being at home, surrounded by tifosi who idolised the Scuderia, kept him on his toes.

As he made his way to the Ferrari hospitality area, Charles paused for a moment, awed by the spectacle before him. Surrounded by photographers, journalists and Ferrari employees, there was you. You seemed to shine with a light of your own, dressed in an impeccable white two-piece suit that bore discreet touches of Ferrari red, the colour that so represented your lineage. Perfectly coiffed hair, dark sunglasses and a confident smile that showed no trace of nervousness. In that moment, you were everything Ferrari stood for: tradition, elegance and power.

“Who is she?” Charles asked his engineer, unable to look away.

“Don’t you know? She’s related to Enzo Ferrari. Her mother, Sofia Ferrari, is practically the queen of the car group. She’s like the princess of the house.”

Charles nodded slowly, impressed, but also intimidated. He had heard about you before, how you were an iconic figure in and out of the world of motorsport. You were known not only for your surname, but for your involvement in Ferrari’s most exclusive events, your innate elegance, and the way you upheld your family’s legacy. The fact that you were unreachable only added to your aura.

However, what happened next took Charles completely by surprise. While he tried to hide his interest and continue on his way, you turned around and your eyes met his. Taking off your sunglasses, you smiled with that mix of kindness and confidence that baffled everyone.

“Charles Leclerc, right?” You asked, stepping closer gracefully.

He blinked, surprised that you knew who he was. "Uh, yeah, I'm Charles," he replied, trying to sound relaxed, though he felt the heat rising to his face.

“I have to say, you’ve impressed many at Ferrari this year,” you said, shaking his hand. Your tone was gentle, but your words carried a weight he couldn’t ignore. “My uncle won’t stop talking about you. I think you’re destined for great things.”

Charles scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture contrasting with your poise. “I hope so. Being part of Ferrari would be… a dream.”

“A dream, but also a responsibility,” you replied, your gaze becoming more intense. “Ferrari isn’t just a team, Charles. It’s a family, a history. The tifosi don’t see you as just a driver; they see you as a symbol. And that’s not something just anyone can carry.”

He nodded slowly, feeling the weight of your words. He’d heard similar speeches before, but coming from you, they held a different meaning. “I know. And I’m willing to give my all to live up to it.”

You stared at him for a moment, assessing him. Finally, you smiled again, this time with a hint of genuine warmth. “I hope so, Charles. I’d love to see you succeed at Ferrari. But for now, enjoy Monza. It’s a magical place, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he replied, relaxing a little. “Even more so now.”

Your laugh was soft, but enough for the few people around to notice the chemistry that seemed to be brewing between the two of you. Before you could respond, a team member called out to you from a distance. With a slight nod to Charles, you walked away, leaving behind a sweet scent and an impression he wouldn’t soon forget.

Charles stood still for a few seconds, taking in what had just happened. He had met the “princess of Ferrari,” but beyond your name and lineage, what had struck him most was your presence. There was something about you that challenged him, that made him want to prove he was worthy of being in your world.

That night, during the official Ferrari dinner, they met again. You were surrounded by important figures in motorsport, but when Charles entered the room, your eyes instinctively sought him out. This time, you didn't need to approach him; he took the initiative.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, pointing to the chair next to yours.

You smiled, amused. "Of course. I hope you're ready, Charles."

"If I can survive Monza, I think I can handle this," he replied, feeling more confident.

And so, over glasses of wine and conversations filled with jokes and witty observations, something began that neither of you could have foreseen. You weren't just Ferrari's princess; you were a challenge, a mystery. And for Charles, the young driver who dreamed of conquering the world, you became the most fascinating target of all.

After that first meeting at Monza, Charles couldn't get you out of his mind. Despite being immersed in the demands of his season with Sauber, he found moments between races and training to remember the conversations he'd had with you. For your part, there was something about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was his humility, his ambition, or the way he seemed to shine even under the pressure of the spotlight.

The next few times you met were at Ferrari-related events, always in formal settings where professional distance was the norm. However, that barrier slowly began to break down.

It was a cool evening in Maranello. Ferrari had organised a private dinner to celebrate the season's achievements and start looking ahead. Although the evening was for the official drivers, Charles was invited as a gesture of goodwill, as the announcement of his joining Ferrari for the 2019 season was imminent.

You met him in the event's illuminated gardens, while escaping a boring conversation with a group of executives. Charles was alone, a glass of wine in his hand, admiring the statue of Enzo Ferrari that presided over the place. You approached him with a light smile.

"Thinking about how to fill those shoes?" you asked, stopping beside him.

Charles turned his head, surprised but genuinely happy to see you. "More like wondering if I'll ever make it."

“It’s a start,” you said, shrugging. “He always said that the true spirit of Ferrari isn’t in perfection, but in passion. If you have that, you’re already halfway there.”

He looked at you, with a mix of admiration and curiosity. “Do you feel that passion too? For Ferrari, I mean.”

You nodded, crossing your arms to protect yourself from the cold. “Of course. I grew up surrounded by this world, but it’s not just the family name. It’s everything it represents: the history, the tifosi, the constant struggle to be the best. It’s not easy to live with it, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Charles was silent for a moment, processing your words. Then he smiled, a soft but sincere gesture. “It’s funny. All that you describe is what scares me and excites me at the same time. Being at Ferrari means so much more than being a fast driver. It’s… something bigger.”

You turned to him, studying him carefully. There was something about his honesty that disarmed you, a rarity in a world full of appearances. “And you think you’re ready for it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging. “But I want to try. And I’ll do my best to prove that I’m worthy of it.”

The determination in his voice made you smile. “That’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid to admit your doubts, but you’re not afraid to face them either.”

He stared at you, as if he was trying to figure something out in you. “And you? Have you always been this sure of yourself?”

The question took you by surprise. You looked down for a moment before answering. “Not always. But when you grow up in this family, you learn to hide your insecurities.”

Before the conversation could go any deeper, one of the attendants called out to you from a distance. “Y/N, you’re needed inside.”

You sighed, but not before giving Charles one last smile. "Don't let them intimidate you in there. And remember: Ferrari is more than a car, it's a family."

The real change in your relationship came weeks later, when Ferrari made the official announcement that Charles would be a driver for the 2019 season. The news flooded the headlines and thrilled the tifosi, who saw him as the future of the team. That evening, you hosted a private dinner at your family villa in Maranello, inviting only a few people close to the team, including Charles.

"Thank you for inviting me," Charles said when he arrived, wearing a simple but elegant suit. There was something different in his gaze that night: a mix of confidence and gratitude.

"Of course," you replied as you greeted him. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate our new star."

The evening passed quietly, with laughter, anecdotes and toasts to the future. However, you both noticed that your eyes met more often than usual. When dinner ended and the other guests began to leave, Charles was one of the last to stay.

"Would you like to see something special?" You asked, taking a glass of wine and leading him towards the villa's garage.

Inside, covered by tarps, were some of Ferrari's most iconic models, from the first cars created by Enzo to the most modern ones. Charles walked among them in wonder, like a child in a candy store.

"It's amazing," he murmured. "It's like being in a private museum."

"It is," you said, leaning against one of the cars. "Every car here has a story. And now you will be a part of that story."

He stopped in front of you, his expression serious but warm. "I hope I can live up to it. Not just for Ferrari, but for you as well."

The intensity of his words took you by surprise, but you didn't back down. There was something about his sincerity that drew you hopelessly.

"Charles..." you began, but he interrupted you.

“I’m not saying this because you’re from the Errari family or because you’re in a position of power. I’m saying this because you, as a person, inspire me. And I want you to know that I will do everything I can to not let you down.”

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. And as the silence stretched between you both, Charles took a step towards you. There was no need to say anything else; the moment said it all.

That night marked the start of something special. What had started as a casual connection became a relationship that you both knew would be intense, complicated, but also unique.

After that, the end of 2018 was a whirlwind of emotions for Charles. He had closed his season with Sauber in an exceptional way, earning the respect of the tifosi and securing his place at Ferrari for the following year. But the most unexpected thing for him had been the relationship that had formed with you. During those months, you went from being two occasional acquaintances at events to becoming confidants and something more.

Your meetings, although few due to his constant travels, were full of complicity. He had invited you to accompany him to a couple of races outside Italy, and although you kept everything under a strict low profile, the members of the paddock were beginning to notice that there was something between you. The candlelit dinners, the walks through Maranello and the deep conversations.

For Charles, you were much more than a "Ferrari". You were someone who understood him, someone who saw beyond the image of a promising driver. For you, Charles was a breath of fresh air in a world full of appearances. In him, you found someone honest, humble and passionate.

However, you both knew that things would change in 2019. With Charles officially becoming a Ferrari driver, the attention on both of you would increase, and you would have to decide how you would face what was to come together.

When the 2019 season began, everything changed. Not only was Charles Ferrari's new rising star, he also unwittingly became the centre of media attention. The relationship between the two, which until then had remained in the shadows, inevitably began to come to light.

The first time photographers caught you together was at the Monaco Grand Prix. You were in the paddock, leaning against a railing as you talked animatedly to Charles. You were wearing a red outfit that paid homage to the Scuderia, and your laughter echoed above the roar of the engines. The media was quick to dub you the “prince and princess of Ferrari.”

“Does all this attention bother you?” Charles asked you that afternoon, as you walked together through the Monte Carlo harbor.

“A little,” you admitted, adjusting your sunglasses. “But I also know it’s inevitable. I guess we’ll just have to learn to handle it together.”

Charles nodded, taking your hand gently. “We will.”

It was an intense year, full of challenges for both of you. Charles had to deal with the pressure of being a Ferrari driver, while you were constantly surrounded by the critical eyes of the press and tifosi, who analyzed your every move. Far from separating them, however, those challenges brought them closer together.

The moments they shared off the track became their refuge. There were days when Charles would arrive exhausted after a difficult race, and you would call him to give him words of encouragement. There were also nights when you, exhausted, would find comfort in his embrace.

By 2020, you were no longer just a couple at Ferrari; you were the couple. Cameras followed you everywhere, and social media couldn't stop talking about you. Photos of you at Formula 1 galas, at private Scuderia events, and even on vacation in Italy went viral instantly.

The tifosi loved how they represented the essence of Ferrari: Charles was the young driver full of talent and promise, and you, the sophisticated and passionate woman who seemed to be the embodiment of the Ferrari legacy. No matter where they were, together they projected an image of perfection that fascinated the world.

However, behind the flashes, things were not always easy. The 2020 season was a complicated year for Ferrari, with performance issues testing Charles as a driver. For him, it was frustrating to go from being a constant contender to fighting to stay in the top 10. There were times when tensions were palpable, but you always found a way to remind him of his worth.

“Charles,” you told him one night after a disappointing race at Spa, as you both sat on the balcony of his hotel room. “You are not just a Ferrari driver. You are the future of Ferrari. Enzo always said that difficult races are the ones that make true champions. And you are one of them.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Luckily, you won’t have to find out,” you replied with a smile.

That mutual strength was what made you two so special. While Charles faced the challenges of the track, you struggled to keep outside pressures at bay, defending your relationship from rumors and criticism.

By the end of 2020, you were more than a couple; you were a symbol. The prince and princess of Ferrari, two figures who represented everything the brand stood for: history, passion, and the promise of a bright future.

What no one imagined was that beneath that image of perfection, the first cracks were beginning to form. Because, although the love you felt for each other was real, the demands of your worlds were not always compatible.

The end of 2020 marked a turbulent time both on and off the track. Ferrari was facing one of its worst seasons in years, and while Charles continued to show his talent, the car simply wasn’t up to par. You, for your part, had been dealing with the mounting pressures of your family name: new projects, the constant expectation that you represent Ferrari at key events, and increasing scrutiny over your relationship with Charles.

Through it all, you never let the internal tensions leak outward. To the world, you were still the couple. You were seen smiling at events, with Charles looking at you as if you were his anchor, and you showing yourself unwavering, like the pillar holding him up. But what no one saw was the distance that was beginning to form between you.

The breaking point began subtly, with small misunderstandings and differences that you had previously managed with grace.

During the final races of the season, you noticed that Charles was more distant. Although he remained affectionate with you in public, in private his attention seemed to be elsewhere. His days were consumed by endless team meetings, interviews, and hours of work trying to squeeze the maximum potential out of an unresponsive car. When he came home, he was exhausted, and conversations between the two of you were reduced to an exchange of short sentences.

“How was it today?” you asked, waiting for an answer that never came with any depth.

“Good, the usual,” he would reply, often without looking at you, lost in thought.

It wasn’t Charles’ fault, you knew. The weight he carried on his shoulders was immense, and you wanted to be understanding. But you couldn’t help but feel displaced, as if your place in his life had taken a backseat.

For your part, you were dealing with your own problems as well. Your family expected you to take a more active role in the company, and every step you took was scrutinized. The endless meetings, strategic decisions, and social expectations were draining you. There were nights when you sat alone in your Maranello apartment, wondering if this was the life you really wanted.

The night of the final race of the season, in Abu Dhabi, you decided you needed to talk. You had prepared dinner in the hotel suite, hoping to reconnect before heading back to Italy. Charles arrived late, tired but trying not to show it.

“This looks amazing,” he commented, cracking a smile as he sat across from you.

“I wanted us to close the year with something special,” you replied, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice.

For a while, the conversation flowed as before. You talked about the race, the tifosi, and even joked about how the media had called you “Ferrari royalty” in a recent article. But then, the tone changed.

“Charles, I’ve been thinking,” you began, hands shaking slightly. “Do you think… we’re okay?”

He looked up, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve grown apart,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “We don’t talk like we used to anymore, we don’t spend time together. I feel like all of this—” you gestured vaguely at the world around them, “—is consuming us.”

Charles sighed, setting his fork down on the table. “I know. I’ve felt the same way. But I thought… that it was temporary. That after this season, things would get better.”

“What if they don’t?” you asked, facing the fear you’d been suppressing for months.

For a moment, Charles didn’t say anything. His silence was like a confirmation of what you both feared: that the weight of your individual lives was overshadowing what you had together.

“I love you,” he finally said, with a sincerity that almost brought tears to your eyes. "But I don't know if I'm being fair to you. I don't know if I can be the person you need right now."

The decision wasn't made in one night, but that conversation marked the beginning of the end. Over the following weeks, both tried to hold on to what they had, but silences were more frequent than words, and the emotional distance became increasingly evident.

The news of their separation came in January 2021, shortly after the Christmas holidays. There were no official statements or public explanations; they simply stopped appearing together, and rumours began to circulate.

The paddock was in shock. Neither of them had given any indication of trouble, and for the tifosi, they represented perfection. But those who knew them closely knew the truth: there was no big fight, no betrayal, just the inevitable wear and tear of two people trapped in worlds that demanded too much of them.

The last time you saw him was at a Ferrari event in early 2021. He was beaming, smiling at photographers as he spoke to management. When your eyes met, he gave you a small, almost melancholic smile, which you returned with a similar gesture.

There were no words, but they didn't need to be. You both knew that what you had was unique, special, and that it would always be a part of you. But you also knew that you had made the right decision, even if it hurt.

The prince and princess of Ferrari had split up, leaving the world baffled and the tifosi heartbroken.

The months following the breakup were like a whirlwind, even though neither of you openly acknowledged it. You and Charles had decided to keep the reasons for the end of your relationship private, but that only fueled the speculation. The media kept wondering what had happened between the prince and princess of Ferrari, and the tifosi couldn't accept that something so perfect had fallen apart for no apparent reason.

Despite the noise, you both tried to move on, each in your own way. But as they tried to build new routines, the world kept watching, waiting for some sign, some word that would explain the inexplicable.

The first image of Charles with another woman appeared one day in March. It was a casual photograph, taken by a fan in Monte Carlo. Charles was in a café, smiling as he chatted with a blonde, light-eyed girl. It didn't seem like a romantic encounter, but the closeness between the two and the carefree smile on Charles' face unleashed a wave of comments.

“Who is she?”

“Has she replaced her already?”

“She’s probably her cousin or something, Charles wouldn’t do this.”

For your part, you tried to ignore it. You knew Charles had the right to move on, as did you, but you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach as fans began to theorize about his love life.

It wasn’t long before you were making headlines too. A few weeks later, during a gala event in Milan, you arrived accompanied by an Italian businessman known for his charisma and fortune. He offered you his arm as you walked down the red carpet, and although you maintained a professional smile, the camera flashes captured something that the media interpreted as complicity.

The reaction was not long in coming.

“She already has a boyfriend? This can’t be real.”

“Charles and her were perfect, this doesn’t make sense.”

“The princes of Ferrari are dating commoners now, apparently.”

Social media became a battleground between fans. There were those who supported the idea of the two moving on with their lives, but there were also those who clung to the hope of a reconciliation. Every photo of Charles with his supposed new partner was analyzed in detail, and the same was true for you.

On your Instagram profile, the comments were a reflection of the tifosi's pain:

"Please tell me this isn't true."

"Why did you break up? I never understood it."

"Get back together, there's still time."

Charles faced the same thing. Even in the simplest photos — an afternoon training or a day on the simulator — the responses were full of mentions of you.

"Everything is more boring without Princess Ferrari."

"I hope you're happy, but I'll never forget what you had."

Neither you nor Charles made any comments on the matter. You both knew that any statement would only fuel further speculation, and the last thing you wanted was to turn your past relationship into a public spectacle.

At Ferrari events, it was inevitable that your paths would cross, although you always kept your distance. During a presentation of the Scuderia for the 2021 season, you sat in the front row next to the management, while Charles took his place on the stage, talking about his expectations for the year.

Your eyes met for a brief second. It was enough for the photographers to capture the moment, but not enough for either of you to show any obvious emotion. You held his gaze calmly, while he quickly turned his gaze towards the audience.

After the event, you avoided the cocktail party that followed. You knew the media would be waiting for any interaction between you, and you weren't about to fuel any more rumors. However, as you were leaving, you received a text on your phone.

"I saw you left early. I hope you're okay."

It was from Charles.

You read it a few times before pocketing your phone without responding. Although the message seemed innocent, it only made the emptiness in your chest feel heavier.

Despite appearances, moving on wasn't easy for either of you. Charles could put on a smile next to his new companion, but in moments of solitude, he found his mind drifting back to the days he shared with you. The walks through Maranello, the conversations in the early morning, even the small arguments over insignificant things: it was all still there, like an echo that refused to go away.

You weren't immune either. Although you were dating someone new, you hadn't felt that connection you once had with Charles. Every time you saw their name in the headlines, your heart beat a little faster, and images of what was and what could have been filled your mind.

Still, you both kept going, at least in the eyes of the world. The smiles at events, the carefully curated posts on social media, everything seemed to indicate that you had put the past behind you. But the others seemed unwilling to let it go.

The tifosi kept waiting. In every Ferrari post, in every interview, in every public appearance, someone always asked about you.

"Will you come back one day?"

"You were the heart of Ferrari."

"Without you, this is not the same anymore."

And although neither you nor Charles answered, that question kept hanging in the air, like a wound that time did not quite heal. Because although you had gone your separate ways, the world was not ready to forget you.

And, perhaps, deep down, neither were you.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1

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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 days ago

Text

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.”

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.”

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice, he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments.

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else.

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve.

“No. Don’t worry about it.”

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him.

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?”

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using.

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Well obviously something’s wrong.”

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?”

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?”

“I’m not upset!”

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-”

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him.

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon.

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be.

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?”

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins.

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time.

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you.

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-”

“I didn’t get in.”

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke.

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock.

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?”

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!”

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has.

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand.

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation.

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say.

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?”

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds.

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?”

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.”

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive.

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest.

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to.

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear.

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you.

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you.

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed.

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?”

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving.

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.”

“Where?”

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace.

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.”

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for.

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified.

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.”

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home.

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers.

“You promise you’ll come home, right?”

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too.

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness.

“Anything.”

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.”

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did.

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.”

Frankie, Present

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point.

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings.

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you.

Well, he can’t think about you as much.

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him.

He let you take the first shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run.

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you.

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!”

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.”

“You barely run the mile in gym class.”

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.”

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you.

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to.

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans.

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day.

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement.

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.”

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings.

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.”

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.”

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.”

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).”

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past.

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible.

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him.

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer.

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school.

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too.

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school.

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble.

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed.

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to.

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him.

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage.

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment.

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him.

August 18th, 2006

Frankie,

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage.

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL.

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person!

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha).

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo.

From,

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line.

October 13th, 2009

Frankie,

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe.

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet.

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do.

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie.

Kenzie

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong.

February 4th, 2011

Hey,

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways.

I guess I’ll see you when I see you.

MacKenzie

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business.

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull.

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done?

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

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@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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aeralux · 2 days ago

Text

"Old Friend" - Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Out on the town on a summer evening, you run into your old friend. Old memories come crashing back, and you find yourself where you once were. In his arms. ModernAegon!au

Warnings: SMUT; slight breeding kink; Aegon is a sweetheart, actually?; oral (f! receiving); drinking and smoking; just intense sex (vulgar language is obviously used); they go for multiple rounds; Aegon is quite rough, but reader likes it; possible that I have some slight grammar mistakes

Words: 11.4k (they go for multiple rounds)

Notes: Aegon is the heir to the Targaryen family business empire. The reader is also from a powerful and rich house (old money ;D), but it isn't specified which one. No descriptive language of the reader is used.

-- aera xx

Aegon Targaryen, the heir of the Targaryen business empire, relaxes in the back of his sleek black Mercedes-Benz S-Class Coupe. The luxury interior features hand-stitched leather seats and shiny wood accents. Dressed in a tailored dark suit with a crisp white shirt, he exudes confidence. His silver-gold hair falls in loose waves around his shoulders as he leans against the rolled-down window, one arm on the doorframe. Holding a cigarette, he takes slow drags and exhales smoke into the warm evening air. At the same time, his captivating violet eyes scan the surroundings, reflecting a mix of interest and boredom.

Suddenly, Aegon's gaze is caught by a striking young woman strolling down the sidewalk. Instantly captivated, he sits up straighter and narrows his eyes to take her in. A slow, confident smile spreads across his face, highlighting his natural charm. "Hey there," he calls out, his voice smooth and inviting as he gestures to you without coming on too strong. His warm and rich tone reflects the charisma and allure he radiates effortlessly. "Yeah, you! Would you come over for a moment?"

Walking in the evening usually doesn't sound like a smart choice, but this was a good neighbourhood. Excellent even. And according to some, the best. So, walking around South Kensington in the evening hours didn't feel worrisome.

Until you heard a male voice call out to you. You flashed a look at the man. At least he wasn't a bum. He definitely had a nice car for your average cat-caller.

Usually, you wouldn't have considered him at all, but there was something familiar about him that caught your attention.Then it hit you. Aegon 'fucking' Targaryen. The young Targaryen heir. You shook your head as you looked at him, tongue poking in your cheek.

You knew Aegon and the Targaryen siblings since you were a babe. Your families did business together, and you often vacationed together during the summer. As a child, you had nothing against them, even including Aegon. They were all nice kids, and at one point, you were all really close friends. But as you all started to grow up, your encounters got less and less frequent, and you all drifted apart. The last time you talked to them was two and a half years ago at some boring gala.

In such an amount of time, a lot can change. Aegon had grown into a man, more or less, from what you could tell in the poor street lighting. You had become a woman, getting ready to start working full-time at your family's business, as was your older brother, who would eventually run the business.

"Aegon..." you started walking over to him, your heels making a sharp sound on the pavement. "Is that how you greet an old friend?" You couldn't stop the smirk from appearing on your face, teasing him.

Your sharp and teasing voice carries through the evening air, reaching Aegon's ears. He can't help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and amused. His dark eyes dance with mischief as he takes another drag from his cigarette, holding your gaze with a look that's both challenging and inviting.

"An old friend?" he says, his voice smooth and confident. "I don't recall ever being just friends." He pauses, letting the words sink in before continuing. "But I suppose time blurs the lines of memory and intent."

Aegon takes one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it out the window, the glowing ember arcing through the air before disappearing into the darkness. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the open window frame, his eyes never leaving your face.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he says, his tone almost conversational, but with an underlying current of something else,something more intense and raw. "You look well." His gaze travels over your form, taking in the sight of you in a way that's both appreciative and calculating. "No, more than well. You look... breathtaking."

He lets the compliment hang in the air between you, his smile widening just a fraction. "What brings you to this part of London? Surely not just a stroll through the city on a summer's eve."

There's a challenge in his voice, a subtle encouragement for you to reveal more. He's always been drawn to you, even as children, and seeing you now, all grown up and even more captivating than he remembered, has only stoked that fire within him.

"Or perhaps," he continues, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone, "you were hoping to run into someone like me? Someone who knows how to show a lady a good time?"

He lets the words linger, his eyes locked with yours, waiting to see how you'll respond. There's a glint of excitement in his gaze, a hint of the wild, chaotic energy that lies just beneath his carefully composed exterior.

You hummed at his words, memories of your carefree days in the Hamptons flashing through your mind. The warmth of the sun, the coolness of the water, and the heat of your secret kisses. How you snuck out to skinny dip and make out in the cool clear waters. How long has it been since then?

"Thank you," you said with a genuine smile, accepting his compliment. And I actually live here, have for quite a while now." You pointed towards your penthouse, looking down at him sitting in his car.

"I should be the one to ask you this question," you continued, your tone playful as you returned his challenge. "Seeing as you lived in Notting Hill the last time we saw each other."

Your playful tone and the way your eyes sparkle in the dim light catch Aegon off guard for a moment. A flicker of genuine surprise crosses his features before his usual confident mask slides back into place. He leans back slightly, one hand moving to loosen his tie as if the mere mention of Notting Hill has suddenly made the air too close.

"Ah, yes," he says, his voice cool and nonchalant. "Notting Hill. A lifetime ago, it seems." His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his expression. "Things change. We all move on, don't we?"

But despite his words, there's a tension in his body, a coiled energy that belies his casual tone. He runs a hand through his hair, the silver strands catching the light and shimmering like liquid metal.

"You're living here now, you say?" he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sleek silver lighter shaped like a dragon, the symbol of his family crest. With a practised flick of his thumb, he ignites the flame, bringing it to the end of a fresh cigarette. He inhales deeply, the smoke curling around his face before he exhales it in a slow, measured stream.

"Tell me," he says, his voice low, "has it been as lonely for you as it has for me?"

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with meaning and implication. Aegon watches your face, searching for any sign of recognition, any hint that you feel the same pull, the same longing that he does.

His eyes lock onto yours, searching, yearning for something. Maybe it's a connection to the past or perhaps something new. Whatever it is, he can't seem to look away, his gaze intense and hungry.

You look at him with a sort of melancholy smile, sighing as you glance away for a moment. "I might need a cigarette if you want an answer to that," you tease, a smirk slowly spreading across your face.

He's still seated in his sleek car while you stand there, looking down at him. Your heels are slowly starting to kill you, but your pride won't let you ask him to let you into his car. No, you won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you struggle.

Instead, you shift your weight to one side, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on your aching feet. The action causes your skirt to ride up ever so slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, soft thigh. It's a move you know will catch his eye, a teasing reminder of what he's been missing out on.

A snort of laughter escapes Aegon's lips at your teasing comment, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, his gaze never leaving your face.

"You never used to smoke," he remarks, his voice a low drawl. "I seem to remember you had a thing about the smell." His lips quirk into a small, knowing smile. "But then again, a lot has changed, hasn't it?"

His eyes follow the movement as you shift your weight, the subtle lift of your skirt catching his attention. He inhales sharply, his gaze lingering on the exposed flesh of your thigh for a moment too long before he forces himself to look away.

"Get in," he says suddenly, his voice taking on a commanding tone. "Your feet look like they're killing you, and we both know standing here isn't going to resolve anything."

He gestures to the passenger door of his sleek car, his expression unreadable. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to continue this conversation on the sidewalk. I'm sure the neighbours would love the show."

There's a challenge in his voice, a subtle dare. He knows you won't ask him for help, knows that your pride won't allow it.But he also knows that your feet are hurting, that the concrete is unforgiving under the delicate soles of your heels.

The door unlocks with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet street. Aegon leans back in his seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, waiting to see what you'll do.

His eyes never leave your face, watching for any sign of reluctance or hesitation. There's a tension in the air between you, a charged electricity that crackles like lightning on a summer's eve.

The ball, as they say, is in your court.

With a small sigh, you make your way around to the passenger side of the car, the soft leather seats beckoning you. You slide into the plush interior, the cool air conditioning kissing your heated skin.

Aegon holds out a cigarette, his long fingers brushing against yours as you take it from him. You bring it to your lips, waiting for him to light it, your eyes locking in the process.

"As you said," you murmur, repeating his words from moments ago. "Things change, we all move on."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and unspoken history. A part of you wants to ask him what exactly he means by that, but another part, the part that's been hurt before, tells you to tread carefully.

You take a long drag from the cigarette, the nicotine hitting your bloodstream like a shot of liquid courage. "So," you say, turning to face him fully, "what have you been up to since we last saw each other? Still causing trouble for your father's company?"

You can't help but let a teasing smile play at the corners of your mouth. Aegon was always the outgoing one, the one who pushed boundaries and challenged the status quo. It's part of what drew you to him, even as a child and as a teenager.

Your eyes flicker down to his hands, noting how they rest on the steering wheel, strong and capable. You wonder, not for the first time, how those hands would feel on your skin, exploring, caressing, claiming...

But you push the thought away, focusing instead on the present moment. The car is cool, the engine purring softly, and beside you sits Aegon Targaryen, his dark eyes watching you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

A slow smile spreads across Aegon's face at your words, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something more intense. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, letting it curl and twist in the air between you.

"Move on?" he says, his voice a low, velvety purr. "Oh, we both have moved on alright. But some things, some people, tend to linger in the mind, no matter how far you go or how much time passes."

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze almost palpable. His hand retracts quickly, the touch leaving almost an imprint on your soft cheek.

"As for causing trouble..." he trails off, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Let's just say I've found new ways to keep myself entertained."

He shifts slightly in his seat, his body turning towards you.

"But enough about me," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I want to hear about you. Tell me about your life here in London. What do you do when you're not strutting around in those sinfully high heels?"

"Have you found someone yet, someone to share your bed and your life with?" he asks, his voice tight with a hint of jealousy. "Or are you still playing the field, breaking hearts left and right?"

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Or maybe you're just waiting for the right person to come along, someone who knows how to make you feel things you've never felt before."

You scoff and shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you take a drag from the cigarette. The smoke spirals out of the open window, dissipating into the cool evening air. "No, not yet. I guess I was too focused on university, and now, well..." You turn to look at Aegon, your eyes locking in the dim light of the car. Suddenly, the air between you feels thick, heavy with a tension you can't quite name.

"No one has caught my eye so far," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. In the background, Chappell Roan's haunting melody fills the silence, and for a moment, you're transported back in time. You're that same sixteen-year-old girl, hopelessly in love with Aegon, dreaming of running away with him and leaving behind all the expectations and responsibilities.

But that was then, and this is now. You are not that naive little girl anymore, but as you sit there in the close confines of Aegon's car, you can't help but wonder what might have been. Would things have been different if you had followed your hearts all those years ago? Or were you simply too young, too unprepared for the kind of love you thought we had?

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over you, mingling with the scent of Aegon's cologne and the lingering traces of cigarette smoke. You take another drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs once more.

Aegon watches you closely, his eyes tracking every movement, every expression that flits across your face. The soft glow of the streetlights bathes the car's interior in a warm amber hue, casting shadows across his angular features. As you speak of no one having caught your eye, a flicker of something crosses his face—a mix of relief and disappointment that's gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Don't sell yourself short," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You're a goddess among mortals. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "But I have to admit," he says, his voice low and husky, "a part of me hopes that no one has caught your eye. A selfish part of me that wants you all to myself, even if only for a moment."

"Like before, when we were young..." he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

The music swells in the background, the haunting melody intertwining with the pounding of your heart.

Your heart races as you listen to Aegon's confession, your mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. You search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception or insincerity, but all you find is raw, unfiltered honesty.

"We were young," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not saying that I feel exactly like an adult right now either, but we were teenagers back then."

You take a drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke curl around your face as you contemplate his words.

Aegon nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a warm amber hue over his angular features, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the sharpness of his nose. The air in the car is thick with tension, the silence stretching between you like an endless void.

"You're right," he says, his voice low and smooth, like velvet over steel. "We were just kids back then, too young to know what we really wanted, too afraid to reach out and take it."

He takes a drag from his own cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, watching as it curls and twists in the air between you.

"But sometimes," he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper, "sometimes I can't help but wonder..."

The music swells in the background, the song intertwining with the pounding of your heart. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the closeness of his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space of the car.

"Do you think about it?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the music. "Do you ever think about what could have been?"

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound a mix of nerves and amusement. "What I think right now," you say, flicking the ash from your cigarette out the open window, "is that I need a drink." You turn to Aegon, giving your best doe-eyed look. "Where can I put this out?" you ask, gesturing to the offending cigarette.

The air between you is thick with tension, the charged atmosphere of the car making your skin prickle with awareness. You know you should probably just put out the cigarette and make a polite exit, but something keeps you rooted in my seat.

The rational part of you knows that getting involved with Aegon could be a disaster, that your families' tangled histories could make any romantic entanglement full of complications. But the other part of you, the part that remembers the thrill of your secret kisses, whispers that perhaps this is a good idea after all.

You take a final drag from my cigarette, holding Aegon's gaze as you exhale the smoke slowly. The moment stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged desires.

Aegon chuckles softly at your comment, his eyes sparkling with amusement in the dim light of the car. "A drink, huh?" he muses, his voice a low, velvety purr. "I suppose we could head to my place. I've got a fully stocked bar there, and we can continue this conversation in a more... comfortable setting."

"As for where you can put it out," he says, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "I think I can take care of that for you." He reaches out, taking the cigarette from your fingers, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He brings the cigarette to his lips, taking a deep drag before rolling down the window and flicking the cigarette out into the night.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Let me take care of everything."

With that, he starts the car, the engine roaring to life with a loud purr. He pulls away from the curb, the city lights blurring past the windows as he navigates the streets with practised ease.

The air between you is thick with tension, the charged atmosphere of the car making your skin prickle with awareness. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the closeness of his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space.

As you drive, the music fades into the background, replaced by your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but steal glances at Aegon as he drives, admiring the strong lines of his profile, and the way his silver hair gleams in the moonlight.

Suddenly, he reaches out, his hand finding yours on the centre console. His fingers lace with yours, squeezing as he guides your connected hand to rest on your bare thigh. The touch is electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine.

The car speeds through the night, carrying you closer and closer to Aegon's penthouse, and whatever awaits you there. The anticipation builds in your stomach, a heady mix of nerves and excitement.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as Aegon's touch sears into your thigh, his fingers grazing your sensitive flesh through the thin fabric of your skirt. Your breath catches in your throat, and you pray he doesn't notice how his proximity affects you.

"Have you got wine?" You manage to ask, your usually confident voice wavering slightly. Get it together. You chastise yourself silently. Don't revert to that lovestruck teenager now.

Aegon's eyes flick to you, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he catches the slight tremor in your voice. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"Of course," he purrs, his voice low and smooth. "I've got a lovely bottle of Bordeaux."

He guides the car into an underground parking garage, the concrete walls closing in around you like a cocoon. As the carcomes to a stop, he turns to you, his dark eyes intense in the dim light.

His breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You can smell the heady mix of his cologne and cigarettes, the scent intoxicating in its proximity.

Slowly, he releases your hand, reaching for the door handle with a fluid grace. He steps out of the car, his tall frame filling the space as he rounds to your side. He opens your door for you, offering his hand to help you out.

"Shall we, m'lady?" he says, his voice a mixture of charm and challenge.

You take his hand, the warmth of his skin seeping into your own as you step out of the car. The cool air of the garage hits you, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere of the vehicle.

He leads you through the maze of the garage, his footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. As you walk, you can't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his suit clings to his athletic build, and the way his hair falls in tousled waves over his forehead.

Suddenly, you find yourself in front of an elevator, the doors sliding open silently. Aegon gestures for you to enter, his eyes never leaving yours. As you step inside, he follows, his body pressing against yours as he reaches past you to press the button for his floor.

Your heart races as Aegon presses flush against you in the confines of the elevator, his body warm and solid against yours. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze transfixed his fingers as he presses the button for his floor. A sudden flush of heat pools between your thighs, your body acutely aware of his closeness.

"How long have you lived here?" You ask, desperation colouring your attempt at casual conversation. Focus. Stop thinking about how much you want him. "I think I have a friend who lives here, Jace. Do you know him?"

You hold my breath, praying the change in the subject matter will calm the frantic pulsing of your heart. The last thing you need is for him to realize how easily he can still unravel you with a brush of his skin against yours.

Aegon's eyes darken with something unreadable as you mention Jace, a flicker of irritation crossing his handsome features before it's quickly masked. He straightens, putting a bit of distance between your bodies, though the small space of the elevator does little to ease the electric tension crackling in the air.

"Jace, yes, I know him," Aegon says curtly, his gaze sliding away from yours to stare at the slowly climbing numbers above the elevator doors. "Can't say I know him personally, but this place is full of young, wealthy types. Probably knows more people than I do."

His hand rests on the small of your back, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

The elevator dings, signalling your arrival at Aegon's floor. The doors slide open, revealing a sprawling penthouse suite that takes your breath away. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The space is sleek and modern, with clean lines and minimalist decor.

Aegon's hand remains on your back as he guides you out of the elevator, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. "Make yourself at home," he says, his voice a low purr. "I'll go grab that wine."

He saunters towards a sleek, modern kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. You wander over to the windows, your fingers trailing along the cool glass as you take in the view. The city spreads out before you like a glittering jewel, the lights twinkling like stars in the night sky.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of a cork popping, followed by the gentle clink of glasses. You turn to see Aegon standing in the doorway, two glasses of wine in his hand. He removed his suit jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle.

He hands you a glass, his fingers brushing against yours once more as he does. "To old times," he says, raising his glass in a toast. "And to new beginnings."

As you clink glasses, you can't help but watch the play of the city lights across his handsome face, the way his eyes sparkle.

"Cheers," you take a deep breath, savouring the rich flavours of the wine as they coat your tongue. "Mmm, this is delicious," you murmur, your eyes sparkling with genuine appreciation. "You really do have good taste. Even though I hate to admit it."

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you take another sip, the cool liquid a welcome relief against the heat building within you. You can feel Aegon's eyes on you, his gaze intense and all-consuming. It sends a shiver down your spine, a delicious thrill that settles low in your belly.

"How about you?" he asks, his voice low and smooth. "How long have you been in the city? I seem to remember you mentioning university earlier."

You meet his gaze, your own eyes wide and honest. "Yeah, I just finished my Bachelor's in Oxford, so now I'm back in London," you say in a low voice. "It's good to be back in the big city, but Oxford will always have a big piece of my heart."

Your eyes can't help but wander over his toned physique, the fabric of his shirt straining against his well-defined muscles. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling flustered under his scrutiny.

Aegon's eyes rake over your form, a predatory gleam shining in their depths. He steps towards you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a big cat stalking its prey. The air between you crackles with tension, the charge palpable.

"Oxford, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I bet you were quite the hit there. A gorgeous girl like you, all on her own..."

He takes another step, closing the distance between you. His presence envelops you, his scent filling your nostrils. It's a heady mixture of expensive cologne and something unique that makes your heart race and your skin shiver.

His hand reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your jawline. Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse pounding in your ears. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You know," he whispers, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours, "I always regretted letting you go. Letting you walk away from me."

His hand trails down to your waist, his grip firm as he holds you against him. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, the hard planes of his chest pressed against your soft curves.

"Not tonight," he breathes, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "Tonight, I'm not letting you get away. Not until I've had my fill."

His mouth claims yours in a searing kiss, his tongue delving past your lips to tangle with your own. He tastes like wine and desire, the flavour intoxicating. You moan into the kiss, your free hand fisting in his shirt as you pull him closer.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you panting and desperate. A smirk plays at the corners of his lips, his eyes dark with hunger.

You smirk in return, shivers going down your spine as you feel the cool glass pressed against your back. You carefully hold your wine glass and take another sip, the cold liquid helping you cool your body.

"So you've always regretted it, huh?" You hum, your eyes looking him up and down in a worked-up state. The hunger in his eyes sends a thrill through you, your heart pounding.

You arch an eyebrow, your voice low and teasing. "Too bad for you then, isn't it? Because I'm not the same naive girl I was back then."

He sets his wine glass down on a nearby table, his movements slow and deliberate.

A smile plays at Aegon's lips, equal parts charming and dangerous. He takes a step closer, his body pressing against yours, pinning you to the window. The cold glass against your back contrasts deliciously with the heat of his skin.

"Oh, I know you're not the same girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "That's what makes this so damn exciting."

His hand slides up your side, his fingertips trailing fire in their wake. He cups your breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your dress.

"I want to explore every inch of this new you," he growls, his hot breath fanning over your neck. "I want to taste you, touch you, make you scream my name until you forget about any other man who's ever touched you."

His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips at your pulse point, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

His hips press against yours, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your core. You gasp at the contact, your head falling back against the window. The wine glass slips from your fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor below. The sound seems to spur him on, his kisses becoming more desperate, more urgent.

You yelp in surprise as Aegon rips your dress open, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples immediately harden, pebbling under his intense gaze. The sound of shattering glass below only heightens your senses, the wine pooling around your bare feet.

He tears at your dress, the fabric ripping under his hands as he exposes your breasts to the cool air. He takes one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as his hand palms your other breast.

"Fuck," he groans, the sound muffled against your skin. "You feel even better than I remembered."

His hand trails down your stomach, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt. He cups your sex, his fingers pressing against your clothed slit.

"Fuck," you mewl, arching your back as he sucks on your sensitive nipples. Pleasure shoots straight to your core, making your toes curl against the hardwood floor. Your hands, now free from holding your glass, tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Desperation consumes you, your body aching for more of his touch. You grind against him, the evidence of your arousal soaking through your thin panties.

Aegon groans against your breast, the sound primal and needy. His fingers dip beneath your panties, stroking through your slick folds. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already," he growls, his fingers circling your clit. "I've barely touched you, and you're ready to come undone."

He sinks to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes your skirt up around your waist. His hot breath fans over your exposed sex, making you shiver with anticipation. "I'm going to taste every inch of you," he promises, his voice low and husky.

His tongue laps at your slit, the first brush of his mouth against your sensitive flesh drawing a sharp gasp from your lungs. He explores you with a thoroughness that borders on reverence, his tongue delving deep, tasting your essence.

"Gods, you taste divine," he moans, his words vibrating against your most intimate parts. "I could spend hours worshipping this pussy."

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he feasts on you. He licks and sucks and nibbles until you're a writhing, desperate mess, your fingers tangled in his hair as you grind against his face.

"Gods," you whimper, your thighs trembling with the effort to hold yourself up. "You're doing so good," you praise him in a breathy tone, trembling.

Your head thrashes against the window, the cool glass a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He teases you, his tongue flicking over your clit.

"Mmh, yeah?" You continue, letting out a pornographic moan as you grind your hips, dragging your wet heat against Aegon's eager tongue. You're thankful no one can see you through these floor-to-ceiling windows, high up in the sky as you are. The wet sounds of his licking fill the room, mingling with your pleasure-filled cries. "You're so good," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You're lost in the sensations, your mind hazing over with lust. You never want this moment to end.

Aegon growls against your sex, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every fold and crevice.

"You taste even sweeter than I remembered," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I could feast on this pretty pussy for hours."

He teases your entrance with the tip of his tongue before plunging inside, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes. Your walls clench around him, desperate for more friction.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Let go for me. Come on my tongue."

His fingers join in, two digits pumping in and out of your dripping channel. The dual stimulation is almost too much, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy.

Aegon moans against your heated flesh, the sound muffled but no less affecting. He laps at your slit like a man starved, his tongue delving deep, stroking along your inner walls. His nose nudges your clit, the sensation making you see stars.

Your thighs begin to shake, your body tensing as your climax approaches. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, your voice rising in pitch. "Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna... I'm gonna...!"

Aegon redoubles his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your vision whiting out as pleasure consumes you.

You come hard against his mouth, your juices flooding his tongue and chin. He laps it up greedily, prolonging your pleasure until you're boneless and spent against the window.

He releases your thighs, letting you slide down the window to the floor.

You whimper as your body slumps against the floor, your thighs spread wide, juices trickling down your trembling legs. Chest heaving, you struggle to catch your breath, the cold wood a sharp contrast to the heat still simmering under your skin. You can feel Aegon's heated gaze on your exposed body, his dark eyes roaming over your flushed flesh.

You lift your head, meeting his intense stare. Your lips curve into a sultry smile, even as your heart races. "I'd almost forgotten just how good you were with your tongue." You purr, your voice husky with satisfaction.

You spread your legs wider, giving him an unobstructed view of your glistening sex.

Aegon's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your splayed form. His gaze is hungry, raking over every inch of your exposed flesh like he wants to devour you whole.

"Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he promises, his voice low and rough. "That was just the appetizer."

He stands, towering over you. His pants tent obscenely, the outline of his thick cock clearly visible. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer size of him.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk on his lips. He palms himself through his pants.

"Bedroom. Now," he commands, voice rough with need.

He scoops you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. You wrap your legs around his waist, your dress hanging off your shoulders, your breasts bared to the cool air.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name," he promises, his hand reaching for his belt. "I'm going to claim this sweet cunt, make it mine."

Your heart races at his words, your body already eager for more. Anticipation coils tight in your belly, your pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

You gasp as Aegon kicks open the bedroom door, throwing you onto the plush mattress. Your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as he looms over you, his eyes dark with hunger. His shirt is rumpled, his hair a tousled mess from my eager hands.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Anticipation courses through your veins, your thighs rubbing together in a desperate bid for friction.

Your eyes lock onto his tall, muscular form as he stalks towards the bed, each step deliberate and full of promise. "Gods," you whimper, your pussy clenching in anticipation. "Please, Aegon... I need you."

Your plea falls on eager ears. Aegon practically rips his shirt off over his head, his lean muscles flexing with the movement. His pants quickly follow, joining the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

He stands before you, gloriously naked. His cock juts proudly from his body, thick and hard and ready. The bulbous head is already glistening with precum, pulsing with each heartbeat. He strokes himself slowly, his thumb swirling around the head, smearing the bead of precum that's gathered there.

"Fuck," you breathe, your tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips. "You're huge."

Aegon smirks, clearly pleased by your reaction. He crawls onto the bed, his large frame blanketing your smaller one. You can feel the heat of his skin, the hard planes of his muscles pressing against you deliciously.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering the warm cavern of your mouth. His hands roam your body, tweaking your nipples, stroking your sides, gripping your hips. He sets your nerve endings alight everywhere he touches.

"Fuck, you're so damn perfect," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I can't wait to be inside you again."

He notches the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. You whimper at the contact, your hips bucking up to meet him.

"Please," you beg, your hips rocking shamelessly against his thick shaft. "I need you inside me. Now."

Aegon obliges, notching the thick head of his cock at your entrance. He teases you, rubbing your clit with the tip of his cock, making you delirious with need. He notches the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. You whimper at the contact, your hips bucking up to meet him.

He pushes forward, the thick head of his cock popping past your entrance. You moan at the stretch, your pussy struggling to accommodate his girth. It's intense, bordering on uncomfortable, but the ache is quickly swallowed up by pleasure.

He sinks deeper, inch by inch until he's fully sheathed inside you. You feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with his hard cock. Your inner walls flutter around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion.

"Gods," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "You're so deep in me."

Aegon grins down at you, looking immensely pleased with himself. He rolls his hips, grinding against your cervix. Sparks of pleasure shoot up your spine, making your toes curl against the sheets.

"Gods," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel like heaven around my cock."

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with abandon. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Screams of pleasure keep falling from your lips, your eyes rolled back and your back arching. You've never felt so stretched out and filled before. The pleasure clouds your mind as you mumble incoherent pleas and praises.

"Oh gods, Aegon, yes! Fuck, you're so deep! Harder, please!"

Your nails scratch his back, leaving red marks as evidence of your passionate encounter.

"Ungh, you're fucking wrecking me," you whimper, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock.

Your thighs quiver, your toes curling as you lose yourself to the relentless pleasure. At that moment you knew, you weren't going to be able to walk tomorrow.

Aegon pounds into you relentlessly, the bed creaking beneath your joined bodies. His cock hits your cervix with each powerful thrust, sending lightning bolts of pleasure shooting up your spine.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Gods," you moan, your back arching off the bed. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Aegon complies, fucking into you with renewed vigour. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure.

"Fuck, you take my cock so well," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

Sweat beads on his brow, his muscles rippling with exertion. He leans down, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth. He suckles hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending sparks of pleasure-pain shooting straight to your core.

Aegon's thick cock stretches you so deliciously, filling you in ways you've never experienced before. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as pleasure overwhelms you.

"Aegon, oh fuck!" You whimper, your voice is high and needy. "You feel so good, so deep inside me."

Your words tumble out in a desperate stream, barely coherent. Your mind is foggy, consumed by the relentless pleasure of his cock pounding into your wet heat.

You cling to him, your nails scoring red lines down his back as you hold on for dear life. "Harder," you beg, your voice strained. "Ruin me for any other man."

Aegon obliges with a smirk, fucking into you with a ferocity that steals your breath. The bed creaks in protest, the headboard slamming against the wall with each punishing thrust. But you don't care, lost in the haze of pleasure, your body a willing vessel for his desire.

Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back, urging him deeper. You can feel every thick inch of him stretching you, filling you, owning you. It's intense and overwhelming, but you never want it to stop.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your head thrashing against the pillows. "Don't stop, please Aegon, don't ever stop fucking me like this." Your pussy clenches around him, greedy for more, desperate to milk his cock.

Your body writhes beneath Aegon's as he continues his relentless assault on your senses. His thick cock stretches you, fills you, reaches depths you didn't know existed.

"Gods, you're so fucking tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips. "I'm going to ruin this sweet cunt."

You're beyond words, lost to the sensation of him moving inside you. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, your toes curling.

"Ungh, so big," you mewl, your nails raking down his back.

Aegon smiles wickedly down at you, his eyes glazed with lust. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue plunders your mouth, mimicking the motions of his cock in your pussy.

He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your jaw, your neck. He sucks hard at your pulse point, leaving a dark bruise in his wake. His teeth graze your skin, adding a delicious sting to the pleasure.

Aegon continues to pound into you, relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure. His cock is like a battering ram, each thrust driving you further into the mattress. The wet, obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, a lewd background noise to accompany your loud moans.

"That's it, take it," he growls, his hips snapping against yours. "Take my fucking cock."

His hands roam your body, squeezing, kneading, leaving red marks on your skin. He pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core."Fuck, you're so responsive," he praises, his voice rough with desire. "Love how you moan for me, how you beg for my cock."

"Gods, I could fuck this pussy forever," he groans, his hips never ceasing their relentless motion. "So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect."

His words wash over you, stoking the fire burning in your belly. Your pussy clenches around him, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more of him.

Your eyes must be permanently rolled into the back of your head, absolutely lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over you. No coherent words escape your lips, only loud screams of ecstasy and desperate whimpers.

Aegon's thick cock stretches you and fills you utterly as he pounds into you with abandon. Your pussy clenches around him like a vice, making it impossibly difficult for him to move. But he doesn't stop, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each relentless thrust.

The familiar heat builds in your core, the telltale tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. You bring two fingers to your mouth, sucking them hard, drenching them in your saliva. You imagine it's his fat cock between your lips, the taste of him on your tongue.

Pulling your fingers from your mouth, you reach between your legs, finding my swollen clit. You rub the sensitive nub in fast, tight circles, your legs already starting to tremble.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry out, your back arching off the bed. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum!"

Your fingers work furiously at your clit as Aegon continues pounding into you from above. His cock is relentless, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

"That's it, touch yourself," he encourages you, his voice rough with lust. "Make yourself cum on my cock."

You're so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Your thighs begin to tremble as your climax builds, your pussy clenching tightly around Aegon's thick shaft.

"I'm gonna..." you barely manage to gasp out, your words dissolving into a high-pitched keen as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body seizes up, back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through you.

"Fuck!" you wail, your voice echoing off the walls. Your pussy spasms almost violently around Aegon's cock, desperately milking him. You're lost to the sensation, drowning in pleasure.

Aegon fucks you through it, not letting up for a second. His own climax builds rapidly, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Fuck, gonna cum," he growls, his voice strained.

"Gods, you're squeezing me so fucking tight," he groans, his rhythm starting to stutter. "Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum. Breed this tight cunt, make you mine."

His dirty words send another shock of pleasure through you, your pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

"Please," you beg, your voice ragged. "Cum in me, Aegon. Fill me up, make me yours."

With a guttural groan, Aegon buries himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing as he empties himself inside you. You feel the hot splash of his cum painting your inner walls, marking you as his.

Aegon rolls off of you, his cock slipping out of your sore, abused pussy. You whimper at the loss, feeling empty without him inside you.

Your body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, your hair a wild tangle around your face. Your cunt throbs, sensitive and abused from the intense fucking.

Aegon pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your neck. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. "My little dove."

You snuggle into his embrace, trying to catch your breath. Your thighs already ache from the rough treatment, a delicious soreness that you know will linger for days.

As you shift slightly, you feel Aegon's hot seed dripping out of you, staining the white sheets below. Without thinking, you reach down, scooping up some of the mixture of your releases. You bring your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean.

Aegon watches with hooded eyes as you lick your fingers clean, savouring the taste of his release mixed with yours. His cock already twitching back to life at the erotic sight. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, that's hot," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. He tilts your face towards him, claiming your mouth in a filthy kiss.

Aegon rolls, flipping you onto his chest. Your legs straddling his hips, your slick folds against his semi-hard cock. Even spent, he's massive, the thick length pressing insistently against your sensitive flesh.

"I'm nowhere near done with you," he promises darkly, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your ass. He squeezes the globes, his fingers digging into the flesh.

"Gonna mark up this sweet body," he vows, his voice a low rumble. "Leave hickeys on these pretty tits, bite marks on this tight pussy, bruises on these lush thighs."

He punctuates each word with a squeeze, a grope, a pinch. His touch is possessive, and greedy, like he can't get enough of you. Like he wants to stake his claim, show the world that you belong to him.

"Everyone will know you're mine," he growls, his grip tightening. "My pretty little plaything. Mine."

The filthy words make you clench, your abused cunt throbbing with need.

You grind your aching, messy cunt along Aegon's thick shaft, shivering from the overstimulation. You tease him, dragging your slick folds along his length without letting him slip inside.

"Mmm, yeah?" You moan, your voice breathy with desire. "You don't want anyone else to fuck this sweet pussy anymore, huh? Want me all to yourself?"

You lean down, your lips brushing his ear. "Well, if that's the case, then you're also mine. No other woman is ever going to even come close to making you feel the way I do."

You punctuate your words with a slow grind, your slick folds gliding along his hardness. "And if they even dare come near you," you purr, your finger trailing along his sharp jawline, "well, I have the money and the power to make that tramp disappear."

You smirk down at him, your eyes glinting with mischief and dark promise. "You're mine, Aegon."

Aegon's eyes darken with lust at your words, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He reaches up, fisting a hand in your hair and yanking your head back. His other hand lands a sharp smack on your ass, the sting radiating through your sensitive flesh.

"Fuck," he growls, his hips bucking up, trying to bury himself inside you. "Love it when you talk like that." The notion of you ridding him of any competition, of you fighting for him, for your claim on him... it's almost too much. His cock twitches, leaking precum, smearing your folds with the slick fluid.

"I'll burn this world down to keep you," Aegon vows, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Tear apart anyone who tries to come between us."

"Good," you purr, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because I don't share what's mine."

Your words are punctuated by another slow grind, your slick folds gliding along his hardness. He shudders beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips.

"Fuck, the things you do to me," he groans, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "You're going to ruin me for anyone else."

He yanks you down, crushing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming, conquering. He bites at your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"I'll fuck this sweet cunt raw. Ruin you for anyone else."

Another sharp smack to your ass, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. He's marking you, claiming you, staking his possession over you.

"No one else will ever make you feel as good as I do," he promises, his hips rolling, grinding his hard cock against your slick folds. "No one else will ever satisfy you like I can."

He buries his face between your breasts. He licks and sucks at the soft skin, leaving dark hickeys blooming on your flesh. He bites down on one pert nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Mine," he growls against your breast, punctuating the word with a sharp nip. "This body, this pussy, these tits, all fucking mine. Gonna fuck this pussy raw, make it remember the shape of my cock. You won't be able to sit for a week after I'm done with you."

His hands roam over your curves, squeezing, kneading, leaving red marks on your skin. He's possessive, insatiable like he can't get enough of you.

"Gonna fuck you in every room of this house," he vows, his voice rough with desire. "Gonna claim you in front of everyone, show the world who you belong to."

You couldn't take it anymore, your aching cunt clenching around nothing, your juices leaking down his thick cock and onto his thighs. You needed him inside you, stretching you, filling you. Guiding your hips, you sank down onto his thick cock, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. A guttural moan tore from your throat, your eyes rolling back at the sensation of being so full. As soon as you felt his thickness back inside you, your mind went blank.

Aegon groans as you sink down onto his cock, your tight heat engulfing him. His hands fly to your hips, gripping tightly, guiding you as you ride him.

"Fuck, so good," he pants, his head falling back onto the pillow. "Love feeling this pussy squeezing my cock."

You begin to move, rising up until just the tip remains inside, before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt. The obscene sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts.

"That's it, baby," Aegon encourages, his hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your breasts. "Ride my cock. Show me how much you love it."

You lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips undulating, your pace growing faster and harder. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aegon's hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, your waist, your tits. He pinches your nipples, and rolls them between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

"Fuck, I love watching you bounce on my cock," he growls, his hips snapping up to meet yours. "So fucking hot."

The sight of you lost in pleasure, your tits bouncing, your head thrown back in ecstasy... it's enough to drive him wild. He'd never get enough of you, never get tired of seeing you unravel on his cock.

You switch between bouncing on his thick cock and grinding yourself down, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping filling the room. If the walls weren’t soundproof, the entire tower would hear your moans. You throw your head back as you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

By now your moans resemble those of a cam-girl, your eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed in pleasure.

"Fuck! Yesss!" You whine in pleasure, your thighs shaking from exhaustion already.

Aegon watches you intently as you bounce on his cock, your pleasure-filled moans driving him wild. The sight of you losing control, your eyes squeezing shut, your face contorted in ecstasy... it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his hands gripping your hips, helping guide your movements. "Ride my cock just like that. Fuck, you look so hot."

You're a vision of debauchery, your hair a wild mess, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat. The lewd sounds of your bodies coming together fill the room, the wet slap of skin on skin mingling with your wanton moans.

Aegon can feel his own release building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He wants to make this last, to draw out your pleasure, but he's only human. The feel of your tight heat gripping him, the sight of you unravelling on top of him... it's too much.

"Fuck, I'm getting close," he grunts, his hips snapping up to meet yours. "Gonna fill this pussy up again."

Aegon sits up, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you.

"Wanna feel me cum inside you," he growls, his teeth latching onto your neck. "Wanna breed this pussy, make you mine."

"Oh gods, Aegon!" You cry out, your voice breaking on a scream of pleasure as he starts slamming into you from a new angle. Your words dissolve into incoherent babbles of ecstasy as your body goes pliant in his arms, surrendering completely to his possession. "Too much, it's too much!"

But even as you utter the words, you know they're a lie. There's no such thing as too much with Aegon. His powerful thrusts drive you to the edge of madness, each stroke igniting sparks of pure bliss.

You let your head fall against his shoulder, giving yourself over to the pleasure. Your body goes limp in his embrace, letting him fuck you as he wants

Your eyes flutter shut, your lashes casting shadows on your flushed cheeks. You're lost to the sensation. Your body is no longer your own, it belongs to Aegon, to be used for his pleasure.

And gods help me, you've never been happier.

Aegon can feel your body go pliant in his arms, your surrender absolute. The knowledge that you've given yourself over to him, that your pleasure is in his hands... it's heady, intoxicating.

"That's it," he murmurs against your ear, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Let go. Surrender to me, to this pleasure."

You're a vision of debauchery in his arms, your head lolling against his shoulder, your face contorted in ecstasy. He drinks in the sight of you and memorizes every inch of your pleasure-drunk expression.

Aegon's hands roam your body, possessive, greedy. He wants to touch every inch of you and mark you as his. His fingers dip between your thighs, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby," he growls, his hips pistoning faster, harder. "Gonna make this pussy mine."

"Fuck," he grunts, his hips snapping up one final time. "Take it, take my cum."

Aegon buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin. His cock pulses inside you, flooding your womb with his hot seed. He fills you up again and again, marking you, claiming you, making you his.

Aftershocks of pleasure ripple through Aegon's body, his hips still rocking gently, drawing out his release. He stays buried inside you, his softening cock plugging up his cum. He never wants this moment to end, wants to stay joined with you forever.

A high-pitched moan tears from your throat as you cum, your hips bucking wildly against Aegon's. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body shuddering and convulsing in his arms. You are lost to the sensation, drowning in ecstasy.

Your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for all he's worth. You feel him twitch and throb inside you, his own release triggered by mine. He groans lowly, his hips grinding into yours as he fills you up with his hot seed.

It's so much, more than you can handle. You can feel it painting your gummy walls, marking you as his. Some of it spills out around his shaft, trickling down my thighs. The obscene sensation makes you mewl, your hips still weakly rocking against his.

You are spent, boneless, your body going limp in his embrace. Your heart races and your breath comes in short, sharp gasps. You have never felt pleasure like this before, never been so thoroughly claimed and used.

Aegon groans lowly at the feel of your walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. Your release triggers his own, his hips grinding into yours as he fills you up with his hot seed.

He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin. Each pulsing spurt of his cum seems to last forever, painting your insides, marking you as his. He grinds into you, making sure every last drop finds its home deep inside your womb.

When he finally pulls back, he's left breathless, his chest heaving. He looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his fingers trailing lazy patterns on your sweat-slick skin. "You took my cock so well, baby. Such a good girl, so eager to be filled."

He reaches down, scooping some of his cum that's leaked out onto your thighs. He brings his fingers to your lips, slick with his essence.

"Clean up my mess, baby," he commands, his voice low and husky. "Lick up every last drop."

But even as he gives the order, Aegon's touching you gently, tenderly. He cups your face, brushing away the damp strands of hair from your forehead. He peppers soft kisses across your face, coaxing a smile from your lips.

"You're mine now," he whispers, his eyes boring into yours. "I'm never letting you go."

You gaze down at Aegon through your lashes as you take his cum-coated fingers into your mouth. You bob your head, your tongue swirling around the digits, cleaning them of his thick seed.

Aegon's eyes darken as he watches you service him. "Stay with me," he pleads, his voice raw with emotion. "Be mine, only mine. I'll give you anything you want, everything you want. Just don't leave me."

Your heart races at his words. You smile around his fingers, reassuring him of your devotion.

"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur once you've cleaned his fingers. You press a soft kiss on his palm. "I'm yours, Aegon. Forever."

Aegon gazes up at you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Your words wash over him like a soothing balm.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "You promise?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You'll stay by my side, no matter what?"

You nod, your eyes shining with sincerity. "I promise," you vow, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. "I'm yours, Aegon. For better or worse, for richer or poorer..."

Aegon's heart swells at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest. He knows he doesn't deserve your devotion, knows he hasn't earned it. But gods, does he want to.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's not gentle, not tender. It's a claiming, a branding, a marking of what's his. When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless, your lips swollen and glistening.

"I love you," Aegon murmurs against your mouth, the words slipping out unbidden. "I love you so fucking much it hurts."

He's never said those words to anyone before, never even come close. But with you, it feels right, feels true. Like it was always meant to be this way.

"You're my everything," he continues, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. "My heart, my soul, my reason for living. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Aegon buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. You smell like home, like belonging. Like everything he's ever wanted but never dared to dream of.

"Stay with me," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Have my babies, grow old with me. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

Aegon knows he's asking for a lot.

Aegon's words hit you like a freight train, stealing the breath from your lungs. I love you. Three simple words that carry the weight of the world.

For a moment, you're transported back in time. To when you were just a couple of lovesick teenagers, sneaking out under the cover of darkness. You can almost hear the crash of the waves, and feel the sand beneath your bare feet.

You look at Aegon now, your heart swelling with emotion. He's the same boy you fell for all those years ago. The same boy who confessed his feelings to you, his eyes wide with vulnerability.

And now, he's yours. Completely and utterly yours. You're not going to walk away again, not this time.

You cup his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I love you too," you murmur, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. "I never stopped loving you."

You lean in, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss. It's a promise, a vow, a declaration of forever.

When you finally pull apart, you rest my forehead against his. "Let me have your babies, grow old with me, live on a farm for the rest of our days. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

You've waited your whole life for this moment. For Aegon to be yours, body and soul. And now that you have him, you're never letting go.

Aegon's heart soars at your words, your promise of forever. He feels like he's floating like he's on top of the world. You're his, completely and utterly his. And he's yours, now and always.

He kisses you back, pouring all his love, his devotion, his gratitude into the embrace. It's a kiss that says I'm here, I'm yours, I'll never leave you. Not now, not ever.

When you pull back, Aegon rests his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours. They're shining with unshed tears, with a joy he's never known before.

"You're my whole world," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "My beginning and my end. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Aegon's hands roam your body, mapping out the curves and dips he's come to know so well. He traces the line of your spine, the swell of your breasts, the flare of your hips. Each touch is reverent and worshipful.

"I'm going to make you the happiest woman in the world," he promises, his lips brushing against your cheek. "I'm going to love you, cherish you, worship you. Every. Single. Day."

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authortelevision · 2 days ago

Text

jealous george ₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,304 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆flatmate george clarke, fluff, friends to lovers

you have been friends with george for a while and since moving in to his shared flat you’ve learnt that chris loves to tease and flirt with you, after playing truth or dare you’ve also learnt that george might have a truth he isn’t ready to tell you yet

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

thanks @wroetolex for the idea !!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You’d been friends with George Clarke for as long as you could remember. From climbing trees in your back gardens as kids to navigating the worst of university together, George had always been a constant in your life. There was something lovely about him—reliable, funny, the kind of person you could count on no matter what.

It was an easy friendship, the kind where you could pick up conversations exactly where you’d left off, even after months apart. But now, living together in a flat with two other housemates, things felt… different.

It wasn’t that George had changed exactly. He was still the same dry, sarcastic George who could make you laugh with just a stupid impression or an under-the-breath comment. But there were moments now where you’d catch him looking at you a second too long or leaning just a little closer than necessary.

And then there was the way he touched you.

It had always been natural for George to be touchy, he was just that kind of person. But lately, the touches felt… different. Softer, more deliberate. Like the way he’d rest his hands on your waist when squeezing past you in the kitchen, or brush stray bits of hair from your face without a second thought. Sometimes, when you were sitting next to each other on the sofa, he’d place his hand on your thigh lightly stroking it without a second thought. The gesture that didn’t seem to have any reason other than the fact that he could.

It wasn’t just you noticing, either.

Arthur had teased you about it more than once, laughing about how George would always stand just a little too close when you were talking, or how his hand would linger on your shoulder whenever he walked behind you. “Honestly, how have you been friends that long and you haven’t at least kissed yet,” he joked one night, all you could do is roll your eyes.

“He’s just like that,” you’d insisted, brushing it off. But even as you said it, you weren’t sure you believed it.

You weren’t sure when it had started, this strange awareness of him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to notice when you were upset, even before you said anything. Or the way his laugh could light up an entire room, making you forget whatever was bothering you. Or maybe it was just the fact that George was, well, George, uncomplicated in the best way, someone who just got you.

But nothing had ever come of it, and you weren’t sure it ever would. After all, you were friends. Best friends. You’d never even thought about risking that, until now.

Because now, Chris was in the picture.

Chris had been a bit of an issue from the moment you’d moved in, with his constant routine and inappropriate jokes about you and George, the kind of guy who could talk his way out of anything. He loved pushing boundaries, especially George’s, and lately, it seemed like he’d taken a particular interest in you. It was harmless, of course, just Chris being Chris.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But you couldn’t ignore the way George’s mood shifted whenever Chris’s teasing got a little too much, or how his comments became harsher, more defensive. And you definitely couldn’t ignore the way George’s touchiness seemed to intensify, his hand on your back lingering just a moment longer when Chris was in the room, as if to quietly stake a claim.

Something was definitely going on between you two. You could feel it every time George looked at you, every time he made one of those quiet brutal remarks when Chris got too bold. Whatever it was, it was building.

And you had no idea what would happen when it finally came to a head.

The flat was filled with the comfortable chaos of a lazy night in. The living room was a patchwork of cushions, discarded blankets, and half-eaten Thai food. Someone had dimmed the lights, the glow of the lamps giving everything a warm, intimate feel. Your flatmates were sprawled across the modern furniture, all caught up in the easy feeling of the moment.

It was Chris’s idea to play Truth or Dare—of course, it was Chris’s idea. He thrived on moments like this, always looking for ways to push people just far enough for his own amusement. You were sat on the sofa between George and Chris, your usual spot, though you couldn’t help but notice how George seemed just a little closer than usual tonight.

Chris was in fine form, as always. He’d already embarrassed Arthur into confessing his worst Hinge date story and dared George to drink an unholy combination of Birra Moretti and salsa. Now, he leaned back with the self-satisfied smirk of someone who thought he owned the room.

“Alright,” Chris said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “My turn and imma say truth.. and my truth is… that I used to have a little crush on you.” He directed the comment squarely at you, the grin on his face daring you to react.

You blinked, thrown off balance for a moment, before rolling your eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re such a lying asshole.”

“An attractive asshole, though,” Chris said back, leaning into the bit. “I mean, let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t? You’re funny, you’re gorgeous.. I guess… and honestly, you’re the only one in this flat who doesn’t steal my shit.”

“Wow, high standards,” you responded, trying not to laugh.

Chris grinned, unbothered by your deflection. “Hey, I’m just saying. If you’re ever sick of these boys, my door’s always open, we can talk over some food.”

The room burst into laughter, everyone enjoying the ridiculousness of it all. But beside you, George had gone very still.

“Yeah,” George said, his tone light but with an edge that made you glance at him. “Good luck with that. Maybe next time you should ask her opinion on your shitty cooking before you start planning your future.”

Chris tilted his head, pretending to consider this. “Ah, okay so she has preferences. A crucial first step. Of course.”

“Especially since she doesn’t even like your tasteless lamb,” George added, his voice sharp in a way that felt out of place.

Chris shrugged, unfazed. “Well, we all have our faults,” he said, winking at you. “I’m sure I could convert you eventually.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

The conversation moved on, but the energy in the room felt different after that. George didn’t join in the way he usually did. Instead, he stayed quiet, his arms crossed, offering the occasional dry comment whenever Chris’s flirting got too much.

As the game continued, Chris leaned further into the joke, making playful comments about him liking you.

“Honestly,” he said later, “if we weren’t living together, I’d have asked you out ages ago. But, you know, flatmate stuff and all.”

“Wow, you really know how to talk to a woman,” you joked, shaking your head.

George leaned forward, speaking before Chris could. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘romance’ like passive-aggressively leaving your dishes in the sink.”

Chris laughed. “Hey, those are part of my charm. Don’t act like you wouldn’t miss me if I moved out.”

George didn’t miss a beat. “I think we’d survive. At least she wouldn’t have to put up with you filming your voice overs at 2 a.m.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, he’s got a point there.”

Chris held a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. “You hurt me, both of you. But don’t worry, George. I’ll give her front-row tickets at all my games, and I’ll sing Arthur’s songs at our wedding.”

That did it. George sat back abruptly, his expression hardening. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly how she’s always pictured her big day.”

The sudden bitterness in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, the room fell quiet.

Later in the game, the group was getting tired, but Chris wasn’t done yet. He leaned back, arms stretched behind his head, and grinned. “You know, George, you seem to know everything about her. Should I be worried you’re my competition?”

George’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his voice dangerously calm. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t pretend to have a crush when you don’t even know the basics.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, still smirking. “Who says I’m pretending?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what?”

Chris winked at you, his tone still awfully calm. “Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly. Unless you’re interested, in which case…”

George stood abruptly, cutting him off. “Alright, I think we’ve had enough for tonight.”

He left the room without another word, leaving you and the rest of the flatmates staring after him in stunned silence. Chris glanced at you, his smirk softening. “What’s wrong with him, I was only joking?”

You shrugged, trying to shake off the weird tension. “I’ll go check on him.”

You found George in the kitchen. He was scrubbing the counter with a level of focus that suggested he was trying to erase more than just crumbs. The faint hum of the fridge filling the space as you leaned against the kitchen counter. George stood a few steps away, arms still scrubbing. His hair, a soft chestnut brown that always seemed to fall perfectly without any effort, was slightly mussed, and his jaw clenched as he stared at the counter.

“Hey,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows.

George didn’t look at you. His beautiful blue eyes, usually so clear and steady, flicked toward the counter instead. “Hey,” he responded.

George said, his voice sharper than he intended. He finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the weight of it was enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

The kitchen light caught his eyes, making them impossibly blue, like the sky just after a rainstorm. You could see the frustration etched into his face, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something back.

You leaned against the counter, watching him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said shortly, his tone jarring.

“Right.” You crossed your arms, not believing him for a second. “So the whole moody silence thing is just for fun, then?”

That earned you a faint, fake laugh. He set the sponge down with a sigh, finally turning to face you. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” You tilted your head, studying him. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Chris, does it?”

George rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “Chris’s an idiot.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. “But why does that bother you so much? He was just joking around.”

George’s jaw tightened. “Because he doesn’t know you.”

The intensity of his words surprised you. “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t know anything about you,” George said, his voice rising slightly. “I’ve known you for ages. He doesn’t know shit, like that you hate lamb no matter if it’s his or not or that you can’t stand his awkward karaoke singing or that you hum when you’re nervous. He doesn’t know you reread the same book every year because it makes you feel safe, or that you always eat the edges of your toast first because you like saving the best part for last. He just… throws out stupid lines like it’s all a joke.”

You stared at him, stunned by the outburst. “George…”

He looked away, shaking his head. “Forget it. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up. It’s not my business.”

You stepped closer, your heart thudding louder in your chest with every inch you closed between you. “George,” you said again, “do you want a hug?”

The question caught him off guard, and for a second, he blinked at you like you’d spoken in another language. “What?”

“A hug,” you repeated, smiling gently. “You look like you could use one.”

He hesitated, his arms unfolding awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Uh… sure?”

You didn’t wait for him to decide fully. Instead, you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him, your head resting against his shoulder. His body tensed at first, like he was unused to the softness of the moment, but then he relaxed, his arms coming around you hesitantly at first and then more firmly.

He smelled like the faintest trace of aftershave and the laundry detergent you both used. His body was warm, and for a second, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it.

When you pulled back, you caught the faint pink tint creeping up his cheeks. He was looking anywhere but at you now, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Are you blushing?” you teased, grinning.

“No,” he said quickly, his voice a little too high.

You laughed, crossing your arms. “It’s okay, George. It’s just me.”

He let out a huff of air, finally looking at you. “You don’t get it,” he muttered.

“Don’t get what?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Chris’s an idiot. That’s all.”

You sighed, stepping closer again. “You’re being stupid, you know that? It’s not like I’m interested in Chris or anything.”

He blinked, his expression shifting. “You’re not?”

“No,” you said giggling. “Fucking hell George, just stop talking.”

And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss you’d imagined when you’d let your mind wander late at night. It was softer, lighter. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

But then his hands came up to cup your face, pulling you closer. The kiss continued, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it. His fingers were slightly wet from his scrubbing, his touch almost like a ghost, and when he pulled back just enough to look at you, you saw something in his eyes that made your knees weak.

He stared at you, wide-eyed. “Oh,” he said quietly.

You laughed, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Um… okay,” he stammered, his face reddening again.

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his. “You’re actually quite cute when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“Stop,” he murmured, finally smiling. “But I thought you liked Chris.”

You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, “Of course I don’t, you’re the only idiot i’d like”

George let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he’d been holding. “Good,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Because I’m pretty sure I’d lose my mind if I had to watch him keep trying.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer, sweeter. “You must know he was only joking?”

He smirked, finally regaining some of his usual confidence. “Yeah I definitely knew that.”

For a moment, the world outside the two of you didn’t exist—the messy kitchen, the flatmates in the living room, even Chris with his incessant teasing. All of it faded away as George leaned in again, his lips kissing yours with a little more certainty this time.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what happens now?” he asked.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his. “Well, for starters, you’re going to stop being moody every time Chris makes a joke.”

George chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours lightly. “No promises.”

“And,” you added, tilting your head to meet his gaze, “we’ll figure the rest out as we go. Okay?”

His smile widened, his blue eyes softening. “Okay.”

Just as you were about to kiss him again, the sound of Chris’s voice carried from the living room. “Hey! What’s going on in there?”

George groaned, resting his head on your shoulder dramatically. “He’s actually insufferable”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “Come on. Let’s get back out there before he starts another round of Truth or Dare.”

George sighed but didn’t let go of your hand. “Fine. But if he says one more word about a wedding, I’m throwing him out.”

You grinned, pulling him toward the door. “You’re so dramatic, Oh my God.”

As you stepped back into the living room, George’s let go of your hand, Chris immediately spotted the change between you both. He raised an eyebrow. “Look who decided to rejoin us.”

Arthur glanced between the two of you, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. Are you two—”

“Shut up,” George interrupted, though his tone lacked any real heat.

You squeezed his hand, laughing softly. “Don’t worry, Arthur. You’ll get the full story later.”

Chris leaned back, clearly delighted. “About time,” he said with a grin. “Guess I’ll have to back off now, huh?”

“Guess you will,” George shot back, his tone dry but the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

As the laughter died down, you caught Chris’s eye and couldn’t help but smirk. “For the record,” you said, your voice carrying a teasing edge, “I always knew you were joking, Chris.”

Chris put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Joking? I would never joke about something so serious.”

George muttered something under his breath, and you grabbed his hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine,” you whispered, just for him. Then you turned back to Chris, “Well, thanks for your confession, I think.”

Chris laughed, leaning back with exaggerated smugness. “What can I say? I have a gift.”

“Your gift is being obnoxious,” George replied, though his tone had softened now, the sharpness replaced with a reluctant smile.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, enough about that. Who’s next in Truth or Dare? Arthur?”

The next morning, Chris caught you both in the kitchen, you sat on the counter, leaning in to talk to George. He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Well, well. Looks like my work here is done.”

George groaned. “Don’t start.”

But you just laughed, jumping off the counter to slip your arms around George’s waist, resting your head on his back.

#george clarkey #george clarke #arthur hill #chrismd #italianbach #georgeclarkey #george clarke fics

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thisismeracing · 2 days ago

Note

Can you please do Mick dating Raikkönen!reader hsc, please?

sure <3 hope u like it, nonny!

Requests are now CLOSED.

MICK DATING A RAIKKÖNEN!READER | MS47

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Raikkönen!reader just like her father is not in for silly jokes or small talk. She’s direct. If she doesn’t like you she’ll tell it to your face. The opposite is true as well - that’s how she told Mick she liked him after they hung out for a few months;

“I like you.” Short, simple, and direct. So direct that Mick wasn't sure if she meant she liked LIKED him or if she was being friendly, but since the latter was unlikely, he gathered up his courage and asked her on a date;

Though Michael and Mikki raced together, and Mick pretty much grew up inside the racing scene, the same was not reality for Yn. She did like racing, but when she was a kid Mikki and her mother chose to prioritize her privacy and her studies, that's how she wasn't friends with Mick. But once they met, it was a perfect match. Mick was shy at first, so that made him silent, and Yn just wasn't interested in talking. The silence was comfortable, though, and she saw herself walking near the bench he was sitting on and sharing a piece of her granola bar with him. Her dad had seen the friendship unfold, and he nicknamed them 'birds' because they would feed each other silently and then leave only to come up the next weekend with a sandwich, a granola bar, a candy, share in silence, and then leave again;

When Mick finally asked Yn on a date she told her dad and though he used to make fun he ended up feeling jealous - he even suggested that he could go too as if it was a friend meeting, not a date. Yn laughed at the situation, something she didn't do all the time, which made it even more special to those around her;

She sent Mikki a picture after the date. Their faces squished together on the screen of the phone. He could see Mick's arms around her shoulders, but her smile was so bright he couldn't help but feel happy for them;

He has dinner with the Schumachers the next month, minus Mick, of course. And they talk about the likelihood of their relationship becoming serious. They end up choosing to support them, Mikki being pretty sure that Yn wouldn't back down if he told her to, and the same with Mick;

Now, Mikki is a bit unsure of everything at first. He did see Mick grow up. He was friends with his family. But still, it was Yn! His little girl. That doubt went away a few months after they announced the seriousness of their relationship. Older Mick was a fun guy, nothing like the babbling kid nor the grumpy teenager he used to be. So the Schumacher and the older Raikkönen ended up realizing they had a lot in common;

After that, it's always "Where's Mick, Yn? Is Mick coming to the family vacation? Are the Schumis spending Christmas with us? Did you give him the book I handed you?" it's funny even;

Mick calls Yn by Raikki a short for her surname. Sometimes he calls her Rai or even Kiki, she hates the latter, though;

I feel like they would be super private. So much that it took almost a year or so for people to pierce the pieces together;

But being private didn't mean they weren't in love. That they were and the garage they attended quickly picked up from the way Mick would smile at her or how she would laugh around him;

Just black cat and golden retriever vibes, but Mick showed Yn her golden side too (the opposite too because Mick started to stand up for himself a tad more);

You know those couples where at least one has to be the person to tell the waiter they got the order wrong? Now imagine Yn is the one who does it while Mick is there like "I wouldn't mind eating raw meet :(" and Yn is like "I want another dish and I want dessert on the house," super serious while Mick is giving an apologetic look to the employee;

Yeah. hihi

#millies inbox #anon #ms47 #mick schumacher #op: headcanons #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #mick schumacher x reader #raikkönen!reader #mick schumacher headcanon #mick schumacher imagine #f1 imagines #f1 headcanons #requests #raikkonen!reader

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letmerideitchris · 2 days ago

Text

𐬺𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐𐬺

summary: Chris matt and nick get a new videographer, she is funny, smart and pretty, basically everything Chris could ever want in a girl. Chris finds it impossible to not fall for her…

Warnings: angst, yelling, cursing, mentions of killing (in a joking way)

Wc: 1009

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

“Chris would you like to tell us what the fuck we just walked in on?” matt says sternly

Y/n had previously left the house out of embarrassment to what nick and matt had walked into.

“does anyone know where some bleach is? My eyes need some” nick says looking around

“guys you're being dramatic, I'm sorry i couldn’t resist, she’s everything i have ever wanted” chris says as he looks down at the floor

“that is the least of our problems right now, shes meant to be coming over tomorrow to film a vlog for us, that is going to be so awkward thanks to you dick face” nick says hitting chris’ shoulder

“yeah chris, you need to sort it out and apologize because you are runing it for us”

“but I'm not sorry and i am quite looking forward to seeing her tomorrow even though it will be awkward…” Chris says slightly smiling at the thought of her

“im not sure if shes looking forward to seeing you, she just ran away” matt says looking at the open front door y/n previously left through.

“chris you make me want to kill you, is it hard being this dumb?”

“guys can you show some sort of sympathy? Like imagine the girl of your dreams is actually interested in you and then your brothers walk in on you fucking and she runs out of embarrassment?” chris says

“No i actually cannot imagine that i am gay if you forgot dumb shit” nick says in a duh tone

“you guys are ridiculous” chris mumbles annoyed as he makes his way downstairs to his bedroom.

The next morning chris is laying in bed half asleep, wishing she was beside him. But hes quickly taken out of his trance when he hears the doorbell, the sound he was dreading yesterday but wishing upon now.

“i’ll get it!” matt yells from upstairs

But when he turns to the door chris is already unlocking it

Nick is sitting on the couch with an unamused face, when matt looks over at him “look at this desperate dickhead”

“hes never gonna learn, fuck sake” nick eyerolls

When chris opens the door, y/n is taken aback by his face. y/n looks down at the floor and says quietly “oh… hi chris”

chris’ smile quickly fades as he hears her tone and realizes his excitement isn't mutual.

“hi y/n, come upstairs, can I get you a water or?-”

“uh no i should be good..thanks..”

Chris takes a seat on the couch wondering why y/n is acting so weird towards him. What did he do wrong? Did he say something bad?

The boys all give y/n a hug greeting her, besides chris.

“matt would you mind getting me some water? I’m really thirsty?” y/n says looking at matt

Chris looks over at her with a confused look across his face

“yeah of course, nick can you come with me, i think these two need to talk it out..” matt lowers his tone at the end so only nick can hear his last comment

Chris and y/n are both sitting on opposite sides of the couch looking at each other waiting for one to speak up.

“y/n, whats wrong?” chris speaks up

“have a think chris, have a think.”

Chris is using all of his brain and is trying to peice together what could be wrong. And then something clicks in his mind and realizes what has happened. He looks up with a concerned look on his face

“is this about yesterday, y/n? If it is im really sor-”

y/n cuts him off “chris do you not realize what we did and how this will affect our relationship and my job”

Chris is shocked by what she said “wait so your saying you regret what we did? I-I really thought we had something, something that would last, something you would care about” he says as he raises his voice and stands up angrily from the couch.

“no i don't regret it, that's not what I'm saying. I just think we should've been more careful or waited a bit longer” y/n says avoiding eye contact

“so you do regret it huh?” he starts to walk off then she grabs him by the arm

“no, chris just calm down i am not done-”

“well i sure am, get out of my house please”

y/n opens her purse quxckly, chris is standing there waiting for something that could save this relationship but instead it is something that will change their lives forever.

y/n slides a positive pregnancy test along the coffee table.

“as i was saying, we should've been more careful, should've waited longer, not saying i regret it.” she says shaking with tears forming on her waterline

She closes her purse, gets up, looks into the kitchen to see matt and nick both staring in such a state of shock. Tears start rolling down her face as she looks back at chris’ guilty and worried face. She wipes her tears and continues to leave.

The door slams

“i could choke you to death right now chris, not much is stopping me” nick says furiously as he follows y/n out of the house

Chris is still standing there in disbelief staring at that positive test.

“chris, ill get you some water, all you can do right now is sit down and try and relax yourself. Don't text anyone and don't listen to what nick is saying even though he is right, i know you would be really stressed right now and nothing he has to say will help.” matt says patting chris on the back gently

chris sits down on the couch shaking with tears falling down his face onto his pants, he can't seem to look away from the test. Regret and guilt clouds his mind and all he is thinking about is y/n.

“m-matt” chris stutters, matt turns back around to face chris, you can tell even matt is stressed out

“i, i am going to be a d - dad”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @riggysworld @chrissturnsss @sophand4n4

@chrispycremedonut

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fandom #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo edit #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets

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imawreck · 2 days ago

Text

His

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky broke up a few months ago against your wishes, and you’d been trying to move on. When Bucky sees you flirting with another member of the team, he leaves for the next mission to avoid getting in your way. Unfortunately, the mission goes bad, and Bucky isn’t himself when he comes back. He also has a lot to say…

Author’s Note: I realize that in most of my fics Thor is the other romantic interest/situationship, but you CANT tell me that man wouldn’t flirt up a storm with a beautiful woman any chance he got. Also, this is my first smutty fic so feedback and comments would be much appreciated! This is on the more explicit side, so please read with caution.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), choking kink, Possessive!Winter Soldier, flashbacks, hair pulling, fingering, metal arm kink, dominant!winter soldier, probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 4,850

Breakups are ugly most of the time, and almost always one sided.

You and Bucky had been apart for at least three months. You’d stopped counting, wanting to forget it and focus on anything else. It was easier that way, to ignore the heartbreak and clutter up your life with other things to do.

Unfortunately, you still lived in the same tower on the same floor, right across from one another. He was constantly around, and no mattered how hard you tried, you just couldn’t avoid him.

It was hell.

And it was only hell because Bucky hardly gave you a good reason for the break up. Sure, you had your arguments. Mostly about his past and how much better he thought you deserved, to which you’d list all the reasons he was wrong. In reality, those weren’t really arguments. It was just Bucky having a low point, which you were more than willing to help him work through. Outside of those moments, you had felt that your relationship with Bucky was near perfect.

So when he had come back from a mission and broke up with you, his only reason being ‘I can’t be with you,’ it’d been a slap to the face. Like someone had shoved a knife in your heart and twisted.

The worst part was that he wouldn’t even allow you the chance to talk to him afterwards. Every time you were in the same room together alone, he’d find every reason not to speak with you.

So, you’d taken the hint and were now trying to figure out a way to move on.

That was made a little easier when a certain God of Thunder made his interest known to you. Thor was sweet, charming, and a little goofy. Not to mention handsome, with his blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

He’d made an effort to woo you not long after you’d parted from Bucky, and you’d informed him that the breakup was hard for you and that you couldn’t really do something new right now. Thor had been surprisingly understanding, and even took to just being friends quite well. Granted, he was still flirty, but he knew where you both stood and was always happy to lend an ear when you needed one.

He turned out to be just the friend you needed.

From the outside looking in, none of the others thought it was ‘just friends,’ especially when Thor would openly show his interest in you. Especially to a certain Super Soldier.

Bucky was painfully aware of what was going on between you and Thor even though he desperately tried not to be.

His super hearing picked up on the soft laughter you and the god would share, on the hushed whispers you’d exchange late over a mug of coffee when you thought everyone was asleep. His every fiber was attuned to you, and he couldn’t help but fixate on your presence.

You were like gravity to him, and he always found himself near you when he knew he should be as far as humanly possible. He saw the little looks you shared when Thor would compliment you, noticed your shy smile when the god would enter the room. He could tell that Thor was winning you over slowly but surely.

He couldn’t fucking stand it.

So it wasn’t a big surprise when he shipped off on the next mission possible.

You worried, your heart still set on loving him, but you tried to pay it little mind. And after a few days, it actually helped. You felt better, found yourself smiling more. You were beginning to move forward.

That was, until the jet was reported missing. Then Bucky was all anyone could talk about in the tower.

Thor tried his best to keep you in the dark about most of what was going on, and it wasn’t hard seeing as you were just a rather good strategist and not a serious Avenger. You were only really included in skimming over preplanned attacks and making sure they hadn’t missed anything critical.

But word still spread, and worry was ever present.

Needless to say, it was very strange when Mr. Stark called you into a private meeting with himself and two other of the elite team.

“Y/N,” He spoke softly in the kind of tone that lets you know that whatever he says next is going to ruin your whole week. “There’s a situation with Barnes.”

You frowned, eyebrows scrunching at him from where you sat at the rather empty end of the long black table. “I’m confused. Bucky and I broke up months ago. Why are you talking to me about it?”

Steve, who you’d befriended while dating his best pal, looked at you with poorly concealed pity from his seat next to Stark. “Because we know he still means a lot to you and that you’re our best hope in this situation.”

That didn’t make you feel better about whatever was going on at all. “What do you mean ‘this situation?’” You eyed them both, before dragging your eyes over to Doctor Banner who hadn’t done much more than stare at you with a concerned expression bordering on panic.

Stark pressed his fingers to his forehead, “Barnes got triggered on his mission and has infiltrated the tower. We have reason to believe he’s after you.”

You gaped at him. That didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important, at least not as important as one of The Avengers. “Me? Why me?”

“We’ve silently shut the building down and we’re working on evacuating the floors without anyone freaking out.” Tony went on, ignoring your questions, “He doesn’t know that we’re aware he’s here, and we’re trying to keep it that way.” Tony motioned towards a monitor, and the image of Bucky popped up on the screen.

Only he was in your room, and he was dragging his fingers over the picture of the two of you that was perched on the nightstand. They way his fingers smoothed over the glass, the slight pinch in his brows as if calculating instead of recalling. It was like he’d never seen it before in his life. Like he had no connection to the image of himself.

It was a picture he had taken, his arm extended and a smile on his face with your lips pressed to his cheek. You had meant to take it down and stuff it in the box under your bed with all the other memories you had hid from sight, but it was just too painful. You needed something to hold onto.

You watched through the screen as he moved around your room, taking note of certain things and taking careful precautions to ensure that anything he moved was set right back in place. It was eerie to watch a man who was once so comfortable in your space tread with so much hesitance. Like it was the first time he’d been in the space all over again.

“Y/N.” It was Steve’s gentle timbre that brought your attention away from the screen this time. He tried to smile, though it was clearly forced. “We need you to lure him down towards the lower levels. We have to get him to a room where we can better contain him. If he finds out we know he’s back and not… him, then he could snap.”

“You want to use me as bait? For the Winter Soldier?” You stared at them both with wide eyes, panic blooming in your chest. “This is insane!”

Steve sighed, “Y/N… Bucky told me about the incident that happened in the beginning of your relationship.”

Your attention zeroed in on the blonde’s words, your breath hitching.

“He told me what could’ve happened… and what didn’t.”

You walked down the corridor of the Stark tower office floor heading back towards your desk from a late night research meeting with a few of your coworkers. You had decided to stay later than the others so that you could collect and organize the information you needed for the meeting with Mr. Stark the following morning. It was very late, and you were tired, the heels you wore had begun to irritate the soles of your feet hours before.

You clutched the files you collected in your arms, heels clicking on the glossy floors and echoing into the dimly lit corridor. So dim that you didn't see the silhouette of the man standing just feet from you until it was too late.

You only saw a flash of silver before the door beside you was torn open and you were roughly shoved inside. Cleaning supplies clattered onto the floor, spilling liquids over your feet as you cried out. A hand clamped over your mouth, and your head hit the wall with a thunk.

Stormy blue eyes stared at you, cold and unfeeling. Eyes you had seen just days before smiling at you and filled with life.

Your lips moved to say his name against the cool metal of his hand, but his grip on your face was nearly bruising. You could only stare back in fear and attempt to press your body further from him.

He didn't speak, only stared at you and kicked the door to the closet shut.

Fear was a living thing in your stomach, writhing as his eyes snaked down to your red heels and back up again. His head tilted to the side, as if he was trying to remember something. But his eyes remained cold and unrelentingly empty. His flesh hand came up to press a finger threateningly to his lips.

‘Quiet.’

You weren't stupid enough to scream, not with the way he was looking at you, with how close he was. When he removed his hand, you did exactly as he wanted. Silence hung in the small closet, suffocating you. Would he kill you? What did he want? Why hadn't he killed you already?

The cool metal of his palm slipped further down, wrapping around your throat and pressing against your thundering pulse. Your head pounded along with it, and a foggy feeling settled over your mind.

But your lungs still filled with air, and you remained aware. The pressure of his hand was ever present, but it was light enough not to cause real damage... Almost like he didn't want to hurt you.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, the movement catching your eyes. His body leaned forward, his nose pressing into your neck and his warm breath hitting your skin. Goosebumps rose in its wake, and that lick of fear heightened again. He was acting so strangely, and the longer it went on the more unsettling it was.

When he pulled away, there was a heat in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A hunger, and… and recognition.

“Hello, Beloved.”

“We know that he didn’t hurt you, and that he displayed… certain feelings towards you.” Steve’s voice brought you out of the memory, dragging you back to the reality at hand.

The one where he wants you to put yourself smack dab in the path of the Winter Soldier.

“You’re serious about this?” You blink up at him, trying to gauge if he was joking or not. Level headed as Steve was, you trusted him with your life. But this? This was terrifying and completely unexpected. Ridiculously dangerous.

“It’s the only nonviolent way we can think of. And we’re almost certain there’s no high risk for you.” Steve tried to give you a reassuring smile, tried to hide the hint of unease that shone in his tense shoulders.

“You’ve all lost your mind.” You laugh, sighing and raising your chin. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Apparently, so had you.

You stared at the metal doors of the elevator, your heart pounding with each toll of the floors passing. This was probably—no, was— the riskiest thing you’d ever done in your life. You trusted Steve and Mr. Stark, but your brain was trained to find the flaws in plans like this. And so many things could go wrong.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Steve said calmly into your ear, startling you. You’d forgotten they’d given you the earpiece. “I’ll be here the entire time. I’ll guide you through the compound and make sure you stay out of danger.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if they could see you.

“Bucky is leaving your room. We’re going to drop you off in the commons area of your floor. All you have to do is make some noise and then head for the stairwell. Just listen to me, and I’ll get you through this.” Steve sounded so confident in your ear, but it did little to soothe the nerves.

The elevator leveled out, and the doors quietly opened. The large living room opened up before you, unnervingly bright and welcoming despite the danger you knew lurked just down the hall. You stepped out onto the carpet, walking towards the kitchen. Your palms sweat, heart pounding, as you made your way up to the cabinets.

You just had to make some noise. Easy, right?

But your body wouldn’t move.

“Y/N.” Steve’s voice called in your ear again, gently coaxing you from where he watched the cameras. “Make some noise, and then head for the stairs.”

You swallowed, nodding again, and reached with shaky hands towards the cabinet. You grabbed a bowl, and hesitantly set it down on the granite counter. The echoing pok of the ceramic felt too loud in your ears, like a gunshot.

“Good, now move quickly. He’s just down the hall headed your way.”

The words sent a chill down your spine… and something else followed. Something you’d never felt before.

You headed towards the stairs, but your feet felt like lead weights. Like you couldn’t move fast enough even though you knew you were going as fast as you could.

But you could hear the faintest scuff of boots coming behind you and the sound sent your heart into a frenzy.

You raced down the stairs, tripping a few times before righting yourself and continuing your decent down towards the lower levels. Your floor was four levels up from ground level, which meant you had six floors in total to descend before you could get to the containment floor.

Six flights of stairs being chased by The Winter Soldier. A superhuman man who was definitely faster than you, and probably wanted to do something terrible to you. Like a wolf hunting a sheep.

Oh God.

The thought only served to spur the panic rising in you. You kicked up your speed when the door slammed behind you, footsteps pounding after you as the dark silhouette of Bucky Barnes rounded the stairs two flights above.

He took the stairs four at a time, his long legs swallowing up the distance between you. The panic clawed its way up your throat in a strangled cry, and the sound just seemed to quicken his pace.

“I’m not fast enough!” You tried to keep your voice even, tried to keep it quiet in the echoing stairwell so that the soldier behind you would hear.

“You’re almost there, Y/N. Just keep up the pace. Two flights left and—“ but he didn’t get to finish his sentence.

You watched in shocked horror as Bucky’s figure leapt over the railing and plummeted towards the ground. He dropped several flights before his arm snapped out and wrapped around the railing. The sound of metal hitting metal rang out around you as the railing dipped under the crushing pressure.

He hauled himself back onto the stairs just before you. Those cold eyes found yours, dark hair framing sharp features, painting him into something primal. Something wild.

That feeling pounded through you again, skittering along your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. You still couldn’t place it, not with him stepping towards you with a look that promised violence.

You heard Steve’s voice ordering something over the earpiece, but it was distant. It became clearer a moment later. “We’ve got a team heading in. Just… just hang in there.”

You swallowed, but your throat had gone dry in the presence of the assassin before you. His eyes held you in place as his towering form finally stopped a stair below you, leveling with you face to face. So close you could count the stitches in the Kevlar of his suit.

You felt your body shaking, heard your heart thundering in your ears as your chest rose and fell with each short breath you managed to drag into your lungs.

And he watched every move you made.

His head titled to the side exactly like it’d done the first time you’d been trapped with him. His gaze never left you, eyes wandering over your face and heaving chest before that faint look of recognition settled into those hollow eyes.

And then that heat you’d seen before consumed them.

He stepped forward, and you answered with a step back. For each one he took, you pedaled backwards until your body was plastered against the wall. When you tried to flee back up the stairs, his metal hand planted itself against the wall inches from your head.

You were utterly trapped.

Rough Russian left his lips in the softest whisper. The sound was the same as you’d heart him say before, though you didn’t understand it.

Not until now, as the earpiece Steve had given you translated his words as he spoke them.

“Hello again, Beloved.”

Those blue eyes bored into yours, as his other hand came up to brush your cheek with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of.

“He’s kept me from you for so long.” Bucky’s body leaned forward, caging you against the wall. His metal hand remained pressed against the wall beside you, and the other dragged across the skin of your neck and shoulder in an almost reverent manner.

Bucky’s— no, this wasn’t Bucky. This was the part of Bucky he kept farthest from you. This was a man known for cruel, unimaginable violence. An assassin known by reputation around the world by both hero and criminal alike and feared by all. This was the Winter Soldier.

Winters lips brushed your jaw, stubble tickling the column of your throat as his voice rumbled against your skin. “Kept you to himself. Never let me touch you. Worried I’d damage you, Beloved. Couldn’t see you needed me.”

His teeth nipped at your skin, and a shiver rolled down your spine in answer. That feeling tugged at your mind again, spurred by his words. But still, you couldn’t place it. Not with your mind consumed by his statements and barely contained yearning.

When his head lifted to find your eyes again, the fingers of his right hand tangled themselves in your hair and pulled hard enough to have your scalp stinging. His next words were guttural and biting, “And then he let you go.”

Winters grip loosened a bit, but his hold on your hair remained. “He pushed you away, and then that god tries to take you from me?” His eyes held you, demanding your utter attention as his head shook slowly, “You don’t belong to him.”

Tugging your lip between your teeth, you clenched your eyes shut. God, you wished Bucky would say that to you. Having Winter here saying these words with Bucky’s voice, Bucky’s face. Touching you with familiar hands…

Heat had begun to pool low in your belly.

The words were spoken in English. “Open your eyes.”

There was no room for objection in his voice, so you did as he said. With his jaw was set in an angry line, and those blue eyes boring into your soul, he leaned in closer. “He thinks that being with you is too dangerous, that you aren’t safe with… with us.”

“What?” Your heart hammered in your chest at his words. It was the first real reason as to why Bucky had broken up with you.

Those silvery blue eyes zeroed on your lips as he spoke again. “He thinks we can’t protect you, that I’ll hurt you. That somehow being further from you keeps you safe from what comes with being what we are.” His metal hand left the wall in favor of brushing over your lower lip and trailing the cool tips of his fingers down to the dip of your breasts and back up to the column of your throat. “I’d never hurt you, not the way he has. Not if you didn’t want it.”

“W-what do you mean?” You just knew he was picking up on how your heart beat harder as his fingers trailed over your skin. Or the way you kept shifting on your feet to stave off the heat thrumming in your veins with an all too familiar want blooming and begging for his hands to explore more.

The faintest hint of a smile graced his face as he gave your hair another gentle tug, then loosened his grip once more. “You like this. I’ve seen how you react with him. How you quietly treasure the marks he leaves on your skin even when he feels nothing but guilt.” That metal hand slipped over your throat again and pressed on your neck exactly as he’d done the first time you’d seen Winter. Your head spun at the pressure, but you could breathe easily under the cool press of his palm as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “I see how badly you wish he’d touch you with this hand,” he squeezed your neck and loosened it quickly, “How badly you want those marks. How badly you need me.”

You had no words. Nothing to say as he wrung out the truth you’d thought was hidden from him— from Bucky.

Bucky was notorious for avoiding any situation that would make him use the metal arm. He would much rather let it hang there, or act as if he didn’t have it at all. That included when the two of you would get intimate. He never dared to bring it anywhere near you no matter how many times you’d reminded him it was fine, that you weren’t afraid of it. He outright refused to allow it to touch your delicate skin, to let such a catalyst for agony so close to something as precious as you.

Winter knew that you’d secretly craved to feel the cold metal in contrast to his warm skin when he held you. He knew that you would always find it more satisfying when Bucky would lose himself and get rough with you when things got heated. How his flesh hand would leave bruises on your thighs or hips to keep you steady as he thrust himself deeper.

Just the thought had you aching, and here was Bucky’s darker half offering you everything you’d ever wanted.

You were losing your fucking mind.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, but the words were flimsy and meaningless. He knew the truth, but that didn’t mean you had to say it aloud.

His metal fingers dug into your jaw, his grip near bruising as he tilted your head up to level your eyes with his. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dollface.” His lips were a hairs-width away, his warm breath fanning over your face.

The scent of him was intoxicating, muddling your mind even further with heady leather and metal invading your nose. The hint of that aftershave you’d missed so much since Bucky broke your heart.

Winter was tearing you apart at the seams.

“Please,” you whispered. Please what? You didn’t know. You could hardly think straight. That feeling was so strong, thrumming along with your pulse and the ache for something. Anything.

“Tell me I’m right.” He mumbled against your skin. Soft lips, a vast contrast to his rough demeanor, to the calloused hand that remained tangled in your hair, trailed down your cheek. “Tell me that you want me. Not the pathetic excuse for a god, or him. That you want me.”

His metal hand released your face, drifting over your neck and dragging over the left side of your chest. He circled once, thumbing over your nipple with a knowing look filled with every sinful promise known to man.

And then he went lower and lower…

His fingers caught the waistband of your leggings, the chill of his fingers raised goosebumps across your stomach, only serving to worsen that burning need.

“Doll,” a command and a question wrapped in one word.

All you had to do was admit your darkest most guarded secret. Confess, and he would give you what you wanted most. What Bucky was too afraid to do.

You opened your mouth, the words tumbling out as he gave your hair another tug.

“I want you.”

That smirk grew just a fraction more, his fingers slipping past your waistband and toying with the hem of your panties.

Fuck, did you wish you’d gone commando today.

“Who am I?” He asked, teeth nipping down your neck hard enough to know they’d leave marks. “I want you to say it, Y/N.”

Those fingers slipped further, rolling over your aching clit in a teasing stroke before he pulled them away again.

If he wasn’t a literal assassin, you’d consider strangling him.

“For fucks sake,” you gripped his arm, your voice unfamiliar in your own ears, ragged and broken. “Winter, please.”

He didn’t waste time, deft, cool fingers dipping into your core with confidence. Soothing that aching heat.

Fuck.

His thumb circled slow as he pumped his fingers, his mouth leaving wet kisses along your jaw up to your lips where he paused long enough to catch a glimpse of your face. You knew you looked like an utter mess, but those blue eyes showed nothing but twisted delight. He leaned forward and tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, bitting hard enough to make you groan.

Winter’s answering grunt of approval urged you further towards the edge of oblivion those perfect metal fingers were working you towards.

God you were so close. Each movement, every touch and bruise he left on your skin pushing you closer and closer. Just a bit more, a fraction more and you’d—

His fingers wrenched away, gone in an instant.

Your eyes, closed from the pleasure just moments ago, snapped open just before the doors to the stairway above and below you burst open. Floods of agents filed through the doors, and a gun fired.

The sharp sound echoed in the confined space making you flinch. Winters back pressed you against the wall, a solid shield of muscle keeping you out of harms way.

Then the weight was too heavy. His body crushing you as he slumped toward the floor. You screamed, immediately thinking the worse as your eyes searched his form in a panic.

But you found no blood, thank God.

“He’s fine, Y/N.”

Steve’s hand on your shoulder had you flinching back, head snapping to his suit clad form. “The gun—“

“It’s just a tranq. I promise, Bucky will be fine.” His face was the picture of practiced reassurance.

A horde of agents rushed forward and cuffed Winters hands and dragged his unconscious body out of the stairwell and further towards the confinement room. Steve remained with you, his eyes flicking to your neck a few times and checking you over to make sure no serious damage had been done.

When you’d gotten yourself back to your room away from the prying eyes and the relentless questions, the reality of what had happened slammed into you.

You just let the Winter Soldier finger you in a fucking stairwell.

And you liked it.

Plunging your fingers into your hair, you took a shaky breath. What the fuck were you thinking? Had you lost your damn mind? Bucky broke up with you three months ago! You were done; over, moving on. He could remember this, for Christ sake! How would you explain it?

Panic writhed in your stomach, but so did the faint ache of need that reminded you of what had just happened mere minutes ago.

The feeling of his metal hand on your skin, the feeling of those fingers working you perfectly and the pressure of his bruising grip.

And that feeling that you couldn’t place.

But now you had a word for it.

From the thrum of your heart as he chased you down the stairs, the promise of violence and sinful pleasure in his eyes. The roughness of his actions…

It was the thrill.

You liked the chase. You liked how rough he was. The delicious blend of panic and pleasure.

And he’d been interrupted before you got the release you’d craved. That you needed.

Frustration boiled to the forefront of your mind, a dozen different strategies with it.

He’d made you confess your darkest secret only to leave you high and dry.

And damn him if he wasn’t going to finish what he started.

#winter soldier #drama #👀#bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #x reader #angst #smut

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ifindus · 3 days ago

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Hey findus! Any ideas on how and when the magic trio became a thing? It's nice to imagine them as Norway's friends, but I wonder how it happened...

The Magic Trio probably didn't become a thing until the recent years, and it was probably England that brought them together as a friend group. Norway and England have a very long history as friends with lots of interactions. England also established ties with Romania in the 1800s to get him out of the Ottoman Empire and independent from Russia. So I can see England and Romania growing closer and striking up a good tone on a personal level in the late 1800s. At this point Norway is finding his own legs to stand on as a semi-independent nation as well - coupled with the genres being explored and celebrated in literature and imagery at the time, seems like something they all could have bonded over. Folklore and magic becomes more of a popular thing. England then introduces Romania to Norway because they are some of the few nations he knows who are into the same stuff as him. They kind of hit it off in the late 1800s, but then is more off as the first half of the 1900s comes along. They then rediscover their shared interests in the modern era and makes more of an effort to get together and explore magic as a group.

#hetalia #aph norway #aph england #aph romania #hws romania #hws england #hws norway #thanks for the ask!! 💖💖 it was not forgotten #just fyi: googling “english traditional clothes” is pointless #I had a suspicion #it was confirmed #tried to give them all modern clothes that are inspired by their cultural outfits and fitting their colour scheme #and you can def tell which of them I draw the most 😅#I swear I will get Romania drawn properly at some point #maybe I'll have to go there to be inspired 🤔#oooo maybe I should draw all the countries I've visited at some point!! That would be a fun project

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kingkat12 · 2 days ago

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enigma (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, sub!Roman, blindfold, handcuffs, riding, handjob, edging, banter, Roman likes tits tihi, name-calling (for a second lol), fluff sort-of?

summary: after Roman became the CEO of Godfrey Industries, he hasn't been able to let off any steam... so it seems he might need some help figuring out how to channel his frustrations

word count: 4,713

a/n: celebrating 600 followers w the return of sub!Roman!!<33 y'all seemed to like can i watch, so see this as a part 2? gif by @godfreysteel!!! THANK YOU, and hope you enjoy;)

Roman Godfrey was a man of many mysteries— many I didn’t want to uncover. Yet the enigma of how to get him to properly unload after work was one I spent many months figuring out.

After work, Roman would usually come home with a lot of pent-up anger he tried not to take out on me. He’d sit with a shake in his leg, he’d huff at the slightest inconveniences, and blow up without warning over small disagreements. He was no longer the man I had known him to be, now too frustrated with the position of CEO his mother had forcefully bestowed upon him to function properly. Still, I knew that the man I had fallen in love with was buried somewhere beneath the rubble of chaos going on in his life.

So I started out simple.

When Roman would come home, I’d make sure to hurry to the door and hang his jacket up for him. It was a small thing, nothing major, yet a kindness which eased him with the following kiss hello. Now that I had introduced a form of routine, now that he expected something pleasant the minute he got home, there was a new ease in his step.

Nonetheless, I knew the day would come when that wouldn’t be enough anymore. Roman was still fidgety and frustrated with his dealings with Dr. Pryce at work, so I realized I had to find a new way to have him release the pent-up energy in his body.

At first, it was easy. When it felt like a surprise, before Roman pieced together that I had an ulterior motive, it could be done with a simple run of my hands through his hair after dinner on the couch. He’d be hard in no time— I could see the way his cock swelled with interest beneath the restrictions of his suit, and the green of his eyes nearly swallowed me before he pounced.

I wondered why I hadn’t used sex as a solution earlier. Why I hadn’t let him take all this energy out on me in bed before. Roman wouldn’t even bother getting out of his suit sometimes, as he was too impatient to get any form of release— and impatient, he was.

His long, slender fingers would twist into the hair on the nape of my neck, holding me in place as he pushed deeper into me, feeling me clench around his cock in a mix of desperation and utter satisfaction. It was perfect, satisfactory for us both, and it was the best bandaid in the world until it one night got to his head. Giving Roman the power to take anything out on me was seemingly not the best way to go, especially after he had avoided doing just that for so long— now I knew the reason why; “Look at you, taking my cock like the pretty little whore you are… All for me, hm? Just— hah, for me?”

My eyes widened; he knew I didn’t like him calling me any names of sorts. Why had he even said that? I managed to grab a fistful of his hair, yanking him off me as he yelped. “Nope. We’re done tonight,” I huffed, getting up from the bed as Roman protested.

“Come on, I didn’t mean that!” He was a panting mess, cock twitching at the denial of hot, wet friction. “It just— fuck, it was a thing I said in the moment, you can’t fault me for that!”

This was the night that it hit me that I had been slaving around to accommodate him… almost to the likes of a whore. I turned to Roman after getting dressed, watching as he sat up in the bed with a frown. The more I looked at him, the more I saw the spoiled, arrogant man that was constantly on the front pages of gossip magazines for bad behaviour with staff and other associates. “You don’t get to talk to me like that,”

Roman sighed, moving closer to the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, mind still fogged up by his arousal. “Come back here, take that shit off… Let me make you feel good, okay?”

I folded my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes— “No. I’m tired of you not being able to regulate your emotions like a grown adult, and I most certainly will not stoop so low as to let you call me names!”

Roman groaned, raising his voice; “I didn’t mean it, for fuck’s sake!” I could see the usual anger blooming in his big, green eyes, and I hated the sight of it. “I don’t think you’re a whore, my mind just turned off, and it slipped! I wouldn’t fucking be with you if you were one, who do you think I am?!”

I was sure Roman didn’t realize he was digging his grave with every new word spilling past his kiss-swollen lips. “Who I think you are…? Who I think you are?” Finally, it was my time to rage; “I think you’re a spoiled, entitled, whiny man! And quite frankly, I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you!”

Roman jaw fell, his hands now clutching the duvets to keep himself calm. “… Go on,”

“Go on?!” I wasn’t sure why. “I don’t care to accommodate your bullshit anymore, okay? If anything, I should be putting you in your fucking place!”

This time, when Roman didn’t say anything, I could feel the switch in the atmosphere. It was as though the air got thicker, harder to inhale— I saw the way Roman’s pupils dilated, the way his ears perked up in intrigue.

Oh.

That night, I allowed Roman to sleep next to me after he pleaded with me to accept his apology. I told him that the next time he said anything like that, I’d bite his dick off.

… That seemed to shut him up.

But as for the enigma? I had cracked it. I had cracked it big time— finally, I knew exactly what he needed, and how to give it to him.

It wasn't hard to find a moment when Roman was seated in his home office, busy answering a couple of emails. A few kisses here and there, a dirty word in his ear, and he was ready to sit still for me; but not without putting up a fight, of course.

“I know what you think you’re doing,” Roman huffed, not fighting the handcuffs anymore. His compliance finally allowed me to secure his hands behind his back, wrists locked behind his office chair. “You think this is some sort of kink-thing that will work on me like magic, like reverse psychology. But I can tell you right now that this something I’m trying out for you and not for me. So don’t get any weird ideas about me, okay?”

Roman’s innate denial was almost comical. I straightened my back, leaning down to press a short kiss to his neck. “It’s not weird,” I cooed, circling him. “You should’ve just told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That you need someone else to take the control once in a while,” I sat down in Roman’s lap, untying his expensive silk tie as I innocently batted my lashes at him. “You just need a little time off, don’t ya?”

His jaw clenched, watching me with narrowed eyes. “Don’t push it,” he mumbled. “I’m doing this for you.”

“Oh, Roman,” I treaded the tie between my fingers, biting back a laugh. “The game is over now, don’t you see? I figured you out!” Pressing a short kiss to his nose, feeling him scoff, I slowly covered his beautiful green eyes with the fabric. I immediately missed them, but I knew it was necessary for his immersion. He was too proud of a man to give in so easily. “Why don’t you just let me take care of you…” I tied the tie, securing the knot before leaning in to whisper into his ear; “… Properly?”

Roman remained silent, too shocked to speak, but his interest was unmistakable— I could feel him hardening beneath me, a tight jolt of his cock bumping into the underside of my thigh. Bingo.

I angled myself in his lap, slowly grinding my hips up against his bulge; there was a rough breath, almost a groan, as though he was still fighting the idea of completely letting go. “You don’t need to do this,” Roman said, voice unsteady. “You don’t have to.”

It was as though he didn’t trust me not to judge him. “And you don’t need to be so nervous,” I cooed, grinding my hips down against him once more. “Trust me.”

I could see his jaw clenching, but the shaky breath that followed unveiled everything. “I don’t even know what you want to do to me. Don’t get too excited, okay? Don’t do anything crazy,”

It was impossible not to roll my eyes. Roman didn’t see it, anyway. “I’m not doing anything to you, per se,” My fingers trailed down his shirt, unbuttoning the top button. “I just want you to relax and enjoy. Can you do that for me?”

I could see the goosebumps appearing along the exposed skin of his forearms, his shirt bunching up at his biceps. “Sure,” Roman mumbled, attempting not to sound too excited— yet the jump of his cock against my ass gave it all away.

“I’ve been thinking a long time about how to alleviate your stress…” I got to the end of Roman’s buttons, now trailing my hands up his bare, toned chest. “I thought I needed to let you take it out on me in bed, but I knew that was a misstep the second you got too greedy and called me a whore—“

“Come on!—“

“And that‘s fine,” I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his exposed collarbone. “When I let you run wild, your imagination follows. I should’ve known better than to give you more power… Especially now that I know you crave it taken away from you.”

Roman was starting to become fidgety, his hands fighting the restraints. “Nonsense,”

“Really?” I straightened up, lolling my head to the side as I watched the man of my life struggle to face his situation. This was the root of all his problems, wasn’t it? I sighed, pressing a short kiss to the soft pillows of his lips— I no longer heard the clanking of the metal handcuffs against the back of the chair. “You got this job sprung on you despite your wishes not to… Bet you wish it could’ve gone to someone else.”

Roman had finally quieted down. I longed to see the look in his eyes, but I didn’t need to in order to know I had hit a home run. “And I’m sorry about that,” I breathed, hooking my hands beneath the edge of my top to wry it off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. “I’m sorry you don’t feel like you can talk about it, but I’m here to make you feel a little better. You’re not the CEO of anything in here, you’re allowed to relax.”

I saw the way Roman’s shoulders slumped, the way his breathing got a little softer. My poor boy. I would’ve felt even more sorry for him if I didn’t feel the way his cock was twitching with excitement at the way I was talking to him.

I knew I sealed the deal when I sat up in his lap, letting one strap of my bra fall over my shoulder as I brought him closer— it didn’t even take a second before Roman’s lips sealed around my breast with a wanton moan.

Roman’s tongue circled my bud as I did my best not to let my legs give in to a tremble— I knew this usually drove him crazy. The enigma of men. I held onto the chair, one hand going up into his hair to tug at the tips of his dark locks. Roman let out a soft grunt against my skin, his hips bucking up as his hands instinctively fought the handcuffs. I knew he wanted to grab at my waist, squeeze my ass, knead at my other breast— I knew him too well. The restraints only seemed to make him more desperate.

I pulled away, realizing I was panting as I fixed my bra. Roman threw his head back a little, a small smirk present on his plush lips— “You really know how to get me going, don’t you?”

I shrugged, now trailing my hands down to his restricted cock. “You’re easy like that, Roman,”

He let out a shaky breath, hips keening against the warmth of my hands. “Am not,”

“Yes, you are,”

“Nope,”

“Keep fighting me and I’ll leave you like this,”

That seemed to shut him up. Roman straightened up in his chair, softly clearing his throat as it dawned on him that I was dead serious. “Would you really?”

My God— I didn’t think it was humanly possible for him to get harder right now, but the threat of me leaving him hot and bothered seemed to do it for him. I wondered whether his zipper would split open soon, as the constraint only got tighter. “If you don’t shut up soon, I will,”

“You wouldn’t,” Roman echoed, his voice growing weaker. “… Would you really?”

Seeing him get this excited only did the same to me— I needed to get him out of these pants before it was too late. This was Armani, for fuck’s sake. I placed two fingers against Roman’s mouth, knowing he’d get the memo— with a small huff, he wrapped his lips around my small digits, letting them rest against his warm tongue.

The sight of it sent shivers down my spine. “You talk too much,” I said, my free hand unbuckling his belt and discarding it somewhere next to my top. The second the zipper was rolled down, Roman let out a sigh of relief against my fingers, his head rolling back just a little.

“If you promise to stop snarking, I’ll take my fingers out. Hum if it’s a yes,”

As expected, Roman did— when my fingers were out, I leaned forward to brush my lips against his, feeling his shaky breath seep out of his lungs. “Kiss me, at least,” he pleaded. “I feel like I’m gonna fucking burst.”

I leaned forward, watching him part his lips on a soundless intake of breath as my gaze darted to his mouth. I cupped his cheek, my thumb brushing over the softness of his skin— it was surprising to see how he was responding to it. I hadn’t ever been given the opportunity to lead; had he maybe just been scared to be seen as vulnerable?

“I’ll kiss you in a second,” I breathed, my mind returning to Roman’s aching cock— I watched his breath hitch when I gently tapped the tip of it with my finger, and his head shot to the left as his breathing got heavier.

My heart was thumping hard in my chest at the sight, and I got the confidence to bring my palm to my mouth, slicking it with spit before I brought it down the length of his cock. Roman let out a breathy hah, pushing up into my fist.

Oh, this was almost sweet— I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, slowly working my fingers around the shaft. “Is this okay?” I asked, pulling away when I sensed his wish to turn back to me.

Using his senses, Roman somehow managed to find the tip of my nose, nudging it gently with his. “Yeah,”

I was relieved to know he wasn’t seeing the deep blush creeping up my cheeks. The small drop of pre-cum that had built up on the tip of his cock spilled over, now running down the back of my hand, and it brought me back from my moment of shyness— I had gotten him this worked up. I never thought I’d be able to do that, especially not to Roman. So, with a newfound confidence, I leaned forward to grant him his wish of a kiss.

As he was still blindfolded, his muscles hitched with caution, yet his cock twitched in my hand at the softness of our reunion. Roman quietly moaned into the kiss, easing up further in my hold as I continued my slow strokes along his thick shaft.

However, what I didn’t expect, was for his usual instincts to kick in, and I was left with my breath caught in my chest as Roman placed eager kisses down my jaw. I had a feeling he didn’t think I would have control for longer than this— “Rome,” I cooed, tilting my head upwards to give him access as his kisses trailed down my neck. “Give it up.” It was impossible to deny that it felt good, and I was unsure how I was supposed to will myself to stop him. “You’re not in control, Roman.”

He hummed against my skin, the instinctual fight against the handcuffs echoing throughout the room. “But I want you,” he breathed. “I want to see you, want to touch you—“

Fucking hell. I should’ve known Roman would get greedy. So I decided I needed to go to more drastic measures; I unwinded my grip around his cock, getting up from his lap to a string of protests.

It felt as though all my nerves were on fire as I watched him buck up into nothing, panting at the lack of contact; “No,” he breathed, whimpering. “Come back, I’ll— I’ll sit still, okay?”

“Hmm…” I slowly tapped my foot against the floor, making my frustration audible. “That’s not enough.”

“Come on!” Roman was whinier than ever, throwing his head back as he struggled against his constraints. His mind was fighting the idea of letting go, yet his cock was twitching with immense interest. Silly man— he didn’t want to recognize this wish to surrender.

… This meant I had to force it.

I stepped towards him, watching as his breath hitched in anticipation. Now that he was blindfolded, his senses were heightened. “Tell me what you really want, Roman,”

He took a second, brows drawing together. “You know what I want,”

“No, not that,” I placed myself behind him and pressed a kiss to his ear, hearing him whimper as I reached down to wrap my fingers around his cock. “What do you want?” I whispered into his ear, listening to his quiet moans.

“I want— shit, no, I can’t!—“

“Yes, you can,” I sped up my strokes, and Roman’s lips parted in a mix of confusion and pleasure as his head rested against my shoulder. “Tell me.”

I knew he was close to breaking, I knew I had him exactly where I wanted him; Roman turned to me, almost for comfort, as he whimpered against the crook of my neck. “I just— want a break… from being in charge,” he breathed. “I’m so tired of the fucking— responsibilities—”

My heart swelled as I pressed a kiss to his forehead. This only proved that I had been entirely correct in my deductions. “I know,” I cooed, slowing my strokes to give him time to breathe. “It’s okay to be tired, it’s okay… Just let me take care of you for once, hm? It’s not weak to want… relief.”

“Relief,” Roman echoed, huffing against my skin. “You planning on giving me that tonight?”

I had to bite down on my lip not to laugh, resorting to a scoff. “If you keep snarking? No,”

The denial was surprisingly effective— Roman’s cock twitched in my hand, followed by a sharp, breathy moan, which was the sign he was close. “Something tells me you secretly like being told no,” I teased. “You probably haven’t heard that word much, have you?”

“Shit, maybe— yeah, you’re right,”

“Of course I am,” I ran my free hand through his hair, feeling him panting against the crook of my neck. “Wanna cum?”

“Yeah... Yeah—“

“Well, too bad," I removed my hand; "Not yet,”

Roman’s head rolled forward as he let out a loud groan, hips bucking up into nothing as I moved away from him once more. “Fuck you!” he yelled, fighting his restraints. “Fuck— God!”

I hadn’t been this entertained since I saw the last episode of Sex and The City for the first time. “I’m gonna be nice and act like you didn’t just cuss me out,” With a smirk I was happy he didn’t see, I sat back down in Roman’s lap as I tapped my fingers against the tip of his cock, watching his breath hitch as his thighs clenched. The droplet of pre-cum connected to my finger like a string of saliva, and I gazed in awe as I toyed with it— he wouldn't let me do this if he wasn't beyond horny, so I seized the moment to explore. “I think you’ve had enough now… don’t you think?”

Roman nodded, his plush lips parting as he tried to steady his breath. “Yeah,”

I never thought I’d like being in control like this. Yet I reveled in it as I wrapped my hand around his slick length again and watched his breath catch in his throat. Roman was so raw, so vulnerable, fucking finally— “What do you want, then?”

“Fuck me,” he breathed, his head tilting back as he fought a string of moans. “Fuck me, just— fuck me.”

“Wait… me fucking you?” I had to rub it in, I couldn’t help myself. Thankfully, Roman didn’t see the evil grin that spread across my lips. He had taunted me like this many times before, anyway. “That’s unheard of in the Godfrey vocabulary.”

Roman would’ve gnarled back more insults if he wasn’t so damn horny— “Don’t make me say please,”

“Well… That was never the plan,” I shifted, pulling my underwear to the side as I raised my hips, letting the tip of his cock slowly brush against my sex— I hadn’t expected to be this wet, actually. Neither did I expect the broken moan that escaped Roman, whose hands were fighting the handcuffs in a flash of instinct. “I know that making you say please would make you want to kill me after we're done here, so I’m not gonna do that… I’m just trying to take care of you, remember?”

It was only when I sunk down on Roman’s thick length, draping my arms around his neck, that I heard a weak little yeah from him. I knew he was long, long gone now. Doing my best not to shudder, I pressed a loving kiss to his cheek; “Are you finally gonna— hah, let me do that?”

Roman nodded, turning, his lips now placed parted against my jaw; “Yeah,”

The few times I had been on top didn't compare to this time at all. There was something so thrilling about slowly sliding up and down the length of Roman's cock, feeling his choppy heaves of air against my skin as he fought the primal thrust, pound, fuck. It was exhilarating to hear his need for me when I ran my fingers through his hair, the small whimpers falling off the tip of his tongue.

Blindfolded, with no possibility to touch, feel, hold me— I knew this was driving Roman absolutely nuts. Still, he was yielding, surrendering to his deepest, darkest wish to finally, fucking finally, have no control in the world. At long last, he had no other task than to sit still, enjoy, and feel good. With a sigh of relief, Roman's lips found mine with the utmost gentle touch that made me clench around his cock, which coaxed out the most delirious moan from him.

His mind was so, so gone, his senses on absolute fire when I pulled my hips up along his cock, keeping just the tip in me. Roman groaned as his hips jerked forward, giving up the fight against his instincts. "Shit—You tease!"

"Really, now?" It was no longer possible to keep my voice steady, too drowned in the pleasure. "You do this to me all the fucking time, Rome. Call it karma."

Roman whimpered— "Sorry,"

That was almost too sweet to ignore. I fought my wish to coo at him, to cup his face and pepper it with kisses, and instead opted to stroke my fingers through his hair and shortly kiss his lips. "No need," I whispered, pulling away to watch his breath hitch when I slid back down his length, the thickness of his cock filling me up once more.

"Fuck— Fuck!" Roman was so close, I could feel it.

Who would've thought this would be the thing to break the great Roman Godfrey?

His jaw was tight, and the sound that escaped his chest was somewhere between a moan and a sob— I would've been worried, had he not been smiling. Roman's head tilted back, his body now relaxing, giving in to the pleasure as I enveloped him to the hilt with a small breath. I leaned forward, putting my hands on his chest for support; I fucking loved this. Because finally, I understood him better— Roman's hunger for power was made clearer to me than ever before, and the all-taking high of being able to do something like this to another person corrupted my mind as well.

Like this, I could drag him into me, squeeze him tight around my walls when I slowed my pace, and simplest of all— I could choose when to kiss him. And Roman wouldn't dare to deny me now, with how he was desperately chasing his high.

"Thank you," was all he managed to say, smiling against my lips in complete and utter ecstasy. Something told me he was grateful I had staged a coup of dominance. "I needed— needed this, thank you, thank you, I— shit, shit!" Roman buried his face in the crook of my neck, the soft fabric of the tie around his eyes pressing against my skin as he let out a loud cry, spilling into me with a small shudder.

Roman's cum was warm as always, and it felt like a consolation prize for all the bullshit I had taken from him these past weeks; it slowly seeped out of me as he tried to catch his breath.

I brought my fingers to the nape of his neck, gently twisting his hair in my fist, knowing he liked a little sharp twinge of something to bring him back from a climax that strong. "You did good," I cooed, stilling my hips as I softly kissed the shell of his ear. "Good job, Rome."

And with that, Roman sunk into the chair, no longer fighting his restraints or the blindfold— he let his shoulders slump as he let out a sigh of true relief, a feeling he had been chasing since the day he got his new job as the CEO of Godfrey Industries. "If you ever speak a word of this... to anyone," he breathed, struggling to talk through the quiet heaves of air. "I'll have your head on a spike."

I rolled my eyes; "... Lovely," Who the fuck would I ever tell this to? Silly, silly man.

I couldn't help but laugh as I brought my hands forth, untying the tie around Roman's eyes. It slowly fell over his nose, and the hard glare I had expected from his green eyes wasn't there— instead, there was a look of pure and utter admiration. I had a feeling his heart was swelling at the thought of finally having met someone who dared to go against him like this. "But if you don't tell anyone..." Roman practically blushed; a sight I hadn't seen before. "We could... do this again sometime?"

I leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose, holding back a grin of victory. "So you liked it?"

"... Don't push it,"

"Say it, or I'll tell the whole world,"

"Yeah, right!"

"... I bet the newspapers are dying to know the fact that Mr. Roman Godfrey likes to be bound and fucked—"

A loud groan followed from Roman; "Fine!"

"Fine, what?" This was too much fun.

"Fine, I liked it! A lot!"

I grinned, slowly inching off his softening length. "There you go," I cooed, watching the blush on Roman's cheeks deepen.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he grumbled, trying not to let his breath hitch. "Now, get me out of these fucking handcuffs so I can get you off too."

Finally, Roman wasn't an enigma any longer, having made himself and his intentions clearer than the bright rays of the moon... and who was I to say no to such an offer?

"As you wish,"

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