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sortagaysortahigh · 5 days ago

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Sunshine | Joaquin Torres

A/N: Yall let me start by saying, this is a labor of love, my first ever long fic with no smut and honestly im not mad! I love plot! I live for plot! I live for PLOT!!! also this is introducing a potential Frat!AU i might dive into with other characters <3. I introduce you to: grumpy x sunshine, college!athlete!joaquin, pining, enemies-ish to lovers and just pining and idiots in love fr. I tried adding smut, i rlly did, but i couldnt do it <3 this went so many different directions. Also, no beta, no edits, we die like men.

Summary: Joaquin Torres had a reputation to upkeep, one that wasn't entirely accurate, but it was easier to fake the front. Or at least it was, until he realized he was falling for you, but you wanted nothing to do with that version of him OR Joaquin Torres pins after you, showing you who he really is, and you finally let him in

Warnings: Spelling and grammar errors (I am who I am), cursing, joaquin's dramatic, so is reader, illusions to growing up poor (no major angst WOOO HOO!! BOOM SHAKA LAKA YES FLUFF!), minor violence, Steve and Bucky are just reader's pseudo-older brothers atp, time skips, 2nd person pov, no y/n!!! wooo!!!!, cuddling, make-out sessions, these two are a lil horny ngl, but nothing major! Perspective switch halfway thru from Joaquin to Reader

Word Count: 29.5k

College!Athlete!Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader

He's such a cutiepie omg yall <3 here's the fic!:

The biggest issue with a facade is figuring out how to stop people from seeing through its cracks. It was easy to pretend to be someone or something that you’re not, but it’s not easy to uphold that image—especially for Joaquin Torres.

Over the past three years Joaquin Torres has managed to portray the image of a cocky athlete and wealthy frat boy. Was he cocky and a damn good athlete? Absolutely. However, he wasn’t rich, not in the slightest. But after joining his fraternity during his second semester in college, somehow, someway, that became his image.

He honestly couldn’t remember what started the facade, maybe it was the way the other guys in his pledge class constantly hyped him up, or maybe it was the way he didn’t deny any of their proclamations about who he was or what he did. Most of them at that point in time only really knew him as the star center forward on the men’s soccer team.

It probably didn’t help that he drove a nice car, it wasn’t anything too fancy, if anything it looked nicer than it really was. When he’d first started working on the BMW it didn’t even have a bumper, a working engine, or actual wheels. To be fair, it wasn’t his choice to get it, his pseudo-uncle had purchased it and since Joaquin needed a summer job at the age of fourteen, he ended up working at his uncle’s body shop.

The rest was history.

To be fair, he’d put a lot of work into the car, and he still did.

Plus, college athletic sponsorships did pay pretty well, even as a freshman he’d been getting contracts. Then of course he had a full ride to the university based on his athleticism, and his SAT scores were pretty helpful in that department as well.

Chicago University wasn’t exactly his first choice—his first choice was Miami. However, their engineering programs weren’t as good as Chicagos, and Chicago offered him a full ride, Miami was only seventy-five percent. So he’d gone where the money was.

On campus, Joaquin never really had to worry about money, which might’ve also influenced the facade he’d been upholding for a few years. As long as he performed well on the field, excelled in his classes, and met each requirement of his scholarship, he’d be alright.

Joining the fraternity wasn’t something he’d wanted to do initially, but his then teammate—now fraternity brother Miguel O’Hara convinced him to try it; if he didn’t like it, he could always drop.

It did help that it was the largest multicultural fraternity on campus, and it was genuinely diverse, not just the ‘oh we have one or two people of color that we photograph for our instagram pages’ kind of diverse.

But as it turns out, the social aspect of it all was nice, he was already pretty well known within his circles on campus, but being in the frat only amped up his popularity, and the girls were always a bonus. He’d also met several guys who he genuinely did learn a lot from, although some of the choices and lessons were a bit questionable—but everyone makes bad decisions in college.

There were only a handful of people that knew who Joaquin genuinely was. He liked it that way, most of them were in his fraternity, and a few of them were on his team. Outside of that, there were only a few staff and faculty members such as his academic advisor and head coach.

It’s also important to note that while soccer is at the forefront of his priorities to this day, Joaquin’s academics have always been his number one priority in school. He needed to maintain a 2.5 grade point average to keep his athletic scholarship, but Joaquin always managed to go above and beyond when it came to his academics, so as a junior, he currently has a 3.8 average.

Of course, he could’ve had a 4.0, but he finished with Bs in two math classes last semester.

The courses were difficult to say the least, and he wasn’t able to frequent his professor’s office hours due to his athletic schedule, so he had to settle for asking his fraternity brothers, friends, teammates, and their girlfriends for all the help he could get.

None of them were exactly mathematical geniuses.

His fraternity brother, Bucky Barnes always said he knew a girl but she was always working anytime Joaquin was actually free. So he was constantly, in the words of his other frat brother Sam Wilson, ‘shit outta luck’.

It wasn’t like Joaquin’s courses were easy, and honestly, he was always way more stressed out than he appeared. As a double major on track to actually graduate on time, while being a student athlete—some days felt like hell for him. Not to mention being actively involved with his fraternity, and doing his best to attend any community service events that actually fit into his schedule proved to make him much busier than expected.

Then of course, factoring the night life aspect of college. Parties every weekend, bar hopping, hosting, drinking, and doing it all over again.

Some weeks felt like Hell.

Running suicides while hungover, swearing he’d never drink again, just to do it again the following weekend was being a college athlete in a nutshell.

He also had to balance his social life, occasionally spending several hundred on random things like liquor bottles at clubs just to upkeep the facade that he’d accidentally curated. The thought of spending three hundred dollars on a bottle of liquor that was only fifty dollars at the liquor store made him cringe—if his mother could see him—she would’ve slapped him with her chancla.

But she couldn’t see him, and she couldn’t judge him if she didn’t know.

He kept parts of himself away from his family, mainly because he wanted to avoid their judgement, and he knew they would be judgemental—they were a latino family from Miami. Of course they’d be judgemental. His tia’s were already constantly asking him if he had finally found a girlfriend, meanwhile Joaquin had been harboring the same crush on a girl he’d shared a few classes with freshman and sophomore year.

He knew little to nothing about her, all he knew was that she was either an engineering or computer science major because she was in the same courses as him and prerequisite courses. All he knew was she was some kind of STEM major, and that she was really, really pretty.

Joaquin double majored in computer science and electrical engineering, he’d said it once to her, or rather to a group of people that she was also sitting and talking to in the second semester of their freshman year. She hadn’t even responded with anything other than a hum while she focused on an assignment.

Some days he still thought about that day.

Or the day that he’d held the elevator for her during the fall of sophomore year in the science building. They had biology together that semester, and she thanked him without looking up from her notebook where she was clearly reading over the pre-lab notes from the last lecture.

He’d stuttered out a ‘no problem’ that sounded awkward. Anytime she was around, Joaquin was constantly stumbling over his words. For someone fluent in both English and Spanish, she somehow reduced him to nothing but awkward sounds, gestures, and stutters—meanwhile she didn’t even need to speak to him. Just being in her presence turned him into a bumbling idiot.

It was embarrassing, to the point that he’d told Peter Parker and Miles Morales about it—two of his closest friends. Peter was a fellow engineering major, but he focused on engineering physics instead of electrical engineering like Joaquin, and Miles was on the soccer team—he also majored in computer science.

Both of them had laughed at him.

Although when he told Bob Reynolds—his other very close friend, Bob told him to just ask the girl out, which Joaquin attempted to do, however when he spotted her the week after, she’d absentmindedly walked right past him, too focused on the notes in hand to notice him waiting on her.

It was safe to say that he was utterly hopeless when it came to that girl.

He didn’t even know her name! Part of that was entirely his fault, too focused on staring and zoning out while imagining a future together to process her name.

Sure he had his fair share of one night stands and half-decent situationships, it came with the territory of being a student athlete and a guy in a fraternity. But in the back of his mind, he knew he’d still harbored that same crush.

Joaquin chose to swallow the crush down and not wallow in the fact that he was practically pathetic, harboring a childish infatuation with a girl that had never even given him a second glance. Instead he focused on his athletics and academics, and of course, his social life.

But lately, he’d been staying away from the party atmosphere, mainly because midterms were approaching, the soccer team was undefeated, and he had too much stress and pressure on his shoulders to have time to slack off. So he spent his free time in the library, opting to spend time with his friends studying instead of partying.

When some of them would head out to a party, he was always offered an invite, but he declined them, to some people he’d make up excuses, to those that he was close to—he’d be honest. He had too much going on to want to slack off.

Especially because midterm grades could very easily get him benched.

It made sense that he was in the library, he was actually supposed to be there an hour earlier, but he’d gotten caught up in his professor’s office hours, asking for an explanation on a lab that he’d missed, then he proceeded to actually do said lab and he’d done relatively well—all things considered.

So now he was rushing through the library, headed to the study room that Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Natasha would most likely be in.

Steve Rogers was one of Bucky’s friends and hockey teammates, he was also a member of the fraternity. Joaquin and Steve weren’t close, the blonde was closer to Bucky and Sam—especially Bucky. They’d grown up in Brooklyn together, and when they were both offered positions on the same team for college, they’d taken them without any hesitation.

Sam played for the school’s football team, he’d met Steve and Bucky their freshman year at the gym. Most of the student athletes shared the same gyms, specifically the same large weight rooms. Of course the campus had multiple, but they were divided between the men’s and women’s teams.

So if your season overlapped, odds are you’d befriend other student athletes there.

Sam, Steve, and Bucky were all seniors, set to graduate in the spring.

Natasha Romanoff was best friends with Steve Rogers, they’d met during their shared freshmen orientation, and instantly hit it off. Of course, sometimes their relationship was a little confusing to others—being very platonic but still flirty from time to time.

She was pretty much intertwined into the friend group at this point, and with Nat, came her younger sister Yelena, however, Yelena usually preferred to study alone. Either that or she’d be somewhere on campus sneaking around with her not-so-secret girlfriend Kate Bishop.

Joaquin only knew about their drama because Sam was too invested in it and Natasha loved to gossip with him.

He expected to just walk into the large study room located on the fourth floor of the library in the back near the large windows—the same room they usually would book—and take his usual seat, then dive into whatever he needed to work on.

However, today was clearly very different than any other day, the first red flag should’ve been the blinds being shut in the room, usually the guys left them open so they could see out of the see through glass wall. Sam tried to act as if he did it to let more light in—in reality he did it because he liked to check out the girls that passed, and he’d find excuses to go socialize with other people he knew in the library.

Bucky kept them open because he was mildly paranoid—but that’s just how he was. Always overly cautious about things.

Occasionally, other members of the frat would be in the library as well, but because of athletics schedules, he only had time to study at night after practice—hence studying with Bucky, Sam, and Steve.

The second red flag should’ve been the handwriting on the whiteboard outside of the room that indicated who had the room booked. It wasn’t writing that he recognized, but he knew this was the right room because he’d double checked with the guys prior to rushing across campus from the engineering building where he parked his car because the library garage was closed for renovations.

The third red flag was also the most obvious, Sam had texted that other people would be there today, a friend of Bucky’s that would be helping them through their differential equations work.

But Joaquin hadn’t processed any of those red flags, so when he opened the study room door, his eyes widened at the sight of you—the girl he’d had a crush on for nearly two years. The girl who hadn’t paid him any mind, gaze still focused on the textbook in front of you, brows knit together while you clearly went over someone’s work.

Hell, you had glasses that were slipping down your nose and the sight was making his heart race. You looked so comfortable and casual, hair in it’s usual braids, a university logoed sweater that clearly was too big on you with a single gold chain necklace showing above the collar of the sweatshirt.

His ears were ringing.

Sam looked up, raising a single brow as he looked at Joaquin, then he glanced over at Steve who was clearly putting two and two together, then Natasha smiled at Joaquin, offering a subtle wave before glancing back at her laptop—clearly preoccupied with another paper for one of her pre-law courses.

Bucky was too focused on your pen moving as you worked through a problem to even notice Joaquin.

“Damn, we thought you weren’t gonna make it tonight, got caught up with the lab?” Sam’s voice caught your attention. You finally looked over at him, then your gaze found Joaquin—now making eye contact and Joaquin wasn’t even sure if it was possible, but his eyes widened even more.

Then he blinked a few times, clearing his throat as he nodded his head, taking a seat on the opposite side of the large wooden table, now directly across from you as he pulled out his laptop.

“Uh yeah, ended up making up the lab today. Dr. Octavius insisted I just get it done now, y’know save time in the future.” He tried to steady his voice as he spoke, but he internally cringed at the sound of it cracking when he mentioned his professor's name. His face was on fire, Joaquin was positive he was sweating, he was literally embarrassing himself while you just looked at him.

Bucky then looked up from your work, now looking at Joaquin who was blushing, then he looked at you, noticing your confused expression. Then as he made eye contact with Steve—it all clicked into place and he let out a low laugh.

Of course, you would be the girl that Joaquin had been venting about for God knows how long.

Then Steve spoke up “well, Doc Ock’s not really a hardass, he’s probably the best professor in the entire department from what Bruce says. Oh, and Sunshine, I dunno if you’ve met Joaquin before, but this is Joaquin Torres, star center fielder on the soccer team, great frat brother too.” Then Steve said your name—your actual name.

The name that Joaquin had been dying to know.

You raised a single brow, glancing at Steve, then back at Joaquin. “We’ve had a few classes together. Thermodynamics, physics, math, things like that.”

That’s all you said. Nothing else. Your tone was courteous, not too friendly, not too rude, something in between. Clearly you didn’t trust him—that much was obvious. But he didn’t care because his heart was practically pounding out of his chest and he was swooning.

“Geez Sunshine, way to be friendly.” Steve’s sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed by you as you rolled your eyes, gaze now focused on the notebook and differential equations textbook in front of you. “Anyways, me and Buck grew up with Sunshine in Brooklyn, small world and all that. She’s usually nicer.”

You shook your head, now focused on finishing the problem you’d been working on while muttering “No I’m not.”

Bucky nodded “yeah, she’s not. At all.”

Then Sam hummed in agreement. “That’s why her and Buck are like two peas in a pod, both brooding and mean. But Sunshine’s actually a math whiz, never met anyone better at math than her. She’s the one we tried to get to help you last semester, but y’know our schedules and hers weren’t exactly in sync like they are now.”

Joaquin’s eyes widened at that. He could’ve had you tutoring him? He probably would’ve combusted honestly. Or at the very least, embarrassed himself ten times over.

Natasha nodded her head, looking up from her laptop again. “Yeah, Sunshine’s a double major like you, mechanical engineering and mathematics. Honestly, she’s probably the smartest person in this room. I’d say the smartest person I know—and that’s also including Peter, and Ava.”

Sam quirked a brow, a teasing tone to his voice as he spoke “don’t forget Bruce.” Nat shushed him with a rosy flush overtaking her cheeks.

You simply shrugged, clearly unaffected by their praise while you motioned between your work and Bucky’s work, both of you sat in silence, however as you glanced at him, he met your gaze and nodded—a clear sense of understanding. Then you were pushing his notebook back towards him and handing him his pencil.

That nearly shattered Joaquin’s heart. The unspoken understanding? The way you two just knew each other so well? God, he was jealous and heartbroken. The girl he’d been pining after like an idiot was clearly in a relationship with his fraternity brother. Not just any of his frat brothers—but with the Hockey team’s star brooding goalie that could probably snap him in half.

Bucky was the definition of intimidating, and even Joaquin could admit that.

But knowing that Bucky was also dating Joaquin’s dream girl? Now that was enough to have Joaquin wishing the floor would open up and he’d get dragged to the Earth’s core. Hell he’d rather plummet into the ocean than watch you and Bucky nod at one another and exchange more silent gestures and understandings.

Eventually Joaquin managed to stop overthinking himself into oblivion, instead he opted to focus on his linear algebra homework that had been kicking his ass. He had no idea what he was doing, he’d missed the past two lectures because of his conflicting game schedule and he wasn’t able to make his professors office hours this week.

He wanted to smack his head against the table and give up.

Then, from her seat, Nat leaned over, looking at Joaquin’s laptop, seeing the digital textbook open, her eyes widening, brows knitting, and face contorting in confusion. “What the hell is that?”

Joaquin and Steve both laughed at her, then Steve glanced over too, now completely leaning across Nat, blocking her view to her laptop to get a better look at Joaquin’s work. It made zero sense to him, from his end, all he could see was numbers, letters, parenthesis, and brackets that overlapped.

“Jesus Christ, this is what they make you take?” Then Steve squinted, now making out the ‘linear algebra’ title on the web page tab. “Sunshine, what the hell is linear algebra?” Steve looked from the laptop, to you, and your brows knit together as you looked at him from your seat across the table between Sam and Bucky.

You shrugged, pushing your glasses up slightly. “It’s the study of linear combinations, basically you’re looking at vectors, lines, planes, and maps.” Steve’s confused silence had you sighing. “Okay, so basically in a real world application, every algorithm uses linear algebra, it’s like sorting through what you do and don’t like and repeating the cycle in a pattern. That’s really it. It just looks complicated on paper.”

Joaquin stared at you as if you had three heads.

Steve slowly nodded his head, then looked back at Joaquin who was very obviously confused. “So, you’re good at it I assume?”

You raised a brow in response. “Good at it? I mean I guess. It’s like essential to engineering and math in general so…”

Joaquin noticed the fact that you weren’t very expressive when you spoke, it wasn’t that you were monotonous, but you weren’t exactly upbeat. You were almost nonchalant, but then there was a glimpse of something else there as well, and God, he wanted to know what that something else was.

Nat sighed. “What Steve is terribly insinuating is that you help Joaquin—he clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing. No offense Quin.”

Joaquin’s brows knit together “none taken”, then he glanced at his laptop before looking up at you, you were already looking at him, then you raised both brows, shaking your head slightly. It was clear that you were waiting for him to turn the laptop.

You didn’t talk much—that was now very clear.

So he turned the laptop and your eyes traced the screen. Then you looked at him again, one hand extended, he quickly got the message and handed you his notebook that was currently disorganized, messy, and covered in eraser marks and different equations that he’d spent an hour working on this morning before he had to head to the gym.

You blinked a few times, looking through his work, then back at the original equation, two fingers on the trackpad of his laptop while you scrolled through the textbook page. Then you grabbed your own pencil, circling a few things and swapping a couple of numbers, then drawing arrows and making small notes.

“You confused the x and y in your matrix. You’re solving for the value of x, y, and z with the given systems, but since there’s a clear overlap in values, you mixed the numbers up. X would equal two, Y would equal three and your Z is negative one.” As you spoke you wrote out the actual matrix to the problem with a few notes on the side, then you handed him his notebook back.

He slowly nodded at you before turning the laptop around, gaze now going back and forth between your notes, his work, and your own. How you managed to do that so quickly? He had no idea—but he wouldn’t question you. Not when you clearly knew what you were doing.

Sam and Bucky shared a look, then they glanced over at Steve who gave them a subtle nod.

But before anyone could say anything else, your phone started to ring, which led to you glancing at the screen before declining the call. Then you were grabbing your things, packing them all into your bag before standing up and humming, offering a single, half-assed wave before leaving the room.

Joaquin blinked a few times, confusion evident on his features at the sight of you just leaving.

“She always does that, you’ll get used to it Quin.” Natasha spoke without looking away from her laptop, fingers still rapidly typing.

Then Sam scooted closer to Bucky, right into your previous seat, and Steve was now in his previous seat, each sitting across from Joaquin, staring directly at him.

“So, did you forget to mention that Sunshine of all girls is the one you’ve been in love with?!” Sam spoke first, hands moving, emphasizing his words while he stared at Joaquin with his brows raised—waiting for an answer.

Then Steve said “we could’ve put in a good word for you, y’know. She’s been single for a while, also hates like everyone too but you definitely have competition. Sunshine’s a hot commodity.”

Natasha nodded, adding in a quick “yeah, except she rejects everyone. You probably have a chance though, since you’re not a douchebag.”

Then Bucky shook his head. “Actually, she thinks you’re an asshole, and a tool.” He didn’t look away from his work, now double checking everything while looking at your pointers that you’d left behind for him on a series of bright yellow sticky notes.

Everyone looked at Bucky with similar expressions, then he sighed, feeling their eyes on him. “Listen, she tells me everything and vice versa. Of course she knows who Joaquin is, it’s not like he’s a hermit. She also goes to the games because of Miguel, so she knows exactly—exactly—who Joaquin is.”

Then he finally looked up, directly at Joaquin, icy blue eyes meeting chocolate brown ones “or rather, exactly who you pretend to be. She’s not your biggest fan, not in the slightest. My best advice for you is to either be yourself, or leave her the hell alone. She’ll break your heart, she’s way meaner than she lets on.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “Buck’s got a point there, we call her Sunshine because she’s the exact opposite—always have called her that too. But y’know, when she lets you in, you do get to see that the nickname does have some validity. However, if you’re in the doghouse, good luck getting out.”

Joaquin groaned, sliding further into the chair, head leaned back as he looked at the ceiling. “I’m so screwed aren’t I?”

Sam nodded his head. “Oh definitely, but, me and Steve have some faith that you’ll be able to figure things out. I’d say step one is to keep doing what you’re doing now—avoiding the whole asshole persona you keep on for everyone else. They don’t gotta know everything about you, but you’re not exactly some entitled rich kid from Miami.”

Over the next week Joaquin took Sam’s advice. He was right, maybe it was time to hang up the douchebag facade and actually be himself. It wasn’t as if being himself would damage his reputation, if anything, it would probably make him more likable to everyone outside of Greek life and sports.

So he gave it a shot, and he dropped most of the facade. He was already tired of constantly partying, so he sat more of those social events out, only opting to show face at one singular party, but he only attended for an hour before heading back to his off campus apartment. Besides, the sorority house smelled like cheap tequila and bad decisions—things he really couldn’t focus on during midterm season.

Joaquin also saw more of you on campus. He didn’t know if it was some twist of fate or destiny—but he didn’t care. He was glad to actually see you, although you hardly acknowledged him in the engineering building. That’s also when he realized that your class schedule heavily coincided with his own.

Especially when it came to your engineering courses, and it also helped that the mechanical engineering and electrical engineering majors shared the same side of the large engineering building. Meaning, he’d see you walking through the crowded halls, lobby spaces, and common spaces, and he couldn’t help but smile, biting his lip at the sight of you with your head buried in books, notes, or occasionally your phone.

It wasn’t until two days ago that he’d decided to walk with you to class.

He hadn’t intended on it, but he noticed you a few steps ahead, so he walked a bit faster until he was in sync with you, not too close to be bothersome, but close enough to be noticed.

Then you looked at him, raising a single brow. You looked so pretty too, your skin had a nice warm glow to it, your cheeks tinted a bit pink with whatever makeup you had on, and what he figured was mascara placed enough emphasis on your lashes to make your eyes pop a little more behind your glasses.

You didn’t say anything, acknowledging him with a single hum, then you put your earbud back in, gaze back on the book in hand. That’s also when he noticed that you weren’t actually reading a book, instead you had a pen in one hand, and a three subject notebook in the other, working through several equations as you walked. He also noticed that you glanced up every few seconds just to make sure you weren’t going to walk into anyone.

Joaquin took the time to actually look at you, eyes trailing along your face, taking in your look of focus while you worked on what he assumed was the calculations behind an assignment for your next class. Then he looked at your outfit, brows knit together at the sight of a university soccer jersey, blinking a few times as he processed the number which belonged to Miguel, following the jersey, you had on a pair of denim shorts and he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t tempted to fall back in step just to look at your ass.

But he wouldn’t do that—you already didn’t like him from what Bucky mentioned, the last thing he needed to do was piss you off.

“So uh, are you going to the game tomorrow?” His question was left unanswered, you clearly couldn’t hear him, so he lightly nudged you with his elbow.

You blinked several times, eyebrows scrunched together as you registered the motion, then you were looking at him again before putting your pencil between your teeth and taking out your earbud. Both brows now raised as you waited for him to repeat what he’d said, an expectant expression on your face.

“I uh—said are you going to y’know the game tomorrow—cause you’re in Miguel’s jersey—I figured you would be going—uh” he internally groaned at his awkward demeanor, talking with his hands in a way that resembled Sam when he ranted. Or worse, Peter when he first met his girlfriend Michelle.

Joaquin had made fun of Peter for being awkward—now he was the awkward one. He was so screwed. He watched as you took the pencil out of your mouth, glossy lips catching his attention for a few seconds, then his eyes shot back to yours.

“I go to most home games.” With that you put your earbud back in.

That was the entire conversation. You hadn’t said a single word to him after that, but somehow, Joaquin was celebrating the minor victory, and the second he’d gotten into his car after class, he was squealing like an excited fanboy. He even drummed against the steering wheel as he gave himself a pep talk in his rear-view mirror reflection.

All because you’d said six words to him and walked side by side with him to class.

The night day, or rather the next evening he was on the field.

The game was tied, and he was tired. God, he just wanted the night to end so he could go to his apartment and sleep until next week. He’d spent all night studying in anticipation of a midterm this morning, then he had another class, then practice, and now the game.

Usually he was excited for game days, there was nothing that compared to the thrill of being on the field. Especially in a highly competitive environment, he lived for this. He worked flawlessly with his teammates, and the men’s soccer team was still undefeated. Tonight was the first game where that record was at risk.

One of the referees just called a foul on the opposing team. So he had a second to catch his breath, hands on his hips while he stood on the sidelines, taking time to drink some water and catch his breath. He had a thin layer of sweat covering his skin, and his damp curls were starting to stick to his forehead, so he ran a hand through his hair, trying to push it away from his already moist skin.

Then Miles elbowed him, nudging his head towards the crowd.

Joaquin had told Miles about the library, and walking with you, hell he’d been talking Miles’s ear off for the past few days about you. He’d never been happier to learn someone’s name.

He glanced at Miles, nodding his head, a silent gesture to ask what was happening. Then Miles raised both eyebrows, leaning his head forward a bit before nodding in a specific direction again. “Look over there—she’s already looking at you.”

Joaquin blinked a few times, following Mile’s gaze, looking through the crowd. He hadn’t realized it was as packed as it was, then again, Joaquin did his best not to focus on the crowd at games, it was a habit he’d forcefully formed freshman year.

He was so used to seeing either his Mom, one of his Tias, his Tio, or his Abuela in the crowd that it discouraged him to not see them. It almost disoriented him in a way he couldn’t really understand. So instead, he forced himself to focus on the field—solely on the field. Now he just did, the crowd itself was background noise and he never really knew who showed up to games until after when they’d talk to him about it.

But as Joaquin scanned the crowd his eyes widened, landing directly on you. You were closer to the front row of the stadium seating, maybe two rows back at most, and already looking at him. He noticed the O’Hara jersey again—and he would make sure to bother Sam about that, or maybe even outright ask Miguel—but he met your stare.

Then you raised a single brow. A silent challenge, and he knew that the team needed to win this game.

Hell, he needed to win this game. Screw being tired or over it, he was about to go back on that field and play better than he’d ever played before—there was no way in hell this would end in a tie or a loss, not anymore at least.

Joaquin looked away first. Now glancing back towards the field, eyes scanning his teammates before landing directly on Miguel who was currently putting his gloves back on. Then Joaquin walked over to him, and before he could even say anything or ask a single question, Miguel shushed him.

“Don’t ask, we’re not dating, Sam already told me about your crush. Gotta say, you really know how to pick em’. She’s mean as hell man, and closed off as hell. She hasn’t told me much about what she thinks of you, but based on what Buck said? She already doesn’t really like you, I don’t know how you’re gonna manage to win her over—but we’ll start by winning this game.”

Then Miguel was giving a pep talk to the team, hyping everyone up before the starters were due on the field again.

The rest of the game was full of tension, or maybe that was just in Joaquin’s head. He’d never felt more hyperfocused on the ball, and admittedly, he’d done a few dirty moves, but they were technically legal in the realm of soccer, and those moves also helped him gain an advantage against the defense.

Offense was where Joaquin really excelled, he wasn’t exactly a striker, but he knew the position well, honestly he knew the entire game of soccer well—it was like second nature to him. He’d been playing since he was a kid, and he’d always loved it. To the point that his mom picked up extra shifts just to afford his soccer equipment—something he’d forever be grateful for.

The game was a constant back and forth, at this rate it was looking like a draw. Then, somehow, someway, Joaquin managed to take a risky shot, and it flew right into the goal.

The stadium—or at least the side rooting for the home team erupted in cheers, and as the game came to an end, his entire team was practically swarming him. By the time he’d made it to the sidelines, under the encouragement—or rather bad influence of Sam Wilson who managed to hop the stadium wall separating the field from the seats—the entire container of gatorade was poured on top of Joaquin.

By the time he managed to clear his face, he glanced back at the crowd, exactly to where you had been. Then he met your gaze again, a small smile on your face and a head nod was all the acknowledgement he needed from you—it had a wide smile spreading across his face.

That day changes something in your dynamic with Joaquin.

He immediately notices it the following week, when he manages to meet your step, gaze already landing on you and whatever you’re doing. Instead of looking at him, you quip “the hell are you staring at?” with your eyes locked on your notebook. A new page full of mathematical equations, notes, and a few scattered sticky notes that you clearly taped to the paper.

Joaquin blinked a few times, everyone had been telling him that you were mean, so he should’ve expected it. Of course you’re rude, but he knows that it’s calculated—everything you did seemed to be calculated. Or at least that’s what he’d gathered from the few interactions he had with you.

None of which had been real, actual, conversations. Instead it was like he was observing you and vice versa. Occasionally he’d notice you in the engineering building, sitting on one of the lounge chairs, feet resting against a small table or another chair, laptop in your lap but your gaze on him as he looked down at you from the visible upstairs walkway. You looked at him as if you were trying to analyze him, or figure him out.

He knew you saw right through his bullshit.

That was a realization he made that Friday, at one of his frat’s themed parties. It was a toga party with the whole ‘ancient Greece’ theme—very stereotypical in the realm of fraternity events, and almost all of the guys wearing sheets draped around them like togas. It didn’t help that the theme and costume portrayal was also very historically inaccurate—but after a few drinks no one ever cared.

Joaquin didn’t live in the frat house, he lived off campus with Peter and Miguel, so when he showed up in an uber with his roommates, already a bit tipsy from pregaming, he knew the night would either be amazing, or he’d have a headache the next day with regrets.

He was also in a makeshift toga, a few girls staring at him as he walked up to the house, smiling and acknowledging fellow frat members and the new pledges, he’d even sent a few to do random tasks that never really made sense—a tradition that he’d gone through himself.

Peter eventually found Michelle, both of them wandering off somewhere. Then Miguel went to chase after Gwen—a music major that he’d been in a situationship with for months at this point. Joaquin was convinced that they both were into each other, but afraid of commitment or something.

The second he walks into the house, people are calling his name, cheering him on after the most recent soccer wins, and of course, handing him drinks and encouraging him to do one of his ‘legendary keg stands’. Something he hated doing because it almost always made him nauseous after.

It’s not until he makes it to the backyard that he finally sees you. Your hair is different today, longer, clearly straightened with a few waves added. You have on a thin white dress—wrap? He’s not sure what it is, all he knows is that it lays against all of your curves perfectly and it has him salivating. There’s a golden rope around your waist, and it practically drives him crazy.

Not to mention the way the fabric sits on your upper body, very clearly draped against your skin with purpose, leaving a deep-cut that emphasizes your cleavage to the point that Joaquin’s positive he’s lightheaded and just might have a nosebleed.

Eventually he snaps out of it when someone calls his name—turns out that someone is Bob Reynolds, the brunette smiling while walking over with a single red solo cup in hand. The sight makes Joaquin raise a brow, then Bob shakes his head.

“It’s just coke—y’know I don’t really like to drink.”

The two talk and catch up after not seeing each other much due to midterms, eventually Bob manages to convince Joaquin to be his beer pong partner. The brunette was a natural at beer pong, he just didn’t drink often—so he needed someone to actually do the drinking for him.

They’d won three games in a row.

Then as Joaquin’s calling for the next group, you walk right up to the opposite side of the table, Bucky to your left as you look at them both. Joaquin practically chokes on his drink when he now processes that your makeshift dress also had a large slit in the side, and it was now clear that it was fabric—not a real dress.

Plus the fabric had also moved more, and more of your chest was on display, he could practically see the swell of your breasts. It took everything in him not to stare.

Bucky filled up the cups on his side, and Joaquin did the same, refilling the two that he’d finished last game.

“Damn, you’re really pretty.” Bob spoke his mind, practically shouting over the music while he looked directly at you—that caught Joaquin’s attention, his brows knit together as his expression held pure jealousy. Who the hell was Bob to call you pretty?! He knew that Joaquin had a thing for you—sure it was just a compliment, but what the hell?!.

What Joaquin didn’t expect was for you to actually smile at Bob, a real smile, followed by “Thanks, you’re not too bad yourself!”

You were very clearly tipsy, your eyes a little red, and you seemed bubblier. Bucky shook his head at you, raising a single brow. “Ready to kick their asses?”

Joaquin scoffed at that “Okay, bring it on Barnes, we’re undefeated right now.” His cocky tone had you rolling your eyes, but in his drunken haze, Joaquin hadn’t processed that. Then he followed it up with “Tell you what, let’s throw a bet out, fifty bucks says I win.”

Bucky shrugged, “Hundred says we do.”

Joaquin shouldn’t have made that bet. He didn’t know that you and Bucky were actually great at beer pong. Something he found after you both had beaten his team three times, and now Joaquin was short six hundred dollars after a ‘double it or nothing’ bet. He’d even shook on the double or nothing with Bucky.

He’d embarrassed himself in front of you. Or technically, you embarrassed him because while Bucky was good at beer pong, you were great, to the point that everyone was in shock, especially during the sudden death rounds.

To everyone else, Joaquin was a good sport about losing that six hundred, but as you watched him walk up to Bucky and pull out his phone, you noticed something—it was fast. A flicker in his gaze, a sense of regret flashing over his features for a split second as he opened his venmo account, then he was sending Bucky the money.

Your brows knit together, even after a few drinks, you knew something was off. Joaquin realized that the second he made eye contact with you. He also realized that you were much more expressive when drunk, your usual neutral look was replaced with one of genuine curiosity, bordering confusion.

That’s the moment it processed for him, you saw right through his facade.

Then you speak up. “What’re you lookin at, pretty boy?” Your words have a bit of a slur to them, but they’re full of your usual snark and attitude.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head as he glances at you. “Alright, I think it’s time to take you home yeah, where’s Yelena?”

You shrug, gaze now leaving Joaquin to look up at Bucky. “Probably fucking her girlfriend. That’s what people in relationships do, you’d know if you actually put yourself out there, I’m just saying” as you spoke, you extended the ‘g’ sound in the word ‘saying’ with a sing-song tone that had Joaquin shocked.

For one, it was a little vulgar, and for two, he’d never really heard you say more than 10 words total, and you always spoke to him in the same tone. While you were noticing new things about Joaquin, he was seeing an entirely different side of you.

Bucky sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd of people in the room before running his hand through his hair. “You’re such a pain in the ass, y’know that Sunshine?”

You rolled your eyes in response, mocking him at first, then continuing with “I don’t wanna go home yet Buck, c’mon we should stay! You think Flash’ll play the song I like? Wait where’s Nat? You think she’s finally shacking up with Bruce?!” You paused for a second, brows knitted together as something caught your attention. “Wait, I love this song!—let’s go!” then you were dragging Bucky with you.

Bucky shook his head, glancing at Joaquin before speaking. “This is Sunshine—the real Sunshine.” He groaned then you were pulling him back through the crowded backyard.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that Joaquin had gotten a private venmo transaction notification, his money being sent back, plus a short note ‘Sunshine said to send it back’ from Bucky.

Following the frat party, Joaquin tried to be normal about you. He was not normal about you, not in the slightest. You made his heart race and head spin—he knew barely anything about you, but he also couldn’t let himself get too distracted, especially considering he’d barely passed his linear algebra midterm, and for the first time ever, his advisor was actually concerned.

He was barely passing the class, a low C, bordering a D. It was the only course that he had that he was constantly missing because of soccer. In the two weeks that followed the frat party, he’d been to class once. Meanwhile he’s supposed to have the class three times a week.

Of course his professor was understanding, but Joaquin couldn’t make his office hours either, so he was genuinely running out of luck.

That was until he spotted you in the quad again, and instead of his usual, ‘walking side-by-side in silence’ with you. He decided that he needed to man up and ask for help, besides, the worst thing you could do was genuinely say no to him.

So he took a deep breath before catching up to you, and you didn’t have your earbuds on today. You also were not focused on writing something down, instead you were texting someone on your phone—the privacy screen stopping him from eavesdropping.

He said your name, which caused you to pause, now standing still as you slowly turned to face him, phone still in hand while you looked at him, brows furrowed as you squinted slightly.

A quick snarky “what?” left your glossy lips.

“Listen, I know you can’t stand me, and I get it, I’m an asshole, I’m annoying, okay—that’s fine, it’s cool but I could really use your help. Linear algebra is kicking my ass, and you just—you get it, and I don’t have anyone else that can actually tutor me because our schedules are all off, and by the time Peter can actually help me—well I don’t think you know Peter—”

You cut him off. “I know Peter Parker, we took linear algebra and differential equations together.” Your tone still neutral, then you motioned for him to keep going.

“Oh—damn does everyone know you? Not important, listen, I could really use your help. Everyone says you’re a math whiz and I’m just not—”

Before he could keep rambling you shushed him. He was caught off guard because for one it was rude, and for two, you followed it with a slight giggle at the sight of his shocked expression.

“I’ll help you. Bucky, Miguel, and Steve told me to be nicer to you. So I’ll be nicer. Meet me at the library tonight at eight. If you’re late I’m leaving, and if you show up stinking after practice, I’m also leaving.”

Then you reached into your back pocket, grabbing a pen and uncapping it with your teeth as you used your left hand to grab his arm. He stood in shock while you rolled his hoodie sleeve up before writing your number on his forearm.

“Call me when you get to the library. I’m usually on the fifth floor in the back left corner where the couches are.”

With that you walked off, leaving Joaquin standing in shock while he rapidly looked between you and your number written on his forearm in red pen.

To say that nothing could ruin his mood following that interaction was an understatement. Someone had spilled their water on him in the crowded hallway, they apologized profusely and all Joaquin did was tell them it was fine, flashing his million dollar smile before he kept walking to class. He shrugged off his now wet hoodie and that was it. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest.

Then his professor yelled at him in front of the entire class about not focusing, essentially trying to embarrass him by asking Joaquin a difficult question because the professor swore that Joaquin hadn’t been paying any attention at all—he answered it clearly, concisely, and correctly.

Even at practice when his Coach forced him to run suicides after he was slacking off with Hobie and Miles, Joaquin simply nodded and ran the sprints with the same dopey smile he’d been sporting for hours. Miguel tried to question it, but Joaquin simply shrugged, saying that it was a great day to be in a good mood—whatever the hell that meant.

He also rushed through his post-practice shower and before he’d even gotten into the water he made sure to add your number to his contacts with your name and a sun emoji. Joaquin also hoped that maybe one day he’d get to see your ‘Sunshine-y’ side.

The garage near the library had finally opened up, however only the bottom two levels were open, so he was mildly stressed out when trying to find a parking spot, however he’d manage to stumble across a spot between a large white Ford F150—which he immediately recognized as Thor Odinson’s truck. He only recognized it because of the large New Asgard flag bumper sticker.

Thor was on the football team with Sam, and he was in the frat as well. Although Joaquin didn’t really know much else about him outside of him being a tight-end and driving a truck that was a little too American. Then again, he did get influenced by a fellow Texan teammate to get the truck, Jake’s influence knew no bounds apparently.

The other car he parked next to was a red volkswagon bug. He thought the car was adorable.

Once Joaquin was on the fifth floor of the library he was calling you, and the longer the phone rang, the more antsy he got.

Then you answered on the last ring.

“Y’know it’s seven fifty six right? I’ve gotta say, the punctuality is a little shocking.”

He was glad no one was around to watch him fist bump the air at the sound of your voice. He smiled, laughing a bit. “Well, made it here before eight, hermosa”

“Flattery won’t get you far Torres. I’m already waiting, speed it up.”

Then the line went dead.

He found you a few minutes later, sitting criss-cross on a sofa with one of the rolling tables in front of you. You had on your glasses, one of your usual baggy sweatshirts, your hair was straightened again—pulled back into a clip with a few pieces framing your face, and he smiled at the sight of your shoes neatly on the floor near you.

Joaquin walked right up to you, earning a simple ‘hum’ as you worked through the calculations on your final problem. He had no idea what kind of math you were doing, something with statistics clearly based on the textbook you had open.

“It’s for Statistical Inferences. More words than math, I honestly hate it. Numbers are easier—all of this extra shit is horrible.”

He blinked a few times, nodding his head, he’d never taken the course—hell never even heard of it. But this was a ‘whatever you say beautiful’ moment for him.

You blinked a few times, brows knit together as you looked up at him “Are you going to sit? Or just, stand the entire time?” Then he watched as you looked at the seat beside you, clearly left open for a reason, considering your bag was on the opposite side, and there was space on the table in front of you for his things.

Joaquin awkwardly nodded before sitting next to you, a bit too tense at the close proximity. He was tense, and clearly you noticed. He watched as you paused, then put your pen down while sighing.

“What’s your issue?”

Both of his brows raised at that, he shrugged, letting out a “pfft I don’t have an issue”, except he stuttered and his voice went up several octaves. Internally, Joaquin was screaming at himself to get it together, all he was doing was sitting beside you, it wasn’t as if you were in his lap or something—wait he had to remind himself not to think about you like that—not now before he turned into a desperate disaster.

“You look constipated. But okay.” Then you proceeded to go back to doing your work.

That’s when Joaquin finally snapped out of his awkward daze, opening his bag and grabbing his linear algebra textbook, laptop, and a notebook. He rested everything on the table then logged into his laptop, gaze focused on his open grades for the course, cringing at the sight of several zeroes, test scores below sixty, and of course, his barely passing midterm grade.

“That’s actually kind of sad.” Your voice snapped him out of his internal moping. He glanced over at you and realized you were now looking directly at his grades. “I can see why you need help.”

He scoffed at that, “Okay, I get you don’t like me, but damn, some empathy would be nice right now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, doing your best to hold it in and remain neutral—but the second you made eye contact with him, you were bursting into laughter, earning a few looks from students at other tables and seating areas nearby. When someone shushed you, you rolled your eyes, giving them the middle finger.

Joaquin stared at you in shock for a few seconds, but then you tried holding your laugh back again, and you snorted—then you paused, eyes wide with a hand over your mouth as you looked at him.

Now you both were laughing at one another.

Once you two finally managed to calm down, you glanced at him again. “For the record, I never said I didn’t like you. I don��t like who you pretend to be.”

That sentence knocked the air out of Joaquin’s lungs. He was frozen for a few seconds, unsure of how to react, of course he’d slowly been coming to the realization that you saw right through his facade, but he also hadn’t really registered the fact that everyone had to have been telling you about him—the real him—not the version of him that was popular on campus.

“So, where do you want to start? Chapter one? I figure you have no idea what you’re doing. Might as well start from the beginning.”

He nodded as you spoke, then you were leaning into his space, your thigh now pressed against his while you grabbed his textbook. He was about to start stuttering again, this was embarrassing—he was blushing from the slightest bit of contact with you.

The next half hour or so went by relatively quickly. You explained the basic concepts to him, he’d nod his head and mutter ‘uh huh’, then you’d look at him and he would be staring at you instead of his notes and textbook. So you’d have to re-explain them after clearing your throat with an annoyed expression.

Joaquin gave you a few nervous smiles, afraid that you’d pack your things up and leave.

But you stayed, and a half hour turned into an hour, and eventually, you two had been cooped up together for two hours straight, and he actually understood the first five chapters worth of concepts. Everything built off of the previous chapter, so it finally started to flow and click for him.

While he worked through some of the assignments he missed, you focused on your statistics.

“What’s the point of acting like an asshole if you’re not an asshole?”

Your question shocked him a bit, knocking him out of his focus as he glanced over at you. Your eyes hadn’t even left your own laptop, scanning through what he now realized was something for an Engineering Design course, and you’d pivoted from doing math, now reading through a series of fabrication and testing analyses.

Joaquin cleared his throat before answering your question, a bit nervous, fingers tightening around the pen in his hand. “I dunno, I guess it was just easier for me. Made people like me more, I’ve never really been good at letting people in—you seem like you’d know what that’s like.”

You slowly nodded, taking off your glasses, placing them on the table before looking at him again—his heart was racing—Jesus you were so pretty. He was about to word vomit a series of compliments but thankfully you started talking again.

“Are you saying I’m standoffish and anti-social?”

He didn’t know if this was a trick question, but at this point, he didn’t care. So he nodded his head. “I mean, standoffish? Absolutely. Antisocial, I dunno, you at the party last weekend said otherwise.” His tone was teasing, and he was definitely testing the waters.

You shoved him. Then scoffed. “Don’t bring that up! I don’t even like to party. Natasha and Yelena convinced me to go, I was freezing my ass off the entire night and drinking just to stay warm.”

Joaquin cracked a smile. “So you are antisocial then?”

“Don’t test your luck, Torres.”

He nodded his head, glancing around the library, noticing that more and more people had left, then he looked down at his watch, eyes widening at the fact that it was close to eleven. Joaquin had conditioning at six in the morning tomorrow, meaning, even if he didn’t want to, he’d have to start heading back.

“You have practice tomorrow don’t you? Miguel mentioned it this morning.”

Joaquin blinked a few times, brows knit together at the mention of Miguel.

Your eyes widened at his expression, clearly understanding what he was thinking, or what you might’ve insinuated. “It’s not like that—we have stats together! Jesus. What’s up with all of you guys? Anytime I mention anyone all the sudden I’m sleeping with them.”

He muttered out a series of apologies, meanwhile you simply shushed him while packing your things into your bag and fishing for your keys in the bottom of it.

“Do you uh, need a ride?”

You shook your head. “No. I drove here.” Then you finally managed to find the keys, placing your keychain on the table before slipping the adidas back onto your feet. Then you were standing up, grabbing your things before walking away.

Joaquin watched as you paused, now turning to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?” He blinked a few times, nodding his head as he practically leaped off of the couch, grabbing his things and taking his keys out of his pocket. Then he was walking in sync with you as you headed towards the elevators.

You both stood side by side in the elevator, you hummed a tune that he recognized but couldn’t place.

“What song is that?”

You looked at him with a shrug “Ain't no mountain high enough—the marvin gaye song? Sam was singing it yesterday. He’s always yapping about Marvin Gaye.”

This was the most you’d ever spoken to Joaquin, and he was still in shock about it. Maybe because he hadn’t actually expected you to talk to him—let alone like him. Although he was still unsure if you actually liked him, you said you didn’t like who he pretended to be, so maybe that meant you sort of liked him? Tolerated him even?

He was overthinking, meanwhile you were still looking at him with a confused expression.

Then the elevators dinged and you walked out first, heading towards the exit of the building, saying your goodbyes to the librarian at the front desk before walking outside and towards the parking garage.

Joaquin followed suit, the two of you walking in a mostly comfortable silence, he knew where his car was, and apparently you’d parked in the same vicinity based on the way that you two were still walking side-by-side in sync.

Then you unlocked your car with its key fob. He squinted at the sight of the headlights on the little red volkswagon lighting up. Joaquin laughed, shaking his head, then he unlocked his own car, the old BMW’s headlights turning on as well.

“Parking and studying together? I dunno, it seems like fate to me.”

You shook your head at his joke, now walking to your car, and opening the driver side door, tossing your bag in first, then you paused to look at him.

“Seems more like a lack of any other available spots to me. Do me a favor Torres?”

He paused, brows raised as he looked at you.

“Call me.”

Then you got into your car and shut the door. Leaving him dumbfounded as he stood in front of his own car, lips parted, brows furrowed, and a rosy flush across his face.

Joaquin Torres did not in fact call you. He spent the next few days overthinking it, pacing back and forth at home, rapidly bouncing his leg in class, and mindlessly running through drills at practice. Call you? How the hell was he just supposed to call you—you were terrifying.

Actually, you weren’t really terrifying, you were really pretty, and clearly funny. Plus you were incredibly intelligent—and he did actually actively still need help in his linear algebra class—but calling you?! Calling you felt too casual, like you were friends—or maybe more than friends? But he hardly knew anything about you?

Then he tried to ask Bucky about you specifically because he knew that you and him were the closest. Buck shrugged him off several times, and the best advice he had was ‘ask her yourself’. Which wasn’t helpful—at all.

So he tried to bother Steve, who was too busy with his girlfriend and planning different community service events to give Joaquin the time of day. Then came Sam, but Sam was also helping plan those events so it didn’t go well, and Miguel was the president of the fraternity so that was a bust.

He’d even tried asking Peter about you, but it was as if he was sworn to secrecy, talking Joaquin in circles, both of them going back and forth for half an hour while Peter avoided answering his questions.

Today the frat was volunteering at one of the local women and children’s shelters. It was one of the larger ones in the city, and most of the guys were either working in the kitchen or helping with donation sorting and hauling. Joaquin had been doing that at first, but then he managed to find Sam who had just finished doing a storytime with the smaller kids.

So, in true Joaquin Torres fashion, he followed Sam around and couldn’t stop talking.

“No Sam, I don’t think you get it, she told me to call her, and I’ve been too chicken shit to actually call her! What am I supposed to talk to her about?! Linear Algebra? There’s nothing sexy about vectors! How the hell am I gonna get her to like me when I can’t even talk to her without looking like an idiot?”

Sam sighed, putting down a box of toys donated directly from the fraternity, now he turned to face Joaquin, shaking his head. “I told you already, be yourself. If she told you to call her, she clearly tolerates you enough—she hates talking on the phone. So that means something. Stop overthinking it and just talk to her. You never shut the hell up anyways so how is it that you can’t talk all of a sudden?”

Joaquin sighed, nodding at Sam, then he started unpacking some of the boxes and sorting them into piles based on the requirements provided by the shelter.

“But what if she thinks I’m actually a douchebag?”

Sam laughed at that, clearly knowing something that Joaquin didn’t as he shook his head. “She did think you were a douchebag, I’d say that’s changing.”

He groaned “see, there you go! It’s like everyone knows something but me! But no one’s letting me in on it!”

That’s when Sam shushed him and practically kicked him out of the room, telling him to go find something to do.

What Joaquin didn’t know was that Sam was trying to help him, meanwhile all Joaquin could do was pout as he walked through the large facility, staying in the areas that the frat was told they had access to, instead of the more private rooms and common spaces. The shelter was previously a middle school, but it had been renovated and repurposed. Eventually he found himself outside in a playground environment that also held a large grassy field.

He squinted as he spotted the Maximoff twins with a small crowd of kids, they couldn’t be older than eight, all of them looking up at Pietro as he explained something to them, hands moving all around, and a wide smile on his face. However—the kids seemed confused to say the least.

So Joaquin walked over, Wanda spotted him first, waving him over while smiling. He’d met her last semester at a Valentine’s day party. Technically, her brother tried to set her up with Joaquin, but both of them equally agreed that they’d be much better as friends. Plus Wanda was pining after a certain European transfer student that was now her boyfriend.

“Quin! Great! I need you to explain soccer to them with me.”

Joaquin blinked a few times, glancing at the crowd of kids, then back at Pietro who was clearly over-explaining things. Then he glanced down at his own outfit of choice—loose sweats and a hoodie. He’d be fine in this, hopefully.

So Joaquin simplified soccer to the point that Wanda was the ref, Pietro and him would be defenders, they had two makeshift goals, and they’d be playing against about twelve kids. Some understood the rules, others didn’t, and they had two goalies just to make it a bit more fair.

The game went on for around half an hour before Wanda disappeared, the kids actually managed to give both college athletes a run for their money, the kids were also taking cheap shots too—but neither of them pointed any of that out. It was clear they were having fun, and Joaquin knew that in any of the situations they were in, a distraction from the real world was everything they needed.

He remembered being that kid in Miami.

Then, one of the kids managed to slip right past Pietro and he scored the winning goal. He was so excited that he started jumping up and down and cheering, the rest of the kids following suit.

Joaquin ran up to him, immediately scooping him up, managing to get him on his own shoulders while he cheered and chanted. The kids all surrounded him, meanwhile Pietro was applauding from the side of the crowd, but the blonde was the one to spot you, standing beside Wanda by the doors of the building.

“Quin!” Joaquin’s gaze moved from the kids to Pietro, who nodded in your direction—that’s when Joaquin’s eyes met yours again.

You offered him a small smile, it was very familiar, and it gave him butterflies. Wanda was clearly saying something to you, and you nodded, eyes still on Joaquin, a single brow raised now. He didn’t know why you were there, maybe you were in Wanda’s sorority—but he would’ve known that.

That’s when Pietro smiled, now helping the kid off of Joaquin’s shoulders. The kids all ran back to the field, splitting up into two teams to play their own version of soccer.

“So, you make any progress with your dream girl yet?”

Joaquin shook his head, gaze still on you, even after you looked away from him, walking back into the building with Wanda in tow. “No idea.”

“Yeah, Sam said she works here. She’s actually the one that helped Steve organize all of this, I guess she’s worked here for the last two years. Something about being part time, dunno, but I know it took a lot of convincing before the frat was actually allowed to come here. Apparently she’d declined several other frat’s proposals to do any volunteer work here—means a lot to her y’know?”

Joaquin nodded, now learning more about you. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket, and the second he pulled it out and looked at his notifications, his eyes widened, seeing your contact alongside ‘After seeing that, I’ll forgive you for not calling me.’

He was smiling like an idiot now.

About an hour later he actually managed to find you. You were in the kitchen bossing a group of newly initiated members of the frat, most of them freshmen. There were eight of them, all lined up around the large metal kitchen island, making and packaging sandwiches.

You had your arms crossed in front of your chest while you watched all of them work, jaw clenched, brow raised, and you looked like the girliest drill sergeant he’d ever seen. Your hair was braided again, except your braids had bright pink ribbons intertwined into them, you weren’t in your usual sweater and pants combination, instead you had on a light pink fitted t-shirt with the shelter’s logo on the front of it, combined with a denim skirt.

“How many of these are we making?” one of the guys asked, you glanced down at a clipboard in hand, gaze scanning the sheet.

“Two hundred. They’re getting handed out this afternoon. There’s eight of you here, you should be able to handle this just fine, and you have like what, forty minutes left? Chop chop. Now cut the groaning out before I call Steve and Miguel—maybe even Buck.”

A few of the guys nodded, lips pursed inward as they focused on making the sandwiches and packing the brown paper bags. Some of them were also adding in additional snacks and food items to the bags as well.

Then you spotted Joaquin, smiling at him—a real smile, not your usual small smile, no this was the smile he’d seen on your face at the party, except this time it was for him. You walked around the large kitchen towards him, and when you finally made it, you gave him a once-over.

“Torres.” he said your last name in response, mimicking your serious tone. Then you were shoving your clipboard into his chest. “Do me a solid, supervise your pledges. I’ve got a princess party to attend.”

He blinked a few times, unsure of what that meant but nodded as he took the clipboard from you. Then you were gone.

One of the guys spoke up, clearing his throat “so, uh is she your girlfriend? And does she have a sister—maybe a cousin—cause god damn—” Joaquin glared at the freshman.

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kick your ass.” He’d never sounded more serious.

After that, the guys stood in silence, doing the task that was assigned to them while Joaquin half-assed his supervising job. Eventually they finished, and Joaquin told them to go find Wanda, knowing that she was also one of the main organizers of the event. Then he wandered through the building again, looking for you specifically, holding your clipboard in hand.

He passed by the ajar auditorium doors. At first he hadn’t fully registered what was happening inside, then he took a few steps back, looking through and now he understood what you meant by Princess Party.

There you were, sitting with a wide smile on your face, and a comically small teacup in hand as you wore a fake tiara on your head while sitting at one of five small tables, each table had several younger girls seated, and that’s also when he realized that most of the kids he’d seen with Pietro were boys.

Joaquin glanced around the room, now spotting several of the sorority members, all around. Each of them wearing a skirt or a dress of sorts, with a silver fake tiara on. All of the children had on colorful tiaras.

That’s also when he realized that your table specifically held seven toddlers. You were nodding your head enthusiastically at one of them while she animatedly explained something to you, and at that moment, Joaquin hadn’t realized he was leaning against the door—practically slipping through and nearly falling on his face.

The intrusion caught the attention of a lot of people.

You blinked a few times, now looking away from the toddler talking to you, to Joaquin who was fumbling to keep himself up while looking in your direction. Then he awkwardly cleared his throat as he stood up straight, smiling at everyone and waving. He held up your clipboard, looking directly at you before calling out your name.

You sighed, shaking your head as you stood up. One of the girls looked between you and Joaquin, whispering to another while you headed towards Joaquin.

“Are you always this awkward?” you spoke as you took the clipboard from him.

Joaquin nodded “When it comes to you? Absolutely.” He didn’t even try to deny it, instead running a hand through his hair, while smiling at you.

You laughed at him, shaking your head. “You’re something else Torres. I heard through the grapevine that you’ve been asking about me.”

He shrugged, a rosy blush evident on his cheeks. “I mean, not like—asking. Okay—let me stop lying, yeah I’ve been asking about you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know you, but I don’t know how to talk to you like a normal person.”

You slowly nodded, glancing over your shoulder, checking in on the girls, Yelena already seated at your previous table, now gossiping with Daisy and Maria. They were also pointing at you and Joaquin—you shook your head at them, a short laugh leaving your lips at the sight, then your eyes found Joaquin’s again.

If someone was to tell you six months ago that you’d actually enjoy being around Joaquin Torres, you would’ve cursed them out. He was just another cocky douchebag athlete in a fraternity. You knew enough fraternity guys to know that he was just like the rest of them, a show off that was clearly raised with a silver spoon and didn’t know what it was like to actually have to struggle or work hard for something.

Sure he was smart, but that didn’t mean anything to you. Not when he was an asshole.

You’d caught him staring at you several times, rolling your eyes and deciding it was better to just ignore him. The faux indifference was easy to portray, but deep down—he made your blood boil!

It didn’t matter if he was a talented athlete, and it sure as hell didn’t mean shit to you that he was attractive. Attractive guys were everywhere, but the way he acted? It made him hideous.

But something changed over the past few weeks. Ever since that night in the study room when you saw something different in him. A crack in his facade—he wasn’t what he made himself out to be. You were determined to figure him out.

Slowly but surely, you did.

Of course the guys always told you that there was more to Joaquin than meets the eye, but you thought they were just delusional and defending their frat brother, and it was worse with Miguel because he was also Joaquin’s teammate.

That night in the library you weren’t going to go after finding out that Joaquin would be there. But Sam and Bucky practically begged you for help in differential equations, and they’d also managed to bribe you with a promise of getting your favorite coffee beans from the small cafe thirty minutes away from campus. Plus Sam filled up your car’s gas, and Bucky called your mom, telling her that you were being a ‘tyrant again’.

Steve had even vouched for Joaquin, and you knew that for everything Steve Rogers was, he wasn’t a liar.

So you went, and at first you thought he wouldn’t actually make it because he’d been an hour or so late, and it was like a breath of fresh air. To be fair, when he’d walked in that day, you hadn’t even noticed him until Sam acknowledged him, too focused on correcting Bucky’s work and doing your own problem, scribbling notes along his paper with tips and pointers.

After that night, you’d started realizing that Joaquin Torres wasn’t the asshole that he pretended to be.

You just didn’t understand why he’d bother to portray himself that way.

Then he opened up to you in the library a few nights ago and you understood what he meant. Letting people in was never your strong suit either, you didn’t trust easily, and you weren’t exactly America’s sweetheart—that was a title reserved for people like Steve.

It was like you’d opened Pandora’s box and now you wanted to know more about him. Hell, you might actually like Joaquin Torres. He made you laugh in the weirdest ways, he was actually sweet and understanding, and based on the way he was on the field with those kids—he had a good heart.

Maybe everyone was right.

“You’re talking to me like a normal person right now. You do realize that right?”

He slowly nodded, brows knit together as if the cogs were finally turning in his head. The sight made you laugh, shaking your head at him. There was so much more to him than you expected, and sure you knew he was a little bit awkward—that much you’d gathered from the elevator incident Sophomore year—but it was like your presence managed to short circuit him.

Admittedly, you liked knowing you had that effect on him.

Over the past few weeks it was also harder to keep up your faux indifference, and whenever you spoke to him, you knew the real you was slipping through, not the monotonous version of yourself you reserved for people you didn’t like or didn’t know. The side of you that smiled a lot, and laughed, making jokes while poking fun at people, and the side of you that cared.

That scared you, just a little bit.

Not enough to deter you from actually talking to Joaquin.

Although when he hadn’t bothered to call you, that pissed you off.

You had also vented to Bucky and Sam about how frustrated you were, of course he’d be all sweet and funny, then when you decide to let him in, he’d just say fuck it and not call you. Besides, you didn’t even like phone calls! The idea of sitting on the phone and speaking with someone was irritating to say the least.

But the idea of sitting up and talking to Joaquin Torres on the phone did make your heartbeat a little faster.

Yelena told you to just call him, but you didn’t want to call him first. You specifically told him to call you, so he should’ve called you. Natasha said that Joaquin was just awkward and probably didn’t know what to say to you—which she was definitely right about.

Bucky told you that Joaquin was practically obsessed with you, he also followed that sentence with ‘not in a creepy way though, I’d kick his ass if he was.’ Always the over-protective best friend.

Steve tried to convince you that you should take the initiative with Joaquin because at this point he was utterly hopeless. Which you definitely could understand, but you weren’t going to go out of your way to call him or text him first, not when you’d explicitly told him to call you. Hell, he could’ve texted you at the very least!

But all of that anger and irritation was now gone.

Because clearly, they were all right, and you were overreacting.

“Well this is different—we’re here with other people—not alone.”

You slowly nodded at Joaquin, brows knit together at his logic. (Joaquin was mentally face-palming.) “That makes no sense, anyways, you’re interrupting the princess party, so either get a tiara and sit down, or go find Steve.”

You expected Joaquin to leave, however he simply nodded, glancing around the auditorium, spotting the table that held a series of plastic tiaras, feather boas, tutus, and a myriad of kid friendly makeup. Your jaw practically dropped at the sight of him walking up to the table and grabbing a silver tiara, slipping it over his curls.

Then Daisy and Maria ran right up to him, both tugging on one of his hands and pulling him towards their table—your table.

You always worked with the toddlers. They were the hardest age group to look after, but somehow, it always came naturally to you. Something that you often blamed on having a very large family.

Watching as Joaquin sat right between the two girls, now garnering the attention of every little girl at the table, you couldn’t stop your expression of shock. Then he said something that made all of them laugh, glancing up at you for a second before looking at all of them, now leaning closer and fake whispering.

Whatever he said earned a series of gasps, nods, and thumbs ups.

You now fully understood what Wanda meant when she said the sight of Vision working with kids had her ready to risk it all. She’d even gone on to say she felt butterflies in her stomach and ovaries—when she’d said it a few months ago you’d judged her.

But now you understood it and you owed her an apology.

Then you looked down at your clipboard, noticing the way Joaquin actually checked off several things from the kitchen-duty checklist. Clearly he’d made the pledges do more than what you had initially assigned them to do, and that made you smile as you shook your head.

Eventually you decided now would be a good time to actually check in on Steve, Sam, Pietro, and Miguel—all four of them having their own groups of guys to boss around. So you took a seat closer to the table with the tiaras and started shooting everyone check in texts alongside asking for photos of their checklists and sending them time reminders.

The sight of eight toddlers running towards the dress up table caught your attention, Joaquin sat in his seat patiently, clearly waiting on them, and they’d all messily grabbed handfuls of anything and everything.

You knew you were a goner the second they’d all made it back, each taking turns dressing him up, wrapping feather boas around him, adding fake colorful clip-ins to his hair, and painting his nails.

You tried to act as if you weren’t blatantly staring, eyes traveling around the room, where the other girls were involved in their own tables. Yelena’s girls however were all sword fighting—which was very on brand for Yelena to show them. Each holding a foam sword you’d gotten from the dollar store yesterday.

She called it ‘teaching them women’s empowerment.’

Then you looked towards the back of the room, spotting the older girls all gossiping with Natasha and Monica. They worked the best with the teenage girls, being able to actually handle their mood swings and attitudes—you remembered being that way.

Some days you worked with the teenagers, but usually during events like these, the toddlers would fight for you. But clearly they had a new favorite.

Then Maya yelled your name, she waited expectantly beside Joaquin for you to walk over. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him, several feather boas wrapped around his figure, his nails and fingers all painted with splotches of pink and purple, several different shaped clips in his hair alongside a few clip-in extensions that were rolled around into makeshift braids.

He kept his eyes shut, acting as if he was being pampered while the girls all giggled.

“Doesn’t he look so pretty!” Maya spoke, her words a bit jumped and she mispronounced the word ‘doesn't’, it sounded more like ‘don't-it’. You nodded at her, she smiled up at you while you stood a foot or two away from Joaquin on the opposite side of the table.

Sisi spoke up next “stop moving Joaquin! I trying to paint!” her words were also mixed up, and the way she pronounced his name had you practically internally combusting. The ‘wha-kin’ was clearly the popular pronunciation of his name as you registered the other girls saying his name.

Then he opened his eyes, a wide smile on his face while he glanced over at you—and you were debating leaving the room. You definitely owed Wanda an apology.

“Hermosa tell me, is this my best look?” he wiggled his eyebrows, that’s when you registered the streaks of glitter on his face. You couldn’t stop the warm flush overtaking your entire body—sure you liked Joaquin. But this side of him?

This side of him had you ready to drop the indifference fully and drag him into a supply closet on the opposite end of the building.

Instead you suppress your emotions, raising a single brow and nodding. “I’d say so, yes. Definitely a much better look on you than your usual one.” You knew that based on his facial expression, he understood the subtle jab.

However, before you and him could properly go back and forth, the auditorium doors opened again, and in walked Bucky, clearly in search of you—however the kids loved Bucky. The toddlers, specifically. All of them squealed at the sight of him, dropping what they were doing and instantly running over to him.

He sighed, looking from you to the crowd of little girls sprinting at him. It was clear that Bucky accepted his fate, but in a turn of events that would shock most of his fraternity outside of Sam, Steve, and Thor—Bucky smiled and immediately scooped up two of the girls while squatting down and letting one climb on his back.

You laughed at Joaquin’s shocked expression, then you rounded the table and started pulling the clips and extensions from his hair.

“Buck loves kids, always has. He has a soft spot for girls though—don’t tell him I told you this but he has three younger siblings, practically raised the younger two.” You spoke while taking the things out of Joaquins hair, biting your bottom lip at the feeling of his soft curls, doing your best not to blush or seem affected by the feeling.

Joaquin hummed as you spoke, his heart was racing right now and he was terrified of sounding like a bumbling idiot while you ran your hands through his hair.

Maybe giving Joaquin Torres wasn’t actually a bad idea. You decided that maybe, just maybe, it was worth a shot.

The following night the both of you had been up until three in the morning on the phone, laughing with one another about anything and everything. At first he’d opted to Facetime you under the guise that he needed help with his homework—which you mildly saw right through.

He also did genuinely need help, that much was true based on the incorrect answers he was showing you. You managed to help him over the phone, and from there, you two just stayed on the phone.

At first it was a little awkward, mainly because it looked as if he was constantly debating on what to actually say to you. Then you started humming, and instead of staying seated at the desk that you were originally at, you chose to go to your apartment’s kitchen, that’s also how Joaquin found out you and Wanda lived together.

Wanda spotted the phone in your hand first, her brows knit together as she looked through the fridge for something, then you propped it up on the countertop, and that’s when she saw Joaquin. Immediately stopping to say hi to him, and of course, Wanda teased both you and him for a few minutes before she rushed back to her room—where her boyfriend was currently waiting on her.

“You never told me you lived with Wanda.”

You raised a single brow, glancing from the cabinets in front of you to the phone beside you. “I’ve never told you much about myself actually. But yep, we’re roommates.” Then you were focused on the cabinet in front of you again—groaning when you couldn’t actually reach what you needed on the top shelf of the too-tall cabinets.

Joaquin tried to laugh at you, and you immediately shushed him. “You’re not exactly Shaq, so I’m not sure what’s funny, Torres. Anyways—” you paused, glancing over your shoulder before shouting “Vis! Come here!”

A few seconds later the britt was jogging out of Wanda’s room, shirtless and clearly covered in red lipstick stains and kisses. You raised a single brow, blinking a few times while looking at his disheveled state.

“It’s not what it looks like—” you cut him off, shaking your head.

“I don’t wanna know what kind of freaky deaky shit you two get up to in here, I just need help grabbing my bag of reese's cups, which I know you put up there.”

Vision nodded his head, clearly caught red handed, then you side-stepped, and motioned for him to grab the bag for you—which he easily was able to reach. That also gave Joaquin a front row seat to Vision’s current state.

“Holy shit man—good for you dude”

You couldn’t hold in your laugh at Joaquin’s commentary, Vision blushed, a red flush overtaking his pale skin as he handed you the orange bag and rushed back to Wanda’s room. Then Joaquin’s laughter was matching your own.

“She’s probably forcing him to help her with a photo shoot, fine arts major and all. But we all know how those marks got there.” You spoke absentmindedly, grabbing your phone then walking back to your room and kicking the door shut lightly.

“Y’know I never took you for a reeses cup girl.” You raised a brow at him.

“Oh so what am I? Please, let me hear your analysis.”

Joaquin’s brows both raised, but you sat in silence, now on your bed, propping the phone up against your laptop that was sitting on the mini-folding lap desk. He knew that expectant look, so he shrugged, putting his pen down before leaning back for a second.

“Well, I thought you’d like snickers—mainly because Sam always mentioned grabbing you one from the gas station. Although, I’m pretty sure you’re more of a fan of candy than chocolate, my guess is something along the lines of sour patch. You strike me as a blue sour patch kids lover.”

You laughed at him, nodding your head while he looked at you and rambled.

“Close, Sam gets me snickers because of an inside joke. They’re not bad, but not my favorite. Although you’re right about the sour patch kids, I like the green ones the most though. But I’d say you probably like the red ones the most.”

He smiled, and that gave you butterflies again. “Yeah, I do actually—and I hate the green ones.”

You gasped at that, jaw dropping “no way! That’s so shitty of you!”

“Well, at least I know I can save them for you now.”

You were grateful that your room was dimly lit after that comment. Heat flooded your features, and part of you debated on knocking the phone over just so you could squeal into a pillow. This was unusual for you, getting giddy over a guy? Guys didn’t make you blush or giggle, and they sure as hell never had your heart racing.

Especially not guys like Joaquin Torres.

Then again, this Joaquin wasn’t the same douchebag that you thought you knew.

Eventually, you’d laid down, propping the phone up against one of your pillows while he did the same thing. Except you were looking at him, and he was looking at the ceiling.

“So you’re from Miami right?”

“Yeah, and you’re from Brooklyn?”

You nodded—then realized he wasn’t looking at you. “Yeah, I grew up right in the heart of Brooklyn with my idiot best friends. Probably spent a little too much time doing stupid shit honestly. Anyways, what’s the beach like?”

He blinked a few times, now looking at you. “You’ve never been to the beach?”

You rolled your eyes “I just said I’m from Brooklyn. Unless you count the shitty New York upstate beaches that have like two inches of sand and dirty water, then no.”

“Not even on spring break?” You raised a brow at that. “Some of us are poor.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head. “Tell me about it.” That caught your attention, your brows knit together, sure you’d noticed the way that he was when it came to money—including the bad parts of him such as the occasional flaunting of money and terrible bets. But you hadn’t expected that response.

“What happened to mister rich boy Joaquin Torres?”

Joaquin shrugged. “It was never true. I dunno, I guess it was just easier to let people believe what they wanted about me, it’s not exactly a good look to tell people your family used to be dirt poor and your scholarship was the only way you’d ever actually be able to afford college. If all else failed, my backup plan was the Air Force.”

You noticed that he was looking directly at you as he spoke, his gaze wasn’t on the ceiling anymore, and he was telling you the genuine truth, showing you another side of him that you’d never seen before.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m the same way. Not the Air Force part though, I probably would’ve just gone the stripper route like my cousin.”

He laughed at that, and so did you. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually got moves, Hermosa?”

You raised a brow “I’ll have you know, I’m a great dancer, besides, how else would I be the Gamma Theta midnight ballerina fundraising competition’s reigning champion.”

His eyes practically popped out of his head at the mention of the borderline stripper dance competition that Gamma Theta held every year. You knew he’d never been, the soccer schedule conflicted with that specific event, it happened the week before finals every semester, and you’d won two semesters in a row.

Although it did take several shots, and you did it for charity. The event wasn’t something that was widely broadcasted, actually it was more of a ‘word of mouth’ fundraising event that required everyone to pay at the door, and the sorority was strict about who was allowed entry—they’d even had an entire blacklist for it.

“You—you’re the girl everyone talks about from last semester?! With the heel click?”

You shushed him “please! Don’t remind me! It’s the liquor okay. Besides, it’s for charity! I wasn’t kidding when I said my cousin’s a stripper. The first time I won, Sam was there, and he didn’t let me live it down for months.”

Joaquin slowly nodded, “You learn something new everyday I guess—wait I gotta know—you’re not actually stripping right?”

Your jaw dropped. “No! Who the hell told you that?!”

“I knew Sam was just fucking with me. You think they’ll ever do a magic mike inspired fundraiser, I’d probably win, maybe buy some of those pants that just rip off.”

That’s how most of the night went, the both of you going back and forth about anything and everything, sharing your interests, hobbies, and you’d even introduced him to your cat Salem. Which was followed by Joaquin introducing you to his orange cat Cheeto.

You didn’t know who’d fallen asleep first, the only thing you knew was that when you woke the next morning, late for your nine o’clock class, you were still on the phone with him.

“Joaquin!” you didn’t even bother whispering it, he groaned from his end, the sounds of his bed squeaking alongside blankets rustling as he moved around. Then he yawned, blinking several times when he finally managed to grab his phone, now squinting at the screen which most likely only showed the top half of your face while you tried to read the spam of missed calls and text notifications.

That’s when you registered the time, and so did he.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! I missed practice—oh god coach is gonna kill me—and I’m late for class?! Jesus Christ!”

He was practically jumping out of his bed, phone going flying to the floor, which elicited a laugh from you at the reaction.

You just opted to sit up and stretch, rolling your shoulders back and looking around.

“You’re still gonna go?”

Joaquin blinked a few times as he looked at you. “I mean—yeah? Wait shit—by the time I get there class’ll be over.”

You nodded, raising both brows. “Okay so don’t go. Not to be a bad influence, but I doubt you’ve ever even skipped a morning class. Besides, if you need a note, Rhodey and Stark sell them for like fifteen bucks I think—unless you have boobs, then they’re free.”

His brows knit together “are you saying you flash them for a free fake note?”

You scoffed “no you dipshit, I’m just pretty. Anyways, I’ll talk to you later, gotta go—” and before he could reply you hung up, plopping back into your bed, grabbing a single pillow and holding it against your own face as you finally squealed.

No way in hell Joaquin Torres had you this giddy at nine thirty in the morning.

The next couple of days passed in a hectic blur, you’d spent most of your time at the engineering building working with your experimental design group, constantly arguing with Tony Stark who insisted that his ideas made the most sense, even though the data proved that while his ideas and his designs were good, they didn’t surpass your own.

You hadn’t seen Joaquin much, although he did text you to let you know that his Coach had been ‘torturing him’ for missing practice, and he asked you to speak at his funeral if he didn’t survive the never-ending sprints. He also complained that because it was now closer to Halloween that it was too cold to be running sprints.

It wasn’t even under forty-five degrees yet. You were convinced he was only cold because he was from Miami, at this point he should’ve been used to having real seasons.

Today you were actually helping Steve plan a fundraiser and a few smaller volunteer-work events at the frat house. You always made fun of him for living at the house, but as a member of their executive board, it was a requirement—at least he got his own room and bathroom.

Currently, you laid on his bed, feet in the air as your gaze focused on the laptop screen in front of you, eyes moving from the excel sheet Steve shared with you, to the whiteboard that Sam had ‘borrowed’ from one of the study rooms inside of the business building last year. It was currently covered in sticky notes and Steve’s scribbles while he tried to categorize information.

“I’m just saying Steve, your new pledges complain too much, having them at a nursing home is a recipe for disaster. You do know that the elderly aren’t exactly the friendliest with a bunch of frat guys? Not everyone’s a golden retriever like you.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned to look at you. “Listen, we always do the nursing home before fall break. Then we’ve got the trunk or treat this weekend before the big Halloween party on saturday. It’s Halloweekend—meaning everyone’s gonna be hungover that morning but we still gotta get the last minute details finalized.”

You sighed, now typing into the spreadsheet, working on organizing shifts for the trunk or treat and sorting through the participating organizations as well.

“Should I do the It trunk again? Kids liked that one last year”

Steve nodded, brows knit together as he tallied up the frat’s service hours this semester. “I think we’re already hitting the minimum requirement, but we’ve gotta double that, can’t let the sig chi guys outshine us—”

You cut him off “yeah cause they’re fuckin assholes. Well, I mean they’re not all assholes—but Stark? I’d wring his throat. But Peter? I’d never, he’s so sweet!”

Then your phone started ringing, catching both your attention and Steve’s. You noticed the contact name ‘Torres’ and debated on declining the call, finger hesitating before finally declining it.

“Never seen you hesitate before, usually you decline every call the first time.”

You shushed him with a pointed look, going back to your laptop, or at least you tried to until someone was knocking on Steve’s door and he shouted for them to come in. Then your gaze moved to the opening door, raising a single brow at the sight of Joaquin, his hair a bit damp, a soccer hoodie on, and a pair of joggers.

Internally you were debating on kicking Steve out of his own room to fuck Joaquin Torres. That was a shocking revelation for you.

Of course he was attractive, he’d always been attractive. But you’d never actually considered sleeping with him—hell you hadn’t even considered befriending him until a month ago when everyone had to convince you to give him a chance.

“Oh—didn’t realize you were here. Guess it makes sense that you didn’t answer.”

You nodded at him. “I usually don’t answer.” Then your gaze was back on the laptop, you were trying not to sound overly interested, after all you still had a part to play! However it was getting harder and harder to continue feigning indifference.

Steve cleared his throat, catching Joaquin’s attention which had been stuck on you. “So, whaddya need Quin? Sunshine’s helping me plan out the rest of the semester’s service events.”

Joaquin slowly nodded, blinking a few times before grabbing his bag and settling it on the edge of Steve’s desk, digging out a folder and leaving it on the desk. “Printed the interest forms, I still don’t get why you don’t just look through the google form online, it’s so much easier than sorting through all of this.” He motioned to the file full of paper.

“What can I say, I’m old fashioned.”

You snorted at that, shaking your head. “Or technologically illiterate.” Joaquin laughed at that, meanwhile Steve gasped. “You’re worse than Buck!”

“I’ve always been meaner than Buck, that’s not anything new. Don’t make me call Peggy and tell her you’re being mean to me again!”

Steve scoffed, hands now on his hips while he craned his neck back. “How the hell am I being mean to you! You’re being mean to me! Then you threaten me with my own girlfriend?!”

“Yeah cause she’ll take my side anyways! Don’t forget who taught her the mouth thing!”

Joaquin’s eyes widened at that—he had no idea what it meant, but he knew it was far from appropriate.

“You’re really the worst Sunshine, y’know that. Jeez—y’know what. Joaquin, why don’t you two go find something to do, I’ll have Buck help me finish this, at least he won’t threaten me with my own girlfriend.”

You scoffed while sitting up and shoving your laptop into your bag. “Oh please, he’ll be on my side anyways you old man! What are you a hundred and twelve?! Learn how to use google!” Then you were up, slinging your black bag over one shoulder and walking towards the door, grabbing Joaquin’s forearm and dragging him behind you.

Once you were both in the hallway, you turned around and leaned back into Steve’s room. “Love ya Stevie! Do you want me to grab the ghostface costume for you?”

He blushed a shade of red that made you laugh, shaking his head. “No! Jeez, get out! Love ya too kid.” Then you were shutting his door with a triumphant smile.

Joaquin looked incredibly confused, but you just shrugged “we do that a lot, it’s fine—he’s like my brother. So uh, what’re you up to?”. Then it was his turn to shrug, glancing down at his watch, it was already past seven and he managed to finish most of his work for the week already.

“Uh, nothing?”

You slowly nodded “you sound unsure of yourself. I have to go to spirit halloween and I think target? I dunno, you wanna come?” you were mentally smacking yourself for inviting him. Wanda was initially supposed to come, but she’d gotten caught up helping Nat with something.

Then you tried Monica and Riri, but they were both occupied with group projects, not to mention Riri’s mystery girlfriend that she didn’t tell anyone about but you had an inkling it was one of the Wakandan international students.

You were supposed to be going alone, it would’ve been a quick trip there and back. The closest spirit halloween was less than a ten minute drive from campus, and it was in the same general vicinity as Target. There was a list of things you needed to grab for yourself, for the trunk or treat, for Steve, and a few things you owed Wanda after stealing from her snack drawer last weekend.

When he didn’t answer you raised a single brow, then started walking down the hallway towards the stairs. You knew the layout of the frat house pretty well, freshman year it was a bit confusing and overwhelming—especially with the then president being a little too persistent when it came to flirting with freshmen.

Then Joaquin blinked a few times, quickly chasing after you.

“So you’re coming?” He nodded his head, then shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I didn’t drive here though, you mind giving me a ride?” You paused, now at the stop of the stairs, looking at him. He offered an awkward smile and another shrug.

“Peter’s borrowing my car, taking his girlfriend to some art museum’s limited time night exhibit. She’s apparently really big on art, and dismantling the patriarchy.”

You slowly nodded “and yet her boyfriend’s in a fraternity?” Then you were headed down the steps, not glancing back whatsoever but you knew he was following behind.

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence, although you felt Joaquin’s eyes on you the entire time. At the sight of you and Joaquin walking down the stairs, several sets of eyes were on you. That’s also when you turned a corner and paused, now looking at Sam and Bucky who both starred with a similar curiosity.

“Now this, this isn’t something you see everyday Buck.”

Bucky nodded “Well, I do see Sunshine almost daily, but with Joaquin? I don’t know—something’s clearly happening here.”

You scoffed at them, the two of them talking as if you weren’t there while simultaneously blocking your way. “Both of you get the hell out of my way. Oh—Buck by the way, if Steve asks, you’re on my side. Sam I’d say you are too but we all know you’ll choose Steve’s side.”

Sam shook his head, eyes focused on his phone for a few seconds, swiping through apps. “Uh not this time—” then he showed you the screen, a seventy four showing for his Differential Equations midterm grade. “—whatever you did wrong, you were absolutely right and I’m on your side through and through!” Then Sam was shoving his phone in his back pocket and pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning.

Meanwhile you were laughing at him. “Put me down Wilson! Stop it!”

Joaquin’s fists clenched at his sides, it was unconscious—but the longer he watched the interaction, the longer the jealousy was bubbling up inside of him. He had no right to be jealous! It’s not like you were his girlfriend, you two were hardly even friends!

Sam finally put you down, taking a second to adjust your glasses with a wide smile. “Listen, Fury was about to borderline bench me—without your help I would’ve been screwed.”

Bucky nodded his head, silently agreeing with Sam.

“Okay, it’s fine guys! Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to spirit halloween, do either of you want anything for the maze, trunk or treat, or the party?”

They both shook their heads and stepped to the side, you smiled at them as you walked into the main foyer of the house towards the front doors. Joaquin followed suit, blushing at the teasing smirks that were sent his way.

Joaquin Torres was an absolute nuisance in the passenger seat. You should’ve made him drive. He kept touching everything! He started by opening the glove department, going through the few papers and items there, then when you told him to quit it, he opted to open the middle console, looking through the various things you kept in there.

He even pulled out your perfume and smelled it, nodding his head a few times before putting the travel size bottle back inside. Eventually he found a phone charger and opted to connect his phone. When he ran out of things to look through, he started touching the radio, switching from channel to channel and making a few comments about being on the aux.

You told him to shut the hell up three times and he didn’t. Instead he figured out how to connect his phone and started playing Bad Bunny.

That didn’t bother you—you actually hummed along to the song. However, when you pulled into the parking garage, Joaquin was touching the few things that hung from your rear view mirror, which led to you smacking his hands away.

“Quit it! You’re like a freaking little kid! Stop touching everything!”

You were shouting at him, taking a few deep breaths as you looked at him. Then he clicked the overhead light on, the dim yellow glow illuminating both of you. Sure he could see you just fine with the shallow light streaming in from the garage, however—he couldn’t help himself.

“Are you shitting me?!”

Joaquin tried to act surprised by your shouting, but he couldn’t hold in his smile. A wide toothy grin that hit you right in the heart strings—but you ignored that, opting to shove him the same way he’d seen you shove Sam in the past.

“You’re so annoying.” Then you turned off the light and took the keys out of the ignition, the car turning off as you got out, mumbling a series of frustrated curse words under your breath as you grabbed your bag from the backseat.

He smiled the entire time, following you through the large parking garage towards the entrance to the indoor shopping center. Once you were both inside, you trudged towards the spirit halloween that opened every fall where an old department store used to be. Joaquin walked side-by-side with you—well he was walking next to you until some guy nearly ran right through you.

Clearly a high schooler trying to impress a crowd of girls near the entrance to Spirit Halloween. He was dressed in a clown costume with a mask on, and Joaquin was positive his goal was to scare you, however, the second Joaquin pulled you out of his direction, it was like alarm bells went off in your head.

You glared at the kid, Joaquin’s hand still on your waist from when he’d pulled you away. “Dude, what the fuck is your problem? Go be an idiot somewhere else!” Your venomous tone had his eyes widening, but of course, the kid in the costume couldn’t take the hint, so he stalked right up to you, while the crowd further down giggled amongst themselves.

Joaquin didn’t even have to say anything, he let out a deep sigh while you reacted. Your knee hitting the clown’s groin—hard—then he doubled over, clearly having the wind knocked out of him while ripping his mask off.

He wasn’t any older than eighteen, and he was out of breath while he held onto his abdomen, looking right up at you. “Jesus Christ—I’m sorry—” he paused, glancing over your shoulder at Joaquin. “—your girlfriend’s fucking strong. Oh god, this is so embarrassing. It was a prank, I’m sorry—shit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Next time, prank someone else. For the record, people who spend their teenage years fucking with others for fun usually peak in high school. Maybe don’t be a dick.” Then you were grabbing Joaquin and pulling him behind you—or rather dragging him.

Joaquin muttered apologies when you gave the crowd of high schoolers dirty looks, most of them looking away quickly. But he wasn’t going to argue with you—not when he was still focused on the fact that you hadn’t denied the allegation of being his girlfriend.

He followed you around the store with a lovesick expression on his face, if hearts could float around his head—they would. Meanwhile you had him pushing the small orange shopping cart while shoving items in the basket and in his direction.

“So what exactly is all of this for?” he motioned towards the nearly full cart—a series of decorations, costume items, and masks piled up.

You glanced up from your phone towards him. “For someone in Beta Chi that’s also friends with most of the exec board, you’re a bit out of the loop huh?”

He raised a brow at you “is now really the time to be sarcastic, after I saved your life from a deranged clown?”

You scoffed “Please, he was like sixteen and in over his head. I didn’t even hit him that hard either Joaquin! Anyways, some of this is for my trunk, i’ve got a few things for Thor, Miguel asked me to grab a few ghostface’s for the maze—apparently they’re chasing sorority girls around, something about them being into that—a few things for Wanda, and I owed Nat a favor so I grabbed her costume.”

As you spoke you sifted through everything in the basket, mentally doing inventory on what you needed and didn’t need.

Meanwhile he was blushing at the fact that you called him his first name instead of Torres.

“Have you always been this involved in the frat?”

You shook your head at him. “Nope, I never had time before August. That’s also why I dropped from Theta last spring. But over the summer I did an internship with Pym Enterprises, managed to actually make enough to not have to worry about working almost full time, and I sold some of my nano-tech research to the Starks. Y’know they’re always looking for the next best thing—pretty sure that’s why that dickhead Tony’s always arguing with me.”

Joaquin slowly nodded. Then you spun around and walked towards a completely different aisle, just leaving him standing with the cart. Well that was until you cleared your throat—loudly—and turned to look at him. “Chop Chop Torres!”

He stood in the aisle with the cart, watching as you looked through a series of different costumes, pulling different sizes off of the racks while comparing them. Most of them were still in their plastic containers so you were really just staring at two bags. He didn’t understand the logic.

Then someone said his name, and that caught his attention as he looked to the right, spotting Yelena and Natasha who walked up towards him.

You’d been too busy looking through the costumes to even notice them.

Yelena raised a brow at the sight of you a bit further down, and Joaquin standing next to a cart full of belongings while also holding your purse—honestly he wasn’t sure when you’d handed it to him either. “So, are you two dating now? I always knew you liked her—you stare at her as if she’s the sun. I guess that makes sense though—they do call her Sunshine.”

Natasha elbowed her sister, giving her a pointed look, meanwhile Joaquin just blushed at the insinuation. “I should’ve texted her to let her know I changed my mind on the costume—I’m thinking more of Poison Ivy, y’know, green leaves—barely anything on. Gotta commit to the Halloween vibe.”

Joaquin simply nodded, not really paying attention to them, gaze shifting back towards you while you shoved one of the costumes back on the rack.

“Sunshine!” Your eyes widened, head looking over in their direction, then you blinked a few times before walking over.

“Nat—wait a damn second is that the Poison Ivy costume!? I told you to just go with that from the beginning!”

Joaquin zoned out completely, his gaze focused on you and you only. You looked so beautiful—well you were always beautiful—but for some reason the dim fluorescent lighting was really emphasizing that. Maybe it was also the shiny makeup you had on, light specks of gold dancing across your cheekbones as you spoke to Natasha about costumes or hair—he didn’t even know at this point.

“Joaquin!” he blinked, looking back at Yelena, eyes wide as he tried to act as if he had any idea of what she said to him.

“You’re hopeless. Your girlfriend and my sister already left the aisle.”

You and Joaquin spent another two hours at the stores, and he was in charge of the cart while you basically bossed him around. Then he loaded most of the bags into your car, which you told him he didn’t need to do—but he insisted he was a ‘gentleman’.

That had you rolling your eyes. But on the drive back you two were in a comfortable silence, the only noise being the hum of the radio as he controlled the aux, opting to listen to one of his more sporadic playlists. It had a little bit of everything—or so he described it.

You found his music taste to be interesting, and it showed you a little more of who he was. Admittedly, you had to force yourself not to smile because you genuinely liked Joaquin Torres—it was a recipe for disaster.

“Torres, you do know I have no idea where you actually live right?”

He blinked a few times, now looking at you. “I guess that would be useful huh?” Then he mumbled his address—you paused for a second, blinking a few times, thankful that you were at a red light.

“What?” Joaquin looked confused now as he repeated his address. “Do you need directions there or something?”

You shook your head and scoffed. “No you dipshit, we live in the same building. What floor do you live on?”

He laughed a bit, raising a single brow “on the fourth floor. How long have you lived there?”

“This is my second year and I’m on the sixth.”

He slowly nodded his head. “So we’ve been living in the same building for two years. Wait, you park on the third floor in the garage huh? Makes sense why I haven’t ever seen this snazzy little bug” he pat your dashboard while wiggling his brows, that made you shake your head as you started driving again.

“No shit, floors six through eight are on the third. Oh my god! There’s this asshole on my floor who drives a bright yellow jeep and he parks like shit and takes up two spaces and I can’t stand him!”

Finding out that you lived in the same apartment building was not on your bingo card. Then again, it made sense, the apartments themselves were advertised as student housing and the complex did have a direct contract with the university to lease to students and even offered using financial aid to cover the living expenses every semester.

Although it was still a little shocking to know that you lived in the same vicinity.

“So when are you gonna invite me over for a movie night?”

You rolled your eyes at him as you pulled into the parking garage. “When pigs fly.”

On Halloween night you ate those words.

The trunk or treat had been a huge hit, Steve thanked you more times than you could count, and you also received your last midterm grade from your statistics class—you’d thankfully aced it after spending countless hours studying and praying to whatever Gods existed.

So to say you earned a break was an understatement. The Beta Chi party was in full swing by the time you made it with all of your girls in tow. Slowly but surely everyone managed to slip and find their way around the large fraternity house. Some found their partners, others went in search of food and drinks, and a few opted to play drinking games.

Most of the night was spent wandering through the crowded frat house and backyard, drinking, laughing, and smiling with friends and absolute strangers. Everyone that recognized you said hi, some even commenting on how rare it was to actually see you at a party—which they weren’t wrong about but you simply shrugged them off.

You’d even won a few rounds of beer pong with Bucky before forcing him to go talk to some girl that’d been flirting with him all night.

By the time Joaquin had finally spotted you, he was already drunk with a lopsided smile on his face and a cutwater can in his hand. He hadn’t hesitated to move through the crowds, ignoring any girls that tried stopping him and mumbling that he’d catch up with the guys sometime later.

You were sitting on a lawn chair, feet propped up on a random stack of crates while Nat sat to your left, drunkenly venting about her ex boyfriend Bruce that she couldn’t seem to get over but refused to give a second chance. They hadn’t even broken up for a good reason! She’d overreacted about him not being able to spend Spring Break with her—that was literally it.

Joaquin made it over eventually, and he stood right in front of your chair, placing one hand on your right thigh, pushing it apart—making just enough room for him to crowd your space as you looked up at him.

“Can I help you with something Torres?” His hand was cold against your bare thigh and you had to admit—Joaquin looked good. Although, the ‘doctor’ costume he wore was a little corny—a white lab coat with nothing on under, stethoscope, and a pair of blue scrub pants. He even had a fake syringe hanging out of the pocket of the coat. But it gave you a perfect view of his defined abs, skin golden with a sheen of sweat that was most likely from the mix of liquor, heat, and constantly moving through the party.

“Came to check on my favorite patient ‘s all” as he spoke, he rubbed a small circle against your thigh with his thumb—and that motion had your heart racing.

However, the moment was cut short when the sound of cheers and screams were heard from the rooftop above. It caught everyone’s attention—your eyes practically popping out of your head at the sight of two guys you hardly recognized standing on the edge, chanting for people to cheer them on.

Now is also an important point to note that the Beta Chi frat house also has an eighteen foot wide, five foot deep above ground pool up that they’d purchased from Costco for a party that was held three months ago. Since then they’d actually managed to keep it clean enough that the water was technically swimmable—but you’d never swim in it.

One of the guys on the roof was shirtless, wearing what you assumed was supposed to be a cow costume based on the large black spots painted on his body, plus the black and white spotted pants and fake ears. The other wore pink pants, had his torso painted pink and had a pig nose and ears on.

Then they both jumped off of the roof, landing inside of the pool with a splash that soaked half of the backyard—thankfully Joaquin had caught most of the water and Natasha managed to run fast enough to avoid it.

Your jaw dropped at the sight, bursting into a fit of laughter as both guys stood up in the pool, now soaking wet with triumphant smiles while people crowded and cheered them on.

Joaquin looked back at you, both eyebrows raised and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“So, about that movie night?”

You scoffed “that doesn’t count.”

He shook his head “no, you said when pigs fly, by definition, he was technically flying—technically hurdling himself through the air.”

Two weeks had passed since Halloween weekend, and you’d rejected every single one of Joaquin’s suggestions about hanging out or coming over. Mainly because you’d been too busy trying to convince yourself that you didn’t actually like him—and that the sight of his name popping up in your notifications didn’t make your heart race.

There was no way in hell you actually liked Joaquin Torres.

Sure he was nice enough, and really—really nice to look at, but outside of that? What was there to like!

It didn’t matter that he knew how to make you laugh, that he wasn’t afraid to ask you ten million questions about Linear Algebra in the library, or that he’d actually managed to memorize your drink order from the local coffee shop on campus after Sam had let it slip one day.

Nor did it matter that he’d look for you in the crowd at soccer games now—that didn’t mean anything! Besides, it’s not like you were the only girl he’d smile at when he was on the field, his hands on his hips while he caught his breath—there had to be other girls? Well, you hadn’t ever noticed him looking into the crowd before, it was as if his mind was solely focused on the field and his team—that was really it.

Then suddenly, it wasn’t.

That wasn’t your fault! It was just a coincidence.

Although Nat and Wanda both kept saying coincidences weren’t real. Then when you vented to Riri and Monica about it—with Riri’s girlfriend on facetime—they all told you that you were lying to yourself. Her girlfriend even said the statistical probability that it was a coincidence was low! Lower than low!

But that didn’t matter, because you didn’t like Joaquin Torres.

If anything, you were frenemies?

Tonight was no different than a usual Thursday night for you. You’d studied, done your homework, and now you were sitting in the living room, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around your figure while you watched trashy reality tv with a bowl of assorted snacks.

Usually Wanda would watch the real housewives with you, but she was out on a date with her boyfriend, so it was just you tonight.

Or at least, it was supposed to be just you, until the doorbell started ringing at eleven. At first you assumed it was Sam or Bucky, knowing they usually rang the bell several times if you didn’t open it on the first. Then again, several people knew where you lived, so it could’ve been any of your obnoxious friends, so you groaned, trudging from the couch to the front door and opening it.

You should’ve looked through the peephole first.

Joaquin smiled at you, holding up a bag full of snacks. You clenched your jaw as your eyes traced his figure, he had on a pair of loose plaid pajama pants, a hoodie that had clearly seen better days, his hair was damp like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and the thin gold chain he wore with what you assumed to be a saint pendant was resting against his chest.

He’d even brought his own blanket. Plus he had on slippers, not just any slippers, white bunny rabbit slippers—they even had the ears.

“How the hell did you figure out which apartment was mine?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Well, a little—actually a pretty big birdie told me. He owed me a favor for those interest forms and a little something else. Besides, it’s not like I stalked you to figure it out! It’s a perfect night to watch something! I don’t have practice tomorrow, you don’t have class, it makes sense!” It was clear he was trying to defend himself and not get the door slammed in his face.

You groaned, shaking your head before side-stepping and motioning for him to come inside.

“Damn, that went a lot better than I expected! Honestly, I thought you’d just slam the door on me and tell me to go die or something.”

“So Steve told you? I need to know so I know who’s ass I have to kick.” You spoke as you shut the door and locked it, then turned to face him.

Joaquin Torres clearly knew how to make himself at home. In the span of thirty seconds he’d managed to kick off his slippers, jump over the back of your sofa, and plant himself directly in your previous spot, throwing the blanket over his lap while placing the plastic bag full of snacks on the coffee table.

“I never took you as a Real Housewives kinda girl, more like Baddies—something where they actually fist fight.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head while walking back towards the couch. “Uh no, the housewives have real drama, and besides, Phaedra always looks good. Besides, some of them have had beef for decades at this point. Usually Wanda watches it with me, we switch between Atlanta, New York, and Beverly Hills.”

He nodded as he opened up a bag of sour patch kids, the sight made you raise a single brow. Then he grabbed a green one and held it out for you, arm dangling over the back of the couch, a silent peace offering.

“You’re lucky Torres.” You snatched it from him before walking back around the sofa and plopping down on the opposite side that Wanda usually occupied. But this wasn’t your usual seat, you liked leaning against the right arm of the couch with your feet perched up on the coffee table, the left side didn’t feel right.

So you kept moving and fidgeting, trying to get comfortable with a frown etched on your face.

“You good?”

You scoffed then grabbed a throw pillow, screaming into it while covering your face. Joaquin couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Then you threw it at him.

“Hey! What was that for?!” He spoke as he laughed, shaking his head at you while chewing on a piece of candy.

“You’re in my seat! I hate leaning to the left! I’m gonna kick Steve’s ass for telling you where I live!”

Joaquin shook his head, wagging a single finger in a motion that had you debating on whether or not hitting him was a good idea. Although, even when you tried to wrestle Bucky and Sam they usually took you down in seconds, you imagined Joaquin would be the same way—although he was shorter than them—maybe you had a chance?

“Actually, you told me where you lived—Bucky told me what apartment you lived in—Oh shit I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Your jaw dropped. “He told you?! How the hell did you get Bucky to fess up!” Then you threw another pillow at Joaquin. He tossed it on the ground before leaning forward and putting the bag of candy down. Then he was shifting slightly to the left, both feet flat on the floor as he looked at you.

Then he was leaning across the couch, grasping your forearms and practically dragging you into him. You scoffed at the motion—trying to shove him but he shook his head, clearly not letting you win this. It didn’t help that your feet weren’t flat on the ground either—you couldn’t ground yourself as you squealed.

“Joaquin!”

He laughed at you, nodding his head “that’s my name Sweetheart! Don’t wear it out—Hey—wait!” you managed to slip one hand free, then you were shoving your hand against his face, pushing him back, which had you laughing with him. However, he still had one of your arms, and as you managed to kick one of his legs, he somehow managed to use his free hand to pull you in by your side.

He thought he could pull you into his side successfully, however he gave you enough leverage to pull away—except with his grip on your side, you were both tumbling to the ground.

You both groaned at the impact while laughing, well you tried to laugh, but Joaquin’s weight on you had your breath uneven. Then he picked himself up slightly, one hand resting on the ground beside your head as he looked down at you, and you looked up at him.

His necklace dangled near your chin, and both of you were not silent as you processed the current position. When you moved one leg, he was perfectly slotted between your thighs, and you weren’t sure what to say—or do. Your heart raced as his eyes scanned your features.

“You’re so pretty.” Joaquin spoke in a low hushed tone, as if he expected you to shove him away. But you didn't, you just nodded at him, eyes on his own.

Then they slid to his lips, and back up to his eyes. He mirrored your expression.

“Joaquin” He nodded, you sounded breathless. “Kiss me.”

His eyes met yours again—it was clear he was hesitating. So you sighed, shaking your head, then you grabbed his chain lightly, tugging him down while you leaned up the slightest bit, lips colliding with his.

It didn’t take much convincing to have Joaquin kissing you back, his lips were softer than you expected, and you could taste the sour candy on them. You moved your hand, now gripping his hoodie, fist clenched around the soft cotton fabric as your lips moved against his.

Joaquin used his free hand to caress the side of your face, resting it against your jaw ever so slightly, as if he was afraid of breaking you—or ruining this.

There was nothing he could do to ruin the moment—not for you at least. You were the one to deepen the kiss, kissing him with fever you hadn’t even expected. Tongue tracing along his bottom lip for a split second before he was parting them, letting you in, tongue against your own as he tasted you.

That’s when the competition started, your lips moving against his, his against yours, a constant back and forth, fighting for control—for dominance. Both of you wanted to win, the kiss was nothing short of passionate, a push and pull that was so familiar to you both.

He’d never been kissed like this—usually girls let him take the lead. But you? You wouldn’t give in that easily.

Joaquin pulled away for air first, you bit his bottom lip, tugging on it before letting it go. He stared down at you with his lips parted, red, and swollen. He was catching his breath, feeling as if he’d just sprinted two miles. Your hand was flat against his chest now, the other held onto the hand that he caressed your cheek with.

Neither of you knew when your hand got there, but you both knew that it belonged there.

The moment was cut short by the sound of the door slamming open, followed by a loud anger-filled scream.

“He forgot our fucking anniversary! Wait—Sunshine? Where the hell are you?”

Your eyes widened at the sound of Wanda’s voice, and Joaquin’s jaw dropped. You were shoving him back, however he leaned closer—moving faster than you—planting another kiss against your lips before getting up. Both of you sitting up, heads now popping up from the couch, and Wanda paused in her tracks, the freezer already open.

“Joaquin?!”

He slowly nodded, an awkward smile on his face. “That’s me! Bad night Wan?”

You took a deep breath before meeting Wanda’s eyes. Both of her brows were raised as she looked between you and Joaquin, a smirk slowly forming on her face as she grabbed a pint of ice cream from the freezer.

“So, what’s going on here” she spoke as she walked around, now grabbing a spoon then pointing it between the two of you.

This was one of the few times that you wished your apartment wasn’t so open-concept.

“Uh, movie night? You wanna join?” You elbowed Joaquin as he spoke, he shrugged, clearly not sure what to do.

“Actually, you know what Joaquin, I could use a guy’s perspective—wait, you two have on clothes right? From here all I’m seeing are heads.” she popped the lid off of the ice cream, now taking a large spoonful.

“Jesus Wanda! Yes!”

Joaquin was red, bright red, similar to that of a cherry tomato.

That night was spent with Wanda venting to the both of you about her relationship quarrels, and shockingly enough, Joaquin offered pretty good advice—even if he did argue with you about a grand gesture being obnoxious. He also proved to be a good listener, and as he gave Wanda helpful advice, your heart was racing and those God-awful butterflies were back in your stomach.

You could still feel the ghost of his lips against your own.

It wasn’t as if you had time to really talk to Joaquin about the kiss, it happened the week before fall break, everyone taking road trips or booking flights back home. You’d caught a ride with Steve and Bucky back to Brooklyn where you spent the week with your family and theirs.

Even when you were with everyone, your mind was still far away, too focused on a boy that had somehow managed to thaw out your heart of ice—Steve’s words, not yours.

Break usually only lasted a week, but that was a week that you’d spent thinking about Joaquin Torres, forcing yourself to come to terms with the fact that you genuinely liked him. It wasn’t some fluke, you liked him—you liked who he really was and he’d been doing his best to show that side to you.

Steve told you to give him a chance again, he’d listened to you vent about how Joaquin made your heart race and head spin. He even laughed when you told him about the kiss, practically word-vomiting it in a panicked haze when Winnie Barnes asked if you had a boyfriend as she worked on her famous cinnamon rolls. Meanwhile Steve was helping with the dishes while Bucky was peeling potatoes.

Winnie Barnes always put the three of you to work. Then again, she also had a tendency to host any holidays, inviting not only you, but your families as well.

She called it paying dues, but honestly, you enjoyed spending time in the kitchen with her. Your mother wasn’t a huge cook—that was your dad. But your mom still accompanied you to Winnie’s, always excited to see one of her closest friends, but she stayed far away from the kitchen—Winnie’s rules.

Your mom asked about Joaquin after she overheard Bucky’s quiet teasing, calling him your boyfriend, which earned a hard elbow to the ribs when Winnie wasn’t looking.

Then suddenly, every woman in the house, including Bucky and Steve’s younger sisters, questioned you about your ‘mystery boy’.

You blushed so hard it made you sweat. Physically sweat from how hot your skin felt.

Coming back to campus in a car with Steve and Bucky was hectic to say the least. First it was two hours of counseling Steve about his relationship issues. He and Peggy were high school sweethearts, they’d done long distance until she transferred to Chicago to not only be closer to him, but to pursue the university’s women’s studies program.

Although their relationship had been a bit rocky for the past year or so because of that transfer. They were still learning how to be together in close proximity after successfully being long distance for around a year and a half.

Then the next three hours were spent with them going back and forth about their mutual hatred for a rival university’s hockey team. Bucky even made sure to emphasize that he wanted to kick one of their winger’s asses. Like full blown—fist fights on and off the ice. They also broke down hockey plays that you didn’t really understand, but you agreed with them whenever they asked for your opinion.

Then Bucky and Steve switched off drivers around the six hour mark. Now Bucky was driving from Cleveland to Chicago, and he had the worst case of road rage you’d ever seen. It made sense that Bucky didn’t drive often—he spent an hour cursing nonstop, and when you threatened to call his mom, he told you to ‘shove it’, which resulted in Steve smacking the back of his head. That led to the three of you bursting into laughter.

At the eight hour mark, when you only had about 3 hours left, they’d gotten a flat. Which added another hour to the drive because it was freezing outside and you refused to help them with the wheel. They were both more than capable of changing a spare tire—and you were not about to stand in the late November cold.

You three had also argued about the best way to manage the situation, which led to Bucky pulling into a sketchy gas station after driving on a flat for nearly ten miles.

The sketchy gas station did have pretty good fries though, and they were fresh.

The last two hours of the drive however, were spent with both men questioning you and your feelings for Joaquin.

Even now, as they pulled into your parking garage, going towards the guest spaces on the second floor, they were still talking about it.

“I’m just saying Sunshine, if you like him, what’s the harm? Joaquin’s a great guy all things considered, sure he does have a douchebag front—but I’m sure he told about some of the reasons why. College is about reinventing yourself after all.”

You scoffed at Steve. “Reinventing yourself into pretending to be a douchebag for two years—”

Bucky cut you off. “Well, you clearly know the real him now so stop crying and tell him you’re into him. He’s practically in love with you Sunshine, stop complaining so much.”

Your jaw dropped at that as you made eye contact with Bucky through the rear view mirror. Then as he parked the car, you double checked that it was actually in park before wrapping your hands around the back of his seat and placing them both on his face, pulling it back against the headrest—catching him off guard.

A muffled “what the fuck!” left his lips while he tried to smack your hands away. Meanwhile Steve sighed, shaking his head at you both.

“Say Uncle!” you shouted, now putting your full weight into the maneuver, using the seat to help leverage yourself. Bucky was also being held down by his seatbelt that managed to lock from the sudden pressure of you pulling him back into his seat.

“Fuck—Uncle!” his words still muffled as you let him go.

“That’s what I thought Barnes. Thanks for the ride back guys! I love you!”

Wanda had initially invited them over, however, they were both due at the rink at five in the morning, so they opted to drop you off and head back to the frat house, needing as much sleep as possible to survive their morning conditioning session.

The last thing you expected to see when you came back to your apartment was Joaquin Torres sitting on a barstool, leaning against the counter while Wanda yelled about Vision. Then, as you walked further into the apartment, you processed Natasha and Monica in the apartment as well. Yelena sat up from her spot on the couch—making herself known, then Pietro was waltzing back out, drying his hands on his pants.

You avoided Joaquin’s stare, Wanda smiling widely at the sight of you.

“You’re home! I missed you for that week! I feel like my wife left for war or something!” She rushed over to pull you into a hug, your bags dropping to the floor due to the sheer force of her body colliding with yours. You hugged her back.

“Care to explain what everyone’s doing here?” You looked around, gaze meeting Joaquin for a few seconds before you were looking away.

“Well, since you left me to die, I figured I’d actually invite everyone over that didn’t head back home, everyone’s been kind of in and out, but I invited everyone over for brownies then we’re going to the roof! Pietro stole Miguel’s projector so we’re gonna watch the exorcist!”

You blinked a few times. “You want me to sit on the cold roof, outside, and watch the movie that literally traumatized me as a kid.”

Yelena and Natasha laughed, then Yelena spoke “last time we watched it, you had nightmares didn’t you?” You scoffed at her, giving her a dirty look which earned another laugh.

“You guys are terrible friends.”

Then Pietro spoke with a flirty tone “Awh baby, if you get scared I’ll be up there to save you and keep you warm.”

You rolled your eyes “no thanks, I think I’d rather jump off of the roof itself. Need I remind you of the maze Halloween weekend? When you pushed me into Thor who was in a leatherface costume because he jumped scared you, and then you ran. Like full on sprinted and left me.”

His eyes widened as he slowly nodded, then he looked at Wanda who clearly wasn’t going to defend him, then his eyes fell on Joaquin, he wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Listen! Joaquin’s on my side!”

Joaquin shook his head. “No, I'm not man. That’s just wrong.”

Everyone erupted in laughter outside of you. You looked at Joaquin, and he looked back at you.

Then you were grabbing your bags and walking to your room, doing your best to seem unbothered, as if your stomach wasn’t doing backflips and your brain wasn’t replaying the memory of Joaquin’s lips on your own.

As much as you wanted to hide from everyone in your room, you couldn’t. But you tried—and for about thirty minutes you were successful. They most likely assumed you were still getting settled in, then the knocking started.

Not just any knocking, Wanda’s persistent knocking turned into her half-assing a beat against the door while Pietro attempted to rap over it.

You swung the door open, now in a pair of sweatpants, a long sleeve, and one of Bucky’s hoodies. Although, you knew it wasn’t going to be enough against the cold. Wanda insisted the small firepit would help—you knew it wouldn’t so you also brought a blanket.

Not even fifteen minutes into the movie, you were shivering, the fire doing nothing for you, and your hands felt like ice. You were seated on one of the lounging sectionals, legs to your chest while you tried to keep warm. It didn’t help that you were actively avoiding Joaquin and he was right next to you. So you sat up straighter, hood up, clutching the blanket like a lifeline.

Eventually Joaquin got tired of watching you shake, so he gently sat up, scooting a bit closer to you, then he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and practically pulled you against him as he leaned back. You were silent, eyes wide at the feeling.

Then you were snuggling closer to him. He felt like a heater, then he was adjusting your blanket, and layering his own with it. Arm still around you as you practically curled into his side, embracing his body heat, eyes focused on the project screen—too nervous to meet his own. Although you were still rubbing your hands together beneath the blankets.

Now Joaquin might’ve been being a little too bold with his next move, but like his Coach always says—a high risk can have a high reward. So he slid his right hand beneath the blanket, intertwining his fingers with yours—eyes widening at how cold your skin felt. He gave you a few seconds to register the feeling, and instead of pulling away, you grasped his hand tighter, then you slid your left hand into his hoodie sleeve—fingers like ice against his skin.

“Better?” his voice was a whisper. You nodded.

Everyone noticed how close you were to him, but no one said a single thing. Although you were positive Nat had snuck a photo and sent it to Steve and Bucky—you just hoped she didn’t send it to Sam, he’d never shut up about it.

Admittedly, you’d fallen asleep against Joaquin. It wasn’t until someone was shaking you awake that you realized what had happened. \

Things were clearly different between you and Joaquin now. That much was evident.

So, instead of confronting the feelings, you opted to avoid him. Which was actually pretty easy for you, considering you were so used to him always being around, you knew exactly how to avoid him.

It’d been two weeks, two weeks of absolute radio silence on your end, and the Semester was nearly over. Finals season was among everyone, which made it easier to avoid him as well. Mostly because you’d been swamped, stuck doing group projects, studying at odd hours, while also working your usual weekend shifts at the women’s shelter—even picking up a few more through the week to help out.

Although, you couldn’t keep avoiding him, not when Wanda had dragged you to the playoffs games, each game, Joaquin would find you in the crowd, and it was as if you were his good luck charm. Sure he was good, but the second he’d see you, suddenly he was great. As if he was pushing himself even harder just to impress you.

Meanwhile, you were already impressed.

As finals came and passed, the last week of class occurred, and so did the final playoffs game that determined if the team was making it to the College Cup. They had one final game to win, the last game would determine whether or not they advanced, and it was a tight race.

Halfway through the game both teams were still tied. His eyes glanced around the crowd, then he spotted you—a smile on his face at the sight of you in a hoodie with a jersey thrown over top, clearly cold based on the way you kept moving side to side, rubbing your hands together. But then you turned around, glancing back at Wanda to grab something.

That’s when Joaquin noticed it. His number, on your back. Torres across your shoulder blades while his number sat there, front and center. For everyone to see. It wasn’t Miguel’s anymore, and as he glanced across the field at Miguel, the senior gave him a knowing expression.

One of the other midfielders on the opposing team made a few comments about you, specifically trying to taunt Joaquin—and at first they hadn’t bothered him. Then when there was only ten minutes left of the game, all hell broke loose.

“Your little girlfriend looks like she might enjoy riding a winner tonight—I’ll tell you how it feels, yeah?”

That comment, something about it made Joaquin snap, a series of curse words he’d never let out on the field were heard, and suddenly his own teammates—specifically Pietro and Miles—were holding him back, yelling at him to calm down, and he couldn’t even process it, all he could see was red.

You would’ve called the comment stupid and mumbled something about how it was a terrible insult, Joaquin knew that—but he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to let anyone talk about you like that, and that snap earned him a yellow card. One of the firsts in his college career.

Although his coach didn’t bench him, he’d gotten a stern talking to, then was sent back on the field, and when he made eye contact with you again, you gave him a concerned look.

Joaquin personally won that game. His team had doubts, but Joaquin Torres was a man on a mission, he had a point to prove to that other jackass, and he had to win the game, his girl had on his jersey!.

After the game, Beta Chi threw a last minute party to celebrate.

You’d been dragged there by Pietro and Wanda, who insisted that you needed to be there.

They also convinced you to keep the jersey on, and you’d thrown your sweater in Steve’s room for safekeeping. Now walking around the house in a soccer jersey and a pair of jeans with a red solo cup of god knows what inside. Some concoction the freshmen made in a trash can—clearly it wasn’t a good idea to down more than one.

You wanted to play pong, but Bucky had some girl in his lap and you weren’t about to cockblock him. Plus you’d heard the hockey team was also doing really well, and were leading the playoffs with a storm—so Mister Broody deserved it.

That’s how you ran into Joaquin’s brunette friend from the party a month or so ago, he was already at the pong tables, partnered with Johnny. He paused when he noticed you, squinting a bit then he nodded.

“You’re Joaquin’s girlfriend right? I’m Bob!” You blinked a few times, shaking your head at the question. He just smiled at you, then his gaze snapped back to the pong table where Johnny was working on winning the round for the team.

“Uh no! Not really? I dunno—it’s complicated?”

Bob slowly nodded at that. “Y’know what’s not complicated? Pong, want in?” You nodded at him, and he looked around, clearly in search of a partner for you. That’s when Pietro practically appeared out of nowhere—and Bob called him over.

That’s how you ended up in a very competitive game, both teams tied, one to one, and a small crowd watching.

“Oh c’mon beautiful, you’ve gotta try a little harder than that!” Johnny spoke with a smile as you missed.

“Oh fuck off! That was a bullshit miss and you know it!”

You would’ve won the game, you really would’ve. However the feeling of someone wrapping their arms around your waist distracted you at the last minute, and the second you threw your last ball, it completely missed. Which had Johnny and Bob both cheering, high fiving each other aggressively and practically chest bumping.

Pietro shook his head “Quin! Seriously! We had them!”

Meanwhile Joaquin laughed behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. You didn’t even try pushing him away, and that earned a surprised look from several people around.

“Sorry, had to come see my good luck charm, wouldn’t have won the game today without her.”

You bit your bottom lip, holding in a smile.

“You tried to kick someone’s ass on the field because of her too, so I dunno man, double edged sword.”

You scoffed at Pietro's words, now pushing Joaquin back and spinning around, raising a single brow at him. You tried to blame the drinks on how relaxed you felt right now, but you knew that wasn’t true—Joaquin was the reason you felt so relaxed. It wasn’t the few cups of shitty beer and whatever hell-born concoction you’d had earlier.

“Listen, to be fair, to be fair! He was being a dick!”

You slowly nodded “so you decided that fighting was the right move huh?” he nodded.

Pietro elbowed him with a teasing expression “yeah, he was ready to kick some serious ass to defend your name, I’d say you owe prince charming a kiss.”

Joaquin blushed, meanwhile you scoffed again. Rolling your eyes at Pietro. Then you grabbed Joaquin’s hand and practically dragged him behind you—the sight catching several curious looks and glances as you both made your way through the crowd. It wasn’t until you were back in the house and up the stairs that you let his hand go. Now turning to face him, then your lips were on his in an instant, and he backed you up into a wall.

You spoke between kisses “you feeling lucky Torres?”. He nodded his head, smiling into the kiss—deepening it. His tongue back against yours, his hands wandering, one on your hip, pulling your lower body flush with his before gliding against your jean-clad skin, hand massaging your ass—earning a light gasp.

He paused, biting against your bottom lip for a second before pulling away. “Never felt luckier, Sunny.”

You pushed him back at the sound of the new nickname, brows knit together and for a second he thought he ruined the moment.

“Sunny huh?”

Joaquin nodded. “Yeah, I see why they call you Sunshine now, when you’re not being all mean, you really are a ray of sunshine.” He spoke in a teasing tone. “Besides, I like Sunny—it’s cute. Fits you.” Then he was kissing along your jaw, lips trailing open mouth kisses on your skin. “You always run this cold?”

You nodded. “Since I was a kid.”

“Y’know, you look good with my jersey on—makes it feel like you’re mine—really mine.” He spoke softly against your skin, it made you blush, and then you pulled his lips back onto yours. The two of you kissed competitively, but eventually you let him take the lead, enjoying the feeling of his lips against yours.

Then he was back to kissing along your skin, giving you time to breathe, nipping and sucking marks against your throat, smirking at the sound of your high pitched gasp when he nipped at the skin below your ear.

He probably would’ve gone further if a certain blonde hadn’t interrupted.

“Jesus Christ! Get a room you two! We have rules against having sex in the halls for a reason!”

Steve’s voice had your eyes widening, then you met his gaze, absolutely mortified. That’s when it processed to him that it was you and Joaquin against the wall, he blinked several times, then he was smirking at the sight, arms crossed while he nodded.

Joaquin pulled away from your neck, glancing over his shoulder at the sight of Steve, then he looked back at you.

It was like having your older brother catch you sneaking around with a boy.

“I knew it! God, and you called me down bad?!”

You gasped “Don’t say down bad Steve! You sound like someone’s grandpa! Leave me the hell alone!”

He shook his head, pointing a finger at you and Joaquin. “Y’know I knew this would happen, I’d just like to say I told you so, that’s all. Now—go home or find a room as long as it’s not mine. Actually, pause. Joaquin, have you even taken her on a real date?”

Now Steve was truly embarrassing you, and he took satisfaction in that—you knew he did.

“Oh my god! Steve! Stop it!”

Joaquin shrugged “uh, no—not technically?” Then you were lightly smacking Joaquin’s chest.

“Don’t feed into it!”

It’s safe to say that Steve Rogers was a mood killer. However, that interaction did lead to Joaquin asking if you wanted to go on a date—a real one. That’s also how he found out that you weren’t headed home immediately for the break, waiting until the week of Christmas to head back with Steve and Bucky.

Which is how you ended up at an ice skating rink with Joaquin.

You also told him you didn’t know a single thing about ice skating, and you felt like Bambi learning how to walk, legs constantly shaking, as you held onto Joaquin’s forearms with a death grip. Not to mention you had on a long sleeve, a sweater, and a coat—and somehow you were still cold.

Although the date was full of laughter on both ends, or at least the first half of the date at the rink. He literally skated circles around you, then he grasped both of your hands and asked if you trusted him—you told him you did not. But that didn’t stop him from spinning you in a circle. Your laughter like music to his ears.

He did pull through with his promise to go somewhere warmer following the skating.

So here you are, sitting in a mom-and-pops bookstore cafe, across from one another at a small table while sipping a cappuccino. He opted for hot cocoa, but asked for it in a cappuccino cup to seem more ‘sophisticated’. That had you smiling and rolling your eyes.

“So…is now a bad time to ask what your ideal first date is?”

You laughed at him, smiling while rolling your eyes. “Well, I’d say, it’s a weird time, not a bad time. Uhm, usually my first dates are warmer but it’s winter so I can't exactly fist fight mother nature. I dunno, I guess it doesn’t really matter to me if I like the person I’m with, and it’s not something stupid.”

He slowly nodded, brows knit together. “Define stupid?”

You raised a brow. “Are you asking me if I think this date, that Steve practically bullied us into going on—is stupid?”

Joaquin shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable now. He wanted to impress you, granted he had no idea that you couldn’t ice skate—considering your best friends were literal hockey players. Although, now he was getting in his own head about things.

“I don’t think it’s stupid at all.” The way you spoke was soft, sweet, and so genuine it made his heart race and head spin. “—Actually, it’s probably the best first date I’ve been on, minus almost dying.”

He scoffed, “you did not almost die!”

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “Uh yes I did. That ice wanted to take me out—let’s all be honest. I would’ve fallen and died, and then suddenly a sinkhole would’ve appeared and dragged me to Hell.”

Joaquin couldn’t stop himself from laughing at your dramatics, shaking his head, wide smile on his face while he tried to keep it down—earning a few looks from other patrons at the cafe. “Sunny, you’re something else.”

You smiled “course I am, that’s why you’ve spent the last I dunno how long obsessed with me. But can I tell you a secret—full honesty.”

His brows knit together as he slowly nodded.

“When we first met, freshman year, I had a crush on you. I even told Steve and Buck, who then asked Miguel trying to figure out who I was talking about—they never did because they’re both slow. But then you were such an asshole, and a douchebag and I hated it because you hadn’t come off like that at first, but then you leaned into it and that made me want to hate you. I think part of me has always known that you weren’t really an asshole—but it took a lot of convincing to get me to actually see if it was true.”

Joaquin’s mouth opened and closed for a second, then he glanced around the cafe, as if he was trying to find the right words to say. Then his gaze met yours again, and you were just looking at him with a soft fondness he’d never really seen before.

“So what’s your final verdict?”

You smiled, looking down at your drink, then back at him. “My final verdict is don’t test your luck Torres.”

He laughed again, smiling while looking down at the table for a few seconds, then back at you. “I think you like it when I test my luck.”

After that date, several followed, all throughout winter break. When you went back home to New York for the holidays, he’d flown to Miami, and he still made sure to call you, the both of you constantly texting back and forth.

When you made it back to campus in early January, the week prior to classes starting for the spring semester, he took you to a conservatory where you’d rambled about different plant species, practically lecturing him with a wide smile. That’s when he really knew that you’d fully let him in—this was what everyone meant when they called you Sunshine.

You might’ve been mean with a hard exterior, but beneath all of that, you really were a ray of Sunshine.

Joaquin hadn’t let up with calling you Sunny either, and when anyone else tried to, you immediately corrected them—stating that only Joaquin was allowed to call you that. Which Sam took the hardest—acting as if his heart had been shattered by the revelation. But Bucky told him to shut it, then threatened to flirt with Sam’s sister again if he didn’t leave you alone.

Your schedules didn’t exactly sync up the same way they did last semester, but every Wednesday you both had a course in the math building, which meant he’d wait for you in the quad, and the second he spotted you, he’d walk with you, side-by-side, talking your ear off about his day on that five minute walk.

Except when you’d make it to the building, he’d walk with you to the stairs, and he’d give you a quick kiss, letting you know he’d text you after class. Then he was racing up to the third floor while you stayed on the second.

You still helped with the frat’s community service events, you had a lot of connections in the non-profit sphere in Chicago, and you still spent time barking orders to new pledges and new frat brothers—sometimes Joaquin even joined you, smiling while watching you reign terror over the freshmen and sophomores. Whenever they’d try to quip back, he’d step in and remind them that they were still pledges.

Cheeto and Salem had also met. Both cats hated one another at first, but they easily warmed up to each other, to the point that anytime Joaquin came to your apartment, he’d also bring Cheeto, letting him run through the space with Salem.

Wanda loved having another cat in the apartment, to the point that she’d kidnapped Cheeto for a few days the third week of classes. Joaquin made the joke that they got along so well because they were both redheads—you silently agreed while Wanda gasped.

Your friend groups intertwined well, and you actually enjoyed spending time at Joaquin’s apartment too, getting to know both Peter and Miles. It also helped that all of you were in similar majors, having what Joaquin described to be ‘dork-offs’. Although he also participated in the conversations.

Although out of all of Joaquin’s friends, your favorite had to be Bob Reynolds. You also found out that he was really close with Yelena, which was a bit of a shock considering he came off as more introverted, and Yelena was well—herself.

But every introvert needs their extrovert, so it made sense.

It was abundantly clear that Joaquin’s favorite friend of yours was Wanda.

They got along so well that you’d walk in on them in your shared apartment baking while watching tutorials on youtube, he’d also helped her get back together with her boyfriend—and usually when they were baking, Vision was trying to supervise, sounding like a British baking show host.

There were some things that you and Joaquin kept private—especially after what happened with Steve last semester. So you two stuck to avoiding major public displays of affection, a quick kiss here and there, and that was it.

Although behind closed doors? That was an entirely different story.

You two were all over each other, for hours on end—to the point that Wanda complained that you and Joaquin were a little ‘too involved’, which led to you having to let her know when he was coming over. Although you called it payback for having to listen to her and Vision for so long.

Joaquin wore the bruises you’d leave on his skin with pride, meanwhile you’d lecture him if he left a single bruise on your neck. Anywhere else was free game—although his favorite place was between your thighs. He also spent a lot of time between your thighs, to the point that you’d called him ‘mister munch’ on a few occasions just to make him blush.

But you two still weren’t official, of course you were exclusive, and you’d outright told him that if he even tried to pursue anyone else, you’d personally kick his ass. He tried to say that you wouldn’t be able to, so you threatened him with Steve, Bucky, and Sam. Although Sam would probably be on the fence—he was a close friend for the both of you after all.

It didn’t bother you, although people tried to make it seem as if it should’ve. You trusted Joaquin, and honestly, you didn’t need an official title or label to know that you two were in a relationship.

Although on Valentine’s day, Joaquin decided that it was a good time to ask you to be his girlfriend.

A week prior he’d also given you a large bouquet of roses and asked you to be his Valentine, which you’d easily said yes to. You were under the impression that the two of you would just be going on a date, and would most likely end up in one another’s sheets again and that was perfectly fine for you.

He hadn’t told you where he was taking you, he outright refused. You tried to bribe him in several different ways—and he’d never been more resilient, especially when you were on your knees in front of him.

Joaquin picked you up at exactly six o’clock on the dot.

He specifically told you not to dress up, so you wore something comfortable and casual, and when he took you on a long drive, you cracked a few jokes about him taking you to some remote location to ‘serial kill’ you.

He laughed and told you to shush, ignoring you anytime you asked where you were going.

Although the drive wasn’t very long, and when he parked outside of the Chicago Botanic Gardens you just about squealed, pulling him in for a rushed kiss before you were out of the car and impatiently waiting on him. You had previously told him how much you loved the botanic gardens because they were always changing, each season bringing a new bloom—and you also mentioned that you’d never been in the winter.

Joaquin called you a nature nerd.

But he couldn’t help but admire you the entire evening, the different hues of light from the sunset, combined with the lanterns and lights illuminated you in a way that had his heart racing. He was positive he loved you—there was nothing that would ever make him doubt that.

Hell, when he went home for Christmas he told his mom and abuela about you. Joaquin spent a few hours talking to them about you, explaining your entire relationship from the day that you’d met freshman year, to the way he was an asshole—and his mom did smack him with her chancla—to his endless pining. Then finally, to the way that you slowly started letting him in.

When he showed them a picture of you, his mom gasped, she called you beautiful and told him that you were out of his league—his abuela and mom laughed while his jaw dropped.

Although, they might have been right, you were everything and more—so maybe you were out of his league.

After spending several hours in the gardens, he took you to Chinatown, where you both walked through the blocks, stopping for some food and drinks, and you smiled at the sight of all of the Lunar New Year decorations. Wanda had mentioned to him that you really enjoyed visiting during the Lunar New Year because of how beautiful everything looked.

You were all wide smiles and laughs, even stopping at a few family-owned businesses, talking to the owners. That’s also when he realized that you used to work at two of the restaurants based on the conversations—you later told him that freshman year you worked two serving jobs.

He ended the night by taking you back to campus, except he’d managed to pull a few strings and get the keys to the observatory. Technically speaking, he begged his faculty advisor to help him with it. She’d even spoken to the physics and astronomy professors, having them set up the telescope and give Joaquin distinct instructions on how to use the largest one.

You weren’t aware that there were two teacher’s assistants there just to make sure nothing went wrong.

The entire time that you looked at the different constellations, planets, and even nebulae, Joaquin looked at you like you were the stars in the sky.

On the walk back to his car, the quad was nearly empty, and the night sky looked beautiful. It wasn’t usually very clear, but that night, it was as if even the clouds themselves were on Joaquin’s side.

He couldn’t wait any longer, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a jewelry box and handed it to you. Your brows knit together at the sight of it, raising a single brow—not wanting to say anything wrong or rude because typically, you didn’t enjoy getting jewelry as a gift.

Which he was well aware of because he pestered Steve and Bucky for two weeks about what to get you.

Then you opened the box and your entire face lit up, looking between the necklace and Joaquin.

“Uh, Steve told me the princess and the frog’s your favorite movie—I figured, cause you like stars too, and uh, that one song with the firefly and the star—I’m sorry I’m rambling. But uh—I just, well I know you don’t like jewelry but I saw it and I thought you would—and I asked everyone like ten times too.”

You smiled at him, “I love it Joaquin.”

He nodded, looking relieved then he ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I uh—I wanted to ask you something, and I know it's Valentine’s day, and you’re already my Valentine, but uh—well, we’ve been dating for a few months and I really like you—hell I more than like you. Uh would you maybe uh—I had a better plan for this for the record—but do you want to be my girl?”

You laughed at him, nodding your head. “Joaquin, I’m already your girl—but if you’re asking me to be your girlfriend—then yes, I’ll be your girlfriend in the official sense.”

Then he was kissing you under the moonlight and for a few seconds, it felt like something straight out of one of the rom coms that you forced him to watch with you.

You wore the necklace daily. A thin gold chain with two small stars, one had white stones, the other, much smaller, had light green stones.

It wasn’t until the summer after Junior year ended that Joaquin finally told you that he loved you, and it wasn’t something planned or awkward or nervous.

You’d gone to Miami with him to meet his family, and he took you to a smaller, more private beach, a place he’d found with his friends in high school, somewhere that tourists didn’t typically flood. You were like a little kid, running through the sand without a care in the world.

Although you outright refused to go into the ocean—which he laughed at.

But then as you both sat in the sand and watched the sunset, your head leaned against his shoulder, he just said it.

“I love you.” He didn’t hesitate, and he’d never sounded more sure of something in his life.

You blinked a few times as you sat up to look at him, brows knit together at the confession. But he simply smiled at you, with a shrug before stating “you didn’t exactly make it difficult to fall in love with you.”

The words left your lips before you’d even registered them. “I love you too.”

One year ago, you never would’ve expected to fall hard and fast for Joaquin Torres, but then again, you didn’t know the real Joaquin Torres.

Thanks for reading my lovers <3

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres x y/n #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fanfic #joaquin torres fanfiction

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 year ago

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omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"