#possibly the only thing i could actually get excited about

[lunarxcity]

Why now? (Part III to Why Me?)

azriel x rhys' sister! reader

angst/eventual comfort (Reader is in her healing era, finally being able to process the mating bond, growth may not always be exciting but it is very necessary )

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Parts I and II if you missed them

-

The first few days in the Autumn court were dreadful to say the least. You couldn't open your blinds for the first day, couldn't open the blinds for the second, and couldn't get out of your room until the third. Being in love with Azriel and having to watch him pursue Elain was one thing, but finding out Azriel had been your mate this entire time and watching him possibly invoke a Blood Duel with one of your friends over Elain was something completely different.

Eris in all his cruelty had actually backed off and left you alone to sulk for the first few days. An enchanted tray of food that never goes empty was brought with a cup that magically replenished itself. You didn't even begin to process all that had happened, you've just been allowing yourself to sulk in your misery.

The shadow had tried to make sure you ate and drank, bringing you the cup and insisting you drink water to replenish the liquids you had lost from crying. You drank the water and then proceeded to launch the cup at the shadow which swiftly caught it and put it back on the tray. Even in your absolute misery, Azriel was still taking care of you and you hated him for it.

By day 3 your melancholy had been replaced with fury and you were angry. Angry at the Mother for putting you in this situation, angry at Azriel for not reciprocating your feelings or even noticing, angry at Elain for being so perfect.

On this day, you actually opened your door to allow in a visitor. The visitor was the fox you had initially chased down, and yes, you let it in so it could terrorise the shadow, but it was company nonetheless and provided you with some form of entertainment.

Day 4 you had sat in your room and stewed in your thoughts. Where did your feelings for Azriel end, and where did the mating bond begin, or had they been one and the same this entire time? Some cruel, desperate part of you contemplated telling him, only to see the hurt on his face when he realises the damage he has done to you. Another part, tells you that maybe he has known this entire time, but hasn't cared about you enough to tell you, or worse he cares so much that he can't reject you.

You wanted to hate him, but most of all you wanted to hate Elain. Sweet and lovely Elain, who was always compassionate and brave, but you didn't have it in you to hate her for being what you weren't. You couldn't hate her because she wanted a choice in who she gets to end up with, after everything she has been through, she deserves to be happy with someone whom she loves. The same goes for Azriel, and if that isn't you, you're going to have to find a way to make peace with that because you would never want him to be shackled to you by a mating bond when his heart yearns for another. Keeping him bound to you for any reason outside of his will isn't love that's a prison. You couldn't be the reason that he would be bound to another against his will, not after what your father did to him in the War. You could never do that to him, not matter how badly you wanted to be with him

The first time you had noticed something was going on between them is when you had been on a shopping trip with Nesta and Elain. She gravitated towards this one pair of sapphire earrings and had asked you how you think she would look like in blue, it wasn't her normal choice of colour, but she wanted to try it out. Alarms started blaring in your head, but you decided to think nothing of it not wanting to entertain the idea of her going after Azriel.

Then you saw Azriel gaining a sudden interest in gardening and spending time with Elain in her garden. He is allergic to pollen. He has always disliked gardens, they leave him with watery red eyes and an itchy throat. He would never take you to the gardens of Velaris, but he would tolerate them for Elain.

The final nail in the coffin was when he started to do all the things he would normally do with you with Elain. At that point you knew and you didn't need any evidence to confirm it. Yours and Azriel's coffee runs and bakery crawls became far and few in comparison to him and Elain's plant nursery trips and walks in the garden. When she came back gushing about how lovely the gardens of Velaris were, you had to leave the room and immediately head to training for the safety of yourself and everyone around you.

Yes you still saw Azriel every day. Yes you guys would still train together. Yes you were still close, but the it was never just the two of you anymore. It was family game nights, training with Cassian, or debriefs with him and Rhys. As second in command of the Night Court, you had many duties and threw yourself into your week to deal with this. You went on trips to Dawn and Day back to back when you first started realising that maybe Azriel's priorities were shifting and that maybe you weren't his number 1 anymore.

-

It was now day 5 and Eris has had enough of your sulking. He barges into your room, opens the blinds and yanks off your covers. "Get up. You've had your days to wallow in self-pity, it's time to get back to the real world and stop moping around . You're making the place very grim, you know." You could kill him. How dare he-

"I will set the bed on fire if you don't get up." How dare he? That bastard- "Move." You get up at the first sight of flames emanating off of his fingertips.

You assumed that you looked as awful as you felt. Finding and losing your mate will leave you caring very little about your appearance. "Give me time. I am going through a lot have patience-" You grumbled at Eris, pouting like a child.

The fire that had previously danced between Eris' fingertips was nothing compared the fire now flickering in his gaze. "I had patience 400 years ago when I first began to hear about this whole ordeal. I had patience watching you pine after this male for hundreds of years while you threw yourself into different things, whether it be family or work. I had patience when you lied to me a hundred times over, saying you were done with this." He swiftly walks up to you, making sure you don't shy away from his tough love that feels almost like cruelty at the moment.

He grabs you're shoulders, almost as if he was trying to snap you out of whatever trance you had been under for the past few hundred years. "My patience ran out the second he became your mate, and yours should, too. I refuse to sit and watch you fall apart over the prospect of a rejected mated bond, and I refuse to watch him kill my brother because he can't be bothered to deal with his own feelings and would rather die a martyr because he feels like he doesn't deserve to live out a happy life. You deserve better, and frankly, if you want to let yourself fall to his depths, I will let you drown. "

His gaze is cruel and unwavering, but you know Eris well enough to know that he is trying to bring out the worst feelings in you. All the anger and resentment and hurt to try to force you into action. It's hurtful but it fully might be working.

"I had begun to think that you abandoned the mask of a villain. Good to see you still have it in your arsenal." You respond cooly, just because you saw his point doesn't mean you were happy about it. Siding with Eris over Azriel feels like a betrayal in its own right.

"Fine. It appears that I've been so focused on him for so long, that I forgot to shift the focus back on myself. Now, what do I need to do to move on?

Eris' fox-like grin returned and you immediately regretted agreeing to whatever plan he was scheming up.

-

Apparently the key to dealing with a one-sided mating bond is focusing on yourself and becoming your own individual that isn't dependent on anyone else. Shocker.

Everyone says it, but it's like when you were sick and your mom would force you to drink this disgusting medicine saying it would make you feel better. You would fight her with everything you had to not taste that gross liquid and you would fail every time, immediately after drinking it all your symptoms are relieved and you end up feeling much better. It's a terrible feeling really.

Even though you had hobbies, you rarely did anything for yourself anymore. When Eris asked you what it was that you liked doing in your free time, you just kind of blanked and were about to respond telling him that you read a lot.

"Reading doesn't count. I mixed up our novels and I still cannot get the deplorable scenes I had read out of my head. I barely think it counts as literature at that point." You were about to offer a retort about how all forms of literature are valid and that you actually do read educational texts when an arrow came nearly flying at your head.

"First hobby we're trying, Archery." Eris says excitedly, much to excited for someone who nearly killed you. You look at him, appalled, "Archery? How is this going to help with anything?" He leads you around the hedges of his gardens to an archery range and hands you a bow from a storage shed that appears to house weapons. Where he got his bow from who knows? It's Eris.

"Trying new things is a good way to find out what you like and don't like. When was the last time you did something that put you out of your comfort zone? Besides, I haven't had anyone to compete with in a while, and Lucien refuses to play with me after I shot him in the shoulder." He says this so casually like he didn't shoot an arrow at his brother because he was probably winning.

"You don't have many friends do you?" You ask half sarcastic because really who is he spending his time with? "It's not my fault. I confused the red of his hair with the red of the bullseye, truly a mistake anyone could make." You send a prayer to the Mother to help you and to get Eris more friends to terrorise, so his focus isn't on you.

He shoots an arrow, and it lands perfectly on target. You guys go back and forth for hours. You struggle at first, but finally win the 27th game. You don't care that its' because one of the foxes decided to run interference by biting on Eris' pant leg. You will take the victory where you can get it.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you guys fell into a routine. You would begin to feel useless if you were just sitting in Autumn, not doing anything, so Eris put you to work. You would help Eris with his plan to overthrow Beron, actually doing your courtly duties and gathering intel from your spies. You would balance out the work with new hobbies that you guys would try because while you needed help shifting your focus back to you, Eris needed some fun in his life.

The next hobby you guys did was painting, which you were terrible at, and Eris excelled. Then baking, which you were surprisingly amazing at, leading to Lucien, who was visiting, getting into a sparring match over the last cupcake with Eris. You had to intervene and cut the cupcake in half when you saw flames being thrown. You accidentally exploded a lab during potions making which led to a temporary hobby ban. You learned how to sew, which Eris was terrible at as he kept accidentally poking his hand with a needle. Blowing glass, origami, gardening, curses, card tricks, candle making you guys had done everything you could name and before you knew it 3 months had gone bye.

Yes you still thought of Azriel, but the mating bond had gone from feeling like you had been stabbed in the chest to the feeling of a fly landing on your arm. Slightly annoying and you know that it's there, but if you aren't focused on it you weren't able to feel it.

After the first month, you had saved the shadow that followed you here from the fox's reign of terror. It had been keeping an eye on you, but it was giving you space. You wore it as a bracelet from then on, it was actually so nice having a little helper you could see why Azriel liked them so much.

You wrote to Rhys almost every day, missing your brother more than anyone. You guys even talked mind to mind whenever you both were free, which was not as often as you liked. He told you how things were and how everyone was doing well. He tiptoed around Azriel and Elain, not wanting to bring them up for obvious reasons. When Cassian heard that you had been writing to Rhys, he demanded to have a weekly letter as well, and when he told Nesta she needed to be included in his, which led to Mor finding out, which led to Feyre, and well, now you're regularly corresponding with all of the inner circle except Azriel and Elain. Amren will leave a sentence or two on someones letter if you're lucky.

You missed your family, but you're glad you left. In your time away you rediscovered an old passion of yours that had been long forgotten, learning. You were able to read and research to your hearts content, which you hadn't had the time or energy for in over 150 years. You are always so preoccupied on the things that you do know that you forget about how much there is that is out there waiting for you to learn. You learned about botany and even created a new type of Autumn maple tree that you planted on Eris' estate. You talked to one of Eris' healers when you fell of your horse during your trial with horse jumping and she told you about there is steal a lot to be uncovered in how fae magic reacts to healing and how the healers don't know why they can't heal certain wounds. Wounds that take longer to detect, illnesses of the body that slowly deteriorate it, unlike a swift arrow wound that one could easily see, were almost immune to magic relying on pure medicinal healing. While medicinal healing is a lot better than nothing, it was not on the same level as magic and could not always heal.

You read every fae magic anatomy book you could get your hands on, every healing book in the Autumn Court library. You even took a trip to the Dawn Court for a week to conduct your research with their healers. You guys actually hit a real breakthrough and the high healer of Dawn said she was going to meet with the other courts to discuss your findings. Nothing tangible yet, but it was looking good.

This leaves you right now, looking at a letter from Madja. She heard about your research and wants you to come back to Night and continue working with her. She says she has the resources to possibly find the answers you're looking for. You've had this letter for a while, almost two weeks now, and you have yet to respond. When you first got it, the prospect of even seeing Azriel again put your head in a tailspin. Then you realised, you didn't care as much as you would've. You have found a passion for something bigger than yourself, something that could help your court and the fae of Prythian. You've had your ups and downs and yes you have missed Azriel more than you have ever imagined, but you have been able to grow into your own person.

You're comfortable with yourself and being alone in a way you never have been before, always so preoccupied with the fear of Azriel not wanting you, you never questioned if you had even wanted yourself. These past 3 months had forced to you grow. You never considered what life would be like post-Azriel or post-when-you-find-your-mate, being alone was something you had equated to failing, especially when Rhys found Feyre and Cassian found Nesta. The idea of not having someone became a fear that was in the background of your mind. Now you realize, that it is okay to not have a mate. You can still have a fulfilling life filled with doing the things you love and being around the people you love. Just because your mate had found another didn't mean you had to fall apart. You had found the peace within yourself. Damn Eris and his ways.

You pull out a piece of paper and begin to write out your response. Your time in Autumn has ended, looks like it's time to go back to the Night Court.

part iv

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taglist: @alimarie1105 @chaosabroad @bbontenswhhore @tele86 @ashblooddragons @circe143 @i-am-infinite @princesssunderworld @thestartitaness @tiffany-xx @cpfantasybooks @lucia-valentinaa @jennigsonl

note: This story is really going a lot slower than I thought, I think I'm going to turn it into a full-blown series now since I really want to do justice to this relationship. I know the chapter is a bit of an annoying self-help arc and is uneventful compared to the last two, but sometimes the key to finding a fulfilling love is self-acceptance. Thank you for all the support on this series I can't wait to see where this takes us <3

note note: I wanted to get this part out quick so it is unedited...

[thetadispatcher]

"Good thing I can handle stupid, I deal with it every day." Begrudgingly the RK900 put up with a lot of the things he felt were ridiculous, as he knew it was harder to get a human to stop certain behavior. At least sometimes he could enjoy the process of correcting behavior, the challenge of making sure they didn't catch on was what made it tolerable to him.

John glanced at Bishop then Nines, he felt the two had oddly similar outlooks on certain topics, which he found to be mildly concerning as he nodded his head.

Nines raised his eyebrows slightly, amused by the fact a human could so casual talk about more intimate things when most would rather avoid the topic. "Yes, it provides a lot of interesting ways to silence talkative humans, even mouthy ones. It's the only time Detective Reed is tolerable and open to actually listening to my orders. It has provided very useful information about how humans operate." He glanced at Daniel as the older unit gave him a questioning frown, knowing exactly what the PL600 was thinking. "Yes, I am equipped with the correct parts, unlike the RK800s. Although it was intended for certain undercover operations, I feel information gathering is also a good use." He watched Daniel shake his head before leaving to return to his task of watching the drugged human.

Kelvin nodded in response to her answer, the action was uncoordinated and forced him to widen his stance as to not knock himself over. It didn't seem to bother him as he was accustomed to the jerky movements the damage caused, most of which he found ways to prevent himself from falling over.

He wasn't upset by the lack of an answer, knowing that he would eventually get one was good enough for him. He gave her a smile as a way to show he appreciated the help in locating his friend.

The unit took a step away from her, now more focused on the long dormant programs that were coming back online and the fog in his mind clearing. His HUD still displayed error messages and damaged parts, but the list was far shorter then he was accustomed to seeing any time it popped up.

Sixty watched as Kelvin stared wide eyed at his hand, the action wasn't anything he'd consider abnormal for the other android, as he did it almost daily. He slowly came out from behind Strasky as Kelvin shook himself, feeling any possible danger was now gone. "I've heard other units say they could handle it, then react violently once linked... I've never tried myself, doesn't seem worth it." The reaction of those who tried was enough for him, they all acted like they had been shocked and wildly threw punches well trying to get away.

The RK800 glanced at the other unit again, noting the far away, almost dazed look in his eyes had improved.

"What? Like turnin' it off and on again?" Ellis questioned with a laugh. "Besides, if it's good for a car, must be good for an android. So I'd say I got a pretty good routine goin'."

Dan nodded as he watched the couple leave, it was nice to see androids forming relationships with each other, and even with humans.

"Well, there are a few units with that name, but Kelvin has met them before. He didn't seem all that interested in them, or any androids for that matter." Dan hadn't seen or heard of Kelvin showing anything akin to excitement around other android models, seeing as there were only so many different faces they could have.

"Must be a human, he always seems more giddy if he knows a human is showing up when we don't provide a name." Dan usually had to let the other unit know when he'd be busy and what with, just so he wouldn't wander in during anything important in hopes of helping. "But I can work with just a name." He knew when the android had been shut down thanks to Peter, and they already suspected Kelvin had been involved in an accident that was likely reported on. The issue was narrowing it down to which one as the androids involved were never given names, only the humans.

"The only incident I can find that would fit involving a human named Jack and androids, is a search and rescue that went awry. The human's name is Jack Holt." Dan paused as he reviewed more of the information he found, attempting to further confirm that was likely the human Kelvin was asking about.

"The book he wrote about the ordeal mentions a damaged android being the only other crash survivor, it's behavior does match Kelvin's..." The PL600 held up his hand as he displayed the image he'd found of Jack Holt along with the book.

"If that's not him, then I have no other guess as to who he might be asking for."

"Welcome to personhood. You will now be subjected to an even dafter set of expectations and assumptions."

It was hard to expect any empathy from him. People have always been judgmental and set in their prejudices. If it took an uprising to get androids to where they were now, it would take them as much, if not longer, to accept that faces didn't match personalities.

He had no such issues. Those exceptions all accounted towards the strategic information he collected so obsessively.

"Indeed, you shouldn't. Then again, the chances of finding someone that similar or different might be about the same. Not that I ever cared to look into this topic to know."

He only cared about his own Earth and how to defend it. Bishop watched the androids' reactions, not showing any emotion of his own. It technically was an effective strategy, they had no reason to act so outraged.

But also, that gave him another chance to poke Nines. "You really are well trained. Are you recommending this because you've personally been testing this strategy?"

Willow heard the question clearly, but unfortunately couldn't provide an answer yet. She would look into it later as improving Kelvin's conditions had the priority at the moment.

The flood of garbage code was a fraction of the data stream she was accustomed to and so fond of. She worked carefully, but swiftly to clear up some of that mess to bring some order. Carthage's products were constantly copied, she could leave behind a couple of useful algorithms without worrying too much about conflicts.

'I don't know. But we can look for him.' she replied.

As soon as she had replenished her nanites. The process was completed in a few minutes and she retreated within herself to give Kelvin some space.

"Well, that was an educational experience." she mused, looking back to Sixty, "As I said, I could deal with this."

Really, she didn't enjoy putting herself in danger.

"I guess that works, but wear and tear is bad too. You've got to practice your skincare routine, you know?"

It seemed Rook felt confident enough to start messing around as well. She watched the interaction between Dan and the construction units. It was really heartwarming to see they were free to form that kind of relationships as well.

"Yep, it's great when people find each other." she said, before pulling out her phone, "Willow says that Kelvin is looking for somebody named Jack. Is that one of you guys?"

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Lights, Camera, Colombia

💫  Chapter One 💫 

Summary: Ten years after he quit the DEA Javi gets approached by a production company, asking if he would like to be involved in the production of a documentary about Pablo Escobar and the drug war. When he agrees, he meets you, one of the producers of the documentary and the woman who he will spend the next months working with on the documentary and travel back to Colombia, the woman who will get to know about the side of him that he never wants anyone to see, the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Chapter Summary: Javi and you finally meet when you pick him up at the airport in Colombia and you get to know each other. And oh boy you just know the next couple of weeks are gonna be trouble....

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem. reader

Wordcount: 7.4k

Rating: T (for some flirting)

Warnings: angst, fluff, a look into Javi’s head, Javi's anxiety, food mentions, flirting so much flirting

A/N: I am so excited to finally get the first full chapter out! I tried to do as much research as possible but we all know this is fictional so just roll with it lol

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Full Masterlist // Javier Peña Masterlist // Lights, Camera, Colombia Masterlist

Flying was not something Javier particularly enjoyed. 

It wasn’t even the flying part about it, but all the rest. And most of it, the waiting. He hated to sit around and just do…. Nothing. Hell, he even brought a book with him that he attempted to read on the layover in Houston. Instead he went to the bar to have a beer.

He had been okay in the planing of this trip to Colombia. He had checked in with you, made a couple of suggestions, even though what you had planned out was already close to perfect. 

The two of you had talked quite a lot through email and through phone to get to know each other a little before spending so much time one on one. 

He knew a little about your family and that you had been working with TC production for a little over five years now. The last documentary you had worked on had won a couple of awards and after finding out about that Javier had asked you to send a copy of it to him so he could watch it. 

And you did. 

It was a documentary about how the drug war affected the whole of the United States.

And Javi had loved the way it was put together. He could only hope that this one would be just as good. 

He knew that you already had been in Colombia for the last couple of days to prepare. It was quite the schedule you worked out, but you always left enough time to relax for a day or two before moving on to the next location to shoot. 

Only last week you had gotten the confirmation that you’d be able to shoot in what was left of La Cathedral, which apparently had been bought by a benedictine order to be turned into an actual cathedral with time. And you’d also be going to Hacienda Napoles. Something he found himself excited about, since he didn’t have the chance to go there back then. 

Yet overall what he felt about going back to Colombia was anxiety. 

In the week leading up to his flight even his nightmares returned. He had to schedule an extra appointment with Margery and she taught him some breathing exercises to calm himself down. Sure, he could have taken anxiety meds, but there were better times to start looking into that then when he was about to leave the country for six weeks. 

And so he took those breathing exercises and a big glass of whiskey instead of anxiety meds. A combination that would hopefully get him over the next couple of weeks. 

His CIA contact had informed him that he indeed was still on some kill lists in Colombia. But he was told not to be too concerned, the cartels had other issues to figure out at the moment. That, and he was traveling under a wrong name. 

Also set up by his CIA contact. 

Maybe if he hadn’t been a mess back then (well… he is still kind of a mess) things with Heather, the CIA contact, could have worked out. She was pretty, super intelligent and had a killer smile. They had met shortly after he came back from Colombia and had to get to one last DEA hearing where she was sitting in. 

It was a short but intense fling they had. And thankfully they parted ways as friends which was why he could reach out to her for a favour like this. 

She also took care of the gun permit for the journey for both him and you. 

„Flight 405 to Bogota, Colombia is now ready for boarding. Please proceed to your gate“

He took a deep breath before he emptied his glass of beer. Closing his eyes he counted down from ten as he took some deep breaths, before he grabbed his backpack and walked out of the airport bar and towards his gate. 

He gave the flight attendant a small smile, her cheeks flushing as she handed him back his boarding pass before he proceeded down towards the plane, pleasantly surprised that he would fly first class. 

Not that he had much from it. 

He was asleep before the plane was even up in the air. 

Maybe the next time you were considering a new project it should be somewhere more up north. Like…. Canada or…. The north pole. 

You had been in Colombia for four days and even though people around you were telling you that this weather was completely normal and actually quite cold for the season, you were sweating like crazy from the moment you got out of bed. The humidity was not something you were used to or fond of. 

You were more of a rainy day under a blanket type of girl.

Though you could admit that there were worse ways to spend a sunset than on a hotel balcony facing the ocean with a glass of white wine while only wearing your underwear. 

You had spend the day meeting up with the film crew who would already be busy tomorrow with scenery footage and interviewing some of the locals while you would go to the airport to pick up Javier. He had told you he could rent a car but you had waved him off, telling him that you had to get used to driving in this city anyway. 

If you were honest with yourself, you were excited to meet him. 

You had talked quite a lot in the last weeks and you got to know him a little. He had opened up a little about how Colombia had changed him and that while part of him was looking forward to see how the country changed, there was also the lingering anxiety about what had went down there all those years ago. 

You were pretty sure that only a fraction of the things that happened while they were working in Colombia had been made available to the rest of the world and you hoped that you would learn a little more. Sure, there would be things he could not talk about but the journalist in you wanted to at least try to get something new out of him. 

And, of course, you knew that he was an attractive man. 

Even if he aged very poorly, which you don’t think he did, you did see the ID of his DEA badge and ID that he sent to you via mail, he would still be just your type. 

Something you hoped would not disturb your work. 

Then again, a little flirting never hurt nobody, right?

But you were going to far ahead. You hadn’t even met in person yet and here you were already flirting with him in your mind. 

You sighed, watching the sun disappear into the ocean. 

In four days you would take him to the old search bloc building and after that to one of the drug labs that he had taken down that was now a restaurant. 

You had high hopes for the next weeks and you were excited to start working. 

His plane had touched down almost 45 minutes ago and you were growing a little anxious. You hoped that there were no issues with him traveling under a cover name or with his gun. 

You were pleasantly surprised that the permits had been dealt with so quickly. 

Just as surprised as when you learned that he was still on four kill lists from new cartels that had formed in the wake of Escobars death and the downfall of the Cali cartel. 

You hadn’t told Javier yet that depending on how good this documentary did, you might get the chance to do one on the Cali cartel too. 

But that was not something you were concerning yourself about now. 

There would be a time for that in the future. 

Now, you were excited and a little anxious  as you waited for Javier to walk out of baggage claim. 

And you didn’t have to wait for that much longer, the doors opening and there he was in the flesh. 

Carrying a big brown suitcase in his left hand, his eyes hidden behind some dark sunglasses as he walked out. Since he didn’t know what you looked like, it gave you some time to take him in. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome and if you thought yesterday that he could become a problem, you were now downright fucked. 

There was the hint of grey in his otherwise dark brown temples, his moustache trimmed to perfection. Dark, full brown hair that looked perfectly messy, as if he walked right out of a photoshoot. His pants were tight, his baby blue dress shirt, the first couple buttons open and revelling his chest, tucked into his jeans, a leather jacket covering his broad shoulders. 

If he was only half as a flirt now as he was back when he was working here, things were going to be interesting in the next couple weeks. He came to a stop, taking his glasses of and let his gaze wander through the crowd, most likely trying to find you. 

You took a deep breath, suddenly not the humidity being at fault for making you sweaty. 

„Javier?“ You asked as you walked towards him, his head turning as he heard you, a small smile sneaking to his lips as he said your name. 

„Yeah, that’s me,“ you couldn’t help but grin, stopping when you were in front of him, holding your hand out for him to shake. 

He took it, his hand enveloping yours completely as he shook it and you gulped. 

„It’s so nice to finally meet you in person,“ you said.

Going through security was surprisingly easy considering he was traveling under a false name. They checked the documents, asked what he was doing here and how long he would be staying and if he had a ticket for his return flight. 

The long part was waiting for his suitcase. It gave him time to get to the restroom to pee and then throw some cold water into his face after he looked at himself in the mirror. 

He really was back in Colombia. 

Giving himself twenty seconds to freak out about it, he threw another hand of cold water into his face before he used a shitty paper towel to dry himself up. Walking out to the baggage carousel the suitcases were finally getting thrown out, yet it took another ten minutes for his to make an appearance. 

With his backpack over his shoulder and his suitcase in his hand he finally made his way out onto Colombian ground. The airport looked a little different from how it did the last time he was here. 

Apparently Starbucks had also finally made its way to Colombia. Something he found quite weird with how good the local coffee was. 

He was still wondering about that, when he took his sunglasses off to let his gaze wander over the people who were waiting. He never saw a picture of you so he had no idea what you looked like. 

Yet for some reason pretty came to his mind when he thought of you. Even though he only knew your voice. 

He heard his name being called from his left side and he turned his head just in time to see a woman approach him. 

You. 

He said your name and you smiled and fuck if he thought you were pretty, actually seeing you with his own eyes and seeing how pretty you were? Well, fuck. 

He took your hand, shaking it once, seeing your smile light up your whole face. 

„It’s so nice to finally meet you in person!“ You said and he nodded. 

„Likewise,“ he said, cringing internally. Likewise? Really Javier?

„Was your flight okay? I had the worst turbulences on my way here. Almost kissed the ground when I made it out of the plane,“ you joked and he smiled. 

„I slept all the way through. I think the realisation that this was really happening caught up with me there,“ he said, nervously rubbing his hand over his neck. 

„I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling. Only reading about everything that happened and knowing that you were there for almost everything? Unbelievable,“ you said in awe and he was sure he was blushing. 

„Yeah. The last time I’ve been to this airport I had just been fired,“ he snorted and you huffed a laugh, starring at him. 

„Are you ready to get to the hotel?“ You asked him and he found himself nodding. 

„Follow me,“ you said and turned around and Javier found himself falling into step next to you as you led him out of the airport. 

„The car rental gave me a super tiny car but I am supposed to get a new one tomorrow. So…. I hope you fit into the seat,“ you joked and he found himself grinning. 

„I am sure I’ll make it,“ he said, winking at you as you looked up at him. 

He caught himself looking over his shoulder, seizing up every person around him, looking for a potential threat. He felt his hands getting sweaty and he reached for his sunglasses, putting them back on his nose while he took a calming breath. 

For the first time in a long time he felt the need for a cigarette.

The humidity outside was like running against a wall as they made it out of the airport building. You slowed your steps, noticing Javier was looking around, his sunglasses back on his nose. 

„It looks different,“ he said after a moment, looking back at you. 

„Yeah?“ You asked and he nodded.

„Also feels fucking different,“ he chuckled a little uneasy, trying to work through his anxiety. It had been a long time since he felt like this. You gave him a small smile, fighting down the urge to take his hand or touch him, feeling like you wanted to comfort him. 

„We’re almost there. I hope you like the hotel. It just opened this year,“ you said as you stepped inside the car park, leaving Javier to feel like he could finally take a breather, a lot less people now around him. 

„I’m sure it will be fine. As long as I get a bed and a beer I am happy,“ he said, adding „I think I underestimated how being back here would have me on edge.“

You stopped walking and looked at him.

„If at any point it gets to much, please tell me. I know you said you’d be fine, but being back here must be a lot for you. I’d never judge you if you ask for a break or even stopping this whole thing. I don’t want this documentary and being back here to be a reason that you end up hurt in any way, okay?“ You asked. 

He took a deep breath after he listened to you, exhaling with a sigh. 

„I’ll be fine,“ he said and you narrowed your eyes and he found himself smiling. 

„I’ll tell you if anything gets too much, I promise,“ he added and your eyes softened, before you nodded and turned away from him to continue to lead him to the rental car. 

And if Javier found himself checking out how great your ass looked in the jeans shorts you were wearing? Well he had to get the thoughts in his head to focus on something else than being back in Colombia now, right?

The drive towards the hotel was quiet. 

Javier was busy looking around and noticing all the changes in the city and you were busy, well, driving. 

It’s not like you can’t drive. But with living in New York City you don’t get to do it much and definitely not with being yelled at in a language you understand but never felt really confident to speak. 

Javier on the other hand was surprised how much he recognised as you drove. Then again he did spend many years driving these streets. There was something different though. There were a lot more people out on the street. No buildings were damaged from gun holes or explosions. 

It seemed…. Happier. Brighter. 

„The hotel is actually on the ground where the old embassy building was,“ he heard you say and was reminded that he wasn’t alone. He had completely zoned out. 

He looked at you, seeing how you were gripping the steering wheel tightly, muscle tensed. There was sweat running down your temples even though the A/C of the car was running on full speed. 

He got the impression that driving was not your most favourite and he made a mental note to ask and offer to drive himself later on. 

„They relocated the embassy?“ He asked and you nodded, changing the lane, blinker set to drive to the right. 

„They didn’t need a big building like that anymore and they wanted higher security, so they moved to a new build building around twenty minutes from here,“ you explained, releasing a sigh of relief as you finally saw the hotel right at the end of the street. 

Javi on the other hand was impressed by the big building in front of him that had no resemblance to the office building he had spend countless hours chasing after cartels and making numerous, oftentimes questionable decisions. 

The whole area around where he used to spend his everyday life for years was completely transformed, nothing reminding him of the familiarity he felt walking these streets everyday. The café he used to get his coffee from was gone, replaced by a flower shop. The little empanada shop he used to get 80% of his dinners from gone, the whole building transformed into what looked like apartments. 

There were big trees lining up the street. 

If Javier didn’t know that he had been driving this street daily for two years he would never think this was the same place. 

You drove around the hotel and down the street until the car stopped in front of the entrance. You turned of the engine and let your head fall back against the headrest, closing your eyes as you released a long breath. 

„Not the biggest fan of driving?“ Javier asked softly. You shook your head. 

„Not the biggest fan of driving,“ you said, before you looked at him with an exhausted smile. 

„I’m sure you want to freshen up and relax. I made a reservation at the hotel restaurant for later today so we can talk through some of the things I have planned for this week. But we only start the day after tomorrow, so… there’s no rush, okay?“ You said and he nodded at you. 

„Great,“ you nodded back before you took a deep breath and got out of the car. Javier did the same, walking towards the trunk to retrieve his suitcase and backpack. Before that though, he took his leather jacket off, the heat outside being really unbearable. 

Was this the climate change bullshit he had read about? He didn’t remember it being that fucking hot in this country apart from the time he was forced to spend time with Stechner in the jungle. 

You on the other hand schooled your face into what hoped look like expressionless once he was out of his jacket. It definitely wasn’t the jacket that made him broader, it was just… him. 

You turned towards the hotel and the valet who thankfully would park the car for you before Javier could catch you starring. You were still mezermermised by the foyer of the hotel, a chandelier that was bigger as the car that you had just driven hanging over the desk, hundreds of lightbulbs artfully arranged. 

You smiled at the woman behind the desk, having talked to her for a while the day before to get some recommendations for restaurants and bars in the closer area. You more felt that saw Javier as he followed you, a shiver running up your spine, the hairs on your neck standing up. 

It was like you could feel his eyes on you and you fought the urge to turn around to confirm it for yourself. 

In broken Spanish you asked for the keys to yours and Javier’s room and she gave them to you with a kind smile. Turning around you indeed caught Javier starring at you, sunglasses back in his chest pocket, eyes snapping up from what you were sure was your ass as he looked at you. 

„You got the room next to mine. Both are facing towards the ocean more or less,“ you said, handing him the key to his room and he nodded. 

The elevator ride up to your floor was a quiet one, both of you in your thoughts, the ding of the elevator arriving making you jump. You glanced up at him, finding him already looking at him before he stepped out and walked down the floor, you following him. 

„I made the reservation for 7pm, is that okay?“ You asked. 

„Perfect. I hope they got some good tamales. Otherwise we have to check if the place Steve and I used to get ours is still there in the next days,“ he said and you smiled a little, nodding. 

„I would love that,“ you said, stopping front of your room. 

„I’ll see you later?“ You asked, Javier nodded. 

„If you need anything, just call or knock. I’ll be researching for another project, so I’ll be awake,“ you said, opening your hotel door and looking at him. 

He just nodded again, giving you a small smile as he walked past your room and towards his own. You took a step inside, letting your head rest against the door as you heard a click when his door closed. 

Yeah. 

You were in trouble now. 

Even though he had slept through the flight, the moment he got out of the shower in his hotel room he fell asleep again. And surprisingly he hadn’t dreamed of anything. It was just a blissful two hour long nap he woke up from once he got cold, having fallen asleep with just a towel around his hips. 

With a groan he turned on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

If he felt anxiety about being here when he first got here this morning, his feelings now where…. Different. He just didn’t know how exactly yet. 

Then again he didn’t know how he felt most days. Now only the added confusion about being back in a place that plagued his nightmares came on top of it. 

And then there was you. 

When he talked to you on the phone leading up to this stay in Colombia he felt himself more and more looking forward to talking to you. The phone calls to you being the highlight of his day. He found himself thinking about what you were doing through certain times in the day and he questioned if he could be attracted to someone he had never met before. 

But then today you had met and fuck if Javier thought he was in trouble on the phone with you, right now, knowing you were just on the other side of the wall of his hotel room was a whole different story. 

You were beautiful. 

In every single way possible and he had only spend an hour with you. Part of him was scared to find out what would happened once you spend every single day with each other, but there was also a part of him, a part he forgot existed, that was excited. 

Excited to get to experience this new version of Colombia with you. 

Excited to get to know you.

He took a look at the clock on his bedside table, realising it was later than he thought. And maybe he spent a little more time getting ready, before he made his way towards your room to pick you up for dinner. 

You on the other hand did everything but research the project you had planned. Almost immediately after you took your shower you had called your friend in the states who knew about the documentary and about how much you already had started to like Javier during your phone calls. 

But now?

Holy crap this would either be a very long and exhausting six weeks or this would be the best six weeks of your life. And you needed to let all these thoughts out before you were going out with Javier to dinner. 

No. Not going out. 

This was just a work dinner. 

A meeting. 

Going out sounded too much like a date, which it definitely wasn’t. 

Which is why you did not wear the little black dress that had somehow made its way into your suitcase. You chose the light green summer dress that made your ass look great instead. 

And if you spent more time on your make up and hair?

Well you were going out to a four star restaurant. That’s why you did it.

And you really didn’t do it for the look in Javier’s eyes as you opened the door, ready to join him for dinner. 

You sat outside in the lush parklike garden of the hotel, enjoying the last hues of the sun warming your skin. All the way from your hotel room, throughout the lobby and into the restaurant you could feel Javier’s warmth next to you. 

You didn’t know his hand had been hovering behind you all the way, 

Now you were sitting across from each other, both trying desperately not to ogle each other while waiting for the drinks you had ordered and reading through the menu. 

You had ordered a glass of white wine and Javier a glass of whiskey. 

„The menu sounds good,“ he said finally and you looked up at him, his eyes still reading the menu. 

„Yeah? I don’t think I ever had any of this except the salad,“ you said, pursing your lips. 

„Really?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Even though I travel a lot for work I keep eating what I know like a true American tourist,“ you cringed and he chuckled. 

„I could order for you? I know my way around the local cuisine. Or at least I did,“ he offered and you set the menu down with a smile. 

„I would love that,“ you said, leaning back in your chair. He gave you a small smile before he continued to read through the menu. 

„Any allergies?“ he asked. 

„None that I know of,“ you said and he nodded. 

You used the time the waiter took to get your drinks to look around the beautiful property, your eyes seemingly always landing back on Javier as he still read through the menu. 

He had changed into a simple white polo shirt and some black jeans. You knew he must have showered, his aftershave filling the whole elevator cabin, making you positively dizzy. He smelled like he looked, sexy and a little dangerous. 

„You sure?“ He asked once the waiter brought your drinks and you just nodded, listening to him as he ordered for the both of you. 

Waiting until the waiter had everything written down and taken the menu’s back with him you reached for your glass of wine, bringing it up to smell it, closing your eyes. 

You may not know your way around food, but wine? Yeah. You knew enough. 

„Can’t believe what this place turned into,“ Javier said after a while and you looked at him as he looked around. 

„In my research I learned that the old building had so much asbestos in the basement, that the renovation would have cost more than just to tore it down. That’s probably why the hotel chain got the property pretty cheap. And the location is really great. I walked toward the presidential palace earlier this week, it was so close,“ you smiled, finally taking the first sip of your wine. 

„I had a lot of meetings in there,“ he sighed and you tilted your head in interest. 

„What if I said we’re going in there next week?“ You pursed your lips and he raised both eyebrows.

„Really?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„I haven’t told you yet but I do have some meet ups arranged throughout our time with people you have worked together. And from what I gathered from talking to them before hand you were all friendly with each other,“ you explained and he narrowed his eyes. 

„I didn’t make any friends here,“ he said slowly. 

„Now I know that that isn’t true. Steve Murphy and you seemed like friends,“ you said and he rolled his eyes, picking up his drink.

„He’s a fucking pain in my ass, that’s what he is,“ he snorted before he drank from his glass. 

You chuckled. 

„I bet the two of you were nothing but trouble working together. From what I gathered from our phone calls….“ 

„Honestly, and don’t tell him that. He was the best partner I could wish for out here. We went through a lot of shit out here. But he always had my back, even when I fucked up. And I really fucked up,“ he sighed.

„What did you do?“ You whispered and he looked at you, setting his glass down. 

„I’m afraid, that’s classified,“ he winked and you laughed. 

„Of course it is. I hope I can get some insider scoop out of your on our little journey through the drug history of this country,“ you said and he hummed, lips twitching into a grin. 

„Guess you have to find a way to get your inside scoop out of me,“ he winked. 

„Oh I have my ways, Agent Peña, don’t you worry,“ you winked back before you both laughed. 

„We’re gonna start with you showing me your favourite places, or what’s left of them,“ you explained after you had the best empanadas you ever tasted as a first course. Javier, or Javi as he told you repeatedly to call him, told you a little about the work he was doing now, working as a consultant for the DEA in San Antonio.

He also told you he kind of hated his job, but had been doing it all his life and didn’t really know what else he could be doing instead. 

„I’ve been working on movies all my life really,“ you said with a shrug after he asked how you got into your job. 

„Really?“ He asked with a grin, you nodded. 

„First movie I made was to blackmail my sister after I found her kissing Jimmy Miller in our garden when our mom was getting groceries,“ you said proudly and Javier laughed with a shake of his head. 

„Remind me to never get on your bad side,“ he chuckled.

„It was her fault really, she broke my favourite toy,“ you chuckled too. 

„God, sometimes I’m really glad I don’t have any terrorising little siblings,“ he sighs, still smiling. 

„None?“ You asked, and he shook his head. 

„I was a miracle baby more or less. Mama tried for a while to get pregnant and once the doctors said it was better to stop, boom, I happened. But she was already in her mid thirties which back then was… ancient to become a mother so both her and papa decided I was enough,“ he explained. 

„Well, you haven’t missed anything without siblings. They’re kind of annoying, honestly,“ you say. 

„You and your sister not on the best terms?“ He asked and you sighed. 

„I wouldn’t say we’re on bad terms but… she’s the poster child. She went to college, married her high school love and had a baby. And because of all of that she sometimes does this thing where she tries to  tell me how my life should be going. Because that’s what’s expected, right? You get married, you have the child, or children, and you life happily ever after while your husband brings home the money so you can have your picture perfect life, right?“

„If that makes someone happy, sure,“ Javi shrugged. 

„Exactly. If that makes someone happy, they should do it. But I am not like that. I love my job. And if I end up falling in love and having kids, that man would have to deal with that. Cause I can’t see myself quitting my job go become a housewife,“ 

„I think I could become a stay at home man,“ Javi mused and you were so stunned after your little rant you could do nothing but laugh, enjoying the way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you. 

„What? Don’t I seem like the type to stay at home, take care of the house, maybe the kids? All of that of course only after I trick someone into marrying me,“ he joked and you smiled softly. 

„I think you’d make a great stay at home husband for a very lucky lady some day. Or man. Whatever you’re into,“ you added quickly and he laughed. 

„Woman. Just women,“ he clarified quickly and you raised one eyebrow. 

„Really?“ You asked and his eyes narrowed. 

„What’s that tone supposed to mean?“ He wanted to know and you just hummed. 

„Nothing… Just…. Surprising. I would have bet you’re into men too,“ you shrugged, and he pursed his lips, bringing one of his hands up, his fingers rubbing over his perfectly groomed moustache. 

„Are you?“ He asked.

„Into men? Oh yeah,“ you winked and he huffed a laugh before he shook his head. 

„Into women,“ he clarified. 

„I think so. Like, I’ve never been with one, but if I end up meeting a woman and fall in love with her? Who am I to run away from that?“ You asked and he hummed. 

The waiter came and took your empty dishes, informing you that the main course would be served in a couple of minutes. 

„Do you…. Do you have someone at home waiting for you?“ Javier asked and you couldn’t help but smile. 

„I do,“ you said seriously and you might have imagined it, but Javier’s face fell for a moment. 

„His name is King George and he’s currently staying with my best friend,“ you said, his face changing into confusion. 

„He’s my cat,“ you clarified and Javier released a breath he was holding in a chuckle. 

„So no. No one waiting for me at home Javi,“ you smiled, „What about you?“

„No,“ he shook his head, „I think I have some issues letting people in,“ he confessed, eyes widening as the words tumbled out of his mouth. 

„But that’s not something I should talk about with anyone else than my therapist or my fictional future wife with,“ he added and you smiled softly. 

„It’s okay. I have the same problem. When you’ve been on your own for so long, it’s hard to do this step of letting someone in. Not just in your head and heart. But in all your routines, your house, your life, your  family. It’s….. The person has to be worth it,“ you said and he nodded. 

„Yeah, It’s…. It’s sometimes easier being alone than opening up to someone only to get hurt in the long run, a sentence no one at home would believe I just said,“ he chuckled to himself, picking up his drink. 

„Well I get what you mean. I rather be happy alone, than miserable in a relationship. Though I have to admit there are some things I miss about it,“ you hummed, resting your arm on the table.

„Like what?“ Javi asks, interested.

You hummed. 

„I miss cooking for someone. Which sounds dumb, but cooking for yourself feels like a chore. If I get to do it for someone else? Well that’s something else entirely,“ you said and Javier smiled a little. 

„Yeah. I hate eating fucking microwave dinners on the couch by myself,“ he said and you chuckled. 

„Exactly. Like…. I am good most times, I am happy with how my life is. I just ask myself sometimes if there’s more? Like am I going to stay alone until the day I die or is someone out there who can handle my crazy ass?“ You asked and he hummed. 

„You don’t seem so crazy to me,“ he said with a small grin and you raised one of your eyebrows, challenging. 

„You’ve meet me what? Six hours ago? Give it time,“ you nodded with confidence. 

„I’ve known you for a couple of weeks and from what I know? I think you’re an intelligent woman that loves her job and is good at it. You’re funny and between us, you’re fucking sexy as hell,“ he said like it was the most obvious think while your eyes widened, warmth spreading over your cheeks. 

You were trying to come up with a response to his words when the waiter approached, serving the main courses. Javier winked at you and you suddenly felt so hot, you were sure he could see it. 

You took a deep breath, reaching for your glass of water to take some sips. 

„This looks good,“ you finally said, picking up your fork. 

„Yeah,“ Javi said, eyes still on you with a look you couldn’t quite place. 

„Shall we eat?“ You asked and he nodded before he picked up his fork too. 

You continued to talk all throughout your dinner, though you made an effort to talk more about the trip and less about your personal lives. You were not sure why, but you felt way to comfortable with Javi and opening up to him about your life. 

Not that this was bad, you just didn’t want to dump everything on him. This was a job and once this was finished you would most likely never see him again. You would move on to other projects while he moved on doing god knows what. 

Sighing you picked up you new drink, looking up into the by now dark night sky, Javier having left to look for the restroom some time ago. 

Why were you freaking out right now?

This was a dinner. Technically a dinner with a client. 

A very attractive client who kept looking at you with his big brown eyes that seemed to hold so much longing and hurt in them that you felt like you wanted to hug him and never let go of him. 

There was so much more to Javier Peña that you thought in the beginning. From interviewing people in preparation for the documentary the people seem to respect him for the work he had done and was still doing, but were judging him harshly for everything else he did. Be it how he got the work done or how he spent his private life. 

More than once you had heard the word manwhore when talking about him and frankly?

If you would look like him, you would be one too. 

„Penny for your thoughts,“ you jumped when you heard his voice behind you, a plate of what looked like cake in his hand that he set down in front of you. 

„What’s that?“ You chose to ignore his questions as he sat down across from you. 

„This is Postre de natas. It’s a kind of milk pudding and it’s maybe my most favourite dessert on this planet,“ he said and you nodded.

„Where is yours then?“ You picked up your spoon.

„It was the last one, you should have it," he said with a warm smile and you found yourself smiling back. 

„That’s… That’s very sweet Javi," you said softly before you brought the spoon to your lips, eyes widened when the sweetness exploded in your mouth. 

„Oh this is fucking delicious,“ you hummed happily, loving the was Javi’s eyes lit up as he smiled at you. You ate almost half of it, before you sat your spoon down and pushed the plate towards him. 

„You take the rest, or I will have a sugar shock that won’t let me sleep,“ you joked and he laughed quietly before he started to eat, a long moan escaping his lips as he tasted the first spoon. 

He closed his eyes in complete bliss while you schooled your whole demeanour to not react to how watching Javier eat his dessert felt like watching porn. 

He licked his lips, humming to himself, sighing at every taste. 

„I feel like I should give you two some privacy,“ you finally found the words to tease him and his eyes dropped open, looking at you before you saw his cheeks flush a little. 

„I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. This might be the closest I got to having sex in a long time,“ he said, chuckling and your eyes widened, before you laughed. 

„Guess I gotta find myself a desert that’s that good, huh?“ You joked and he licked his lips, having finished the dessert. 

„Or someone to have sex with,“ he shrugged and you rolled your eyes. 

"Like it’s that easy,“ you said and he pursed his lips, eyes playful.

„The guy at the bar has been eyefucking you all night,“ he said and you were about to turn your head to look when he stopped you. 

„Don’t look. He’s not worth your time,“ he said and you titled your head. 

„And how do you know that?“ You asked and he smirked. 

„Saw his dick in the bathroom, he was next to me. Trust me, he is not worth it,“ he said seriously and your lips parted in shock before you giggled. 

„Oh my god,“ you shook your head and he grinned. 

„This is the weirdest business dinner I’ve ever had in my life,“ you still laughed, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. 

„Well this has been the best dinner I’ve had since I can remember, so thank you for that,“ he said and your smile at him softened. 

The waiter approached, asking if you wanted to order anything else but you shook your head, much like Javi before you asked him to bill the dinner to your room. 

Both Javi and you emptied your drinks before you both decided it was time to head back to your rooms. 

You walked through the restaurant back towards the elevators, walking close by each other. You couldn’t help sucking your lip in to hide your laughter when you past the man Javi had talked about sitting at the bar, nodding at you with a grin. 

Even if he was attractive, all you could think about was what Javier had said about him and you had a hard time not bursting out in giggles all the way to the elevators. When you risked a glance at Javier he was grinning too and you both chuckled as the elevator door opened. He waited for you to step in, following you, standing beside you as you pressed the button to the floor. 

You didn’t know if it was seeing the guy, being so close to Javi or the three drinks you had but you found yourself asking „So if he’s not worth my time, how do you compare to him?“ 

You saw him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, before his tongue dared out to lick over his bottom lip. 

He was about to answer when the elevator doors opened, having reached your floor. This time he put his hand on your lower back as he led you out of the elevator, slowly walking up the hallway towards your room. 

You were already fiddling with your key when he stopped in front of your hotel room door. 

„I’e be definitely worth your time,“ he finally said and you looked up at him. 

„Yeah?“ You asked, voice just above a whisper. He nodded. 

„And not just because my dick is bigger than his,“ he said, before he slowly leaned down to kiss your forehead. Your eyes widened, processing his words as he reached for your room key, unlocking the door for you. 

„I’ll see you at breakfast?“ He asked and you dumbly nodded, before you slowly walked into your room. 

„Sweet dreams," he winked as he pulled your door closed and only then did you realise that you had held your breath. 

„I am in so much fucking trouble,“ you mumbled to yourself with disbelieving laugh, looking forward to what the next few weeks would bring. 

next chapter

Taglist (please send me an ask if you want to be added to the LCC Taglist, I only have a taglist for this series, not for all of my works)

@pasc4lfuzz// @kirsteng42 // @imdreaminghere // @greenwitchfromthewoods // @theorganasolo // @inept-the-magnificent // @maried01 // @nationallampoonlemmings // @sunnytuliptime// @desuidesu // @galway-girlatwork // @missladym1981 // @bergamote-catsandbooks

[twopoppies]

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/779120652808536064/hi-gina-im-already-sick-of-myself-typing-this?source=share

War flashbacks…

I read Daisie’s timeline, and I realized that the way Shia quit the movie and Harry came in to replace him happened almost one right after the other. I’d say it was a rushed negotiation, and no one really thought through the consequences, plus I doubt anyone saw it coming.

I think Harry was trying to be as professional as possible with her, but there were moments where he definitely seemed upset: like during one of the Boston shows (before Harryween), then the whole yachtgate situation, and when he found out the nightmare was going to last another year and was seen at Sony office. You could also tell he didn't want to do pda with her until they probably told him to put in more effort.

As for the tattoo, we’ll never know what made him get it, but I think she wanted an engagement—there were even rumors, I believe—but I guess at that point he said 'I’ll just get your name tattooed instead.' I wouldn’t be surprised.

The only positive thing is that Harry—because I truly believe it was more him than his team—was able to negotiate keeping her separate from the album and didn’t let her mention him outside of the movie promo. I feel like that was a last-minute negotiation too, because it really seemed like they were going to link the album to her, but thank God that didn’t happen.

Nothing will make me believe that relationship was real, even without considering larry—things just didn’t add up, and Harry showed his frustration in many ways.

And for those who use the excuse that she interacted with his family and friends, believe me, if Harry were my friend, I’d try to protect him and help however I could (because that’s what friends do). And if that means going to her birthday just to keep up appearances and prevent my friend from another pap walk with her, I’d do it.

I absolutely agree with you about friends and family helping to keep him from suffering through more interaction with her.

I think the leak of the video of her begging Shia to stay, while also shading Florence, probably enraged Harry. I would bet she was covering all her bases and doing all of that while also courting Harry to be in the film (and we already know she lied about Shia being fired, and lied about his behavior on set, when he actually quit because the script for the film was terrible and there wasn't enough rehearsal time).

I think the tattoo exchange for an engagement was a fan theory originally (because I know I had that theory, and I saw others saying it, too). We really have no idea, but it seems like a logical leap to make.

Frankly, I think she was thrilled for it to last a second year and probably didn't fight it for one second. It was originally supposed to be released at the end of 2021. Then, in early 2022. It kept get pushed later and later (I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't please her case with WB that she could drum up more excitement for it the longer she played the PR relationship game as Harry was becoming more and more popular as his tour continued and as Harry's House was released).

The shoot went a full month longer than expected (partially due to Covid, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was due to the mess that everything was because of her). Then she literally checked out completely in terms of post-production and was so busy being a rock star girlfriend that the movie needed to be re-edited and shown to test audiences at least three times (with all reports being leaked pointing toward a disaster). Then, somehow Warner Bros decided to cancel every single movie it was making except DWD (and some movie starring the Rock that I can't even remember the name of now) and pushed its premiere to the fall when all the big Oscar contenders are released (as if. LMAO!) and somehow got it to the Venice Film Festival.

I very much think Harry's House was originally meant to be linked to her (the same way Fine Line was linked to Camille). The fact that it seems as though the Zane Lowe interview was shot and edited by January 2022 and then re-shot at Coachella in April of that year tells me everything I need to know about that. He swerved hard and cut her out of the narrative completely (THANK GOD).

[waynes-multiverse]

Time After Time – Chapter 1

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, angst, Soldier Boy being an insufferable ass, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), post S3 alternate ending, enemies to lovers & slow burn, set partially in 1942

Word Count: 6.0k

Posted on Patreon March 1, 2025

A/N: Weeee, so excited to finally share the first part of this series with all of you! From mortal enemies to classic romance, crazy and angsty time travel theories, and a glimpse behind the green suit (in both ways), we're gonna have a lot of fun with this one 😉💕

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1: Of All the Gin Joints...

“Move, or I’ll move you.”

Annoyed, you huffed a sigh and lifted your feet off the coffee table, shifting a few inches to the right, so Soldier Boy could pass by with a deep grumble. You rolled your eyes back slightly when he plopped down next to you on the worn, old couch in the office of the Flatiron Building.

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt you every once in a while,” you muttered with a glare at the supe.

“Disagree,” he huffed.

When Butcher and his team tracked you down and recruited you almost a year ago, you surely hadn’t signed up to spend your days with a fossil from the past century. All they had wanted you to do was find the weapon that could destroy Homelander. That weapon turned out to be Soldier Boy.

And you had found him, freed the man from forty years of Russian torture without receiving so much as a ‘thank you,’ and helped the team take down Homelander, who was currently powerless and safely locked up in a CIA black site. Now, you were still here – as was Soldier Boy.

To your dismay, he wasn’t just the most powerful supe on the planet, especially after his own son’s steep fall from grace, but he was also the biggest motherfucking asshole that ever walked the earth.

Soldier Boy was obnoxious, loud, rude, sexist, racist, lazy, arrogant, selfish, cruel, deceitful, complacent, vindictive, inconsiderate, paranoid, ruthless and unsympathetic. Honestly, you’d need a whole dictionary just to get through every single character trait you hated about that man.

This morning he’d been particularly belligerent as soon as he had set foot inside the office and Hughie bumped into him, causing Soldier Boy to spill his iced latte. To be fair, the guy had just been standing in the doorway like a moron for a full three minutes – he’d stared at you the whole time, probably thinking of new ways to torture you.

Today marked your 30th birthday of all things, so it was only natural your over six-feet playground tormentor would be present for the occasion.

“Led Zeppelin, huh?” he noted with an arched brow, eyeing your choice of outfit. You mostly wore band shirts from tours you’d been to from your time traveling adventures.

“Yeah, I got it for my twenty-fifth birthday. I went to Zeppelin’s first tour in 1969. Only wear it on special occasions,” you told him with a smile.

In some rare moments, it was actually possible to have a normal fucking conversation with him. You hoped it was one of those. Aside from his grumpiness in the morning, maybe he’d decided to give you a break on your birthday.

“Oh, yeah, right…” He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Happy fucking birthday, I guess.”

“That is so sweet of you, thank you,” you replied wryly.

He knew what you were doing. His smile rose – and then morphed into a provocative smirk. “So, thirty, huh? How’s that feminist bullshit working out for your biological clock, sweetheart?”

“Don’t kill him,” Annie reminded you of the office mantra with calm in her voice as she sat behind you at her desk, causing Soldier Boy to snort a laugh.

“Isn’t it time for your nap, gramps? You’re sundowning,” you retorted instead with a teasing smile.

You took his taunts lightheartedly. After all, you didn’t think you’d have to worry in that department – much like him. For some reason, you didn’t age… a lot. At least, it was slower than the average supe and human. You figured it might have to do with dropping in and out of wormholes. You had aged just fine as a kid but it progressively began to slow around your sixteenth birthday – the first time you’d traveled through time and jumped to Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged show in New York of December 1993.

You remembered your parents had been fighting behind the broken and yellowing partition slider of a trailer you had called your home. You’d lain on the pull-out bed with your headphones on and a Walkmen, trying to drown out their screaming. You listened to that record and wished you could be there – and then you were.

You’d found your ruby slippers.

To this day, you still got ID’ed at every bar, club, and liquor store alike. Soldier Boy had never been carded. He’d once claimed it was because he was famous, to which you’d almost spat out your drink and told him the wrinkles didn’t lie. Least to say, that little joke hadn’t flown well with the supe.

“You know, doll, if you ever need that tension to disappear from your shoulders, I’m right here.” Soldier Boy smirked cockily at you and spread his legs a little further apart. Not a day passed by when he didn’t hit on you either – or anything with tits, really. “Just say the word, and I fuck it right outta you. I do like ‘em older, you know, so I don’t give shit. But if you wanna get cracking on this baby thing, we better fuck on this couch right now.”

“Please don’t,” Hughie pleaded in a high-pitched sigh, glued in his spot next to Annie.

“No, thanks,” you scoffed and scrunched your nose in disgust. “You’re a fucking pig.”

“Hey, c’mon, I know you want to,” replied Soldier Boy without an ounce of self-reflection, his smirk only widening as his hand crawled up your thigh. “Bet you’ve been waiting for a big dick like mine, haven’t you?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” You slapped his fingers away, huffing in frustration.

Not even your kindergarten bully had been this fucking annoying – and that kid threw a dodge ball at your face and broke your nose.

Fortunately, while your own powers were on the fritz, you still had some superhuman strength. Sure, not as much as Soldier Boy, but if he shoved, you could at least push back enough for him to leave you alone.

For, like, five seconds.

Soldier Boy laughed loudly at your rejection. “I do like ‘em feisty,” he murmured with a sultry voice, invading your space even more as he shifted closer on the couch. Lion king on the prowl. “You know, you’d be less useless if you spread your legs every once in a while.”

Jumping up from your seat, you rounded the table to bring space between you and face him properly. It was always smarter when he was in your view at all times and you could watch his brazen hands with an eagle eye – the same hands that currently began to roll a blunt on the coffee table.

“Hey, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be frozen solid in a box in Russia,” you bit.

“Well, we’d like to think we would’ve found him eventually, love,” Butcher threw in from across the room, the sly grin on his face telling you he was enjoying the show.

“See?” Soldier Boy sneered complacently. “Fucking useless.”

“You’re fucking useless!” you yelled, anger surging through every inch of your body. “No one fucking likes you! You don’t have friends, you don’t have family, and everyone in this room fucking despises you – just like your old team!”

Slowly, he rose from his spot on the couch, nostrils flaring, his sheer height imposing as he towered over you like the Empire State. A part of you was glad there was still a piece of furniture between you – even though that wouldn’t stop him in the slightest.

“You take that fucking back,” he snarled, one hand balling into a fist by his side while the other pointed a warning finger at you.

However, you stood your ground, crossing your arms in front of your chest, a challenging look in your eyes but a subtle swallow in your throat. “No,” you said defiantly and bristled. “I’ll drop you into the fucking Jurassic era where you belong, fossil. Watch you become a T-Rex’s fucking chew toy.”

Soldier Boy’s grin boldly widened, green eyes shimmering daringly. “Do. It.”

“Oy, simmer down, kids,” Butcher assuaged but didn’t even bother to glance up from the newspaper in his hands. Instead, the Brit leaned back in his chair and threw his legs up on the desk, settling into a more comfortable position.

Soldier Boy threw him a dismissive look, annoyed at the interruption, before his attention turned back to you with a spiteful sneer. “You know, if I were you, I would’ve used those powers properly. I would’ve gone back and fucking killed baby Hitler or some shit.”

You scoffed a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, not surprising you would’ve killed a fucking baby,” you retorted dryly.

“See, this is why you’re a fucking failure,” he taunted and stepped closer, his face only inches away from yours now. You could feel his hot breath against your skin. “Those powers were clearly wasted on you, doll. Women are too fucking soft.”

You snorted, shaking your head. You didn’t even know why you still argued with that asshole. He’d never change. And you sure as hell couldn’t say shit like:

What d’you know? You’ve never seen a war zone from the inside, you fucking bigoted coward. 

“I’m not soft,” you insisted instead, narrowing your eyes to a glare.

“Prove it.”

“I wouldn’t hesitate to go back in time and fucking kill you!”

At this point, you wouldn’t. You really wouldn’t fucking mind at all.

However, Soldier Boy only laughed in your face like you were the bug about to hit his shield. “Oh, you can certainly try, sweetheart. But you can’t, can ya? ‘Cause you’re fucking broken. Like I said, useless,” he reiterated harshly, his sneer widening when his hand reached out and clasped your chin between his fingers. “Don’t worry. I’ll find some good use for you. Especially for that mouth.”

Furiously, you thwarted his advances once more. “I said don’t fucking touch me!”

“Yo, Soldier Boy, c’mon! Leave her alone now,” MM warned, finally getting fed up too. He usually avoided the supe to the best of his abilities, only snapping every once in a while when the asshole took it too far.

This time, MM only got involved because Hughie kept sending him frantic looks of panic during your heated exchange, probably worried you’d antagonize the supe so much he’d detonate the whole building.

“Mind your own fucking business, punk,” Soldier Boy dismissed the intervention, his venomous eyes still fixed on you.

The anger was storming through your body and closing your throat with a tight chokehold. You could barely breathe as your chest heaved and your ears rang. It was always worse when you got angry. Unfortunately for you, Soldier Boy had a way of pushing your buttons and setting off your triggers.

Your superpowers had the ability to control and bend time – or at least they used to. You had mostly used it to stop the clock and get an extension on your homework deadlines. But technically, you could also travel through time.

Once you had found out how that worked, well, you quickly became addicted. You went to concerts of bands that didn’t tour anymore, you’d shamelessly make money on Wall Street and placed bets on football games, and sometimes, you even ate dessert twice.

It was all about the little things.

But that all stopped when you accidentally cast yourself into the Middle Ages and almost got burned at the stake for witchcraft. For some reason, your powers wouldn’t work until the last second – you figured extreme distress had been a factor.

When you closed your eyes at night, you could still feel the scorching heat underneath your bare soles and smell the smoke reaching your nose and lungs.

Afterward, you didn’t want to use your powers any longer – not that you could. PTSD was a real bitch sometimes.

You had lived quietly and alone in a cabin near Montréal for years. After your parents found out they couldn’t make money off of you, they kicked you to the curb. And when you knocked on Vought’s doors, asking for help, they told you not to use your abilities – before they tried to kill you. That was the moment you’d realized you might be more powerful than you’d initially surmised. Until then, you had only used your powers for your pleasure and the occasional personal gain.

So, maybe, Soldier Boy was right when he said you had never used your gift wisely.

After your flight from Vought, you lived under a fake name and took up online college classes in physics and history to understand your abilities better and avoid grave mistakes.

And boy, time travel was a fucking bitch.

Years of study could be summarized to this, however: If you even so much so as killed the wrong fly in 1783, the whole world could go extinct.

Or in Vought’s terms: If you accidentally fucked up history, it might fuck with their business and money.

That was the reason why they had been trying to get rid of you for the longest time – until Butcher showed up on your doorstep. You had no idea how the Brit could’ve found you or even known about your powers in the first place. After your escape, Vought had kept your existence quiet. They knew if the wrong people found you, it would end direly for them.

Wrong people like William Butcher.

At first, he wanted you to go back in time and, in his words, “kill the chubby, little cape cunt.” Needless to say, you had declined. Even if Homelander was the worst creature to ever walk this earth, excluding his sperm donor, you wouldn’t kill a baby. You wouldn’t kill anything or anyone, really.

If anything, you could be classified as a bit of hedonist – or “a fucking hippie,” as Soldier Boy once had put it. Which, granted, was probably a trait you both shared. Although, Soldier Boy took the whole fucking cake and ate it, too. At least all you ever did was steal a tiny slice every once in a while.

In the end, you had never asked for these powers. You were just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

But when Butcher then asked you if you could at least “hop back” to retrieve the weapon that had neutralized Soldier Boy in 1984, you finally told him you were essentially useless.

A part of you wanted to help, though. While you had closed yourself off from the rest of the world, you had still followed the news. You knew it had gotten bad out there. You could see Homelander spinning out of control and threatening to burn the world. You knew soon enough your house would burn, too.

You knew the monster needed to be stopped.

So, you offered Billy Butcher the only thing you could – a glimpse into the past, so he could find the weapon in the present.

And you did. You saw how Soldier Boy’s own team had despised him so much they handed him off to the Russians during an ambush in Nicaragua – but they hadn’t killed him.

The diabolical smirk on Butcher’s face had scared you. You knew he’d realized in that moment that you could be valuable after all. So, naturally, he threatened to give up your location to Vought if you didn’t join his team.

And well, here you were.

You’d traveled to Russia, you’d freed Soldier Boy, and you’d defeated Homelander. But even after the job was done, you stuck around.

Hughie, Annie, MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and even Butcher – they had all sort of become your friends. And they protected you, even though Vought had sworn they were done hunting you. No one trusted Stan Edgar, and you knew he would probably still rather have you buried six-feet-deep if he ever got the chance.

So it was nice to know the whole team stood behind you. Well, all but one.

Part of the deal with Edgar had been a request to keep Soldier Boy away from Vought’s business. The guy was smart enough to know he wanted nothing to do with the ticking time bomb, either.

“And what are we supposed to do with that wanker, huh?” Butcher had asked as all of you stood in a very breezy office at Vought Tower – which had still been under heavy construction after the fallout.

“Let him play hero, keep an eye on him, and I’m sure we’ll have no issues, Mr. Butcher.” Edgar had smiled cunningly, his eyes flickering to you. 

Afterward, you had decided to pack up like Maeve and finally live your life. You’d even applied as a physics professor at a small college. But then Soldier Boy made his own request: Either you’d stay, or he’d walk. And if he had walked, your deal with Edgar would’ve fallen through.

Soldier Boy was a bully. In fact, he could teach master classes in it. You didn’t think there was one good bone in his body. So far, you could count the times the guy had actually been nice to you on one hand – two fingers to be exact.

The first time had been the very first night you’d spent together in that rundown motel after he’d killed Crimson Countess. You took over the nightshift of babysitting while Hughie and Butcher took a snooze in the adjoining room. That night, Soldier Boy had shown you a glimpse of a human being.

“Well, currently, there are two working theories on time travel: The closed loop theory and the alternate timelines theory,” you’d explained after he had asked you how actual time travel worked. Most people gave up after a minute, but he had still been in it after five.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Well, lemme see…” Musingly, you had pursed your lips and thought for a moment. “Terminator came out in ‘83, right? You’ve seen it?”

His lips had slowly risen to a smile. “Yeah… Actually one of the last fucking movies I watched before the fucking Reds got me.”

“Right.” You’d nodded. “Still remember what happened?”

He’d scoffed and rolled his eyes a little. “I’m not that old…”

“Well, it’s been forty years since you’ve seen it…”

“Schwarzenegger comes from the future to kill that blonde chick,” he’d summarized with a cocky smirk that should’ve proven to you he wasn’t demented.

“Yeah, remember the soldier who came back to save her, too?”

“Oh. Yeah, that guy…” His nose had scrunched slightly. Of course he’d be rooting for the killing machine. “What about that fucking wimp?”

“The Terminator was supposed to kill Sarah because her yet-unborn son would defeat the robots in the future, but the soldier who came back to save her is actually the baby’s father.” There had been no way you could’ve explained it any simpler than that. “So, the Terminator actually created the circumstance, which made him go back in the first place. That’s a closed loop. Does that make sense?”

He’d nodded slowly, his brow creasing heavily in concentration. “Yeah, I think it fucking does…”

For hours, he’d asked you questions about your powers, and when he was through all of that, he even asked you about your life, what you did for work, and how you ended up here. And you’d figured he was trying to schmooze up to you to use you for his gain – or maybe he’d just been coming down from all the drugs he’d taken that day.

Either way, after what you’d seen the Russians do to him, you could understand why someone like him might want to turn back time and get a redo. The unpleasant images, the inhumane torture he’d endured, actually caused you to have sympathy for the supe.

For a second.

When you’d tried bringing it up and be his friend, he had quickly shot you down. He’d been an even bigger dick since then, as if the sheer thought of someone seeing his weaknesses scared him.

Yes, a little, gray mouse like you apparently fucking terrified the biggest and strongest elephant in this world.

Honestly, you didn’t know why the supe had insisted on your presence. Maybe he just needed the perfect victim to antagonize as he passed the time. Sometimes, you did feel like the new Black Noir of Payback.

There’d only been one other incident where he’d shown something remotely resembling kindness:

He’d complimented you.

A real, sweet compliment – and he’d actually meant it – and he hadn’t hit on you in the same breath.

One night, a few weeks ago, Annie and Frenchie had dragged everyone of you to a karaoke bar to “decompress.” Even Soldier Boy tagged along and seemed in somewhat good spirits all night – there’d been no heinous taunting, only the usual flirtatious teasing.

One of those flirtatious attempts had been a dare for you to sing.

“Oh, c’mon! One song,” he’d begged and shifted closer to you on the small leather sofa in the corner of the bar. “How about something from the fucking 80s? Like Cyndi Lauper! I’m sure you’d like that, huh?”

“What, you want me to sing ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’? Really? You?” You’d arched a brow at him.

He’d chuckled, and it’d been a sweet sound instead of a mocking one. “Hey, look, I’m all about the girls having some fucking fun,” he’d said coolly before a lick of his lips turned him a bit more serious, mysterious even. “How about something a little slower… Time After Time!” He’d grinned proudly and raised his expensive whiskey glass to your cheap beer. “That’s fucking perfect for you!”

And then you actually went on stage and sung. You weren’t a bad singer, either, but you were by far no Mariah. However, you could see Soldier Boy watching you intently the whole time with that strange look he sometimes carried whenever he was staring at you �� something he did quite often.

In fact, he’d stared at you pretty intensely when he’d first walked out of his cryo-chamber, too. It gave you the creeps the same way that naked homeless man had once done in a subway after 1 AM. And then, he had fucking detonated, which had freaked you out so much you’d accidentally disappeared back to New York with a five minute time difference forward – the only time you’d actually managed to travel into the future.

But after your performance, Soldier Boy had passed you on your way down from the stage and intercepted you by placing a tentative hand on your arm.

“You have a really beautiful voice,” he’d said and even gifted you a small but genuine smile.

“Thank you.”

Sweetly, you’d even mirrored his smile after no other insults or advances followed. You’d been practically baffled. As you had glanced at him more carefully, though, you’d noticed something gleaming in his eyes, almost melancholic. You’d supposed after 104 years, he had probably been experiencing a ton of déjà vu.

“You okay there, gramps?” you’d checked with a bit of a teasing smile, and maybe that’d been your mistake.

“‘M fucking fine,” he’d huffed. He’d suddenly turned cold again, the hard lines on his freckled face crestfallen. He’d spun around, marched out of the bar, and ditched you there on the spot. 

So, that was what you had done for the past few months – babysit Soldier Boy and keep the bomb from exploding. Which brought you back to this exact moment:

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Seriously!” you snapped, feeling the fury overtaking you. “What the fuck happened in your life to turn you into such a miserable, toxic, overbearing, narcissistic, insufferable piece of shit?!”

“Insufferable?” He scoffed as if your words didn’t affect him, but you could see it was starting to get to him. “You’re the one who’s fucking insufferable, doll. Probably because you haven’t been fucked in a while by a real man.”

Exasperatedly, you gripped your temples. “Oh, it all trickles down to that, doesn’t it?” you deadpanned. “You sound like a fucking broken record, gramps!”

“Oh, you wanna fucking jump on me badly right now, don’t you?” he gritted through his pearly-white teeth, a challenging smirk playing on his plush lips as he leaned closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Please, it’s not gonna fucking make me like you more. Your dick’s not a magic eraser,” you bit sharply, your voice low and poisonous. “God knows you fucked your last girlfriend for years, and she still fucking hated you.”

Growling, he bristled, his jaw ticking. Mentioning Crimson Countess always hit a nerve. You knew as much.

“You’re just a drug-addicted loser with daddy issues. Nothing more, nothing less,” you nonetheless continued bitterly. “No one likes you! And believe me, asshole, I fucking hate you!”

As you looked up at him, you could tell he was close to exploding. Kimiko even desperately tugged on your arm to drag you out of the blast zone – not that it would’ve mattered.

“Butcher…”

Hughie’s panicked voice and wide eyes reached the Brit, who finally got out of his chair and slammed the paper on the desk.

“Oy, you two! Fucking stop it!”

And somehow, that had miraculously seemed to work. Soldier Boy managed to snap out of his temper tantrum, his breathing steadying, his smirk reappearing.

His lips twitched as he dipped his head and whispered into your ear, “You’re not fucking worth it.”

His thick fingers trailed up your hips before he grabbed your waist and pushed you closer to his body. You tried to shove him away, but this time he used his full strength on you to keep you caged.

“Get off of me!”

“Butcher!”

“Oy! What did I fucking tell you lot?!”

Kimiko tried to pull you away harder, but that only made Soldier Boy chuckle more.

“I said stop it! Get the fuck off of me!” you yelled louder, and he finally let go with a cunning laugh.

“Alright, you’ve had your bloody fun, mate. Why don’t you take a bit of a time-out now, huh?” It was the most Butcher could do as far as an intervention went. Everyone in the room knew Soldier Boy couldn’t be stopped.

“Fine,” the supe relented with a roll of his green eyes, but then his gaze landed back on you.

You hated to admit that he had gotten to you, but it was hard to deny when your whole body was trembling and tears stung your eyes.

“Fucking Christ on a cross, are you actually gonna fucking cry now?” Soldier Boy snorted condescendingly.

“Fuck you. Leave me alone,” you snapped with what little strength you had left and wiped the burning tears out of your eyes.

“Exactly why I said you’re fucking useless. This is the problem with women. Can’t even take a goddamn joke,” he ranted. The more he got to you, the more pleasure he took out of it. You could see it by the vicious twinkle in his eyes. “You keep talking how everyone hates me, but what about you, huh? You’ve got fucking no one, too. Your own fucking parents didn’t want you, and I don’t see an army of men lining up to take care of you, either.”

“Shut up!”

“Wanna know why? ‘Cause you’re a broken, useless, stupid, weak–“

“Stop it!”

But he didn’t. You couldn’t even hear the words properly anymore as they strung together into one explosion of abuse. Your vision blurred, and the ringing in your ears only got stronger.

“C’mon, fucking show me what you can do! Prove to me you’re not fucking useless! Do it!”

“I said fucking stop it!” you screamed loudly till he fell silent.

And then, poof. You were gone.

Soldier Boy blinked at the suddenly empty space before him. Knitting his brow, he shrugged your disappearance off only a second later and plopped down on the couch with an exhaustive groan.

“Fucking finally… Took her long enough,” he commented dryly and stretched out on the small two-seater, sighing blissfully.

“This isn’t fucking funny,” Hughie threw in, the anxious expression on his face only causing Soldier Boy to roll his eyes once more.

“Relax, squirt, she’ll be back,” the supe quipped, snickering. “Probably.”

“Y/N’s got PTSD, okay? She can’t control it,” Hughie argued, placing his hands on his hips in upset, his gaze scolding. “You know, you’d think you of all people would be a little more sympathetic to that.”

Soldier Boy’s eyes glowered darkly. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have that shit. I told you.”

“You know, kid’s right,” Butcher chimed in, catching the ancient supe’s attention. “I’d be a little more worried if I were you.”

“Why? Not my fucking problem. And like I said, she’ll be fine,” he reiterated with a careless grumble.

“I’m sure you’re right, mate,” Butcher replied with a conniving smirk and a casualness that made the supe wary. “Let’s just hope our little Y/N doesn’t take your advice to heart about the proper use of her abilities. But if I were bloody you, I’d hope old-me watches me back.”

Soldier Boy snorted a laugh of amusement. “Oh, I’d like to see her try,” he replied arrogantly and stretched his spine with a yawn. “Well, anyways, I’m taking my fucking nap now. Just wake me when she gets back. I’m not fucking finished with her yet…”

Hughie and the others hurried around Butcher’s desk, their voices only whispers as not to disturb the grumpy supe, and the Brit knew by the worried looks on his team’s faces that he’d have to deal with this bloody problem now.

“Butcher, what are we gonna do?” Hughie asked, eyes still wide and kind heart surely beating a marathon on his sleeve.

“Yeah, how are we gonna get her back?” Annie agreed, calmer than her boyfriend, questioningly folding her arms and arching a brow.

“Mon dieu, what if she changes the timeline, Butcher? I don’t want to wake up speaking German,” Frenchie threw in.

“And I don’t want fucking slavery back,” MM added.

“Oy, calm down,” Butcher spoke with placating hands. “Y/N’s a smart girl. She knows more about this shite than anyone of you. I’m sure she’ll fucking figure it out.”

“What if she doesn’t, Butcher?” Annie pressed.

“Well, then, let’s hope worst she does is kill the snoring cunt over there.” Butcher smirked devilishly and gestured to Soldier Boy fast asleep on the couch as if he were hoping for that outcome. “God knows I’d be bloody fine with it.”

It took less than a second, a blink of an eye, but you felt it immediately, knew instantly what had happened as gravity itself stretched out its tentacles and wound them around your limbs, tearing and tugging until you ripped at the seams and atoms spilled out of you.

There was a stark drop in temperature – that was the first thing you’d noticed. Goosebumps formed within a beat on the bare skin of your arms, the biting cold making you not only shiver but fear for your life.

Please don’t be the Pleistocene... Death by saber-tooth? No, thank you.

But to your relief, you heard a strange, but familiar set of sounds around you – animated chatter, chiming bells and closing doors, and the occasional low rumble of a car. Your heart was pounding a furious and relentless rhythm in your ribcage as your eyes fluttered open and warily scanned your strange surroundings.

You’d landed on a street, your feet safely planted on a sidewalk. Glistening white snow covered the pavement in a thick veil, the sky a dull gray blanket above. Icicles hung from lampposts with patriotic banners flying in the chill, proclaiming messages to buy war bonds and save scrap metal.

Huh…

Powdered flakes swirled around you as a streetcar clattered past you on a cobbled street, the sound muffled by the snow. Storefronts and shops lined both sides of the road, shoppers bustling by you in coats, hats, and scarves. Your brow furrowed softly at the row of parked, snow-covered cars that looked a tad… old.

Oh no…

You had definitely traveled back a smidge, but luckily not as far as the Middle Ages again. Judging by the moderately busy street, you assumed you were at least still in New York City. A paperboy was shouting loudly further down, but you couldn’t understand him from the distance. The only word that was plastered everywhere was war.

World War I or World War II, maybe?

Wherever – or whenever – you were, you couldn’t get stuck here. Your short-lived fascination with your new environment was then quickly replaced by a rising panic in your throat.

You had to get home somehow.

Squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you could, you tried to wish yourself back – unfortunately, you didn’t possess your pair of ruby slippers anymore that you could simply click. The more you tried and failed, the more anxious you became, and you knew a full-on panic attack was just waiting for you around the corner.

“Whoa! Hey, careful…”

With your hands on your knees, you bumped backwards into a man, your lungs constricting so much they barely let any air pass. You spun around, eyes wide and body trembling as a set of hands landed gently on your shoulders and waist for support.

“Miss? Are you alright?”

What little breath you had got caught in your throat as you stared into an all-too familiar set of outlandishly green eyes.

Soldier Boy.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

It was a reflex at this point to slap his hands away and keep them as far from your body as possible. Of course the guy couldn’t leave you alone in any era.

Admittedly, he was hardly recognizable, though. While he was just as tall as his 21st century counterpart, he wasn’t as broad. Instead of the signature green outfit, he wore a long, black wool coat over a three-piece suit and a checkered flat cap. His hair was maybe an inch shorter, his beard replaced by a clean-shaven face. And while Soldier Boy surely didn’t look a 104, he didn’t look as young as the guy in front of you either. No furious lines from decades of anger management issues decorated his freckle-dusted face yet.

Maybe your reaction was ill-advised, considering the power he wielded. You figured any past version of the supe was even more ruthless than the current one you’d gotten to know. Moreover, you didn’t have the advantage of being spared because you had saved him from an ice box.

To your surprise, however, there was no detection of malice or offense on his features. To the contrary, he seemed strangely taken aback by your aggressive response, his hands swiftly shooting back as if your very skin was made out of scorching coals. They raised in surrender.

Surrender. 

Well, that was new. He had never, ever, ever done that before. Did you land in some alternate timeline where Soldier Boy was a nice guy?

“I-I’m so sorry, miss. Please forgive me… I was just checking if you were okay,” he stammered and forced a reassuring smile, his hands still held high in good faith.

“Just stay away from me. Leave me alone, okay?”

You backed farther away from him, your eyes desperately flickering around for an exit. Your voice jittered in sync with your body before you bolted down the street and sought shelter in a dark and quiet alley.

“Miss! Wait!” he called after you, his hands picking something up in the snow that you’d dropped during your flight. “You’ve lost your–”

His brow furrowed as he twisted the thin, rectangular device in his hand, his thumb wiping bits of melting snowflakes off the sleek, black glass. As he glanced more closely at it, it lit up brightly and vibrated in his hold. He startled at the unexpected tremble, almost dropping it into a pool of mud by his shoes. Fuddled, his gaze lifted down the busy street in search of you.

“What the hell…”

▶️ Chapter 2: Is This the 40s? – APRIL 4

I think his curiosity is piqued lol... What did you think of his 1942 version vs. the, uhm, less nice future dickbag? 👀

Coming Up:

Ready to fend him off, you were surprised to find his grip wasn’t strong by any means. It was barely a brush before he dropped his hand again and looked at you remorsefully.

“I’m sorry! I just-… Please let me help you,” he reiterated with imploring green eyes. “Look, you clearly seem lost. Just tell me where you live, and I can get you home safely, okay? C’mon, you can’t do this to me.” He tried to loosen you up with a charming smile and a puppy dog look. “If you leave like this, I’m going to be up all night, worrying you’ve died of hypothermia out here.”

And my God, he seemed sincere! No wonder he had gotten attention from women like a goddamn bunny in a petting zoo.

Musingly, you then chewed on your lower lip and assessed the man in front of you. The people who strolled by you threw you the occasional weird looks – you’d chosen a bad day to wear a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans.

Admittedly, you could use a little help here. Maybe if you were being careful with the timeline – and him – you could risk it.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt 1.:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573

[stained-glass-mustache]

i have been possessed by my 14 y/o self and am grinning and giggling and kicking my feet thinking about frerard

[fisheito]

@trainto1925 and now u got ME thinkin!!!

wondering when eiden would have gotten good enough at plushie making to create his entire harem in doll form. ...possibly around the time blade showed up. eiden got a lot of practice making thousands of Eiden Plushies as gifts 🤣

imagining how eiden starts to do a lot of impromptu "visualisation" exercises when blade joins the roster

BLADE: but why was lil yakumo embarrassed when i showed garugaru the box in front of-- EIDEN: (sighing goodnaturedly) ok, say..um *grabs the nearest two items* pretend this cup is garu, and this spoon is yakumo---

after some repetition, eiden wonders if blade will understand better if he just has dolls representing everyone thus begins the plushie brigade

[sevicia]

I wanted to make a cleaner summary of last week's classes and also review the classes I have this week since the material is already uploaded beforehand but I was feeling so horrible throughout the day that when I sat down I was just gonna look at the ones for tomorrow but I think I'm just gonna go to bed because I just gave my little numbers game a few tries and not even the joy of tribial elementary school-level math games is bringing my brain cells and/or full sentience back

[exopelagic]

my players don’t know it yet but the adventure we’re doing rn is me being silly goofy bc they hadn’t made their characters in time for me to plan around them. now that I Know Things the game can really start

[neverendingford]

.

[puzzled-pegasus]

So you know that running joke on the Argo II about how Percy eats so much and from everyone else's POV it's seen as quirky or unusual? It's quite possible that his open enthusiasm about food is weird to the others because he's actually the only one who's normal/healthy abt food.

Think about it. Leo's been through food insecurity and he may have issues with it because of the way his body looks. He's also a workaholic and generally probably doesn't really have a very good sense of when or what he needs to eat to feel better. Annabeth might be similar, not being able to sense her hunger cues very well because of Trauma (TM) and the way she gets sucked into her hyperfixations.

Piper and Frank might both be conscious about their weight, Piper because of bullying and her Hollywood environment and Frank because he's always been so big naturally and his grandmother probably verbally abused the hell out of him for his weight.

I think Jason skips meals as a form of self-punishment if he doesn't feel like he's earned it. He also wants to make sure everyone else on his team has had what they want to eat before he gets to have any.

Hazel straight up lived in the depression, so food was probably rationed. She was also a girl in the 40s and body shaming was on a whole other level of ridiculous back then so I can't blame her for feeling like she needs to restrict for a few reasons.

And then there's Percy, whose mother did the best she could to make sure her son had a healthy relationship with eating and food. She didn't always have money, but she showed her love through food and treats as much as she could and together they created their blue food tradition. This means that Percy now is excited about food and can probably better measure his hunger cues than anyone else on that ship. This is a good thing not only for him, but if he shows confidence in the way he eats what he likes until he's satisfied and stops when he's full, it might give his friends social cues that they're allowed to eat like he does.

Percy, of course, would be happy to know he's helping them...but right now, he's too excited about those pancakes.

@manygeese @just-call-mefr1es @monarch-of-weird-girlboy-nation @jasonisntboring @erosjournal

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, reader plays volleyball, masturbation, oral (f receiving), obsessive behaviour, boobjob, penetration (p in v), 18+ minors dni.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who decides you're going to be his the very first time he sees you playing volleyball on the beach with your teammates wearing those pitiful scraps of material that can hardly be classified as a bikini.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes sure to pick up any and every extra shift he can just so he can figure out exactly what times you come down to the shore to practise.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose new favourite pastime is just to sit in his lookout post, barely paying attention to the water to keep an eye on anybody who may be in potential danger — no, lately, his gaze always seems to be fixed squarely upon you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but push his sunglasses up to rest in his hair so he can get a clearer view of you as you move around the sand, the way your scantily-clad body moves whenever you jump to hit the ball over the net just hypnotizing the poor man.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to disregard his duties completely to duck into a nearby beach hut when it becomes too much to just watch you, furiously fisting his leaking cock to the delicious mental image of your ass bouncing as you played.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who emerges from the hut looking like an utter mess, snowy locks dishevelled and swimming trunks hanging low on his hips as he stumbles back over to his lookout post. his strange behavior even grants him a few curious look from nearby beachgoers, but he couldn't care less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finds his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides when he observes one of the boys from the opposing volleyball team shaking your hand after a match. it's just a sign of mutual respect between players —  he knows that.

but that doesn't mean it irritates him any less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finally gathers the confidence to actually approach you later that afternoon while you're packing up your things, idly scratching the back of his undercut while he tries to think of a normal way to start a conversation.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who doesn't have to speak at all in the end, because you say the first words for him, greeting him with that pretty little smile of yours that he's only been able to see from afar up until now and outstretching a hand for him to shake.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but let a pleased grin spread across his lips while he returns the gesture, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction rising in his chest that his own touch on your palm has erased that previous guy's.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who falls even harder for you (if that's possible) during the few minutes he talks with you. it's nothing more than a friendly interaction between two regular beachgoers, but to him, it's one of many more to come.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels like he could do an embarrassing victory dance on the sand right then and there when you casually mention an upcoming volleyball competition that you'll be playing in. so you want him to be there, huh?

he nonchalantly responds that he might just be able pop by and watch some of it during his break — as if he isn't already planning on completely abandoning his post in favour of spectating the entire match instead.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is so full of excitement during the week leading up to the tournament that he just can't keep quiet about it for even a single second. his poor bestfriend lifeguard!geto is beginning to feel like he's the one with the giant, pathetic crush on you at this point.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would most likely be fired if his boss was to see him right now, sprawled across a bench and watching you compete at volleyball instead of looking out for drowning children in the waves.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is sporting a not-so-subtle tent in his swimming trunks as he sits there, which he tries in vain to hide by crossing his legs over his lap. i mean, can you really blame him? just look at the way those doughy tits of yours jiggle in that downright sinful bikini top!

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to clench his jaw to stop from snapping various profanities at the nearby beachgoers who have stopped in their tracks just to witness the match — he's not oblivious, he can see them checking you out just as he is.

but it's different when he does it. why? because you're going to be his soon enough. don't they understand that?

pervy lifeguard!gojo who isn't surprised in the slightest when your team easily triumphs over the other. after all, the opposing team doesn't have you on it. and although he knows little to nothing about volleyball, he can easily declare that you must be the best at it.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would ideally like to run up to you and gush about how well you performed, but due to the very visible... problem in his trunks, ends up darting into the nearest beach hut for the second time this month to relieve himself because of you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is halfway through sloppily jerking his hips up into his closed fist when sunlight suddenly starts to flit through the gap in the door — shit, he was so worked up he forgot to even close it.

rookie mistake, satoru.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose eyes widen to the size of saucers when he realizes it's you who just walked in through the doorway, shutting it gently behind you. he's about to start furiously apologizing for what you stumbled in on when he notices you don't seem nearly as shocked as you probably should be.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can only watch in stunned silence as you slowly saunter closer to him, your hands hidden behind your back as they easily untie the strings of your bikini top before letting it fall to the floor.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who releases what can only be described as a pornographic moan at the sight of your freed breasts, his neglected cock twitching beneath his hand as he ogles you without shame. if he had any self-awareness left, he might've been embarrassed of the small trickle of drool oozing from his slackened mouth.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels his cheeks flush a shade of red brighter than the leaking tip of his bobbing cock when you purr to him... "do you really think i haven't noticed you checking me out for these past few weeks, mr lifeguard?"

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow finds himself living out a scenario lewder than the wildest of wet dreams he's had about you, his jittery hips thrusting erratically between your tits as you keep them pressed together for him with your hands.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who reaches what is undoubtably the fastest orgasm of his life, his sunglasses toppling from his head as it falls back in bliss, messy white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat as he releases a series of broken groans and whimpers.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who immediately joins you on your knees once he's come down from his euphoric high, long pink tongue lolling out to lap up every drop of sticky cum he split on your pretty tits, sucking and nipping at every inch of supple skin within reach.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who just can't stop yapping, going on and on about how perfect you are, how you've been on his mind for what feels like forever, how sexy you look when you're hitting around that volleyball.

it seems the only way to actually shut pervy lifeguard!gojo up is to shove his beautiful face between your legs, the only sounds leaving him now being mewls of enjoyment as he mouths at your saccharine taste through your bikini bottoms.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is already too lost in you to properly remove the material keeping him from your pussy, instead lazily yanking it to the side with a single finger so he can dive nose-deep into your sweet cunt like he's been dreaming about doing for weeks.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is just so messy with it, practically making out with your dripping hole as he rapidly delves his tongue in and out, moaning so shamelessly you'd think he was the one getting eaten out and not you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes you cum using only his sloppy mouth so many times neither of you even know just how long you've been cooped up in this beach hut where there's a real possibility that someone could walk in at any given moment.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't hold himself back from fucking you anymore — he's waited long enough already, after all. so he's effortlessly manhandling you onto your back as he pushes in, eyes locked onto the sight of your tits still glistening with his saliva and cum from earlier.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who buries his face between the valley of your breasts as he ruts into you like a rabid animal, word after word of slurred praise failing from his lips as he looks up you with those wide, lovestruck cerulean eyes.

god, he's so fucking obsessed with you. getting to finally feel you like this was just the last nail in the coffin.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow cums even harder than his previous climax, the overwhelming sensation of the tight, spongy walls of your cunt pulling him back in over and over again just unravelling his hazy mind with ease.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to psychically stop himself from letting out a choked whisper of 'i love you' as he spills his milky seed right into your womb where his cockhead is lodged, seemingly having enough awareness left to know that it's much too soon for that.

instead, pervy lifeguard!gojo settles for fixing you with a dopy grin so wide that both rows of his glinting pearly whites are on full display, murmuring a cheeky... "what do you say we make this a routine after every competition, pretty baby?"

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy yoga instructor!geto <- PREVIOUS.

pervy electrician!toji -> NEXT.

[mulloey]

hunted • yunho

it’s all a game, he says. you’re desperate to play.

yunho x fem!reader

words: 4.7k

warnings: extremely dark kinks, heavy consensual non consent (cnc), dubcon at some points though you have a safeword, internet hookups (don’t), unprotected sex (don’t), the word ‘rape’ is used, hard dom!yunho, fear play, glove kink, choking, impact play, knife play, under-negotiated kink, size kink, painful sex, sir kink, you’re referred to within the scene as a victim and a sex slave, explicit threats of bodily harm and death in the context of cnc, mind break possibly, aftercare, crying etc

you’ve been appropriately warned of the content ahead. click out if you are uncomfortable. this is not safe to do irl. hate is blocked.

-

You don’t know where else to turn.

It’s been on your mind for a while— this fantasy. This game. You don’t know why, or how, and you’d never, ever admit it, but it plagues your thoughts, day after day, haunting your dreams night after night without respite. You’re too ashamed to even say it.

You never told any of your previous partners; you’d hint, maybe, suggesting weaker, milder things to nudge them the right direction, but they always shied away, got scared about three miles south of what you actually wanted, and ran screaming. You know it’s wrong. If anything, the fact that they ran away should have been a green flag. But it wasn’t. Not to you.

You make the account around 3am. Your username is nondescript, profile photo grainy and blurred, showing just enough to attract someone who might be able to do this for you. You write the post with trembling hands; the words come easier to you than you’ll ever admit.

I want to be forced. I want to be raped. I want to be punished for resisting. I imagine a stranger, maybe one I’d only seen in passing. He can’t get enough of me. He needs me. He’ll have me. He follows me wherever I’m going, lying in wait. It doesn’t matter how much I resist. I’m going to be his. He. Will. Have. Me.

As expected, your phone is blown up by the time you check it. Hundreds of old, gross, sleazy men desperate to get a taste of your — shudder — young pussy, as one called it. You hadn’t given a specific age, just that you’re in your 20s, but they all seem content to run with the idea of you being on the lower end, rather than the higher. Perverts.

You scroll through the messages. each one confirming the rational part of your brain that says this is a stupid, dangerous idea and you should forget you ever even had it.

It’s the one at the bottom that stops you. Sent not long after you’d gone to sleep, but they’d liked the post almost instantly. The profile picture is like yours — grainy, blurred, but suggesting a toned, young-ish, large body — and he too is in his 20s, if he’s telling the truth. His message is short and respectful— a breath of fresh air.

youknowme: Nice post. Do you really want that, or do you just like imagining it?

You bite your lip. You don’t know why, but this person feels… different. Exciting. You want to know more.

rosedepths: i really want it. can you give it to me?

youknowme: I could. Would you take it all?

You chuckle— you know what he means, but you figure you’ll have some fun. See if he’s expecting a sweet, scared little doe who’ll be quick to submit; or if he’s expecting a fight. If he’s expecting you.

rosedepths: nope.

The typing button appears and disappears a few times. You assume he doesn’t like your response, and he’s not as exciting a match as you’d hoped, until his next message comes through.

youknowme: Yes, you will.

Oh, fuck. You feel yourself leaking as you read it over and over. You’re desperate to know more.

rosedepths: have you done this before? raping a stranger?

youknowme: I hope you’re talking about CNC, Rose. If you are, then yes. I have.

rosedepths: you any good at it?

youknowme: I’ve subdued much feistier things than you. I can give you what you’re asking for. Do you want it?

The need in your stomach is so profound you think you could keel over. You’ve never found it easier to type something out.

rosedepths: yes.

You talk until you sleep, and you’re optimistic about this guy. He’s careful and meticulous with your kinks and limits, guiding you through the details while still retaining the mystery and allure you’re craving. Despite your protests, he insists on a safeword, but assures you that that’s ‘the only thing in the world that will stop him.’

As you become more familiar with this site, designed solely for this purpose it seems, you see this man is… popular. To say the least. He even has what looks like a review section from other women he’s fucked and oh, there’s pictures. Not of him— but of the deep bruises and stinging cuts he’s left behind. You click through the reviews, pupils dilating the longer you stare the screen down.

He fucked me so good.

He put me in my place.

He’s brutal.

No one’s ever made me cry like that. Or cum.

When he proposes a meeting, you don’t think twice.

By the time next Friday rolls around, the knot in your stomach is a constant; it follows you around, heavy and aching as it trails behind every step. You know it’s just nerves, excitement, the thrill of knowing you’re about to do something very, very wrong. But some part of you does wonder if it’s doubt— are you being stupid? Is this a bad idea? Well, yes. You are and it is. But is it… too bad? You don’t know. As the clock ticks slowly towards your ‘appointment’, you feel more and more anxious to find out.

You clock out at 5, hurrying down the stairs of your office building to dash home. You’d prepared your bag already, shaved this morning and placed your fanciest, laciest set of lingerie under your work clothes. You take a second to freshen up, touch up your makeup and dump your work bag on your bed before you’re hurrying out the door again.

The hotel he’d booked is downtown, shiny and new and well beyond your price range. You wonder for a moment what this man does for work. Your knowledge of him is very, very limited— by design, of course. This whole game, this whole exercise hinges on him being a total stranger. But still, you can’t help but be curious. The one clue you have is the name the room was booked under— Yunho. You must have said it to yourself a thousand times; trying it out, the sound, the feeling. It tastes tantalising on your tongue and you’re bubbling with need by the time you make it to your room.

You hesitate when you reach the door. He’d told you he’d arrive later, at an undetermined time, but you can’t help but wonder. Is he in there, lying in wait? Will you open the door to find him sat on the bed, or hidden behind a corner, or, your heart races at the thought, right there on the other side? You breathe, in, out, in, out. You can do this. There’s nothing you could find on the other side of the door that you wouldn’t beg for another day.

You’re almost disappointed when you walk into the room to find it totally empty. You check the bathroom, the corners, the cupboards, half hoping to find him looming there, waiting to strike. But you don’t. You sigh, sitting down on the bed and sliding off your shoes. You’re not really sure what to do now. You suppose you could touch yourself, you doubt he’d blame you for being excited, but over the past few days, without realising you’ve found yourself almost saving yourself for him; each time your hands had wandered down there, you’d stopped yourself. He’ll take care of it.

Sighing, you decide to turn on the TV, flicking lazily through the channels until you find something that entertains you until he arrives.

With every unexplained noise, every creaking of a neighbour’s door, you look up eagerly, hoping to see Yunho looming in the doorway. But you don’t. Hours go by, your hope fading more and more, until you accept that he’s just not coming tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. You hope.

By the time you’re ready to sleep, you’ve passed several hours in front of the mindless reality show you ended up settling on. Trying to ignore the crushing disappointment that Yunho hasn’t shown up today, and the fear that he never will, you turn the TV off and settle into the sheets.

He’ll come tomorrow. He has to.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you make yourself comfortable in the cool, fresh sheets. The only sounds in the quiet room are your slow, steady breaths and the low hum of the air-conditioning. As your eyes begin to droop, you feel yourself relaxing into the memory foam, wondering and hoping he’ll be there when you wake up…

Click.

There’s a hand on your mouth. The lights are on.

Your eyes snap open and your body jolts, adrenaline flowing instantly. The hand is large, covering your mouth and nose and you can’t breathe.

As you adjust to the light you get a good look at him, and you’re so shocked that for a moment you forget you’re supposed to struggle. Yunho is gorgeous. Fading blue hair, dark enough to seem black from a distance; features gentle, eyes dangerous and all blending perfectly together. He’s wearing a white shirt and pinstripe waistcoat that struggles against a broad, toned chest that seems to be trying to escape and his large hands are covered by a pair of thick, leather gloves.

Fuck. You’d beg for this man any other day, happily and eagerly. But you can’t do that now. You have to fight. You thrash against him, legs flailing but his body holds you down, pinning you in place and oh, he’s large, too. He could incapacitate you now and be done with it, but it seems he wants to play.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.”

His voice is low and rough and addictive, dripping with want and danger. He stares you down, eyes narrowed, blank, burning.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?”

The pressure of his hand has eased enough for you to breathe and you lie still for a moment, gauging your next move. You nod, slowly. I’ll be good.

He smiles, not really believing you, and then his hands are off you. For one second, they’re off of you and you take your chance— you jump up and bolt out of the bed, dashing in the direction of the door. You hear him curse, but you know he’d chosen this room, large enough to practically count as a suite, specifically to give you more room to run. And run you do; you’re still half-asleep — you’re not quite sure if you did fall asleep, in the end, or if he got to you just as you were drifting off — but the adrenaline pumping through your veins is enough to carry your feet towards the exit.

You hear him on your tail but he’s not running— no, his steps are leisurely, like he knows he’s going to catch you and is merely amused by your idea that it would end any other way.

He lets you get to the door and pull it halfway open, just enough to think you’ll make it out into the hall, before it slams shut in your face, only just missing your fingers where they’d lingered in the doorway. Then there’s strong arms on your body, slamming you with full force, your body colliding painfully with the heavy wood. You struggle pitifully in his hold and as the lock clicks shut above you, you hear the barely restrained anger in his voice.

“And where the fuck are you going, bitch?” He growls. He grabs your hair and tugs your head backwards, sending a painful sting through your scalp then slams your head back against the door. “You tryna get away, pretty girl?”

You grunt, pushing back against him as hard as you can, but with his firm grip on you all you manage to do is push your ass back against his crotch. He groans, the grip on your hair tightening. “Fucking tease,” he mutters. “Bet you’re wet already.”

He spins you around, holding you by the neck against the door, his body caging you in as his other hand roams across your breasts, squeezing them just short of painfully. You struggle fruitlessly but you’re completely trapped and you know it.

You feel his knee nudging at your closed legs, clenched together to keep him away from your heat as if it’s not aching for him already. “Open,” he says.

“Never.”

“Fine.” His leg draws back and lands a kick between your knees and you yelp, legs forced apart; he shoves his thigh into the gap, holding your legs open and your pussy exposed as his hand runs up your bare thigh and slips beneath the silk slip you curse yourself for wearing to bed. Could you have made this any easier for him?

His fingers tease the edge of your cotton panties, pulling it back and slapping the elastic against your skin and all you can do is stay in place, held under his weight as he toys with you. But you’re not done and this isn’t over. You’re just biding your time. You just need an opportunity; a moment of carelessness for you to slip away.

He runs a finger softly across your covered pussy, and the smug expression on his face tells you exactly what he finds there.

“For someone who doesn’t want this,” he says, “you’re awfully fucking wet.”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

He’s quick to react; a heavy slap lands on your face, turning your head forcefully to the side and leaving a lingering ache.

“Wet and mouthy,” he says. “I wonder how quickly you’ll break.”

Your stomach twists but you give nothing away; you’re enjoying the back and forth, the game, too much to give up yet, no matter how desperately you want him to just fuck you alrady.

“I’ll never fucking break,” you snap.

“Oh, you’ll break.” He leans in closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face as he speaks. “They always do.”

You can hear your heart beating wildly, pounding against your ribs and your breath stutters. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t…” He lets the words hang in the air, gaze flickering across your shivering form. His mouth curls into a thin smile. “I’ll just have to hurt you real, real bad.”

You swallow thickly, tension caught in your throat. You wish that didn’t sound so enticing.

“Now,” he says. “Open your mouth.”

You force yourself to laugh, amused despite your terror by the notion that you’d just give in and obey. You purse your lips, sealing your mouth shut— directly defiant. His eyes flash and his hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your airflow as he presses down on the sides of your neck. You manage to hold out for a few seconds until you feel your eyes bulge and you gasp, mouth opening in a desperate bid for air. He loosens his grip, grabbing your chin and pushing his thumb in just far enough to hold your mouth open for him to spit into it. The saliva lands on your tongue and he pushes your mouth closed, pressing his hand over your mouth and nose again. “Swallow.”

Knowing he won’t let you breathe until you do, you swallow the spit; it feels disgusting and degrading sliding down your throat but the humiliation burns with pleasure and you’re desperate for more.

“Good girl,” he smiles. “Not that hard to listen, is it?”

You scowl, squirming under his hold. Yes, it is that hard. You manage to wring your arms free enough to grab at his arm, trying to pull his hand off of your face. In the panic one of your nails digs into his forearm and he growls, pulling you forward just to slam you backwards again. Your ears are ringing and his hand is pressed even tighter across your mouth and nose.

“Disobedient little bitch,” he hisses, “you want me to fuck you up?”

Yes, fuck, please, your mind says. But you keep that on the inside, and instead of begging or submitting or doing any of the things your body is screaming and pleading for you to do, you bite down. You bite down hard.

The taste of blood is a small victory as he shouts, snatching his hand away from you but this time he doesn’t give you the chance to get away; you make it a few steps before he grabs your wrists, clutching them easily in his injured hand, forcing them behind you back and twisting them painfully to hold you in place so he can backhand you again— and again, and again. You scream in pain, but if he notices, he doesn’t care. His expression is livid, eyes black and burning with rage. “Fucking. Little. Bitch.” Each word is punctuated by a hard slap, knocking the wind out of you over and over.

“Someone needs to put you in your fucking place,” he growls. “Dumb little sex slave.”

The word hits you somewhere deep, stomach twisting into knots as wetness pools. Slave. Fuck.

“I’m not your fucking sex slave,” you bite back and he laughs.

“You don’t know what the fuck you are. Stop squirming.” He twists your arms a little further, teetering on the edge of too far. You whine, straining against him and he cooes. “Hurts, baby?”

“Yes it fucking hurts,” you snap.

He snorts, amused. His eyes darken again as he leans in closer. “Any more attitude and I’ll fucking break them.”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, fear pushing through your veins again. His grip on your arms is iron and you know he could snap them with ease. But would he really? You say nothing, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He grins.

“Don’t think I won’t,” he laughs. “I’ll break every bone in your body if it’ll keep you pliant.”

“I’ll do it one by one,” he continues. His grip on your wrists tightens again but he doesn’t twist any further; still toeing the line. “Nice and slow so you feel it all,” he smiles, and you know he’s imagining it as he speaks. You wish you could say you weren’t. “Let you hear the crack of each bone snapping in half until you’re completely destroyed. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You shake your head, voice quivering. “No.”

“Good.”

You scowl, squirming again to show your displeasure. “Let me go, Yunho.”

He hadn’t told you what to call him, but you decide to take a gamble that he doesn’t want you using his name and you’re right— he grabs your neck, pressing down hard enough to make you dizzy. “Call me that again,” he hisses, “and I’ll slit your fucking throat. Got it?”

You catch the whimper before it leaves your throat but you can’t stop your pussy from leaking even more than it already was. You didn’t know you could be so terrified or so horny. But you’re not giving up yet.

“You call me sir,” he says, “is that clear?”

You smile thinly. “Yes, sir,” you say, so sweet and polite that he sees right through it. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your next move and it comes in the form of a wad of spit, landing like a bullet between his eyes.

Then you’re on the bed. You’re landing on the bed, shoved down and he’s crawling over you, holding you down with his weight and— there’s a knife on your throat.

Your eyes widen, all your blood rushing to your head at once. A knife… he’d never mentioned a knife. On your profile you’d said you were open to knife play, but he was so meticulous when he went through all the kinks he was planning that you thought… Well, you didn’t think he’d have a knife.

“Oh, that got your attention, didn’t it?” He grins. There’s a fire, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before and you feel it in the deepest parts of your body. You feel something else, too, and it burns just as brightly as your arousal. As he presses the knife down just enough to sting, you realise you are genuinely, truly afraid of Yunho. And yet…

Yunho sees it too; “fucking gushing,” he spits. “You’re more sick than I am. Don’t act like a victim now.”

You whine, squirming slightly and he hums thoughtfully.

“Or do,” he decides. “Actually, I’m sort of hoping you don’t do what I tell you. I’d love to watch the light leave your eyes when you finally stop struggling.”

Your breath hitches, caught in your throat. You don’t… you don’t know how you feel about this. You knew he’d be intense; the reviews had painted a clear picture of just how much he feeds off of fear. But there’s a wild, uncontrolled look in his eyes as he threatens your life so casually, so smoothly, that makes you wonder…

No. You know it’s fake. It’s all fake. You know it’s just a game and you know he’d stop if you said the safe word he gave you. But the knife at your neck is real. The darkness in his eyes is real. The fear is real. And he sees it in your eyes, his lips twitching into a small smile as though he can tell the exact moment you accept it. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Are you ready to listen?”

You say nothing, glowering up at him. He smiles, tilting his head.

“Open your mouth.”

Fuck no. This isn’t over. You meet his eyes with your mouth firmly, resoundingly shut. You purse your lips for good measure, determined to disobey.

His hand collides with your face again; the back of it, this time, and the feeling of his knuckles against your cheek makes you cry out before you can stop yourself. He seizes the opportunity of your parted lips and plunges two gloved fingers into your mouth. You choke, spluttering and he tuts, looking disappointed. Even with fingers in your throat, you feel like a naughty, scolded child beneath his firm gaze.

“See,” he says, his voice low, “I could make this so much worse for you. It’s in your best interest to do what I tell you.”

His fingers push in deeper and you feel the bile rising; you thrash and panic in his hold and he snorts, finally easing up. As you gasp for breath, he pulls his fingers away, a string of drool following him from your mouth and coating his fingers. He wipes them down on his pressed pants, looking disgusted. “Fucking mutt,” he spits. “Let’s put you to good use.”

Before you can register what’s happening, his dick is pushing into your mouth and fuck he’s massive. You can hardly hold him in your throat and your vision blurs with tears even before he starts to move— when he does, he wastes no time starting slow; he goes straight to fucking your mouth with hard, deep thrusts and you feel your tears and saliva cascading down onto your chest. You must look disgusting, but you’ve never heard anyone sound as feral as he does.

Just as you’re getting used to the feeling, he pulls out. His cock slaps against your face before he flips you over, bending you painfully over the edge of the bed. He doesn’t waste time prepping you — not that he needs to with the way you’re dripping — before forcing himself into your tight hole. You scream, feeling yourself being torn apart and he laughs, pushing your head into the mattress. “Fucking bitch,” he growls. His low voice is barely heard above the slapping of his skin on yours and the lewd squelching of your sopping pussy. You burn with humiliation but you can hardly think of anything but the pain of being stretched open and the force of his thrusts. You sob into the sheets but he doesn’t care, only getting rougher each time you cry out.

“Take it,” he barks, “you’ve been waiting for this dick your entire fucking life. So fucking take it.”

“S-sir,” you gasp. You thrash as much as you can under his iron grip, dizzy with pain and pleasure.

He snarls, hand landing hard on your ass. “Drop the act, bitch,” he growls. “I know you fucking love this. Clench.”

Still sobbing, you do your best to obey, clenching your pussy around his dick and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He groans, movement stuttering slightly under the new pressure on his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Such a pretty little victim. With a tight fucking hole.”

You feel his orgasm approaching; all the pent-up energy and frustration of fighting and subduing you pulsing through his dick as it pounds against your walls. His grip tightens on your waist, other arm coming to wrap around your neck, holding you in a chokehold as he finally releases inside you.

He grunts and moans through his orgasm and you feel the warmth of his cum filling you up before he finally collapses on top of you, pulling out quickly.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “It’s over, baby.”

The dam breaks. Your low, desperate sobs give way to full blown weeping, your whole body shivering with each cry. A million emotions, previously drowned out by pain and fear and pleasure, are suddenly at the surface, pushing against your skin and desperate to break through. You couldn’t name or number them if you tried but you don’t have to, because Yunho is there— his hands are on your skin, voice in your ear as he soothes you with whispered words you can’t comprehend.

“I’ve got you,” you finally make out. He says it again and again, over and over. It forms a familiar rhythm you can follow and cling to as you come back down to earth.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

He’s there when the fog clears, cradling your aching body in his arms. His smile is soft and fond but there’s a concern in his eyes as he looks you up and down. “How do you feel?” He asks.

You open your mouth but no words come; you make a soft, content-sounding noise, the best you can do for now, and he chuckles. “I’ll take that as ‘you’re fine’, then.”

He shifts slightly, adjusting you to hold you closer to his chest. You follow his heartbeat as it thuds lowly in his chest. You hadn’t expected this, really; he’d said aftercare was a non-negotiable for him, so you knew he wasn’t going to just fuck you and dip, but the care and tenderness with which he cradles and soothes you is almost as electric as the brutality of before. It’s as funny as it was, you suppose, inevitable— this man has violated you in every way, and yet you’ve never felt more safe than you do in his arms. Two separate faces; opposing but inseparable.

A while later, he asks if he can give you a bath and you nod. You’re strangely embarrassed as he lowers you into the hot water, quietly soothing you when you hiss as it touches the wounds on your ass and thighs; maybe it’s the tenderness of his care or the knowledge that every mark on your body was put there by him, but you feel oddly exposed.

Still, he’s careful as he holds you still, letting your aching joints soak as he cleanses you of the remnants of what he just did to you. When he lifts you out, wrapping you in a soft towel and carrying you back to bed, you feel like you’re floating on a cloud.

Your voice returns soon enough, and quickly something pushes through to the front of your mind. Still slightly in the haze of subspace as the last drops of adrenaline dissipate, it seems like a reasonable, if not pertinent question.

“Yunho,” you say. He makes a ‘hm?’ noise, squeezing your thigh in recognition. “Would you really have broken my bones?”

He laughs, and you feel his body shaking slightly. It feels… warm. Familiar. “No,” he says. “That’s just part of the game. My favourite part, actually.”

“What part?”

“Making you wonder if it’s really a game.”

Through the aching pain of your pussy, you feel a slight twinge, making you clench unconsciously. Oh.

“You had a safeword,” he says. “So I knew I could push you. But I didn’t do anything I wasn’t sure would make your little pussy throb.”

You can’t help but blush at his words, mewling slightly as you snuggle further into his hold. You could stay like this, wrapped in his strong arms and held securely against his chest, for a long, long time. You wonder if he could, too.

“Yunho,” you say softly.

“Will you stay?”

You glance at him nervously, afraid of his answer. He smiles, holding you closer. “As long as you need,” he says.

-

thank you for reading! comments/feedback/reblogs are appreciated! requests are open! love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

[plethorawrites]

How I think the Batboys + Clark would respond to you asking them to "dress up" in some capacity for them in the bedroom like you always do for them.

"I'm always the one in lingerie, why don't you dress up for me for a change?"

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce: Will go for the most petty response possible, by keeping his tie on the next time you're intimate. Which, he meant mostly as a sarcastic joke, but found himself enjoying. You also seemed to be incredibly fond of it, tugging it in between your teeth or biting at it around his neck. When it was covered in your spit from all the biting, it eventually slipped off his neck and got wrapped around your wrists, tightened to keep you in place. And when you resisted it after a bit (lovingly, of course) he untied it, pushing it back into your mouth to muffle your sounds. Who knew a tie was so versatile?

---

Dick: Has no problem with complying when you ask him to dress up. None. You make a fair point and it's only fair he puts in some effort and he's secure enough in his masculinity to do anything you ask. This is the same man who went as discowing for a while, after all. A garter? You're foaming at your mouth. You want him to wear some sort of dress or actual lingerie? He'll have to buy it since yours definitely wouldn't fit, but he'll absolutely get something flattering. A bit of roleplay, to fit, if it was something themed? It's a given. How could he not fully commit?

---

Jason: Would roll his eyes, not because he's annoyed but because he thinks he'd look ridiculous and he cares more about worshipping you than letting you take care of him. That said, If you wanted something different, he'd do something different. The next time he comes home from patrol, instead of taking his stuff off and changing, he stays in it, making you take it off. The leather of his gloves twirling your hair as you unbuckled things, the feeling of your hands tugging his jacket off, is enticing for both of you. And by the time he's nearly fully undressed, you're both desperate. The helmet is the last to go. And it only does after he whispers a few things he knew you'd like in your ear.

---

Tim: Has no idea what that even means, honestly. It could be a joke, maybe. But better safe than sorry if not. Since he didn't quite know, he went with the safest option that could still qualify and wore a see through button up under his jacket, with his slacks for an event, letting you see it later that night. You seemed happy, if not a little frustrated for him having it on all night without knowing. Probably because if you'd seen him in a sheer black top, showing off his chest and stomach, you'd pull him into the bathroom and take it off right there.

---

(Aged up) Damian: Isn't entirely unused to flamboyancy in one way or another. He wore plenty of nice robes and wraps for the League of Assassins, not to mention suits for his father's events. But that was a normal thing, he supposed. So, if you wanted something different, he'd have to think outside of the box. He's always liked art, ever since he was young and even considered making love to be an art in itself, in a way. So, the next time you're in his room, tugging off his clothes, you're surprised when he's covered in henna, little swirls, dots, even flowers. It had taken hours, but was absolutely worth it for the look on your face.

---

Clark: Was befuddled, like he often was when you said that. He had no idea how to dress up for you, or even why you'd want him to. But when you guys spend a weekend at the farm and he catches your eyes lingering when he's working in the yard, he figures it out. When you're home, several days after the visit ended, you find him in overalls and nothing else, except for a cowboy hat, he usually wore to keep the sun out of his eyes. And it was fun, he'll admit, seeing you get excited. The hat looked much better on you, though.

[sunflowerwinds]

sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: on a slow day at your grandmother’s bakery, a customer captures your attention. as the weeks pass, you see her pop up more and more. a gentle friendship ignites between the two of you. the only issue was the undeniable attraction to her and it didn’t help now having to do her a kind favor. it would go away…. right?

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is described to have long enough hair to tie up, reader has a sister named mila, we love gram, vander, isha and jinx mentions <3, nothing but fluff, strangers to friends to lovers:)

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i seriously had so much fun writing this and i am excited to dig into a mini-series with vi. i hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do </3

— ONE

Running your grandmother’s bakery wasn’t easy but it was a light in your life. She taught you tips and tricks of working the large industrial oven, every single one of her recipes, and wiping down the chalkboard to write the specials for the delicious treats.

She was charm personified; somehow able to convince pretty much every person that walked to the pastry shop to try at least one item. You were on the more quiet side, not insanely secluded but you weren’t extroverted. Nice people cracked you open and next thing you knew it, you were shoving a donut into their palms to take home.

It was a bad habit.

It was a slow Thursday in November. You were sweeping the small area of seating, softly asking one of the usual college students that came if they needed anything else. You were just a few streets down from the community college so many people your age would come in for coffee and furiously type on their laptops.

Once you were told they were good for now, you excuse yourself back to behind the counter to adjust the display desserts. You were bent over when you heard the bell over the door echo within the space, shouting ‘welcome in’.

“If you have any questions, just let me know. We have a daily special which is on the blackboard,” you stood back up with a slight grunt from the rush, brushing a few flyaways to kindly smile at the new customer. “Today we have buy one, get one donut free.”

Your eyes slightly widen at the… attractiveness of the customer. You adjust the neckline of your soft brown cable knit sweater to tug out your necklaces, plastering on a friendly smile.

“I actually came in because I was curious about the sign,” she trails off, tilting her head as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Do you actually just let people smell the food?”

You let out a soft chuckle as you nod. Your grandfather, one of the only men who had ever tolerated, made the sign for your grandmother the second she mentioned it to him. Now, in all its carved glory ‘Free Smells!’ is hanging underneath the shop's main sign: Sweet Tooth Bakery + Cafe.

“Yeah, my grandma thought it’d be a funny sign to draw people in. Obviously, we don’t let them shove their nose into it or anything,” you shake your head, holding your hand out to the stranger. “Because that’s… unsanitary.”

The pink haired stranger nods with a soft chuckle, stepping back to check out the arrangement of treats in the display case. In that moment of silence, you, as discreetly as possible, check her out. She had on a navy blue cut off sleeve zip-up, a soft white tank top underneath and a pair of grey sweatpants hugging her lower half. Very simplistic outfit but she made it look good.

You think she just naturally looked good. If you stared for long enough, which you embarrassingly did so, you could see markings of ink on the side of her neck and following down the backs of her arms and the smallest etching on her cheek.

“Any suggestions on what to smell first?” She questions, curious eyes bouncing back up to you.

You hum to yourself as you, too, stagger your eyes from pastry to pastry to carefully choose which one you could have her smell.

“Are you a fan of blueberries?” You question with a beaming grin.

“Uh, sure, yeah. Blueberries are good.”

“Then you have to take a whiff of the blueberry danish. It’s one of my favorites.” You offer, pointing to the sweet treat.

The pink haired stranger leans forward, folding her bare arms across her chest. You, again, can’t help your stares as you try to figure out what was exactly dotted into her pale skin. She nods with a shrug, looking at you with a kind smile.

“I’ll give it a whiff, yeah,” she stepped forward so that the glass of the display case was the only obstacle between the two of you.

You can feel your face getting hot as you mutter a bright ‘okay’ to yourself. You bend over once again grab the metal tongs to pick out the danish to place on a ceramic plate. You place it on top of the display case, motioning for the stranger to give it a smell.

Still seeming a bit hesitant that you were playing a joke on her, she leans her face forward so that she is mere centimeters away from the pastry. She inhales a bit, letting out a long sigh as she leans back to look at you.

“Shit, that smells amazing,” she praises the sweet aroma, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”

You blink at her before chuckling awkwardly.

“You don’t have to buy the ones you smell. I promise.” You reassure her as you attempt to put the danish back so that you can shove the cranberry-orange muffin in her face.

She’s quick to hold a palm out to stop you, shaking her head. A beautiful smile spreads on her lips, temporarily forgetting how eager you were to show her every single pastry on display.

“I want that one. I swear. Plus, my sister’s going to rush me out of here if I take too long.”

A part of you was disappointed that she was so quick to purchase the first, yet incredibly delicious, treat. You selfishly wanted her to stay for as long as possible. Your grandmother would be on your ass for being so distracted by an attractive customer.

She would give you a clap on the back for making a sale, though.

“Oh, okay. Did your sister want anything?” You offer, itching to find any way possible for her to stay just a bit longer.

The stranger hums to herself for a moment as she examines the rest of the delicious treats. You tilt your head as you grab a small brown paper bag to place the danish into, waiting patiently to see if she was going to pick another item.

To your delighted surprise, she nods as she points to a more simplistic pastry.

“I think this pink donut should be good,” she nods to show certainty.

You grasp onto the sweet treat to slide it into the bag with her danish, trying not to spill a lot of the sprinkles. You seal it closed with a custom sticker with the logo of the shop, typing up her total into the register. The stranger reaches into her sweatpants pocket to pull out her wallet.

“Your total is gonna be $7.89. Cash or card?” You question.

“Card.”

You watch her hand you a simple light blue credit card, grinning as you not-so-discreetly check out her full name on it. Her first name caught your attention. Violet. As you swipe her card, you clear your throat to work up the courage to give her a compliment.

“I love your name. It’s pretty,” you say as you hand her back the card.

The stranger, now known as Violet, smiles small at your words. Her long fingers take the card from you as she slides it back into her wallet.

“Thank you. My, uh, dad named me,” she grins at you.

“Well, he made a very good choice,” you hand her the bag as well, nodding as you try not to appear awkward. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Were you being weird?

“No, no, I’m good,” she chuckles as she crinkles the bag in her palms. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod as you hand her own copy of the receipt, holding onto the half second of the tip of her fingers brushing against yours. You watch her turn her back and leave the shop, eyes never leaving her sculpted back profile. You huff at your behavior once the bell from above the door snaps you out of your small trance, shoving your copy of the receipt into its designated spot.

“She’s cute,” you hear from behind you, causing you to jump and whip your head around.

You’re met with your grandma grinning evilly at you, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek from her baking in the back.

“Gram,” you sigh as you shake your head, brushing away your loose hairs.

“I’m just saying, bug,” she walks up next to you to rub up and down your arm.

You blush at what she was insinuating. As much as you love your grandmother, she attempted to be your match maker like you were an introverted middle schooler. You were 22 for God's sake. You would make moves and flirt when you felt like it.

“Don’t you have something in the oven?” You raise your eyebrows at her, hoping she’d leave it alone.

“Hey. I could fire you, you know,” your grandma pointed a finger in your face accusingly but her tone was light and a cheeky grin was on her face.

You roll your eyes playfully as you softly bump your hip with hers.

Everyday since Violet came in, you perk at the sound of the bell hoping to see that head of pink hair waltzing in again. Two excruciatingly long weeks pass before you see Violet again.

What was disappointing about seeing her today of all days was that you were working this shift with your 17 year old sister who was… less than thrilled to be working now; especially with you being her superior in a workplace. She, like most teenagers, was yearning to be more independent which meant constantly disregarding your instructions on what to do at work.

You were irritated beyond belief with her constantly arguing with you. You couldn’t even really fully pay attention as Mila smacked your arm with the rag. When you saw her from outside the shop, this time around she came with company. You were in the midst of a bicker with her because she didn’t wipe down a table like you had told her to when you saw Violet coming in with a little girl walking beside her.

You gasp at her childish antics, pinching her arm but then shushing her as you tight-lipped smile at Violet as she approaches the familiar display case. You try not to frown at the sight of her bandaged nose and small bruise sitting right on the apple of her cheek. Her outfit is similar from the last time you saw her except a simple oil-black hoodie with those same joggers. You even saw a bit of wrapped bandages on her hands peeking out from the sleeves.

Was she jumped or something?

“There are only, like, two people here and they’re sitting outside,” your sister whisper-shouts at you, plastering on a fake smile at the new customers. “Hi! Welcome in.”

Violet glances at Mila when she straightens her back, placing a gentle hand on the back of the child’s back to guide her to the display of new and fresh treats for the day. She places her little hands on the glass as she very eagerly bounces on the soles of her worn in dark blue tennis shoes.

“Hi! Violet, you’re back.” You turn to your sister and sneer quietly. “Clean the tables. Now, please.”

Mila gives Violet a once-over and you a narrow glare as she grumbles a ‘fine’ as she rounds the corner to go and wipe down the crumb and dust filled tables.

“Hey. You can call me Vi, by the way. I, uh, was with my sister for the day and she wanted to try this place. I gave her some of my danish and she went crazy.” Violet motioned to the child just a few feet below her, chuckling at her gazing hungrily at the sweets.

“Well, Vi, I’m glad to hear,” you lean your head to the side to get a good look at her sister.

She had a wild head of short waves, a small gap in between her two front teeth. Her outfit made her ten times more adorable; a plain white Henley long sleeve with a pair of overalls. Her big hazel eyes stared at you patiently.

“Hi, cutie. Do you see one that you like?” You question her with a friendly smile.

Her adorable face scrunches up in thought, stepping back to look at her choices. She turns her head to her older sister before pointing at a strawberry muffin and raising her hands to sign what you believe is ASL. You curse yourself for not knowing what she was telling the pink haired stranger.

“She wants to smell the strawberry muffin,” Vi chuckles. “I told her about how you let me smell my danish first before buying it.”

“Okay, I can do that for you. What’s her name?” You question, hoping it didn’t come off as offensive.

“Isha. She doesn’t talk much,” Vi raised a bandaged hand to settle on her light brown waves on her head, ruffling the strands.

“Well, Miss Isha,” you focus your attention on her once again, watching her bounce on the balls on her feet with excitement. You grab your trusty metal tongs to grab the muffin and place it on a soft blue ceramic plate to set it down on the counter area of your register set-up for her to smell. “Here you go. Let me know if you want to smell anything else.”

Your heart grows tenfold as Vi quietly tells Isha to not shove her nose into the muffin, smiling at her sister as she hovers close to the pastry.

“Is she the one who ate the pink donut?” You turn your attention to Vi, raising your brows as you adjust your flyaways from your bubble braid.

Pretty blue eyes flickering to yours, her brows twitch as if she was shocked that you remembered such a minuscule detail.

“No, that was my other sister,” she shakes her head. “Isha was actually very angry with me when I came home with no cupcakes or muffins for her so I’m making it up to her.”

You watch her scrunch up her bruised bridge of her nose for a second as Isha signs something else to her. Vi playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh as she turns to you with another wince.

“Can she eat this now? She has an impatient appetite.”

You chuckle with a nod as you hand the plate to her, muttering a ‘careful, sweetie’ to Isha who beams up at you. She scurries over to a small round table to hop up on the seat to divulge. Now that it was just you and Vi standing in front of each other.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask softly, eyes flicking to each injury on her gorgeous face.

Confused about your concern for her, her brows furrow for a moment. You watch her turn around to make sure Isha was all good, hounding down the muffin with crumbs falling from her mouth to the ground.

“Oh, yeah,” Vi shook her head, waving at you off as she grins sweetly. “I work at a kick-boxing studio and some of the kids can get aggressive. I’m okay, though, trust me. I’ve taken more than a few hits to the head.”

That explains the injuries and the bandaged hands. Of course, she was a kick-boxer. Her physique gave that away but what did you know? Isha was distracted with her muffin so you were able to converse with her, get to know her a little more so your gram would stop asking you if that cute pink haired girl came in again.

“Really? Where at?” You hum.

“It’s like fifteen minutes from here. Why? You want to come see kids beat me up?” She teases, folding her arms over her chest.

You hum with a nod, walking around the counter to place a napkin on the table so Isha could wipe her face to be rid of the sticky crumbs on her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly why. Because I’m a masochist.”

An actual laugh left her plush lips as she shook her head, eyes following you as you face her now. If Gram could see you now. Well, she was probably watching you from the security cameras in the back room with an evil smile.

“You know, I meant to ask. Do you make custom cakes?” Vi leans back to rest her lower back on the countertop where your register was, crossing her legs and shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

She really just looks like that, you thought to yourself.

“We do, yeah. Is your birthday coming up?” You look at her with raised brows.

Vi shakes her head, pointing to the little girl behind you. “No. Her birthday is next week and my family is throwing her a zoo themed birthday party.”

You awe out loud at the thought.

“That’s so cute. Yeah, I can— I mean, we can do that,” you shake your head as you correct yourself, hoping she didn’t catch your desperate slip-up.

Isha stands up from her table, dusting off the crumbs from her overalls. She walks over to you to hand you the plate, signing ‘thank you’ to you. You pause for a moment before hesitantly signing back ‘you’re welcome’ slowly, not sure if you were doing it right. You knew the basics but weren’t extremely educated on ASL. After today, though, you were determined to brush up on it.

Isha eyes brighten at you signing back to her. She turns to Vi with a smile so wide, you swore her cheeks would split open. She nods down at Isha, ruffling her hair once again as she reaches for her pocket to retrieve her wallet.

“Shit, sorry, how much do I owe you for the muffin?” Vi shuffles through the bills in her wallet.

“No, no. You’re… good. Don’t worry about it.” You wave her off, shaking your head.

Vi pauses before scoffing, attempting to shove the money into your palms. “I’m paying for the muffin.”

“Seriously. It’s one muffin, Vi. Plus, a little early birthday present for Isha.” You shove the bills into her hands once again, gripping onto her hands to make sure she doesn’t try to give them back.

Vi glances down at your gentle hands around hers. Reluctantly taking the money back, she takes the bills before shoving them back into the crease of her wallet. You try not to focus on how slightly bigger her hands were from yours; how surprisingly soft her knuckles were.

Isha seems to become impatient now with her elder sister, reaching up to tug on two of her fingers. Vi nods down to her, muttering a soft ‘okay, okay’.

“Thank you for that, by the way. And if it's not too much trouble for you, cupcake, can I get your number?” Vi questions as she takes Isha’s hand in hers. “You know, for any questions about what the cake should look like and what flavor it could be.”

Your brows furrow at her words before nodding, pursing your lips to repress the smile creeping onto your face. Cupcake. You like that nickname coming from her lips.

“Right! Yes, um,” you walk over to the counter to grab a sticky note and a pen to scribble down your personal number. “Here. Call or text me with all the information.”

You place the small yellow piece of paper into her palm that wasn’t holding Isha’s. She takes it in between her pointer and middle fingers, nodding with a confident smile.

“I will. See you, cupcake.”

“See you, Vi. Bye, sweetheart,” you bend down ever so slightly to wave at Isha.

The adorable girl waves her free hand at you with a just as cute toothy smile on her face. You excused it as a sugar rush as they walk away from you, hand in hand as they leave the store. Vi turns her head to give you one more glance before Isha is tugging her down the sidewalk.

Mila angrily stormed up to you the second they left and raised her hand with the rag to smack you on the forearm. You gasp and snatch the weapon away from her, pointing a finger in her face.

“What the hell? Stop hitting me with this,” you sneer.

“I’m wiping down tables and you’re flirting? How the hell is that fair?” Mila quips back as she folds her arms in front of her chest.

“I wasn’t flirting. I was taking a cake order, by the way, so you can stop whining.” You roll your eyes as you walk back around to the counter.

Mila sucks in a deep breath before shaking her head.

“Really? So what was that whole,” your sister cleared her throat, sucking in a deep breath. “Giving her your personal number when you could’ve just given her the store's number?”

You pause your movements of wiping down the counter from behind the register, thinking about it for a moment. You knew why. You just hated your sister being all in your business.

“Okay, what is it to you?” You get defensive. “I can’t… make new friends?”

Mila merely snorts before rolling her eyes.

“Sure. You definitely only want to be friends with her.”

next part

TAGLIST: @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25

[itaipava]

— f1 boys falling asleep on you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

trying to sleep at an ungodly hour after returning home from a night out; still feeling giddy from the rush and excitement of the night as you both get ready for bed. he hugs you from behind and rests his head on your shoulder as you brush your teeth, almost falling asleep right there. after you’re done, you crawl into bed together, saying “goodnight” for the thousandth time, but neither of you closing your eyes as you gaze happily at each other with soft giggles and bright smiles amidst yawns. sleepy and a little tipsy, but too in love with the moment and each other to want to fall asleep, but inevitably doing so with happy sighs as he pulls you closer to him, with his face in your neck and intertwining your legs.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he always says he wants to do a lot of things with you when he gets home to make up for the time he was gone, but as soon as you settle in to watch that new movie you were looking forward to watch, he falls asleep. you look at him and smile, gently placing his head on your lap. you stroke his hair as he sleeps peacefully. but he ends up waking up in the middle of the movie, and starts asking questions like "what happened to him?" while lazily pointing at the character and, as soon as you finish talking, he dozes off again, even though he promised himself that he would stay awake.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

you woke up early, but you didn't want to disturb his sleep, so you tried to get out of bed as quietly as possible. you sat up and stretched, but before you could actually get up, you felt his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. you smiled, and tried to tell him that you needed to get up, but he was too busy using your lap as a pillow to even hear you.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he had been trying to sleep alone for a long time, but he couldn't even with the gentle sound of the rain outside. you open the bedroom door and he smiles when he sees you; he lifts the blanket next to him, a silent invitation for you to go lie down with him. you smile and lie down, silently he pulls you to him, holding you lovingly. you stroke his hair and he closes his eyes, enjoying your affection and the warmth of your body. and when you least expect it, he is in a deep sleep while holding you.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

you were lying together on the couch in the living room, savoring the warmth and the cool breezes that came in through the sunny window; you admired how the sunlight fell beautifully on each other's features as he held you close to him. there was soft music playing in the background as you hummed along to the melody or said things like "oh, i love this song!" which always made him smile. wordless but meaningful looks of "i love you" to each other. suddenly he stopped running his fingertips over your body and, looking at his face, you saw that he fell asleep holding you, feeling safer than ever.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

you and him love to talk before bed; it’s an unspoken routine in your relationship. you talk about your days, your thoughts, your worries, about that squirrel you saw on the street, anything and everything; your voices only slightly above whisper, trying not to disturb the quietness of the night but failing to do so when laughter comes over you both. he hugged your waist and put his face in your neck while you spoke, but at a certain point you felt his heavy breathing and, when you looked at him, you saw him sleeping. you smiled affectionately and gave him a kiss on the corner of his mouth, which made him pull you even closer to him.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

after he takes you to a great restaurant in the city, you arrive home and rest on the couch while talking about anything that comes to mind. he sighs deeply, and puts his head on your shoulder, looking at his face, you notice how sleepy he is when the food coma kicks in. you smile, and pull him closer to you, and that's when he settles down next to you on the couch, holding you tightly against him as he lets sleep take over.

˒ ⌕ FRANCO COLAPINTO

he comes home absolutely exhausted after a long training session. after a hot shower, he lies on top of you, hugs your waist and puts his face in your neck, feeling your warmth and your scent. at that moment, he feels like he is in heaven. you gently stroke his back while asking him how his day was, but he is so tired that he just mumbles something softly and falls asleep on you.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

you woke up earlier than usual, and you couldn’t fall asleep again but you didn’t want to leave his side; quiet moments with him are so rare, so you wanted to make the most of them. he also wakes up, but only to pull you towards him even more, using you as a pillow. you smile and stroke his hair, which makes him sigh and fall asleep again, without a care in the world.