#for the two months later than promised update

[feelingthedisaster]

docs, why do you mean my chapter is 650 words?????? its 1k, what are u saying???

[finelinevogue]

notes on love

summary - harry attends the football and you attend the baftas

pairing - fiance!harry x famous!reader

word count - ~1.5k

*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*

It was the first time Harry had made a public appearance in months.

Sans a hat on his head.

After braving a shave to solidify a new chapter in his life, Harry had decided that enough was enough and he just wanted to be seen again. Gain some new publicity.

“I can’t do this.” Harry’s voice rang through your phone.

Your phone was currently propped up on the vanity in front of you, whilst your stylist gracefully worked around you to get your hair and makeup done.

“H, baby. You’re going to a football match where over half the population there will be white bald men. You’ll blend right in.”

You took a sip of your apple juice in its carton as you suppressed a laugh. Harry rolled his eyes at you, taking the joke like the good sport he is.

“I actually have more hair than them. I’m not bald anymore.”

“See! Embrace the new hair, H. You look really good.”

Harry smiled at you then, his eyes which had previously been darting between watching you and looking out the moving car window were now permanently on you.

“Not as beautiful as you, though, love.”

“Don’t even have my makeup on yet.”

“Never needed it.”

You blew him a camera kiss for those words alone.

“Where are you now?” You reached for a slice of pineapple from the bowl of fruit you’d ordered from room service.

“About five minutes away I think. Are you still in the hotel?”

“Yeah. Don’t need to be ready until 5.”

You were getting ready for the BAFTAS, which Harry had hoped to be there with you for but you’d decided to take your nan as your date instead since she wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

Harry was more than happy to let Nana, as he liked to call her, be your date to the BAFTAS. Plus, it meant that he could go see the football.

“You’re going to look so pretty.”

Harry had helped your pick out your dress, which was a sophisticated black to contrast the red carpet you’d be walking down. The dress itself was beautifully cut and shaped you in all the right places, making you look elegant and regal.

“I’m nervous.” You picked up your phone so the conversation felt a little more intimate, even though it was still over face-time.

“Why, love?”

“Don’t normally do stuff like this without you.” You pouted.

Harry wished he could kiss that pout away, “And yet the times that you do, you always end up winning! It’s like they never want you to win when i’m there.”

It was a running joke that Harry was your ‘bad luck charm’.

You didn’t believe that though. It’s just that other actors performed better and won, over you, because of it. If anything, you always won because you got to go home and drink hot tea and eat popcorn with your Harry.

“I’ll miss you.” Your face was so close to the camera that Harry could probably see up your nose.

“I miss you. Send me photos when you’re getting ready. I wanna see you before anyone else.”

“Okay.” You smiled. It was routine at this point to always show each other’s public outfits before anyone else.

“Have you got your ring?”

You held up your left hand and wiggled your ring finger in front of the camera. You blushed thinking about the moment that you got given the piece of delicate jewellery, with Harry on one knee.

“Always.”

“You going to wear it on the carpet?”

“Of course. Not going to draw attention to it though. I’ll let people discover it for themselves.”

Harry laughed at the thought. You two were practically the biggest, most A-List, celebrity couple around at the moment and so when people watch sight of you with the ring there’s no doubt it’s all people will talk about for weeks.

Someone told Harry they’d arrived at the venue, then.

“I have to go, honey, but text me updates please. Wanna see you get ready through photos, okay?”

“Okay.” You promised. “Text me to let me know you’re safely home later, please.”

Even though he was going back to his Manchester home, you still liked to know that he was safe and sound. Especially since you were in London and weren’t going to get to be with him tonight.

“Will do. I love you.” Harry kissed his fingers and then dotted them over the camera.

You returned the gesture, “I love you. Bye, bye, bye!”

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

You were just finishing getting ready and scrolling through Twitter.

Harry was trending worldwide for showcasing his new hair. His growing hair. No one had seen him like this since the end of Tour last year.

You pouted because you missed him a lot.

People were absolutely loving it. As always, a lot of people were losing their shit over Harry content. You were too, because you missed him.

“Oh, he looks so good!” Your stylist, Jamie, gasped behind you.

Jamie was currently fixing your hair and you had to say they had done an impressive job.

“I know.” You smiled to yourself.

“He looks like a sexy CEO.”

You laughed out loud at that, “When he puts on his glasses he does.” You agreed.

“Harry wears glasses?” Jamie gasped.

“Yeah, hang on..”

You started to go through your camera roll. It was only a few days ago that he had gotten new glasses, because he’d managed to lose his old ones. Typical.

You stopped on a photo of Harry sat in bed with the duvet up on his chest, a book in his lap and his glasses on. He didn’t realise you had taken the photo of him, but it was now one of your favourites.

“Oh damn…” Jamie gasped. “If your marriage ever goes south, tell him I’ll be available.”

You laughed again, shaking your head in dismissal but also approval.

You went back to Twitter to see if any of the Harrie accounts you follow have tweeted anything. You make yourself laugh as you look through their feral comments.

And just because you like to cause a riot on the internet you liked an insane tweet.

harriesmiles: the way that this photo makes me want to cling onto harry like a koala bear and never let go

It wasn’t long before you were trending with Harry.

Then the face-time call comes through from him.

“Am I done?” You asked Jamie quickly.

He nods, knowing you routine with Harry, and allows you to slip into the bathroom next to the bedroom.

You answered the call shortly after locking the bathroom door.

“Hellooo.” You said in a weird voice, feeling hyper from the Twitter craze.

“Hi, babe.” Harry was obviously outside and trying to watch where he was going, more than looking at you.

“Has the match finished?”

“Yeah.” And you honestly didn’t care enough about football to ask how it went. “Are you ready?”

Harry’s eyes flicked down to his screen momentarily, smirking when he catches sight of your glammed out makeup.

One thing Harry loved more than anything was you in a red-lip, so of course you had to make sure you had one for him - despite the fact he couldn’t kiss it off you tonight.

“What?” You giggled, watching him trying to suppress his smirk in public.

“You’re so annoying. I’m trying to act all cool and mysterious here and you’re making me smile like an idiot.”

You dipped your head and smiled, accentuating the blush that was already powdered onto your cheeks.

“H, honey, you’re walking through the streets of Manchester. No one cares about how you act. They’re probably all drunk anyways.”

“True, true.”

“Did you have a pint?” You propped your phone on the counter.

“Uh, yeah.” He said whilst trying to cross a road.

“Love, do you want to call me back when you’re at less risk of being hit by a car?” You sarcastically asked.

“No!” He yelped. “No. Needs to be now.”

You gave him a confused look but carried on regardless.

You shuffled back in the bathroom, giving him a full angle.

You watched in anticipation as Harry looked at you through his tiny screen, wishing it were ten times bigger.

“Wow.” Was all he said and you giggled like a girl having a high-school crush. “I love you so much.”

“So you like?” You swished your dress from side to side.

“Mhm. Wishing I wasn’t so far from you now.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll have all the kisses for you then.”

“Tomorrow it is, then.” Harry smirked to himself, kissing the camera.

Little did you know that tomorrow was coming a lot sooner. In fact, Harry had been running for the earliest train out of Manchester and down to London for the duration of the phone call. Because Harry was always going to show up for you.

[alchemistc]

Part One

Part Two

They make it past the second six months.

It's agonizing. It's wonderful. Tommy wants to scream.

"Why are you calling it your six month anniversary?" Hen asks, with a quirked brow, eyeing them both from across the twelve-top they'd scooped up (and modified under the careful scrutiny of the curmudgeonly bartender Joe) early.

Tommy's glad his hand is under the table. The nervous habit of running a thumb along the underside of his empty ring finger would be the kind of thing Hen notices.

"You don't just get a Mulligan on the first six."

It's been a year and a half since Tommy met Evan Buckley. Over, actually, since Evan had just gone a little insane instead of taking a step back to examine his feelings, at the start. It always makes Tommy wonder exactly how much he'd examined those first days with Eddie. He's heard the story, clips of it, bits and pieces scattered between everyone Evan knows, and he wonders if Evan will ever come to the conclusion that he'd had virtually the same reaction to Eddie, back at the beginning. It's settled, now. They are firm in their friendship, and any attraction that might be there isn't simmering under the surface waiting to blindside Tommy. But he wonders sometimes if Evan won't just bolt up in bed ten years from now to shake Tommy awake and tell him he'd had a crush on Eddie.

Ten years?

Christ.

If Evan ever knew how many times the future popped into his mind like a jump scare, he'd -

They're far past the deadline for annulment. At this point they're at "split the assets before you go". Can't quite talk your way out of a committed relationship six months post-marriage.

Neither one of them has brought it up, and Tommy is getting great at pretending like it's not a scythe shifting closer and closer every time the pendulum swings past him.

Evan tosses a balled up napkin at Hen and sticks out his tongue, and before she can do more than scowl there are five more people flooding through the door behind them to shout congratulations and drop into their seats to gossip.

---

Hiding it becomes a moot point. He's had it in his head this whole time that if it were to get out, it would definitely be Evan's fault.

The universe does enjoy a twist

He'd gotten a jumbled text from Evan mid-flight, and a more coherent one from Eddie when his captain asked him to turn the bird around and land, and he's a bundle of nerves as he spills through the barely open doors of the elevator and spots the rest of the 118 looking concerned off in the corner of the waiting room.

Eddie catches him first. Spots the look on his face and makes a valiant attempt to explain, to soothe his worry, but there's a nurse rounding a corner and all Tommy has gotten to this point is <Buck's being transported to Good Samaritan. He's stable but you should come.>

He's kind of an ass about it. He'll regret it later when she narrows her eyes and reminds him visiting hours have ended. He'll shoot back with the same shit he's gearing himself up for in this moment and they'll reach a detente.

"Evan Buckley. Do you have any new information?"

She eyes the flight suit he hadn't bothered to take off before booking it to his truck. Tilts her gaze behind him, to the 118, and maybe that's what does it. The idea that they're any more family than he is. "We'll inform family immediately with any updates."

Tommy can see Eddie wince out of the corner of his eye, but all he's thinking about is the hundreds of moments Evan's smile has left him breathless, all the promises they'd made each other that night with the neon lights of Vegas spurring them on.

"Seeing as I'm his husband, I'd like a full update. Now."

He regrets it the moment the words are out of his mouth. Not just because he's being a complete fucking dickhead about it, either.

The pendulum gets its first taste of blood and swings away again.

---

Evan grins at him. He's bruised and bandaged and high as a kite, and he's so fucking beautiful it nearly takes Tommy out at the knees. Thankfully he's already sitting.

Perched on a chair close enough to the bed that he's annoyed an orderly, a doctor, and two nurses, hand curled over Evan's in the bed, he's just finished confessing he can't keep a secret for shit and Evan is smiling at him.

The rest of the 118 is still waiting outside. He'd let Maddie go first, so it's likely Evan already knew this tidbit, but it doesn't hurt to be honest. Or so he's learning.

"You love me," Evan sing-songs.

Tommy sucks his lips behind his teeth to hide his grin. Blows out a breath. "So you're not upset?"

He looks - momentarily shifty. "Uh - don't be mad."

Tommy quirks a brow.

"It's - okay so you know how we have to update all our medical information every year for the insurance?" Tommy nods. Licks his lips. "Um."

The next sentence is a garbled rush. Tommy gets 'power' and 'just in case' and nothing else. "Say again?"

"I... Uh. I updated my forms."

That paperwork was due about two months after the Vegas trip.

"To... Just in case I was incapacitated, I wanted to make sure..."

"Evan," Tommy presses.

"You have, uh. Power of attorney. And you're listed as next of kin with Maddie. Just. Just in case."

It should freak the hell out of him. It should make him question everything they've been doing, with the open honesty crap, for the last eight months.

"I want a divorce," Tommy says, and then grimaces. "Shit, that's not what I - ." And Evan's grin gets wider. Like he knows. Like he understands. Like everything they've been building and breaking and rebuilding for the last almost two years has actually made him an expert at interpreting Tommy when he doesn't have the right words in the right order.

"Gonna need that ring you've got hidden in your moms music box," Evan says, and then someone is rapping impatiently at the door Tommy shut behind him as he practically shoved past Maddie to get to him. "I get to propose this time." Tommy bites back a choked laugh while half the 118 spill into the room to whisper-yell at them both.

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 | Javier Pena x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | this is my own entry for the summer lovin' challenge, somehow torturing myself further by writing a fic amongst all my other wips and helping organize this challenge. there's sweaty javi p and office sex, that's all you need to know.

content warning | heavy smut, teasing upon teasing upon teasing, lots of mentions of heat/sweat, perfect use of ice in a situation like this, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, public-ish sex

word count — 5k

You curse quietly over your second paper cut of the day, nursing your pointer finger between your lips and silently reprimanding yourself for agreeing to help Steve—he was good at begging, you could give him that, and a hell of a sweet talker when he wanted to be. He always wore you down, a promise of coffee every day for a week on him, or lunch the following day, anything to sweeten the deal. This time it was neither.

“I rescheduled twice already,” He’s pointed out the reasons on his fingers, extending them out as he numbers them and using his finger to add emphasis as he pressed down on them as he went, “we finally have someone to watch Olivia for us this evening, and you know, you won’t even be alone—Pena’s staying late.”

He wiggled his three fingers like it was the best deal you’ve ever been offered, a smile growing on his face as he attempted to pass over the file that you took with reluctance, blowing out a puff of air and clutching it to your chest, arms crossed over the manila folder as you glance at your dainty watch—four in the afternoon. Not bad. Not great, either. You’ve stayed later—given your commute is only about five minutes. You tended to pick up the slack, for everyone, but mostly those boys. You weren’t sure how it ended up this way, but even Carillo acknowledged it. 

You did grunt work, small and miniscule things in the lives of two DEA agents who were out in the field hunting a notorious cartel leader every day—but you, you were dealing with papercuts and carpal tunnel, it wasn’t nearly as comparable.

And Javier Pena made sure to remind you every chance he had.

You pluck at the group of files labeled La Quica and El Limon, a hefty collection of data that has been compiled for the past several months and felt never ending—you were nearing the point of understanding every piece of information in this room back to front, knowing far too much about the cartel than you originally intended. It was terrifying; even seeing the look on either of the men’s faces when they returned back from a hard day of busts and undercover work.

And, maybe Javier just figured you didn’t care or wouldn’t be able to comprehend half of what was stored away in these files—but he sure wasn’t quiet about it.

It’s been around an hour now, tearing through the unorganized mess that the file room had become.

Mumbling the names under your breath as you drag your finger over the sticky note and kneeling down until your practically on all fours, digging through a box on the floor with your head tucked and oblivious to Javier as he rounds the corner to the secluded room, heavy footsteps falling on deaf ears, too entranced in the task to notice him.

He clears his throat with distinction and your head snaps up, looking clearly disturbed and annoyed—Javier offers a superficial smile and points a finger at the pile on the floor, his shoulder leaned against one of the tall shelves holding boxes upon boxes of crucial information.

Your eyebrows raise in expectation, head shaking slightly at him as you urge him to speak and get on with whatever comment he was dying to make as he continued to stare down, licking his lips briefly before they finally part and—

“Those the files we’ve been asking for?”

That Steve has been asking for—Not Javier, never Javier. He’s too macho and mighty for paperwork and sitting at a desk all day.

“It is part of them,” You say with emphasis, “I still have an entire section to go through. Steve asked me to pull everything we have on those two.”

“Well, everyone’s leaving—and I know where most of the shit is. I got it, you can head out.”

You seethe, jaw clenched and your eyebrow furrows as you stand, a pile of strewn papers in your arms.

“You know, instead of going through Steve to have me fetch the stuff you need—I don’t know, you could just man up and ask me directly.”

He has no idea what you’re talking about.

Except, he does.

He’s shoved off work to Steve who was enough of a pushover for his friend and partner, to pick it up when he had time, but this time it had landed on a busy day, a busy weekend, there just wasn’t enough time for him to handle it. 

“La Quica, El Limon—Carillo was talking to you about them this morning. What’s got you so tied up that you couldn’t handle it yourself?” You ask accusatory, back turned to him as you walk toward the table in the center of the room.

“We’ve got leads to check out, muñequita.” 

Out of your wheelhouse. Yeah—Okay, that explains it.

You roll your eyes at the nickname and drop the stack with a distinct thunk before moving past him, narrowly avoiding his broad shoulders as you walk past him, through the half-open door as you grab for one of the styrofoam cups on the water dispenser before spooning the ice into it and filling it with water, sipping with a distinct look of disdain as you eye Javier up and down, seeing that he’s followed you over, half in the doorway and half out.

“If you’re going to stand there the least you could do is help me,” You tell him, “that way we can both get out of here faster and not have to spend any more time together than we need to.”

“It’ll be faster if I do it myself,” He tells you, a metaphorical shoo-ing away as he nods toward the stairwell at the end of the hall, “I know this room like the back of my hand.”

“Have you been in here lately? It’s a mess. No one ever puts anything back in the right spot.” 

Javier’s got his signature pout on, looking downtrodden and pathetic behind his thick mustache perched on his upper lip, the constant look of being unimpressed by everything.

“I’m not leaving, Javier. You’re welcome to help, stay late, whatever—but I’ve been in this room, in this heat for an hour already and you’re not about to swoop in and snatch the credit for something you couldn’t be bothered doing yourself in the first place, alright?”

Javier looks surprised at that, not as much by the bite in your tone but the lack of snide comment, not calling him an asshole or a prick and storming off. Again, you brush past him with your drink in hand and take your seat, feeling the thin layer of sweat covering your body—it wasn’t that unbearable, but another hour and you would be a hell of a lot more crankier.

“Fine—” You respond, eyes tracking elsewhere as he moves form his place against the open door, only catching the lingering shadow of the door as it closed until it was far too late, “fuck, Javi! The—”

A loud click and Javier’s reaction time, given his ability to pull out a gun and have it propped at the ready in half a second, is far too slow. He turns, seeing the now closed door and turns back to you.

“Door,” You say, voice falling flat.

Javier backtracks and heads for the door, hoping and praying this was one of the days it wouldn’t lock—it was a tricky thing. Only working half of the time. Luckily, any other time it was during the day, surrounded by people who could help. But, now—it’s the two of you and no one else.

If you were pissed at Javier before, you were fuming now.

He jiggles the doorknob. Nothing. Fist pounding against the door. Nothing.

A quick shout out to anyone. Anything. Hoping someone would still be near.

Nothing. Not a sound.

“We’re stuck,” You sneer at him, “—sit down or that jiggling is going to drive me insane.”

He kicks the door for good measure, hoping by some miracle it might actually pop open.

You huff out an exhausted laugh under your breath and spread your hands out over the files, sorting out the important information and pictures from the notes and extra files that weren’t really needed. Javier approaches slowly and you take a sip of the water, thankful that you were at least able to reward yourself with that before you ended up in this mess.

Javier takes a look at his own watch and clicked his tongue before resigning to the fact that things weren’t going to go his way, dancing his fingers along the edge of the table as he took a seat, fingertips pressed into the surface as he settled, watching you casually under the flickering overhead light.

A few minutes slowly turn into several, quiet aside from the occasional shuffling of paper or sips of your water and you find that when no one else is around, Javier isn’t a total asshole. There’s no harsh quip or snide comment being lobbed your way but you can also tell that he’s just as frustrated as you, knowing that he needed to sift through this intel too.

But, the heat was sweltering—so distracting and despite the setting sun outside, had you reaching for a few buttons on your blouse as you leaned back, sighing as you picked up an empty file folder and fanned yourself in earnest, exposing your neck as you hung your head back.

You don’t hear Javier, but you feel him. His eyes on you as you lift your head back up.

Bewilderment. Annoyance. You can’t place it in the moment, he doesn’t even speak. But, you find yourself responding anyway.

“What? It’s hot.”

Javier throws a casual hand up in defense but his eyes follow your hand as they descend into your styrofoam cup, water long gone but the ice standing strong. You take a piece and cup it in your palm before rubbing it over your neck, instantly sighing at the crisp cold touch of it against your skin and aptly ignoring how it drips down the valley of your breasts, looking up to catch Javier at just the right time, his eyes looked on your movements and more pointedly—your chest.

“Here, try it,” You tell him, noticing the sheen of sweat on his neck, “it helps.”

He plucks a cigarette out of his half-empty pack and places it between his lips.

“I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, “ You shrug, but quickly lean forward to pluck the cigarette from his mouth and place it down on the table, “–hey, can you not?”

Javier looks at you in disbelief, snatching the cigarette off the table and tucking it away anyways.

“You smoke in this place all day, you can at least wait until we’re out of here.”

“Do you ever loosen up?” Javier pokes at you daringly, “I mean, what does it really take for you to pull that skirt out of your ass?”

“Not you,” You reply sharply, a smile spreading across your face, “but, putting away the cigarette is a start.”

Javier leans back in the chair with a dignified sigh, scratching at his forehead in frustration at the lack of progress and the fact that he literally has no way out of here.

“You know, he’s been off the grid for three weeks,” You speak out loud, knowing that Javier is well aware, “is there really anything in here that is going to help? Or is it just that all of the leads are dead?”

His demeanor breaks slightly, a shuffle in his shoulders as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Both—maybe. This shit is probably pointless.”

“And that’s why you wanted me to take care of it,” You respond conclusively, “but you’re impatient—you don’t have to argue with me, I know you are.”

“Really, muñequita, you think you know me so well?” Javier asks testingly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, “What else do you know about me?”

“That you like your ego boosted,” You retort, “and I’m not about to do that. So—”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Javier says with a smirk, eyes glinting with a faint, creeping darkness.

“Shut up,” You say in a clipped town before looking around curiously, “and what are we supposed to do now? Sleep here? I really can’t believe you fucking locked us in.”

“No, no—” Javier's finger wags in a motion that makes you want to bite them off, jaw clenching forcefully, “if you hadn’t wasted so much time then maybe we could have flagged down someone.”

“Okay, but you still let that door close.”

Once again, both arms crossed over your chest, a staredown is initiated. 

It wasn’t the first, it wasn’t the last, but you wanted to ruin him.

Knock him down a beg—hell, kick him off the pedestal and wipe the goddamn floor with him.

That stupid smirk, the boiling tone of cockiness wrapped in self-righteousness.

“Don’t think too hard, cariño.”

You huff out a half-impressed laugh and organize the files after a moment, stacking them to the side and reaching into your cup for another piece of your melting ice, repeating the same motion as earlier as you slide the ice between your breasts, but with the immense amount of eye contact you didn’t give Javier the first time.

Stubborn girl. He knew that much about you.

Javier doesn’t break immediately, but the small flex in his jaw, the slightest of cracks in his hard exterior.

Attack. Attack. Attack.

You wipe your arm against your sleeve, subconsciously pressing your breasts together in the process and Javier looks like he might keel over, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze now—he’s been caught. Gazing. Admiring. Seering to his memory for a later time.

You’re not really sure but you’re not going to let him off easy either.

“Now, Pena—Don’t think too hard.” You tell him in a sickly sweet tone, “It’s just a pair of tits.”

I don’t bite—you want to add. But, you don’t.

Because even if you found Javier attractive…there was just no way. 

No. Not possible.

“What is it?” Javier asks curiously, seemingly snapped out of his stupor, and meeting your gaze like he hadn’t just been staring directly at your breasts for far too long. “About me, I mean?”

You raise an eyebrow, finger circling the styrofoam cup as you center on the table.

“What?” You ask with a soft laugh of disbelief. “It’s—it isn’t your looks, Javier. It’s all of you. You undermine me, you treat me like a fucking lap dog. I might be a bitch but—I am not your bitch.”

He wasn’t expecting that intense of a response, it felt even more eerie as your tone continued on steadily. He considers interrupting but you continue, holding a finger up to stop him.

“You know—I transferred here to help with the assignment, collect the intel and take down Pablo Escobar just like you, but for some reason, you seem to think I’m just a personal assistant. Or one of the few receptionists who all want to throw themselves at you.”

“There something wrong with that?”

You roll your eyes in silence, but the gesture is loud.

“Did I say there was?” You counter, “I think the problem for you is that it isn’t me. That someone might actually find you repulsive, right?”

Javier only looks slightly dumb-founded, following your movements as you stand and fetch the stack of files, returning them to their make-shift home for the moment, buried away on a shelf that could be reorganized later—he turns in his chair, glaring right back at you when you turn on your heels. 

“Your legs don’t work?” You ask him, nodding toward thfew smaller stacks of files scattered about the table, “If you want to get the work done so bad, clean up—or do you want me to—”

“I. Got it.” Javier responds stiffly, standing on his own two feet. He scoops up the remaining files and puts them away opposite of the shelf you had, resting a palm on an empty spot as you lean back to pick up a stray piece of paper. “But, don’t act like I don’t see you kissing Carillo’s—”

You stand and shove the paper into his chest, “Finish that sentence and you will regret it, Javier.”

“It’s alright. No shame in your game and all that.”

Fuck this.

You reach for the cup of melted ice, splashing it promptly in Javier’s face before crushing the cup in your hand out of frustration, a moment of frozen realization coming to you.

Had you actually just done that?

Javier blinks, looking down at his soaked front before promptly removing his jacket in haste watching as you slowly back away, slightly disturbed by his calmness until he’s rearing on you.

Slowly—oh, so fucking slow. 

Your chest rises in slow, deep breaths and is nearly hanging off your shoulders by now, riddled with red, hot rage.

“Tell me I don’t make you even a little bit nervous, muñequita.” 

Is this a challenge? Is this what he’s worried about?

“You don’t.”

Your response is quick, but you find yourself pressed against a file cabinet and a few inches of free space before he’s right there—so close you can feel the heat of his body, your heart races slightly.

Okay, maybe just…a little.

“Again,” Javier beckons, a sneer to his tone as he crowds you in—“Look at me and say it.”

And for the love of god, the words never come.

“You let me flirt with you because you like it. Never correct me when I give you those little nicknames—look at you, you can’t even deny it.”

A half-truth. You didn’t mind it, but it wasn’t some sort of sustenance keeping you alive. Besides, it didn’t make up for half of the times he’s belittled you in front of your shared boss.

The heat is suffocating now and Javier’s eyes follow the trail of sweat down your neck, over your breasts, watching your fingers twitch at your side because—

Why do you feel the need to touch him so badly now?

To receive that touch in return and tenfold. 

“¿Qué pasa, pobrecita?” 

His fingers curl around the edge of the file cabinet behind you, barricading you between the wall and him and if you decided to show any signs of discomfort you knew Javier would back off in a heartbeat—you didn’t even need to say anything.

“Is that what it took?” You ask, voice soft in the small gap he’s created, eyes softening slightly as he hears you speak, “Being locked in here with me, nothing else to do—that’s what it takes for you to see me as anything other than some lowly little assistant to you?”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” Javier says fondly, holding back a chuckle in his throat before his free hand is reaching for your neck and forcing your chin up and back, his thumb rubbing into the soft spot where your jaw twitches under his touch, swallowing hard.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I can say the same for you,” Javier responds, tilting his head slightly.

You’re so hot under his touch, skin clammy and wet from the ice and broken AC.

“I’m not saying I don’t.”

Javier presses his body against you slowly, your hands reaching for his shirt instinctively, curling into the fabric and feeling it stick to his skin, feel the weight of his chest against yours, and the very obvious strain of his slacks against your thin pencil skirt.

“And I never said I did,” Javier counters, “doesn’t change the fact that you get under my skin, querida.”

Javier leans in slow, that heavy eye contact never breaking until he’s there—nose pressed against your own and you sigh, breathing into his mouth as your eyes fall closed and he knows.

His lips are soft, careful. It feels like a test.

Your resolve melts in an instant, damning Javier for whatever spell he’s placed on you but you want more, hands skirting slowly up his front until they’re molding around his neck, kissing back with a similar eagerness, still laced in trepidation.

Things ramp up quickly, Javier’s fingers finding the edge of your shirt where it’s tucked into your skirt, pulling it free and squeezing at your sides, forcing your ass down against his knee from where it's tucked between your legs, somehow finding its way there in the chaos.

“Jav—Javier,” You breathe, pulling away, “maybe—maybe this isn’t the best place…”

Your eyes trail toward the camera tucked away in the corner of the room, knowing that it had to have some pretty damning evidence by this point—the list was long and you tried not to think about it for too long before Javier’s voice is pulling you back.

“That thing hasn’t worked in weeks,” He reassures and the flickering light above dims slightly, almost on cue, “are you scared of getting caught?”

You shake your head slowly and his smile grows, lips pressed against your own as he speaks and his hands tight at your hips, pressing your core right at the center of his thigh and pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched over your ass. You throb at the pressure, breathing out shakily.

“Then let go, muñequita,” He coos.

You hum, breath catching as he pushes his thigh up, your hips instinctively rocking against the pressure and if the heat weren’t already overwhelming, you would’ve passed out from that alone.

“It’s cute,” His hands aid your movement, a slow but steady rock of your hips as you furrow your brow at his voice, “—yeah that, you do that little thing with your brow whenever I talk to you.”

“Because I can’t s—stand you,” You voice falters, feeling him pick up the pace slightly to match your sudden eagerness, months without a proper sexual partner outside of yourself and you couldn’t help but be just a little bit more open to the idea of fucking someone who wasn’t your first option, or second—not even your last. Javier was nowhere on your list, actually. 

But, here he was. Offering himself over to you.

Besides, you had an entire night stuck alone with him—it wasn’t the worst way to entertain yourselves.

“Doesn’t seem that way right now,” Javier counters, his ego shining through.

“Stop. Talking.” You plead, hands pulling at the seam of buttons on his shirt, pulling at it roughly in two quick, forceful movements until it splits open, mangling some of the buttons in the process but if upsets him, he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he rips it away just as quick, pulling his leg away to descend to his knees, pushing your blouse up your chest until he can reach bare skin, mouthing at the soft skin of your stomach and—christ, it’s distracting. He yanks at the short zipper on your skirt, making a small noise of happy acknowledgement when he’s able to get it undone and pull your skirt down the rest of the way, breath hot over your underwear as he stares up at you, fingers curled around the thread at your hips.

You nod silently and he presses his mouth against your center, teasing kisses along your inner thighs that slowly turn into playful bites until you’re nearly squirming, begging with a softer version of his name that you never tried to let him catch you using.

“Javi, please.”

He pulls your panties down your legs, over your heels and to the floor with little care, too focused on settling your leg over his shoulder before a hand is curling over the top of your thigh, fingertips digging in as he licks a broad stripe through the center of your pussy, his other hand balled into the fabric of your shirt and you need less—less clothing, less restriction.

You fumble with your buttons, head falling back against the metal of the filing cabinet with a sigh as the tip of his tongue slides over your clit and down, a motion he repeats several times in your poor attempts to undress and chuckles against you when you curse, finally getting your top unbuttoned and letting it sag at your shoulders, your fingers buried in his hair as he groans, lapping at you eagerly as his hand rises blindly until he can squeeze at your breast.

You moan loudly, instinctively covering your mouth at the sound as Javier pulls back in subtle shock himself, surprised that you allowed yourself to be so vocal about how he was affecting you.

“Not a fucking word, Javi.” You berate him, pushing a finger into his forehead gently which he takes in stride, laughing quietly.

“No one is here.” He reminds you, “Listen.”

And you do, Javier slowly rising to his feet and pressing his lips against the side of your neck, working at his belt in time, shucking his pants open just enough for you to slip your hand into his boxers, gripping his cock tight in your hand—still, absolute silence.

“Let me fuck you,” Javier begs—begs with fervor, his breath hot against your ear, “please?”

You nod jerkily, feeling him settle his slacks just low enough that they aren’t a nuisance and pulling the thigh that was resting over his shoulder around his hip, his fingers digging into your ass as you tug at him testingly, enjoying the look on his face when you squeeze a little harder than he’s expecting, enjoying the heavy weight of him in your hand.

“Oh, I can fuck that hate right out, querida ” Javier admonishes, “don’t try me.”

“I dare you,” You challenge him, using your free hand to pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a soft grunt in return, “—just remember to pull out, yeah?”

Javier full on snorts at that, a noise muffled into your neck when he leans forward, guiding himself to press against your cunt before he sinks in, both of your momentary hostility turning to full bliss.

His hand curves around the back of your head, a simple gesture but maybe more of a warning, his hips snapping into you suddenly, quickly, jostling you against the hard surface. He was protecting your head from the sharp edge of the cabinet and you almost laughed at the thought, but his impatient, fevered movements are sending you into a spiral, eyes rolling back.

“Stay with me,” He teases softly, lips at the base of your neck,  “want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

And you do, boldly, despite how your heart races. You let your body do the work, shutting your mind off for the moment—the hesitation, the worry, the regret that would hit you five minutes after this was over. 

You don’t remember it feeling like this, either. The full body sensation, his gaze heating you from the inside out, your thumb slipping over his bottom lip curiously, his teeth biting down gently on the digit as he fucks you deeper into the surface of the cabinet, if that was possible. 

There are no words, just sounds—moans that could be heard across the bullpen if someone was close enough and Javier, who is plenty vocal and has shown himself to be, can’t even form words, grunting with every few sharp snaps of his hips, fucking you so thouroughly it aches.

“Touch yourself,” He instructs, “let me see, muñequita. Wanna know.”

It doesn’t matter if he’s thought about it before—or, if somewhere in the deep, dark shadows of your mind that you might have had the same thought about him too.

There is no convincing, feeling yourself so on the edge already that it wouldn’t take much. And it doesn’t, your hand descending until your fingers graze over your clit, steadily bringing yourself closer and closer, legs shaking under Javi’s grip until he has to bear most of your weight as you come, blunt fingernails digging into his shoulder as you cry out. And he’s there too, so close and hanging on by a thread, the unsteady thrust of his hips a tell-tale sign.

Your heart is racing, mind too, and the words that come out aren’t anything of rational thinking.

“In my mouth,” You tell him, sounding more earnest than you ever have.

“You sure?”

You laugh through the exhaustion.

“Are you really questioning that?”

He shakes his head in amusement before he’s patting the back of your neck gently and urging you to your knees, jerking himself into your open mouth a few seconds before he’s coming, somehow managing to keep the moment tender as he holds your chin and squeezes gently, watching you swallow down the heady taste of him with your eyes locked on his.

“So, what now?” You ask jokingly, taking the hand he offers to you after a moment of him tucking himself back into his jeans, cursing when you shoulder bumps a stack of files on the way up, dropping them to the floor in a pile. 

Javier fetches your clothes and hands them over, redressing himself before plucking at the files hastily.

You’re nearly dressed when you hear him curse behind you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Hm?” You turn on your heels, busy tucking your shirt back into your skirt when you spot the item in his hands—a small gold key. “Well—don’t fucking stare at it. Try it.”

Javier approaches the door with quick footsteps, followed by your softer ones as you slip on your heels, gasping as the key turns in the lock and suddenly—the past couple of hours dissipates in an instant.

“Look at it this way,” Javier says lightly, “we’d still be stuck in here otherwise.”

Being that, if he hadn’t fucked you against the filing cabinet you’d be spending your night sleeping on the murky carpet of the file room floor—so, as usual, Javier Pena saves the day.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Javier suggests, “it’s the least I could do.”

“I live like three blocks away from—”

“Humor me?”

You chew at your bottom lip hesitantly.

Javier reaches forward suddenly, soothing the worry with his thumb.

“Pobrecita, if it isn’t all gone, we can try again?”

You slap his hand away gently, wordlessly taking his offer as you step past him, watching as his smile grows to a satisfied grin.

“You didn’t say no,” He adds.

Maybe he hadn’t fucked all of the hate out of you, but it was a start.

↝ special thanks to @undercoverpena for taking a look over this for me <3

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

[theemporium]

[5.6k] an attack in the winter break leaves max reeling as he tries to cope with a new and furrier version of himself. the world seems to think mad max is returning to them but your presence says otherwise.

[find other fright night specials here]

.

It had been a completely normal day when Max Verstappen had his whole life changed. 

Or as normal as it could be on a cold, wet January day in England during the winter break.

The run up to the season had been weighing down on everyone’s shoulders, last minute tweaks and changes and updates being made in hopes of making a car that will continue to dominate the grid. The factory has been busy, day in and day out. With less than a month until the car launch, it felt like everyone was working themselves to the bone to get the car ready. 

Max was no different. Though, it was less about data sheets and car parts for him, and more about practising on the sim until he was beating the previous laps he set. He liked having feedback to give to the team, he liked feeling like he was contributing to the early mornings and late nights. He liked feeling useful to the team. 

He ignored most of GP’s warnings about running himself down on the late nights, waving the older man off with a smile and a promise he wouldn’t stay much later. And it was partially true, he didn’t stay too late. 

No later than you did. 

Because if there was someone equally as determined and dead-set on giving this car everything they had like he was, it was you. 

It had become a routine between the two of you on those late nights where you were the only ones left in the factory. Max would finish up at the sim, make his way towards your office on the other side of the factory where he would walk you to your car, chatting your ear off about anything other than engineering and cars and data to help get your mind off work. Even if it was for a few short minutes. 

There were some days where the two of you would sit in one of your cars for a bit, to just talk. Other days, one of you was too tired to drag the night out further. It varied but it all fit the norm.

Just like that day. 

The flickering street lights accompanied you both as you made your way towards the car park, with Max nodding and laughing along to some story you had been telling him about one of the other engineers. At first, he thought he had imagined the growl—one of those instances that could be brushed off with wind and bushes and the darkness around them that made everything look a bit scarier. 

But then he heard it again. And he saw a flash in his peripheral vision. And next thing he knew, a large beast appeared out of thin air and was heading straight towards you and Max’s body reacted with pure instinct and quick reflexes to shove you out of the way before the beast tackled him to the floor. 

It was a blur after that. 

Hot, searing pain exploding through his body. Blood roaring in his ears. His heart pounding so fast in his chest. The white dots blurring his vision as he tried to turn his head away from the beast. The glimpses of fear and horror on your face before his vision had gone black. 

The biggest concern at that moment was whether or not Max would be okay. If he would be able to compete at the start of the season. If he would be able to continue at all. If the public would somehow find out and expose the story before Red Bull could even prepare a statement. 

The beast was the last thing on either one of your mind’s that night.

But when Max woke up the next morning, completely unscathed with only his bloody, ripped clothes as a reminder of the previous night. The two of you knew there was more to that beast than a normal animal attack, that you were dealing with something beyond your imagination. 

Max Verstappen didn’t expect to go into the next season worrying how in loving fuck he was going to balance being a Formula One driver and being a werewolf. 

Despite what critics and idiots behind a phone screen like to think, Formula One was a very physically taxing sport. Max had spent the better part of his whole life giving his body to training and endurance so he could compete at the level he does. Most athletes are more in tune to their bodies and their wants and needs than the average person, and Max was one of them. He knew his body. He knew his limits. He knew strengths. He knew his weaknesses. 

That knowledge was completely useless when he became a werewolf. 

One attempt at a workout and a dented metal bar later told Max that this whole werewolf thing came with a lot more setbacks than he realised. He understood pretty quickly that this wasn’t something he wanted to get out to the general public. He didn’t know how it would be perceived—hell, he wasn’t even sure how he perceived it. 

But someone had to know. He couldn’t hide it for the rest of the season. 

In the end, a few select people in his team knew about his lycanthropy and they worked together to keep it hidden from everyone else. 

It was a mindfuck working with Rupert to sort out a whole new workout plan, to evaluate his newfound strength and other abilities, to learn his body all over again at the age of twenty-seven. It was weird having to explain to GP, a man who he considered his brother, that he was no longer the man he was before the winter break—that he was hardly a man at all, anymore. It was fucking weird having to look you in the eye and see the conflict of emotions on your face whenever you saw him, whenever you replayed the way he saved you from the same beast that created him. 

It was fucking weird. 

But he could learn. Resilience and perseverance were two traits Max learnt at a very young age. He didn’t give his whole life to this sport just to throw it away because of his newfound—and unwanted—lifestyle. He refused to let it ruin more than it had. He was a werewolf but that didn’t mean he was going to give everything else up. He would deal with his lycanthropy like he did with other problems in his life—privately and out of the spotlight. 

He just failed to realise that something could risk that privacy. 

And he failed to realise it would be his own short temper that could possibly expose him. 

…

Preseason testing taught the team a lot about the car. 

Yet, all Max was learning was that the car was shit, the media were nosy and his patience was nonexistent with every human interaction he had outside of the team garage. He could feel his skin prickle whenever a camera was pointed at him or a microphone was shoved in front of him or his name was called out. 

He thought the glare on his face would be enough to keep people away but it was wishful thinking. He was the reigning world champion and he was driving, what was seeming to be, a hopeless car. It was a journalist’s wet dream.

“Your eyes.”

Max clenched his jaw, ripping the balaclava over his head. “I’m not glaring.” 

“Not that,” GP hissed, trying to pull Max to the side, away from the cameras peering into the garage. “Your eyes.” 

Max huffed. “Stop talking in fucking riddles, mate.” 

“They are yellow,” GP whispered frantically. “Like your—“

“Fuck,” Max groaned, snapping his eyes shut as he let out a deep breath. “Fuck, what? Why? It’s not a full moon. It shouldn’t—”

“There’s a lot that shouldn’t happen with you that does,” GP pointed out, feeling the glare from Max behind his closed eyelids. “We need to get you out of here.” 

“They will see,” Max replied. 

“Put your helmet on.” 

“Yeah,” Max snorted. “Because that won’t be fucking obvious.” 

GP sighed. “Well—”

“What’s happening?” 

Despite not being able to see you, Max still turned his head towards you, almost instinctively. He could feel your hand on his arm, warm and comforting and—

“His eyes look like glow sticks,” GP muttered. 

“So he says,” Max bit back, because he was annoyed and pissed off and GP was the easiest target. 

“He’s trying to help,” you scolded lightly, your thumb swiping back and forth, almost passively like you didn’t realise what you were doing. “Let me see.” 

GP straightened. “That’s risky—”

“Let me see.” 

Max let out a shaky breath, slowly blinking his eyes open until you came into focus.

“Blue,” you said with a soft, reassuring smile. “They are blue now.” 

Max’s shoulders dropped with relief. 

“Get him back to his driver’s room before it happens again,” GP murmured. 

Max bristled, a looming realisation that he was essentially being grounded by his race engineer making his skin feel prickly. But he couldn’t disagree, it was already a close call with his eyes flashing in the garage. He didn’t need the cameras catching it either. 

“If anyone asks, we will say Helmut lost his mind and made you wear contacts whilst you drive,” you teased, keeping your hand on his arm as you waited for him to grab his things. 

Max huffed out a laugh. “I’m sure he will like that.”

“You’ll protect me,” you grinned back at him. 

And yeah, Max would. 

…

The next close call happened after the season had started. 

The car had been improved since the shit show that was the preseason testing weekend, but it wasn’t all that great either. Max knew it was a process, knew the team were reaching the point of getting the car to a truly competitive and dominant state. It just took time and he just needed to be patient. 

But patience wasn’t something Max had a lot of these days. 

All in all, a podium wasn’t bad with the state of the car currently. However, Max knew that the media would be ready to push back, to insist the reigning world champion should be on the top step and not the third, that he should have all the answers to his own failures. 

He could feel it. 

He could feel the shift in his gums as his canines pushed through, pushed against the confinement of his helmet. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the crowd booing over the blood roaring in his ears. He felt like the whole world had been dialled up to a hundred the second he stepped out the car after pulling up behind the number three sign. 

He could feel it. 

He could feel the way his team reached out for him. He could feel their hands patting his back like it didn’t make his whole body tense. He could feel their hands patting his helmet like it didn’t make his head feel like it was spinning. He could feel their hands reaching to hold his neck, to bring him closer, to suffocate him more. 

He could feel it. He could feel it. He could—-

“Another trophy to add to the shelf?”

Max’s head snapped around to see you on the other side of the barrier, headset still around your neck and a smile on your face that made the third place feel a little less pathetic. 

“Probably hidden in the back,” Max managed to mutter out, somewhat muffled by his helmet and the chaos around you both.

“Surprised you have enough space,” you joked, teasing and lighthearted and so distracting that Max almost didn’t feel the way your hand covered his gloved hands, the way your thumb swiped over the tips of his fingers. 

He hadn’t even noticed his claws retracting, hadn’t even noticed them ripping through the material of the gloves in the first place. 

“Oh,” was all he could say.

“I’ll take care of it,” you assured him, not risking any more with so many people and cameras and microphones. “Go enjoy the podium.” 

“You’re gonna stay here?” Max asked, something in his chest twisting at the idea you would have to run off back to the garage, to the screens and data sheets and computers and away from him.

“I always do.” 

…

It took a few months into the season before a race weekend aligned with a full moon. 

Truthfully, it hadn’t even been a risk that Max considered which, in hindsight, was probably pretty stupid. It should have been one of the first things on his mind the second he realised what he was. It should have been a top priority after his first full moon, somewhere in late January—a night full of pain and discomfort, an experience Max didn’t want to repeat but knew he would have to. 

Ignorance was bliss and all that jazz. 

Yet, it was the Canadian Grand Prix where Max found himself battling more than just the championship that weekend.

He was lucky enough that it wasn’t a night race but that didn’t change the fact he was snappy all weekend, more so than usual. He was irritant and annoyed and perpetually fighting the growing pain through the weekend as it got closer to the full moon on Sunday night. 

GP asked if it was safe for him to even race in this state.

Max, honest to god, snapped his teeth at the older man in response. 

It was tense and suffocating in the Red Bull garage.

No one seemed to question Max’s awful mood any more than it was expected. A few people poked and prodded but the gritted, sharpy responses they received in response was enough to make most people back off. It was being played off as jet lag, a bad quali session and a grid penalty that didn’t feel all that deserved. 

Max was adamant he could race and deal with the full moon. He wasn’t going to let it ruin his career, the sport that he loved and adored and had given his life to. He wasn’t going to let it get the better of him, even if that meant just being snappier than usual to the media. 

And despite GP and Rupert’s concerns, Max was coping well. 

Until lap 57 happened. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HIM?!” 

“Max, stay calm.”

“I’M FUCKING LAPPING HIM! IS HE FUCKING STUPID?” 

“Max,” GP tried again but his voice was a muffled buzzing in his ears, hardly coherent over the anger and adrenaline and rage rushing through him. His body was acting on muscle memory alone as his car dragged on, as it crawled into the pits before he rushed back out. 

He refused to listen to GP telling him to retire the car. 

He refused to let that fucker in the Alpine think he could fuck his race and get away with it.

He refused—

“He’s growling,” GP hissed, hand covering the microphone and his voice dropping as he leaned over to where you sat on the pit wall beside him. His lips barely moved, not with the way the cameras were laser-focused on him and his reaction to Max disobeying the orders that were broadcasted to everyone watching.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pulling your headset off and reaching for his. “Hand it over.” 

GP frowned. “I don’t think this is going to work—”

“Trust me,” you insisted. 

Conflicting emotions swirled in his eyes before he ripped his headset off, muttering something under his breath before he handed it to you. 

“—FUCKING DICKHEAD JUST—”

“Max?” 

There were a few moments of silence and, for a brief moment, you wondered if the connection had cut. You wondered if he had somehow disconnected the radio from his side, you almost turned to ask GP if it was possible to do before you heard his heavy breathing. 

“I know you’re upset,” you continued, taking the chance and hoping he was listening. “It was a bad move. But you’re a good driver, a great one even. You can save this race. I know you can. Focus on the racing, not the rest.” 

Your words were careful and precise, painfully aware that the radio messages were probably being broadcasted. You knew whatever you said would be picked apart by the media and public, dissected under a microscope. But despite your caution, your only focus was making sure Max was okay. 

“Breathe and win,” you said, your eyes watching the racing feed on the screen in front of you. “I know you can.” 

It was completely silent beyond the sounds of the car until—

“I can. I will.”

You bit back your smile. “Good. I want to see you on the top step, Verstappen.” 

He did, in fact, go on to win the race. The celebration with the team was postponed as he spent the night in aggravating, uncomfortable pain—alone, suffering, excruciating. He refused to let any of you stay with him, to see him in that state, just like he did every full moon since the attack. 

But he still won and that was something nobody could take away from him. 

...

Despite his success in Canada, it was clear the outbursts and frequent accidental exposures of his wolf were becoming a problem. 

It was something he needed to get better at controlling if he wanted to continue the way he was, if he wanted to keep his lycanthropy away from the greedy hands of the journalists. This was his life now, it was something he had to accept and learn and grow with. 

It was just a little hard to do when he didn’t know how.

“This is stupid.” 

Rupert sighed, ignoring the glare Max was currently staring into the side of his head as he continued to hook the heart monitor onto him. “It is no different to when we do this for your training.” 

“Except this time you are purposefully pissing me off instead of torturing me,” Max bit back.

“We want to help,” GP corrected, leaning against the wall opposite of him. “You need to learn how to control the wolf side of you.” 

Max scoffed. “Maybe people should stop being stupid then.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” GP snorted before getting a nod of confirmation from Rupert that they were ready to go. “Okay. We are going to start easy, alright?” 

Max nodded. 

GP glanced down at the laptop in front of Rupert that had Max’s current heart rate showing before looking back at the driver. “Following the incident with Pierre Gasly in the Canadian Grand Prix, do you think you should be more careful when lapping cars?” 

Max let out a noise of disagreement. “What the fuck? Why should I be careful? It’s not my fault he is slow!” 

“I’m sure the PR team will love that response,” GP deadpanned, watching as Max’s heart rate started to speed up. “The stewards deemed it a racing incident.” 

“And the stewards are fucking stupid,” Max snapped back. “I was lapping him. I had priority. Everyone knows that. It’s their job to know that too.” 

The heart rate continued to increase and GP could have sworn he saw a flash of yellow in Max’s eyes.

“Max, control it,” Rupert reminded him.

“I’m trying,” he gritted out.

“They are going to keep poking, Max,” GP continued. “They did it before and they will do it again. They will push and push and push until they get the reaction they want, the one that fits their agenda.” 

Max growled in response. 

“I know you’ve seen it already,” GP said, listening to the beeps of the heart monitor get faster and faster. “Mad Max is back. He is unpredictable. Unhinged. That’s the story they want and that’s the one you are giving them.” 

Max’s breaths were getting heavier. “They don’t know—”

“Exactly, they don’t know,” GP pointed out. “And we don’t want them to know so you have to learn how to control it before you wolf out on them. Before you let them win.” 

His eyes were bright and glowing and yellow, a flash of sharp teeth under his curling lip as he growled and snarled and—

“I’m here! I’m here! Sorry, I’m late, I was getting coffee. Did we start yet?” 

It was like a flip had switched. 

GP and Rupert watched the scene in front of them like it happened in slow motion. The way Max seemed to perk up at the sound of your voice. The way the glowing eyes and sharp teeth seemed to slowly morph back to the Max they knew. The way the rage and anger and frustration was nowhere to be seen by the time you walked into the room, a tray of coffee and a bag of pastries in each hand. 

You stood there, watching the three of them stare at you with mixed expressions. “What? What did I miss?”

“Interesting,” GP commented. “Very, very interesting.” 

…

“You like her.” 

Max let out a string of curse words, almost knocking the mugs of hot water over before he put the kettle down and turned to face his race engineer with wide eyes. Heightened senses aside, he didn’t hear GP sneaking into the kitchen. Or even realise he had been watching Max mutter away to himself for the last five minutes.

“Fucking hell, mate,” Max grumbled, placing a hand on his chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“And don’t change the topic,” GP retorted with a knowing look. “You like her, don’t you?”

Max hated the way he could feel the tips of his ears start to burn. “Like who?” 

GP raised his brows in response. 

Max deflated, his shoulders dropping. “Look, I know what you’re going to say—”

“I think she’s good for you,” GP interrupted.

Max blinked. “Okay, maybe I didn’t know what you were going to say.” 

“She’s your anchor,” GP noted, his lips twitching upwards. “I had my suspicions but today confirmed it.”

“Anchor?” Max repeated with a frown. “Mate, is that not a news thing? She’s an engineer—”

“No, I—” GP let out a deep sigh, muttering something under his breath. “God give me strength. I mean that she helps ground you, helps you differentiate Human Max and Wolf Max.”

“Oh,” was all Max managed to mutter out.

“She’s good for you,” GP repeated with a soft smile. “And she understands you. Maybe if you tell her, we can work something out and—”

“No.” 

He frowned. “No?” 

“No,” Max repeated, blunt as ever. “I’m not telling her anything and neither will you.” 

GP’s frown deepened. “Max—”

“No, you don’t get it. She…” The boy trailed off, swallowing harshly as he tried to voice his thoughts. “You didn’t see what happened that night.” 

“Max—”

“I saved her,” Max stated. “I saved her and she’s only here because she probably feels guilty. I…I don’t want to tell her and make her feel like she has to feel the same because I almost died or something.” 

“You liked her before,” GP pointed out. “Is it so hard to believe that maybe she felt the same? That she cared about you way before you jumped in front of a werewolf for her?” 

Max clenched his jaw. “Drop it. I’m not telling her and neither are you.” 

GP sighed but he knew it was pointless to fight the stubborn boy over it.

“And she doesn’t find out about this anchor nonsense,” Max added, turning around and busying himself with the mugs on the counter. “We’ll find another way.” 

…

GP’s words about you being his anchor rung on a loop inside his head as the next race weekend approached. 

The Spanish Grand Prix was always quite a hectic one on the schedule. The fans were wild and passionate. There was usually more of a buzz around the world championship by this point, an insight into a real fight after nine races. And it brought back good memories, wanted memories of his first ever race win.

It was a reminder why he was here, why he kept coming back every weekend. He wanted to race and he wanted to win and he wanted to be successful. He wasn’t going to let the lycanthropy stop him. 

And even if he would never admit it, GP was right. 

You were his anchor, you calmed the angry, rapid wolf inside him. It was like everything he felt around you when he was human was amplified. He felt seen, accepted. You took him for how he was, not how you wanted or expected him to be. 

You saw Max—not the racing driver or the face of F1’s current dominance. 

You just saw him. 

It was hard to feel anything but relaxed and calm around you, to know that his words weren’t going to be overanalysed or thrown back in his face.

“You ready for this race?” 

Max gripped his helmet a little tighter, fighting the urge to lean back against your touch as he felt your palm between his shoulder blades. He turned to look at you, smiling a little at the clear concern on your face. Like you were prepared to find a way to postpone the whole race if he said no.

“The car’s been good all weekend,” Max replied, biting back his laugh when you rolled your eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about the car,” you grumbled, scoffing. “Obviously the car is good. I was working on it.”

He beamed. “I’m good. Promise.” 

“You gonna win?” 

“For you? Always.” 

Max took deep satisfaction in the way your heart skipped a beat at his words. 

“I’ll be happy whatever you end up,” you told him earnestly, your hand squeezing his shoulder and he had the oddest urge to keep your hand there, to place his own over yours.

Max swallowed harshly. “But you deserve a podium so that’s what I’m gonna get you.” 

You laughed, the sound easing something in his chest. “You’re cute when you’re cocky.”

He barely got a chance to process your response as you headed towards the pitwall, prepared for the race ahead and leaving the boy glued to his spot, blushing like mad.

For what it’s worth, he did win the race. 

…

Things were going smoothly until the British Grand Prix.

Max had been able to keep the wolf inside him subdued and relaxed through the first two races of the triple header. He was racing well, he was being polite to the media, he was acting like the Max before the accident. 

And despite his history and previous experiences at Silverstone and the ever loyal British fans, he didn’t think things would be all that different this year. He would maybe get booed, maybe have a few more probing questions. But nothing more than that.

Nothing quite like this.

It was Friday when it happened. 

Max thought the worst of the weekend—media day—had been put behind him. He was ready to get back in the car, he was ready to make the triple header a three-for-three and win Silverstone. He was ready for a somewhat normal race weekend, one where the focus would be on the five Brits on the grid rather than him (especially with it being Ollie’s rookie season).

Sometimes, he forgot just how passionate fans could be. He forgot just how insane they could be too.

The whole thing felt like it happened in slow motion.

He was a few steps behind you and GP and Rupert, taking a moment to sign merch and take pictures with fans who had been waiting for hours. He assumed the group of you had made your way into the paddock, already heading towards the Red Bull motorhome. 

He hadn’t expected for the hair on the back of his neck to stand up, to feel his whole body react before his brain had. His head whipped around at the exact moment he saw the crazed fan reaching towards you. His body was moving as he watched the scene unfold, as they reached for the collar of your shirt and pulled, as their lips moved to mutter something about Red Bull and whatever nonsense they thought justified their attack. 

And before anyone could even react, Max was already shoving himself between you and the fan and ripping their hand away from you. He could feel his heart pounding, his body shaking, the telltale pain in his gums of his canines begging to push through. He could feel himself lose control as the anger and fear of seeing you hurt took over him. 

“Back. The. Fuck. Off.” 

The fan’s eyes widened, something quite like surprise and terror written across their face as they staggered back. Max had half the mind to wonder if his eyes were glowing yellow, if his face was starting to transform, if the crazed fan was starting to see the monster Max truly was.

“Max.” 

An honest to god growl escaped his lips until he felt warm hands wrapping around his biceps, until he felt someone pulling his body away from the fan and away from the crowd. 

“We need to get him out of here.” 

It felt like he had blacked out. One moment he was staring at the crazy fan, contemplating letting his wolf take over, to give into the anger and rage coursing through him. And the next he was in his driver room, his name being called on repeat and warm hands cupping his face as he slowly blinked back into reality.

“There he is,” you smiled, your voice a soft whisper as you kneeled in front of him.

“I–” Max started but he couldn’t get his words out. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say, not with his heart still pounding, not with the wolf inside him howling and whining and begging to check that you weren’t hurt.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you repeated like you could see inside his head, like you could hear the panic in his wolf’s howl. “Max, look at me. I promise I’m okay. You stopped anything from happening.” 

He tried to take a deep breath but it was staggered and wheezy. 

“I’m okay,” you continued to repeat, dropping one hand from his face to take his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers together. 

Max’s eyes flashed yellow once more before he clenched them shut, urging himself to calm down, to relax, to control his wolf again. And after weeks of being on top of his lycanthropy, it felt a bit pathetic that he sat there for god-knows how long, not trusting himself to lift his head and look at you until he felt human again.

“M’sorry,” he managed to rasp out.

“Don’t apologise,” you murmured, quick to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Please never apologise for being you.” 

Max let out a bitter laugh. “That wasn’t me—”

“Max,” you started but he shook his head.

“Did anyone see?” 

You took a few moments before responding. “No. Other than the fan but I don’t think they really knew what was happening. I don’t think any of the camera angles caught it either but GP is making sure the media team are ahead of that.” 

“Good,” he managed to mutter, swallowing harshly. “We don’t need anyone else seeing what a monster I am.” 

“Max,” and the way you said his name sounded absolutely broken. “You’re not a monster.”

His lips twitched upwards, almost self-deprecatingly. “You don’t have to lie—” 

“I’m not lying,” you said, a little more insistent this time as you lifted his head up to meet your gaze. “You’re not a monster, Max.” 

His chest tightened. “You’re just saying that because I saved you.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m saying that because it’s what I truly believe. You are the furthest thing from a monster I have ever met.” 

Max could feel his voice waver as he spoke. “Not anymore. What I am now is—”

“Beautiful,” you whispered, smiling softly as your thumb swiped over the apple of his cheek. “Just as you’ve always been. Just as I’ve always thought you were.”

Max couldn’t quite find the words to respond.

“You saved me. And despite having every right to blame me for what you are now, what you’re having to suffer through every full moon, you don’t,” you continued. “Where most people would give up, you fought back. You took your life back. You’ve made it work, Max. Do you realise how fucking brilliant you are? You had to learn your whole body again and you’re still winning races like nothing changed.” 

Max let out a shaky breath. “I’d do it again.” 

“What?” 

“Even knowing what happened, knowing what was going to happen to me,” Max spoke, keeping his eyes on you, keeping his ears focused on your heartbeat. “I would push you out the way. I would jump in front of that wolf all over again.” 

Max wasn’t sure how you would respond but he hadn’t expected you to grab his face in your hands and kiss him. The tight feeling in his chest melted away the second he felt your lips on his, the second he was able to get his hands on you and pull you closer. He would’ve been embarrassed at the pleased rumble in his chest if it weren’t for the fact he was too happy to care. 

“I’ll make you see how beautiful that ‘monster’ in you really is,” you whispered against his lips, your nose lightly nudging against his. “No matter how long it takes.” 

Max was sure that he still had a long way to go and a lot more to learn before he could ever say he felt fully normal again. But the idea of facing the road ahead with you by his side felt easier than tackling it alone. 

He may still be Mad Max to everyone else but he was just Max to you. 

And if he was being honest, the opinion of his anchor was the only one he really cared about.

.

[honkytonk-hangman]

SunKissing

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of sex but no actual smut xx

Notes: again, ty to @roleycoleyland this one is dedicated to you &lt;3 Title from the Hailee Steinfeld song <3

Masterlist

Jake had stopped listening to the others the moment you nervously walked through the back gate. He’s off on the other side of the yard, so Penny reaches you long before he does, smiling kindly as your eyes flicker to her, then down at the covered plate in your hands when she gestures to it. Jake shakes his head internally. He’d told you that you didn’t need to bring anything, but of course you had anyway.

You smile sweetly, but unsurely as Penny welcomes you, and Jake is glad it’s her who saw you first, not one of the others. He hadn’t told anyone about you yet, let alone mentioned that he had invited you to this post-deployment barbecue Mav had all but ordered.

Eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet.

There were very few things Jake liked more than flying, and almost nothing in the world was worth it to him to give it up. Yet, the past eight months hadn’t gone by in their usual halcyon blur of adrenaline and speed, instead, Jake had found that the time to dragged, the days clung and the weeks hanging on like they had made it their personal mission to torture him.

He didn’t get to make phone calls that often, but you’d given him your email before he’d left, and despite staring at an empty document for three days too long, he’d sent you a short, somewhat conservative update, only to breathe out a sigh of relief when not too long after, he’d received your reply.

Jake hadn’t done this before, not even with his family. He preferred the months at sea with no ties and no tethers to anything or anyone on land, completely unattached and free from responsibility. That was the Hangman promise after all, ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’, which had been working out just great for him the past couple of years, right up until he met you.

It was at the Hard Deck of course, where he’d first sidled up to you, all charm and casual cool, certain that he’d found his night's paramour, only to be thanked for the offer of a bought drink, but dutifully informed immediately that you wouldn’t be going home with him. Jake hadn’t been completely taken aback, sometimes he set his sights on a woman who was taken, or just plain not interested, and that was always fine, but that hadn’t exactly been the case with you. You’d simply gone on to inform him that you didn’t do one night stands, which, in Jake's mind hadn’t made you off limits yet, so he’d bought you a drink anyway, this time free of expectations, and to his own surprise, after starting a conversation with you properly, he hadn’t wanted to end it. 

Only after you’d checked the time and told him you’d needed to go had Jake realised just how much he’d enjoyed your company, and so taking a step out of his own usual comfort zone, he’d asked you out on a date.

You’d been unsure at first, like you could read his usual antics all over his face, and told him that you didn’t sleep with people on first dates either, but Jake only laughed at your bluntness, and assured you he’d just wanted to see you again, sex or not. Even now, he’s not sure how much of that was just a line, but in the end he supposed it didn’t really matter, because only three dates and eight and a half months later, it was the most truthful fact about him.

For the past two-hundred and fifty-nine days, Jake had wanted to see nothing but you, and when that couldn’t happen thanks to his deployment, he’d settled for weekly emails. He’d never admit it to anyone, but for the first time in his entire life as an aviator, Jake had come to look forward to your weekly updates more so than he even looked forward to flying.

You’d been so surprised when he’d called you less than an hour after getting boots on the ground at last, even more surprised when Jake had immediately invited you to the Dagger’s welcome home party that night. Which is the reason why you’re currently looking around nervously, and letting Penny take your plate from you.

Jake is fully checked out of the conversation by the time he starts moving, ignoring any calls after him as he makes a beeline toward you, finally drawing your attention when he’s only a few feet away. Much like him, you seem to cease all other focus when you see him, your eyes never leaving him as he quickly closes the distance between you.

“There you are,” Jake all but gushes, sidestepping Penny and immediately wrapping you up, pulling you in firmly with both arms in a hug he doesn’t intend to let go of any time soon.

“Jake!” You barely get out before you’re engulfed. Jake feels his eyes prickle just a little bit when your arms link tightly around his neck, but he forcibly blinks the sensation away, focusing instead on how good it feels to hold you again.

“I’ll take this inside…” Penny says softly, knowingly, but neither of you really notice her slink off. You also don’t notice Fanboy nudge Phoenix, or how the rest of his squad slyly stop their talking to watch the two of you with various levels of interest.

“God, I missed you,” Jake hears himself say before he can really stop and think about it, his heart thumping rapidly away in his chest at the possibility that you didn’t actually feel the same. You laugh a little, and sniff, burying yourself deeper into his neck.

“I missed you too!” You say muffled into the collar of his shirt, tightening your hold on him slightly. Jake lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and squeezes you closer.

“You alright sweetheart?” He asks quieter than before, feeling a few spots of wetness seep through his shirt, as well as hearing the way you sniffle again.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you try to reassure him, despite the shake to your voice. Jake can only hum, and adjusts his hold on you so he can sweep one large hand up and down you back in soothing motions, something he’s pretty sure he’s only even done once before, to his mother before he left for the Academy damn near seventeen years ago.

Jake just holds you there for a few minutes more, until your sniffling finally stops and you begin pulling back. He’s glad you don’t go far though, keeping your arms around his neck still as you lean back to get a proper look at him. He doesn’t comment on the redness of your eyes, but he does have to blink rapidly to stop his own prickling once again.

“God, look at you!” You say softly, not really explaining what you mean, but you’re smiling brightly, so Jake doesn't care. He sorta gets it, when he runs his eyes over you. You’d gotten a haircut since he saw a picture of you last, he thinks you might’ve changed the way you did your eye makeup. Just little things he wouldn’t have noticed had he seen them day by day, but all at once carry over to be much more noticeable.

“I’m glad you came,” he tells you honestly, leaning back in to press a quick kiss to your mouth, which turns into two quick kisses, which turns into a third, longer, more substantial one. Behind him, someone wolf whistles, and Jake can’t help the grin that covers his face when he pulls back and gets a look at your flushed features.

“Come on, lemme introduce you to these idiots, or they’ll get even more annoying.” He rolls his eyes, but really, Jake can’t get enough of the way it feels to sling his arm casually around your waist and tug you into him as he guides you back to the otherside of the yard. He smiles widely, taking immense pleasure at getting to show you off for the first time in front of his friends. He loves the way you sink into him, hand resting naturally against his sternum, the place where you are feeling like exactly the place you belong.

In fact, Jake believes so firmly that the place you belong is right by his side, he doesn’t let you leave it all night. He’d gotten a lift to Penny and Mav’s with Coyote, so he drives your car back for you, taking your hand and bringing it across the console to rest on his thigh, coving it with his own and giving it a squeeze every twenty or so seconds as he sees fit.

“Come back with me?” He’d asked before pulling out of the curb side parking, glancing over at you meaningfully. It had been you who’d squeezed his hand then, and smiled softly at him in the dark of the early evening.

“If you want me to.” You’d said to him. Considering right up until his deployment you’d been taking it slow, he understands the trust your acceptance really imparts, and feels a warmth spread through him at the mere suggestion.

It’s ironic to Jake that eight and a half months ago he would have be raring to go at your agreeing to come back to his home after a party, but now, with so much time between you and with Jake still firmly in recovery mode from his deployment, sex is really the last thing on his mind. It’s even more ironic to him that once he’s tucked your car away in his garage for the night, and dragged you inside, it’s him who puts the breaks on things escalating, something he’s fairly certain he’s never done before in his life.

“Mmphf… baby, wait, wait…” Jake hears himself say breathily, forcing himself to pull his lips away from yours entirely. He’d been kissing you the moment the front door was shut, shoving you gently against the wall so that he could really savour how you tasted after all these months, but your hands grasping at the front of his shirt, pulling him in, begging for more nearly has him giving it to you right there in his entryway. He refrains, though, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours, though indulges the both of you by pressing himself into you, letting you feel his weight on top of you.

“What’s wrong?” you all but whine, brow furrowing sweetly, like perhaps you thought he wanted to stop because of something you’d done. Jake lifts his hands to cup your jaw, tilting your chin higher and plants two more less-than-chaste kisses to your already swollen lips.

“You’re not going to believe me when I say this,” Jake starts, a wry smile already pulling at his lips and he rolls his eyes at himself this time. You blink up at him questioningly. “Lets just go slow for tonight,” he says, your disbelief confirmed when you stare at him utter in confusion, your frown deepening. “Listen, darling’, I’d love to continue this line of thought you’ve got,” he can’t help but lean against you harder then, something in his abdomen stirring when your eyelids flutter and he sees you swallow thickly. “But… I’m exhausted, honey… let me just hold you, alright?”

He says the words without much question to them, knowing that you’d respect his request without thought. He’s rewarded for his honesty by you mirroring his hold on your cheeks, your own hands cupping his face as you coo.

“Jake, you don't need to entertain me if you’re tired, I can go home…!” you try to tell him, but he ends that idea with a sharp narrowing of his eyes, his hands gripping you harder.

“Baby I haven’t seen or touched you in months, I’m planning on calling you out of work sick tomorrow,” he jokes, though, the thought does strike him as actually a good idea. You laugh, and for a moment he feels slightly light headed because of it.

When he regains himself again, he drops his lips back to yours slowly and maybe a little too hotly, but he doesn’t regret it. “Come on,” he says eventually, tugging you from against the wall, but keeping the line of your body flush to his. “Let's go to bed baby.”

–

You wake in the early hours of the morning with a small start. At first you don’t recognise your surroundings, which makes your sleepy brain panic, but a few seconds later, a dim light to your left reminds you of where you are and who you’re with.

You peel your eyes open and find Jake lying next to you, his head resting in his palm as he leans up on his pillow, phone in hand, his brightness turned all the way down you suspect. You wake further upon realising he’s wide awake, and clearly has been for some time, but at feeling you begin to stir, the arm he still has draped around you tightens, like he’s trying to soothe you in your sleep. He looks up from his phone then, and it makes your heart flutter something wild that even when he thinks you’re asleep he’s remaining attentive.

“Shh, close your eyes baby,” he whispers, clearly not realising you were fully conscious now. You shuffle closer though, curling into his side, and using the opportunity to take him in fully. Jake always looked beautiful, and you aren’t shocked to discover he was even more so at this hour of the day, with his hair completely mussed from your earlier making out, and his features totally relaxed in a way you’re almost certain you’ve never seen before.

“Why’re you awake?” you ask with a yawn. Jake sighs and runs his hand up and down your back a few times.

“Did I wake you up?” he replies, frowning. You shake your head and stifle another yawn.

“What’re you doin’?” you try again. Jake puts his phone down, tucking it under his pillow.

“Lookin’ up mattresses,” he tells you, pulling you in closer, so you’re facing one another. Neither of you raise your voices above a whisper, and despite everything that has happened tonight, this moment feels more intimate than anything else.

“Jake, I wasn’t bein’ serious!” you faux-scold, but he only shrugs. His hand brushes absently over your spine again, and you’re once again surprised by just how touchy Jake has been since his return.

Before he left, the two of you had been out together a whole three times, only two dates of which had ended in brief, but breathtaking kisses, but despite that, you’d initially been a little surprised when he’d told you he was leaving for the better part of a year, and then proceeded to ask for your contact information. To be perfectly honest, you’d expected Jake to break up with you, not somewhat flusteredly explain to you that emails were the best form of regular contact at sea, and ask if it were okay if maybe he sent you some.

You reach a hand up and smooth down some of his hair. Jake leans into you and closes his eyes.

“The springs in this thing could kill someone,” he whispers, shuffling so that his knee slots between yours. “And if my bunk on the carrier is more comfortable, then I definitely need to upgrade.”

You watch him closely. Usually, in the past, you’d had trouble telling whether or not Jake was being honest with you, but for some reason right now you have absolutely zero doubt he was lying.

You suppress your smile, but only because if your emails over the last eight and half months had taught you anything, it was that Jake found it hard sometimes to be vulnerable just for the sake of it, and often hid it under the guise of other thingsv. You don’t believe him about finding his carrier bunk more comfortable, but you understand this is his way of making room for you, asking you in his own way to stay, much like his asking for your email had been all those months ago now.

Jake shifts and peeks one eye open at you.

“Maybe we can go to the store tomorrow,” he says lightly. You hum, and try not to give your insight away.

“The weekend perhaps? I don’t finish until late tomorrow,” you tell him, only for his head to begin shaking.

“Nope, not working tomorrow,” he insists, at last opening both his eyes when you can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, you were being serious!” you laugh, just as Jake draws you closer, so his breath ghosts over your lips teasingly.

“I won’t be so tired in the morning… and maybe you can help me test out the new mattress.” his voice is low and sends a thrill down your spine at his implication.

“Well, I can’t let you test it out on your own…” you concede, just as he leans in and presses a kiss to your jaw, shaking his head.

“After eight months of ‘testing it on my own’, that would just be cruel.”

You can't help but laugh, scrunching up your nose and lightly smacking his chest. Jake grins, and kisses another spot along your jaw, higher this time, making you barely suppress a shiver. He chortles to himself and adjusts his positioning to wrap an arm around you. You settle in against his chest and for a few minutes the two of you just lay in comfortable silence.

“I want you to be comfortable here,” Jake whispers eventually, making you pull back a little to look up at him. He’s still referencing your much earlier comment about his old mattress, but you really had been mostly joking.

“As long as you’re here, I will be.” you tell him  in just as quiet of a whisper. Jake shuffles, and shifts his eyes away from you, to look somewhere over your head.

“But I’m not always here…” he says even quieter than before, still not looking at you. You want to question why you would be at his house when he was away, but it strikes you then, that perhaps in the future, that's exactly what he wants.

You pull back even more, but only so you can cup his cheeks and force him to look back down at you. Kissing his lips briefly, you lean in and brush the tip of his nose with yours.

“Then let's go mattress shopping in the morning.”

[meazalykov]

its more than a game

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

part one here - part two here - part three (requested)

summary: you have to explain your relationship to the other team you're apart of

a/n: quickly wrote this last night so sorry for any mistakes!

the new year has come and gone, and with it, a sense of freedom and joy you haven’t felt in so long. 

you and lena are together now—a couple, something you still find yourself getting used to, but in the best possible way. ever since christmas, it feels like you’ve been given permission to love fully, without holding back, and lena, for her part, has become your biggest fan, cheering you on from the sidelines during training and matches as she continues to recover from her acl injury. 

life feels... right for once, and you’re leaning into that happiness more each day.

a week after the season resumes, lena’s back to posting her usual tiktok videos, little glimpses into her life as she rehabilitates her knee and follows bayern around. one day, she records clips at training—joking around with the girls, rookie playfully doing tricks in her backyard, and then the next clip shows you. 

in the video, you're doing dumbbell step ups on the benches, your focus intense as you lift effortlessly.

“and here’s my favorite person doing some easy dumbbell step ups,” lena’s voice says in the background, teasing and proud. 

“which i’m jealous of because i can’t do that for... obvious reasons.” the screen fills with a playful wink from lena, clearly referring to her acl injury. 

she watches you with adoration in her eyes, and it’s so casual, so natural, that you don’t think much of it—until later.

a few hours after she posts the video, your phone blows up with notifications. most of the bayern girls are commenting, teasing lena and cooing at how cute she is. especially with tuva saying that being a wingwoman worked. 

they all know now, and they’ve been nothing but supportive, joking that it was inevitable that you two would end up together. 

however, it’s your national teammates' group chat that catches your attention.

“hey, y/n,” one of your national teammates, sophia, texts.

“hi, yes!?” you respond.

“lena oberdorf’s tiktok came on my for you page, you are in it. what’s going on there?” sophia says.

“what tiktok?” naomi texts. 

sophia sends the link into the groupchat.

it takes about a minute before the next person texts.

“yeah, you two seem... close. since when?” emily questions.

you stare at the messages, your heart skipping a beat. you don’t want to explain everything over the phone, not like this. you quickly type back, keeping it vague. 

“we’ve just been getting along really well recently.” 

a couple of the girls reply with skeptical emojis, and you know they’re not buying it, but after a few playful jabs and questions, they let it go. for now.

when the end of the month arrives, you have to pack up and leave lena for a few weeks to join your national team for friendlies against australia. you hate leaving her, especially since you’ve gotten so used to spending every day together, but she’s supportive, grinning as she wraps you in a tight hug before you go.

“go kick some ass, okay?” she whispers in your ear, patting your lower back before you leave for the airport, her breath warm on your neck. 

“i’ll be here when you get back. and we’ll make up for lost time.”

“promise?” you murmur, hugging her even tighter.

“always,” lena says softly, and with one last kiss, you head out the door.

during the camp, you and lena text constantly, squeezing in messages and video calls whenever you can. 

you send her pictures from training, she sends you updates on her rehab and cute videos of rookie, and each time your phone lights up with a message from her, you find yourself smiling like an idiot. 

one day, you’re sitting in the locker room, scrolling through your phone with a huge grin on your face, when emily nudges you, peering over your shoulder. 

“okay, spill,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “who’s got you smiling like that?”

you hesitate, but there’s no point hiding it anymore. “it’s... lena,” you admit, still smiling. “she’s... my girlfriend.”

the room goes quiet, and you look around to see varying reactions—trinity, mallory, sam, and emily fox have their mouths open in surprise, emily sams, sophia and naomi are beaming happily, and tierna and crystal exchange knowing looks. 

you can see the questions forming behind their eyes, and it doesn’t take long for them to start asking.

“wait, like... lena lena? the same lena who you—”

“—yeah, the one who made you so mad at the world cup?”

you laugh nervously, holding your hands up to stop the barrage of questions. “yeah, yeah, that lena. and... i know it sounds crazy, but... she’s changed. and so have i. we worked through all of that, and i actually... i really like her. a lot. it wasn’t easy, but... we found our way to this, and it’s... it’s good. really good.”

ashley, who was there for the infamous world cup outburst, shakes her head in disbelief but with a grin on her face. “so... what happened? how did it go from... all that to... this?”

you shrug, still smiling as you think about the months leading up to this moment. “i mean... a lot happened. we started spending more time together at bayern, and... i saw a different side of her. she wasn’t the person i thought she was. i guess we both... let our guards down, y’know? i finally saw her as someone other than a rival, and... she saw me as more than just the person to beat.”

“and now she’s making videos of you doing dumbbell steps,” lindsey jokes, and the room erupts in laughter.

the friendlies against australia go well—your national team wins both matches, and you score a goal in each. throughout the games and celebrations, lena is always on your mind. you keep texting, sending voice messages late at night when you can’t sleep, laughing at each other’s dumb jokes. 

being apart is hard, but it only makes you more excited to see her again.

when you finally get back to germany, lena is waiting for you at the bayern training facility, leaning casually against the wall with that familiar smile on her face. 

she wraps you up in her arms the second you step through the door, and it feels like coming home. after weeks apart, being in her arms is everything you needed.

you’re back to training almost immediately, and the first thing lena suggests is some light running on the treadmill. 

“all the girls need to get a bit of cardio in,” she says with a shrug, a playful glint in her eyes.

you go along with it, not thinking much of it as you step onto the treadmill next to her. but then, as you start jogging, lena steps onto the treadmill beside you—and you nearly fall off yours in shock.

“what are you doing?” you say, panic rising in your voice. 

“lena, you know you can’t run yet—you’re going to mess up your knee!”

but lena just laughs, picking up the pace to a slow jog, looking completely unbothered. “that’s the thing,” she says, grinning widely as she matches your running speed. 

“i can run. i got cleared last week.”

your eyes widen as the realization hits, and you come to an abrupt stop, hopping off the treadmill and grabbing her arm to make her stop too. 

“are you serious?” you ask, your voice breaking into an excited laugh as you look at her, trying to figure out if she’s joking.

“dead serious,” lena says, her face lighting up with pure joy as she stops beside you. 

“i can run again, y/n. i’m getting back.”

you don’t think; you just act, pulling her into the tightest hug you can manage, burying your face in her neck as the happiness rushes through you. 

“oh my god, lena, that’s... that’s amazing,” you say, holding her close, feeling like your heart might burst from how proud you are of her.

“surprise,” she whispers, laughing softly against your ear as she wraps her arms around you. and you hold her even tighter, knowing that this is only the beginning.

masterlist

[nolita-fairytale]

something will happen | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: you and luca embark on another a big new adventure together: one of second dreams and second chances. the long-awaited sequel to 'burn your life down.' titled inspired by something will happen - berlioz.

warnings: fluff, light angst, grief, death, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, off-canon connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: it's really happening! i can't promise i'll be updating frequently, but season 3 got me inspired and i've really missed this world. this feels more like an intro than a chapter but here we are anyway. all italicized scenes are a part of the same conversation. i just wanted to play with something new so i hope it makes sense. lmk if you'd like to be tagged.

masterlist | chapter two

Late Spring

“Well? What do you think?” Luca asks you, the anticipation in the silence between the two of you palpable. 

“I don’t know!” you practically exclaim, all giddy at the mere idea of it. You chew on your lower lip as you wait for him to say something next. 

“I’m just saying. It’s not a half-bad idea and ehm… well, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot, actually,” he reasons with a shrug. He sends a loving glance your way because you look so damn cute wrapped in your twin-sized duvet that makes up one half of the bed you share. 

“For how long?” you ask, cautiously. 

“Dunno,” Luca shrugs. “Ever since Marcus mentioned it, I suppose.” 

He’s almost too casual about this—as if he hasn’t been stuck on the idea for the last month or so since his friend had returned to the States.

This is most certainly not a lazy Saturday morning with breakfast in bed kind of conversation. 

This is a paperwork and really nice pens kind of conversation

A big step.

Huge, even. 

You’ve already agreed to live with the man. 

And now this?

“Luca…” you struggle to get out on an exhale. “I just. It’s not that I don’t want to. I just-.” You pause, collecting your thoughts as you shake off all your nerves before choosing to pivot.

“What if we just-.” you begin again, taking a breath as you brace yourself to jump over this specific cliff. “Total fantasy. No limitations, no logistics, then sure. Okay. We could talk about it.” 

“Alright,” Luca accepts with a nod, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes like he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. He sits up straight, pushing himself off of where he leans against the headboard, shifting so that he’s closer to you. The smile that spreads across his lips begins to grow as repeats your words back to you. “Then, my love, total fantasy. No limitations. No logistics. What’s the dream?” 

—---------------------------------------

Summer

The dream was only supposed to be this—one where you’d begin living with your very sexy and very sweet pastry chef of a boyfriend—and yet, months later, as you move your things into Luca’s Vesterbro flat, your thoughts are consumed by ‘what ifs.’ 

What if you did it? 

What if you opened the restaurant of your shared dreams? 

What if your dreams came true with the love of your life by your side? 

Opening Kokuore had been different. It was your first step towards your next chapter, one where you had moved to Copenhagen in search of a new beginning. But this would be… a proclamation: that you were here to stay, that you and Luca could be something permanent, that you could be more than just romantic partners. 

Proof of a life well-lived and a life well-loved. 

Kokuore had been your dream, your first, your baby. Sure, there’d been talk of expansion—maybe a bigger space, or something along the lines of that—but you hadn’t thought too deeply about a second. 

You hadn’t thought about what would come next. 

And then he did. 

Luca. 

“Need any help, love?” Luca offers, watching you scoop two stacked boxes up into your arms, ready to be hauled into the bedroom. 

“Nope!” you heave with a sigh. “Not with these. But if you could grab the other three I’ll meet you in the closet, babe.”

He smirks, calling after you with a: 

“And what do you suppose we should do there?” 

You chuckle in response, your voice sounding further away as you shout back, “Let’s just unpack a few of my clothes, love, before we start taking them off.” 

—---------------------------------------

“Then, my love, total fantasy. No limitations. No logistics. What’s the dream?” 

You sigh, like you too haven’t been thinking about it since Marcus brought it up in the first place. 

“Okay, I’m not ready yet,” you preface, cautiously. “But. If we were, hypothetically speaking, talking about opening a restaurant together… I kinda love the idea of a brunch spot.” “Like Marcus said.” “Exactly.” 

“Slash bakery.” “Right.” 

“Hypothetically speaking.” “Of course.” 

For a moment, your mind gets away from you, running wild with the fantasy that’s beginning to unfold before your eyes.

“I think I really like the idea of it being a bakery during the weekdays when we’re open,” you admit, an excitement beginning to bubble underneath the surface of all your reasons why you shouldn’t. “Maybe we do Wednesday, Thursday all grab-and-go sort of breakfast stuff in addition to the bakery.”

“Kind of like a NY-style bodega,” Luca adds, building on your idea. “You know. With a little extra finesse.”

“Yes! Then… Friday, maybe, we pivot to full breakfast/brunch till the end of Saturday,” you reply, building off what Luca’s just said. 

“Think Wednesday – Saturday service would work?” he asks curiously, knowing that most places are closed on Sundays in Copenhagen.

“We could try it out. Extend our hours to Sunday down the line IF it feels right,” you reason with enough ease to worry you a little. You begin to back pedal, your mind flooded with doubt. “But-, I don’t know, honey. Don’t you think Copenhagen has enough bakeries?” 

“Not ours! Copenhagen doesn’t have ours yet,” Luca protests, as soon he begins to recognize what’s going on in your head. His excitement and passion alone might convince you to do this as he sits up on his knees, his body language expressing just how fully IN he is on this idea. 

His face changes—he’s only just a little more serious this time—his tone light and voice gentle as he warns you with a: 

“And I’m not letting you talk to yourself out of this.” He crosses his arms over his chest almost as if it’s a challenge. “So tell me more about this bakery-slash-brunch spot you’ve got in mind.” 

“Luca Davies! I don’t know where you get off thinking you can sweet talk me into this,” you scold him teasingly. 

He’s even faster to reply. 

“Oh I think I can.”

And this time, you know it’s a challenge. 

“Fine,” you concede to him, meeting him right in the middle of his challenge. “But I don’t want this to be all about my ideas. Besides, aren’t you the one who’s been thinking about it for months now?” 

—---------------------------------------

Fall

Over fresh ink that’s barely had a chance to dry, you and Mathilde clink glasses in celebration of the very big step you’ve just taken together. The contract had barely been drawn up before she charged into now-your Vesterbro home, opened a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, ready to sign on the dotted line.

A promotion, chef du cuisine, and a bigger percentage in ownership of Kokuore—a piece of your heart—now shared between the woman who helped you create your masterpiece. 

“I can’t believe we’re really fucking doing this!” Mathilde practically squeals, bursting at the seams with excitement as she rests her arms against your kitchen island. The two of you sit side by side on twin bar stools, facing each other to the best of the chair’s swivel-ability. 

“I know. It’s unreal and yet it feels like the right thing, yeah?” you agree, half in shock. Shifting gears, your back to business as you continue with an explanation of the ownership plan that you’ve thought long and hard about. “It’s important to me to stay involved, but most of my focus will go towards the new space for at least the next year. We’ll have weekly check-ins and Mathilde, I want you to at least consider some kind of ownership eventually in the hospitality group should we go in that direction.”

“I forgot you went to business school. It’s very sexy,” she teases, but the prospect of a hospitality group feels even more exciting.  

There’s a feeling of familiarity between you and your friend as you begin to break down some of the nitty gritty details of the contract. With Luca out for a jog, it reminds you of the days when it was just you, her, and Jesper, exploring your shared wildest dreams. The nostalgia wells in your chest as you take another sip from your champagne flute. 

You were really doing this and you’re so lucky you get to do it with your favorite people. 

Well, with your favorite people again. 

Who would’ve thought that moving to Copenhagen would bring you this grand of an adventure?

—---------------------------------------

“Fine,” Luca agrees, knowing that the way he looks at you only stokes the flames you feel for him. He’s got plenty of ideas, spent maybe too much time thinking about breakfast menus and laminated pastry doughs folded with all kinds of experimental ingredients. He hasn’t felt this creative in… well… since he met you. 

“I love the idea of breakfast/brunch. And I’m already feeling really inspired by the prospect of getting to create a menu with you, darling,” Luca begins, ready to build off of your previous idea. “I guess my first question is… who will lead it?” 

He’s not expecting the elated, “You, silly!” that escapes your lips without hesitation. 

It’s not that he has doubts about himself, but you are the one with the business degree. You’re also the one that’s opened a restaurant before, so he'd be more than happy to let you take reins. 

“Not that I’m going to totally love being on opposite schedules but…” you continue, this hypothetical conversation feeling less and less hypothetical. “...maybe I turn Kokuore over to Mathilde… spend a little more time developing this next concept with you. But. Without question, my love, I think you should lead it.” 

It’s his turn to be surprised, your unwavering belief in him felt so deeply it practically takes his breath away. The only response he can get out is: 

“I love you.” 

“I love you,” you giggle in response. 

“I guess my question for you,” you shift cautiously, as it begins to dawn on you that this is something you just might want as much as he does. “...is… is this something you want to do? I mean, I know it’s going to be a really big pivot from fine dining and-.” 

“God yes!” Luca exclaims, relieved at the thought. “I’ve been dying to get away from the fine dining stuff. I-. It’ll be an adjustment, sure. But yes. Yes, it’s what I want.” 

You nod as you process, listening to the conviction in your lover’s voice. 

He wants this. He really wants this.

And he’s so sure. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you realize you don’t have to have to suppress the feeling any longer.

“Fuck it!” you declare, as if you’re inhaling for the first time. “Fuck ‘hypothetical.’ We should totally do this, babe.” 

“Yeah?” “Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

A beat. 

“So…” Luca trails off, the wave of excitement beginning to wash over him. 

“What do we call it?” 

The baritone in his voice catches your attention, and as you look at him, you can practically see it all. In Luca you’ve found your second chapter, your second great love, and now your second restaurant. The word falls out of your mouth as if it were destiny: 

“Seconds. I think… we should call it Seconds.” 

“I love it,” he grins back at you.

And now, you’re just as certain about a second restaurant, because you get to do it with him. Luca chuckles, catching your gaze once more, almost as if he’s about to say ‘I told you so,’ as he utters a cheeky: 

“Well, love. Looks like we gotta call Marcus and let him know he’s about to own 10% of a restaurant.”

[lara-cairncross]

masterpost weewoo ✨✨

general art tag general ask tag fanfic recommendations

🧚hidden hollow au / rottmnt fairy au stuff:

au tag fanart/fanwriting tag "ask mikey" tag

original designs (this is kinda outdated now lmao)

brief intro comic

april -> leo size comparison

mini lore comic 1

info about mikey's talent

general idea for wings + shell anatomy

mini lore comic 2

info about leo's talent

mini lore comic 2.5??? (not important just funny to me personally)

shelldon exists. kinda.

thingy about their fangs (good color ref)

TURTLE TOTS

usagi intro!

raph shell ref

mini lore comic 3

ref for donnie's markings (kinda)

big lore comic 1

ao3 fanfics (from most recently updated to oldest)

link to my Ao3 page

are you lonely yet?

-> 6/? chapters, 11k words, english, Donnie- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: uhhhhh mikey gets hurt in a very damaging way. donnie blames himself big-time. they both think the other is mad at them. emotional angst woo hoo, but also kinda fluffy i think? also pretty heavy on disaster twins stuff

now it's red, now it's dead, now it's--

-> 1/2 chapters, 5k words, english, Mikey-centric.

notes: set in the Bad Future timeline! follows mikey's slow ascent into becoming something Other. lots of angst-- depression, disassociation, suicidal ideation, major character death, etc etc. probably my favorite fic that i've written? idk I love writing OP mikey!

the sun is a dying star

-> 3/? chapters, 10k words, english, mikey-centric but bounces between POVs

notes: started off as a one-shot but i got too ambitious for my own good. mikey is not having a good time. blah blah blah turtle-gets-kidnapped-by-scientists-or-something, but i wanted to focus more on like, psychological damage than physical damage. not sure when/if this one will get an update.

pizza bagels, communication, and other life-changing novelties

-> 1/3 chapters, 3.4k words, english, Miles- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: SHELLSHOCKED FIC WOOHOO !! THE ONE AND ONLY TIME I WILL WILLINGLY WRITE ROMANCE! uhhhh two teenagers pining for each other and doing dumb shit together and angsting about being children with the weight of the world on their shoulders. IT'S FLUFFY AND CUTE I PROMISE

it's golden hour somewhere

-> 1/1 chapters (completed), 7.4k words, english, Mikey- and- Karai-centric.

notes: one-shot. Karai POV, but focuses on turtle tot Mikey. basically the Hamato Sacrifice isn't the only curse that plagues the clan, and Mikey is the most recent Hamato to come under fire. predetermined fate and all that shit. fluff and angst. this one's kinda weird ngl I remember nothing about writing it or getting inspiration for it lmao

the icarus complex

-> 2/2 chapters (completed), 10k words, english, Raph-centric (and also kinda Leo-centric in second chapter).

notes: deals with Raph's PTSD following the Kraang invasion, and one possible coping mechanism he could fall back on. spoiler alert it's NOT a healthy one lmao. definitely one of the more interesting fics I've written in my opinion; I did a lot of research for this one to make it as realistic and respectful as I could. another personal fav :)

equivalent exchange (and other things that give Leo a headache)

-> 1/? chapters, 2.5k words, english, Future!Leo- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: another Bad Future timeline fic, this time with Present Mikey accidentally ending up with Future Leo. follows the two of them trying to figure out how to get Mikey back to his timeline. I still love this concept, but idk when I'll get around to updating it tho lmao

that's where the blood's supposed to be!

-> 2/2 chapters (completed), english, Mikey-centric.

notes: Mikey gets hit hard during a fight but brushes it off, and it comes back to bite him later. takes place after the show, but before the movie-- right when the whole Leo vs Raph kerfuffle is at its peak. questionable medical information but I did my best lmao. this one's kinda old and cringey atp but whatever

other stuff

fanart for 3 months au tag

fanart for golden future au tag

glass turtle keychains example

College Fund (aka my Ko-fi page :>)

[hederasgarden]

Stand By Me - Part 3

Summary: When a local ranch hand’s attention evolves into something more sinister, Rhett Abbott becomes an unlikely source of comfort and protection for you. Pairing: Rhett Abbott x F!Reader Word Count: 4.8K Rating: Mature, future chapters will be explicit and 18+ only. Stalking, anxiety, and Rhett being protective. Future chapters will include some violence. No spoilers for Outer Range. A/N: Welp, here we are a year later. 😬 Sorry it has taken me so long to update. I cannot thank my beta N, @mayhem24-7forever and @whatblogisthis216 enough for their help and support putting this together. Thank you @callsignhurricane for the absolutely gorgeous header.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this story. Your interactions keep me writing and inspired.

Masterlist | Lewis Pullman Characters Masterlist

"I see you're in with the Abbotts now," your boss remarks, watching Rhett climb into his truck. "Got a phone call from Cecilia this morning about you not closing up by yourself anymore. That woman has a real way about her, all polite-like when she's handing you your ass." 

“Mr. Anderson,” you start, rushing to explain but he waves you off. 

“She was right, of course. I know you got that, er- fella who hangs around too much.”

“My stalker?” You question, your tone harsher than you intend. He looks down at you, surprised. There’s an apology on the tip of your tongue but you resist, meeting his brown eyes. Maybe it’s knowing you had Rhett and Cecilia on your side, or maybe some leftover frustration from the Sheriff. Either way, you don't back down from your statement. 

“I suppose he could be,” Mr. Anderson agrees. “Anyhow, I’ve got Johnny set to close from now on. You go on and tell that to Cecilia now. One dressing down from that woman is enough.”

“I’ll let her know.” 

He nods, patting your shoulder briefly before disappearing into the back office. You exhale and look back out to the empty street. It’s stupid to miss Rhett but a small part of you does. You’re safe in the store; there’s no need to have him here with you. He has a life of his own and a ranch to help run. 

“Was that Rhett Abbott?”

You turn to face the owner of the voice, finding your coworker Sandra watching you excitedly. She’s got that glint in her eye, the one that means she’s not going to let this go easily. Wabang didn’t have a town gossip, but if they did, everyone knows she’d happily take the job. In high school, she was in everyone’s business, spreading rumors and ferreting out information. She never looked twice at you back then, you were too boring and quiet. 

“It was. He just gave me a lift. Not a big deal,” you promise her.

“Uh, nope," she says, popping the p and stopping you with a hand on your arm. "We’re not going to breeze past the fact that you left your car here last night and now the manwhore of Wabang is dropping you off. Spill," she demands.

"We're not…," you start, an automatic denial falling from your lips before you can stop it. She gives you an incredulous look and you stammer out an answer. "It's not a big deal. We're, um, dating," you explain.

"Rhett Abbott doesn't 'date'," she tells you, eyes narrowed. "He has sex with whatever buckle bunny catches his eye.”

“He’s not like that,” you argue, defensive at the way she speaks about him. You know Rhett’s reputation, pretty much everyone does, but you saw a different side of him last night and this morning. You know there’s something more under that charming smile. He listened when no one else did and that means something to you. 

“Honey, please,” she says dismissively. “That boy is nothing but trouble and trash. You best stay away from him."

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you tell her, voice warbling with emotion. “He’s not like everyone says.”

Sandra’s perfectly plucked brows disappear into her hairline. “Alright, alright,” she concedes, hands held up. “Just be careful. He might not stick around after he gets what he wants from you.”

“He’s stuck around the last two months just fine,” you fire back, only realizing after the words are out that you and Rhett never talked about a timeline. 

“Really?” Sandra says, leaning in closer enough for you to catch the fruity scent of the gum she smacks noisily. “That certainty explains why he hasn’t been hanging around the Handsome Gambler lately. I just thought maybe he was getting serious about bull riding or Royal had him on a short leash after the last fight.” She leans back, looking contemplative. “Well, that was some exciting gossip for a Friday morning.”

“Please don’t spread this around,” you ask her, knowing full well she would. Although the idea of people talking about your personal life made your skin crawl, you knew if Rhett were here he’d say it was good. The more it spread, the more likely your stalker would learn of it and back off. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” she promises you, crossing her fingers and winking. 

Sandra spends the rest of your time together on her phone, chewing on the endless supply of gum she keeps next to the register. You’re normally not a self involved person but you’re fairly certain she’s texting about you and Rhett. During lunch, you send him a text of your own about your conversation with Sandra. He responds immediately with a thumbs up emoji which doesn’t help your anxiety. What if he was mad? What if he was with another girl at that time and you just screwed up this whole story?

You spend your shift distracted, overthinking what you told Sandra enough that you keep losing track of the inventory you’re working on. Eventually you give up and volunteer to work the till. An unexpectedly busy afternoon keeps your focus on the task at hand and you don’t even notice it’s 5 p.m. until you look up and find Rhett in line for your register, a shopping basket in hand. 

He steps up to the counter and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you return, feeling unexpectedly shy. You stare at him long enough that he clears his throat and nudges the basket towards you.

“You gonna check me out?” he asks, his tone playful. 

Beside you, Sandra scoffs. When you spare her a glance, you find her watching Rhett. His attention, though, is focused on you. 

“What’s all this?” You question, taking out the deadbolt kit and some window locks.

“For your apartment. When I was there last night I saw they could use an update.”

“Rhett…” you trail off, embarrassed. 

He seems to sense your emotions and leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “I think this is the part where you ask me, cash or card,” he whispers. 

“Will that be cash or card?” You ask, thankful for how easily he dispels your discomfort.

After you’ve finished checking him out, you clock out and let him walk you to his truck with an arm around your shoulder.  Once you reach your apartment he pulls out a tool bag from the bed of the truck and says he’ll install the new deadbolt while you get ready. A part of you wants to protest or offer to pay him for the supplies, while another is too embarrassed to draw attention to what he’s doing for you, so instead you say nothing and disappear into your room.

“Pretty sure they’re doing line dancing tonight,” Rhett calls out in between the sounds of the power drill. “You got some boots you can wear?”

“Uh…I think so," you half yell back, staring at the contents of your closet. 

You have to get on your hands and knees and pull aside a few boxes to find a pair of brown boots. The last time you wore them was for high school graduation, back when your grandfather had been alive. You trace the delicate lines of embroidery around the calf, pale pink and periwinkle flowers connected by green vines. There hadn’t been a reason to wear them since, all you did was go to work and come home. 

Tonight seems as good as any and you stand to finish getting dressed. The sundress and jean jacket are a little dated but they’re comfortable and look nice enough. Once you’ve managed to fix your hair and makeup, you return to the living room to find Rhett replacing the old window locks.

The creak in the floor draws his attention to you briefly before his eyes return to the window. A second later they’re back on you. He blinks and stands, clearing his throat. 

“I think I’m ready," you announce. 

“You, ah, look real nice,” he tells you, nodding. “I like the flowers.” 

“Thanks. You look nice too,” you add, touching your neck self-consciously when he doesn’t immediately speak again but keeps watching you.

“Well…we should probably get going then.”

“Yeah,” you agree, watching Rhett gather up his tools. “Thanks again for installing that stuff.” 

Rhett nods. “I’ll finish up with the other windows tomorrow.”

The drive to the bar is quiet. Rhett’s fingers drum on the steering wheel as you wait at the stoplight. You cycle through potential conversation openers but discard them all. Nothing feels right, and you realize that the sour pit in your stomach only grows the closer you get to the Handsome Gambler. 

Would he be there tonight you wondered? Just the thought of seeing him is enough to make your breath come quickly and your hands tremble. You exhale and close your eyes, trying to get yourself together. Rhett is here. 

When the engine cuts out you look up, eyes drawn to the neon glow of the Handsome Gambler’s sign. Rhett’s quick to meet you at the curb, offering his arm. You curl your hand around his bicep and he draws you close. At this time of night, the bar is busy, humming with energy and conversation. Rhett navigates the crowd with ease, exchanging brief hellos with a few people, finally stopping at an empty booth. You slide in and he follows. 

“Want a beer?” He asks.

You’re not much of a drinker but you nod anyway. Rhett flags down a waitress and a few minutes later two cold beers are dropped off at your table. You fiddle with the label as Rhett takes a long swig and leans back, shoulders relaxing. When you sense him watching, you bring the bottle to your lips and take a drink. It’s cold and a little bitter on your tongue. Your distaste for it must show because Rhett cocks his head to the side with a faint smile on his lips.

“I can order you something else,” he offers. “Wine? Something fruity?”

“Maybe something fruity… honestly though this is okay. I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Rhett shakes his head and flags down the waitress again, ordering you a daiquiri. “It won’t go to waste,” he assures you, pulling the beer toward him.

You return his smile as he rests his arm along the back of the booth. His fingertips hover just above your shoulder, not quite touching your jacket. This close to him you can smell his cologne, faint and a little musky but nice. Everything about this is surprisingly nice, including the way his denim-clad leg presses against yours, warm and firm. 

“He’s not here,” Rhett announces and you look up at him sharply. He’s still scanning the bar as he sips from his beer. For one silly moment, you forgot why you were even here, something that seemed impossible earlier. 

“Should we go?” You ask Rhett.

You’d only come to make it clear to the man that you were with Rhett.

“What?” Rhett’s brow furrows as he glances at you. “Why? You wanna go?”

“No.” You shake your head just as the waitress arrives with your drink. “We came so he’d see…”

“There’s more than one way to make sure he knows,” Rhett tells you, pushing up the brim of his hat before leaning in close. You can feel his breath against your cheek. “Look to your right, past the pool tables. You see those men?” You nod, watching the rowdy group in the corner playing darts as you absently sip your drink. 

“They all work at the Dustin ranch, including the one in the baseball cap who keeps looking at us.” At that moment, the man in question stands up for his turn and looks back, meeting your eyes. If he is surprised to find you looking, he doesn’t show it. He holds your gaze for a second before glancing at Rhett who smirks and waves. His expression doesn’t change but when he turns back you catch a brief flash of something.

“He’ll make sure Jimmy gets the message that you’re with me.”

“Jimmy?”

“Your stalker," Rhett clarifies. "After I dropped you off this morning I paid a friend of mine a visit that’s friendly with the foreman of the Dustin ranch. That’s the man’s name. He hangs out with the guy in the baseball cap, Rick.” 

“Oh.” You stare at the table, trying to process the information Rhett gave you.

When he says your name softly you realize several minutes have passed in silence. “Sorry, I….” you trail off and look back at the man with the baseball cap. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Rhett says. “This is a lot.”

You nod, lips pressed together because you don’t trust yourself to speak. 

“Line dancing looks fun,” he notes, taking a swig of beer. “Might be a nice distraction and you can put those fancy boots to good use.”

“They’re not fancy,” you defend. 

“Hmmm, don’t look like nothing I’ve seen at the feed store,” he teases. “Come on.” He stands and offers his hand. 

You let him pull you up and follow him to the dance floor as Vince Gill’s What The Cowgirls Do fades from the speakers and a soft, more subdued song  plays. The crowd thins and you realize the remaining dancers are pairing up. Rhett doesn’t seem deterred by the change in music, grasping your right hand and wrapping his left arm loosely around your body. His palm rests firmly on your shoulder blade, pulling your body close to his. After a moment of hesitation, you settle your left arm on his bicep.

“It’s been a while since I’ve danced like this,” you admit, watching how easily the other couples move around the dance floor. 

“Nothing to it. All you gotta do is follow, I’ll lead,” Rhett promises, surging forward and taking you with him. 

You stumble a little but he’s quick to adjust his pace for you, whispering words of encouragement. Maybe it's how Rhett guides you around the dance floor or some long buried muscle memory from high school but soon enough you’re moving in sync. Then he raises his arm to spin your body in a circle before quickly drawing you back into his arms. When he does it again a second time, a breathless laugh escapes you. 

“Atta girl,” Rhett says, drawing you closer. 

Your skin tingles and you feel warm all over when he speaks those two simple words. The world narrows to Rhett’s handsome face, his blue eyes dark pools in the dim light. Your chest constricts, only allowing you to pull in shallow breaths that leave you lightheaded. It’s only when someone else bumps into the two of you and the spells breaks that you realize a new, more upbeat song is playing. 

Rhett’s lashes flutter and he releases you, his gaze falling away a moment later. 

“Beer’s probably getting warm,” he says and you hum your agreement, letting him lead you back to your seat.

Before you can make it, two men you don’t recognize stop Rhett. 

“Shit, that you Abbott?” The shorter one questions, swaying on his feet. 

You watch Rhett for his reaction, only relaxing when he smiles. “Smitty.”

“Heard you’re riding tomorrow.”

“I am,” Rhett agrees.

“Damn,now we gotta go to see that,” he tells his friend before turning his attention to you. “Did you know your boyfriend's one of the best damn bull riders in these parts?" He asks. 

You’re not sure what to say so you just nod. 

“You guys gotta come get a drink with us,” Smitty says. 

“Thanks, but my girl and I were about to head out,” Rhett says, capturing your hand in his. “Y'all have a good night.”

My girl. 

Rhett uses that phrase so casually, like he’s done it 100 times before. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a world where it’s true, losing yourself in the fantasy long enough to miss the rest of their conversation. When Smitty and his friend stumble away, Rhett leads you back to the booth where  your daiquiri has all but melted. If Rhett’s beer is warm, he doesn’t show it, finishing it off in one gulp. 

“If you want to get a drink with your friends…,” you start hesitantly.

Rhett’s quick to cut you off with a shake of his head.  “Not with those two dipshits. They’re fun for sure but… trouble too.”

You turn to face him. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He waves your comment away, grinning with one side of his mouth. “Maybe, but it aint suitable for girls with flowers on their boots.” 

The rest of the evening passes surprisingly easy, so much so that before you know it, it’s nearly midnight and you’ve all but forgotten about Jimmy and the man in the hat. Rhett pays your bill with cash and walks you to his car, keeping a hand on your lower back. 

Once you arrive at your apartment, Rhett turns off the truck and leans forward to look out the windshield.

“Want me to stay the night?” He asks, leaning back. 

You do, but you’re aware of just how much he’s done for you already; staying over last night and pretending with you at the bar. You should decline and let him go home to sleep in a real bed but behind him you can see the dark windows of your apartment and the words catch in your throat. 

“Never was an Eagle Scout,” he starts, pulling a black duffle bag from behind the seat, “but I came prepared.”

You stare at the bag, surprised, and when you look back at Rhett he gives you that half smile of his, brow arched. You find yourself nodding before you can think too hard about it.

“Alright,” Rhett says, opening his door, “come on.”

That night you sleep better than you have in weeks and when the morning comes, you quietly slip out of your bedroom.  Rhett is already up, a mug of coffee in hand. He looks lost in thought, a deep crease between his brows but his expression clears when he sees you. 

“Made coffee,” he says, raising his mug. “Hope that was alright.”

“Of course,” you’re quick to tell him. 

“I won't be able to pick you up after work,” Rhett says, following you into the kitchen and leaning back against the counter. “Gotta be at the rodeo early but my Ma said she’d be there.”

“Okay.” You yawn as you doctor your coffee to make it sweet enough to drink.

“Looks like I kept you out too late,” he observes, watching you over the rim of his mug. 

“No, it was…” you pause searching for the right word but come up short. “I appreciate it,” you finally settle on. 

Rhett nods, looking away. “It’s nothing.”

When he sets his empty mug in the sink, you head back to your room and get ready for work.  Once you’re dressed, you reach for the beat-up tennis shoes you always wear, stopping short when you see your boots from last night. You hesitate for only a second before slipping them on instead. 

Rhett drops you off with a kiss on your cheek and a wave to Sandra, who watches the two of you from the front window display. The day passes uneventfully, without any sign of Jimmy. A little after 6 pm the Abbotts come to collect you. Cecilia is warm and open, asking about work while Royal drives, glancing at you occasionally in the rearview mirror. You’ve only met Rhett’s father in passing and always found him to be an intimidating man. Tonight he’s mostly silent, only chiming in when you tell Cecilia about an issue that happened today with Donald Everrtt’s lumber order.

“That man’s got more cows than sense,” Royal grumbles and you laugh when Cecilia chastises him.

Leaning back and gazing out the window, you think about your own parents. They weren’t so different from Rhett’s and you’d forgotten how nice something as simple as this could feel. Thinking of them hurts like it always does and you swallow around the lump in your throat, distracting yourself by listening to Cecilia and Royal talk about Rhett and the bull he’s meant to ride tonight. 

When you arrive at the rodeo, it’s loud and chaotic. The announcer booms something about the bull riding beinging soon. It doesn’t escape your notice that Royal and Cecilia keep you between them as they guide you through the crowd of people to the metal bleachers where Rhett’s brother and his family are waiting. Their daughter, Amy, is quick to question you once you’re seated. 

“Are you Uncle Rhett’s girlfriend?” she asks, leaning around Cecilia to see you.

You stare at her, unsure how to answer with so many people around. Rhett had shared the plan with his parents but you weren’t sure who else knew the truth. Your silence makes Amy’s  little brows furrow, a look so reminiscent of her uncle that it almost makes you smile. 

Thankfully Cecilia interjects before you have to figure out what to say. “Yes, Amy.”

Before Amy can ask you any more questions, her mother suggests they get some popcorn. Once they disappear, Perry takes a swig from the flask in his boot, and when he sees his mother looking, he makes a face.

“Come on Ma,” he grumbles, but Cecilia pins him with a silent, angry look and he eventually puts the flask away, sighing heavily.

There are several riders before Rhett and you watch each of them get thrown from their bull with increasing anxiety. You search for him among the crowd of riders at the far end of the fence. When you spot him, you’re surprised to find he’s watching you. He grins, tipping his hat. It’s such a simple gesture, but it fills you with a fluttering warmth that lasts long after he looks away to acknowledge his parents. 

When it’s finally Rhett’s turn to ride, you rub your hands on your thighs anxiously. The buzzer goes off and you flinch as the gate is ripped open. The world narrows to Rhett, the bull, and the sound of your own breathing. The seconds tick past agonizingly slow until he’s thrown from the bull. 

Dust flies and the bull stomps. You stand up, searching until you find him stock still in the dirt. You make a small, terrified sound and Royal touches your shoulder drawing your gaze. 

“He’s okay. Just got the breath knocked from him,” he assures you. 

You look at Cecilia who seems just as concerned but then a second later the bull is gone and Rhett stands. His gaze is focused on the scoreboard but you watch him. His expression is serious, lips pressed into a thin line as his chest heaves. Then suddenly he smiles, open joy written across his features and the crowd cheers. When you look up his name is first on the board. 

Beside you, Royal yells and Perry sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. Cecilia shouts his name and Amy jumps with excitement. You expect Rhett to come straight to his parents but he makes a beeline for you, climbing up the bleachers and past people with ease. 

“Rhett,” you start, whatever you were going to say cut short by his lips on yours. The kiss is intense but brief. When he pulls away, he looks as surprised as you feel. You stare at one another before suddenly he’s pulled back by an older man who claps him on the shoulder. More people push forward to offer him congratulations. 

“Let him hear you one more time,” the announcer encourages. “Ladies and gentlemen, your hometown hero, Rhett Abbott!”

You touch your lips, mind working hard to process what just happened. Rhett looks back, eyes glued to yours as he’s pulled back into the ring.

“Come on sweetheart,” Cecilia urges, patting your arm. “Let’s wait for him at the other end. Less people.”

You can’t see her eyes under the brim of your hat but you suddenly realize she and about a hundred other people just witnessed what Rhett did. You have no idea what his parents must think. There’s another feeling under the embarrassment and awkwardness that you don’t investigate too closely. 

“Well that was something,” Royal says and you glance up at him sharply before you realize he’s talking about Rhett’s ride. 

Cecilia smiles. “He’s gonna ride next weekend in the finals for sure.”

“I knew he’d make it,” Royal says proudly and you smile at both of them, nodding your agreement. 

After a few minutes, Perry arrives alone. “It was getting late so I thought it best Amy went home,” he tells the three of you, hands on his hips. “She can celebrate with us tomorrow.”

“Hmmm and I suppose you’re gonna help your brother celebrate tonight?” Cecilia asks, judgment clear in her tone.

“Yeah. Handsome Gambler,” he confirms, clapping Rhett on the back as he arrives. “You’ll be drinking for free, that’s for sure.” 

“Did you consider that your brother might not want to go?” Cecilia asks, looking at you pointedly. 

“Oh, that’s alright. We can go,” you say, feeling even more awkward.

Perry grins and leans in. This close you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Great, I’ll get us a booth.”

He disappears before Rhett even has a chance to speak. Cecilia sighs and Royal rubs her back. “Nothing wrong with having a little fun,” he reminds her.

“I know,” she concedes. “But be safe,” she adds, looking intently at Rhett.

“I will,” he promises her, nodding seriously.  

Cecilia offers you a tight hug, promising to stop by the store later in the week. Once she and Royal are gone, you’re alone with Rhett. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. 

“I’m sorry.” He pauses, looking back at you. “For the kiss. I shoulda asked if you were okay with that. I was out of line.”

“It’s okay. It uh, was good. Lots of people saw. That’s the point right?”

He stares at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yeah, that’s the point," he agrees, finally before his gaze flicks away. “But, we don’t have to go to the Gambler tonight. Perry’s just… Perry,” he finishes with a long suffering sigh. 

You think about how excited he was before and what tonight means for him. He’d done so much for you lately, the least you could do was go with him to the bar. There was no way he’d drop you off and home and go alone. You had fun with him last night after all. Maybe tonight would be just as nice. 

“We can go,” you tell him but he frowns, clearly unconvinced. It’s late and you’re tired but it isn’t hard to manage a genuine smile for him. “Afterall, I brought my dancing boots,” you add, pulling up your jeans to reveal them. 

“Alright,” he agrees, his expression lightening. 

The bar is more crowded than last night and Rhett keeps you close. Everyone wants to talk to him, including Maria. You can’t help but feel jealous at the way she lays a hand on Rhett’s arm and leans in close to speak to him. She’s even more beautiful than she was in high school when half the town knew he’d been in love with her.

Watching them together and seeing the easy way he smiled at her, you wonder if he still is. That makes your chest ache, which is silly. You and Rhett weren’t actually together. Nothing, from the dance last night to his kiss earlier, was real. It was an act because you caught the wrong kind of attention. Suddenly, you want to be anywhere but here. You take a step away but Rhett’s quick to face you, his hand shooting out to grasp your elbow.

You lean in to be heard over the din of the bar. “I need to use the restroom but Perry said he can come with me,” you lie, looking over your shoulder at his brother. 

“I can come,” Rhett tells you, setting his beer down. 

You wave him off. “Catch up with your friends.”

When you realize Rhett doesn’t turn around immediately you’re forced to actually ask Perry. He agrees and finishes off his beer, following after you a little unsteady. You take your time in the bathroom, splashing water on your face and staring at your reflection. It’s quiet here but your mind is buzzing. You close your eyes and sigh. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, lost in thought but eventually a toilet flushes and you stand straight. You were being selfish, Rhett deserved to celebrate tonight without worrying over you. 

With a deep breath you head back into the bar, searching for Perry. When you left he was leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone. Now he’s nowhere to be found. You only make it a few steps before someone’s hand closes around your wrist and tugs you back. You spin around, half expecting to find Rhett but it’s not him. 

Green eyes meet yours. 

“Hi baby,” Jimmy says, smiling. 

[caitified]

OMG YAY ! i don’t see much content for azzi here it’s kind of sad💔 it’s my first time requesting but maybe azzi and reader used to date but broke up because reader went abroad for some time. so azzi starts dating paige after a while but reader comes back and azzi gets confused/conflicted🙏🙏

confused

azzi fudd x reader

warnings:none, but i didn’t read abroad when i first saw your request so sorry about that!

the last night of high school had a bittersweet magic, like the twilight of a long, perfect day. azzi leaned against your car, her eyes a warm blend of laughter and anticipation as she looked at you under the stars.

“we did it,” she said softly, her hand reaching for yours. “after all these years, we’re finally here.”

you squeezed her hand, the familiar warmth of her skin sending a rush through you. azzi had been your everything since middle school, the kind of love people wrote about. and even though she was going to uconn and you’d soon be on the other side of the country at stanford, there was something fierce and hopeful in both of you. you’d make this work—long distance, time zones, anything. you both promised.

but in the weeks that followed, distance crept in slowly, like shadows at dusk. phone calls turned shorter, text messages went unanswered longer, and instagram kept you updated more on her life than she did herself. it was paige who started appearing in those updates the most. paige, laughing with her. paige, meeting her after practices. paige, cheering her on from the stands. paige, who understood her world of basketball in a way you couldn’t.

months passed. your heart grew accustomed to the ache, hoping it would be worth it. until, finally, you’d had enough.

it was a late saturday night when you texted azzi, a small hope sparking that she’d call back. an hour went by. then two. you waited until her online status disappeared into nothing. the silence pressed against you, suffocating.

the breakup was long overdue, yet when it happened, it still felt sudden. you sent a simple message: i think we both deserve better than this. i love you, azzi, but i can’t keep pretending that i’m okay. maybe it’s time we let go.

she responded with a long, agonizing pause. and then, one final text: i understand. i’m so sorry.

for a long time after, it felt like your world had shrunk. but you focused on school, throwing yourself into new friendships and routines. azzi stayed in the background of your life, just out of sight. you saw the news when she and paige became official, saw their faces together across sports feeds, but by then, you were already halfway to moving on.

three years later, standing in the crowded arena in san francisco, you didn’t expect to see her. the golden state valkyries had just announced azzi’s draft, and the crowd buzzed with excitement as she jogged out, looking as stunning and determined as ever. seeing her was like a shot of adrenaline straight to your heart.

as she moved through the crowd after the event, signing autographs and hugging teammates, your eyes met hers. time seemed to freeze. she looked at you as though she was seeing a ghost, her face a mix of shock, wonder, and something else.

“hey,” you managed, stepping forward. “congratulations, azzi. you… you made it.”

azzi blinked, regaining her composure. “hey yourself,” she said, her voice soft. “i didn’t think i’d see you here.”

“i live here now,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “life happened.”

a soft chuckle escaped her lips. “yeah, i guess it does.” she glanced over her shoulder, where the crowd still buzzed, and then back at you. “do you have time to catch up? maybe coffee?”

a moment’s hesitation flickered within you. but then you nodded. “sure. coffee sounds good.”

the cafe was quiet, a small place nestled into the heart of the city, far enough from the hustle of the arena that it almost felt hidden. azzi had chosen a table in the corner, a place where the dim lighting and soft music blurred the line between memory and reality.

you sat across from her, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, catching glimpses of her across the table. time had changed her. she was leaner, sharper somehow, the softness of high school replaced by something refined. but there were hints of the girl you once knew—the curve of her smile, the way she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. little things that made your heart clench.

“so… stanford, huh?” she broke the silence, her voice careful, like she was stepping over broken glass.

“yeah. decided to go all in with the academics,” you replied, trying to keep things light. “and you… uconn and now golden state? i knew you’d make it big.”

she laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “it’s been a wild ride. sometimes i still don’t believe it.”

a silence settled between you two, one that felt almost comfortable. it was strange, sitting there with someone who once knew you better than anyone else, and yet now felt like a stranger.

“i saw you with paige,” you said, finally breaking the silence. you kept your tone steady, not accusing, just… curious.

she looked down, her hands wrapped around her cup. “yeah. we… got together after you and i broke up. she was there for me when i was struggling, you know? uconn was intense, and i didn’t know anyone. she made it feel like home.”

there was no bitterness in her voice, just honesty, and somehow that made it hurt less. you had seen it coming; even back in high school, there was something between azzi and paige that was easy and natural, something that used to make you feel like you were on the outside.

“i’m glad,” you said quietly. and you meant it, even if part of you wondered what might have happened if things had been different.

you talked about everything that night—your time at stanford, her life at uconn, the struggles, the triumphs. it was as if the years between you faded with each word, each laugh. and as the hours stretched on, that familiar warmth started creeping back in, like a flame rekindling.

when it was finally time to go, azzi walked you to your car. there was a soft breeze, and the night felt impossibly still.

“it was really good seeing you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. there was something in her eyes, something that made your heart race, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself that she had someone waiting for her.

“you too,” you replied, giving her a small smile. “congrats again, azzi. you’re really… amazing.”

she looked like she wanted to say something more, but she just nodded, stepping back as you got into your car. you watched her in the rearview mirror as you pulled away, her figure growing smaller until she disappeared from sight.

days turned into weeks, and despite your best efforts, azzi slipped back into your life. she’d text you every now and then, little messages that felt casual on the surface but carried weight in every word. saw something that reminded me of you, she’d write, or remember that time we got caught in the rain? each message was like a breadcrumb, pulling you back toward her.

one evening, you got a text from her. hey, got an extra ticket to the game tonight. want to come?

you hesitated, knowing it could open old wounds, but in the end, curiosity won. you arrived at the arena, slipping into your seat as the lights dimmed. the game was intense, and azzi was incredible—fast, focused, completely in her element. watching her, you felt that old pride swell up, a pride that only grew when she scored the game-winning shot.

afterward, she found you outside, her face still flushed from the game. “thanks for coming,” she said, her smile shy, almost like she was back in high school again.

“i wouldn’t have missed it,” you replied, feeling your heart race as she held your gaze a little too long.

that night, she drove you home. you could feel the tension in the car, thick and electric, the air filled with words unspoken. as she parked outside your place, you hesitated, hand on the door, before you turned back to her.

“this… this feels like old times, doesn’t it?” you asked softly.

she looked down, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “yeah,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “i didn’t realize how much i missed it. missed… you.”

your heart hammered in your chest, but you knew there was someone else, someone who had been there for her when you hadn’t. “azzi… what about paige?”

she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “i know. it’s just… i don’t know what to do. paige has been amazing. she’s my best friend, and she’s… she’s everything i thought i wanted. but being around you… it’s different. it’s like i’m back where i belong.”

you reached out, gently taking her hand. “i don’t want to be the reason you hurt someone. but… i also can’t pretend that i don’t feel the same way.”

for a long time, she didn’t respond, her hand warm in yours, her gaze fixed on the street outside. when she finally looked at you, there was a hint of tears in her eyes. “i just need time,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“okay,” you replied softly. “take all the time you need.”

the weeks that followed were torturous. azzi would text, call, ask to meet up, and each time felt like a step closer and a step further away all at once. you knew she was struggling, caught between two lives, two loves, each one pulling her in a different direction. and as much as you wanted her, you didn’t want her to feel forced, didn’t want her to carry the guilt of hurting someone she cared about.

one evening, she showed up at your door unannounced, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion. without a word, you stepped aside, letting her in.

“i ended things with paige,” she said, her voice hollow. “i told her the truth. that my heart wasn’t all hers. that part of me… was still with you.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. you took a step closer, reaching for her hand. “are you okay?” you asked, even though you knew the answer.

she shook her head, her shoulders trembling. “no. but i know this is right. i can’t keep pretending. you… you’re my past, but you’re also my future. and i need to be honest with myself.”

you pulled her into your arms, holding her as she clung to you, her body shaking with the weight of her decision. you knew she would need time to heal, that her heart would need to piece itself back together. but for now, you were here, together, ready to face whatever came next.

[nocturne-overtures]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Summary:

Jisung and you are moving in together and he stumbles across your chest of toys. Now seems like a good time to use them, no?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Pairing: Fem! Reader x Han Jisung (SKZ)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥WC: 4.3k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Genres/Aus: Humor, Romance, Established Relationship, Smut

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Sws: Sex Toys, Lingerie, Cunnilingus, Sexual Instruction, Waxplay, Safeword Established, Blindfolds, Blowjob,

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Rating: Explicit (18+)/Minors DNI

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥A/N: Another one down~ Thank you for the commission as always @jacksons-goddess-gaia, I hope you enjoy ;)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ AO3| Taglist Form (Please make sure your urls are updated and able to actually be tagged) | Commission Sheet𓆩⟡𓆪

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Network Ping: @kwritersworld | @k-vanity | @cultofdionysusnet

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Wanna support me? Reblogs are highly encouraged! I also have a Kofi

𓆩⟡𓆪©nocturne-overtures. do not repost, translate, or use my works𓆩⟡𓆪

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MDNI and Divder credit to @benkeibear thank you!

“Can you help me with this box?”

Jisung poked his head out from the kitchen, quickly making his way over to you and smiling, bending to take the other end of the box in your hands. Slowly, you move to set it into your new bedroom, smiling from ear to ear as you put your hands on your hips. 

It was a lot of work, but finally, you’d gotten to the end of bringing in all the boxes from the moving truck. After months of planning and over two years of dating, you and Jisung decided to move in together. 

It certainly wasn’t easy, but you were ecstatic to be here, though you dodged under your partner’s arms when he tried to hug you, lips puckered for a kiss. 

Jisung lets out a scandalized gasp and you send him a playful look, shaking your head. 

“Oh no, I don’t think so. I’m gross and sweaty, Ji. Wait until I shower and I promise we can kiss and cuddle as much as your heart can take.” You move past him, shedding clothing along the way. There’s an unintelligible sound behind you, and you catch Jisung covering his eyes behind you. 

“You’ve seen me naked before.” 

“So? I’m still a gentleman.”

A laugh bubbled from your throat as you disappeared into the bathroom. Jisung always got shy when he saw you in states of undress. It was as cute as it was funny, even after all this time. 

Idly, you consider inviting him into the shower just to watch his face go red, but you decide to leave him be for the time being. 

“Is it really bad if I want you to see, though?” You muse as you pass, laughing at the keyboard smash that left his lips.

Outside, Jisung looked at the boxes and decided he couldn’t sit still, opening some of the ones closest to him. He noticed some of your summer clothes in the first one, moving to put them in the dresser. A smile came to his face as he took his time folding, the mere sight of some of them reminding him of previous dates the two of you had gone on. 

When that was done, he moved on to the next box, setting various skin care products and perfume bottles on top of the dresser so you can put them away later however you see fit. 

Jisung smiled, hearing you sing in the shower a room over. He found himself mouthing the words, singing under his breath in unison with you as he stopped at a hand-crafted medium-sized rounded chest. He blinked in surprise and began to lift it out of the box it had been situated in, cushioned with crumpled newspaper to keep it from getting jostled around in transport. 

It was heavier than he expected, and it slipped out of his hands, tumbling back into the box after he flailed and screamed in a panic, not wanting to drop it to the floor and break it. The lid to it opened in the scramble, and the first thing Jisung noticed were teeth .

No, not literal ones. The inside of the chest had protrusions that resembled teeth and it took Jisung a few blinks of disbelief to realize the chest was supposed to be a mimic. 

Of course, she keeps her things in a mimic chest. Nerd-

The humor in his mind immediately melted away into startled shock when he realized what had fallen out of the chest. 

Scattered all over his feet were various sex toys and accessories that went alongside them. 

Dildos of various sizes and colors, vibrators, a cock ring with a tag that read ‘puppy’ on it.

A harness for a strap-on, flavored lube, and throat relaxant spray. 

Blindfold, a gag shaped like a bone, skin-safe candles,  an anal plug.

Jisung stared, kneeling to pick up the fallen toys, his eyes the size of saucers as he looked at each one. 

Some of them were, uh, quite intimidating, if he was being honest. Between the length of some and the girth of others, Jisung couldn’t help but to have his mind wander, thinking about you using the very toys in his hands on yourself. 

“Ji, if you want to take a shower I put your things-”

You stop short in the doorway, holding the towel around yourself as Jisung stared at you like a deer in headlights, holding a bottle of lube in one hand and a thrusting vibrator in the other. 

A beat of silence passed between the two of you before you burst into laughter, nearly dropping the towel as Jisung apologized to you in a rushed panic. 

“ImSOsorry,Ididn’tmeanto-”

“You’re good! It's alright. I just gotta wash them again.” You have a noticeable blush on your face as well, but you take the moment in stride, gathering your things and putting them back in the chest one by one, your hands brushing against Jisung’s every now and again as he tried to help.

When you’re finished, you give him a kiss, pressing your lips to his cheek and standing back up after closing the lid to your toy chest. 

You can feel his eyes on you as you walk out of the room, humming a tune to a pop song as you take the time to meticulously clean the toys one by one. 

Jisung joined you part of the way, peeking very clearly as he got into the shower himself. You can tell he wants to ask you more, but the noticeable way he adverted his gaze when you looked up and locked eyes with him made you snort ever so slightly. 

You let a few minutes go by before you tilt your head toward the shower to ask;

“Do you want to use them with me?”

There’s a bump somewhere in the shower, and a collection of fumbled noises falling from Jisung’s mouth follow suit before his head comes flying out of the curtain, eyes wide. 

“ What?”

You smile at him, making a point to comb your gaze up and down his face, shoulders, and chest before biting your thumbnail lightly. 

“I said,” You sit up straighter;

“Do you want to use the sex toys together with me?”

Jisung stared at you, jaw slack. You can tell the cogs are turning rapidly in his head as you watch even the tip of his ears tinge pink. He cleared his throat, nodding once. 

“Yeah, I mean…Yeah, if you want.”

You smile and stand up, making your way over to the curtain, cupping his cheek, and stealing a kiss. 

“Enjoy your shower~ I’ll be waiting for you.” You send him a wink and run your eyes down the expanse of his body before walking away. It took everything in you not to break face or laugh as a series of jumbled (and panicked) sounds leave his lips as the door closes behind you. 

By the time Jisung is peeking into the room, you have the lights dimmed and you’re adjusting the strap to one of your favorite lingeries, the deep red contrasting against your skin. Jisung stood in the doorframe, staring, eyes combing up and down your body before you see him visibly bite his lip. 

Want, need, excitement.

You smile and turn to face him, walking over to him in a few strides. Jisung noticed you’re taller than you usually are, and you’re eye level with him this time. His eyes shoot down, landing on the pretty heels you’d put on. 

“Fuck,” He breathed out, inhaling sharply when you reach and place your hand on his chest. His skin was dry, but still soft and heated from the shower. Jisung looked at you with doe-like excited eyes, biting his lip as you pushed him gently, lightly pinning him against the door and pressing into him. 

“Tonight, we’ll use some of them together, okay? Do you mind if I lead?” You give him the time to answer, idly raking your fingers down his chest. You can feel the thrum of his heartbeat through the pads of your fingers and he nods quickly.

“I didn’t hear you, I’m sorry~” You faux pout, your fingers stopping at the towel tied around his hips. Jisung let out a shaky laugh, staring at your hand before he bit his lip. 

“I don’t mind. Tell me how I can make you feel good with them.” 

You smile and hook your finger into the towel, tugging once and holding his gaze as it falls to the floor, leaving him completely bare to you. 

Jisung’s cheeks grow darker, but he doesn’t break your gaze, something that brings a smile to your face as you press your lips to his neck, kissing along his Adam’s apple while you slowly cup and palm his cock.

He exhales shakily, once again stuttering as he opened his mouth to speak;

“C-Can I touch you? Or do I like, need permission?” He’s red all the way to his ears and you laugh softly at his earnest questions. 

“Of course you can touch me. We can save the more….’strict’ play for another day. I’m just going to…guide you? Yeah.” You nod, and both of you share a soft laugh before you lean in to kiss him.

His hands are on you in an instant, cupping and squeezing your ass while your fingers curl around his shaft, stroking at your own set pace as you deepen the kiss the moment he groaned for you. 

“I didn’t expect you to get so excited just finding my toys.” You tease, giggling against his lips as he kneaded your cheeks. You can feel him throbbing in your hand and it nearly took him a full minute before he responded. 

“Mm…of course I got excited. Thinking of all those late nights you must have been using them, making a mess, thinking of me. We live together now, Y/N. I get to be part of that.” He ducked his head down, kissing at your shoulder. You can feel him inhale softly, and you almost laugh again from the ticklish feeling before you perk at the audible growl that slips past his lips. 

“ Fuck , and you wore the perfume I love. You’re trying to ruin me tonight, aren’t you?” He sighed, slowly rolling his hips and thrusting into your hand. You smile and close your fingers around him, stroking slowly as you tilt your head up to give him more space to explore and bite down. 

Jisung’s lips are soft against your skin. You hear every groan and gasp resonate in your head before you tangle your hand in his hair, tugging just light enough for him to moan and pull off of you lightly. He glanced at you, eyes hooded as the two of you held each other’s gaze. 

“We can spend all day kissing against the door or we can move on to the next part.”

Jisung visibly perked for you, smiling and letting you guide him back to the bed. You sit down at the edge, reaching behind you and handing him one of the oversized plushies you had collected over the years. He seemed amused, setting it on the floor and kneeling on it. 

“I want you to eat me to start with, okay?” You pull the thin lace of your lingerie aside, revealing yourself to him. Your heart fluttered in excitement at the way his eyes locked on your pussy for a moment.

Jisung kissed your inner thigh in response and spread your folds with two fingers, holding your gaze as dragged his tongue between your folds, curling his tongue over your clit in a figure eight before delving in. 

You keep your hand on his head, petting silken brunette strands gently as you keen and moan for him, subtly scooting closer to the edge of the bed. 

You could give him instructions later, Jisung had spent plenty of time between your legs like this, and it still pleased you at just how excited he got when he got to eat you out. 

He’d come untouched one time because of it, moaning your name and thrusting up into nothing as his face glistened from your release. 

The visual from your memory made you clench ever so slightly and Jisung growled, hands landing on your thighs to gently push them apart, his tongue slowly curling up between your petals before kissing at your clit. 

You share a deep, heated gaze with him, using your nails to scratch lightly at his scalp, humming softly as you roll your hips slightly. 

“You always do so well for me, Jisung.” You lower your voice, smiling at the way his eyes focused sharply on you. He groaned against your core, pulling you closer by your ass with one of his hands. 

You laugh softly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and tilting your head to the side. 

“How did I get so lucky, mm? You’re such a good boy for me.” You praise him softly, the glow from the candles dancing over your skin as the flames flickered now and again. 

Jisung groaned, pressing closer to your cunt, his nose flush against your core, staring lovingly up at you. Your smile grows wider and you brush your fingers over his ears, reveling in the sensitive shudder that the move makes rock through his body. 

“Ji, you have to come up for air, my love. Mm, we can’t have me getting too stimulated before the real fun starts.” You try to warn him, though your body betrays you, if the way you roll your hips down for more was anything to go by. 

Jisung considered persisting, you can see it in the way his eyes narrowed in challenge before he eventually let up, licking his lips slowly and leaning in as you reach down to pet and caress his rounded cheeks.

“You’re trembling.” He muttered, blowing lightly on your pussy and smiling as you jolt in surprise. You shoot him a look before clearing your throat, beckoning for him to come up to your level. 

Jisung took his time, making sure his blood began flowing well back into his legs before he let you pull him into a kiss, whimpering softly as you reach between his legs to stroke and grope at his cock. 

“All this for me?” You muse teasingly, laughing at the way he nipped your bottom lip. 

“Are you gonna keep teasing me, or are you gonna instruct me?” He huffed. You pull away slightly, an amused smile crossing your face as you lock eyes with him. 

He’s pouting. 

“Very well. Get the blindfold and those candles off of the nightstand.”

Jisung paused, brow furrowing as he glanced behind him. Sure enough, there was a silk blindfold sitting on the nightstand, and beside it were wax candle sticks that were a beautiful shade of red. 

“Isn’t that going to hurt?”

“No, cutie. Those are meant for this type of play.”

Jisung blinked for a moment before he moved to collect the items, as well as the long lighter that was just off to the side of them. 

“If its too much, I’ll use a safeword.”

“We don’t have one. We should probably have one. What’s a good one to have?”

You reach and stroke his arm, endeared by the way he began to fret about possibly harming you. 

“How about…’chipmunk?’” 

You both share a look before bursting out into laughter. 

“It’s ridiculous, sounds like a plan.” 

You raise up so Jisung can put the blindfold on you. His fingers were warm as they lightly brushed against your ears and you nearly laugh at the ticklish sensation before you feel those same fingers move down to your chin, tilting your head up. 

“Anything off limits?”

“No hair, no holes.”

Another beat of silence passes between you before another small fit of laughter. Slowly, you lie back on the pillow and bite your lip in anticipation as you hear the lighter. 

“You look beautiful like this.” Jisung’s voice is soft and tender. You smile, your lip still trapped between your teeth before a gasp slipped past them as Jisung grabbed the lace bra portion of your lingerie, tugging down and exposing your chest to the night air. 

Before any instruction left your lips, you let out a pleasured yelp as the first couple of drops of the candle’s wax landed on your breast. 

“Oh! Oh-mm-” Once the shock settled, you reach above you, grabbing the bars of the headboard to keep your hands occupied as you wait in anticipation for the next set of warm drops along your skin. 

“You can, mm…use the vibrator near the pillow on me if you feel like you can use both hands. It’s a- ah shit- a thruster.” You squirm and moan as warm drops roll down your chest, your shoulder, your thigh, and your stomach. Jisung doesn’t respond verbally, and for a moment you consider repeating yourself before his hand came around to pull your thigh further apart. 

You oblige him, spreading them apart, trembling as you try to listen for him as he stands. 

Drip, then drop. 

Your stomach tightened as four drops land on them, racing down the center of your body for a few moments before cooling and stilling. 

Drop~ 

Drip~

One landed between the valley of your breasts, another, on the inside of your thigh. 

“We should do this more often. You’re dripping from how excited you are.” Jisung’s voice is coming from somewhere from your left, and you instinctively turn your head over in that direction. Fingers brush along your right cheek, but you turn in that direction soon after. 

There’s a silence that stretches in the room before a small ‘pop’.

It’s the cap to a bottle of lube, and you give your body a small wiggle, getting settled as you try to strain your ears to hear Jisung well enough. 

The springs in your bed creak as Jisung kneels onto it, leaning over your body and kissing the top of your head. 

“Does it feel good?” He whispered into your ear. You clench on nothing, shaking in anticipation before nodding, nearly breathless from the intimacy. 

“You’re supposed to be instructing me, aren’t you?” Jisung teased, rubbing the toy between your folds as he kissed down from your ear to your jaw and then back up to your lips. 

You open your mouth to continue your instructions, but anything you were going to say goes out the window when you hear an audible click followed by buzzing. 

Your back arched as the toy vibrated right against your clit. 

“Oops.” Jisung chuckled against the skin of your collarbone, rubbing the toy up and down against you while your grip on the headboard tightened. 

“F-Fuck, that’s not fair-”

“I just want to make you feel good, y’know.” Jisung hummed, reaching up and undoing the blindfold with his free hand. You meet his eyes, making sure he knew how good you were feeling by holding his gaze. 

“S-slowly, you can put it in and raise it to the second mmm…the second level.”

Jisung looked down, pushing the vibrator into you and biting his lip at the sound that escaped you when part of the toy settled against your clit, buzzing at a stronger intensity as Jisung wasted no time in following your previous order and pressing the button. 

Jisung leaned into your space, nudging you until you raised your head to kiss him. He started slow, pumping the toy in and out of you at his own rhythm, all while taking his time to kiss you, mapping out every inch of your mouth and swallowing down every breathless moan and gasp you treated him to. 

“L-Like that…mm, this…this one is my favorite, y’know. Its the one I use when you’re out town and I want to- shit, Jisung- nn…when I want to think about you the most.” 

You fight the urge to arch, glancing down at your own body and clenching when you saw all the ribbons of dried wax adorning your skin. Jisung had done a good job of not getting it on the lingerie itself, too.

“Your favorite, hm?” Jisung kissed the top of your head, his own heart fluttering at the visual of you pleasuring yourself with the very same toy in his hand. 

“Th-the second button. The one b-below the one by your thumb. P-press and hold it for a few- fuck!” You arch up against his chest, grabbing his shoulders as the thrusting part of the toy was turned on. 

Jisung looped one of his arms around your waist, smiling with a glint in his eye as he drank in every expression on your face. 

You would realize later that you’d lost part of the night’s play, since all forms of instruction went out of the window. Jisung licked his lips ever so slightly, nodding in approval as your voice raised an octave the closer you got to your release. 

“Jisung!”

“I’m right here, baby. I got you, its okay.” He spoke softly, aching between his legs as he watched you squirm beneath him, clenching for dear life on the toy.

His grip on you tightened as you finally unravel in his arms, your nails digging bluntly into his arms as the toy continued to buzz and thrust inside of you. 

Your mouth falls open. One, two, three seconds go by before a loud cry of pleasure fell from them. Jisung chuckled, noticing you’d clenched so tight that the thrusting of the poor toy came to a stop. 

“God, Y/n, did it feel that good?” He teased you, at least being merciful enough to turn the toy off before he slowly pulled it out of you, setting it far enough out of the way so it wouldn’t get rolled over on by accident. 

You pant, looking up at him in a blissed daze before cracking a smile and pulling him down into a kiss. Jisung went without resistance, groaning softly before a muffled noise left his lips as you threw your weight, rolling so he was under you. 

He looked up at you, his hands instinctively finding their way to your hips as you climbed on top of him, pressing your heads together. 

“Did I do a good job?” Jisung inquired, his lips quirking as a light blush dusted over his cheeks. You smile and steal a kiss before trailing your hand down his chest.

“Of course you did. Give me a second to get my bearings back and I’ll use one on you while I ride you.” You promise, scooting down his body. Jisung perked in surprise, eyes widening.

“Wait, what?”

You look up at him after settling yourself between his legs, mirroring him from earlier. You take hold of his cock, stroking with slow, languid strokes as your lips curl up, already formulating a 3 step plan to make him come undone involving no less than two more vibrators and possibly bringing the blindfold back. 

Instead of divulging in your plan, you simply lean over the bed and into the chest you’d left open on the nightstand, grabbing two bullet vibes and two silicone finger slips. 

Jisung watched you curiously, tilting his head to the side as he watched you push the vibes into the ribbed silicone finger slips and coat them in a light layer of lube.

“What is that for?” He inquired, thighs flexing as you crawl back between them. You smile, grabbing his shaft and grinning as he jolted, feeling the vibrations right underneath the crown of his cock. 

You take your time, stroking up an down a you hold his gaze. He quickly found out, jerking his hips and groaning at the foreign-but welcomed-sensation. 

“Y-Y/n-”

You fondle his balls, spurrened on by both the whimpers and growls falling from Jisung’s lips. 

“Does it feel good, Ji?” You inquire, smiling from ear to ear as his thighs shook. He opened his mouth to respond but it fell short when you place both of the fingers with the vibrators right over his slit. 

“FUCK!”

You stroke and caress him, watching his expression carefully with a twinkle in your eye as you tease him relentlessly with the pleasurable buzzing, tracing them all over his cock and balls. 

Jisung’s fists curl into the sheets, his eyes closing as he groaned, creeping closer and closer to the edge. 

“I-I’m gonna cum if you keep up.”

“Go ahead, we’re not done tonight.” You purr, grabbing the base of his cock and stroking quickly while you lower your mouth, kissing and licking the head while keeping your eyes on your boyfriend’s face. 

Jisung had been patient all night, but the moment he forced his eyes open and looked down, his body locked up as his eyes landed on yours. 

You hold still as he came into your mouth, a whimper and a groan falling from his lips. You keep still, making sure each wave rolled through him before you pull away, licking your lips and taking the finger vibes off. 

Jisung ran a hand through his hair, dazed and disoriented while you laugh, straddling him. 

“You okay?”

He rose a finger, still panting. 

“Gimme a sec, you vixen. I can’t recover that damn fast. I’ve never used the cumminator 3000 and it's buddies on myself like you.”

You snort slightly, leaning down to lay on him, kissing at his face until he placed a weak and tired kiss to his lips. Maybe you would cut him a break and let him gather his bearings before lovingly bullying him by riding him. 

You place a kiss to his adam’s apple.

“Fineee, I’ll get you some water in a sec. Next time, there will be more surprises in store.”

Jisung rose his head, looking at your back as you roll out of bed. 

“What do you mean more? Y/n?? Hey!”

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[penkura]

last forever [1/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Notes: Hello, this is a fanfic I've been working on for a few months now. I'm still not done, but I figured I would go ahead and start posting it here as a cross post with Quotev and AO3. Sometimes I find this, Zoro and the story, hard to write, but I'm trying. This will NOT be a one-to-one rehashing of the arcs but will have more focus on Zoro and Reader's relationship as it progresses. The first two chapters are written in past tense, everything afterward is present tense, sorry about that. I've been having more fun writing present tense instead of past tense. I have the first three chapters completed, I'm still working on chapter four, but hope to have it done for Monday, and I intend to update mostly on Mondays for this one. Zoro and Reader call each other husband and wife at times, it's in italics on purpose. Hope you enjoy this one.

[Ch. 2]

Never did you think or imagine your wedding day would be like this. In a courthouse in a backwoods town with no real witnesses, to someone you'd only known for about a year and a half now. This wasn't even out of love for him, he'd only agreed to prevent you from being legally forced into marriage with a man several years older than you who had two other wives already.

No, you and Roronoa Zoro weren't in love, but he was trying to help you out so you didn't end up in a bad situation or with bodyguards chasing you down to force you back to your home village. When you had told him the story, he was honestly disgusted hearing how your family was treating you like an object to be sold, instead of as your own person. The whole reason you'd run away from home was to avoid this, but a letter brought to you by your family's personal carrier bird a few weeks ago changed that. As soon as you turned eighteen, if you weren't married or engaged to someone else, you'd be forced into marrying the creep that agreed to this when you were just fifteen. While you broke down in tears out of fear, Zoro told you he'd marry you to keep you from being taken back home. You told him he didn't have to, but he brought up that after your family heard, if they dropped the arranged marriage, you could get an annulment and it would be like this marriage never happened. You'd be free from your family and the creep, still able to travel and live your own life.

You were so grateful you couldn't stop crying and thanked him numerous times, never once telling him you hoped you'd never have to get an annulment with him. Your feelings for him were still new, he was a year older than you, but he'd protected you well in the time you knew each other. Of course, you could hold your own as a swordswoman yourself, but Zoro always tried to leave the recon to you while he took out your bounty targets.

So, a week after you turned eighteen, once you reached a small town with a courthouse, you both immediately went there to get this sham of a marriage completed. The clerk looked you both over several times, asking your ages and you lied, claiming you were both twenty-one when she said you'd need parental approval if you were younger than twenty. She didn't ask for proof, instead mumbling something to herself about how it seemed people were getting married younger and younger every year. No more questions about witnesses, parental approval, or identification to prove your ages, the older woman just filled out the paperwork and had you two sign it for processing.

While it was being processed, she sent you to the other side of the room to sit and wait.

"Thank you."

Zoro just shrugged, wishing the old bat would hurry it up so you could find a hotel and get a room so he could go to sleep. "You don't have to keep thanking me."

Nodding, you bit your lip. It was weird to think you'd legally be husband and wife, despite not being in love with each other, but part of you hoped that maybe over time Zoro would come to love you, and you him, so you'd be a few steps ahead of the curve.

The clerk called you both back over a few minutes later, stamping the papers in her hands and pulling a few more. "You're legally married now, congratulations. I've given you an extra copy since you requested it, and here's an annulment form if you've decided you made a mistake. You have six months to fill out and submit it, at any courthouse, otherwise you'll have to get a divorce."

You nodded and thanked the old woman, who told you two to be careful as you both left. You weren't entirely sure why, but if Zoro knew, he kept his mouth shut about it. Once you left, Zoro started looking for a place to stay while you found somewhere you could have dinner. Neither of you planned to stay in this town for more than a night, so you weren't worried about cashing in any bounties that day.

After finding a place to eat, you stayed nearby while you wrote a brief letter to your family and sent it to them, with your marriage certificate, by your family carrier bird. You really just hoped and prayed that they would accept this information and not still demand you return home, whether they wanted to meet Zoro because they believed your letter, or they wanted you to annul the marriage immediately to marry the creep that agreed to it first. Either way, you had no plans to follow their demands or return home.

You and Zoro didn't meet up until it was about dinner time, not a word about your marriage being spoken but your plans to leave the next morning and head to the next town were the main subject. You split off again after dinner, Zoro giving you the second key to your hotel room while he took a walk, in case you wanted to go and shower or go on to bed. You did so, taking a long shower to keep yourself distracted before choosing one of the two beds as yours for the night, laying face down with your face in the pillow. By the time Zoro did return, you were nearly asleep until he woke you when he opened the door.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine…I wasn't sleeping yet."

You weren't sure if it was just you, but things felt awkward with Zoro now. It probably was just you, because he went to bed like nothing was different, telling you that he wanted to leave as soon as possible in the morning. Shells Town was the next destination for the two of you, since a Marine base was there you figured new bounty posters would be available.

You spent the night half awake, unsure of what you were feeling anymore, but you knew one thing.

It was definitely not the kind of wedding day you ever expected to have.

+!+

What do I do, what do I do??

Pacing around the Marine fortress, you didn't know if you should even try to break in and free Zoro or just wait for the month he agreed on with Helmeppo to be up. All of this because he protected a little girl from the brat's dogs and punched him in the face, the spoiled boy using it as an excuse to bring Zoro in like a criminal, and you just weren't sure what you should do. He'd told you not to interfere and when Helmeppo tried to include you in it, you were surprised Zoro threatened him further and said you had no part in the matter.

Stopping, you sighed and crouched, holding your head in your hands and whining. "What do I do…?"

"Hey, you okay??"

The voice above you sounded kind, and you looked up to see a boy with a straw hat and a scarf under his left eye, with another young boy who had pink hair and glasses. Both looked concerned, wondering why you looked like you were fighting a headache outside of the Marine fortress.

"I'm fine…"

"You sure?" The boy in the hat grinned at you, wanting to really make sure you were fine, getting eye level with you while the other boy looked nervously around. "You don't look fine!"

"Luffy!"

You laughed, sighing a bit and standing up, the boy called Luffy following suit. "Yeah, I'm…I'm sure. My friend just…the Marines got him, I'm not sure what to do."

Luffy and the other boy, Koby you learned, both questioned you until you revealed it was Zoro that was your friend, causing Luffy to get excited as he climbed the wall to look into the yard, while Koby was even more nervous than before. He couldn't even believe that you were friends with the notorious pirate hunter Zoro, let alone traveling with him.

"Hey so that's him??"

Koby climbed up with Luffy and nearly fainted, almost falling off the wall when he saw Zoro. You were so focused on the two boys you didn't notice the little girl, Rika, climbing in and over the wall with rice balls in hand. You could hear her offering them to Zoro despite him telling her to scram, before Helmeppo showed up and had her thrown back over the wall, Luffy catching her and surprising you.

"Hey, I'll take her back to her mom's place!"

Luffy nodded and gave Rika to you, letting you run off with her. You got Rika back to her mother's restaurant, making sure she was alright when Luffy and Koby arrived. Luffy told Rika that Zoro actually ate the rice balls Helmeppo ruined, which didn't really surprise you. He had a soft spot for kids, you'd noticed over time, and always tried to help them if he could.

When Helmeppo came back around and started bragging that he was going to have Zoro executed in a few days, Luffy did the same thing and punched him in the face. The three of you ran off, Luffy jumping over the wall to tell Zoro that if he helped him out, he had to join his pirate crew, but Zoro didn't get a chance to fully agree or deny before Luffy ran off to the fortress to find his swords. Koby and you attempted to untie Zoro, but he was arguing against this due to the deal he made with Helmeppo.

"Come on, I only have to last a couple weeks more!"

"He's not gonna let you go! He's gonna have you executed tomorrow!"

"What?!"

Zoro looked at you, wondering if you had heard that or if Koby was lying to him, even though the younger boy had no reason to lie to him.

"I heard every word, that's exactly what he said."

The Marines, including Axe-Hand Morgan, came after the three of you and attempted to fire at you and Koby, but you knew how to use your sword well enough to block them from hitting Koby or you with their bullets.

Luffy returned finally, blocking another set of bullets about to hit the three of you, showing off his rubber powers which actually kind of freaked you out. Zoro, finally having his three swords back, was able to get free and stop the Marines from attacking all of you any further, calling Luffy Captain after agreeing to join his pirate crew. Another shock for you, one that you'd have to deal with later on.

Luffy was the one to beat Morgan, the other Marines all cheering once they realized they were free from the tyrant's reign.

The whole thing made you smile, glad things had worked out, even as Zoro nearly passed out from hunger, making you laugh and shake your head.

"You're so lame sometimes, husband."

+!+

"So why'd you call him husband earlier??"

Face turning red, you looked at Zoro who sat next to you in Luffy's small boat that just barely comfortably held the three of you. Your husband was fast asleep, arms behind his head, but you waved your hand in front of his face to make doubly sure he was asleep, before hearing a light snore come from him.

Scooting across the boat, you sat right next to Luffy who gave you a confused smile.

"Look, Luffy…you can't tell anyone else you recruit."

"Huh?"

You were trying to keep your voice down so Zoro didn't wake, but Luffy acted like he couldn't even hear you.

"Zoro and I are married."

"You're WH–"

You threw your hands over his mouth, looking over to Zoro barely moving, but still fast asleep. You'd quieted Luffy just in time so he didn't wake your swordsman.

"We're married, but it's only because he's helping me with something. We're not in love, we're not a couple. It's…a marriage of convenience okay?"

Luffy nodded, like he understood everything you just told him. He didn't really, but he at least understood you and Zoro weren't in love, just married.

Weird, but he thought he got it.

"Please, don't tell anyone. I'm waiting to hear from my family before we annul the marriage."

That part confused him, but Luffy decided to agree and promised he wouldn't tell anyone, he didn't question you further. He thought you and Zoro were close, he wouldn't have been that surprised if you said you two were in love and together, but if you said you weren't, that this was just a friend helping another friend, he'd believe you.

That, and as soon as his stomach started growling he forgot anything else he wanted to ask.

"Do you have any food, Luffy?"

"Nope!" Luffy grinned and your face paled, looking at Zoro who just snored again and you had a feeling of dread.

"Oh lord what have we done?"

[onyourowndaisymae]

the obey me franchise as we know it is ending.

i'm sure if you're following this blog that you have seen the announcement from the devs on the official obey me account. they announced that december of 2024 will bring the last batch of game content for the og obey me and obey me nightbringer apps. they're very clear that the lore of obey me will continue into other projects, and that the characters will return. please read the official statement if you have not already.

i don't anticipate anyone has been waiting to hear my opinion on the matter. but the announcement has had me thinking. i want to update you all both on my feelings about the in-game story ending and my future plans for obey me works on this blog. there's one particular takeaway that keeps coming to mind with all of this.

there is nothing wrong with enjoying romance, or with loving otome games.

i think i noticed my interest dwindling in obey me nightbringer going into season 2. there was this storyline about the brothers being summoned to return to heaven or face the threat of a war between the celestial realm and the devildom, and the drama around the plot felt very tangible and heavy with emotions. i was so sure season 2 was going to reflect these stakes. and then it just... didn't. season 2 didn't seem to care much about the previous season at all. i fell behind in playing, but i kept up with summaries made by my peers. i had every intention to catch up once the game drew me back in.

but it just... didn't.

i think nightbringer's storyline is pretty lackluster. i'm not going to claim that og was some stroke of brilliance, but the writing was pretty interesting. actions had consequences. the stakes felt important. and that's not nostalgia talking, either-- i got into this game way later than some of my peers. this blog just celebrated its two year anniversary earlier this month, and at that time i hadn't even heard of the game. i just... there was something special about og. and there was something special about the first ten lessons of nightbringer, too. it felt like there was real care put into the story, into establishing a semi-coherent line of lore between plot threads. i don't believe that care is here anymore. it hasn't been for awhile. the events are bad. the main story is bad. character complexities have been flattened down into quippy one-liners and boring texts. asmo is shallow. satan likes cats. beel is hungry. these characters i once raced to consume content for in order to analyze each dimension of their personality have all been made boring and repetitive to fit into a boring and repetitive plot.

there's also a point to be made about the age rating and clear shift in audience changing from og to nightbringer. jesus. that shit was so painful and probably contributed to why nightbringer felt so juvenile at times. i am not a child. i am not particularly interested in my romance games being targeted towards kids. i'm also not all that interested in my romance games being ashamed of romance games, aka the clear conclusion nightbringer has led me to believe. the severe lack of romance in the later seasons of the franchise was utterly painful, like the game was pulling a switcheroo on the fans as to what the game would be about. where raunchy jokes and suggestive scenes would be now feels hollow-- each kiss from the characters feels like a chaste way to placate the audience into not protesting the complete and utter lack of intimate connection with the characters. not every game has to be smut, obviously, and i'm not saying i'm mad at obey me for not being straight-up pornographic. but for fucks sake-- season 2 of og opened with an aphrodesiac plotline. clearly, the writers have had no problem with coy, fade-to-black suggestiveness before. the exclusion of romance is such a detriment to nightbringer, and shows a clear lack of interest from the devs in continuing to write the romance game they promised.

basically, i'm not a fan of nightbringer. i think the story of obey me is cooked so far. it's hard not to feel a bit betrayed, either. i understand companies have to make money, and obviously choosing more profitable forms of media or audiences is a choice companies will make, but... i don't know. it feels like solmare wants to transition away from romance when most of us are explicitly here for it. what audience is left when you abandon both your genre and original format? i don't want to the story to continue in a manga or anime. that defeats the purpose of the gn!mc they created, as well as the whole damn plot revolving around the player character. if that's where the franchise's future lies, well, then... i guess i'm not going to be keeping up with it in the future.

do not misunderstand me-- i have lots of love for the obey me games. i structured this damn blog around them. i wrote fanfiction and made community and supported these games financially. but i have a right to my own interests. i started playing obey me because it was an otome game. the main drawing points were the accessibility of the format (mobile game) and the romance. lots of people are disappointed, as am i. the devs (and other fans) can scream and shout from the rooftops that "obey me isn't over", and technically, they're right, but what is obey me anymore? is it the characters they've flattened for marketability? the lore they've retconned and destroyed? the games they're no longer continuing?

to be clear, all of this is speculation. i may eat my words next year when they come out with "obey me 3: mc's return" or whatever the hell they have in store. but i'm not really interested if it's not a well-written, interesting game centered around a solid plot, familiar characters, and romance. solmare has a lot to prove should they want to capture my interest again for future projects.

as for the future of obey me on this blog? for starters, i will not be mass deleting any of my works. i personally detest when people do this, and i will not be contributing to this phenomena.

going forward, i will, predictably, branch out into other games. i've been really into love & deepspace and ikemen villians recently. both of those games have very interesting plotlines. i feel revitalized playing them-- they feel like a lover letter to the genre, giving the same level of interest and care that fans do into keeping the game running. so expect those sorts of games to end up here. i also have a separate twisted wonderland blog, as that game, even though it's not romance, is still full of wonderful characters and a very interesting storyline that i adore. but obey me has a spot in my heart forever, and i will continue to write about it. i still have many ideas, ocs to introduce, series to make, aus to explore... despite the games' story ending, the stories here will live on.

i am warning you now, though, that i will be taking many creative liberties with the lore. and if new content comes out that i'm not keeping up with, and it somehow contradicts my works... well, tough shit. solmare can kiss my ass. you will have to pry these characters out of my cold, dead, rotting hands before you can have them back.

to summarize: the obey me games are finishing the story by the end of this year. i will probably not keep up with the lore should it continue in a serious capacity in forms like manga, anime, live shows, etc. i am interested in writing more within the universe, but i will be tweaking lore as i see fit to undo the damage solmare has done recently. this blog is going to expand more into other games as well. none of my fics will be deleted en masse due to this announcement. the voice actors and people who poured all their love into these games have my affection, but solmare is on my shitlist forever probably.

[astarionancuntnin]

here's my masterlist with everything i've written! note that:

all fics are explicit and astarion x fem!reader unless specified

series and multichapter fics have their masterlist linked with all chapters and ao3 links

one-shots/requests will have their main theme mentioned in parentheses next to the title, and the full lists of content warnings are available on their linked post/ao3 page

Requests: OPEN!

Current pending requests: 3

- i am more comfortable writing astarion (spawn or ascended) and halsin, but im open to get out of my comfort zone and write other characters! - i write in third or second POV (more experienced with x reader/tav) - comfortable with most types of writing (fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort) - i am willing to go extremely dark and kinky (basically ask and if its above my limit ill tell you, but if ive already written about it, im cool with it) - send an ask and ill get started on it! (i am quite busy recently, but i promise to get around to your request sooner rather than later)

fics are posted in chronological order of creation

this list will keep getting updated as i upload more

full list below the cut!

she was a wildfire that couldn't be tamed; he was the night star admiring her ruthless dance

Undisclosed Desires (Denial of feelings, rivals to lovers) (part 1)

Masterlist

astarion and you, along with your other companions, have been traveling together for a few weeks now. he gets on your nerves at least once a day. but as much as you hate to admit it, your late night activites are plagued by him. little do you know, hes aware of the effect he has on you and intends to use that to his advantage.

Bad Blood (Mature, Angst, follow up fic to Undisclosed Desires, Astarion POV) (part 2)

Masterlist (not posted yet)

it was meant to be a nice, simple plan. get the sorceress to fall in love with him to assure his safety. what he didn't plan was to fall for her as well, and all the complications that came along with it.

A Lesson in Taming Your Dark Consort

(all fics in this series are one-shots that surround the dynamic between Ascended Astarion and his consort Malva (my oc evil tav), heavily BDSM driven)

Taming a Tempest (spanking, semi-public sex)

oh, to be the Vampire Ascendant's dark consort. to have eternity and enhanced powers right at her finger tips - only to be denied. but two could play this game, and Malva would make Astarion regret witholding anything from her.

read on ao3

read on tumblr

Dancing on the Edge of a Knife (knife play, orgasm denial)

ever since his ascension, Malva was convinced that Astarion was the only person who could understand her every twisted desire. well, almost. there are some things she still keeps to herself, he simply wouldn't understand this part of her, the one who dances on the very edge of her knife.

read on ao3

read on tumblr

Contributions to Angels of The Night Collection

Blood Sisters (MalvaxMerelind)

Die For You (Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Ascended Astarion) Completed work!

contains some Shadowheart x fem!reader

Masterlist

the ascension changed the person Astarion was, or so you believed. you broke up and parted ways after defeating the netherbrain, thinking it was for the best, but when you see him again 6 months later at the reunion, you realize you never truly moved on. and neither did he.

Meet Me In The Woods (predator/prey)

read on ao3

read on tumblr

it's astarion's turn to keep watch for the night. everyone's off to bed and he's still gone hunting and nowhere to be seen. you refuse to be the one to fill in for him again, so you venture into the woods looking for where he was last seen.

Midnight's Embrace (weed, polyamory)

astarion x female!reader x halsin

read on ao3

read on tumblr

you can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep. your fight with the nether brain is approaching fast and your anxiety is only increasing. halsin proposes to try a special brand of herbs to alleviate your mind. turns out this herb also awoke something else in you.

Nothing But A Dream (somnophilia)

read on ao3

read on tumblr

you've agreed to take things slow with astarion, only partaking in nighttime activities when he specifically desires them, and this morning, he wants you. but he would hate to intrude on your precious beauty sleep.

Run, Little Fox (predator/prey, hate sex, mildly dubious consent)

read on ao3

read on tumblr

this brat of a rogue questioned your leadership one time too many, it is time he learns his place, and youll do it the only way he'll listen to you: with a challenge. if you win, he will be held accountable for his actions, but if he wins, he gets to use you every night. it doesn't matter anyway, you'll win... won't you?

Public Display of Affection (A!A, jealousy, semi-public/loud sex, hints of voyeurism feat. Gale)

read on ao3

read on tumblr

his consort - his beautiful, too kind for her own good - forever young lover. she was his, and his only, and he believed it was long overdue to make that statement clear among the rest of their group. after tonight, the only name spiling from her luscious lips would be his.

Death is Not an Escape (Mature, Dead By Daylight AU, heavy angst)

read on ao3

read on tumblr

it wasn't supposed to end like this, they were supposed to get out and defeat the absolute - together. but as a dark fog swallowed them whole, their fates changed drastically.

The Ways of Worship (Priest/Modern AU, Corruption)

read on ao3

read on tumblr

this faith was all you've ever known. so when you wake up a morning with the dreadful feeling that you've lost it, you do the one thing that makes sense - confess to your local priest. when he offers his guidance with the promise of making you whole again, you accept without a second thought. your first lesson begins tonight.

Remember Me (Angst, Audio adaptation)

read on ao3

read on tumblr

you can't make sense of where you are or even how you ended up in this cell - hells, you're not even sure of who you are at this point; any memories of your past are a blur. it's all the more confusing when a group of adventurers come to rescue you, and a particularly worried pale elf takes it upon himself to help you remember who you are.

sleeping next to astarion

A!A's children

your short future with astarion

A!A being possessive of his consort

[genericpuff]

I've watched both (this is a hazbin hotel ask btw) but tend to keep my eyes closed to merch sales (and such forth) unless it can pierce my five degrees of separation

also gotta admit that I've been not keeping up with HB since... honestly the since the season end. yeah I'm behind.

What do you mean they're waiting for what's functionally pamphlets? It's taking MONTHS for a pamphlet?

That's funny in the bad way 😭

yeah so from MY UNDERSTANDING (i.e. correct me if I'm wrong) the playbill was part of some exclusive package deal where buyers would receive some keychains, trading cards, and a playbill which was supposedly going to be filled with exclusive interviews/quotes/background information/etc. about the show's production. That playbill was exclusive to the pre-orders, meaning if you didn't pre-order this merch package, presumably you could still purchase the merch package on its own (or possibly its parts separately on the merch site like the keychains n junk) but the playbill would ONLY be sent to those who pre-ordered.

The pre-orders started around a year or so ago, but then roughly 9 months ago when the bundles started to show up, people reported that the playbill - literally the centerpiece of the marketing - was missing.

Since then, the playbills still haven't arrived, but customers have gotten TWO separate emails written from the "characters" of Hazbin Hotel updating them on the situation. Yes, you read that right, the emails meant to update people on the part of their pre-order package that was still missing - a package that cost them $76 and again, the playbill was exclusive to - were written in-character like a roleplay post in a message board forum.

And for some reason, the A24 staff decided that Husk would be the best character to deliver the bad news, a character who is, like many characters in Hazbin, just an asshole.

It's wild that this even got approved as an official email from the A24 team because let's face it - if you had spent $76 with the good faith expectation that you were gonna get everything you were promised in return for that $76 is this really the response you'd want to get? I'm not exactly sure when this email was sent out but according to some of the people reporting on it via Twitter, it was around the end of January (so the end of the month that folks were expecting it to roll in). Not a great way to tell people that the product they're waiting on - and didn't expect to be missing in the first place - was delayed.

Months later, a second email rolled out, and A24 sort of learned their lesson, not by actually addressing their customers as human beings, but this time as Charlie, who is at least not a complete dickhead.

It still doesn't really answer any questions though because it's putting the responsibility on fictional characters to explain what's going on. So of course everything is masked behind the "teehee, Alastor did a naughty and Niffty got stuck in the printing press machine!" roleplaying talk which literally does not actually tell anyone what's really going on, just gives them a vague impression based on what they chose to make a fictional character say.

Sure, it's nicer than Husk, but it's still disingenuous and frankly just cringe esp when this is concerning the interests of paying customers.

I don't know if this is Vivzie's doing or someone else on the A24 team, but it really feels like they're trying to operate the same way HH would have operated back when it was just a Youtube series... but it's not a small-time Youtube production anymore, it's a full on Amazon show with hired employees and a customer base that expects the thing they paid for to actually show up. So at best this is just really immature mishandling of a situation that should be taken at least relatively seriously.

And really, out of all the things to delay... the playbills? Really? For anyone who's not familiar with what a playbill is, it's literally just a booklet. Professional, "Playbill" branded playbills that you see in legitimate theatre productions are (if I recall correctly) anywhere from 30-60 pages, but a lot of those pages are often dedicated to ad space of other productions and companies, with maybe only 10-15 pages dedicated to the actual production. People love collecting them though because you typically only receive them when you go to see a play itself, so it can be a great souvenir from limited run productions.

It's kinda like comic collecting for theatre-goers, they can serve as memorabilia or as "proof" that you were there to attend a specific show. Though playbills don't tend to accrue as much value as much as comics can, they can still have a lot of sentimental value.

Hazbin Hotel isn't a play though. It's a streaming show available on Amazon Prime that anyone can watch anywhere in the world. It doesn't exactly have the need for something like a playbill, because the exclusivity is simply tied to how much extra money you're willing to give them for the pre-order, not to any sort of unique in-person experience of going to the theatre and watching the show live with your own eyes.

Granted, Hazbin Hotel does obviously take heavy inspiration from theatre culture as it is itself a musical, so I can understand the novelty and appeal of creating a unique playbill for it. I just don't really understand why that's the item that got delayed when a booklet containing exclusive info should be one of the easiest things to make, especially when it comes to production costs (printing a bunch of playbills shouldn't be anywhere near as expensive as producing keychains and trading cards).

But there was an update on reddit about this a couple weeks ago and it seemingly contradicts what A24 - sorry, 'Charlie', sigh - said months ago that they were working hard on specifically printing and packaging the playbill orders-

FINALLY the HH fandom gets a real human being from A24 responding, but they're saying that the designs are still being worked on??? So this means they haven't even started printing the things yet?? So that's an entirely DIFFERENT issue that hasn't been addressed up until this point.

So yeah, again, I don't have any stakes in this and it's definitely not something that I'm like, putting a lot of emotional investment into, but it has still been fascinating to check in on every now and then. Big condolences to the HH fans who paid $76+ for this package and are still waiting for the MAIN CENTERPIECE to show up - if you're one of those fans and are now reading this, you're probably gonna be waiting a little while longer because apparently they haven't even designed them yet 💀😆