#and i only know because i told someone at my current job i was leaving

[meguwumibear]

i am so livid my new job made me set up an account on this government website to prove i am who i say i am and that im qualified to work in my field without warning me the information wouldnt be kept private so my whole address and number is now completely visible when my name is googled 🙃🙃

[witchywithwhiskey]

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away. 

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk. 

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in. 

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on. 

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away. 

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway. 

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure. 

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit. 

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove. 

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders. 

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice. 

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with. 

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become. 

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized. 

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life. 

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears. 

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee. 

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger. 

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes. 

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans. 

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone. 

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing. 

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine. 

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore. 

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time. 

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions. 

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder. 

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes. 

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line. 

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? 

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. 

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well. 

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs. 

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup. 

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove. 

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve. 

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk. 

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists. 

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor. 

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.” 

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life. 

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you. 

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.” 

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life. 

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town. 

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet. 

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark. 

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?” 

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.” 

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.” 

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window. 

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it. 

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans. 

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his. 

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.” 

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument. 

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together. 

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together. 

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer. 

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.” 

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat. 

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.  

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans. 

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning. 

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone. 

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname. 

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself. 

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths. 

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.” 

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap. 

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.” 

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near. 

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.” 

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face. 

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand. 

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself. 

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.” 

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine. 

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body. 

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door. 

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus. 

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”  

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. 

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- The Reveal

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N gets rejected for the sixth time. Max win's the Monaco grand prix 2023. Y/N decides she needs time for herself.

No hate to anyone, it's for the story

{Reader's POV}

I fell asleep crying, a faint buzzing from my phone was heard from the other room. I woke up after a few hours at 3 am when I found my phone which was burning up. The messages hadn't stop coming. They had gotten quite frantic as I scrolled through my notifications. I decided to reply to Max's messages.

He was still the guy I liked, I couldn't not reply. But I was hurt and in no shape to be talking to him. I don't know what Max said after my message because my phone shut down. I pushed myself to clean myself up and my surrounding. I was a stress cleaner and I'm so grateful to having 2 jobs right now. It meant my mind would be preoccupied. I cleaned my whole house before leaving for school in the morning. My eyes were red and puffy; I was on coffee. I had yet to switch my phone on. I wasn't ready to face Max yet.

Today was the worst day, not only because of last night's revelation but I had the least amount of classes today. None of the kids needed help after class either. That meant I was left to my own devices. When I switched the phone on, I could see missed calls and texts from Max and a couple voice messages; from the night before and today morning I guess. I opened up Google to check his schedule; he was in Monaco, which was also his home currently. I found out a lot about him, you think you know someone but then Google tells you otherwise. His dad was as shitty as he described. His records and feats were astonishing and if I wasn't this angry at him for hiding it from me, I would've been so proud and told him so. His Instagram feed was pretty and polished and he posted so much racing content. I found his streaming account with a team, he was exactly like the Max that called me everyday with occasional appearances from the cats on stream. People spoke so rudely about Max, it angered me to no end. He was a kind man, a liar but a sweet man.

The real kicker was Max's girlfriend's account where I found so many pictures of them together with her daughter, from what I found out. He looked happy, he had a family like he always said he wanted. I couldn't help but smile bitterly, a part of me wished that it was me who was the woman beside him with our kid. Life is cruel in some ways, mine is satire at best. Here, I can't date a man because I'm hung up on a guy I've never met before while said man has a family. I felt tears streaming down my face which I quickly wiped them off. I had enough of pity and sympathy stares since the morning to last a lifetime, I can't deal with any more of them.

I knew I wanted to talk to Max, the only guy who has ever understood me, however, I also knew that if we spoke I wouldn't be listening to him. I was scared I would lose the one true friend I have. Would Max understand where I was coming from? Why did he hide this from me? Did he not trust me enough? I get it, but you are a public figure. I don't know how to feel about all of this. It was the weekend tomorrow. I would be left with my thoughts and I probably shouldn't confront Max before his race on Sunday, right?

I spent the next two days planning how I would talk to Max. How I would ask him why he hid everything from me? I didn't want to fight him; my parents always said I was rude and difficult to work with, that my anger consumed me, that my words were harsh. I wasn't supposed to show such negative emotions they said. I didn't want to lose him; but was I allowed to hold on to him when he never let me have him?

Max called and texted me every day but I was very scared, scared of becoming the monster my parents said I was, sacred of hurting the one I love. There I said it, said Max and love in the same sentence. I had threaded that line so carefully but after all of this, I realised that I've loved him for years and watching him be happy with some else hurt as much as knowing that I never truly knew Max. It was Sunday night, I checked the news and saw that Max won. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to rejoice watching the man I love win at what he was best at or be hurt watching him live a life I knew nothing about.

I texted him at night on Sunday, maybe he would be busy celebrating his win, I didn't know. I didn't know a lot of things. As I waited for the text back, I logged on to my emails that I had forgotten about to find a reply from the publication I had sent my work to; to be met with dismay. Another rejection, I'm not sure how many more rejections I could take. My hands shook, making the laptop fall from my lap onto the bed. I got up and got myself a glass of water.

I laid on my bed for god knows how long before the familiar ring of my phone pulled me out of my trance. I had taken the day off tomorrow. I knew I didn't have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with anything. I answered the call to a worried Max.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. Max looked at me confused. Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I could see the colour leave Max's face. He licked his lips before speaking. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? Max was quite, a sort of uncomfortable silence had enveloped us, for the first time in 10 years. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. I felt my voice begin to crack while I spoke, the lump in my throat unbearably big, my breathing was uneven. Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. (I smiled with only my lips) Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. I laughed bitterly. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I had tears streaming down my face at this point. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. (I wiped away my tears) Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I saw tears streaming down Max's face. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And then the screen went black.

[Max spent the whole week worrying about Y/N. He couldn't think straight. This was weird, she was never this busy before. It was stressing him out, he couldn't eat or sleep. He never even thought about the fact that maybe his lie had been exposed. When Y/N texted him, he was at a club in Monaco with the other drivers to celebrate his win. He only saw it after he got back home and immediately called her. She looked different, there was this sadness in her eyes. The smile didn't reach her eyes. And then she started talking, his heart was beating very fast. The moment she said Formula One, his whole world came crashing down. The more she spoke the more he felt like he was falling deeper, in a pit of his own making. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to explain himself but no words left his mouth. Then she started talking about his girlfriend. He felt like this was the last time he would get to talk to her, the last time he would hear her voice. This felt like the last time he would have her]

[phosphoracat]

The Love You Want

cw: none for now || mistrust, johnny being a flirt, ghost lowkey setting this up knowing the consequences, birthday trope

She hates when he leaves.

Ghost had been deployed for months before being allowed to return, and a mere two days later, he was called back to service. All Ghost had told her was “a while” when she'd asked how long he'd be gone this time; every time Ghost was deployed, they argued. She couldn't help herself- he was always gone for so long and it always hurt her, not because he was leaving due to his job, but because she'd be alone once more.

Previously, she'd told Ghost it was fine that he was deployed, that he'd be gone for extended periods of time, but over time it really started to bother her. Thus, leading to the current situation.

A knock sounded on the door of their apartment, and peeping through the hole, she saw a man standing there with flowers, chocolates, and a ridiculous mohawk. She debated on leaving him there and sneaking away from the door quietly, but her phone vibrated in her pocket, and a quick check proved it was Ghost.

‘Happy birthday, love’

She reluctantly unlocked the deadbolts and the extra locks on the door before slowly opening it, peering at the other man, on guard. “Can I help you?” she asked softly, fingers curling around the pepper spray hanging behind the door for situations such as these.

“Aye, lass,” came his deep, gravelly voice, as if he growled the words. “Ghost sent me. Said ya get lonely, and wanted to give ya a present for yer birthday.”

She narrowed her eyes a little, obviously not trusting this man. “I don't know who Ghost is,” she replied with practiced precision, well-trained by Ghost within the first few months of their relationship to lie when someone mentioned him or asked for him.

The man just huffed a laugh, nervous, shifting on his feet. “O'course ya do. Big scary bastard in the special forces. Simon Riley. Spooky fucker that wears a mask.”

Just then, before she could proceed to lie further, her phone started vibrating like crazy. Keeping an eye on the man at the door, she checked her phone- Ghost, naturally.

‘Let him in, dove’

‘It's just Johnny’

‘I sent him’

‘Baby, let him in, it's alright’

She heaved a sigh before pocketing her phone and shutting the door to fully unlock it, the chain removed from its slot, and reopening the door to ‘Johnny’. “Come in,” she sighed, placing her full trust in Ghost and turning her back to the Scottish man to start making herself and him a cup of coffee.

She can hear Johnny moving behind her, hyper-vigilant to his every move, tracking the sounds of his footsteps and even the way he breathed. Ghost had instilled this kind of panic, this kind of mistrust in her early on into their relationship, reinforcing it over the past few years. Hell, he praised her for it.

She listened as Johnny set the flowers on the kitchen counter behind her, as he set the chocolates beside it… and another item that she had no idea he even had. She only turned when coffee was in both mugs, making hers the way she liked it, offering it to Johnny black.

“So, bonnie… Ghost has a gift for you.”

“My name isn't Bonnie,” she grumbled, misunderstanding Johnny as she was a silly little American girl. She'd never even met someone from Scotland before.

Johnny only snickered and grinned, stepping aside to reveal the beautiful lilies on the counter, the petals a mix of a soft yellow, and yellow mixed with pink. Her absolute, literal favorite flowers. Either Johnny was a serial killer who was super lucky, or Ghost really did send him. She naturally gravitated closer to the flowers, hesitant, cautious, eyeing Johnny from the corner of her eye as her fingers brushed the stems, the soft petals.

She murmured a soft thanks to him as she turned to fetch a vase from one of the cabinets, rinsing out the dust, adding lukewarm water to the vase and mixing in the plant food that came with the pretty- beautiful- flowers. She didn't get flowers often, as they died quickly and Ghost was more of a material man, but she still absolutely adored getting flowers.

Turning with the vase in hand, she gingerly settled the flowers into it and set it in the middle of the dining table, looking extremely pleased.

“You've got more, lass,” Johnny gently reminded her, and she turned to be met with an honest-to-God box of her favorite chocolates, and a wrapped mystery gift. She furrowed her eyebrows a little, assessing the wrapped gift, running through whatever it could be. It was as long as her arm, and about as thick as it, too. It was quite big… big enough to be a bomb. Well, maybe not that extreme; Ghost did say he sent Johnny, so surely he must trust this man enough to not destroy her and their apartment.

Cautiously, like a stray dog being met with fresh food from a stranger, she began to open the gift. She was careful with the wrapping, as if it'd blow up if she went any quicker or less careless, and after a moment, the gift was revealed.

A really, really nice monitor, that came in the box with a pretty pink keyboard and mouse, and a… oh my God, a mini PC! Her lips parted in sheer surprise, letting her guard down slightly in glee and shock. Johnny simply grinned, as Ghost had told him why he was getting this specific thing for her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, excitement at the levels of a kid on Christmas, but it was June. “Thank you, Johnny, thank you, holy fuck!” She grinned right back at him, her carefully constructed walls starting to crumble. She fished out her phone to text Ghost, thanking him profusely, to which he responded with a heart.

‘i'm giving you the sloppiest toppy when you come home for this’

All Ghost responded to that with was a thumbs up, which made her huff a laugh at how ancient he must be.

Johnny helped her set up the mini PC as well as the monitor, even installing Steam for her before awkwardly standing there as she immediately busies herself with downloading and buying games to play.

“Well, lass, I’ll leave you to it,” Johnny says after a minute, offering her a smile. “But before I go… here. Happy birthday, bonnie.”

She turns, confused, as Johnny sets a tiny wrapped box in her palm, carefully unwrapping it to find a beautiful bracelet. It had butterfly charms on it in pastel, Easter colors, which so happened to be her favorite. “How did you…?” she asked softly, in awe of the beautiful jewelry.

“Have a little birdie in my corner,” he teased, but it was true; she figures Ghost told him everything she likes to properly get her gifts, or to help ease her anxiety and fear of a stranger.

She doesn't think- which would get her killed if Johnny was a worse man than he is- before she gently wraps her arms around his waist in a brief, soft hug. Her perfume filled Johnny's nose, sticking to his shirt, and he'd immediately fall in love if this wasn't his best friend's girlfriend.

“Thank you, Johnny,” she murmured, immediately working on putting on the bracelet and failing. Johnny stepped in, deft fingers expertly clipping the bracelet onto her wrist, before pulling away.

“Aye, looks right bonnie on you,” he murmured, still in her space. Their faces were somewhat close, his eyes drifting from hers to her lips, then back to her eyes immediately as if he'd spook her. He did.

She took a little step back, flustered, frustrated with herself. So Ghost was gone for a month and she immediately gets hot and bothered around another man? She hates herself.

“I oughta be goin’, lass,” Johnny expertly suggested, picking up on her feelings and that he'd probably overstayed his purpose of being here. “It was nice to meet ya. I'm sure I'll be seein’ ya.” With a two-fingered salute, Johnny let himself out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

She scrambled to turn all of the deadbolts and locks on the door, safe once more… but not from her thoughts.

All she could think about was how guilty and angry she was, that she seriously considered kissing Johnny right then. How lonely was she that it was even an option in her head? Ghost would surely kill her. God, Ghost. Does this count as cheating, even if she didn't do anything? She was spiralling. God, she hates herself.

banners by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

[nathaslosthershit]

Long Distance (LN4)

Summary: Long distance relationships are hard, especially when they both have very time consuming careers

Warnings; Angst (a whole lot), no happy ending in this part (will happen in pt 2)

Request: hi!! requesting a lando norris x female uni!reader if possible reader being a medical student or a one of the engineers on the paddock 🧍🏻‍♀️

Lando wasn’t known for being the smartest on the grid. He, like many other drivers, had only a few years of school to his name. But that still hadn’t stopped him from being able to somehow ‘woo’ a woman quite the opposite. 

His girlfriend was currently in her last year of medical school. While he was unbelievably proud of how far she had come, the difficulties of long distance have gotten to both of them, and there wasn’t much hope once she graduated and was off to a medical training program. With her studying for finals and Lando being off to a new country every two weeks for Grand Prixs, their relationship has been rocky to say the least.

Constant lack of communication and missing each other's calls had led them to have tons of unspoken dialogue. Each unanswered call created the smallest bit of resentment that just continued to grow and grow. 

No more sweet ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ texts, no more wishing her well before a big test, no more sending ‘good luck baby!’ before qualifying. Just a few ‘how are you doing?’ and other bland messages you’d send to a coworker, not your significant other. 

After weeks of little communication, they had finally scheduled a ‘zoom date’. Not particularly the most romantic date they had been on, but it's the best they could do with their schedules. Lando called in late at night for him while his girlfriend had a lunch break in between labs. Time zones be damned.

Lando was 25 minutes late leaving only 35 minutes to actually talk to one another.

Her wifi was spotty so it kept freezing.

Finally, with only 5 minutes left, Lando decided to make a joke that there is no reason for her to continue going to labs, as he would be happy to be her ‘sugar daddy’. This was not very well received by his girlfriend, who responded with a quick “fuck you” and hung up early.

Lando was joking, a bit. He loved his girlfriend and saw a future with her, he just couldn’t stand long distance and any job in the medical field was bound to take up most of your time. He wanted her, but he also wanted someone who could be by his side on race day. That just wasn’t something that was possibly currently. 

He supported her. He loved to brag about how smart she was and how she was so dedicated to helping people. But that came with setbacks.

After a quick message from Lando (‘I was kidding darling. You know how proud I am of you. Lighten up a little, yeah?’), which she ignored, she was off to her labs in a worse mood than before. Things couldn’t go on like this. 

He hadn’t heard from her in three days. His “how are you, love?” and “Miss you lots. Hope your class is going better than my neck training :(“ went unanswered. She knew she was being petty, but maybe a relationship was just too hard for her life currently. 

After three long and stressful days of silence, she called him. With no message asking what she needed to speak about, Lando feared he already knew.

“We can’t keep doing this” She said after they quickly exchanged a ‘hi, how are you?’ ‘I'm good, how are you?’. 

“Baby, I told you it was just a-”

“I know that Lando! It's just that this isn’t the first time you have mentioned me quitting my career to be your housewife or whatever unrealistic idea you have stuck in your head.”

“I don’t need you to be a housewife! I don’t want that for you. I just try to let you know that you don’t need to worry about your future as much because I will always be there to help you.”

“But I want a career! I want to work hard so I can have a good future. You need to get it into your head that your career isn’t the only important one.”

“I don’t think that! Me wanting to let you know that I support you no matter what isn't diminishing your career plans! It would be nice if you started to show a little more support. I am so sick and tired of all our conversations revolving around you and how your day was. If classes are rough, or you are stressed, you don’t respond to me. I never know where I land with you. But god forbid I try to mention how hard my day was. I am just as sick of it.”

She didn’t know how to respond. It seems that all the times she has been more focused on how she was feeling she completely forgot to check on how he was doing. Before she can even muster out an apology, Lando jumps back in.

“Maybe you are right. I don’t think I can do this either. Not anymore.” He feels his stomach dropping as he says the words, not fully meaning them.

There is a long silence, moments where she wants to apologize, to try and reconcile. In that moment all of the good memories of their relationship come flashing back to her, as if her mind is begging her to do something. But she doesn’t. 

“Then I guess this is it.” She finally says. 

“I guess so.”

Part 2 out now!

[scuderiasundays]

better together

summary: airline lounges, box box widgets, and a cheesy greeting card 💌

words: 1,045

a/n: the romcom girlie in me has always wanted to write a meet-cute and i've been listening to too much lizzy mcalpine! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @ssainzz, @diorleclerc, and @userlando just because. let me know if you'd want a part two! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

Love comes when you least expect it. Those same old words had fallen from the lips of every person you knew, so much so that they now felt weightless. On this particular evening, you found yourself at your best friend’s wedding reception, zoning out at the open bar. You nodded along as some man who’d had one too many G&T’s rambled on about his meet-cute on the Paris metro. Seeing two people you adored make a lifelong commitment only reaffirmed the fact that you craved the same.

It was no secret you weren’t exactly the MVP of the single scene. On any given night out, you’d leave the club before midnight to get a full eight-hour snooze. Dating apps were a no-no, as reruns of Catfish had made you skeptical about “finding the one” online. At work, you kept a low profile, socializing just enough to have a tight circle of work friends. It was as if you were coasting on autopilot, wanting love but hesitant to steer towards it.

Not to say that being single was all bad. Every hard-earned dollar was invested right back into the things you loved: trips, clothes, and your dog Cannoli. You silently weighed the pros and cons of your lifestyle as you stepped into the airline lounge.

Setting down your latest read to save your seat, you made your way to the breakfast buffet and grabbed a plate of avocado toast, poached eggs, and a glass of orange juice. On your way back, you spotted someone in a hoodie and cap making themselves at home in the armchair opposite yours.

The whole lounge was virtually empty, and this just had to be his seat of choice? You slowly approached from behind and let out a quiet gasp as you noticed them flipping through your book. “Love languages, huh?” The man pointed at the cover and smiled.

Your pupils dilated twice their size as you registered just who it was. The fan-made bracelets, the Leica, and, most of all, the signature McLaren cap—it all fell into place. “My manager and I just got into a huge argument, and honestly, I’d rather be anywhere but with him right now. Do you mind if I-" He gestured towards the seat beside you, his eyes radiating a silent plea.

“No problem. Let me give you your space,” you responded, hastily gathering your things. Just as you were about to step away, his hand gently clasped your wrist. “I could use the company. I’m Bob, by the way,” he mumbled, oblivious to the fact that his cover was blown.

As in, you knew he was currently seventh place in the driver’s championship and slowly but surely climbing up the standings. The last thing he needed was for you to bring any of that up, so you did as he said, trying to give him a sense of normalcy he so deserved.

He headed to the breakfast buffet and returned with the very items you had selected. "Copying me?" you teased. “First step in getting to know you,” he grinned. Curious about your life, he asked about your job in the emergency room. You told him the hours were grueling but watching extremely sick patients leave healthy made it all worthwhile. "Hope I never end up being your patient," he joked.

His interest didn't stop there; he inquired about siblings (only child), your dream vacation destination (Antibes), and whether you were a dog or cat person (not even a question). You, being a proud dog mom, wanted to show your furry guy off and handed Lando your phone.

As he squinted at your phone, you heard him say, "7 days to go. United States Grand Prix." A wave of panic washed over you as you remembered the Box Box widget that also occupied your screen. The silence was deafening as you wished the ground would swallow you up. 

“Let me see the app,” He said. You normally wouldn’t have acquiesced so quickly, but you crumbled and unlocked your phone. He appeared to scroll and click a few things before he handed it back. “Widget Preferences. Constructor: McLaren? Driver: Lando Norris?” You asked as you noticed he’d made some selections.

“You hadn’t bothered with the preferences, so I took the liberty of choosing.” He blushed as the awkwardness of it all hung in the air. “That doesn’t feel fair. I’ve had all this time to get to know you, and I can’t say the same for the other drivers.” You teasingly retorted.

“I'll let the guys know they're in a tight race for your heart." He snickered. The man was on the verge of tears when his manager came by to remind him of his impending flight. “Flight’s in an hour, Lando,” snapped him right back to reality.

He entrusted you with his bags as he ran out to run a quick pre-flight errand. You couldn’t help but squeal the second Lando had vanished from view. What kind of magic was in the air at this airport and could it be bottled?

You tapped through your best friend’s Instagram stories as you awaited his return. The nearly empty lounge echoed as Lando asked a nearby gentleman for a pen and jotted something down. Breathless, he handed you a card, urging you to read it later.

"Your shoelace is untied," he mentioned, and as he bent down to tie it, his blue-green eyes met yours. 

The British racing driver left your life in the abrupt way he had entered it. You took in the card, decked out with drawings of mac and cheese, milk and cereal, and avocado and toast, captioned "Better Together" at the bottom.

It was the only card in the store, but it felt just right. You highlighted “words of affirmation” as your love language, so I thought I’d give this a go. Thanks for keeping me company. Talk soon? - LN 

His number was scribbled at the end. You quickly changed your lock screen widget to showcase his stats and took a screenshot to send his way.

New look. I might be biased, but I think you just became my favorite driver. Let's see if you can keep it up.

He replied right away.

I like the sound of that. When can I see you again?

[sold2vlaykz]

AI-uploaded.

Prompt:Tesla has officially made robots the new thing! Everyone has one, what happens when you get your very own?

You’ve never enjoyed the idea of robots taking over the world, or humans already having control of it.

You didn’t understand why war or anything happened why couldn’t we all just make out or chill, something jeez.

Though you needed some extra help around the place, sure you didn’t like the thought of someone or something you didn’t know being around your house and handling things.

But you couldn’t clean, take care of your animals, and work too.

So you bought one, a Tesla fucking robot. You remember them advertising the blank faced thing on tv.

Making it more ‘acceptable’ by giving it a voice.

Though the damn things still had words on its face, so they’d be accessible for deaf people even going as far to teach them sign language.

Some have moveable braille. They come in colors, brown, pink, yellow, anything you could think of.

Now it’s not that you were excited, happy or even relieved. You thought of it as a burden because now you’d have to go to a Tesla socket and plug the damn thing up.

You already brought the damn robot there’s no way you would buy the charger too.

Did it look like you had thousands of dollars laying around?

No.

You only brought this so you could get some sleep and not hear your dog crying all the damn time.

So here you were, jaw to the floor as another robot carried the thousand pound box to your living room. A man in the car reading what looked like mail.

The robot walked out of your house, making small talk as it left.

The robot came full pieced, all you had to do was power it on.

It was just like a cellphone almost, it came charged.

It took the strength of every bone in your body to stand the damn thing up straight, your hands wondered on the shiny thing trying to find the damn button.

“Hello?”

A voice spoke, you jumped back. The thing was on, you didn’t even know what you pressed.

“How did you umm, turn on?”

You stuttered over your words as if examined itself, twisting its hands in front of where eyes should be.

“Eye recognition.”

You gasped, you remember when Apple did its eye thing but who knew they partnered with Elon musk?

It muttered your name before tilting its head up to you.

“What shall I do as your service?”

You coughed clearing your throat, feeling uneasy because it was harder to read this stoic thing than a human.

“Just feed my pets, keep the house clean. Easy job. When you’re done you can do whatever.”

It nodded before scanning the house, its head doing a weird observing tilt.

“Where are these ‘pets.’ Currently and what are they?” There was a weird pause between you two.

“They’re outside, let them in-in two hours, let them out every four. They’re dogs.”

It hummed before nodding its head

Immediately going to do what it was told to.

“You don’t have to now, I’ve already done everything. Just do it when I can’t.”

It froze in place a beep sound coming from it, it face had some weird dots on it coming in connecting circles with the words on the bottom ‘loading.’

“Then what was the point of my purchase if I am to just do what you didn’t manage to do, but usually do?”

You shrugged your shoulders, before passing it the remote.

“Here’s some TV, try not to fuck your mind.”

Another boop, and another loading screen.

“Fuck my mind, I assume you are trying to metaphorically tell me not to mess up my mind the same way others use the term fucked up.”

You paused, you held your laughter in your throat.

“Uh yeah, sure dude.”

You jogged upstairs leaving the vessel of wires on your couch clicking through the feed.

You went to get ready for work, you had already took a shower earlier that day so all you had to do was get your clothes and necessities.

You grabbed your purse and began scattering through your dresser drawer, you sighed and realized that finding your keys would’ve been a hassle.

So you moved on and decided you’d do that last.

You put on your work clothes, the uncomfortable texture made you feel cold, you grabbed some shoes, something dirty, or fucked up so you didn’t have to mess up anything else.

You grabbed your purse and threw your phone inside, you jogged down the stairs only to see the robot gone.

“Uh, robot?”

You heard nothing, no response. The horn outside repeatedly beeping made the suspense worse.

You walked into the kitchen only to see the robot sitting near the counter pressing the button on the keys.

“God you found it!”

You jogged up to him or it and snatched the keys. It sensed your annoyance.

“I am sorry, I suppose I got distracted.”

You cut him some slack, you knew what it was like to get distracted when you had things to do. But a robot? What good was it if it couldn’t do what it was designed for?

“Listen, just watch after the house. It’s fine, I’ll see you in 12.”

You headed out the door, and went towards your car. A twelve hour shift was practically voluntary slavery.

—————

You sighed, home sweet home.

Your back muscles were tensed, body sore snd feet cramped. You groaned as you stepped out the car, picking up your purse was another burden because of the weight it held.

You didn’t feel like rummaging for your key.

Never thought you’d say it but thank fucking God for Elon musk.

You dragged your limp body up the steps before three harsh knocks. A deeper voice answering you.

“Hello, who is it?”

“Your owner.”

You responded, he recognized your voice and opened the door immediately.

“Good morning, how was your day-”

You walked passed him, throwing your purse to the ground nor caring about your phone.

You didn’t even bother to take off your shoes on the freshly cleaned carpet floor.

You noticed your two dogs sleep in the dog bed with their bowls full near them and that’s all you needed. Though there had been a little piece of metal in its mouth,

Normally anyone else would’ve been concerned but your dogs had a weird kink for biting its cage apart.

You let out a hefty sigh and closed your eyes before telling the robot to lock the door.

————

Your eyes fluttered open by the sound of clashing, you immediately took a look to your left, your dogs were sound asleep.

You stood up, knowing that the damn robot had got itself into something or stuck.

Though when you stood you couldn’t help but notice your shoes off and your purse gone.

Did the damn thing rob you?

“Hello?”

You called it before hearing the now famous loading boop.

“Up here.”

Its voice had been blank, as if it simply fell and understood it couldn’t get up.

You walked up the stairs a little nervous if you had to be honest, you didn’t know what you were to see.

You pushed your door open before seeing the robot on the ground its left hand covering its right forearm.

Electricity seemed to be buzzing from it, anyone could tell it was injured.

“What the hell happened?”

You yelled, loading screen once again.

“I went to let your animals in and they attacked me, I suppose they feared I was an intruder and tried to protect the home.”

You gasped before kneeling to its side before wondering one thing.

“How’d you manage to get away?”

You had to ask, you had two, two hundred forty-pound dogs.

“When it bit me I climbed up the rails into your room.”

The thought of the robot clinging to your walls like Spider-Man unnerved you but God you couldn’t let your thousand dollar investment go to waste.

“How much is it going to cost to fix you?”

You asked, a sigh leaving your lips.

“ a few thousands of dollars, though I wouldn’t mind waiting.”

You sighed before grabbing some cloth and wrapping its arm tightly so no bolts or wires would fall out of its joints.

“You’re laying in my bed.”

The robot let out an audible gasp,

“I wouldn’t want to burden you-”

You ignored what it said and repeated yourself before helping it into the bed.

You sighed.

“I should’ve just stayed home, but thank you for helping me.”

The robots head turned to you in a creepy way, unsettling and you knew it was something you’d have to get used too.

“No need to thank me- Battery low. - That’s what I’m here for.”

You sighed knowing you’d had to drive to a charger tomorrow and work extra hard to get it fixed and pay for the bills and your animals.

“Goodnight- Power off-”

You sighed before nuzzling into the covers.

“Goodnight. Robot.”

[sweaterkittensahoy]

My chronic pain disabilities (hip fuckery; migraines) do not stop me from working. It doesn't mean I should treat my disabilities with less respect than disabilities that DO make it impossible to work.

When my endo pain was at its worse, I did all the things I was supposed to do--according to HR--to protect my job. I filed ADA paperwork. I communicated when I used it. I had the doctor's note. Etc.

Two days before my hysterectomy, I got a call from HR. "Oh, we're not sure we'll have work for you after you recover."

Which, first of all, is fucking illegal to say to someone who has ADA paperwork in place with you.

And, second of all, you're a fucking liar. I was the ONLY tech writer in a company of 500 people. Don't bullshit me.

I should have filed a complaint and sued the fuck out of them, but all I wanted to do was be able to possibly get out of pain and not have to worry about my paycheck after that. So, I called someone else in the company who I knew would lose his shit if I told him I'd basically just been told I had no work to do.

Two days after surgery, I had an email from HR to my personal account. Which, technically, they ALSO should not have used to contact me while on medical leave that was--like my disability paperwork--100% lined up and signed off on.

But the HR person wanted me to know that "Oh, looks like there IS work for you! Lol! Didn't know!"

This is bullshit. She was very aware.

Years later, I'm at a much better company. My supervisor, who is nothing but supportive, recently floated that it might be good to have ADA paperwork in place for my migraines because they flare during stress, which is the time I'm needed at work THE MOST.

No shit: I went into hard shutdown for about two minutes after he said it. It wasn't a threat or a dismissal of my migraines. It was him going, "Oh, hey, so no one can ever try to use them against you to say you're bad with stress, you might do this."

But all I felt was how I was absolutely fucked over by a bad company because they said, "You need to follow these legal steps," and I did, and they still tried to get around them.

So, no, I'm not dealing with getting punished if I have more than 2k in my bank account. I'm not dealing with people touching me, or my assistive devices (I don't currently use any). I can park anywhere in a lot and walk to the store entrance. But I was disabled, and I AM disabled, and I have had people try to punish me for existing in a body that just fucking HURTS because it HURTS.

It's Disability Awareness Month. I am disabled. Less so than I was ten years ago, which is a fucking stroke of luck. But also my right hip has started to go now, and who knows what the next 10 years will bring.

It's Disability Awareness Month. If someone says, "I'm disabled, and I want to talk about my experience," please pay attention and listen and learn and understand there's all sorts of ways disabled people are fighting to be treated with basic human dignity and under the basic rule of law.

[lix-ables]

⌗ rich boy things – hyunjin + car sex .

🥡 smut includes, fem!reader, dry humping, hand jobs (while he’s on the phone with his father), mentions of ruined orgasms (because he absolutely loves teasing the shit out of you), lovesick + pussy drunk hyunjin, etc etc. word count: 971. (MINORS DNI.)

💌 note: its been a while but hihi, im back!! i was initially going to post something else??? but this has been in my drafts since april

©lix-ables 2022. consider leaving comments and feedbacks !! happy reading ‹33

hyunjin was annoyingly pretty and he knew it, so sneaking around on the campus way past your curfew can be excused, right? 

here you were in his car’s passenger seat with your hand wrapped around his dick while he was on an important call. how did you know that? because he told you it was his father, and still your fingers played with the tip, your palm resting under your chin as you watch him shut his eyes. 

his other hand moves to wrap around the wrist that was currently busy, and he turns to look at you. “yes dad, i understand,” he sighs and replies. “no im not out racing. i’m with the boys. panting? have you thought maybe it's your hearing?” hyunjin clears his throat and shifts in his seat, making your hand fall on his thigh. but that gave you even more of a reason to stroke him instead of just touching him. a little teasing wouldn’t hurt no one. your thumb rubs circles on his tip before wrapping your whole hand around it, earning a small grunt from him.

“listen i need to go. they need my help with something. yes, i’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“you like what you see don’t you, darlin’?” hyunjin’s voice stops you from your task, and makes you look at him. he stares at you, smiling before setting his phone in his jacket pocket.

his hand finds your bare thigh and you curse yourself for wearing pj shorts while it was cold outside. “i thought i told you the call was important,” he mumbles, his fingers snaking all the way up to the hem of your shirt and tugging it toward him. “i want this off,” he nods at your shorts, and you bite your lip in frustration. “i thought we were here to talk,” a whimper leaves your throat when he pulls you to him. “we’re talking. this is good communication, don’t you think?” you let him pull you onto his lap, and you struggle out of your shorts in the process. “i was getting ready for bed, it’s way past curfew what if someone –” hyunjin presses a kiss to your lips, his hands wrapped around your waist and it just dawns to you, that his dick is still out, and is now between the two of you. “no one is going to come here, and you know that,” he smiles again, his finger twirling around a strand of hair that wasn’t held together by the band. 

you hum in response, the chill breeze making goosebumps form on your bare skin and you grind against hyunjin’s dick. you’re probably going to have to buy new underwear but fuck it. “this again? and you said you wanted to talk,” he smirks, tugging on the strand of hair in his hand, and his fingers find your shirt, pulling it up so he has more access. your hand wraps around his wrist when you feel him move your underwear aside, and he clicks his tongue. “baby, let me in hmmm? it’s not fair that only you get to do the teasing. it works both ways. besides, no one’s around so i could probably edge you say, four to five times? i’m sure you can take it yeah? because i sure as hell want to see that tight and pretty pussy of yours clenching around my fingers when i don’t let you come.” hyunjin tilts his head to look at you, he shifts the material a bit more before resting two fingers to your clit, and pinches it a little. your thighs shudder at the feeling and he leans back against the seat. “you’d beg me to let you come, but you won’t. you like it too much hmm?”

you nod and his hand reaches down and finds the adjustment lever at the side and moves the seat back a bit more, so there is space for both of you. “when i didn’t see you in class today, i thought something had happened,” he mumbles as he moves his free hand to stroke his dick, bringing it closer to your entrance. “i missed you today, doll.” hyunjin’s fingers work on rubbing random patterns to your clit and you feel yourself getting even wetter than you were ten minutes ago. 

“you were supposed to come pick me up, idiot,” you lean forward close to his ear and press a small kiss to his neck. your hands hold onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the leather jacket that he was wearing before going back to grind against his dick. 

“just the tip, i swear,” he rests his head at the crook of your neck, his free hand now holding you close to him as you move faster against him. you’re breathing faster now and your fingers come to rub your clit, applying more friction. “baby, let me –” hyunjin swears, his hand shivering and you turn your head to the window – it’s drizzling. the sound of rain muffling out your moans and hyunjin’s swears as he manages to guide your hips toward him, his tip close to your pussy, before entering just a little. “that’s it baby, fuck.” 

his hands rest at your lower back, his fingers slowly pulling up your shirt from the back as you ride against him. you’re mumbling something about having a real talk after this, but all hyunjin can hear is your whines and whimpers as he pulls himself out just to replace his dick with his fingers. 

“you’re coming on my tongue and my dick once we get to your room,” he grunts, feeling your walls clench around his fingers. “not yet, darlin’. hold it for me.” with his fingers now buried inside you, and your body grinding up against his palm, hyunjin meant what he said. teasing works both ways.

taglist: @hwajin @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @niinjo @chvnnie @lixhues @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @comet-falls @hwan-g @svintsandghosts @idek-at-this-point-lol @es-kay-zee @writerracha @bbujiikseu @lethallyprotected @lino-jagiyaa

[michaela-o]

Hello guys ! Sorry for dissapearing yet again but i just felt like letting you know i switched fandoms for a little while🧡

I got into the TMNT fandom and im on my way to watch some bay movies and other ones aswell and it has been fun so far !🧡 keeping my mind off things-

I just got my heart a little heavy bc my crush (which is my friend i told u about) is probably going to college with another girl she mentioned like a year ago that she likes and it made me a little bit sad. Ofc i haven't told her anything cause like that's none of her problems :D buuut it kinda has to do with the fact that when she leaves i'll probably be completely lonely...again.. of course that's not her problem aswell and it's not that i don't have friends, i do, but they live in another city and i don't have the time to afford to see them so often since i'm currently job-hunting and trying to make some money.

Bruh who am i kidding.. I'm scared of being left alone again and i wish it wasn't so hard for me to meet with new people...what if she completely looses interest in me and decides she doesn't want to be my friend anymore becuase she'll find me boring and not worth spending her time with me...what if she will not want to see me again..what if she will just forget about me, that i even exist because there's gonna be someone better... i've always had problems with this. With not being sure if people like me enough so they wouldn't forget me..it's enough that i'm gonna be spending the start of new year alone and the thought of her leaving next year scares me even more...i'm sorry for all this rambling i probably sound like a bitch baby but i really don't have anyone i could tell this to. I gently tried to tell my parents why was my mood down but the only answer i get is "what did you expect." or "well this is the reality." I know this is the reality but i just wish for a little bit of comfort. I don't need anyone pitying me..i'm just scared ok..?

I was used to being lonely but when that one person suddenly slides into your life and brings something even myself didn't know needed being lonely sounds way scarier...

I just hope it will be okay. That i will be okay. But it has to be.🧡 Thank you for lissening if you made it this far.🧡 means more than you could imagine.🧡

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my boyfriend that it will be over if he takes the promotion he's been offered?

Me (25F) and my boyfriend (26M) have been together for about two years now. He's up for promotion at his job, and it's been a sticking point for us because it's going to require him to travel at least twice a month, around 3 days at a time. In his current role, he only has to travel for a week once a year, for the company's annual conference.

A partner having a job that requires regular travel has always been a deal breaker for me, because of my family.

My parents worked for the same company, in different roles. My dad always had to travel for work, being away for up to a week at a time. When I was 12, my mom found out that he'd been cheating on her on most of these work trips. Instead of looking into divorce, or couples therapy or anything, my mom asked to be moved into the same department as him so she could attend the trips with him, leaving me home alone a lot.

Because of this, I always vowed to myself that I did not want to be in a relationship with someone who travelled for work, because I didn't want to put myself through it again.

I made this clear to my boyfriend when we first got together, so this isn't something I've blindsided him with.

He brought it up and I shot him down immediately, pointing out what I'd always told him. He started talking about how the extra money would mean we could be so much more comfortable, would give us more chances. But between our current jobs, we're not struggling for money, we are in a very comfortable position.

He started going off on me, saying that I obviously don't trust him, that I must believe he would cheat.

I don't think he would cheat. I just don't want to feel left behind again. I told him this, and that if he takes the promotion I can't see a future for us.

He's calling me an asshole for standing in the way of his future, and I just don't know if I am.

What are these acronyms?

[pinkroseblooms]

Boy Toy, Pt.2

Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader

Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!

Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?

Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex. 

“You smell so good.” 

“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”

After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?” 

“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”

“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”

“You hate going out more than I do.”

“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”

“That’s my girl.”

One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with. 

“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”

“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”

“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”

“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”

“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”

“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”

“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”

You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”

“Which dress would you wear?”

“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”

“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”

“We’re meeting at his place.”

“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.

“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”

You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle. 

“How long have you known him?”

You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”

“Good looking?”

“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”

Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile. 

“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”

“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”

“Sure sounds like you know him well.”

“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”

Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.

When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze. 

It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.

Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”

“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”

“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”

You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”

“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”

Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.

“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”

Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”

Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.

Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone? 

“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different. 

“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.” 

“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”

“Toji, I just got this!”

“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”

You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.

“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”

“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”

“Guess you need to train me better.” 

Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties. 

“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”

“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”

“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”

“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”

You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.

“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”

But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall. 

“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”

“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”

“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”

“Wha-what are you…?”

“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”

“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”

“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”

“No!”

“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”

“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”

“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”

“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”

“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”

“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”

Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought. 

You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act? 

“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”

“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”

“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”

“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.

“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”

“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”

Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile. 

“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”

Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop. 

“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.” 

Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.  

“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”

“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”

“Good…good boy…”

With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first. 

It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.

“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you.  “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”

[iloveoldermen-posts]

Pen-pals

Warnings: only the hapter to start things going and to set the vibe, part one of at least 10, i have not proof read ୨୧

Chapter 1 – Greetings.

He was forced into it, no way in hell would he ever do it on his own. But his also forced councillor thought it would help him to have connections to the outside world and ensured him that if it didn’t work out within two months, he could stop trying and never do it again. But he couldn’t tell her that or it would be ‘cheating.’

Which would probably deter people but as a chronic people-pleaser, I just couldn’t let that run. So, I tried my absolute hardest to fill my letters with copious amounts of joy so that there’s no way he couldn’t write back.

January 13th

--

Dear ‘Ghost’,

I was only told your call-sign to ensure maximum confidentiality – rules right. They told me that you were the only one who could tell me your real name so if you ever feel comfortable enough, I will happily learn all about you!

Here is some information about me; my name is Y/N, I am always helping people out for work (quite interesting if I do say so myself), I love to bake in my free time and my favourite time of the year is autumn (I just LOVE the mix of weather).

I always add some questions to these letters.

Why is your call-sign Ghost?

What’s your favourite thing to do when you aren’t deployed?

And finally, a simple one – what’s your favourite colour?

From,

       Y/N.

P.S I was told you would probably take around a week – two to respond so don’t feel rushed to write back, I know how taxing your job tends to be :)

January 29th

--

Dear Ghost,     

I hope you are doing well, I’m not sure if you received the letter I sent as you haven’t replied so I’m trying again just to make sure. My name is Y/N and I have a black Labrador that I love so much. 

I have a hectic work schedule and I am always flying all over the world to help people. So I won’t always be able to write to you consistently. I hope that’s okay!

Instead of questions, I thought I would tell a little joke;

What do you call a shipment full of military-issued T-Rexes?  SMALL ARMS. 

:) hope you enjoyed that one because there are way more to come.

From

 Y/N.

February 13th

--

Dear ‘Ghost’,

This will be the last letter I am writing to you as I believe someone could get through to you, it just won’t be me. So, I have requested to be swapped buddies. 

I think it might be someone who’s in your unit, I think his name is John or Johnny – something like that. And I’m told I will be a better suit to them and their personalities.

So I hope you stay safe and are able to speak with someone who you can let your guard down too; even though they will never be as funny as me. Teehee :)

From

Y/N.

I’m quite sad that it didn’t work out as I thought we could have both benefited from it, but you know what they say – it is what it is. And at the end of the day, he needs someone he can truly feel comfortable talking to and I never did get to know him so it doesn’t affect me much in those terms. Even if a month was wasted by waiting for a never-to-arrive letter. Well the true term would be never-to-be-write-or-sent but we digress.

The birds hum a beautiful harmony as I post the final letter through the poorly painted post-box on the end of my road. As I turn to leave, the clouds above me start weeping uncontrollably at my departure.

I’ve never been one for signs but that can’t have been a coincidence.

My asks are currently open so get the requests in, and check out my masterlist.

They first two chapters will be mostly letters and then will move to texts and irl interactions - at least I plan...

[magics-neptunes-things]

Mockingjay - Part 11

Hi guys!

I'm so sorry for the delay, but between my health and all the work I have to do for my job, I almost don't know what day we are.

I'm glad for all the sweets messages and the love and supports I get for this serie though, it really means a lot ♥

There is a little bit of suspense here, I'll try not to make you wait as long as this time for the next chapter.

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Fight, injury, scorpions, death, gun, gunshot, angst.

Chapter Before

“I’m so sorry”

“Lucy, stop” Ona sighs softly.

Lucy doesn’t answer anything, she just bites her bottom lip to stay silent. But she can’t help but look at Ona’s arm and the bruise forming on it. Even if it was to save her life, she had to hit her hard enough to at least hurt the scorpion who was casually strolling in her arm.

So, Lucy just basically saved Ona’s life, but the older girl can’t get over the fact that she hit Ona. And hurt her in the process.

They are currently sitting on a blanket, Lucy scanning the ground around them with the pocket lamp to see if there are more scorpions and eventually make them leave thanks to the light.

They are sitting back to back, just to have a better view around them. Because they shouldn’t look for the scorpions only, but for the other tributes maybe too. They don’t know where Tony went and where everyone else is. Being attacked right now could be the worst fight ever.

Ona is jumping in the air from time to time, sure that she felt one of those animals running on her body. She was wrong every time and Lucy almost had a heart attack every time too.

“Are you sleeping?” Lucy asks after a moment.

“No” Ona mumbles.

She’s tired, she must admit that. But there is no world where she falls asleep and puts them both in danger right now. It’s hard to imagine how my time passed since the night fell some hours before. Ona really hopes that it will be finished soon.

Ona changes her position when she feels Lucy’s hand reach for hers, unrolling her arms that she had wrapped around her legs glued to her chest. She gladly let Lucy play with her fingers, enjoying this little closeness even here.

Ona can’t explain why, maybe because of how tired she is, but once again their reality hit her like a wall of bricks. She feels her throat tightens at the idea that they will never be able to have this kind of moment on a lovely date, for example. She doesn’t say anything though, not wanting to make Lucy sad or even alert her.

But Lucy learned to know her, and she quickly hears Ona’s unsteady breathings, even if she can’t see her silent tears.

“What’s up?” Lucy asks softly.

“Nothing” Ona breathes. “It’s stupid”

“If it makes you upset, it’s not stupid” Lucy answers, turning herself a little to have a better view of Ona. “Are you mad at me?”

Ona shakes her head no, still looking around just in case. She doesn’t want Lucy to see her cry. She doesn’t want to pass for someone weak. And more, she doesn’t want Lucy to find her childish.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lucy asks softly.

“I just…”

Ona frowns softly, not really knowing how to say the right things. She has all those fears about Lucy’s eventual judgement and how she can see her after that. Which is particularly stupid, Lucy would never judge Ona in any way.

“I would give everything to just have one night together, only the two of us. Without the Games, the injuries… Just you and me.”

“Ona…”

Ona hurries to take her hand back, whipping her tears and sitting a little straighter. She knows they won’t have it and that it’s stupid to cry for something they will never have.

“I told you, it was stupid” Ona shrugs.

Her back is perfectly turned so she doesn’t see Lucy. But like this, she doesn’t see the sadness and the regrets in Lucy’s eyes.

“I wish I could share these moments with you too” Lucy finally whispers.

Ona feels her throat tightens once again, but not for the same reason. She doesn’t really know if she feels better now that she knows that Lucy feels the same way. Is it worse because it supports the fact that they won’t have it? Or is it better because Lucy can understand how she’s feeling?

“What kind of things would we have done?” Ona finally asks.

“For our first date, I would have brought you on my boat to watch the sunset.”

“Sounds very romantic” Ona smirks.

Lucy hums and Ona hears her moving a little before kissing her neck. It makes Ona shiver, of course, but she smiles anyway, not expecting for Lucy to talk again.

“I don’t know if that’s any consolation, but I’m yours. No matter what happens, I will always be. Only yours.”

This time, Ona turns around completely to have an entire look at Lucy. The older girl is already looking at her, her green eyes scanning the brown one’s. Getting on her knees rather than her ass, before taking Lucy’s face between both of her hands to kiss her.

The kiss is slow but full of love and Ona can’t help but let her mind fly away, to the moment they shared together on that mountain. They had a moment only the both of them finally, only accompanied by the fire.

Lucy answers her kiss, and they are finally stopped when they feel the first light and heath of the sun on their skin. Lucy sighs from relief and looks around them. It could be hard to find their way back, everything looks the same around. But Lucy understands easily with the way Ona gets up that the younger one knows perfectly where to go.

“Are we going back to the centre of the arena or do you want to look for the oasis?” Ona asks, seeming to be happy again.

“We can look for the oasis until noon. Then we can go back to the forest if we don’t find anything.”

Ona nods and accepts the dry meat that Lucy gives her before starting to walk. She still feels tired, but she knows that they must move. She doesn’t know if someone already came here before them, the sand is the same everywhere. Including in their shoes.

“Is it a palm tree?”

They were walking for almost thirty minutes when Lucy talks again, and Ona raises her head in the direction of where Lucy is pointing.

“I think it is” Ona nods after several seconds. “Let’s go.”

They turn in the right direction, Ona two steps in front of Lucy. The latter is particularly attentive to everything, the fact that the two other girls might still be here hiding in her mind. When they are close, she softly grabs Ona’s hand to whisper it.

“Maybe they are here. Let’s be careful”

Ona nods again and squeezes Lucy’s fingers before letting her go. She can feel Lucy’s presence right behind her and it helps her to be more at ease. She feels safe with Lucy and little did she know that Lucy feels safe with her too. After all, they saved each other's lives already.

The oasis isn’t very big, but Ona must admit that it’s cute. There are a few palm trees around a very small lake. But the water is clear like a mirror, almost inviting. Rocks are around the water, as if someone had arranged seats to be able to settle comfortably in front of it.

“Someone came here” Ona whispers.

She’s looking at the rocks, but her gaze is scanning the other places of the area. Now that Lucy is looking around too, she feels the same way too. There are dates on the ground, some of them eaten and she can see footprints at some places too.

Lucy hums, turning around to look around them.

“Let’s just be careful, Love, yeah?”

Ona nods and smiles, unable to hide the butterflies she feels in her stomach when Lucy calls her like that. She takes the bow in one of her hands, just in case, when Lucy decides to make a walk around the lake “Just to have a look.”

Ona should have known it was a bad idea, every time they are separated something bad happens.

Just when Ona can’t see Lucy anymore, she feels something icy against her neck.

“Make any sound and you're dead. Do you understand?”

Ona feels her blood freeze, but she only nods softly. She doesn’t know what is held against her neck, but if it’s a knife, she doesn’t want to take any risks.

“Let go of your bow” the voice says.

Ona doesn’t hesitate before letting it go. She just hopes that Lucy will come back soon to help her. She feels stupid, Lucy just told her to be careful.

“Good. Do you know how to get out of this desert?”

Ona nods once again. She tries to recognize the voice of the person talking, but she didn’t talk a lot to those two girls. She’s unable to say which one of them is behind her.

“Show the way. Don’t turn around.”

Of course, Ona wants to turn around or even look for Lucy, but she can’t. So, she obliges and starts to walk, taking the way back she took several minutes. She can feel that icy things brush against her neck from time to time, attesting of its presence.

They were walking for several minutes when the girl talks again. Ona was walking as slow as possible, still hoping that Lucy will see them.

“Are you okay?”

Ona frowns, not understanding why the girl is asking her that question. She doesn’t understand either the soft tone used to ask this question, until she hears the girl talking again.

“Stop, Batlle.”

Then Ona turns around and realise that they were two people walking behind her. But the second girl doesn’t look good.

“What happened to her?” Ona whispers.

The first girl, Enya as Ona just remembered her name, shot her a dirty look. She raises what she had in her hand and Ona blenches when she sees that Enya is in fact holding nothing much than a gun.

“Hands up!”

Ona obliges once again, raising both of her hands without hesitation. She looks at the way Enya is looking at her partner, looking hopeless. The other girl has various purple patches all over the body, some swollen and appearing painful.

“She got bitten by scorpions” Enya groans.

Ona shivers, remembering that she had one of them in her arm last night. The second girl doesn’t seem able to talk and Ona wonders if she really can understand what is happening. She seems lost, looking at Ona blankly.

“You… You know that she won’t make it, right?” Ona says as softly as she can.

She feels sorry for that poor girl. But Enya seems angry by that statement and point her gun at the middle of Ona’s forehead.

“Shut up if you don’t want to die right now”

Ona raises her hands again, not moving anymore. She doesn’t know what sign Enya is waiting for, but she seems to be happy, so she kneels down next to the other girl lying on the ground.

Ona’s mind wanders to Lucy, who must be lost about not finding her anywhere now. Ona hopes that she won’t do something stupid, they keep reminding each other that as long as they haven’t heard the canon, there is nothing to worry about. Ona just hopes that they won’t be separated for long. Unless Enya really decides to kill her soon, which might be problematic in that case.

“Where did you find a gun?” Ona asks.

Enya looks up to look at her, seeming to think before answering. But the question is on Ona’s mind, she’s scared that Tony or Camden have found guns too. If that’s the case, winning will be difficult.

“I’ve received it from the sponsor.”

Ona arches her two eyebrows under surprise. She received pretty great things too, but nothing like that. Enya must have someone who likes her very much outside.

“Help me carry Leane. If your girlfriend sees us, she will come, and I’ll be forced to shoot her. You don’t want that, do you?”

Ona contracts her jaw at Lucy’s mention. Of course, she doesn’t want something like that. However, Ona wonders for several seconds how Enya knows about her and Lucy’s relationship. But she doesn’t have to think a lot, because Enya is pointing her gun at her face once again and she hurries to help.

They walk like this for what feels like forever, one arm around each other. Ona doesn’t know if it’s because she’s walking for a very long time, but Leane seems heavier every single second.

“Come on Leane, we are almost here” Enya repeats every two minutes.

Ona doesn’t say anything, she’s thinking a lot. She’s thinking about the chances she would have against Enya. Leane can’t fight that’s for sure and Enya seems very weak. But she has a gun, and a single shoot will be enough to kill her.

An energy boost takes Enya when they are able to see the end of the desert, the girl almost jumping until it. But Ona just has to take a look at Leane to know that things are very bad.

“I think she’s dying” Ona says slowly.

It takes Enya’s attention, and the girl looks at Leane with stupor.

“No no no no no” Enya says, laying Leane on the floor. “Not now, we are just getting out of the desert!”

The girls take Leane’s face between her hands, looking at Leane’s face. Ona feels like the girl is looking for any sign of life, which is particularly awful in her opinion. Ona jumps when Enya points the gun once again in her direction.

“Is she alive?”

Ona hesitates, looking at Leane’s frame on the sand. Poor girl seems gone, but no cannon is audible.

“Look at it!”

Enya seems to lose the little control of herself she was keeping until now. She’s making big movements with her hands, pointing Ona, then Leane, then Ona again. All of this while walking around.  

Ona kneels next to Leane, putting her finger on her neck to search for her heart rate.

“She’s alive” Ona mumbles.

She doesn’t add “for now” but she almost can’t feel anything against her fingers. It seems to calm Enya a little bit. At least she stops walking around like a crazy maniac.

“Good. Because if she dies, it’s because of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ona asks after several seconds of silence.

“If you came earlier, you could have helped us earlier. We spent days trying to get out of this place. Leane got bitten by a scorpion in the middle of the night while I was asleep. It was so painful that she wasn’t even able to walk to me to wake me up. When I woke up she was surrounded by them, so I had to kill them with the gun.”

Ona bites her lip, looking sadly at Leane. This death must be awful, she would rather die like Teagan. She feels sorry for the other girl but for Enya too. She would probably not react better if it was Lucy in this case.

“Alright, get up. Find us the bridge.”

Enya makes Ona carry Leane on her back this time, walking behind them still with the gun pointed on Ona’s head. The sun is shining brightly now, and Ona feels the sweat running on her body. She feels the weakness in her legs too, Leane is a little bit bigger than her and heavier too.

“Can we take a pause please?” Ona finally asks.

“No”

There is no room for discussion. The brunette sighs softly, trying to ignore the sweat that runs down her face. Ona manages to walk ten more minutes before feeling her legs really getting tired.

“Enya” Ona whispers.

“I said, shut up and walk.”

Ona tries. As hard as she can, but soon her legs give up and she feels on her knee. The sand is burning against her skin, but that’s probably not the most important point. Ona feels the gun against her temple, making her close her eyes.

“Get up.”

“I can’t” Ona whispers, out of breath.

Her whole body is shaking, she has trouble breathing normally, and her head is spinning. Even opening her eyes seems hard for her right now.

“You leave me no choice”

Ona hears the weapon making a click and she closes her eyes harder, waiting for the blast. But contrary to what she expected, she feels Enya falling next to her and then rolling in the sand.

Ona manages to make Leane go down on her back, kneeling to see what is happening. Enya is fighting with someone that Ona recognizes immediately. Lucy is here, saving her once again.

“She has a gun” Ona shouts.

She doesn’t know if Lucy saw them, if she was following them for many times or if it’s just a miracle for her to be her.

Enya is fighting harder than Ona would have thought, the metal of the gun shining under the sun from time to time.

When Ona finally manages to stand up, the two other girls are fighting almost hundred meters further. Ignoring her feet who are killing her, Ona tries to run to help Lucy. She regrets not having her bow.

Just when she arrives at their height, a sound of gunfire resounds in the air. Ona freezes instantly, her eyes crossing Lucy’s gaze.

Lucy’s beautiful green eyes are wide under the surprise. Ona has always loved this shape of green. But right now, what she can see in them is terrifying her.

“Lucy!”

The younger girl screams this time, looking as Lucy’s body falls on the ground, only three meters away from her.

Next Chapter

[a-very-tired-jew]

A lot of the current antisemitism I see on here, other sites, and experience in person reminds of behavior I see during cases where I'm required to attend in person and/or testify. Often there will be people outside of the court house who are associated with the defendant, accused, or victim and are there for one reason or another. Emotions are high as someone is watching a loved one be tried for a crime, another person is hoping that they get justice for their loved one, and every reason in between.

When I enter a courthouse people often do not know who I am outside of the lawyers involved (though sometimes an unsavory lawyer has told the civilians who I am or who my colleagues are so that they mob us beforehand). My job is to testify to the evidence that I analyzed and reported on. I simply state during what period of time insects could have potentially arrived at, what stage of development they are in, and what that developmental stage implies. I do not testify to the guilt or innocence of the individual on trial, and as a consultant I work on a first come, first serve basis so as to not be biased towards defendants, plaintiffs, or prosecution.

All things considered, my testimony is usually a dry lecture on insects, their developmental stages, their community stage and progression, what that tells us, and how we use it.

However, afterwards when I leave at the end of the day there will be some friends and family of one of the above persons screaming at me. I've been called a murderer, a criminal, a Spawn of Satan himself, and more insults than I can remember. This has come from families of accused who desecrated and mutilated bodies to families of the victims who are lashing out at anyone who would testify for the defense. I have no actual impact on the crime itself, I was not present in any capacity until after the fact when I was brought in.

But because I have some relation to the case, as a professional, I am now a target that can be lashed out at. I can be insulted and even assaulted if the emotional reasoning of these individuals so dictates.

That's why I'm drawing this comparison.

The way in which the current iteration of antisemitism is used to lash out at Jews just reminds me of these people outside of the courthouses. They're highly emotional and lashing out at anyone with the slightest relation to the thing they've labeled as bad. They see red and actual objective reasoning is replaced with subjective thought, which can be easily manipulated and directed. There's very little to actually be done when engaging with this kind of person.

No matter how many times you explain to the family members outside of the courthouse that you're only there to talk about insects they still view you as the enemy. Just as it doesn't matter how many times you explain to an antisemite that the average Jew in NJ has no impact on the war, they're still a representation of "Evil" and must be insulted/assaulted.

The unfortunate part is that it's the entirety of our people being targeted in this way (yes, even the anti-Zionist Jews get it - e.g. Yuval). Unlike the people outside the courthouse we can't actually ignore this either. You can't just walk away and go home, never to encounter those persons again (usually, sometimes you get called back). Antisemitism is ingrained and extremely prevalent with people attacking Jews and Jewish institutions regularly. There's no way to actually ignore it and be safe. I wish there was. I wish I could just tell an antisemite some cool bug facts and be done with it, but here we are.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello so uhm.... 0w0

Could I ask for a Aziraphale x reader / crowley x reader (seperated when possible) where the reader is sick and they both hug them and wrap their wings around them?

I'm just thinking their feathers would be so soft >~<

Have a nice day/evening!

Word count: Crowley’s Part 1187 / Aziraphale’s part 1579

A/n: this was nice to write. I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy and have a great day/ evening as well.

Crowley

    It was just a normal Tuesday, well as normal as it can get when going to work at Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, while feeling like someone hit me with a car. My head was pounding and it felt like my small breakfast of plain toast was trying to come back up. I would have called in, but I know Nina would need the help as we were the only to set to work today. I also didn’t tell a certain snake eyed demon about being sick because I know he would have made me stay home. 

    All of this leads us to where we are right now. I’m currently taking orders while Nina works on making the coffees and teas that are requested. It’s about two in the afternoon which means it’s time for our afternoon rush of people trying to get an extra boost of energy before they end their day. Trying to keep a smile on my face as my migraine gets worse from the loud customers, and the normally enticing smell of coffee which is currently making me more nauseous, is like hell on earth. 

    I was in the middle of explaining to an older lady that decaf does not in fact contain caffeine, when I noticed a familiar pair leaving the bookshop across the street. Trying to end this conversation quickly so my friends wouldn’t have to wait too long, I offered the lady a solution. “If you are nervous about the decaf having any caffeine I can recommend a warm cup of peppermint tea. It’s relaxing and contains no caffeine at all.” I said hoping to end this back and forth. Luckily she agreed right as the demon and angel pair walked in.

    Offering the two a kind wave and forced smile, I entered the lady’s order and proceeded to enter the pairs usual order before they even reached the counter. Normally I would let them place their order like everyone else but today I didn’t want Crowley near me for too long knowing he would quickly realize I was unwell. “Hello Love, Aziraphale. I already entered your order so you can go take a seat, it’s on the house today.” I said trying to avoid conversation with the pair.

    Aziraphale just nodded in thanks before going to find a seat. While Crowley on the other hand only stepped to the side so I could continue to assist customers, while he processed my strange behavior. “You never comp our order. Something about it being bad for business. What’s going on with you?” He asked, and even though he wore such dark glasses I could tell he was squinting at me trying to figure me out.

    “Nothing is going on. Can’t I be nice to my boyfriend and friend every once in a while.” I responded mindlessly, entering orders trying to avoid my demon’s scrutiny. “I have to help these customers, Crowley go sit down with Zira and Nina will bring it out when it’s done.” I heard a slight scoff before he walked away.

    I knew he figured something out but I also knew that he wouldn’t risk making a scene at my job just because he thinks I’m hiding something. Knowing Crowley he would keep quiet about it until I was off work and that’s exactly what he did.

    After another four hours of helping customers and cleaning the shop I was finally able to go home and relax. It was a bonus that Nina had figured out that I wasn’t feeling well and told me to take the next day off to get better. So ready for an extra day to recover from this stupid migraine, I left the coffee shop and headed over to A.Z. Fell and Co. to retrieve my grump of a boyfriend knowing he tended to hangout there until I was off work so he could drive me home.

    “Hey Aziraphale, Have you seen Crowley? I just got off work and thought he’d be here like normal.” I asked the angel, who was currently reading a book at his desk, upon noticing the demon was nowhere to be seen.

     Aziraphale jumped in his seat not having heard me come in. “Oh Y/n, yes Crowley went to the pharmacy around the corner, something about picking up medicine.” He said turning slightly to look at me before turning back to his book. “Though I’m not sure what medicine he would need, it’s not like he can get sick or anything.” He continued obviously oblivious to why a demon such as Crowley would need human medicine.

     I just rolled my eyes and took a seat in an armchair. “You don’t mind if I wait for him here do you?” I asked, relaxing for the first time all day, not registering the angel's response as I fell asleep in the chair.

     “They’re sleeping Crowley, don’t wake them up. They have obviously had a long day.” I heard my angel friend address my Boyfriend. It was obvious he was trying to keep quiet but was failing as began to slowly awaken from my nap.

     I heard a groan before feeling Crowley slip one arm behind my back and the other under my legs, gently lifting me out of the arm chair. “They wouldn’t have had a long day if they told me they were sick.” I heard him grumble as he walked out of the book shop and gently placed me in his bentley. I tried to wake up fully to greet him but the gentle rumble of the car starting lulled me back to sleep as Crowley obeyed traffic laws for once.

    The next time I woke up, I was being placed on mine and Crowley’s shared bed. He had brought me home driving far too slow for his liking and then carried me all the way into our apartment. It warmed my heart to know I had such an effect on the snake-eyed demon.

    After processing where I was I finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to worry about me, it’s just a headache.” I said, trying to calm the demon.

    I watched as he set his sunglasses on his nightstand before laying down and wrapping his arms around me. “I will always worry about you, Love. I just wish you had told me. Now go back to sleep, in the morning you can take the medicine I got for you. And we will rest all day.” He said, kissing my forehead.

    “Okay” I said snuggling into his warm embrace before a thought came to mind. “Hey Crow, could you wrap your wings around me too? They’re just so soft and they help block out the light.” I asked half asleep, hoping he would agree. I didn’t have to wait long as he rolled on to his back with me laying on his chest. I heard feathers ruffle as he opened his wings before wrapping them around me.

    I cuddled closer to his chest as he whispered “anything for you, darling.” and then we both drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

Aziraphale 

    Dating an angel was a blessing and a curse. While he appreciated things like books, food, and drinks, he didn’t fully understand what it was like for humans when they got sick. Sure he’s been on earth for 6000 years and seen numerous people get sick, but it was never someone close to him. He tried to avoid sickness, he knew he couldn’t get any of the human diseases but he didn’t want to risk getting someone else sick because he came in contact with someone who was sick. He just didn’t want to risk it. 

    That’s why when I woke up this morning feeling like world war 3 was happening in my stomach, I decided to just tell my sweet boyfriend that I wouldn’t be able to come by today as work had called me in to cover for a coworker. I know it’s wrong to lie to him about it but I didn’t want him to tell me not to come over because I’m sick. It was easier on me if I canceled our plans instead of him being grossed out by my sickness. So, I’ve resigned myself to trying to nap on my couch as my bed just wasn’t comfortable right now.

     I just wanted to sleep through this, so I took some over the counter stomach medicine that I had laying around and turned on some anime to relax. 

     After about four hours of watching Demon Slayer, I decided to scroll on social media because maybe that would put me to sleep. Watching Tanjiro get his ass kicked wasn’t exactly relaxing right now. I opened up tiktok and started watching videos of different cosplayers and people making art for their small businesses. I would occasionally see one that reminded me of my demon friend Crowley and would send it to him, completely forgetting he typically hangs out with Aziraphale and would probably say something about it.

P.o.V change to Aziraphale’s bookshop

     Little did Y/n know that was exactly what was happening. Crowley was currently scrolling through his phone listening to the angel complain about his partner canceling their plans because they had to go into work. Not completely paying attention to the angle Crowley watched as a tiktok notification flashed across his screen. He opened it wondering if Y/n was at work why would they be sending him tiktok.

     “What time does Y/n typically get off work?” The demon asked, trying to process what was happening. He wondered if it was maybe something they had sent before going to work and it just took a while to come through, but then again the chat did say you were currently active in the app.

     The angel paused thinking for a moment, “I believe they get off around five, so they should still be there now. Why do you ask?” He asked curious as to what his companion was getting at.

      Crowely took a second to decide if he was going to tell the truth or try to protect the innocent man's feelings from the fact his partner had lied. Sighing, he decided it was probably best to tell the truth even if it would hurt the angel. “Well they just sent me a tiktok and it says they are active.” He said turning his Phone for his friend to see.

      The angel’s eyes went wide seeing that his partner was active on the social media app while they were supposedly at work. He tried to deny it, “Maybe they are just on break.” He really didn’t want to believe that you would lie to him about having to work. Why would lie about that, if you just needed a day to rest he would understand.

      “Well looking here it seems they have been sending me tiktoks for the past hour so unless their lunch is over an hour long, they aren’t at work.” Crowley responded, scrolling up in the conversation to see when the first one was sent to him. Even though he was a demon he didn’t want to believe that his friend would lie to the angel. Y/n just wasn’t that kind of person. “The only way to get an answer would be to go over to their apartment, cause if you call them they will probably try to play it off somehow.” He said not trying to concern the angel but also trying to voice the truth.

      Aziraphale nodded and grabbed his coat, bidding his friend goodbye and heading out. He really hoped it was just that y/n had gotten off work early for covering and it wasn’t them lying to him. The angel couldn’t help but overthink things as he approached the familiar apartment gently knocking on the door.

P.o.V back to reader

      I had almost fallen asleep when I heard a quiet knock at my front door, not thinking anything of it I got up and walked to the door. Opening the door I was shocked to see the face of my angelic boyfriend with worry written across his features.

      “Zira, what are you doing here?” I was confused as to why he showed up here after I told him I was working an extra shift. “My boss let me leave early because it was slow and turns out they didn’t need me after all, I just got home. Why don’t you come in?” I said trying to cover the fact I in fact did not go into work. Aziraphale slowly walked into my home and sat down on the couch looking around. I could tell there was something on his mind before I watched him freeze, as his eyes landed on the cold medicine sitting on the table.

      “Why didn’t you just tell me you were ill? I would have understood.” He said, sounding dejected. “I know, you lie down and I’ll make you some tea.” He started getting up from the couch. It was crazy to see how fast he could go from hurt to caring in only a few seconds. I stoof there frozen, He just figured out I lied to me, I’m guessing he knew before he came here, but he is ready to take care of me just like that. I felt a tear roll down my cheeks as I took in how truly kind Aziraphale is. “Love, what’s wrong? It’s ok, just relax, I’ll take care of you.” He noticed I was still standing by the door.

      I gently shook my head, I can’t just let him take care of me after I lied to him. “But I lied to you. I said I was going to work and canceled our plans, when in reality I’m sick. You don’t like sick people. You’ve said so yourself. You avoid them even though you can’t get sick. I thought you wouldn’t want to be near me till I get better. You don’t have to take care of me just because we are dating, I understand.” I said as more tears rolled down my face. I was too busy trying to tell him to go back to the bookshop to notice he had walked up to me.

      I was startled out of my ranting by the feeling of being wrapped in his warm embrace. He had pulled me into his chest and placed a kiss on the top of my head. I completely relaxed into him, it was the most comfortable I had felt all day. “It’s alright Darling, I’m here because I love you. I want to take care of you. I avoid sick people so I don’t get you sick, I may not get sick but I could still pass the germs to you. I will always take care of you when you don’t feel well.” He said, face still rating against my hair. I just cuddled deeper into his embrace.

      After a moment I lifted my head to break the hug so I could lie down when I noticed it wasn’t just his arms wrapped around me. I stared at the beautiful white feather that trapped me in a warm embrace. I looked at my boyfriend’s face shocked as he had never shown me his wings before. “Are those?” I asked, completely stunned. “Can I touch them?” I also asked turning in his hold reaching towards the soft feathers.

      He just responded with a hum and a nod letting me run my fingers through his feathers. They were the softest thing I had ever felt. I giggled as I felt him nuzzle his face into the back of my neck, the feathers ruffling slightly at the contact. “Are they sensitive?” I asked, noticing his reaction.

      “They can be yes. It’s been a while since I have let them out so a little more so at the moment.” I felt him speak into the back of my neck. 

      “Well thank you for showing them to me. They truly are extremely soft.” I said praising the angel wrapped around me. I completely forgot about being sick enjoying his embrace.

      He slowly let me go and guided me to the couch, folding his wings back slightly so as to not knock anything over. “Of course dear. Now lay down, I’ll be back in a moment with soup.” He said before walking off towards the kitchen leaving me to relax into the couch. It was nice knowing I had such an angel of a boyfriend to take care of me.