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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 4 months

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"obstinate, headstrong girl" part 1 - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

in which you meet the incredibly irritating (who said that?) aaron hotchner at a party. you do not hit it off.

wc: 4.6k

cw: enemies to lovers! mentions of food & alcohol, jemily agenda (i'm not sorry), reader is hella stubborn, hotch is kind of a little bitch

a/n: this is part 1 😈 there will be more, trust

big fat thank you to my bestie @cerisereids for all her help workshopping / brainstorming with me! i also got the BEAUTIFUL dividers from the immensely talented @saradika-graphics

You hate bars. Most of the time, they feel like a meat market, with men ogling you up and down, surveying you like they have x-ray vision and are trying to determine if you’re worth the chase.

Tonight is slightly different in that you are not going to this particular bar to chat up men. Your very good friend, Penelope Garcia, invited you and your other friend, Jacqueline, to a bar for a coworker’s birthday. Not just any coworker. The coworker, the Derek Morgan, that Penelope just rants and raves about. They are soulmates, from what you understand, in a weirdly flirtatious, sibling-type relationship?

Penelope has tried to explain it to you and has always ended up confusing both you and herself. It is what it is, she’s said in the past. He’s my chocolate thunder, and I’m his babygirl.

You think it’s best not to try and unpack that.

Jacqueline is a couple of years younger than you and Penelope. She’s just a couple of years out of college, whereas you’re a couple of years out of college, plus a couple more years. Jacqueline is sweet. She’s painfully shy, though, and you and Penelope are determined to break her out of her shell. There’s another coworker of Penelope’s who, from what you’ve heard, would be a perfect fit for Jacqueline. His name is Spencer, and he’s supposedly this young, cute genius. Like, actually a genius. Certifiably.

The goal tonight is for Penelope to find a moment to introduce Jacqueline and Spencer. You’re tagging along so that those intentions could be a little bit better masqueraded. You and Penelope also know for a fact that sweet, sheltered Jacqueline would not attend a party at a bar full of strangers by herself.

You don’t mind being a chaperone, of sorts. Jacqueline is like a little sister. You just want her to be happy, so you don a cute red dress, pick up Jacqueline in an Uber, and off you go.

The bar isn’t nearly as crowded as you thought it would be. It’s still busy, sure, but there’s enough room to walk around without bumping into someone. That seems to calm Jacqueline’s obvious nerves when you enter the establishment. Your eyes scan the place until you finally spot what appears to be a party room just off the main part of the bar, and you see a flash of familiar blonde hair with pink highlights.

“There’s Penny,” you say to Jacqueline, and nudge her with your elbow to follow you.

You’re the leader as you serpentine through the bar patrons, and Penelope turns around to spot you just as you reach her. “My sweets!” she squeals, wrapping both you and Jacqueline into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for coming!” Penelope gestures to the party room, which is open for integration into the rest of the bar. It all seems very flowy and casual, with guests either standing or sitting with a drink in hand, talking and laughing with one another.

There’s a table in the corner with decadent cupcakes that you’d bet are homemade, all crowded on a tiered stand, and various birthday decorations hanging from the walls. The jukebox in the corner plays 80s and 90s hits. You spot the birthday boy in an instant across the room, and you know it’s him from Penelope’s ridiculously detailed descriptions. He’s like a cheetah, personified, Penelope said before, and yeah, that might be accurate.

Except for the bright blue, glittery party hat strapped crookedly to his head and the sparkly sash around his shoulders that says BIRTHDAY BOY in big, bold letters.

“There’s snacks, and water in the corner if you’re not feeling booze,” Penelope goes into full hostess mode and points to everything. “How about you lovelies get some drinks, and then I’ll introduce you around?” She suggests.

Jacqueline is ever the quiet one in all social situations, and you can tell she is overwhelmed by the noise, or maybe the amount of people that she doesn’t know. You know that she would be a little less nervous with a drink in her system, so you nod to Penelope’s suggestion and agree to meet up with her after visiting the bar.

Jacqueline follows you like a lost puppy as you snake through the crowd again. One of the few perks of being pretty women, though, is that once you reach the bustling bar, your orders are quickly taken.

You get an amaretto sour for yourself, a Malibu pineapple for Jacqueline, and she leans against the bar next to you as you wait for your drinks. “Lots of people here!” Jacqueline exclaims with a sheepish chuckle. She smooths the ends of her cinnamon-colored bob, one of her nervous habits you’ve picked up on over the few years you’ve been friends.

“Yeah, but we love Penny, and she loves all the people in there,” You nod towards the party room. “So it’s like we know they’re cool by association, y’know?”

“I guess,” Jacqueline shrugs, unconvinced. She’s lived a fairly sheltered life, from what you understand. Strict parents, so she never dated in high school, and always focused on her studies in college rather than a social life. It’s good to get her out of her shell.

You’re given your drinks and you head back to the party room, where Penelope is speaking to two men. They’re both tall, but one is younger, with brown hair and a patterned sweater vest. The other is older, with dark, nearly obsidian, hair, and stark, narrowed eyes to match. He’s in dark, belted jeans, with a black polo to match his hair. When you and Jacqueline approach Penelope, you lock eyes with the older man for a fleeting moment.

He looks at you like you’re an outsider. And sure, maybe in this particular situation, you are. But with his tapered eyes, watching your every breath, you get the feeling that he thinks you shouldn’t be here.

Penelope ushers you and Jacqueline into the conversation and introduces you. “This is Y/N, and Jacqueline, my two really good friends,” she says, then gestures to the lanky, younger man first. “This is the brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, and the Unit Chief of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner.”

Your eyes land on Aaron and he outstretches his hand, obviously out of obligation. “Pleasure to meet you both,” Aaron says coolly, and you shake his hand chastely. Your eyes flicker over to where Jacqueline shakes Dr. Reid’s hand. He’s already insisting she call him Spencer.

Penelope was right, you think. Spencer and Jacqueline have an immediate connection.

“Likewise,” you say to Aaron, merely matching the indifferent energy he’s putting out. Penelope, in true hostess fashion, excuses herself to check on Derek, leaving the four of you in an awkward conversation square, with Aaron and Spencer facing you and Jacqueline directly.

“Penelope says you’re all in a book club together?” Spencer proffers as a conversation starter. He’s looking directly at Jacqueline, like he’s got tunnel vision, like she’s the only other person in the room.

She nods and sips her cocktail through the thin plastic straw. “We’ve been going through the classics, one by one. Started with Pride and Prejudice a couple of years ago, now we’re working on War and Peace,” she explains.

“Oh, fascinating,” Spencer seems incredibly interested by this. “I love Tolstoy. Did you know his wife, Sophia, helped him tremendously during the editing process? Over seven years, she hand wrote the manuscript eight different times, all while carrying and birthing four children.”

Jacqueline loves weird facts like this, so she beams. You smile softly at this and are immediately met with thoughts of how tooth-achingly sweet these two would be if they got together.

You and Aaron play audience as Spencer and Jacqueline’s conversation continues for a few moments more, until finally, Spencer suggests they sit at a booth to continue. Jacqueline shoots you a look, like, sorry for abandoning you with the grumpy guy! And you merely shrug as you are left alone with Aaron.

“Well, aren’t they just adorable?” You flash a bright smile, and when your eyes meet Aaron’s, it falls. He’s so stoic and unemotional. You know he’s just standing with you to be polite, but at the same time, if he’s so uninterested in having a conversation with you, why is he still here?

Aaron gives an impassive hum of civil agreement, and you clear your throat. “So, you’re Penelope’s boss, then?” you ask, rather than simply make an excuse to leave this awkward, cringey hellhole of a conversation. Maybe some petty part of you wants to see who will break first.

“That’s correct,” Aaron’s fingers are wrapped around the glass tumbler of what is presumably whiskey that is in his hand. His forearm flexes a little as he shifts the glass in his palm.

“What’s that like, working for the FBI?” you ask, shifting your weight to one hip as if to tell him that you’re getting comfortable, that he shouldn’t expect to go anywhere.

“About the same as working anyplace else, I’d expect,” Aaron’s giving you absolutely nothing to work with, so you’re incredibly thankful when Penelope approaches the two of you again.

“Oh, look at that!” Penelope squeals, squeezing your arm. She nods over to Spencer and Jacqueline, sitting across from one another at a booth, both leaning forward on the table, endearingly engaged in conversation with each other.

Jacqueline’s babyish face is plastered with an earnest smile, and you love seeing your friend so captivated and clearly in her element with Spencer.

Penelope was right, they’re clearly well-suited.

Unlike you and Aaron.

“And what are you two talking about over here?” Penelope croons, waving a teasing finger between you and Aaron.

“Not anything in particular,” Aaron’s deep voice beats you to it, and you feel your jaw tense slightly. He avoids contact with you, just stares at Spencer and Jacqueline.

“Yeah, Penny, I was hoping you’d introduce me to the rest of your team,” you suggest, smiling saccharinely at Aaron before making pleading eyes to your darling blonde friend.

Penelope’s chocolatey brown eyes dart from you, to Aaron, and back, and you can almost see the gears shift in her head. “Right,” she gets it, and you nearly sigh in relief. “C’mon then, Y/N, let me show you off!”

You nod curtly to Aaron. “Nice meeting you,” you spout off, totally out of obligation.

“Likewise,” says Aaron, mirroring how you’d thrown the terse colloquialism at him before.

Your nostrils flare and Penelope manages to drag you away before you rip him a new one. “What the hell is all the animosity about?” Penelope asks as soon as you’re out of earshot. You see that Derek, the birthday boy, has approached Aaron in your absence.

“Not animosity,” you correct Penelope, taking a chug of your Malibu pineapple. “He doesn’t like me, for some reason. Seemed to have made his mind up on that real fast.”

Penelope scoffs. “Hotch?” You deduce quickly that this is Aaron’s nickname. “He’s such a sweetheart. You must have just caught him in a bad moment, Y/N. I swear, he’s one of the sweetest guys I know!”

You purse your lips and feign an open mind. Penelope introduces you to the rest of her team - David, an older Italian man whose glass of wine cost about three times as much as your cocktail, then JJ and Emily, a blonde and a raven-haired woman who are obviously in love.

Emily’s got her palm splayed across the small of JJ’s back, and the blonde leans into her touch. You wonder briefly how their relationship was approved by Aaron Hotchner, because, as you understand it, he’s their boss and he can be quite the stickler.

“He can be a grump at times, that’s for sure,” Emily says before taking a sip of her wine. “But he’s a really great boss. He’d do anything for any one of us.”

“Including going to bat for us staying on the team together after our relationship became public,” JJ adds, and you furrow your brows, shooting a sideways glance to the man in question. He’s still across the room, speaking with Derek, leaning against an empty spot on the wall and nursing his glass tumbler of whiskey.

That guy? You think. That guy went to bat for the benefit of other people?

“That surprises me,” you admit. “He was so cold when we spoke just a few minutes ago.”

JJ, Emily, and Penelope all seem to share a look. They clearly know something you don’t. “Well,” Penelope starts, her voice inclining. “He’s sort of… going through a hard time right now,” she scrunches up her nose and shrugs her shoulders, as if to indicate that she can’t really say more on the matter.

It’s none of your business, you remind yourself, but you also want to smack Penelope for dangling a carrot like that.

“If he comes off obtrusive, just know you’re not experiencing the real Hotch,” JJ concludes. You spot Emily squeezing her hip as if to say that’s a good way to put it.

Whatever that means, you think, and shrug your shoulders. “No skin off my back,” you attempt to appear nonchalant. Hopefully they won’t be able to tell that the thought of someone not liking you makes you want to rip your hair out.

“Right,” Emily agrees, just as JJ and Penelope share a look.

The two blondes smirk at each other. Simultaneously, they say, “Profilers.” And you wonder what the hell that’s supposed to mean.

Over the next thirty minutes, you’re shown around the room by Penelope, introduced to a few more people. Finally, Penelope notices that the cupcakes are all gone and runs off to the kitchen, where she has more store in case of this very specific emergency.

You find yourself tucked away at a table in the corner of the party room, halfway hidden by the imposing and comically large jukebox. As you scan the room, you notice Jacqueline and Spencer still at the booth, still engaged in what appears to be very riveting conversation. Jacqueline’s got this demure, girlish smile on her face, and lightly flushed cheeks.

“What do you make of that?” A voice asks, and you don’t see anyone around. You lean back in your seat and can see through the sliver of visibility between the jukebox and the wall. That Italian man, David, has just asked Aaron the question, gesturing across the room to where Spencer and Jacqueline sit.

“Hm,” is all Aaron has to say, and you scowl, furrowing your brows as you watch him watch your friend. “She seems nice enough. Kind of a dud, though, isn’t she?”

“A dud?” David repeats, scoffing. “She’s been keeping up with Boy Wonder for nearly an hour now. I’d say she’s either an alien or a miracle.”

Damn straight, you think.

“I suppose,” says Aaron, and you roll your eyes. He must hold an ungodly amount of pride. Probably totes it along with his stupidly expensive whiskey and his judgmental expressions and opinions about people he doesn’t know. Sure, you’re casting judgment on someone you don’t know, too. But this is different… somehow. Jacqueline is obviously very earnest and sweet, and Aaron is acting like he’s suspicious of her.

“Garcia’s other friend seems sweet,” David goes on to say. You’re not ashamed to admit that your ears perk up a little at this. “She’s fun. Asked me about my wine. Made a joke about cutting a rug with me on the dance floor.”

“She’s something,” Aaron exhales as he says this, and you feel your jaw tighten a little.

Something? What the hell does that mean?

“What the hell does that mean?” David shares your train of thought, though his voice is lined with an omniscient, teasing lilt. “She’s cute. You don’t want to ask her for her number?”

“No,” Aaron says quickly, too quickly. “No, I’m not even slightly tempted.”

You feel your ears burn, and you look down at the empty glass in your hand. This has been your only drink tonight, and you’ve been nursing it for the better part of an hour. You let the condensation slicken your palm.

“What’s the matter with you?” David goes on to ask. “She’s very sweet, and she’s got a great sense of humor. And she’s beautiful, I might add. Why aren’t you interested?”

You stand up from your seat, deciding you’ve had enough eavesdropping for one night. You don’t want to hear what faults Aaron Hotchner saw in you after a three-minute conversation. Feeling a bit self-protective, you march past David and Aaron without so much as looking at either of them. You don’t know if they notice you.

You resolve not to care.

Jacqueline joins you at the bar about thirty minutes later, and is smiling like an idiot.“So, Spencer’s really nice,” she says, breaking out her ID so she can buy another drink. She’s so smooth-skinned and utterly gorgeous that she does, in fact, get ID’d every time she orders a drink.

“Yeah?” You smirk at Jacqueline just as the bartender comes back with your second drink and takes your friend’s order. “He seems really into you, too.” Even if his friend is a massive prick.

“I think we’re gonna go out,” Jacqueline beams, biting her lip anxiously. “Like, on a date.”

“That’s great!” You grin, glancing behind Jacqueline to see Spencer speaking with Aaron across the now-dwindling crowd. At this point, there’s just a handful of patrons for the bar, and only Penelope’s team remains in the party room for Derek. “You should! He’s obviously very polite, maintains good conversation. I’m only seeing green flags.” Except that his boss is a judgmental tool.

“I just get so nervous, y’know?” Your friend says as the bartender brings her drink.

“I know you do, sweetie, but he’s just a guy,” you begin. “He’s not some cosmic being who will alter the trajectory of your entire life simply by taking you on a date. He’s-”

“What?” Jacqueline follows your eyes, whipping her head around with no amount of subtlety. Her cinnamon curls flounce as she notices the same thing you are. Aaron’s staring at you, those unrelenting raven eyes. What’s he trying to do, burn a hole through your head?

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you mutter.

“What is it?” Jacqueline’s constantly aware of the people around her. It’s a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, since you’re her Emotional Support Friend.

“I just… don’t worry about it,” you wave it away, not wanting to stress her out.

“No, what is it?” God. He’s still looking at you, maintaining his conversation with Spencer. You let your gaze wander and you see his lips moving. Is he talking about you so blatantly?

You suppose you’re talking about him, but still.

“I just don’t like Aaron, that’s all.”

“Why not?” Jacqueline’s nutmeg brows furrow, and you meet her confused expression with a shrug.

“We just don’t vibe. Don’t worry about it, Jackie, seriously,” you nod. “I’m not gonna, like, challenge him to a duel.”

Before Jacqueline can attempt to defend someone she doesn’t know (God bless her), Penelope’s waving at you from the party room and beckoning the two of you towards her.

You and Jacqueline grab your drinks and oblige. Derek and Emily are shifting tables out of the way, creating a small, makeshift dance floor in the middle of the party room.

JJ is queuing up a few songs on the jukebox, and when “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin comes filtering through the speakers, a slightly tipsy Penelope is singing into her margarita and demanding that Derek slow dance with her.

You end up standing by Spencer and Aaron, to your dismay, and you think for a second that Spencer isn’t going to ask Jacqueline to dance. That wouldn’t be totally out of character, but he does, and Jacqueline’s beaming, leaving you alone with Aaron.

You let out a slightly annoyed huff and stir your cocktail with the little plastic red straw. You meet his unwavering gaze with narrowed eyes. “Do you like to dance?” You ask with half-assed interest.

“Not if I can help it,” Aaron says, and you wonder for a moment if he’s joking. The ever-serious look on his face says otherwise.

“I was looking for a pretty young lady!” A voice cuts in, and you turn to see David Rossi, of all people, standing before you.

You smile softly. You know he isn’t flirting, he isn’t romantically interested in you, that he’s just being a nice older man and going out of his way to make you feel included. And you can’t help but feel warmth from him. “We were just talking about dancing,” you bring him into the conversation, clocking how Aaron’s jaw visibly tenses.

“Ah, dancing. I remember when we had clubs all up and down the streets. You could go in and just dance until your feet hurt,” David prattles, and you purse your lips in the side of your mouth. He only looks like he’s in his early sixties, but you resist the urge to call him old, to tell him he’s acting like a grandpa.

“Do you like to dance?” Aaron’s asking you all of a sudden. You spot Penelope and Derek slow dancing as well as Spencer and Jacqueline. Emily and JJ have even joined in on the fun.

“I do,” you say simply, pursing your lips at him. And maybe it’s a little mean, but you look at David and plaster a devilish little grin on your face and hold out your hand. “Dave? Wanna cut a rug with me?”

Aaron watches as Rossi throws his head back in one of those wheezy, old man laughs.

“It’s been a long time since a pretty young lady asked me to dance,” the Italian man jokes, and Aaron knows that is simply not true. As a best-selling author, Rossi weirdly gets a lot of groupies.

Aaron feels like he has a smokescreen up, and behind it, he’s fuming. He’s not jealous of Rossi, because he knows Dave’s just being friendly. But Aaron doesn’t think it shouldn’t be Dave dancing with you. It should be him.

He doesn’t know why he told you he doesn’t dance. Maybe it’s this whole divorce with Haley. It was finalized nearly six months ago, but Aaron’s still reeling from it, he supposes. He’s not been on a date. He’s not even so much as looked at another woman in a romantic capacity, until you walked in tonight. Your hair looks so shiny, your face made up all glowy, like you literally have a halo hovering over you.

It’s incredibly frustrating.

He didn’t know what to do. He panicked. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now, or at least, that’s what he’s been telling himself for the past six months. He wants to focus on his job and on being a good dad to Jack.

But, god, the way your dress hits you right above the knee. He wants desperately to see your thighs. He’s been thinking about them all night, actually, how supple the skin might be, how sensitive. That’s why he’s been so cold to you all night - he’s trying to push you out of his mind, trying to focus on anything else. But you’ve got an attitude and a good sense of humor, and he couldn’t help but stare.

It’s the same way he can’t help but stare now, when Rossi places one hand on your waist and clasps your other one. You’ve got one palm on Rossi’s shoulder, the other holding your drink as you occasionally sip it.

You’re laughing and Rossi’s got crows’ feet from smiling, and he sways with you to the music. That song from Top Gun. Aaron wonders briefly if you’re old enough to have even seen Top Gun in the theater.

You’re young. You’re not too young, per se, but you’re right on the line, Aaron thinks. He’s gripping his tumbler of whiskey - his third since you entered the party because god, does he need a vice right now - and his jaw is clenched as he watches Rossi twirl you out.

Your laugh is heavenly and melodic and Aaron, for a split second, considers leaving just because of it.

Aaron leans against the wall by the jukebox, the odd man out, with your friend Jacqueline dancing with Spencer, Garcia with Morgan, and, of course, JJ with Emily. He doesn’t mind being the odd man out, watching his team have a good time. It’s you he feels excluded from.

Okay, maybe you’re not totally sober, you realize, as David twirls you out a second time. You hold on tight to your drink, but your steps aren’t completely precise, and your back slams into a muscled chest with a clumsy grunt. Amaretto sour splashes over the side of your glass and onto a pair of brown, Italian loafers.

Gargantuan hands graze down your elbows, then clench your forearms as you regain your balance, and you turn around to see the brick wall of a person you’ve run into. Aaron’s stupidly dark, hazelnut eyes are drawing down your body. They bore into you and you feel your entire face flush, all the way down to your collarbone.

“You spilled your drink,” Aaron exhales sharply through his nose, and you feel your expression harden.

“It was an accident,” you bite back, taking a step away from him, enforcing the space you desperately need to keep from clawing his eyes out. You don’t hate people. But, god, is this man getting under your skin.

Aaron opens his mouth, and you think for a split-second that he’s about to reassure you. But he just clamps his mouth shut, into a straight line like a ruler. “Right,” is all he says. You take a deep, serrated breath and turn pointedly on your heel.

As you return to David to dance, Derek cuts in, and you and Penelope swap partners. Derek is respectful as he places a hand round the small of your back, and you smile softly when you see Jacqueline and Spencer. They’re barely moving, and Jacqueline’s gray-green eyes are looking up into Spencer’s brown ones, and you nod in their direction. “God, they’re cute, aren’t they?”

“It’s a miracle Pretty Boy’s lasted this long,” Derek chuckles. You arch a brow at this, so he continues. “He doesn’t do too well with the ladies. Not like yours truly,” he jokes, flashing his teeth.

“Oh, please,” you tease playfully. You tug at his sparkly blue birthday sash to further your point. Derek laughs and spins you around.

“So what’s going on with you and Hotch?” Derek asks. You roll your eyes.

“Nothing,” you insist. “I barely know him. I barely know any of you, besides Penelope. God, you guys are really mixed up in each other’s lives, huh? I’m definitely not that close with my coworkers.”

“Oh, we’re not just close,” Derek laughs. “We’re family.”

“And Aaron is, what, the overbearing father?” You ask. You’ve had a couple drinks, and your filter is more or less nonexistent.

“See, I knew there was something going on between you two,” Derek teases. You glare at him. He holds one hand up defensively. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop, but you’re in for trouble, sweetheart.”

“How so?”

Derek nods over to Jacqueline and Spencer. Both their feet are still planted in the same spot, but they’re swaying together. It’s dorky as hell, but so cute you could cry. You understand what Derek means before he even says it. “You’re about to become friends-in-law. The more Jacqueline sees Spencer, the more you see Hotch.”

Your eyes flicker over to the man in question, now sitting at a table and talking with David. There’s some kind of magnetic tug, and Aaron’s eyes meet yours, and your knees buckle a little beneath you. Either you’re drunker than you thought, or you really are in trouble.

edit: read part 2 here

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s10127470 · 1 year

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My Ideal Revival of the Disney Heroes Franchise

What you’re looking at is the official logo for a now defunct franchise known as Disney Heroes.

Disney Heroes was basically meant to serve as the sister…..or more appropriately, the brother franchise of the Disney Princesses, with the focus being placed on the male heroes of the Disney pantheon.

The franchise initially started back in 1999, but under the name of Disney Adventurers. Not only that, but the line-up was rather small, consisting of the titular protagonists of Hercules, Aladdin, Peter Pan, and their most recent film at the time, Tarzan.

The franchise mainly existed through toys, with some notable merchandising besides that here and there.

The franchise remained this way until about 2003, when it got a notable revamp.

The franchise would get its current name and it would expand the roster quite a bit. The new members included Merlin and Arthur from The Sword in the Stone, Robin Hood, Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty, and Li Shang from Mulan.

I also think Simba from The Lion King was a part of the roster as well, I think I remember seeing him on a backpack done for the franchise.

But in 2005, the Disney Heroes franchise had a another revamp…this one notably different from the previous ones.

Although the franchise mainly existed through toys and play-sets that more or less stayed faithful to their respective films, these however…..

Your eyes are not deceiving you….these were actual action figures created and designed by Disney for the Disney Heroes franchise…..and I couldn’t be anymore happier.

Hercules looks like an ancient Greek warrior with the golden armor, plus he’s carrying a big xiphos and a golden shield with the face of a lion.

Peter Pan is now sporting some tan gloves, boots, and ever a mask, carrying a bow and quiver of arrows alongside his trusty dagger.

And Captain Hook has a more swashbuckling look, and his rapier has been replaced with a big ass cutlass!

Prince Phillip and Maleficent were also apart of this line-up of action figures as well.

Phillip had a more knight-like appearance, even having a helmet with a golden falcon on top.

And Maleficent…well, she was in her dragon form.

Sadly, only five action figures were made in this style….

And it’s a shame, given that there were plans to revamp the franchise with a more action-oriented style.

These designs by Disney animator Ruben Procopio for planned future figures for the franchise really highlight this…

Aladdin was gonna look like an Arabian Knight, complete with a dagger and a huge ass scimitar that would make Cloud Strife impressed.

Tarzan was gonna go for a Conan the Barbarian-esque look, complete with a headband, a vest, a tooth necklace, boots, and even a quiver filled with spears, knives, and arrows.

And as you could see, they were even gonna introduce The Beast from Beauty and the Beast as a new member of a roster, with the appearance of a warrior prince and a mace as his weapon.

Unfortunately, these figures never came to be....

Although Disney Heroes franchise was doing decently fine, it was nowhere near the level of success of the Disney Princesses.

As a result of that, Disney slowly but surely phased out the franchise over the next three years.

By 2008, the Disney Heroes franchise silently ended, only merchandising through coloring books and their only new addition since 2003 being....of all characters....Milo Thatch from Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

So yeah....that's pretty much the story of the Disney Heroes franchise.

It's honestly a shame because I could totally see this franchise being pretty successful today.

And given the rise of nostalgia and crossovers in media over the last decade, I could see this being an absolute goldmine for all parties involved.

And today, I'm gonna share on how I think a revival of the Disney Heroes franchise should play out.

.It would aim more towards a older audience, mostly teenagers, similar to the Disney Villains franchise. It wouldn't really focus all that much on toys like the Disney Princesses, though there would be some figurines here and there, instead focusing on media that's more accessible with a older crowd like novels, comic books, video games, and even animation.

.Unlike it's previous iteration, and to that extension the Disney Princesses, it would be more gender-neutral, featuring male and female representatives of most of the represented films as members of the roster.

.Also unlike the Princesses, this franchise has its own backstory. Various Disney villains have joined forces in other to further their respective goals. In retaliation, a group of various Disney heroes, led by Merlin, have united to fight against the villainous alliance and protect their respective realms. I know it's a pretty simple premise, but I think it's the perfect that way.

.The franchise will have a major focus on action and adventure....which for a franchise like this, should be expected.

.Many of the characters will be receiving redesigns in the veins of the ones done for the franchise back in 2005, which give off a fantasy warrior, almost Dungeons n' Dragons vibe. While these wouldn't be to the extent as say, Disney Mirrorverse, they would clearly by different from the characters' usual attire and makes them come off as more like warriors ready for adventure and battle.

.The series will essentially expand on the worlds of the films and bring in elements from their original source materials, official continuations like the TV shows, and even the cultures they represent.

Okay, now that we got the major elements out of the way, I'm gonna briefly share who would be apart of the roster for this new franchise, and list them in chronological order of movie release.

.Alice

.Peter Pan

.Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip

.Merlin and Arthur

.Mowgli

.Robin Hood

.Ariel and Eric

.Belle and Beast

.Aladdin and Jasmine

.Simba

.Pocahontas and John Smith

.Quasimodo

.Hercules and Megara

.Fa Mulan and Li Shang

.Tarzan and Jane Porter

.Milo Thatch and Kida Nedakh

.Jim Hawkins

.Tiana and Naveen

.Rapunzel and Eugene Fitzherbert

.Merida

.Anna and Elsa

.Moana and Maui

Just imagine.....seeing this iconic heroes going on various adventures, from the hottest deserts to the deepest jungles. Fighting against mythical monsters, thieves, wild beasts, villainous knights, deadly invaders, mysterious spirits and swashbuckling pirates!

Anyway, that's all for now. I'm planning to go more in-depth on this idea, fleshing out the characters and their worlds.

If you have any ideas for this franchise, let me know.

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shakespeareanwannabe · 9 months

Text

As You Wish, Chapter 2

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, verbal arguing, swearing, medical misinformation (I did my best y'all), pregnancy

Sharp Memorial Hospital, 12 Years Ago

“Buttercup!”

She gasped as the curtain to her room was drawn back quickly, revealing a stressed-out looking lieutenant and a sheepish looking older brother.

“Jake! I’m okay, I swear…”

“You passed out!” Jake exclaimed, rounding the hospital bed to stand by her side. “And they called Bob?”

She sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously at the tape securing the IV to her arm. “I’ve been here for, like, four months, babe. And it all happened kinda quickly, so I haven’t exactly had a chance to change my emergency contact yet.”

Jake reached out to grip her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Do me a favour and at least add me to that list? I almost had a fucking heart attack when I landed, and Bob told me that you were in the damn hospital.”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose as she turned her attention to him. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered. “Are you okay, Buttercup?”

She grinned at the begrudging use of the nickname. Ever since Jake had bestowed it upon her that night, it was like her real name ceased to exist. Everyone called her Buttercup, despite Bob’s best efforts.

“I’m fine, you two worrywarts,” she rolled her eyes fondly as Bob scoffed and Jake squeezed her hand more firmly. “I got a little lightheaded at the bar and turned a little too quickly on my barstool. I was only out for like a second, but Penny wouldn’t let it go. Something about Mav being overprotective of his squad or something. She’s somewhere out there—” she motioned vaguely out the curtained doorway. “—filling out paperwork.”

“What were you doing at the bar?” Jake seated himself on the edge of her bed, green eyes turning stern. “You promised me that you were going to take it easy today, remember? I didn’t drag your ass to the doctor yesterday because you said you were “almost over this stupid flu”, and I only agreed because you promised you’d do jack shit today.”

Buttercup pouted at him, crossing her arms as best she could with one arm hosting the IV and Jake not releasing her hand. “I got bored,” she mumbled. “Plus, I thought the quick walk in the sun and fresh air would do me good!”

Jake groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear to god. Next time, at least call someone to go with you.”

“Sure, Jake. I’m sure the Navy will understand you needing to take your girlfriend on a walk,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly,” Jake shot back, gesturing around the curtained-off room.

“Alright, easy, you two,” Bob sighed, stepping further into the room. “Seresin, you can’t expect her to wait around for us to do stuff. What do you expect her to do when we get deployed?” Jake’s face fell for a split second before smoothing out into that unflappable mask he had mastered long ago. “And kiddo? Bagman might not show it ever, but he is a human being, which means he can be scared, and I’m pretty sure the news that you landed yourself here scared a decade off him. So, go easy on him, will you?”

She looked at her brother for a moment before sighing, nodding slightly, and turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

He squeezed it back, lifting their linked hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m not tryin’ to be controlling, I just…I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Bob huffed and took a step back. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she needs help with that paperwork.”

“Thanks Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. He winked playfully at her before turning his back and strolling out of the room, tugging the curtain closed behind him.

“What has the doctor said?” Jake brushed his hand over her cheek, tugging her attention back to him. “Any more dizzy spells? Do you need anything?”

“Easy, tiger, one question at a time. The doctor said I was pretty dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve done over the past couple of days, and that was what probably caused the blackout. But he had a nurse draw some blood and they’re testing to see if it could be anything else.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I’m a little dizzy still, but the fluids are helping. And I’m still pretty nauseated but they don’t want to give me anything until they get the test results back.” Jake nodded, his jaw ticking just once as his eyes raked over her face. “I’m okay, Jake. I promise.”

Buttercup kept up the soft pressure of her hand running up and down his arm until the mask he wore slipped and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want you to feel better.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry I got snippy.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to apologize. You’re the one in the hospital bed.” His thumb gently rubbed back and forth along the back of her hand. “God, I hate fighting with you though.”

A slow grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Me too. Especially when I’m stuck in this bed and we can’t make up properly.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Peals of laughter tumbled from her lips as she angled her head to brush her nose against his. “I don’t suppose a kiss would tide you over, Lieutenant Insatiable?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, darlin’. We’d have to try it out.”

Jake’s lips chased hers as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the flimsy mattress with the force of his kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, and she felt a bolt of electricity spark through her body when his mouth stretched into a smile against hers. He linked their fingers together as she deepened the kiss, his free hand coming around to cradle the back of her neck.

“Alright, Miss Floyd, why don’t we go over those test results?”

Jake pulled away as a doctor clad in purple scrubs hustled into the room, her hands rubbing together as the scent of sanitizer wafted over them.

“Hey, doctor. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier. Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake greeted, his mask sliding back into place as he stretched one arm out to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. And it’s nice to meet you as well, Miss Floyd. I’m Dr. Friedman and I’ll be taking over your case,” the woman greeted, shaking his hand before turning to fiddle with some equipment. “I hope you don’t mind; we just have a few more tests to run.”

“N-no, that’s fine…” Buttercup shrugged uneasily. “Did something happen to Dr. Scott? I thought he was the one handling my case today?”

“Dr. Scott is just fine. He got called into an all hands on deck situation and, since I was already working with a regular patient of mine down here in the ED, he passed your case off to me since it falls under my specialty. Do you mind lifting your gown for me, dear?”

As the doctor turned, Jake’s keen green eyes darted between three different things. One, the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. Two, the medieval looking metal device she had placed next to his girlfriend on her bed. And three, the neat white stitching on the breast of her scrubs that read Dr. Laurie Friedman, Doctor of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

“Dr. Friedman?” Jake felt his heart sputter, then race in his chest as he squeezed Buttercup’s hand. “You’re a…I mean, your specialty…” He looked down at Buttercup, but she was staring at the white stitching as well.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As I’m sure Dr. Scott told you, Miss Floyd’s blood and urine tests came back positive for hcG, so he called for an OB consult. Since I was already here, I figured I would pop in and run the tests for him while he’s dealing with the overflow of patients we just received. This will be a little cold, dear,” the doctor soothed, draping a paper towel over Buttercup’s underwear before squeezing the gel onto her stomach. “Now, if the blood and urine tests aren’t lying to us, we should…” She moved the wand around, either obtuse to or completely ignoring the look on her patient’s (and the lieutenant’s) face. “There!”

She turned the screen to face the young couple. “Your blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but the high levels of hcG in your blood gave Dr. Scott pause. There’s baby number one…” she pointed to a tiny speck on the screen. “And there…is baby number two.”

The first week of living in the isolation cabin (affectionately known as ‘The Brig’) was absolute misery. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the water in the lake was cool and clear, and Abby and Charlie could appreciate none of it, stuck as they were doing clean up chores in the kitchen. Amelia had been assigned to supervision duty, which was mostly making sure the girls did less arguing and more cleaning.

The nights were even worse, with the girls either ignoring each other or screaming the cabin down with insults and taunts. Amelia had also spent that first week sleeping on the small stoop of the cabin in a hammock, or, at least, trying to sleep between arguments.

The only reprieve the girls got was when they headed down to the dining hall and got to sit with their friends. Breakfast, lunch and dinner found Charlie loudly complaining to her friend, Ryann, about how unfair the whole situation was, while Abby sat with Max, and Isabelle clear across the dining hall, her friends doing their best to remind her to stay strong, that she was only barred from group activities for another week, that they would try to sneak her back into their cabin in a few weeks when Penny and Amelia had cooled off a bit. Amelia spent mealtimes hiding in her mother’s office, downing headache medication, and trying to talk her mother out of whatever plan she had concocted.

The second week found the girls at an uneasy truce. Chores duty was quiet, but all the work got done. Evenings were dead silent, the girls opting to ignore each other instead of arguing.

Both girls were excited to go back to group activities on Monday, only to open the cabin door that morning to find dark clouds covering the sun, booming thunder in the distance, and rain falling in ice cold sheets.

“I suppose group activities will be cancelled today,” Abby muttered as she turned to grab her raincoat.

“You think Penny and Amelia will let us join our cabins for rainy day activities?” Charlie grumbled as she surveyed the mucky landscape. “Hell, I’d be okay doing outdoor activities in this! I thought this was supposed to show us what our family members go through in the military? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t cancel a war because of a little rain.”

Abby giggled in spite of herself. “If they did that, there would never have been any wars in England. It’s always raining there.”

“Eww. That must suck.”

“It really does.”

The two girls locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“She’s still stuck up! You don’t want to be friends with her!” Charlie thought to herself, pulling on her own raincoat.

“She’s rude and uncouth. Anyone worth being friends with would never say such horrible things. Or try to get into a physical fight with you!” Abby breathed as she held the door open for a drenched Amelia.

“Sorry girls, but you’re not going down to the dining hall today. It’s all flooded, so all campers will be eating in their cabins,” Amelia explained quickly, handing them bottles of juice and a tray of fruit and sandwiches. “I’ve gotta get back to keep an eye on everyone. Please, please promise me you’ll get along today? I’ll be back later with lunch and dinner, and I really don’t want to have to clean up any bloodshed.”

“We promise…”

“Thank you!”

The door swung shut behind her as Amelia took off up the path back to the main camp.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have my breakfast over here while I read,” Charlie murmured, awkwardly making eye contact before shuffling away to her bed on one side of the room.

Abby nodded, taking her own breakfast over to her bed and staring out the window before pulling out her scrap book.

Amelia popped back in a few hours later, carrying more sandwiches for lunch, surprise colouring her features at the lack of arguing and tension between the campers.

“You two are handling this better than some of the other kids,” she commented, placing the tray down. “I’ll be back around six with dinner, okay?”

Without stopping to hear their response, she turned and dashed back out the door, just as a gust of wind blew the door wide open, sending everything that wasn’t pinned down in the room flying.

“Crap!” Charlie slammed her book shut quickly as the pages started to rustle. Abby squealed as the pictures in the collage she was working on were strewn about wildly, dancing in the wind.

“Help me with the door!” Charlie cried, bolting over to the creaking wooden door and trying to heave it shut. Her fingernails scrabbled against the wood as she tried to get a good grip on the handle as the door strained against her grip, pulling her this way and that.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Abby seized the door handle and they leaned all their weight against the door, sighing in relief as they finally heard the faint click as it shut.

“Th-thanks…” Charlie panted, her arms trembling slightly.

“No…no problem,” Abby sagged against the wall. “You looked like you almost had it though. You’re pretty strong.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work on my dad’s ranch. Obviously, I can’t do a lot of the dangerous jobs, but even the easy stuff takes a lot of strength.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Abby offered, sinking to the floor against the wall. “Does your mum help on the ranch too?”

Charlie looked away as she sank to the floor across from her, feeling the anger rise and then fall inside of her, her body too tired to let it take hold. “No…she doesn’t. I…I don’t know who my mom is. It’s just me, my dad, and my uncles,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Abby felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I didn’t know. But…it’s okay! My mum always says that every family looks different, and it doesn’t affect how much they love each other.”

“Easy for her to say,” Charlie muttered, looping her arms around her legs, and resting her head against her knees.

Abby bit back an angry retort. She was so tired of fighting, mentally exhausted from the constant sparring with her new roommate. Maybe her mum had been right and fighting back wasn’t the way to go.

“She started saying that to me when I was five years old or so. At least, that’s when I think I started asking about my dad. I…I don’t know who he is either.”

Charlie lifted her head, looking at the girl in front of her. “You don’t?”

Abby shook her head. “For as long as I can remember, it’s been me, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle. But not, like, married aunt and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother, and my aunt is his best friend.”

“Oh…” Charlie looked down, biting her lip. “I guess that means my comment about mommy and daddy buying you riding lessons really sucked, huh?”

“It did. But I shouldn’t have called you a cornfed hick, either.” Abby flushed. “I don’t know why I said that. My mom and uncle are from Kansas, so it’s not like they’re from anywhere fancy.”

“Kansas? Then why do you sound so…Downton Abbey?”

Abby giggled. “My mum moved to London when I was just a baby. She says it was just for a job, but I think she wanted to get away from my dad too. Every time I ask about him, she gets really anxious and sad, my Uncle Bob gets really angry, and my Aunt Natasha has to distract everyone. Eventually, I just stopped asking. But she did promise to talk about him when I get home, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for answers.”

“My dad does the same thing!” Charlie gasped, moving closer. “I ask about my mom and he gets this really sad look in his eyes, then goes into his office for a few hours! Uncle Roo will eventually go drag him out but then we just pretend I never asked. Uncle Javy acts like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to hurt my dad, so he just tells me that all my questions will be answered when I get older.”

“I hate that!” Abby shot onto her knees. “I’m almost 12! How much older do they expect me to get?”

“Right?” Charlie copied her kneeling stance. “I swear, if I don’t get answers on October 11th, I’m going to scream!”

Abby fell back on her heels, almost as though the door had been wrenched open again and she’d been blown back by a gust of wind. “Y-your birthday is October 11th?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So is mine!”

Charlie blinked at her. Then she blinked again. Then, a third time. “I…am going to go back to reading my book.”

Abby’s shoulders rose with the force of her sigh. “Charlie, why do you keep avoiding this? We look completely alike, we have the same birthday, you have a dad, and I have a mom! Do you know what that all adds up to?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Charlie replied huffily, picking up her book and leafing through the pages to find where she left off.

“Charlie, come on! You can’t actually believe that!”

Abby waited for a response, but all she got was Charlie raising her book to eye level in order to block her from view.

“Charlie? Please, you know there’s more to it than that!”

Charlie rolled over to face the other direction and Abby felt the anger bolt through her at ten thousand volts.

“Stop. Ignoring. Me!” she stomped around to the other side of Charlie’s bed and wrenched the book away from her.

“Hey! Give me that!” Charlie jumped out of bed as Abby ran over to her side of the cabin.

“No! Not until we figure this out!”

“Figure what out?” Charlie groaned. “We don’t look that much alike, single parent households aren’t that rare, and there are like a billion people on this planet, so obviously some are going to share a birthday!”

“Oh, come on! It’s way more than that!”

Charlie stomped over towards her and shook her head, her blond braid whipping around her face. “No. It’s not. Now give me back my book or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby hopped onto her bed and held the book high in the air.

“I’ll…” Charlie lunged and grabbed Abby’s scrapbook from where it had fallen on the floor. “I’ll hold this hostage until you give it back!”

“No!” Abby gasped. “Please, no! That’s important to me!”

Charlie shrugged. “And my book is important to me. I need something to read, so I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

Charlie retreated back onto her side of the cabin and flipped the book open to the first page.

“Fine! Here, take it!” Abby yelled, jumping off the bed and racing over to hand her the book. “Just please, give it back!”

Charlie’s hand shook as she pushed her novel off the scrapbook and onto the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of the figures that were smiling from the picture that decorated the first page.

“Charlie?” Abby asked, half desperate to get her scrapbook back and half confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my uncles in your scrapbook?” she whispered.

“What? That’s a picture of my mum, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bob,” Abby explained, pointing to each person in turn.

“Not them…” Charlie spoke softly, as though even one decibel too loud would shatter her. “Them.” Charlie pointed at two of the figures on the fringe of the photo. One, a moustachioed man in a pair of aviators, and the other a tall black man with a bright smile and an “I Love Las Vegas” baseball cap covering his cropped black hair. “That’s my Uncle Rooster and my Uncle Javy.”

“What?”

Charlie handed the book back before scrambling to her backpack, digging inside to pull out a folder. “This is my favourite picture of my dad and my uncles. My dad doesn’t know I have it though. I found it when I was fooling around with Uncle Javy, and he gave it to me. He made me promise never to tell my dad that I even knew it existed. I…I think it’s from my dad’s wedding to my mom. Uncle Javy made it seem that way, anyway.”

Charlie opened the folder and pulled out her photo. “That’s my dad, and see? There’s Uncle Roo and Uncle Javy.”

Abby’s shaky finger traced over two other figures who had their arms around each other on the other side of ‘Uncle Roo’. “That’s my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Natasha. Auntie Nat gave me my photo a few years ago when I asked about her about Dagger Squad. But she told me not to tell my mom or my uncle about it. She said that they would be upset.”

“There were taken on the same day,” Charlie murmured, her eyes raking over the photo. “See? The lights in the background, the clothes, the people? They’re all the same.”

“You know what this means, right?” Abby whispered, her finger now tracing over Charlie’s photo, her focus solely on the man in the middle, the man that Charlie had called Dad.

“Abby, it can’t…I don’t…” Charlie swallowed painfully.

“Charlie…I think your dad…was married to my mum.”

A door slamming behind them sent a jolt down both their spines and they spun on the bed to face the intruder.

Amelia set the tray of food down and wiped the water off her face with a sigh. “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

Tags List: @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @seresinsbrat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @cierra715 @high-speed-r @helpmepleasethanks @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @princessliz86 @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @torimcc @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @hello7442 @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @ssa-sadboi @tgmavericklover @dempy @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @lovemarvelousfics, @starkleila, @magical-spit, @whatislovevavy, @simplyreading96, @vivalas-vega, @itsdesiree86, @inky-sun, @books-are-escapes

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #parent trap au #jake seresin x you #glen powell #as you wish fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader

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dairy-farmer · 6 months

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Jaytim half sibling au, where tim is catherine and willis todd's biological child. They put him up for adoption because they felt they couldn't support more than one child. Jason was only two or three at the time, and only has vague memories of his mommy's tummy being big.

Maybe tim always knew he was adopted, but didn't care much, other than the odd daydream when he was lonely. He loved his parents, so he mostly fantasized about long lost brothers or sisters.

Idk how this would progress into jaytim, but I feel like this is a deep well for exploring Jason's mommy kink lol (imagine if tim has her smile)

👀👀👀👀 okay so i had a jaytim thread fic about tim and jason being biological fraternal twin brothers here!!!

but here tim knowing he's adopted and always being curious about the family he would've had if his bio parents kept him. it had been a closed adoption. willis had insisted, told catherine it would make things easier because they couldn't afford another child. not when jason was already such a big expense, plus at least with the adoption they'd recieve some money and that would keep their heads above water for the meanwhile. catherine, of course, knows willis is right. she knows they can't afford another baby. but...this is the first baby she's ever carried and now she has to give them up. it takes a toll on her. jason recalls years later never really knowing what pushed his mom into her drug habit. as far back as he could remember he knew she'd been self medicating with drugs and alcohol. he thought his dad had been the reason. he'd hardly been a very pleasant person to be around. an asshole even. but...never a wifebeater. jason had always just sort of assumed his dad was the cause because he knows his old man had been a dealer at some point. jason only knew that because willis had harshly cautioned him against going down that path. it was one of the few times willis had tried to parent him by pulling jason by his ear away from a group of older boys that hung around a stoop across the street and harshly scolding him.

catherine never quite gets over losing her child. the only thing she has is the birth certificate and some papers from the agency that had set everything up. its what sits at the bottom of some forgotten box long after she has died and so has willis. it gather and collects dust in the closet of the apartment in the building jason grew up in. and it won't be until decades that jason scouts out the condemned building, feeling some sense of nostalgia as he determines the amount of work that needs to go into fixing the whole building up so that it can house new families. jason goes into that old one bedroom apartment, runs his fingers through the thick layer of dust. odds and end furniture that was never thrown out because that old landlord had never been able to find a new tenant after jason's dad was locked up and his mom died and no one was left to pay rent.

jason stumbling across that box, going through it, finding an odd set of papers and just...staring. remembering being two, nearly three and recalling how he'd press his ear to his mom's tummy and giggling along with her at the feeling of something pressing against his hand. its just bits and flashes like how its around the time his mom started on a downward spiral that ended up killing her.

jason finally figuring out this was the reason why. that somewhere out there was a little sibling he'd never known.

maybe he can't go to barbara with this because she'll likely spill to dick or run to bruce to tell on him. jason's options are limited and so he turns to the only other detective that might be discrete about it.

tim helping jason with his search because the adoption agency has long since shut down and were active during the time of paper record keeping.

the two of them growing slowly closer, getting to know each other better. jason thinking tim's not as bad as he thought he was that sometimes...tim might even...remind him of his mom.

he dismisses it because it was that visit to his apartment that makes him all sentimental...makes him think of his mom more often and the good times they had together like her warm laugh and the soft skin of her hand. and sometimes...when jason is dead tired and tim's is the closest place to crash...sometimes....tim does those little things that make the kid part of jason's brain just melt because his mommy is there.

jason and tim starting to sleep together and the the absolute ice bucket chill that hits them both when tim manages to track down the couple that adopted jason's sibling and it's jack and janet drake 👀👀👀

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #jaytim

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exhuastedpigeon · 7 months

Text

Seven Sentence Paragraph Sunday ⚾️

Baseball AU, but make it introspective and a little angsty

“I’m a big boy Buck, I can talk to a guy I played with a decade ago by myself.” “I know you can, but you don’t have to,” Buck said. He kept his arm on Eddie’s shoulder for the rest of the game, kind of like he forgot it was there, chatting away like they always did when Buck wasn’t pitching and Eddie wasn’t catching. It was almost enough to help Eddie forget that he had to talk to Watts after the game. Talk to the only pitcher Eddie had ever failed to get a handle on. The guy who made Eddie question his own skill. The guy Eddie almost - almost what? Almost nothing, honestly. Nothing because Eddie was with Shannon and about to be a dad, but he was Eddie’s bisexual awakening. Not that he was out to anyone besides his sisters, Athena, Hen, and somehow, accidentally, Lena Bosko. But that was a whole other story. And it wasn’t that Eddie didn’t want to tell Buck or some of the other guys on the team, it was that baseball was still pretty homophobic. It doesn’t matter that their manager is a lesbian, that one of their bench coaches is a lesbian, that the entire pitching staff, plus Eddie, put on a massive fundraiser for Trevor’s List during pride night last year. (If Eddie was really honest with himself, he was scared of what would happen if the news got out. He’d be a pariah.) So when the game ended Eddie ducked out from under Buck’s arm and they walked toward the locker room. When Eddie saw Watts, he offered Buck a small smile that didn’t really do anything to dismiss the worried look on Buck’s face. “Come to my apartment later? I’m FaceTime Chris at 8 and he asked where you were yesterday.” “Yeah, of course,” Buck grabbed Eddie’s wrist and squeezed it gently. “K-keep my posted if you need anything.”

Tagged by @cal-daisies-and-briars @wikiangela @actualalligator @daffi-990 @diazsdimples

No pressure tagging @devirnis @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @spotsandsocks @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @rainbow-nerdss @jeeyuns @rosieposiepuddingnpie @acountrygirlsfun @buddierights @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @epicbuddieficrecs @thewolvesof1998 @thekristen999 @elvensorceress @puppyboybuckley @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc

#seven sentence sunday #buddie #buddie wip #wip: base on balls

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jakey-beefed-it · 5 months

Text

Picked up some secondhand skitarii today! I've always liked these little dudes and their hoods and big old sad wet cat eyes (eye l3nses but who's counting). But it's Warhammer, so people are always being weird about it including Women™, and as such I wanted to make one of the alphas more obviously a lady than skitarii augmetics usually allows. So I took a spare bald (from the radiation) sister of battle head, gave her a single eye lens and a hood (down) with greenstuff. Plus a clipped hose and a little number plate from arco-flagellant bitz.

Somewhere or another I've got a tech-priest that I converted into a tech-priestess just by gluing a lady stormcast face mask to her instead of the usual mask, so once I dig her out she can get a paint job to match these dudes.

Thinking about painting them with dark blue robes, hot orange glows and lenses, and the usual grotty metal for most of the rest of it to represent Forge World Konor and go with my other Ultramar-based Imperial armies. Maybe a dirty off-white spot color. Red rust sand bases of course, Mars-style. Blue and orange should look interesting together. Decades of low-effort movie posters have taught me that, if little else.

#jake plays warhammer 40k #adeptus weemanicus

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winchestergirl2 · 11 months

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October Reading Recs

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

2023 Reading Recs List

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

The One That Got Away Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | @pink-sparkly-witch

Authors Summary: Childhood sweethearts, Dean and Y/N, are very much in love with each other. When she accepts a full scholarship to an out-of-state college, she finally gets to leave behind her traumatic childhood and abusive father, but it means leaving Dean behind too.

Over a decade later, Y/N returns to Lawrence, Kansas, and finally tries to heal the only wounds she has left… the psychological and emotional scars her father gave her and the heartbreak she endured by Dean Winchester, the one that got away.

Smoke Eater Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | @zepskies

Authors Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

Escape Chapter 66 | Chapter 67 | Chapter 68 | @soaringeag1e

Authors Summary: A serial killer is reeking havoc around Lawrence, Kansas, and Detective Dean Winchester is getting really sick of finding more and more bodies. But one day, he gets a call about another victim. But instead of the location of another body, he gets news that this one escaped the hell of this mans actions.

Massages And More @miss-madness67

Authors Summary: Dean really likes your massage.

Meant To Be Mine @negans-lucille-tblr

Authors Summary: A mix up leads to life changing consequences.

Sam Winchester

Yellow @idreamofhazel

Authors Summary: I listened to Yellow by Coldplay and got inspired.

Untitled Sam Winchester Drabble @supernaturalfreewill

Relax @imagineteamfreewill

Authors Summary: It’s almost the end of the semester and your schedule is jam-packed, leaving you stressed, overwhelmed, and overtired. Thankfully, Sam Winchester is the best at helping you relax.

Family Friends and Loved Ones @waywardxwords

Authors Summary: You make it home for Thanksgiving to see your family again, bringing Sam and Dean with you.

The Boys

Soldier Boy

New Blood @wayward-dreamer

Authors Summary: The executives at Vought American are enamoured by the new supe at the annual shareholders party, hoping to make her a new addition to Payback. Soldier Boy isn't pleased with the idea, as he's the only one who gets to decide who joins his team. He tells her this fact, and braces himself for a fight, but gets something much better out of their encounter.

Friday the 13th

Clay Miller

Flyers @plus-size-reader

Authors Summary: Going out with Clay to help look for Whitney and bonding with him in a way that you never have before

Friday The 13th (2009) @bored-writer101

Authors Summary: You are Clay Miller’s girlfriend. He’s taken you to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, looking for his sister, Whitney. She’s been missing for a month and a half after she went on a camping trip with some friends. You and Clay are determined to find her, but there is a hockey masked killer who is waiting in the woods for you.

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Wonderwall @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: teasing beau during work and leaving without finishing. when he gets home he wants to pick up where they left off.

Only Ever Holding Onto You Part 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: When Beau Arlen called and asked Y/N to join him at the Lewis & Clark County Sheriff's Department, she knew she should have turned him down. Sure, he made a great case for her relocation, but it was the sound of his voice that had her put in for an immediate transfer. After all, he was worried and needed her; how could she say no? Yet, the more time she spends in Big Sky Country, the more Y/N wonders if she should have stayed in Houston.

Untitled Beau Arlen Drabble @smellingofpoetry

Montana Stars @spnbaby-67

Authors Summary Just cute one shot between Beau Arlen and his girl, Y/N.

Chicago Fire

Matt Casey

Better late than never @deanstead

Authors Summary: After witnessing Y/N’s interaction with Connor, Matt finally decides to tell her how he feels

Imagine: Seeing Matt at Molly's after returning to Chicago @deanstead

Untitled Matt Casey Drabble @deanstead

Authors Summary: Matt surprising his wife with a puppy

Ten Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly

Movie Night To Remember @daughterofcain-67

Authors Summary: In honor of spooky season, The Beach City Grill is throwing a Horror movie night event by putting on the movie Scream! The employees are excited, and so are some of the regulars. Your friends, Piper, Jen and Tish invite you to come because she knows you're another regular at the grill. But the thing is, you hate scary movies, crime shows or anything dealing with blood. Which will be scarier? Actually watching this movie, or embarrassing yourself in front of a guy you like?

The Body @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: tish dared priestly to wear a dress to work in exchange for a week off.

Smallville

Jason Teague

Assistant Hottie @zepskies

Authors Summary: Jason Teague, Assistant Football Coach, meets you in the faculty break lounge at Smallville High. He tries to kick you out, thinking you’re a student. Technically, you are. Turns out, you both go to the same university.

#winchestergirl2 reads #winchestergirl2 recs #fic recs #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #clay miller x reader #clay miller fic #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen fic #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x reader #matt casey x reader #matt casey fic #boaz priestly x reader #boaz priestly fic #priestly x reader #priestly fic #jason teague x reader #jason teague fic

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 months

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umm smut request incoming…

Vox x alastor’s sister! Reader

Vox railing her and sending a video of something to Alastor (just like maybe a sound bite of her moans or sum) to piss him off… or…

Fucking on a live broadcast because he’s Vox and he if he thinks he can he will (I think he would censor most of it on live tv for the sake of he still technically wants to be the only who gets to see reader naked)

Either way the goal is to absolutely ruin Alastor’s sister to piss Alastor off

No rush…

I live for your writing

I love the way you write Vox…

-🐝anon

Hello, dearheart bumblebee-

Ask and you shall receive, I dearly hope you like it.

Vox x Alastor!Sister!Reader Rating: Adults only Content warnings: Potential age dynamics and power imbalance, dubious content, broadcast of sexual time without reader's consent, smut, putting way too much faith in a glass desk Join Us at VoxTek today! A discord server dedicated to Vox and the rest of the Hazbin crew.

The polished perfection of the tech district gleamed and sparkled around you as your simple low heels clicked against the clean pavement. Everything about the district was maintained perfectly, making it easy to forget you were in Hell as long as you didn’t look at the residents too long.

You had been young when you died and when your elder brother joined you in Hell not too many years later, he had resumed his task of protecting you. It had been suffocating, as much so in death as it had been in life.

Tonight, you were determined to break free from that suffocation. If you were lucky you’d pull it off without him noticing you’d strayed away from his approved districts while he was busy with his little hotel project. It had drawn his attention away from you for a while now and while you had always been an obedient young woman, you craved more.

Music pounded the air as you approached a long line for a club. You’d never been in a proper club. At best, you were allowed to attend lounges and bars similar to what had been popular in the time of your life but after being dead for far longer than you had lived, you wanted to live just a little.

What harm could it do? It’s not like Alastor would find out, he almost never came by the house lately anyway.

Standing in the line was boring. It felt like it was never moving. You were convinced it would be morning before you got inside the stupid club. With your luck, come the brighter light of morning, while you still stood in this cursed line, Alastor would return home for the first time in almost a week to find you missing.

You contemplated leaving as your tall ears flattened against your head. All you wanted was one night to act like a normal 22 (plus a few decades after death) year old living in the modern world and not the little early 1900s relic you spent most of your life being.

Excitement erupted as a fancy black car pulled up just ahead of you in the line. The driver got out, wearing a dark blue pressed suit and held open the back door of the car.

A man, tall with broad shoulders stepped out of the club as people excitedly tried to get his attention. His head was a flat screen, digitized face smiling wide as he seemed to soak up the attention.

You leaned out of the line as you tried to get a better view of the man everyone was so excited to see. Whoever he was, he was attractive in a way you couldn’t really explain. His head was weird but the smile was charming and confident in a way that drew you in.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he walked down the line, speaking to people here or there. Women and men alike swooned for the chance to take a picture with him. He was, without a doubt, a big deal.

Did he know your brother? Would this man recognize your relation if he saw you? You shared many features with your brother, though you lacked the ever present smile and red hair. You had tried to obscure the relationship, donning black and browns rather than the red that dominated your wardrobe.

“What do we have here?”

Your ears flicked up and forward as you realized how close the man had gotten while you were lost in your thoughts. A started squeak slipped out of your mouth as you flinched back from his screen.

“Aren’t you just the cutest thing,” He said as if it was the highest compliment, “what brings you out here?”

“I wanted to go out?” You weren’t sure what to say, not knowing what he knew or who he was.

“How’s that going for you?” He made a show of looking up the long line still to the door. “Been here long?”

“A while,” You admitted, “I may just end up leaving, it’s getting late.”

“Splendid!” He clapped his hands together as he lifted the rope between him and the line you stood in. “What would you say if I told you I could take you somewhere better to get a few drinks and music?”

“Like where?” You asked as you ducked under the rope before hesitating in front of him.

“Vee Tower.” He cocked his thumb to the tower that dominated the district. “We’ve got a bar in there.”

“I- I don’t know who you are. Maybe I should pass,”

“You really aren’t from around here, are you?” The man laughed, holding his hand out for you in invitation. “The name is Vox.”

“You’re an overlord.” You stepped away, regretting leaving the safety of Alastor’s territories. You’d heard his name in passing as your brother talked on about the overlord meetings but knew little else about the man.

“Yep,” He popped the p as he rose his digital eyebrow. “And you look a lot like another overlord. Enough that I wouldn’t feel right leaving you on the streets. Couldn’t let anything bad happen to someone who may be important to my peer, now can I?”

“Your a friend of-”

“I am indeed!” Vox took your hand in his as soon as you made the slightest motion to take his hand. “You want to have a good time out in the tech district, don’t you?”

He lead you toward the waiting car, shooing away the driver and pushing the back passenger door closed with his hip. He opened the front passenger door and all but shoved you in the car.

Getting into the driver’s seat, he had the car in motion before you could even question how the driver was going to get back.

“So, doll- what are you looking to get out of your trip to the modern age?” He turned his head, allowing his eyes to flick between you and the road.

“I just wanted to have a good time. Get out from under my brother’s thumb for a bit,” You twisted the skirt of your dress in your hands. If Vox was a friend of Alastor’s you could surely trust him, though you couldn’t imagine him being friends with a tech overlord.

“Ol Al smothering you?” Vox laughed as if he was in on some joke with you. He was a charming man and you found yourself smiling with him, relaxing into the seat as he made light hearted conversation.

Before you knew it, you had a drink in your hand in Vox’s personal penthouse as he showed off tech to you, leaning over your shoulder as he crowded your space. You found yourself drawn to the warmth of him.

When you leaned your back into his chest, you didn’t know but when you looked back on this night, you would identify that as the trigger for everything that would come next.

His body was firm against your back and his breath, somehow coming from his screen ruffled your hair over your shoulder. His hand fell to your waist with a squeeze. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the prototype device in his hand to flop on a couch in his home office.

Clawed hand pulled your head, forcing you to look over your shoulder as his bright screen burned into your eyes. You closed your eyes to protect them only to feel his screen against your face. It quickly shifted, smooth surface giving way to lips as he kissed you.

It was strange and electrifying. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had kissed you. Being who you were and your brother’s reputation, few would even consider braving the Radio Demon’s wrath.

You hadn’t realized how starved for romantic attention you were until his lips were on you. His mouth tasted like the air smelled ahead of a lighting storm, though you never would have thought of that as a taste before.

You turned in his arms, resting your hands on his chest as your heart thundered in your chest. Strong hands dug into your waist as he walked you back until you bumped into his desk.

He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, setting you on the edge of the smooth glass surface, trusting it to hold your weight. His tongue wormed into your mouth and you moaned at the feel of him. Your mind swam as alcohol and endorphins mixed, giving you a natural high that had you clinging to his chest.

Vox tore his hands from your waist, grabbing your knees and forcing them further apart so that he could slot his body tight between your thighs. Blush burned your skin as you felt his hands run up your legs, pushing your skirt higher as he made his way back to your hips.

Could he see your blush in the dim light?

He pulled you to him by your hips, slotting his crotch tightly against yours as his tongue licked down your neck, leaving a trail of light static shocks in the process that had you gasping for air.

You could feel his hardness against you, throbbing strong enough that you could feel it through his pants and your soaked panties.

“Vox,” You needed him, gasping his name as he ground his hips into you.

“Do you want me?” Vox asked, smirk plastered on his face. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” You answered as Vox sank to his knees.

“Can I taste you?” His hands ran up and down your legs as he knelt in front of you. Static shocks ran over your skin, leaving goosebumps under his hands.

“I’ve never-” It wasn’t really done in your limited experience in life and in death, you didn’t have much time to find your feet, all things considered, to feel safe enough to explore before your brother’s overbearing presence suffocated any chance you had to explore.

“The first to do this for you?” He asked, eyes wide and earnest, not matching the sly smirk on his face in the slightest. His eyes, you realized, often gave him away. “Let me, please?”

“Okay.”

Your breath caught and stuttered in your lungs as he slipped his claws under your panties and ripped them from you, leaving them in tatters as they fell to the ground. Strong hands ran up and down your inner thighs, spreading your legs further apart with each pass.

“Lean back,” He demanded, “Let me see you.”

You did as he asked, leaning back and supporting your weight on the palms of your hands. It took a few tries to find somewhere to put your hands that didn’t have papers or bits of tech.

“Oh,” You gasped as a finger ran up your slit, touch so soft that it only caressed your part without delving inside your folds at all.

“So wet for me already.”

You were far from prepared for the feeling of Vox’s mouth on you. Strong hands pulled your thighs apart, spreading your folds as he ran his long electric tongue up your slit. Static danced on your nerves as his long tongue slipped over your clit only to pull back and circle it.

He pulled the nub into his mouth. Your brain struggled comprehend how any of this was possible when he had a flat screen for a face but as his long finger slipped into your entrance, you didn’t care.

You moaned as he sucked harshly on your clit, running his tongue over the captured bundle of nerves as he pumped the single finger inside you until you were panting. A coil felt ready to break inside you and just when it felt like it would be too much, he pulled away.

“Why did you stop?” You asked as your breathing calmed.

Instead of answering, he leaned in and ran his tongue over your folds repeatedly. As soon as her breath was coming fast again, he entered her once again. Instead of his finger however, it was his long electrified tongue that wiggled itself into her. He slurped her slick from the source as he probed, static sending stimulation over everything he touched until she clenched around him.

He moaned as she spasmed around his tongue, clenching the soft electric muscle. Slick poured into his eager mouth as he palmed himself through his pants to the music of your gasps.

“Did you like that?” Vox asked as he climbed to his feet.

“Yeah,” your arms felt weak as you struggled to support your upper body.

“Tell me how much,” Vox demanded as he worked his belt open.

“It felt so good,” You said, mind spinning as you watched him pull his belt from his pants, clattering to the ground as you babbled praise. “Your mouth felt so good on me. Your tongue,”

Vox freed himself from his pants and you were left mesmerized by his cock. Dark skin covered his considerable size as glowing veins traced their way around his length.

“You think that was good, just wait.”

He ran the head of his cock up and down your slit, gathering ample wetness as he leaned over you, working open the buttons on your blouse. You had no bra on under, leaving you fully exposed as he pulled your shirt open.

“Who would have thought,” Vox loomed over you, hungry eyes roaming over your chest, taking in the swell of your breasts and how they moved with each gasping breath you took. “That that old timey prick had such a darling sister hidden away.”

Fear flared in your mind at the way Vox spoke of your brother, not using the tone or words you’d have expected from someone who was a friend but before you could think too much on it, he was sliding inside.

You were tight and tense as his cock breached your entrance but your copious slick ensured that your tense body did nothing to stop him. Inching in, he pushed your fluttering walls aside slowly as he filled you. When he stilled, you could feel the firm bones of his hips against you while the head of his cock kissed your cervix.

“Fuck, doll.” He leaned over you, shoving the items on his desk to the floor without a care as be braced himself against the desk, ensuring you were boxed in, speared and with no where to go. “You’re so tight. Squeezing me like it’ll save you. His best kept secret, huh?”

You tried to get your feet in front of him, tried to find purchase to push him back so you could breath but his chest was solid and firm under your hand. It was like pushing against a wall. Your feet found no way to catch any part of him to push against, your attempts only causing you to wiggle and nudge the cock buried deep inside you.

“Don’t worry, Doll- I’m not going to hurt you.” Vox promised, dark smile on his digital face. “I’m going to show you what you’re missing out on. Remember how good you said I made you feel? I’m going to make you feel so much better.”

You clenched your jaw as he pulled back, heavy length pulling from your cunt in a wet drag until his tip, glowing slightly with the flush of his strange blood as it nestled just inside you.

“You look so good like this, spread out on my desk, little doe tail mashed against the glass and my cock spreading you.”

His hips snapped forward and you couldn’t contain the moan as the force jostled your body on the desk. Pulling back, he admired the way your ears sat atop your head, cocked to the side and limp, face slack and eyes drooping as you looked up at him.

If he couldn’t have Alastor, he would have you. If he couldn’t have Alastor, he would ruin you. If Alastor wouldn’t want him, he would ensure you craved him.

Another snap of his hips had a deeper moan pour from your pretty parted lips. This was wrong, you knew that now. He wasn’t a friend. You should have listened to your brother. You should have never left the safety of his territory.

But it was hard to keep telling yourself that as Vox’s cock kissed your cervix with every thrust forward. The words that fell from his lips, hot promises and dark praises had you wanting more.

Your slick poured out of you with every pull back of Vox’s heavy cock, you could feel more of your slick smear around your folds and hips, dripping down you and wetting the fur of your tail.

You arched on the glass desk as Vox leaned forward, static tongue reaching out to twist and slither over your nipple, sending shocks through your blood and down your core.

“Fuck,” you gasped, reaching out for his arms to somehow ground yourself as his lips enveloped your nipple, teeth grazing over the sensitive pebble.

“Who’s making you feel good?” Vox asked as he pulled away, “Who’s cock are you taking so well?”

“Vox,” you gripped his arm in one hand, reaching out and running your palm over his clothed chest as he moved above you, “Vox, please?”

“What do you need, Doll?”

Your body was rocking with each hard thrust, breasts bouncing with each jostle. He grabbed your hips as he straightened, pulling you harshly to hin with each thrust, making your breathy moans up in pitch as he hit something deep inside of you just right.

“Please,” You repeated, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“What do you like?” He questioned, leaning over you for a moment to kiss you hotly, tongue sweeping into your mouth as things shifted and moved on his desk. Electricity ran over your skin as his power flared but you couldn’t make yourself care. “Want to hear your voice.”

“Your cock,” You gasped as he pulled back, a strand of saliva stretching between your lip and where his screen gave way to his lips. You gasped as he shifted you, angling your hips so that his cock pressed tighter against the soft front of your walls. “Feels so good.”

He supported your hips with a hand under you, fingers wrapped around the little tail, underside sticky with spilled slick. It wasn’t comfortable but you were too distracted by the way he gripped your tail to care about the pressure. His other hand pressed on your lower belly, making the head of his cock hit the spongy bundle of nerves harder with each violent trust.

“Fuck, so good.” he said, leaning forward again and supporting his weight on palm placed by your arm as you tightened around him. “Fuck babydoll, so tight. Going to ruin you. Going to mark you inside and out.”

“Please,” You whined, hooking your legs around his back as his pubic bone crashed and rubbed against your clit with every thrust, “So close. Don’t stop. Please,”

“Who’s cock are you going to cum on?” His arm gave out, causing him to crash down on a elbow. A shimmering crack spidered out from where his elbow crashed into the glass surface. “Who’s cum are you going to take?”

“Vox,” You clenched around him, walls fluttering as you held onto him with arms and legs and core, wanting to pull him closer still, “Vox, I’m going to-”

“Ffffuuck,” He moaned deeply as his cock, nestled right against your cervix twitched. His hips rocked as he spilled his load deep inside your twitching walls. Your hips rocked as you humped into him, urging his cock to twitch and spurt as your climax faded, leaving you twitching, gasping, full and satisfied.

“You did so good for me,” Vox said as he caressed your face with a clawed hand. “Put on a hell of a show.”

“What?” The word was slurred as you leaned into his touch, spent and body aching from the force of your orgasms.

“Did you have a good night out?” Vox asked instead of answering your question. You groaned as his softening cock twitched, still slotted deep inside you.

“So good,” you praised, wrapping your fingers around his forearm as you basked in the afterglow. “Felt so good. Worth sneaking out.”

“Good,” Vox said, withdrawing from you and tugging your skirt down and packing his cock back into his pants. There was no avoiding the way your slick had marked up the front of his pants but he would deal with that later.

“Vox, I-” You sat up, buttoning your top as you watched the attractive man straighten himself up.

“A car is waiting for you. Your brother is looking for you. Better scurry back to the middle ages, Doll.” Vox glanced down at his phone before looking at your wide brown eyes. So innocent and soft where your brother was dark and sharp.

“Will I see you again?” You asked, hopeful.

“Maybe,” Vox teased, running his clawed hand over your tall ears that looked so much like his, “If your brother ever lets you out of his sight again.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by that as he ushered you out of his home. He hadn’t even given you a chance to clean up. With each step you took, you could feel your slick between your legs and the way his seed seeped from your stretched core.

On the other side of the pentagram, Alastor thrashed through his broadcasting tower. Angel’s phone was shattered against the wall, screen dark. It didn’t matter, every time he closed his eyes he could still see it.

The way your face looked, his sweet sister contorted in pleasure granted by that disgusting, flat faced, trend chasing buffoon. Alastor had no doubt that Vox had used you to get to him.

Vox didn’t care for you, not that Alastor wanted him to. What he dreaded though was your realization that your lover’s tryst was broadcast throughout Hell. All of Hell could have watched Vox claim the hardly seen sister of the Radio Demon. All of Hell could have heard the Tech overlord’s name fall from the one person closest to Alastor.

All of Hell saw Vox take what Alastor was responsible for protecting.

“You’ll regret this, Old Pal.” Alastor promised as he sank into shadows to find out where you had been dropped off.

#vox x reader #vox x you #vox smut #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin vox x you #hazbin hotel vox x you #hazbin hotel vox x reader #requested

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mentallyinwalmart · 4 months

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An incomprehensive list of Bridgerton S3’s biggest failures

I’ve had the time to reflect since premier and watch a second time, so these are my thoughts. I’m begging Shonda to change my mind w pt2 but as of rn I hold little hope this won’t be the worst season by an embarrassing margin

1. Failure to flesh out Polin’s preexisting relationship (that leads to a huge bungling of Colin and Eloise’s relationship!!!)

The biggest response I’ve seen to a critique I share is that polin had such a strong preexisting dynamic that is makes sense they were featured less heavily than other couples. Now I see conceptually where that idea comes from, Pen liking Colin and him being oblivious have been cornerstones of the last two seasons, however, all their new scenes were presented to us sterile and without either sexual chemistry or a callback to a prior scene they had shared (or something perhaps we hadn’t seen, such as the time a decade prior Cressida mentions, when “the Featherington’s moved in across the street” instead we see confusing scenes that make little sense ESPECIALLY when we have no prior on screen (nor flashback) foundation for Pen and Colin’s friendship WITHOUT Eloise. Without her to act as middle woman this season, and with no flashbacks or reminiscing, the dynamic of true friendship between Pen and Colin feels forced. (And side note— as a sister, if my brother picked a friend of mine over me after we’ve had a relationship-ending fight that I refuse to even talk about??? That’s crazy— this is why I say it ruined both Colin and Pen AND Colin and Eloise’s dynamics— because I’d hope my brother would never do that to me, and without any more context besides mere letters as to why Colin would still entertain Pen now that Eloise has been betrayed by her? Near nonsensical)

2. Sudden appearance of a plus sized debutante(s) and no comments on Pen’s looks/weight

For the past two seasons there have been no size diversity besides Pen in Bridgerton, and don’t get me wrong, I think all the debutantes are beautiful this season, and I am thrilled that there is more expansion and diversity in the cast and the ton!!! But after making it such a big deal for the past several seasons, to try and make the ton size-blind reads as a cop out to me. Colin needs to face that facts head on that he has counted Pen out because of her size, just as everyone else has.

I could continue for actual pages because I have issues from Benedict‘s confounded character to Eloise’s sudden betrayal of her values (and friends/sisters??) to Cressida’s random??? redemption. But these are the two I am most frustrated by !

#briderton #bridgerton s3 #polin #polin bridgerton #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #Bridgerton s2 #Bridgerton spoilers #Bridgerton rant #Polin disappointment #eloise bridgerton #violet bridgerton #portia featherington

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somejazzinthemorning · 2 years

Text

tightrope. 02

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: 10.329 Previous chapter: 01.

“It’s nice to have you at home, mija.”

My mom picked us up at the airport and now, driving home, sunglasses over her eyes and a classy beige jumpsuit accentuating her figure, I could tell she was happy and at peace. Rio had fallen asleep in the back seat, his snoring almost as loud as the radio, and I distracted myself with my phone, posting photos from the previous day's celebrations on my Instagram. Her voice brought me back to the present.

"It's nice to be home," I smiled at her. The sunset was casting a beautiful golden shadow on her face, illuminating the wrinkles around her green eyes and lips painted in a delicate shade of pink. "And I'm so excited about your birthday party!”

She looked at me for the fraction of a second, her eyes widening. “Really?”

“Is that so surprising? It's not every day my mom turns 60 looking this pretty. Of course, I'm excited!”

She laughed, a sweet reaction to my flattery. I wasn’t lying. She was pretty.

Blonde hair cut in a bob, light make-up (but always wearing make-up), delicate voice, always so soothing. Ageing had always been something that scared me, something I was not prepared to face. But looking at her, and seeing how naturally she embraced the passing of time, planning a grand celebration to welcome a new decade, I began to look at the concept of ageing with a newfound perspective. She wore her age like a badge of honour.

"About that," she extended her right hand to my tight, patting it repeatedly to make sure my attention remained on her. "I'm counting on you to help me until you have to go back to Italy."

"Sure, I..." I lay my phone down on my lap, my mind wandering over my mental calendar, recalling all the tasks I had to take care of. "I have some work things to handle, but sure," I said with a nod.

“Great,” she said, focused on the road. "The first item on the agenda is tomorrow's brunch.”

“I thought we had the catering settled?” I asked, feeling a bit confused.

“We do, honey. We’re going shopping with Reyes and the girls afterwards, I need to pick a dress and it’s an amazing excuse to meet up again. Plus, it’s at that cute little bakery you adore.”

“Oh, I—,” I couldn’t say no. “Let’s do it, then.”

Madrid was looking beautiful that morning, a living postcard. The sun was shining brightly, casting its rays on the buildings and busy streets below, almost as if to welcome me back. Work and racing made me spend far too much time away.

As soon as we stepped out of the Uber, the smell of pastries and fresh coffee invaded my senses. In a pink, flowy dress, my mom rushed across the street and I followed suit. Under the big sign on the door, where one could read "El Retiro" in big, bold letters, Reyes waited with her arms open; Ana and Blanca were by her side, distracted in a conversation.

“I hope we didn’t make you wait for too long,” my mom said, already wrapped in her arms, in the interval of kissing both of Reyes’ cheeks.

"Not at all," the woman, about the same age as my mom, said as she turned to me. It had been a couple of months since I last saw her. "It's so nice to see you, my love.”

I stepped in for a hug, comforting and homey, just like all the things and people in Madrid. Reyes stroked my back with her hand, up, down, and up again, just like Carlos used to do. They were too much alike, and yet, not at all, at the same time. I blinked, forcing the idea of him to vanish from my mind. It was not the time or place to think about him.Blanca was next in line, but Ana, the younger sister, was already beaming at me when I stepped away from Reyes. Her arms were outstretched, ready to embrace me in a hug. It had been since the previous Christmas that I had seen her, when we had met up with a group of mutual friends for a night out in the city.

“Oh, I've missed you so much,” she said in a whisper, before planting a kiss on my cheek and pulling me into a hug.

“I've missed you too,” I replied in a whisper, before turning to greet Blanca. “We need to plan something.”

As I remembered from the last time, the place was small and cosy. The decoration, a mix of vintage and modern with a lot of wood and plants, gave the place a natural and warm feeling. We headed outside, to the terrace, accompanied by a young girl with long curly hair who would be our waitress. She sat us at one of the tables under a pergola covered in vines, which the small breeze made rustle.

“How’s work?” Reyes asked. “You’re still working with that communication agency, right?”

“Oh, yes. Trying to balance both things,” I said as I sat next to Ana. My mom was in front of me and Reyes at the other side. Blanca sat at the end of the table, between her mother and sister.

“How’s that working out for you?” Blanca asked.

“Tough, as you may imagine,” I replied. “I’m still learning in both fields, so most of the time I just feel a little lost.”

I laughed off the discomfort the reality brought me. There is nothing like doing what I love the most; there's no feeling like what I feel when I strip my work clothes and get dressed in my race suit, transforming into someone else. But that doesn't mean it isn't overwhelming.

Ana turned her body to me before speaking. “I saw the season is going amazing.”

“It is,” I nodded. The image of Carlos in my garage suddenly appeared in my mind. “Two races left, but I can win the championship if I get a podium in the next race and Pulcini doesn't win.” They had great smiles on their face, hearing what I had to say. “Maybe I’ll have a pretty trophy to show you when I get back from Imola.”

“Wouldn't that be amazing?” My mother's tender voice brought a big smile to my face. “I'm so proud of you, Evita.”

“Thanks, Mama.” I placed my hand on hers and caressed it while blowing her a kiss.

The conversation flowed easily as if no time had passed since our last gathering. The warmth of their presence and the nostalgia that weighed on every word we shared was palpable.

Without realizing it, I had isolated myself from these women who had supported me throughout my adolescence and helped shape me into the woman I am today. I had acted out of fear of being misunderstood, or of being forced, even unintentionally, to quickly heal the bitterness I felt towards Carlos. But looking at them, at the smiles they exchanged and the ease with which they could make each other laugh, I realized that, in some way or another, these women were my family.

My attention was brought back to the conversation when I heard his name. My mother's plate had been pushed aside, and in its place was a small notebook.

“So Carlos is coming?” Her pen hovered above his name, highlighted in pink. Pink for family. Orange for friends. Green for colleagues. Carlos' name was in pink. “That makes me so happy, I miss having that sweet boy around.”

I didn't even have time to think about the implications of Carlos in a nice suit walking around my backyard before Blanca's eyes drifted to me.

"Since Luisa brought up his name..." she started, her voice so low and slow that I could tell nothing good could be in its way. "He mentioned you were together. This weekend."

My mother fixed me with her gaze; her bright green eyes and pink eyeshadow begging for details. Reyes? Well, something told me she also knew about our encounter, but she pretended not to know it. She knew my mother hated to be the last to know about things. Ana looked at her sister, frowning, ready to discuss how, or rather why, that matter had gotten to the table.

“"When were you planning to tell us about that?" asked my mother.

"I wasn't, actually," I said, taking a sip of my mimosa. I called the waitress and asked for another one; I knew one wouldn't be enough if we kept this subject on the table. "It was meaningless. Not worth it to talk about."

"But what happened?" My mom asked, her gaze burning into me.

"He showed up at the track, at the garage," I said, pausing. My mom and Reyes both tilted their heads slightly, their curious expressions trying to get more details out of me. "We talked, and he left. That was it."

"That was it?" Ana asked, her eyes still focused on Blanca, almost as if she was making sure Blanca had heard the same. Blanca's face was a mix of curiosity and annoyance, her brow furrowed as she asked, "What did he say?"

Reyes stepped in and said, "Venga, don't meddle in their business." She glanced at me with a reassuring smile.

The girls didn't take their mother's request, as their eyes just glanced at me, full of curiosity and hunger to know more. All the alcohol in the world wasn't going to be enough to calm the storm inside me if I had to go through this conversation. Love and disappointment. What a killer duo. I forced a smile at the waitress, who had just laid a new cup in front of me.

“Nothing worth showing up the night before a race,” I had a sip of the mimosa. A big one. “Messed with my head and he didn't bother to show up to see me win it.”

Messed with my head. I think Ana read between the lines, because her eyebrows gently lifted up, and a hint of a smile appeared on her lips. I feared she would talk, make a joke, or ask another question, but Reyes interjected.

“Oh, dear… Didn't he tell you?” Reyes shifted in her seat like she was trying to get a little closer to me. “He came back to Madrid in the morning. But I assure you,” she paused. “He watched the race, he was seeing it on his phone, on the way home from the airport.”

Reyes' confirmation made more doubts settle down at my core and so, so many questions. Questions I didn't want an answer to, because, frankly, everything would be easier if he continued to be a villain in my story. Another sip of the drink. If it wasn't the morning I would absolutely order something stronger.

“He saw it?” Reyes nodded, his sisters seemed as surprised as me. “Jesus…”, I exhaled, leaning against the back of the chair. “And I called him and lashed out at him.”

Blanca cleared her throat and without moving my head, I just looked at her like a child afraid of being called out.

“You need to talk,” she said. My gaze shifted to my hands, to the candles on the table, the plate in front of me, of which I barely had eaten from. “Eva, you know that he has always cared about you, right?” Vague words my mother always repeated, in desperate attempts to make us solve our issues. “I know you two are stubborn, but he already did his part. Don't let this get worse because of some miscommunication.”

“Miscommunication is not the right term, to be honest,” I said. “Try lack of communication.”

"Eva," Reyes made me look at her again. I remembered to breathe. They wanted the best for me and for him. They wanted normality back. "Either way, you will end up regretting not talking to him. I assure you." She paused. "You will hate that way more than putting your pride aside and listening to him."

And despite it making me mad, she was right. I had collected enough what ifs for a lifetime already.

My mother had that look that all mothers seem to share; her eyes were filled with so much thought and emotion, and her lips were sealed, for she knew that I would comprehend her words without her having to speak them. Reyes' eyes almost corresponded to the same emotion. I just looked down, defeated in some way.

"I'll try to talk to him," I paused. "I'll make an effort. I promise."

"Good," my mom said, satisfied. Blanca and Ana had victorious smiles on their faces and I tried to pretend not to have seen them. For a short moment, I felt like that had been an ambush. "Now, let's move on to another topic before we get too old talking about this. And, on the topic," she giggled, "we need to pick the cake!"

We ate, we drank and he didn't talk more about him. At the back of my mind, I formed an image of Carlos watching my race.

To be honest, that conversation got me through the day with a feeling I hadn't felt in a while.

Perhaps it was the effect of the mimosas, the nostalgia in action or the image of Carlos in the backseat focused on my race. Either way, I felt lighter.

"Fish?" My niece's voice brought me back to the table. Her tiny hand was extended to me, her fingers holding a piece of the grilled fish.

"I'm sure Aunt Eva doesn't want your icky fish, amore," Rio said with a tender smile, cleaning his kid's hand.

"Dad's right, Liv," I said, wrinkling my nose and helping Rio keep the toddler's hands out of her plate. "I have my own fish, look."

Rio smiled at the scene, busy cleaning his hands with a napkin. "See? I told you," he told the little girl, as he deposited a delicate kiss on top of her ginger strands of hair. "Let's just eat and don't make a mess, okay?"

After rubbing her eyes and tilting her head to the side, a long yawn escaped her lips. Sleep was already softening her body and her twin, Grace, was almost asleep in her highchair.

As usual, during the summer, we had dinner outside that evening. Rio and his family had visited during the afternoon, mainly to take advantage of the pool, but my mom had insisted that they stay for dinner. So, that night, instead of the usual three, there were seven of us.

I noticed I had stopped eating to observe the twins and try to understand their sleepy mumbling. They looked a lot like Marjorie, my brother's wife. Ginger hair, tiny freckles, sweet disposition, and a lot of good humour. From Rio, they got the deep green eyes and the never-ending energy.

My mother used to say they were a half-Scottish copy of Rio, but my dad would disagree. Even though I didn't want kids of my own, or at least not in the near future, I envied the love Rio had found and what he had created. He used to say "love at first sight" all the time, especially in the early weeks of their relationship, and then they would look at each other with the most endearing smiles.

I remember meeting Marjorie in my kitchen one Friday morning, still in my pyjamas, while they were having breakfast. Rio introduced us and left for class, leaving her alone at home like we were already family. It was only then, after almost an hour of talking with her, that I learned that she was an exchange student and they had met that night, in a bar.

“I need to find a way to make her exchange Edinburgh for Madrid, for real this time,” he told us at dinner that night. And he managed to do it. From that night out, from what would have been a simple one-night stand, had born a family.

That was what I envied—the simplicity, how they had found their way to each other with no detours. Rio never had to make her exchange Edinburgh for Madrid, because since the beginning she knew it was meant to be in Madrid. With him. For him. For the family they were meant to build.

Meanwhile, I felt utterly and completely lost.

I was so confused as to what to do; whether I should accept the destiny that we had set for ourselves or take a step back and hear what he had to say. I had made a promise; I would try to talk to him, but each time I imagined him in front of me, I could feel my heart sink, a void consuming me from the inside. And looking back at that night, the way he just fit inside my garage and seemed so right walking around my car, and how quickly all the emotions and feelings had resurfaced, just trying to speak with him seemed like a terrible decision.

I owed him an apology for last Sunday's call; nothing more. There was no point in going back beyond that weekend. As I had taken years to learn, he didn’t owe me anything. I had learned to live with the choices we had made; there was no point in rethinking them.

But I had made a promise.

I drank a bit of my wine, my eyes roaming around the table, my body relaxing again as the warm breeze ran across the table.

By the time we had finished our dinner, the sun had already set. Taking my glass in one hand and the small plate with ice cream in the other, I made my way towards the small blanket my mother had spread next to the pool. I sat down between Marjorie and Rio, both busy feeding the kids their ice cream, as both of them struggled to keep their eyes open. It didn't take much until they fell asleep in the blanket, with their bellies full and chocolate stains on the pretty sage green dresses they were wearing.

The smell of freshly cut grass and the familiar aroma of homemade ice cream took me back to my childhood. That, along with the arrival of people I thought would stay in the past, and maybe the glasses of wine I drank at dinner, left me feeling overwhelmed. Too many opinions, too many expectations.

I tried to distract myself from all that.

Rio was attempting his best to try and persuade my father to invest in a motorsport team one of his driver friends had recently joined, and Marjorie was there to listen attentively by his side. Her ginger curls were a beautiful contrast to her pale complexion, which was lightly kissed with freckles. As I lay down on the ground, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by Olivia's tiny curls, as my hands played with them gently. She smiled during her sleep, a look of contentment on her small face.

"That won't help me, Fabrizio," I heard my father say with a sigh, shaking his head. "Neither will help you. We drive and work with real cars. I don't need or want to support that electric car crap."

Marjorie giggled, "Told you so, babe." She patted him on the back, trying to cheer him up.

"Your grandparent would scold you if you talked about that near him," my father said, taking a sip of his wine glass before putting the glass back on the table near his outside armchair.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his comment, happily being on the other side of the conversation, just listening, not in the mood to talk about my own issues. But my brother, Rio, seemed to take my father's words as a personal challenge.

"Look at Formula-E, papà!" He gesticulated, like a true Italian. "In a couple of years, these new branches of motorsport will take off. It's a good investment. And there's a lot of potential in the market."

"It's not about investment," my father said, his voice full of conviction.

"Eva! Tell him supporting electric motorsports is marketable!" My brother turned to me and I could see the frustration on his face. When I looked back at my dad, he had both his eyebrows up, ready to listen to my opinion.

"Sorry, Rio," I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Nothing about Dad is marketable. He's just a grumpy old man."

My dad chuckled, a smile spreading on his face as he reached for his wine glass and took a sip. "Eh, I'm not that old," he said, his eyes twinkling with joy and a hint of amusement.

Rio looked at my mom as if he was waiting for her to save him, but she just smiled and patted him on the shoulder on her way to my father’s side. He let out a deep sigh, accepting his defeat.

“Fabrizio, you know your father doesn’t care just for the numbers…” she said in a soothing tone.

“Tradizione, patrimonio…” I said, looking up at them. Those words served as a motto in our home.

My mom was standing behind my dad, both her hands on his broad shoulders, a big smile on her lips while she nodded to my words. Her French tips were hidden by my father’s hands, which he positioned over hers in a reassuring gesture.

“Exactly,” he nodded slowly. "Heritage, family…” He paused for a second, his gaze turning a bit more solemn as he continued. “It’s about staying true to my roots and the traditions of my family, and my country, and not getting carried away with all these new trends. You know that, Fabrizio."

“Also,” I said. “Dad’s main business is wine. Sponsoring a racing driver would be a… choice.”

“You are a racing driver.” My brother pointed. “Dad sponsors you.”

“Because I’m his daughter, not because I’ll be a moving billboard for his company,” I said, taking a sip from my glass. “Dad can offer support in other ways, but I don’t think it will look good to do it your way.”

My father nodded, a small smile on his lips. "I can help the guy move into a real Motorsport series and not that vegan car crap.” The smile on his face grew as Rio got more annoyed. “It’s so easy to get to you, boy.” An actual burst of laughter erupted from the old man, and my brother tried to battle a smile. “Send me his number, I’ll talk with your friend.”

Rio nodded, satisfied with his victory, and naturally, the conversation moved on to other topics. I continued to observe my family, my gaze lingering on the toddlers sleeping between us lulled by the laughter and casual banter between the older members of the family.

The first to move was my father, leaving his armchair empty and my mom took his place. Soon after, Rio and Marjorie decided to go home. My mother offered to help them as they made their way out, carrying on her lap one of the kids, while Marjorie held the other. I tried to stand up, but the wine had definitely taken its toll on me.

I decided to stay for a bit more.

An empty glass sat by my side, my feet touching the fresh grass. Only the chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs could be heard from a lake a few meters away. Again, I was transported to the past, to the lull of days that passed without any responsibility, and when I was nothing but innocent and naive. And then, upsetting the melody, my cell phone vibrated.

“My mom missed you. She was all smiles when she got home.”

I smiled at my cell phone and looked at the horizon, at the birds that flew across, still painted by the dwindling twilight, oblivious to all this.

“I missed her too. I’m glad I could put a smile on her face.”

“As you always used to do.”

I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I liked the texts. Not the texts themselves, but to be able to talk to him. To know he was just a text away; that he was, once again, reachable.

That thought alone was enough to make me angry at myself. Deep down, I knew I wanted him back in my life. I wanted to be able to open my door and welcome him back into my home, to be able to have him around and sit with my family. I wanted to have him talking about wine with my father, discussing engineering with my brother, and charming my mother with words that never failed to make her smile. I missed him – more than that, I missed the person I was when he was around; the person who he inspired and encouraged me to be. I could try.

I could try. I had to try. I made a promise.

We could try to be friends. I could try to lower the expectations and look at the world from a more realistic point of view, setting aside my rose-tinted glasses. I could try to look at him, talk to him, be around him and not let anything resurface. Not the love or the angst.

I glanced down at my phone, the screen was still on. The little telephone icon in front of his name stared at me, its monochromatic colours prompting me to take action. My finger trembled as it hovered over the button and I pressed it, the action fueled by my too-many glasses of wine.

He picked up almost immediately.

“Eva.” His voice, both familiar and strange, filled my ears. Deep, hoarse and warm. I felt a shiver down my spine.

And suddenly, I was aware of the silence filling the air, a silence almost oppressive.

"Carlos." A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Hi."

"Hey."

I swallowed dry.

"Hi.” Again. He chuckled softly.

"Do you need anything?"

"Yeah,” Fuck. “I just wanted to apologize. For the other night—morning, I mean."

"It's okay," he chuckled softly, his voice gentle and soothing. The shiver extended from my spine to my arms. "You were upset and you had every right to be. It was stupid to show up like that. But, he made a pause, and I could almost feel the weight of his cheeky smile in my mind. "I got to experience drunk Eva. Although, this version was way less fun than that 16-year-old version that I got to know some years ago at my birthday party—".

I couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape from my lips as the memories mingled with the wine. God, that night was a mess. Embarrassed by the memory, and the sudden burst of laughter the memories had prompted (and that was probably thanks to the wine, too), I felt my cheeks warming up.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, too." I could hear him laugh and my stomach twisted. "I was a hot mess."

"Something says me you're still the same."

His words made my heart skip a beat. I didn't know if it was the alcohol or the fact I was talking to him again, or the memories he had brought back, but I felt something sitting inside of me. It was not love, not even close, but was definitely something scary. Something I had been trying to ignore for a long time.

“I'll have to disagree,” I answered hesitantly, forcing a firm voice I was not sure I could pull off.

“Really?” I hummed a confirmation back. “We should have dinner, then. Just so I can confirm or deny that.”

“Dinner sounds great,” and I regretted my words the second I spoke them.

“I need to travel to France Thursday morning, so… tomorrow? An early dinner?” Although half my mind was screaming against the decision, I found myself agreeing. “I'll pick you up.”

“Okay. It's a date then.” I paused, recognizing the words that had just left my mouth. “Not a date date.” I said, quickly correcting myself. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled. “I know, Eva. But I will pretend it’s a date date, anyway.”

“Ah, don’t get ahead of yourself, Sainz.”

“Fine. It’s settled, then. And it’s not a date.” He said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Not a date,” I repeated. “Have a good night.”

I couldn't get on with my night without my attention being pulled by the fact that I would be alone with him and only God knows when that last happened. It's not a date, I reminded myself. And I knew it wasn't, there was no reason to be that nervous, but I couldn't help the wave of nervousness that swept over me. Perhaps, all of this was my body re-entering its old habits, returning to the mannerisms that his presence provoked.

I had spent years trying to build a life without him in it, and I was determined not to let those feelings resurface and draw me back in.

That night, I fell asleep repeating those words in my mind. Reminding myself that I couldn't, better, that I wouldn't give into those recently awakened feelings and fall deeper into a trap I had spent years getting out of.

Self-discipline was important to me. Both Rio and I had been brought up to think so. We didn't always follow my father's teachings to the letter, but we did our best not to fall short of the maxims he had transmitted to us. So, the next day, I focused on annihilating every item on my to-do list, using my productivity against the anxiety caused by my "non-date."

My trainer had sent me a new workout regime a few days earlier, so it was the first order of business. I ran through the neighbourhood, waving at neighbours who occasionally passed by, mumbling the lyrics to a song from the playlist I'd been listening to serially for a couple of weeks. I stopped at a children's park halfway home, which was surprisingly empty, and turned it into my personal gym.

"You're going to be the death of me, someday" I sent it to Rocco, my trainer, along with a picture of my sweaty (but smiling) face, giving him a thumbs up, and then I headed home. Still running, listening to the same songs, mumbling the same lyrics.

When I got back, the house was empty, so the rest of my day was spent respecting my own time. I'd left the windows open, embracing the hot summer breeze, put music on the speakers and, line by line, annihilated my to-do list.

"8.30? Does it work for you?" Carlos sent, mid-afternoon. "We'll eat here. Need to show you what Italy has taught me."

He's cooking? I stared at my phone and re-read the text twice, to make sure I'd understood it correctly.

"Should I call poison control in advance?" I texted back. Enter. "Also, don't need you to pick me up. I'll be there."

"Funny." And, in true Carlos fashion, he added an eye-roll emoji. "See you later."

I think that's when I was taken over by insecurities again.

Sitting in my living room, laptop on my legs, the doors and windows open, I looked around and imagined us there: our younger versions, when being a Formula 1 driver was still a dream and the days passed slowly.

I remembered when I used to wake up and run downstairs to see if Carlos was here and if he wasn't, then I'd go out to the front garden and sit on one of the sofas, reading or studying, so I could watch Reyes's car approach our driveway. And then, as subtly as I could, I would say "Holla, Carlos" and pretend to ignore him as I walked around the house. Other times, I would sit on the living room couch next to my brother and I would feign interest in whatever game they were playing.

Rio would shush me and attempt to force me out of the couch, whereas Carlos would go out of his way to patiently explain the purpose of every button on the remote and the intricate plot of the game, even providing details of the backstory of every single character. I couldn't blame myself for having a crush on him, could I?

He was my brother's best friend, a good-looking guy who happened to be a racing driver, something that, not surprisingly, appealed to female attention. I didn't even dream that he would one day actually make it to Formula One, not that I doubted his talent but back then, in the fever of adolescence, he was just that boy.

When I realized I really liked him, he started travelling more, until he eventually spent more time away than at home. The first punch to the stomach. I stayed on that tightrope forever, thinking about what it would have been like if he had stayed in Madrid, and gone to college like a normal guy. Over time, over the long phone calls and the short encounters here and there, he slowly became a best friend.

He stopped being that boy, to become the boy.

I wanted to be around him. I wanted to drive in the same series as him. I wanted to be near him. Because he was sweet and patient and loved racing and loved to see me race. Because even after he became an F1 driver, fame didn't change him. And lastly, because he showed me that it was indeed possible to achieve even the most daring dream.

Until he ceased to be even that to me.

And now, I wouldn't be having dinner with the guy I dreamed of having a future with; I would be having dinner with the man who insisted on leaving everything in the past.

So, there was no reason for this anxiety.

From what I knew, he was nothing more than a stranger.

Looking in the mirror, I tried to find reassurance in myself and in the lines of the dress I'd picked. Soft, fresh and simple. I didn't want to cross any lines Carlos had drawn in his mind and at that point, I didn't know what lines I bore in mine.

The second I stepped out of the house, the warm breeze welcomed me with a tender embrace. As I looked up, I could see the sun slowly beginning its descent, and the sky was slowly being coloured in a dim orange hue, replacing the bright and clear blue sky of earlier in the day.

"On my way."

I quickly typed out a message to him as soon as I settled into the Uber and then left my phone to rest on my lap, allowing my mind to settle into the familiarity of the route I had taken so many times before. The journey was brief: in less than ten minutes I could already see him standing outside his door, anxiously checking his phone.

Handsome as ever. Button-down shirt, white pants.

Short hair. Shorter than last Sunday. He looked so fresh. So manly.

I felt like a stalker, admiring him from the still-moving car, as he waited for me at the arch of his own door, pacing around. That eased my mind; he was just as nervous as I was. He raised his empty hand up to his hair, passing his fingers through it. A few strands fell onto his forehead, and he gently swept them to the side.

I grabbed my phone, the movement making the screen light up. "Can't wait." He had texted moments before.

And then the car stopped, and his gaze rose from the ground to the car I was in. His eyes would have met mine if not for the tinted window that separated us, as he crossed the path from the door to the sidewalk, rushing to open my door.

Carlos thanked the driver and then turned to me. His face taken by the golden hue, the big eyelashes casting a long shadow on the top of his cheeks. Still lost in his looks, perhaps so lost he could have seen it in my expression, I found my way back when he touched the small of my back.

A kiss on the cheek. A stroke with his hand, just like his mother had done the day before.

“Shall we?” I finally said, breaking the silence.

He was quick to agree and direct me inside, in front of him. I knew the way, of course. I could draw this house from memory.

When I was almost at the door, he hastened his steps and I noticed a sudden burst of energy in him as if he had remembered the courtesy he had momentarily forgotten. He then hurried to open the door for me. As I stepped inside I felt some memories flooding back.

The house looked the same. Large, spacious, high ceilings, beautifully ornamented. It was a home. You could tell a lot about the Sainz family from the way the house was decorated. The fragrance in the air, fusing with the smell coming from the kitchen, embraced me and filled me with bliss. I looked around, as I walked behind Carlos. Small frames everywhere. I spotted one of my favourites — Carlos, Rio and me in Australia, on the day of his F1 debut. I smiled. I had that frame in my house too, right on the mantel.

"Still the same, no?" He said, his voice interrupting my thoughts and I realized I had stopped to watch the frames.

There was one photo that was new, a picture of Carlos standing proudly with the golden Silverstone trophy in his hands. My eyes lingered on that one—his big smile, the hair whipped by the wind.

"Yeah," I nodded. A brief pause. Just enough time to remember why I was there. I twisted around on my feet and turned back to him. "What did you cook?"

He motioned me to follow him and I obliged. Through the hallways I knew so well, he directed us to the kitchen.

"Pasta. From scratch." He said with a smug smile on his lips. Carlos then turned back to me, standing near the two plates laid on the counter.

Just by looking at them, I understood why Carlos had blended so fast into the Ferrari crew. The smell and the perfectly arranged piles of pasta, drizzled with an orange sauce, told me everything I needed to know about how well he had acquainted himself with Italy.

"I can't promise it'll be the best you've ever tasted," he said, carefully balancing both plates in his hands. "But it has the most important ingredient, so it won't be too bad."

I walked to him, stopping in front of him and attentively studying the plates.

"I don't see any cheese on it," I said teasingly. When I looked up at him, I drew my eyebrows together, but his grin and the lightness of his expression made me immediately smile. He laughed a deep chuckle that rumbled through the kitchen, stripping away all my shields.

"I meant love, Eva." He circled around me in a couple of rushed steps, the plates not even moving.

"Does that taste as good as Parmigiano Reggiano?" He rolled his eyes, making my lips curve involuntarily. I missed his cheesy jokes and I hope he missed me teasing him about them. "Did you pick a good wine, at least?"

"Nah. That's your only task for tonight," he said, before leaving the room. His voice echoed from the hallway, "You know where to find the bottles."

I knew exactly where to find them. Turning the corner of the hallway, I headed to the pantry. My steps resonated between the walls and, for a second, I felt comfortable. Light. The interior of the pantry still had the same smell and the shelves were organized the same way.

Nostalgia hit me hard in the chest.

Carefully arranged at the end of the pantry, the bottles were standing in the same order they had been standing in for years, as if time had frozen inside. In the dim light, I could make out the familiar labels; the same collection of wines, in the same order, neatly arranged. I grabbed a bottle of vintage red, one of the bottles from my father's winery. It would pair perfectly with the pasta and the occasion.

Stepping into the dining room, I held up the bottle in my hand. “Is this one too fancy?”

Carlos quickly turned towards me, a kitchen cloth over his immaculate shirt. I knew his mother would scold him for that.

“Not at all,” he said. “It seems fitting.”

The tall glasses were already arranged on the table, near the plates. Underneath them, white linen placemats were tinged with the twilight that crept inside, casting golden shadows from the large glass doors behind the table.

“Do you mind?” He extended his hand and I gave him the bottle.

His hand easily encircled the dark glass. Slim fingers worked to open the bottle. With a firm grip, he pulled the cork out with a single tug, producing a loud pop that reverberated through the room. My gaze shifted from his hands to his face, taking in the multitude of emotions that a single look of his could convey.

I picked up the cups and let him fill them, admiring the glint of sunlight reflecting off the glass as he laid the bottle on the table. I propped my hand on the back of a chair, leaning in and taking a deep breath as I moved the glass in front of my nose, inhaling the sweet aroma of the drink. I took a sip, and I was content with my choice.

“I knew I could trust you for that,” he said, with a warm smile on his face. “Some things never change, huh?” he added, almost as if to himself. I nodded in agreement, giving him his cup.

He gestured towards the plates and I took my seat, waiting for him to do the same. We ate in silence, the only sound being the sound of cutlery against porcelain. It was strange, but comforting to be here again, with him. I felt like time had stopped and we were back to the days when we were just friends, before all the changes that had been made.

Carlos didn't say much, but I could tell he was enjoying the food. He smiled at me every now and then, and sometimes I caught his eyes lingering on me while I ate.

“It’s not bad, you know?” I broke the silence, taking the napkin to my lips. “Parmigiano would work better than love, but it’s the chef’s choice, I guess.”

He let out a deep chuckle. “Maybe. But the chef is still learning, so he's open to suggestions.”

“I’ve made my suggestion. Go get us some cheese.”

He laughed again and rose from his chair. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

In his absence, my eyes traced the lines of the curtains, the table, the walls, and the door that just half an hour ago had been the barrier between us. I heard Carlos' steps coming back down the hallway before I saw him. In his hand, a bowl of freshly grated Parmigiano.

“Brought this home a few weeks ago,” he said, with a note of pride in his voice. “One of the mechanics gave this to me in Maranello.”

“I think it will do the trick,” I took the bowl in my hands under his focused gaze and, with the help of a spoon, I sprinkled our plates with the cheese. He immediately took his fork and had a bit of the pasta. His smile grew. “See? You can’t make this without the cheese.”

“In my defence,” he leaned back, hands up in surrender. “I didn’t want to overpower the other flavours.”

“Right,” I replied, a hint of irony in my words. “Just like I don’t add mint to my mojitos because I want to taste the rum…”

He laughed, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room. "Okay, guilty as charged." Feeling the familiarity of the moment settle in, I went back to my pasta, now sprinkled with cheese. And God, now you could taste the love.

"Now, I have to admit. This is really good."

Carlos smiled and nodded, a pleased expression on his face, a hint of pride transgressing the glint in his eyes. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the table and intertwining his fingers. I looked up, from the big hands to the caramel-coloured eyes.

"Do you remember the first time we went out to dinner?" He asked, his voice soft and calm. “Just the two of us?”

“I do,” the memories were fast to arrive. “It was the day you passed your driver’s test, wasn’t it?” He nodded. “Rio was still sick from that shady sushi place.”

The broad grin he used on his face turned into a hearty laugh, no doubt remembering my brother’s awful food poisoning episode which had kept him in bed for a few days. Despite my resistance to joining Carlos alone, that night turned out to be amazing. If I closed my eyes, I could picture the restaurant and view from the table we sat at; it was scary how imprinted that moment was in my mind.

“You drove like an old lady,” I teased him. “I’d never seen you that nervous.”

He shook his head, his laugh seeming to still linger inside, as his lips stood open, curved up. His eyes twinkled in the dim light of the room, getting a bit darker every minute. “That was because one,” he held up one finger, “I didn’t want to get a speeding ticket and two,” he held up another, “I wanted to make a good impression.”

"And here we are, what? Ten years later?" I said, taking a sip from my wine glass. "And you still drive like an old lady."

"About that, I can disagree.” He put his hands together and rested his chin on them. "But I am still trying to make a good impression, though."

God. This man. I looked at him, truly taking in his face, his eyes, his lips, his hair. He was more handsome than ever. I could see the emotions playing on his face, regret and sorrow walking hand in hand until they reached his eyes and a dark gaze seemed to appear over them. I realized, then, I had dropped my smile.

"It truly doesn't matter if you can make a good impression today," I said. "No matter how hard I try, these last years won't disappear."

"Why did you decide to come here, then?"

"I promised your mother I would try to mend things," I noticed the words didn't sit well with him. "Why did you invite me?"

"Because I wanted—want to mend things. I miss having you around."

I shook my head, feeling my frustration grow. My restless fingers held tightly to the brim of the placemat, my body twitching with tension as I tried to find the right words. I leaned back, meeting the back of the chair, my eyes on his face. He dragged his hands over his face, stopping at his chin, where the fingers lingered in.

"Go ahead." He finally spoke again. "Tell me everything you've been saving for these last years. I deserve to hear it."

His eyes were soft, his face open and honest. I could see the sincerity in his words and it made me pause. A part of me wanted to tell him everything I had been feeling all these years, to finally let it all out and show him how much he had hurt me. But another part of me, the part that still held a flame of hope, was afraid.

"No," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I don't think that's necessary. I guess we just grew apart, that happens to people."

“That’s the polite answer, Eva. Just—” I heard a sigh, not an impatient one. It was rather a hesitant one, not knowing what to expect. “Just tell me what you feel. Or rather, what you felt.”

I looked at him for a second. A sheer second that I regretted with my whole body and soul. He had a powerful stare, which was one of his strongest details. The stare, the way his gaze pierces in and invades one's mind... Trying to escape it, I glanced at my glass, feeling the need to drown myself in the red wine.

“If it’s liquid courage you need,” he moved his hand to the bottle.

“I don’t need to be drunk to talk to you.”

“To talk about this,” he filled my glass and I brought the cup to my lips. “Not to talk to me.”

“Semantics.”

"I won't fight you on that," he filled his own glass and then, as the end of the bottle met the table, he raised his eyes up to mine. "I've done my part, now do yours. Try."

"You had a different life." I started. "I will never understand what you went through and how that universe of yours works. I never understood and never will." I paused. "But I tried to. Believe me, Carlos, I did. But I got so tired of all the excuses and being put on the second plan. Always coming in second." The noise he made when he got up, his cutlery clanking against the plate and the chair dragging on the floor, made me look at him.

He walked until he reached my side of the table and pushed a chair. He sat by my side, chair turned to me, his legs apart, just enough that I could turn to him and fit right there, without our knees bumping. I looked down, at his hands lying on his tights.

"Eva." His voice was soft, full of regret. Once again, my heart sank. His hand moved gently, touching my arm. I turned to him, slightly, and then his hands went back to his lap.

"The person you became was so insensitive. And it was so... not you." I looked up, finding strength in his eyes. Hurt and curious in the same measure. "And looking back, you hadn't been yourself for a while before I decided to just... step back. I don't blame you. Life got in the way. I just got hurt. I held you to such high expectations. And that's on me."

Silence. The damned silence said so much. I didn't dare to look away from him and he didn't move an inch, didn't say a word.

"Silverstone," I recollected the image of the colorful frame, the one that had grabbed my attention before. I turned to him, now completely. "I can't tell you how much it hurt because I was so happy for you." My heart kept sinking, tears rising in response. My heart could explode. "I was so proud of you. I wanted to text you, but I couldn't. I mean, I could." He was nodding at every sentence. His gaze was on mine. I don't know how I didn't cave in right there, in front of him. "I could, right?" He answered me with silence. "I could have texted you but I sincerely thought that you didn't want me to. I think that's it." I shrugged. "I just understood you didn't want me around and that was almost too tough to swallow."

We sat in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts, thinking about all the things we used to do and I was committed to trying to understand why we became these people. These strangers.

"I had to let you go." The words echoed in the room. "I was giving you half, or a third of what you deserved. It was not good for any of us. We were stuck in a place where none of us was getting the things we needed and deserved. I think you understand that. And the way I did it, just running away from a talk, forcing you to back away... I was selfish."

A third was enough. More than enough. I wanted to say.

"I had my fair share of selfish actions, don't worry." A sad smile emerged on his face, as he saw mine. "I believed you owed me something. Deep down, everything I did was because I wanted you to give it back. The support, the love, the attention..."

"What do you mean?"

"I did it because I was in love." Was. I repeated the words in my mind. My throat was twisting into a knot as I poured out my feelings. I felt so vulnerable and exposed. "I wanted to be loved back. Maybe you knew that and decided to step away, but—"

I trailed off. No more words in my mind, just a void that seemed to consume me. He was looking at me, expression hard to decipher, which didn't happen often. Silence.

"No." He finally said, his voice soft. "I had no idea." I looked up, a watery smile on my lips. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I shook my head. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"It does matter." He insisted, I looked at him, confused. "Because I think I might have loved you, too."

God. What?

What was that that I was feeling? Relief, joy, and a million other emotions I couldn't put a name to. I couldn't seem to understand his words and make sense of them. I shook my head and took a deep breath. My whole body was restless.

“Ever since that trip to the Alps. The cabin in Switzerland.” He slid his hands on his thighs until he stopped on his knees, torso slightly leaning forward. I looked down, our knees almost touching, his fingertips almost touching the bare skin of my knees. “I remember the storm, you know? Even now, that night is my dearest memory of those trips. Not the day I learned how to ski, or the landscapes. It's...” He looked at me. “It's how you felt safe just because you were holding my hand.”

“I wanted to keep being that person to you.” He continued. “The one that makes you feel safe. But I couldn't do that living in the UK, or being away for more than half of the year.” A pause. The knot in my throat tightened as it got harder to get back to those memories and the emotions they always carried with them, especially with his voice triggering them. “This was not the first time I tried to make things right, but every time I tried, it was harder. I had made more damage. And now, looking at you, I see how much I failed you and failed myself.”

“Carlos,” I whispered, placing my hand on his knee. Our fingertips touching.

His hand took mine and squeezed it gently. I looked at him, my heart opening up to the man standing so close. I had been afraid of this, of this bare moment. I had been living looking back to what I had lost but never to what I could conquer. A third wasn't more than enough. I knew that because back then I would have done everything to have him a bit more than that.

Carlos leaned closer. I closed my eyes. His cologne intoxicated me, taking control of my senses. Without even noticing, I parted my lips. I wanted him, always had. He cupped my face in his hands and brushed his thumb over my cheek. Every inch of me was begging for him. And then I felt the gentle touch, the soft and hesitant brush of his lips against mine.

“Please, don't.” I murmured. I put my hand on his face. My fingers felt the caress of his beard while they traced the line of his jaw. I stopped when my thumb reached his chin, and then his lower lip. I was incapable of moving and creating a gap between us.

We stood like that. Dangerously close. He just nodded to my request but did not move.

“I'm sorry, I-”

"Shhh." He cut me off, as he caressed my cheek. "It's okay."

And so, we stayed suspended like that: in uncertainty, in a half-taken step. Floating in time. Doing nothing wrong but far from doing the right thing. We clung to a version of ourselves that we had never experienced before and which was now opening, unfolding right in front of our eyes, a door we didn't know we wanted to open.

I opened my eyes slowly, taking in the image in front of me unhurriedly. My thumb found his lower lip and stroked it lightly. His eyes were still closed and his lips parted. God. I needed to escape that. How pretty he looked under the dim light, in such a vulnerable state.

"I should go." I didn't want my voice to sound like a whimper, but I believe it did.

His back met the back of the chair, a muted thud invading the silence. I got up. I felt my heart hit the floor as I saw him run his hands over his face. I couldn't read what was going through his head. The pair of tired, anguished eyes that stared back at me pulled the ground from under my feet. So dark. Covered by a haze that wasn't there when we shared memories of our best years and he was looking at me with bright eyes and a wide smile on his face.

How did we get here?

To this despair, this yearning for something that no longer exists?

I wanted to rip out, in cold blood, all the negative connotations that time had attached to his image and that clung to me like parasites, totally consuming me.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. He just nodded, as if he heard the apology my mind was muttering just by looking at me.

"Do you need me to take you home?"

“No!” Breathe. I reminded myself. “No, you don’t need to.”

“Let me rephrase that.” He got up. "Please, let me take you home."

Somehow, the trip hadn't been as bad as I'd thought it would be. We drove in silence, but our bodies spoke for themselves. I couldn't deny the energy that pulled me to him, that redirected my gaze to his face or his big hands on the steering wheel. It was impossible to resist the urge to look at his reflection in the rearview mirror and study his eyes to see if, like mine, they were betraying the desire we were feeling. If they were looking for me, if the haze was drooping or getting stronger as we, once again, seemed to drift away.

There was no way of knowing what was behind the door our exasperation had opened. It could be our doom.

We arrived in the blink of an eye. The second the car stopped, I unbuckled my seat belt, needing to escape the tension and desperation that was choking me. Carlos did the same. I didn't let him get out of the car before me; I didn't allow him to open the door for me this time.

"I need to apologize," he said, with his hand on the car door, already open. "For rushing things."

"No. I—" I shook my head. God. "We have a friendship to mend first," I explained. The door closed behind me. "That's more important than anything else."

He nodded. It was the first step. A new beginning.

And just like that, I was in his arms. A deep, understanding hug. The first thing I noticed was how tightly he hugged me, the weight of his arms pulling me against him in a massive refusal to let go. And then his cologne. He had been so far away for so long that I no longer remembered the notes of sandalwood and amber that always accompanied him. Cinnamon. And a hit of citrus. And finally, how easily I'd found my place — my face easily finding its place on his chest, my arms wrapping around his torso.

"Eva," my name, so close to my ear, bringing me back to reality. The weight of his arms disappeared. The distance once again grew between us. I turned my face to him.

I nodded. I was so close to breaking down. He caressed my cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin next to my lower lip. I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to kiss him.

"The pasta was amazing." I took a step back. "Good luck for France."

His big eyes stared back at me, the slightest of smiles on his lips. And it was more than enough.

It was the beginning of the tightrope, the fine line on which we found ourselves, each slight step on it reminding us of the ephemerality of what we were living. Purposely or not, we had started a tightrope crossing and this time there was no net to catch us. We had to reach the end of the route. There was no second chance. We both knew it.

"I'll see you soon," he promised, his voice a hoarse whisper.

And then we turned around. He got into his car and I crossed the path to my house. The car was there when I got in and it stayed there when I stood behind the window in the entrance hall and watched it through the stained glass.

My heart was beating so fast, magnified by the phantom sensation of his lips still caressing mine. He drove away and I stood watching until his car disappeared from sight.

The first step had been taken. The tightrope was in front of us.

Next Chapter: 03.

Long-ish chapters are the way. Feel free to leave your thoughts and comments. See you around. <3

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