#and even left her alone on the New Year's Eve that they were supposed to spend together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punkette1026 · 3 months

Text

I Run to You

Summary:

After a fight with Pedro, you two go your separate ways for the holidays. However after receiving a phone call that Pedro got hurt, you rush to him in the hopes that you can salvage your relationship and nurse him back to health.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader (use of Y/N)

Rating: T

Word Count: 9155

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Author's Notes: Thank you all for your support. This one was a little scary to write because I have never written a Pedro non character fic. Please be kind and let me know what you think!

****italics means flashbacks

This was not how you expected your Christmas Eve to go. You were supposed to be in the kitchen helping your mother bake her famous Christmas cookies. Instead, here you were on a plane rushing to see your boyfriend of three years, Pedro. You felt a surge of guilt in your chest as you realized that you should have never agreed to spend the holidays apart after having one of the biggest fights in your life.

You had spent the last few days at your parents’ house moping around debating whether or not to call him and apologize first. Then you got a call from Pedro’s sister Lux, letting you know that they had to take him to the hospital. When you heard those words, it felt like your whole world stopped. The fight that you had with him no longer mattered. All of that went out the window and you knew that you had to get to him as soon as you could. However, getting a flight out to Chile on a holiday weekend was going to be nearly impossible. Thankfully, after numerous calls and by a Christmas miracle, your dad got you on the first flight out to Santiago.

As you sat there looking out the plane window, you couldn’t help but think back to the fight that you and Pedro had. Now it seemed so senseless, but back then, it became intense quickly. Sure, you had small fights before, but nothing like this. You both said some things that you regret and neither one had yet to apologize or even check in on each other.

You remembered that it all started over a picture you saw on X. You had already gotten cozy under the covers while Pedro got ready for bed in the bathroom. After scrolling through tik Tok for a while, you switched over to X and that’s when you saw it. It was a picture of your boyfriend walking out of a restaurant. The caption read, “New Couple Alert! Pedro Pascal and former costar seen getting cozy at prominent LA restaurant Friday night. The pair was spotted having drinks and left in smiles as Pedro walked the actress to her car. Could this be the start of a new power couple?”

Normally these types of rumors didn’t bother you. You could care less, because you had seen for fair share of them, and you knew that every single one of them was a stretch. You also knew that was something that you were going to have to get used to if you were going to date a celebrity. However, to you, Pedro wasn’t a celebrity. He never acted like it and was very down to earth. If fact, that was what drew you to him when you first met.

You remembered like it was yesterday when he stepped out of his house and saw you outside of your own home struggling to change the tire on your car. For whatever reason, you just couldn’t seem to get the last nut off of the rim.

To be honest, Pedro had noticed you way before that, but he had been chickening out. He first took notice of you when you moved into the neighborhood over a week ago. He was hesitant even then to come over and introduce himself. He was instantly taken back by your beauty as soon as he laid eyes on you for the first time. You looked absolutely stunning in that black polka dot dress. Your smooth legs glistened in the hot summer sun. Much to his luck, it looked like you were moving into the single story alone. He did spot two other people helping you, but it looked like they were your parents. Little did he know, but that was the first time that you saw him too.

After that the only interaction that you two had was a quick wave here and there when one of you left. Neither one of you had mustered up the courage to go over and introduce yourselves to each other. Pedro almost chickened out that day as well, but after giving himself a pep talk, he decided that it was finally time to go over and say hi.

Quickly doing his best to look presentable and that meant in his favorite Lakers shirt and a pair of gray shorts, Pedro casually walked out of his house like he was going to go check his mail. Then when he was hidden by a couple of cars, he crossed the street and began walking up your side of the street making a B line straight to you. You didn’t even see him come up from behind.

“Hi there neighbor!” he called out to you. “I was just walking by and noticed you struggling there. Do you need any help?”

“Oh my, you scared me,” you chuckled. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. I have been struggling to get this damn nut off. I think it’s stuck, or I did something wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. You just need a little more muscle. May I?” he asked holding out his hand.

You nodded appreciating the help and handed him the tire iron, “Of course, knock yourself out.”

Like nothing, as soon as Pedro tried to turn the tire iron, the nut came loose with ease. “See there, easy as pie!” He smiled up at you with his dimple on full display.

You almost melted right there and then. It took all that you had to not lose your shit. “Hey that’s not fair. I’ve be trying to get that off for the past fifteen minutes!”

“What can I say, you just needed little more muscle,” he teased again before helping you swap out the flat tire for the spare. “There you go, all done.”

“Thank you so much! You are such a life saver. I was so sure that I was going to have to call a tow company. I’m Y/N by the way,” you introduced yourself.

He hesitated for a second with shaking your hand. He didn’t want to get you dirty, but when he saw your hands were equally covered in grime, he graciously shook it, “Hello Y/N, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Pedro, I live across the street.”

You let out a cute giggle that melted his heart, “Yes, I know exactly who you are Mr. Pascal. I... may have seen a movie or two of yours. Also Mrs. Walker next door seems to be very smitten for you too. She came over with some cookies and told me all about the famous movie star that lives in the neighborhood.” Mrs. Walker was their 85-year-old widow that took care of the neighborhood.

Pedro’s face grew red with embarrassment, “umm...yeah, she may or may not have a crush on me. Listen umm...Y/N, I was going to grab a coffee or something. You-you wouldn’t want to join me, would you? I-I mean if you are not busy or anything. If you are then no big deal maybe next time. I can-I can just go by myself.”

You thought the way he nervously rambled on was adorable. You had never met a celebrity before, and he was completely different from what you thought it would be like. From your very brief experience with him, Pedro was just a normal guy, older, but normal guy. You weren’t going to lie to yourself when you thought that he was pretty attractive too. That dimpled smile of his, the soft brown curls, and those broad shoulders of his, ugh all of him got your blood going. Not to mention that he towered over you. That was one of your turn ons. You could almost imagine yourself wrapped in his embrace.

“Um...yeah, I think I can do that. I was going to go get groceries, but I think that can wait till tomorrow. Besides, it’s not every day that Oberyn Martel asks you to get a cup of coffee. Did you know that Mrs. Walker has a few photos of you up on her wall in that ugly mustard robe?”

“Okay first off, that robe is freaking amazing, super comfortable. Next, I did not need to know that. Do you know how awkward it’s going to be now when she brings me over one of her famous apple pies? I’m not going to be able to look at her in the eyes now,” he groaned causing you to giggle again. “Well, I’m that you find that funny Y/N. You know if I was a smart guy, I would revoke my coffee offer to you.”

“Awe did the little celebrity get all embarrassed,” you said like you were talking to a baby. “Well, I’m sorry Pedro, I apologize. If I buy you a cup of coffee, will that make you feel better.”

Pedro playfully pouted his lips with a frown, “It might, but I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t buy you the first cup. So about I buy us coffee time, then next time, you can buy that round.”

Your heart about nearly skipped a beat at the thought of possibly getting to hang out with him at a later point in time. You felt like a giddy schoolgirl who’s crush finally gave you the time of day. But at the same time, you knew that you had to play it cool, “Next time huh? Who said anything about a next time Mr. Pascal.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you are right and stop calling me Mr. Pascal. That’s my father,” he pouted again. “But umm…Y/N, do you think I can come in for a second and wash my hands. It beats having to go all the way home.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Oh yes because it’s such a long walk. Well follow me then Mr. Pascal” you winked at him before leading him up the driveway. “And I do apologize for all the boxes everywhere. Nursing school has been taking up the majority of my time and it’s been a little hard finding the energy to unpack.”

You didn’t realize it, but as he followed you, Pedro couldn’t help but stare at your ass. He didn’t mean to stare like a dirty old man, but he couldn’t help it. It would end up being one of his favorite things about you.

As you both made your way inside your house, you weren’t lying. Boxes littered the kitchen and living room. Thankfully Pedro didn’t seem to mind though as he made his way through the maze behind you. Taking turns at the sink, both of you scrubbed the grime off of your hands the best that you could.

However just as Pedro went to dry his hands, his large frame accidentally knocked over an open box that was full of VHS and DVDs. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” he apologized as he quickly bent down and started to pick them up.

“It’s okay Pedro no worries. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I’m surprised that I haven’t done that myself already,” you really hoped that he didn’t feel bad. It was just an accident.

“You umm...you sure do have a lot of movies. You a bit of a movie buff?” He was amazed at the vast selection that you had. A lot of them were some of his favorites and some that he hadn’t seen in a while. Then a certain VHS tape caught his eye, “No way, you have this on VHS still? You don’t look old enough to know what a VHS is.”

“Ha ha very funny Pedro. I may be 24, but I sure do know what a VHS tape is. That’s all my grandmother watched when I was little. Gosh, I didn’t think that I still had that one. I used to watch that at least twice a week in high school. See I umm... I was bullied a lot in school and my parents were too busy at the time dealing with their own shit. After school in order to just get away from everything, I would put this movie on or any movie really and get lost for hours,” you couldn’t help but get teary eyed at the thought of how lonely those times were. Then you suddenly got embarrassed already crying in front of him, “I’m sorry Pedro, I didn’t mean to unload on you like that.”

“Hey it’s okay really, I don’t mind. I want to know more about you,” he then sympathetically reached out and took your hand into his. “Movies also hold a special place in my heart. Seeing the different actors portray different characters, emotions, and storylines, all that appealed to me and is part of what made me want to become an actor.” He then got an idea and really hoped that she didn’t mind if they switched things up, “So umm...Y/N, would you be opposed if we instead of going to get coffee, we put this baby on, if you have a VCR that is, and I can help you unpack. Seems like you could use the help more.”

“You know what that sounds like a wonderful idea. I still have my grandmother’s VCR and it’s still like brand new. And if you don’t mind, what if I order some pizza for some energy? I have a six pack of beer in the fridge as well if you drink. Otherwise, I have some water and juice.”

“Beer is perfectly fine by me Y/N and as for the pizza, since I’m the one who offered coffee and came up with the new plan, please let me buy it. It’s the least I can do. Think of it as a welcome to the neighborhood pizza.”

You nodded your head as you were too embarrassed to speak. You had never met someone so generous as Pedro. You could see the both of you becoming really good friends. It was like you instantly connected and were already comfortable with each other. “Alright fine, but remember Pedro, I get the next time. Now come on, everything is already set up in the living room.”

Once the movie was playing and the pizza was ordered. Both you and Pedro got to work unpacking the living room. You had made a lot of progress getting through a couple of boxes while making small talk. However as soon as the pizza came and you sat on the couch to eat, that’s where the packing stopped. Between the movie and swapping stories with Pedro, all of it consumed all your attention.

Before you knew it, it was well past midnight. After helping you clean up and taking some boxes out to the dumpster for you, Pedro bid you a good night. However, before he left, he promised to come over and help you finish the rest, so he gave you his number and told you to text him when it was convenient for you. Much to his surprise, you texted him the next day asking him if he wanted to come over for some breakfast. Before you even had time to crack an egg, he was at your doorstep with two cups of coffee in his hand.

From that point on, you and Pedro had become inseparable. You spent every moment that you could together. Whether it be at your house or his, you two became super close. Both of you knew you had feelings for each other but neither one of you was brave enough to admit it out loud. Then after a month apart since Pedro had to go out of town for work, he showed up at your door with a bouquet of flowers. There on your door step, he admitted his true feelings for you. How he felt so strongly for you and missed you every day that he was gone. That he couldn’t go another day without you being his. Before he could even finish expressing himself to you, you jumped into his arms and placed a deep kiss to his lips. You had never loved someone as much as you loved Pedro. It felt like you met your soulmate, and you weren’t going to let him go.

The last three years had gone by in a blink of an eye for you as it did move faster than any other relationship that you had been in, especially in the early stages. By the time your one month anniversary came, you two were already sleeping together and saying I love you to each other. Heck by the time your six month anniversary came, you were practically living with him. From the outside, your friends and family thought you two were crazy for how fast you were moving, but you two didn’t care. You were so in love that it just felt right to you.

That got you thinking though, maybe that’s why this fight had turned out to be so bad. In the entire time of your relationship, you hardly argued. If you did, then within a few minutes after it ended, you both would come running back to each other apologizing profusely. You couldn’t stand being mad at each other, so now what’s changed? Were you getting fed up with each other? At one point you thought that you had the entire world, but now, you felt so unsure. It felt like everything was now up in the air. You hoped that this surprise trip to your injured boyfriend would be enough to salvage your relationship.

As the plane landed and the passengers began to deplane, you grabbed the only bag that you brought with you and followed the hoard of people. You then as quickly as you could headed straight for the exit where your ride was waiting for you. Thankfully it didn’t take long to find her. It was Pedro’s sister Lux, the one that called you about his accident.

“Y/N over here!” she called out to you. As soon as you got close enough to her, she ran straight into your arms, “Oh Y/N, it’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you! Thank you for coming so quickly. My brother is going to be so happy to see you. He had been a grump since he got here.”

“I really hope so Lux and it’s so good to see you too. How is he?”

“He’s hurting but thankfully it’s just his shoulder and nothing too serious. They released him from the hospital a few hours ago. He is at my father’s house sleeping,” she updated you as you walked to her car.

“So, what exactly happened? All you said was that he fell.”

Lux just shook her head in disbelief, “I still can’t believe it myself. We were talking in the kitchen and then the next thing we knew, we heard a big boom and Pedro was at the bottom of the stairs. He couldn’t tell us what happened, and he couldn’t move his arm.”

“And the doctor’s what did they say?” You really hoped that his injury wasn’t going to be too bad.

Being a nurse, you had seen your fair share of shoulder injuries and had seen the range that they could vary. What you were really concerned with those was Pedro’s mental health. You knew that he would be beating himself up as this injury may affect his professional work. He had a busy schedule in the upcoming year with award shows and production on varies projects starting. You were so happy to see him finally get the recognition that he deserved. You just wished that you could be there to celebrate with him.

“Well, they think he may need to have surgery,” she sighed. “He may want a second opinion though. He damn near almost choked the doctor when he heard them say that. I know seeing you is really going to brighten his day. I was really shocked when he showed up alone. I thought you were going to split the holidays again.”

For the first two years of your relationship, you and Pedro compromised and decided to spend Christmas with one family and then New Years, with the other. This year, it was Pedro’s family to host Christmas. “Umm...yeah well, I don’t know if Pedro told you or not, but we decided that it would be best if we took some time apart away from each other. We umm...we had a pretty bad fight.”

You trusted Lux in telling her what was going on. Over the years, you two had gotten super closer to each other. You had been an only child, so she was closest thing to a sister that you had. In fact, you had grown close to all his family.

“I didn’t know you two had a fight. All he said was that this year, something came up and you weren’t able to come this year. That’s so strange though. You two never fight. In fact, I have never seen either of you even raise your voice at each other. What was the fight about?”

Tears began to fill your eyes as you recalled that night....

Pedro finally finished up in the bathroom and came to join you in bed. However, as he got under the covers and tried to pull you over to him, he was surprised to have you pull away from him. “Hey what was that for? What’s going on mi vida.”

You said nothing. You just rolled over to your side facing away with tears starting to fill your eyes. “Mi vida, Y/N, what’s going on? You know that you can tell me anything.”

“You...you lied to me,” you said quietly that he could barely hear you.

“I... I’m sorry what?”

“I said that you lied to me Pedro!” you shouted and got out of bed. “You...are a liar Pedro Pascal and that is something that I thought I would never say.”

Pedro’s eyes grew wide. He had never seen an outburst like this from you before, “Whoa, what the actual fuck Y/N. What the hell are you talking about?”

He got out of bed and tried to get to you, but you didn’t let him “No, you just stay back,” you yelled. “I know about Friday night Pedro. Were you stupid enough to think that I wouldn’t find out? The paparazzi follow you everywhere for crying out loud. I saw the pictures of you!”

Pedro just huffed and shook his head, “Really Y/N, this is what it’s about. So, what, I went out Friday to have some drinks with old friends. What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal? The deal is Pedro Pascal, that you lied to me about it! When I was leaving for work, you told me that you had no plans that night. Now I find that you did go out and that you were hugging up on some chick!”

“You...you’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned. “Please don’t tell me what I think you are inferring. Please tell me you don’t think that I’m cheating on you.”

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think Pedro? Did you plan this? Did you plan on hiding this from me?” tears stung your eyes as you threw the phone at him.

Pedro managed to dodge the phone as it hit the wall behind him, “Jesus Y/N what the hell! I didn’t lie to you okay. I had every intension of staying home, but then one of my old costars called saying that they were having a get together. I figured that since you were working yet again, I would go. I also am not cheating on you. I fucking love you okay. Yes, I know there were rumors about me and her back in the day, but nothing ever happened. We were surrounded by our friends the entire time. We were never alone together!”

“Oh, so now this is my fault, because I had to work. Well, I’m sorry that the hospital is short staffed Pedro. Besides, weren’t you the one encouraging me to work overtime?”

“Yes, and that was when I was working!” Pedro shouted at you. “I told you that you should work some more when I am not home, so you wouldn’t have to think about us being apart like you usually do. I don’t get why after I have been gone for months filming, you all of a sudden want to work more hours now. I’ve hardly seen you in the past two weeks.”

You couldn’t believe how selfish Pedro was acting right now. “Are you serious Pedro? So, you mean to tell me that when you leave to go work in another country, I have no choice but to be here all alone in this big empty house, but when you come home, I am not allowed to work. I have to be here with you, so you don’t feel the same way that I do when you leave. So, you do not get bored. I know things were easier when I was in nursing school because I was able to be home and work on homework and stuff, but now that I’m that working, I can’t just drop it all as soon as you walk in the door. I work in an environment where people’s lives are at stake.”

“I know that Y/N and I’m not asking you to give it all up. I know how hard you work and how much you love your job. All I’m asking is just to have some uninterrupted time with you. No work, no commitment, nothing. Next year is going to be super busy and I want us to spend as much time as we can with each other,” he sighed.

“And if I do manage to stop working overtime Pedro, what are we going to do then? Stay home?” you asked. “Stay cramped up in this house, door dashing date meals. Ever since this whole “Internet Daddy” thing started, we don’t even go out anymore. You don’t let us go out together anymore.”

That was true. In the beginning of your relationship, you were able to sneak in dinner dates, coffee trips, and the occasional vacation without being noticed by the public. But now that Pedro’s popularity blew up, cameras constantly caught his every move. It was a miracle with social media being what it was, that no one had a clue that he was dating. He made sure that you always took the proper precautions if you needed to go out.

“Yes, you are right, and I still stand by that decision Y/N. There is no way in hell am I putting you in the public eye. No, I will not do that to you. They will tear you apart. I have a lot on my plate already and I do not need to be constantly worrying about you. No, things are much simpler and safer if people don’t know about you,” he tried to convince you.

“But at what cost Pedro? You can’t keep us locked up in this house forever. It’s not healthy. Someone at some point is going to find out and then what? We deny that we know each other? Deny that we love each other? No, I refuse to do that. There are tons of actresses and actors that keep their wives and families out of the public eye yet can maintain a normal life. They aren’t afraid to go out and get seen. Why can’t we be like them? If you are worried that I can’t handle it, then I swear to you that I can. I can handle it Pedro,” you pleaded your case. You didn’t understand where this sudden fear of his was coming from. It wasn’t like him at all.

“Oh, like you handled seeing that picture?” he snapped back. “You really handle that like a champ.

You growled at the nerve of him trying to turn this around on you, “No, no Pedro, you do not get to do that. You do not get to use that on me. I don’t care that you went out. You can do as you please. What I am mad about is that I had to find out on the internet what my boyfriend has been up to. I would have never know that you went out if the pictures didn’t get released Pedro. I’m hurt that you didn’t even bring it up the next morning. I even asked how your night went and you said that it was fine. You always, even on set, tell me when you are going out. So why not this time? Was it because she was there? You two looked pretty cozy as you walked out of the restaurant with your arm around her waist!” you gave him a look that could kill.

“It was nothing Y/N! And I did not go there because she was going to be there. The reason why didn’t tell you was because I didn’t think that it was a big deal. I got the text at the last minute. I stayed for maybe an hour, two hours tops and that’s it. I came right back home and spent the rest of the night upstairs reading scripts and emails. The only reason why I walked her out and to her car, was because she was telling us about a stalker that she had. I just wanted to make sure that she got to her car safely. You know that I would have done that with anyone,” he just couldn’t understand how you couldn’t see that. Nothing else happened after that and it would never. Pedro loved you with all his heart and would never disrespect you or your relationship like that.

“The...the stalker thing, are...are you afraid that might happen to us? With me?” you asked shuddering at the thought of some stranger being completely obsessed with you.

Pedro’s face fell as the same thought came into his mind, “Yes in a way. People are crazy Y/N. you can never know what can happen. I’d rather keep you here safe, away from all of the craziness. Now can we please just forget about all this and go to bed. I don’t like fighting with you Y/N.” he tried to take a step closer to you and for a second, you let him.

However as soon as he got close enough to try to reach out for your hand and pulled you to him, you placed your hand on his chest to prevent you from being pulled closer, “I...I... I’m sorry Pedro, but I can’t. I just...I can’t get over how you are acting like this isn’t a big deal. I feel betrayed right now Pedro. I...I don’t think I can sweep this under the rug like that. I’m sorry.” You then walked over to the bed and grabbed your pillow and the quilt that was at the foot of the bed.

“Where...where do you think you are going?”

“I’m going to go sleep in the spare room Pedro. I...I just need time to think and calm down,” the pain and hurt that you were feeling was clear all over your face. You felt completely drained.

Pedro was right behind you hot on your heels as you made your way to the guest room, “So this is how we are going to start off the holidays Y/N. Everything up in the air now because of one picture that made you feel insecure....” As soon as that word left his lips, both of his hands flew to his mouth shutting himself up. He knew that he messed up. “Y/N, Y/N, mi vida, I’m sorry I didn’t mean...”

You didn’t care if you hit him with it, but you slammed the door right in his face. You couldn’t believe that he said that. You always thought of yourself as a strong woman, but for the first time, you felt so small, so little. Were you really being insecure? Were you really blowing this whole thing out of proportion, because of your sudden lack of self-esteem? You didn’t know, but you didn’t like what you feeling deep down inside you.

You both went to bed feeling angry and disappointed with how things played out. You both tossed and turned, plagued with nightmares and replaying the fight in your head. The next morning, you stayed locked away in the guest room. You were too scared and still annoyed with Pedro to face him. You only came out when you heard him leave. That gave you enough time to freshen up for the day, find your now cracked phone, and get something to eat. When you heard him come home, you rushed back to the guest bedroom and locked the door. You could hear him sigh on the other end of the door but couldn’t find it in your heart to open it.

“I stayed locked up in there for the rest of the day. When I finally did come out, we could hardly look at each other. I don’t know if it was anger, guilt or what, but we completely avoided each other. The next time we did speak, I told him a was going to my parents for Christmas and New Years and he said that was probably a good idea. We didn’t even see each other off the airport, we just left,” You sighed. “I... I don’t think we are going to make it Lux. Maybe we did rush into things like everyone said in the beginning. Maybe the honeymoon stage has finally come to an end, and we are as compatible as we thought.”

“No, no, do not say that Y/N. You two are meant for each other. I can see it in your eyes. Having one big fight doesn’t mean that it’s the end for you. Sometimes fights happen that you can’t avoid. Both of you had very valid points. Pedro should have been honest with you. I know for a fact that my big brother would never, ever, cheat on you. I just think he honestly didn’t see it as a big deal. I do agree that he should have mentioned something just in case you came home before he did or just to check in with you in case something happened, and you knew where he was. With that being said, he is an idiot for calling you insecure. I have half my mind to break his other shoulder. You are not insecure Y/N. You are entitled to your feelings, and he shouldn’t have invalidated them. You just have to look at things from his perspective. After the loss of well...you know, he has closed himself off in a way from every really truly loving someone. That was, until he met you Y/N. The past three years I have seen my brother grow so much. He truly, madly, deeply, loves you. I think part of him feels like if the stress of you two going public is too much for you, he may lose you in more ways than one. I don’t think he would survive that if that were to happen. I believe that you two can work this out Y/N. You just need to be completely honest with each other. We love you Y/N and we would really hate it if you and Pedro broke up. You just need to take things slow. I believe both of you will really grow from this.”

Thankfully at that point, you had pulled up to the Pascal family home. So as soon as the car was parked, you quickly undid your seatbelt and threw yourself into Lux’s arms, “Thank you Lux, for everything. I owe you more than you know. Your words mean so much. I promise you I will do my absolute best to work out things with Pedro. So much of what you said makes total sense. We both let things get out of control. We should have really listened to each other and saw where each other was coming from. I think we both invalidated each other. I hate to say it, but maybe him getting hurt is what may help us put everything into perspective and work things out.”

“See now that’s the spirit. You just gotta go into this positively and have an open mind. Now come on, let’s go see that boyfriend of yours,” Lux smiled brightly.

Walking into the Pascal Family home, it was still warm and welcoming like you remember. When Pedro first brought you there, you could remember how nervous and scared you felt, but as soon as his family welcomed you with open arms, you felt like you had been part of the family for years.

Following Lux to the kitchen, you smelled wonderful cooking on the stove. That’s when you saw Pedro’s father Jose come around the corner, “Oh Y/N, you made it! So glad that you could make it. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but I’m glad you are here.”

“Yes, I came quickly as soon as I could Mr. Pascal. There is no other place that I’d rather be. I am so thankful that Lux called me,” you said giving the older man a big hug.

“Well, I’m sure that son of mine will be very happy to see you. Lord knows that he could use the company. And please for the thousandth time, call me Jose,” he chuckled.

“You got it Jose. So how is he holding up?”

Jose frowned as he thought back at what happened, “He is okay for now. Poor guy gave us all a scare. I feel so horrible. He is upstairs sleeping now. Why don’t you go to him? It’s the first door on the right.”

Nerves suddenly overtook you as you nodded and headed towards the stares. You couldn’t help but have visions of Pedro lying at the bottom of them. Guilt then consumed you as you knew that you should have been here. Like he said, it was so dumb to pick a fight right before the holidays. You should have just calmly asked about the picture and the other stuff, well the other stuff should have waited.

Quietly opening the door, your heart broke as you saw the love of your life sound asleep. His poor arm being held closely to him by a sling. Walking over to the bed, you gently pulled the covers back, took off your shoes, and got in next to him. You carefully tucked yourself into the side of his good arm. His breathing was slow, and you could hear his heart beat under your ear as you rested your head on his chest.

Pedro must have sensed the pressure on his chest, because you felt him take a deep breath and let out a groan. Lifting your head, you saw those big brown eyes staring down at you. “Y/N...is...is that you?” he said hoarsely.

“Yes baby, it’s me,” you smiled and cupped his bearded cheek. “Lux called me and said that you took a spill. I took the first flight that I could get out here. You had me so worried.”

“I told no one to call you. I knew flights were going to be hard to come by. I wanted to call you myself when I was feeling better,” he pouted.

That damn pouty look of his was so adorable. You couldn’t help but lean up and place a small kiss on his lips. “Don’t be mad baby. I’m happy that someone called. Now you have your own personal nurse to help get you back to help.”

His pout turned in to a big smile as he got an idea, “Oh yeah huh? Do you think Santa will bring a naughty nurses outfit?”

“If you play your cards right mister, I think I can make something happen,” you then captured his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a little nibble.

When you pulled back, Pedro ran his hand through your hair and sighed, “I...I... I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry for everything. I apologize for not telling you about going out and I am so fucking sorry for calling you insecure. That was my anger talking, not the real me.” When you went to open your mouth, he gently placed a finger to your lips, “Please mi vida, just let me finish. I need to get all of this off my chest. I never meant for you to find out about the get together from the internet. I had every intention of telling you, but I forgot. Between packing, the holidays, and everything that I have to do next month, it really did slip my mind. I know I should have for peace of mind, should have sent a text letting you know what’s going on. I know that if I saw you in that position, I would have lost my shit too. I swear to Y/N nothing else happened that night. Me and her didn’t even speak that much. She was completely on the opposite of the table. I only really talked to her when she told us about the stalker and as soon as I walked her to the car, I came straight home. I love you with all my heart Y/N. I would never cheat on you. I would never jeopardize our future like that. And you are not insecure. That was an asshole thing to say, and I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you. You are the strongest woman that I know. You are the backbone of our relationship and the reason I keep going every day.”

“I love you too Pedro and thank you for apologizing. I need to apologize to you too,” you smiled through tear-soaked lashes. “And I’m sorry for not seeing your side or reason. I was filled with so much anger and feeling betrayed that I just had tunnel vision. My mind was only seeing things one way. I just that all I could see was how happy you too looked together and a big part of me wishes that it was me with you. I couldn’t help but feel like you are ashamed of being seen with me. I wished so badly that I was the one that you were parading around happily and the one that was making you smile that way. I know you are trying to protect me, Pedro. And I know that you have this fear of something really bad happening to me. As much as I still think we can and will be okay if we do make our relationship public, we can handle it. We would have each other to lean on. However, if you want to keep things quiet and keep things the way that they are, I am willing to do that. I know how important my safety and well-being are to you Pedro. Hell, we have been doing a pretty good job staying quiet the last three years, so why change it.”

Pedro reached out with his good arm and wiped the tears from your puffy face, “As much as I appreciate you doing that for me, mi vida, I had a lot of time to think things over and I realized that you are completely right. I have been being selfish and unfair to you. I have been putting my job and fears ahead of you and that’s not right. You have never asked me for a thing and the first time that you asked me to do something for you, I completely shut you down. It’s not that I’m ashamed to be seen with you Y/N. Like I said, it’s all been my fears controlling my every move with you, especially now. It was my fears that kept me from almost introducing myself to you and now that I have you, it’s my fears that are making me extremely overprotective of you. I’m just really scared that my fans or the media will come after you before they even have a chance to know you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. You do not deserve that. I just can’t shake this feeling that all the stress and negativity will become too much for you and something will happen. I can’t let that happen Y/N and I refuse to let that happen. I would never forgive myself for that. I can’t lose you Y/N.”

Now it was your turn to be the strong one and comfort him. You held his hand tightly, while running your other through his soft curls, “Pedro Pascal, love of my life, my future baby daddy, thank you for being honest with me. That’s all I wanted. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. You don’t know how thankful that I am that I found someone like you. You are the greatest lover, friend, and protector that I have ever had. Not a day goes by where I don’t feel safe where it’s in your arms or by the sound of your voice when you are away. That’s why I am not afraid to be seen in public with you. I know that no matter what may happen, good or bad, you will be right there with me to help guide me. I honestly think that it won’t be that bad. Sure, it may be chaotic in the beginning but at the same time, it may not. Your fans love you Pedro and while they might be a little sad that you are seeing someone, I’m sure that they will be happy for you. Apart of me just keeps thinking of what happens if we do slip up and get seen together. Don’t you think that it would be best if we get ahead of this ourselves versus having someone else do it and spread lies. Do this on our own terms?”

“But…but…would you really be okay with this though Y/N? I really need you to think. You would be giving up your privacy. These days people are going to find everything about you that they can on the internet. Are you ready to see every move we make, documented by social media? I need to know that you aren’t going to run or shut down at the first sign of trouble. I need to know that how you reacted to the picture won’t happen again.” If you both agreed to this, he knew that this was going to be the ultimate test to your relationship.

“Pedro, I promise you on everything that I am not going to run. I have thought this through, and this is what I want. I really don’t care what people say. All that matters to me is your opinion and your opinion only Pedro. I will be the only one who knows the real you and you are the only one who will know the real me. I really want to take this next step with you Pedro. I want to be that proud girlfriend and hopefully wife who gets to brag about how amazingly talented their partner is. I want to be the first hug and kiss when you win an award. I want to show everyone how I’m the lucky one to have you in my life. If you still aren’t sure about this Pedro, then like I said, I’m happy to keep things the way that they are. But what do you say baby, will you take this leap of faith with me?”

Fighting back his own tears, Pedro nodded his head. Still to this day, even three years later you still found a way to floor him, and he knew that you would continue to. You were so fucking incredible, and he got to call you his. He was still in disbelief that you gave him a shot. The thing that he loved about you and should have trusted in the beginning was how even after a fight, you found a way to be levelheaded and work things out. He never felt lost when you were with him. And even though you called to him to help guide you through the crazy waters that is the celebrity life, it was you that helped guide him though every life.

Every day you brought out the best in him. You gave him the inspiration to be the best man that he could be. Everything that he did, he did for you. He did everything that he could to make you proud. He tried to be that someone that you could proudly show off as the love of your life. He couldn’t believe that he had the potential to be your husband and father of your kids. Two things he didn’t think were ever going to be possible till he met you. You were everything that he could ever want, and you were everything that he could ever need. You were the one that he would take this leap with.

“I Pedro Pascal, would love nothing more than Y/N. You are right, no matter what happens, we will be in this together. You are remarkable Y/N and I think it’s time the world gets to know the woman that has captured by heart. Just at any point, please if things get too much, you need to tell me Y/N. All you have to do is say the word and I will do my best to shut it down. Can you promise me that Y/N? I’ll promise to be more open and understanding with you, if you promise to be open with me. This is the only way that it will work.”

“Yes Pedro, I promise you. We will get through this baby. I know we can,” you then carefully wrapped your arm around his good side and buried yourself into that strong neck of his. “I love you, Pedro Pascal. I love you so much.”

“I love you too Y/N, mi vida, with all my heart. And I make another promise to you here, right now. I will marry you Y/N and we will have as many kids as you want. Just say the word and I will get down on my knees. You deserve the world Y/N and I want to give it to you,” he muttered into your hair before placing a kiss on your head.

You pulled back slightly enough to rest your head on his, “I do have the world, Pedro. I have everything that I want and need right here.” You then leaned forward and pressed your lips against his.

Both of you moaned as soon as your lips met. These past few days that you were apart were brutal. Going days without speaking, cuddling, or kissing, was something that you never wanted to experience again. It wasn’t like when he was on set, and you couldn’t see him. No, this was way worse and both of you hated it.

Pedro couldn’t help but bring his hand up and run it down your side till he reached your backside. Giving it a rough squeeze, causing you to moan into his opened mouth, he pulled you close and deepened the kiss. But as he slipped his tongue in, he moved just enough to send a shot of pain running through his body, causing him to cry out in pain.

“Shit baby, are you okay?” you gasped and pulled away quickly.

He groaned, gritting his teeth and hunching over. “Just…just give me a minute.”

Never leaving his side, you sat there next to him making sure that you rubbed his back and peppered kisses on his good shoulder until the pain started to subside. “Just breathe baby, just breathe it out. I’m here, I’m here,” you whispered to him, running your hand through his sweaty hair.

“Th…thank you mi vida. Forgot that I can’t really move like it want to,” he sighed. “The umm…the doctors said that I fractured my shoulder. I may need to have surgery. I am such an idiot.”

“Hey, look at me,” you said sternly and lifted his chin to look at you. “You are not an idiot. Accidents happen Pedro. Do you remember what happened?”

“I…I just fell. I must have tripped and lost my footing. Next thing I know I’m at the bottom of the stair and everyone is running to me. My dad and sister took me straight to the ER. I can’t believe that I scared the shit out of everyone.” He could still see the petrified look on everyone’s faces, including his nephews.

You shook your head disappointedly, but you had warned him countless times to slow down when it came to stairs especially at your own house. “Jesus Pedro, you are so lucky that you didn’t break your neck. Have you called your doctor back home? Lux said something about a second opinion.”

“No, I haven’t called anyone yet. I just want to sleep and do all of that tomorrow,” he sighed leaning back into his propped-up pillows.

Your heart broke at seeing how much pain he was in. For being such a big man, at that moment, he looked so small. If you had the ability to take his pain away, you would. Instead, you were going to help him anyway that you could and nurse him back to health. “You sleep then baby. I’ll go downstairs and start getting everything sorted out. Do you need me to get you anything?”

Pedro nodded and looked up at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes, “Stay with me, mi vida. I know that plane ride wasn’t the most comfortable thing. You look exhausted. Take a nap with me?”

“Of course, baby, you don’t even have to ask twice. Let me just get out of these jeans first,” you told him as you stood up to strip them off and your sweater.

“That’s so not fair, mi vida. You just can’t get naked in front of me like that while I’m laid up here,” he pouted.

Rolling your eyes as you got back into bed, you couldn’t help but softly slap his chest, “I’m not naked and if even if I were and you weren’t hurt, we wouldn’t be doing anything in your father’s house naughty boy. No sex for a while I’m afraid. Last thing we need is for you to get more hurt because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

“That’s a chance I am willing to take mi vida,” he laughed and wrapped his arm around you as you cuddled into him. “I love you Y/N and thank you for coming to take care of your old man.”

“No need to thank me baby. There is no other place that I would rather be. Let’s just promise not to fight anymore, okay. And absolutely no more falling downstairs.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #hurt/comfort #injury #fluff #angst with a happy ending #romance

418 notes · View notes

sl-ut · 4 months

Text

new years eve

more college!abby

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PUBLISHED A WHILE AGO, BUT LIKE I MENTIONED BEFORE, A LOT OF SHIT CAME UP AND DIDN’T LET ME FINISH ANYTHING THAT I’VE BEEN WORKING ON. TYSM FOR YOUR PATIENCE, AND ENJOY!

also tysm to @princesssmars for giving me permission to steal her idea lol ily babe.

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!reader

description: abby invites y/n on her friends’ annual new years ski trip! five days of uninterrupted fun at a private chalet with abby, her friends, her ex boyfriend, and his current girlfriend who seems to have some kind of vendetta against them both.

warnings: UNEDITED, smut (not a lot tbh), swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, owen is really mean to reader, homophobia, a lot of sweet little moments between abby and reader

words: 7.4K

date posted: 07/01/24

Y/n knew she wasn’t exactly the most welcome on this trip, they didn’t even try to hide it. The only exception to this would be, of course, Nora, who’d been the one to set her up with Abby in the first place, and Manny, who genuinely seemed like the only one who didn’t seem bothered by her presence at all times. Not wanting to impose on a seemingly very strict tradition, Y/n initially declined her girlfriend’s offer to spend New Years Eve together in Aspen, which didn’t go over as well with Abby as she had expected.

“They don’t mind, really.” She tried to reassure her, only to be met with a knowing look, “Okay, a few of them feel that we shouldn’t bring people outside of our friend group, but think about it; Owen and Mel are both going, Leah is bringing Jordan…” Then came the ultimatum of, “No, if you don’t go, I don’t go.”

The threat was more than what Abby’s words even said. The cabin belonged to Abby’s grandparents, and were more than enthusiastic about their sole grandchild using it with her friends over the holidays, but were stern with the condition that Abby was not to let them go up and destroy it. To summarise, if Abby didn’t go, nobody did, and Y/n was certain that her friends would hate her less if she joined them than if she caused the entire trip to be cancelled.

So there she was on the twenty-ninth of December, tightly belted into the front seat of Abby’s Bronco on the road to Aspen. The drive wasn’t terrible, only a few hours from Abby’s childhood home just outside of Salt Lake city, though Abby made it sort of enjoyable by making a road-trip playlist and barely taking her large hand away from her girlfriend’s thigh throughout the remainder of the journey.

The chalet was more than Y/n even had the ability to imagine. It looked like it was straight out of a movie; high ceilings, wooden panelling lining the entire interior, large windows looking out over a snow-covered valley, all that was missing was for the pair of them to snuggle up together in front of the wide stone fireplace, which was bound to happen at some point over the holiday. As she ran her fingertips over the glazed butcher block counters, she was thankful that the others wouldn’t be arriving until the next day, giving them more time to fulfil the fantasies that had been racing through her mind since setting foot inside the chalet.

Abby was eager to give the full tour, looking delightfully in-place in her tight jeans and cream coloured cable knit sweater. She left no room or corner alone, using little anecdotes and stories from her childhood to help her feel more at home, and finishing by explaining exactly how she would fuck her in each and every room. Y/n laughed and brushed it off in the moment, but came to realise that she was dead serious when she could barely move her legs to crawl out of bed the next morning.

The sweet bliss was finally interrupted by the rest of the crew making their arrivals. First came Leah and Jordan, who immediately rushed to the next biggest room and then made their way to the jacuzzi on the deck. Then came Manny and Nora, who couldn’t seem to get to the kitchen fast enough, before finally, Mel and Owen quietly made their way in, offering silent greetings to their friends before going straight to their bedroom, which didn’t seem to bode well with Mel, who’s complaints carried through the entire ventilation system of the house.

The others seemed to have no patience for their drama, all clearly picking up on the fact that they must have fought the entire drive, as well as the thick tension that filled the room whenever they were both present. Instead, they all gathered in the kitchen for a late lunch and began pouring drinks, loud laughter overwhelming the hushed argument escaping the vent. Y/n was a little surprised to see that even Abby had reached for a second beer, the merriment in the kitchen and the overall excitement for the holiday seeming more important to her in that moment than her otherwise strict fitness regimen, though she really didn’t mind. In fact, she sort of liked the way that she had been looser than she normally would have been, gliding her hands across Y/n’s body without care, laughing along carelessly to jokes that she normally would’ve only chuckled at. She was more open with the group, and made sure to keep Y/n involved in the conversation even when the others talked over top of her.

The atmosphere felt warm, like they were spending time with their closest family members. Manny showed off his mixology skills, which were mediocre at best, while Nora and Abby whipped up a luxurious rendition of pasta with a side salad, all of which seemed to disappear in a matter of minutes, leaving barely enough for both Mel and Owen to split between themselves once they finally re-emerged from their shared bedroom.

The sun was beginning to set early, thanks to the shorter days of winter, leaving poor Manny no other option but to wait until morning until he could finally hit the slopes. Instead, he found interest in offering constant refills to everyone in order to, as he put it, boost morale. Abby had taken the initiative to cut herself off, wanting to make sure she still had her wits about her while also being able to relax, and made sure to warn Y/n about Manny’s drinks.

“He calls himself a mixologist,” She’d whispered into her girlfriend’s ear, “But I’d say he’s more of a wizard. He makes drinks so strong, but somehow covers up the taste of the liquor.”

That was the first and final time that Y/n ignored a warning from Abby, soon enough finding herself stumbling out the door in just her bathing suit, ears completely deaf to everyone’s questions of concern for the nearly naked girl in the cold weather as she clambered into the jacuzzi. She grinned, watching as Abby followed closely behind her, along with Manny, Nora, and Leah.

She snuggled up against Abby’s side, relishing in the weight of her thick bicep around her shoulder as she only half-listened to whatever Nora was trying to fill her in on, and babbling on about some nonsense that no one really had much interest in hearing, but they all listened in and responded as if she were telling the most interesting tale to ever exist.

Once Leah and Nora took over the conversation, she turned to stare up at her girlfriend with glossy eyes, grinning stupidly at the mere sight of her face.

“What?” Abby laughed when she finally took notice.

Y/n shrugged, answering as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Nothing, just thinking about how much I love you.”

Abby’s already flushed cheeks darkened, but she was quick to press a longing kiss to her forehead and return the sentiment lovingly.

“No,” Y/n frowned, “You don’t understand, I love you. I love how smart you are, I love how you make me laugh, I love how you make me feel loved, I love how you make me feel.”

Abby glanced around at the others to ensure that they weren’t overhearing this intimate conversation. Thankfully, Manny was too wrapped up in making sure that Nora was correctly recounting the time that he successfully hooked up with his TA and bumped his grade up.

“I love your abs, and your big beefy arms.” Y/n continued, leaning her head back against the bulging muscle to emphasise her point, “I love your fingers, too. And of course I love your face, and your pretty eyes, and your nose–God I love your nose, I just wanna sit on it–”

All conversation seemed to stop as the patio door creaked open, all heads turning in surprise to see Owen standing in the doorway, swimming trunks hanging low on his hips and a towel slung over his shoulder.

“Room for one more?”

Manny was the first to break the silence, “Of course, man. We all thought you guys were just calling it for the night.”

The blond furrowed his brow, “What, you guys really thought you could replace me so easily?”

The words were so obviously aimed at his ex-girlfriend and the girl curled into her side, and if she hadn’t been so intoxicated, this probably would have been enough to send Y/n off the rails when it came to Owen. Instead, Abby took the reins in order to diffuse the situation.

“Are you gonna get in or are you gonna keep on bitching, Moore?”

He looked equally as pleased and displeased with her dual-sided tone, both wanting to keep things light while also warning him not to start anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” He tossed his towel to the side and climbed in, taking a seat next to Leah and directly across from Abby. “Whatever.”

The group sat in silence for a few moments before Y/n finally chimed in, “Where’s Mel? Is she coming down?”

He seemed to be visibly annoyed by either the question or by her, probably both. “She’s upstairs, not feeling too well.”

“Oh,” She nodded along, “That’s too bad, I think she really would’ve liked whatever drink Manny just made me.”

Manny grinned at the credit, “I call it, dulce peligro.”

Nora snorted, “Sweet danger? That’s a little on the nose, even for you, don’t you think?”

“Hey, when you start mixing up drinks like that, then you get a say, ‘kay?”

Owen’s stern tone cut through the playful nature of their bickering, “Not likely. None of us really come up here and get sloshed anymore, I guess we’ve all just matured past that.”

Embarrassment crept up her throat, causing tears to spring into her eyes from his clear disapproval of her current state. Nora and Leah shared an uncomfortable stare, both seemingly ready to grab Abby before she could make a move against him, her disbelief and anger so clear on her face.

“Well I definitely haven’t,” Manny chuckled awkwardly, “Besides, the holidays are the only time of the year where it's actually encouraged to get shitfaced.”

“Yeah,” Nora jumped in, “The night’s still young, and most of us probably aren’t even gonna remember tonight.”

Their words had obviously been a mere attempt at bringing comfort to the younger girl, whose face betrayed the insecurity that was very rapidly eating away at her drunken confidence from the inside out. Her eyes had become even glossier, and her heaving breaths made it clear that she was on the verge of tears.

“No,” She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, “He’s right, I think it’s time I put myself to bed.”

Abby grabbed her hand as she stood up, carefully stepping over her girlfriend’s legs and onto the steps that lead out onto the deck, “Hey, hey, don’t go yet. You’re having fun.”

Y/n could tell she was trying to keep her cool, not wanting to put the other three of her friends in the position of hearing her and Owen fighting once again. She shook her head, stepping out onto the pine floor and wrapping herself in the fluffy white robe that Abby had brought out for her, “I’m tired, I might go take a shower and then just go to bed.”

Abby nodded, standing from her own seat and moving to climb out after her, “Alright, I’m gonna hit the hay too, guys.”

“Aww,” Nora whined, “Guys don’t go yet.”

“Stay,” Y/n turned to Abby, offering a weak smile, “I’m just… tired. You don’t have to come to bed yet.”

“Let me walk you up,” She was practically begging at this point, wanting to comfort her girlfriend when she was so obviously upset.

“C’mon Abs, she’s a big girl. I’m sure she can go to sleep without being tucked in for just one night.”

Abby scowled at him, turning to him with intent as she growled at him, “What the hell is your problem?”

It was true, as bad as Owen usually was when Y/n was around, he was usually only passive aggressive, but now he was just being downright mean. If Abby hadn’t already gone to hell and back trying to convince her friend to let Y/n come (even though she really didn’t give them a choice), Y/n wasn’t about to let the whole vacation be ruined by her pride, choosing to allow Owen’s words to slide rather than biting back as she usually would.

“Abs, it’s okay,” Y/n tried again.

“No I don’t think-”

Nora was the next person to step out of the tub, “You know, I’m starting to get a little pruny anyways, so why don’t I help her to bed?”

Abby appeared annoyed at Nora’s intrusion, but allowed her to pull Y/n away from the situation and back into the chalet, leaving Leah and Manny to face the intense staredown between her and Owen before they, too, fled the scene, allowing the real fighting to start.

Hardly an hour had passed since Y/n had curled herself into bed, not even bothering to get herself ready at all aside from removing her bathing suit and snuggling back into the fluffy robe, leaving her surprised when her light sleep was broken by the feeling of the mattress sinking next to her. Abby looked tired, irritation clear on her face as she slumped against the headboard with a quiet sigh. Her eyes softened as she turned to glance at her girlfriend, an apologetic smile crossing her features when their eyes met.

“Sorry baby, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S okay,” Y/n’s words were slurred with sleep, “‘M sorry too.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Owen’s just being a…he’s being a stupid prick.”

Y/n pushed herself up, scooching across the mattress to snuggle into her girlfriend’s side as sighing at the comforting weight of her arm around her shoulder, “I know but… I don’t know. I guess I can see why he’s annoyed. I’m not one of you guys, I know how I would feel if one of my friends invited their partners to join our traditions.”

“It’s not even about that, it’s–” she cut herself off, a deep frown cutting into her cheeks, “It’s nothing. Let’s just forget it.” She hugged Y/n tighter to her chest, pressing a long kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Y/n lifted her head, concern filling her at her girlfriend’s tone, “Is something wrong? Did something happen with Owen?”

Abby looked alarmed, “What–No, no. Nothing happened. I promise.”

“Good,” Y/n nuzzled her head back into her shoulder, “‘Cause I’ll kick his ass.”

Abby snorted, “I’m sure you would. Now go back to sleep, I’m gonna go take a shower and I’ll be back.”

Y/n whined, “Are you punishing me or something?”

Abby cocked her head in confusion.

“No invitation?”

A knowing smirk appeared on the blonde’s lips, “I don’t know if you know what you’re asking for here, baby.”

Y/n pushed herself away from Abby, crawling to stand at the foot of the bed as she slowly backed up towards the bathroom, hips swaying seductively as she untied her robe and let it slowly glide down her arms until it hit the floor with a soft thud, leaving her bare for her girlfriend’s viewing pleasure. She bit her lip, fluttering her lashes as she whispered a response, “I think I do.”

Abby grinned, moving faster than Y/n’s brain could even register to race towards her and haul her body over her shoulder as she rushed into the large ensuite. She reached the shower, turning the water on to allow it to heat up for a few moments before she placed her girlfriend onto the marble countertop.

Y/n’s brain swirled with pleasure as the seconds ticked by, the room slowly heating up as steam curled around the glass wall of the insanely oversized shower, feelings only heightened from the bit of alcohol still in her system and her girlfriend’s hands and lips roaming around her body.

“Abs,” she gasped out as her fingers massaged her inner thigh, “I think the water’s ready.”

Despite her previous flurry of attention, Abby seemed to have settled down the moment that they set foot in the shower, relishing in the casual intimacy of carefully washing each other’s hair, lathering one another in a foamy vanilla scented body wash, and just holding each other under the hot water. After all was said and done, Abby pulled her back against her chest, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other curling around her shoulders to hold her in place. Y/n leaned her head back, staring up at the taller blonde with droopy eyelids.

“I love you too.”

“Huh?”

Y/n giggled, “I never said it back earlier, so I am now.”

Abby shook her head, leaning down to press a kiss to her soft lips, “I love you more.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you to the moon and back ten times.”

“Well I love you times infinity!”

“Infinity?” Abby whistled, tightening her arms around her, “Don’t know if I can beat that.”

Scoffing in mock offence, Y/n turned her head to sink her teeth into the meaty bulge of Abby’s bicep, just biting hard enough to leave the faintest of teeth marks in her burning skin.

“Hey!” Abby grunted, twirling her around to face her, “I bring you on this nice vacation, I make you dinner, I drive you around, I rock your world whenever you ask,” her face grew closer with every statement, “And this is the thanks I get?”

Y/n squealed at the feeling of her fingers digging into her sides, leaning up to press their foreheads together, “I suppose you’re right, I’m sorry.” Her hands moved from their places on her biceps, gliding up her slick skin to her neck, then down over her chest, one finding purchase on one of her toned breasts, the other pressing into her firm abdomen, massaging the protruding muscles appreciatively, “Can I make it up to you?”

Abby didn’t respond, instead gripping the back of her head and slamming their lips together, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, though the fight was over within seconds as Abby forced her girlfriend into submission. She allowed her to press her against the wall, her shorter frame pressing against her so tightly that it would seem they were connected, then seemingly made the move to flip them around until Y/n pulled back.

“Nuh-uh, I’m making it up to you, remember?” Her hand slid even lower, resting against her lower belly just above the thick patch of blonde curls between her legs.

“Baby, you don’t have to–oh,” Her words came to a halt as her fingers grazed against her clit.

It was a fight that they had on the regular, Abby always feeling like she had to be on the giving end, and not the receiving. To be quite fair, there was never a time where Abby didn’t finish during sex with Y/n, but she seemed to be determined to only allow it happen either against the harness of her strap or directly against Y/n’s own centre. Hell, they’d been seeing each other for almost two months before she even let Y/n go down on her for the first time. She was a giver, and tended to find pleasure in giving, but was growing to enjoy the aspect of receiving just as much.

“Just let me,” Y/n whispered against the wet skin of her neck, lips pressing against her jugular with an indescribable softness. “Can I? Please?”

After finally receiving the green light, Y/n wasted no time in dropping to her knees, nudging Abby’s feet apart as she slid her hands over her thick thighs, lips and tongue gliding along the trembling muscles until the tip of her nose was met with the coarse hair covering her pubis.

A soft grunt fell from Abby’s lips at the contact, chuckling at the feeling of her girlfriend’s nose prodding even further inwards, poking at her clit.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Y/n murmured, mouth barely parting from the skin of her inner thigh as she spoke, carefully scooching in closer as Abby complied, even slinging one of her calves over her shoulder to offer better access. “Thank you.”

Abby laughed, “Look at you, on your knees for me and still so polite. Such a good girl.”

Y/n moaned at the words, finally moving her mouth to drag her tongue up the entire length of Abby’s cunt, whining at the taste of Abby’s dripping nectar. She twirled her tongue around her engorged clit, dragging the muscle over the bundle of nerves, encouraged by Abby’s moans and the grip she had on the back of her head.

“Right there,” The blonde gasped, bucking her hips against her face, pressing her hand even more firmly against the base of her skull. “Yeah, right fucking there. Shit.”

Then the real moaning started. What had begun as muffled grunts had quickly developed into breathy cries of pleasure, the only words falling from her lips being drawn out curses or punchy words of praise.

Y/n prodded her tongue around the opening of her core, poking inside shallowly, hardly able to slip inside with how tightly she was clenching. Chuckling, Y/n drew her middle finger against the opening, “Relax for me, Abby.”

At her words, the muscles of her core almost immediately relaxed, easily accepting the intrusion of her finger with eagerness, walls clamping down as she added her ring finger. She pulled her face away for a moment, pumping her fingers in and out with precision as her fingertips easily found purchase against the spongy flesh that caused her eyes to roll back in her skull.

Y/n grinned, pressing her lips against the thigh that had rested over her shoulder. She would never be able to recover from this view that she was so rarely able to see; Abby’s head tilted back, eyes hooded and lips parted as she whimpered out soft praises, small breasts heaving with each breath and her nipples pebbled with arousal. There was something about having somebody so big and strong at her disposal that she simply couldn’t get enough of, knowing that in a simple movement, Abby could have her at her disposal before she could even protest, the idea that someone like Abby, who took such pride in her dominance, was willing to give it up just for her.

Feeling the tell-tale fluttering of her inner walls, Y/n quickened the pace of her fingers and returned her mouth to its rightful place on her clit, sucking and licking so gently in comparison to the fast pace of her fingers.

Abby came with a shout, hand forcing Y/n’s face impossibly closer to her core as she continued to pump her fingers, fucking her through the orgasm until she felt her walls slacken. She removed her fingers, and with one last kiss to her inner thigh, she pulled away. Abby moved her leg, reaching down and yanking her girlfriend up to slam their lips together, whimpering at the musky taste of her own cum.

“God, I’m gonna marry you,” Abby murmured against her mouth, drawing soft giggles from both of them.

“Not if I marry you first.”

Abby rolled her eyes as she reached past Y/n, turning the water off and scooping her up in a single movement, “Everything’s gotta be a competition with you, huh?”

Y/n giggled, hooking her ankles at the base of Abby’s spine and wrapping her arms around her neck, “Well, not everything.”

“Yeah? So you’re not gonna try and fight me when I have my way with you?”

Y/n kissed her again, “As long as you don’t make me wait, I’m impatient.”

Abby tossed her on the mattress, completely unconcerned about the fact that she was still dripping wet from the shower. She crossed the room, opening the top drawer of the dresser and fishing around for a moment before she found her target. Y/n watched in awe as Abby skillfully slid the harness up her legs, tightening it just enough that it wouldn’t slip as she turned, revealing the thick blue dildo hanging from her pelvis.

“Why don’t you just lay there and be a good girl for me, heh?”

When Y/n woke up the next morning, she was stiff, but who wouldn’t be after being bent in every imaginable position for over an hour?

It was nearly twelve o’clock by the time her eyes finally cracked open, and she was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that she was alone in the bed. She was dressed in only one of Abby’s lacrosse sweatshirts, and tucked snugly into the blankets and a note set neatly on the pillow next to her own.

Went out to the slopes, be back soon. Love you.

Y/n sighed, tossing the note aside as she glanced around the room, noticing that Abby must have tidied up a bit before she left, everything that had been knocked over or thrown across the room in the early hours of the morning having been set neatly back in place. Y/n would have preferred to stay in bed a while longer, but her throbbing headache demanded that she go downstairs and consume as much coffee and aspirin as possible without needed medical attention (luckily for her, she has a sexy pre-med girlfriend on standby).

After cleaning herself up some and tidying her hair (and cursing herself for not doing her entire hair routine while it was wet) and sliding a pair of sweatpants up her legs, she shuffled down the wooden staircase to face the few stragglers that stayed behind.

In the kitchen, she found Nora, who seemed like she had just returned, still dressed in her snowpants as she stood at the kitchen counter stirring her coffee. The dark-haired girl turned her head at the sound of Y/n coming down the stairs, a grin appearing on her face at the sight of the sleepy girl.

“Morning sunshine!” She chuckled, glancing over at the large grandfather clock quickly, “You just won me ten bucks, gorgeous. Manny said you’d be out for the count until the afternoon.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows, shaking her head as she made her own cup of coffee and swallowed two tablets of aspirin. She took up one of the tall stools opposite Nora, quickly taking a mouthful of her drink.

“You come back alone?”

Nora shrugged, “Yeah, once Abby and Manny start making everything a competition I count myself out.”

Y/n nodded her head, a knowing smile crossing her features. She, too, has fallen victim to the pissing contests between those two.

“Was it just you three?”

She pursed her lips, slowly shaking her head, “No, uh, Owen joined kinda last minute. Hey, did Abby tell you anything about last night? Manny said they sort of went after it after we left, but he and Leah kinda made a run for it.”

“No, she didn’t,” Y/n frowned, “She seemed a little worked up when she came to bed, but she didn’t really say much.”

A smirk appeared on Nora’s lips, “Yeah, we all heard how worked up she was.”

The blood drained from Y/n’s face, realisation dawning on her face. She thought she had made some kind of effort to keep herself quiet the night before, but to be fair, she had been intoxicated and Abby had made her come three times with just her tongue before even thinking of putting the strap to work.

“Gotta say, I never pictured Abby being a little freaky, I never even would have imagined some of the shit she was saying to you. It had me blushing.”

Y/n buried her face in her hands, wincing at the burning temperature of her skin. Had they all heard it? She’d been so worried about imposing herself on this trip that she hadn’t even considered the consequences of any alone time that she and Abby would have together. She supposed it was bound to happen; The chalet wasn’t that big, and the vents connected every room together, and even knowing that every other person on the vacation had witnessed their very active and intense sex life, she couldn’t find it within herself to regret it at all. The light purple bruises on her neck were a testimony to the way her night ended, and with Owen around, she would proudly wear them.

The front door swung open, the entire house immediately being filled with the energetic and boisterously loud voice of Manny, obviously still hyped up from his seemingly long session on the slopes. When his gaze fell on Y/n, he hurriedly glanced down at his watch, scowling as he read the time as 11:59, indicating that he had lost the bet. His disappointment was not long-lasting, however, grinning mischievously and wiggling his brows at her as Abby appeared behind her, arms resting on the counter on either side of her body and caging her in, skin cold to the touch through her thin long-sleeve shirt.

“Jesus, Abigail,” He whistled, “What did you do to her? The poor girl looks like she got mugged.”

“Fuck off,” The blonde groaned, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend’s head and chuckling as Y/n raised her middle finger in his direction.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Manuel.” She hummed, leaning back against Abby’s chest.

Manny seemed surprised at her bold response, turning to the taller girl with a smirk as he continued to tease them.

“That’s enough Manny, I already gave her hell for interrupting my beauty sleep,” Nora added, taking a long sip from her mug.

“Please,” Abby rested her chin on the top of Y/n’s head, “I’ve lived with both of you before, I can’t even count how many times I had to sleep with earplugs in.”

Nora shrugged, “What goes around, comes around I suppose.”

Abby’s body stiffened when Owen appeared next to Manny, his blue eyes narrowing in on the pair across the counter. It didn’t surprise her in the least that Owen would be bothered by their late night activities; Abby had once disclosed to her early on in their sexual relationship that she had very little experience in anything beyond the basics. With Owen, things were quite vanilla, and there was little said and there was almost no experimentation, so it would make sense that he felt a bit dejected at the idea that the woman he was still so obviously in love with was now in a much healthier and more adventurous relationship with someone else.

Abby squeezed Y/n’s shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “I think I’m gonna go up to the room for a bit, maybe watch a movie and take a nap, if you wanna join me.”

Y/n nodded immediately, excited at the idea of going back to bed, hopping off of the stool and letting Abby lead her upstairs by the hand.

She curled up in the bed, constructing a nest of pillows and blankets on top of the comforter and tucking herself in under a lighter fleece blanket. Abby appeared out of the bathroom, now dressed in a pair of sweats and a tight-fitting t-shirt, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She chuckled when she spotted the structure that had been erected on top of the bed.

“What movie did you pick?” She asked, carefully climbing in next to her girlfriend and snuggling up against her.”

Y/n glanced up at her, “The Holiday. Thought it was fitting.”

A few minutes into the film, Y/n could hardly even hold her eyes open, rolling over to lay on her belly and nuzzle her face into the crook of Abby’s neck. She glanced up at her girlfriend, admiring the way that the flickering colours from the screen were being projected on her face, light catching on her features and causing her rosy cheeks to glow. Abby turned her head, staring down at her with a fond smile.

“What?” She asked, fingers gracing Y/n’s cheek softly.

“Just looking,” She mumbled, “You’re so pretty.”

Abby scoffed, “Says you.”

“Says me,” Y/n agreed, “If anyone else says that, I’ll kill them. Except for your grandmother.”

Abby laughed, “Yes, I would prefer if you didn’t kill Nana, thank you.”

Y/n pressed her lips to the underside of her jaw, “Is everything good between you and Owen?”

“You want everything to be good between us?” Abby raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged, “You know how I feel about Owen, but he’s your friend, and I don’t wanna be the cause of some drama between you if I can help it. Nora said you guys had a fight last night.”

Abby sighed, her arms tightening around her girlfriend’s figure, “I don’t like the way he talks about you. The thing is, when I broke up with him, I was honest with him and he seemed to be okay with it. But since you and I started dating, he seems to be bothered by it. Last night, he was drunk, and he said some pretty nasty stuff about us, mostly about me, honestly.”

“So what, he’s mad that you’ve moved on with someone else, or he’s mad that you’ve moved on with a girl?”

“Not sure,” Abby shook her head, “I don’t–I just wanna move past it. I don’t care what he thinks, and neither should you. If it comes down to you and him, I'm picking you every time.”

Y/n leaned up, nudging Abby’s curved nose with her own before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, “I love you.”

Abby smiled, kissing her again, “I love you too.”

This time, when Y/n woke up, she was still curled tightly against Abby’s chest. She was thankful, smiling softly as she nuzzled closer to her warmth and simply just laid there contentedly until a loud banging sounded from their bedroom door.

“Wake up, you lazy perras,” Manny shouted through the wooden door, “It’s time to party!”

Y/n had quickly come to realise over the few days at the chalet that Abby’s friends took New Year’s Eve very seriously. Her eyes had grown three sizes at the sight of the mountain of booze that they had all collected to share amongst the group on the one night. Each of them had expressed their excitement for the holiday, even Mel, who had hardly interacted with her the whole time they’d been there.

It was torture to pull themselves out of the little nest they’d made, but they knew that Manny would be back in a matter of minutes if they weren’t out of bed soon, and he would be much less friendly the second time. Taking a few moments to wake themselves up, both girls finally crawled out of bed and began to get themselves ready for the evening, knowing that Leah, Nora, and Mel would be wanting to take and post pictures from the little party on any social media platform that they could get their hands on.

They were both offered drinks immediately upon entering the kitchen, discovering a large bowl of punch sitting in the middle of the large island, apparently having been a concoction made by Jordan and Manny, which became quite obvious once Y/n took a small drink and discovered that it was probably closer in form to a toxic chemical than any kind of enjoyable beverage, but for the sake of the holiday, she continued to take small sips of the drink, quickly followed up by a much more enjoyable Diet Coke.

They spent the evening playing drinking games, watching movies, and exposing each other’s most embarrassing moments until late in the evening, though Y/n decided to cap herself at the one drink, considering the night she’d had the night before, and instead accepted the edible offered to her by Nora, who had also been put off of liquor by the hangover she’d had that morning.

Y/n could admit that the small get-together felt much more intimate and enjoyable to her than attending a larger party, as she likely would have done if Abby had not invited her. Even those who did not overly like Y/n seemed glad to have her there, except for Owen, of course.

Even Mel had entertained some conversations with her and had invited her to jump into some pictures with her and the other girls, the alcohol making her much friendlier than usual. Y/n’s feelings towards Mel were never set in stone. From time to time, she was very nice to her, but the majority of the time, she seemed completely uninterested in her being there. Of course, Y/n could understand it, to a degree; If Abby acted the same way that Owen did when she was around, Y/n would feel the same way, and he apparently hadn’t started acting that way until Y/n came around.

Y/n couldn’t help but keep a watchful eye on the two figures out on the deck, doing her best to not make it obvious, feeling the need to protect her girlfriend from any more hurt, especially after hearing what sort of things that Owen had said to her the night before. They’d only been out there for about ten minutes after Owen had asked her to talk in private, offering an overly sympathetic look to both Abby and her girlfriend, who’d been reluctant to let her go on her own, especially since he had been drinking quite heavily all evening.

In truth, Owen had immediately apologised for what he’d said the night before, shocking the blonde with his words. Normally, Owen was a proud man, never apologising to anyone unless he knows that it might offer him something in return.

“Really,” He had cleared his throat, obviously hesitant and uncomfortable, “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt you, it’s just…You don’t know how hard it’s been.”

“Hard?” Abby repeated, “What’s been so hard for you, Owen?”

He scowled, “Seeing you happy, with someone else–with her.”

She scoffed, “So it is about her. Tell me, if I was dating another man, would you have this issue?”

“Yes!” He looked appalled, “Seriously–how are you trying to turn this into that sorta thing. You know I’m not like that.”

“Do I?” She pressed, “How many times have I heard you use the f slur in passing, or couldn’t stop staring at two girls holding hands in public? You may not realise it all the time, but you are like that, and I can’t just sit back and let you treat someone I love like that.”

He paused, “You love her?”

She nodded.

“I just–I don’t get it. How can you be…you were never like that with me. We were happy, I thought you loved me.”

Abby stared at him incredulously, “I did. Part of me always will, and you know that, but I’m not sure I was ever in love with you.”

That seemed to set him off, “So I was just…what to you? A plaything? An experiment?”

“Owen,” she growled, “You’re the one who started dating someone else only a week after we broke up, and not just anyone, but Mel. The one person who you always told me not to worry about, that you two were just good friends. Now look at you two, you act like an old married couple.”

“I don’t love Mel.” He stated, like it was a blatantly obvious statement. “I love you.”

Abby laughed, pushing herself away from the railing harshly, “You’re drunk, Owen.”

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back into him before she could stomp away, forcing his lips onto hers in a fury of passion. His hand gripped the back of her head, holding her in place as she fought against him. Finally, she sank her teeth into his bottom lip, not relenting until she could taste the iron of his blood and he was forcing her away.

“Fuck!” He swore, reaching up to nurse his bleeding lip, though he was given very little time to recover as Y/n practically flew past Abby and swung her fist into his jaw. He stumbled backwards from the force, flood now running down his chin and neck, “You stupid bitch.”

Abby stepped between the two as he lunged at the shorter of the two girls, shoving him down onto the deck as the others came rushing out after Y/n. She scowled at him, crouching ever so slightly to meet his gaze, “Don’t you ever put your hands on her, or me, ever again.”

She turned to face her girlfriend, hands cradling her now swollen fist and running her thumb over the cracked and bleeding skin over the knuckles, “You okay?”

Y/n lifted her good hand up to swipe at the lip on Abby’s lower lip, tears leaking down her cheeks, “Are you?”

She nodded, pressing her bloody lips to Y/n’s forehead briefly, taking one final look at the man on the floor, who seemed to be in shock and finally realising what he had done, glancing between the two women standing over him, to his friends who all seemed nothing short of disgusted with him, and finally, his girlfriend, who could barely stand to offer him anything more than a fleeting glance. Abby shook her head. She never wanted this, she would have been more than content to keep Owen in her life as a friend, but there was very little that could recover him in her eyes, and she knew that he would never be able to accept her or the woman she loved. She hoped that, at some point in the future, he might come to his senses, but until then, she decided that he would no longer be regarded as one of her best friends, as he previously had been.

She led her girlfriend back inside, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer before guiding her up the stairs and to their bedroom. Abby pushed her to sit on the edge of the mattress, lowering herself to kneel in front of her. She gingerly pressed the ice to her knuckles, shushing her when she whimpered at the sudden cold.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered, “None of this would’ve happened if I didn’t come on this trip.”

“Stop apologising. It’s no one’s fault but his, for being a homophobic prick, and my own, for putting up with it for so long.”

It was quiet for a moment before a giggle escaped from Y/n’s lips, “I told you I would kick someone’s ass for you.”

“That’s really all you got out of this?” Abby laughed, her radiant smile breaking through her otherwise stony expression.

“That,” Y/n leaned down, “And that I love you.”

“I thought you already knew that.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “I did, but this was my proof that I wasn’t joking about it.”

She leaned down, hands cupping Abby’s defined jaw in her hands, holding her just as softly as one might hold a newborn as she pressed a kiss to her lips. When she pulled back, she glanced at the alarm clock on the dresser, smirking as she pressed another kiss to her lips and mumbled against her.

“Happy New Year, baby.”

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #abby anderson #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #college!abby anderson

333 notes · View notes

eddiesxangel · 4 months

Note

Okay last request of the year.

Eddie kissing reader on new year’s eve and it’s her first kiss💞

The Stroke of Midnight | Eddie Munson x Reader

Wc: 942 cw: alcohol and fluff

Here you were, New Year’s Eve, at Steve’s. Single. Surrounded by couples. Everyone had been paired off. Every. Single. Person.

Robin and Vicky. Steve and Nancy. Hell, even all the kids had their little relationships. And here you were, an hour until midnight, and you would be kissing Mr. Snuffles, the family cat, at this point.

The party was fun, but the reality of the fact that you hadn’t ever been kissed by somebody, let alone getting a New Year’s Eve kiss, was settling in.

Eddie, your only chronically single friend, was supposed to be here. However, it’s now 11:26pm, and he was nowhere to be found. Honestly, you were a tiny bit relieved he wasn’t here. You had liked Eddie. Ok, liked is an understatement. You had a big, fat, massive crush on Eddie Munson.

Eddie was never one of your super close friends. You had been closer with the girls, but he was still a friend. Your group was together whenever you all had the time. You tried at least a few times a week to get together. Eddie was always sweet on you. He was a natural flirt; you were not used to that kind of attention. He makes you flustered in the best way possible.

So when he didn’t show, you were disappointed, but since he was the only singleton out of the group, you felt anxious about him being here...Would you have to kiss? Would he even want to kiss you? Would you be bad at it? What if you sucked at kissing, and he told everybody! What if you asked him, and he rejected you? That would be mortifying!

As you got lost in your thoughts and the sparkling wine you had been downing all night, you didn't hear the door open or anyone or greet the man who had entered the room.

"Hey, sweetheart, sorry I'm late." You snapped out of your thoughts, and standing before you was Eddie. Your stomach was in knots.

"Edde! Hi!" You said a little too enthusiastically.

"Woah, how many of these have we had tonight?" He asks, taking your champagne flute from your hand and sipping it a bit. If it was anyone else that took your drink, you'd be pissed. But it was Eddie. He didn't mean anything by it.

"Only a few." You turn into yourself shyly.

"Well, looks like I need to catch up." He winked. "Care to join me in the kitchen?" He gestured his arm out for you to talk in front of him.

"Okay," You smiled.

You check the TV for the NYE countdown. Seven minutes until midnight.

"I didn't think you were going to come."

"And not be with my favourite person to start the new year? Nah. Have to start off '88 right." He smiled before turning to open the fringe, and you swore your heart stopped.

"Oh," your chest and face immediately felt flush. Thankfully, the door was blocking you, so Eddie couldn't see the look of shock in your eyes. "So, uh... what took you so long?" you twiddled with your glass.

"Oh, I had to finish up some last-minute deals... you know. Nothing says Happy New Year like being high." he says before taking a shot.

"Woah, Munson starting off strong," Steve says as he enters the kitchen.

"Gotta catch up with this one; can't be the only sober guy at the party," Eddie pointed to you jokingly.

You just rolled your eyes as you topped off your glass for the cheers.

Steve grabbed his drink and then beckoned the both of you into the living room with the TV countdown. There were only a few minutes left until midnight.

Eddie took your hand and led you into the crowded room. You noticed everyone was paired off, sitting beside one another. As you scanned the area, you noticed that most of the seats were taken. However, Eddie confidently guided you towards a single high-backed leather chair, which could only accommodate one person. He then patted his lap warmly with a smile, gesturing for you to sit with him.

" I uh- you sure?" you stuttered.

"Yes, sweetheart, only a few more seconds until midnight; how am I supposed to kiss you from all the way up there?"

You threw all caution to the wind while thanking your lucky stars you didn't drink too much to be an absolute disaster.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six... the others chanted as you sat down in Eddie's lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder so you could face him.

Six.

You shuffled to get comfortable.

Five.

Eddie wrapped a sroong hand around your waist.

Four.

You looked into Eddie's eyes and took a deep breath.

Three.

Eddie smiled, and you smiled back. It was clear to the others around you that both of you were nervous.

Two.

Eddie nudged your nose with his own nose.

One.

Fireworks! You closed your eyes, and Eddie leaned in. His lips were a little chapped from winter but still soft and plush. He worked his mouth with yours as his hand came up to cup your left cheek. It was so natural, so easy, you couldn't believe how simple kissing was. You'd always thought it would be complicated. Or maybe it's due to the fact that Eddie was really good at it. You had nothing to compare it to, but he was really good at it.

Happy New Year! You heard the others cheer, breaking you out of your thoughts, and Eddie pulled away.

"Happy New Year, Sweets." He tilted your chin up to him.

“Happy New Year, Eddie." you whispered before he kissed you again.

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x female reader

339 notes · View notes

honeykaes · 1 year

Text

—𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

pairing: cyno x reader

w/c: 2.2k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors dni

disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, modern au, roommate au, hurt/comfort, soft sex, couch sex, praise, oral (cyno receiving), unedited

a/n: new years always brings out the loneliest emotions in you, watching your friends party and celebrate without you. although you thought your roommate would be out all night, cyno returned home only to see you crestfallen and sad about the holiday.

You took a deep sigh, looking outside the window. The glass fogged up from your breath, leaving a cloudy imprint on it. The night sky had no stars in it, as the city lit up instead. It was New Year’s Eve after all. You were sure couples, families, and friends would be celebrating with one another. Cheers would scatter through the streets as soon as the clock struck midnight and fireworks would shoot up in the sky. It was always like that.

A sad smile appeared on your face, letting out a sigh. You could see your reflection of yourself through the window. Physically, you looked fine—normal, most people would say. Emotionally, you felt detached and odd. You couldn’t pinpoint why you were sad or upset, but that familiar feeling lingered in your chest. You turned over, walked to the couch plopped down on its soft cushions, and retrieved your cell phone.

Opening a social media app, you saw it. You saw the celebrations captured through photos, shared on this platform. Tighnari seemed to be spending New Year’s with Collei and the rest of his coworkers—bright smiles on their faces. Nilou was performing with her friends at the theater. Alhaitham who is usually stuck inside doing whatever was dragged out to party with his roommate Kaveh, a faint smile on his digital face. You continued to scroll.

The feeling burrowed deeper in your chest, eyes slowly drifting downwards. You let out another sigh opening your messages. Nothing. You nibbled on your bottom lip, eyes looking away from your phone momentarily. Was it because you were alone? You didn’t have family in Sumeru. Your friends were all partying and enjoying the day without you. Was it because of this?

Did you feel left out?

You let your phone drop to the sofa, taking a deep breath in. You wrapped your blanket over your body, its fuzzy material tickling parts of your exposed skin. You narrowed your eyes, on a random spot in the room. You didn’t feel just left out from today. This loneliness has built up throughout the year. Did you achieve what you wanted to accomplish or did you waste the whole year away? Your thoughts continuously began to spiral.

You lifted the blanket to cover your face, falling on the side of your shoulder. Tears began to build up in the corner of your eyes. You hated this. You hated this so much. This day was supposed to be happy, yet…

A click from the door caught your attention. You hear heavy footsteps walk in, followed by two thumps from this person taking their shoes off. You lifted the blanket slightly to see the figure only to reveal your roommate Cyno. Your eyes widen, removing the blanket from you completely.

“Cyno? What are you doing home? I thought you were going to hang out with Alhaitham or visit Tighnari?” you asked. Cyno rolled his deep red eyes. He put his black coat on the rack showing off his dark turtleneck underneath it. In his hands laid a plastic bag, he must’ve picked something up from the convenience store next door.

“I didn't want to intrude on Tighnari's work even so I had a lapse in my judgment and went to go out with Alhaitham's group. I couldn’t stand it, being in the same room as him any more than I needed. I want to start the New Year on a positive note, not whatever that was,” he murmured sitting next to you on the couch. He took a container out of the plastic bag—it was curry and some utensils from his favorite take-out place. He grabbed the fork before plying the top of the container off, the waft of various spices wafting through the apartment before digging his fork in and enjoying the meal.

“...I’m sorry your New Year ended up turning sour Cyno. I’m sure Nari’ would have loved to see you if he wasn’t busy playing host,” you stated. He continued to eat his curry next to you. Your eyes drifted away from him and back towards the window once more.

“New Year really sucks this year, huh?” you murmured, letting your head hit on the back of the couch. Cyno paused from eating his curry, setting the bowl down on the coffee table.

“Not necessarily. I find your company much more appealing if I’m being honest,” he admitted. Your face felt hot as your eyes widened. You let out a chuckle, not sure what else to react with.

“You’re sweet Cyno…” you mumbled. His eyes focused on you—those rubies seemingly staring through your soul. You resisted the urge from looking away before his mocha hand drifted over. You shut your eyes closed feeling him wipe the corner of your eye, a tear disappearing with it.

“Why are you crying, (Y/n)?” he asked, wiping his fingers with one another to dry them. You opened your eyes again, letting out a sigh. The same expression you had looking out the window returned to you.

“...I don’t know. I’m feeling a bit lonely I guess. I don’t feel like I accomplished anything I was supposed to do this year. I just feel...shitty,” you revealed. Cyno’s lips stretched into a line.

“I’m not going to invalidate your feelings, but I’ll offer you perspective. Although you may not have accomplished what you wanted, did good stuff happen this year for you?” he asked. You let out a small chuckle.

“Yeah...some good did happen,” you replied. Cyno’s lips curved up into a small smile.

“See? I also have to admit, you— being with me this year—has made me much more positive about the future. Your kindness, your dedication, all of it. So, thank you for making my year that much brighter whether you realized it or not,” he answered. You felt your heart flutter in your chest.

You lean your head against his broad shoulder, sniffing and wiping away your dewy cheeks before peering back at Cyno. His eyes just bore into your own, slowly leaning forward before the two of you realized, your lips connected with one another. Electricity bounced throughout your body as your hands soon found themselves pressing against his chest, moving up to his cheeks—soft and firm in your caress. Cyno’s hands squeezed at your waist before he maneuvered you around, your back now laying on the couch with him on top of you.

Your legs parted, letting Cyno have easier access to kiss you. Despite the spices still on his plush lips, a soft moan escaped you—hands beginning to trail up his shirt feeling the lean muscles hidden beneath. A low moan echoed out, pelvis slowly grinding into your core before he finally leaned away from your lips, now glossy from the endeavor.

“Are you sure you want this. I don’t want to pressure you,” Cyno muttered, leaning his forehead against yours. A soft smile etched on you lips, giving his nose a quick peck.

“Please, I could use the distraction…” you muttered. Just as he was about to claim his lips again, you moved away from beneath him on the couch—letting your knees fall against the fleech rug, your hands on each of Cyno’s thighs. His eyebrows furrowed momentarily, shocked by the sudden change before sucking in a breath feeling your hand cup against the newly formed bulge pressing against his jeans.

“F-Fuck, easy there,” he whispered, intensely watching your hands undo his belt. After unfastening the buckle and popping the button, a loud zip reverberated across the room as Cyno let out another low grunt. You moved his boxer’s down, cock springing up and against his lower stomach. His length twitched, eager at the attention—precum already budding on his brown tip.

Your tongue slowly slide up the side of his cock, tongue firmly pressing against a vein as his whole body shivered in delight. You grabbed onto the base of his cock, squeezing it tightly before pumping it timidly. A loud grunt erupted from Cyno as he leaned his head back, teeth buried into his bottom lip.

As you pump him, you open your mouth welcoming his cock inside, slowly twirling your tongue around his sensitive tip. His hips bucked as a result, as you tried not to cough. You soon bobbed your head, looking up at his unraveling form—grunting to hide the moans from coming out. As one hand buried it’s nails into the sofa the other soon found it’s way to your head, watching it move with the pace. You hollowed your cheeks once more, sucking loudly as Cyno let out a silent curse closing his eyes.

“Easy…easy!” he grunted, soon pushing you away from him. As you look back up, concern and worry swirling in your eyes, Cyno sighed trying to catch his breath. His hand reached over to your cheek, caressing it softly with a small smile.

“I..didn’t want to just…do that right now. I’d prefer saving that for another time,” he murmured. “For now, I’d rather finish inside of you, if that’s alright.” You look down flustered at his words as he got up from the couch finally taking his shirt off, revealing his nude form. His hands soon disrobed you from your outfit as well, clothes now pooling against your feet.

As you lay on the couch, it was his turn to spread your legs wider—watching your slick drool out of your entrance. He bit his lip again trying to compose himself as his cock throbbed in excitement.

“Just…don’t tease me much….Please,” you begged. Cyno nodded silently watching your cunt tighten on nothing. The callous pad of his thumb found its way to your clit as your body jolted in pleasure. He brought to other fingers to slowly slide between your folds, concentrating on the glistening slick beginning to coat there. Your hand reached up, thumb flicking your now hardened nipples as Cyno grunted once more, clearly eager to get you properly prepped.

Once he felt you were ready, he grabbed his bag on the ground fishing for a condom and ripping it open. He swiftly slid it against his cock, pumping it a couple of times, before pressing the tip towards your entrance.

“I promise. You’re more admired than you think and I hope that this can show you that,” Cyno murmured. As his cock sank into you, his lips connected with your own once more, muffling any of your moans trying to get out. You could feel the thickness of his cock stretching you out and filing you up as he soon bottomed out, snugly inside of you. You could feel him throb as he shifted his hips, lips moving towards the side of your cheek.

Cyno’s pace was slow and meticulous, as your legs soon wrapped around his waist. His hands trailed against your body, squeezing at your thighs, cock relishing in the way your walls fluttered trying to get him to go faster. His hot lips trail against your neck, softly kissing and sensitive skin. The couch whined, moving to the pace of Cyno’s thrusts as your own moans began traveling throughout the apartment’s living room.

“Right there, Cyno! There!” you cried out, rocking your hips to encourage him to hit that spot inside of you again. Cyno groaned deep in your ear, grabbing onto the globe of your ass and moving your leg up onto the couch so he could get deeper inside of you. As your arms wrapped around him, a soft moan escaped him.

“I wish you saw how beautiful you are to me. Your smile. Your laughter. Inside and out,” he grunted in the shell of your ear. “You have no idea how much advice I had to look up and the people I’ve gone to just to keep that smile of yours.”

Cyno ripped another loud moan from you, feeling your walls clamp down more on his cock. As his strides began getting sloppier, a knot forming in his lower stomach, he quickly pressed his thumb back onto your clit rubbing rapid circles on it. Your squirmed, body tensing as you reached your high—nails harpooning in Cyno’s back as he pounded harder inside of you, nursing you through it.

Clenching his jaw, and shutting his eyes, his lips pressed harshly against yours as he finally came—hips stuttering as he gave a lazy thrust. Despite wearing a condom, you could feel the heat radiating from his cum inside of you.

A large boom caught your attention, and the window soon filled with bright colors beginning to shoot out from the sky. It must be midnight now.

Cyno’s lips parted again with yours, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. There weren’t many times anything other than a neutral face or scowl was on Cyno yet when he looked down at you all that remained was a soft expression.

“Happy New Year’s. I hope this was a better one than what you were expecting,” he whispered, moving your hair out of your face. You sighed, still feeling full from Cyno’s cock still inside of you. You lifted your hand up, caressing his cheek once more.

“I owe that all to you…”

Flurries of snow, glistening from the fireworks began to drift down outside the window near the two of you as one another remained silent, feeling his cock beginning to move inside of you again. Your hands remained on his face, lips whispers apart from one another.

At least this year, you had one another to depend on.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #cyno x reader #cyno smut #cyno imagines #cyno scenarios #cyno headcanons

771 notes · View notes

gunilslaugh · 4 months

Note

Can I request?:

It's 10 seconds till 2024. But you don't have a New Year's kiss!? What!? We can't have that! Don't worry, Ode/Seungmin will save you from embassment! As the ball finally drops, he swoops in, giving you the best New Year's kiss you've ever experienced.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

Happy New Year everyone! :)

Oh Seungmin

Summary: Seungmin makes himself your New Year’s Eve kiss.

WC:690

Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

The music of the New Year’s Eve party you were at was too loud. Not to mention that you didn’t even want to be there in the first place. You would have much rather been in the comfort of your own home, but alas your friend had to drag you out to a party to celebrate the coming of the new year.

Now you stood alone in a corner. It was about five minutes till midnight. Your friend had abandoned you to go be lovey dovey with her boyfriend. You wonder why you didn’t leave when she left you. You should have. You regret not leaving. Although you suppose it’s still not too late to leave. The door is right there and you don’t really care if you’re on your way home when the new year comes. You stand up from the wall you were leaning against and begin to make your bee line for the door. Squeezing by multiple couples who are ready to bring in the new year together.

You were almost to the door when, “Y/n you’re here?” someone called you. You turn towards the voice to discover that it came from Seungmin.

“Yeah, my friend dragged me here,” you say. Seungmin looked around, seemingly looking for your friend.

“Did they ditch you?” he asked. You nodded.

“She went off with her boyfriend.” You rocked back and forth on your feet, arms folded over your chest, feeling slightly awkward.

“You looked like you were on your way out,” Seungmin noted.

“I was,” you confirmed. “I don’t really care where I am when the clock strikes twelve. I just want to go home and sleep.” Being surrounded by couples, feeling like you are the only one who didn’t have someone to share the new year with. It was suffocating. If your friend had stayed with you it would have been different. You wouldn’t have felt lonely in a room swarming with people. You wouldn’t have wanted to roll your eyes at every couple.

“I could walk you then,” Seungmin offered.

“You don’t want to stay?” you questioned him. Seungmin smiles, shaking his head.

“I don’t care where I am when the clock strikes twelve,” he uttered the same words you did moments ago. His words were a bit of a lie. He did somewhat care where he was when the clock struck twelve. He wanted to be with you. He truly didn’t care where though as long as he was with you.

“That sounds nice then,” you smiled. The two of you walked out the door of the party with three minutes to go till midnight. The two of you weren’t walking in a hurry. A leisurely pace was set. “Are you sure you want to be walking with me when the new year comes?” you checked. Seungmin chuckles, finding you cute.

“I’m sure.” He laces his hand with yours. Effectively making your heart race. Two minutes till midnight. You’ve both made it to the end corner of the street, pausing before crossing to the other side of the street. One minute till midnight. Your steps freeze with Seugmin’s when he stops walking and checks his phone.

“Something wrong?” you asked. Seungmin shakes his head, but he takes his hand away from yours.

“You can punch me afterwards if you want to,” he tells you.

“Huh?” You quickly grow confused. Seungmin’s hand that left yours is now reaching to cup your face. His other hand makes its way to your waist and guides you closer to him. Then he leans down, connecting your lips together. Your eyes widen before you close them, melting into Seungmin. You hear fireworks go off along with the ones in your stomach. Your hands lightly grasp at his sides. Your action causes Seungmin to break out into a smile against your lips.

“Happy New Year,” he tells you, resting his forehead against yours.

“Happy New Year,” you tell him back smiling. Seungmin pulls away from you briefly only to quickly pull you back against his frame in a hug. Looks like you had someone to share the new year with after all.

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh seungmin #xh o.de #xh ode #seungmin x reader #o.de x reader #oh seungmin x reader #oh seungmin #seungmin #o.de

59 notes · View notes

pinkrelish · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶There was an obvious implication as to why Eddie would invite you to ring in the New Year with him. Even his friends knew it, leaving you two alone at the countdown to 1986. Would tonight be the night he finally kissed you?✶

NSFW — mechanic!eddie, fluff, flirting, being dumb teenagers young adults, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 8/15 [wc: 8.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 8: Midnight Sparks

You nestled deeper into your coat, and jogged to the door of Bradley’s Big Buy, wincing from the glare of the gray clouds reflected on the windows. The forecast said it was supposed to be sunny today.

————

It started with a weekly phone call like any other. You were huddled on your bed, face turned away from your roommate’s prying gaze. She sat at her study desk, cranking the timer you both used to keep things civil.

Whatever. What did she care if the line was busy, anyway? It’s not like she had a new boyfriend to call her after she was dumped two weeks ago.

“They give you a few days off, don’t they?” Eddie probed with a persuasive inflection at the end of his sentence. “C’mon, it’s New Years. Why don’t you swing by and pay a visit to your dear ol’ pal, Eddie?”

He was smirking like a villain, wasn’t he? So smug, so carefree. Cracking a smile to where his top lip met his cheek dimple, showing off the mischievous gleam on his canines. It’s just the worst expression. Detestable.

“Swing by?” you repeated incredulously. “In what world is a trip to see your sorry ass in Indiana ‘swinging by’?”

“I know you don’t have plans for New Year’s–”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do you have plans?”

“..No,” you admitted.

You could picture him with irritating clarity. How his raised eyebrows fell into diabolical slants, eyes crinkled at the corners, stupid grin deepening once he caught you; how he shrugged and clapped his hands when he assumed a pitying, pompous tone after sucking his teeth, “Well, I guess that settles it, then! You’re coming here to spend New Year’s Eve with us. I’ll make the trip worth it, I promise. Tons of fireworks, hanging out with the guys, and hey, I’ll even throw in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of a private show of your favorite band, Corroded Coffin, up close and personal.” He paused to grant you the space for one sigh, then he sweetened the deal. “I’ll tune up your car for you.”

“For free?”

He laughed. “Free, but I do accept gifts and favors as a form of payment, my dear.”

“As humble as ever, I see,” you said, rather than commit to more. It was bad enough he had you wrapped around his finger, speaking gently into the phone snug against his mouth, dragging his lips over the plastic, invoking the tender side of him when trying to convince you to come see him. Where a subconscious sadness smoothed the sharp edges of his teasing.

Of course you wanted to see him again.. However, the traditional way of ringing in the New Year sat like a weight on your chest. The same creeping anxiety of knowing he’d ask you to come to Hawkins again, and the same dread of knowing nothing would come of it.

Unless..

It was finally your turn to be noticed.

“Fine, you’ve worn me down. I’ll come. But I’m not happy about it.” You’ve made worst decisions in your life.

————

And that’s the story of how a boy persuaded you into coming back to the small town you had no intention of returning to without a good reason.

Eyes adjusting to the dingy grocery store, you scanned the short aisles for anyone you recognized, and were relieved to see the place was rather empty, aside from the owner doing a crossword puzzle at the counter. You grabbed a hand basket and perused the cold section at the back. Subsisting on convenient snacks and coffee since you left campus, you were more than ready for one of the ready-made sandwiches in the deli section, and any piece of fresh fruit or vegetable you could find.

Reading over the flavors of Gatorade in the drink cooler, you grabbed one, dropped it in the basket on the floor and stood up, arguing in your head about if you should order take-out to be delivered for the group tonight, or wait and see if someone like Jeff was considerate enough to think of that ahead of time. All of this left you vulnerable to the looming presence behind you, who was bending to speak over your shoulder.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

You spun so fast, the creep’s lips brushed the shell of your ear. His warm breath fanned your neck. Flashes of walking to your dorm alone at night had you springing into action before a second thought crossed your mind.

At the front of the store, the owner looked up from his newspaper, peering over his glasses at your nuisance.

“Whoa, there,” Eddie laughed, tracing the corner of his mouth with his tongue, doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement amidst his surprise. He made a motion like he was going to cup his hands over your fists to ease you out of your defensive position, then thought better of it. He posed with his arms up like he was surrendering.

Still considering punching him, you released a seething exhale of, “Jesus Christ, Eddie–!”

“I guess that answers if you’re a ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ response type of person.”

Refraining from greeting him, you went straight to asking the one question he deserved, “I’ve been here for all of three minutes, how is it you always know where to find me? And don’t,” –You emphasized– “Don’t tell me that you just do.”

“It’s my special talent,” he answered like the bastard he was.

You should’ve punched him.

Taking a tiny step away, Eddie averted his attention around the store for a few vain seconds, then gave up, returning to you. He chewed the inside of his cheek in spite of his abundant grin growing under the shy once-over you gave him. “Almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, more blatant in his observations. Raking his gaze over the length of your body. Deliberate, and tenacious. Taking his time to absorb you as you stood before him. Stopping at details you could only guess at. Devouring you openly. Fearlessly involving his fingers on your suede sleeve, dragging his fingertips down to the fluffy cuff and curling them inward, admiring the softness brushing over his knuckles. He wasn’t touching you, really. “A Penny Lane jacket and flared jeans? Were you invited to some retro costume party I don’t know about, or something?”

You couldn’t discern if his pink cheeks were because of the harsh wind outside, or something else. “I think some old lady died, and I got her wardrobe at the thrift store.” Riding the high of his flattery, you crossed your ankles and spun on the soles of your chunky boots, sweeping your hands down your clothing. “An entire outfit for less than twenty bucks.”

“It looks good on you.” He said it in that lower register. Where his voice cracked in and out. Quiet. More akin to the guys who hit on you.

You thanked him by doing the silly thing of putting your hands in your pockets. Swaying side to side. Not awkward at all, and definitely not trying to hide your smile.

Clearly not in here to grab groceries, he tipped his head towards his van outside, and asked, “I’m making a trip outside city limits for the good fireworks. Wanna come with?”

“I’m sorry.” You wanted to go. Just to sit next to him. To steal more time with him. Listen to music, hang out, fill in the blanks phone conversations couldn’t do justice. Hear his voice in person again. Say things that earned his rolodex of smiles, or laughs. Find ways to garner more compliments, more affection. Yet, your body ached in a severe way you couldn’t ignore. “I’ve been driving since about 3 this morning, and I’m kinda tired. Is it okay if I take a nap and meet you later?”

He screwed his eyes shut and faltered. Shook his head, and scrunched his face in a pained expression, speaking as if he was the one in the wrong for asking in the first place, “Of course! Yeah. Yeah, you’ve been driving all night. You deserve to relax. I didn’t mean to just–Yeah. Anyway, when were you leaving? You here for a few days?” he ended in a hopeful lilt.

It sucked letting him down. “Sorry, I’ve gotta leave pretty early tomorrow. I have two assignments due the first Friday after break, and it’s competition season, so lots of meets now; pretty much every other weekend starting the second week of January.”

He moved further away. Absently reading the labels on the bags of chips while he sorted through whatever disappointment he harbored. Tapping his knuckle on an end cap for an aisle, staying in his thoughts. Using the cold metal to rein in his feelings about your short time together.

“I’m sorry, Eddie..”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. He donned a happy persona. “That just means we’ll have to make the most of tonight, right?”

“Right.” You hated his fake turn in attitude. It’s not like you wanted this shitty reality, either. The ones in your head were much more preferable. Much more romantic. “We’ll make some good memories to last us until next time.”

Usually, Eddie was easy to read. He shared his emotions openly. However, when he looked at you like he did now–skimming his gaze from your eyebrows to your nose, scoping out the kindness of your glossy lips–you had to wonder what he was thinking, and if he was observing you with curiosity, or something sweeter. Please be sweeter.

“We will,” he promised. “We’ll go out with a bang, sweetheart.”

In a phenomenal execution of decorum, you did not, indeed, choke on your spit at his word choice.

~~~

The receipt with Eddie’s handwriting on the back waved between your fingers. You drove away from the corner unit of the Motel 6 with your windows rolled down, enjoying the sunshine. It almost didn’t feel like winter with how it warmed up while you laid in bed, replaying the scene of your best friend tilting his head to check out your tight fitting jeans when you bent over to pick your grocery basket off the floor.

Someone should’ve told him the door to the drink cooler was quite reflective.

Still, you had to question why he would bother giving you Gareth’s address when he could’ve simply told you it was the nicer subdivision on the north side of town you both ransacked during Halloween. From there, it was painfully obvious which house he was talking about.

Low-tuned sludgy riffs of doom metal called out to you from the main road. It was just Lloyd on bass and Jeff on guitar playing together while Eddie had the back doors of his van open, helping Gareth slide out sheets of plywood and stack them in the dead grass.

You pulled into the driveway and Eddie waved at you to park behind him.

“There she is,” he announced over the music. Interestingly, he dropped the pet names around his friends, but Gareth gave you two a sneaky glance, regardless. “Running me low on daylight after begging me to fix her car.”

Mouth agape, you filled your lungs to the fullest with an absolute dissertation’s amount of rebuttal, but your fortitude vanished. The bane of your existence eclipsed the sun.

Eddie folded his arms atop your open window, leaning onto your car door, kicking his hip out, regarding you down his broad nose.

Music faded out one strum at a time. The guys crowded the back of the garage, hooking up extension cords to Eddie’s power tools, and carried them to the saw horses they had set up, keeping themselves busy and at a distance.

Eddie’s hair fell over his shoulders. He provoked you in a softer voice, “What’s my payment for doing this kind gesture for you, hmm?” The tendons in his neck flexed as he hummed.

The smallest muscle in his cheek twitched the longer you schooled your face from reacting. Giving him nothing to work with, leaving him to guess if he was being annoying in the wrong way. Making him sweat under the heat of his innuendo.

If only he knew you’d be on your knees the split second he gave the command.

But, you remained strong in the face of temptations, and opened the door, shoving him back a few steps. “Have I ever told you I hate you?”

“Once or twice,” he said after feigning to think about it.

“And to answer you..” You kicked the door closed behind you, and drew yourself to your full height as if you were in front of suited up judges. Chin high, shoulders back. Taller in your boots. Meeting his eye easily. An intimidating strength to your intense demeanor. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Both a gift and a favor. His gift. His favor. His girl.

Eddie snorted. “How could I forget? Your presence is my greatest treasure.”

You tipped your cheek to your shoulder as you considered him. “I’m your greatest treasure?” His brashness deflated upon hearing you repeat it back at him. Your eyes narrowed wickedly while his widened. “I seem to remember you saying you’d take care of me if I came back.”

For a blissful beat, memories of that first phone call passed over his unfocused gaze. You, too, unlocked a few repressed images you swore you wouldn’t release when he was standing right in front of you; fully clothed, and very handsome.

Then, Eddie stuttered something, but there was no telling what, because Jeff started up the whirring circular saw with a smile of pure innocence. “Oh, did I interrupt you guys? My bad.”

You threw him a sardonic smile, and addressed your flustered mechanic. “Shall we?”

It seemed Eddie struggled to move past your tongue-in-cheek proposition. Either that, or something else had his mind scrambled. “Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered, tripping over his own feet, making finger guns at his van where he left his tool bag. “We should. Y’know, daylight.” You agreed and tossed him your keys.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Lloyd exchanged knowing looks with Jeff and Gareth, who both shook their heads and rolled their eyes.

~~~

Some favor this turned out to be.

“How long has it been making that sound?” Eddie asked from the driver’s seat, aghast.

You shrugged at the exposed engine cranking and churning out a sound not unlike a dead man’s cough. “I dunno. Maybe a month? No.. Two, or three?”

“Babe,” he groaned to himself, thumping his head on the headrest. He ran his hands over the leather steering wheel, wringing the vibrations under his palms, listening to the racket. Stewing over his knee-jerk reaction to shake you until you promised to maintain your only means of transportation which brought you to him today. What if it broke down and you were stranded in some seedy city where someone could take advantage of you?

Working his jaw, he turned off the car and unfolded himself from your cramped seat.

Inside the back of his van, he collected a few replacements for parts he could tell were worn, and put them near the edge. “Have you changed the air filters lately?” You blinked up at him. He added new ones to the pile and hopped down.

“Do I want to know when was the last time you got an oil change?”

You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the car, keen to the way he went into his zone, moving with skill over the motor in a predetermined method–an order to his operations. “You changed it for my mom the summer before I left, didn’t you?” He paused with the dipstick in his hand, brown eyes pinning you with glints of mortification, and disbelief. “Eddie, I’m kidding..” He wiped it on the dirty rag balled in his fist and his expression foretold the scolding you were about to get. “I got it changed like a year ago.” More angry staring. “Maybe it was two years ago,” you amended.

He added another task to his mental list. “You’re sending me to an early grave.”

Gareth began sawing pieces of 2x4s after Jeff measured them. The noise covered your private moment with Eddie.

Angling your head under the popped hood, you gut-punched him with a poignant truth he despised about himself. “Joke about an early grave all you want, I think you like doing this stuff for me because it makes you feel needed. Now that I’m away at college, you can’t just come over and fix a leak in my roof, or patch up a hole in the drywall, or pick me up from work when I’m too tired to drive.” Your gaze settled on his frown. “I appreciate you fixing my car, but I don’t want it to come across like that’s the only reason I’m here. You don’t need to do these things for me to come see you. I’m here because I like being with you. You’re my best friend, Eddie.”

You're my best friend, Eddie.

He invoked every fiber of self-restraint woven into his musculature to not look at you. “Do you have a hair tie?”

“Sure.” You took one from your wrist and handed it to him. Adding to your previous point, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel needed–”

“What, did you smoke a joint and read your psychology textbook before coming here? Be a doll and hold this for me.” He slipped out of his jacket, and tossed it at you. From his periphery he watched you clutch it to your chest, and in that moment–when your fingers curled around the collar, and your arms embraced his armor like a hug–he decided enough was enough. Tonight was the night.

~~~

Crossing your legs at the ankle, you sat back against the car door. A fine vantage point for pretending you were observing the guy's build.. whatever it was they were building, while your eyes fell to Eddie more often than not. Noticing him gather his hair at his nape and wrap the hair tie around it several times, not pulling through on the last loop, thus allowing it to fan out from a bun in springy waves. The rest of his short layers sat over his ears, catching the wind when he whipped around to seize a car part from his stash. Probably salvaged from the junkyard you played in as kids; a place you owed many of your scars to.

The shirt he wore was for a local band in Indy. Their name strained over his full chest, white letters stretching and bunching as he employed his skilled hands over your motor. A remarkably snug fit on him. Tight. Formed to the curves of his body. Capped sleeves stopping at the apex of his shoulders. Sharp cut of his tricep contouring an elegant shadow from one tattoo to the next, black ink flexing as he cranked a wrench.

Loose strands of hair clung to the sheen on his neck.

Black leather baked in your arms under the setting sun, intensifying the cheap cologne he doused to disguise the layers of weed and cigarette smoke, accompanied by the same deodorant that was on his Hellfire shirt.

The peppered stubble on his jaw. His shaved mustache. Smudges of grease in the hollow of his cheek as he chewed on another complaint in your direction. Mouth twisted to the side in concentration, until his tongue involved itself, parting his lips.

His tongue was a dangerous thing to be jealous of, yet here you were, fawning over its ability to be intimate with his mouth, his lips. Oh yes, his lips. How many hours you wasted of your adult life being stuck in boring lectures delivered by droning professors while you were thinking about his lips framing your name in the warmest of manners.

Eddie was stunning. Dirty, and stunning. Sweaty from being the gentleman he was, giving you a hand in one of the areas of your life you neglected, and he was in dire need of someone to clean him off. Someone whose fingers were as kind as yours to treat the scope of his understated beauty.

Someone to bathe him after a long day.

Get him nice and clean.

Then dirty again.

His hips were pressed to the red metal of your car. Tight jeans showing each thrust he made as he yanked on something out of your view. Handcuff belt buckle clinking every so often. Shirt wrinkled over the pudge on his stomach, and you couldn’t fathom a better place to land a few kisses on your way down to his–

“You like watching me work?” he asked plainly, bent over the headlight closest to you, eyes affixed on his project.

You jerked as if you snapped awake from a dream, and asked the guys crowding around the saw horses, “Hey, whatcha makin’? Can I help?” Apparently, Gareth and Jeff were laboring over a quarterpipe, and Lloyd was making a wide ramp. Why he specified wide, you didn’t know, but it was the perfect excuse to get the hell away from Eddie.

It was too real being next to him in person, and you needed a break.

Your swanky Penny Lane coat proved too insulating on the unusually balmy winter afternoon, so you unclasped the ornate button and draped it over your car door, revealing your cherry red blouse and silk scarf tied around your neck.

As you placed Eddie’s jacket alongside yours, something fell out of his pocket. You picked up the white and red package and turned it over. Wrigley’s Spearmint. It was missing a few foil-wrapped sticks of gum. Thinking nothing of it, you put it back, and joined Lloyd.

“What should I do?”

“Did you just time travel from a Hendrix show?” Jeff asked, earning your middle finger.

Lloyd instructed you where to hold the boards he was cutting, and revved the jigsaw. Wood shavings rained in its wake.

A cacophony of buzzing drowned out further conversation. Saws, drills, and a stream of swears filled the lull of the drifting creeping sunset.

Gareth looked around him for the nail gun, and realized he left it in the van. He told Jeff to keep his weight on the curved plywood. “I’ll get it.” And what a poor sight he stumbled upon. He could almost feel his heartstrings tug for his friend’s transparent pining. Almost.

Gareth’s saunter took on a swagger as he approached Eddie, and clapped him on the shoulder, shocking him from his awestruck daze. “Might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.”

Eddie was quick to close his mouth, and go to work with his back facing you. So what if your scarf was cute. And your blouse hugged you in all the right places. And the color complemented you. And the space between the buttons gapped. And your bra was white. And he could admire your jeans without your coat blocking the view. He was allowed to appreciate these things on a platonic level. He was a respectable young man, after all.

Besides, he was well within his right to stare.. from beneath your car after jacking it up, laying on his back, sliding under the engine on a creeper board with a wrench in his hand to do.. something. He forgot.

How was he supposed to concentrate when he’d been deprived of touch for so long he found his chest tensing, and his throat closing, at the memory of his lips grazing your ear at the grocery store, and how if he kept his face there, your lips would’ve connected with his when you turned?

~~~

Daylight burned to dusk.

The quarterpipe sat in the middle of the road opposite the ramp. No one else seemed to care if cars could pass by, so you didn’t either.

Eddie dug his heels into the driveway and wheeled himself back and forth on the roller board, face turned to scrutinize what you were doing instead of minding his own business; and you’d know, because this was hardly the first time your gazes met, and you both looked away as if it never happened.

Though, an unexpected object entered your field of view, anyway.

“A shopping cart?” you questioned. Jeff nodded enthusiastically on his way to the quarterpipe, hauling it to the top. Surely they weren’t planning on..

Gareth’s eyes shone with teenage madness. “You wanna get the firecrackers? We need to christen the cart.”

“Sure..” you drawled. Silly you for assuming the overturned hunk of dented metal in the neighbor’s ditch was discarded trash and not some prized possession.

You stepped over a pair of black jean-clad legs on your way to the back of Eddie’s van, and opened the doors wider, peering inside. It was much messier than last time you were in it. Blown out speakers, guitar cases, and the aforementioned scrounged up parts to extend your car’s life occupied most of the space, along with loose papers and textbooks for school. Near you, there were boxes upon boxes of fireworks. Way more than you thought necessary, but he did say he wanted to end 1985 with a bang.

Pulling one closer to you, you found the red packs of fireworks strung together like a bandolier, and grabbed several belts worth.

And, of course, when you turned around, you gasped and backed into the rear bumper.

Fluttering your eyes closed, you stated in an even tone, “If you scare me one more time.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings.” Eddie wrung a dirty rag around his stained fingers, hip cocked out. He jerked his chin at your car. “Almost done. Not as good as new, but in a lot better condition than when you drove here.”

“Thank you. You seriously didn’t have to go and do all of this for me.”

The harsh light coming from Gareth’s garage divided Eddie’s face in halves. He held his hands up to inspect the grime under his fingernails, and answered, “I did it for me, so I can rest easy knowing you’re safe.” A shadow concealed his mouth, but you were certain he wasn’t smiling. The serious knot between his brows, and the bluntness in his visible eye pierced the uprising of nighttime splitting you into two sides of the same friendship. What you showed each other and what you kept hidden in the dark. “What if something happened and you got hurt?”

Your forearm was alive with the sensation of his warmth penetrating the chill on your skin. “I don’t live a safe life. I could fall and snap my neck at any moment on the uneven bars. A single missed catch and I’m gone.” As you spoke, you swayed closer, taunting the electricity to spark between you. His chest swelled with a breath. He smelled of spearmint. “If you want to keep me out of harm’s way, you’ll have to do better than fix my car.”

A single firework in the distance struck the saturated sky. Then more. More bangs, squeals, children shouting in awe around the subdivision.

Eddie didn’t say anything else, so you didn’t either.

Eddie didn’t make a move, so you didn’t either.

The delicate paper crinkled in your hands. “Do you have a lighter on you?”

Roused from his trance, he pointed at his jacket hanging over your door. “In my..” He trailed off, hand lowering as something registered to him. “Actually, I think I have some matches on my dash.”

It was a weird moment–the whole exchange, the awkward faltering–but you found the worn paper package on his dashboard, and joined the others, avoiding giving a side-long glance at Eddie, who involved himself in the finishing touches on your car.

The guys became more psyched up when you handed them the goodies. They tangled the fireworks around the handle of the shopping cart balanced precariously at the top of the quarterpipe, and Jeff propped his foot on one of the wheels, while Gareth climbed into the basket.

Jeff raised a single match and aligned it on the strike strip. “We hereby commence tonight’s festivities! Let the new year bring forth joy!” He looked at Gareth, then Lloyd. “Prosperity!” He spun to you, a certain glint of glee when his eyes landed on yours, then somewhere behind you. “And love,” he finished, lighting the match with flair.

It burned bright.

Flame to fuse, sparks flew.

Before even the first firecracker popped, the cart was wrangled, and Jeff was in motion. Shoving it over the edge, putting power behind his sprint as it sped down the slope. He let go. Gareth gripped the sides and whooped as he approached the wide ramp at max speed. It hit the incline, and together, they flew–at least, they gave the impression of flying right before they smacked the pavement. Bouncing, clanging, almost tipping nose-first, and recovering at the last second, skidding to a halt upright and uninjured.

The firecrackers burnt out their last bang, and fell to the road in dwindling flames.

Lloyd cruised alongside the chaos on his skateboard, and gave a hearty, “Hell yeah!” Gareth appeared a little shaken, but otherwise fine.

“Is the ramp okay?”

Relaxing from your wince, you peeped an eye open to confirm it did remain in one piece.

“Nice!” Jeff said, kicking the support beam you screwed into place. “It held up. The other one cracked on the first run.” Apparently that was a win in their books.

Gareth rode the back of the shopping cart to its wobbly stop in front of you. “Wanna take it for a spin?” He swung his arm over the reckless vehicle, and towards the safety hazards you helped facilitate.

The quarterpipe suddenly seemed towering. Much taller than when it was being constructed.

You placed your hands in your back pockets, and conjured an excuse while shifting from foot to foot. “Interestingly enough, as a NCAA athlete, I signed a contract stating I would not partake in irresponsible behavior. You know, the usual stuff to prevent an injury before Nationals. No ice skating, no shenanigans, no horsing around, and..” You tsked. “Definitely no tomfoolery.” You served him a cheeky grin, oblivious to the unamused stare Eddie was giving you after your little speech earlier.

“C’mon,” Gareth appealed in an equally charming twang. He stamped the end of his skateboard and caught it in his hand, spinning it around to where the grip tape faced you. “How about we start with this on solid ground? You don’t have to be scared. I’ll teach you.”

Pursing your lips, you stalled.

“Don’t let him peer pressure you,” Eddie warned from your driver’s seat, about to put the key in the ignition. “Think about your future. You can’t compete with a broken wrist.”

A searing flash of anger struck your nerves. Somehow, when it was Eddie worrying over you, it was so much more irritating than being called scared. Like hell you were scared, and like hell you were going to get hurt. It was riding a fucking skateboard, not jumping through a flaming hoop. And how hard could it be? Balancing was sort of your thing.

You raised your eyebrows at Gareth, and shrugged. “Sure, yeah, teach me.”

The annoyed sigh behind you encouraged you all the more.

Eddie could suck a fat one. You wanted to have fun.

Gareth led you to the street, and gave you a rundown on where to put your feet, talking you through the process of transferring your weight through your stance, and to trust him. Jeff was nearby giving feedback, as well, and Lloyd dropped in from the quarterpipe to skate circles around you. They reassured you that everyone shook like a newborn deer when stepping onto the board for the first time.

Although Gareth was grasping you around your forearms, he felt too far away when the board creaked. You didn’t expect it to lurch forwards and back from how you stood on it sideways. In a blink, you grappled for his shoulders, snatching fistfuls of his gray hoodie and the collar of his flannel vest into your vice grip, panicking.

He laughed. “You’re good, you’re good.” Moving to where he was cupping the undersides of your elbows, he waited for you to regain your balance, and said, “Don’t look at your feet, it’s throwing you off.” You lifted your gaze to his face. His eyes were kinder up close. “We’re just gonna.. Yeah, like that.” Like a waltz.

Guiding you at the snail’s pace you were comfortable at, you discovered every ridge of every bump of every pebble stuck in every crack in the asphalt beneath the wheels. He eased you in a straight line. The pins on his flannel reflected the burst of bottle rockets being set off in the cul-de-sac.

Your concentration was dedicated to staying standing, but you were aware of the sound of your engine dying down, and a set of watchful eyes on the back of your head.

“Put your weight on your back foot. It’ll lift the front of the board, so you can steer yourself in a circle.” You listened, and did as he said, bringing the nose up in quick pops. It wasn’t quite a circle, but the guys were stoked for your progress.

“I’m doing it!” you said, conquering your fear with another tap, tap, tap of a circle. You didn’t have the hang of balancing in your shoulders yet, rather than your hips, but it was something. Tap, tap, tap. Braver. Bigger movements. Faster. He spun you faster. More weight on your back foot. Another circle. More weight. And then, pain.

“I’ll get it,” Jeff mumbled, running off in some direction.

“Hey, we got the first fall out of the way. Not so bad, right?”

You got too daring, it seemed, judging by Gareth’s surprised face hovering above yours, on account of you bringing him down with you.

You let go of him with an apology, but he kept his hold on you to make sure your head didn’t hit the pavement. He was about to ask if you were okay, and you were about to say your right ass cheek stung, however, an aura of told-you-so forced him to exit your immediate vicinity.

“Nope, we’re done with that,” Eddie enunciated through his teeth. He stuck his hand out with the intent to help you up, and you mirrored him. Yet. He hesitated. Imperceivable to his friends who won his affection easily, but to you, it was the longest split second decision you had the agony of enduring. Your hand was there. Right there, and he rejected it. He aimed for your wrist instead, clasping his washed fingers around your polyester sleeve, and he was wearing his jacket now. Even if you wanted to touch him, you couldn’t. He ensured you couldn’t. No contact. Ever.

It was starting to get old.

You accepted his offer, and voiced your exasperation, “Eddie, I fell like, two feet. I’m fine.”

“Fine? What if you twisted your ankle?”

Determined to keep him tethered to you, you locked his wrist into your hand’s dominant embrace, and stepped to him, speaking right above a tame whisper, “But I didn’t.”

“And what if you landed on your knee?” he asked, matching your low tone. He drew you closer. Not enough to be witnessed, but you were consumed by the discreet pressure of his frustration on your pulse. Thrilled by it, even.

“Ease up, man. Your girl survived the Great Skateboard Crash of 1985 without so much as a scratch.”

“I’m not his girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” Eddie reiterated at the expense of Jeff’s shit eating grin, refusing to break your eye contact. “She’s the thorn in my side.” He initiated letting go of you all too soon. This time, you were the one to pursue him.

Taking him by the upper arms, you sank your nails into his leather barrier, and teased your bottom lip into an exaggerated pout. “I think Eddie forgot how to have fun. Remember, Munson, we used to build ramps out of tossed construction materials propped onto deflated tires we found around the trailer park? How many times did we crash our bikes and almost knock our teeth out? By those standards, this is totally OSHA compliant. Live a little.”

“Yeah, Eddie, live a little,” Gareth snarked.

“He’s only this protective over you,” Lloyd observed with a note of mock hurt. “He doesn’t care if we get hurt.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie dismissed, fighting a smile. “I care if you can’t make it to Hellfire.” Earning a round of laughter, stress ebbed from his posture. His grumpiness melted under your firm palms pleading for him to relax.

With a voice overflowing with reluctance, he asked, ”You want a ride in the cart?” You nodded. “Get in.”

~~~

Besides being the one at the helm of your fate, Eddie had a few conditions: arms and legs must remain inside the vehicle at all times, no ramp, wear your coat, no ramp, don’t aim the Roman candle at his handsome face, and–most importantly–no ramp. And there you were, sitting in the basket of the shopping cart atop the quarterpipe’s platform, shoulders against the handlebar that Eddie gripped with white knuckles, twisting your head to smile up at him.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” he said.

You smiled bigger.

Eddie took a match from Jeff, and lit the top of the tube in your hand. “Any last words?”

“Just one,” you said, waving your middle finger.

Ever gentle, he shook the cart, scaring you into facing forward as he approached the edge. The fire spouting from your firework grew in fierceness. Blindingly bright, and hot as it crept down the tube. Eddie asked if you were ready, and the first ball shot out like a flare gun, hitting a tree branch in its path, before landing on a roof and fizzling out.

You’re convinced he didn’t wait for you to answer.

The front wheels crested the top of the quarterpipe. Completely vertical, your insides performed a somersault as the hard, unforgiving street below stretched on for eons; and then, it was gone. Replaced by the ache of your body being slammed against metal. A disorienting jumble of the firework’s floom as it went off beside your head, and Eddie’s cackling laugh reverberating between your ears.

You sailed past where the ramp used to be. Eddie was the captain of your ship. Running and hopping onto the back of the shopping cart. His hands gripped your shoulders, not the handle. His thumbs were everything you needed, prodding deep into your muscles. Fingertips perched on your collar bone. Exploring further down as the blur of houses came to a reasonable scroll when the fun slowed to a crawl.

“Satisfied?”

He wasn’t as close as he was in the grocery store, but you whipped your head around in hopes of catching a close look at his lips. It was worth it for his half-lidded eyes alone.

The last firework went off, illuminating his face in a lovely shade of red.

You said, “Let’s do it again.”

He said, “Absolutely not.”

~~~

The rest of the evening was much different from its rocky start.

Everyone was buzzing like bees. Playing music at random intervals, wrestling in the front yard, showing off their skate tricks. Demanding you do another backflip off the ramp, even though you did several already. Challenging you to arm wrestling matches on the hood of your car. Totally normal occurrences.

You clicked your tongue in a pitying gesture at Jeff. “Lost again.” He forked up another dollar by throwing it at you, muttering about how you must’ve cheated.

Later, minutes to midnight, it was almost as if they coordinated jamming together in the garage, only to make excuses to leave, right when you walked inside to tell them the rest of the fireworks were out of Eddie’s van.

“We’re gonna set those up!”

“Yeah, three heads are better than one.”

“Six hands are better than two!”

You had to wonder if they were always this ridiculous as they left you alone with Eddie in the most obvious way possible.

“Did you like that one?” he asked about the last song. His face was hidden behind the curtain of his hair, looking down at his guitar as he practiced a thrashy transition.

“Loved it.” And it was the whole truth spoken from the depths of your subconscious, where the sparks of old feelings resided, watching his mouth from afar, pressing his lips to the microphone as he spouted rather poetic lyrics about his brain being cracked open and spiders crawling out.

A smirk stretched his face. “Really?” He re-tuned the bottom strings of his guitar and turned a knob on his amp. “I figured you were more of this type.” Plucking a simple chord, he scrunched his nose, and oscillated the whammy bar while grooving on one of his pedals, acting like he was super into the psychedelic vibrato it created. “Something like that for, roughly, twenty-eight minutes while everyone is tripping on acid.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned. He was annoying, but back to normal. Chewing on another stick of gum, covered in dirt from pinning Jeff in the front yard earlier. Blades of dead grass tangled in his curls. And you immersed yourself in your role as well, dwelling over the physical pain of not being able to explore the intimacy of removing them. To become familiar with the feel of his scalp beneath your fingers. To understand the proximity of his face near yours without aversion. To know the taste of his minty gum on your tongue..

Something dawned on you.

Spearmint.

Chewing gum since this afternoon.

No lighter.

His prickliness when you crossed him.

He hadn’t smoked today.

He was chewing gum to curb his compulsion for a cigarette. No drinking, or other drugs, either. He cared to have minty breath. He wanted to be sober. He cared to have minty breath, and he wanted to be sober for midnight.

Maybe you were spiraling into territory you shouldn’t, but the implication was too tangible to argue against.

A midnight kiss.

It was impossible to keep the softness out of your tone, and the delicate flutter from tainting your words, but you held fast, “Wanna watch the fireworks together?”

He read his watch. “Yeah, it’s almost time.”

~~~

The stairs leading to Gareth’s front door were cozy. It was impossible to share them with another person without touching. You were surprised Eddie agreed to sit with you, molded to one another from hip, to the length of your thighs, pressed together in foreign inseparability. Hands, arms, and elbows were curled in tight, but your shoulders bumped on occasion. The guys had their backs to you, giving you privacy, while they tied the final fuses of illegally purchased fireworks together, running low on matches.

Now, the inky black night was constantly alight with an assortment of colors in a range of patterns.

The neighborhood was alive with a countdown.

Your heart was in your throat. Pounding beats in your temples. It was coming.

Three matches were struck and shared. The guys danced around the pile in the street, shouting and giggling, and retreating to the end of the driveway, away from danger. But not far enough to witness Eddie running his sweaty palms over his jeans.

You couldn’t discern the numbers being counted. Your senses dulled. Tunnel vision for the man beside you. Everything else faded away.

“One!” someone shouted over the dozens of screeching fireworks being set off at once.

Eddie didn’t make a move.

But you did.

Leaning over the appropriate amount necessary to be heard, you spoke into his ear, smitten by the fortuitous tickle of his hair brushing over your nose, “Looks like it’s officially your year.”

You must’ve taken him off-guard.

Initially, he jumped. Or shivered, you didn’t know. But when he turned to look at you, he slowed at the introduction of your cheeks sliding along one another as he drew away. Separating once the corner of your lips were at risk of converging. His stubble was scratchy. Your skin was soft. Who knew.

His gaze bounced around your candid expression. Memorizing your raw innocence at the newness of the sensation, like you memorized his. “Yeah, I’ll finally graduate,” he agreed. His exhale landed on your lips. A caress. Your body longed for more. Then, with absolute confidence, he declared, “After that, I’m gonna follow you everywhere.”

What?

You urged your attention away from his lips, to his shy, brown eyes seeking yours, resisting the impulse to look away.

He displayed his hope in the timid dimple emerging in his cheek. “I don’t think college is in my future, but I’m good at other things. Fixing cars, working with my hands, charming bar owners into giving me a gig. I..” His tongue paused on the tip of his teeth. Vulnerability whelmed him; mouth falling open and closed as he found an ounce of bravery. “Olympics.. The circus, whatever.. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. So we never have to be alone again. We’ll have each other. Be together..” His shaky whisper went faint as his nerves stole his voice. “You need a best friend to take care of you. To keep you safe. I’ll keep you safe.. Forever.”

He used the dreaded label–best friends–but this time.. It didn’t bother you.

He promised you forever.

Rendered speechless, you uttered the first thing that came to mind, expecting him to go along with the joke, as if he wasn’t serious. “The circus is a lot more dangerous than falling off a skateboard. I could get hurt.”

“Not if I’m there to catch you.”

Your chest caved under the impact of the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you. Fireworks burst in your stunned silence. Vision blurring with unadulterated happiness, managing a single, gravelly, “Okay,” amongst the content, and relieved, laugh you two shared, unsure of what this confession meant to either of you.

————

Jeff rapidly tapped the back of his hand on Lloyd’s chest. “I’m not wearing my glasses. Did they kiss?” he asked, excited.

Sighing, Lloyd let him down. “No.. But they do look happy.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “How can they both be so stupid?”

————

Eddie knew he forfeited another chance at kissing you when he stopped leaning into your car, and wished you a safe drive, accepting the fact he wouldn’t see you again before you left. Your precious lips were right there, grinning at him with undue tenderness, eyes shining with an emotion he couldn’t place, but he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. Your futures were entwined now. He’d see you soon. Hopefully it wouldn’t take over three months for you to visit again, but he didn’t mind. It just meant more time for him to summon up the courage to almost, vaguely, in a roundabout way, with the caveat of being friends-only, sort of admit his feelings for you.

Still, he was proud of himself.

He wore his smile all the way home, putting a little pep in his step as he rushed up the stairs, and threw open the door to his trailer, scrambling for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he left on the kitchen counter.

Lord, he smoked through the first one in some kind of nicotine-induced euphoria.

He was in paradise. “Not if I’m there to catch you,” he mumbled to himself on his way to his room, swinging his arms, wholly intoxicated by his own charisma. “God, I’m corny.”

Tossing the carton of Camels on his nightstand, he went to put the lighter in his jacket pocket, and encountered what felt like wadded up papers stuffed inside. Pulling his hand out, he uncurled his fingers, and stared.

More hundred dollar bills than he’d ever had the pleasure of holding at once. A few twenties, too. Blood rushed to his cheeks. This was supposed to be a favor, and you snuck behind his back to pay him as if he were a real mechanic.. But that wasn’t the only thing that had his heart racing.

He flipped the accompanying Polaroid over.

The beach photo you promised. New Jersey 1985 written in the blank space at the bottom. More importantly, you in a bikini. Posed coyly with one arm crossed beneath your tits to create a gorgeous amount of cleavage, while staring into the camera with enough of a smirk to know what you were doing, while still being able to deny it.

After a beat, Eddie tipped his head and surrendered. He began unfastening his belt. “Great way to end the night, sweetheart.”

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift @emokid-ellie @mantorokk-writes @drdvlss @mirrorsstuff @bebe0701 @eddiethesexy @edsforehead @b-irock @brittney69 @princesseddie @hes-a-rainbow @churchmuffins

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

769 notes · View notes

btsgotjams27 · 1 year

Text

keeping up appearances | pjm

summary: When you move back to New York, you must keep up appearances when you see your ex-boyfriend.

✨ title: keeping up appearances | ✨ pairing: jimin x f!reader ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni | ✨ word count: 7.5k ✨ genre/au: angst, light smut(?) | exes to ??, new year's eve ✨ warnings: language, alcohol consumption, reader gets tipsy, masturbation (f) but she doesn’t come, a memory of jimin (touching, kissing, marking, fingering, breast/nipple play), brief mention of fuck buddy!namjoon, did i mention angst?? ✨ playlist ✨ a/n: i've always wanted to write a fic based on NIKI's 'La La Lost You', so it's finally here. i hope you all enjoy it. thank you to @purplewhalewrites and @amethystwritesbts for being my betas. and a huge shoutout to @monimonimoon/@moni-logues for the brainstorming sesh and co-writing a part of this! also check out, 'the comeback' 👀 from them.

The blue circle around the date of December 21st began taunting you the more you stared at it. You finally made the hard decision of leaving Los Angeles after two years. Like every naïve person who moves to Hollywood, you placed all of your hopes and dreams into a job. However, that job turned out to be exactly like your previous one.

On the first day of the new job, you excitedly brought your new laptop gifted by your parents. You were ready to start brainstorming and pitching ideas for potential storylines and arcs. Then a staff writer asked why you were sitting in their seat. That's when you realized you were an intern, made to bring coffee and make copies for the writers.

"Keep working hard, and you'll move up, we promise," said one of the head writers on the show.

But empty promises weren't going to get you where you wanted. Two years later, you had only moved up to become a writing assistant and, at times, were still asked to bring coffee and grab lunch.

Haley, your housemate, quietly knocked on your door, leaning against the threshold. "Are you excited to be going back home?" She tried her best to hold it together because she had grown fond of you.

You didn't answer right away because you weren't. Having to go home as a complete and utter failure was the last thing you wanted. You were supposed to be a big shot - the girl who chased after their dreams and made them come true. You even left the man you loved to pursue your career. But you would have to chuck up the courage and face reality. Life in LA wasn't working out for you.

"I guess," you shrugged, folding your shirt before tossing it in your suitcase.

"Aren't you excited to see Jimin?" Haley asked. She was a West Coast girl who dreamed of the Big Apple and was always nosy about your previous life, especially when she saw the photo of Jimin hidden in your sock drawer.

Park Jimin. You thought about him too many times to count, wondered how he was doing, if he had moved on and found a new girlfriend. You didn't expect him to stay hung up on you, and the breakup had left you in shambles.

When you first arrived in California, you couldn't sleep and didn't have an appetite. You had no friends and had to figure everything out alone without help. Coming to LA was a fucking shit show. Sometimes you just wanted to pack your bags and go home, maybe grovel and beg for Jimin's forgiveness. But you made such a big fuss about this being a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you couldn't pass up, only to find out you gave up being with Jimin for nothing.

"I don't think he'd want to see me. I already fucked up his life once."

Honestly, would anyone be excited to see an ex again? You guessed you'd try one-upping each other to see who was doing better.

A buzz from your phone disrupted your thought. You picked up to see it was your friend, Taehyung.

Taetae 2:41 PM

You're coming to my New Year's Party, right?

A party was the last thing on your mind. You hadn't told anyone you were moving back. The only people who knew of your move were your family and Taehyung, and you didn't want to announce your letdown.

You 2:45 PM

Do I have to?

Taetae 2:46 PM

Yes! You've never missed my parties, minus the years you were gone.

"Who's that?" Haley asked, peering from far away.

You sighed, plopping on the bed and staring at Taehyung's text. "An old friend is asking me to go to a party when I get back." You lay there trying to think of an excuse to bail, but you knew you'd never hear the end of it from him.

Taetae 2:50 PM

Guess I gotta tell everyone you're moving back.

You 2:51 PM

Goddamnit, Kim Taehyung! When I see you, I will hug you and then strangle you!

Taetae 2:52 PM

Be on time. Can't wait to see you.

You groaned, throwing your phone off to the side.

"Guess you're going to the party?" Haley inquired.

"Can I just crawl into a hole and never come out?" you asked before grabbing your pillow and screaming into it. You'd rather be doing anything than face all of your old friends, and you just knew Jimin would be there too.

When you arrived in New York, hanging out with your family kept your mind off the upcoming New Year's Eve Party. Your parents were glad to have you back home and even teased you about paying rent since you were staying in your old room, but all you did was roll your eyes at their suggestion.

Of course, your days back in New York wouldn’t be complete without Taehyung constantly bombarding you, making sure you were coming to his grand ol’ party. On Christmas Eve, you received a call from him and you picked up but all you heard on the other line were high pitched whimpers and deep groans.

“Shit–Can’t believe I’m fucking Chelsea in Chelsea.”

You gasped, mouth agape at what you were hearing. “Kim Taehyung, why the fuck are you calling me when you’re fucking?!” you yelled into your phone before hitting the end button.

Ten minutes later, you receive a text.

Taetae 10:27 PM

Sorry about earlier. Dunno how that happened. Butt dial or something…

You slightly threw up in your mouth thinking about Taehyung’s naked ass touching his phone.

You 10:30 PM

🙄 Finished that quickly? Couldn’t keep your Chelsea in Chelsea happy huh?

Taetae 10:31 PM

I’ll have you know that we were going at it for two hours already.

You 10:33 PM

🤮 Please keep those details to yourself. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.

Taetae 10:35 PM

You still coming to my party right?

You 10:37 PM

Not after you butt dialed me while you’re having sex. You’re disgusting.

Taetae 10:38 PM

Guess I’ll just tell Jimin you moved back.

You huffed, turning to your side, furiously texting back.

You 10:40 PM

How long are you going to hold that over me?

Taetae 10:41 PM

Until you come clean 😄 See you on New Years!

Christmas had gone by, and it was filled with family and lots and lots of food. Your mother insisted on stuffing your belly to the brim. She reasoned that you probably didn't have a proper home-cooked meal when you lived in LA – which was accurate.

"Have you seen Jimin yet?" your mother asked while unhooking the ornament from the Christmas tree, hardly paying attention to the expression on your face.

You shook your head, not wanting to go into further detail.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you," she said sweetly. She knew how much the two of you loved each other, and even she was heartbroken when she heard about the breakup.

This conversation was reminiscent of the one with Haley before you left. No, you didn't think Jimin would be glad to see you, and you weren't keen on seeing him either. Taehyung mentioned in a text that he was seeing someone and figured you should have a heads-up to prepare if he brought her to the party. So, if you were to see Jimin at the party, you'd most likely see his girlfriend too, which made your heart sink a little because that would mean that he was doing well in love and probably in life.

Throughout your time on the West Coast, you often thought about Jimin, wondered how he was doing, and if he was achieving his dreams. You even tried searching for his username on all socials. But, you figured he blocked you because there were no traces of him on the internet save for the photos here and there that Taehyung would post. That's how you knew how much you hurt him.

"I always liked Jimin," your mother continued, but you didn't respond again. "If I thought you would marry anyone, it'd be him."

You groaned at her comment. "Mom, can you stop, please?"

Everything was about Jimin. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. You wished you could erase the name from all traces of your life, but it was nearly impossible. Being back in New York meant you were bound to step back into some old habits and routines, revisit old friends, and hell, you even toy with the idea of rekindling things with Jimin, but you sure weren't going to be a homewrecker.

"I'm sorry. I know it's a sore subject for you, but it's been two years since you last saw him. It's possible that he's forgiven you. And who wouldn't forgive this pretty face?" Your mother put down the last ornament and cupped your cheeks, the pads of her thumb gently caressing them.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. "No, mom, I'm sorry. I just--I feel so stupid, you know? I gave up my whole life, gave up Jimin for a pipe dream...and it turned out to be nothing like I had hoped for."

Your eyes were now glistening, tears threatening to fall. The small, shaky intakes of breaths building in your lungs finally found their release in a long extended puff.

"I should've stayed. If I stayed, things might have worked out differently for Jimin and me and my career." Tears began streaming down your face, and the things you wanted to say became hitched in your throat.

Your mother pulled you in for a hug, quietly shushing you and caressing your hair. "We don't know what would've happened if you stayed. But I just know that if you didn't go, you'd regret not finding out." She pulled away, hands still cupping both sides of your face, gazing into your teary eyes. "And as for Jimin, he'll come around. They always do," she grinned.

You hoped she was right, but you also weren't counting on it. You hadn't even forgiven yourself for leaving him.

Before you left, you had hauled everything from Jimin's place and stuffed it into your old room. You glared at the boxes piled up in the corner because you knew what lay in them: memories. Memories of you and Jimin. Memories that you didn't have the heart to toss–not yet. There was an urge to look through the boxes but you resisted.

As you lay in bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, you thought about what your mother said, 'He'll come around. They always do'. Except Jimin had clearly moved on, finding someone else to replace you. It's not like you expected him to stay single forever. Jimin's a catch; anyone would be lucky to have him by their side.

Your room was imprinted with memories of you and him - bits and pieces scattered throughout your walls, the floor, and the bed. Your mind fluttered to a distant memory of him slowly backing you up against your door.

His plush lips kissed you along your jawline, lightly marking your neck. His hand down your panties, slipping between your folds, telling you to stay quiet; otherwise, your parents would catch their precious daughter red-handed being finger fucked by her boyfriend. It was the second time he was having dinner with you and your parents, and he desperately wanted to see where you had lived out all of your teenage angst. He thought your room was pretty, but you writhing underneath while he pushed two fingers inside your cunt was the best view he could ever have.

You found yourself massaging your breast while the other slid past the waistline of your lace panties toward your sensitive bud, rubbing your clit in circles.

Jimin's fingers were pumping in and out of you, eliciting small moans and whimpers. He pulled down the top of your dress and bra, freeing your breast. He squeezed it before enclosing his mouth on your nipple, then alternated between sucking and flicking his tongue against your pebbled flesh.

Your fingers started overworking your clit, continuously rubbing quicker, your heart raced a million miles per second, your breath hitched in your throat, and your body helplessly squirmed underneath the covers.

"Fuck--" you whimpered against Jimin's mouth as he swallowed your moan, trying to keep you from outing yourself to your parents. Jimin pulled away, smiling at how fucked out you looked already. "'m gonna cum," you mumbled, words barely coherent.

Your half-lidded eyes peered at the angelic man before you, being anything but angelic - more of a devil if you should say so yourself. He grinned at how needy and desperate you were for his fingers. Normally, Jimin would be praising you, telling you how much of a good girl you were, but this time he was quiet, allowing himself to drink all of you in. Your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, head lulled back, slightly thudding against the door. The building pleasure was deep in your belly, begging to find its release as Jimin decided to add a third finger into your dripping cunt. And that's when the coiling tension finally--

A blaring siren from outside broke your line of concentration. You groaned in frustration right as you were on the cusp of coming. The moment was over because you probably shouldn't be thinking about Jimin anyway. But no one else was worthy enough to even think about. The few guys you slept with didn't come close to what you and Jimin had, and he ruined other men for you. But coming back to New York meant you would have traces of Park Jimin everywhere.

D-day had finally arrived. Your room looked like a tornado had ripped through your entire closet, because clothes were everywhere. You needed the perfect outfit for an LA gal coming back to 'visit.' You weren't sure how long you'd keep moving back to New York a secret, but you'd try for as long as possible.

As you stepped into the lobby of Taehyung's building, you checked your makeup and tugged down your sparkly sequin skirt. You figured nothing said 'glam' more than a sparkly skirt. You fixed a stray hair that was out of place before finally striding towards the elevator.

Your nerves hit you like a ton of bricks once you stood outside Taehyung's door. Your hands were so sweaty it was hard to get a good grip on the handle. You wiped your palm against your fuzzy white sweater, hoping it would help.

Music was already blaring, chattering, and laughter echoed throughout the apartment. You looked around, expecting to see some familiar faces, and were met with none other than your good friend, Kim Taehyung.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Taehyung smirked, pulling you in for a hug.

"Hi, Taetae," you muttered reluctantly, withdrawing from his embrace. "Looks like you're doing well with your modeling career." You stepped away to observe the industrial loft decorated with quirky artwork and figurines. At least someone was doing well for themselves, you thought.

"It's so good to have you back," he enunciated a bit too loud for your liking, making you slap his arm.

"Jeez, Tae, tell the whole fucking world," you spat at him. You weren't ready for anyone to know you were back. You cleared your throat before pulling Taehyung aside, away from wandering eyes and listening ears. You already caught a few glances and smiles when you entered the apartment. "If you happen to hear that I'm just visiting and am working on a movie with a big named director, can you go along with it?"

Taehyung stared blankly at your request. "You're kidding me, right? I'm not helping you with anything." He tore away from your grip, heading in the other direction.

You followed closely, stepping in front of him. "Please, Tae, just for tonight, and then half of these people will probably never see me again," you pleaded desperately.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine--but only if you take a shot with me," he raised his eyebrow, hoping you'd take the bait.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You're lucky 'cause I don't want to remember tonight," you said, knocking back the glass he handed you, grimacing as the liquid coated your throat. "Round two?"

After downing three tequila shots, you were ready to spill all your secrets to the next person who asked how you were doing. Drinking was never your strong suit, but it was the only thing on your itinerary tonight.

With another drink in your hand, you scanned the room, anticipating the one person you were trying to avoid. As you took a sip of your mixed drink, you looked up towards the door, and it was like the heavens opened up, and in walked your gorgeous, ethereal ex-boyfriend, Park Jimin. To your surprise, no one was attached to his hip, and a wave of relief flushed over you because God knows you were not ready to meet a girlfriend.

The butterflies in your stomach are begging to escape - indicating how anxious you were to see him. It almost felt like time had stopped just so the two of you could gaze at each other. You couldn't help but give Jimin the once-over. He looked as angelic as ever when he effortlessly waltzed over to you, beaming with the biggest smile you've seen on him. It was like no one else existed at this moment except for you and him.

When Jimin approached, the jitters within increased. He opened his arms up for a hug, your name leaving his lips, and honestly, you were surprised at how excited he seemed to see you. You were expecting the cold shoulder, the brush-off with how everything went down the two of you. There had been no contact since you'd left, so you wondered if Jimin being warm and friendly was just a ruse, and deep down inside, he actually despised your presence. What gave you the right to return to New York after all this time?

"Long time no see!" he said, wrapping his arms around you. "How have you been?"

Your eyes widened, arms tucked tightly underneath his with no way to hug him back, but again, his affection really threw you in for a loop. He couldn't see your awkward smile as he held you. When he finally let go, you were able to answer.

"Yeah, great! Good. I'm good." You loved that right off the bat; you were already lying to Jimin. You were hoping you had learned some acting skills from the actors you'd watch from time to time.

"How's LA treating you?"

Well, this was the big question of the night from everyone, wasn't it? Now was your chance to tell the truth, or tell a lie. Which one will it be?

You scanned his face, eyes seeking attention. Maybe he wanted someone else to chime in and break up the most awkward conversation the two of you ever held.

"Uh, yeah, it's great. Everything's going, uh, pretty well."

Lie it is, then. You could've told him the truth, but then Jimin might have felt victorious because life didn't go the way you wanted. He would have had the upper hand in this non-existent competition you had fabricated in your mind. You left him. And for what? Another dead-end intern job marketed as your dream job? God, you were a fucking idiot - still were sometimes. Maybe that's how you ended up living with your parents back home.

"But how are you?" you asked out of politeness. It was only courteous since he asked first. "How's New York?"

A part of you desired he would say what you didn't dare to say - the truth. Honestly, you anticipated he was doing a million times better than you. Jimin had everything going for him before you left. At least, that's what it looked like from your perspective. You hoped all his dreams could come true even if yours didn't. One of you deserved to be happy, and you'd rather it be him.

"New York is great, actually. I got accepted into the corps with ABT."

It was as you expected - Jimin was doing very well. The American Ballet Theatre? You were in shock, mouth agape for a few moments before you realized it had been too long before you said anything. Your mouth curved into a smile before you were finally able to speak. "Oh my god, Jimin, that's amazing," you said, opening up your arms this time to embrace him. This hug wasn't like the one before when he first saw you, and it was less touching - more refined and more civilized.

When you pulled away, all Jimin could do was smile. Maybe he was trying to be friendly and humble since you didn't elaborate on how 'well' you were doing in LA. You didn't want to go into detail about your life for fear of slipping through a lie.

"Anyway, I'm going to go get a drink, see if I can find Tae."

Whew. You thought you would have to be the one to come up with an excuse but thank God Jimin only just got here and needed a drink. You showed him yours and nodded as he turned away. A sigh of relief washed over you as you watched your ex-boyfriend walk away.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, making Jimin stop to turn back to look at you. "I'm really happy for you."

Jimin - One.

You - Zero.

Like you had hoped, at least one of you was doing well.

Your goal was to get hammered and avoid Jimin for the rest of the night. Maybe you could find a room to slip into or pretend to fall asleep in the corner. Anything was better than smiling until your cheeks hurt and mingling with people you didn't want to see.

"No fucking way. Is that who I think it is? My big Hollywood girl!" You turned to see an old friend, Quinn, nicknamed Quinnie by your friend group. She ran over, tightly embracing you. "How are you, babe?"

"Good...good," you tried to take a breath and gasped when she finally let go. Quinnie was a big personality, and you knew you'd need more than the half-empty drink in your hand to finish a conversation with her. You cleared your throat, beaming a fake smile at her. "How are you, Quinnie?"

"Oh, it's the same 'ole, same ' old with me! Let's talk about you," she said, dragging you down the hallway. It was quieter than the commotion in the living room and kitchen. "So come on, spill the tea! What big stars have you seen? Slept with?" she wiggled her brows, making you roll your eyes.

You hardly had time to sleep around, given the nature of the entertainment industry. Sure, you were invited to parties, but everyone always had a front or wanted something from you. It was hard to trust anyone. You may have had your fuck buddy, Namjoon, a music producer, but he was nothing more than that - someone to sleep with and release the stress of your job.

"Quinnie…you know I don't kiss and tell," you said with a sly smile, taking a sip of your almost empty cup.

"Okay fine. If there's no big-name star you slept with, what are you working on now? You can't have gone to LA for two years and not have something big lined up! Spill!" Quinn said with wide eyes, waiting for your answer.

You looked around, making sure no one could overhear because you didn't know how many lies and people you'd have to keep up with. The two of you were near the bathroom door but figured whoever was there probably couldn't hear anything due to the music. You leaned in, gesturing for her to come in closer.

"I'm so excited. Look, I'm really not supposed to actually tell anyone this, but this thing I'm working on now... It's with Lin-Manuel Miranda."

He was the one playwright and filmmaker you'd dreamt of working with, and with his new musical in the works, he was the first person that popped into your head. With how your life was going, you knew it was only a pipe dream.

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Quinn squealed, trying to keep her cool when someone passed by. The two of you glared at the person before Quinn turned back to you. "You're fucking kidding me! Can you get me on set or meet him? Please, please, please!"

You felt like shit after letting the lie roll off your tongue. It was too easy. Why was it so easy to do that? Who had you become after moving to California? Another person who put up a front like all those trying to make it in the entertainment industry? New Yorkers were supposed to be tough and tell you like it’s supposed to be, not be shallow and fake like every orange spray-tanned person in Hollywood.

Maybe a breath of fresh air would do you some good. The crowd had begun to grow, and the room became stuffy.

The freezing night was one thing you didn't miss about New York, but Taehyung’s view significantly made up for it–well, some of it. You leaned your arms against the guard rail, gripping your cup, watching cars pass by, couples and friends racing against the clock to head to their destination. You didn’t like drinking because your thoughts somehow became clearer, the voice growing louder, almost mocking you for your decisions. Being here with old friends and seeing Jimin brought back too much heartache.

Taehyung's model friends interrupted your train of thought, and you left once they lit a cigarette to share. You didn't want to come home smelling like smoke.

The small breath of fresh air got your mind off Jimin and your lies for a split second, but as soon as you stepped back into the crowded room, your eyes found Jimin. But this time, he was talking to someone. A woman. They were laughing, and he was leaning in to whisper something to her. Your stomach began forming a knot because that had to be Jimin's girlfriend, right? You knew you wouldn't be able to avoid it.

You quickly averted your eyes from the two, not wanting to pay attention more than you already had. Suppose it was time for another drink.

Turning your wrist over and checking your watch, there was an hour left until midnight. Then you’d be free to leave and never see anyone again. Taehyung nudged you from behind as you poured yourself a glass of wine, and you needed a small break from all the hard liquor.

“Hey, sweet cheeks…How’s it going? You doing okay?” Taehyung asked, holding out a glass so you could pour him one.

You rolled your eyes at the pet name. “I’m peachy,” you said, holding the peach-flavored white wine.

“Did you see Jimin already?”

Yes, you saw him. And yes, he was doing ten times better than you were. And no, you didn’t want to hear more from Taehyung about anything related to Park Jimin. “Yep,” you replied curtly, “…and I don’t want you rubbing his success in my face.”

Taehyung snorted, spitting out his wine. “You guys are both losers,” he said, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and you weren’t sure if he was referring to this party in general or now. “Shut up, Tae,” you quipped, taking another sip of the disgusting wine.

“You shut up–you’re both losers because you’re both yapping away and telling lies to everyone in the room,” Taehyung glared at you, cocking his eyebrow.

Did he just say that Jimin was lying too? “What?” you uttered, setting down your glass, replaying your and Jimin’s conversation. You weren’t crazy, right? Jimin said he was in the ABT.

“He’s not with ABT. He’s lying to you,” Taehyung said, “I love you both, but please, for the love of god, get your shit together.” Maybe all the liquor was also getting to him, and his drunken words spoke sober thoughts.

You were stunned at the revelation. After all this time, Jimin’s dream didn’t happen either.

The rest of the night was rinse and repeat of the same conversations. How are you? What are you up to? What are you working on? Yada-yada-yada. Oh god, you were tempted just to grab a bottle of liquor and drown yourself in it. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out. You might have to sober up and call it a night.

After another restless exchange of lies rolling off your tongue, you needed a quiet place away from everything and everyone. You wandered down the hallway to a door already opened, peering in to see that it was empty, guessing it was Taehyung's room, given that a large photo of him was framed above a dresser. You chuckled, shaking your head as you sat down on the bed.

Briefly, you peered around the room before fiddling and staring at your cup. A sudden click of the door grabbed your attention then you scoffed when you realized you weren’t alone–the one, the only, Park Jimin, showed up. You lifted your cup to take one last sip, but you had already finished yet another drink - losing count after the first one. “Miss me that much, huh?” You probably weren’t the nicest person to be around when you drank. Maybe your attitude would be different if life had gone how you wanted it to.

“Just trying to make sure you don’t die of alcohol poisoning. Haven’t you had enough?”

You cocked your eyebrow, tilting your head, “Don’t you have a girlfriend to worry about?” you asked with spite, most likely due to the alcohol running through your veins. You may have pre-gamed before getting to the party just to loosen up your nerves.

“She’s not here,” he replied simply.

You gawked at him, eyes raking him over from head to toe before looking away to stare at anything but the man you once loved. “So, why are you here, then?”

The two of you weren’t together anymore. Jimin didn’t need to worry about you. Big girls don’t fucking cry and whine in front of their exes, and they surely don’t need to be rescued. You’d lost the privilege of Jimin giving two shits about you when you left him two years ago.

"I should be asking you that. I live here. You haven’t been back for two years."

“Well, I’ve been busy in LA. That’s why I haven’t been back.” Which was true - but mostly running errands for coffee and lunch instead of writing as you wanted. You didn’t want to think about what Jimin would have to say about you leaving him for basically nothing.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. What the fuck was his problem right now?

“Do you have something you need to get off your chest? I still don’t understand why you’re in this room with me. I’m sure you’d be having more fun out there at the party than in here.”

You weren’t exactly the life of the party right now. You wanted to be left alone, to wallow in self-pity at the shitty decisions you’ve made. You returned to New York with nothing to show–no job and certainly no boyfriend.

“Yeah, I probably would. But then I’ll be the one stuck with all the guilt when you pass out and choke to death on your own sick. You never did know when to stop.”

You scoffed. “Like you fucking care anyway. Two years and this is the first time I hear from you.”

“We agreed we wouldn’t keep in contact, remember? Too hard. Besides which, I found out you were going to be here from Tae. Could’ve told me yourself.”

“How could I have told you when you blocked me from every social media platform?”

Jimin shrugged. “What did you expect me to do? ‘Like’ every photo of you living your best life without me?”

You were kind of glad Jimin blocked you from all social media because then he’d be liking complete lies about your life. “Well, I’m not dying, so can you just leave me alone? I don’t want to be around anyone.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, y/n. You’re back here–with everyone–for the first time in two years, and you suddenly don’t want to be around any of us? Too good for us now, are you? Too good for New York?”

You looked away from Jimin, biting down on your lip. If you continued to look at the expression on his face, you were sure tears would begin to fall. The building of lies upon lies - you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it up, given that Jimin could always tell when you were lying.

“That’s hardly the case, Jimin.”

“Then what? Why the need to be alone on the biggest party night of the year?”

“Because I’m a fucking loser! A fucking fraud! That’s why I deserve to be alone! I have nothing to celebrate this new year!” The alcohol makes you speak truthfully because what is the point anymore? All of your friends would soon wonder why you were still around, Jimin too.

“What about your big movie?”

“There is no fucking movie! And don’t pretend you don’t already know that! Taehyung told me you’re not in the ABT, so I assume he told you the truth about me, too!” you exclaimed, out of breath. You definitely weren’t expecting this turn of events.

”Yeah, maybe he did, and maybe I did lie; can you really blame me? You coming back here for the first time since you left me, throwing your supposedly fan-fucking-tastic life in my face? And then it turns out it’s all fucking lies, and I come in here to check on you, and you have the fucking gall to treat me like shit? You think I’m going to feel sorry for you? Oh, boo hoo, your little plan didn’t work out? Well neither did mine, and I had to deal with it on my own because someone had fucking left me!”

If only he could see the steam fuming from your ears. “No one’s fucking asking you to feel sorry for me! And fuck you, Jimin. You weren’t the only one who was alone! I literally had no one out there! No one! So don’t you dare say anything to me. We both made the same choice.”

“And it’s clearly worked out fucking brilliantly for both of us!”

“And you’re saying that’s my fault? That’s on me, is it?”

“Yeah! I am saying that. This is on you! You broke this!”

“So what do you want from me then, Jimin? What the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to go back two years and not leave! I want you to fucking stay!”

“Well, you got your fucking wish. I am staying! I’m back, and I’m staying now! So you’ve got what you want! Are you happy?!” your voice shaky, the tears building up on the verge of falling.

“No!”

You could tell he was at war with himself. He took a deep breath and put his hands on his head, pulling at his hair. He sighed a shaky breath and slumped on the bed next to you.

“What exactly did Tae tell you?”

You shrugged. “He didn’t say much. He just said you weren’t with ABT and then scolded me.” Sitting here and talking to Jimin felt like nothing had changed, but in reality, the circumstances of your relationship wouldn’t go back to how it used to be.

“I am not with ABT,” he said. “Not even close.”

Jimin sighed before kicking off his shoes, then he pulled down the back of one of his socks, lifting his foot on the bed. You looked down to find an inch-long scar on the outside of his ankle. You gasped, thinking about how painful it must have been for him.

“Y’know that little extra bone I had at my heel? Don’t have that anymore. That training program that I got into, that-” he stopped. “Turns out that training program was too much. All those little twinges turned into something a whole lot bigger, and then the pain got so bad, I couldn’t even...” He flexed his foot forward, pointing his toes. “They were good about it. I got to see some really good doctors, and, I mean, technically, the problem is fixed.” He rotated his ankle around first one way and then the other as if to demonstrate. “But I was in a cast for a week, then in physio for eight weeks, and, even at that point, it was too late. Full recovery took almost six months. I was already too old to have been off my feet so long; that program was kind of my last chance. And I couldn’t finish it.”

You’re not sure what prompted you, but you reached out, your index finger softly tracing the raised mark on his ankle, stomach fluttering at the simplest touch of his skin. The thought of Jimin going through all of this alone made you feel even worse than you already did. You had left him heartbroken while chasing your dream when he was here, chasing his - only to find he wasn’t able to achieve everything he wanted.

You pulled your hand back, tucking it underneath your thigh, and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry. I wish I had known what you were going through.” All the guilt from the breakup and your leaving was beginning to seep back in. “It must have been hard on you,” you mumbled, quickly peering at him.

“It wa-” Jimin paused before clearing his throat. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It was.”

You slumped over, thinking about the last two years without him. Both of you were hurting without the other knowing to an extent. And Jimin…not being able to do what he truly loved pained you more than your stupid little dream of writing. You could do that whenever, wherever you wanted, but Jimin wouldn’t be able to go back in time and try again.

“I’m uh,” you paused to sniffle, “I’m moving back to New York for good. Gonna be with my parents for a bit while I get everything settled and figure out the next steps. LA was a complete bust. The dream job I left for was the same thing I was doing here.” You shifted back on the bed, then stretched your legs before settling them again. “There’s no big movie, no Lin-Manuel Miranda. I don’t know who I was kidding trying to lie my way out of this,” you chuckled sadly, “Pretty lame, huh? I left you and have nothing to show for it.”

There was a silence that settled between the two of you. You chuckled to yourself, thinking about how lame each of your lies was. And what did they achieve? Nothing really, and it was just a way to feel good about yourself, even if just for a split second.

Out of nowhere, his hand was on top of yours. You stared at the familiar hand, remembering how you’d always tease him about the duality of his hands. One minute they’re cute, soft, and stubby; the next, they’re confident, cunning, and unyielding. Your body felt warm, humming with excitement when he softly caressed the back of your hand. As much as you wanted your hand underneath the warmth of his, you didn’t forget that he was seeing someone. You didn’t want your hands to linger longer than they already did for fear of never wanting to let go again.

"Jimin…" you breathed, his name barely audible. He might not have heard you if he wasn't so close to you. His plush rose-tinted lips looked delectable - you were fighting every fiber of your being, not wanting to lean in and remember what they tasted like. Your skin is hot just thinking about what that mouth of his could do to you. Maybe press kisses along your jaw, your neck, and down the top of your chest. Possibly nibble on your earlobe and whisper something he’d like to do to you. He loved teasing you until you were squirming under him, and you wondered if he did that with this new person.

You didn’t know if Jimin was the only one struggling, but your heart began racing as he moved closer. You wondered if he was also fighting the same urge as you.

It’s been a long time since you had been anywhere near Jimin, let alone almost kissing him. Your eyes flicked to his before dropping to his lips, and your breathing slowed. It was as if time had stopped specifically for you and Jimin, waiting to see what the next move would be. Honestly, you’d be tearing his clothes off now if it weren’t for the fact that he was seeing someone else. You let out a breath, closing the distance, forehead gently bumping into his, your hand resting on his toned pecs.

Then the door swung open.

“Oh! Whoa! Oh, no, no. Ok. Back out! Back out!”

Tae swung in, leaning heavily on the door handle and, upon seeing the two of you in such close proximity, swung immediately back out again, slopping half the contents of his cup on the floor in the process, shooing away whichever lucky person was about to follow him in.

But it was enough. You both jumped, Jimin’s hand lifting off yours, both shifting away from each other. He laughed shakily, ran a hand through his hair.

“As much as I want to kiss you right now, I’d hate myself for it tomorrow,” you insisted before pulling away from him. Even though you had more than enough to drink tonight, this conversation with Jimin awakened you from fantasy land. The two of you were a complete mess, lying to one another about each other’s lives. You couldn’t bear the thought of whomever he was seeing finding out that he had kissed an ex-girlfriend while they weren’t around. Ugh, the idea made you feel sick–or maybe it was the alcohol.

You stood on your feet, a little wobbly like Bambi on ice, which warranted Jimin’s hands ready to catch you, but you assured him you were okay. You pulled down your skirt, which hiked up underneath your ass cheeks. You berated yourself, walking toward the door. Wondering who you thought you were, coming to this party as a big shot when in reality, you were nothing but a fake, a fraud who deserved nothing else than to be alone in this new year.

You turned around, taking one last look at Jimin, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you earlier tonight. Lifting your hand to wave, telling him, See you later, Jimin. Even though you knew it was another lie. You couldn’t bear to see him with someone else, let alone have their hands all over him. It would be too much for you.

“No! Don’t!”

He was on his feet, crossing the distance to you in two large steps. He placed one hand against the door and the other on your waist.

“Please don’t go.” He floundered, starting sentence after sentence with nothing to follow. “Please, just stay.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend; it’s not that serious.”

You chuckled, wondering if he was lying to himself. “Yeah?” you asked, cocking your eyebrow, “What are we doing then? What is this? Are you saying you want to get back together, or is this just because we’re both pathetic and miserable and drunk?”

“We might be pathetic and miserable and drunk, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything between us; you were the love of my life. You can’t just say we’re nothing to each other now. I know I’m not the only one who feels it. It’s still there. And I don’t want to be your friend.”

It’s true. How could you ever go back to being just friends with Jimin?

If the two of you were to continue what you had before, you feared you’d hurt Jimin again. But what if next time, it was him who left you? You weren’t sure if you could handle another heartbreak.

Your heart leaped when you heard the crowd roar echoing down the hall and into the room, the countdown to midnight in full swing. Fireworks glowed bright hues of white and yellow, illuminating Jimin’s face. More cheers and singing repeated as everyone rang in the new year.

The big question was, how would the two of you go forward now?

As Jimin caged you in against the door, your hands settled on his shirt, fingers curling into a fist, your body fighting every cell not to give in. You leaned in, nose brushed against his, lips faintly touching.

“Call me tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

Then you slipped out of his grasp and were gone.

#jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts x reader #jimin angst #exes to lovers #jimin smut #bts smut

395 notes · View notes

stusbunker · 2 months

Text

Spotless: Eco

Chapter Eleven

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Bobby, Bela, Dick Roman and Kobe Bryant mentioned (look, he wasn't supposed to be here but I did my research and well, he had to be), Anael, faceless paps

Word Count: 1683 with pictures

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, tour planning, brunch and shopping with Bela, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

“Okay, well the official schedule from the touring company arrived, so I have maybe a week to set up the promo interviews before they announce it publicly,” you said over the phone.

“Yeah, with Crowley it’s probably gonna be sooner. Annie’s gotta find someone to step in for the whole year with this so she’s already interviewing. Let me know if you need anything, because I’m just sitting on my hands until we’re actually rolling out,” Bobby replied solemnly.

The give me something to do, please, was implied.

“Check with Benny and his boys, I know the label is supplying some guys too, but I trust you to secure the crew and security schedules,” you said as you made another note on your ever increasing list of to do’s.

Two months may have seemed like a long time, but it was the shortest turn around you’d had for a tour since taking over as publicist for Phantom Traveler and you’d be damned if you fucked it up.

“With the holidays coming up, we’ll be in a pinch to get everything nailed down. But all the commotion with Bela and everything, people will be chomping at the bit to get actual news,” you added, staring unfocused at your computer monitor.

“And he’s got that interview coming up you said, just Dean for that one?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I really hope Meg doesn’t eat him alive. But it’s his chance to give his side of things and for people to see where his head is at now.”

“The sassy little brunette, right?”

“The very one.”

“Is it going to be a tit-for-tat thing? Is Cas gonna be next for a tell-all?”

“Bobby, I don’t think Cas would do an interview and talk bad about Dean even if they paid him. He’s moved on.”

“If you say so, Dean didn’t exactly play nice.”

“He must have had hundreds of offers for the dirt since leaving the band. And everything I hear about him now is just about the kid he’s working with and how they’re creating something unique.”

“I just know how that reporter liked him— the last time.”

“I’m sure she’s going in with the bias against Dean here. Time will tell if she can be swayed,” you admitted. “Plus, Dean won't be alone. We made sure there'll be a few of us there to make it easier.”

“To keep him from making a damned fool of himself you mean.”

“Basically.”

Bobby sat on the other end of the line with his gruff silence before continuing, “you going home for Christmas?”

“Yeah, got the usual stuff with my folks for Christmas Eve then I’m helping Ellen on Christmas day. I’m flying so I won’t be gone more than a few days. Probably end up spending half of it at airports with my luck.”

“Okay, just checkin’.”

“You guys have any plans?”

“Just service on the night before and maybe something with Annie’s cousins. Might just be a train of open houses.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I’d enjoy myself.”

You laughed and wrapped it up with a promise to touch base before you left town. The next two days were a whirlwind of emails and phone calls. You put off confirming brunch with Bela for Sunday, but relented from guilt, as she now had regular visits from paparazzi outside her townhouse due to her and Dean’s night club-hopping. You finished up your Saturday errands and plopped yourself onto your stationary bike in a last ditch effort to fend off your restlessness until it was a reasonable enough time to crash.

God, your life was so exciting.

Bela poured you another glass from the endless pitcher of mimosas. “Anyway, I guess Dean got us tickets to the Lakers’ game tomorrow night, like I actually care about baseball.”

“Basketball,” you corrected, taking a sip.

“Exactly,” Bela smirked.

“How good are the tickets? He doesn’t really follow it either,” you continued, worried they’d be in an embarrassing section.

“I think he said something about getting the label’s box for the game?” She tried to play innocent.

You almost spit out your drink. “The entire box?”

“It’s not floor seats’ exposure, but it will be worth it at least. I think he said he called in a favor with Dick?”

“Dick Roman is giving Dean access to his exclusive luxury box at the Staples Center?” You were floored, you opened your phone and googled who they were playing. “Holy fuck, they’re retiring Kobe’s number tomorrow. It’s going to be insane. There’s no way that box isn’t gonna be packed, but at least you can bump elbows with the uppity ups.”

“Kobe Bryant, yeah? He was quite prolific,” Bela seemed pleased.

“Uh, yeah, played his whole career here,” you added, but put your phone away. Unwilling to text Dean a ‘wtf’ text while you still had another hour of drinks and foodstuffs to get through. “What are you going to wear?”

Bela slid her most compelling face on. “I was hoping we could find something together. It’s been ages since we drunk shopped. Plus, it’s the holidays so I will need to be a bit tipsy if I want to deal with the crowds.”

You had literally nothing left to buy for Christmas, but drunk shopping was a time-honored tradition between the two of you. Plus, it was fun watching Bela work her magic and pull a stunning outfit together out of seemingly discordant pieces.

“Three stores and I’m getting my own ride home, missy,” you warned with a firm pointer finger.

“Of course!” Bela chuckled and tucked into her eggs, eyes flitting back to you with conspiratorial delight.

You finished off your mimosa and finally saw to your french toast.

Bela’s driver took you to all of her favorite haunts and naturally she weaseled her way in to see the best stylists, at least those who were actually on hand on the Sunday afternoon before Christmas. At Sister Jo’s boutique, the owner herself greeted Bela with a double cheek kiss and hug.

“What are you doing here? Wait, don’t tell me, you need an outfit asap because your little rocker boy toy needs arm candy,” the woman, who was actually named Anael, teased.

“You know me too well,” Bela replied. “This is my dear friend, Y/N, and we’re a bit on the tilt from brunch, but I simply had to come see you. I need something casual and sexy. It’s for a basketball game.”

You waved as she nodded in your direction, not wanting to break the momentum.

Anael frowned and looked Bela over, with much consideration. Then she hummed before asking, “how do you feel about hats?”

Nearly two hours and a top off on champagne later (to keep your buzzes going), you and Bela walked out of the shop with a bag each and a receipt ensuring Bela would be back in the morning for the alterations on the remaining garments.

“Well, I’d say that was a successful outing,” Bela said with pride, the pink in her cheeks the only hint of her lingering inebriation.

“I’d say,” you agreed, opening the back door of her pre-ordered ride. “I still can’t believe they had something that would work for me for New Year’s.”

Bela waited on the curb until she could slide in the other side, but continued your trail of thought. “Anael is good people, if she likes something, she carries it. Doesn’t matter the size or price, she is all about how an outfit makes you feel,” Bela explained.

“Well, it worked, because I just spent more on myself than I have the entire year because of how good it felt on, so I get it,” you said, patting the bag at your feet.

Bela confirmed your address with the driver and then hers, thanking them for going out of their way in a way that she wasn’t actually apologizing for being a burden.

“You got eyes on you lady,” the driver warned, pointing towards the corner where a camera lens was trained on the car.

“Ignore them, they’ll find someone else before they follow us very far,” Bela promised and you could see her almost glaring at the rearview mirror for the driver to get the lead out.

You sat on the couch in your robe and sleep pants, hair still wet and wrapped on top of your head. You had crashed for a late afternoon nap after shopping and had rebounded with a blissfully long shower and skincare treatment. Now you watched mind numbing television and plotted out your schedule for the coming week. Even though it was cut short with holiday travels, it was full-to-bursting with things to get done.

You sighed and dragged out your suitcase from under your bed, dropped it on the couch and unzipped it to start packing. At least you could watch something while you organized.

Just after ten your phone buzzed with a text message. You ignored it for a minute until you could find the remote beneath your pile of socks and paused your Lord of the Rings rewatch.

You stared at the conversation with the movie still paused, dumbfounded. One, that Dean sent you a goodnight text of all things and secondly that he was going to willingly give Bela his phone to post on social media about them. Because it’s not official until they’re both posting each other, or so they say. This was going to be big for the fan girls. You already knew Becky would be emailing you the second she saw it. But as far as fanclub presidents went, she wasn’t the worst. Then again, she would be more than a little bitter if Sam and Madison were the ones flaunting their relationship.

You put a reminder in your calendar to cover an extra sweep of SM while you were waiting out Dean’s interview Tuesday morning and then you tossed your phone back amongst your clothes. You were done for the night and so you shoved your half-packed suitcase on the floor and restarted the movie.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Twelve: Hook

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating

41 notes · View notes

be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 4 months

Text

Happy end of the holiday season, here is the Spider Hallmark Christmas Movie. Sorry it ended up way more serious than I meant for it too, it was supposed to be silly and fluffy. I will take criticism to make it fluffy:

-Spider used to live with his foster family next to the Sully's. The MsCoskers weren't great to him, and definitely never saw him as one of their own, but things were good. They never really cared where he was, and he spent all his time in the woods with the Sully kids, climbing trees and building treehouses and pretending to be forest people. He would help Kiri rescue baby birds that had fallen out of nests, and race Lo'ak up the tallest trees they could find until the branches get thin and breakable. Sometimes he would just sit and talk with Neteyam, about anything and everything. Neteyam always insisted on being the king of the forest, meaning Kiri and Lo'ak were the prince and the princess, but Spider was never quite sure what he was in the kingdom.

-He's been gone for a long time, after his dad got out of prison and got custody of him and took him far away to some military base out of the country. It wasn't good, and now that his dad is back in prison Spider has one year left before he turns eighteen and he's not quite sure where he'll end up. But, it's December and he's back and he's meeting his new foster family out in god knows where and through some insane fucked up version of fate it's the Sully's.

-They bring him to a new, smaller home than he grew up in, this one by the ocean and closer to other homes than the big forest properties from their childhood. But it turns out Lo'ak is good at surfing now, just like he used to be good at climbing trees, and Kiri likes to go protect turtle nests at night. Things are different but also the same.

-Tuk makes him decorate the entire house with her. Neytiri is not good at decorating, Christmas is not her thing, but it's not Spider's either. Santa never brought him things like he does for Tuk. They kind of let Jake and Tuk direct them into activities. Picking the tree is a very serious process, because it has to be one Lo'ak has climbed, but also can fit in the house. According to Kiri it gets harder every year. Kiri (and Neytiri) teach him how to bake sugar cookies, and Tuk teaches him how to decorate them to a nearly inedible result. Lo'ak takes him beach sledding, which is an activity his new girlfriend taught him. Jake makes him watch Die Hard four times.

-Neteyam hovers at the back of every activity in a way Spider isn't used to. He's usually right in the center of every activity, in Spider's memory. The king of the forest. Well, if Spider has to be involved then so does Neteyam.

-When Tuk directs Spider to put lights on the porch railings, he hands Neteyam a strand. When Kiri asks him to measure the flour, he asks Neteyam where the cups are. When Tuk goes to get the frosting for decorating, he gives Neteyam a blank canvas cookie snowman of his own to decorate. Spider does not let Neteyam leave him to go beach sledding with Lo'ak and Tsireya alone, and Neteyam watched Die Hard at least twice.

-On Christmas Eve, the family go with Kiri to check her turtle nests again. Neteyam is hovering in the back, not checking a nest, and it's just so weird Spider finds himself walking over and questioning him about it. What happened to the king of the forest that was always the center of everything going on?

-Neteyam says there isn't a forest here, and ever since they moved there, he hasn't been the center of much. He doesn't fit in here anymore. Well, that's just fine for Spider, he wasn't sure where he fit in in the forest, even if he loved it. He can't just not be involved at all. They can just not fit in together.

-And maybe, that is where they do fit in. Together.

41 notes · View notes

natimiles · 4 months

Text

First Day (Isaac x MC x Arthur)

Summary: After a chilly night and everyone going outside to see the fireworks at midnight, Isaac gets sick. Again.

Words: 1125

Tags: sick fic; first day of the year; new year's traditions; established relationship; fluffy; romance; Isaac is adorable and Arthur and MC love him very much;

Notes: Happy 2024, darlings! This was supposed to be a ‘New Year’s Eve fic’, but I couldn’t make it work. So now we have a ‘first day of the year fic’! (:

“This isn’t fair,” Isaac’s weak and dramatic voice echoed in the room, causing MC and Arthur to suppress their laughs. “Stop laughing!” Followed by a pout. Oh, Isaac did look cute when he was sick.

One of Comte’s good friends had thrown a huge New Year’s Eve party the day before, and all the residents attended. It was a chilly night, and everyone gathered in the huge garden outside to witness the fireworks at midnight. The three of them found a hidden corner, ensuring they could have their midnight kiss in peace. When MC started shaking in her fancy dress, Arthur gave her his coat to help warm her up. It did help, but she still shivered a little, her face red from the cold. Stubbornly refusing to go back inside, Isaac gave her his coat too, and the men wrapped their arms around her, keeping her warm between them while they enjoyed the beautiful lights exploding in the night sky.

Even though she was the human one, and Arthur had only worn long sleeves and a thin sweater after giving MC his coat, the result was that only Isaac got sick. Again. He spent the whole day sneezing, and by the afternoon, he was burning up with a fever.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she giggled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. Sitting beside his head, she leaned her back against the headboard, tenderly running her fingers through his hair in a way that practically made him purr.

“Why am I always the one to get sick?” He groaned.

“You want a real answer, or…?” Arthur trailed off, raising his eyebrow questioningly. He was sitting by Isaac’s foot, with his back against the wall.

“Shut up, Arthur.”

“Oh, luv, now don’t be like that!” A cheshire grin spread across the writer’s face. “You were starting to call me ‘darling’ when it was just us three.”

Isaac’s cheeks blushed intensely, and he averted his gaze to the ceiling. “You’re impossible.”

“Don’t tease him so much, Arthur,” she defended her sick boyfriend, gazing at him lovingly. “And how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” he sighed. “You two don’t have to stay here. You should go and have fun.”

“We’re not leaving you, Isaac,” she remarked.

“But you two-”

“No buts.” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, as if annoyed, but the softness in his eyes said he just didn’t want to argue about it. “We won’t leave you alone when you’re sick. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re the doctor.” Isaac furrowed his eyebrows and glanced back at him.

“Yes. And I ordered you to not be alone when you’re sick.” He smiled. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I did that?”

“One that listens,” he grumbled. “I’m fine, really.”

“We are not going to our first date of the year without you, Isaac. Don’t be stubborn,” she stated in a tone that left no room for trying to change their minds. “We three are in a relationship, and the special date was meant for us to enjoy together. So accept that we love you, and we won’t leave you. Ever.”

They had plans of going on a date on the first day of the year. She had this tradition of ‘doing on the first day what you want to do for the rest of the year’. Arthur and Isaac thought it was silly, but they loved making her happy, so they were going to spend the first day on a special date, enjoying each other’s company and basking in their love.

“Ugh, fine.” He tried to sound annoyed, but his red cheeks betrayed him.

“We can still have our date here,” she said. “We can eat something nice together and stargaze on the balcony later. What do you think about it, doctor? Can he go to the balcony for a few minutes?”

Arthur chuckled. “Yes, it’s fine. If he feels like it, we can help him. I’ll carry you, if you want,” he said looking at his boyfriend.

“Please don’t!” Isaac said exasperated. “For God’s sake, never do that.”

“Don’t hurt my feelings, luv,” the writer feigned offense, but a smirk danced across his face.

“Alright, then I’ll go make us something really nice for dinner!” She got up and practically ran out of the room, given how excited she was. They smiled at her eagerness.

Arthur moved from his spot at the end of the bed to sit beside Isaac’s head, taking over MC’s previous task of caressing his hair and running his fingers through the strawberry-brown strands, causing Isaac to close his eyes.

“How are you really feeling?” he asked in a low voice. “You can’t hide anything from me. I can see that you’re trying to act tough not to worry our little bird.”

“It’s like a carriage ran me over,” he admitted, leaning against Arthur’s hand. “I’m tired, but I’m okay. And I think I can get up to eat and stargaze.” He opened one eye to peek at his boyfriend, a small smile on his face. “My doctor allowed it, so it’s gonna be fine.”

“I suppose it is,” Arthur smiled back. “And if you’re tired, try to sleep a little bit while she is making us dinner.” He kissed Isaac’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The physicist closed his eye again and nodded slowly, already drowsy. He took one hand from underneath the blanket and placed it over Arthur’s thigh beside his head. He didn’t say anything, but the writer clearly understood what he wanted. Smiling, Arthur laced their hands together and kissed his knuckles, eliciting a sigh from the physicist — he really was adorable when he was sick. It didn’t take more than a few minutes for Isaac to fall asleep. Arthur leaned his head against the headboard and stared at the ceiling, his eyelids growing heavy too.

When MC came back, she was met with the sight of Arthur slumped beside Isaac, as if he had fallen asleep in a sitting position and slid down until he was lying down with him. Their hands were intertwined in a death grip, and the other arm of the writer draped over Isaac’s body protectively. The physicist had his face buried on his boyfriend’s chest, and they were sleeping soundly, with peaceful expressions on their faces. She wished she had a camera to take a photo and keep it forever.

Placing the tray with their dinner on the coffee table, she padded her way to the bed. Doing her best not to shuffle too much and wake them up, she settled on Isaac’s back and placed her arm over them, trying to reach Arthur as well in the hug. With a content sigh, she closed her eyes. They could eat later.

Masterlists

#ikevamp arthur x isaac #ikevamp arthur x mc x isaac #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp fanfics #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp mc #ikevamp x mc #ikemen vampire x mc #new year's traditions

28 notes · View notes

phykios · 1 year

Text

Holding Out For A Hero, co-written by @darkmagyk [read on ao3] [written for the @pjo-hoo-bigbang] [thank you to @ashilrak for the absolutely stunning art!!]

[part 1/2]

---

At twenty-seven years old, Annabeth had had enough. Truthfully, she’d had enough at seventeen. And at seven. But at twenty-seven, she had enough bravery and arrogance to refuse the next time a god came to her with a quest that needed taking. Even when it was her mother who offered.

“You will not take it, then?” the goddess asked.

Annabeth nodded. “I will have to decline. Respectfully.”

There was a beat as Athena appraised her, gray eyes calculating. They softened, then, apparently finding Annabeth worthy. “You have become very wise, my daughter. The hunger for glory has brought the downfall of many a hero; I am glad that it will not take you as well.”

“It’s not about that,” said Annabeth.

But Athena ignored her. “Fear not, Annabeth. I am not disappointed–rather, I am proud. You have done very well.” And then she rewarded Annabeth with a rare, sincere smile, a queen bestowing her favor. Even a few years earlier, Annabeth would have flipped for joy. She would have fallen to her knees and begun to weep at this display of motherly affection.

“Thank you, mother.”

It was just too bad that Annabeth no longer cared.

---

She didn’t think she had taken a breath all day. Something was going to go wrong; she just didn’t know what yet. She watched the movers, carrying her things, telling them how she wanted her new house to set up. It wasn’t very much stuff. Her apartment in Boston had been so much smaller than the house in Maine. And she didn’t want to fill it up yet. She’d bought the place, more crumbling manor then one woman’s starter house, because she wanted to build it and shape it to be everything she needed.

It would be great if she could figure out what that was.

But she was starting with a house. She was an architect after all, even though she’d sold her firm.

This was supposed to be her oasis. This was supposed to be her retirement.

So, something was bound to happen. She scanned all of the movers. Looking for a flick of a tail, the clump of a hoof, the shimmer of scales, anything that would give the game away.

She knew that monsters stopped bothering demigods as they got older, but they didn’t normally completely leave them alone. She’d killed a lot of monsters in the last decade. And she couldn’t imagine moving into her new home, her quiet retirement, without one last great battle.

She felt for her knife, tucked into her waistband. Ready for her, always ready for her.

But none of the movers turned into monsters all day. They just unloaded her things, unwrapped and unpadded things, deposited boxes in the rooms as marked.

And then they left, without attacking, without breathing fire or raising a weapon against her. For dinner, she pulled out the phone book and rooted around for the pizza place, and lamented that there was only one in town, and that her house was barely in delivery range.

When she settled into her new house, in her new bed, with cold Dominos in the fridge. And no one tried to attack her.

Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Athena, Hero of Olympus was almost thirty years old, and she was trying to figure out what you did, when all the best and worst things that could ever happen had happened to you, happened before you were eighteen.

She tried not to feel like the protagonist of a shitty romcom, but it was not like she was making it easier for herself.

Helena, Maine, was very small. It felt kind of ridiculous to say that Annabeth was feeling culture shock. But it was just so small, and Boston had been home for so long. She swore that she would miss the colors, the skyline, the crush of souls. She had promised up and down at her goodbye party that she would miss it all…

And yet.

The smell of sea air was much, much stronger here, and somehow even more intense inside of the fixer-upper she had recently acquired, the salt smell soaking and permeating every pore of the wooden beams. It was a beautiful piece of property, a couple blocks away from the shoreline, placed neatly between the evenly-spaced trees of the neighborhood and the wilder, more overgrown forests as the land stretches inland. She didn’t really want to know what happened to the previous owner, or when, how, and why the gods of Olympus decided to try their hand in real estate, but a house in Nowheresville USA was a small price to pay for years of blood, sweat, and tears, she supposed.

It had a little downtown area, which was just a mainstreet with local grocers, a beauty salon, a couple of restaurants that all claimed to have the best lobster, a diner that did have the best pie she’d ever had in her life, the most historic building, now a hotel that she’d helped restore, had more or less sold her on the town, a little gift shop and tour right next door that advertised historic district walking tours, sun set cruises, and the best whale watching tours on the East Coast, a clothing store she’d bought some new sandals from, a coffee shop, a record store with a decent selection, and a little book store that had already told her they did not have anything in ancient Greek, and was therefore useless to her.

The arts and craft store was actually a little ways out, but they had some great wool and she’d already stocked up.

She was retired. But she was still planning on taking the occasional consulting job, or even a few independent design projects. But not yet. She wanted to give herself some time to sit and relax, and let the sea air soak into her veins.

And she’d knit while doing it.

Oh, she did a lot of other things too: she compared all the lobster restaurants in town, ordered a full pie a week from the diner. She bought new leggings at the store. She bought Into the Gap and the Footloose soundtrack at the record store. She broke down and bought Firestarter because the guy in the bookstore wouldn’t stop talking about Stephen King. She had lunch with the hotel manager and talked about architecture, and she went on walking tours, the Blueberry Tour, and even the ghost tour. She walked on the beach, and on the little docks.

She went back to Boston, too, sometimes. They had not yet finished the renovations on Magnus’s shelter when all the paperwork from selling her company and buying her house came through. And she liked to visit her dad, too. She was always worried about him getting out and talking to people, after the divorce. Sometimes she wondered if her dad had ADHD, too, given how he could go for days, absorbed in his books.

She was shocked, twelve weeks in, when she drove back into town on Monday, after her fifth trip to Boston, and found her shoulders loosening as soon as she spotted Main Street. She rolled down her window, and breathed in the sea air.

And she felt herself relax. Really and truly relax, for the first time since she was five or six.

No monsters or Harvard admissions or deadlines hanging over her head. Just home.

One day, she drove into town, and got dinner in the little hamburger place near the boat docks. It was the third best hamburger in town, but it was the only restaurant with a window onto the ocean. The patio was closed for the winter, but it was still a phenomenal view.

She ordered a glass of wine, automatically sending a prayer of thanks to Dionysus, and made herself a pair of leg warmers in between bites and sips.

“Those are cute,” said her waitress, Sarah, who went to the local high school, and worked every Monday, Wednesday, and alternate Saturdays. She had a boyfriend who was more serious about their relationship than she was, loved Danielle Steele, and was ambivalent about college unless it could take her someplace romantic like New York, or Los Angeles, or even some magical, faraway place like Paris–if she got really lucky.

You learned too much about everyone in a small town. Privately, Annabeth thought it was kind of delightful.

“Thanks,” she said. “Honestly, this is the fifth pair I’ve made this month.” She considered them. They were a bright purple. She liked the color, but probably not anymore than the blue and gray ones she’s been wearing.

“Fifth?”

“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands.”

Sarah’s eyes flashed. “Uh huh?”

“Yeah, just–it’s been nice to get back into a hobby and everything.”

“So, do you… um…” Sarah twirled her pen around her fingers, looking decidedly left of Annabeth’s cheek. “What does your boyfriend think of them?”

“Oh, I don’t have one.” And thank all the gods for that. And may the gods curse the lot of the male heroes for their idiocy.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t? What about an ex?”

Annabeth shook her head.

“Never? But you’re so ol–I mean… uh…”

Annabeth shrugged. She wasn’t that old. “Never had the time for one.” She blinked away the flash of sandy hair and angry blue eyes, and took another sip of wine.

“O–okay.”

If Annabeth hadn’t been retired, maybe she would have taken more notice. Maybe she would have correctly clocked Sarah’s interest in her newfound free time as more than a little concerning. Maybe she wouldn’t have forgotten the conversation after she went home, snuggling down into her bed after another half a glass of wine, drifting off into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Then again, what was the harm? Annabeth was new, and interesting, and her lack of things to do was just a little bit of small-town gossip to pass around. Gods knew they needed some kind of excitement in their lives.

Big mistake.

It wasn’t two more days before Brenda, Sarah’s mother and co-owner of the dive, made her move.

Which was a damn shame. Annabeth really liked this grocery store.

“Oh, Annabeth!”

Brenda’s bright, brown eyes were ringed with blue in a way that she imagined Silena might quietly approve of, and at least today, they had all the laser-focused intensity of a Gorgon stare as she came barreling towards Annabeth in the cereal aisle.

She acknowledged Brenda, but didn’t quite smile. Smiling sometimes gave people the idea that these interruptions were desired.

This had never been a problem in Boston or New York. You could go on fifty shopping trips, and never run into someone you know. That was a big drawback of small towns, all the people.

“I’ve seen you at the restaurant a lot lately,” Brenda said. “And Sarah has, too.”

She nodded. “I love your patio.” Because she did. It reminded her a little bit of her own back deck. Except for someone else cooked, and then cleaned up at the end.

“I’m glad,” Brenda said, “but several of us have noticed that you always eat alone.”

That was true. In her five months here, her dad had visited four times. And she hadn’t taken him to Brenda’s place, because that would involve way too many questions. “Yeah, I feel like I always run into someone I know at the restaurant.” She said.

“How long have you been in town now, Annabeth?”

“I moved here in September,” she said, cocking her head to the side, unsure of where this was going.

“And do you think you’ve really settled into the community?”

“Um…” What kind of question was that? “Yes?”

“Because I worry about you.”

“Oh Brenda,” she sighed, “that’s sweet, but…” But she could already see where this was going. She’d had this conversation four or five times with a few of her neighbors. She looked Brenda up and down and wondered if she was Catholic or Lutheran or whatever Presbyterian was. Also, if someone was ever going to explain to her what the differences between all those things were.

“I’ve spoken to some of the others, they say you eat at one of our restaurants nearly every night.”

Oh… well, that didn’t seem like a lead up to invite her to church, at least. And it wasn’t like it wasn’t true. “I can’t cook.”

Brenda frowned. “And how does your boyfriend feel about that?”

Again with the boyfriend stuff. “Well, I don’t have a boyfriend, so nothing.”

“Yes,” Brenda nodded, “Sarah mentioned that. And so, I was thinking, there are a lot of great guys in Cabot Cove. And with you being so new, me and my book club might be able to help you out.”

“Out… with a guy?”

“Yes,” She smiled, “exactly.”

“Um…” That mostly sounded like a headache and a half. “I don’t know if… that’s… the best idea…” In fact, she knew it wasn’t the best idea. It was, plainly, the worst idea anyone had ever come up with. Never mind the fact that daughters of Athena didn’t date on principle–dating a mortal sounded like a very particular brand of Tartarus. And she had tangled with enough of Tartarus to be wary.

Undeterred, Brenda powered through. “Oh, that’s fine!” she said, patting Annabeth’s arm. “The book club is usually just for us girls, anyway.”

Annabeth chuckled, weakly. That didn’t make it sound any more appealing.

“So will we finally see you on Thursday?”

Internally, she sighed. Brenda and her entourage–Denise from the bookshop, Susan the grocery store clerk, and Linda, the receptionist at her contractor’s–had been gently hounding her to stop by their book club for weeks now. Annabeth already didn’t particularly enjoy hanging out with many people her own age. The fact that she was officially invited to the realm of forty-year-old mothers with too much time on their hands didn’t sit well. What she wouldn’t give for Clarisse and Chris and a no-holds barred beatdown to let off some steam right now.

Brenda’s eyes were wide, the bright blue making them look even wider, a pleading look that was wildly out of place.

Maybe if she went once, it’d put them off for at least a few weeks.

“...So, what are you guys reading?” she asked, finally, withholding most of the skepticism from her voice.

Brenda cheered, giving her a hug.

Which was how Annabeth–a known dyslexic–found herself in Denise’s living room at 8 PM on a Thursday night, reading some new romance novel called Snow on the Beach by Sally Jackson (where had she heard that name before…) after choking down some of Linda’s cheeseburger pie which did not at all pair well with the cheap Chardonnay Susan brought with her.

At first, Annabeth had been worried, as dyslexia did not exactly make her an avid reader. Luckily for her, it turns out none of the other women were avid readers either, preferring to spend most of their book club time drinking and talking shit on their husbands. It almost reminded her of being in college, only a little bit sadder.

Right down to gossiping about cute boys.

“I’m telling you, ladies,” said Susan, throwing her wine hand a little wildly, her third full glass nearly tipping over. “There’s no way he uses mousse. His hair just looks so touchable all the time–and the way it whipped in the wind!” She sighed, her eyes fluttering.

Apparently everyone’s favorite hunk had given a presentation about local marine life to the town’s boy scout troop, and they could not shut up about him.

“You know,” chimed in Denise, “I heard from Karen who heard from Nancy that he rescued little Jennifer Woods’ cat from a tree just last week!”

They all broke down, cooing.

Annabeth just barely contained her eye roll.

She was almost glad when the talk turned to the town doctor and his recent divorce.

“I could see it coming from a mile away,” said Brenda, taking a sip of water. “I have some experience with that, after all.”

“I just can’t believe it happened so soon!” Susan said. “They had only been married for, what, two years? And he’s still so young!”

Linda tutted. “How could a woman who landed a man like that–a doctor, of all things–just give that up?”

Susan leaned in. “I heard,” she whispered, conspiratorial, “that she ran off with some childhood sweetheart of hers. Joyce lives across the street, you know, and she said she saw a strange car pull up to their house in the middle of the night, before taking off! It was such a racket, it woke up her yappy little dog, oh, what’s-his-name–”

“Have you ever met him? The doctor?” Brenda asked Annabeth, obviously sensing her disengagement with town gossip.

She blinked, stupefied for a split second. “Oh–uh, no, I still go to my doctor in Boston.” Her doctor being her cousin with magical healing powers, or either her ambrosia supplier when she could get a hold of him.

As one terrifying, multi-voiced entity, they all shrieked. “He’s so handsome!” Susan cried.

“And he’s so sweet!” said Denise. “My sister works at the front desk part time, and he always gives her a smile and a ‘good morning’ every time he comes in!”

Wow. A smile and a good morning? What a keeper. “I’ve only heard good things about him,” she said, attempting to shrug off the attention. “I’m sure he’s a very nice man.”

Which was when Linda decided to make her move.

In hindsight, Annabeth really should have seen this coming.

“You’re not seeing anyone right now, right, dear?”

All that attention she had hoped to avoid was now all focused on her. She hadn’t felt this intently watched since she had taken on those gorgons last year.

“Um…” she began, intelligently, her mind racing. No, but they didn’t need to know. Also, she was going to kill Sarah the next time she saw her.

“That’s perfect!” crowed Denise. “I’ll talk to Katie, and she can get you two set up on a date!”

“I–”

Brenda and Susan cheered. “Oh, you two would make such a cute couple!” Susan said, taking another very large sip of wine.

“But–”

“And I’m sure you’d be a much better woman to him than his bitch ex-wife–”

“And your kids would be just adorable! With his brains, and your beautiful hair–”

“Hold on!” Annabeth finally cut in, face hot. “I am so not interested in kids right now!”

“Well, you’re not getting any younger,” Linda said, her voice just a little too sharp to be entirely friendly. “But you don’t need to bring that up on the first date.”

All her cleverness and strategy, and somehow, she couldn’t figure out the right combination of words to get these old ladies off her back. “I just think that–”

“I think it’s a great idea, sweetheart,” Brenda said. “Why don’t you just give him a chance?”

Which was how Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, hero of Manhattan, Harvard graduate magna cum laude, ended up on a blind date with some doctor from some podunk New England beach town in the only bar for miles.

Jack’s Bar operated out of the town inn, appropriately named the Helena Inn. Presumably unable to recoup its costs with just the few out-of-towners, it was open to the general public until well into the early morning. It had an interesting kind of energy–with the low ceilings, poor light throw, and creaky floors, you could certainly feel the age of the eighteenth-century building. But the exposed beams gave it an interesting charm, and no one could deny that they made a damn good lobster roll.

Despite herself and her low expectations, she had dressed up for the occasion. Her outfit was an older one, but it still fit her, even if it didn’t exactly fit the bar’s atmosphere. Her black skirt was long, and a little bit faded, but it still mostly matched her black suspenders, and any wonky coloring would be hidden by the contrast of her gray sweater. Sitting at the corner of the bar, she pulled her skirt down, even though it already fell below the knee, feeling distinctly out of place among the blue jeans and stretched sweaters of everyone else around here.

“What are you having?” said the bartender.

“Some wine, please,” she said, softly. “White.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. “You from out of town, or something?” he asked, pouring her a glass.

Her shoulders sagged. “No. I actually live down on Meetinghouse Circle.” Gods, she stuck out like a sore thumb. This was a mistake. “I just… haven’t gotten the chance to stop by yet.”

Her bartender just nodded. “Just wondering, since you seem a bit too dressed up for a little old place like mine.”

Jack’s Bar. “You’re Jack, then?”

He shook his head. “My dad. I’m John.”

Annabeth stuck her hand out. “Nice to meet you. Annabeth.”

Shaking her hand, he didn’t smile exactly, but his face relaxed in a way Annabeth found pleasing. “So you’re the mysterious newcomer I’ve heard so much about.”

“Guilty.”

“You meeting up with someone?”

She nodded. “Brenda and her friends set me up on some stupid blind date…”

“Excuse me,” came a smooth, deep voice from behind her. “Are you Miss Annabeth Chase?”

She turned.

He was wearing well-fighting trousers and a clearly expensive unbuttoned Izod button down–she could almost sense the tightness of the stitching. On his broad nose was a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, resting delicately atop his prominent cheekbones, and his dark gold hair swooped gracefully across his forehead.

Also, he wore his lab coat.

Oh, brother.

“Dr. Martin Stasiovsky,” he said, holding out his hand. “And may I say, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

So he was that kind of guy, huh. “Me too,” she bit out, shaking his hand.

“Shall we?” He held out his arm to her, brows raised expectantly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John suppress a laugh, disguising it as a cough.

And then he led her to a sticky wooden table, pulling out a chair with a cracked leather seat, before sitting himself down opposite her with a flourish, as though his lab coat were a cape. He rested his elbow on the table, placing his head in the crook of his palm. In the dim light, you could certainly call his features handsome, even seductive–or at least they would be, if he hadn’t already advanced to playing footsie with her under the table.

She pulled back her feet, tucking them beneath the rung of her chair.

“So,” he said, undeterred. “Tell me about yourself.”

She tried. Gods of Olympus, did she try. But every time she began a sentence about herself, he would swiftly interrupt her, going on a barely-related, irritatingly erudite tangent. For example:

“I’ve lived all over, but I actually grew up in Boston for a bit–”

“Ah, Boston, yes, you know it was the staging ground of the Revolution? When I was younger, I was able to correct the tour guide at the Old North Church on a thing or two–”

Or:

“I work at an architectural firm–”

“Oh, architecture is very important. Do you know, it was famed nineteenth-century skyscraper architect Louis Sullivan who said the iconic words, ‘Form Follows Function,’ which has become something of a motto of mine–”

Or even:

“No, I don’t really see my family–”

“My family and I tend to summer in southern France every year, though we recently had the opportunity to visit Vienna–an absolutely marvelous city–”

The thing that finally got him to shut up was: “I did my undergrad and grad school at Harvard.”

He stiffened, nose wrinkling like he had just got a whiff of something really bad. Maybe it was the gross-ass whisky he ordered. “You,” he said, absolutely dripping with patronizing disbelief, “went to Harvard?”

“I did,” she replied. “And I graduated magna cum laude.”

A pause, and then he laughed, short and ugly. “No, you didn’t.”

“Um… yes I did.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t have the head for Harvard.”

Anger began bubbling up in her, like lava in the pit of her stomach. She clenched her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, and tried to breathe through her nose. “And where did you go to school?”

He pulled back, frowning. “Well, I mean–I went–my first choice was Harvard but I ultimately settled on–”

So he didn’t even get in. She didn’t even let him finish. “Ah, that’s a shame. Must have been one of my girlfriends who took your spot.”

“Well, when I was applying to school,” he sniffed, “they knew better than to let girls into Harvard.”

“Wow,” she whistled. “Fifty percent more spots, and you couldn’t even get in then.”

Leaving him sputtering, nearly speechless with shock, she stood up, downed the rest of her wine, then walked over to John to pay her tab.

She skipped next week’s book club. And the one after that. She tried to tell herself it was because she was mad at them for setting her up with such a douchebag, and not because she felt that she had somehow failed at being a proper girl.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t hide forever in a town as small as this one. Once again, she was accosted in the cereal aisle by one of the well-meaning but perhaps a touch over-bearing town ladies.

Maybe she should just stop buying cereal.

“Oh, Annabeth, dear,” said Susan, setting down her green plastic basket. “It’s so lovely to see you! We’ve missed you at the book club.”

She had only gone once. “Yeah,” she replied, for lack of anything else to say. “You know…”

“And I was so sorry to hear about your date.”

Annabeth bit her lip. “Oh?”

Susan nodded. “Denise’s sister told us all about it. May I just say–how rude!”

Annabeth looked away, rubbing at her arm. Sure, she had been a little forceful, but he had kind of deserved it.

“The nerve of that man, to say you weren’t smart enough for Harvard!” Susan took her hand, patting it. “Don’t worry: I have a first cousin who lives in the next town over, she has a son who’s single, and you will love him.”

“That’s really kind of you, Susan, but I don’t really think–”

“Nonsense! He goes to Dartmouth, working on his PhD. He’s an intellectual, dear, and he’ll be able to appreciate just how smart you are.”

Despite herself, she found she was a little bit interested. “What is he studying?”

Susan frowned, thinking. “I believe he’s a historian of some kind,” she said. “He studies something very old. I think the Middle Ages?”

For a split second, Annabeth was worried she would say that he studied World War II. That would have been a little too close for comfort. But she did like history, and people with multiple degrees, so… why not?

“When is he free?”

He ended up being free that Friday night. Annabeth and Malcolm met up at Jack’s Bar, only this time, Annabeth had chosen to tone down her outfit, opting for a brown, blue and white striped sweater, with a pair of nice black jeans instead of a skirt. “So, Susan tells me you’re studying the Middle Ages?”

Malcolm nodded. “I’m writing my dissertation on the 1204 Sack of Constantinople.”

Ooh, a siege. “What about it?”

“How it directly led to the eventual collapse of the Byzantine empire,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “The Latin invaders, by destroying Constantinople, left it wide open for the Ottoman empire to come riding in and capture one of the key military bases in the Mediterranean.”

Gods above, he sounded just like her dad. Strangely enough, she didn’t seem to mind. “Win the battle, lose the war, huh?” she offered. Every tactician worth their salt knew that way failure lied.

“More or less,” Malcolm agreed.

“Reminds me of a paper I wrote in college, actually, in a history class. About the civil war, and how the confederates had aimed for a lot of splashy victories, but not a cohesive strategy,” she said.

“I’ll admit, I haven't focused much on US history in recent years. But I’d love to read it.”

She felt herself blush. “I mean, it was just an undergraduate paper in a history survey course,” she told him. “It wasn’t like it was written with publication in mind.” Though it had made her professor more or less beg her to become a historian.

“I mean, you clearly had a lot of interesting ideas. And I’m a TA, I read undergraduate papers for a living. I’m sure yours would be a breath of fresh air.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because my dad felt the same way, and kept a copy. So I might actually be able to read it. I can maybe have him fax it to you sometimes.”

“I’d like that,” he said.

“But you’ll have to share some paper from your past, too. What was your master’s thesis about?”

“The repurposing of Athena as the Madonna in Medieval art.”

Annabeth had already been paying attention, but she felt herself lean forward. And she thought some battle strategy was her kind of research. “That sounds amazing,” she said. “Now I have to read it.”

“Did you do art history as part of architecture?”

He remembered what she did! Her opinion of him went up a few notches. “Yeah, but more than that I’ve always had a… an interest, you could say, in Athena.” That might be putting it mildly.

“Me too,” Malcolm said.

“But you aren’t a classicist?”

He shook his head. “This is going to sound weird, and maybe kind of arrogant, but… the classical world always almost made too much sense to me. Everything I ever learned, I got it, I understood it. It made researching it… almost harder. It was hard to form questions, because everything felt like it had an answer. That’s why I like the Medieval period. It's almost like taking some of the puzzle pieces from the classical world, and some new ones, too, and trying to figure out a new picture. Like… Christianity. No accounting for Christianity. And that makes learning it so much more interesting.”

“Not a church every Sunday kind of kid?”

“No, my moms,” he paused, coughed, and cleared his throat. “My mom wasn’t really for it, and so it wasn’t a part of growing up. That a problem?”

“Oh gods, no,” she said.

Malcolm seemed nearly as invested as she was, they’d both leaned forward, and he had a clear view of his gray eyes. They were nice eyes, she thought. Intelligent and maybe a little dangerous. She thought maybe she’d seen them before. “But, we’ve talked too much about me. Tell me about your work.”

And so she did.

“...and I like the idea of Neoclassical, but it always seems so flat to me. I feel like what it’s missing is color. I want more color in architecture in general, I think, but all that white marble is grating.”

“Have you ever been to the Parthenon?” He asked, with an almost breathless reverence in his voice.

“I have,” she said, smiling, “my dad took me as a graduation present.” Or, really, more of a one-two punch, graduation present for her, divorce present from him. Visiting Athena’s holy place seemed fitting for both reasons.

“What was it like?” He asked. “I’ve never been able to go, but gods, I want to. More than anything.”

Malcolm got it. Malcolm got the Parthenon and Athena.

And so maybe, Malcolm could get her. Maybe Malcolm could understand a child of Athena.

She looked at him. He was handsome in a way. His chestnut brown hair, his clear gray eyes, his…

His gray eyes.

His moms.

But gods, he’d said.

He was looking at her now, and frowning.

“You’re a child of Athena!” They said at the same time, accusatory, surprised.

They leaned back and looked at each other for a long moment.

“Well, damn,” Annabeth said. “I think we might be siblings.”

“I… yeah.”

“Um…”

Just her luck. Here she was, actually enjoying herself, having fun with this guy, and it turned out he was her half-brother.

“That sounds about right,” Annabeth said. “The first guy I can stand, and it’s because he’s my little brother.”

“Sorry,” he said.

She sighed.

“So… I guess our date is over?”

She thought of her home, quiet and lonely, and sighed. “No. I’d rather not go back to my place just yet. Besides, if I left early, Susan would never let me hear the end of it.”

Malcolm laughed.

“But, tell me more about your research,” she said, resting her head on her hand. “I’ve never spoken to another child of Athena before. Lay out the battle for me, and the strategy for Byzantium going forward.”

She saw her dad the next weekend. He came up from Boston, excited to see the progress she’d made on her house. And for the first time in a long time, recounting her new friend Malcolm, she had something to actually update him on other than the contractors finding termites or the pipes needing to be replaced.

She was actually excited, until she said the words “Turns out having a half brother is actually pretty fun.”

Cause she’d tried half brothers before, and it hadn’t really worked out.

But her dad just smiled, said he was so excited for her, and then complimented her on all the structural work she’d gotten done, before they both got distracted by a discussion of the tactics of the Germans in World War I. Her dad was kind of awesome. It was so much fun to talk to him.

She couldn’t really explain to Susan and Brenda and everyone that she and Malcolm were half-siblings, and so she would not be entering a relationship with him, but they did start spending a lot of time together, and so she endured just a little bit of teasing, and figured it was alright.

She and Malcolm plotted out the siege of Constantinople half a dozen times, trying to find the perfect strategy to defend it. They broke out swords and knives and sparred in her backyard. She even had lunch with his mortal mother, and heard someone else’s reminiscences of Athena, which was much more fun, and less desperately sad then her Dad’s.

It made his return to Dartmouth in early March a new kind of struggle. So much so that she not only returned to book club, she asked about another date.

She brushed them off when they asked about a break up, but she did find herself enthusiastic when Brenda suggested a new person. A firefighter and beloved local hero. He volunteered with kids and saved kittens from trees and “He’s just so handsome, Annabeth.”

She was actually kind of looking forward to going on this date, especially when Brenda called her to tell her excitedly that he was going to take her on one of the world famous whale tours they had in town.

Annabeth showed up all ready for water and whales. It was an unseasonably warm March morning, so she had on a yellow shirt, an older pair of overalls with monster claw marks in the knees that she had successfully disguised as deliberate rips, and she looked through her sunglasses for the dark haired man in the Fire Department shirt.

She found him. He was broad and stocky, with a fire department shirt under a light washed denim jacket. His hair was dark and clearly gelled and hair sprayed into its perfectly coiffed place.

He was probably two inches shorter than her, and she could see his face drop when she introduced herself.

After some brief, stilted small talk, they followed another couple and a family of five onto the boat. And the man at the front, driving the boat, announced that he was a replacement, that the normal tour guide was out this week, but that it would still be just as fun.

And if that was the case, Annabeth vowed that she would not be coming back for the regular guy. They saw one dolphin far off, and found themselves sprayed with the water as the speedboat choppily stopped and started, sending her stomach roiling angrily.

Graham, her fireman friend, complained every ten minutes, and then every five minutes, and then every other sentence out of his mouth.

She couldn’t get an answer on what movies he liked, or his family, or his work. He asked her questions, but looked angrily at the ocean while she answered.

She gave up, and sat on the gloomy boat, in the hot day, and listened to the tour guide swear they’d see something interesting soon.

They didn’t. And Graham was uninterested in dinner, as they had originally planned, whining that he needed to go home and change.

Annabeth let him go. And skipped book club again.

And again.

“You should go back,” Malcolm told her on the phone. “A date might do you good.”

“Fuck off,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall. “Children of Athena don’t do romance.”

“I would like to remind you, I also went on that date. And I even had fun. Companionship is nice. Even mom knows it.”

Clarisse said something similar when they chatted about her upcoming wedding. Which was infuriating.

Clarisse, of all people.

It was enough to raise her hackles, and to complain about it to Malcolm, again.

Which led to him getting invited to his mom’s house for lunch. Which led to Polly Pace proving she could replicate Susan and her friends' notions of how to get Annabeth a proper boyfriend.

“I might have a few ideas.”

She groaned. “Polly…”

“Look, sweetheart,” Polly said. “So many of those women around have one or two young men they have their little crushes on, and they are never going to give up that hope. So they try and live vicariously through you.” She rolled her eyes. “But I promise, I want what’s best for you. Let’s just have one more try.”

Annabeth couldn’t believe she agreed, but she did. And here she was. Polly swore up and down that this one was the most handsome man in Helena and that Susan had been trying to entice him for something like an affair for weeks.

Annabeth decided to go just to see what it looks like.

But she opted not to dress up for this one.

Annabeth slid into her usual spot at the bar, dressed in baggy jeans and a faded pink sweater on the last cool night of the spring, her back as close to the wall as physically possible. Wordlessly, the bartender slid over a glass of the house red, with a sympathetic smile. “Another date?” he asked.

She grumbled, taking a sip.

John just laughed. “Word on the street is Brenda’s declared you the most eligible bachelorette in town. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has half a dozen more dates lined up for you after tonight.”

Groaning, she resisted the urge to slam her head against the bar, settling instead for digging her palms into her eyes.

She felt, rather than heard someone come up beside her. “Evening, John,” said a male voice. A… sort of familiar voice.

“Hey, kid,” he replied. “Haven’t seen you here in ages! Still not drinking beer?”

The mystery man chuckled. “You know it. A coke, please.”

Annabeth frowned into her hands. Where had she heard this voice before? Was he a news anchor or something?

John tsked. “I don’t get you, kid. Why come down all this way if you’re not even going to have a proper drink?”

“What, the pleasure of your company isn’t enough?” Mystery man laughed again. “No, but I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”

Annabeth’s ears perked up, attention fully grabbed. Was this…?

“Oh?”

“Yeah, a friend of Polly’s, or something.”

She jolted back, as though she had been shocked, and turned to face her blind date.

He was tall and broad, with tanned skin and messy black hair. He had gotten taller, she thought, and she could see the lines of his pecs where the muscles had developed under his plain black t-shirt and denim jacket.

His voice was deeper, but the timbre was the same.

And then he turned, his sea green eyes widening, and she had no doubt.

Percy-fucking-Jackson.

Oh dear gods. Percy-fucking-Jackson, son of Poseidon.

She had her knife in her grip before she even registered she had taken it out.

He swore in Greek, and then his sword was out in his hands.

“Whoa!” John yelled at them from behind the bar. “You gotta take those outside!”

Annabeth glanced around. Him, and all the other patrons, were staring at them, eyes wide in fear. “Huh?”

“No guns in my bar!” She glanced down at her knife, and could see, out of the corner of her eye, the mist swirling around, coalescing into the flicker of a gun. “Either put them away, or get out.”

Why did the mist have to pull this shit all the time?

“Sorry,” Percy said. He shot her a glare, like this was all her fault, as though she were the one who had apparently stalked him to fucking Helena, Maine of all places, and then he tucked his sword away, turned his back on her, and stomped towards the door. Like she wasn’t a threat. Like she didn’t matter.

Fuck him very much.

She didn’t put her knife away, but she did chase after him, out into the gravel parking lot. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“You know, Chase,” he said, “I was supposed to have a really nice night.”

He had his sword raised again as he glared at her from under the one streetlight in the parking lot, which made her feel much better about not putting her knife away. “Well, so was I.”

“And now, some girl is going to think I’m an asshole who stood her up, all because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.” He eyed her knife, like he was funny.

“Newsflash: I was the girl you were meeting,” she said, “Gods, I can’t believe Polly thought I should go on a date with you.”

Percy scoffed, looking her up and down. “Well, you really turned out all the stops for your date.”

She gritted her teeth, too angry to flush. “I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known it was you.”

They glared at each other. And then, again, infuriatingly, Percy put his sword away.

“Stop doing that,” she nearly growled.

“Doing what?”

“Putting your sword away.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am a threat!” Annabeth pointed her weapon at him. “So, pull your sword back out, and act like it!”

He looked blank for a long minute, and then he smiled. “Annabeth Chase, you are absolutely a threat,” he agreed, “but I don’t think you’re going to attack me.”

“I could so attack you.”

“You absolutely could,” he agreed, and nodded at her knife, still out, clutched tightly in her hand. “But you know better than to start a useless fight. It's a waste of resources and energy, and you’re too smart for that.”

She glared, and pretended she didn’t enjoy being called smart by him. “You don’t want to fight?”

Shoving his hand in his pockets, he sighed. “It’s been a long day, Annabeth. I don’t feel like getting my ass kicked and wasting what little nectar I have left on your knife wounds.”

That, more than anything, caused her to pause, and lower her knife. She didn’t put it away, though.

Percy Jackson wasn’t just a demigod hero. He was the demigod hero. He’d fought gods and lived to tell the tale. He raised storms or probably armies, if he really wanted to.

When Kronos had risen, Percy Jackson had been at the head of the defending army, an army cobbled together from the handfuls of demigods spread across the country.

Annabeth had been by his side.

To hear him say that she was a threat, that she would kick his ass. She… found herself blushing. And hoped that in the darkness he could not see.

But she still kept her knife out. “What are you even doing here?” she finally asked.

“Same thing you are–living here.”

“You live here? But you’re a New Yorker.”

“And you're a Bostonian,” he said, and then he sighed. “I’m tired, Annabeth. I thought I might be able to escape. To relax. To retire.”

Well, that was relatable.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah, I get that.”

They stared at each other again. But it was less charged, now it was almost lost. That day, on the 600th floor of the Empire State Building, she had been so sure she was never going to see Percy Jackson again. So very sure she would never again hear his voice, roll her eyes at his stupid jokes, fight with him, laugh with him. And why not? He had been offered the most priceless gift the gods could offer.

And then he had refused the gift, and fucked off.

“Why Helena?” She asked, her teeth gritting despite her best efforts. “You could have stayed in New York.” Or gone literally anywhere else.

“You mean, ‘Why did I decide to follow you to some little beach town in the middle of nowhere’?” He sneered, and she glowered. “If I had known you had moved here, too, I would have already left town.”

She rolled her eyes. “When did you show up then? To intrude on my quiet retirement.”

“It will be two years in June,” he said, and she clenched her mouth closed. She hadn’t even been here six months. By all accounts, she followed him here. Fuck. “Never thought I’d find you in a place like this.” He glanced around, but there was nothing around them. “Not a lot of skyline here to add to.”

She was surprised he remembered. She did not remember what his career goals were. “What do you do? I haven’t seen you around before today.”

Percy… suddenly looked away. “I give whale watching tours.” There was something so awkwardly earnest about his statement, she almost felt bad that she burst out laughing.

“Of course you do,” she said. “I went on one of those world famous whale watching tours, you know. Honestly? Not impressed.”

“When the hell was that?” he said. “I’m pretty sure I would have recognized you if you came on one of my tours.”

“It wasn’t with you, it was some other guy, but–”

He scoffed. “Annabeth Chase, surely you know that a child of Poseidon would make a better tour guide to the wonders of the ocean then some mortal.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Just for that, I’m going to take you on a tour.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m taking you on a whale watching tour,” he said. Ordered, really. “Tomorrow. Meet me at the east docks at three, and I’ll show you.”

“You’re… serious?”

“Of course. My honor as a tour guide has been besmirched.” In the darkness of the parking lot, she couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. “And I’m going to prove to you just how amazing I am at it.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that, so she just rolled her eyes one last time and turned towards her car. She didn’t put her knife back in its sheath until she was half way home.

She had no intention of showing up the next day.

She knew that, and Percy knew that, and the gods knew that, and no one expected anything differently of her.

Which is why it was so strange that she found herself driving towards the East Marina at 2:30 the next day.

Why? She could not say. It was so dumb.

Percy didn’t actually want her to be there. He’d probably just laugh if she showed up. This wasn’t even where the last tour had set off from.

Fucking Jackson. If this was all an elaborate prank to get back at her for accidentally… okay, maybe accidentally-on-purpose leading him into Clarisse la Rue’s secret safehouse so she could ditch him that one time, she was going to kill him.

She was stupid to come out here, she was stupid to even entertain this, she was…

“Annabeth,” Percy Jackson called, from where he was leaning against a wooden post at the edge of one row of boats. “I’m so glad you came.”

And he sounded like he meant it, too. Or at least that he hadn’t been dreading her presence.

He was not dressed so differently then he had been last night: acid wash jeans, a gray henley which was starting to thin around the shoulders, hair again looking like it had never seen a brush or comb in his entire life. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed and straight onto the dock. And yet he was still disgustingly handsome.

It made her even angrier. She had spent all morning trying to tame her stubborn curls so that her hair looked nice, and he couldn’t even be bothered. Prick.

“Yeah, well,” she said, crossing her arms as she came to a stop in front of the boat. “You better make it worth my while.”

She looked at the boat, it didn’t look like the one from her last whale tour. It had a small deck surrounding the steering. And then what looked like a door going down to somewhere. On the back, in blocky letters, it said Little Star.

“Come aboard,” Percy said, “welcome to the Little Star.”

“Different boat from the other one.” Annabeth said.

“Well, yeah, that was the tour company’s,” Percy said, “this is a personal matter.”

“Personal, huh?”

“My honor has been challenged,” Percy said. “So have a seat while I blow your mind.”

“I’m hard to please, Jackson,” Annabeth said, “so we’ll see.”

She sat in the seat he offered, a little white bench. And watched Percy lean over to the dock to untie the rope.

She had a clear view of his ass. He probably was doing it on purpose.

Asshole.

“Annabeth Chase,” he said, grinning as he turned back to her. “You, unlike every mortal I have ever taken out, know that I can do anything on the ocean. Once we get far enough out, we can even do our own private scuba diving tour.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare cheat.”

“What?”

“You can’t just… charm me with the temple of Poseidon or whatever,” she said. “You have to give me what the mortals get.”

He paused, a flash of disappointment crossing his face, but then he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He didn’t touch the wheel as the boat headed out from the dock, just sat down in the captain’s chair and turned to look at her. “So.”

“So.”

“How long have you been in Helena?” He asked.

“I moved in September,” she said.

“Was it because you heard through the grapevine I was here, and you couldn’t resist?”

“As if.” Annabeth said, making a face.

“Well, if you’re not stalking my every move, what are you doing here?” Despite his tone, she thought she should be offended. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad.

She shook her head. “It was like you said, about wanting to retire, relax. I just…” Annabeth sighed. “I just wanted to get away from the monsters, the gods. The expectations.”

“This is a nice place to disappear, I think,” Percy agreed.

“How many monsters have bothered you?” Annabeth asked. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of one, even out of the corner of her eyes, but she was not ready to be so relaxed from the constant fear that had plagued her since she was a little girl. She’d been told that they would become less insistent once she reached adulthood, and strictly speaking, that was true. But that had been saying that the biweekly occurrences had trickled down to once a week, and after many more years, twice a month or so. And she dreaded to know just how long this peace might last. Or not last.

“I’ve never been bothered by any out here,” Percy said. “A few when I was in the city, visiting Ma, but that’s it.”

Annabeth let out a breath that she maybe hadn’t known she had been holding for months. “Oh.”

“It has been a relief.” He said, “Nearly fighting you was the most exciting thing I’ve had in like a year.”

“It's not too late,” she offered. She did have her knife on her. Some things would never change.

“Do you want to fight me on the ocean, on my boat, Chase?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re good. You’re very good, but I don’t think you’re that good. And it seems like a waste of a good architect.”

“Whatever,” she said, because it was easier than admitting he’d kick her ass in a boat, on the ocean.

He took her acquiescence with grace. Which was nice. He was much much too smart to not know what was happening. “So, what have you been up to? Did you decide you wanted to build your monuments somewhere untouched?” He glanced behind them, and the shape of Helena.

And she could admit to seeing it, to seeing the temples and palaces she could build there. But Maine had no place for temples and palaces. “I bought a big old house,” she said, “1870.” Over a hundred years old. Only the Helena Inn was older. “And now I’m trying to renovate it.”

“I bet it will have ionic columns, over-designed pediments, and domes out the wazoo, huh.”

“Not sure that goes with the Victorian style.”

“You’re a great architect, you can invent your own style.” He was being much much too complimentary of her talents. She needed to get them on a better footing, tease him properly.

“Where are you living?” She asked.

He gave her a slightly lopsided look, that twisted into his dumb, troublemaking smile. “Here.”

She glanced around, trying to figure out how literal he was being. “You… bank out at the bottom of the harbor?” She finally asked.

He let out a laugh. “No, I live in my boat.”

She glanced around. “This isn’t a houseboat.” Unless it was. But she’d seen some before, and they seemed to have more space. More everything.

“No, it's not, but it's got a cabin below.” He motioned to the door. “Galley, table that turns into a bed. Even a bathroom. I can hook her up to utilities on the dock. But houseboats don’t normally move that much. I wanted mobility.”

She glanced around, and tried to reassess the fact that she was in Percy’s house.

“You let me into your house.”

“It isn’t that big a deal.” He said, “I mean… I trust you. And the boats for the tour aren’t mine. So, welcome aboard. We’ll be reaching our final destination momentarily.”

He looked uncomfortable, and for the first time, turned his attention to the wheel in front of him. And Annabeth did not know what to say. So she turned away, too, looking out at the view.

It was pretty, she had to admit. The murky water of the Atlantic expanded out before them. She thought she could see some scattered schools of fishes beneath the waves. “No cheating,” she said again. “I want the mortal experience.”

“I cheat with the mortals basically all the time.”

“Bullshit.”

He walked over the edge of the boat, leaned over the side, and grinned. “Hey, they pay for the beautiful ocean life, and I am happy to provide. I’d have taken you on a Poseidon Adventure, if you wanted, but everything I’m doing now is stuff I’ve done in front of a hundred mortal tourists.”

“So, what, the whales just hang around and wait for you to come out?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“And the other guy?”

“What the whales do with the other guy is not my business.”

They hid from the other guy, if Annabeth’s experience was anything to go by. “Well, you’re not allowed to–to talk to them or anything. No summoning sea creatures.”

“There’s really not much summoning on my part, anyway,” he said, turning them alongside the wind, taking them further out of the bay. “They sense me coming, and then…”

From behind her came the sound of something breaching the waves. From… close behind her.

He grinned. “They come out to say hi.”

Twisting around in her seat, she nearly shrieked at the sight of an enormous, fifty-foot-long humpback whale, not more than a handful of meters away from the side of the Little Star. Its large, dark eye was fixed on her, peering into her soul, before gently blinking, bobbing its head up and down so its bumpy nose caused little swells to rock the boat.

“That one’s Tiffany,” Percy said. “She’s waiting for you to say hi.”

Annabeth swallowed. “Um… Hi there, Tiffany.”

The whale blinked at her, slowly. Like a cat.

“It's really nice during calving season when all the babies are just born. They come so I can bless them. And people go wild for the babies.”

She almost couldn’t tear her eyes away from the giant frickin’ whale that was close enough she could spit on it, but she managed it, turning back to Percy. “You… bless sea creatures?”

“Of course.” And he sounded almost surprised by her question. Like most people just… blessed baby whales as part of their day job.

“Does it help?”

“I mean, I’m no Poseidon, but yeah, a little bit.” He looked at her for a moment. “Has no little owl chick ever asked for your blessing before?”

She reached out, and kicked him. And though it connected with his calf, he laughed.

Asshole.

He didn’t just show her the sights, he talked her through everything, offering a collection of facts about whales and dolphins, the Atlantic Ocean, and even Maine history. She knew she was getting the tourist spiel, but it was also pretty interesting. For instance, did you know that once lobster was considered food for only the poorest of people, and laws were passed so that even prisoners wouldn’t have to eat it every meal.

“How did that change?” She asked, almost despite herself.

“Businessmen started selling it as a delicacy on railroads.” Percy said, “It was cheap, and not available elsewhere, so they were able to turn a big profit, and position it as exotic.”

He did tell her other things too, mostly, he pointed out different dolphins they ran into by name: Lana and her son Todd. Betsy and Chaz and Anna. A school of fish who he said operated as a collective named David. He gave a little bit of a running commentary on most of them, including explaining how he named little Sally himself, earlier this year, when her mother asked for a blessing.

She tried not to think that it was really, really cute that he named her after his mom.

After last time, she really hadn’t been expecting much, but the day ended up being really fun. And beautiful beyond belief. She was really regretting not bringing her camera, or her sketchbook. She’d used so much of her drawing skills for blueprints and designs, but perhaps she could capture a different kind of beauty.

Maybe he could bring her out here again sometime. Let her take in the shoreline or the horizon.

“So, have you seen enough?”

She blinked, and then looked at him. “What?”

“Have you seen enough to know that I am the person in charge of the best Whale Watching tour on the Atlantic? Are you dazzled and amazed by my charms and natural beauty?”

“In your dreams,” she snapped. That was dumb. This was dumb. This was about him proving a point to her. And she hated that he was succeeding. She didn’t want to encourage him. Or give him any more credit then she had to. She wasn’t going to come out here again.

And she certainly wasn’t going to think about how nice it was to spend some time with him again.

They didn’t talk as he guided the boat back into port. He actually used the steering, this time, hands on the wheel, not looking at her, or really anywhere but the shoreline.

When they got there, she watched the easy way he tied the knots, almost missing it when he offered his hand to help her onto the dock. She just gave it a scathing look.

He laughed a little, and she nearly stomped her foot in indignation.

It was spring, so there was still enough daylight left at 6 PM. Maybe she could sit on her porch and sketch in the natural light. Try to remember what she’d seen today.

“Do you want to get dinner?” She looked up, and he was smiling at her, cocksure grin, hands in his pockets, body totally open to her.

“Are you serious?”

He shrugged. “Well, I figured that neither you or your siblings had developed a way to inject sustenance directly into your veins, and therefore still needed to eat. But if you don’t want to eat, no skin off my nose.”

“I think I’ve had enough Seaweed Brain for one day, thanks.”

Something flashed on his face for a second, but it was too quick to know what it was, and then he rolled his eyes. “Well, I hope you’ve become a better cook since high school.” He said. And then turned around and walked away from her.

Which was a pretty profound statement, given that she was standing next to his house.

She let out a breath, anger or annoyance or something else, and then jogged over to her car, in time to see Percy walking down the sidewalk, and turning towards main street. A place he could get dinner, without her.

“Asshole,” she said it out loud this time, if only to herself. And then she drove home.

She had some leftover lobster mac and cheese in her fridge, between the blueberries and the half-empty bottle of maple syrup. The freezer at least had a couple weeks worth of TV dinners. The rest of the fridge was empty. Just like the cupboards.

She ate the mac and cheese cold. It was still pretty good, but she couldn’t help thinking, as she chewed on meat once considered fit for only widows and orphans, that it was pretty fitting.

The loneliness was certainly the same.

Her dad came up the next weekend. School was officially out, his grades had been sent to the registrar's office, and he’d decided to start his summer visiting her. It was nice to see him. And the fact that he brought a box of Mike’s Pastries cannolis and a separate box of lobster tails brought her no end of joy.

He brought her a couple of other things, too. At her request, he’d picked up the order she’d called into her favorite yarn shop in Wartham. It was run by her half-sister, apparently, as Malcolm had told her, an expert weaver who no longer had an eye for quality, because at age eighty-eight, her vision had started to go, but she still knew everything but texture and touch.

He’d also gotten the other things, the painting and sketching supplies she’d battered Alex Fierro with questions on ravens wings about.

She was going to embrace the beauty of this town.

And she needed more to fill her days.

You could only make one hundred pairs of leg warmers before your craft got a little boring. And they had passed sweater season a while back. And she’d redesigned the entryway about seventeen times in three weeks, before her contractor had told her he needed to be elsewhere for a month while she finalized her plans.

Ironically enough, it ended up being Brenda’s idea. Despite having sworn to never return to book club, she found that her Thursday night TV dinners were becoming just too interminable to bear alone. The other women hadn’t commented on her long absence when she showed up at Denise’s house with a blueberry pie that Susan had seen her purchase, only poured her a glass of wine and made room for her on the comfortable couch.

It was nice. It was really nice.

And it was that nice mood that must have made her more agreeable to Brenda’s suggestion.

“Sarah talks about your knitting all the time–she says it’s better than some of the store-bought leggings that the girls like to wear these days.”

“Thanks,” she said, weakly, not wanting to admit that knitting, by itself, wasn’t really that hard… though she did certainly have a significant advantage.

“Have you ever thought about starting a business?”

“I actually have my own business,” she said. Despite being up in the boonies, the fruits of her architecture consultancy was more than enough for her to live on. “I’m really not interested in another one.” What would her lawyer say, if she asked Connor to incorporate her legwarmer business? There wouldn’t be enough celestial bronze in the world. She had been thinking about getting rid of some of her excess leg and arm warmer supplies, but it was so easy to make them, actually making a profit would seem underhanded.

She said as much.

But then, Brenda lit up. “Oh! What about the Flea Market in Norfolk?”

Which was how Annabeth ended up with a corner stall in the Norfolk Outdoor Flea Market, the shadow of a great oak tree protecting her delicate skin from the first truly hot day of summer.

Interest hadn’t been as high as she’d hoped, less because she wanted to make money, and more because she wanted to reduce the pile of knitting that was sitting on the chair in the living room.

But she’d probably sold about twenty pairs, and only managed to knit two more in the time, so she would call it a win.

The market had started at 11, and the crowds had thinned out after 4. She’d gotten lunch at a cart down the little line of tents from her, some of the best falafel she had ever eaten in her life, and that was saying something, since Magnus knew all the best spots in Boston. All the ladies from the book club had stopped by, cooing over her socks and scarves and leg warmers, and even seemed enthusiastic about buying a thing or two. Now, though, it was getting late, and looking over her leftover stock, she frowned at the idea of having to pack it up and take it home.

She had hoped to empty her tub. Maybe she’d price it lower, next time.

“Annabeth Chase and knitting.” She paused, closing her eyes, and resisted the urge to groan. She’d know Percy Jackson’s voice anywhere. “Who’d have thought it?”

She looked over at him. He was in a green and blue color blocked shirt and acid wash jeans. His green eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun, his black hair looking like he just stepped off his boat.

He probably had.

“That fact that you don’t know anything about my mother shouldn’t surprise me, Seaweed Brain.”

Understanding dawned on his face. “Weaving!” he said. “Right.”

He reached out and picked up one of the few non-fashion items. It was a little fish, of indeterminate species, but rendered in shimmering blue, made, she wouldn’t admit, after their whale tour.

“How much?”

“What?”

“The fish, how much?” He looked at some of the other things, and then grabbed a pair of shocking pink leg warmers. “And these, too.”

She just stared at him, confused. “You need bright pink leg warmers?”

“They’re for my sister.” He said, running the knit between his thumb and forefinger. “These feel nicer than anything I could buy at the mall.”

“Oh.” She said. And was caught out. Not least because she wasn’t sure if she knew he had a sister. It couldn’t have been a sister on the Poseidon side, otherwise Annabeth would have heard about it.

“How much?” he asked again.

“Um…” What had she been charging again? “Three dollars.”

“For which one?”

“For both.”

It was Percy’s turn to say “Oh.” He pulled out an old leather wallet and handed her the money. He gathered his things, but didn’t wander away. She looked at her watch, and looked at the booths around her. And with a sigh, she started to pack up.

“Do you want help?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to fuck off, but then, the pile was large, and the box was going to be heavy, and she could see the muscles in his arms pushing against his shirt. “Yes please, I’m just throwing everything in it.” She demonstrated her haphazard practice. “It’s yarn, it will be fine.”

“How long have you been making these?” Percy asked. Distracted by a green scarf that would match his eyes.

“Since I moved here,” she said. “I mean, I’ve always knitted and stuff, but I’m basically retired now, and I have a lot of time on my hands and…” She shrugged.

“That’s a lot of work in just a few months.”

“I’ve had a lot of time,” she said. “Hopefully it will sell better in the winter.”

“Do you make a good return?”

“I don’t care about the money, but I know I’m not going to stop, so I’d love to get rid of some of it so it doesn’t migrate from the chair to the coffee table or something.” After she said it, she looked up at him, fearing for a moment that he was going to make a joke about how she never had visitors, so never had to clean up her knitting projects. It would have… hit its target.

“Fair enough.” He let her put the lid back on the box, and then he lifted it up, just like she knew he would. She grabbed her bag, and led the way out to her car.

“What are you doing out in Norfolk?” She asked. She didn’t even know if Percy owned a car. For a New Yorker who lived his life on boats, it seemed strange.

“Cindy likes to come up to get for the preserves, and she invited me along.”

Annabeth had no idea who Cindy was, but she found she did not like her. Not one bit. “Oh, where is she?”

He shrugged. “One of the guys selling wood sculptures was her old high school boyfriend, and I’m pretty sure the reason I was invited along. I was dismissed about two hours ago.”

Oh. “Sorry,” she offered, chagrinned. “You’ve been having bad luck on dates, I guess.”

He laughed, and it was such a nice sound, different from his derisive snort. “Cindy driving me here wasn’t a date,” he said. “Though, I guess you’re right. The last actual date I went on did almost end with a daughter of Athena gutting me.”

“That was an actual date?”

“Sure,” he nodded, “most eventful blind date ever. Normally it's all ‘Oh, where are you from?’,’What’s your favorite color?’, ‘What do you do?’”

“New York City, blue, blesser of whales,” she said, automatically.

“See, we skipped the boring stuff and went straight for the throat,” he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. “I see, now. It’s because no one else ever believes you.”

He said nothing, only shutting her trunk with a broad grin.

“Do you need a ride back?” The offer was out of her mouth before she could really think about it. But when she paused, she decided it wasn’t a mistake. It was about a twenty minute drive. And she suddenly realized that she wouldn’t hate spending it with him.

He looked at her for a moment. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to put you out.”

“You wouldn’t be. And this way Cindy doesn’t need to be interrupted in her pursuits.”

“Thanks,” he said as he crawled into the passenger’s seat.

Annabeth closed her eyes, breathing through her nose, then swallowed.

Into the fire.

“Thor, really?” Percy said, about ten minutes later.

They had actually been having quite a nice talk so far, comparing pantheons. Last time Percy was in New York, he had ended up tangling with some kind of Egyptian alligator monster, and Annabeth had plenty to share about the vikings. “It was weird.”

“And how do the Norse gods compare?”

She shrugged. “They’re fine, I guess. No ban on alcohol, so things are considerably less…” She paused, casting about for the right word. “...Contained, I guess, when you get a bunch of them in one place.”

Their own god of wine and madness had been banished to an arcade in New Jersey some time ago, cursed by his heavenly father to a century of sobriety for some infraction or other. The few times Annabeth had run into him, though, he still managed to make her life more interesting than she cared for.

Even without their god of revelry, the few times during the war that the Greek demigod army had gotten together, they’d managed to pull enough of their tattered and tired spirits together to have something resembling a shindig. Maybe throwing a party in the woods of Long Island the night before laying siege to the Empire State building wasn’t the best idea, but after Beckendorf’s death, they needed to let off a little steam. Especially Percy.

Especially Annabeth.

Percy may have been the one on the Princess Andromeda with Beck, but it had been her plan that had gotten him killed.

Pollux and Travis provided the drink. Katie, a daughter of Demeter who Annabeth hadn’t gotten a chance to get to know very well, provided the weed. Austin, Will’s brother, brought the music on his boombox, something hard and loud and thumping.

And Percy and Annabeth, they had spent most of the night together.

Not… not the night, but…

She glanced over at him. His eyes were on her, unfathomable as ever. She wondered if he was thinking about the same thing: kissing the taste of wine out of her mouth the night before they thought the world was going to end.

“Sounds like a party,” he said.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “It was.”

It had been different, exploring the nine worlds with Magnus. Likely because she was only a lost legacy. People, in general, hadn’t wanted too much from her. But it had been pretty funny the few times she had to introduce herself. The Norse were matrilineal.

“Now I want to change my name to Percy Sallyson,” he said after she told him about it.

“You already have her last name,” Annabeth pointed out.

“Sure,” he agreed, “But I could make it better.”

They were almost back to town, almost back to the marina. But she didn’t want their conversation to end. “Do you want to get dinner?” she blurted.

He’d asked her, last time, after they’d gone whale watching. She’d been mean in her reply.

“That sounds great,” he said, without skipping a beat. “Where do you want to go?”

The answer ended up being the Italian place, which Percy promised was delicious, though, “Nico swears it's not authentic and is therefore an affront to Italy. I told him that was only because Helena didn’t have a mob scene worth its salt.”

It was good, but after childhoods in both Boston and New York, she got what Nico probably meant about the lack of authenticity. She’d also never been to this particular place before, it was a little off Main Street, and the few times she’d seen it, it had seemed too fancy for her. There was another, cheaper, greasier pizza joint she defaulted to when she was in the mood.

“So, things are better with your dad?” Percy was asking as he tore the last breadstick in half, handing one of the halves to her.

She couldn’t even believe he remembered that. “Yeah, much better. Charlotte’s still weird about the divorce, but Dad is much happier. And he’s glad to be back on the east coast, too.”

“I saw one of his books on cassette at the library,” he said, “I was thinking of grabbing it and listening to it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanted to see if I could spot the hidden demigods in World War II.”

“You’ll have to tell me how it is,” she said, twirling the breadstick around her fingers.

Percy started. “You don’t read your dad’s books?”

“Not anymore.” She paused, then sighed. “When I was really little, he used to read me drafts. But he got busy, and married, and had more kids, and… It never felt right, I guess, to read them myself. I’m not a big reader, anyway. You know that.” Demigods always struggled with reading anyway. If it wasn’t in Greek, it wasn’t even worth it.

“My mom used to do the same when I was a kid,” said Percy, his voice wistful.

“That’s right–she’s a writer, isn’t she?”

“She is. She actually just had her fourth book come out a couple of years ago. I’ve got them all on tape.”

She felt her lips quirk up. How could someone so infuriating be so adorable?

“You know…” She could hear Percy tapping his foot under the table. Their plates were bouncing a little. “If you wanted, I could–I could give you one.”

“A tape?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, dragging his breadstick through the remnants of their communal olive oil. “If you wanted. I think you’d really like her latest book.”

He wanted to give her one of his mom’s books. That meant he’d have to come by and drop it off. And then come by to pick it up. Or she would have to go to him.

She… did not hate the idea. “Sure. What’s it called?”

“Snow on the Beach.”

Annabeth started. And then laughed.

Harder than she meant to.

“What?” Percy was defensive, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing, nothing,” Annabeth chuckled, coming down from her momentary insanity. “I just–I already read it. In Brenda’s book club.”

“Oh.” He sounded unsure. “I um… hope you liked it.”

“I loved it,” she said, without hesitation. It had taken a few false starts, but the story of Joanna and Mr. Taylor had been so compelling, she had powered through dyslexia by sheer force of will just to be able to see how they slowly fell in love, despite the regency class pressures that surrounded them.” She felt a slight flush cross her cheeks and she didn’t know why. “Um, please tell her I really enjoyed it.”

But he didn’t comment on it. “I’ll definitely let her know.”

She kept expecting them to run out of things to talk about, or to be forced to revert to the war, to the demigod expectations that always hung over them a little.

But they never did. They made it through breadsticks and pasta bowls with anecdotes about mortal families and movies they’d liked and a little cafe up in Cabot Cove she just had to go to.

They fought over the check, and he won. But they walked out together.

“You were right,” she said as they stepped into the evening. It had been a long dinner, but summer was barreling towards them, so it was still mostly light out.

He blinked, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Me? Right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

But he was still smirking. “What was I right about?”

“Dinner with you was lovely.”

His smirk dropped, and she could see his blush in the not quiet setting sun. “Oh.” He coughed. “Um, yeah, it was really really great to properly catch up. We should do it again sometime.”

“How about Tuesday?” She said impulsively, before really thinking about it.

But the cat was out of the bag now.

“Um…” The hesitation was not what she wanted.

“We don’t have to,” she added, quickly. “If you’re busy, or if you have other plans–”

“Would it be weird if I asked to have dinner at your place?”

“My place? You mean my house?”

“Yeah.”

That gave her pause. No one had ever been to her place before. Ever. Not even Malcolm. And there were boxes she still hadn’t unpacked, painter’s tape she had left on the wall, kitchen cabinets empty of pots and pans… “I mean, we could, but we’d probably have to order a pizza.”

“No, I…” He paused, “I’d cook for you, if you’d let me.”

“You’d… cook in my kitchen?”

He nodded. “My boat has a galley,” he said, “but it can get a little cramped in there. I haven’t had the opportunity yet to make my mom’s famous blue chocolate chip cookies.”

She frowned. “Blue?”

Percy grinned, sly and easy. “Yep.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“They taste better when they’re blue,” he said. “Trust me.”

Trust me. He’d said that to her once before, the first time they’d met when they crashed into each other during a quest to the sea of monsters. She’d been looking for the Golden Fleece to save Thalia’s tree, and her spirit, from dying. He’d been doing it to keep Kronos from getting it. They’d ended up on a boat together, but despite his skill at sailing, she hadn’t wanted to trust him. She hadn’t trusted him. She had wanted to go to the beautiful world then sirens had offered her. But she’d done it, some little spark of her soul had wanted to trust him. He’d saved her from drowning.

And then she’d said those same words to him two years later, when she’d been on Olympus with him and had a knife in one hand, and Luke at his feet.

And he had.

“Alright,” she said. “My kitchen, Tuesday.”

She then spent the next three days summarily freaking out.

She had one, pathetically small sheet pan. Her oven wasn’t clean. Her sink was somehow overflowing, despite the fact that she had less than ten dishes overall. Her remaining bell peppers had begun to grow a brand new colony of mold. The fridge was full of leftovers she never remembered to throw out and the freezer-frozen dinners. And those were just the kitchen problems.

Her knitting had taken over the loveseat and was migrating to one of the end tables. She’d managed to put the leftover items from the flea market right into the spare bedroom she was using for a storage room while she continued to work on the house, but too many boxes had migrated out of it when she’d needed something, and never managed migrate into the recycling or back into the room.

And three days was not really enough ramp time to psych herself up for a major cleaning. And unlike Boston, Helena didn’t have a maid service she could call last minute.

But, she was honestly proud of herself for managing to throw out everything that had obvious mold or smelled really bad in the fridge, get all the dishes in the dishwasher and turn it on, though not unload it, and crochet a new afgan for the couch that matched the picture she’d painted of the ocean, inspired by the tour, that hung in the living room.

The last one probably wasn’t strictly necessary, but it had certainly seemed like it come Tuesday morning.

Annabeth had only just barely finished putting her mop away when there was a knock at her door. “Just a minute!” she called. In quick succession, she straightened the afghan on the couch, pushed in the wooden chair at her kitchen table, and checked her reflection in the mirror, moving a stray curl behind her ear. After some consideration, she had decided on the light blue dress from the back of her closet, pairing it with an old set of owl earrings that her father had gotten her for her birthday when she was young.

There was no hiding the big grin on her face as she opened the door.

“Hey!” Percy was smiling back at her, his eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. His arms were laden with plastic grocery bags, and she tried not to notice how tight the sleeves were of his black, Social Distortion t-shirt.

She stepped back, making room for him. “Come on in.”

“Your place is gorgeous,” he said as he stepped inside.

“Thanks,” She said, “I got it because I felt like it was a real diamond in the rough. I’m doing a lot of work on it, off and on.”

“You redesigned something that could please the gods, I think making a perfect house is something you can do in your sleep”

She blushed, and showed him into the kitchen. “I’m… I don’t have the most extensive kitchen set up, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright,” he said. “We can make do.”

And make do they did.

Percy had had the foresight to bring all the necessary ingredients at least, though they did run into a bit of a snag after dinner. (Percy had made her beef stroganoff. It was without a doubt one of the best things she had ever eaten. Not that she would ever tell him that.) “So,” he said, plopping his bag of flour on her counter. “Where’s your stand mixer?”

She blinked. “My… what?”

“Stand mixer. We’re going to need one if we want cookies.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t even sure that she knew what that was. “I… don’t have one.”

“Oh.” Percy blinked, taken aback. “You don’t?”

She shook her head. And made a mental note to get one, as soon as possible. Brenda would be able to help her. Or Susan. Or somebody.

He bit his lip, his eyes darting around. “That’s–that’s okay. We can–we can wash out the marinade bowl,” he picked up the dirty bowl in the sink which had held the raw beef, “use that to cream the butter, and then we can mix it by hand. Do you have a whisk?”

“Uh…”

Percy opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “You know what? That’s fine.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He took out the eggs from the fridge. “They made cookies before stand mixers were invented, right? I think we can manage.”

After a brief pause to clean some of the dishes, they were off to the races. Percy had unearthed a wooden spoon from the back of one of her cabinets, and was mashing the butter with the eggs and sugar while Annabeth sifted the dry ingredients together with a fork. She was perfectly aware that Percy had given her the easier task, but from her vantage point at her little kitchen table, she was perfectly content to sit and observe as Percy leaned against her counter, one arm cradling the bowl to his chest while he mashed with the other.

He was a lot taller than she remembered him being. During the war, she was only an inch or so shorter than him; now she wouldn’t be surprised if he had nearly half a foot on her. And he had filled out, too–broad shoulders and big hands and sturdy thighs. He had just the barest hint of stubble on his sharp jaw, and strong brows… one of which was raised as he looked at her, his lips quirked in a smile. “Hm?”

“I said, can you pass me the vanilla and the food coloring?”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat, setting the bowl down so hard that the flour mixture jumped a little. “Yeah, sorry.”

He just chuckled to himself.

“So, what’s the deal with the blue food coloring again?” she asked as she passed the little bottles to him. Their hands touched and she tried not to think about it.

His face dropped, just a touch. “How much did I tell you about my mom?”

She frowned, taking her seat. “Not much, I don’t think. She’s a writer, and…” Screwing up her eyes, she racked her memory for something, anything, any small inconsequential detail he might have shared with her when they were younger. Back then, though, there really had been no reason to talk about their pasts. They didn’t spend that much time together. Not a lot of time for sharing in the middle of a war. “Was she married?”

He nodded. “Twice. Her first husband, he was a real piece of shit.” A scowl overtaking his face, he measured out the vanilla, but dumped nearly the entire bottle of blue into the flour. “I didn’t know at the time, but when I was really little, he would beat on her.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Oh, Percy, I’m so sorry.”

Percy shrugged. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. Almost… wow.” He paused. “Almost twenty years.” Shaking his head, he stuck his hand in, mixing the cookie dough. Slowly, inexorably, the color changed: from tan, to periwinkle, to cerulean. “They had this dumb fight–I don’t even remember what. But somehow, the topic of blue food came up. He swore up and down that there was no such thing. But my mom insisted. And ever since then, she would have blue food all the time. Blue tortilla chips, blue candy, blue gatorade–and eventually, she started adding blue food coloring, too. He hated it.” Percy grinned, reaching for a spatula. “Blue food was her way of fighting back. Her one act of rebellion. Eventually, it just became our thing.”

She could picture it, a young Percy looking up at his mother with those big green eyes as she whipped up a batch of blue cookies. “How is she now?”

His face didn’t change much, but it was almost like there was a glow about him, a warm little fire lighting him up from within. “She’s good. She’s working on a new book, and she remarried almost ten years ago.”

Oh, that was right–he had a sister! “You have a sister, yeah? What’s her name?”

“Estelle.”

She inhaled, something clicking. “The Little Star?”

The smile spread across his face, lighting up the whole room with his love. “Yeah. She’s pretty great.”

Together, they spooned out the cookies, fitting as many of them onto her sheet pan as they possibly could, and she settled back into her seat as Percy slid the tray into the oven.

“So,” she said, about six minutes into cooking. “Whatever happened to her first husband?”

Percy crouched, peeking into the oven. “Remember that time we ran into Medusa in Jersey?”

“Don’t remind me,” she said, shuddering.

“Well, I gave her head to my mom.”

“How did you even get–”

Annabeth stopped. She blinked.

“Wait. You gave… she…”

He smirked.

Dang. “Are you sure she’s not a secret viking?”

“She’d never wielded an ax, as far as I know,” Percy said, “but she’s a dangerous one.”

She did have a spatula, which she mainly used to get frozen pizzas off the baking sheet, though the cookies had to wait on a plate, because she didn’t have a cooling rack.

“Oh gods,” Annabeth said, ten minutes later when she bit into a still warm cookie. “Oh my gods. This is the best damn cookie I’ve ever had in my life.”

“I’m telling you, it’s the blue,” Percy said, having already swallowed his cookie whole. “There’s just something missing without it.”

“You might be right,” she said. “Might be.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” But he was smiling, “I’ll just have to keep proving it, blue food. It's the best.”

“What else can you make blue?”

“Lots of things: cakes, bread, pasta, mashed potatoes,” he shrugged. “I like trying new things. And my mom has been teaching me some of our family recipes.”

“Do you take requests?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.” Somehow, despite being taller, he managed to look at her from under his eyelashes. Expectant. Hopeful.

And really, what did Annabeth have to lose out on? Another fantastic meal? “Are you free on Friday?”

He was.

Friday rolled around, and Percy arrived, once again loaded down with groceries. Only this time, he stepped into a full kitchen. “Whoa,” he said, quietly stunned as he opened a cabinet. And then another. And another.

Annabeth felt her cheeks heat up.

“Where did you get all this?” he asked.

“Oh, here and there,” she said.

Maybe one day she’d tell him about driving to Boston on Thursday and practically buying out the Sears kitchen department. But not today. Not tonight.

That night, they made pastichio, and split a bottle of wine Annabeth had picked up from the grocery store.

The next week, it was Swedish meatballs. Then, the following Monday, Percy stopped by unannounced, bringing with him an extra container of vodka sauce for pasta, because he had just made too much and wouldn’t be able to eat it before it went bad. Eventually, he started showing up to drop off a cassette. Then to watch the game. Then just to say hi.

And he always stayed for dinner.

By the end of June, he was over every night, making great use of Annabeth’s kitchen. The fridge was still full of leftovers, but it was leftover soup or pasta or vegetables or to die for chicken. And she wasn’t worried about the onions in the crisper going bad. She even learned what the crisper was for, and what it was called.

She didn’t think she’d ever eaten so well in her life.

“Are you doing anything for the holiday?” he asked, after he had finished the dishes.

Annabeth shook her head, sipping her wine. “Dad’s in Europe, and Malcolm and his mom are visiting family in Virginia. You?”

“Paul’s family is taking a vacation in Chicago.”

“You weren’t invited?”

“I was, but I don’t think the risk of inciting dear old uncle,” he flicked his eyes upwards, “is worth flying out for it.” he shrugged, “and I might be joining my mom the day after, so I’d have to come straight back anyway.”

“Shame,” she said. “But I hear that Fourth of July here isn’t so bad. Apparently the local scout troop puts on a pretty great fireworks show on the beach.” According to Denise, it was quite the romantic evening. Asking a girl to the fireworks show was a very common step in the romantic playbook around these parts.

“So I heard! Polly says that the beach is always packed full of people, so I’m going to take my boat out a little ways away and watch there.”

“That sounds really nice.” She said, before chomping on a bite of the blueberry coffee cake he’d made them for dessert.

When she looked back up, he found him looking at her, half trepidation, half excitement in his face.

Percy took in a breath, and licked his lips. “Would you want to… come with me?”

His eyes reflected the color of the water outside her home, the sea where he lived, this town where they had come together by some twist of fate.

And she nodded.

They were both grinning as she showed him out that night, a sort of youthful giddiness bubbling up inside her when she looked at him.

She shut the door behind him, and as soon as he was out of sight, she felt the bubble pop.

The enormity of what had happened sinking in.

And the absolute imperative she not fuck it up.

She didn’t just go dress shopping, she went to Boston, and spoke to a magical tailor and Blizten had to talk her down four times while he fitted her for a dress for her… date… with Percy Jackson.

Because Percy Jackson had asked her out.

On a date. On his boat. To see the fireworks.

Even thinking about it like that sent a weird shock through her. It made her feel like she was sixteen, instead of pushing thirty. What kind of woman, on the eve of her twenty-eighth birthday, would feel butterflies in her stomach as she thought about going to see some fireworks?

Well, sure, when she’d been sixteen, she hadn’t even thought she’d make it to twenty-eight. But still.

And with Percy Jackson of all people.

Yeah, they’d kissed the night before the battle of Manhattan, and yeah they’d been on Olympus together and saved each other’s lives, and yeah Percy had turned down immortality for… for his mom.

But then he’d walked away. From all of it. From her.

Did he regret it?

Her dress ended up being a light blue with white pinstripes, with a wide collar and a cinched, belted waist, coming down right to the tops of her knees.

She stood in Blitzen’s shop, in front of the three way mirror, while he worked on accessorizing it on July third, and wondered how she was supposed to make it until tomorrow without throwing up from nerves.

But make it she did, and at 8:30 in the evening, she met Percy at the east dockyard, in her blue dress and brown sandals. She had spent upwards of three hours on her hair, teasing and curling and spraying until her hair was as poofy as it could possibly be. The humid ocean air still managed to penetrate the layer of hairspray, however, stray curls escaping at her temples.

“Annabeth, hey!” Percy waved at her from the deck of the Little Star. In the evening light, she could see that he had dressed up for the occasion too, trading in his t-shirt for a white button down and a pair of dark jeans. “Did you get some wine?”

She held it aloft. “Last bottle they had!” The grocery store wine selection had been nearly cleared out by the time she got there, but luckily she had managed to snag the last good red left. It was odd, though–she could have sworn she had walked past that shelf about four times before spotting the bottle. Maybe she had just missed it.

“Great,” he grinned. “Come aboard!”

In short order, she had boarded the Star, Percy had set off from the docks, and they were anchored a little ways away from shore, sharing the bottle of wine over a Greek pasta salad. They were sitting together on a bench at the stern, a blanket thrown over their legs. “This might be the best feta I have ever had,” she said. “Where the hell did you get this? Did you fly it over from the motherland?”

Percy laughed. “No, my mom brought it up from New York last time I saw her. There’s this little grocery in Astoria run by this old yiayia, Sophia, she’s got all the best stuff.”

“And the olives?”

“Same place.”

“Damn.” She picked off another olive, popping it in her mouth, savoring the deep, salty flavor. “If we ever go back to New York, you’ll have to take me there.”

A strange silence fell between them after that.

“Would you… ever go back?” he asked her, quietly.

“To New York?”

He nodded.

Annabeth rolled another olive between her fingers, frowning. “I… I don’t know.”

She hadn’t meant to say that. It wasn’t like she’d been thinking about going back–not permanently anyway. She liked Helena. She liked Brenda, and the little restaurants, and the pattern of people who waved to her during her morning walks on the beach. She liked the quiet, the peace, the space she had to relax and breathe and be, without the threat of monsters or gods. She liked not having to look up at the Empire State Building and be reminded of all her failures.

“Would you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve been thinking about it. I mean, my whole family is there, you know? My mom comes up every so often but…” He sighed. “It’s hard, being so far away from them.”

Her heart panged.

She liked having him here. She didn’t want him to go.

His eyes flicked up to hers, softening as soon as they met. “But it’s been easier, recently.”

“Yeah?” she breathed.

“Yeah.” He smiled back at her, gentle as a sea breeze. “It’s… I’m really glad I ran into you.”

“Even though I pulled my knife on you.”

“Especially because you pulled your knife on me.”

In the back of her mind, she wondered if her mother would be mad at her. And then she remembered that she didn’t care anymore. “Me, too.”

They sat in companionable silence, drinking wine, watching as the stars came out over the water. Eventually Annabeth dropped her head on his shoulder, scooching closer.

“Are you cold?” he chuckled.

“A little,” she lied.

A pause, and then she felt him rest his head on hers.

“What time is it?” she murmured.

She felt the muscles of his chest shift as he checked his watch. “Almost ten.”

Then, a clap of thunder. Beneath her, Percy jolted. She sat up. “Percy? What is it–”

But out of the corner of her eye, there was a brilliant flash of light, a little yellow star exploding into showers of red and green and blue.

Percy relaxed. “Oh thank the gods,” he sighed, sagging back against the boat. “I thought Zeus was coming to kill me.”

It wasn’t funny, but she started giggling. “For what?”

“Does he need a reason?”

“I’m sure you’ve given him plenty.”

“Hey!” he pouted. “It’s not like you haven’t done plenty to piss off the gods, too.”

“Oh yeah? Who mailed Medusa’s head to Olympus?”

“And who turned her back on Hera?”

“Well, who turned down Zeus’ gift?” she shot back, kicking his shin.

He stilled, shifting closer to her. And he didn’t reply.

“Do you regret it?” she asked, turning from the fireworks to face him.

“Hm?”

“Turning him down.” In all of mythology, there was no greater boon from the gods than immortality. It was the ultimate reward for any demigod. After all that Percy had done–defeating Kronos, saving Olympus–she had been sure he would have taken it. And why shouldn’t he have? Demigods were scattered across the United States. Most of them never even knew that they were special, and how. She could count the number of times she had met her own mother on one hand. Percy had had the chance to live among the gods, with his immortal family, for eternity.

And he had turned it down.

He bit his lip. “Not really.” He looked off, not towards the shore and the fireworks, but out over the ocean, “I remember being just sixteen, and thinking when he made the offer, that I could stay in my prime.” he shook his head, “I don’t know what my prime is, or was, or might be. But I am so sure it wasn’t being sixteen. I… there might be a time I want forever, sometimes having that kind of power… it does have its appeal. But I realized that I didn’t want that.” Then he looked at her. “What about you?”

She almost laughed, “It didn’t occur to me that it would be on the table until they offered it to you.” She shook her head. “I’d have taken it if they’d offered it to me first. I know that. I’m certain of it.” She smiled. “But I am so, so glad they didn’t. You’re right. Sixteen forever isn’t what I should have wanted.”

She saw him open his mouth, and then snap it shut.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, too quickly, with too much force.

“No, really, Seaweed Brain, what?” Between the boom of fireworks, all she could hear was her own heartbeat. They were already so close, but she leaned closer, like they were going to share a confession around a fire while they were camping out during the war. She wished she could roast a marshmallow. “You can tell me.”

“If they’d offered it to you first, and you’d taken it, I wouldn’t have…” She could feel his breath on her face. “I would have…”

Well, fuck. What else was she supposed to do, but close that centimeter gap and kiss him?

The fireworks exploded behind her closed eyelids, but that didn’t matter.

She could feel the sparks on her lips, and smell the sea air all around her.

She kissed Percy Jackson, and it was everything.

#my fic #darkmagyk #pjo fic #pjo #percabeth #pjo hoo bigbang #au #the rivalry ends here #new au woo!!!

291 notes · View notes

ailendolin · 4 months

Text

The Little Match Girl - A Disstari Fic

Title: The Little Match Girl [AO3]

Characters: Dissectus/Votlari, Ho-Tan, Alvin, Irk

Summary: On New Year's Eve, Dissectus and Voltari find a little girl selling matches in an alley. A simple act of kindness changes their lives forever.

A/N 1: Explanations for the Youngers’ names can be found in here.

A/N 2: This is set in a universe where Voltari and Dissectus changed sides and helped Debbie and the Elders defeat Cuddly Dick.

————

The Little Match Girl

Dissectus could not say what had compelled him to turn his head and look into the snowy alley. It was the last day of the year and he and Voltari were on their way to Mary and Jenny’s shop to pick up something for Ho-Tan when he happened to glance to his right and notice a little girl with fair hair, bare feet and dirty clothes sitting on the cold ground, half-hidden in the shadows of the houses towering above her. She was holding a bundle of matches in her shaking hands, and when Dissectus noticed the crudely made sign at her feet that announced, Matches for Sale, his steps faltered.

Several feet ahead of him, Voltari stopped and looked over his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His gaze followed Dissectus’s into the alley. “Oh.”

People hurried past them, busy with last minute errands and completely unaware of the little girl in the cold. Dissectus had witnessed the same thing in Afarland more often than he could count. There had been nothing he could do about it back then, not if he didn’t want to lose his authority among the other Overlords. But it had never sat right with him. Seeing the same thing happening here now, in Yonderland, the one land that had only so briefly felt the horrors of Overlord rule and should be safe, made him clench his fists at his sides. Children were supposed to be running around and filling the streets with laughter, not sitting alone in the cold, desolate and shivering. Not here. Not anywhere, but especially not here.

He had been in the little girl’s situation once, a long time ago when he’d still been foolish enough to think he could argue with his father. His father had taken one hard look at him and kicked him out onto the streets in the middle of winter. Dissectus had lasted two days out in the freezing cold before he’d swallowed his pride and come crawling back to his father’s doorstep to beg for forgiveness. It had been a brutally taught lesson in obedience, and one he’d silently vowed to never repeat with his own children.

He might not be a father yet – and given how his pulse always sped up when Voltari smiled at him he didn’t think he ever would be – but that didn’t mean his heart was made of stone. Reaching into his pocket, he felt for the coins he’d set aside to buy some extra fireworks for the Youngers before he glanced up at Voltari. They had known each other for so long now that words were not necessary between them, not in a situation like this. Voltari could read him like an open book, and Dissectus’s heart warmed with unbelievable fondness when Voltari simply nodded and let one of his own hands glide into his pocket in search for coins.

Together, they left the busy square and stepped into the alley. With the wind relentlessly blowing around the corner it was colder there than out in the open, and darker too. The snow crunched under their feet as they slowly made their way over to the little girl. They were both aware of how intimidating they could look, even without the heavy make-up and golden eye piece. Children, with the exception from the Elders’ Youngers, were usually quite wary of them when they saw them but instead of fear the little match girl’s face lit up with hope when they approached. Hastily, her numb fingers pulled more matches out of her ragged apron and held them up for them to see.

“Would you like to buy a match, sirs?” she asked brightly. Her voice was almost trembling as much as her fingers were.

Her face fell when Dissectus knelt down in front of her and shook his head. Gently, he took one of her hands in his and pushed the warm coins into her palm. “Keep your matches, child.”

Her eyes widened. She looked like she was going to cry when Voltari took her other hand and gave her his coins too. “Go home, little one. It is not safe to be outside in this cold.”

She looked between them, unable to believe her luck, before she smiled shyly and ducked her head. “Thank you, sirs.”

“You’re welcome,” Dissectus said and pushed himself to his feet. After one last glance at the girl, he forced himself to turn around and walk away. He had done all he could – that’s what he kept telling himself as he and Voltari continued on their way to Mary and Jenny’s shop. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the little girl’s pale face out of his head. It seemed neither could Voltari.

“Do you think she’ll be all right?” he asked softly when they crossed the market square.

Dissectus sighed. “I hope so.”

“She wasn’t much older than Irk,” Voltari noted.

“I know,” Dissectus said before he forced a smile onto his face and entered the shop. If Jenny noticed something was off, she didn’t show it. Her greeting was as bright as ever as was her smile as she scurried off to the back to get Ho-Tan’s order for them.

“It’s paid for already,” she said when she came back and handed them the small package. “Anything else you need? We still have some firework dragons from Hitherland left if you’re interested…?”

“Apologies, Jenny. Not today,” Voltari said and bowed his head gracefully.

Jenny shrugged. “No worries. Have a lovely new year’s celebration, you two!”

Dissectus found his smile was a little more genuine when he said, “You as well. Say hi to Mary from us.”

“Will do!” Jenny said happily and waved them goodbye.

After the warmth of the shop, the cold felt even more biting when they stepped back out onto the street. For a brief moment, Dissectus was tempted to reach for Voltari’s hand. He kept dreaming of such impossible things more and more lately, and it was maddening because he knew Voltari would never allow this. Not that Dissectus could fault him for that. A lifetime of having to hide everything that made them look weak and vulnerable – or, in one word, human – was hard to shake off. It’s why alarm bells went off in Dissectus’s head every time a touch or look between them lingered too long. They still made it difficult to take that one final step over the edge they’d been teetering on for months now and bring them closer together than ever before. Dissectus wanted to, though. Gods, how he wanted.

He forced himself to look away from Voltari’s elegant fingers and firmly put his hands into his pockets. They should have brought some gloves, he thought when he saw a small group of children throwing snowballs at each other. He was just about to offer to carry Ho-Tan’s order for a while so Voltari could warm his hands up in his pockets when Voltari suddenly stopped beside him. “Dissectus.”

Dissectus knew what he would be seeing even before he followed Voltari’s gaze towards the alley. The little match girl was still sitting in the snow, right where they’d left her 20 minutes ago. She had lit one of her precious matches and was looking at it dreamily. Its small flame threw shadows across her face and even from a distance Dissectus could see that her eyes were worryingly glassy.

The match went out. With shaking hands, the little girl lit another one and held it as close to her chest as she dared to chase what little warmth it offered. A serene smile was pulling at her lips as she watched the flickering light dance in the wind. She didn’t react when it reached her fingers and licked at her skin, and before he even knew what he was doing, Dissectus was running across the square. He crashed onto his knees in front of the girl just as the flame went out and her small body listed to the side.

“Gods dammit,” he cursed, managing to catch her just before she hit the ground. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head and he tapped her cheeks to wake her up – gently at first, and then a little harder. There was no reaction. Even though her skin was icy cold she was no longer shivering – a bad sign, he knew.

“Why didn’t she go home?” Voltari hissed angrily as he hurriedly took off his cloak to wrap it around the girl. With a dull thud, Ho-Tan’s order fell into the snow beside him, momentarily forgotten. “We told her to go home!”

Dissectus knew his anger was not truly directed at the girl. She was just a child. If anyone was to blame for this, it was them. They should have made sure she went home. They should have made sure she was safe. This was their fault, like so many other tragedies had been over the years.

“We need to take her somewhere warm,” he said, knowing the child in his arms could not afford their guilt right now.

“We don’t know where she lives,” Voltari pointed out before he took off his scarf as well and wrapped it around the girl’s head. “The Chamber is her best shot.”

Dissectus nodded. With all the shops closing down now for the celebrations now, the Chamber was the closest and safest place they could take her. “Agreed.”

With that, he pushed himself to his feet and tried not to think about how light the girl felt in his arms. Readjusting his hold on her, he watched how Voltari first picked up the board game and then the hand-drawn sign and dropped matches as well. The gesture made his heart ache. A year ago, a small act of kindness like that would have painted a target on their backs. Now it came as natural as breathing to them. He’d always known Voltari was capable of gentleness but seeing it displayed so openly, without shame or second thought, forced him to swallow twice before he could say, “Let’s go.”

They walked back home as quickly as possible. The little girl’s lips were beginning to turn a frightening shade of blue despite the warm coat she was now bundled up in, and Dissectus didn’t even dare to think about the state of her poor hands and feet. Who knew how long she had been sitting there in the cold, desperately trying to sell her matches while everyone went about their lives just a few feet away, ignoring her. If only they’d made sure she went home…

When the Elders’ Chamber finally came into view after fifteen minutes, Dissectus breathed a sigh of relief. It was only when Voltari fumbled with the key in an uncharacteristic moment of clumsiness that he realised the little girl in his arms wasn’t the only one in need of warming up. He hadn’t noticed before but during their brisk walk home, Voltari’s fingertips had turned almost as blue as her lips from the cold. It made him realise how much of a miracle it truly was that the girl had managed to hold on for as long as she had.

Finally, the lock clicked and Voltari pushed the door open. Trusting him to inform the Elders and call a doctor, Dissectus went directly to his chamber where he knew warm bedding and a lit fireplace were waiting for them. He had just placed the little girl onto the bed and pulled the blankets up around her when Ho-Tan came into his room, Voltari right behind her.

“We need to undress her,” she said without preamble. “If her clothes are as wet as his–“ She pointed at Voltari, “–they will suck the heat right out of her and she’ll never get warm.”

“But I’m a … I can’t,” Dissectus said, feeling mortified. He couldn’t just undress a little girl.

Ho-Tan huffed impatiently and pushed him out of the way. “Then get him out of his wet clothes. We don’t need two people suffering from hypothermia tonight.”

The thought of undressing Voltari was even more unnerving than that of undressing a child that was not his. Not that Dissectus would ever admit that to anyone.

“I’m fine,” Voltari said and backed away even before Dissectus could so much as turn to look at him. Knowing the defensive tone of his voice only too well, Dissectus made no move to follow him when he left the room. At least not immediately. He reckoned they both needed a moment to gather themselves before care and concern could be appreciated.

So he simply remained standing where he was, with his back to the bed as Ho-Tan undressed the girl, until young Alvin skidded into the room breathlessly. “Here are some of my old night shirts, Mum.”

Ho-Tan flashed her son a small, strained smile. “Thank you, love. Is the doctor on her way?”

Alvin nodded. “Dad is waiting for her at the door.”

“Good. Go wait with him,” Ho-Tan said. For a moment, only the sound of rustling clothes filled the air. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. “There. All done.”

Dissectus chanced a glance over his shoulder. The girl was dressed in a warm, pink flannel night shirt that made her look even younger than her worn clothes had. He walked over to the bed and helped Ho-Tan tuck her in. “Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

“I’d rather wait until the doctor is here before we take more drastic measures to warm her up,” Ho-Tan said. There was a worried frown on her face when she looked down at the little girl. “How did this happen, Dissectus? Voltari said you found her in an alley?”

It was only part of the story so Dissectus gave her the full rundown. With every word he said the worry on Ho-Tan’s face deepened until the crease between her eyebrows seemed to have become permanent. She shook her head in disbelief and disgust when he’d finished his tale. “No parent should send their child outside to work in weather like this.”

“No parent should send their child to work at all,” Dissectus reminded her.

Ho-Tan sighed. “True.”

Hearing the sound of footsteps, they both turned to the door. Just a moment later, the doctor burst into the room. She was a small but intimidating person; her hair was grey, she had a stern face and Dissectus could tell she had a no nonsense attitude even before she looked at him and sent him out of his own bedroom with a curt, “Out. I need room to work.”

He liked her immediately.

Knowing the girl was in the best of hands now, he left without protest. There was only one place for him to go; only one person who needed him more than her in that moment.

Gently, Dissectus knocked on Voltari’s door and waited for permission to enter.

“Come in,” Voltari called.

He had changed out of his wet clothes into a well-worn pair of trousers and a warm, knitted pullover Ho-Tan had gifted him for Thanktival only a few days ago, and Dissectus was momentarily stunned by how different he looked. The clothes softened the sharp angles of his face, making him look younger and, dare he say it, more vulnerable than he truly was. Just like the girl, he wasn’t shivering anymore but the stark contrast of the dark scars around his eye against his pale face betrayed the lingering cold.

Once again, Dissectus’s hands itched to reach out and chase it away.

“How are you doing?” he asked instead and carefully closed the door behind him.

Voltari shrugged, fighting against the instinct to lie. “Not as bad as her.”

Dissectus sighed and gathered up the woollen blanket from the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly closed the distance between them and wrapped the warm material around Voltari’s shoulders. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t let go; just silently gazed at Voltari. After a moment’s hesitation, Voltari’s hands came up to cover his own. They were cold, far colder than Dissectus had thought, and he let his thumb caress some warmth back into them, knowing the touch would be welcome now.

“How is she?” Voltari whispered into the heavy silence that hung between them.

“The doctor is with her now,” Dissectus said and continued the gentle circular motions. “They will let us know if there is any change. Good or bad.”

Voltari nodded gravely. He glanced down at their hands, his face unreadable. When he looked back up, his dark eyes were full of pain. “She’s shouldn’t have been out there, Dissectus. She’s so young – too young.”

“I know, Tari,” Dissectus murmured. “I know.”

He had no idea how long they stood there like this, hands clasped under the pretence of holding the blanket in place, lost in each other’s eyes. They both startled when there was a knock on the door, and Dissectus felt panic well up inside him. He’d let his guard down. He knew better than that, knew better than to give in to selfish desires that left them both open to an attack and–

“Voltari, Dissectus? It’s me,” Ho-Tan said quietly and just like that, the world righted itself and all the tension drained from him. Glancing up at Voltari, Dissectus saw the same relief on his face, the same terrible understanding of what had just happened, and couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever break free of these old fears.

With one last squeeze, Voltari untangled their hands and Dissectus took that as his cue to take a step back and bring some distance between them. “Come in.”

Ho-Tan’s head peaked around the door. The worried crease between her eyebrows had given way to exhausted relief, and Dissectus felt his shoulders tense with tentative hope. “How is she?”

“She’ll be fine,” Ho-Tan told them, and Dissectus was glad she didn’t beat around the bush. “We need to keep a close eye on her fingers and toes, though. The doctor said it’s too soon to tell if she’ll lose any. But she’s awake now, and she’s asking for you.”

“Both of us?” Voltari asked, surprised.

Ho-Tan gave him a bemused look. “You’ve both saved her life, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but – she was practically unconscious by the time we found her,” Voltari said, allowing a hint of emotion into his voice.

“She was aware enough,” Ho-Tan reassured him. “Her name is Maya, by the way.”

“Maya,” Dissectus said softly. Just like that, she was no longer the little match girl they had found freezing in an alley – she was Maya, beautifully alive and awake. He felt a smile pulling at his lips and wondered if this was how the Elders felt every time one of their Youngers was sick. A roller-coaster ride of tightly-coiled worry, tense hope and finally unbound relief when the worst was over. Because it was staggering.

Voltari gently caught his arm, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You go ahead. I’ll be with you once I…”

He gestured at the scars around his dull, grey eye and Dissectus knew immediately what he meant: he’d join them once he’d put his eye patch back on. It was currently hanging above the fireplace to dry, along with the rest of Voltari’s wet clothes, and the thought of him hiding himself away now made something twist in Dissectus’s stomach.

Knowing he had to be cautious, he said softly, “I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Voltari hesitated. The fact that he didn’t outright say no was a surprise given how sensitive he was about other people seeing his eye uncovered, especially children. Of the Youngers, only Alvin and Irk had seen him without his eye patch before, and that had not been deliberate. Luckily, the two had barely remarked on it but Dissectus knew Voltari had blamed himself for his carelessness for weeks after.

“Tari,” he said and waited for Voltari to look at him. He gave him an encouraging smile. “She wants to see us both.”

Voltari sighed and Dissectus knew he had won even before Voltari said, “Very well.”

His smile softened and, unable to resist, he placed a comforting hand on Voltari’s arm before they followed Ho-Tan down the hallway. “It’s going to be okay. Trust me.”

He had said the same thing to him before – once, when Voltari had woken up after the attack on his life to discover his eyesight was gone, and a second time just before he’d faked his death and left Voltari behind to spy on Cuddly Dick. He’d kept his promise both times and, judging by the way the tension around his eyes eased a little, Voltari remembered that as well.

The sound of familiar laughter came from his room and Ho-Tan stopped, hand outstretched towards the door handle, with a frown on her face.

“I told Alvin to stay with Maya,” she explained. “Irk, however, is supposed to be with his father.”

Dissectus gave her an amused look. “Are you really surprised he sneaked into the room?”

Ho-Tan sighed and shook her head. “No, I suppose not. I’ll take them both with me to the Chamber. You’ll be all right with Maya on your own, won’t you? I know we were planning on welcoming the new year together but she can’t go home, not yet, and you know Vex and the others will be hopelessly overwhelmed with the preparations if I–“

“It’s all right,” Voltari interrupted her gently. “We don’t mind.”

Dissectus nodded. There was no way they would be leaving the little girl alone a second time today.

“Thank you,” Ho-Tan breathed in relief. “I’ll make sure you get some food and look in on you first thing in the morning. And I will send word to her parents. They probably won’t care but they should know she is okay.”

A part of Dissectus wanted to argue that they didn’t owe Maya’s parents anything. As far as he was concerned, those people had lost their right to call themselves parents the moment they sent the little girl out into the bitter cold. Voltari seemed to agree if the way his hand tightened around the blanket was anything to go by. And yet Ho-Tan was right. They were obligated to contact Maya’s parents, whether they liked it or not.

After a quiet knock on the old wooden door, they stepped into the room. Three pairs of wide and curious eyes turned to stare at them. Alvin gave them all a little wave while Irk greeted his mother with a sheepish, “Hi, Mum.”

“Does your father know you’re here?” Ho-Tan asked with one perfectly raised eyebrow.

Irk’s grin only wavered a little. “Maybe?”

He said it so innocently that Dissectus would have laughed if he hadn’t spent his whole life training not to show his emotions. Ho-Tan had never had that kind of training. She tried to look stern but in the end, she couldn’t help the fondness creeping into her voice when she said, “You’re a menace, Irk.”

Irk laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. “But you love me anyway. Right?”

Ho-Tan’s eyes softened and she hugged him back. “Of course I do.”

It didn’t escape Dissectus’s notice that the little girl – Maya, he reminded himself – looked longingly at the two of them. It confirmed his suspicions: there were no hugs where she came from, no bedtime stories, no kisses on bruised knees to make the pain go away. Her childhood was a loveless one, just like and Voltari’s had been. How could they possibly send her back to that?

“Now say goodnight to Maya, you two, so we can go make sure your dad and uncles don’t blow up the Chamber with the fireworks,” Ho-Tan said, unaware of Dissectus’s turmoil.

Obediently, Alvin and Irk did as they were told. It was sweet to see them both give Maya a hug and promise her they’d be back tomorrow morning to play some more. They obviously didn’t care where she had come from, whether or not her family was rich or influential or how unkempt she looked. All they saw was a friend, and not for the first time Dissectus found himself wishing he could have grown up like them, unbiased and kind.

He wasn’t surprised when the two Youngers gave him and Voltari a quick but heartfelt hug as well before Ho-Tan shooed them out of the room.

“See you tomorrow, little ones,” Voltari called after them. “Enjoy the celebrations.”

“We will!” Alvin waved back. “Goodnight!”

He closed the door behind him and Dissectus finally turned his full attention on Maya. She was still tucked up to her chin under several layers of blankets but even in the dim light of the bedside lamp he could tell that her face had lost the deathly pallor from before. There was a rosy hue to her cheeks now, undoubtedly the result of one of Wizard Bradley’s magical remedies judging by the bottle of medicine on the nightstand, and her dark blue eyes were beautifully alert when she looked up at them.

“Hello,” Dissectus said softly. “My name is Dissectus and this is–“

“Mr Voltari,” Maya smiled shyly. “Miss Ho-Tan told me. You saved my life. Thank you.”

Not used to other people’s gratitude, let alone children’s, Dissectus turned to Voltari, hoping he would know what to say but Voltari looked just as much at a loss as he did. He had angled his head in such a way that the left side of his face was turned away from Maya – a subtle, heart-breaking choice that made Dissectus’s heart ache – and the hand not holding the blanket in place was rhythmically clenching and unclenching at his side. He wanted to argue, Dissectus realised. He wanted to tell the little girl that they hadn’t saved her; that it was only chance they had looked into the alley and seen her there.

Their eyes met and Dissectus shook his head. The last thing Maya needed right now was their guilt on top of everything else. Voltari blinked at him and then, visibly forcing himself to swallow the words on his tongue, turned to the girl and simply told her, “You’re welcome.”

Maya smiled and snuggled deeper into the blankets before she let out a yawn. “I’m glad you found me.”

“So are we,” Dissectus reassured her. He hesitated briefly before he sat down on the edge of her bed. “Sleep now. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

Trustingly, Maya blinked up at him. “Promise?”

Dissectus froze. He couldn’t, not when he knew she would have to go back to her family eventually, no matter how much he wished it weren’t so. If they got the detective involved they might be able to delay the inevitable for a few days. But if Yonderland was anything like Afarland, then Maya’s parents would probably just get told off before they’d be allowed to take her home with them. The tale would begin anew, and it would continue in a circle until one day, no one would be there to catch the little match girl when she fell.

“We promise,” Voltari said quietly but with such conviction that Dissectus’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Stunned, he watched him sit down next to him and place a reassuring hand on the blankets covering Maya. “Rest, little one. You’ve had trying day.”

Maya closed her eyes with a smile. It did not take long for her face to relax and her breathing to even out in sleep. The complete and utter trust she had in them and their word was humbling, and Dissectus already dreaded the moment when she would realise they were no better than everyone else.

“You shouldn’t have promised her that,” he said quietly when he was sure she was asleep. “You know she can’t stay here.”

“What I know is she’ll dieif she goes back,” Voltari said. His good eye was brimming with emotions. “We will find work for her here at the Chamber, give her a place to stay, a decent salary – make an offer her parents won’t be able to refuse.”

Voltari had always been exceptionally good at solving problems and making impossible things happen – Dissectus had known that for years. But this was different. This was him using his talents for something good, and for a moment, Dissectus could only stare at him in utter amazement. To think he’d thought he couldn’t love this man any more than he already did. “Tari …”

Voltari flushed and averted his eyes. “We will ask her if she wants this, of course. But if she does …”

“We’ll give her a home,” Dissectus whispered. He reached for Voltari’s hand, and his heart beat faster when Voltari’s shaking fingers squeezed back without hesitation.

They looked at each other. Slowly, so slowly it felt like time was standing still, Dissectus reached up to cradle Voltari’s face with his left hand and leaned in to place a tentative kiss to the very corner of his lips. Voltari’s breath caught in his throat and when Dissectus moved back, he pulled him back in for another kiss, a real one that was as sweet as honey and as gentle as the rolling hills of Hitherland. Fireworks went off somewhere in the distance and cheers erupted from the garden but Dissectus barely noticed either. His world had narrowed down to the feeling of Voltari’s lips against his, soft and pliable, and there was only one thought in his mind: finally.

It was the only kiss they shared that night. When they pulled back, their smiles were shy and full of silent promises of more to come – tomorrow when they knew Maya would be safe and they could steal a moment for themselves. Until then, they would keep watch over the little girl, and if they held hands throughout the night and sneaked loving glances at each other every now and then, Dissectus didn’t think anyone could fault them for that.

#voltari #dissectus #disstari #yonderland #yonderland fic #scribe elder ho tan #the elders youngers #my fic

13 notes · View notes