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simpxxstan · 6 months

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Nobody Else (part 1)

pairing: chaebol!wonwoo x chaebol!fem.reader

genre: enemies with benefits to lovers, smut (minors do not interact please), mild angst

summary: the girl who was proud about making her own destiny, the boy she swore to never interact with. sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, even yourself. because who would've seen any of this coming?

chapter word count: 13k

warnings: honestly, way too much smut. cockwarming, oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), usage of sex toys, orgasm denial, gagging, overstimulation, dom-sub dynamics, public sex (i don't even know if it's feasible, please suspend your beliefs about reality while reading aah), unprotected sex (please do not do this irl), breast play, spanking, use of spit during sex, usage of petnames (darling, babe, sweetheart for female), usage of word slut (for female), usage of sir and daddy (for male), sir kink, daddy kink, office sex, use of profanities, lots of bickering. let me know if i missed something out!

a/n: and we're back. (or are we?) honestly, i write when i get the time. and i don't know when i'll get my schedule to clear up again </3 hopefully within a few months my life will be back on track.

hope you enjoy this!!! posting this in two parts because it's way too long otherwise. do leave your thoughts, i swear reading them makes me so happy. open to hearing criticism too so pls my inbox is right there for you to rant. have a nice day!

You’ve known Jeon Wonwoo since the age of eleven, but you’d never thought you’d end up like this. Being in the same social circles as you and your family, the young Jeon heir had never really been your friend. However, that did not mean you didn’t meet him. In fact, you met him quite often. He went to the same school as you, he was always there at the parties you went to, and everyone around you kept talking about him. No matter what the season or the age, everyone was infatuated with Jeon Wonwoo.

Objectively speaking, no.

Subjectively speaking, not at all.

You could never understand why one would find a man with no beauties to his personality, nothing to his merit except a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and those never-changing black clothes, attractive. Apart from that, he never exchanged a friendly conversation with you. Never a moment of warmth. And you reciprocated the feeling absolutely. You had no desire to seek his favour. He simply never left the periphery of your life, and it annoyed you. But not enough to bother you. You’d grown used to the sight of the tall boy, who never spoke to anyone except his tight-knit group of absolute losers. And he should have remained in your periphery, never in your focus. You wanted nothing to do with the cold, arrogant nerd.

So naturally, you’d never, in your wildest imaginations, thought that you’d be here, sucking his dick off under his desk while he engaged himself in a meeting on his desktop. You had been in that position for hours, your mouth lolling over the wetness surrounding his penis, both from your saliva and the slow trickle of his pre-cum. While he has switched from meeting to meeting, both with corporates in Korea and internationally, his suit impeccable and the glasses sitting neatly on his nose, you’d cockwarmed him. That would’ve still been fine, had you not enjoyed it so thoroughly that it had become a routine for you both over the months.

After a solid two hours (and a few more minutes), he’d allowed himself to push back the chair a bit, pull his pants down further, spread his legs wide enough to meet the annoying temptation that had been bugging him for so long, and thread his hands into your hair, indicating you to step out of the haze you’d fallen into and get on with the job. And oh boy, you’d obeyed. At this point, it was a reflex for you. Feeling the way his hands caved your jaws and neck, you leaned into his touch, all while keeping your eyes on the little twitches he made on his face. Perhaps it was his need to be dominant, or perhaps it was just his arrogance, but he never slipped during sex. Even when you were giving him the most mind-blowing blowjob, like right now, using techniques you’d picked up over time, slipping your tongue under his cock to feel his veins throb around your tongue, gently nipping the foreskin to make the red tip burn harder, and taking him into your throat completely without a moment of a gag reflex. He’d never show you how much he liked it, never praised you, never revealed that he wanted it as much as you did.

It was all a part of the act, you knew that.

It was designed to make you more eager to perform well, more eager to earn his praise, more eager to put your all into this.

Jeon Wonwoo, with his signature cold stares and the arrogant tilt of his smirk, would break you every time, and you’d come back for it, again and again, addicted mindlessly, like a drug.

Eventually, his cum would flow down your throat, and you’d feel his body relax against yours, as he let you lay your head on his thighs for a few moments to recuperate.

But never enough.

“Up, sweetheart. I thought you had a party to attend.”

He helps you stand up, smirking at the pool of your cum on the floor where you’d been sitting, with the bullet vibrator parked deep into your pussy, which had given you endless orgasms and sent you into heaven, all while you’d felt the weight of Wonwoo’s warmth on your tongue.

His words bring you back to reality, as you limp towards the washroom to clean yourself, slowly breaking your daze. “I do. When are you going to change?”

“I don’t want to. I’ll look good even if I don’t doll up.” With a snicker he goes back to his desktop, and you roll your eyes at the implication of his words.

“I still don’t understand why you’d ask them to deliver the dress here.”

“It is pretty late. Imagine if I’d have to go back home, change, and then leave for the venue. Too much hassle. I would have to leave an hour back. Your place is much closer to the venue.”

“And so you chose to make my bedroom your vanity room?

From Wonwoo’s vantage point in the study, he has a direct view into the master bedroom, where you’re settling yourself into a fresh pair of lingerie and the jumpsuit, which had been designed exclusively for you, for this occasion. The jumpsuit was perfect, made to look professional and yet classy, just as the event demanded, and in midnight blue, your favourite shade. You smiled while wearing it, your secretary had truly learnt your style well and ordered the perfect outfit for you.

“I’ll be out in ten.” You can feel his eyes on your figure, even from the distance.

You’re too engrossed in fixing the zip on your back to notice Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his eyes fixated on you.

“Do you need help?”

You give him a look. There’s that semi-permanent smirk lingering on his face, he knows he’s pushing your buttons. Outside of sex, you would never ask for help. In fact, you wouldn’t ask Wonwoo for anything. What could he do for you that you couldn’t do yourself?

He doesn’t say anything else, he quietly steps in and takes grip of the zip. After pulling it up, he doesn’t say a word, carefully watching you wear your scanty makeup. It could be a little creepy, but you surprisingly don’t mind. Or perhaps you just don’t care.

“Ah fuck. I forgot to bring the lip gloss.”

“But you just wore lipstick?”

“No,” you turn around and outside of Wonwoo’s periphery. Slipping your feet into your heels and putting on the earrings that had also been sent by your secretary, you told him, “The lip-plumping one. It makes my lips look nice. Well, nicer. They’re already quite pretty, as I’ve been told.” You hear Wonwoo scoff behind you, and you turn around to face him.

“Well, how do I look?”

His hands are in his pockets, his shirt buttons are halfway opened and his hair is messy, but he still looks better than you do after all this effort.

“They’ll love you.”

You smile. That’s more than enough feedback from Jeon Wonwoo. He doesn’t have to praise you outside sex if he can’t do it while fucking.

“They always do.”

And they do. The photographers, the journalists, the social elites, the ministers, their wives, their mistresses, the chaebols, their heirs, and their bastards. Everyone loves you. How could they not? You’re perfect in every way possible. At twenty six, you’re at the height of your life- young, charming and intelligent, everybody wants you. Ever since you took your father’s already prospering business to new heights four years ago, straight out of grad school, by introducing Korea to the world of AI like they’d never seen before. The industry had not just been disrupted by your introduction of AI to the field of healthcare and diagnosis, but also awed by the sheer magnanimity of your creations. You hadn’t spent years perfecting your ideas in vain.

Everyone wants a little bit of your time, a little word with you, slipping in a plea and a pickup line in the same tone, and you love the attention they throw at you. Honestly, this is where you were born to be. The spotlight is where you deserve to belong.

But eventually, the crowd dissipates, leaving you walking towards the bar looking for a martini, arm looped into the arm of your sister. “Y/N-ah, I tell you, let’s go to Jeju this weekend! The weather is perfect now- not too hot, not too cold. The forecast also recommends visiting now!” She tugs at your arm playfully, and you smile fondly. She knows your answer, but she never stops trying. “And what about your husband?” “I need a break from him, please. He’s getting on my nerves!” “Darling, it’s your hormones.” She slaps your wrist. “No! Stop saying that. Kyungmin says the exact same thing, in the exact same tone! It’s so annoying. Stop ganging up against me! Anyway it’s not my fault I’m pregnant. The least he can do is take care of me. If he can’t take care of me now, how is he going to be trained to become a father? Huh? How will he take care of our daught-” “You don’t even know that.” “I do. I have a feeling.” “You can just say you want a girl, you know. There’s nothing called ‘a feeling’.” “Damn it. Just because you have a trash sixth sense doesn’t mean you can dismiss mine, my intuition never goes wrong!”

And you’ve reached the bar, and the bartender serves you your drinks- just a virgin mojito for your sister though. “The canapes are great.” “Hmm… But I’m craving oranges! That’s why we should go to Jeju, yah!” “Unnie, you’ve gotta stop. Don’t excite yourself more than you need to. Do you want orange juice?” “No, eww. Not this artificial flavour.” “If you really want to go to Jeju, take Kyungmin Oppa and go. Don’t ask for me- I’ll never be able to keep up with your tantrums.” “Hmm. That is true. Now that you mention him, I suddenly miss him. For all my complaints, I still love him though-” You giggle at the sudden sappy tone of your sister, tuning out parts of her endless chatter, while your eyes search for someone in the crowds.

Jeon Wonwoo stands out, so he’s easy to find.

He’s wearing the same suit he’d worn earlier, not changed like he had told you. He looks tired and yet, good. Before you realise it, he’s looking back at you, and walking towards where the two of you are standing.

“Oh! Wonwoo-yah! How have you been?” Your sister asks, ever friendly. She’s the only one in the family who doesn’t show that the Jeon and Y/L/N families are rivals in business and hence, avoid speaking to each other. That norm wasn’t broken by you. To be fair, even the nights you spent together had very little conversation. No orgasm-induced dopamine could break through the wall of your egos to encourage you to be friendly with each other. Hell, outside of the bedroom, Wonwoo isn’t even attractive enough to catch your eye.

“Hmm, I’m good, Noona. I see your baby is growing fast. How many weeks left?” His tone is courteous, formal, and sweet. Makes you want to laugh at how different he sounds from the usual voice you hear him speak in.

“About eleven weeks to go. This trimester has been killing me, I swear. I’ve told Kyungmin I don’t want any more kids. Ever. I don’t think I can go through this again, and I haven’t even gotten to the pain of delivery yet. I don’t even know if I can go back to skating after this.”

You scoff. “As if. First get over your never-ending honeymoon period. Then talk about not having any more kids.”

“I support Y/N here. The company will need an heir, and I don’t see anyone else providing any.”

You sigh. There he goes. You roll your eyes at him, “An heir doesn’t have to be through blood relation. Merit exists. But then how can I explain this to someone whose existence is owed to nepotism.”

“Rich of you to say so.”

You take a step closer to Wonwoo, too riled up by the calm way he’s speaking. “I’ve built my world from the ground. From level zero. I haven’t just sat on a throne that was presented to me.”

“Forever the brat, huh? Running your mouth even in public, begging me to shut it?” You notice that Wonwoo has also come closer to you, and you can smell the cologne off him. He’s a solid four inches taller than you, even when you’re wearing heels. But you stare right back into his eyes, yours angry and his cold and superior, as usual. You wonder for the n-th time if his blood even runs warm. You’re tempted to retort back, disgusted by the below-the-belt remark, going off-topic, but your sister’s gently pulling your arm, reminding you that you’re in public. “Back off. Don’t make a scene, guys. Let’s not ruin the evening?” She puts on her best smile to calm you down, and you step away, seething in vain. Wonwoo’s smirk never leaves his face as you two bow and walk away. The way he’s looking at you reminds you of other memories.

You suddenly wonder if your sister had heard the comment or not. Considering her though, probably not. Thank god it was her and not someone else.

The rest of the party flows seamlessly. You’re spiralling slightly in your head though- overthinking can’t be avoided. The way Wonwoo was successful in riling you up has shocked you, to say the least. There have been a thousand such instances, but you don’t remember losing your temper to this extent in any of the situations. But somehow, Wonwoo talking about you not being interested to have children vexed you so much? It just didn’t add up.

It’s the first time you’re doubting your current situation. You’d been absolutely convinced that settlement between the two of you was more to your benefit than his. It wasn’t like you had a dearth of men wanting to fuck you. It was quite the opposite. But a few scandals and rumours had taught you that keeping your private life discreet was the optimal choice. Especially if you were a woman and people simply assumed you’d sucked someone’s dick to get ahead in life.

But the arrangement with Wonwoo was so perfect. He wanted discretion, so did you. He didn’t want to get involved with a random hookup who could get pregnant, you didn’t want a random hookup to get you pregnant. He wanted someone to match his wavelength, and you needed a vent for your stress. Now that you consider the drastic improvement in your energy and efforts, in retrospection, becoming Jeon Wonwoo’s submissive had been the best decision of your life.

It had begun quite suddenly. At your sister’s engagement party. Everyone was delighted with the new couple, especially you. Your sister had never shown any desire to join the company, satisfied with following her passion of ice skating. And now she was getting married to her boyfriend of five years, the love of her life, and everyone was left fondly jealous of the pure happiness on her face, even you.

Perhaps it was because of this jealousy that you’d decided to flirt with Wonwoo at the after-party. Against your better judgement, you’d drifted towards him by the end of the night, until your knees were touching on the barstools, and he was leaning back looking over your figure again and again. I was wondering which spot would be ideal for me to bite first- your collarbones, your cleavage, your thighs or your belly button, he would tell you later. God knows why you’d suddenly decided to find him attractive after fifteen years of knowing each other, but that was it. You’d ended up in a hotel bed that night, fucked until tears ran down your cheeks, begging him to go harder and faster whenever he slowed down to look at the mascara dripping down your face, leaving hickeys all over the soft skin of your breasts, not letting you rest of a second of the night, going at it till dawn.

“Wonwoo… I can’t…” you’d begged, your words muffled through your panties stuffed into your own mouth, the overstimulation hitting you hard as you squirmed against his tongue fucking his cum back into your pussy. “You can, sweetheart, give me another one… hmm? Do you want to be a good girl?”

And you had let loose. Given yourself up to him, to make or break you, as he wanted, and then put you together one by one as the sun rose up in the sky as you’d drifted to sleep. The next afternoon, you’d woken up feeling like a new person, and decided it was the best night of your life. The man in question was nowhere to be seen, but you didn’t care. The bliss ran too deep.

Sadly, not deep enough. The overthinking kicked in a few hours later, and you cussed yourself for becoming so easy for an undeserving man like Wonwoo. Just because he’d made you cum and given you a good time didn’t mean you’d go against your rational thoughts. In a way, he was no better than your best dildo. Except you liked your dildo. You simply did not like Jeon Wonwoo. The arrogant brat had been the type of man you’d avoided all of your life. You hadn’t seen him work hard in school, and now that he had inherited his father’s company, you didn’t see him work any harder either. Sure, Jeon Estates was doing better than ever, but that was only because the economy was booming and the housing market was doing well. He had done nothing extra. Unlike you, who had built your world yourself. You’d never taken your father’s prosperity as complacency, and strived to make a name for yourself. And now people knew of Y/L/N Corporation as synonymous to both your father’s name and your name.

And you had, like a silly stupid girl, gone and slept with this very man.

And you had liked it.

That was the worst bit. An accidental hookup would have been fine. But no, you wanted to sleep with him every night, if it meant he’d treat you to the same feast you’d blissed out on last night. There was a certain happiness in giving up to him, letting go of the constant worries that burdened you down, and allowing him to take control, but god knows how you ended up trusting him so much in bed.

Anyway, you reconciled with yourself, it’s just a one-time thing. It’s not like it’s going to happen again.

You were wrong. Jeon Wonwoo had picked you up that evening and taken you directly to his house.

“What did you want to talk about that you couldn’t do in your car?”

“The chauffeur was there.”

“It’s not a big deal, Jeon. You can just say that you regret last night, cause honestly, same. Don’t want to dwell on it.” You were in a rush to leave, because you didn’t want to think about the memories in this same house the night ago.

“Are you sure?”

His question had taken you aback, as he watched you with his hawk eyes, licking his lips.

“Y/N, I … couldn’t tell you in my car that I didn’t regret it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

You’re speechless, waiting for him to continue, as he took another step forward.

“Wonwoo, I… you know this is a bad idea.”

“I do,” he chuckles darkly. “You look like a bad idea, as I’ve known for years now. But when I see you wearing that hideous turtleneck to hide the hickeys and that tiny skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination, I keep remembering the way you submitted to me last night. For all your big talk and your attitude, you obey pretty easily, huh?”

You stand up, indignant. “Wonwoo, you can’t use that against me. Listen I know we’re not friends-”

“Be my submissive. I want, no fuck, I need you. You’re perfect.” He’s standing an inch away from you, bending his neck gently to look into your eyes. His mask slips for a second. A million emotions flit through your brain, and you’re deliriously begging for your intelligence to kick in, but there’s something about the subtly layered desperation in Wonwoo’s voice that makes you curious.

“What are your terms?”

You look at Wonwoo across the dining table. He looks as put-together as ever, not a hair out of place, as he converses with the middle aged-men sitting next to him while eating dinner. He quickly notes your glance and looks back, and you turn your eyes away before he catches the blush along your cheeks.

No, there’s nothing wrong with the arrangement. It works perfectly in your favour. As long as nobody knows.

You’re wrapping up a meeting with the board members of the company, when you get a call on your phone. It’s Wonwoo. Excusing yourself from the meeting, you pick up the call while walking back to your office.

“Hello?”

“Are you going to the Paris Conclave?”

The invitation for the event had arrived just that evening, the first time they were inviting your company. It had made you gush with excitement, happy that you’d been able to take your company to this prestigious conclave. Moreover, this would be the first time you’d be visiting Paris, one of the few dream destinations of your life. Due to a packed professional schedule, you had hardly been able to travel for the past few years, and the thought of going to Paris made you naturally happy.

“Yes, of course. Getting fomo? I can get a croissant back home for you.”

“I can get my own. See you there.”

He cuts the call.

What was that? He’s going to the conclave as well? That’s impossible. Jeon Estates had never been invited before this-

“Jisung-ah.” You call for your secretary, who appears at your side quickly. “Has the Jeon Estates been invited to the conclave?”

“Ma’am, I- why, yes. I hadn’t checked the list for their name.” His voice drops as he speaks, mirroring the disappointment rising in you too. So, it wasn’t only you who had been invited for the first time.

Fucking Jeon Wonwoo. Even had to call you to rub it in, the nerve.

“Well, we’ll just have to outshine them there. I’m sure we shall. Please organise a meeting with the team leaders and managers today so that we can get the presentations perfected.”

Your secretary bows to you and leaves you alone in your office.

Paris comes sooner than you had thought, and you’re bursting with excitement. Nervousness too, a little bit. But your confidence isn’t so easy to rattle. You’ve picked out your choicest outfits for the trip, hellbent on making it memorable. You’ve even kept a few days extra in hand to allow you free time to travel the city.

You had asked your sister if she’d wanted to come along, but she had said that her doctor hadn’t deemed it safe for her to travel by airplane now. “I’m so jealous! But there’s nothing to be done.” “Go with your husband and your baby afterwards.” You’d kissed her forehead when bidding the final goodbyes before leaving for Paris.

There was just one little worry worming through your brain. Not even a worry, just an irk. Jeon Wonwoo would also be there. You’d have to compete again for the spotlight. As if the jerk deserved to be there.

“Ma’am, do you want to go through your speech once more?” Jisung asked you from the seat next to you. You smiled, the younger man was definitely nervous by the look on his face. “Why, are you scared I’ll forget? You know I take vitamins every day to strengthen my memory.” “I do, but-” “Don’t worry. Don’t let anxiety deter you from forming the memories of the fun times you’ll be enjoying there!”

Fun.

As if. Jisung knew well enough that you rarely had time for fun, and consequently, neither did he. He saw you overwork yourself every day, staying at the office till late, obsessed with perfection, ensuring no loose ends were visible. Even if you tried your best to send him home when his work time ended, he wanted to stay back out of compassion for you. He was truly the best secretary you could’ve asked for. He was godsent- he’d learnt your habits and your thinking process within days, and soon he produced documents and answers before you asked for them, pre-empting your thoughts. After working with you for three years, he was good enough to be your clone- that’s why you sent him to many events and meetings as your representative if you couldn’t make it. You knew he’d handle it as well as you would, and report all the key details to you at the end of the day.

“Yes, Ma’am. I hope it all passes well. We’ve all worked hard.”

“And hard work always pays off, you know that Jisung-ah. Now, sleep quickly so that we’re not tired due to jet lag once we land there.”

They’ve assigned Wonwoo a seat next to you at the conference table. As if seeing his face here wasn’t bad enough.

“Will you never leave me alone?”

He scoffs, “Me? You’ve been at my tail since you were a kid.”

“Oh shut up. Inside school, outside school, at parties, at funerals, at my graduation, at my sister’s wedding, you’re always fucking there. And now you’re here, to steal the spotlight. Not that you can anyway. Don’t try too hard Jeon, you’ll just look pathetic.”

“It’s funny how vain you are. You think I have any desire to steal your spotlight? Go ahead, be the talk of the party, by all means.”

“And I will! I don’t need your permission for it.”

“Hmm-”

The rest of his words get tuned out as the convenor of the conference begins their speech. You turn your eyes towards them, but you can feel Wonwoo’s eyes burning on you.

“What did you say?” You whisper to him.

“Never mind. Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Go out?” You turn your head towards him, leaning in, incredulous.

“For dinner.”

You almost burst out laughing. “And pray, why would I go with you?”

He scrunches his nose and pushes up his glasses. “You’re going to miss out on seeing the Eiffel Tower?”

“No. In fact, I have plans on going today myself. But you didn’t tell me why I’d-”

“Come with me.” He turns his face away from you, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Hell nah. We don’t know each other, okay? Just because we’re both newcomers here does not mean we have to maintain solidarity or any of that shit.”

“You’ll regret it, sweetie.”

“I regret nothing.”

“We’ll see.”

“Jisung-ah! You were scared for nothing. That presentation was flawless.”

“Yes Ma’am. I know our team always works hard, but the nerves never stop,” the young man looks much fresher after the conference wraps up for the day, his tie undone slightly. You can easily understand how his mood changes reflect in his facial expressions and attitude after the long hours you spend with each other on a daily basis.

“Are you still up for going to the Eiffel Tower tonight? I’m planning on skipping the post-conference dinner. But if you want to stay, I won’t force you to come with me.”

“No Ma’am, I was thinking…” he hesitates, but you raise your eyebrows to urge him to continue. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit the Eiffel Tower again, so I do want to go with you … but after that I’d like to go to one of the clubs in the nightlife zones? I’ve heard from friends that the Paris nightlife is crazy.”

“Ooh!” You pat him on the back, “Yes please Jisung, finally you’ve started to act your age. Go, be young and wild, I’ll cheer for you!”

“You won’t come along?”

“Oh no. I’m way too old for that. Plus I never was into the club scene. And for real, you should go out and enjoy without me sometimes. People will start thinking I’m your girlfriend.”

Jisung opens his mouth to say something, but ends up just smiling shyly. “Okay Ma’am. Then should we leave for the Eiffel at 7 pm?”

“Yes. Pick me up from my suite then.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Sorry Ma’am, the Eiffel Tower has been booked out for the evening. It’s been a really sudden booking, and we’re sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s just been booked out completely by a private party and no external visitors are allowed.”

You’re wearing your best white silk Gucci dress, the one you spent your entire salary on as soon as it was released at last year’s Fashion week, and a stunning Cartier necklace, ready to spend the best evening of your life atop the Eiffel Tower, savouring life at its finest… but no. Some jerk just had to book it for this evening.

You slide up to the lady at the front desk, whose bored expression does nothing to calm your nerves down. Jisung has tried his level best to convince her, but it’s failed. So you try the one thing you know always works.

“Ruth-” you see her name from her name tag pinned on her chest. “I can outbid the private party.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I didn’t get you.”

You laugh, a careful measured laugh, to hide your irritation at having to say it again. “I said, I can pay you more than whatever the private party’s booked it at. I just want ten minutes. Isn’t it a win-win situation for all of us? Ten minutes for me, and your private client can enjoy it for the rest of the night.”

Ruth smiles, pitifully. Wretched woman, she’s clearly not affected by your offer. This is what seeing too many rich people in a day does to a person, it immunes them to bribe, you think. Well, it’s her loss.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but we really cannot accept your offer. It’s against our rules-”

“Let me speak to your manager, Ruth. Trust me, when they hear my name, they’ll let me in,” you smile again, attempting to remain amicable instead of bursting out into the wildest Korean slang.

Ruth smiles again, “You are, currently, speaking to the Manager here, Ma’am. We simply cannot allow any external visitors tonight. Can we book a slot for you tomorrow? If you’d like to visit again, in the morning or later.”

Jisung tries to interject, but he sounds resigned. He seems intimidated by Ruth, and frankly speaking, you get it. He’s just twenty four and spends over thirteen hours in a day with you, so he’s not used to snarky women. Well, apart from you, and you’re never snarky to him.

“Ruth, my dear. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I’m here at the Paris Conclave.” You say your name solemnly, expecting it to have the same effect it has in Korea, but alas, the woman remains untouched as ever. “I’m dreadfully sorry Ma’am- wait, did you say Y/N Y/L/N?” Your smile becomes wider. Oh so it does have the intended effect. “So you finally will let me in, huh? You do know who I am.”

Suddenly Ruth’s demeanour changes and she’s smiling pleasantly. “Oh Ma’am, the private client has specially informed us to allow you in. Only you.” “I’m sorry, what? Why would they suddenly ask for me-” “Mr. Jeon told us that you would be here. I’m so sorry for the miscommunication, Ms. Y/L/N-”

“Mr. Jeon?!” You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you bitch. Aloud you say, “Mr. Wonwoo Jeon?” “Yes Ma’am. He’s booked the entire place for the evening. He has been waiting for you too,” Ruth smiles graciously, doing nothing to relieve your confusion. “There has been a mistake. I don’t think he meant me. We’ll leave now-” “Ma’am, I’m sure there’s no confusion now. Mr. Jeon asked us to bring you up as soon as you arrived. We’re sorry to keep you standing here on your date night.” “Date night? This is ridiculous. Wonwoo and I are not-” Jisung whispers into your ears right at moment, noticing your bloodshot wide eyes, “Ma’am, I think there’s no point fighting with them on this,” he says in Korean. “This lady seems adamant, and you shouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to visit the Eiffel Tower when it’s lit up so prettily. Even if it is with Mr. Jeon,” you wince at his suggestion, and he smiles apologetically. He’s right, you realise.

“Okay, but Jisung comes with me.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” Oh I’ve had enough of your sorries. “No one except you are to be allowed up.”

“Wow. First you say no external visitors. Now suddenly I’m allowed and Jisung is not-”

“Ms. Y/L/N, these are simply instructions from my client.”

Jisung bites his lip and says, “Well I guess it’s not written in my fate then. Ma’am, don’t miss out on my account. Please enjoy. I’ll just go downtown and waste the night away. I’ll see you tomorrow then? Please make sure to eat dinner!” You’re seconds away from whining and pulling another tantrum, but Jisung whispers fighting to you in his soft indulgent tone that he uses on you whenever you’re being a brat and he needs to take care of you. And then he’s gone, and you have no option but to face Ruth. That bloody woman. “Welcome to the Eiffel Tower, Ma’am. Please accompany me as we take you to the top.”

At the top, Jeon Wonwoo stands with a glass of champagne in his left hand and his mobile phone in his right.

“If you’re going to work on your phone and not enjoy the view, why the fuck did you book this place out?”

You walk towards the man standing in the open air viewing area, and he smiles at you. The annoyingly handsome smile, where his eyes crinkle up, and his perfectly white teeth are revealed in a rare display.

“You came. I knew you’d come.”

“How so?” A server appears from nowhere and offers you champagne too, which you accept. You’ll soon switch to whisky though, to calm your nerves down.

“You’re easily predictable. You act like any other average tourist, although you pretend to be such a princess.”

“Everyone comes to visit Eiffel Tower on their first day in Paris, Wonwoo, there’s nothing weird about this-”

“Exactly. Average. Me? I personally prefer to see it from the window of my hotel, so that I can see it in its glory without experiencing this slight dizziness and bling of the night view.”

“You’re stupid. That’s why you have such stupid preferences. This night view? Priceless.”

“Let me inform you, darling, it cost me a hell lot to book this. So not priceless.”

You laugh, looking at Wonwoo, who’s leaning against the railing facing you, and then back at the gorgeous night view. The Champs Elysees looks glorious with the lights. You can sense Wonwoo leaning in closer. His cologne and perfume mix to create a dark, musky smell that’s new. You’ve never smelled this on him before. “Why did you book it? That’s what I've been asking since forever.”

“I want to fuck you against this railing.”

You choke on the champagne, before catching your breath and turning back to face him.

“What?”

“You heard me the first time.” He maintains eye contact, but in that cold, nonchalant way of his, like he didn’t just propose the most scandalous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aren’t there cameras?”

“Will pay for them to be turned off.”

“That’s probably illegal.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay enough. Plus, I’ve already located the blind spots.”

You take a deep breath. As ashamed as you are to admit this, it does turn you on. A lot. If Wonwoo would touch you under your dress, he’d find evidence of the same. Sex like this- in public, definitely the most outrageous thing you’ve done. But Wonwoo suggesting it? The fact that he booked this place out on a probability that you’d come and a hope that you’d agree to it? The more you think about it, the hotter your body feels. You can feel your nipples straining against your dress in the cold air, and your face turning red with imagination.

“If you don’t want it, we can just eat dinner and leave.” Wonwoo’s eyes have become impossibly gentler but also darker, like he’s seconds away from losing his control. His sight betrays his words as he keeps looking at your lips. Thank god I applied the lip plumper tonight, you think. But then his eyes go to your breasts, like the pervert he is, and he smirks at the sight of the two nubs pressing hard against the soft silk.

You shake your head.

“Say it.”

“I want it too.”

“Atta girl,” his smirk widens, before he leans in to capture your lips. It’s a rough kiss, nothing romantic like one would expect atop the Eiffel Tower, but it sets the right mood for the night. You realise that all servers have disappeared, and you’re perfectly alone, as his lips move down towards your neck, leaving beautiful hickeys along the way. “It was torture and heaven waiting for you. Knowing you’d come, but fearing you wouldn’t.” His hands take away your champagne glasses and place them on a table nearby, before bending you backwards on the railing, making your head zoom more with pleasure. What if I fall off? What if someone catches us like this? What if he takes a picture of me like this in front of the view, with my tits out and my lipstick ruined?

“No bra, huh? You’re so sexy in this dress, I want to fuck you in it. You mind that?” You’re panting as he keeps kissing you in between his words, tongue dominating yours right away. It’s like a switch flipped inside you. Just minutes ago, you were so against sharing the Eiffel Tower view with Wonwoo, and now you’re letting him fuck you here. It drives you crazy.

“Wonwoo just- I don’t care, I need you now.” He bites all over your shoulder, slipping down the straps to grope your breasts in the rough-handed manner you like, sure to leave bruises with the way he kneads them while leaving open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone.

“Just because we’re out in the open doesn’t mean you forget your bedroom manners.” He bites down on your nipple, surely missing his favourite clamps back home, and you squirm in his iron grip.

“Sir please!”

“That’s better, sweetheart. But what do you want?”

“C-Co-” he alternates his bites with little kitten licks, looking up at you. “Articulation, baby. Speak up.” “Want your cock, in my m- mouth, Sir!” He pulls away from you, leaving the cold air to tease your bruised nipples, and laughs. Fucking laughs, but it turns you on again. “If you insist.”

He takes off his belt and ties your hands behind your back, and then pushes your shoulder down and you fall to your knees, and he stands back, tall. “Oh, what a pretty sight,” he sighs, taking in the night sky view, and then looks down at you, but makes no move to open his pants. You assume you’ll have to take care of it yourself, so you attempt to open the zipper with your teeth. It’s not particularly difficult, but in the process you get some drool over Wonwoo’s cock over his pants. “Tch. Dirty girl, drooling everywhere,” he wipes away the drool from the edge of your lips, before you slot your mouth against his erection, now free from his underwear and pants which have slid down his legs. It’s not as hard as it gets during sex, but that’s what you’re here for. Nothing but a slut for him to use. Your ankles burn against your heels in this position, but it’s okay. You’re losing your mind as you swallow his sheath inch-by-inch, until you feel his skin against your nose, and you stay like that for a second, easing out your gag reflex. But before you can move, Wonwoo thrusts deep into your throat, eyes not leaving yours. It makes you roll your eyes, the pleasure of the surprise way more than the pain, and makes you crave for more. He slowly wraps his hands around your head, a strong broad support for you to rest in, and continues to ram his dick inside your mouth. Your body becomes limp as you slowly surrender to his actions, your mind blank, except a crazy wanton desire to please him and make him cum. You’re too sex-crazed right now to reason out why only Wonwoo elicits this reaction from you.

But then his dick gets rock hard, and right when its weight becomes the best and warmest around your throat, wet with saliva and pre-cum, he pulls out. You can’t frame words instantly, but you whine. “Ah, Wo- I- pl- co- please…” He laughs cockily at your state, and you blush with shame at the way you’re acting. “Get up,” he walks away from you, leaving you to your own devices to stand up in those heels.

It strikes you yet again, just how open this all is. Anyone can walk in. The security guard may be jerking off watching this on the security cameras, and you won’t lie, it’s hot as fuck. The thought of Wonwoo and your activities being porn for someone else- oh fuck.

Wonwoo sits on a couch meant for visitors on the balcony. “Come baby,” he beckons, and you sit on his lap. His cock is still hard, leaking pre-cum, and you’re tempted to lick it off, but you won’t make a move until he tells you to. You can’t disobey him now- if he spanks you in punishment, you won’t be able to walk to the conference tomorrow.

“Spit on it.” And you do. Wonwoo likes your spit, for some reason, and you wordlessly obey. Then he pulls out something from his pocket, and you realise- “No Sir! Please, not the paddle today!” It’s a folded paddle, the pocket-friendly one you can buy at cheap sex stores. “I need to walk tomorrow, I can’t if you spank me-” “But you’ve been so naughty. Begging for my cock in a public place like the little slut you are. Not accepting my invitation to come up here and making me wait for so long. Turning my offer for dinner down at the conference this morning,” You try to protest, but he simply inserts his thumb into your mouth, and you instinctively start sucking on it. “Now be pretty, and let Sir show you your place.” While you’re still distractedly sucking the thumb, you don’t even realise when he’s lifted the back of your dress and the paddle hits the ass flesh exposed by your thong. “Count.” “One,” you whimper out, not wanting his thumb to slip out of your mouth. The spanks continue, alternating on ass. He can alternate between asses and keep the same pressure just by one hand, the other holding up your dress, his hands big enough to cover your entire ass cheek. The spanks burn more after the moment’s relief due to the cold air, and by the time you reach twenty, your knees have given up, and you’re drooling on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Don’t make a mess. Sit up straight.” As you do so, he asks you, putting away the paddle and tucking your hair behind your ears. “Have you learnt how to behave? Or do you need another reminder?” You fervently shake your head, but he whispers in his insanely sexy tone, “Words.” It makes you shiver, and you respond, “Yes Sir. I’ll not misbehave, Sir.” He smirks, and leans back. “Now ride me like you mean your words, darling.”

You don’t need another command. You sit down on his dick quickly, ready to take the burn without any prep, because you’re already leaking down your thighs. He grips your hips with one hand, steadying you, and cards his other hand through your hair. As you begin bouncing down on him, he shudders and releases low grunts, but nothing breaks his composure. He never once whispers Good Girl, as you cum once, but you still keep riding him to ensure he reaches his climax. Somewhere after your orgasm, he starts thrusting up from below to meet your efforts, and it brings him closer to his orgasm as he scrunches his nose and closes his eyes. When he does spurt inside you, he whispers softly enough that you almost miss it, “Fucking gorgeous.”

That’s enough praise for the night, you think to yourself, as you fall limply against his chest, nearly passed out from the strain, his cock still spasming inside of you. He soothes your hair, and you fall asleep.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Please wake up! We’re running late. Ma’am? Ms. Y/L/N?” You open your eyes blearily to see Jisung shaking you lightly. Slowly you come to your senses, and you can hear his voice louder, and see the desperation in his face clearly.

Fuck.

What have you done?

“How late am I?”

“Not too bad, Ma’am,” Jisung scrunches his nose as he looks at the clock on your bedside table. “We have twenty minutes to go.”

“Fuck!” You scramble out of bed, not even bothering to check if you’re clothed, and make your way to the washroom. There’s a pain growing in your head, and it’s only when you see yourself in the mirror that you realise that you’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts. What even happened last night? The last thing you remember, as you try to recollect while quickly brushing your teeth, washing your hair and hopping into the shower all at the same time, is that you had passed out on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Then the world had gone blank. Fucked into oblivion, truly. He must have brought you into your room. Oh fucking hell, he owed you at least that much.

By the time you wrapped your bathing suit around you and walked back into your bedroom, Jisung was gone, but your outfit and shoes were laid out on the bed and there was a note, I’ll pack some breakfast for you, Ma’am. Please come down directly to the conference hall. Thank god for Jisung, that was one prayer you said everyday. He’d been partying too last night, hadn’t he? And yet, he had responsibly made it on time and woken you up as well. You were getting too irresponsible, too lax. Your discipline was gone and you mentally bashed yourself for it. All because of that stupid Wonwoo.

After that, it doesn’t take much time for you to get dressed. Jisung must’ve noticed the hickeys on your neck, and brought you a jacket with lapels and a collar high enough to hide most of the marks. You quickly tied a scarf around your neck, making it look fashionable by adding colour to the otherwise beige monotone outfit, and praised yourself mentally for looking this good even without makeup. Dabbing on some lip balm in the elevator, you quickly reached the conference hall, finding yourself a minute late. Again, thank god for Jisung, the boy had reserved your seat, made excuses on your behalf and kept a croissant and coffee ready at your seat, so that everyone greeted you with kind smiles.

Except Wonwoo, who had that unreadable expression again.

Must be pathetic, living like him. What worth was a face like that if it couldn’t express anything?

Four days later, you land in Incheon amidst the wildest of storms the country has faced in the year. You won’t admit it, but you’re glad you travelled in your private jet, where you can close all windows down and wrap yourself up in a blanket burrito to drown out all signs of the storm. You wish storms didn’t exist, and you wish no one would have to see you in this weak state. Not Wonwoo for sure.

After that first day in Paris, the two of you had barely interacted. Primarily, you were too ashamed to speak to him. How could you smile and talk normally to someone after getting railed by them on the Eiffel Tower, especially when that same someone was annoying as fuck in reality? Sure, eye contact had been made several times, over dinners, over the conference tables, when you’d been on the stage presenting, and when running into each other in the corridor. But words? You possibly couldn’t. It’d be too much for the fragile self-respect you’d been holding on to.

You really want to avoid him once you’re back in Seoul as well. The workload seems to have tripled in the few days you were away, with endless tiny emergencies and approvals pending to be resolved. You’re again thankful for Jisung, but there’s only so much the poor boy can do. You make it a point to send him home soon after his scheduled timing every day, but you can’t say the same for yourself.

It’s the fifth night of you eating ramen from a cup noodles pack and sipping on apple juice from a 1 litre tetra pack, that you finally give up on the abstention. It’s a hard decision, but somehow, your overworked brain and sleep-deprived body leads you to one craving, and one craving only.

Thirty minutes later, Jeon Wonwoo arrives at your office. He’s been to your office only rarely, as you both prefer to meet up outside professional areas, but in the darkness of the empty office, he can easily recognise your brightly-lit room. He’s dressed in formals too, as if he’s just got off work himself, and you think he may be in the same boat as you. But definitely not as much as you- you’re a perfectionist who looks over everything yourself, Wonwoo doesn’t even come close for sure.

“It’s one of those nights, huh?”

He gently opens the door and walks in. Everything about him seems to be delicate today: perhaps it’s because his shirt is damp from the rain he’s surely walked in, his hair is wet and falling over his eyes, and his tie is gone. His jacket is soon gone too, dropped off on the couch, and he takes off his shoes. They’re leaving slightly muddy footprints, and you wonder if Wonwoo even drove and came or just ran like a peasant.

“How’s work treating you?”

“Stop wolfing down that ramen, it’s not healthy. Not as bad as you, as I see. I finished up hours ago,” his eyes don’t meet yours, and you know it’s a lie. It’s one of the signs of lying, as you’ve picked up over the years. Wonwoo rarely breaks eye contact while speaking, always honest, and his lie is really odd to you right now. Why would he lie to you about this?

“I was wondering, if…” you stand up from your desk, taking in the figure of the man sitting on your couch now, manspreading and head leaning back. He’s tired, why did he lie about getting off early?

“Come here, princess.”

That’s all it takes, and you sit on his lap and wait for his lips to meet yours. He indulges you in your wish, and immediately the tension in your body eases out. Along with the stress of work, you’d been even more worried that he’d bring up your last night together, and you’d get too ashamed to remain turned on. But he doesn’t, and you’re glad. You let your lips be bitten by him, but then he soothes over the burns with his tongue. He tastes like candy, and you tell him the same.

“Hmm, low sugar.”

Then he picks you up and gently walks over to your desk, holding you in the same bridal pose without even a muscle flinching. With one hand, he clears the laptop sitting atop your desk to the coffee table, and swipes the rest of the clutter on the floor. It would’ve made you angry otherwise, but you’re already entering subzone with the way he’s handling you. Lips still locked on yours, holding you in that pose with just one hand as you hold on to his shoulders for dear life, it’s a crazy show of strength and you’re getting incredibly turned on by it. You let yourself go, giving it up to this person, who seems to be so reliable, so strong, so manly.

As he lays you down on the desk, he takes off your trousers and underwear in one go, and sits down on the chair you usually sit on.

“You’re so wet, so dirty. Did you touch yourself after texting me to come over?” Your pussy is at his eye level, and you’re looking down at him, his eyes menacing and beautiful at the same time. His question makes you squirm, as you reply, “Of course not.” Then there’s a slap across your cunt, and you whine. “Manners?” “Of course not, Sir.” “Liar,” he smirks, and dives headfirst into your cunt.

It’s a treat he rarely gives you. Only when he’s very happy with you- like after you’ve taken thirty spanks, or you’ve eaten dinner with him while having a vibrator stuffed up your cunt, or you’ve let him wash you in the shower (for some reason, Wonwoo likes that a lot. He ties you up to these poles he’s attached in his bathroom, and plays with your body by applying as much oil and soap he wants, making sure not to touch your pussy for hours, denying every release to you even as it builds up just from the oversensitivity of having your nipples and ass played with).

You wonder why he’s so happy.

But you can’t care enough, now that his tongue is working so hard against your clit. The sensation makes you lose all rational thought, as you lean back against the desk, mind empty, and just moaning his name. You remember the first few times he’d fucked you with your mouth gagged, but then he’d told you he likes your sounds way too much, so you’d stopped controlling them too. He gets what he wants. After all, only he can fuck you so well.

“Wonwoo, please-” He moves his head up, licking his lips which are glistening with your slick. “How do you address me baby?” “S-sorry! Sir, please I-” “Hmm?” He leans back in, humming against your clit. His tongue now moves to your hole, nose brushing against your clit. “Can I come? Like this? May I? Please?” When he moves away again for breath, he removes his hands from your thighs, and you see the red marks he’s left there just by how tight he was gripping them. It’s a wild sight, and your climax hits you right then, coming before he could answer. “So impatient, coming all over my face even when I’ve told you not to come without my permission.” But even his scolding sounds gentle tonight, softly chiding rather than his usual harsh coldness. In your post-orgasm clarity, you wonder again what’s gotten into him.

He licks away your cum, and it makes you burn with overstimulation. “Uhhhhh, please-please Sir!” “Stay still.” His hands are back at your thighs, spreading them apart, and he seems hellbent on getting another orgasm from you. Your screams are louder this time, and you’re growing even more desperate to get something bigger to fill you up. You wrap your hands in his hair, and tug unconsciously while he keeps licking at your pussy. His entire face is hazy with your slick, thank god he’d taken off his glasses earlier, but he doesn’t care. He keeps diving in.

“Sir, please, I’m going- uhhhh,” he pulls away instantly and smacks your cunt hard. “No coming until I allow you to. Let Sir have his treat.” “Please Sir I’ll be so good, I promise, I- please let me, just this once.” Another smack, and you’re screaming. Thank heavens the office is empty.

“Do you not understand my words? Should I retrain you?”

“No! I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Hmm, you better be,” and this time he doesn’t just lick your pussy, but also starts entering two fingers alongside his tongue, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. You’re whining yet again, losing your breath, but everytime you’re about to come, he pulls away. You can’t figure out how he realises, but soon two hours pass by, and you’re still being edged. Your legs are shaking, and you can’t think straight. You just want more of his fingers, you want his cock, inside your mouth, your cunt, hell, you just want to orgasm once.

“Girl, stop moving. You’re so filthy, dripping like this. What would your boytoy think if he saw you like this? Should I call him to clean this mess on your desk?” He’s curling his finger inside you, and it’s really hard forming words when you’re seeing stars like this.

“Sir, I-” “What’s his name? Jieun?” “Ji- Jisung. Aaah, please-” “Look at you begging. So pathetic. No wonder your secretary is so pathetic. He really likes you, you know?” Your eyes go wide, trying to register his words. “Why- why are you- how do you–” “Hush. I want to know, is he jerking off to you now? Thinking of how slutty you looked in those grey trousers, how perfect your ass looked? Bet you show off in front of him on purpose.” You’re squirming harder, not wanting to think about Jisung right now. “But- but daddy, I on- only want you!”

He laughs, then he leans in to whisper into your ear, “Daddy? That’s a first. Say it again.”

“Daddy, please! I only want your cock.”

“Really? So demanding, like a wife. But you’re just a slut. You’d do this to Jisung as well, won’t you?” “No! I swear- please. Daddy, just, it’s just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I swear!” You nod feverishly, the sensation building up inside you again.

“Okay baby girl. Come for me. Come for daddy. Then I’ll take you home and fuck you good. This desk is too small.” You don’t need to be told twice. You gush all over his hands and some of your come ends up on your desk and his pants too, but he only chuckles. Licking off the come on his hands, he smiles. “You taste like sugar, sweetheart.”

The sheets you wake up in smell overwhelmingly like Wonwoo. The man is nowhere to be seen, but the blankets next to you are shuffled and the pillow has a dent, and you remember being caved by his warmth at night when the storm had hit Seoul again and you’d woken up for a second before falling asleep to the steady rise and fall of the chest wrapped around you.

You wake up slowly, adjusting your eyes to the sunlight. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in Wonwoo’s bedroom, but this is the first time you’ve slept over. Usually you leave, no matter how late it is. But it feels good. It feels oddly intimate.

Your legs burn when you walk, but you try to look for your clothes.

Your shirt is ripped again.

You strut out of the room after wearing your panties and bra, which is barely holding on to one hook remaining, and find the man standing in the open kitchen, wearing a tank top and sweatpants. He’s drinking coffee, and a book is in his hands.

“Wonwoo, you’ve torn my clothes again. How am I supposed to go home like this?”

He turns to face you, smiling and fixing his glasses, and standing up. He looks so good in the warmth of the sunlight falling on his golden skin. “You’re up.”

“Do you think I can keep buying new clothes?”

“Yes. Now, calm down. Do you-”

“Wonwoo!”

“For god’s sake, I can’t take your shit this early in the morning. You want to fight, please do. Not now. It’s too early. You just always find something up your ass and have to pick on me for nothing, huh?”

His smile has faded, and the warmth in your body seeps away. About time, though. You don’t want to start feeling safe in Wonwoo’s private space. It’s too intimate- waking up in his bed, seeing him walk around in sweatpants, drinking coffee he’s making for you. It’s too much.

“This has to stop, Wonwoo.”

“Okay, fine! I’ll not rip your shirts. Take my card and buy something-”

“This arrangement has to stop.”

He turns away from the coffee machine for a second, and stares at you. You walk towards him, and he looks even better up close. His tank top shows off his arms, and they look soft yet really firm. You want to touch-

“Why? Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not-”

“Do you want to date someone? You can, you know. I don’t care-”

“Wonwoo-”

“Did I hurt you? Was I too much last night?” he steps closer to you, furrowing his eyebrows in evident confusion, and you suddenly can’t breathe. His expression is very much readable and it only reads as one emotion- concern.

“Wonwoo, please.” You take a step back, hugging yourself with your arms.

“Does it hurt? I am sorry if it does-”

“It’s not your fault. It’s a me thing, I swear.”

His eyes become clouded by even more confusion, and you quietly walk away and sit down on the kitchen counter.

“This is becoming too much for me. I- I got into this arrangement thinking that it would be a good way to vent stress. But it’s toxic now- I can’t think of any other way to deal with stress except this. Don’t you notice how our meetings have become more frequent now, especially initiated from my end? In the last three months, I’ve initiated sex fifteen times, and you’ve only six times. You see? This has become my only solution now.”

Wonwoo doesn’t look at you, but he keeps wincing at your words as if he’s being hit physically. Then he responds, when you’re done, “That does sound like a you problem, like why-”

You slide off the counter with a huff, muttering Fucking jerk under your breath, but he catches your wrist before you can walk further away.

“Don’t touch me if you’re going to react like that. I fucking knew it, why did I even talk to you? I can just walk away, I didn’t even need to expose my weaknesses to you.”

He yanks you closer using your wrist. “This isn’t a war, Y/N. I don’t get off on knowing about your weaknesses, for fuck’s sake. Can you stop being paranoid?”

You sigh. You know you’re always paranoid around him- funny, because he’s seen you in more compromising positions than anyone else. If he wanted to blackmail you, or hurt you, by hitting your weaknesses, he would, you realise. Is that why you’ve learnt to feel so safe around him?

“I’m sorry I reacted like that, Y/N. Talk to me, let’s work this out together. Let’s set up a system to slow our meetings down if you like?”

You bite your lip, and look up at him. “How?”

“Umm, how about you start to find other sources for it? Like hanging out with friends? Developing hobbies?”

You huff again, twisting your hand out of his grip. “Wonwoo, if I had other sources, would I not use them?”

“Darl-”

“Don’t call me that! We’re not having sex right now.”

“Y/N. Take your time to find other sources, then. If I’m your only means of relieving stress, it is extremely toxic. You’ll become dependent on me, and-” his pupils shake, looking away from you, “you’ll find it tough to date and all. Been there. Done that. That’s why I can tell you this.”

You’re about to reply something, when your phone rings out in a shrill tone. Surprisingly, Wonwoo’s phone rings out at the same time too.

You jog into the bedroom to find your phone and pick it up. It’s your sister.

“Y/N-ie! You’re not at home?”

“No. Why? Are you coming over?”

“No, I just made Kyungmin drive us to your place to see your place is empty. Where are you?”

“Never mind where I am. Why did you come over?”

“Mum and Dad want us to have lunch with the Jeons,” you can hear her giggle. But you’re stunned. “With the Jeons? Now? Today? For what joy? Are we buying their company?” She giggles again, leaving you more frustrated. “You’ll find out. I’ll send you an address then, come over directly!” And she promptly ends the call, leaving you blank and confused. Your phone pings- there’s the address of a restaurant, and a message asking you to be there within an hour. You realise only now how late you’ve woken up, and you’re glad it’s a Sunday.

“Why am I eating lunch with your parents?” Wonwoo walks into the bedroom, that confused look on his face again. “I could literally ask you the same damn thing. What’s going on?” “Does it look like I’ve got a single clue, babe?” He smirks at your cluelessness, and walks into his ensuite bathroom, leaving you speechless. Did he just call me babe? You wonder, but then your mind flits back to the issue at hand.

“Wonwoo!” You scream at him from outside the bathroom. You’re sure he can hear you, so you don’t wait for a reply. “Yah! What am I supposed to wear? You’ve torn my clothes, you fucker!” Your stress levels are rising again. You’re going to have to go back home to wear something appropriate. You realise that you haven’t even brought your car. You’ll have to ask Wonwoo to drive you back. But fuck, what if your sister is still at your place? Then she’ll see you both coming together, and undoubtedly she’ll prod and poke you. Then you won’t be able to have the upper hand at lunch when Wonwoo signs his company over to you. But there’s no other option as well. Well, there is- you can always stop at a boutique or a shop to buy something and wear it on the go. But that’d mean you’d have to go out in this hideously ripped blouse of yours. Oh!

“Wonwoo! You dumbass! I hate you! What have you done now? Why are we going for this lunch? For god’s sake.”

“Stop screaming, woman.” The door suddenly opens, and a half-naked Wonwoo steps out, engulfed in the steam from what was definitely a very hot shower. You have to stop yourself from moaning out at the sight. It reminds you of the three times you’ve showered together, and you can’t help but think back to the vivid memories of those sessions.

“How can I stop screaming? I don’t even know what’s going on. You knew about this, didn’t you? Why are you so calm?” Wonwoo takes another step towards you, and he runs his hands along your arms. You shiver under his touch, realising you’re still wearing just your underwear. “Calm down. This isn’t a big deal, you’ve dealt with more serious issues. It’s just lunch.” “But it’s lunch with your family. I don’t even know why.” He presses a hand along your cheek, and you’re feeling even more conscious and nervous. Why? This is really unusual, because Wonwoo is right. You’ve been in worse emergencies. Why is this getting on your nerves? Probably because your periods are due this week. These are just your hormones.

“Just enjoy the food. You’re anyway good at ignoring me in public places, and you can do the same to my family too.”

You bite your lip, and shake your head. “I need fresh clothes.”

“Yeah okay. Get into the shower and clean yourself up. I’ll ask my secretary to send something over.” “What? How-” “I think she’s the same dimensions as you.” “Oh.” You step away from him, swallowing whatever words you had to say. “I’ll go into the shower then.”

Thirty-five minutes and a very nice warm shower later, you’re standing in the bedroom and there’s a very pretty black dress on the bed. There’s also a new pair of lingerie next to it, complete with red roses sewn into black lace. Wow, that’s what Wonwoo asked his secretary to buy, huh. He definitely knows her dimensions very well. And the clothes fit, almost perfectly as if tailor-made. The dress is of unknown brand but the feel of the satin on your skin feels nice enough for you to forget about its origin.

“Done?” Wonwoo steps into the room. “Jeez, can you knock? Scared me.” You’re applying Wonwoo’s sunscreen (frankly shocked to see him owning it, but then, his skin is pretty nice). You’ve also applied the same perfume as his, and combed your hair in a million different ways, to make up for the lack of make-up or your usual products.

“Knock when I’ve seen you naked in this very room a hundred times? No thanks. Let’s go, we’re late.”

“Hmm,” you slip your feet into your shoes and pick up your bag. “I’m ready.” So is Wonwoo, you notice, who’s dressed in a grey sweater and jeans. The softness of his clothes contrast the sharpness of his features, and it… looks nice.

It takes you two twenty minutes to reach the restaurant, the ride passed in silence as you catch up on work mails from your phone.

“I’ll go first, and you come ten minutes later, okay?” “Yeah. And Y/N, don’t tell them you were with me, okay?” “Of course not. I’m not a dumb nut like you.” And you shut the door of the car with unnecessary force as you walk out of the car. You swear you can hear Wonwoo curse behind you, but you give no fucks.

“Oh! Y/N-ie! Welcome!” You walk straight into the arms of your mother, who’s dressed in a gaudy dress that does not suit her figure. “Eomma! How many times have I asked you not to wear these dresses?” “Oh shush! I bought this last weekend. Don’t tell me it looks bad, I’m in a good mood now.” You grimace and walk towards the table where your sister, her husband, and your father are waiting for you, smiling from ear to ear. Mr and Mrs Jeon, and Wonwoo’s younger brother are sitting on the other side of the table, also smiling from ear to ear. The excessive smiles are disturbing you, you’ve positively never seen Mrs. Jeon smile that wide.

“Oh, you look so good! Did you lose weight, Y/N-ie?” Mrs Jeon beckons you to sit next to her, and she takes your hand in hers. You force a smile on your face, still clueless about what’s going on. You can only hope they start talking about it when Wonwoo comes.

Speaking of the devil, he does come way earlier than you asked him too. You’re suddenly nervous, as the families start smiling again. “Aigoo, our handsome boy is here. Sit here, sit here.” Your sister welcomes him and he sits wedged between her and his mother.

“Eomma, what’s going on?” he asks.

“Aah, straight to the point. Forget about that, tell us, did you both come together?” You spill out the drink from your mouth, almost choking. “Us? Together? Hahaha. No, of course not! Why would you think that Mrs Jeon? Hahaha.” “Hmm…” your sister exchanges looks with your mother and Mrs Jeon, before finally giving you that stupidly bright smile again. “Is there something you both want to tell us? We’ll give you a chance before-” Wonwoo interrupts, “Appa, what’s this nonsense? Just tell us without this suspense.”

Mr Jeon, who’d quietly been busy on his phone for so long, looks up and stares a little blankly. His wife nudges him, and then he seems to remember. “Oh, so, Wonwoo. You know you both can tell us what you want.” Your father pipes in, “Yes, same goes for you, Y/N.” Wonwoo and you exchange confused looks before you speak up, “Okay, but really. What’s this suspense for?”

“We know you’re dating.” Your sister blurts out, and there’s a sudden silence at the table.

You think your eyes may burst out from the shock, and the way in which your palms instantly become sweaty is a dead giveaway of your nervousness. “What?! Unnie, are you out of your mind? What the fuck?”

“Language, Y/n-ah.” Your mother says, “You think we don’t know what you both are doing, huh?” And then she giggles. The damn audacity.

“I think there’s some grave misunderstanding, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N and I are… certainly, not dating.” Wonwoo’s mother grasps his hand across the table, and says, “Oh my son. My dutiful son. You don’t have to pretend about this. Just because Jeon Estates is rivals with Y/N’s company, doesn’t mean you both have to be secretive about dating!” There’s a little cough from both fathers, and Kyungmin and Wonbin, Wonwoo’s brother, burst out laughing.

“Eomma, we’re not hiding anything. It’s a fact, we aren’t-”

“Explain these then. Booking out Eiffel Tower for a dinner date, huh?”

“Eomma, how do you know? Are you spying on me?”

“No! Of course not! We just looked at your credit card bill, accidentally. Then I spoke to Bora, your secretary, and she confirmed that you’d been spending a lot of time with Y/N. Not only that, there’s more-”

“Yes, indeed. Y/N-ie, why didn’t you ever tell us?”

You gasp, feeling lightheaded. “Did Jisung…? That trai-”

“Not Jisung. Jisung wouldn’t open his mouth. So I spoke to your chauffeur. He tells me he regularly picks you up from Wonwoo’s place?”

That’s it. This is it. It doesn’t get worse than this. This is your end. Oh, earth, swallow me up.

“Darling,” Mrs Jeon rubs your back, “Please don’t feel so shy. We know that our husbands haven’t left a great friendship for you two heirs. But you need not worry about all this rivalry.”

Your sister joins, “Yes. I’ve convinced Appa, and our lovely Aunt Jiwoo has convinced Mr Jeon too. Oh you both are so silly, hiding a precious thing like this from us.”

Wonwoo and you glare at each other. You realise there’s no point in explaining things to these people sitting in front of you. If they’ve reached the point where your sister is calling Wonwoo’s mother as aunt, then they must have discussed this extensively before calling you two to this lunch. An ambush, that’s what this is, you think in despair.

“So what we’re saying is, instead of keeping it hidden like this, why don’t the two of you get married? Wonwoo-ah? You’re turning thirty next year, aren’t you? I want to see my grandchildren too,” Mrs Jeon says, and everything falls in place. This is blackmail. Your mother’s been asking you to get married ever since you took over the company, claiming that having a man at your side would help your life be perfect and free of any troubles, and even forcing you on some arranged dates. Wonwoo must be going through the same kind of thing, with him being three years older to you also. It fixes the nail in the coffin, and you stand up from your seat.

“That’s not happening. Mrs Jeon, Mr Jeon, Wonbin-ah, I’m sorry if this disappoints you, and the same goes for my family too. Wonwoo and I are grown adults. What we do is none of your business.”

“But if you are dating, what’s the issue with getting married? And from what I hear, it’s not even a recent fling. All this has been going on for a year now!” Your mother cries out loudly. Although you’re sitting in a secluded corner, the restaurant isn’t quite empty.

“We’re not… dating. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“Well, then are you guys enemies having movie sleepovers?” your sister adds, and it’s too annoying. “And why did you come over in Wonwoo’s car?” How the fuck? But then you realise, nothing is beyond these women. They may be keeping tabs on your and his car GPS for all you know.

Wonwoo stands up, looming over your figure. “That’s quite enough. Like Y/N said, what we do is not your business. Thank you for your concern, and enjoy your meal. Eomma, since you’ve taken access to my credit card already, might as well use it to treat yourselves with this meal.” He steps out of the chair, and walks over to where you’re standing. He swiftly grabs your wrist, and pulls you away, “Let’s go. This is a waste of time.” And just like that, the two of you walk away.

Six days later, a wedding invite stands ready in front of you, held out in Jisung’s pale hands. “Does it look good, Ma’am? I’ll send it for printing then.”

You sigh, and nod your yes.

part 2 is now out!

1K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 7 months

Note

Hi, I love your pet series its different and it’s so cute and funny to me. I wanted to requested a pet duck (the white ones) with Lance cause there’s just something about him but he seems like the type that would have a duck. (The image in my head is taking me out! 😂)

Thank you 🫶

okay took a different approach with this one so... lance is a rich boy, has grown up in luxury. His country loving gf changes that -- aka lance x lowkey cottagecore girlie

y/nl/n

liked by mickschumacher, and 94,182 others

y/nl/n ... we moved

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username1 only y/n could get lance to move to the countryside

username2 omg sleepy lance he's so cute

username3 how long until they have a literal farm?

username4 man is whipped

username5 get yoself a man who buys you your dream house when its the opposite of his aesthetic

username6 'opposite of his aesthetic' lmao

lance_stroll i love our little house

y/nl/n

liked by lance_stroll, and 102,457 others

y/nl/n first addition to countryside life

view all comments

username7 pls pls pls get cows

username8 lance with a dog im soft af

username9 can't wait to see what you guys get next!!

fernandoalo_oficial your next pet should be named after me

y/nl/n agreed

lance_stroll agreed

y/nl/n

liked by lance_stroll, and 105,674 others

y/nl/n lance and I should not be trusted with money

view all comments

landonorris lmao shouldn't be trusted with money

y/nl/n we're not ready for responsibility

lance_stroll speak for yourself i love our daughters

username10 omg their daughters i can't

username11 what are their names?

y/nl/n we named them after the grid, the one with the heart on her head is mick

username12 what's next?

username13 omg they need a farm cat

y/nl/n

liked by lance_stroll, and 135,968 others

y/nl/n i call them lance's ladies

view all comments

username14 omg they're lances ladies

lance_stroll oh my ladies look so good

y/nl/n thank you, lancey poo

lance_stroll ... my ducks

username15 where do I find a lance?

y/nl/n he's for sale if you want him

lance_stroll if i leave my ladies are coming with me

y/nl/n love you lancey

y/nl/n

liked by lance_stroll, and 163,540 others

y/nl/n lance's girls get treated so good

view all comments

lance_stroll that's all my girls (including you)

username16 id do anything ANYTHING for lance stroll to call me his girl

username17 am i more jealous of y/n or the ducks

username18 idk im swaying towards the ducks

username19 does grandpa stroll ever visit the farm babies?

username20 acc the cutest family

username21 has the rest of the grid met their animals yet?

username22 idk i feel like mick or esteban have

y/nl/n

liked by lance_stroll, and 230,058 others

y/nl/n lil slice of heaven

view all comments

username23 ugh they're living their best lives and im here for it

username24 seb really rubbed off on lance

username24 WHEN DID THEY laGET CHICKENS AND WHAT ARE THEIR NAMES

lance_stroll next im gonna get you a pony

y/nl/n omg really? 👉👈 lancey poo i love youuuuu lance_stroll but also lets get more ducks y/nl/n deal

#lance stroll #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll smut #lance stroll x you #lance stroll x reader smut #ls18 imagine #ls18 x reader #ls18 #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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light-yaers · 10 days

Text

Take Care: Chapter Fourteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: YEEE FUCKING HAW WE'RE BACK AND LONGER THAN EVER. FEAST, MY PRETTIES.

Word count: 10k+

Chapter Fourteen:

Well, Arlo. It seems the Greyhounds have actually… done something right?

I know, Chris. If you’d told me they’d be in this position, not even in the Premier League, yet through to the FA Cup final, then well! I’d have eaten my hat!

But Arlo, you don’t own any hats.

There’s lots that you don’t know about me, Chris.

Oh. Well, I’d like to find out more one day, Arlo.

Maybe one day, Chris. Maybe one day… But, moving forward– it seems AFC Richmond’s new coach, badboy Roy Kent, has well and truly shared the fabled ‘Roy Kent Effect’ once more.

That’s certainly true, Arlo! Kent and his teammates have never worked so well, even when he was on the pitch next to them. I think this is the start of a blossoming season for the Greyhounds.

I agree, Chris. So, you heard it here, folks. AFC Richmond are off to Wembley!

A few weeks after Roy’s return, you found yourself feeling the love. When you came to, you were screaming your head off. Everything was a giant blur of those familiar reds and blues, so you knew you were home. The locker room still looked the same as always, but the players within were so drastically separate from how they were a week ago that you could hardly fucking believe it.

AFC Richmond were going to Wembley for the FA Cup final. The only downside– they were against Manchester fucking City. You weren’t about to dampen their joy, though. You suspected they all knew exactly what was at stake, but they deserved this. They deserved to feel like winners.

Sam bound over to you as soon as he could. His embrace brought you back down to earth, and you hugged him back so tightly that it was a miracle neither of you passed out. “God, I am so proud of you,” you whispered into his shoulder.

He reciprocated by squeezing you once more, before you tugged apart. “You still bring us good luck. You are part of the reason we have come this far.” He spoke so earnestly that you couldn’t stop your throat from drying up.

You swallowed painfully, utterly overwhelmed. Sam went one step further, however, when he stepped onto one of the benches. “Hey, guys! Guys!” he yelled, bringing the sound in the room right down. Every player, and coach alike, turned to him and listened intently. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this position without the help of every single person in this room.” Sam looked down at you then, smiling like the golden sun. “Thank you, everyone! We’re Richmond till we die!”

The room erupted into roars that no jungle could replicate. You soaked up their cheers, their happiness, their togetherness, and as you did you sensed someone close by: Roy.

He stood in the doorway of the manager’s office, wearing a tracksuit that donned Richmond’s logo. He’d fallen into his coach position as if he’d always been here– assertively, strongly, respectfully. When you glanced around the room and saw him, you had to stop just for a moment to take him in. You smiled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at you. When he eventually caught your eye, you quickly looked beyond him, acting as if you hadn’t been eyeing him up for the better half of a minute.

Roy liked it when you looked like this– happy, content, in the middle of a bustling and buzzing room yet perfectly fine with just existing and not speaking. You were good like that, good at listening and observing. You were also good at talking when you got to it, but Roy’s initial annoyance whenever you opened your mouth had quickly disappeared after a few weeks into your placement at the club. That sentiment had only grown over the past year and a half.

Jesus– eighteen months. It’d really gone fast, hadn’t it? Eighteen months, and you’d grown into your talent and only increased your work ethic (even if you secretly hated your current position). Eighteen months, and Roy had played his last game of football ever, but coached his first professional game since.

Roy leaned on the doorframe of the manager’s office and crossed his arms. Dani had his hands wrapped around your neck lovingly from behind. The two of you swayed back and forth as the team continued rejoicing. Slowly, you latched your fingers onto Dani’s forearms and held them tightly. Roy knew what that felt like, having you close. He’d been there with you once, when it was impossible to keep your hands off each other in a crowded room like this.

There was another thing that hadn’t happened in eighteen months. You and Roy. Roy and you. In truth, you’d thought about things more than he had. This was amongst one of the first times he’d allowed himself to think of you together, properly, and what it could have been like.

He thought back to November, almost six months ago now, when he’d told you that he had no intention of fucking things up. To do that, you and Roy couldn’t happen– wouldn’t happen.

Roy frowned when he thought about how awful he’d been, not even during that conversation, but afterwards. He hadn’t put up any boundaries, had continued acting the same as he always was around you. It wasn’t kind; he knew that as soon as he’d seen your face on Boxing Day, practically scrambling to get the fuck out of his house.

The bad thing was, however, that Roy didn’t want to stop. Sure, he’d said things would never happen, and you’d graciously accepted that fate and tried to move forward over these past few months like any respectful and decent person would. But, he hadn’t. He’d said the words, but not followed them.

Roy huffed to himself, only now realising– he was a fucking idiot.

This was Roy’s more prominent disease, it seemed: delayed on-set realisation of selfishness. DOROS for short. Maybe he’d always known, but had pushed it all away in favour of keeping you close. Maybe he’d always known, but innately knew that he had never wanted to cut things off with you, so simply acted like he’d never fucking said a thing.

Mentally, Roy added a new to-do box to his list.

Fix things with you.

He would. Oh, he would.

“Roy!” Ted’s familiar accent called from behind him. Roy turned around and looked down at his fellow coach, sat before him with his feet on his desk. Beard was the same, and the two of them looked like peas in a pod. “How’re your first few weeks going?”

Roy balled his fists instinctually. “Good. I think.”

“Well, you gosh darn thunk correctly!” Ted burst, jumping out of his chair in excitement. “And now, I need your help once again. This match next week, the big one.” He stopped directly in front of Roy, chin to chin. “How do we keep the guys like this?”

This meaning the ruckus behind him. Joyful, strong, ready to fight with all they’ve got even if the outcome isn’t in their favour. Roy knew that feeling well, having felt it too many times to count.

He sighed. “It’ll be tough. Come tomorrow, they’ll all start to spiral.”

“How so?”

Roy shrugged. “It’s the hope that kills you.”

Ted’s face soured immediately. “I don’t like your sayings over here.”

“Yeah, well…” Roy turned around to look at the guys. “It’s easier than being fucking disappointed.”

“Screw that!” Ted suddenly exploded. He grabbed Roy’s shoulders and urged him to look in his eyes. “We’re stopping that today. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you look at those guys right there, acting like that?” Ted asked.

Roy swivelled his head back around to look at them. “I… I dunno?” he said.

Ted squeezed his shoulders abruptly. “Yes, you do! Say it. Say it!”

“All-fucking-right!” Roy yelled. “Her!” He pointed at you without hesitating.

As if on cue, you laughed. You scrunched your eyes shut in happiness, giggling as Dani placed his chin atop your head. He squeezed you tighter, and you giggled even harder, gripping his arms stronger than before. Sam and Colin laughed opposite them, still overcome with the buzzing adrenaline of the win. They all were. You perpetuated that feeling, made the guys want it even more so you could join them at times like this.

Ted moved next to Roy, looking at the same scene. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ted whispered. “You’ve never been more right in your life.”

You had to suck in a deep breath as your laughter dissipated. Your lungs were empty of all reserves, but you’d never felt better about it. Dani gently removed himself from you to head towards Richard and Zoreaux. As he did, the most unexpected thing happened.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and when you turned to greet them with a glowing smile, you stopped short. Jamie Tartt stood before you. “Hey,” he said.

You kept things light as you perked your brow at him quizzically. “Hi.” You smiled. “Congratulations.”

Jamie laughed awkwardly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Thanks very much.” You’d never tire of his accent, secretly. You were fond of Mancunian. “Listen, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh– sure.”

“Privately,” he added.

You glanced around the locker room quickly, before nodding once. Jamie led you out to the corridor and beyond. He opened the door to the kit room and held it for you as you entered, then followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

You didn’t know where to place yourself. Stood in the centre of the room, overwhelmed by the scent of soggy feet, you turned to the striker and waited. Jamie stood opposite you with the same feeling of being utterly out of place.

“What can I do for you, Jamie?” you started, getting the ball rolling.

“I know we’re not really… er, close.” He clutched his hands together awkwardly, almost unable to meet your eye. “But I know how much you mean to the club and that.”

You huffed amusedly. “Sure,” you agreed.

“Which is why I know you won’t laugh at me when I ask you this.” Tartt finally met your eye, and you were taken aback. Whatever was on his mind you now knew was a big deal. I mean, it had to be for him to approach you like this, surely?

“Okay,” you said sturdily. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s Roy.” You held your breath as he said it. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Jamie would come to you about a Roy problem, yet here he was. “He won’t coach me. Not like the others, you know. I know I was a dick in the past, for lack of a better word, and that Roy was on the receiving end sometimes–”

“All the time,” you said, matter of factly. Jamie subtly exploded.

“Okay, fine– all the fucking time– but I’m back now, and I need a fucking coach. I want him to teach me the same way he teaches Sam and Isaac and the rest.”

“But, you don’t know how to ask him,” you said your thoughts out loud.

Jamie nodded quickly, agreeing with you tenfold. “I know he’d tell me to fuck off.”

“Well, of course he’s going to do that.” You almost chuckled from how right he was in saying so. “But, I see where you’re coming from.” Your mind spiralled down different routes, unknowing of where you came into this equation. You could tell Jamie what to say, but you knew what Roy would reply simply because it was Tartt, not you. “Why come to me, though?”

Jamie’s face squished questioningly, like he couldn’t understand why you hadn’t put two and two together just yet. “Roy fucking listens to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh now. “Oh, please. Yeah, he listens. But whether or not he decides to do what I say is a completely different ball game.”

Jamie reached out to you suddenly and gripped your shoulders in desperation. “Please. I know I’m making up for lost time and bad behaviour and whatever else I did to the guys, or Lasso, or Roy, but I need to be useful here. I want to be useful here.”

You regarded him thoughtfully then. It was hard not to take him into account when he was like this, bearing his soul to a person who had never connected with him beforehand. Reaching out to you was a shot in the dark for him, but he’d done it anyway because he wanted to succeed. It was commendable, when you put it all into perspective.

You decided upon a middle ground. “I’ll plant the seed in his head to let you in, alright?”

Jamie let out a clear sigh of relief when you agreed. “Well, fuck– thank you.”

“But!” you continued. “You need to go to him yourself. You need to apologise, and tell him exactly what you said to me. It’s Roy, so he’ll make it a fucking nightmare and will probably be childish and petty and whatever fucking else that grown man is capable of…” As you rambled, the cogs in Jamie’s brain finally understood the whole story– you liked him, didn’t you? “...but he’ll do it eventually. He has to. He’s a coach now, and if you’re here, you deserve to be coached properly.”

Jamie squealed and smiled at the same time, his eyes ablaze with boyish resemblance. He squeezed your shoulders affectionately. “I knew coming to you would work out. I just knew it.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Don’t make it a regular thing,” you joked. “There are only so many strings I can pull with Roy.”

Jamie raised his brows assumptively. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean by that?” All your amusement reluctantly trailed off alongside your words.

“Well,” Jamie started. His grin dropped instantly. “I mean– don’t make me fucking say it. You already know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” you pressed.

“That Roy, y’know. That Roy–” Jamie flailed his arms around like a flapping seagull. “He– y’know…”

You squinted at him. “Are you speaking some kind of secret footballer language that common people like me don’t fucking understand?”

“He likes you!” Jamie finally let out.

“Oh.” You stepped back. Jamie’s arms dropped to his sides. “Stop fucking talking now.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t see it?” Jamie looked you dead in the eye, but all you were capable of doing was looking away from embarrassment. “Well, you’re more stupid than I fucking took you for.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “There’s no need for that shit when I’m digging you out of the mess you fucking made last season.”

He raised his arms up in understanding. “Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad.” You let out your own sigh of relief when you realised the conversation was over.

You and Jamie headed back to the locker room soon after. As he made his way towards the guys, you stuck to the outer limits of the cinder block walls. Roy was still in the manager's office, his back turned as he spoke to Ted and Beard. You didn’t want to intrude, so you made the decision to cut back into the corridor once more; not to leave, but to wait until the guys were ready for a pint.

You slowly trudged down the familiar corridor that you used to traverse every fucking day. Past the locker room, you approached the gym. Beyond that, your old office still sat. Keeley had recently upgraded to a larger room deeper underneath the Dogtrack, however, so the usual array of pink pillows and her cheetah statue were nowhere to be seen.

You entered through the half open door and walked straight into darkness. The walls were the same, just pinker. The desk was the same, just empty. Whenever you visited this office space after time away you felt the same pull to return. You didn’t care if it had no windows; you’d managed to make it home for nearly a year without any hiccups.

God, you wanted to be back here. Everyone knew it, even Rebecca, but you daren’t take favours. You would never.

A small knock sounded from the door, and you turned back quickly. “Ready to g–? Oh!” you exclaimed. You’d been expecting Sam or Roy, but were met with the still slightly unfamiliar face of Nate. “Sorry, Nate. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s alright,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?”

“Oh,” you spluttered. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my office anymore.”

He stepped inside. “No, no, it’s not, is it?” he said, and the tone of his voice was erring on patronising. You opted to ignore it, knowing that he wouldn’t have meant it that way. Surely?

The silent pause that flittered between you was very awkward, there was no denying it. It wasn’t that you’d meant to not really know him, but your circle at the club had seemed to travel in one certain direction that you hadn’t been able to control. The guys, Ted, Roy, Rebecca. Not Beard, not Nate. You didn’t mean anything by it innately.

If anything, you were happy that Nate was making himself known to you. You’d love to get to know him more– or more than what you barely knew of him from your time at the club.

“What a great game today, wasn’t it?” you started.

“Oh yes, fantastic game,” said Nate.

“And that thing–” You mimed what had happened on the pitch earlier, which happened to be a middle finger of all things. “That all four of you did to Jamie. Classic, really fucking brilliant.”

“Oh yes, the good old middle finger.” Nate copied you in miming what he’d done less than an hour ago. All four coaches had signalled to Tartt what needed to be done, and that signal happened to be swearing at him full-frontally. Four middle fingers had stood up on end, and Tottenham didn’t know what had hit them when Tartt managed to make a goal from just beyond the halfway line.

“You were all absolutely brilliant!” you exclaimed. “I’ve been seeing you in the paper as well, you know? The whole Wonderkid thing.”

Nate smiled forcefully. “I definitely said Wunderkind.”

“Either way, it’s fantastic you’re getting that recognition.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Nate said, taking your compliment graciously; or so you thought. “So, here’s the thing.” He plunged right into his words like he’d had them on standby the entire time.

“Go on,” you urged him happily.

“You can’t come to Wembley.”

“What?” you asked, not fully absorbing his words.

Nate stopped smiling. He looked at you sternly, or like you were akin to dirt on his shoe, or whatever else. Your smile turned to a frown instantly.

“You can’t come to Wembley,” Nate repeated.

Those five words hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t understand what he was saying, or what he meant. For a second, you thought he’d got his words mixed up, maybe, but even if they were un-muddled they wouldn’t make sense at all.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you said smally, feeling multiple degrees of hurt even though you had no explanation.

“Okay,” Nate replied. “I’ll spell it out for you.” He raised his chin and sucked in a deep and confident breath, “You cannot come to Wembley for the FA Cup final.”

You still didn’t understand, but you understood Nate’s words fully. Why he was saying them, though, you had no idea. Perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted his patronising tone upon entering the room, but had picked it up perfectly. You didn’t know Nate enough to get mad– properly mad– but your blood boiled as you looked at him.

“Why not?” you asked, swallowing sullenly to try and keep the butterflies in your gut at bay.

Nate smiled. You hated that he smiled. It felt grimy and wrong. “Roy, Ted and Beard seem to think that you keep the team happy, and maybe you do. But, this is the fucking FA Cup final. They can’t afford any distractions, and you.” He looked you up and down like a blight. You’d never been looked at like that before in your life. “You are a distraction. You may think you’re helping, but the guys need clear minds and ready heads. You’re a distraction towards all of that.”

You laughed abruptly, at a loss for words. Nate’s smile turned to something much more condescending. Gently, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. You froze on the spot.

“It’s just better if you sit this one out, alright? Don’t worry, the guys won’t miss you too much.”

You opened your mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was air. Your lungs collapsed beneath your chest, your heart pumped blood uncomfortably and incredibly fast into your limbs, your organs, your gut. It hurt. It really hurt.

Nate squeezed your shoulder. You stiffened further. “Good talk. Let’s catch up after the final.” He removed his hand from you and left promptly, leaving you in the darkned seclusion of your old office.

Realisation hit you like a double-decker bus. Nate had always been like this a bit, hadn’t he? Not before he became a coach, but afterwards, certainly. A shift had cemented within him as soon as he’d donned the Richmond jacket and owned a desk spot next to Ted and Beard. The whistle around his neck clung to him like a trophy of his authority.

Nathan Shelley was not a nice coach. Good, smart, intelligent, but not nice.

You wondered if Ted knew. You wondered if Beard knew. You wondered if Roy knew. If they did, you knew they’d do something about it, so perhaps not. Innately, despite the weak way your chest scraped air through your crippled lungs, you hoped it was just you that he had gripes with. You hoped he wasn’t like this to any of the guys themselves. Just the thought alone made you angry beyond belief.

No one on the team deserved to be treated the way that Nate had just treated you.

You sucked in a sharp breath quickly, feeling the beginnings and endings of tears behind your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not for this. If you twisted this entire ordeal on its head then it was borderline comical. Not to toot your own horn, but you knew that if any of the guys in the locker room next door found out about this, then they’d take your side.

That was exactly why you couldn’t tell them. You weren’t about to be the reason that AFC Richmond’s managerial team broke apart. They’d come so far already after relegation. You couldn’t– wouldn’t– fuck that all up.

Quietly, you swallowed away your pride and your feelings and left your old office. Silently, you headed back to the locker room and entered timidly.

“There she is,” Roy muttered to Sam as you entered. As you approached him, you realised he’d picked up your bag and slung it over his shoulder to save you holding it yourself. “Ready to go?” he asked, face to face.

Your eyes hit his. You struggled to keep everything at bay, but brushed it off as best as you possibly could. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Here.” You gestured to your bag on his shoulder, but Roy twisted himself away from you.

“I’ve got it.” Roy frowned slowly, a sour feeling sprouted in his gut. “You alright?”

You waved him off. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel all that good, if I’m being honest.”

“Hm.” He reached out confidently and laid his knuckles against your forehead. Roy had done this to you many times. You were used to it, but still allowed yourself to silently indulge in his touch. Besides, you needed this. He didn’t know, but you needed him right now. “You do feel a bit hot, actually,” he said lowly. “Wanna skip the pub and go home?”

Gently, you nodded. Roy’s hand dropped to your shoulder, the same one that Nate had held just minutes before. Quickly, you placed your hand over his. “Yes, please.”

Roy stayed still. Something was wrong, he knew it. There was this look in your eye that coincided with you not feeling well, but that wasn’t all. The way you were standing; slumped, arms wrapped around yourself, as if you were desperately trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. The hand that rested atop his own didn’t feel strong. This wasn’t you, the real you.

Roy nodded at you in understanding. “Okay,” he whispered. Roy turned to the rest of the room and addressed the team. “You’ll have to catch us next week for drinks, boys.”

The collective groan that descended across the room made you feel awful, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Roy sensed your unease. “Hey!” he yelled. “That’s fucking enough of that. Get some sleep after your well-deserved booze break, and I’ll see you all bright and early for practice on Monday!”

“Yes, coach!”

You and Roy drove home in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but Roy could tell something was on your mind. It was rare that either of you evaded the weird sixth sense you had about the other now. Roy could read you as clear as he’d read your article about him.

He stopped his Jeep outside your apartment building and killed the engine. You gathered your belongings and shot him a quick smile. “Thanks.” You went to leave.

“Wait.” In one click, Roy had locked your door from the driver’s side door. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not letting you out.”

You huffed, slumping back into your chair in acceptance. “Really?”

“Really,” Roy repeated.

“This is childish, Roy.”

“I don’t fucking care. One moment you were happy as a daisy, and the next you look like you’ve landed on death’s fucking door.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

Roy twisted himself to face you more head on. He crossed his arms and waited patiently. “Go on.”

You rolled your eyes, wishing this to be over. “I’m on my period.”

Roy pointed at you quickly. “Don’t try and catch me out with a feminine problem that you assume men don’t want to hear about. I have a fucking sister, and I know all about how crazy her cycle made her. This isn’t that.”

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, raising your voice slightly. Your stress levels had grown exponentionally in the last minute and a half. You could feel your rapid heartbeat beneath your chest. “It doesn’t fucking matter, alright. If I wanted to talk about it then I would have told you by now.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “Is this about something football related, or something life related?”

“God!” you exploded finally. You wouldn’t mention Nate, but Roy’s incessant poking meant you had to say something real. Maybe this really was something you should have told him a while ago. “You really wanna know?” You turned towards him, eyes crazy and breathing erratic. “I hate my fucking job, okay. And everytime I go to the stadium for a game I’m reminded of everything I left behind and everything I continue to leave behind. The guys, Ted, Beard, you.”

For the first tme since the car stopped, Roy shut his mouth and listened.

“I– I wonder how much longer I can fucking do it. The commute every morning, the staleness of my work colleagues, the giant stack of papers and assignments that are always waiting on my desk to get done because no one else will fucking touch them. I don’t sleep at night properly, and I can’t even cook meals anymore. I feel like–” You sucked in a deep breath and finally looked Roy in the eye. “I feel like, even despite all of you including me in everything, I’m running on the spot behind you and will never be able to catch up. Like I’ll never be part of that world anymore. And it’s, it’s– breaking me.”

Roy leant towards you instinctually.

“Rebecca and Keeley know I hate it, but every time Rebecca talks about getting me a position at the club I freeze. It makes me feel sick that she’d so easily and without question hand me something because I don’t feel like I deserve it. And–!” Roy flicked his eyes over your face, at a loss of what to say. You laughed from a lack of what else to fucking do. “The game last weekend, when you showed up and finally realised your worth as a coach, I almost missed it because I couldn’t take being back there without thinking how much I fucking miss it all. I’m pathetic–”

“No, you’re not,” Roy interjected hoarsely.

You laughed again, on the brink of tears. “Yes, I am. Who does that? Who cries before a fucking game because they can’t handle being there? Me. I do that now, apparently.”

Silence descended inside the Jeep. You finally took a breath, and when you did you realised what you’d done. You leaned back in your seat and faced the windshield, utterly embarrassed that you’d burst at the seams.

“So,” you said smally. “That’s that.” You turned towards Roy again. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

Roy stayed as quiet as a mouse. That wasn’t his style. Glued to his spot, Roy kept his gaze on you thoughtfully. He regarded the look on your face and noticed the subtle embarrassment on your brow; you hadn’t expected to cave so easily when questioned about what was wrong.

He looked down at your hands in your lap. Your fingers shook subtly as they brushed across your knuckles in worry. Roy hated that you were worrying after being honest about something in your life. It was only him, he thought. Surely you should know that you could tell him anything and he’d listen.

“Sorry,” you blurted out.

Roy huffed, speechless. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fucking–” Roy moved closer to you. “Come here.”

His arms were around you in no time. You stayed stuck in place, stunned, for just a second, until you found yourself hugging him back so fiercely that you couldn’t have thougth of anything you needed more. It was funny. You could count on one hand how many times you and Roy had hugged, and none of them had been like this.

You’d been close before, sure, in proximity and in more. You were close even now, despite counting the conversation you’d both had in November. Everyone on the outside seemed to think of Roy as someone who wasn’t hands-on. He liked his space, he didn’t like to pry or poke, yet here you were– the air being squeezed from your lungs because he’d made you open up for your own good– because he couldn’t think of anything better to show that he cared than to embrace you.

Roy Kent cared so much that it was a wonder he had energy to do anything else.

When the two of you parted, you couldn’t help but laugh. You stayed close, foreheads almost touching. Roy smiled at you genuinely, fully, thoughtfully.

“No wonder you’re going mental,” he said lowly. “That’s a lot to hold onto without letting it out.”

That’s not even the half of it. You wanted to say, but you didn’t.

“You’re not running in place behind us,” Roy continued. “You’re what keeps us all together. You’re the reason I went back to Richmond.” You didn’t say anything, just took in his words. “I didn’t go back just for the game, or the guys– I went back because I knew you’d be in the box, looking down at me on the pitch again.”

Your throat closed slightly, as the urge to cry hit you. You swallowed it away, not wanting to burst again in such a short amount of time. “Well,” you whispered. “I’m glad.”

For a fraction of a second, Roy’s eyes dropped to your lips.

You’d been here before, you thought. You’d been here with him like this so many times that you couldn’t even count them off the top of your head. If you had time, a few minutes maybe, you’d be able to pinpoint every occasion where the word almost screeched within your mind.

Almost there. Almost on you.

Perhaps you’d never get beyond the proverbial almost, but this time felt different. Something had shifted recently. You felt it. Roy’s stares lingered for just a tad too long. Electricity buzzed between you even when you weren’t touching. The joy you’d felt when he’d arrived at the Dogtrack and finally caved in had been second to none. In hindsight, maybe jumping the wall of the home box and running down the steps in the stands to him had been too much.

Roy didn’t think so. He’d relished you being close. His stomach had somersaulted as soon as you’d yelled his name. Secretly, he’d hoped you’d react the exact way you did. He’d done it for you, had he not? He’d come back to Richmond for you.

Without realising, you and Roy had inched closer to each other so much that you both hovered over the centre console of his Jeep. Foreheads almost touching. Hearts almost caving.

You’d been here before so many times.

Roy swallowed without moving a muscle, ready to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Instantly, you crashed back down to earth. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened yourself, leaning back towards the passenger side window. You thought the worst. Was this an ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this’? It had to be, surely.

“Oh,” you let out, flustered. “Don’t apologise, don’t wo–”

“No,” Roy cut you off strongly, unexpectedly leaning closer. “I’m sorry for being a fucking idiot.”

Time stilled. That word– that almost– lingered in the air like dust in the desert. Heavy, dry, suffocatingly warm.

Roy’s expression grew to frustration as quickly as you’d both fallen to silence. “I thought I was doing the right fucking thing, stopping–” He gestured between you both, not able to find words. “I thought it would be better for you, to not get you mixed up in all my shit.”

The penny dropped. You squished your face into a hurt smile involuntarily. “It’s okay, Roy,” you said softly.

“And worse yet,” he continued. “I’ve been a… a fucking arse. Not changing how I acted around you, or what I said, or what I did. I must have made everything ten times fucking worse for you.”

You shook your head immediately. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Roy replied instantly. “It does matter. I never wanted to play with your fucking feelings or make what I did more difficult for you, but that’s exactly what I did.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s okay,” you repeated, just for good measure.

Roy fell silent for a pause, taking in your words as if he really needed to hear them. In fact, you thought he really did need to hear them, straight from your mouth and no one elses.

“You’re sure?” he asked, checked, wanted to make extra fucking sure.

You nodded quickly. “I’m sure.” You smiled, trying desperately not to let the cropped up hurt on your face show through. That wasn’t on him; he hadn’t intended to damage you this way.

“Okay.” Roy breathed out deeply, leaning back into the driver’s seat like the weight of the world had just been taken off his shoulders. “Thank fuck,” he whispered, before meeting your eye again. He smiled, accepting the silliness that one felt after being so vulnerable with someone else. “I really fucking need you, you know?”

You laughed first, wanting to say so do I. Instead, you differed your response. “Of course, you fucking do. Who else is going to tell you what to do with your life?”

Roy’s smile lit up all over his face. You remembered a time where you used to count how many times he looked at you like this; honest. Now, it was everyday.

“Exactly,” he said. Gently, he stuck his hand out and laid it upon your cheek. “Fucking exactly.” His thumb swiped across your face warmly. You shivered immensely, but tried desperately to hide it.

You glanced at the radio clock. Time ticked by, and you knew you had to leave this conversation soon. Innately, Roy knew it, too.

“My mum’s coming to Richmond tomorrow morning,” you said softly. Roy’s hand stayed put. You didn’t mind. “I need to go and clean my flat, or she’ll start washing up mugs against my will.”

Roy’s eyes flicked between your own. Affection seeped from within them, so far removed from when you’d first met. Slowly, he removed his hand from your cheek. His fingers skimmed your skin on the way back to his lap. “Okay,” he whispered; acceptance.

Almost would stay the same. Almost had gone the furthest it had ever been.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. Roy unlocked the passenger side door with one button click. You gripped the handle strongly, but paused before you left for good.

“Thank you for listening to me,” you said simply. “I mean– really listening to me.”

Roy stayed still, not leaving your gaze for a second. “Always,” he said lowly.

When the door to your building shut behind you, Roy was still reluctant to drive away. He watched as the light turned on from the window of your ground floor flat, saw your silhouette enter the living room– the room where he’d stood before a few times– and drop your bag to the floor in exhaustion.

Roy drove away when your silhouette disappeared, the feeling of you still present on his fingertips.

You didn’t tell anyone about Nate. You didn’t tell anyone that he’d warded you off or spoke ill of you supporting the team. Instead, you went to work. You encompassed yourself in your job, taking on extra responsibilities despite that being the one reason you felt spread thin.

By Thursday, you were ready to crash. Your bed had been calling you every day, as soon as you disembarked from the train at Richmond tube station. Intentionally, you ignored texts from Rebecca and Keeley about times to rendezvous at Wembley Stadium. If they ever asked, you’d blame it on having too much of a heavy work week. That would be your out.

Logically, you knew you wouldn’t be able to completely miss Richmond playing at Wembley. People would be expecting you there. The guys would be expecting you there. But, despite their cries and pleads for you to be present, you were prepared to keep them at arms length– for Nate’s sake.

When Saturday came, you knew it would be hard for you to avoid everyone at the club. By ten o’clock in the morning, Keeley had already called you twice. By half past the hour, Rebecca had called you three times.

On the fourth time she rang, you knew you had to pick up.

“Darling,” she said quickly. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” you said (you lied), secluded in your flat. “This week has been insane. I haven’t been able to focus on anything that isn’t Pluto Press related.”

Rebecca made a guttural sound in her throat. “Bollocks!” she exclaimed. “I’ll send a car. It can be there in twenty minutes if need be.”

“It’s okay. I can get the tube. Don’t worry–”

“Oh,” Rebecca cut you off. Her tone switched instantly. “Actually, don’t worry about a car. I think someone is waiting for you out front.”

As if on cue, the horn from Roy’s Jeep sounded from your living room window.

Quickly, you ran to the window. Between your sheer curtains, Roy’s obsidian black Jeep was stationed on the road by your front door. You couldn’t curse on your call with Rebecca, but by God– you wanted to.

“Is that the cavalry coming for me?” you said down the phone, peeved.

“Yes, it is,” Rebecca said smugly. “See you in an hour, darling.” She hung up the phone fast, so quick that you couldn’t give any excuse to get out of this match.

Quickly, you gathered a bag of belongings and left your flat. Reluctantly, you descended the steps of your building and pulled the handle of the passenger side door of Roy’s Jeep. You settled quickly, without fuss, but words dangled in the air as soon as silence descended within the car.

“Ready to go?” Roy said from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Roy didn’t push you, but he did push upon the accelerator and toward Wembley Stadium.

Roy parked in the car park beneath the stadium, only for players or coaches, and killed the engine.

You grabbed your bag quickly and left his Jeep, knowing what happens when you’re trapped inside with nowhere to go. The two of you made your way through the back entrance of the stadium. It was a miracle that Roy hadn’t asked what was wrong– you were being quiet and subdued, that was enough of a trigger for him to know something was up.

You wondered if Nate had eyes on you. You wondered if he was watching you traverse the inner sections of Wembley, if he saw you freak out when going past the locker room, if he saw you retreat into yourself past the press rooms.

Roy didn’t wonder. He kept his eyes on you through it all.

Silence hung in the air uncomfortably as you passed office after office. These were the inner workings of a stadium; a world that you knew well, but nothing like that of the Dogtrack.

You finally broke the air. “I should really get to Rebecca and Keeley,” you said.

“And you will,” Roy said. “There’s just one stop we have to take first.”

Your heart stilled as soon as he turned to the right, entering into the final office on the long corridor you’d traversed. You were hit with the nervous gazes of Ted and Beard immediately, but you didn’t care for the way their expressions faltered softly—

You cared for the way Nate’s eyes bored into you with no remorse. At the back of the room, he glared at you ten times worse than he’d done the week before at the Dogtrack.

“Writer!” Ted exclaimed, filling the tension in the air with his enthusiasm. “Oh, thank God,” he added in a whisper.

“Hi,” you said smally, accepting a hug from him suddenly.

You hated this. As you removed yourself from Ted’s grasp, you could feel the steely eyes of one Nathan Shelley staring you down, like a child did to an ant before he crushed it with his shoe.

After you left Ted’s embrace, you stepped back so quickly that you almost tripped over Roy’s feet. He steadied you instantly, keeping his hand at your lower back.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Ted said, gaining some colour back on his face.

You laughed nervously. “I should really go and find Rebecca and Keeley. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Poppycock!” Ted exclaimed. “You’re exactly what we needed. The guys are in the locker room just down there, why don’t you go and say—,”

“No!” you burst suddenly.

The room went quiet instantly. Beard looked at Ted quizzically. You could feel Roy’s stare on the back of your neck.

“They need to focus,” you stuttered. “I should just go and find my seat.”

Nate stepped forward a few paces, coming between Ted and Beard silently. “I think that’s a good idea. Let her go and find her girlfriends.”

You hated the way words fell from his mouth. You knew he had you exactly where he wanted you— uncomfortable, vulnerable, everything in between— but you were in no situation to open this can of worms with Ted, Beard and Roy.

You gripped your bag on your arm tightly and turned to Roy. “I’ll see you on the pitch,” you said timidly. Quickly, and without thinking, you pressed a chaste kiss on Roy’s cheek, and left promptly.

You had no idea where you were going, but knew that you couldn’t stop as you made your way down the inner corridors of Wembley.

All you knew was that you needed to be where Nate Shelley was not, as soon as humanly possible.

“Have a glass of wine,” Rebecca said sternly from the internal bar by the VIPs box.

“I’m okay,” you said, keeping yourself contained.

Her smile turned to a frown. Oh, she knew you far too well for you to get out of this one.

“Take the fucking wine glass, darling.”

“Okay.” You took the glass of wine instantly and downed one, two, three gulps. You breathed out. “Oh, that’s better.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, satisfied.

“Sorry,” you said between gulps and sips. “It’s just been a long week.”

“I can see that,” she said, looking you up and down. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Your job?”

Shit. She knew something else was up. They all fucking did, and it drove you insane. Innately, you cursed yourself out for being so well-known, so well-loved. You were surrounded by the people who knew you most in this world, but also by the people that didn’t want you around. It was a double-edged sword of inescapable proportions, and you were tired.

“That’s all it is,” you said, trying to adopt as much sincerity as you possibly could.

Rebecca’s frown stayed put as her eyes roamed your face. Gently, she reached out her hand and ran her expensively manicured nails through your hair softly.

“You’d let us know, wouldn’t you?” she said, and you froze with your wine glass to your lips. “You’d let us know if it was something else, too?”

Keeley shoved a mini sausage roll in her mouth and approached you both quickly. “It’s Roy, isn’t it.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not Roy,” you groaned.

“Then what is it!” Keeley exclaimed, launching pastry crumbs across the bar.

Before you could respond, applause broke out from the crowd immensely. You gulped down the rest of your wine quickly and dropped the empty glass on a side table by the door to the stands.

“That’s kick off,” you said, already on your way to take a seat.

The conversation went unfinished, as Rebecca and Keeley followed you out of the door towards the pitch. They didn’t attempt to pry during the game, too caught up in the song and dance of yelling chants for Richmond, of being present, of supporting.

You knew you’d dodged a bullet, as you screamed your lungs out from the stands. But, you knew your silence was on a time limit. If anyone would get something out of you, it was Rebecca and Keeley.

And you knew it would only be a matter of time before they broke your silence (for the better).

When the full-time whistle blew, you felt helpless. You could only imagine how the guys were feeling, knowing that they’d lost so spectacularly against none other than Manchester City.

The person who your heart went out to the most, however, was not normal. It wasn’t Roy, it wasn’t Ted, it wasn’t even Sam or Isaac or Colin— it was Jamie Tartt.

You knew he’d be hurting the most from this immense defeat. His old team, his past life, and at Wembley fucking stadium no less. He’d be in bits.

“Well,” Rebecca said, standing up and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “That’s that, then.”

“The guys will be crushed,” Keeley said sadly.

“Jamie will be crushed.” The pair of them looked at you as you spoke. Their sombre faces were enough for you to know that they agreed wholeheartedly.

“Come on.” Rebecca passed you and stepped out of the stands. “Let’s go and commiserate with them.”

You tensed instantly, watching silently as Keeley stood up and followed Rebecca. The two of them waited for you at the end of the row.

“I should really head home,” you said finally, trying to keep your expression neutral.

“What?” Keeley.

“Why on Earth do you need to leave now?” Rebecca.

“It’s just— I don’t want to crowd them, you know?” The pitch of your voice had risen. You sounded like a mouse, a lying, cheating mouse.

The two of them stared at you like you were mental. Neither said anything, their expressions spoke a thousand words for them— what the hell is up with you?

You faltered first. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh no, we absolutely will look at you like this,” Rebecca said threateningly. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? You look like a labrador that’s shit all over the carpet!”

“I really hope you haven’t shat on someone’s carpet, but if you have, you can tell us.” Keeley leaned down and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I haven’t shat on a fucking carpet!”

“Then come on!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Your team needs you.” Her words stung you internally. “They need you.”

Rebecca’s commanding nature jumped out tenfold. You were stuck at an impasse, between a rock and a hard place, whatever other metaphor you could use for being trapped. One side of your brain projected a sad picture of the guys in the locker room, begging for a friendly face to come and lift them up; and the other— Nate was glaring at you like you’d just done something terribly wrong.

God, you hated this. No one knew the way he’d talked to you, or what he’d said. And the worst part was that you couldn’t tell them— wouldn’t— from how much drama it would create.

Football was supposed to be your safe space. Watching matches with your girls, cheering or crying in the locker room with the guys, urging Ted, Beard and Roy on whenever you could.

Nate had taken that all away after one simple conversation.

You didn’t know how to tell them no. If it was up to you, you would have sprung out of your seat and ran down to the locker rooms without any hesitation.

But, it wasn’t up to you. Nate’s words rattled around your mind like beads in a maraca.

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. She leant down and grabbed your hand swiftly, warmly. “We’re here with you. Whatever you need, we’re always here. But, those boys need us the most right now. You know them better than I do—,”

“And me! You know them better than me, too!” Keeley joined in supportively.

“They don’t want us without you, and that’s a fact.”

You let out a shaking breath, then nodded quickly. Nate would have to move to the fucking side.

“Okay.” You nodded again, strongly. “Okay— let’s go see our boys.” You stood up quickly, not letting go of Rebecca’s hand.

“Your boys,” Rebecca said sternly. “They’re all yours.”

Navigating the lower levels of Wembley was nerve wracking, you couldn’t lie. Scenarios raced through your head of things going terribly wrong; Nate stopping you in the corridor; Nate forbidding you from entering the locker room; Nate this, Nate that.

Fuck this shit.

Rebecca was right. They were your boys, your team. You knew them on levels that didn’t revolve around football, you knew them as people. And by God, they needed that. This time, they needed someone to make them feel something other than defeated.

The corridors were clear when the three of you turned the corner to the locker rooms. Only a security guard stood at the door of Richmond, and he very easily let you all in when you approached.

You held your breath when you finally entered. The guys sat in their respective cubby holes sullenly, elbows on knees, heads in their hands.

You’d seen this before at Roy’s last game. Silence even deeper than when you both sat in the Dogtrack locker room alone littered the air at Wembley. You could only imagine what the guys were feeling, like history was repeating itself on so many levels for the team.

You caught eyes with Jamie first. He looked broken.

Rebecca and Keeley headed towards the coaches, but you felt stuck in place by the door, frozen by the sad atmosphere in the room.

Roy saw you before you saw him. He strolled over slowly and reached out to grab your forearm. “Hey,” he said softly.

You flashed back to reality and gazed up at him. “Hey.” Quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly. He clutched you back strongly, and you knew that he’d been needing a hug with the same fervour as yours.

You didn’t need to say you were sorry. He’d probably heard it enough already. He knew you felt the sting of a loss this big just as much as he did.

When you went to pull away, he squeezed you tighter. Evidently, he wasn’t done just yet.

“Well, guys,” Ted said to the room. Roy finally tugged away, but he kept a firm grasp around your waist as the two of you turned to listen to Ted’s address. “We lost. You don’t need me or anyone else to say it, because the look on your faces says it all.” Ted’s southern drawl felt like therapy. Within seconds, the team felt acknowledged, and that was all that mattered. “We all knew this was going to be tough, and for just a moment I want you all to forget the score, forget the goals and whatever else, and just think of how you all played like a proper team.”

Ted had a way with words that you knew was the main reason his career was so vast. You didn’t know a thing about American football, but you knew that Ted was a stellar coach whether it was football or soccer in his eyes.

“You played as a team today,” Ted continued. “And sure, you’re allowed to be sad about the outcome, I’m not about to tell you you can’t feel that sting, but—.” Roy squeezed your waist. You wondered if he was doing it subconsciously. “But you all need to know that you were a unit today. One that has got us up through these ranks and back on the radar of the Premier League, even if the FA Cup wasn’t ours this time around.”

His words settled over the room and brought back a sense of self to all the players. Next to you, Roy breathed out softly and in understanding. You could feel the tension within him dissipate ever so slightly.

And then, that all went away.

“Knock knock!” a voice sounded from the door to the locker room. A second later, a face you didn’t recognise turned the corner and into the room. “Awh no, sorry for the loss, lads,” he said, as your eyes darted quickly around the room, trying to find any semblance of familiarity. You found it in Jamie’s eyes instantly. “Though, not fully sorry. Because Man City fuckin’ won!” His Mancunian accent reverberated throughout the room.

You understood immediately, as you watched Jamie’s hands ball into fists. The rest of the team stayed back, as if glued to their cubbies. This was Jamie’s father. It had to be.

Jamie’s dad pottered further into the room, towards his son. Jamie stood up as he did, sucking a deep breath into his tired lungs. “My boy, my boy. You bottled it didn’t ya?”

Your entire body tensed as everyone observed, not saying a word. Jamie’s dad only kept coming, not paying any mind to the other players in the room. Roy’s grip on your waist tightened suddenly, as if he could feel your anxiety rising. You could feel the same from him; every muscle in his body tried desperately to hold back.

Jamie’s father lunged towards his son’s face, so close that Jamie couldn’t look anywhere else. “You hear me, boy? You fuckin’ bottled it, didn’t ya?” he repeated.

“Don’t speak to me that way,” Jamie said quickly, seething.

“Wha?” his father faked not hearing him, getting even closer.

“Do not speak to me that way,” Jamie repeated. His father looked up to his face, catching his eye lethally.

Your gut lurched as his father kept going, kept repeating wha?, kept getting closer and closer to his boy’s face. This was vile, and you could hardly believe no one was doing anything.

“Wanna say that to me again, boy?”

Jamie stood his ground, puffing out his chest to be bigger, straightening out his spine to be taller, and better, and whatever else he hadn’t learned from his shit-bag of a father.

“Huh?” he said again, louder. “Huh!” he exclaimed. Alongside his voice, his hands bombarded into Jamie’s chest– hard.

Something within you snapped. Your chest compressed, your intestines warped, and your legs started moving. Roy’s grip disappeared from around your waist as you rushed forward, not giving a shit about the audience, or about the guys, or about Nate. Nate, who was standing behind Ted and Beard, saying and doing nothing.

Inside, you stopped caring. You didn’t give a fuck if he hated you being around, you didn’t give a fuck if you’d get in trouble from this outburst, but you had to do something– anything. Jamie Tartt was being publicly abused by his father in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t fucking stand it.

Maybe this is what Roy meant. You were the glue. You kept everyone together, you brought Roy back to the team. Maybe this is what you’d always been meant to do– protect these boys from whatever you fucking could, when they weren’t able to for themselves.

As Jamie recovered, ready to strike, you were already one step ahead. In a fraction of a second, you were already beside his father, fist raised. When your knuckles hit his skin, you finally came back into the room. There were two crashes; one from the impact of your fist on his father’s cheekbone; the second from him hitting the floor unceremoniously.

Quickly, Beard approached you and hoisted Jamie’s dad up by his armpits. The two of them backed out of the door, clambering over stray shoes and shirts and whatever else that lay on the floor. Without any warning, two large arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you off the ground. You knew it was Roy as soon as you smelled his cologne. You smiled inappropriately, and then you chuckled to yourself deviously.

You’d just punched Jamie’s piece of shit dad in the fucking face.

And it felt fantastic.

Clatters sounded from the outside corridor. Beard breathed heavily as he made his way back into the locker room, and the door slammed loudly behind him. The air felt heavy as eyes darted around the room. The guys looked at each other, then to Beard, then to you. Roy still held you tightly, dangling you above the ground as you tried your damned hardest not to burst into laughter.

You couldn’t feel your hand. Your knuckles were red when you dropped your gaze to look. Your hand shook, finger bones stuck in place as they contemplated what their owner had just done– thrown a punch for the first time in her fucking life, and very haphazardly at that.

When Jamie looked over to you, Roy finally dropped you to the floor. He leaned in close to your face, surveying your eyes suddenly. This was a look you’d never seen from him; fear. Roy Kent wasn’t one to be afraid, but the way his eyes poured into your own had your chest crumpling beneath your skin. He was worried– he was frightened– for you.

“You ok?” he whispered.

You nodded quickly. “I’m not the one you need to be asking that to.” Your gaze moved over to Jamie in a heartbeat.

Roy stood up straight once more, puffing out his chest as he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He started walking without warning, fists balled, towards the Richmond striker. Everyone held their breath, knowing that him and Jamie together were not a good combination. You, however, smiled to yourself without question.

When Roy reached Jamie, he wrapped his arms around him immediately. Coach and player hugged in silence, as the gravity of what Jamie’s father had just done stuck to every wall in the room. He needed this– hands on help, a real show of love and affection.

You were happy that Roy was the one to breach contact. That’s exactly what Jamie had needed.

“You ok?” Roy asked him, pulling away from the embrace.

Jamie breathed out slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s not me you should be thanking,” Roy muttered.

Both men turned back to face you. You held your wrist with care, not wanting to jolt your now fucked up hand. You smiled at the two of them knowingly, as everything settled back into place.

Behind you, Nathan Shelley grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. On the way out of the locker room, he rushed past you harshly. You yelped to yourself as he pushed into you, jolting your wrist painfully. He stopped before you for just a second; he smiled. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Watch yourself there,” he said, in some kind of fake honey-toned pitch. Then, he turned on his heels and left the locker room as fast as he’d bumped into you.

Another threat. What a fucking joke.

Your face soured immediately, you couldn’t help it. Inside your head, you imagined a world where you’d told Roy all that Nate had put you through recently. You could see it clearly– his whole body would tense, his fists would ball, his nostrils would flare, and he’d yell I’ll show that little fucker!

Deeper within the indulgent part of your mind, he kissed you passionately before he went to confront Nate on your behalf. You swallowed quickly, trying to pat away those thoughts from the unexplored crevices of your mind. It was futile. Besides, you knew you still couldn’t tell Roy about Nate’s behaviour, for the sake of the team.

One day, rest assured, you would. When Nate left Richmond, or something else happened to change things around here, that’s when you’d lay it all out for him.

You were counting down the days.

“Hey,” Roy said, alerting you back into the room once more. Stood before you, he looked down at your hand. His brows furrowed. “Hm,” he growled gently.

“It’s fine,” you lied.

Softly, Roy laid his fingers atop your red knuckles. A sharp pain bombarded through your flesh instantly, forcing you to suck in a gasp. The pain spread to the rest of your hand, down your fingers, and twinged into your wrist. You couldn’t help it– you had to scream. “Motherfucker!”

“Just as I thought,” Roy said. “You’ve fractured the shit out of your hand.”

You squirmed on the spot, trying desperately to alleviate the pain you felt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you rattled off, purely as a way to expel what you felt.

“Come on.” Roy bent down to the floor and picked up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the physio.” You hardly heard him, too focused on your hand. Roy gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room. “See you in a bit, lads!” he exclaimed to the room.

The two of you turned into the empty corridor ay Wembley, walking slowly as you tried to hold onto the last of your composure.

“God,” you hissed. “Why the fuck did I punch Jamie’s dad?”

“Because someone had to,” Roy replied. “And besides.” He glanced at you unknowingly, as you remained preoccupied on your self-inflicted injury. “It was fucking hot.”

You groaned immensely, dropping your head onto Roy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t fucking feel like it,” you whined. Roy couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, believe me,” he said lowly, indulging in you being this close to him. “It was.”

Roy held you all the way to the physio. Secretly, he’d never been happier that you’d decided to be so reckless. Perhaps, he thought, he was rubbing off on you just as much as you’d changed him for the better.

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl @royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff @ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses @sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon @cardeegans @golden-hoax @kingleahhh @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6 @ellouisa17 @thesestrangerslikeme @elissaaa @scrumptiousroadponymoney @confessionsofatotaldramaslut @ysmmsy @seacactusplant @pedritosgirl2000 @loveslide @ryleyrooroo @hanybunch @tweasley20 @witchyanya-7 @sareim123122 @jaymum @lwritesstuff @kravitzwhore @preciousbabypeter @blue-bujo @dark-academia-slut @imsupposedtohaveaname @tigolebittiez @strawberry07cake @eugene-emt-roe @dd122004dd @marjorieisreading @kissmekent @trashcanfullofdork @rmwarn90 @nerdgirljen @secretsicanthideanymore @sortzz @a-asterias

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astonmartinii · 1 year

Note

Heyy! Can I request more vettel insta AU? Honestly I have no preference for the reader I just enjoy reading vettel a lot because of how less we get to see it but I'm happy to discuss suggestions 🤩 hamilton y/n + roscoe, charle's sister anything really

family ties | sebastian vettel instagram au

pairing: sebastian vettel x leclerc!reader

seb may be retiring, but he's not gone from the paddock completely, though the reason is not exactly what you'd expect

ynleclercart

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 110,067 others

tagged: sebastianvettel

ynleclercart: it's been a rollercoaster of a ride but i am beyond grateful to have been able to design helmets for such an icon of the sport. seb will always be missed on track, but if he ever wants to return, he knows where i am <3

view all 21,450 comments

user49 noooo can people stop posting their goodbye posts for seb i'm still in denial

sebastianvettel no one else i'd rather work with, thank you for always supplying the beautiful lids

ynleclercart always - come visit soon

sebastianvettel i'll be there

user12 ^^ this is just digging the knife deeper PLS DON'T GO SEB

charles_leclerc what about your loving and devilishly good-looking brother?

ynleclercart eh, seb is better

user35 most iconic leclerc and it doesn't even come close

ynleclercpriv

liked by charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel and 31 others

ynleclercpriv: sometimes babygirl is a fully grown man who hikes in his free time

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charles_leclerc tell him if he comes to monaco i'm shaving it

ynleclercpriv over my dead body charlie

charles_leclerc that can be arranged

sebastianvettel thank you for the compliment (?) my love, charles stop threatening her or i shall have to intervene

maxverstappen1 get his ass seb

ynleclercpriv max why are you involved in our family domestic?

maxverstappen1 idk seemed fun

sebastianvettel can we all go back to the original point of the post - admiring me?

f1gossipandtea

liked by 2,130 others

f1gossipandtea: seb spotting!! anon sent me this picture of recently retired sebastian vettel in monaco of all places. why do we think he's there?

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user45 my king is looking so good, retirement unfortunately suits him

user10 my sebchal heart tells me that he was there to see charles but it's not likely :(

user09 no let's be delusional

user22 i saw a post that he was later seen with a woman??? a girlfriend mayhaps?

user49 pls no i can't take retirement and a girlfriend in a month

sebastianvettel added to their story

[caption: had to commission the best in the business - thanks y/n]

ynleclercpriv

liked by sebastianvettel, pierregasly and 35 others

ynleclercpriv: goofing around in the wilderness

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sebastianvettel it's not goofing, we're serious hikers

ynleclercpriv sure we are and i'm also a professional boxer

maxverstappen1 y/n can you get seb to come back? it's a shit show here without him

charles_leclerc i agree with him for once

ynleclercpriv lmao they gagged ur ass @lewishamilton

charles_leclerc y/n i'm being serious !!!! he'll listen to you if you ask

sebastianvettel i can literally read all of this

maxverstappen1 so you'll come back?

sebastianvettel nope

sebastianvettel

liked by ynleclercpriv, charles_leclerc and 702,088 others

sebastianvettel: vacation and all that jazz

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user78 seb using instagram like a normal person after retiring, my prayers were heard

charles_leclerc you're 1000% going to be a crunchy dad

sebastianvettel i don't know what that means but i don't think a person can be crunchy

charles_leclerc that's exactly what a crunchy dad would say

ynleclercpriv don't try and trick him with online terminology

user30 i love the domestics in this comment section i didn't know the leclercs and seb were that close

user40 call me a conspiracy theorist all you want but that's defo y/n leclerc

f1gossipgirl

liked by user45, user10 and 404 others

f1gossipgirl: another seb spotting, the german made a surprise appearance in melbourne... and in a ferrari jacket. our sources say that he was accompanied by a woman but he wasn't seen again other than his entrance. do we think seb will watch from ferrari? does he have a new job? does he have a girlfriend? what do you think?

view all 38 comments

user10 omg he's so mysterious but like i need him to be straight up with me right now

user39 my brain: he's probably just there to support, my heart: seb for ferrari team principal

user88 omg imagine seb as team principal helping charles win a championship

user67 so someone commented on seb's post that he might be dating y/n leclerc (charles' sister, seb's old helmet designer and artist) and that would make sense that he'd accompany his gf to support her brother

user11 omg the thought of charles and seb being brother-in-laws

ynleclercpriv

liked by sebastianvettel, charles_leclerc and 35 others

ynleclercpriv: forgive me friends but i am so in love with this man

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charles_leclerc believe me we know

sebastianvettel i love you too honey 🍯

pierregasly where did you get the last photo... asking for a friend

ynleclercpriv it's from norbert - you snooze you lose pear

maxverstappen1 omg parents

charles_leclerc STOP

sebastianvettel i'm not sure we're your parents but yes you can come visit for christmas

charles_leclerc wait i thought we were coming this year

ynleclercpriv more than one family can come at a time - grow up charlie

sebastianvettel

liked by ynleclercpriv, charles_leclerc and 1,023,566 others

sebastianvettel: doing melbourne right

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user45 sebastian... you don't know what a soft launch is

user13 he's an influencer now baby

charles_leclerc i thought social media was stupid ?

sebastianvettel let me appreciate the love of my life in peace

charles_leclerc okay romeo

user19 the last two posts + charles commenting on every post + seb being seen in the paddock IN A FERRARI JACKET = i'm losing my mind

redbullracing can't wait to see you tomorrow champ!

user48 they're fuming he's being seen with ferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 772,303 others

tagged: scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc & sebastianvettel

f1: a familiar face back in the ferrari garage! seb made his return to the scuderia in melbourne surrounded by former coworkers and the leclerc family.

view all 96,236 comments

user48 AND THE LECLERC FAMILY ??? they know what they're doing f1 admin is a seb x y/n truther

liked by f1

charles_leclerc he loves me too much to stay away for too long

ynleclercpriv *us

user38 YALLLLLLLLLLL

user97 i need them to confirm it i love them so much

user21 the way y/n has commented - her account is priv but there's over 1,000 posts HOW MUCH OF IT IS SEB PLS GIVE US THE CONTENT

ynleclercpriv i don't kiss and tell xoxo

charles_leclerc

liked by ynleclercpriv, sebastianvettel and 1,304,778 others

charles_leclerc: congratulations on officially joining the leclerc family seb!! thank you for putting up with me and i expect great birthday and christmas presents xx

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sebastianvettel of course you spoiled this, i love you but you are an unfortunate by-product of my relationship with y/n

user23 CONFIRMATION

pierregasly CHARLES NO

danielricciardo CHARLES NO

landonorris CHARLES NO

maxverstappen1 CHARLES NO

ynleclercpriv YOU FUCKING MORON CHARLES I'M LOCKING YOU OUT

sebastianvettel

liked by charles_leclerc, ynleclercpriv and 2,134,677 others

sebastianvettel: happy engagement to the love of my life, your brother may have spoiled it, but i'm prepared to deal with his annoying ass if i get to be with you for the rest of my life. you make life worth living and i can't wait to explore the world with you x

view all 301,451 comments

user39 when will it happen for me god?

charles_leclerc I'M SORRY I LOVE YOU GUYS THOUGH

maxverstappen1 bagsy flower boy

danielricciardo pleasse let me plan the stag

aussiegrit congrats seb!!

christianhorner congratulations seb and y/n

ynleclercpriv i love you so so so much seb, i'm so glad i met you. you've changed my life and finally showed me what love truly means x

note: omg this post has posted so many times unfinished im gonna lsoe my mind

#f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel

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collapsedglasshouses · 1 year

Text

Consequences || Noah Sebastian x Reader [Part 4]

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Summary: When Y/N gets to their hotel room, she finally finds closure to all the confusing events.

Warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, NSFW, SMUT, unprotected sex (p in v) (wrap it before you tap it!), fluffy as hell, swearing, let me know if I forgot something

Taglist: @jakekiszkasguitarpick @blackveilomens @kingdomof-omens (congrats you can call yourself 'jazz' first tag team members' lmao)

IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, PLS DM ME OR COMMENT ♡

A/N: Well, well, well… I don’t even know what to say… I couldn’t wait until tomorrow so here you have the next chapter! I let myself get inspired for this chapter. I read The Love Hypothesis again and this one quote out of it will always stick with me. Do you notice which one?

It's been three minutes since Noah left the room. You heart was racing. You didn't even know what to think. Didn't he say he wanted to talk about this when we got home? Was it going to be bad?

Your mind was racing when you stepped closer to Jolly. "I need you to do me a favor-..." - "Not going into our room for the next three hours and at best keep Nick from going to bed so he doesn't hear anything? You're welcome."

You gave Jolly a thankful and apologetic smile before slowly walking away from your group. When you came to a stop in front of your hotel room, you couldn't help but feel like you felt that night you landed under Noah's bed. Does he just wanna have sex now?

You quietly opened the door with your key and stepped into the room. There he was. Sitting on his bed, staring straight ahead seemingly deep in his thoughts. You quickly got out of your high heels before walking towards him. When you sat down next to him, you let out a devoted sigh.

"We should talk about this." He said quietly before swallowing hard. You knew this was going to be hard. Neither Noah nor you were good at talking about serious topics when it came to things between you two. You remembered that often when you annoyed each other, you would just remain silent until there was no longer a problem. So now you just nodded and hoped he would begin to talk.

But nothing happened. You two sat their in silence.

You started to think. You knew you wanted to talk with him but not once you thought about what you actually felt. It wasn't normal for best friends to just randomly hook up after ten years of being nothing but platonic.

You exhaled frustrated. "Fuck... We behave like fucking teenagers, Noah. We're literally grown adults. Why is it so fucking hard to just talk?" You stood up and started pacing around the room.

Noah looked at you. When you noticed it, you came to a stand in front of him. "What is this?" - "Y/N, I have no idea." - "I don't know it either but we need to figure it out before someone gets hurt."

Now he was the one who sighed and than he cradled his head in his hands.

"What the fuck are we doing?" You began to cry out. "What the fuck am I even doing?" With that his head shot back up to look at you. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Noah..." You swallowed hard, being a lot more sad and frustrated than you originally thought. "You are... a fucking well known rock star. You aren't just the boy anymore who lived down the street that I maybe admired a little too much when you came over to game with my brother." You sighed. "You aren't even the boy anymore who took my virginity because I was panicking about being the last in my friend group... You are a lot more now... You are you and I am me and... I don't even know what I was thinking. You are literally my best friend, Noah."

"So-..." He began. "...you regret what happened between us?" You had a feeling his eyes changed with your statement. They looked emptier.

"No, no, no...Noah." You cried out and looked at him apologetic. "That's not even in the slightest close to reality... That's the problem… I don't regret one second with you. I think, there wasn't one day in the past two weeks that I haven’t thought of you." You explained and ran a hand through your hair. "The thing is... I feel weird. On the one hand you are my best friend. You are Nick's best friend. You are the closest friend I ever had. I think nobody knows as much about me as you do. And I love that. But on the other hand there is this thing between us. Something that I have never felt with anyone before. That scares the shit out of me, Noah."

You felt like you read straight out of your diary and metaphorically you lost a piece of clothing with each sentence you spoke to him.

"Y/N."

"I don't wanna be one of your adventures, Noah."

"Y/N."

"I heard you talking about so many girls that come and left. Either them or you not being serious."

"Y/N."

"I saw you get hurt and I don't wanna be the one to do that to you."

"Y/N"

"I just don't wanna be one of those short funny stories that you tell the boys while drinking beer."

"Y/N, you know that would never happen."

"Why are you so sure of that, Noah? Why would you think this all could work? Why would you think Nick wouldn't hate us being... whatever this is?"

"Because I love you."

Your mouth dropped slightly open while you felt like someone knock all the oxygen out of your lungs. You couldn't breath. He loved you.

Your gaze slightly softens while you looked at the man in front of you. The man who also was the boy who told you he would raise a child with you that wasn't even his when you were just 18. The boy who played every song under the planet on his guitar as long as you would stop crying about this guy who broke your heart in eighth grade. You looked at this man, the man who had nothing but love in his heart for you the whole time you knew him.

You swallowed while taking a hesitant step towards him, not being able to form a sentence. You came to a rest when you stood right between his legs.

"You don't have to say it when you don't feel it but-..." - "Say it again, Noah." You lifted his chin so he had no chance but to look you in the eyes. His hands came up to rest at your hips. "I love you, Y/N... I-... I think i loved you for a long time. I just didn't realize it until those things between us happened."

With that you slightly bent down and pressed you lips to his. All of a sudden you felt like you were going to explode. Nothing ever felt this good. Everything that you worried or thought about just started to make sense. It was so clear in front of you all along. You were madly in love with Noah.

You felt how he fidgeted with the sipper on your dress and when he opened it you let it slip down to the floor. He interrupted the kiss for a second to admire you.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

Everything inside you started to tingle. Maybe it was his words or his tone. Maybe it was the fact he was so vulnerable around you. You just knew there was no way back. You needed Noah.

You instantly kissed him again while you unbuttoned his pants. When those dropped to the floor, you crawled onto his lap while your tongues started to fight for dominance.

"We definitely need to tell Nick." He gasped, out of breath, while you unbuttoned his black shirt. You nodded. "But definitely not now." You joked and made him chuckle before pushing him back onto the mattress. For a second you just admired him under you. How his laugh reached his eyes. How his lips were slightly pink from your kisses. How his hair fell onto his forehead. You didn't find one thing about this man you didn't love.

You leaned down to him and kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?" He asked you surprised while his hands drew circles on your exposed hips.

"I love you too, Noah." With that his eyes lit up and with a quick movement you found yourself under him.

"God, I missed you." Noah muttered against your mouth, making you smile. You always wanted to be loved like this and didn't realise he was exactly in front of you.

He quickly helped you out of your bra and before you knew you also lost your underwear.

When he kissed you again, you grabbed his face with your hands, noticing how you missed touching him.

"Fuck" he mumbled as he kissed along your collarbone. This alone let you moan a little. Every cell of your boy craved him.

"I'm not letting you go ever again." he almost moaned out while his hand found your core. His fingers found your clit with ease and he began to work you in circles. Your jaw dropped open in surprise at the shock of pleasure it sent down your spine.

You cried out when he suddenly stopped his movements and kissed his way back up to your face.

"Noah, I need you." You moaned when he looked back into your eyes. "I'm right here." He teased and than started to attack your neck. You knew those kisses would leave bruises, making you moan even loader.

"I-... I need you inside of me." You stuttered while your body seemed to tremble in pleasure.

"Oh god, you're gonna be the death of me." He moaned while getting up to get out of his boxers.

You bit your lip as you looked at his naked form. He was so pretty. He climbs back on top of you while you open your legs for him. Never in your entire life did you need anyone as bad as you needed him right now.

So when he teases you with the tip of his cock, you could help but squirm for more. You buckle your hips and Noah laughs quiety.

"So needy and wet for me." You could only hum in agreement.

"Please, Noah." You beg. In this moment you just wanted him to tear you in half.

"God, you look so beautiful." He whispered and let his hand travel over your body one more time.

Finally, he started to sink into you. Your mouth fell open while you felt him stretch you out a bit and then pushing you to your limit. Instantly he let his head fall on your shoulder while moaning in sync with you.

Never in your entire life you heard a more beautiful sound. When he finally buried himself inside of you, he paused to let you adjust.

You couldn't even dare to breath in that moment.

"Is this okay?" He whispered in your ear. "Hmmm. Yes... Keep going."

You could feel his smile against your neck. He pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling out of you, drawing a surprised gasp from you before slowly going back into you. He did that a couple of times while heavy breathing was the only sound filling the air.

"You feel so fucking good." He groaned into your shoulder, causing you to wrap your arms around him and trying to pull him even closer.

You almost got impatient with his gentle touch so you pushed your hips off the bed to give him a hint that he got immediately.

You let out a small yelp when he suddenly thrusted harder into you hitting a certain spot. Your noises than made him go faster while your nails found their way across his back. If he wasn't that tattooed on his back, it would have been clear evidence about what was happening here.

"Harder." You begged him. He slammed into you causing you to moan even louder, but he dipped down and swallowed your sound with a deep kiss.

"You need to be more quiet, love. When we get to your place you can scream as loud as you want." He growls against your lips. Butterflies started to form in your stomach.

"Let me take care of you." He than whispered against you lips, reaching down between you with his other hand, pressing his index finger against you clit. You truly felt like you were about to explode into thin air and allowed yourself to think about what was happening right now.

Noah, your best friend of more than ten years, the man you were madly in love with, was pounding into you while also fingering you like he never did anything else in the entire world. His pace was almost punishing.

All the tension between you. Every time in the dead of the night when you gaslit yourself into believing you didn't think of him while you had your hand between your legs. All let to this.

When he changed the angle, hitting a new spot, you instantly buried your hands in his hair, as you felt your orgasm built. His hand still circling your clit while thrusting into you. "Fuck, Y/N, I need you to cum for me."

With that you were done. You moaned loudly while you reached your high, digging your nails into Noah's back, causing him to moan too.

That's when you felt it. He groaned your name and you felt him twitch inside of you, cum spreading through you.

It was an interesting sensation for you. One that made you squirm under him. He thrusted as deeply as he could for a few more times. The pleasure causing you to sink your teeth into his shoulder, biting down to lower the volume of your screams.

After you both helped each other through your highs, he slowly pulled out of you and looked you in the eyes.

"I'm not gonna drop the cheesy question, asking you to be my girlfriend because I think you know I'll not let you go anytime soon." He says before pecking your lips and than getting up to grab a cloth to clean you up.

"I would love to be your girlfriend, Noah." You answered him after came back and cleaned you up. Noah laughed and than wrapped his arms around your torso to cuddle you tightly.

He lifted his head and pressed his lips to yours. "I would love to be your boyfriend too, Y/N."

When he lay back down on your chest, you started playing with his hair and couldn't help but think about the reality that was just meters away from you.

How the hell would you explain all this to your brother?

READ PART 5 HERE.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #rpf #collapsedglasshouseswrites

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zegrasdrysdale · 10 months

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Hi! I wanted to ask if you could write a request for cole caufield! So him and reader are like newly public but have been dating for a couple months, but she’s getting hate on the internet bc her ex is someone who’s famous (idk who lol) but anyways she goes onto like a podcast and talks about how much better of a boyfriend cole was to her than her ex and when she gets home he’s just so in awe of her and the way she feels and speaks about him (I’m so sorry if this didn’t make sense) 😭

[ to love and to be loved ] c. caufield

paring : Cole Caufield x influencer!fem!reader

summary : tired of the hate she's been getting, (Y/N) goes on a podcast to talk about her life, her past relationship, and her new public relationship with Canadians star Cole Caufield

warning(s) : language, mentions of cheating

author’s note : my first time ever writing for cole so pls tell me if i did okay :)

༺═──────────────═༻

She didn't know what she thought would happen when she and Cole went public with their relationship a few months after they started dating. There were a few hours where all she saw was support, until her TikToker ex decided to say something about the announcement she and Cole made.

All she sees right now is hate from thousands of people after her ex's comments on his Instagram story. He called her a bitch and said she used him to gain fame and use his money to get what she wanted. He even tagged Cole in a second Instagram story to warn him about her "manipulative ways". His millions of fans agreed with him and have started to flood her feed with hate and negative messages.

She can't even imagine what Cole's comments and DMs look like.

It's been a week since that day, and she's only grown tired of seeing all the hate. She's hasn't spoken out about her ex's accusations about her despite her having more serious accusations about him and his own girlfriend.

As soon as she was invited to go on one of her friends' podcasts, she jumped at the opportunity to speak out about what's been going on. It's time to speak out, and that's the reason her friend invited her on to the podcast.

The set is comfortable. She sits on the couch next to her friend and her friend's podcast partner. A microphone sits in front of her on a stand. A table sits at her feet that holds cups of coffee for the three of them. It's a cozy set up.

"Thank you for inviting me," (Y/N) says to her friend. "I'm sorry Cole wasn't available to come on with me. He flew in this morning from his road trip and has practice today. He didn't want to risk being late to the rink."

Her friend Demi says, "It's not a problem. I understand that he has a busy schedule. Thank you for agreeing to come on."

"It's time I spoke up about this," she tells her friend. "Don't be afraid to ask the hard questions. I'll happily answer any of them."

One of the crew members tells them they're going live in less than a minute. (Y/N) throws her curls behind her shoulder and sits back to get comfortable on the couch.

The same crew member counts down from five before pointing at Demi and her podcast partner. Demi is the one that gives this episode's greeting.

"Welcome back to TikTok Stuff You Should Know," she says into her own microphone. "To my left is Payton, which is not surprising at all because she's glued to my side. Today we have a very special guest joining us. She is a very close friend of mine who has been dealing with a lot of hate recently after launching her relationship online last week. Please welcome (Y/N) (L/N) to the podcast."

Payton looks over at (Y/N) and speaks. "Welcome, (Y/N). We're very happy you're able to join us today."

"Happy to be here."

Demi smiles at her and says, "So, we're all dying to know. How is your relationship with Cole Caufield? How have the two of you been dealing with the past week?"

There it is. Starting out strong.

"Cole has been super supportive of me," she replies. "He's been doing his best in trying to distract me over the past week. I think we've both been trying to stay off social media this week and focus on making sure we're both okay. He's been playing really well recently too, which makes it very easy to distract myself from everything that's been happening on social media. I think he's been using hockey as his own distraction."

Payton nods along as (Y/N) speaks. Demi's eyes are on her. They're both listening to everything she's been saying.

That's only a fraction of what's been happening.

(Y/N) has been in tears almost every night, especially since Cole has been on a roadie for the past four days. The first three days after all hell broke loose were perfect. She laid in Cole's arms every night and woke up next to him every morning. It made the days a lot easier.

Since he left, she's been in tears on FaceTime with him. It hasn't been as easy without him near her. It actually kind of sucks. She didn't even get to see him before she left.

"What made you want to come out about your seemingly new relationship with him?" Payton asks. "Did you think that Ethan would say something about it when you and Cole posted about it?"

She shakes her head. "I always thought Ethan was a really nice guy," she explains. "I certainly didn't expect this out of him. Especially after everything he did throughout our relationship. Cole and I really love each other and we both got tired of hiding that from the public. It was his idea to make out "

"That's an interesting comment," Demi slowly says like she doesn't know what her ex did. "What did Ethan do during your relationship?"

(Y/N) bites her bottom lip for a second. "He cheated on me," she tells the two of them. "All the time at the end of our relationship. Actually, his new girlfriend is just one of the girls he fucked while we were in a relationship. He would have a new girl every weekend and I would look the other way because I loved him."

"It wasn't because you didn't want to lose your constant source of followers and money?" Payton asks. "I'm not taking a shot, by the way. He accused you of using him for fame and money so I just want you to be able to clear the air."

"No, I understand," she replies after being caught off guard by the way the question was worded. "Um, no. I never once used him for followers or money. I made my own money by posting my own content across social media. I stayed with him because I wanted to believe he was a better person and that he could change. I truly loved him and I wanted a future with him. After nearly three months of this, I couldn't do it anymore and I ended things with him."

She notes that Payton looks genuinely surprised by her words. Demi looks annoyed because she and (Y/N) are actually very close friends so she was one of the first people that she told what was going on. She was one of the people that told (Y/N) to end the relationship when Ethan started cheating on her.

"That's crazy," Payton drawls. "Holy shit." She looks over at Demi. "Did you know about all of this?"

"(Y/N) is one of the most genuine people I have ever known," Demi says. "I hated seeing her in that relationship at the end, and I hate that she's being accused of using someone for followers and money. There was a reason she rarely ever posted Ethan on any of her social media. She didn't want to constantly post him because she was afraid to be labeled as a user. She loves creating content and videos. She's so much happier now."

A small smile forms on her lips as she thinks about Cole. She thinks about how he actually loves her and isn't afraid to show it.

"I am so much happier now," she echoes. "I mean, Cole is the best thing that has ever happened to me. He was so patient with me at the beginning of our relationship because I was still healing from my last relationship. He spent so long trying to show me that it's okay to love and be loved by someone that I gave my heart to him. I trust him with my everything, which is not something I would've said this time last year."

Demi smiles at her and Payton mirrors it. "That's so good to hear," Payton says. "Sounds like you caught a good one, (Y/N)."

"I absolutely did," she replies with a smile on her own face. "He is the best boyfriend. I've been so emotional this past week and he has made sure to be there for me the entire time. He checked in on me while he was on the road for the past few games. I am so in love with him, and he helped me believe in love again. I am so grateful for him."

One of the crew members tells them to begin wrapping up. Payton takes over. "Well, thank you for talking with us, (Y/N)," she says. "Where can we find you and Cole?"

"You can find Cole on the ice tomorrow night at seven when he and the Canadians take on the Calgary Flames," she says. "You can find him on social media at colecaufield. You can find me on social media as well at yourusername. Or you can find me somewhere in the stands at Cole's home hockey games."

༺═──────────────═༻

It feels like an eternity since she's been home when she walks into her apartment in downtown Montreal. She shuts the door behind her with a sigh and leans against it.

When she throws her keys in the bowl by the door, she sees Cole's car keys. "Coley?" she calls. "Are you here?"

She walks into the living room to see Cole sitting on the couch. He looks back at her and smiles. "You are freaking amazing, baby," he tells her. "I listened to the podcast on the way home and holy shit. I have never heard anyone talk about me the way you do. I swear I fall in love with you more every single day."

"You listened?" she asks.

Cole stands up with a nod. "To the whole thing," he replies. "I helped you believe in love again?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) breathes out. "You did. You showed me that it's okay to love someone without being afraid they're going to hurt you. I thought that for a long time, Cole. You helped me realize that it's okay to love someone again."

Without realizing it, tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She tries to wipe them away quickly but Cole notices them before she can wipe them away. He walks around the couch to get to her and he envelopes him in a hug. "I'm so proud of you, baby," he whispers in her ear.

She lets out a quiet sob and buries her face in his chest. "I'm so grateful for you," she replies.

"You're so brave for talking about the whole situation," Cole tells her. "I can't believe how well you're handling it. I'm in awe, (Y/N). I wish I had your strength. I wish I could've been there to witness the whole podcast."

"I'm only brave because you're here," she admits as she pulls her face out of his chest. Cole moves his hands to her jaw and his thumbs wipe away more tears that escaped. "I don't know where I'd be if you weren't here. I don't know if I'd even be here if you weren't, Cole."

Cole presses a kiss to her forehead and mumbles, "I love you. More than you'll ever know. You're so strong."

She closes her eyes and whispers, "I love you too."

(Y/N) isn't afraid to say those three words anymore. Not like she was last year. Cole has showed her that she doesn't need to be afraid anymore.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #cole caufield #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield fluff #zegrasdrysdale request

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novembermorgon · 2 months

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pls pls pls your grace i gotta know more about myrielle’s kind of lesbian situationship that you mentioned a while back 😭🙏

ohh yeah

so basically ...

myrielle comes to court at 12-13 and while she brings friends along with her from casterly rock, she also makes a few new ones - notably odessa dayne (who belongs to @/daenysdefender but i love to take her and play dolls with her and myrielle thanks chloe) who's betrothed to valarr . in sort of a sense of 'we're united in our fate of being married into the royal family' myrielle grows very attached to odessa sort of like a sister .

of course ... as two girls who spend basically every waking moment together, who center their futures and their betrothals and their lives around each other in some ways, things end up getting a little bit homoerotic . they share a bed as girls do and they share moments where things get more intimate than what's normal for a friendship between girls. share a look. and a kiss. they're married in spirit before either of them are married to any targ man. i think, in a way, myrielle feels protective of her in the ways a husband would- she treats her relationship to odessa almost like a marriage, wants to care for her and be with her in all the ways a husband would, wants some degree of comforting power over her, wants to experience what a man might with a woman - wants to understand aerion's treatment of her by sort of replicating a marriage with odessa.

our timeline is a little messed up here but odessa marries first albeit not super far apart from myrielle. i don't think being married to aerion makes myrielle grow much more distant from odessa, but there's definitely sort of a wedge planted between them even if very subtle. suddenly your best friend is centering her life and her joys and woes around a man, instead of you - suddenly you're all grown up and you can't spend your time on girlish games and some imagined strange love that you share.

just before ashford meadow odessa has a baby that she names baelor . after the best targ man ever BAELOR BREAKSPEAR! sorry. i think myrielle at that point has begun to envy her. she has a husband who treats her with respect and she has a child and she's been allowed to marry the guy who's 2nd in line to the throne instead of the second son of a fourth son . just inherently, any relationship between myrielle and other women are difficult- because she centers so much of her worth and her identity around the men she surrounds herself with. she needs to feel valuable in the ways she's expected to be, which ends up being through marriage and having kids - she spends her whole childhood dreaming of marrying up, of making her dad proud and making her house proud and in that sense odessa kind of gets everything she doesn't. and myrielle doesn't recognize that this isn't odessa's fault: realistically, who will she blame if not her?

buuuuut . ashford happens. myrielle is pregnant, aerion goes off to lys, and after the tourney + after spending a little mourning period with valarr over baelor odessa goes off to dorne to meet with her family and show off .. baelor ...2! ^_^ (the baby). because the great spring sickness hits a little bit after that, odessa stays in dorne and they don't meet for a good long while. i think myrielle goes to summerhall with her brothers + daeron and some bits of aerion's family because i imagine it's not quite as bad illness-wise as king's landing and it's close enough to sort of make a little quick escape to.

that distance between them i think really changes the dynamic a lot and much of it IS just because of myrielle. she has her babies and i think in a way she pits them against odessa's son almost immediately. wants maegor and aenys to be Number One Babies Forever!!!! and has great ambitions for them- which odessa and her son get in the way of very directly. so she ends up raising both of them to be more distant from baelor and insists on almost keeping them apart ...? which works for aenys because he's a mommas boy in the sense of will listen to every evil mean thing myrielle tells him, works less well for maegor because he loves friendship... <3

myrielle's relationship with odessa definitely becomes very strained after they meet again when they eventually return to king's landing. things never quite return to what they used to be, and as myrielle spends more time with and makes more of an effort with aerion she also struggles to make up with odessa (which is funny because she's the root cause of all their issues. never trust blonde women.)

it gets sort of nastier the more time passes. the targs begin to die and aerion + their sons end up higher in the succession, myrielle becomes more frantic about it, her & aerion & aenys spread rumors that baelor is a bastard, it's a little bit like the most hostile parts of the court drama in the dance of the dragon parts of f&b except instead of rumors written by court jesters and maesters it's all real LOL

i imagine it all sort of collapses. in time . families at odds and yuri split apart... well... it's bound to end up badly.... baelor and aenys would have the craziest beef in the training courtyard . that's all i have for you for now anon but hopefully more will come in time

#like a medieval punishment to send me an ask.#youll have to sit in the oubliette (inbox) for a month then you get a 20 min doodle to send you on your way #txt #asks #moart #oc tag #asoiaf #asoiaf oc #myrielle tag #oc art

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

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HIII CAN I PLS PLS HAVE ANOTHER X SIBLING!READER?!??

Your sibling and child fics are the cure for me rn AND THEYRE WRITTEN SO GOOD OMFGG

I was thinking one about Tom and Heidi’s wedding or when Bill walked down the runway when he was younger (does that make sense 😭) I LOVE YOUR WRITING AND TAKE AS MUCH TIME AS YOU NEED🫶

-xoxo, gossip girl💋

(Hello! Ahh! Ty sm for your compliments and I have been waiting to write another sibling reader!! I'm glad you love my writing and I will probably do both but here's just the first one for now! Enjoy!)

Sibling Duty

Tom fixed his shit in the mirror, shaking his hands out of nerves as Bill stood behind him and fixed his brother himself.

They stood in a comfortable silence, but we're able to hear the deafening sound of the door clicking open.

"Don't you look fancy."

Tom smiled as he heard your voice, looking to see you smiling at him in the mirror as he turned around.

"(Name)!" Bill exclaimed, excited and walking to give you a hug as you wholeheartedly returned it.

"Hey! You got here on time." Tom smiled, reaching an arm out for you.

"Don't act like I'm the one who's always late." You said, grabbing his arm as you got pulled into a hug. You then pulled back, staring at him for a moment before you fixed his collar.

He rolled his eyes, you always did this ever since he was younger and refused to dress up, so some things never changed.

"You kinda are-" Bill tried to interject.

"Shush, altar boy." You hushed your youngest brother as Tom laughed, turning back to look at him in the mirror as you kept an arm around his shoulder.

You stared at your brother for a moment, a blank expression on your face as you took it all in.

"You're such an ass…" you suddenly stated out of the blue.

"How?" Tom scoffed, looking to his older sister in amusement.

"You went and grew up on me." You stated, the almost happy and sad tears now visible in your eyes as Bill held onto your arm.

Tom laughed as well, a more happy and sad one as he wrapped an arm around you.

"You guys were so little! Now you're old and I'm fucking older!" You exclaimed, Bill laughing as he put his head on your shoulder, now a bit harder to do as your younger brothers had both grown taller than you now.

"But you're happy for me, no?" Tom asked, pulling back to look at you with a smile as you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I am. Feel bad for Heidi, though-"

"Why?!"

"She's stuck with you."

Tom gave you a dead pan before rolling his eyes, walking to the door as you and a giggling Bill followed.

"Well, let's get you to that altar." You said, grabbing your brother's arm as Bill did the same.

Tom couldn't help but smile as it felt just like when you guys were younger.

Still hand in hand with his older sister to help him through something, the good and the bad, especially the good.

And you couldn't help but smile, a bit of nostalgia hitting you like a ton of bricks as you walked your younger brother with your arm in his to his future wife.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #tom

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selfship-vent-confessions · 4 months

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I didn't know where else to ask this, so if you don't post this, I understand, but wtf is a proshipper/comshipper?

I mean, based off of how everyone acts about them they're clearly problematic, but what do they do that's a problem?

I genuinely don't know what they are, and google is telling me things that don't seem like the whole truth based off of the way people are acting. I need to know so that way I can make sure I'm not friends with problematic people irl or online.

Can someone help pls?

TW/CW: mentions of abuse, pedophilia, incest, harassment, and pro/comshippers

"Proship" has technically two definitions, with antis (people against proshipping) saying it stands for "problematic ship" while proshippers themselves say it stands for "pro shipping" (in the sense of "pro" meaning "to be for/support"). No matter which way you see the label being shortened to, it means they support every type of relationship, including incest, pedophilia, abusive relationships, and other horrible things. Proshippers claim they do this because they're "anti censorship", "anti harassment", or they "want people to be allowed to ship whatever they want no matter what". But these are gross sentiments to have considering the context they specifically use it in and relationship dynamics we're talking about (though, yes, you can be anti harassment and anti censorship without being a proshipper, it's just terms they use a lot to claim what they're doing is good). They think that every ship has a right to exist, though importantly, to ship something is to support it, so there is no "I ship it but I don't support the relationship". The act of shipping in it of itself is supporting the relationship.

Comship is for "complicated ship", and is synonymous with proship. Same thing, different label. Both will think of any excuse under the sun to try and say why they're actually not that bad, but they're all twisted words or exaggerated truths. Granted, antis don't always handle situations regarding proshippers the best, there have been cases of antis going much too far or sending harassment. But proshippers will have you believe antis are these super brutal abusers in fandoms who harass people 24/7, and that's not true at all. Proshippers also frequently ignore their own histories of severe harassment to make themselves look better.

There are some beliefs pro/comshippers have that you can have and it won't automatically make you one of them. You can believe in anti censorship and anti harassment, in people being allowed to ship without being harassed, or in representation of complex relationships without being a pro/comshipper. It's how these sentiments are applied that make the difference. "Ship whatever you want" should not extend to pedophilia, incest, abusive relationships, or other similarly disgusting themes. Representation of complicated dynamics should not be used to support or normalize those dynamics if they're unhealthy/abusive/ect. Anti censorship and anti harassment shouldn't equate to showing people this disgusting content without their consent, or to children just because "it happens". That doesn't make it okay.

The reason the labels are so often confused is because there are people that use them in the wrong way or where the label wouldn't apply. A healthy relationship between two consenting full-grown adults can't be pro or comship. It's when you start subtracting from that is when it becomes genuinely harmful (abusive, nonconsensual, barely legal, or involving children). Normalizing or supporting these relationships is harmful and in several instances has done active harm to real people. The only ones who debate this are people who are part of those groups themselves who try to scramble for every possible excuse as to why it's okay (it isn't). I'd be here all day if I explained every single pro/comship argument and why they're wrong or don't apply the way they think it does, but as a general overview and definition this should work

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chloesolace · 9 months

Text

False God - Patron!Raphael x Warlock!Reader

summary: Raphael has been your patron for quite a while, yet you have always tried to avoid him as much as you could. He has somehow always intimidated you, while you tried to block out your growing attraction to him. It certainly doesn't help that you seem to be his favorite client. When he catches you inside the House of Hope archive, tired from having studied a tome all day, he decides to finally give in to the tension between you and help you release some of it, too.

pairing: Raphael x reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut with devil form, penetration, Raphael has a lil crush on you

a/n: Part of my Swift series, where I write one shots inspired by Taylor's songs. This one is based on the song of the same name <3 and btw, I think we all are kind of ignoring the canon when it comes to Raphael fics.... right? I'm thinking of making this into an actual fanfiction (the patron x warlock thing). Lmk if this is something you'd be interested in. Please also remember I'm asexual so pls excuse any mistakes with the smut!!

Masterlist - Discord Server - Request Info - Taylor Swift Series

Hell is when I fight with you But we can patch it up good Make confessions and we're begging for forgiveness Got the wine for you

The smell of sulfur invaded your nostrils as you entered through the large, heavy door, held open for you by two damned souls, their expressions void of emotion. You had long grown accustomed to them, but some still managed to send shivers down your spine when you looked at them: their empty eyes, as if made of cold glass, their sunken mouths, and their bruised limbs showcasing the labor they were damned to perform for all eternity.

You did not often imagine yourself in their stead, but you could not deny that the voices that had warned you against making a deal with a cambion ghosted through your mind at times. Mostly at night, when everything was quiet, and you had nothing to drown out your thoughts.

Sometimes, you even had nightmares, though you would never admit to it. They were frightening in ways a mere broken contract could not cause; a mirror of your soul, and deepest desires. You knew better than to talk about it, even though you sometimes felt like he could smell them nonetheless.

Your steps echoed through the foyer, your gaze fixed on the path before you as you tried to tune out what was happening around you. Erratic whispers and aimless gazes followed you as you made your way to the feast hall, the smell of freshly cooked food replacing the stench of sulfur in your nose. The table was eternally set, and the food would never spoil.

Without giving it much thought, you walked past it until you reached the archive, a place where you spent most of your time whenever you visited the House of Hope, as rare as those occasions might have been. He had offered you the use of some artifacts and books, but you had always felt a sense of dread when you entered his House. And then there was of course the boudoir, which you avoided like the plague. You knew what was behind that door, unfortunately. It was hard to visit the House of Hope at least two times and not know about Haarlep. It was a thorn in your side for reasons that flustered you when you did as much as think of them.

Focusing on the book you came for, you entered the archive, offering the fiendish librarian a faint nod as you walked around him to reach one of the bookshelves. Not wanting to spend more time here than necessary, you quickly browsed through the leather-bound spines, reading the letters on them so fast that you sometimes had to go back and reread them.

“A rare sight, I must admit.”

You had not spent fifteen minutes looking when you heard Raphael’s voice behind you, turning your head to look at him. He stood before you in his human form, arms crossed, and eyes studying you quietly. Clasping your hands behind your back, you replied, “Hello, Raphael. I didn’t know you were home.”

“I do not exactly share my schedule with you, (y/n),” he replied matter-of-factly, walking over to an armchair with calculated steps before letting himself sink into it.

“Yes, I did not mean to imply otherwise,” you said, cheeks flushing a bit.

Raphael stroked his chin with two fingers, eyes settled on you as you turned back to the bookshelf and your quest to find a certain tome. An awkward pause followed, and as much as you tried to keep your attention on the books, feeling his presence behind you was overwhelming.

“I am glad to see you are finally taking up on my offer to make use of my library. Your growing powers are beneficial to me too, after all.”

You heard him shift in his seat; he had crossed his legs, but you did not turn to face him since you finally found what you were looking for. The tome was very high up, but you could clearly read the golden letters on its spine: Grimoire of Arcane Aegis.

Embarrassed, you stretched your arm to reach for the book, visibly struggling. Why did these books have to be so heavy and so high up?

Steps sounded behind you, and you froze as you suddenly felt him standing right next to you, arms crossed. You swallowed, turning your head to look up at him. He smelled like an even more intense mixture of sulfur and leather and the moment you met his eyes, you were reminded why you usually avoided eye contact with him. It was very hard to look away.

Keeping his eyes locked with yours, he reached out for the tome and let it slip into his hand effortlessly before holding it out for you to take.

Your gaze dropped to the book momentarily before resettling on his eyes. Muttering a ‘thank you,’ you took it, quickly raising your other hand to help support its weight. You had expected it to be heavy, but certainly not that heavy.

“You're quite welcome,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Enchantment is a useful skill. Though it is one I did not expect you to want to learn.”

Pressing the book to your chest, you shrugged your shoulders, letting your eyes wander around the archive aimlessly. “I figured taking control over an enemy’s body would be beneficial in one way or another.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the smile still playing on his lips. “That does not only apply to enemies.”

You were just about to open the tome when you froze, the color in your cheeks deepening as you swallowed. Clearing your throat, you turned on your heel and walked over toward a desk far to your right, where you laid the open book down.

Briefly, you looked at Raphael over your shoulder while your hand rested on the open page. “Well, thank you for allowing me to make use of your archive.”

“I am quite surprised you have never made use of it before,” he remarked, pacing behind you as he watched you read the letters written in elegant handwriting on the worn-out pages. There were stains here and there and sigils you did not understand yet. But you would learn.

Raphael tilted his head to the side, coming to a halt right behind you. He gazed over your shoulder down at the paper, his breath hot in the nape of your neck.

“Are you avoiding me, (y/n)? Because I would expect a little more gratitude for lending you my powers and knowledge.”

You gulped, pressing your lips together as you placed your hands on the desk, using it to support your weight a little. Your knees suddenly felt very weak.

“I remember when I met you first,” he said, his voice lower than before. “You were an interesting case. Powerless in a world filled with magic and creatures stronger than you could ever fathom. Yet your determination to save your beloved persisted. A shame he took it for granted.”

Tears stung your eyes as you stared at the pages before you, not even reading them. Partially because of how your mind wandered, and partially because of your blurred vision. You really did not need to be reminded of how the person you had sold your soul for abandoned you the moment his life was safe again.

“Revenge is a powerful motivator to harness new abilities.”

You sucked in a breath as you turned to face your patron, taken aback for a moment by how close he was, trapping you between himself and the desk behind you. Only now did you notice how the other souls and fiends who had been here when you entered must have left now, perhaps intimidated by their master’s presence.

“I feel nothing for him anymore,” you finally stated emotionlessly, your expression neutral as your eyes jumped between his.

“That is not the truth, is it?” His question was sarcastic, if anything. “You feel hatred for him. And regret. I can see the burning anger behind your eyes.” He suddenly inched closer, grabbing the edge of the desk behind you with his hands, fully preventing your escape now.

“And what would you have me do about it?” you whispered, tilting your head up so you could keep looking at him, while you leaned away from him, your hands threatening to touch since they still rested on it for support.

The corner of Raphael’s mouth twitched as he cocked his head, his eyes twinkling. Your nervousness seemed to be very entertaining to him, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart began to race as his gaze dropped to your lips for just a second.

He was toying with you; you were sure of it. It was the reason you avoided visiting his House of Hope anyway, and why you dreaded when he decided to visit you. However, it was in your contract. Raphael was allowed to pay you a visit whenever he pleased to ask for a favor if he needed one, in exchange for your magical abilities.

“Perhaps, for a start,” he said, and you could feel the vibrations of his voice on your skin, “make more use of my library. I do not have to offer it to you, but I am choosing to. And I would certainly appreciate it if you would not take it for granted.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly, which caused your hand to brush against his. Sucking in a breath, you quickly pulled it away.

“Think about it, (y/n),” he said, straightening his back again, releasing you from the entrapment, which allowed you to finally relax your muscles. You looked at him for a moment more before he disappeared behind a whirlwind of flaming hot air.

—

You had spent the past days studying tomes in the House of Hope’s archive, diving deep into the knowledge they offered. It was not because of him or his invitation, but you knew he wouldn't believe it, so there was no use in arguing.

He did not check on you once, much to your relief, but still, you could not ignore the hint of disappointment hiding deep inside you. If someone had asked you whether you even just liked your patron, you would have said no. He owned you, or at least your soul for that matter. The difference was almost nonexistent.

You had put your hair up in a high ponytail, bound by a black piece of leather. Still, after hours of studying and burying your hands in your hair when you felt stuck, a few strands had loosened and were now framing your face in a quite inelegant manner.

With sleep-drunken eyes, you traced the edge of the tome in front of you with a finger. You had pulled a chair in front of the desk, but after having sat on it for hours, your back ached.

Rubbing your neck, you lifted one side of the open book and let it fall shut with a loud thud, louder than you had anticipated. It startled you, momentarily waking you from a state of half-sleep.

The House was quiet. Although time passed differently here, there were still moments when activity inside of it decreased, and it felt like a proper day-night cycle, at least for Hell standards.

“Still here?” You turned your head, startled, to find Raphael standing there.

“It would be nice if you stopped sneaking up on me,” you said, stretching your aching muscles a bit. You would have stood from your chair, but you were too tired for formalities. Raphael had never minded much, to your surprise. You believed it was because he knew that you were afraid and wary of him anyway. He did not need proof of it. Though despite your relaxed stance, you were very much on your guard.

“I was told you have been here for hours,” he said, ignoring your remark purposefully. “A tired mind cannot comprehend newly learned information that well. You should rest.”

You scoffed. If you did not know better, you would have thought he was genuinely worried about you, but you were sure that the real reason for this was purely a logical one. Namely, the explanation he had just given you.

With your hand on your shoulder, you looked up at him, smiling faintly. You hoped he wouldn’t see that it was not a sincere smile, but he must have been used to your feigned politeness by now. After all, it was something you had been taught from childhood.

“Sorry,” you replied, rubbing your neck. “I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.” The words came out automatically, as if memorized and said a thousand times before. Raphael raised a hand, gesturing for you to remain seated.

“No need to apologise, (y/n).” He approached you, eyes locked with yours until he came to a halt right in front of you. The flame dancing inside the fireplace to your left crackled; the only sound filling the archive now. The fire cast shadows on his face, while he raised his hand and let it linger between you in the air, as if he was not sure whether to proceed.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted as you held onto the backrest of your chair. Your breath was shallow, the intensity of his gaze resting heavily upon you.

“You don’t need to leave, either,” he added as he finally closed the distance and trapped your chin between his index finger and thumb, turning your head up so you had to look at him, whether you wanted to or not. You swallowed and blinked at him, your cheeks hot.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you felt him trace the edge of your jawline until he reached your cheek, cupping it firmly, yet not strong enough for it to hurt.

The implication in his voice made it hard for you to breathe, partially due to anticipation, and partially because you were scared of what would happen if you refused. He had never been rude to you, or threatened you in any truly concerning way. After all, your loyalty and soul were worth something to him. And still, you had never put your guard down before.

“What are you saying?” You asked breathlessly, gripping the backrest of your chair so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You did not want to risk a misunderstanding.

“You could stay in my bed tonight. I've seen the look in your eye. I've heard the way your heart beats when I'm near.” His hand slid down from your cheek, briefly touching your bottom lip with his thumb, before he reached your chest. He pressed it against you, right between your breasts where your heartbeat could be felt. It quickened again, which made him smirk faintly.

“There.”

You swallowed, wetting your dry throat as you tried to keep your mind clear, but it was hard when his presence was so mesmerizing.

Jaw clenched, you narrowed your eyes slightly and said, “I thought your bed was occupied by Haarlep.”

It was not a question, but an observation.

You did not know where the courage had come from, most likely the lack of sleep, but you could see that something in his gaze shifted at the mention of the demon’s name.

Raphael crouched down beside you, pulling his hand away only to offer you his open palm. Now you were looking down at him, resisting the temptation to bury your hand in his brown hair.

“I dream of you, (y/n),” he whispered, his fingers curling as he looked up at you. “I had not thought it possible for a mortal to occupy so much space in my mind, following me even to my dreams. Haunting me with words that linger in the air unspoken.”

“Are you mocking me?” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, your hand shaking slightly as he traced circles over the back of it. Then, he shook his head faintly, hand tightening around yours.

“I am confessing.”

You inhaled sharply, seeing no sign of deception in his eyes, but beings like him excelled at it, so you could not trust even the sincerity in his eyes.

This was a dangerous game you were playing, and you knew it. How could this ever work with a contract quite literally binding your soul to him? But you were in no state to make judgments, let alone good ones.

You raised your hand toward him, brushing a strand of hair from his temple. He reacted, closing his eyes at your touch as if he had in fact been anticipating it for a long time. You left your hand there, gently touching his cheek when he opened his eyes again to meet yours.

Lips slightly parted, and with newfound confidence, you let yourself slide from the chair down into his lap, straddling him on the cold stone floor. You saw him suck in a breath, eyes flickering between yours.

Behind him, the flame was dancing to a rhythm not yet set, illuminating your face for him to see each scar that marked it; one on your forehead, two on your cheeks, and a small one on your chin. Without the light, most of them would not have even been visible.

Raphael reached out, letting his index finger run over the scar that stretched from your eyebrow to your cheekbone. You had to close your eyes when he reached your lid and opened it again only when he stopped at your cheek.

“Where did you get it from?” He asked, sitting up a little straighter so that your breath mixed between you. You smelled of forest and morning dew, almost entirely muted by his scent of smoke and leather.

“Bandits,” you replied, your noses touching as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “I was lucky to get away with only this scar.” He hummed in response, his hand finding its way into your hair.

“No need to ever fear mere bandits again,” he said and your lips briefly touched as he spoke. Raphael’s gaze dropped to your mouth, and before you could even say anything in return, he pressed his lips to yours.

You pulled yourself closer towards him, feeling the growing pressure against you from underneath. You smirked, liking the effect you had on him. It was then that you realized how Raphael, a powerful being in his own right and heir to Mephistopheles himself, was mere butter in your hands. Perhaps you had been wrong to be so afraid of him the whole time.

You pushed him to the ground so that he was lying on his back with you sitting on his waist, hands pressed against his chest. The fear, if you could even call it that, which you had previously felt was gone now. Fingers brushing against his cheek you said, “You can turn, Raphael. You don’t need to hide.”

He looked up at you, his expression unreadable. You already thought you had said something wrong and felt panic build up in your chest when you saw his horns and wings materialize underneath you. His skin was flaming hot in color now, his eyes burning like two orbs of fire against an endless void.

You brushed across one of his horns, feeling the hard material on your fingers as his wings gently enveloped you, the leathery material tingling your shoulders where they were exposed.

Then, you grabbed his horn and pressed yourself against his body, uniting your lips in a hungry kiss. You, too, had dreamed of him on multiple occasions, a mixture of nightmares and wet dreams, and though you were still wary of the cambion underneath you, you could not help losing yourself in the process.

Trousers were unbuckled, and he dug his clawed fingers into your side when you lifted your hips a bit to throw your clothes away, your eyes always staying locked with his.

“You are eager, aren’t you?” He said, his hands playing with the hem of your undergarments while he smiled, amusement marking his features and voice. “Days ago you could barely look at me.”

Rocking your hips back and forth you stared down at him, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “Because it was hard not to imagine this each time I did,” you whispered, leaning forward so you could wrap your hand around the erection.

He gasped, exposing his sharp canines as you guided him to the wetness between your legs. With your hand wrapped around his horn, he wrapped his wings tighter around you, holding you in place, as he rolled over so that he was now on top, majestic wings spread out before you. They were large and reminded you of those of a bat.

You had still wrapped your hands around his horns, now both of them, which forced him to keep his head close to yours. He picked up where you left off, matching the rhythm you had set before as his hand came to cup one of your breasts. His sharp nails dug into the sensitive skin around your nipple, causing you to gasp for air, before it settled between your legs, gently playing with the sensitive piece of flesh there.

With each thrust that he did, you felt a stronger need to hold onto him. You let go of one of his horns to wrap your arm around his shoulders, only opening your eyes when you felt his on you. It felt as if his flaming irises could see deep inside the soul you had sold to him, your eyes held captive by them.

You did not know whether this was too personal, whether you were crossing a line, but you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his, feeling the thin layer of sweat that had formed on his skin, around his horns, and the hard bone that grew from his head like a crown.

When you finally felt like you were close to your climax, you kissed him again, silencing a loud moan that would have otherwise been heard even outside the archive, you were sure.

The thrusting stopped and you held each other for a moment, catching your breaths. He had propped himself up, his hand resting on the ground next to your head as he sat up straight, exiting you in the process. Sweat glistened on his red torso, highlighted by the fire still burning behind you and you smiled softly as he offered you a hand.

You took it, momentarily startled when he pulled you towards him with force, using his wings once again to hold you in place.

“That was a good start,” he whispered, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. “But perhaps we should take this to the boudoir now?”

A hint of hesitation crossed your face and you averted your gaze, but he placed a hand under your chin and forced you to look at him again. “Do not worry, my dear. Haarlep is of no use to me anymore.”

We might just get away with it The altar is my hips Even if it's a false god We'd still worship this love

#raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #raphael baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael x reader lemon

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