violet┈─★

It was a year of sunset-glazed rooftop gardens and broken air conditioning units — July of 2039. These warmer months brought along flowers and harvest, but they also dragged pollen and mosquitoes with them. No one’s ever grateful for the winter cold until allergies kick in, and the summer heat is never welcomed until you’re held up in the frozen snow, shivering violently in a downpour of ice. You were standing over a flashy Mazda MX-5, working to swap the engine with that of a Supra’s 2JZ. Chapped flecks of white paint were peeling onto your jeans, and you briefly wondered if car wrap services should be your next side hustle. The harsh smell of the garage was something you weren’t sure you’d ever grow accustomed to. It was greasy floors, flickering fluorescent lighting that threatened to fall from the sky at any minute, the tinge of burnt rubber. There wasn’t anyone left there with you, not at this time of night. They had all cleared out long ago, but you were never the type to discard a project you had already started. Especially when you knew you could finish it if you just gave it another hour.

You hear it before you see it, the sharp rattle of a ruined car sliding into your garage like it owned the entire world. Right then, only one of two things could occur: 1. the sun explodes in a bright white blasting fury across the entire earth and boils you dead, or 2. you’re forced to stay a whole lot later than you initially planned for. You’ve placed your bet on option two. A matte black Nissan 240SX, complete with a faded red stripe that wrapped around the midsection. It was full of makeshift repairs– duct tape holding up the front bumper, scrapes covered by black sharpie. The kind of thing you’d see on a first-time driver’s car. While you weren’t too well-versed in the street racing underworld, it certainly doesn’t take an idiot to see that this car has been in a race (or twenty). The left side sank down heavy to the floor, surely the cause of that incessant rattle and a definite sign of a shot suspension. You squinted into the deeply tinted windshield, searching for any sign of life beneath glass. You tried to imagine who could be driving such a thing: a tall, skinny man, dark brown hair that is just beginning to gray at the edges, ratty unkempt beard framing his chiseled jawline.

That’s not who comes out.

Instead, it’s her. Stained wife beater, jeans one size too big, converse that are falling apart at the seams, and sun-touched auburn hair cut back into a harsh mullet that framed the freckles dotting across her face.

“Hey,” she said, as if this was normal. As if she was always rolling up to random mechanics with her car sounding like judgement day had come.

You should’ve told her to leave. Should’ve said you were closed and to come back tomorrow. But something about the look in her eyes caught your attention, made you feel like you were the last chance she had. So, you scoffed right back. “Hey?”

“You fix cars or just stand there looking confused?” Her voice was deep and tired, but weirdly sharp. Everything about her screamed trouble. 

“Right now?” You glanced down at your watch. The neon green letters flashed tauntingly back at you: 11:27pm. Yeah, option two was looking real possible right now.

The girl merely shrugged, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her sagging jeans. “If not, I’ll find someone else.”

As much as you hated to admit it, her words lit a flicker of irritation in your chest. It felt like a challenge. Like she was saying you couldn’t do it. “I didn’t say no.”

The corner of her mouth twisted up into a smirk– quick, you couldn’t help but think that she didn't mean for you to catch it. “Didn’t sound like much of a yes either.”

You tossed the oily rag you kept in your waistband up onto the workbench, wiping your palms against your thighs one last time for good measure. “Depends how bad you screwed it up. Looks like you drive this thing like you hate it.”

“I get that a lot,” she said, not even blinking. “But it still runs. That’s gotta count for a little bit of brownie points, right?”

“We’ll see.” You shook your head, stepping around her to reach the wreck she called a car. You stole a glance into the open passenger side window as you sauntered around. The dash was cracked, the glove box hanging by hopes and dreams. You took note of the roll cage, the lack of backseats, the rather bare interior. Definitely a racer. A faded out sticker on the rearview mirror caught your eye: if you can read this, i’m already gone.

Outside, tires screeched and a woman screamed. Just background noise in this part of the city. The overhead lights buzzed like angry mosquitoes and you flicked on the beaten radio to drown out the uncomfortable background noise. Static, then a guitar riff, then the sound of a man’s voice. 

Well, come and get it now–

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here in a dingy garage so late at night?” Her voice was pure tease now.

“Flattery’s not gonna make me work faster,” you quipped, flashing her a glare over your shoulder.

“Didn’t say I was trying to be fast,” she said, trailing after you with her hands still deep in her pockets, lazily strolling along like she all of a sudden had all the time in the world. Like she didn’t just disturb your entire night.

You grinned, looking back over your shoulder again with a mischievous glint now dancing in your eyes. “Good. ‘Cause judging by your suspension, you’re not great at going fast anyway.”

She chuckled, low and rough and warm all at once. “Touché.”

You circled back around to the front of the car, crouching down to the concrete floor to get a better look at the sagging frame. She leaned against the matte black hood, arms crossed, watching you with a heat that roasted your skin. You fought to not stare at her arms. The muscle dragged you in, and some part of you longed to trace your fingers along her tattoo. 

“You never told me your name.”

“Williams. Ellie Williams.” Her tone was casual, short. It held a louche quality that hinted at depravity. You yearned to know more, but you held your tongue. “You?”

“___.”

There was something electric hanging in the air now, humming under the harsh buzz of the fluorescent garage lights. You wiped your hands on your jeans again, more to keep busy now than anything else.

“Suspension’s fucked,” you said finally, tapping the left side of the hood. “I’d bet you bottomed out hard. Frame’s probably cracked too… if you were lucky enough to hit a curb instead of some other racer.”

Ellie gave a low whistle. “Bottomed out hard, huh?” she repeated, pushing off her car slow and easy until she was standing just a little too close. Close enough that you could smell the vague scent of gasoline and something sharp-sweet on her. Leather, maybe, and smoke. “I’ve heard that before.”

A blush passed over your cheeks and your heart threatened to sink down into your stomach. You breathed hard, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

She lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused at your fidgeting. You let the blush take over as you popped the hood, the overbearing smell of hot oil engulfing your senses almost immediately. Ellie moved to be at your side, her shoulders brushing yours as she leaned in for a look.

“Something wrong there too?” she asked.

“You sure you wanna know?” you were the one teasing now, giving her a sideways glance.

Ellie shrugged, accompanied with a lazy tilt of her head. “Already here. Might as well hear all the bad news.”

You rattled off a condensed list. Bent control arm, possible steering rack damage, probable oil leak. She just nodded along like you were reciting a grocery list and she was your incompetent husband.

“No big deal,” she sighed, her breathing ragged and uneven. “How long will it take to fix?”

You stared at her, struggling to hide the dumbfounded look plastered across your face. “You’re either incredibly rich or incredibly stupid.”

She smirked. “Why not both?”

That pulled a breathy laugh out of you before you could stop it. A real one, not the hollow kind you gave old men trying to sweet-talk their way into a discount.

“Give me an hour to tear it down,” you said, stepping back and wiping the sweat that had accumulated on your brow. “See if it’s worth saving, then another to fix it.”

Ellie nodded, but it didn’t seem like she was really listening all too well. She leaned her hip against the workbench, freckled arms crossed over her grimy shirt, staring at you like you were the main event and it wasn’t at all a possibility that she could lose her car.

“You’re not gonna hover the whole time, are you?” you coughed, fake annoyance dripping from your teeth.

“Maybe,” She grinned fully this time. Lazy, cocky, dangerous even. “Unless you can’t handle a little pressure.”

You snorted under your breath and ducked your head back into the engine bay, hiding the stupid smile that was threatening to spread across your face.

“Trust me,” you muttered, “you’re not that scary.”

Ellie leaned down to meet you under the propped-up hood, hovering her lips just beside your ear. The feeling of her breath careening down your neck made you shiver.

“You haven’t seen me drive.”

The next two hours passed in a blur of wrenches, grease stains, and the sharp intensity of Ellie’s gaze burning into the back of your neck. She didn’t hover, not exactly, she lingered. She rarely spoke, just leaned against the bench or paced slow circles around the garage, an unlit joint dangling from her lips. Every time you turned to grab a tool, there she was, tossing it to you without a second thought. Each time your fingers would brush she’d smile like she had just won a point, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

At some point, you stopped pretending not to notice.

You slammed the hood closed, a lot harder than necessary, and tried to shake the uncomfortable heat prickling on the back of your neck.

“You’re good to go,” you said, tossing a rag onto the bench beside Ellie. “Mostly.”

Ellie shoved off the wall, sauntering over to you until she was all in your space again. Not that you moved away. “Mostly,” she repeated, that familiar grin spreading across her face. “That your professional opinion?”

“Professional opinions are extra,” you grinned back, taunting.

She chuckled low under her breath, eyes flickering over you in a way that made your entire body tense up. Slow, less like she was sizing you up and more like she wanted to memorize your every curve.

“Good thing I’m a generous tipper,” she said, her voice dipping a little lower.

“Treat it like glass,” you said, tugging at your shirt collar uncomfortably. “Or you’ll be back in a week and it’ll be a whole hell of a lot worse.”

“Good,” her eyes were suddenly serious, a dark look crossing her face in a way that made your pants almost fall clean off your hips. “Was planning on coming back anyway.”

You raised a brow. “Yeah? What else you need?”

She shrugged, a casual but deliberate movement. You could tell she was trying to seem cool. It was kind of cute. “A mechanic.”

“...You offering me a job?”

“Depends,” she spoke carefully, stepping in closer. The air between you crackled with electricity. “You any good at fixing more than busted suspensions?”

Before you could answer she had stepped back, grabbing a pen off of your bench and taking your hand in hers. Her touch made you buzz and you watched intensely as she messily scribbled her number onto your palm in dry black ink. She dotted the “i” in her name with a heart.

“Think about it,” she said, tossing her keys up and catching them one-handed, the metallic clink ringing out in the otherwise quiet garage. “Might be the best bad decision you ever make.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The air was thick with the smell of exhaust, burnt rubber, and pure, unabashed adrenaline. Neon lights glared off of chrome-polished fenders as nearly over a dozen cars lined the abandoned shipping yard, idling like predators waiting for prey. Engines revved and music blared from someone’s speakers. Half the crowd buzzed with pre-race excitement, the other half just buzzed.

Pulling your hoodie tighter around your face, you stepped into the crowd. You had left your own car further away like Ellie had instructed you. It was much less impressive among the racers’, a plush blue Volvo 240 Turbo. Understated, beat down to hell, but modded up to god and back. You grabbed the metal toolbox out of your passenger side, the cold handle grounding you in a way that felt anything but solid.

You had never attended a street race before. You’ve heard of them, sure, even modded a few cars for some, but never actually been to one. You didn’t dress for it, didn’t plan for it, just showed up. Ellie had texted you the location, didn’t say anything else about it– not that you asked.

A familiar rumble cut your thoughts short. It was a low, unapologetic grumble that definitely turned heads in the crowd. It seemed Ellie had a reputation. You turned just in time to see her car slide beside you, the engine purring a whole lot smoother than the last time you heard it. Your handiwork, still holding strong. Somehow.

Ellie stepped out like she owned the place, something you were starting to realize was a normal behaviour for her. She was donned in the same stained jeans as before, this time with a couple new oil smudges. A bright red cropped leather jacket was covering up her old stained wife beater, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her forearm muscles and faded tattoo. You watched closely as her eyes scanned the crowd before locking onto you. Something gleamed in her eyes. Relief, maybe. Moreso amusement.

“You showed up,” she said, strolling over with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets with a feigned air of no fucks given.

You shrugged lazily, trying not to smile. Trying not to give her that satisfaction. “You said you needed a mechanic.”

Ellie nodded slowly, lower lip twitching like she was fighting not to speak her mind. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Yeah, well,” you responded, setting your toolbox down beside her front tire, “I guess I make a lot of bad decisions.”

She grinned, wide and reckless, a strand of her auburn hair falling in front of her eyes. “Perfect,” she drawled, “You’ll fit right in.”

Suddenly, the crowd fell silent, the music that thumped from someone’s trunk was shut off, and an air of competitiveness fogged your senses. Ellie leaned across the hood of her car, eyes glazed over with excitement and a hint of menace. “Flags drop in ten. You might want to hurry it up, little miss mechanic.”

You weren’t entirely sure what flags down meant, but you were sure that it wasn’t time to ask questions. You dropped to your knees, kneeling beside the front wheel. Your fingers brushed the brake rotor.

“These things are whispering their last words,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

Ellie pulled a toothpick out of her pocket and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly. You couldn’t help but think how she looked like a llama. “Then tell ‘em to scream louder.”

You shot her a look over your shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re about to be a nightmare to keep alive.”

She only grinned in response. That signature, stupidly charming Ellie grin. She continued to stare at you with an infuriatingly calm gaze as you popped the hood one last time, eyes scanning the turbo lines. Then, you wiped your hands clean on a rag you had tucked into your belt.

“Fluids topped, pressure’s solid, clutch might hate you by the end of it.” You slammed the hood shut with a smirk. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

Ellie stepped towards you, still grinning wildly. “You always this sexy before a race?”

You raised a brow, feigning vexation. “You want sexy, go find someone that doesn’t know what a brake pad is.”

Her grin turned crooked, it somehow made her even more attractive. “Aw man, but none of them look half as good leaning over an engine.”

Before you even got a chance to fire back someone was yelling from across the lot. “Engine’s hot! You’ve got thirty seconds to line up, and don’t come crying to me when you get smoked!”

She turned to her car, toothpick now discarded on the asphalt, hands already gripping the door handle. “Next time, you ride with me.”

Then she was gone. You watched as she slid up to the starting line, your eyes transfixed on the smoke that pooled out underneath her car and evaporated into the air. The crowd was screaming now, voltaic above the war cries of the engines. The spotters hunched over the overpass began to shift. Your heartbeat reverberated off your eardrums and threatened to hop out of your chest entirely. You blinked, and they were gone. Ellie disappeared around a bend with her tail lights flickering like a cigarette in the dark. You’d never seen anyone drive like that before. All you could think to do was hold your breath.

At first, it was just one siren. Just one, thin and far off. The crowd shifts, anxiety rippling through the crowd and boiling the water around you.

Then the world exploded in red and blue. People screamed around you, but for an entirely different reason now. There’s movement all around you, folding chairs falling and people scrambling to climb chain link fences. You turn to run, but there’s nowhere to go. For a moment, you felt the sickening feeling of being trapped.

Then you hear it– tires drifting in the gravel. A black shape was barreling out of the smoke, angled right toward you. Before you could even think to move there was a passenger door flying open and a familiar face staring you down.

“In. Now.”

You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Just dived in, half-falling into the passenger seat as the air behind you is completely swallowed by flashing lights.

Ellie was white-knuckled around the steering wheel as you shot forward and sliced through the night.

“You came back,” you say, breath coming out uneven and shaky.

City lights blurred past as the two of you skidded between two factory buildings, into an alley that was much too narrow for your comfort. The engine roared as she switched from third to fourth to third again, riding the clutch like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Behind you, someone’s bumper crunches into a brick wall.

“Couldn’t leave you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together as she tried to focus, eyes scanning for any possible exit. Any way to get you back to safety. Ellie was burning with recklessness now, she was in her element. You’re completely entranced as she maneuvers the car with such finesse that it almost scares you. Almost. She curses and yanks at the wheel, sending you slamming into the door and ricocheting off your seat. Ellie glances over at you, partly apologetically and mostly with arrogance. The emergency brake is dropped and the car is sent drifting between two green dumpsters. You clutch the handle above your head to avoid being sent tumbling around the car again.

Ellie shuts the car off with a harsh click and you finally let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. She drops her seat down, with you following suit in the movement. Smoke was pouring out of the hood now, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought of you needing to do more repairs so soon.

It’s silent for a while, the two of you intently listening to the sound of the sirens disappearing into the city. Until, finally, Ellie’s voice tears through the tension.

“You shouldn’t go back to your car until tomorrow. Place’ll still be crawling with pigs.” She didn’t look at you when she said it, eyes still focused on the ceiling of her car. “You can crash at mine.”

You glance at her, blinking rapidly. Crash? At hers? You thought back to when you had first met Ellie in your garage. Back when you wouldn’t have ever expected to be running from police with a girl who looked like hell had sent her back.

“If you want,” she says after you’re quiet for too long, shyer this time.

You nod in response, still not trusting your voice to not break at the first syllable. The corner of her mouth twitches, not quite a smile, but on the edge of one. Neither of you speak as the engine hums to life and you peel out of the alley.

You can’t help but feel like you just crossed a line you won’t be able to uncross.

✿Sevika who works as a line cook for a mid level restaurant in the city. She went to culinary school in her youth, but after a long line of jobs in various fields and years of food service experience, she found herself committed to a generationally owned restaurant close enough to her place to walk. What more could a middle aged woman with bills and responsibilities ask for?

✿Sevika who doesn't talk much during her shifts. She clocks in, cooks, cleans, remains cordial to her coworkers, and clocks out. Everyday, like clockwork. Some of the other cooks, waitresses, and waiters gossip about what her life is like outside of work, what she does when she't not scowling or mumbling under her breath while cooking one hell of an appetizer. Nobody figure out how to get through that icy cold heart of hers, until you start working there.

✿Sevika who notices you on your first training shift. Your perky ponytail and excited smile making her chuckle, figuring the labor and intensity of food service would change your attitude real quick. But as you train and learn the job, your smile never falters. You greet each guest with your pearly grin, treat each and every patron with kindness and patience, and even take the angriest rudest guests with that signature smile. Sevika notices it all. She catches herself watching you from the window into the kitchen, seeing your hard work manifest into the care you give each customer.

✿Sevika who cares about you way more than the other waitresses. She’s never rude or disrespectful to them, but everybody knows you’re her favorite. During slow shifts she helps you with your side work, she’ll make you fries when she knows you haven’t eaten all day, and never gets mad when you forget to ring in an order or mess up a couple things on a ticket. She know’s you work hard and is willing to do whatever she can to make it easier.

✿Sevika who sees your first real breakdown at the job. You were having an off day and couldn’t get into your usual swing of things, but once a customer chewed you out for bringing him the wrong order, you couldn’t help but crumble during your smoke break outside.

“Hey hey hey,” Sevika rubbed slow circles on your back as you sobbed, mascara and eyeliner running down your tear soaked cheeks as you tried to calm down “It’s alright (Y/N) breathe..”

“H-He was so mean!” You cried, trying to wipe away the makeup from your eyes with your sleeves. The black pigment stung your eyes and stained your shirt, the day just kept getting better and better.

A lit cigarette was tucked right between Sevika’s lips as she watched you with pain filled eyes. It hurt to see you cry over a stupid asshole, the food industry was filled with them and he wouldn’t be the last. “He was..thats why fuckers like him get the dropped burgers” Sevika joked, hoping her quip would distract you enough to make you grin.

You chuckled sadly and sniffled, looking at the older woman with bloodshot eyes and ruined eyeliner “True…thanks Sevika” You smile, giving her the thing she wanted the most.

✿Sevika who really tries to keep your relationship strictly work. She respects boundaries, maintains a safe distance, and doesn’t stare (too much..). But that all changes when the restaurant gets a new bartender. The guy was quite the flirt, whether it was with customers for tips or coworkers for a little something extra. A few waitresses and one other line cook all fawned over him, but Sevika could see right through his sleazy personality. She simply ignores him most days, until his flirting reaches you.

“Did he say something to you?” Sevika asks through the window in a hushed tone, nodding her head over to the new guy who was mingling with another waiter.

“Who Clint? Yeah, he asked about getting drinks after my shift, why?” You raised an eyebrow, grinning at the twitch in Sevika’s eye at the response. You never noticed it before but it was definitely noticeable.

“No reason, thought it was something about work…” She spoke, emphasizing the word she thought he should be focusing on instead of you. She couldn’t ignore the irritating feeling of jealousy that struck her heart. Sevika was usually so confident to make the first move, in any other capacity or environment she would have already sought you out. But this job meant a lot to her, and getting involved with a waitress as a line cook always ended in somebody’s demise.

✿Sevika who officially catches feelings that night when you invite her out to get drinks with you and Clint. You happened to invite a few other coworkers to make it a group hang out, which makes Clint regret asking in the first place. Because once you all close up the restaurant and head down the street to a local bar, all of your attention went to Sevika. Clint could barely attempt to flirt since you never left the older woman’s side.

Your drunk giggling echoed through the bar booth you and Sevika sat at. The rest of your coworkers were drinking at the bar top and watching the last couple minutes of whatever game was on, while the two of you sat and talked about everything but work. Sevika sipped something dark and strong, the amber liquid swirling in the glass as she swigged the last of it.

You were on your second dirty shirley, yapping about your newest obsession while Sevika pulled out her cigarettes. You noticed how intently Sevika was listening, her piercing grey eyes watching your every move, responding with an occasional ‘oh?’ or ‘and then what happens?’ to push you further into the story, even laughing at some of your silly jokes. It warmed your heart to see how much she cared about what you had to say, her attentiveness you making you swoon in drunken bliss.

“You w’nna cig?” She asked as you finish your drink, taking both of your glasses and putting them on the bar top.

You nod and stood up to head outside, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when she opened the door for you..or ignore how hot she looked lighting the cigarette in her mouth. The way it hung lazily between her full lips made the warmth in your body wander down south. You reached up and took it from her lips, letting the pads of your finger brush delicately against her lower lip before bringing the cigarette to your own mouth.

Sevika paused, her mind racing as she watched you take a drag, her stomach coiling into knots while she imagined all the filthy things she could do with a mouth like yours. That’s when she realized she would need to have you, in more ways than one.

✿Sevika who walks you to your car later that week after a long shift. It was a holiday weekend in the summer, prime time for heavy restaurant traffic. You were both so tired as you crossed through the parking lot, city noises and late nightlife buzzing around you both as you walked in comfortable silence. Sevika was lost in thought, unsure how to express feelings she didn’t even realize she felt so strongly about. Everything about you pulled her closer, your sweetness and kind smile making her want nothing more than to make you hers tens times over.

“Thanks for helping with orders Vika, that last minute rush this evening was so unexpected.” You sighed, unlocking your car and opening the door to throw your purse inside. Your old used car was sitting under a buzzing street light, the warm summer air blowing a cool breeze through your thin uniform shirt. You shivered a little as you turned to the taller woman.

Sevika had her mech arm rested against the car door frame, peering down as you shivered from the cool air. She took her leather jacket off and wordlessly shrugged it over your shoulders, the warmth of the lining and smell of her cologne filling your nose.

“Vika you don’t have to-” You paused as her warm flesh hand caressed your cheek, eyes locking onto hers as her thumb brushed along your cheekbone.

“Don’t want my favorite girl getting cold..” She spoke, desire filled eyes gazing down at your gapped lips.

Your heart fluttered aggressively as she closed the gap, pressing her warm lips against yours in a satisfying kiss. The kiss tasted like smoke and something savory, your tired bodies pressing together as you wrapped your arms around her neck. The stress of the night melted away at her touch as she deepened the connection, your lips tangling beautifully with hers before pulling away slowly. You looked up at the woman with hazy lust filled eyes, biting back a goofy grin as she kissed your temple.

“See you tomorrow (Y/N)”

I have to stop coming up with new exciting things to write about instead of working on main things……but I won’t! 🥰

I got this idea from Coleggo’s art (which is incredible if you don’t already know) and their Sevika x The Bear crossover. She would be such a hot line cook it needed to happen.

this is kinda shit and short but as always, thank you for being here! ily 🥰

Love,

Squuoosh ❤︎₊ ⊹

She doesn't get hung up on you spending your time on your hobbies. If anything, she likes it. It's an excuse for her to have time for her own, often joining you in the garage as you both do your own things, or if she's feeling up to it even helping you out.

"Come join me then?" You ask hopeful. She nods and kisses down your cheek to your shoulder. "Of course." She mumbles into your skin. She pats your waist before pulling away to get dressed.

"Oh also, can I borrow the Volvo again? Mine mighttt not have enough room." You ask in your sweetest voice as she rounded the corner from the bathroom. You don't have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes. "Of course you can." She sighs in defeat.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

"So what the hell are we actually here for again?" Sevika asks as you both get out of her car, shutting the doors. You catch up to her long strides as you make your way to the entrance of the pick-a-part yard.

"Uhh, well I need bolts for the Honda's ignition coils cause one of them snapped yesterday. I wanna see what wheels are here too. And whatever else seems like a fun souvenir." Sevika wordlessly takes the heavy bag of tools off your shoulder to carry it herself. "I think you have enough 'souvenirs', hun. You already have a collection of steering wheels." She teases.

"Okay but what if, in the next upcoming weeks I get, let's say a.. LS300. But the shady guy I bought it from took off the steering wheel. Oh look, I have one right here. You gotta think bigger, Sevika." You say as you tap the side of her head. She chuckles reluctantly, amused by your stubbornness, all the while deep down she loves it.

She throws a heavy arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side. The sound of the gravel crunching under your guys's shoes follows the both of you as she hums, conceded. "You're right. Only cause it's you." She mumbles light-heartedly.

You smile up at her, admiring as the morning sun radiates onto her face. The patterns etched in the dark iris of her eyes glow in the light, and her dark tinted lips are relaxed into a slight smile. You love seeing her like this, especially when you compare this image of her to the Sevika you met for the first time, or the Sevika who's on the job.

The resting scowl she always wore turned to a content smile when she was around you. Her eyebrows didn't crease and her jaw wasn't clenched. Her eyes didn't look so pointed and mean, now they're soft and gentle. The way she carries herself is more relaxed, with her steps being lazier and clunkier as opposed to purposeful, and her shoulders aren't as tense.

She smiles down at you when she catches you staring, and you bashfully avert your gaze to the ground.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

While Sevika finishes checking in, you go off to grab a cart. She meets you and places the bag inside, and before you can continue she taps your hand holding the bar, gently shooing you away. You step to the side as she takes your spot, leaning her forearms on the handle as she pushes forward.

You lead the way with a hand on the side of the cart, ogling at the hundreds and hundreds of cars lined up in rows on jacks. Sevika stopped paying attention to the torn apart cars after the second row, instead finding herself fixated on you. This place really was like heaven for someone like you. And Sevika for that matter, who while not being into cars as much as you, had pretty sound knowledge of general mechanics.

Growing up in Zaun with not much money usually meant you either learn how to fix things yourself, or go into debt having someone else do it. So, when she got her first car as a teenager, a busted up Subaru Outback, she'd quickly learned to fix things up herself. She mostly viewed fixing up her car as a slight nuisance, annoying but necessary. Until she met you, and came to understand the fun nuances of mechanical work. She quite enjoyed it when she had to do maintenance or tune ups on her car now. And while she never thought she would spend her off days in a junkyard, it didn't take long for her to find enjoyment in it.

"The holy Honda land." You say as you and Sevika come up upon row 219. She stops behind you as you peek over one of the engine bays, rounding the cart to join you. "It's gonna be the bolt that goes into this little thing." You explain to Sevika, who nods intently.

Sevika knew the drill, and you both got to work. This car didn't have the bolts you needed, so you both continued on to ransacking the rest of the car in search of something that could be of use. Sevika rummaged through the interior while you checked around under the car for any spare bolts or screws that could be of use.

You startle when a car door lands on the ground just next to you, dust being kicked up in your face from the impact. Quicker than you could comprehend, Sevika's hand was covering your head while her other grasped onto the heavy metal before it fell further. Once your body recognized its safety, you couldn't help but burst out into laughter at the fallen door, a piece of the broken handle still in Sevika's hand.

"Well someone already got to the hinges." Sevika shrugged, followed by her own chuckles as she throws the door to the side. You guys repeat the same thing on multiple cars, engaging in conversation about your week or stories from Sevika's recent gambling stint at The Last Drop.

You cheer as the next car you come upon finally had the bolts still intact. "Found em?" Sevika said, amusement clear on her face. "Yes ma'am." She rolls her eyes at your response, but hands you your socket wrench. "Need a 10?" She asks as she searches through the sockets in your bag. You hum in response and she places the piece of metal in your outstretched palm.

You take off the bolts, handing them behind you to Sevika to hold onto until you were done. "Atta girl." She says as she takes them from you, not missing the shy and sheepish look on your face from her praise.

The both of you continue this for upwards of an hour, just rummaging through torn apart cars while talking. Eventually you retire the search of car parts in favor of hunting for wheels. Not even five minutes into rummaging through the piles of rims and tires, Sevika grabs your attention with a low whistle.

You look up and see her lifting up a chrome wheel, with what looked like almost brand new tires. "Oh my god, no way!" You trudge over the wheels on the ground to meet her. You inspect the little numbers on the tires on the rim, "right size and everything." You say happily. "Man I wish I lucked out this easily with mine for the Volvo. Had to pay out the ass for mine."

Sevika shook her head, effortlessly dropping the wheel in the cart as you picked up the other. Sure, Sevika was a gentlewoman; always holding your bags, opening doors for you, tying your shoelaces, any act of service she could think of. But she doesn't undermine your own strength either, instead watching with an ogling smirk as you load the last wheel into the cart, your t-shirt sleeves riding up and revealing your flexed muscles. "You're such a dog." You playfully hit her shoulder.

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"I'm glad you came with me today." You told Sevika as you made your way back to the car, this time covered in dirt, grime, and sweat, with pockets full of clanking of bolts and fuses. You continue, "I know rummaging around a junkyard isn't an ideal date idea, but it's one my favorite things to do with you." You both make eye contact, matching each others smiles.

Dug out this sketch for Tsukamaki by @venomwrites this morning and then my wife said it kind of looked like a magazine cover SO there it is