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lady-ashfade · 1 year ago

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Mates By Fate

Various Hybrid!Characters x Human!Fem!Reader.

Plot: The adoption center is filled with many different hybrids from all sorts. But when one gets a whiff of your scent that they can’t help but get excited to see you.

Characters: Rabbit!Izuku midoriya, Wolf!Katsuki Bakugo, Dog!Eijiro Kirishima, Cat!Shoto Todoroki

Warnings: quick adoption, licking, love at first sight, mention of dark past, not much.

Rabbit! Izuku Midoriya

The building was filled with all types of noises, from barks to meows, even some growls. Some hybrids were out playing and doing their own things, some playing in groups outside or maybe they enjoyed their own company. Izuku was watching a movie that had come on just in time for his break. All hybrids get a break from the others to focus on themselves if needed, and he decided to watch his favorite movie. Super Hybrid: All might. Oh, how he adored the movie and the man it was about. His room filled with decorations of Allmight himself, posters on every wall.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off the screen when the scene came on. Allmight fighting a bad guy, his tail smacking him around from place to place. It was like watching it for the first time, he was on the edge of his seat cheering at the screen for his hero. Not much could get his attention away from this movie, so when a scent came into his nose it peaked his interest. What was that smell? So sweet, soft yet bold, how could something smell so perfect? His flappy ears stood up and his attention drew to the hallway where his door was cracked open. Grabbing the remote be paused the movie and walked to the door.

He poked his head out slowly to see what was going on and if he could find the source of the smell. Then he saw the owner of the adoption center in the middle of the hallway, then a woman standing next to her about three doors down. A hybrid with droopy ears likes his but brown, the hybrid rubbed her head against the new woman’s hand as she smiled. When he saw you, he felt the world crash onto him with a kick to the chest.

Mate.

The words rang through his head and made his body tense up at the thought of having you in his life. But, he couldn’t have a mate? And not someone as pretty as you? He cheeks heated up while staring at you with wide eyes frozen in the doorway to his room. He could hear your conversation but didn’t truly listen, the words sounding like muffles to him. But a few seconds later your head turned when the owner said something and you looked right at him.

He yelps and slips back into his room quickly from being caught and your attention. His heart raced as fast as it could go as he panicked over every detail. Did you really see him? Was he imagining you here? What if this was a dream and he’d wake up mateless again? What if you don’t want him as a mate anyway? So many questions ran through his speedy head and made him panic.

“Izuku,” the old woman’s sweet voice called him out of his thoughts as she walked into the open room. “We have a visitor, like to meet them?” Your frame shuffled into the room and waved softly, the smile on your lips look like heaven. All he could do is stare and mumble nervously with words you couldn’t understand.

“He’s shy, but he’s a good hybrid to have around.” You nodded and reached into your pocket and his attention calmed down at the other scent he loved. Treats. A brown little heart shaped treat rest in your hands and pushed it towards him. “Hello, Izuku. My names Y/n.” The name engraved itself into his brain. The excitement finally washed over him and shot throughout his body, making him so happy that his leg started to tap and take the treat into his mouth.

He was so happy as he chew and you watched his nose crinkle with each bite, his happy feet bouncing. You giggled at the sight, he was your favorite by far. “I’ll let you have some time with him, seeing as he’s your perfect match. I shall be just outside with the other hybrids, call if you need anything.” She bowed and walked out the room.

You look at izuku and a nervous smile spread your face as he inched closer, no threatening gestures but with a curious look. His noses sniffed around your hand and up your wrists, he looked so focused. Then he nudged his faces across it like he was petting himself and your heart exploded. He looked so happy and relaxed with your touch.

“Mate.” He muttered and you froze up. Did he say that or was it a mistake…Mate? That’s interesting but you can’t help but feel like it was right. “Tell me, do you want me to take you home?” He jumped up and hugged your leg and you almost fell. Laughing you reach down to pet this hair.

He was interesting, he couldn’t get himself off of you. But he was perfectly sweet.

Wolf! Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki is wasn’t one for social interaction, especially with new people he had just meet. Whenever someone came to look at the hybrids he wouldn’t let them get near and just walk off or give them attitude. He was adopted once before and it was the worst time of his life, humans were cruel and he knew damn well they couldn’t put up with him. So he put off the idea that he would find someone nice enough.

Kats didn’t get along with the other hybrids, only a selected group he allowed near him. If he wasn’t hanging around them then he was outside in the shade, or playing with a chew toy that need to be replaced each day. He loved to be outside a few hours because he had a lot of energy he couldn’t release inside. Today he decided to take a break and lay on the ground to take a quick nap, the shade and sun making him tired. Then, his nose picked up a scent. Shooting his head up from his resting place his head looked around for the scent he was smelling.

This wasn’t food, it wasn’t like anything he’s ever smelled before. It was the perfect smell for him. He craved to get near the source. So he stood up and looked around, his tail wagging behind him. Big and thick with blonde and white with brown tips like his ears. “Shit.” He smelled it out and followed trail. A beautiful laugh caught his ears and he looked up to see a woman smiling with the owner, a hybrid getting their head pat. Her. It was coming from her.

Mate. Claim. Mate.

She was his mate, his tail wagged harder but his head gave him trouble. He didn’t need a mate, and not a shitty human at that. What was she trying to do? He’s a alpha and not some pet she could keep in her house- But he wanted it. To be close to her at every second to keep he safe and sound. He groaned and fell close to the ground and behind the flowers, the garden being filled with big places with high planted flowers. It was easy for him to crawl closer without being caught, after all it was in his blood to hunt.

He got closer and watched for a second. “I’ll leave you to look around, I know of a few hybrids out here. A snake one, he’s usually in the trees and many others.” She smiles and took the cat hybrid inside, leaving you alone. Smiling to yourself and straighten your blouses then walk over to the flowers, smelling them. Bakugo wiggled his body and got ready to pounce on you, why? He just felt like it. But when you giggled and looked over at his direction he froze in shock and confusion.

“There’s a mirror wall behind you,” you look a seat on the bench beside you. “But don’t be discouraged, you would of had me.” The lighthearted tone in your voice made him heat up, and your smile with no anger in it. He rolled his eyes and stood up, inching closer to you with a glare, a low growl leaving his lips to imitate you with fear. You only smiled and pulled out a big threat, a bone shaped one.

“I apologize if I offended you, it was not my intention.” Standing up slowly you tossed the treat softly before him. “But I hope you’ll take this treat as a apology, great wolf.” His ego built up at your praise and felt better. He took the treat and took a few bites. While he was focused on the treat you backed up to leave him alone, not wanted to anger him. Wolfs can be very territorial when it comes to it, so you wouldn’t egg him in.

“I didn’t say go, damn human.” His tough voice caught you off guard. You turned around to see him soften his glare and look at the bench you once sat at. “Sit.” You smirked for a second and walked back to the bench and did as he said. He was adorable. You stuck out your hand for him to sniff and he hesitated, looking up at you like asking permission or to get a read on you. But you only flashed him a eye closing smile.

His noses poked your hand and sniffed all around to take in your scent in, and his body turned into mush. Your scent, he craved it. “Damn, of course it be a human.” He huffed and crossed his arms. You looked at him confused, “Hmm?” Kats rolled his eyes hard and pointed at you, “Mate.” He enjoyed how you looked at him in shock and flustered.

“Now, go get the paper work done so I can leave. I wouldn’t let anyone leave with you today wether you like it or not.” His tail stomped the ground as his teeth really showed to threaten the people he thought of. “Well? Go!” You giggled and rushed away from the shouting hybrid, a rough one.

He was demanding and didn’t care. He however, was loving on the way to your house so you didn’t mind.

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto is a hybrid that likes to take naps, his cat like nature is strong. The sunlight can make him fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place. He also loves to climb up on things to take a nice nap, mostly on a cat like tree they have for hybrids. He also has a scratching problem but not in a bad way, he just needs to stretch often. Those are the things he does in a day. Wake up, scratch, eat, Nap, scratch and then repeat. However he does hang out with some hybrids on occasion.

Today Shotos place of choice was in front of the art rooms door, so close to getting hit if someone opened the door fully. The hybrid didn’t notice this when he went to sleep or he would have scooted a bit further. You wanted to explore the place and decide to check the art room to see what’s it was like. When you opened the door you didn’t see the hybrid behind you, only a tail that curled and swung slowly. Stopping and not pushing the door any further you walked through the gap and poke your head around to see the hybrid laying there.

His hair mix toned, red and white. His tail thin but long, white fur all the way down. But his ears matched the hair on each side, he was gorgeous. You smile and push all the way in the room and close the door as quietly as you can, trying not to startle him. Kneeling down a few inches from him you start to call out softly for him to walk up. Clinking your tongue, “Little buddy, wake up please.” You repeated that line over and over. But he wasn’t little, only a small frame but you could see the muscles he had and how tall he was.

He slowly opened his eyes with a yawn, confused on what was going on. When he noticed you his demeanor changed slight. His face dropping and staring you, with almost a cold glare. Chuckling to not be afraid you step back, “Sorry, I just didn’t want you to get hurt. You were sleeping in front of the door.” You glanced at the door and showed him what you meant. But he didn’t stop staring at you with a unreadable expression.

Shoto was freaking out inside. Your scent drove him insane, one he wanted to run and nuzzle up to. He couldn’t look away from your pretty face or he would have. What was this? Had you have some sort of magic to bewitched him? Why was his body on fire? He had so many emotions and non of them made sense. Until his mouth started to water..

Mate.

The clicking sound echoed through his brain when he realized what you were to him. A mate. Fate was funny about bringing people together and he didn’t have to find you, you found him. “Hello?” You waved a hand in front of your face as he continued to be silent and frozen. He blinked finally and you felt relieved. “Call me shoto.” You hummed at the calming tone. “Y/n.” You reached out your hand with a smile. Of course he couldn’t hold himself back from taking it and sniffing you.

Your scent was so nice to smell, calming but made his blood pump. You had weird affects on his body. You watch him sniff you and it made you laugh as he kept hitting his nose against the center. He was booping his own nose. Then he did something unexpected and licked your hand softly. To give affection he kept doing it, small licks. Nothing more to the eyes. Only he did it to get his scent on you.

“Adopt me.” He look up at you blankly and you were taken aback by his boldness. “We just met, don’t you want to get a know me first?” You asked. Most hybrids take a week at least before getting comfortable with a owner, or at least a whole day. “I know all I need, you are my mate of course.” He nuzzled against your hand as his tail swayed around smoothly.

“Mates?” You questioned but couldn’t help but rub his cheek, he purred so loudly you could feel it. “Hmm, smell you. Us hybrids have mates, or some do and mine is you.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Now, I’m tired. Could you go get everything done so I can’t go back to napping?”

You took shoto home that night and he fell asleep on your nap. Followed you around the house with his head in your shoulders.

Eijiro Kirishima

Kiri likes to be with other hybrids and people, a social butterfly if you will. He always has a smile on his face to cheer and play with the others, the big brother of the estate. His dream is to one day have a forever home with a family that loves him but worries about being worthy. Despite always tell the others they’d get adopted or cheer them up, he felt the same way. But he puts it off and has fun instead, he’s very active. They had to build a new playground area just for him and hybrids like him who are rough but playful.

Kiri today was in the playroom all by himself and it saddens him, no one to play with. He’d have the rope in his mouth and swing it around almost like a weapon. Or jumping around from the bars to places, or his favorite. Catch. They had a device to throw the ball automatically and he loved it, almost as much as someone actually throwing him the ball. Kiri watched the ball get shot out and hit the table making it change direction to the door. To his surprise the door opened just as the ball rolled on the floor and stop between someone’s leg. His mind focused on the ball he chased after it.

His legs ran to catch the small object and only to be caught in another trance caused by a smell, a delicious smell. Stopping in his tracks he froze and looked up at the person at the door who now looked at the ball between her feet. A smile spread on her lips when she bent down to pick it up. The smell was coming from her. Was it a treat in her pocket? What flavor was it? That smell was heaven to his nose, like it was made just for him.

Mate.

Giggling you looked at the pup in front of you, a grip on the ball “Want me to throw it?” You wiggled it slightly. Thump thump. The sound of his huge fluffy tail hit the floor as he panted quietly. He was so excited. “Get it.” You threw it past him and made sure not to hit anything but far for him to have fun. He leaped up and chased after it, so fast and quick. It was cute to watch him bite the ball and chew down on it slightly then look back at you. He pranced back to you with his tail wagging, a pride filled aura as he puffed out his chest.

He dropped the ball at your feet and sat back on the floor, his tongue sticking out. “Awe, such a good boy.” You reached down to pet his head but gave him enough time to pull away if he’d like. But he didn’t so your hand patted the red hair, slightly touching the ears on his head. “My names Y/n.” Without a warning he jumps up and knocks you down, leaning onto of you and starts to lick across your face. His hands on your chest and tail making a breeze.

You laughed and tried to move but he didn’t let up on his actions. You smelled too good. You called him a good boy. A perfect mate for him. He leaned up and didn’t let his hands up from your stomach. “Eijiro Kirishima.” His smile was so wide you saw his teeth that looked perfectly white and sharp. Taking a breath you smile up at the hybrid you just met. “Nice to met you.” He jumped off you and waited for you to get up.

When you did you brushed off yourself and whipped your face off. Kiri stood up finally and you looked up at him, he was one of the biggest hybrids you have ever seen. Blushing at his height you giggled, he was just a huge puppy. “Are you here to adopt?” He asked, his ears and tail stopping and going down. You could tell he was sad and you wondered why.

“Yes, I am.” You see him look at the floor and a sad smile grew on his face. “They’d be luck to have you.” The heart in your chest shattered at his tone, so quick to dismiss himself. “Would you be willing to get adopted? I was looking for a dog hybrid…If you’re willing.” Kiri’s head shit up and his body started to wage and bounce. The sparkle in his eyes reappeared and his happiness coming back.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapping themselves around you and pulling you closer, his tongue licking your cheek. You patted his head, “I’ll take that as a yes.” You didn’t expect to meet the hybrid of your dreams on the first day of looking but here he was. “Mate, going home with my mate.” His words made you tense up. Mate? Does he think you’re his mate… Why doesn’t that not sound wrong?

“Okay, let’s go so I can go to the office.” He whined and hugged you closer. His head rested on your shoulder and he refused to let you go, he had a person for the first time. Too soon to let go. “You can come with him, but I need to walk.” He felt your chest vibrate with laughter and he huffed. His arms let your waist go but hooked on your arm instead.

You didn’t expect him to be so clingy and protective over you but that’s what he was. You’re now his home. But there’s no other pup for you.

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totalswag · 4 months ago

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Hello lovely I love ur writing abt Drew & Reader actresse sweetheart it's so good <3 I have a little request to make to you if you don't mind, Drew react to the Reader acting in the horror film masterpiece (like the movies Suspiria and Climax vibes) of which she's a part of the main cast

I'm just curious if he would be terrified or blown away by this kind of role that she plays like this one or not ;) thank u !!!

unbelievable performance — DREW STARKEY

authors note aw thank you lovie! that means so much to me. by the time you are reading this, my second fic with drew x actress!reader is out (the first date). i have never seen either movies that you listed in your request but i did look them up to get a gist.

summary drew was impressed by your performance in your latest horror film.

warnings mentions of kissing, horror films

masterlist

Tonight marks the premiere of your new horror film, in which you star with some amazing actors. After many hours of continuous filming, sequences are officially wrapped. You're extremely proud of yourself and your casemates.

You were the staring lead in the movie. Getting the part after auditioning was a blessing in disguise. This being your very first staring lead role in any movie you’ve been in, you were so proud of yourself.

Everyone is seated in the theater. Drew, your boyfriend, also came with you. The entire cast stood in front of the stage as your director discussed the film a bit.

You shifted your focus to Drew, who was already looking at you in admiration, which made you smile and making you blush.

When you stepped up to your seat, he leaned down to your ear and whispered, "I want you to know that I'm so proud of you, and I know you did an amazing job on this movie," before kissing the top of your head.

“I love you baby, so much” you answer with your voice already starting to crack before tears wanted to burst out.

“Me more.”

Drew was so excited to watch his beautiful girlfriend on the big screen. Non-stop talking about the movie with you and his predictions on what will happen.

Everyone in the theater began to applaud as soon as the lights went out. Drew's hand moved easily down your thigh and gave it a little squeeze. Your skin began to tingle from his touch.

The movie begins with a hauntingly beautiful dance routine in which the camera swirls around the dancers in a way that is both captivating and unnerving. Drew is instantly captivated. As the story progresses, he observes your character navigating a world fraught with psychological pain and supernatural fear.

Half way through the movie, it’s been jaw dropping and incredible.

He is always on the edge of his seat in every situation you are in. You capture the dread and lunacy of the film's twisted narrative with an unvarnished and honest performance.

He's afraid and enthralled with the story at the same time, amazed at your ability to portray such raw emotion. Never once did he take his eyes off the screen.

The way the movie came out was unbelievable. The editors did wonders on this movie and made it into something viewers will want to keep watching.

Once you two arrived home after eating dinner at the after party, Drew and you took a shower together in your shared bathroom, changed into pajamas, then went into bed with the tv playing.

Later that night, back at home, Drew can't stop talking about the movie.

"You know, watching you in that role allowed me to see a completely other side of you. You were fierce, vulnerable, and incredibly compelling. "It was like watching an acting masterclass."

You laugh quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. "It means a lot hearing you say that. I was concerned about how you would react."

"Are you kidding?" I loved it. "I'm just glad I wasn't watching it alone in the dark," he jokes.

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@winterrrnight @chenslucy @rosezza @diqldrunks @runningfrom2am @ethanthequeefqueen @rafeyslamb

#drew starkey/rafe cameron 🍒#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x actress!reader #drew starkey x you #drew fic #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x #drew starkey x oc #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks blurb #outer banks imagines #obx

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greenparker · 1 month ago

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In the Stillnes. Tasm!Peter Parker x reader

Tasm! Peter Parker x Reader. Warnings: None? Absent mother... if that counts lol. Summary: After being ditched by your mom for a date, Y/N waits alone for a bus in Queens, where you meet Peter, a friendly stranger. Their conversation sparks a blossoming friendship.

No pronouns used for reader :) A/N: Ive worked on this for so long and I just want it to be finished. And perhaps I will make a part 2 if needed, it was really fun. :) Enjoy

If this continues just know it will be a slow burn 😝

Also ps…. i will be accepting requests if anyone would like.

You were exhausted and cold, yearning to escape to the warmth of home after a long day at work. The last thing on your mind was taking the bus, but then your phone buzzed. It was your mom, her sweet voice breaking through your fatigue with surprising energy.

“Something came up,” she said cheerfully. “I can’t pick you up. I finally found a date I’m not going to miss!”

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “What if something happens?” You hissed, worry flooding your voice. The world felt cruel and unpredictable, and the thought of being alone in the middle of Queens sent a shiver down your spine.

She laughed lightly, a sound that felt distant and infuriating. “You’ll be fine! That’s why we have Spiderman!” Her high-pitched cheerfulness grated on you. Your heart sank as you realized how little she seemed to care. “The man of my dreams will be here in ten minutes, so I have to go. Be safe! Love ya!” Before you could respond, the line went dead, leaving you staring at the screen, feeling more alone than ever. The bench you were sitting on was cold, your legs twisted together trying to gather warmth as you wait for a bus. To say you were impatient would be an understatement.

The street was eerily quiet, save for the occasional car speeding by. Your breath fogged in the chill air, and you pull your coat tighter, glancing down the road for any sign of the bus. Time seemed to crawl. The distant buzz of streetlights flickered inconsistently, casting long, unsettling shadows that made your heart race with every gust of wind. Your mind wandered back to your moms words—her carefree dismissal of your worry over a man she has never met. How could she be so relaxed? You checked your phone again, half-hoping she’d call back and offer some reassurance, but the screen remained dark. Suddenly, footsteps echoed faintly from behind. You froze, your muscles tensing as the sound drew closer. You slowly turned, and there—just another commuter. He gave you a quick nod, barley acknowledging your presence as he passed by. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. The street still felt empty, and you still felt exposed. You glanced up at the dark sky, closing your eyes and taking in a deep breath, hoping for the bus lights to appear around the corner. Just as the tension in your chest began to build again, the distant hum of an engine reached your ears. Your eyes open and there it was—The bus, its headlights piercing through the had settles in your bones. The bus slowed to a stop, its brakes hissing as the doors creaked open. Warm air spilled out, inviting you inside. You didn’t hesitate, quickly stepping up and scanning your card before finding an empty seat near the back. The heat from the vents hit your face, thawing cold cheeks and fingers. You let out a shaky breath, leaning back into the worn seat as the doors closed with a soft thud. As the bus pulled away, you glanced out the window, watching the dark streets slide by. The city felt a little less overwhelming now, its harsh edges softened by the gentle hum of the engine beneath you. You were still scared, still tired but at least for the next few stops, you were moving toward home. As you settled into your seat, you noticed a man a few rows ahead, slouched in his seat, staring blankly out the window. He looked about your age with tousled brown hair and a jacket that seemed to be a but too light for the weather. His foot tapped nervously against the floor, and every now and then, he’d glance at his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The bus hit a small bump, jolting you forward. Your heart leaps as you grab onto the seat handle, the sound of your bag tumbling into the middle of the aisle. Before you could react, the man leaned over, scooping it up and handing it back to you with a half-smile. “Rough night?” he asked, his voice low but friendly. You gave a nervous laugh, clutching the bag. “Yeah, something like that. Thanks.” “No problem.” He shifted slightly in his seat, clearly not in a rush to turn back to his window. “Missed the last train, so here I am.” You made a face, sympathizing. That must’ve been annoying, though he didn’t seem particularly bothered. “Maybe I should have taken it as a sign to just head back and binge-watch something,” He added with a soft. As he spoke, his lips curled into a half smile, and for a second, he bit his lip thoughtfully, as if truly considering the option.

There was something about the way he said it—so casual, like he was used to rolling with bad timing—that made your chest feel a little lighter, even though you still wished you were anywhere but here. His ease with the situation made it seem less annoying. Almost. You found yourself smiling, just a small one tugging that the corner of your lips, despite the lingering bitterness of your own night. “Yeah, I get that,” you said, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before glancing back at your bag.” My ride bailed on me last minute so… here I am too.” Peter raised an eyebrow, his smile widening as if he could relate a little too well. “Ah, the last-minute ditch. Classic. Makes you feel like you’ve got great luck, huh?” You gave a short laugh, shaking your head. “Something like that. Though I’d prefer good luck at least once in a while.”

His eyes softened as he leaned back in his seat. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, at least were not waiting in the cold anymore.” He gestured to the warm bus around you both, then added, “And, you know… we could be stuck with worse company.” There was a slight, playful edge to his words, but the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You looked at him again, and for a moment, the exhaustion and frustration you carried all day seemed to ebb just a little. There was something… familiar about his presence, though you couldn’t quite place it.

You really did not want to be here especially when it could’ve been avoided, if you had a mother who cared. But his lighthearted words make a small smile form on the corner of your lips.

“Guess youre right,” You murmured, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the bus. There was a moment of silence, and you could hear the faint hum of the bus as it rolled over the uneven streets. Then he spoke again, breaking the quiet. “You headed far?” “Not too far. Just trying to make it home in one piece,” You replied, fiddling with your fingers as you spoke. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t seem to mind the awkwardness of the moment. He nodded, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “That’s the goal. One piece and warm.” A smile flickered across his face, and for a moment it felt like the bus had cocooned you both in a little bubble, separate from the rest of the world. You returned the smile, surprised by the warmth it sparked within you. “Yeah, definitely,” you agreed, though a part of you was still battling the lingering chill from being outside. The bus rumbled along, and you glance out the window at the passing city lights, momentarily lost in thought. When you turned back, you noticed he had shifted in his seat, now slightly angled towards you. “So, what do you do?” he asked, breaking the brief silence. Caught of guard, you hesitated. ” Oh, um, I’m a barista,” You said, feeling a mix of pride and self-conscious. “Its interesting, I guess. Lots of coffee and conversation.” “Coffee? Nice! That’s like lifeblood of the city,” he replied, his enthusiasm evident.” Do you get to experiment with new drinks?” “Sometimes! It can get pretty creative, especially when we have seasonal specials,” you explained, feeling a little more animated. “But mostly it’s the regulars and their usual orders.”

“I can see how that could be fun,” he said, nodding. “I’m Peter, by the way.” He extended a hand, and you shook it, feeling a spark of connection.

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m Y/N,” you replied, a hint of shyness creeping in as you caught his gaze.

He smiled again, and there was something about his expression that made you feel more at ease. “So, do you have any crazy coffee stories?”

You chuckled, thinking back on the oddities of your day-to-day. “Oh, you have no idea! Just last week, someone ordered a triple-shot, extra-hot caramel macchiato with a sprinkle of cinnamon—while wearing a cat costume.”

Peter laughed, clearly amused. “That’s amazing! Did you get a picture?”

“Not a good one. I was too busy trying to keep a straight face,” you admitted, your laughter mingling with his. “But it was definitely a highlight.”

As the conversation flowed, it felt surprisingly easy to talk to him, like you were already old friends despite just meeting. There was something about his laid-back demeanor, a quiet confidence that made you feel at ease, though you couldn't quite place why someone like him would be riding the bus this late.

“What about you? What do you do?” you asked, genuinely curious, eager to keep the conversation going.

“Oh, I’m into photography,” Peter said with a smile, his eyes lighting up with a kind of quiet enthusiasm. “I love capturing moments—cityscapes, random things, people who stand out. It’s like, you see something ordinary, but in the right light, it becomes extraordinary.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s an interesting way to look at it. So, do you just walk around the city with your camera all the time, looking for those moments?”

“Pretty much,” he replied, his smile growing. “I kind of like to get lost, y’know? Sometimes you find the best shots when you aren’t really looking for them. The city's like a living thing—it changes every time you see it.”

You chuckled softly, amused by his almost poetic take on photography. “Sounds like a bit of an adventure,” you said, leaning in slightly. “Do you have a favorite spot to shoot, or is it all just… wherever the city takes you?”

He paused for a second, tilting his head as if considering it. “There’s this spot near the Queensboro Bridge. Great views of the skyline at sunset. It’s quiet too—hard to find that in New York. I like to go there when I need to clear my head.”

You could sense there was more to that answer than he was letting on, but you didn’t push. There was a certain charm in the way he kept things casual, even when it felt like there was more beneath the surface. You nodded, impressed. “That sounds… amazing. Maybe one day I’ll see that view for myself.”

“Maybe,” Peter said, his smile shifting to something a little more knowing, his eyes glinting as if you had passed some invisible test. “Though you’d probably prefer to be sipping a coffee while watching it.”

You laughed at his comment. “Oh, trust me, I can appreciate a good view with or without coffee. But yeah, coffee helps.”

“Does it ever,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’ll have to stop by your coffee shop sometime—get the ‘barista special.’” He made little air quotes, and you found yourself grinning.

“Oh, you definitely should. Maybe I’ll make you something off the menu,” you teased lightly.

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Off the menu? Now I’m intrigued. Got any secret recipes?”

You shrugged, leaning back. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to bribe you for a private photography lesson. I could use some pointers,” you added playfully.

His eyes lit up at that, and he chuckled softly. “Deal. Photography lessons in exchange for secret coffee recipes. Sounds like a fair trade to me.”

You smiled, feeling the tension between you both ease even further, turning into something comfortable. “So, what got you into photography anyway? Is it something you always wanted to do?”

Peter hesitated, glancing out the window for a moment before looking back at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, I guess. It’s always been a way for me to… focus. There’s a lot going on sometimes, and photography—it helps me slow down, appreciate things. Makes life seem a little less… complicated.”

His words hung in the air, and for a second, you sensed that same hidden depth in him, something that went far beyond a guy with a camera wandering the streets. There was more to Peter Parker than he was showing, but you liked the way he made you feel—at ease, like you didn’t have to rush or force anything.

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. “I get that,” you said softly. “Life can get overwhelming sometimes. It’s good to have something that helps you focus.”

He gave you a small smile, one that felt almost... grateful. “Yeah, exactly.” Then, shaking off the somber tone, he added, “Plus, it gives me an excuse to get out of my apartment. I can’t just sit around all day, y’know?”

You laughed at that, feeling the conversation lighten again. “I feel that. If I stayed home too long, I’d end up drowning in Netflix.”

Peter chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, but that’s dangerous. One episode turns into ten before you know it.”

“Exactly!” you replied, grinning. “And suddenly it’s 3 AM and you’re wondering where your life went.”

“Guilty,” Peter admitted with a sheepish smile. “That’s why I prefer wandering the city with my camera. At least then I feel productive.”

“Hey, I might have to join you on one of these photo adventures,” you said, feeling a surge of boldness. “I could use some of that productivity.”

Peter’s eyes lit up at your suggestion, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw a hint of something deeper in his gaze—interest, maybe? “Anytime,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Just say the word.”

The idea of spending more time with him, exploring the city together, made your heart skip a beat. But for now, you were content just sitting beside him, talking and laughing as the bus rolled on, the city outside your window feeling just a little less lonely.

As the bus rumbled on, you realized that despite just meeting, there was something about this conversation that felt special—like it might be the beginning of something unexpected.

The conversation flowed effortlessly; you felt a connection brewing between you two. Time seemed to fade away until you caught a glimpse of the city lights outside, realizing your stop was approaching.

“Looks like were on my street,” you said, glancing out the window.

“Ah, just when we were getting into it!” Peter replied, his smile faltering just a bit. “Guess we’ll have to continue this another time.”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a twinge of disappointment. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Definitely!” he replied, as if trying to hold on to the moment. “Take care!”

Before you could think to ask for his number, the bus slowed to a stop, the doors hissing open. You grabbed your bag and stepped out, a mix of warmth and regret swirling inside you.

As you turned to wave goodbye, you caught his gaze one last time—his expression was bright with possibility, but there was a lingering sense of ‘what if’ in the air. You walked away, a small smile on your face, feeling like you’d just shared something special, yet with no way to continue it.

As soon as you stepped off the bus, reality hit you like a freight train, the biting cold air sending shivers down your spine. You took a deep breath, the chill filling your lungs, and quickly wrapped your arms around yourself, as if trying to ward off the creeping sense of isolation that settled in.

The walk to your apartment building was brief, just a few seconds that felt stretched into eternity. Each step felt heavier, a stark contrast to the fleeting warmth you had shared with Peter on the bus. The anticipation of returning home, once a comfort, now felt like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Once inside, the silence enveloped you like a thick blanket, amplifying the emptiness that echoed in the corners of your mind. Stripping off your jacket, you furrowed your brows, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The dimness of the apartment hit you hard; your mother had left all the lights off, a clear sign of her absence. It stung, a reminder that she had chosen a night out over being there for you.

You sighed, the sound reverberating in the stillness. Each room felt like a shadow of what it once was, and the lack of warmth and light only deepened your sense of loneliness. The walls seemed to close in, and in that moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were utterly alone, the echoes of laughter and warmth fading into the background.

You fumbled for your phone, activating the flashlight as you navigated the darkened apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last. Once you finally reached your bedroom, you didn’t even bother to turn on the lamp. Instead, you kicked off your shoes and fell onto the bed, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as the soft mattress enveloped you.

But then it hit you like a cold wave crashing over your warmth: you hadn’t gotten Peter’s number. A sudden wave of sadness washed over you, tightening your chest, even though you barely knew him. It was his kindness that lingered in your mind, the way his smile seemed to light up the dreary atmosphere of the bus, making the chaos of your night feel a little more bearable. You closed your eyes, imagining the easy laughter you had shared, and felt a pang of regret. How was it that someone you’d just met could leave such an imprint on your heart? You wished you could have captured that fleeting moment in time, to hold onto it a little longer, to have the chance to get to know him better. But now, as the silence enveloped you, all you could do was lie there, feeling the weight of your unspoken feelings settle heavily in the stillness.

A/N: This is my first fic in a long time so Im sorru if this is bad? I didnt want it to get too long so I will be posting a second part, mostly because I need to feel a hole in my life lmao. But i hope you like it, if you have any ideas you want me to add to this lemme know. And if anyone wants a tag list i will make one lol.

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #the amazing spiderman #spiderman #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #andrew garfield #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #slow burn #friends to lovers

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106alibi · 29 days ago

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chapter 04. am I your fav girl? (smau + written)

jaemin pushed open the door, one arm balancing two wine glasses and a bottle of unopened wine. he peered in cautiously, only to be greeted by a dishevelled y/n sitting hunched over her computer, with some kind of report pulled up on her screen. jaemin frowned at her tired state and set the glasses on her study desk.

"you're here to tell me off right."

"whaaat no.. I'm just here to have... wine with my best friend..."

jaemin trailed off, his back facing y/n as he attempted to pop the cork off with a spoon (and was failing miserably). y/n huffed at the sight and rolled her eyes. patience was something y/n didn't know too well and everyone knew that. she pulled open her drawer and reached for her handy corkscrew, snatching the bottle from the struggling boy.

the cork came off with a pop as jaemin gave her a sheepish smile, taking over to pour their glasses. the two sat in silence, with y/n now propped at the edge of her bed and jaemin in her study chair as they sipped on the red wine, the smooth liquid sliding down y/n's throat like butter as her muscles slowly relaxed.

"you know jeno and minjeong meant no harm." jaemin started off cautiously. y/n slouched, thinking back on the conversation, hypnotised as the liquid rippled and danced in the wine glass.

she was lucky the conversation happened on a friday night, so that she didn't have to face minjeong at the lab the following day. but it felt weird, at the same time, not swinging by the campus cafe like she did every weekend to rip off free coffees and the occasional tarts from jeno while she occupied the counter seat from morning till night. she joked about it once with jeno that they should have her name engraved in the seat so no one would take it from her. she found out that day that she didn't have to worry, because jeno always saved the seat for her before she even came.

"y/n?" jaemin snapped her out of her thoughts.

she sighed. “I know. but they don't understand how important this is for me.”

y/n could feel frustration bubbling in her chest, and hopefully, she'd be able to keep it from bubbling past her lips and her eyes. she swallowed hard.

“i can't afford to screw up this internship. not when I've already let down mom and dad once.”

she masked her hurt over with a small, forced smile. jaemin listened patiently, his gaze tender as it held his best friend.

“they don't know anything. they don't know how hard I've worked to get here.”

“that's because you never told them, y/n. you call them your best friends but you don't talk about yourself a lot, if you've noticed.”

y/n fell silent at his words. it was true. someone as prideful as y/n would never open up so vulnerably, even to her closest friends. jaemin only knew because he witnessed the disappointed sighs of her parents. because he was there at her high school graduation when they weren't. because he was there when y/n fainted from pure exhaustion when she was studying for her exams.

“I…don't want to tell them.” she trailed off. her eyes looked everywhere but at jaemin, tipping the glass in her hands.

“I don't want them to pity me…or think I'm weak.”

jaemin's eyes softened. he rolled the chair forward and took the glass out of y/n’s hands, replacing them with his own warm, bigger ones.

“y/n, there's nothing wrong with being weak. you can't be strong all the time. if you want them to understand you, you need to try to make them understand too. don't lose them over this, please.”

he squeezed her palms softly. man, screw jaemin’s materialistic tendencies and whatever psych skill he learnt from his course. y/n nibbled the flesh of her bottom lip, looking down at her hands as she played with jaemin’s fingers on her lap.

“I…still don't think how you acted towards donghyuck was right. but what matters is what you do from now on. you'll apologise, right? to jeno, minjeong, and donghyuck.”

she jutted out her bottom lip in a pout. that's a lot of apologising she had to do, and a lot of apologising she's not used to doing. but as y/n thought about all the friends she had lost due to her unwavering pride and lack of effort, the many times she's told herself she didn't need anyone, she really thought she was okay with being alone.

but absorbed in the rigour of her studies, she had forgotten how lonely she was when she and jaemin attended different schools. she had to wash down the sour taste of envy daily with more textbooks, more revision, when girls in her class would go for karaoke after every exam. seat mates were just temporary friends who sought her help with homework and classmates were just people she once knew.

she didn't want jeno and minjeong to become people she once knew. of course, change couldn't happen overnight. but she wanted to try, at least. and it started with a simple apology.

“...could you call them over for me?”

<- chapter 03

chapter 05 ->

a/n: didn't bother to count the words... things obviously won't be so smooth sailing but 🫶 there'll be effort on y/n's part!

taglist: @luvvhaechan @snoopyjimin @haechsworld @yewshi @injunnie-lemon @hyucktion @n0hyuck @sofipolii01 @t-102 @fluermeijisblog

#nct #nct dream #nct fluff #donghyuck #haechan #donghyuck smau #haechan smau #nct smau #smau #nct dream smau #donghyuck imagine #donghyuck imagines #nct donghyuck #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #haechan fluff #nct haechan #rinawrites: labrats!

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hobiebrownismygod · 11 months ago

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Let's talk about Desi representation again!!

I don't talk about this stuff often but when I do, I have some strong ass opinions

and yes I'm gonna be talking about none other than Pavitr Prabhakar at the end cuz he's just special to me <3

Hollywood is lagging behind on Desi representation

You'd think one of the biggest film industries in the world would be able to represent us properly, considering the fact that we make up the largest group of South-Asian Americans and the second largest group of Asian-Americans in the US, but instead-

Western Television forces Indians to conform to harmful stereotypes

Some of the most popular Desi characters on screen are Raj Koothrappali from the Big Bang Theory, Devi Vishwakumar from Never Have I Ever and Kelly Kapoor from the Office.

Indian men are almost always portrayed as robotics engineers and computer whizzes, but with terrible social intellect, making them seem like awkward nerds.

Indian women are almost always portrayed as "whitewashed", or wanting to appear more western, with zero understanding of their own culture or language along with an unrelenting need for attention from white friends/colleagues.

These are both based on stereotypes that Indian culture is "toxic" and "too traditional" and that Indians are only interested in studies.

Most Desi characters in western media have stories that are solely based around their ethnicity and/or racial stereotypes.

British television actually showcases a lot more representation than Hollywood does

I was watching Polite Society, a movie starring two Pakistani characters as the main leads, and there was a dance scene where both the leads are wearing traditional desi attire. My mom turned over, looked at me, and asked, "Is this Hollywood? It can't be."

And she was right. It's a British movie with British-Pakistani actors.

The reason she didn't believe that it could've been Hollywood was because the dresses the two leads were wearing were traditional and beautiful and the song playing in the background was authentic Hindi music, not some random westernized DJ version of it.

A Hollywood movie would've never dressed up their Desi actors in actually flattering attire (*cough cough the Patel twins from Harry Potter) or have used real, popular Desi music in the background.

You see my point?

It is so uncommon to see well-thought-out Desi representation in TV nowadays, where to see real diversity we have to watch movies made by the same country that colonized us.

Ironic.

British movies/shows with desi leads have far better South Asian representation than anything I've seen in Hollywood recently.

The Hollywood movies starring Indian leads, like Slumdog Millionaire or Bend it like Beckham were filmed in the UK, and because they were filmed in the UK, they had fantastic South Asian representation.

Not only does Hollywood refuse to create shows and movies about real problems that South Asians face, but they also don't cast South Asian actors in good roles.

When's the last time you saw a South Asian actor playing a character that wasn't a walking stereotype? When's the last time you saw a South Asian actor playing a character that was a genuine part of the story rather than just comedic relief or a random smart kid in the classroom?

Not often, right?

Me, personally, I didn't grow up with a lot of South Asian characters or actors in shows/movies that I watched. In fact, every time someone even close to my skin color showed up on TV, I was on the edge of my seat because it was just so rare to see it.

This is why representation matters.

You've heard about all the young girls with braids being so excited when the new little mermaid with Halle Bailey came out. Well, us desi kids wanted that too.

I wanted to see a Telugu speaking girl with wavy hair and dark skin who would wear traditional clothing to Desi get-togethers and parties, go to the temple with her family, eat vegetarian Indian meals, etc...

I wanted to see a character who was a representation of me and my experiences as an Indian-American. I wanted to see a character that was at least a representation of Indians or just South Asians in general.

Instead, we were given characters that ridiculed their own culture, were extreme stereotypes and furthered the existence of casual racism in western society today. So many Desi kids experience small acts of racism on a daily basis because people have been so desensitized to the existence of these stereotypes.

Telling South Asians that their culture is a joke and feeding non-asian children media which pokes fun at other cultures is harmful, not only to us South Asians but also communities that could end up being targeted next.

Pavitr Prabhakar; Representation Matters

If you've been following me or if we're mutuals, you probably know I have a tiny obsession with Pavitr Prabhakar. But why?

Because of all the reasons I just listed.

There are few South Asian characters us Desis can look up to these days, and Pavitr Prabhakar is one of the maybe two or three characters who have great writing, magnificent representation, and overall a fun vibe.

He's likable, funny, smart and best of all, unapologetically Desi.

He's just like all the other side characters, with a little bit of his own culture mixed in. He's not being shoved down our throats to further an agenda about fake diversity, he's not a walking stereotype and best of all, he was designed by Indian creators.

He's refreshing and exciting to follow in a world full of a demand for half-hearted representations and the people who created him were obviously putting their hearts and souls into it.

He's awoken a love for Indian culture amongst, not only Desi children themselves but also among westerners who, prior to this, had thought of India as a "3rd world" country, because that's the agenda that Hollywood pushes onto many South Asian countries today.

WE LOVE PAVITR PRABHAKAR!!

This was kinda all over the place but I just had to get this off my chest <3

Sources:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2021/06/10/discrimination-against-indian-americans-happens-more-than-you-might-think/

#for all the brown kids that never got to see a character that looked like them growing up #desi representation #desi writers #desiblr #desi tumblr #desi tag #desi culture #indian representation #pavitr #pavitr prabhakar #atsv pavitr #spiderverse pavitr #pavitr my beloved #astv #across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #pavitr Prabhakar

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winchester-girl67 · 11 months ago

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Wild Hearts (Part 2)

Summary: Dean steals his father's car to give Y/N a ride home. The next day Y/N tags along to the dunes for sand surfing.

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,771

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16, Dean is 20 but closer to 21), mentions of physical abuse by a parent, past injury (bruising/scars), mentions of death and alcoholism, John is an asshole in this one, underage drinking, angst, language, slow burn, mutual pining, a hint of jealousy, a bit of fluff

A/N: Sand surfing looks really fun. Didn’t think I’d get this finished before the new year. Happy holidays!

_____

Dean grabbed your hand every time the headlights of a car came into view and pulled you off more to the side of the road. Placing himself between you so the car would have to go through him to hit you. The last time he did it you held onto his hand and he didn't let go. Until you came up to a driveway that led to a small ranch style house sitting amongst the evergreens.

You spotted a cherry-condition, black muscle car sitting in the driveway, "No way! Is this your car?"

"Uh- yeah," he smiled, "-I mean, no. It's my dad's but yeah that's what we're taking." He stumbled out his words as if he was nervous.

You trailed your finger up the hood of the car, "Sixty-seven?"

"You know your cars." He smirked.

"My dad used to drag me to every car show he could when I was younger. On those days he did get off work." You said, admiring the freshly waxed black paint. "And as a result, I developed a thing for pre-seventies muscle."

"Baby's the only thing my father has ever loved." Dean said and you frowned, "Aside from my mother. She passed away when Sammy was born."

"Baby?"

"It's what he calls the car."

You nodded. "Who's Sammy?"

"My little brother," he explained with an edge of protectiveness, "He's sixteen, too." He bit the split in his lip until it bled and kicked the front tire with a glare. "He's probably passed out by now," and somehow you knew he was talking about his father again, "But you better wait out here." He said, pushing you off to the side of the house so you blended with the shadows of the trees lining it. "Y/N, if you hear anything... Do not come inside."

Then he turned around and headed for the door, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your gut. The way he spoke about his father, loving four wheels and engine more than his sons. Dean looked pained at the thought and his eyes greener when they glided over his father's Impala.

Then it hit you, his warning. His father wasn't a good man.

You left the shadowed tree line and peered through one of Baby’s windows. Fast food bags littered the front bench seat and a half a bottle of liquor lay on the floor. Your skin started to crawl at the thought of Dean's father coming home half-pissed and taking his day out on his sons. No doubt Dean only stuck around for his little brother. You wondered if Sam had endured the same type of injuries or if Dean always stood between them. Somehow you already knew the answer.

The screen door shut with an audible creak and Dean reappeared on the porch, "Y/N?" He whisper shouted as he scanned the area you were supposed to wait. "Y/N."

"Over here," you matched his tone.

"Got 'em." He jingled the keys for you to see. "Let's push her out onto the street before we start her though." He opened the driver's door, "Here, you steer, I'll push."

"You're not gonna get in trouble, are you?" You hesitated, you didn't think you could bear to see more bruises on him, or worse.

He gave you a cocky smile, "I'm not gonna get caught."

You slid in behind the wheel and shifted into neutral, taking a moment to appreciate Baby's beauty despite the mess of trash in the front seat. Meanwhile Dean ran around to the bumper and started pushing the car down the driveway. You braked when you got to the edge of the street, throwing open the door and letting Dean take over as you slid over to the passenger side.

The car grinded to a stop as he pulled up in front of your house. It was a beautiful car but the whole ride felt like a tin can rolling over bumps in the road and the muffler rattled against the undercarriage the entire time. His father didn’t seem like the type to put his time or money into anything that couldn’t give back to him. Which apparently included keeping up maintenance on Baby.

"For someone who's supposed to love this car," you flicked a used ketchup packet onto the floor and wiped your sticky fingers on your jeans, "He's shit at taking care of it."

"Imagine if he didn't love her." Dean's eyes were lost on the dashboard, deep in some solitary thought. "He didn't deserve her and he doesn't deserve this car." For a moment you thought he must've been talking about his mother. You wondered if the abuse started before or after her passing. You didn't ask. "Are you busy tomorrow?"

"Um."

"It's fine if you didn't mean it. About being my friend. But I was gonna go sand surfing and I thought that might be something you'd like to do. Something friends do." He shrugged. "I-I'm not trying to be creepy. Just friends."

"I don't think you're creepy," you shook your head and met his sad smile, "I'd love to go, sand surfing? What is that?"

He laughed, "It's like snowboarding but down a sand dune. It's easy, I'll teach you. Fall's the best time for it because the sand won't burn you."

"That sounds fun."

"Good, I'll pick you up," he said and then added, "My friend's driving. There'll be others there too, but they're not like your brother's friends."

"I don't like my brother's friends."

"These are good people," he smiled, the bruised part of his face hidden in the shadows of the car and you almost forgot about it. He had a nice smile, he didn't show too many teeth or too much gums. "I'll give you my number, in case you decide to cancel."

You laughed silently but let him enter his phone number into your cell. Then you texted him so he'd have yours, too.

"Thanks for the ride, Dean." You reached over and gave him a quick side hug. He didn't even have a chance to react but stared at the dash again and nodded when you pulled away. "Text me when you get home or I'll worry."

"You don't have to worry about me, Y/N, I'm not a child." He said cordially.

He'd obviously picked up on you putting the pieces of his home life together, his injuries, his father, how much he was risking by stealing Baby tonight. Dean was tall and built enough to protect himself, but nobody should stand alone and clearly his father was still bigger and stronger.

"People worry about you in every stage of life, Dean. At least they should. I will." He looked over at you and matched your frown.

"But you only just met me."

His words echoed in your ears well after you showered and crawled into bed. Dean brought about so many feelings in you that you didn't know which to follow. You felt butterflies, and mutual affection like you'd known each other longer than you did, and an untethered desire to protect him, which was absurd because although he was skinny, he could toss you over his shoulder and spin you around if he wanted to. His bruises and scars made you feel helpless, but his smile made you happy because you could tell he felt lighter, too.

You checked your phone and found a message from him.

Dean: Mission impossible accomplished. See you tomorrow.

Y/N: Thanks for texting. Goodnight, Dean.

Dean: Night, Y/N.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't developing a crush. You sighed and rolled over in bed. What could you do, nothing. He'd get into a lot more trouble than you.

Sleep did not come easy after that and you woke up before you thought you'd even fallen asleep. You groaned and rolled over in bed when you heard your phone buzz.

Dean: Good morning, Y/N.

Y/N: Geez, you wake up early. What time is it?

Dean: You're literally looking at your phone.

Y/N: Omg! It's 6am, what is wrong with you?!

Dean: You know the saying, early bird...

Y/N: The sun isn't even awake yet, Dean.

Dean: You're grumpy in the morning.

Dean: Just wanted to let you know we'll pick you up around noon.

Dean: Y/N? You still wanna come, right?

Y/N: Yeah! Sorry, I'm tired.

Dean: Awesome. Just one question before you pass out on me. Benny's bringing a grill, so we're making hotdogs for lunch. You're not a vegetarian are you?

Y/N: Yeah...

Y/N: I'm joking. No, I'm not.

Dean: Good, our friendship might've ended right there.

Dean: Just kidding. Go back to sleep.

You smiled at your phone a little too long before you locked it and went back to sleep for a few hours.

"Hey, sweetie. You're awake early." Your mother said when you walked into the kitchen around ten. It was early compared to your typical Sunday morning. "Have fun last night?"

You nodded, not wanting to get into the events of your brother or his friends from the bonfire. Your mom seemed to accept the answer and you assumed your brother made it home at some point without her noticing the hour.

You got along with your parents well enough. You never really got into any trouble and you weren’t sure they even knew how to ground you if you did. Besides, your dad wasn’t around much lately, it seemed his new promotion kept him at the office longer than necessary. Which was where he was now. On a Sunday, at ten A.M.

You didn't know what you wanted to do when you grew up, but you knew you wanted to have balance in your life. Something you thought your dad didn't understand. You couldn't remember the last time he brought you to a car show, you couldn't remember the last time you'd asked him to bring you either.

"Your dad said he'd be home for dinner and your brother probably won't be up until mid-afternoon. What time did you two get in last night?" She asked, sipping on her coffee.

You didn't have a curfew because you never had the need for one and your parents oddly trusted you. You didn't do crazy shit to make them worry about you but sometimes you wanted to, if only just for the attention. So you knew she was just curious when she asked.

"I dunno," you shrugged, not wanting to get into why you didn't know and that you didn't come home with your brother. "I'm going out with some friends for lunch."

"That sounds fun," you weren't sure if she was even listening anymore or just saying that.

Your family had gotten better at not actually listening to each other lately. But you ignored that fact yourself and grabbed a bowl of cereal for breakfast.

At eleven-thirty, you threw on a pair of high-rise jeans and an oversized t-shirt that you knotted at the waist. You also pulled on a flannel shirt in case it got chilly which was the way the weather was turning lately. Then you texted Dean.

Y/N: Text when you get here, I'll come out and meet you.

You wanted to avoid an awkward interaction with your mother. Especially since your brother was awake now and slamming the kitchen cupboards. He wouldn't really care but he was nosey and would start something if he saw how much older Dean was. And you doubted a few hours would've helped much with the bruising on his face. That wouldn't be fair to make Dean explain how he'd got them to complete strangers. Especially since you were pretty sure you knew how he'd gotten them.

Dean: We're here.

You shouted a 'Bye' as you ran out of the house, hearing your brother ask your mom where you were headed before the door slammed shut behind you. You shoved your phone into your back pocket and ran down the driveway to where a red Jeep waited. Dean stood outside, leaning against the door.

He smiled when he saw you run up, "Hey."

"Hi." You said, noticing his face falling, "What's wrong?"

"I feel like we're sneaking around," he glanced back at your house as if he expected someone to come running out after you. "Feels wrong."

"I just didn't want you to have to deal with the inevitable questions about, you know," you pointed to the left side of his face. "But if you want I can introduce you before we go... Or you could come over Friday for family dinner and give that a little more time to heal."

He stared at you for half a second then shoved his hands in his pockets, "Family dinner sounds nice."

"Great, I'll set it up tonight!" You smiled brightly and touched his arm, "Feel better?"

He swallowed and nodded and you heard someone shout impatiently from inside the Jeep. Dean opened the backdoor for you and climbed in after you. You sat in the middle next to a guy with black hair and blue eyes who looked about the same age as Dean.

"Hey, I'm Cas." The guy greeted you as you settled in.

As soon as the door was closed the Jeep pulled out onto the road with a bounce from a pothole the tire hit.

A small brunette in the middle front seat turned around and waved, "I'm Ruby, Sam's girlfriend," she pointed to a lanky guy with long brown hair next to her who offered you a smile.

They looked about the same age as you, at least you knew Sam was. You noticed right away Sam didn't have any bruises or obvious scars. You felt a bit proud of Dean for that and also a little sorry that he didn't have someone like himself to have his back.

"That's Benny," Dean said, pointing to the guy driving. "Benny say ‘Hi’."

"Hi." He glanced in the rearview mirror.

"He's quiet until you get to know him." Dean explained.

Benny, by far, looked the oldest of the bunch. Maybe it was because he hadn't shaved in a couple of days or maybe it was because he was built like a linebacker. But either way he didn't seem to like you. It was just a vibe you got in the split second your eyes connected. It practically radiated off him and you wondered if you were the only one picking up on it.

"So, Y/N, how come I never see you at school?" Ruby asked, spinning around in her seat to face you completely and bumping into Benny who growled. Maybe it wasn't just you. "You're not home schooled are you?"

"No, I go to one near my dad's work." You explained quickly, not really wanting to talk about school.

"Where does your dad work?" Sam asked this time.

“At Sandover Bridge and Iron. He’s the Director of Sales and Marketing.” You bounced your eyebrows. Really all that means is he’s barely around anymore.

"That's cool," he said, shifting his eyes to Dean for a second.

"Oh," Ruby’s brown eyes widened for a second and you knew what she was thinking.

"Yeah."

"Am I missing something?" Dean asked, glancing between the two of you.

"It’s a private school." You explained and it seemed to dawn on him. "What are you smirking at?"

"You have to wear a uniform, don't you?" He smiled so wide the split in his lip threatened to pull again.

"If you must know, yes, and it is the bane of my existence." You rolled your eyes dramatically to make your point.

"So, like a plaid skirt with those long socks?"

"Careful, Dean. We're friends, remember?" You whispered to him and he opened his mouth to respond, but then snapped it shut and turned to stare out the window.

Ruby pouted, resting her chin on the back of the seat, "That's too bad. You could've sat with us at lunch and I would've shown you around. Dean says you're new."

"Yeah," you sighed. That would've been nice to know someone in school. You had begged your parents to let you go to a public school this time, but they insisted. "Too bad."

Dean had gotten really quiet and you nudged him with your elbow. He turned to smile and swallow thickly before turning a cold-shoulder and staring out the window again. You had only been teasing, but you didn't want him getting any ideas that would only result in him getting in trouble.

"How do you guys know Dean?" You asked, directing the question at Cas since Benny didn't seem to be much of a talker.

"We grew up together. Well, me and Dean did." Cas explained, "Benny just kind of showed up one day and we couldn't get rid of him." Benny growled and Cas winked in the rearview mirror. "He really is a teddy bear once you get to know him."

Once you got to the beach Benny didn't park in the parking lot, instead he drove out onto the beach and down the shore for a long time until you were surrounded by only dunes of sand. It would've taken forever to walk there. He parked at the top of the dunes and everyone filtered out of the Jeep. The guys grabbed the boards from the trunk and Benny got to setting up his grill. You guessed he wasn't really into sand surfing.

Dean said he was going to teach how to surf, but he was already halfway down the dune with Cas when you looked. And Sam and Ruby were flirting as they carried their boards over to join them and you didn't feel like third wheeling it today, so you hung back with Benny.

"Need a hand?" Your voice was softer than you'd like it to be but you found him intimidating, even if he wasn't nearly as tall as Dean or Sam who was a moose at sixteen and probably still growing.

"Thought you came for that," he pointed at the dune where the others had run off to and you saw a couple extra boards stuck in the sand at the top. But you still didn't know how to surf, never even been snowboarding. And those surfboards looked a lot more like snowboards. You'd hurt yourself for sure without knowing how to turn or stop. "I hope you know what you're doing with him."

Your eyes snapped back to Benny's and you squinted, "Excuse me."

He raised his hands and his eyebrows, "His home life is... undesirable. I know you know what I mean. Last thing he needs is your parents on top of his own."

You didn't think your parents would bat an eye at Dean. Mainly because they were wrapped up in their own lives and didn’t pay you much attention. But if they did notice, you wondered if they would dislike Dean enough to turn what you have with him into something wrong and indecent. You'd like to think they wouldn't because it wasn't. But it's a parent's job to be protective of their child.

"We're just friends."

"Not the way he looks at you." Benny cocked his head and started setting up the foldable stand for the grill. "He's not thinking when he's around you. And don't get me wrong, I like seeing him happy, he's been there for me more times than I can count, but- Do you have any idea what his father would've done if he knew Dean took that car out last night. If that's the way he looks after spilling paint in the garage..." You didn't know what to say and opened your mouth like a fish out of water before he continued. "Dean's never done anything like that before. I'm just asking you to be careful with him. He has two years left and then he and Sam can get the hell out of there."

"Why two years?" That's all you could manage to ask.

"Dean's tried to get custody of Sam since he turned eighteen but the lawyers always tell him the same thing. He's too young himself, with no steady income and no decent living quarters. Going through courts takes time and money and Sam would likely age out before that time." He explained as you fiddled with the knot in your t-shirt.

"How'd you know about the car?"

"I live next door, I helped him push it back up the driveway so his father wouldn't wake up and hear the engine."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I mean, I kind of knew but I guess I believed him when he said it would be fine." You watched your shoes and tried to still your bottom lip. "Just so you know, I'm not trying to cause him any more pain. We just kind of connected last night and I like him. I'm not gonna do anything that'll get him in trouble though. I promise."

"Kid, I'm not worried about you doing the dumb shit. I'm worried about him." He scratched his slight beard. "It's not fair to ask you to think for the both of you."

"It's not fair to ask me to not be his friend either."

"I couldn't ask that of you."

You kind of missed quiet Benny and the afternoon was starting to feel a lot like last night with your brother's friends. You wiped a tear threatening to fall down your cheek when you were sure Benny wasn't looking; everyone else taking a second run down the dune after climbing back up. You stood around and kicked at the sand until you could feel grains in your shoe.

"Hey, cher, can you grab me the hotdogs from the cooler?" Benny asked and nodded towards the cooler next to the Jeep.

You didn't bother digging around and just brought him the whole cooler. He split open the pack of hotdogs and started grilling. Then pulled a can of beer from the cooler and opened it. He handed it to you and grabbed his own. You wondered if you actually had to drink it, but he clearly saw that you were upset and it was a peace offering of sorts. So you took a sip.

The fifth sip wasn't so bad and the seventh went down even easier. But it still tasted gross and you still didn't see the point. Maybe just a little warmth in your cheeks.

Sam and Ruby were the first to run back over when Benny rang the dinner bell. Followed by Cas and Dean. Dean eyed the beer can in your hand and you took another sip before you grabbed a hotdog and walked away.

_________________________

Part 3

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers

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pinkertinn · 2 months ago

Note

hi im actually obsessed with don't leave baby eagle on read

would you ever write soemthing like that (like Ashley teasing him dynamic) where theyre messing around under a tablecloth somewhere? like handjob w gentle teasing and maybe praise?

Anon!!! Anon, say less. Teasing Leon? In a public place? Under a tablecloth? Maybe praise?

Quick get this off my table right now. I'm obsessed. Also, big thanks for reading my work. Makes my day!

Title: Fashionably Late, But Always on Time

Summary: Leon arrives late to a formal dinner, only to be teased mercilessly by Ashley under the table as they try to keep up appearances.

Tags: Flirty Banter, Public Teasing, Hidden Desires, Light Dom/Sub Dynamics, Humorous Embarrassment, Power Play, Slow Burn Tension

WordCount: 3,500

Rating: 18+ MDNI

story under the cut.

She sat at the long table, the clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation surrounding her like a fog. The evening was supposed to be dignified—impressive, even—but all she felt was the slow burn of frustration creeping up her spine. It wasn't the people or the event itself; it was the fact that he wasn't there yet, and she'd been left to fend for herself against a wall of polite small talk. Her phone buzzed in her lap for the hundredth time that night.

On my way, I swear.

She bit her lip, hiding her smirk behind a sip of wine. You’re late, she shot back quickly, her thumb tapping out the message under the table.

A few seconds later: Traffic. You'll survive. What’s the damage?

Her eyes darted up to catch someone talking animatedly about diplomatic relations. She hadn’t been paying attention for a good twenty minutes now, but she nodded anyway, pretending to care. Her thumb hovered over the screen. You’re paying for this. Big time.

The response came almost immediately: Depends. How mad are you?

She couldn’t help the grin pulling at the corner of her mouth as she shifted in her seat. He always knew how to push her buttons, and somehow, it was annoying and comforting all at once. She leaned forward just slightly, letting her fingers slide over the screen with a slow precision.

Let’s just say I have some ideas on how you can make it up to me. They’re not exactly presidential.

She could almost hear the way he'd laugh at that, the way his voice would drop lower when he finally arrived, teasing, a mix of apology and amusement lingering in every word. A subtle thrill buzzed beneath her skin at the thought of it—him showing up at this stuffy event, his tie loosened like he just couldn't be bothered to care about the formalities, eyes searching for her in the crowd. He’d probably head straight for the bar first, like always.

Her phone buzzed again. You’re killing me. Almost there.

Good, she typed back quickly, because if you make me suffer through one more story about NATO, you’re not leaving my place until Monday. She paused, deleting the last part and rewriting it: And we both know you’ll never make it out of bed if that happens.

Her heart beat a little faster as she hit send, the words bold but charged with the weight of everything that wasn’t being directly said between them tonight. The back-and-forth had a rhythm to it, one they’d mastered ages ago—teasing, playful, but always teetering on the edge of something more, something they both knew would come later.

The room felt too hot, or maybe that was just her, thinking about how this night might end. She shifted in her seat again, smoothing her dress as though it would help her focus on anything other than the slow ache building in her stomach. He had a way of leaving her hanging, just long enough to make her miss him, just long enough to make her want to drag him back down to earth when he finally showed up.

A text blinked onto her screen: I’ve got plans for you, too. You sure you can wait that long?

Her breath hitched, cheeks warming under the pretense of politeness as she quickly glanced up. No one was paying attention to her; they were all still talking, still engrossed in their own conversations, completely unaware of the tension coiling in her chest. She took a slow, deep breath, typing with steady fingers.

Guess we’ll see how long you last once you get here.

The anticipation gnawed at her, that familiar mix of frustration and excitement pulling her thoughts in a direction that had nothing to do with the formal dinner in front of her. She hated him for it—how easily he could do this, how he made her feel like a teenager sneaking glances at her phone under the table. She'd spent the last hour pretending to be invested in conversations that bored her to tears, all while her mind kept wandering back to him. He always seemed to slip in under her skin, no matter where they were or what they were supposed to be doing.

A quick glance at the clock confirmed it—he was SO late. And she’d definitely make him pay for it.

Her phone buzzed once more: Five minutes. Hold that thought.

She bit her lip, locking her phone and slipping it back into her clutch. Five minutes. He’d better be worth the wait.

Exactly five minutes later the heavy wooden doors at the back of the room creaked open, she felt it before she saw him. A subtle shift in the energy, like a current had swept through the air, crackling with something undeniably him. She didn't even need to look; she just knew. He always carried that kind of presence—an unspoken, irresistible pull that seemed to stop time for just a second.

He entered the room with effortless grace, his suit impeccably tailored, tie just loose enough to match the way she'd pictured him. His hair, slightly tousled as if he'd run his fingers through it in frustration during the drive, added an unpolished, rugged edge to his usual sharpness. It made him look more… raw. The casual way his fingers brushed the doorframe in a fleeting acknowledgment sent a flutter of anticipation through her. He never quite belonged at these formal events, but somehow, he always managed to make it work—damn well, too.

Her gaze flicked up, just for a moment. He was scanning the room, eyes sharp but relaxed, looking for her like she was the only person here that mattered. And when their eyes finally met, a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, his expression softening in that way that made her heart pound a little harder than she’d care to admit. He could be all business when he needed to be—charming the crowd, shaking hands with a firm grip, his posture straight and serious—but right now, his focus was locked on her.

He made his way over, stopping to exchange pleasantries, the occasional handshake, a nod to some official who probably expected him to be more engaged. But all the while, his gaze would flick back to her, lingering like a private joke shared between them across the room. The closer he got, the harder it became to keep her composure, her pulse quickening as he finally closed the distance.

"Sorry I’m late," he murmured, sliding into the seat next to her, his voice low enough that only she could hear. It was that voice—the one he used when they were alone, intimate in a way that made her want to forget they were surrounded by high-ranking officials and polished silverware. "Traffic was hell."

She didn’t look at him right away, though she could feel the warmth of him so close now, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the clean, subtle musk that was just him. Instead, she leaned slightly closer, enough that her bare arm brushed against the sleeve of his jacket, her lips barely curving as she whispered, "You’re going to regret making me wait."

He chuckled softly under his breath, a sound that sent a ripple of heat straight through her. "I’ve been regretting it since I walked through the door."

She barely had time to smirk in response before she reached up to her ear, fingers brushing over her earring as if adjusting it. Then, with a deliberate tilt of her head, she let it drop, the small piece of jewelry landing softly on the carpet under the table. She made a small, exaggerated sigh, leaning just a little closer to him.

"Oops," she whispered, her lips almost grazing the curve of his jaw before she leaned back, placing her hand on his thigh, pushing herself up slightly as she slipped out of her chair and ducked under the table.

He froze, the low conversation at the table above them seeming to blur into the background as she disappeared from view. She moved slowly, deliberately, taking her time as she reached for the earring that had “fallen,” her fingers grazing his ankle, then his shin. The proximity was dangerous, thrilling. He could feel the brush of her breath against his leg, her soft, teasing touch dragging higher, lingering near his knee.

Above, he cleared his throat, eyes darting around to make sure no one was paying attention. His body tensed under her touch, but his expression remained carefully composed. "You’re playing with fire," he muttered through clenched teeth, his hand gripping the edge of the table just a little tighter.

She didn’t respond, not with words anyway. Instead, she let her hand slide higher, nails grazing the fabric of his pants as she shifted under the table, taking her sweet time retrieving the earring. Her lips brushed the inside of his thigh, featherlight, sending a jolt through him that he barely managed to suppress. The anticipation of it all—the forbidden teasing in such a public setting—made the heat between them burn that much hotter.

Finally, she slipped back into her chair, the earring held daintily between her fingers as she shot him an innocent smile, like nothing had just happened. Her heart raced, adrenaline rushing through her veins, but she played it cool, setting the earring back in place with slow, deliberate movements.

"Got it," she whispered, her lips grazing just near his ear before she leaned back into her seat, though the warmth of her body still clung to him, an intoxicating reminder.

He exhaled, a little shakier than he intended, his fingers brushing her thigh beneath the table—a silent, fleeting promise that this wasn’t over. Not even close.

As if on cue, her fingers slipped back under the table, moving so casually it could’ve been mistaken for adjusting her napkin. The moment her hand made contact, he stiffened, a barely noticeable shift in his seat—except she noticed. She always did. Her fingers teased his thigh, just the faintest brush through the fabric of his pants, as if daring to see how far she could go without anyone around them suspecting.

"Relax," she breathed, lips barely moving, her eyes forward on the conversation around them as if nothing was amiss. The teasing glint in her gaze stayed fixed on the speakers at the table, but her attention was all on him, on the way he shifted under her touch. "You deserve a little distraction after keeping me waiting."

His breath caught in his throat as her hand inched higher, teasingly slow, tracing the firm muscles of his thigh with an almost affectionate familiarity. Every touch was deliberate, calculated, but still light enough to drive him insane with anticipation. Her thumb brushed up his inner leg, circling the sensitive area just above his knee, her hand resting there as if to remind him she was in control.

"You're lucky no one's looking under this table," she murmured under her breath, her voice low, barely above a whisper. Her fingers slid up again, grazing closer and closer to his growing hardness. She could feel the tension radiating off of him, the way his posture had stiffened, legs spread just a little wider to give her more room to work her mischief.

He shifted, turning his head slightly to glance at her, a mixture of warning and desperation in his eyes. "Don’t push it," he muttered, but his voice was strained, betraying how much he wanted her to keep going.

"Or what?" she teased, her lips curving into a smug smile. Her hand brushed over his bulge now, just enough pressure to make him twitch in response, his breath catching as she pressed her palm firmly against him, rubbing in slow, deliberate strokes. "You’re not exactly in a position to make demands right now."

He swallowed hard, jaw tightening, his hand gripping the edge of the table to keep himself grounded. She was relentless, fingers trailing lightly along the length of him through the fabric, tracing every inch as though she had all the time in the world. It was a dangerous game—one she was winning, and they both knew it.

"Good boy," she whispered, her voice barely audible as her hand squeezed him, a little firmer this time. His reaction was instant—his hips shifted, pushing subtly into her hand as if he couldn’t help himself. The praise hit him hard, that mix of teasing and genuine affection that always got under his skin in ways he couldn’t explain.

She leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear as she kept stroking him under the table. "You like it when I take care of you like this, don’t you?" Her voice was soft, almost sweet, a complete contrast to the filthy things she was doing beneath the tablecloth.

His breath came out in short, shallow bursts, the need building inside him with every subtle stroke of her hand. He wanted to reach out, stop her, or at least make her slow down, but the way she kept praising him, teasing him—it was making it impossible to think straight.

"You’ve been so good since you got here," she continued, voice dropping lower, more intimate. "Sitting here, pretending like nothing’s happening… but we both know you’re losing it under that suit." Her fingers curled slightly, pressing harder against him, her movements quickening just enough to drive him to the edge of control. "I think you like it, being all buttoned up while I do this. Makes you feel dirty, doesn’t it?"

He let out a quiet groan, barely audible but enough to make her grin in satisfaction. She could feel how hard he was now, the tension burning off him as she worked him with slow, rhythmic strokes. The urge to tease him even more, to push him just a little further, was overwhelming.

"Keep it together," she whispered, her lips brushing his earlobe. "Think of it like a stealth mission. Don’t get us caught... unless that’s what you’re after?"

He sucked in a breath, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but her words were unraveling him, piece by piece. The gentle praise, the way her hand worked him over through his clothes—it was making it impossible to focus on anything other than the heat building between them.

Her fingers pressed harder, stroking him in steady, relentless movements, her thumb brushing over the head of his erection just enough to drive him insane. "You’re doing so good for me," she whispered, the words slipping out with an almost sultry affection. "Just stay quiet… and let me take care of you."

His breathing was ragged now, chest rising and falling as he struggled to keep his composure. She knew she had him exactly where she wanted him—on the edge, teetering between control and the desperate need for release, all while they sat surrounded by dignitaries and officials, none the wiser.

"You’re gonna pay for this," he growled out through clenched teeth, his voice low, filled with barely restrained need.

She smirked, leaning in one last time to whisper, "I’m counting on it." Then, with a final squeeze, she pulled her hand away, leaving him on the brink of madness, breathless and aching under the table, longing for something more.

As he regained his composure, the conversation at the table shifted, the voices of the other guests mingling like background noise, just as one of the older officials—a stern-faced man in his sixties—turned to him.

“Kennedy,” the man said, raising an eyebrow with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You’re cutting it a bit close tonight. Care to share what kept you? We were beginning to think you’d bailed on us.”

Leon’s face didn’t flinch; he’d been trained for this kind of thing—quick thinking, flawless execution. He straightened up in his seat, hands resting casually on the tablecloth, and offered a small, apologetic smile.

“Well, you know how it is," he began smoothly, his voice calm, not missing a beat. "Duty calls at the worst times, and traffic through D.C. isn’t exactly forgiving—especially when you’re coming from a briefing.” He met the man’s gaze, unflinching, the picture of professionalism.

But just as he delivered the perfect answer, he felt it—a sudden, deliberate squeeze against his thigh. Her hand had found its way back under the table, fingers pressing firmly, teasingly, right over the same spot she had been tormenting earlier. His body jolted involuntarily, and his breath caught in his throat.

He coughed—a sharp, sudden sound that made everyone at the table glance in his direction. His cheeks flushed instantly, a heat rising up his neck as the smooth façade he’d been maintaining cracked under the pressure of her playful touch. He glanced down, just barely, eyes narrowing in warning, but the smirk on her face was unmistakable.

Before he could gather himself, she chimed in, her voice laced with playful innocence. “I, for one, am just glad he never arrives early,” she said with a perfectly straight face, her hand squeezing him again just as the last word left her lips.

Leon barely managed to regain his composure, but the heat radiating from his face was unmistakable. He shifted in his seat, praying no one noticed the subtle tension in his posture. Ashley had retreated her hand, but the teasing, devilish smile on her lips told him she still wasn’t done. Not yet.

Once the spotlight shifted away from them and the conversation at the table resumed, he felt her lean in close again, her lips grazing the sensitive skin of his ear as her hand slipped back into his lap. His heart raced, the heat radiating from her presence, the delicate movements of her fingers, and the softness of her breath igniting something primal within him that he could no longer contain.

“You always come right on time for me,” she whispered, her voice low, sultry, the words laced with double meaning that sent a jolt of heat straight through him.

And just like that, his body betrayed him.

His breath hitched, barely controlled, as a sudden wave of intense pleasure surged through him—sharp and overwhelming. His hands tightened into fists under the table, his muscles going rigid as he fought to keep from making any sound, the sensation crashing through him with a force he hadn't expected. His heart pounded in his ears, his pulse throbbing as the world around him blurred.

He was coming, right there at the table, his body betraying him with a shudder he could barely keep in check. It was quick, desperate, and utterly humiliating, yet the rush of pleasure was undeniable. He clenched his jaw, his teeth gritting as he struggled to hold back any outward sign, but he could feel the wetness pooling against the fabric of his briefs, soaking through.

Ashley pulled back slightly, her gaze flicking over him knowingly, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes as if she could sense exactly what had just happened. And before he could fully recover, she leaned in one more time, her lips brushing his cheek in the softest, most delicate kiss.

It was innocent enough on the surface—just a sweet gesture, nothing out of the ordinary for anyone paying attention. But the pressure of her lips against his skin, the way they lingered, the suggestive warmth in her voice when she whispered, “I told you you’d pay for being late,” made it anything but innocent.

Leon couldn’t respond. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of release, his mind barely catching up to what had just happened, and he was left speechless, still flushed with both pleasure and mortification. The sensation, the intensity of it, made him dizzy.

Ashley, for her part, sat back in her chair, completely composed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as though nothing had happened. She didn't even glance his way again, as if she'd already won, leaving him to stew in his embarrassment while the dinner conversation continued around them.

Leon swallowed hard, still processing everything, his gaze darting around the table to ensure no one had noticed his moment of weakness. But as Ashley shifted beside him, her hand lightly brushing his under the table in a silent reassurance, a warm comfort settled in his chest.

Despite it all, she had him—completely and utterly—and now they just needed to survive the rest of the evening. They waited patiently for the others to leave, cherishing their private moment amidst the surrounding noise. Finally, he turned to her, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “I’m really sorry for being late,” he murmured.

She met his gaze with a teasing smile, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t worry about it. I think we’re even now—after all, I made you arrive on time in front of everyone.”

#leon kennedy #ashley graham #leon x ashley #eagleone #leshley #anon ask #fandom writing #fanfiction #light dom/sub #playing under the table

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ashersarchives · 3 months ago

Text

❝You Don't Have to Carry All of This Alone, Babe.❞

Pairing: Wrench x Female!Reader

Warnings: Wrench comforting the reader who is stressed, lots of kissing and a makeout session which, some suggestive computer innuendos, overall fluff.

﹂Author's Note: This is my first time writing for Wrench, so there will probably be a few out of character moments and I may have missed a few things about him, and I feel I could've added a few of the emotes from his mask, but I am happy with how this came out, considering it took 3 hours with no plan. But I hope my readers enjoy it!

Please comment any warnings if I did not state.

...

To say that she was angry would be an understatement. She was thoroughly pissed off. Brows furrowed forward, inwards towards her nose while her fingers worked quickly across the keyboard of her computer, lines of code opened to her, but not allowing her to go forwards into hacking what she was attempting to break into through the security of the firewall.

She had been asked by Marcus to attempt to hack into the system of a local hacking group that had somehow gotten way too close to DedSec, not into it, luckily. However, the crease in her forehead was displaying how her anger was like a full cup, only needing one more drop to over flow and cause a spill, which was where she was, seated by her work station and brewing dangerously close to the edge each time she inputted a piece of code only for it to reject it and display the red lined words that told her that it wasn’t working.

“Keep it together, (Y/N).” She whispered to herself, rubbing her hands over her face and cupping her hands over her nose and mouth as her tired eyes attempted to scan the many lines of code, looking for any mistakes or errors she could have imputed to result in the code not working, “We can do this, we’re the amazing (Y/N) that’s going to kick the ass of another hacker.”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t happening.

“You fucking piece of tech trash!” She yelled as she aggressively stood up and leaned on the desk with both of her hands, staring a hole into the computer that she was so ready to throw against the wall. Her yelling attracted the concerned faces of the others that were at the headquarters, while, at least the ones that were closest to her, “You know, there’s fucking computers in junk yards and here I am, stuck with you!”

Frustrated with herself and her code, she started pacing around the small area, attempting to stretch her fingers while also tugging them through her hair, mumbling to herself, mumbles that were inaudible to the others that sat by the couch, funny enough, Wrench and Marcus were nowhere to be seen, the both of them had opted to go pick up some drinks for the headquarters.

Things around headquarters had been making everything and everyone highly tensed ever since they found evidence of someone trying to hack into their system, how they got in, no one knew, but it was causing some of the members to reveal their more aggressive sides, so attempting to calm everyone down and simply enjoy the evening without fights, Wrench and Marcus went out to get some more energisers for everyone.

“(Y/N), maybe you should just calm down a little. Take a break, you’ve been looking at words and numbers since the time you woke up.” Sitara said over the couch that she had been occupying, "Which I believe was around four o'clock this morning."

“Take a break? For every minute—no second—that I take a fucking break, there’s some asshole behind a screen getting closer and closer to taking information that isn’t theirs and exposing us, as if being a heap of trash wasn't enough.” (Y/N) explains, her voice laced in irritation and exasperation, her index fingers pointing back to herself as she spoke, her eyes were starting to burn, tears hidden behind the mask she was trying to hold up, her breathing uneven and her figure shaking slightly.

Sitara and Josh could see that it had been taking a toll on her, and the one thing she was trying to hide was the fact that she thought it was running on her back, like a heavy burden. Sitara got up from her spot and walked close to the girl who was on the verge of a rage attack, she had even placed her jacket on halfway, the other half simply not on her arm and hanging off her back, a tattoo of Wrench's mask paining her shoulder blade, Sitara placed her hand on (Y/N)’s clothed shoulder, squeezing gently to reassure her.

“Just breathe. We’ll figure this out. Once the other two boys come back, we can all take a break, cool off, and then restart.” She told her, though her words were doing nothing to console her, and (Y/N)'s state only continued to get worse when the tears started pooling by her eyes, shrugging Sitara’s hand off of her shoulder as she retreated back to her workstation, her gaze fixed to the screen, her frown still imprinted on her face and her jacket swaying with her steps.

The clanking of glass bottles reached their ears when the door was opened to the awaiting two entering.

“We come bearing gifts.” Marcus said as he and Wrench placed the two bags on the table, Marcus was quick to get everything out of the bag while (Y/N) still had not acknowledged their presence, her gaze still fixed to the screen harbouring the cause of her frustration. Her jacket still hanging off of her shoulder, allowing the tattoo on the back of her shoulder to be out in the open, her fingers still twitching against the table, creating a ticking-like sound, something her mask-wearing boyfriend caught sign of.

Before he could move towards her, Sitara had caught his arm, “Listen, I don’t care what you do, but get her to take a break now before these headquarters get burnt down. Literally.” She told him, watching the emotes change on his mask from the default ‘X’s’ to the winking emotes ‘~ ^’.

“Don’t worry, I'll make sure she gets some energy into her system.” He told Sitara, giggling as he stepped close to his lover, wrapping his arms softly around her middle section and looking over her shoulder to see the computer screen filled with code, “What has you so worked up, my little pumpkin?” He cooed in her ear.

(Y/N) huffed an irritable sigh as she leaned back into Wrench’s embrace, placing her hands on top of his, ignoring the chatter going on in the background between the others. But before she would say anything, she had turned around quickly, grabbing Wrench by the front of his shirt and pulling him along to one of the rooms she had been occupying.

“I’m bloody frustrated and fucking horny, and you are going to fix it!” She told him as she dragged him to her room, Wrench holding his hands up in a surrender motion, yet his mask showed ‘^ ^’ emotes, as he happily let her drag him by the front of his shirt, because who was he to complain to a good time.

The rest of the group simply stared in confusion at the exchange that just took place.

“O-kay? I’m going to guess that she’s still worked up on the hacker problem?” Marcus asked as he had emptied the last bag watching Sitara sigh and Josh lean back in his chair, meanwhile Ray had been completely oblivious to the whole episode that had taken place.

“She does know that not everything is riding on her, right?” Josh asked as Sitara nodded to Marcus’s question.

“She’s been like that even before joining DedSec, taking on other peoples problems when she knows that help is available.” Sitara spoke, she had been friends with her since they were younger, so understanding her mannerisms was never a problem for her.

Meanwhile behind the closed door, lips were clashing in a fiery lock of passion. (Y/N) had situated herself on Wrench’s lap, her legs straddling him while her hands still grasped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if she was trying to mesh their bodies together, Wrench’s mask had been placed on the nightstand next to the bed that the two were seated on. His hands holding her hips down, gently brushing against the stiff boner in his jeans, their moans filling the room with each kiss becoming more passionate.

Although, the elephant in the room had still been on his mind, so he gently lifted his hand to gently grasp her wrist that had been leaving crinkles in his shirt from her tight grip, gently pulling her hand off, making her stop the lip lock and gaze into his blue eyes, the same eyes that had enchanted and hypnotized her the first time she met him, the same blue eyes that she found herself drowning in each time they were cuddling without his mask on, the same eyes she fell in love with the first time he had taken his mask off in front of her.

“Babe, as much as I would love for you to link in on my zip drive, I think there’s something bothering you.” He told her, watching as her expression fell and she relaxed a little bit, one hand still clutching his shirt.

“I’m fine, Wrench.” She told him, lying through her teeth and knowing that he could see through her like an open book.

“Babe,” He called, the sweet pet name still making her melt as the first day he called her it, “I think you’re trying to tell yourself that rather than me.” His expression was soft, he’d wait until she felt comfortable to tell him, and he could see how her eyes were slowly turning glassy, she tried blinking away the tears that were threatening to overflow from her eyes before her hands were reaching up to angrily wipe them away.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Wrench.” She told him, the tears breaking like a dam with a cracked wall, “That fucking code, it keeps on telling me that there’s an error and I don’t know why, when I checked, the code I inputted was clean and organised, and the stupid thing-” A sob escaped her mouth halfway through her explanation, making Wrench wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly as she sobbed into his chest. He knew that this problem was causing a toll on her, he could see it by the dark bags under her eyes and how tired she had been at the end of every episode where she got upset about it.

“You don’t have to do this by yourself, you know that, right?” He asked her as her cries died down a bit, “Everyone is working on stopping this, you don’t have to carry this alone.” He told her, pulling away to look at her face, eyes bloodshot and horrible attempts of her trying to hide her snot-filled nose.

Wrench gently placed both of his hands on the sides of her face, pulling her to look at him, he smiled softly, placing a small kiss on her forehead. He knew how she had tried to carry the world on her shoulders and ever since she had joined DedSec, he noticed her determination to keep the ones around her safe, he had witnessed it first hand when she had gone with him and Sitara to the store to get something and when some asshole pulled up with a knife, she had been quick to make herself the centre of attention before knuckle punching the bastard until his face was a bloody mess. For her, she had only escaped with a punch to the face, which he tried to help her clean up back at headquarters but ended up getting help from Ray regardless.

Even the time when she had confessed that she had feelings for him, he remembers being a mess that night. He had been working, well more like using a sledgehammer, to retrieve a chip out from the toaster and she had walked up to him, starting a light conversation with him as he told her about his technology and other tech terms, which she found amusement in. She stood close to him but still gave him his personal space, but she had been lost in her head and when he had cussed out about how the sledgehammer wouldn't help, she had admitted that she would work if he smashed her with a sledgehammer. Upon realizing her mistake, she had covered her face with her hands, hiding the deep blush that had appeared there.

But he had to be an oblivious romantic because he simply replied with, “I’m sure that would be painful.”

However, when he relayed the conversation to Marcus, he had to hold his tongue not to laugh at his masked friend. Only when Marcus had explained that she had been keeping feelings for him, did Wrench finally realize her actions, why she had always stood close to him, why she smiled at each of his tech sex jokes, and why she looked at him with a certain fondness.

And he will forever remember how she reacted the first time he showed his face to her, she didn’t grimace at the red birthmark by his eye, or scowl or berate him. He had been nervous to show her but he wanted her to know that he trusted her, however when he had reached to grab his mask, she was quick to grab it before him, placing it behind her on the small table.

That night she expressed to him how handsome he was, that the birthmark didn’t define him or make her see him any differently. Even as he cried in her arms that night from how they made love to each other, how afterwards she had placed soft kisses against all the parts of his face and down his chest and back up to under his chin by his throat. That night changed a lot of things for him, that night had allowed them both to see each other deeply and bath in the love that so strongly connected the both of them.

“I can’t let them break into our system, Wrench.” (Y/N) admitted to him, breaking him out of his memory moment. Holding her tighter to him as she placed her head into the crook of his neck.

“That won’t happen. You’ve got me, Marcus, Sitara and the other’s also working on the problem, they're not going to get one inch into our tight security.” He tells her reassuringly, “But the one thing you have to keep in mind is that you can’t do a five-person job by yourself.”

(Y/N) sighs into his neck, her warm breath sending a tickling sensation down his spine.

“Still, I feel so useless.” She says to him, it’s obvious that the problem is still weighing her down, causing a malfunction in her mind, so Wrench being Wrench decides that there is only one thing that he could do to cheer her up.

“Hey, why don’t I show you something cool?” He asks her, his hands on her waist allowing him to pull away to let her face see him again, “I know something that might cheer you up.” He tells her as he begins to get up, pulling her with him and grabbing his mask, placing it back on his face and clipping it. He gently takes her hand and leads her out of her room, passing the others on the way out and leading her to his station, where he usually smashes stuff.

She stands awkwardly next to his table, wiping the remnants of the remaining tears on her face as she watches Wrench bring some tech parts and dump them onto the table in a pile.

“Uh… Wrench, what are we doing?” She asks, curious to know what his plan was but also appreciating that he was trying to cheer her up.

Wrench picked up the sledgehammer that was placed near his workstation and walked to her, getting on his knees and presenting her with the hammer which she found odd but knew that this was his goofy side coming out.

“Your weapon, my lady.” He said, changing his voice in a poor attempt of sounding, like a loyal knight giving his princess his sword, which had a small laugh come from her.

“But isn’t that your baby?” She asked him as she tried holding it up, expecting it to be heavy, which prompted the hammer to fall to the ground while she kept her hands by the hilt. Wrench got up from the floor and led her in front of the pile of unused tech pieces. She held the hammer hilt in front of her, but the bottom part of the hammer would prove a challenge.

“Not this little thing. Wrench Junior is our baby, and right now, his momma needs to release some tension, and a good smash usually helps with that.” Wrench explained, his innuendos making her giggle but also making her swoon at the fact that he said 'our' when addressing Wrench Junior, although this did make some of the other members groan at the way he phrased it.

“I don’t think I can even pick this up, Wrench.” (Y/N) tells him as she attempts to but only gets halfway with picking it up before it hits the ground, allowing Wrench to wrap his hands around hers around the hammer hilt.

“Here. Let me show you.” He tells her as he helps her to bring the hammer up until it’s behind their shoulders, close to Wrench’s head until it slightly rests on his shoulder. “Okay, don’t think, babe. Just bring it down, alright?” He tells her, she nods to show that she has heard him, his hand’s warmth leaves hers as he attempts to support the hammer near his shoulder. And with a long, hard swing, the hammer hits down hard on the tech pieces, making a loud bang reverberate from it, pieces smashed into smaller pieces, bringing out a smile to her face.

“That… Was so fucking good!” She sighed out, although a small moan slipped in there too.

“Can I do that again?” She asked her boyfriend, smiling at him, although she was ready to have a relieved laugh. Wrench nodded to her, the emotes on his mask forming ‘<3 <3’ from the love-struck expression he had on his face.

He helped her bring the hammer up again, standing behind her, but this time once he released her hands, he placed his onto her hips, rubbing small circular motions, allowing his eyes to gaze upon the tattoo of his mask on her shoulder that didn't have the jacket draped over it.

Oh, how he loved the tattoo when she pulled him aside because she had something to show him. When she revealed it to him, he was sure that his cables short-circuited and he just went into freeze mode, because she had to call his name a few times before he acknowledged her, what she didn't expect was how hard the tattoo would influence him, every chance he got after that he would be tugging down her jacket or shirt to catch a glimpse of it. Wrench swears that it was the hottest make-out session he ever had, and he wouldn't regret it for anything.

The hammer came down again, smashing more pieces into smaller ones, and again and again. After the fifth time of her doing it, (Y/N) found herself feeling a lot better and huffing a held in breath.

Wrench’s emotes stayed on his mask, “That was insanely hot, babe.” He voiced as he sat in the nearby chair, “We should do it more often.”

“And maybe one day it will be me instead of the hammer?” (Y/N) asked, sending him a wink and a roll of her butt, placing the hammer down onto the table. The smashed tech pieces could be cleaned another day.

As she turned around, she felt his lips on hers, his hands gripping her forearms as he formed a lip lock with her once again, his tongue exploring her mouth from her gasp of surprise when she had turned around and he was in front of her, she didn’t notice how his mask was held in his hand, but his hood at least blinded the others from seeing him as he gently pushed her down onto his table until her back met the hard material.

“Okay, okay, love birds. Do that in your own bedroom.” Ray shouted as they had turned their heads and to at least pretend like they didn't see them.

(Y/N) was able to break the kiss, staring into his blue eyes before he placed the mask back on. “You heard him, Wrench. Let's continue this in a more private setting.” She giggled as she grabbed his arm and pulled him around again, the same way she had done previously.

Once they were back in the room, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hug him hard. Repeating the words ‘thank you’ over and over. Wrench placed his hands around her, his chin resting on her head as his hands drew small circles on her back, the two stayed in that embrace for a short while before breaking apart, Wrench taking his mask off and placing it onto the night stand, cupping her cheeks and pressing kisses to her lips.

"I... Fucking... Love... You.” He told her through kisses, his hands moving down her sides and latching onto her hips, “Fuck! You don’t realize how hot that was.” He told her as his head moved to her neck, placing kisses up near her jugular before sucking on the juncture between her neck and shoulder, bringing a small moan out of her.

Pulling his head away, he picked her up under her thighs, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck, not for fear of falling but because she knew that he loved it when she clung to him in moments like this. He walked with her in that position until he reached the bed and gently placed her down, hovering above her while her hands still stayed behind his neck, her hands playing with the shaved blonde hairs behind his neck, she smiled as she looked at his dopey expression, pulling his head down until his lips touched hers, his elbows situated on either side of her head.

“So, I’m guessing your soft drive is now a hard drive?” She asked, attempting to make it sound sexual but realizing how cringy it sounded after she had said it, but it brought a laugh out of her blond boyfriend.

“So hard, babe.” He replied, his breathing getting short and laboured.

“Then, let this be a thank you present, from me to you.” (Y/N) told him as her hand drifted lower, touching his stomach from under his shirt and loving how his muscles flexed when her hands touched him.

“Only you know how to get me like this.” He told her as her hand continued on its path, “So, let me show you how much you mean to me.” He said as he leaned up to remove his jacket and shirt, “Now I’m going to show you what my sledgehammer can do.”

That night had ended with the other DedSec members going out to a nearby restaurant as soon as the door closed to avoid the intimate moment of the two dorks that they associated themselves with, but for said two dorks, that night ended in passionate love making and a proper display of what a sledgehammer could be used for.

...

©ASHER RITSUKO/Companion-of-The-Night ─── I do not give permission to having my works plagiarised, copied, modified or translated onto any other platforms, including Tumblr. On Tumblr, my works are allowed to be reblogged, along with credit back to me. My works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

©Ubisoft | Creator(s) of Watch Dogs 2. (Correct me if I'm wrong, but please do it in an appropriate and kind manner.)

#wrench x reader #watch dogs 2 x reader #wrench wd2 #reginald blechman #reginald x reader #reggie x reader #wrench x you #watch dogs 2 #watch dogs legion

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somejazzinthemorning · 2 years ago

Text

tightrope. 08.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warning: Mature content. Word Count: ~16K Previous chapter: 07.

The light shone brightly through the large windows and it only took me seconds to feel the effects of a sleepless night. Minutes after getting out of bed, I wished I could crawl back and sink into the softness of my comforter and the scent of my lavender-sprinkled pillow.

Last night offered me no rest.

With each sip of coffee, memories of an eventful night came back to me in blurs. I could make out the unpolished lines on a man's face, whose filter had been diluted by whiskey and beer. He spoke without much thought for what he was saying, yet his words rang perfectly in my mind, echoing off the walls I had built up to guard myself against him and stinging me like a needle, striking deep within my soul.

I had no excuse to keep stepping back and forth.

It was time to step into his page. If he still wanted me to.

That feeling in my stomach, not the butterflies I would often associate with him, but the fear and regret, a guilt that shouldn’t have a place inside, far more bitter than the coffee I was sipping, left me shaken and a gentle peal of laughter rippled through my gut as if my consciousness was laughing at me.

My arms and legs were tingling, craving for movement to disperse all that energy and nerves I was storing up inside, but I had to console myself with a deep breath and the refreshing sensation of the cold pool water I was dipping my legs into, but it was late and I had a team call in a few minutes. I stayed on the edge of the pool for a while, gaze travelling between the horizon and the tiny waves my legs provoked on the water's surface when they moved and my attention all over the place, drifting back and forth to the memories of last night.

Before heading upstairs, I tried again. I took a deep breath, letting the air fill every corner of my lungs and hoping that when I released it, Carlos’ face, highlighted by the faint light, and the memory of his hoarse voice whispering my name, would be freed with it.

But they weren’t.

During my shower, my walk downstairs and even when I was logging in to the laptop to get my call started, it was still only him on my mind. His face, his plea, my name.

Eva.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at my reflection on the screen. No one had logged into the call. My eyes drifted to one of the walls of the office and then to another, stopping on the shelf again.

The helmets, the books and photographs, the personification of a dream worth chasing.

I missed the thirteen-year-old girl I once was, whose only dream was racing and who was capable of doing everything to not abandon the track—back then, the first step was getting a seat in Formula BWM and racing Carlos again.

She never got it in time to race with him.

One morning we raced each other without knowing it would be the last. One morning, for the last time, we ran to the van, heavy backpacks on our shoulders and huge grins on our lips. One morning, for the last time, we got to lunch and proudly announced who had made the best time.

One morning was the last and maybe, with a bit of effort, I could find a date somewhere in my mind to pair it with, but I didn’t need to. Didn’t want to.

Even though we never raced for a real purpose and the winner never won anything but pride, we always gave it our all. The thrill of the competition and the passion for the sport strengthened the bond that the occasion had created. He was once just my brother’s friend, the neighbour boy that was, by chance, in his class, and so much more grew from that.

I’d fallen in love with racing at the same pace I’d discovered myself; his name and his face were a permanent feature in that process. Despite everything, he was part of me and my essence, especially the racing side of my identity.

And those helmets, the house, his words so full of hope, were making me find that side again. Find the girl I once was, that version of myself that time had taken away. I wanted to be that version, because of him and for him.

I grabbed my phone and searched for my dad’s last message.

“Morning. Get me a meeting with Deborah Mayer.” I sent him.

As I packed my laptop into its case, vowing not to return to the office until the end of my vacation, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my back. The day was getting hotter and even with the walls providing some protection, the midday sun was oppressive.

I glanced out of the window.

The backyard and the terrace were completely deserted. The chairs around the gazebo table were exactly as we’d left them the day before and Ana’s towel still hung on the back of one of the chairs. I couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of the group were still sound asleep in their beds or if they were too hungover to venture out into the heat of the day.

I got my answer the second I opened the door of the office, as I heard the sound of my brother’s voice echoing down the hallway. It seemed that no matter the situation, they had found a way to have some fun.

“Good morning, sleeping beauties," I said cheerfully as I entered the living space where both couches were occupied by my friends. Rio was stretched out on the corner of the big L couch, eyes closed and head on a soft pillow, with Marjorie’s head resting peacefully on his shoulder. On the smaller couch, Ana was focused on her phone, scrolling through something with a look of intense concentration.

She glanced up at me, her expression worn out, but with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“I think they fell asleep again,” Ana said, leaning over the coffee table to retrieve her mug. Two other mugs sat on the tray atop the tiny table; the aroma of coffee mingled with the ocean breeze wafting through the open windows.

I picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it in my brother’s direction. “Good morning!” I repeated, this time a bit louder.

The pillow was still in the air when Carlos stepped in from the kitchen, white polo and navy shorts adorning his frame. He hadn't shaved yet and his hair was still wet. The sun’s rays hit his face, making his eyes appear brighter and highlighting the tiny portion of green in them.

“Morning,” he said.

He was holding a green bowl. I could see bits of granola on the surface of a white substance, likely yoghurt. My stomach growled. I didn’t have much for breakfast and I was famished. I smiled at the Spaniard and turned my face to the couple on the couch, now awake and sitting upright. Marjorie's hair was dishevelled and dark circles were visible under her eyes.

"How's that hangover treating you?" I asked her, sitting on the armrest of the couch; Carlos sat on the other side of the couch, gaze fixed on the TV.

“Still alive, so that’s a good sign,” she gave me a weak smile and leaned her head against Rio’s shoulder once more. “But I’m definitely feeling it.”

"Yeah, you definitely look like you're feeling it," I said as my brother kissed her forehead and she giggled at her own disgrace. I glanced at the TV for a second, the silence bothering me. “Anyways,” my eyes wandered through the room. I thought Ana had fallen asleep, but she quickly moved her head when I spoke. “What are the plans for today?”

“We talked about hitting the course,” Carlos replied, his eyes not leaving the TV for more than two seconds.

“Golf?” I turned back to Rio, almost begging for a change of plans. “Isn’t it too hot for that?”

He pinched both sides of his forehead and then the bridge of his nose, indicating that I may have spoken too loudly. “It’s not like we can go to the gym or a ride in a boat in this state. We’re leaving in an hour or two. It must be less warm by then.”

"Oh..." I glanced out of the window. The yacht was swaying on the waves and the sun was casting a bright line on the ocean. "I think I'll pass, but have fun.”

“No, no way!” Ana intervened. “We’re all going. You’re not going to spend the day alone.”

The other three exchanged looks and I knew right away that they were in agreement. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Fine," I said hesitantly. "I’m not playing, though.”

“Yes, you are!” Marjorie said, before yawning and stretching her arms up to the sky. “I've already convinced these two to teach us how to play. You’re not bailing now."

I glanced over at Carlos, that just shrugged at me, and then to Rio. I couldn't help but notice the huge smile on his lips. He looked over at Marjorie, adoration clear in his eyes. “I married the right one,” he said with a satisfied nod.

"Golf it is, then," I said under my breath, defeated, and glanced at the kitchen archway. "I'll grab something to eat and get ready."

I turned on my heel, famished and frankly annoyed at the plans set for the day. The room had fallen silent again, with only the voice of one of the journalists on the TV audible. However, it changed when I stepped through the kitchen archway, as another set of footsteps followed mine. I spun around to find Carlos standing there, his empty bowl in his hands and the puffiness under his eyes setting a tired expression on his face.

My thoughts whirled around in my head. I had so many questions to ask him, ones that had been building up since last night and whose importance kept increasing. We were alone for the first time since the night before. I had every question on the tip of my tongue, but my courage slipped away. I didn’t even know if he remembered anything.

“You startled me,” I said before turning back around and entering the division.

The kitchen was empty and the only audible sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator and the chirping of some birds skirting on the window sill. While I walked to the refrigerator, Carlos stopped in front of the sink.

"There's a bowl for you in the fridge," he said. "I thought you might be hungry."

Oh?

"That's…” the gesture surprised me, but so many questions layered over the action. I forced a smile, not wanting to seem arrogant. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you."

There was a bowl in the fridge, with a generous helping of crunchy granola and dark chocolate chips floating atop the creamy yoghurt. Dark chocolate. His bowl didn’t have any dark chocolate. He added it to mine because he remembered I liked it.

“Hope it’s not soggy. You took a bit more than I expected.”

“They look fine. Thank you.”

Slowly, he turned back to the skin and started washing his bowl and a couple more mugs; I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on the image as I approached him to grab one of the spoons he’d just washed from the dish rack. His face turned toward me and seconds later the sound of the water faded.

I sat down on one of the stools of the island counter, my attention shifting between him and the cereal, incapable of allowing my eyes to sit on him. Every time they caught a glimpse of him, the memories of the night before would appear.

But he didn’t have such a problem.

I could feel myself crumble under his eyes.

“About last night,” he broke the silence, voice so low it made me drift into another frequency. “I had a few too many drinks. I need to apologize.”

“That’s fine. Don’t worry.”

But then he bit his lip and after a fast nod, he spoke again. "I just want you to know that I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. I don't want to come between you two—not that I could."

I was expecting an apology, but the intensity of his gaze surprised me. He grabbed the kitchen cloth on the counter in front of me and meticulously cleaned his hands. I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper.

“No, we—” A pause. “I wasn’t—I didn’t— Nevermind.”

“I can… get you his number?" he offered, still cleaning his hands, his voice actually overlapping mine. “If you haven’t gotten it, yet.”

At this point, I don’t think we were even listening to each other. I paused for a moment, considering his words and waiting for him to listen to me. I knew he didn’t mean it. His clenched fits around the cloth told me that and much more.

I shook my head. “I don’t want that.”

Carlos nodded slowly, his expression puzzled. The line of his brows cast a shadow over his eyes. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“How many times do I have to ask you to not do that thing?” He frowned further. “Trying to read me. It feels like you’re actually inside my mind.”

He snorted. “Are you annoyed?”

I swallowed hard, the cereal was forgotten in front of me. It was clear that we were both tiptoeing around the elephant in the room, but I didn't know how to approach it. And, to be sure, I didn’t even know what it was, exactly. Was it the kiss? Was it his plea right before he fell asleep? Or was it simply the fact that we were both so obviously attracted to each other, regardless of anything else?

“I am.”

“Why?”

“How much do you remember from last night?”

“Enough.”

“Enough?” I tilted my head and he raised one of his eyebrows. “What does that exactly mean?”

“Means that I saw you kissing that guy.”

I nodded. “So you remember going there and asking me to come home?”

“I do.”

“So you should know why am I annoyed.”

“Eva, porfa—” He rolled his eyes, hands going to his hair and taking their time making their way through the strands. “What do you want me to tell you? I was drunk. Seeing him… You two together…”

“You have no reason to put on a show and get mad at me when you practically shoved me into his arms.” I took a long, deep breath. “And for a second, I was thankful when I saw you walk there, until the moment I understood why you were there.”

His eyes widened. “Thankful?”

“Are you that dumb?”

“You didn’t…?” I shook my head.

“No, you idiot.” I snapped at him. The deep shadow under his brows intensified, his jaw clenching at the same pace my words reached him. I could breathe the rage. “I didn’t want to kiss him. I probably gave him some mixed signals, but—”

“That fucking—” He mumbled, more to himself than to my ears and just as he pronounced those words, and I silenced mine, he took a deep breath. I didn’t remember the last time I heard him swear. “I’m sorry. I should have—”

“What?”

“Done something. I don’t know. I didn't mean to, but seeing you with him... I got a sense of possessiveness. I just wanted to take you out of there. For the wrong reasons?” he paused. “I’m not proud of it.” His eyes were closed, jaw locked and fits clenched. I bit the interior of my cheek, my stomach twisting in reaction to his affirmation. “And him… He’s not…”

“All this because you were so busy with some bimb—” He bit his lip, stopping his lips from curling into a grin. “Are you having fun with this?”

“I am, now.”

“What game are you playing?” He let go of his lip and his grin grew to its pinnacle. I had to take a deep breath to not say anything else. “Carlos.”

“What do you want me to say?” He shrugged. “Or else, to do? I can’t make it more clear, Eva.”

“We’ve talked about this. You’re not making this any easier. You’re being—”

“What?” He paused. “Selfish? I’m aware. I’m also aware you’re instigating every little feeling and emotion I tried to mute for years. I feel like I was fighting an addiction and now I’m on the verge of relapse.”

“You can’t—”

“I know I’m far from doing the right thing, but in two days you’ll be going back to Madrid and I’m not sure when or where I’ll see you again.”

“And?”

“I don’t want to feel like I missed my shot. Again.”

I couldn’t breathe. The air was too thick, too heavy and the floor was tilting under my feet. The way he said it, the way his lips curled into a smirk. God. The war that I was waging between my body’s needs and my mind’s fears again pushed its way to the front of my mind as soon as he said those words—in his eyes, I could sense the same turmoil I felt inside.

“You can either reject me and let me go, or you can be jealous of anyone around me. You can’t do both.” He said, voice so low and horse, a hint of tiredness warring on his features. “You need to make up your mind, Eva.”

"It would be easier to talk about it if I hadn’t already."

“You’re masochists”, I said as we arrived at the clubhouse as a group, finally hiding from the heat and the sun that felt unbearable during the small walk there from the parking lot. “And probably stupid if you’re really thinking about playing in this heat.”

“Let’s get her some clubs,” Rio said to Carlos with a wink, just as he put a hand around my shoulders and dragged me to the reception. Although I tried to battle my way out of it, I couldn't escape without a bag on my shoulder and a white glove in my hand. Carlos seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes twinkling as I pulled the glove onto my hand and did the strap around my fist.

“Suits you,” he said with a grin.

We made our way to the driving range and I was blown away by the sheer size of it all, from the magnitude of the manicured lawns and perfectly trimmed hedges of the green mantle ahead of me to the luxurious ambience that enveloped us. The sun cast a beautiful light over the grass and the air was dry and hard to breathe, but the shade of the driving range gazebo made it more tolerable.

“It won’t be so hot in here,” Carlos’s hand gently touched my lower back, as he guided me to one of the unoccupied benches in front of a free tee area. “Want something to drink?”

The rest of the group settled on the other benches and around the small green patches of grass. I looked around, absorbing the energy, wanting to be in the same frequency as all of them. Marjorie was far more excited than me and I certainly didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“A mojito,” I told him. It would definitely bring up my mood. “Or a mimosa.”

“No water?” I frowned at his question, quickly shaking my head.

“You want to stay here the whole afternoon and yet you offer me water?”

Carlos chuckled. "I'm sure we can find something like that around here," he said. “I’ll get you some water anyways.”

With a gentle nod, thanking him, I turned to the horizon, taking the opportunity to glance around the driving range, to take in the sights and sounds of the golfers around us and the white carts driving towards the 18-hole course.

"You're sure you really want to stay here?" I asked, turning my gaze back to him. Carlos had his arm and hand up, calling the attention of a young waitress. "I can go with you all out there, no problem.”

He frowned, shaking his head. "I want to stay here.”

“If you’re here just because I was complaining about the heat, we—”

“I’m here because I want to,” he paused, “and because Marjorie forced us to promise we would teach you two how to play.”

I twitched my mouth. "So you're really committed to that?"

"As much as you are to learning," he said with a wink, to which I just rolled my eyes.

“I think you’re mistaken. I just download two eBooks before coming here.” He laughed at my words.

The waiter eventually came over and Carlos ordered two fresh bottles of water and a mojito. The moment the girl left, he turned to me with palpable excitement. In his hands stood one of the clubs he’d grabbed from my backpack and, with a flourish, he passed it to me. I couldn't help but laugh.

“Wait,” I said and his gaze almost automatically looked up to meet mine. “Is all of this because I once called you professor?” I teased, whirling the club around in my hands. “Have you been dreaming about it ever since?”

Fighting a reaction, he just shook his hand towards the centre of the green patch ahead of us. “Come here,” he ordered as he laid one ball on the tee, his voice holding some sense of authority. “Let’s start with the basics,” his hand motioned to the space between him and the ball. “Show me what you remember.”

My feet quickly took the same route his feet did before, making me stand between him and the small white sphere. Despite getting so close to him, close enough to hear the murmur of his breath, Carlos didn’t move.

“Can I help you with this?”

“Sure,” I said. Saddled with the pressure of his hands that quickly travelled to mine, I felt the warmth of his chest and the embrace his arms wrapped me in. After correcting my hands, he put both of his on the sides of my waist, moving them slightly. “You just need to bend the knees a bit more,” he indicated and my body responded with ease.

Carlos stepped away and moved closer to the bench. Enough to give me space, but close enough to me to remind me he was still here, which didn’t soothe my whole self still, which was left in disarray from the previous proximity. The wind blew gently, carrying with it the fresh scent of the ocean and the newly cut grass. Carlos's specs, perched atop his head, didn't prevent the breeze from lifting up the locks of his hair, blowing them back from his forehead.

“Relax the shoulders,” he instructed and with a nod, I shook my arms slightly, releasing the tension. “Go at it.”

Copying Marjorie’s gestures and recalling the lessons from my father years ago, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, feeling my body align with the club before I took a swing, the sound of the ball hitting the tee filling the air. I opened my eyes and saw the ball flying far away from me and my companions, who were cheering me on from the sidelines.

“Not bad,” the Spaniard said, passing by me to get another ball from the bucket. “Almost a natural at this.” He laid it at my feet and got up. “Next time, try to be focused on the ball and not the teacher.”

Something had changed. I couldn’t help but notice a spark of delight in his eyes or a hint of teasing in each of his words. There was a palpable energy between us, one I knew he was feeling too. I opened my lips to talk, a comeback already on the tip of my tongue, but with a sudden jolt, the sound of Marjorie’s club impacting the ball made him turn away.

"Oh my god!" She shouted, her eyes widening in amazement as the ball sailed across the sky, seemingly flying away. "Babe, do you see how far it went? Eva! Carlos! Did you see that?" She looked at me, then at Carlos.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight of Marjorie's joy. "That was good!" I said. "But don't get too cocky. I'm sure I can make my ball go farther than yours," I winked at her and turned to Carlos. "Make me better at this."

The Spaniard raised an eyebrow, lips shaping into a confused smile. He looked around and all it took was to look at Rio, whose expression instigated him to join in, for Carlos to shift his own. "Now you're interested?”

"As you said the other day,” Marjorie patted Carlos on the arm, as she walked towards the bucket of balls laying at Carlos’ feet. “All it takes is a bit of competition and Eva gets motivated."

He chuckled; a deep, throaty sound that made me smile. “I can see that. The goal is beating Marjorie?”

I shrugged. “The goal is to not totally suck at this.”

Carlos walked over to me, his strides were more conscious and assertive than before. “You beat Marjorie, you decide how, where and when to celebrate your victory. If she wins, we have dinner tonight.” I raised my eyebrow.

“How does that sound?” His eyes searched mine for an answer.

I met him head-on. “I can get behind that.”

“Good,” he seemed satisfied with my response, giving me only a gentle nod before gesturing towards the ball. Carlos stepped back, close enough so I could still hear his instructions and corrections, but far enough from the angle of my movements.

Glancing at the couple in front of me, I saw Rio move away from Marjorie and walk towards Carlos. Marjorie was looking down, holding her stance.

After positioning both hands on the pockets of his shorts, my brother glanced at me. “Ready?” I nodded. “Go ahead, girls.”

For the first time in a while, I wasn’t totally sure I wanted to win. Despite this, my heart beat rapidly in my chest and I wasn’t sure why. I faced the white sphere, my body inching forward. I closed my eyes and swung the club, feeling the tension leave my shoulders as the ball flew through the air. When I opened my eyes, I saw it soaring high, farther than I expected it to go.

With a loud thwack, Marjorie’s ball cut the sky. I wasn’t sure how to react when her ball flew higher and farther than mine. She knew exactly how to react, cheering in delight and wrapping her arms around Rio, who joined her to celebrate.

I glanced over at Carlos, his nose scrunched up as his eyes searched the green mantle in front of us, too bright from the direct sunlight. “That was impressive!” He clapped once, his enthusiasm adorable and contagious. He then raised his hand towards Marjorie, who was still giggling when she raised her hand to high-five him.

God, how can this man make this mildly interesting sport into something actually enjoyable?

“Yours was not bad, Eva,” my brother said, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I had to lift my eyes from where I was already bent down, preparing to place another ball on my tee, to look up at Rio. “But I’m sorry to say, I think this might be the first sport you will fall behind us in.”

I sighed and stood up, adjusting the pleads of my skirt. "Don't push it.”

Carlos chuckled, the sound bringing a sense of calm. "Alright," he said, patting my brother on the back before turning to me. "Ignore him and focus on me.”

Not difficult, I wanted to say.

Once again, he positioned himself behind me, this time not asking anything before his hands settled on my waist. I felt a slight shift as he adjusted my posture, the sensation of his fingers brushing against the skin of my thigh through the fabric of the cotton skirt.

"I don't think I need any more help," I said, my voice quiet, but he still remained close, his presence a tangible reminder of the tension that lingered in the air.

“I do,” a pause. He patted my thigh with two fingers. “Spread your legs.”

Oh.

Carlos was closer than I anticipated, his words brushed against my earlobe and set on fire a darker side of my mind that was awakened by that command. I complied; what else could I do? I would have taken over the world if he had asked me to.

“A bit more,” his fingers continued there. Then, he patted my skin once again. “Perfect. Now, your grip,” he continued. His voice was so stern and unwavering, I almost felt anger at his composure in this situation. Carlos moved his hands, now firmly on top of mine as he corrected the angle of my fists. “Keep them like this when you lean forward. Don’t bend them back like you were doing before.”

And he stepped back.

The scent of sandalwood vanished and the comfort of his chest departed with it.

It felt cold even under the almost 30-degree sun.

I leaned forward, turning my face in his direction, looking for his approval. Before giving me a slight nod, he regarded me for a couple of seconds. His eyes were set away from my face and not quite on my hands. Was he looking at me? At my ass?

“Like this?” I asked and his gaze quickly met mine. It was only then that he nodded.

“Keep your grip light, but not too relaxed. You need to have control over the club.” A pause. “Swing once or twice before hitting. Pronto?”

“Pronto,” I answered before shaking my arms and getting into position. “Ready when you are, Marge.”

Marjorie’s ball was the first to take flight, soaring away and disappearing into the bright blue sky. My swing took a few more seconds and, despite all the effort and focus I put into making it a great hit, a high-pitched cheer from my right made it clear that my drive was still not as impressive as hers.

“Closer, but not quite there, yet,” Rio said, a playful smile on his face as he glanced over at me. “If we hang around here for the rest of the day you'll eventually get the hang of it.” He paused and I turned around to go have a sip of the mojito waiting for me at a small table. “Or you just suck at this and no time in the world will be enough.”

I flipped him off, my lips busy with the straw, sucking in the fresh drink. Rio chuckled at my response and I rolled my eyes in response, a smile tugging at my lips. Carlos stepped forward and took one club from his bag, turning his attention towards Rio.

"Alright, let's see what you’ve got," Sainz said, shaking his head. "You've been talking a lot, but I haven't seen you do anything yet."

Rio's face lit up in response to the challenge, his competitive spirit visible in the way he stepped up to his bag and took one of the clubs. His strides were confident when he walked towards the tee, face scrunched up in intense focus.

With a steady swing, he hit the ball and it flew far into the horizon. He let out a satisfied “Ha!” before turning to his best friend.

“Show me what you got, Chili,” my brother said with a victorious grin on his lips.

Carlos raised his eyebrows, his expression one of amusement. "Sure you don't want to give me any advice?"

Rio shrugged and Marjorie walked towards me, taking one of the bottles of water the waitress had left near her stuff. As I focused on my sister-in-law, the banter from the guys filled the background. She sat on my bench and crossed her legs.

“You seem excited,” she said, her hand aligned with her eyebrows as she tried to look at me, positioned between her and the sun.

“You’re wrong. I’m being humiliated,” I chuckled and as a loud thwack filled the air, I looked back to see Carlos’ ball cross the sky. He winked at me before turning back to Rio.

Rio gave a low whistle, his eyes still on the horizon, and shook his head in wonderment. "That was some good stuff," he said in admiration. I turned back to Marjorie, but Rio’s words made me pay attention to him once more. "You found yourself a good teacher, sis. If only he was as good at teaching as he is at playing…”

Rio's words lingered in the air and I felt a sudden tension arise between Carlos and me. I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed for the way my brother had said it, but, as it seemed to be the norm, Carlos appeared unfazed.

"Eva is a tough one to teach," he gestured to the tee area. I left the mojito on its coaster and grabbed my club before walking towards him, ready to find out what he had in store for me. "She's a bit stiff, you know?" He continued, tapping my arms with his fingers. "These arms," he added, poking them gently, "and these abs," he continued, poking the sides of my waist, making me giggle due to the ticklish sensation. "They need work. She’s been lazy."

Marjorie looked at us with a crease between her brows and then at Rio with a more confused expression. Ana was also looking over at us and even from a distance, I could notice her confusion. The corners of my mouth instantly turned up in a self-conscious smile and I straightened my posture, still trying to process the giggle that had just escaped my lips.

Carlos, seemingly unaware of the commotion he had caused, guided me to the centre of the tee area and stepped back. He corrected some flaws he had noticed in my stance. “Three more hits. Make me proud,” he said

My heart fluttered at the challenge and I nodded in agreement, my mind set on not totally sucking at this game. If I couldn’t beat Marjorie, I wanted to be almost there. After another deep breath and a swing of the club, my eyes fixed on the ball as it flew away. When I opened them, the ball was soaring high and I let out a victorious hoot.

"That's more like it!" Carlos said, clapping his hands in approval. "Again."

I repositioned myself onto the tee, feeling a renewed sense of determination. My feet moved in place, adrenaline rushing from the handle and taking me whole. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and swung the club with all my might. The sound of the club hitting the ball filled the air and when I opened my eyes, I saw the ball flying far away from me.

"That was a great hit!" Carlos said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. He stepped forward and patted my back, his hand lingering for a few seconds. "Last one. It’s all or nothing.”

My determination was evident in my stance, but I gave him a gentle nod before I bent over to pull another ball from the bucket. The Spaniard stepped back, siding with Rio who, just like him, had his arms crossed over his chest. While Marjorie arranged her hat, tidying up the ginger strands of hair under the white brim, I adjusted the band of my skirt around my waist.

The faux leather glove was not comfortable and my hand was sweaty under the warm material.

“Ready?” Marjorie looked over her shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be,” I gave her a tiny smile.

All the distractions faded away, vanishing from my mind as my gaze fixed on the end of the field ahead of me. My arms felt relaxed yet in control. My focus was on the ball and the horizon and not on Carlos’ arms, which had been around me moments ago. Not on his low, warm voice against my ear. Not on his hands, on top of mine, handling me like a doll.

Joder.

Marjorie had already hit her ball and I was still there, my mind so preoccupied with pushing away all the distractions that the main one made me freeze in place.

Focus, Eva.

I took a deep breath and shook my arms, trying to get rid of the tension, but I was too deeply immersed in the warm comfort his presence had evoked in my body and the traps my subconscious had set up for me.

Maybe I never intended to win. The look on Carlos' face, the undertone in his eyes when he saw my ball fall into the grass and noticed Marjorie had won, giving him the privilege to control our night, made me wonder why I had even tried.

“Olivia is asking for you,” Marjorie sat to my right, on one of the foldable chairs me and Rio had carried to the pier some day before. She handed me the phone, where my niece’s face was plastered into.

“Tia Eva!” Olivia, my three-year-old niece said, her hands extended to the screen and a huge smile on her tiny face, revealing her imperfect denture. Adorable.

"Hi there, baby," I said, waving to the camera. "Where's Grace?"

My mom, holding the phone behind the camera, pointed it to the other side of the room. There, my niece was sitting on the floor, playing with a pile of books. I chuckled, my heart melting at the sight.

"Are you two behaving?" I asked. My niece answered with two nods of her head, making her pigtails swing. "Is Grammie behaving too?"

She scrunched her nose and looked over the camera, probably at my mom. "Grammie gave us ice cream from the store.” After speaking, she quickly brought up her finger to her lips. “Don't tell Mom."

From behind the camera, my mother asked the same thing. Marjorie, just two steps away, had already heard it. Ignoring her mad face, I turned my attention to the little girl on the screen.

“Can you give a kiss to Grace for me?” Olivia's face lit up with a smile and she got up from the floor. “Liv, you don’t need to— Okay, you’re doing it now.”

Reaching Grace, Olivia got on her knees and planted a kiss on her sister’s forehead, whose face instantly brighten up. "Fatto!” She screamed from afar.

A shadow fall on my back and when I looked down to the corner of the screen to see who was shielding me from the sun, my eyes met Carlos' grinning face. His head was hovering just above mine.

“Hola, señoritas,” Carlos said with a warm smile and the two faces on the screen shifted to meet his gaze. “Your papa told me you asked about me. Here I am.”

“Chili!” Olivia shouted, while Grace just jumped in her place. Liv, the most easygoing of the two got closer to the screen, the excitement in her voice growing louder with each step. “Papá said your house is big and you have a boat, and a pool, and the whole sea.”

Carlos gave a hearty chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's true," he said, nodding his head in affirmation while taking the phone out of my hands. "But we’re not having much fun. This it's nothing compared to when I visit."

Grace shook her head, still seated in the back. “Grammie doesn’t have a boat,” she murmured with a sigh, her eyes wide with amazement.

My gaze turned to Marjorie, who was just smiling at the image of Carlos with her phone in his hand, walking around the pier and showing the Riva yacht to the twins. He seemed to be convincing them that we were not having too much fun and it was evident that he was succeeding in his mission.

“Does he visit a lot?” I asked Marjorie, my back meeting the back of the foldable chair again.

Her clear eyes drifted from the Spaniard and turned back to me. "Almost every time he’s at home." She paused and looked back at the image of Carlos, her voice softening. "They are crazy for him."

He smiled and his gaze shifted to me. His expression softened and I felt a warmth embrace me that I hadn't felt in a long time.

"I got that idea at my mom’s birthday party,” I said, still following his strides over the pier, the adorable sight and sound of his excited voice talking to the twins. “When I saw them so comfortably waking and being around him, Olivia’s tiny hand on his hair… my heart melted.”

“Of envy or—”

“Don’t be stupid,” she laughed and I hit her on the arm.

Marjorie turned her chair to me. I didn’t need to be a psychic to guess what she was about to say. “You’re getting along well,” and there it was. I rolled my eyes. “Although you almost tricked me last night, kissing the German guy.”

"Yeah, let’s not talk about that," I said, my gaze on Carlos and my attention on the sound of his voice carrying over. He was telling the twins a story, his intonation and gestures making it more vivid. Blue shorts, with tiny single-seaters printed on them, and a rose gold iPhone in his hand.

A gentle tug at my arm distracted me. I turned in Marjorie’s direction, only to find her smiling at me.

"You have to admit," she said, a soft glint in her eyes. "He's pretty charming."

And if it was a movie and he was aware of his cues, he laughed at something and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Carlos had a way of making everything seem so easy.

“Where is this coming from?” I asked her, “Why this sudden interest? Last Friday you were asking me to ignore him the whole week because you needed, and I quote, a nice drama-free week with your dearest hubby.”

She sighed. “I’ve seen the way you both look at each other and last night… I could have been drunk, but I clearly noticed how pissed he got when he saw you with the other guy.”

“His name is Uwe,” I added.

“Him,” she shrugged. “The second I saw Carlos’ face… I knew you were not telling me your whole story.”

I cleared my throat and tried to shake away the sudden feeling of being exposed, of the truth being unveiled. "Marjorie," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "We are just friends."

Her eyebrow raised and she gave me a knowing smile. "Right," she said, her voice softening. "That's what you two keep saying." She looked over at Carlos, her gaze lingering a bit too long, before turning back to me with a knowing smile. "The way you look at each other, though…” she let out a long, dramatic sigh. “The eyes, chica, they don’t lie.”

“Ugh,” I grunted, defeated, dragging my hands over my face. “You’re so annoying. What do you want me to say?”

Marjorie's gaze softened and she smiled. "I'm not asking you to say anything. Just be honest with yourself." She gestured to Carlos, who was still playing with the twins and nodded her head in his direction. "Look at him. What do you see?"

I sighed, my gaze still fixed on Carlos. He was holding the phone in one hand and the other was now in his hair. With slow steps, he approached my brother and sat by his side under the shade of the gazebo, the phone in front of them both.

“A devilishly handsome man in ridiculous swimming trunks talking on the phone with two toddlers and somehow sounding more childish than them.”

Marjorie smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "What I heard was: a man who, despite his tough exterior and terrible communication skills, is a gentle and caring soul who understands you, loves your family like his own, and is willing to put in effort for you.”

She looked at me with a victorious grin.

“Manipulative bitch,” I whispered under my breath, a comment to which she responded with a strident laugh.

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” Marjorie asked me with a playful glint in her eyes. She leaned back in her chair, the sun playing with her red hair, making it look like a flaming halo around her head.

“I think you do,” I said, my lips curving into a smile. “But it doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“You’ll thank me later,” she said, her voice softening. “Now go talk to him.”

“Later,” I said, standing up and fixing the strings of my swimsuit. “We’re having dinner together.”

And before I turned around to make my way to the gazebo to talk with my brother who was, once again, alone, I had the opportunity to witness the almost impeccable “o” shape that Marjorie's lips had formed.

The sun was still high, but the dusky colours of the sunset were already starting to paint the firmament. My eyes scanned the surroundings as I traced the cement of the pier, the small rocks and the sand hurting the bare skin of my feet. I missed these long sunsets and the easy-going life by the sea. The casual conversations, the banter, the small routine we’d constructed for ourselves.

It was all so easy.

The warmth of the setting sun and the sound of the waves against the pier were the perfect background melody to the conversations that so easily flowed. My brother’s laughter mingled perfectly with the engine of the jetskis roaring in the distance. I touched his shoulder before sitting on an empty chair in front of him.

Carlos, sitting next to him, raised his eyes from his phone, his lips forming a faint smile. Marjorie’s iPhone was now balancing on Rio’s leg.

"Did they finally let you go?" He frowned, not quite understanding the question at first before realisation dawned on him.

"Your mother had to bribe them with ice cream, actually," he said, taking a sip of the Estrella Galicia he was holding in his other hand. "I'm sorry for stealing them away from you; I didn’t let you finish talking."

"Oh, don't worry about it,” I raised my hands, shanking them in front of me. “I talk to them every day, it's no big deal."

A gentle nod of the head and a raspy sound came from Rio, who cleared his throat. “Are you finally filling me up about the email I got from Dad?”

I paused for a moment. “Email? Actually, Dad’s why I came here.”

“Do you need me to—” Carlos stepped forward, pointing at the sea before standing up and taking Marjorie’s iPhone from Rio’s leg. “I’ll take this to Marjorie,” he said, his voice calm and assured. His eyes then shifted to me. “Can you be ready in one hour?”

Rio’s confusion was evident, as his eyes moved between the two of us. “For what?”

I shook my head in response, my eyes going back to Carlos, already walking towards Marjorie. “Not at all. Where are we going?”

The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as Carlos continued his journey towards Marjorie.

My brother seemed to notice the lack of response, looking between the two of us in confusion. “Where are you two going?”

Carlos only responded with a simple command. “Just grab a sweater then,” he told me. “I’ll be back soon.”

A feeling of uncertainty filled me as I watched him disappear down the corridor, leaving Rio and me behind. With his back now facing me in the shadow, I could see in full resolution the muscles glistening under the sun, the soft breeze lifting the dark strands of his hair up in the air. He sat where I was sitting a minute ago and before I could pay attention to what he was saying to Marjorie, Rio called for me.

I turned to him. “I don’t know either.”

But God, how I was dying to know.

"So then," he gestured with his hand. "The email…?”

“Right,” I exhaled and sat upright. “What email?”

“Dad sent me an email. You apparently want a meeting with Deborah Mayer?”

“I don’t know if it’s a fit, but The Iron Dames seem like a good first step to reenter the scene,” Rio nodded. “I’m looking at F3, too. I need to do something. Find a place. They can help.”

“Oh,” he moved in his seat, his hands landing on the armrests of the beach chair. “F3? Dad won’t like that. He started to ramble about you’re seat at WEC, and—”

“Rio,” my brother looked at me. “Don’t ask me why, but I want to do something. I want to do something. And I don’t care if Dad is behind me on it, but I can’t feel like this while racing. I’ve spent the last year trying to understand why I feel so… lost. I love the team, I loved The Challenge, but that was not what I was fighting for.”

“F3 is?”

“F1 is.” I paused. “F3 is the first step.”

“Eva, you’re aiming high…” he started. “I get it. You need to find your passion again. But are you sure this is the right move?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

“And if he says no?”

“Why would he?”

We sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound of the sea lazily kissing the shore. I thought about my father and his expectations for me. Wondered what he said in the email he apparently sent to Rio. At that point, I hadn’t heard anything from my father after my text. I can’t complain about him. Dad had always been supportive of my racing career, but he also had his own agenda. He wanted me to be a champion and win races. “You either win or lose.” I heard him say time and time again. But racing wasn’t just about winning. Racing is not just about winning—it is about the thrill of the competition, the rush of adrenaline, and the feeling of being alive.

Rio knows that.

"I know it's a risk. And it could be a waste of money. And could go terribly wrong but—”

“Breath,” my brother said. Understanding writing in his eyes. “I get it. I was there once.”

“What did Dad say in the email?”

“It’s not worth it to repeat,” his lips drew a fragile smile. "It sounds like you've decided.” He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his Estrella Galicia. “What do you need me to say?”

The corner of my lip kicked up in a subtle way and his did the same, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You know… just that typical big brother stuff. You can always call me, you’re capable of that and so much more… I'll be by your side no matter what… " I said with a shrug, gesturing with my hands, imitating his Italian gestures that, for some reason, he had picked up from my dad to a degree that I hadn't managed. He chuckled softly, as though he had been privy to my thoughts.

Rio's eyes softened and he gave me a small nod of approval. "Of course, I will," he said. "You know I'm always here for you, Eva. Besides," he added. "I'm sure Carlos would be a great help too."

“I don’t want to go there…”

“What I mean is that he’s always been a great support for you before. You work well together, or— used to. He knows the field. He knows the people. He can help. Mayer can help you, but I’m sure you can also find some support in Ferrari. You’ve won their championship… But don't forget—Carlos is the one who got you interested in the sport in the first place." He paused and gave me a pointed look. "And he's the one who has been in the industry for years. He can give you great advice. Don’t be too stubborn. Use the help, open as many doors as you can." He reached over and squeezed my hand gently. "And you know I'm always here for you, too.” He paused. “See? I can do the big brother bullshit too.”

“So caring,” with an eye roll, I gently slapped his hand. “So, you think I won’t fuck this up?”

"You? Fuck it up? Nah, never," he shook his head and gave me a reassuring smile. "You got this."

The words lingered in the air for a while and I was at a loss for what to say. Motorsport-wise, Rio had been my rock ever since the first day I set foot on the track. Carlos had been there with him too, clutching my hand and making me laugh on our way home when things didn’t go as I expected them to.

Both of them had been there for more than ten years, supporting me on and off track. Better, we’ve been there for each other. And even if I’d lost a major pillar somewhere along the way, which hurt like hell, we were collectively working on rebuilding it.

A wave of gratitude washed over me when I laid my eyes on my brother. Reaching out, I grabbed his hand.

“Thank you,” I let out. “I’m sorry for not making it easier for you to have this same conversation with me months ago.”

Rio shook his head, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "It's okay. It's all part of growing up, I guess." He glanced around the pier, taking in the sight of the sun setting, the laughter of the others, and the feeling of warmth that filled the air. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I knew the island air would help you figure out a thing or two.”

The corner of my lips tugged up in a gentle smile as I looked at my brother, my hand still in his. On my palms, the warmth of his skin spelt a confirmation of his presence and companionship. I knew he was right from the moment I’d stepped on that plane.

Ever since then, I was invited to see the world from a new perspective and new paths unravelled in front of me. Whether I’d chosen to trace the right ones, I was yet to discover, but at least, I felt ready to try.

The sun was still high, but the dusky colours of the sunset were already starting to paint the horizon. The wind was gentle and it brought the smell of the sea to my nose and played with my hair, which caressed my face.

My eyes scanned the surroundings as I traced the cement of the pier, the small rocks and the sand hurting the bare skin of my feet. I sat on the pier, my legs hanging down from it, toes pointed at the water, being kissed by the occasional splashes Rio provoked, riding Carlos’ electric surfboard a few feet away.

My brother’s contagious laughter mingled with Marjorie’s screams of joy, as she cheered him from a smaller boat owned by the Sainz. The other four accompanied her—Ana filming Rio, as he crossed the mirror of water effortlessly. I closed my eyes, my entire being encapsulated in that moment, and attempted to block out the nerves.

Carlos’ yacht, a gleaming beauty, moored in front of me. Its brown hull shone brightly in the sunlight and gentle waves kissed its shell. I just waited, impatient. My heart raced in my chest, filling me with a warmth that had nothing to do with the setting sun.

Every couple of minutes, I glanced at the other end of the pier, scanning the backyard and trying to see in between the branches of the trees, trying to spot him. Carlos had texted before I left my room, after brushing my wet, salty hair and exchanging my sun dress with wet patches around my breasts and sand trapped in the cotton fibres for a new, cleaner one.

“Wait for me at the pier. I’m a little late,” he had written.

And despite the fact that I’d replied to him with a breezy “No problems!”, I had a lot of problems.

It was Carlos who I was meeting, for a date at sunset, probably in his yacht, to discuss the feelings none of us seemed capable of wanting to hide or deny. My sixteen-year-old self would be dying for something remotely like this. That thought alone made me smile.

Raising my head and turning it to my right, once more wishing to end this waiting game, my eyes finally caught a glimpse of a man. Bare feet on the grass, a white t-shirt and navy blue trunks with the white Formula Ones printed on them, a brown wicker basket in one hand and a bouquet of daisies in the other.

I got up, my eyes never leaving the flowers and the man carrying them.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't help but smile as I watched Carlos approach me, a gentle breeze lifting his dark hair, his eyes twinkling.

"I’m so sorry, it took more time than I was expecting," he said, his voice deep and reassuring. He extended the bouquet of daisies in my direction. "I brought you these.”

I took the bouquet with my free hand. The other one was too busy clenching the fabric of my jumper.

"Thank you," I said, my lips curving into a smile as I brought the bouquet closer, inhaling its sweet scent. “What took you so long? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He raised the basket he was holding and crossed the distance between the pier and the yacht. “The food.” Carlos left the basket on one of the seats and came back to the end of the boat with his hand extended to me. “I thought we could enjoy a picnic at sea.”

My hand felt so light when I found his touch. His fingers wrapped around my hand so gently and effortlessly and he helped me get in. Then, his hands travelled to my waist, navigating me around. I laid down the flowers on top of the basket, the sweater on the back of one of the seats and leaned against it while Carlos got the boat ready.

Of everything I’d imagined for our dinner, this was not it. This was romantic.

The flowers and the wicker basket. The sweater and the breeze that became more chilly with each passing second. The smell of the food and the pastel colours that the sunset was bringing into the atmosphere. All of that transported me into a dream.

After undoing one more set of ropes and throwing them to the pier, where they fell with a silent thud, he turned to me and motioned to the seat in front, beside the one in front of the helm. I settled in before he reached the helm.

Carlos glanced at me before turning the key on the ignition. The engine roared to life, the vibrations rippling through the air, shaking up the loaded atmosphere. It felt so dumb. I felt dumb. I couldn’t look at his hands, steering the boat, without it bringing my whole body to the edge of self-combustion. To worsen my condition, I dared to look at his face.

Pure joy and excitement radiated from him. His clenched jaw and focused frown softened as the boat picked up speed and we cut the water with ease, away from the Sainz’s backyard. When I remembered to look back, the house was a blur and my friends were tiny dots in the sea.

Carlos was the only subject I could focus on.

The warmth of the sun soaked into my bones. The sky was painted with a beautiful hazy pink and pastel orange. Everything was bathed in a soft golden aura, my mind included. I smiled to myself, feeling so at peace with the world.

My anticipation dissipated as we were carried away by the motions of the boat.

The orange pastels reminded me of a drunk man and his words.

And the feelings he so easily brings out of me.

And the idea that if we were to fall, at least we would fall together.

Two high cliffs rose majestically to our left. The sun slowly set to the right, painting a beautiful tapestry in the sky with its golden hues, even if it was still far from touching the water.

It was magical.

The roar of the engine. The colours. The company.

Carlos cut the engine and the boat slowed down, the silence an eerie sound in the background. I allowed myself to take it in. My eyes roamed around the land, the steep cliffs and the houses planted by the sea, taking in the light, like lazy cats under the sun.

My attention was drawn by the man next to me, who took a step away from the helm and turned to me. The corner of my lips curled up into a small smile when I saw him sitting on one of the seats, back turned to the cliffs and eyes focused on me.

My fingers covered my face, my only shield against his piercing gaze. “Stop that, Sainz.”

He chuckled. “I’m literally just sitting here.”

I shook my head and laughed in response. "You know what I mean," I said. I took a deep breath and sighed. "It's really pretty around here," I said, my voice soft and my gaze turned towards the cliffs.

"Yes, it is," Carlos said softly, his eyes still on me. He paused for a moment before continuing. "The perfect place for a date, I'd say." His voice was light and teasing, but his eyes were serious like he was daring me to contradict him.

“This is not a date, though. Just a dinner.” The curve of his lips grew bigger and his grin wider. “But I know what you mean. Couldn’t be better.”

“Shall we eat?” Carlos suggested, getting up.

My eyes slowly drifted to the basket and the flowers on top of it. The bouquet was strewn around by the wind, its petals scattered, yet somehow still creating an organized chaos of its own. Carlos gently laid it on the white cushion of the seat and picked up the basket, carrying it to the back of the boat, where I watched him, still in silence. He then sat on the aqua-blue sun bed and motioned for me to join him.

Trying to be careful not to disturb his careful arrangement, I tip-toed around him and settled in.

“Do you need any help?” I asked, looking up at him with a smile, eager to be of assistance.

“No, sit and enjoy,” he replied, focused on his task. His eyes didn’t even lift to find me.

Wine, two stemless glasses, grapes, croissants and cinnamon rolls. In his hands, a glass container with figs and honey. He arranged the items carefully around the small linen towel he had spread, before unpacking the basket. My eyes followed each and every one of the movements.

“I didn't want to put pressure on you to get ready for a fancy restaurant, but I also didn't want to settle for a basic dinner,” he explained, holding up the bottle of wine. “Wine?” He offered with a hopeful smile.

“Oh, yes, please,” I replied, sliding my glass closer to him. Carlos quickly grabbed the corkscrew from the basket and opened the bottle of wine with ease, before filling in my glass. “Where did you get all of this?”

“The market from the other day. Went there to pick up some fruit and found a lovely bakery. I had to wait a long time for the croissants, though.” He filled his glass, as well. Only then I took mine to my lips. “They were still in the oven when I got there.”

“That way I can apologize to you for being late,” he looked at me, a small chuckle coming through his thick lips. Laying down the glass on the towel, I took another bite of the pastry. “These are so good.” I looked at the small croissant in my hands, and then back to him, again. His eyebrows were raised as he looked at me attentively, lips shaped in a smile. “You should go and get them for breakfast tomorrow as well,” I teased.

“Eh!” I chuckled in response to the indignation in his tone. “Don’t push it.”

"I'm just making a suggestion," I held my hands in front of me in defence and then extended my hands to grab a piece of cheese, which I popped into my mouth. Then, I took another sip of the wine. The fruity notes of the rosé filled my mouth. “Hum…” I swirled the wine around my mouth; so familiar.

“Good?” He asked, eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips.

“I know this one,” I reached for the bottle and read the label in front of the peony-pink liquid. “You’re getting better at picking bottles!”

"Yeah, I thought you'd like this one," he said, scooping a spoonful of the figs and honey. "I finally paid attention to your dad's lessons.”

"Really?" Carlos nodded in response, his eyes softening as he savoured the figs. I couldn't help but notice the way his lips glistened with honey, reflecting the light of the sun. “I’ll remember to tell him that.”

I turned my gaze away from him, towards the water and the cliffs towering behind him.

The atmosphere was so light that our words didn’t linger around us; instead, the conversation flowed like the breeze. We made our way through the food and the bottle of wine, getting lost in time and the casual conversation. The pastries were the central point of our interest, baked by the sweet old lady that owned a store not too far away from the house, which she had even wrapped in a pretty box for us. Carlos had left the box inside the basket, but just glancing at the small carton box and the purple ribbon around it made me smile.

Not because I was scared to touch the subject, but because I didn’t want to burst the bubble, we refrained from talking about anything outside of the contours of the island. We pretended to not know what lay behind the horizon. I thought that perhaps he felt the same feeling I was cradling inside my ribcage, the need to be locked in this private paradise, almost like a fort, shielding us from all of the chaos and uncertainty that was happening outside.

We both allowed ourselves to be swept away by the moment; the sun slowly setting behind us, the food slowly disappearing from the linen towel. We talked, we laughed, and we shared, just like two normal people, away from the eyes of the world, enjoying a moment of pure bliss.

It felt like a dream.

At some point, Carlos leaned back, supporting himself on his elbows, and scanned the sky, staring off into the distance. His eyes moved slowly across the horizon, taking in the setting sun and the array of colours that painted the sky. The light fell on his face, so golden, casting the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks. The soft, cool breeze gently whipped his hair. He must have noticed the way I had been looking at him because when he turned to me, a knowing smirk was on his lips.

"I'm planning on taking you out to a proper dinner, you know?" I raised an eyebrow at that and tried to stop the smile of anticipation from appearing on my lips. "The day you finally let me take you on an official date, I mean," he clarifies nonchalantly and lays lay down completely, the back of his head resting on his hands. "I'll wait.”

“Never thought you would be so patient, Sainz,” I teased while snatching a grape from the cluster in front of me.

The Spaniard smiled and shook his head. "You make it sound like I'm desperate," he laughed. "But I do have some patience." A pause. "I think it has its limits, though.”

My eyes scanned his face, my mind racing with thoughts of the night before. His poor behaviour and the words that had come out of his mouth without a filter. The dim orange light, being mimicked by the sunset now.

Hesitantly, I asked. “Where is the limit, then?” My throat felt so empty and dry, it surprised me that I didn’t stutter. “Did you draw the line at the whiskey and beer or—?”

He cut me off before I could finish, his body rose from the ground. “At the sight of other men holding you,” his voice resonated. I brought my hands to my tights. “I couldn’t stand one more second of that.”

Both of us fell into silence; the song of the waves sang louder around us. There was so much to say, but I just didn’t know where to start. I didn’t want to apologize for what I’d done. Period. But the silence and the image of his eyes growing darker by the second deepened in front of me. He was mad. Hurt, perhaps?

I looked away, finding comfort in the sunset.

Thoughts started piling up, coupled with questions I didn’t know if I wanted to ask. My mind wandered through all of them and I felt like I was lost in a maze, unable to find a way out of the mess we had created around ourselves.

Finally, Carlos broke the silence.

“I know you don’t trust me,” he said and paused. His voice was so deep, almost cracking at the end like his mouth tried to repel that sentence. I’d forgotten about telling him that, but the sad look in his eyes told me he didn’t. He probably remembered the words too brightly and, for the first time, I regretted saying them. “And… I know it’s been hard to have me around,” he leaned his head slightly, eyes dropping to my hands, resting on my tights. My palms started to sweat against the thin fabric of my sundress. His eyes met mine once more, so dark, with a weight sitting heavily above them. “All I can say is that I’m sorry for last night.”

“I—” I couldn't bring myself to say anything; my words were just dumb mumblings, whispers I wasn't sure he could listen to. “Don't—”

If he did listen, he ignored them.

“Also,” his expression was rigid. His eyebrows were drawn together and the deep shadows under them seemed to intensify his gaze. “I'm not going anywhere.” It felt like a promise.

I searched his face for any trace of anger or disappointment but found none. After he spoke, his features softened and a hint of vulnerability pierced through. That subtle hint almost got lost in the firmness of his words. It wouldn’t be fair to shield myself. I shook my head left and right, eyes roaming the sky and the empty bottle of wine, afraid of meeting his. The words disappeared when I thought I had them on the tip of my tongue, the beating of my heart ricocheted inside my heart to the point it seemed unbearable to sustain.

Each word seemed like a corner I was not sure I’d gotten the best line for.

“I didn’t go dance with him to get to you.” was the first thing I brought myself to say. “Maybe I did, in a way. It—” I corrected myself so quickly he didn’t have much time to react. He just nodded, simply nodded. No smile, no… nothing. He just patiently waited. I took a deep breath and cleaned the palms of my hands on my tights. “And the kiss?”

Once again, he frowned.

“I am the same person I was before him. Before he touched me, before he kissed me.” I shrugged. It was simple, in my mind. “Nothing changed with that kiss. But, with you…?” I brought my eyebrows together. How could he not see it? Or feel it? “All it took was to see you. That night, in Mugello… Seeing you…” Words fled again, emotions pilling up inside. “My world shifted in place.”

The air felt heavier, my words weighing down the atmosphere around us but freeing my chest from all the pain. At that moment, I felt myself hovering between two different worlds, blind to reality but too grounded to see ahead. I kept going.

“After all that time, I thought… I thought it was gone. The feelings, the longing… I thought I'd come to terms with the fact that you were no longer a part of my life. But I never did,” I paused, taking a deep breath as I tried to process the emotions running through me. I looked down at my hands, remembering how many times I remembered the night we fell asleep holding hands. How many times I'd wish to have him holding my hand. How many times I’d wished to have him there, just there—under the podium, sitting at the table in the place we'd chosen for him or in the airplane seat we'd booked just in case he could find a way to join us.

The memories hit me like a wave, washing over me with an intensity that I hadn't expected.

“You brought everything back. Good and bad,” I cut off and looked at him, my vision blurred by the tears in my eyes. Rage and pain sided with the fondness I felt for him. “There was no way I could have just kissed you and gone back to living my life like before.”

I hadn't realized Carlos had moved closer until I felt the warmth of his cologne and the weight of his hand on the cushion closer to me. My eyes wandered down to find his big hand next to mine, his fingers not daring to touch my skin. I looked up at him and he opened his mouth to speak, but I quickly raised my hand, asking for just one more second of his attention. His lips closed and his eyes squinted slightly as he waited patiently for me to continue.

My eyes hungrily lingered on his lips, my body fiercely battling against the strong desire to close the distance and kiss him at that very moment. I then looked up again, drawn in by his eyes that seemed to swallow me whole.

"I know it would ruin us if we just kissed.”

And then: silence.

Comfortable, but heavy. I’d let it out. There was nothing holding me back. I’d said it. My mind had finally unravelled itself and God, it felt good. He, though, was still holding everything inside. I could see it in his eyes, searching for mine, almost desperate.

To be honest, I didn’t know what I expected him to say.

But somehow, he knew what I was waiting for.

“Does this make me selfish?” I felt the tingle of his fingertips on my thigh, but I wasn’t able to look anywhere but his eyes. Carlos’ hand travelled up, fingers softly touching my arm, my whole body awakening in response.

“What?” I whispered, my eyes dropping for a second to look at his hand.

He waited for me to look up at him. Then, he answered. “Wanting you this badly.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say or do anything and the mere idea of looking away from him seemed wrong. His gaze held me captive, never leaving mine. Carlos gently took my chin between his thumb and index finger and his eyes darted downwards to my lips.

His thumb traced small circles near my bottom lip, each one coming closer. I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, making my heart flutter in anticipation. His thumb slid through the extension of my lip, coaxing it open, and I found myself gazing into his eyes, longing for him.

“Eva,” I closed my eyes for a brief moment, my head tilting at the sweet sound that was my name coming out of his mouth. “I don’t care how much I want you, how much I want this,” he stared hungrily at my mouth. I swallowed dry. “I won’t do anything that could taint a moment I’ve been waiting for so long.” He paused. “Years, Eva. I’ve been waiting for years. I can wait a couple more weeks.”

“No,” my hands wrapped around his forearm, holding it in place, reacting against the idea of losing that touch. “Don’t wait any longer,” I heard my own voice, yet it felt distant and unfamiliar.

Something shifted in his eyes. The sensation of his fingertips became warmer, the sensation of his heartbeat against my fingertips became more tangible and all of a sudden, I was more aware of myself and everything he made me feel—the effortless feeling of belonging, the immoral desperation he awakened inside me.

Dear God, how much I needed him.

My lips eagerly accepted his, driven by a need like no other. I needed him like water, like salvation for my desperate soul. The kiss was so gentle, but it still sent ripples of electricity through my body. So slow. Patient. Passionate. I felt my body tremble as his touch swept into my very being—the warmth of his lips and the brush of his tongue, the hands that so quickly travelled to find my waist and pull me closer, the inebriating effect of him. Purely him.

“Are we ruined yet?” He whispered against my lips.

“Not yet,” I felt him smile. My chest imploded on itself. “Kiss me again.”

“Gladly.”

With no hesitation, the distance between us was once again bridged. The intensity grew – his hands moved with urgency, pulling me into his lap, and mine followed suit, mapping a trajectory from his chest, along his shoulders, to the nape of his head and hooking around it, craving the intimacy of his proximity, of his touch.

I felt dizzy with the delight of being lost in his embrace.

And although it seemed like an eternity, one so easy to bear, I could only hope for it to be prolonged even more. Time seemed to stand still and the world around us faded away as I felt his lips tenderly brush against my own again and again. His hands were like a vice, holding me close as his tongue began to explore my body, from my mouth to my neck, tracing his way across my collarbones. His tongue was like velvet against my skin.

When we parted and I looked at him, a newfound intensity shone in his eyes. Carlos held me close, his thumb caressing my cheek softly, his eyes wandering from my eyes to my lips and then back to my eyes again. A gaze so intense, so powerful it could permeate through the barriers of my mind and read my thoughts.

Take me, I wanted to say. Make me yours.

Instead, I begged him in silence, eyes on his, while my fingers cruised towards the neck of his t-shirt and pulled it off in an exasperated attempt to fulfil the wishes I couldn’t bring myself to comprehend.

He was there, flesh and bone; his cologne inebriating me, his lips adoring my skin, his hands taking ownership of my body. But I needed more. As I glimpsed his bare chest, I couldn’t help but reach out and let my fingertips meet the tanned sculpted skin and slide them through it. So warm, almost burning.

Carlos kissed my shoulder, his lips making a trail along my neck and fingers pulling down the strands of the dress, which gracefully fell on my lap. Patiently, his hands traced the curves of my body, stopping when he reached my ass and, groping it, he pressed me against him. I felt my breath catch in my throat as he slowly moved his hand lower to my tights wrapped around him, tracing the curves of my hip, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

And then up again, roaming the line of my spine, stopping when his fingers met the string of my bikini. I slid my hair across my left shoulder, halting the golden waves from disturbing him.

His fingers left my back.

The tension of the string lessened.

A cocky smile appeared on his flushed lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked.

“No.”

His eyes sparkled and his tongue wavered on his lips. I moved my hips in his lap, my hands on his biceps and slowly making their way towards his back.

“Neither do I, love. I wanna kiss every single inch of your skin,” he breathed the words on my skin. His lips moved to my neck, tasting me and pushing me further into him; in response, my body quivered and the grip of my fingers on his skin intensified.

The idea of marking his perfectly sculptured back made the arousal in me intensify to new heights; just thinking about it made my hips move on their own. God, how desperate. A moan slid through my lips when I felt him harden under me. He grunted, hands groping my ass and incentivising my movements.

“You smell so good,” I breathed in as his words met the skin of my chest. The faint touch of his nose traced lines on my chest until he stopped in the middle of my breasts. “I bet you taste even better.”

A breath escaped my lips when he eagerly grabbed my breast, slightly groping it before his thumb swiped away the fabric. My chest rose and fell with every brush of his lips against the skin that he so softly kissed. I slid my hands up to his hair after I untied the knot of the bikini at my back and removed my top.

My head fell back, taking in the last light of the day; lips parted, eyes closed. Fingers lost in the soft strands of his hair, holding his face closer to my chest. The waves roaring around us fell into silence as they rocked us into oblivion. From my lips, a whisper escaped —his name, in a way I'd never pronounced it before and my breath hitched when his tongue, moist and warm, reached my nipple. My voice was so light, it felt heavenly in my own ears. The grunt he let out confirmed to me that it had resonated in the same way with him.

“Eva,” I looked down, heart pounding in my chest. He was looking at me, eyes so dark they made me whimper.

“Hm?”

“We can’t do this, cariño. I wasn’t counting on this,” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and pleasure.

His hands, now planted on the small of my back, sent a wave of warmth through me. I tilted my head. The idea of stepping back after feeling his body pressed against mine, after having a glimpse of what it would be like, was too much to bear. Almost incomprensible.

I just shook my head. “I’m—” I stumbled in my words, unable to ignore the feeling of his arousal against me. “We can… work it out, I guess.”

I wanted to explore the urgency and the energy that seemed to control us so effortlessly and find out where it could lead us. My lips met his once more and Carlos offered no resistance. On the contrary – his hands wrapped around my body once again. My own anticipation was building as I moved my hips in circles on his lap; his chest heaving in response.

It was too tempting to resist.

“Joder,” he said softly, his grip on my ass growing tight. “You’re going to make me cum in my trunks if you keep doing that.” His words were filled with a desire that I could feel in every inch of my body as if it was radiating from him.

“Ask me to stop, then.” Don’t. “I will.”

He closed his eyes and his hands moved to my waist, encircling it in a tight embrace as if to keep me still. I wanted him to let me keep going, to let me come on his lap and collapse into his chest. I tilted my head and looked at him, my confusion growing as I studied his countenance. He cupped my face after opening his eyes and I saw within them a myriad of emotions - darkness, strength; an almost lividness.

"I think I might be ruined," he said with a hint of resignation in his voice, but I could also sense an underlying tone of defiance, as if he didn't care what the consequences might be.

The world spun around me as he turned me around, laying my back on the sunbed. He stood as a silhouette against the sunset, his face nothing but intense shadows traced with gold. His lips met mine again and this time it was nothing like before. It was violent and passionate, full of hunger and desire, a wave of lust that swept away everything that was left in my mind.

Our bodies were a mess of passion and desire, too caught up in the moment to truly appreciate what we had. The feelings and emotions that had been stored inside me for so long were now being released, like a raging fire that threatened to consume me whole. The same energy was emanating from him; his hands and lips clung to me with the same intensity I wanted to plunge in myself.

I drowned in the moment, basking in him, his essence, his touch and his voice that spoke so deeply in my ear.

"What should I do to you?" He whispered before biting my earlobe.

“Everything,” I said, my voice a whisper. “Do everything.”

He chuckled softly and his embrace tightened around me, enveloping me in his warmth. I felt his lips gently brush against my neck and then move down to the curve of my shoulder and the swell of my breasts. His hands moved up and down my figure, as if he wanted to remember every curve and line of my body.

A trace of fire seemed to course through the same lines he traced, moving lower and lower. In response, my muscles contracted and goosebumps appeared over my skin. I had to take a deep breath when he reached my belly and his fingers traced small circles there instead of continuing lower.

"Everything, huh?" A husky voice left his lips before he planted a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin of my abdomen. I could feel myself melting into the fabric of the sunbed beneath us, as his fingers explored further and his lips followed behind them slowly. "What about we start with this?" He continued, lust in his eyes as he looked up at me.

I could come from the view alone—his deep brown eyes looking intently into mine; his shoulders pushing my legs further apart and carving a place for himself in the gap between them. The sensation of his beard in between my thighs sent a shiver through my body, the prickly sensation making me succumb to his touch. The way he groaned when my fingers ventured into his hair, pulling on the dark strands the second I felt his fingers inside me.

Each time he looked up, lips glistening with my own pleasure and eyes as dark as I have ever seen them, I thought I was imprisoned in some wet dream.

It was ridiculous the way my body reacted to him.

My hips moved up, trying to get more of the pleasure he was offering me and he promptly responded to my movements and demands; his tongue leaving faster and fingers working inside me as if his only purpose was to please me. God. His persistence made my body tremble and my lips part each time the pleasure metamorphosed itself into moans and whimpers.

In front of me, his torso was elevated and the broad shoulders and torso cast a long shadow over me. All at once, his hands were gone and the emptiness his fingers left behind made me whimper softly. He leaned down, his hand sliding to my neck, thumb pressing lightly against my chin.

“I was right, you know?” With a gentle force, he made me look up at him. “You taste so good.”

When he kissed me, I could feel it in my own mouth. Honey and wine and me. On this man’s lips.

I heard the muffled thud of his trunks hitting the floor and my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of his aroused state; his erection was a deep crimson and in a state of need. I felt my own desperation rising and tried to press my thighs together in an attempt to quell it. Carlos’ lips curved in a smile and his hand searched for mine, pulling it to his hardness; his large, strong hand enveloping my own, guiding me to provide him with the pleasure he sought. My other hand moved to my own pleasure, my fingers desperately trying to fill the hollow Carlos had left.

“If you only knew how many times I've done this alone,” he said, “thinking of you. Wishing for you.”

His slender fingers entwined with my own, sending a thrill through me as he demonstrated his desire. I felt my own growing with each passing moment, desperation rising inside of me; a deep and primal passion taking hold.

“Please,” my voice elevated itself over his.

"Please, what?" I sighed, my head leaning to the side in a plea. Carlos grabbed my wrist and forced my hand to rest on top of my thigh. "Use your words," he said firmly. "Tell me what you need."

I could feel my body quivering, my need for him tangible. I wanted him. I needed him. I needed to end this longing and this need my body was screaming to get rid of. "I need you," I said softly, my hips moving down to make the need even clearer. He let go of my hands but still stayed close, his pre-cum clammy on my fingers.

"You know what that means," Carlos murmured, his body hovering above me. He supported his weight by placing a hand next to my head.

My eyes pleaded with him. "Carlos, please," I begged. More than anything else, I wanted him to know that this was not a mere request but a desperate plea for him to fill the void I was feeling.

He didn't let me wait for long. In one swift move, he was inside me and I gasped at the sudden pleasure. His hands moved from my waist to my hips, pulling me closer to him and I could feel his length entering me further and further. He was as needy as me.

Slow, steady thrusts that made my body and soul melt into his.

Each movement or brush of the wind against my skin had a different effect on me. Pleasure rose with each passing moment. My hands reached for his shoulder, my nails digging into his flesh, desperate to hold on.

The hoarse moans he let out resonated deep in my bones, fueling my own.

His thrusts became more urgent, pushing a little further each time in a rhythm completely new to me, yet feeling like it had been written in my veins since birth. Pleasure slowly built up until I was sure I couldn't take anymore, until it felt like the desperation rooted deep inside of me was unravelling each seam of my body, longing for escape, for relief. When the moment came, it simultaneously felt like being pulled under the waves and the first breath of fresh air after staying underwater. I felt the tension snap and uncoil slowly like molasses, chipping away at my consciousness until I was light enough to float with the breeze. All I could see were stars, efflorescent in the purple haze of the sky. All I could feel was him, solid and present and only mine in this very moment. I couldn't help but call out his name.

"Just a bit longer, love," he said. "Just need a bit more. Can you take it?"

In response, I just nodded, my eyes still closed, taken by my own bliss. My cries of joy echoed through the night, growing louder and more intense as he continued relentlessly, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. I felt like I could come again, the sensations never-ending. With each stroke, I felt myself tremble with pleasure and my breath came in desperate gasps as I tried to keep up with the rhythm of his thrusts.

An emptiness struck me when he pulled away quickly, a whimper escaping my lips at the right instant. I slightly opened my eyes, admiring him in between my lashes. The wistful look on his face, his parted lips, his eyes that didn't leave my body for a second. His fist wrapped around his erection as he jerked himself to completion sending a shot of lust through me.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed. "So beautiful."

He groaned again, and I felt the heat of his orgasm on my belly. He looked down at it with awe. A smirk painted his lips. Eyes dark with lust.

My fingers gripped his shoulders as he bent his head to kiss me. Our lips touched, once, twice—soft kisses that became more intense, deeper, hungry. His tongue danced with mine, a tango of passion and need. His tongue danced with mine, helpless and desperate. I wrapped my fingers around his back and dug into his skin. A shudder ran through him under my hands. His cock was still between us, stiffening again as he kissed me. The smell of sex and male musk was thick in the air and I couldn't help but feel intoxicated by it.

He pulled back to see my face and caught his breath at the sight of me. A smirk spread across his lips as he rolled off me slowly as if just realizing what we had done. His eyes darkened with lust as he traced the patch of wetness on my belly with his finger.

"What the hell did we just do?"

I felt my heart race at the simple words and my stomach flutter at the intensity of his gaze.

"I believe we just ruined us for good.”

"Oh," he got closer still, pushing me to him and wrapping me in his arms. My body settled comfortably in his embrace, my skin finding warmth in his chest. "Not for good, love; just until we do this again."

I don’t know how much time we spent like that, catching our breaths and allowing the pleasure to slowly dissipate until all that was left was the warmth of his embrace and the sound of the waves crashing against the shell of the boat, but I was sure I could live in that moment forever.

Sooooooooooo, that happened. As always, this is the part where I thank you for all the support and please never stop speaking your mind. I love reading your reactions! And send me questions if you have some!! First (of many) smutty chapters. Hope you enjoyed it.

Happy Easter to those who celebrate! As always, sending you all the love!

#Tightrope #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #fanf1ction #f1 fanfic #driver x you #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #driver x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz angst

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use-your-telescope · 9 months ago

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When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 16: We Don't Know What We're Doing

Summary: Amidst the day to day, Theo and Loki continue to learn new things about each other, including some interesting details about how they view relationships.

Author’s Note: First, I am so sorry this is so late!! I had planned to post on the 28th, but I ended up having some (good) things come up that took up my weekend and meant I didn’t have time to get this to a point I felt was ready to post. I foolishly thought I could have it ready by Tuesday, then by Friday, then Sunday, then accepted my fate and admitted I just wouldn’t have time until this weekend to get this chapter wrapped up and posted (shoutout to a work trip last weekend for making this take an extra week!) I shared a note about the delay on tumblr, but figured I’d share it here so I’m covering my bases.

That being said, spring is a crazy time for me work-wise, plus I’m finishing my second master’s degree this semester (after a two year hiatus!), so this will probably not be the only time things get a bit delayed. I’m pretty sure I will have the next chapter ready for next Sunday (the 24th), but the week after that has some work stuff going on, which means the following chapter would be posted on March 9th. Anyways, thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoy <3 reblogs are always appreciated, and lmk if you want to be added to tag list!

Word Count: 6,789

Song: Amateur Lovers - Switchfoot (Bonus Song: Passing Through A Screen Door - The Wonder Years)

Everyone I know Needs love like drugs Like a common cold We could never shrug My baby and me We're missing the same stuff We've all got a disease Deficiency of love Every day we still try Every night we still cry Driving home on the 805

Months after Theo first promised Loki that she would hang out with the other Avengers, she could not deny the truth: Loki, the little shit, was right.

Unintentionally agreeing to “family night” opened the floodgates of invitations to hang out, and other than the period of time where everyone’s moods plummeted from the string of unpleasant anniversaries, Theo found herself becoming more and more fond of the colorful collection of superheroes that she lived with, and it seemed like they accepted her with open arms.

Even worse, Loki was right and he knew it.

Every time Theo caught him watching as Wanda braided her hair or Yelena talked her into trying (and absolutely sucking at) Call of Duty, Loki cocked an eyebrow and shot Theo the most smug, self-satisfied smirk. When he wandered into the lab and stumbled upon Theo and Helen working on new medical technology with Bruce and Shuri, a downright devious glint flashed in his jade eyes, and his jaw flexed as if he bit back some snarky comment about Theo’s voluntary presence. When they went out as a team and it came to light that Natasha had done Theo’s makeup, Loki bit his lower lip to stifle a snicker.

On that night, Theo had just finished up working in the emergency department; after showering and changing into an old set of Duke sweatpants and a shirt she stole from Chris the last time she stayed at his apartment, Theo made her way out to the living room with a book in hand.

The sight that greeted her was one she often found at the end of the day: Sam, Bucky, Yelena, Natasha, and Steve sprawled out on some of the more comfortable seating options, clad in sweatpants and worn t-shirts after what was likely a long day of training and briefings. A video game that Theo vaguely recognized, but not enough to identify, broadcast itself from the television screen, displaying a mix of desolate space-esque scenarios and scifi combat.

Sam sat on the edge of the couch cushions, leaned in towards the television screen with a video game controller clutched in both hands, focusing so intently on the screen that he stuck a bit of his tongue out as he mashed buttons on the controller.

On another couch sat Yelena and Natasha, with Bucky sandwiched between the two widows. Yelena and Bucky alternated between shoving fistfuls of popcorn into their mouths and shouting at the television as an explosion flashed on the screen, while Natasha sat with her legs curled up under her, sipping a glass of merlot as she occasionally teased Sam about dying in the game.

“Theo, hey,” Steve waved from the other side of the living room, where he stretched across on the couch with sock-covered feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Hey,” Theo waved as she took her usual seat, curling into the corner of the couch. “So, which game is this?”

“Halo–” Yelena replied between mouthfuls of popcorn, “— Genetically enhanced super soldiers fighting aliens.”

“I thought the point of playing video games was to take a break from reality…” Theo glanced around the room. “How is ‘genetically enhanced super soldiers fighting aliens’ any different from what we already do?”

“It’s fictional.” Yelena shrugged, despite the knowing grin she wore.

“Hey, bird brain, don’t you have something to ask Theo?” Bucky threw a piece of popcorn at Sam, bouncing a fluffy kernel off Sam’s head; Sam scowled, but kept his eyes on the screen.

“Ask me what?” Theo glanced between the others expectantly, her pulse quickening ever so slightly.

They must have been talking about her… But why?

“Fuck! I was so close!” Sam groaned as a message flashed across the television screen stating his team lost. He tossed the controller at Bucky, who effortlessly caught it in his non-vibranium hand. “You try.”

“Is anyone going to tell me what I’m supposed to be asked about?” Theo repeated, her chest tightening as she tried to guess what they wanted. She couldn’t think of anything that she did recently to raise any suspicions, and the way Bucky brought it up made it sound like it wasn’t anything serious…

“Dammit Buck, I was gonna ask her when it was just the two of us.” Sam glared at Bucky, who was too busy setting up the next round of whatever shooting game they had decided on for that night.

“Okay, now I’m just getting nervous.” Theo tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t do much to cover up her ballooning nerves.

“Nah, don’t be - I just need advice… ” Sam rubbed his face with both hands, conveniently hiding any clues Theo might have gathered from his expression. “... Dating advice.”

“Dating advice?” Theo’s brows shot skyward as she echoed Sam’s message back to him.

“Yeah. There’s a hot doc that you work with, and I want to see if she’s interested.”

Well, that certainly changed things.

Theo struggled to keep her cool, cheeks and jaw tensing to prevent a grin from curling up her lips...

.. What were the odds that Sam shared Julie’s crush?

“Thing is, the only way I ever run into her is when I need to get patched up —“ Sam continued, “— not exactly great for getting to know each other...”

“… So you want my help getting close to her?” Theo ventured, her mind running wild with possibilities. “Who is it?!”

“Oh hell no, I’m not telling!” Sam laughed sheepishly, “Not until I know if she’s interested too!”

“How can I help if I don’t know who it is?” Theo pointed out, “it’s not like all doctors are the same! What works for Julie won’t work for Helen!”

If Theo didn’t know any better, she swore she saw Sam’s cheeks flush at Julie’s name; then again, that might have been in her head.

“Watch him when he’s in the ER,” Bucky commented, not missing a beat even as all of his attention seemed focused on the video game. “You'll know in two seconds.”

“As much as I don’t want you to need to go to the ER, now I’m curious - maybe we can beat you up a bit during training so you need to pay a visit.” Theo teased, smirking at Sam. Yelena laughed, offering to beat him up, while Natasha and Steve exchanged knowing glances.

“Not you too–” Sam groaned, before pointing at Yelena and Bucky. “ – that’s the same thing these assholes recommended!”

“Because it’s good advice!” Yelena huffed, crossing her arms. “You want to see her? That’s how!”

“Oh come on, you really think that’s my advice?! I’m not that terrible,” Theo scoffed, feigning offense. “My first piece of advice would be to talk to her and see what she likes outside of work, then figure out a way to ask her to hang out and do something she enjoys. But unless you tell me who it is, you’re going to need to work up the courage to stop by the ED specifically to talk to her, or you’ll have to wait until you actually have a reason to get patched up.”

Sam let out a sharp breath, shoulders slumping as he narrowed his eyes at Theo. “And if I tell you?”

“Maybe I can help — invite them over when we do a movie night or something,” Theo offered, this time not bothering to hide her smile. After all, Theo was not above a quid pro quo - she gets to satisfy her curiosity, and Sam gets a chance to talk to whoever he’s crushing on. Win-win, really.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Theo. “… Let me think about it.”

Theo stood up and stretched her arms overhead; since it seemed like Sam had put an end to the conversation, it was as good of a moment as any to step away for a moment and get herself some water. As she sauntered towards the kitchen, she called over her shoulder: “Your choice, but it doesn’t have to be hard!”

Conversation continued among the others as Theo entered the kitchen, voices laughing and chattering over each other so Theo couldn’t make out what anyone said.

Theo moved on autopilot as she found a glass and added some ice from the freezer, mind spinning as she tried to recall any details from past interactions that would help her figure out which of her colleagues caught Sam’s eye. Even as she moved to the sink to fill her glass, her thoughts remained so occupied with the new mystery that she barely paid her surroundings any mind.

“You feared the Avengers would never trust you, yet Wilson trusts you enough to seek your guidance in matters of the heart; I dare say that your concerns were unfounded.” A low voice spoke from just behind Theo — a smooth baritone that she recognized anywhere, even if it startled her so badly that she dropped her glass and nearly jumped through the ceiling from shock.

A flash of emerald shot forth. Loki caught the glass just before it clattered into the sink, all the while failing to stifle his laughter at the string of curses that fell from Theo’s mouth.

“Can’t you just say hi like a normal person?!” Theo pressed one hand to her heart in a feeble attempt to settle her racing heart, all the while glaring at Loki.

“When such amusement is a possibility? Absolutely not.” Loki grinned, offering Theo her water glass. She snatched it from him, taking a quick drink of water before turning back to the sink and topping it off.

For a moment, Theo considered finding some way to fuck with Loki so he couldn’t gloat so much, but after Loki had a difficult month (between the shitty anniversaries and Thor nearly dying, calling it difficult was probably an understatement), Loki needed the chance to loosen up and laugh. Besides, he was the first friend Theo made when she moved into the tower, and even if she wouldn’t admit it outright, Theo was grateful that Loki had been right.

So, she simply rolled her eyes and smiled.

“You’ve not responded to my original comment,” Loki pointed out, smug satisfaction dancing in his tone.

“Sam’s interested in one of my colleagues,” Theo attempted to brush off Loki’s observation, her cheeks burning as they undoubtedly flushed.

“I heard…” Loki leaned back against the kitchen counter, a lazy smile dangling on his lips as he looked at Theo. “Still, he trusts you.”

“Not enough to tell me who it is,” Theo grumbled, setting her water glass on the marble counter as she pretended to pout so she could cross her arms. “How long were you lurking there?”

“Long enough,” Loki simply shrugged, eyes twinkling from the reflection of the kitchen lights as he looked at Theo. “The exchange reminded me - are you still courting your gentleman caller?”

Theo couldn’t stifle the snort of laughter that escaped from Loki’s unironic use of the term “gentleman caller;” she slapped both hands over her mouth, entire face now aflame with embarrassment from the ridiculous sound.

Loki tilted his head at Theo’s reaction, brows furrowed in a silent question.

“Am I supposed to ignore the fact that you just used the term gentleman caller?” Theo finally managed, still chuckling as she repeated the term.

“Is there another term I ought to use?” Despite the neutral tone of Loki’s reply, his cheeks took on a faint shade of pink that stood out against his porcelain skin. “Or am I to presume you are no longer courting him?”

“I’m still seeing him, but I don’t think that ‘gentleman callers’ exist in modern day dating,” Theo couldn’t wipe the smile off her face from hearing the term in daily conversation. “Feminism and all that.”

“Ah, yes, forgive me.” The flush on Loki’s cheeks grew more noticeable. “Nonetheless, you are still courting him?”

“Yeah,” Theo nodded. “Why?”

“You’ve not spoken of him in quite some time.” Loki shrugged; the gesture looked like an attempt to be nonchalant, which matched his tone, but something about the movement seemed a bit… forced.

“You were busy supporting Thor, and I was busy supporting you, so it didn’t seem like the thing to discuss at the time.” Theo offered a sheepish smile as she explained her reasoning. “Besides, it’s nothing serious.”

In response, Loki leaned away ever-so-slightly, narrowing his eyes with a slight frown as he studied Theo.

“What?” Theo tensed as heart quickened in her chest, confused by Loki’s reaction.

“Midgardians often speak of love at first sight; after quite some time, your feelings for the actor seem ambivalent at best, yet you continue to court him,” Loki remarked slowly, continuing to look at her with a perplexed expression. “It’s rather odd.”

Odd - with a silent sigh of relief, Theo relaxed, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight – that’s lust,” Theo winked, shaking her head. “We’re just having fun and enjoying each other’s company, that’s all.”

“I see,” with a nod, Loki hummed to himself. “Do you foresee the relationship turning into something greater?”

“I don’t know,” Theo shrugged. “Never gave it much thought, if I’m honest.”

As she answered the question, a thought occurred to her: Loki asked about her dating life, but Theo never asked about his…

“Speaking of dating, did I see you bring someone up to your suite after Stark’s fundraiser a few months back?” Theo cocked a brow at him, a sly grin spread over her face. “What’s going on there?”

“Rest assured, I’ve not kept any partners from you,” Loki replied with a smirk of his own. “I am… not one for attachment, shall we say.”

“So she was a booty call?” Theo giggled, earning a venomously dirty look from Loki. “Well, what would you call it?”

“I prefer to have companions for a single evening,” Loki dryly answered, a pale pink blush returning to his cheeks. “It’s less complicated that way.”

“Is that so?” Theo teased, her grin widening to the point that her cheeks hurt as Loki’s blush grew brighter.

“Yes –” Loki’s explanation took on an edge of defensiveness as his expression teetered on the verge of a scowl. “It’s not as uncommon as you might think, particularly among our peers.”

Theo barely managed to keep a straight face, all-too-amused by how quickly Loki became flustered.

“Civilians do not understand the nature of our roles, so relationships that are not between two agents or established prior to one becoming an Avenger are practically doomed from the start,” Loki continued. “Having seen the effect of those failed relationships on others, I have chosen to refrain from courting anyone.”

Theo’s stomach lurched at the observation, her prior amusement vanishing in an instant. She quickly grabbed her water glass, taking a long sip of chilled liquid to ground herself before the implications could make her spiral.

“That being said, physical desire is a near-universal experience, or a need, if you will—” If Theo’s expression shifted, Loki must not have noticed; the usual glint of something clever returned to his eye, as did a wry smirk. “—And sometimes our needs… Well… They need to be satiated.”

“Can’t fault you there.” Theo covered up her discomfort from Loki’s earlier comment with a smirk and a wink of her own. She started towards the living room, glancing back at Loki over her shoulder. “Some of us are hanging out in the living room. You want to join?”

Loki nodded, pressing away from the counter and following Theo into the living room.

Amidst a chorus of greetings directed at Loki, Theo took her usual seat, but this time stretched her legs out across the cushions so there wasn’t room for anyone else to sit. She looked up and grinned at Loki, who stood in front of the couch like he was about to take his usual place beside her.

With narrowed eyes flitting between the seat and Theo, Loki arched one brow in a silent challenge. Theo simply widened her grin, curious to see what would follow.

To Theo’s surprise, Loki didn’t say anything; instead, he picked up both of Theo’s legs, moving them out of the way so he could sit down; once he settled into his seat, he placed both of Theo’s feet on his lap, as a result returning Theo to her initial position. He capped off the response by flashing an impish grin at Theo, a sort of silent taunt - “you thought you could try me? Foolish mortal.”

Other than a suspicious glance exchanged between the widows, it didn’t seem like anyone even noticed the exchange between Loki and Theo.

Despite Theo’s playful behavior, Loki’s comment about relationships doomed from the start lurked in the dark recesses of her mind, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Even as she forced herself to pay attention while Sam and Bucky explained the rules of the particular type of Halo match they selected for the evening, Theo couldn’t shake the vague uneasiness that the comment initially instilled within her.

A good night text from Chris, something which usually made Theo’s heart flutter in her chest, instead filled her with dread. However, Theo kept her discomfort close to her chest, acting like nothing was amiss as she replied to Chris, wishing him a good night. When Theo returned her attention back to her friends, she tucked her concern away behind carefully crafted smiles and quick-witted comments with such practiced ease that it should have been concerning.

Only when she had retreated to the privacy of her suite, after turning out the lights and tucking herself beneath her thick, plush comforter, did she allow the matter to crawl out from the shadows and capture her attention.

When Theo accepted the offer to go on a date, she hadn’t even considered that the difference in careers/experiences would influence their relationship, or the special considerations that she needed to make. Given her career as a doctor, she was used to missing holidays, birthdays, and special occasions because of work. Chris had, up to that point, seemed perfectly fine with that. With healthcare privacy laws, it wasn’t odd for Theo to avoid talking about work with other people, and that naturally flowed into her relationships, another thing that Chris never seemed to mind. He didn’t care that she never brought him up to her suite, and that they always stayed at his apartment.

Maybe she was overthinking it - they never said anything about getting serious. Besides, she didn’t know the circumstances of the failed relationships that Loki referred to. Other factors could have impacted those relationships.

Still, the idea of Chris inevitably being hurt because of Theo’s lack of foresight left a bitter taste in her mouth. The last thing Theo needed was to hurt anyone else, but time and time again she made the same mistakes, and innocent people were caught in the crossfire.

Staring up at her ceiling, Theo drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Up until that night, she had no reason to worry about the future with Chris. He hadn’t made any indication that he wanted to pursue a long-term relationship. At that point, they were more of a situationship than anything - they didn’t change their lives for each other, they simply saw each other when it was convenient. That was okay. Theo was fine with that.

Hopefully Chris was alright with that as well.

You tried to play it down But it never stuck I tried to bail this town I'm getting no such luck, yeah When nobody's around I keep my eyes on the clock There ain't a cure I've found In all my times around this block Every day we still try Every night we still cry We’re driving home on the 405

Between the overly loud sounds that Midgardians called music, the throngs of sweaty people, and the sharp stench of alcohol, Loki vehemently regretted allowing Maximoff to convince him to partake in this particular outing.

One of the local bars, the Hi-Lo, hosted an event they decided to call “Emo Night.” Maximoff’s explanation of “Emo Night” conveniently omitted that the “music” was far too loud and the quality of “singing” was questionable at best. Quite frankly, the quality of the scratchy, sometimes guttural noise could hardly be classified as singing, yet the people around them “danced” all the same - that was, if one could call shoving each other about in a sweaty horde dancing.

Theo informed him the correct term was “moshing,” but Loki felt “barbaric stumbling” would be more appropriate.

Some of their entourage seemed right at home. After freeing himself from the Winter Soldier’s programming, Barnes had grown fond of the loud and angsty racket. Maximoff had a penchant for live music, though this escapade made Loki question how the Scarlet Witch defined music. Though Wilson did not seem invested in the performance, he seemed quite comfortable with the strange cacophony – particularly strange given his typically warm and straightforward nature.

Others, however, shared a response akin to Loki’s. Rogers hung back near the bar, nursing a bottle of beer with ear plugs in as he watched the scene unfold with an openly perplexed expression. Romanoff sat on a bar stool beside him, maintaining her usually neutral expression while drinking some sort of dark-colored cocktail from a cheap plastic cup. Despite shifting his appearance to look human, any passerby could have concluded that Vision’s presence in the midst of the drunken chaos was not natural. Amidst a sea of dark, casual clothing, Vision wore a pastel blue sweater and well-tailored pants. The android’s complexion lacked the flush of alcohol and the sweat from ‘moshing;’ combined with his lack of movement and mild expression, only emphasized the utterly strange nature of the event. Had it not been for Maximoff’s presence in the crowd, the android would undoubtedly have chosen a different location from which to observe the spectacle.

Until that evening, Loki assumed Theo would not be at home in such a ruckus - though she had performed in similar venues prior to becoming an Avenger, her musical prowess seemed far more advanced than this drivel.

Yet, to Loki’s shock (and concern), Theo also claimed to be a fan of the so-called music; though she initially stood beside Loki as the so-called band performed, after bobbing her head to a couple of songs she disappeared into the sea of people as they jumped and screamed incomprehensible lyrics off-key.

Left by himself in what might have been his personal hell, Loki cursed Theo for abandoning him, only to chastise himself for such a thought; after all, Theo had attempted to warn Loki of what he would experience.

Earlier that afternoon, when Maximoff said “You’ll love it Lokes,” to which Loki rolled his eyes — it didn’t matter how many times he told Maximoff, she insisted on calling him Lokes — Theo couldn’t hold back the snort as she countered, “Given your thoughts on Tony’s music, you’ll probably hate it. But hey, you’ll probably enjoy the people watching.”

Theo was not to blame for Loki’s current predicament; if anything, the only person Loki could truly blame was himself. After all, he was the one who accepted the invitation.

The sound of distorted guitar shook the walls, his shoes stuck to the floor, and he couldn’t tell if he smelled stale beer or body odor - or both - but the scent was utterly repulsive. There were far too many people packed into such a small place, and they were drunken imbeciles. Even if he wanted to people-watch, it was too chaotic to tell what was going on. With the unnecessarily loud noise coming from the stage, a conversation would be near-impossible, no matter where he stood.

Then again, now that he was alone and everyone else was distracted by other things, no one would miss him if he left. Loki glanced over his shoulder at the exit, debating whether or not he should attempt to slip away at that moment, or wait until a break between songs.

The collision of another person bumping against Loki’s hip interrupted Loki’s train of thought. He whipped around, ready to unleash a series of insults at whoever dared to run into him, only to find Theo standing before him with two identical plastic cups in hand, both filled with a dark liquid similar to what Romanoff drank. The insults died on Loki’s tongue as she offered him one plastic cup, glancing down at the cup and then back at Loki before mouthing “for you.”

Loki lifted the cup and sniffed the drink; the saccharine scent of Midgardian soda intertwined with a spicy, sharp scent akin to some sort of Midgardian alcohol filled his nose, which he quite preferred to the establishment’s fetid aroma. However, Midgardian liquor would not be enough to dull his senses and render the evening tolerable; a tense chuckle – hardly more than a puff of air – escaped him at the thought.

When he looked back at Theo, her previously free hand now dangled a steel flask between two fingers for Loki to see, as if she could read his mind.

“Spiked with Thor’s whiskey,” Theo called out over the music, “You look like you need it.”

Loki rolled his eyes, schooling the discomfort from his face as he took a swallow of the beverage.

As if the Norns recognized Loki’s frustration from the inability to converse, the ending of the next song brought a short break in the music - just long enough for the performers to switch instruments - after a relentless barrage of sensory overload, the lack of screeching instruments filling the air was a blessed reprieve.

“Honestly, how can anyone enjoy such nonsense?” Loki leaned in towards Theo, still forced to raise his voice in order to be heard over the hollering from the inebriated audience. “It’s horrendously loud, the musicians are off-key, and the technique is terrible.”

Theo failed to bite back a grin, unfazed by Loki’s ire. “It’s not about perfection, Lo.”

“Lo?” Loki raised an eyebrow at her.

Theo faltered, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “That’s okay, right?”

Loki sighed. “It’s—” tolerable, at the very least “—fine.”

Begrudgingly, Loki suspected that there were many things he’d allow Theo to call him that he wouldn’t allow anyone other than Thor to even consider.

“It’s about the feeling behind it. It helps us deal with the bad shit, like anger and sadness —“ Theo glanced toward the stage, then back at Loki. “— Life isn’t perfect. Music shouldn’t be perfect either.”

Much to Loki’s dismay, the band’s vocalist approached the microphone and announced the start of the next song.

Theo, however, lit up, practically glowing despite the dark venue.

“Listen closely to the lyrics—“ Theo instructed (via shouting) as the first chords and the drunken ruckus of the entire venue singing off-key slammed against Loki’s ears, “this is a good example!”

Had anyone else made the request, Loki would have outright refused; however, Loki trusted Theo enough to comply, and begrudgingly put forth a concerted effort to listen closely.

A few lines in, Theo joined in singing:

“The highway won / I’m listening to traffic reports one on one, coming quietly undone / I was born to run away from anything good / an escape artist’s son / sun drenched pavement in my blood / the first thing that I do when I walk in / is find a way out for when shit gets bad, and…”

Theo kept eye contact with Loki as she sang along; a wistful look in her eyes made Loki recall some of the emotions he’d buried from his younger years. An uncomfortable void swirled in his chest as he stood amidst what he might consider to be the first tier of his personal hell.

Yet, the song barreled on and Loki forced himself to continue focusing on the lyrical content. Though the writing was not Shakespeare by any stretch of the imagination, the lyricism surprised Loki with its complexity and depth. References to historical events - the Cold War scares of the sixties - interlaced with references to the lingering sentiment within tragedy led to commentary around existential anxiety, loneliness, and the fear of not fulfilling one’s potential.

Loki glanced back over to Theo, who continued to watch him while singing along. She flashed a small, almost sheepish smile as the song reached its bridge:

“Jesus Christ, I’m twenty six / all the people I graduated with / all have kids, all have wives / all have people who care if they come home at night / well Jesus Christ, did I fuck up?”

Even in the poor lighting, Loki caught a glimpse of something painful behind Theo’s expression as she uttered the phrase ‘did I fuck up?’ The expression, however, was fleeting, replaced with a different sort of intensity as Theo locked eyes with Loki for the final chorus:

“I've been looking for tears in the screen door / and I’ve been waiting for another disaster / but I was kinda hoping you’d stay / I was kinda hoping you’d stay / I was kinda hoping you’d… stay.”

Though the song concluded, neither sorcerer made any effort to look away; something unspoken and inexplicable held them in place, frozen in a moment despite the chaos and discord of their surroundings…

… Until said chaos and discord quite literally crashed into them.

Some drunken oaf had been shoved from the crowd and into Theo’s side, knocking her off balance. Theo let out a shriek of surprise as she stumbled forward in an attempt to not crash into Loki or spill her drink.

Without a second thought, Loki practically dove to catch her before the horde could trample her in their ‘moshing,’ even though it made his drink splash out of the cup in the process. Ignoring the liquid dripping off his other hand, he hoisted Theo up by her elbow and pulled her into his chest to steady her, at least until she regained her footing.

Yet, when he felt her weight lift, he hesitated to let go.

“Are you alright?” Loki leaned down, close enough that his cheek brushed against Theo’s temple as he spoke into her ear.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Theo tilted her head back, the soft skin of her nose brushing against the crook of Loki’s jaw as she replied; the sensation sent a pleasant chill down Loki’s spine. “Thanks!”

Theo stepped back, and Loki forced himself to let go; though they met each other’s gaze again, this time neither of them allowed the moment to last.

Stifled by the sheer volume of the music, the only conversation between Loki and Theo until the end of the event consisted passing comments from time to time - Theo sharing thoughts on a particular song, Loki offering to bring Theo a refill when they both finished their drinks, or one of the pair pointing out something particularly amusing.

Between comments, Loki often caught Theo singing along, though she did so in a far more discreet manner than anyone else in the venue. Despite Loki’s best attempts to focus on Theo’s voice, the sound was lost in a swell of drums and guitars and other voices. The effort invested into trying to hear Theo successfully distracted Loki from the disdain he held for everything else about his surroundings, though it did nothing to dampen the disappointment when he could not hear her far-more-melodic voice floating through the air.

Perhaps if Theo was the one singing them, or the one playing the songs on piano, he might enjoy them more.

After far too long, the return of overhead lighting and disappearance of musicians from the stage confirmed that the event had finally drawn to a close. Wrangling the various members of their entourage required a bit of teamwork and effort, but it was not long before the Avengers exited the establishment and felt the blessedly cool air of the city against their skin.

It did not take long before the Avengers split into smaller groups along the sidewalk, a mixture of varied walking speeds and small conversations naturally pairing certain avengers with others. Maximioff and Barnes led the group, laughing and singing along to themselves as they stumbled along. Close behind, Vision and Wilson kept a close eye on their companions as they chatted with Romanoff and Rogers.

From the back of the group, Loki observed his surroundings while relishing the quiet of night. Quiet, of course, was relative - in a city such as New York, the bustle of traffic remained such a constant that it turned into white noise with due time. Strangers occasionally passed on the sidewalk, barely giving any of the Avengers a second glance as they ventured to mystery destinations in the night.

Farther ahead, a beggar sat near an alleyway, his back against a dumpster so thoroughly covered in graffiti that it would have been impossible to guess its original color; as groups of people passed without paying the man any mind, Loki couldn’t help but notice the man’s resigned sadness.

“... You survived.” The comment, clearly directed towards Loki, drew his attention from the beggar, though he did not catch the full remark.

“Pardon?” As Loki replied, he glanced over to find Theo walking beside him, somehow managing to keep pace despite her much shorter stature.

“So, you survived Emo night,” Theo repeated with a coy grin. “How terrible was it?”

“It is certainly not how I would choose to spend my time,” Loki dryly replied. “Nor is it something I would have expected you to enjoy.”

“Thought I had more cultured taste?” Theo teased, bumping Loki’s hip with hers as they strolled along.

“Clearly I was mistaken.” Loki chuckled and shook his head. “Tell me you do not subject your actor to such nonsense…”

“You think I can walk into a bar with him and not be swarmed?” Theo cocked a brow as she looked up at Loki. Despite the amused smirk she wore, something bittersweet lurked beneath her gaze. “Even if he could get in without drawing attention, I think the internet would drag me for bringing him to a place like that.”

“Drag you?” Loki echoed, hoping Theo might clarify what she meant by such a term.

“Chew me out. Chastise me. That sort of thing.” Theo sighed, looking ahead once more. “It’s not exactly a luxury hot spot; I’m guessing Chris’s fans would think this kind of place is beneath him.”

“What would he think?”

“I couldn’t see him having fun, but I don’t really know,” Theo admitted with such nonchalance that it almost seemed odd. “He seems too happy to really get the appeal.”

Loki froze in place, struck by Theo’s answer. Yes, Loki had endured hardships that others might not understand, but no one could truly exist without heartache, could they?

Theo stopped a step ahead and glanced back at Loki. “What?”

“I–” Loki faltered, grasping for the appropriate response. “Surely he has experienced emotions other than happiness?”

“I mean, sure?” Theo glanced ahead at the rest of the group, then back at Loki. “Look, we don’t really talk about shit like that, but I don’t think he’s ever had a bad thing happen to him. If I ever got the crazy idea to talk to him about a bad day at work, I don’t doubt that he’d listen and try to make me feel better, but I doubt he’d really understand.”

“The more you reveal about your relationship, the less I understand the appeal.” Loki shook his head and started forward once more. “I thought that Midgardians valued love for the emotional connection, and yet you seem all too content to avoid emotions in your courtship with the actor.”

“We connect in other ways.” Theo’s tone held a certain cheekiness to it, which she paired with an equally cheeky grin. “I could tell you about the se–”

“– No, I think I am quite alright –” Loki replied rather sharply, cheeks burning as he forced images of Theo in a compromising position from his mind. The last thing he needed was to linger on such inappropriate thoughts, particularly with another Avenger.

“– Hey, you were the one who said everyone has needs –” Theo pointed out, far too self-satisfied in her response, “I figured you’d get it.”

“I do not need the mundane details to understand the appeal of physical intimacy.” Loki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I simply do not understand why you bother with the rest of the courtship if you’ve no interest in further commitment.”

Theo did not have an immediate answer; she drew in a breath as if to speak, but remained quiet.

By that point, the pair had walked far enough that they were about to pass the beggar Loki had previously noticed; at that point, they were close enough that Loki could clearly make out the creases of age and weathered skin, as well as the faint wisps of silver where a once robust head of hair likely sat. The man’s earlier melancholy lingered in Loki’s memory, and sentiment tugged at Loki’s heartstrings, compelling him to do something.

All it took was a twitch of Loki’s fingers to conjure some cash in hand; if nothing else, Loki figured the man could use the money for a night of shelter and a warm meal. Yet, before Loki had the chance to acknowledge the man, Theo had already greeted the man by name, then crouched down so she was at eye-level before she extended some sort of plastic card to him, saying something Loki didn't quite catch. The man, however, grinned at Theo, his smile highlighting gaps where his teeth had fallen out at some point, before thanking her for her generosity.

Dumbfounded, Loki offered a quick greeting and extended the cash, which the elderly man thanked him for, though it was not with the level of warmth that the man exuded when he spoke to Theo.

The moment they were not within earshot of the man, Loki turned to Theo. “You know him?”

“Before I was an Avenger, I played a lot of shows in this area,” Theo explained with a small shrug. “Greg used to be the janitor at one of the local bars, but since I last saw him, he had to quit because of some health problems that left him unable to work. Between the treatment and the lack of income he couldn’t pay rent and ended up on the streets.

“I didn’t find out until a couple weeks ago, when I was walking home and I recognized him, so I stopped to talk to him and learned about what happened. I told myself that the next time I saw him, I’d put Tony’s insane bank account to use and give him enough money that he would never have to sleep on the street again, and he wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet The card has contact info for some people who can help him with the logistics.”

“Awfully generous of you,” Loki remarked.

“Hey, you didn’t even know him, but you still gave a bit of cash too,” Theo pointed out with a soft smile. “Most people would have ignored him.”

“Yes, well, back to our previous conversation–” Uncomfortable with the direction with which Theo took his remark, Loki quickly diverted the conversation. “–You never answered my question.”

“What question?” Theo glanced at Loki as they rounded the corner, Avengers Tower stretching into the sky ahead of them.

“Why bother with a courtship if you have no intention of pursuing a serious relationship?”

“You’re reading too much into this,” Theo laughed nervously as she shook her head. “It’s not that I refuse to be in a serious relationship - I just like to go with the flow.”

Yet, contrary to what Theo said, a familiar melancholy in Theo’s eye said otherwise - the same melancholy he caught when Theo sang, ‘the first thing that I do when I walk in is find a way out for when shit gets bad, and / I’ve been looking for tears in the screen door / and I’ve been waiting for another disaster…’

That look in Theo’s eye told Loki everything he needed to know.

We don't know what we're doing Let's do it again, yeah, you know We're just amateur lovers With amateur friends I can tell you what you're thinking now Before you think it you can settle down Our lovin' isn't gonna burn us out We don't know what we're doing Let's do it again Yeah, let's do it again

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