#₩ |¦ I’m not like you; I’m not like anybody ¦| ~ About: Jackson | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

okay-j-hannah · 7 months ago

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Part 3: Blue Handprints

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual pining, eventual NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, bloody wounds, intense drunken flirting, heart conditions, health problems, lightheadedness, fainting

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend

Part 3: Blue Handprints {You Are Here}

Part 4: Ollie's Catnip

Mr. Harris walks down the aisle of students, having just given his sentiments to Jackson Whittemore. “Everyone, start reading chapter nine.” He makes his way to the chalkboard, “Mr. Stilinski, try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It’s chemistry, not a coloring book.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, blowing the yellow lid from his lips and catching it easily in his hand. Instead, he turns to the phone in his pocket, sliding it out to peer at any new messages. He frowns – there were none.

Bouncing his foot on the bar stool, Stiles huffs before leaning towards the fellow lacrosse player in front of him. “Hey, Danny. Can I ask you a question?”

“No,” was his immediate reply.

“Well, I’m going to anyway. You have homeroom with (Y/N), right?”

Danny sighs, trying to read his chemistry chapter. “Yeah, what about it?”

Stiles leans closer, “Was she in class today?”

“No.”

“Has anybody been talking about what happened at the video store last night?”

“Listen, I’m sorry your little girlfriend hasn’t been texting you…”

Stiles’ stool squeaks as he fidgets, “She’s not actually my…”

“… but I’m not the one to look to next. Shouldn’t you be asking Scott?”

“What do you mean girlfriend?”

Danny grips the sides of his textbook with his fingertips, “Just some things I’ve heard on the lacrosse field when she’s there.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles was leaning so far forward that he suddenly found himself falling to the tile floor.

“To the principal’s office, Mr. Stilinski,” Mr. Harris says in a loud, firm voice. “Don’t forget your highlighter. You can finish coloring the rest of the textbook in detention.”

Stiles wasn’t in the mood for a fight, and besides Mr. Harris didn’t give him a detention slip. This meant that he could sneak out and spend the remaining minutes of the period goofing off.

Or trying to contact one of his friends.

He dials Scott’s number as he leaves class and makes for the parking lot, “Scott! Finally, have you been getting any of my texts?”

“Yeah, like all nine million of them.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Stiles steps into the sunshine and shades his eyes with a hand. “Lydia’s totally MIA. Jackson looks like he’s got a time bomb inserted into his face, another random guy’s dead. And (Y/N) was mauled last night and had to go to the hospital. You have to do something about it!”

Scott was mumbling, “Like what?”

“Something!” Stiles jogs towards his car, hoping to escape any patrolling school staff.

“Okay, I’ll deal with it later.”

Stiles shoves his phone in his pocket as the line went dead. If Scott wasn’t going to help him, then the next best thing was to visit you. While you also weren’t answering his texts, he figures the reason is because of your parents.

After some rest, maybe you are stable enough to answer some questions.

He’s able to sneak his jeep out of the parking lot without any witnesses. The drive to your house is becoming more routine, and he finds it easily. Without even thinking about it, he went to the front door.

It opens to reveal Angela Westbrook. “Oh!” she says with wide eyes, “Stiles Stilinski?”

“Yeah,” he says awkwardly, pointing finger guns at her, “Front desk Westbrook.”

“You haven’t gotten in any trouble have you? You’re supposed to be at school.”

Stiles furrows his brow, “What? No. I’m… I’m here to see (Y/N).”

Angela looks curious, “(Y/N)? I hadn’t realized you two were friends.”

“I was at the video store with her last night.” Stiles tries not to take offense.

“You saw what happened?” she asks, instantly frantic.

Stiles waves his hands around, “No! No, she called me, and I went to help with my dad.”

“She called you first?” It was Angela’s turn to try not to take offense.

“Yeah, my dad pulled me away before you guys showed up.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “So… I can see her?”

Angela puts a smile on her face, “Of course. But not for too long. She still needs her rest.”

He nods, walking inside for the first time. He took note of the piano in the living room, the family pictures on the mantelpiece, and the sound of a little jingle bell. It was coming from the collar of a large gray cat following them up the stairs.

“You have a cat?”

Angela gave a breathy laugh, “He’s (Y/N)’s. She needed a… well, a friend while being homeschooled, I guess.”

Stiles bangs his shoulder into the wall trying to watch the cat follow them. Angela knocks on your door, “(Y/N), sweetie – there’s a Stiles here to see you.”

You were sitting in bed, reading a book and warming your feet underneath a blanket. “Hey, Stiles!”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Angela says with a smile, clasping her hands together. “Just… no funny business.”

“Mom…” you say quietly. “Just leave the door open.”

Once your mom leaves, the cat jumps onto the bed and puts his front paws on your thigh, raising himself to get a pet on the head. He was large with fluffy gray fur and big blue eyes.

Stiles walks over, playing with his fingers. “How are you?”

“Fine,” you sigh, scratching the cat behind the ears, “I’ve been a little on edge.”

He observes your face with his investigative eyes. Your skin was dull, a blue tinge beneath your eyes, even your lips look a little off color. He lingers on that last detail longer than he should.

“How was the hospital?”

“The usual,” you run your fingers down the cats back and up the tail. “Any more stress and I’ll get more bodily damage. I’ll be bed bound… blah, blah, blah.”

Stiles swallows hard, “I think that blah sounds pretty important.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard my whole life,” you wave him off. “How are Lydia and Jackson?”

“Lydia is home and Jackson came to school, although I’m pretty sure he needs to be put in a coma to sleep off his pent up feelings.”

You smile grimly, “Understandable.”

Stiles scratches his shaved head, unsure of how to ask about the video store but knowing he’d have to be careful. He chooses to sit on the bed across from you, crossing his legs and licking his lips. “So… uh – what’s his name?” he points to the cat.

“Oliver,” you smile, “Sometimes I call him Ollie.” The cat was purring against your hand, whiskers perked. “I’ve had him for a couple years. He’s my best friend.”

“That’s what your mom was saying,” he says, watching the cat keep his fluffy tail in the air. Blue eyes found him sitting on the mattress.

You grimace, “Sorry about that. My mom can be…”

“She’s great,” he says quickly. “I thought you slept a little last night.”

“I did,” you say, “Thanks to you.”

The back of his neck suddenly feels hot, “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“The thing every girl wants to hear,” you smile. “Like I said, the hospital wasn’t happy with me.”

“(Y/N), I’ve been doing some research…” Stiles picks at his fingers again. “And you saying there’s something wrong with your heart; and the surgery scar you have…”

You run a delicate finger up the bridge of Ollie’s nose. He closes his eyes and pushes his head into your finger. “I knew you’d do that.”

Stiles licks his lips again, mouth dry, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“I know,” you sigh, “What did you find out?”

“I think you have some kind of tachycardia,” he looks at you with soft eyes, his eyelashes framing them. “That’s something that would make you faint and could weaken your heart if it happens too often. I’m not sure what the surgery was though… I’m assuming it was to stop your heart from getting too weak.”

The room felt heavy, but it was a comfortable heaviness, as in you weren’t afraid to talk to Stiles. “You would be right,” you nod, “I was born with a heart defect. It was an atrioventricular canal defect. It means there was a hole in the wall between my heart chambers. The hole made it so blood flow wasn’t controlled well. I had a surgery to fix it.”

“Just last summer?”

“One of them, yeah.” You smile at him like he knew you were still hiding things. “This is a deep conversation for another day, Stiles.”

“But…” he presses on, leaning forward, “If you fixed the heart defect, you shouldn’t have any heart problems now, right?”

You shrug, “Things happen.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything else today, are you?”

“You got my one personal thing of the day. You know I had a congenital heart defect and now I have ventricular tachycardia.” Scratching under Oliver’s chin, you sigh, “I’m sure you’ll do more research on that later.”

Ollie continues to purr and put Stiles in his line of sight. With soft paws, he walks across the covers and perches on Stiles’ knee.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to do, his hands shooting into the air.

“He doesn’t bite,” you laugh, “He just wants a pet.”

Oliver’s tail swishes around the covers, and Stiles lowers a hand. The cat rubs the top of his head into the palm. “He’s so soft.”

You rub your arms, “He’s a great judge of character.”

“(Y/N), the other thing I wanted to ask…” Stiles continues to pet the cat, enjoying the purring immensely. “… was about last night.” He doesn’t like the way you gulp. “What happened?”

“Well, Arnett decided not to show up,” you shrug, “Big surprise. Still hurt though.”

Stiles mutters something that sounds a lot like, “Piece of shit.”

You retell the events leading to the lights flickering on and off over the dead store manager. “Then there was this growling. Like an animal.” A waver enters your voice and goosebumps blossom on your bare arms.

Oliver senses your change of mood and returns to your side, nuzzling your knee.

“I only got a few seconds to look before…” you gesture to the bandages on your left shoulder, “It was some kind of… wolf.” Your watch lit up with a reading from your heart. The rate was rising exponentially.

“Okay,” Stiles says, scooting closer, “That’s good. I’m sorry that happened.”

“Did your dad say anything about it? Were they able to catch whatever it was?”

He sighs, “No. We haven’t found anything. They think it was just a wild animal attack.” He was itching to touch you again, hold your hand and calm you down again. He wanted to protect your heart. “You’re safe here. You have Ollie to protect you.”

That made you smile, and Stiles took great pride in that.

“Did you wish Allison a happy birthday before skipping school?”

Stiles watches your heart rate lower on your watch screen, “I didn’t know it was her birthday.”

“It was kind of a secret,” you pick up Ollie, resting your face against his head. “Lydia and I decorated her locker yesterday after school.”

Stiles smacks his forehead, “That’s where Scott is! That idiot probably took her out for her birthday. No wonder he’s been avoiding my texts.”

There was another knock on the door, “Sweetie, it’s time to change your bandages.” Your mom was there with fresh cloth and something antibiotic.

“I can do it,” Stiles says, “(Y/N) can tell me what to do.” He rolls off the bed, tripping over his ankle as he stands straight.

Angela raises her eyebrows at you, but you nod. “Okay, but if you need help please call me. I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

Stiles awkwardly took the supplies from your mom, mouthing a thank you before returning to the bed. “You’re really going to have to help me with this one.”

You grimace, “It’s not going to be pretty.” You pull an arm out of your pajama top to reveal a tank top underneath, one strap hanging off the large white bandages on your shoulder. Stiles flexes his fingers.

“I should wash my hands probably.”

“I have hand sanitizer in my nightstand,” you giggle, already starting to pick the medical tape off the edge of the bandage.

He cleans his hands, helping you remove the bandage. You hiss as he lifts it from the wound, blood weeping from the gashes. Stiles has to stifle a groan of disgust.

“God,” he mumbles, “It still looks so fresh.”

You suck in your lips, amused by his expression, “I didn’t realize you were so queasy around blood.”

“It’s not that,” he threw the old bandage in the garbage. “It’s just it’s… you. I hate seeing you with this.” He looks closer at the claw marks, taking some gauze and catching some pinkish fluid seeping out.

You fidget as he touches the red, irritated skin under the wound. “It still hurts a lot.”

“It’s still bleeding and… wet,” Stiles frowns.

“It’s called serous drainage,” you laugh at his look of shock, “It’s a normal part of the healing process. But too much can be a sign of infection.”

“It might be infected,” Stiles says immediately. “This is a lot.”

You wave him off with your other hand, “We’ll wait to see if I have a fever.”

“Just saying, it would explain why you look like a dead man walking.”

“You’re just full of compliments today, aren’t you?” But you were smiling as you say it.

~~~

A few days later Stiles was sitting in his morning English class, staring at the seat that you normally occupy. He was flipping his phone around his fingers, waiting for your next reply.

He was angry and biting the inside of his cheeks.

“It’s not his fault,” you text.

“He bailed on the date night, and you end up getting mauled. And then he bails on conferences and my dad gets hit by a car. Tell me again how he’s not a shitty friend?”

You take a minute to answer, “Those were all accidents. You can’t prove Scott being there could’ve stopped anything.”

“Yeah, it still would’ve been nice to have him be there.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t of.”

Stiles knits his brow at your message. “You’re hurt. I’m not upset about you not being at conferences. Besides with your luck that mountain lion would’ve went for you.”

“You still don’t think it was the same animal from the video store?”

“I trust you. If you say it was a wolf, then it was a wolf.”

Scott comes walking into class, sheepish in how he sits behind Stiles. Shoulders tense, Stiles sits resolutely forward, closing his phone and avoiding his best friend. Scott sighs, frustrated at more than just himself.

“Can you at least tell me if your dad’s okay? I mean, it’s just a bruise, right?” He was grasping at straws, “Some soft tissue damage?”

Stiles was running his tongue along the bite marks inside his cheeks.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” Folding his arms, Scott tries to explain himself, “Okay, what if I told you I’m trying to figure this whole thing out, and that I went to Derek for help?”

Stiles stops his eye twitching to grumble, “If I was talking to you, I’d say that you’re an idiot for trusting him. But obviously I’m not talking to you.”

As the bell rings, Stiles leans forward and contemplates the new development in Derek’s involvement. He stares at his phone lighting up with a new message from you, “Go easy on him.”

He grits his teeth, angry at his curiosity getting the best of him. He whips around, “I still haven’t forgiven you for not being there for (Y/N).”

“I get it,” Scott looks hopeful. “I really do.”

“Lately she’s been there for me more than you have, which is saying something considering we used be connected at the hip. I get this werewolf thing happened and then Allison and now a Derek/Alpha thing… but you don’t just abandon your friends. If anything you should be closer to them when things get hard.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Scott mutters, “I’ll stop by (Y/N)’s place and check on her, alright? I know she deserves better… and that she means a lot to you.”

Stiles sighs heavily through his nose, drumming his fingers on the back of his chair. “Okay. What did Derek say?”

Throughout the day Stiles concocted a plan to help Scott with his anger issues. He spent classes thinking about heart rates and helping Scott avoid Allison as much as possible. After spending a quick minute in Coach’s office, they met outside on the lacrosse field.

“Okay,” he pulls out a heart rate monitor, “Put this on.”

Scott grabs it, “Isn’t this for the track team?”

“Yeah, I borrowed it,” Stiles says.

“Stole it.”

Offended, Stiles set his tone, “Temporarily misappropriated. Listen, I got the idea from (Y/N). She measures her heart rate through her watch, and it sends her readings through her phone. It’s easy to connect through a health app. And you’re gonna wear that monitor for the rest of the day.”

“And it’s connected to your phone?” Scott says, putting the monitor on.

He pulls out his phone and went to the health app, “Yeah, you know your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you’re playing lacrosse, when you’re with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate.” He shows Scott his screen, “See?”

There were two different heart rates being monitored on the screen. One being Scott’s and the other one being…

“Are you watching your own heart rate?” Scott asks, “Who’s that one?”

“I don’t know, doesn’t matter.” Clearly having messed up, Stiles shoves his phone in his pocket and starts riffling through his duffel bag of supplies.

Scott has a smirk on his face, “It’s (Y/N)’s heart rate, isn’t it.”

“Shut up.”

~~~

After a quick getaway from another heart rate experiment, and a few cuts and bruises for Scott, the pair of them drove to your house for an apologetic visit.

“Dude, you got to wipe all that blood off,” Stiles says, “You look like a murder victim.”

“It’ll stop in a second. I’ll heal no problem.”

“Let’s hope her parents are still at work.”

In front of your house, Scott wipes his nose, hoping you wouldn’t notice too much. The injuries were already healed, it was just the leftover blood that he needed to wash off.

It took a few minutes for anyone to answer, and Stiles checks his phone. Your heart rate is slightly elevated.

The door opens slowly, and everyone has a gasping reaction.

“Oh my god, Scott,” you say in a shallow voice, “Why are you covered in blood?”

Stiles’ mouth was gaping as Scott fumbles for words to say, “Uh, I might’ve gotten in a fight at school. Someone got a bloody nose and… I got it on me.”

If Stiles thought you looked like a dead man walking a few days ago, he didn’t realize how worse you would look today. That bluish tinge to your under eyes was deep and the purple of your lips was like looking at a corpse. Your ashy skin was speckled with sweat around your temples. You look sick… really sick.

“(Y/N)…” Stiles says, hands starting to tremble as he reaches for the door, “What…”

“Let me get you another shirt,” you say tiredly, backing away from the door. “My dad has some old Saturday t-shirts in the laundry room.”

“Are your parents here?” Scott asks, following you and Stiles inside. A quick sound check told him that they were the only ones home.

You sound as though it was hard to breathe, “They’re still at work. I convinced my mom to take her evening shift today. She’s been staying home all week because of me.”

The sight of you shuffling side to side, tank top and shorts on under a robe – the robe tie dragging on the ground – hair falling out of a wild bun… it was disheartening. What was wrong with you?

Scott could smell something. Something sickly. “I don’t need another shirt, (Y/N), really. I just wanted to check on you.”

You turn around in the hallway, ghostly in the dimly lit space. “Oh? That’s kind of you.”

“I know I’ve been kind of distant,” he continues, eyeing the worry enveloping Stiles. “And I want to change that. Life has been chaotic, but I want to make time to see you.”

“Thank you,” you smile, “But I’ve been in good hands.”

“Clearly not good enough,” Stiles says, “When was the last time you changed your bandages, (Y/N)?”

You shrug and then grimace at the movement, “Sometime yesterday.” You were swaying on your feet and Stiles took a step forward, prepared to catch you.

“Let’s take a look, yeah?” he says calmly, “Let’s sit down.” He guides you to a dining chair while directing Scott to check the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. “You don’t look so good.”

“So you keep telling me, Stiles,” you smile again, “You need to work on those compliments.” You struggle to pull your arm out of the robe sleeve.

“Here, let me.”

While he pulls out your arm, apologizing for causing any discomfort, he mumbles things to distract you as he takes off the bandage. “I like your pajamas.”

White fabric with little lemons and mint leaves printed on them, along with a robe of fuzzy summer fruits. It was just so you. If only he could still smell that wonderful fruity shampoo from your hair.

“Thank you,” you groan as he removes the bandage painfully.

“Oh my god,” he chokes.

The wound underneath was red and aggravated. It was still weeping blood and whatever fluid you had mentioned before. The center of each deep claw mark had a purple-blue color, and he didn’t like how venomous it looked.

Scott appears beside you, following that sickly scent to your shoulder. It smelt worse than infection, it had a familiar tang to it. Something wolfish about it. That terrifies him. “I’m going to call Derek.”

“What?” you and Stiles say at the same time.

“I have a feeling he’ll know what to do,” he eyes Stiles, pulling out his phone, “Don’t bandage it until he looks at it.”

“Is something wrong?” you say feverishly, looking at Stiles with half-closed eyes. He chooses to focus on your face instead of your wound. But his eyes were no longer a honey brown or an amber whiskey.

They were steely like fossilized tree sap.

“I think you just need some extra strength Tylenol,” he jokes, “Or a rabies shot.”

“God, my mom is never going to let me leave the house again if I don’t stop getting sick.” You hang your head, sweat speckling the back of your neck too. Stiles gingerly puts a hand to your back and rubs up and down your spine.

“You’ll get better, I promise.”

“You’re such a liar,” you cough, “I’m not going to get better. This is what it’ll be… just worse and worse.”

Stiles didn’t like the hurt that was developing in his chest. That inflation feeling in his ribcage came full force but was threaded with hurt. It hurt to see you like this.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nonsense,” you say with sorrow, “Don’t listen to me. I’m sick.”

Scott returns with determination in his step, “Derek’s almost here.” He kneels beside your chair, a hand on your good arm. “This is my fault. If I was there for you then this…”

“It’s not your fault, Scott. It’s not a crime to not want to third wheel.”

“What do you smell?” Stiles whispers under his breath. You have a difficult time concentrating enough to hear him.

Scott mutters something back, “Nothing good.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?”

Derek comes walking into the house, “This isn’t something the hospital can fix.” His nose crinkles at your exposed arm. “She was clawed by the alpha, right?”

Stiles waves a frantic hand, shushing him while Scott mouths at him to shut up.

“You guys are idiots.” Derek looks angry, “You haven’t told her anything yet?”

“Told me what?” you lift your heavy head. “Derek?”

The boys pull Derek aside and quickly whisper a conversation.

“Did the alpha do something to her?” Scott asks worriedly. He’d feel even worse if your injury was a result of his werewolf business.

Derek folds his massive arms, “If an alpha scratches a human and it makes a deep enough cut, the werewolf change could happen.”

Stiles chokes on his breath, “You mean she could be transforming!?”

“It doesn’t have to be a bite?” Scott whisper shouts.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Stiles pulls at the ends of his shaved hair. “Why is it making her so sick.”

Derek sighs heavily, “Because her body is rejecting the change. It’s trying to fight off the spread of infection. It’s impressive really.”

“You mean she might be fine?” Scott asks, “She’ll get over it?”

“Maybe,” Derek shrugs, “It could just kill her.”

Stiles swallows thickly, “Tell us how to help her.”

“You just have to let the infection run its course. There aren’t any werewolf antibiotics out there for a wound like that. Tell her to sleep it off.”

“Sleep it off?” Stiles says incredulously. “That’s the best you got?”

“I have other pressing matters. Including a meeting with your boss, Scott.”

Scott took a pause, “What has my boss got to do with anything?”

“I’ll let you know when I finish interrogating him.” Subconsciously or not, Derek was flexing his arms in a way that made him look gigantic.

Scott wasn’t intimidated, “If you lay a hand on Deaton…”

“He’s already in the trunk,” Derek says blandly, “You interrupted my questioning before I could finish.”

“Oh my god,” Scott mumbles, chest tight with oncoming rage.

Stiles was flailing his arms around like they were limp noodles. “Hello! Did we forget the sick-because-of-alpha-claws girl right behind us. Let’s handle one problem at a time.”

Derek was already out the door, “(Y/N)’s fate isn’t my problem. And Deaton isn’t your concern.”

“It is considering he’s my boss!” Scott follows him outside.

“Alright, Scott, you want answers?” Derek spins around on the lawn, “Those spirals you’ve been asking about… it’s our sign for a vendetta. It’s revenge. It means he won’t stop killing until he’s satisfied!”

Scott gawks at him, “You think Deaton’s the alpha!?”

“We’re about to find out.”

“No! Derek, listen. There’s another way to draw out the alpha. I’m connected to him remember?” Scott sounds desperate and on the verge of growing claws. Stiles stands on the porch, anxious to keep you from hearing any of this. “I can try to get him to reveal himself.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Derek has a steely blue tinge in his eyes, almost as if they were glowing.

Scott looks around him, jerky in his head movements as he tries to create a plan, “Just give me an hour and then meet us at the school. I’ll call to the alpha and we’ll see if there’s a response.”

Derek, rippling with rage, seems to consider. In the next second he growls under his breath and goes to his car. Scott took that as he was in agreement with the new plan.

He turns around to see Stiles giving him a death glare, hands stuck under his armpits as if he’s stopping them from throwing punches.

“Are you forgetting about our teensy-weensy other problem, Scott? Maybe our other friend currently dying inside?”

“She’s not dying,” Scott says as he stomps toward the house again.

Stiles shoves his shoulder as he walks past, “I don’t feel right leaving (Y/N) here while we go tango with the alpha at the school.”

“We could call her mom,” Scott suggests, making his way back to the dining table.

“She’ll hate that,” Stiles mumbles, meeting him at your chair. He kneels beside you again, careful as you were dozing off. Leaning against the table, your chin rests in your hand – your mouth slightly open as you take small breaths.

Scott shrugs his shoulders, “Well, then who do we call? All our other friends are occupied with themselves.” It suddenly dawned on him that he was supposed to meet Allison for a study date. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Finally realized that did you?” Stiles says sarcastically, “Who else do we trust?”

“Someone from the lacrosse team?” Scott says with a wince, “She’s gotten close with a couple of the guys there.”

A flicker of red hot flame licks up Stiles’ side. “Sure, yeah – one of the potential lacrosse boyfriends.”

“Oh please, we could call Danny,” Scott waves him off. “Although Andrew Wickstrom would probably be more willing.”

Good guy Andrew Wickstrom? Stiles did not like that idea. Not because he was just another blockhead lacrosse guy… but because he was genuinely a nice guy. And the possibility of you falling for him was very high.

“He’s better than leaving her here alone,” Scott says, going through his phone. “At least until her parents get off work.”

Stiles curses him, but he agrees. He rests one of his hands on your good shoulder, “(Y/N), hey…”

You stir in your daze, “Where’s Derek?”

“He left, don’t worry,” was his reply. Licking his lips he starts to prepare fresh bandages for your shoulder. “Listen, Andrew is going to come look after you until your mom gets home.”

“Who?”

“Andrew Wickstrom? From the team,” Stiles says, trying to keep the disdain from his voice. “Scott and I need to handle something at the school. And you need to stay here and get some rest.”

He applies pressure on your shoulder with disinfected gauze and you gasp with pain.

“You just have a 24-hour bug,” he continues to distract you. “And in the morning you’ll be right as rain, I promise.”

“Again you’re such a liar,” you smile painfully.

He loves your humor. “I’ll come check on you when we’re done. Just don’t go falling in love with this guy, alright?”

You laugh, “No promises.”

~~~

You were cuddled on the couch, pulling up your favorite forest green blanket to your chin. You try to fix your hair bun, but it was still falling out in wavy strands. The television was set low, a true crime miniseries on.

Andrew returns to the living room, a gatorade in an iced glass with a straw. He went back to his spot on the ground, propped against the couch arm and near your head.

“Did I miss anything?” he lifts the glass over his shoulder and directs the straw between your lips.

You take a few sips, humming your thanks. “I think the husband did it.”

“But there was all that text evidence showing how the wife verbally abused him. I think he’s a scaredy cat.”

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have lashed out and killed her.”

He grins, “You’re way into these true crime cases.”

“They’re interesting,” you snuggle further into the blanket, “And I like to see the medical side of things.”

“Can I check your fever?” he gropes under the pile of supplies Stiles had left them and found a thermometer. He brushes your wispy fly-aways into your bun and put the thermometer to your forehead. After it beeps he looks at it, “102.3, that’s a little high.”

“We don’t need the hospital until it’s 105.”

He got comfortable again, crossing his arms. “It’s weird. I hadn’t imagined the first time we hang out was going to involve playing nurse.”

“I appreciate it, really,” you say tiredly. “It’s nice of you to spend your night here. I’m pretty sure my parents would pay you like a babysitter too.”

“It’s no problem,” he smiles, dimples showing. “I don’t mind. I like this, spending time with you. Even if you are super sick.”

You giggle but end it in a cough. “You know I was kind of hoping you’d come talk to me at lacrosse practice.”

Andrew turns so he’s facing you cross legged on the ground, “No way.”

“A perk of TAing for Coach is that I get to watch all you handsome lacrosse players play,” you wink, “I might’ve had my eye on you a couple of times.”

“I’m flattered,” he grins back, “You were always surrounded by a crowd, and I wasn’t sure you wanted another guy forcing his way in.”

You prop your head up a little, “You wouldn’t have needed to force yourself in. I would’ve just welcomed you.”

He bows his head, brown curls hanging in coils. “I wish I would’ve figured that out sooner. Maybe our first night together would’ve had you feeling better.”

“No, this is better,” you smile, “This is more memorable.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I asked to see you again…” he rubs his hands awkwardly on his knees, “… outside of school.”

“Please!” you say, “I’m so sick of being stuck at my house. Any plans I can look forward to is a blessing.”

He fixes the edge of your blanket, pulling it up a few inches. “Then I’ll think of something really fun.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he plays with his hair. It’s cute. “Maybe something with a bookstore.”

Your sunken eyes widen a bit. “How did you know I like to read?”

“It might’ve been the book you always have with you at school,” he laughs, “Or the time Coach yelled at you because you were reading in the bleachers instead of grabbing more helmets.”

“Well, if you’re buying then I won’t say no to a bookstore.”

Andrew grins, a beautiful smile with his curly hair and warm, green eyes. “It’s a date.”

~~~

“It’s a what?!” Stiles was whispering as loudly as he could.

You were sitting up in bed, limp and frail but with a little more life in your cheeks. “I think he asked me out on a date.”

Scott shut the window behind him, “That’s great, (Y/N).” You miss the pitying look he sent Stiles’ way.

“What did you say?” Stiles asks, sitting on the bed next to you.

You shrug, “I kind of just smiled and we kept watching the true crime.”

“Oh god,” Stiles grumbles, “You’re going to fall in love with him.” He watches a blush rise in your cheeks, “No… no – there’s no falling in love right now. You’re just getting over a fever.” He starts to fan your cheeks, making you laugh.

Scott pulls your desk chair over, “But you do feel better?”

“Completely – Andrew cured me!”

“It was that gatorade I left.”

You try to hide a smile, “Or it could’ve been the goodbye kiss.” Stiles jumps on the mattress, slamming the headboard into the wall. You smack his arm, “God, Stiles I was kidding. My fever just broke.”

“How did your parents take it?” Scott asks. He seems a little put out in comparison to earlier that day.

“My mom was really grateful.” You flicker your eyes between the pair of them. “So are you going to tell me what was going on with Derek visiting to check on my wound?”

“Oh, you know…” Scott says instantly. Stiles was flapping his gums like a fish out of water. “He’s seen animal attacks considering… his sister… was killed that way. He just said to sleep it off.”

You lean against the headboard, nearly shoulder to shoulder with Stiles. “Well, he was right.” The jumpiness in Scott’s fidgeting made you suspect some lying. It irks you to know that there were still secrets they were keeping from you. “Hey, I thought you and Allison had a study date. What business did you have at the school?”

“Um…” Scott was picking at his fingernails, “That’s where I decided to surprise Allison with our studying.”

Your brow knits, “But the school is closed and locked at night.”

Stiles has his hands running over his head, “Scott, the others are going to tell her what happened.”

“Meaning?” you nudge Stiles with your shoulder.

Scott was full of conflict, whipping his eyes between different spots in the room. “Derek told us of a hunch that led us to the school. He spotted that monster wolf you saw at the video store. Allison got a strange text that might’ve come from Derek too.” He looks to you with slight panic, “It told her to meet me at the school. She was with Lydia and Jackson, so they came too.”

“I crashed my car and everything trying to get away,” Stiles says, trying to cover all their assets.

“I missed quite the party,” you whisper, searching for tells of his lying in the words.

“We were chased and attacked. A janitor died. We weren’t sure if it was the wolf monster or Derek.”

You lean away from Stiles and he darts his head to you, “I thought Derek was innocent of everything.” An ache was in the pit of your stomach, it made you feel empty and distrustful. It was plain how much they were hiding from you.

Of course you were also being a hypocrite because you hadn’t told them everything either.

“There might be more evidence,” Scott tries to continue.

“Like what?” you fold your arms, “You have any proof?”

Stiles was piecing together you shrinking away from them, “Enough that we called my dad in on it.”

“You know, I’m tired,” you say, “I think you guys should go.”

The boys share a look, and you miss the worry enveloping Stiles’ face. He pulls his wide shoulders inward to avoid touching you.

“Sure,” Stiles says, “You’ve had a long day.”

“We’re glad you’re better,” Scott adds, standing to open the window again. “Hopefully you’re well enough for school on Monday.” He slides himself outside while Stiles stops at the sill.

He licks his lips, a habit of his especially when he’s thinking. “Hey, listen, I’m going to try to fix my jeep this weekend. If you’re free maybe we could do it together.” He wipes his hands along his pants, fidgety in how he was looking at the floor, then at you, then at the floor again. “It’s no problem if not.”

You nod but avoid looking at him as he slips out. You sit there with your peachy lamp on, upset and confused. You like Scott and Stiles. They were some of the first friends you made when you started public school. Stiles had been so attentive and gently nudged you to be more open.

But the achy feeling of emptiness in your stomach was becoming more prevalent. It had been an on and off feeling since getting to know the boys. Stiles had been swooping in to calm your nerves with small nuggets of truth.

A few more lies and you weren’t sure it was worth it anymore.

A couple of days later and fully recovered from your infectious fever, you eat lunch on Saturday afternoon. Your dad slides a BLT your way and sits down with his own.

He nibbles on a piece of bacon, “Any plans for your post sickness weekend?”

“Catch up on the homework Allison brought me,” you take a sip of soda, “And try not to kill Scott for hurting her.”

“Are they okay?” Tom asks.

You shake your head, “She broke up with him. He snapped at her when she was scared. Kind of a dick move.”

“Language.”

“Sorry,” you grimace, wiping the tired from your eyes. “I’m mad at him too.”

“What a dick,” he says, winking at you.

It makes you smile, “I know he means well. I think he’s just being a stupid teenage boy.”

“Having been a stupid teenage boy myself I can vouch for him.” He eats the larger pile of bacon on his plate, “What about that other boy that visited the other day?”

“Stiles?” you sigh, “I’m upset with him too. I think they’re hiding something from me.”

Both you and your dad say at the same time, “Stupid teenage boys.”

“But that Andrew is nice,” your mom enters the kitchen, gardening gloves in hand. “I like him.”

“You like that he was taking care of me,” you roll your eyes. “You know Scott and Stiles were here doing that same thing earlier that day.”

Angela went for the shoes she wore in the garden by the back door, “Do they know about your heart?”

“I told Stiles some things and he’s told our other friends,” you shrug, “Just about the heart defect and my tachycardia.”

Your parents nod – your dad finishing his lunch much faster than you, “That’s better than nothing. I feel better knowing you’re out with kids that can help you if you feel faint.”

Your mom leaves for the backyard and your dad goes to get you another can of soda.

“Maybe I’ll stop by Stiles’ place today.”

“The Sheriff’s house?” Tom says, “You must not be that upset with him.”

You stand, your heart stuttering, “Eh… I’ll let you know if I need a getaway driver.”

The walk to Stiles’ house was long but nice with the California sun out. Your skin soaks up the warmth, unstiffening your bones from the sickbed. The birds twitter past and trees shimmer their leaves above you.

If your mom knew you were walking such a long way, she would have given you house arrest. But you monitor your heart rate through your watch the whole way.

The house was a little shabby but homely. It screams ‘bachelor pad’ in more ways than one. The grass was trimmed, but the flowerbeds neglected. The BBQ was greasy with use and left out in the open. The house was tidy but nowhere near clean. The old décor was most likely remnant of Mrs. Stilinski, and the boys don’t dare change it.

Stiles was running out of the door, tripping down the steps when he saw you. “(Y/N)! You came.”

You nod, hands in your jean pockets, “I wanted to see the damage.”

The jeep was in the driveway, towed there the night of the school attack. The hood was laying on the concrete and completely smashed in.

Stiles jogs up to you and looks about ready to give you a hug, but you keep your arms down as a signal. He scratches at the back of his head instead.

“I just picked up a new hood from the junkyard. And my dad helped me buy a new battery.”

“What happened to the old one again?” you look inside the engine and see more duct tape than rubber tubes. “Do you usually fix this guy up yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles had a funny look on his face, hands on his hips, “It’s cheaper that way. When I hit the school sign it crushed the battery box. It needed to be fully replaced.”

You give him a side eye, “You hit the school sign?”

“I was in a hurry to escape, okay,” he says exasperated, throwing his arms down limp at his sides. He was always lanky and fidgety. “I have spray paint in the garage for the new hood.” He looks at you with a hesitant gaze, “Do you want to help?”

You fold your arms, trying to hide a smile. “Do you have a tarp for the paint?”

“Why would I need a tarp?”

A small laugh escapes you, “Your dad will thank me later. Come on.”

The pair of you lay an old blue tarp down and set the junkyard hood on it. You convince Stiles to sand the metal and prime it before the paint. Thankfully the jungle that was the garage held nearly all the equipment you needed.

“I think it’s funny you have the exact shade of blue you need for your jeep,” you say, shaking your head. “Makes me think you need to touch it up more often than not.”

“If you’re making some kind of assumption about my driving skills, you’re wrong. I happen to be an excellent driver.”

You shake the spray paint can, ready for last touchups, “Anyone is an excellent driver when they’re the only driver in the friend group.”

“Excuse me?” he says with mock offense, screwing his face up comically.

“You’re not exactly comparing your skills to Scott and me since we don’t have cars,” and in a moment of weakness you point the can towards Stiles.

“Hey, woah!” he held up his hands, getting a blast of blue paint on his palms and fingers. “Mayday! Mayday! Paint in mouth!”

You start laughing, shaking the can some more as Stiles spits at the grass. His hands and forearms were coated in shiny, dripping paint.

“Now you’re in for it.”

He ran at you, hands outstretched. You didn’t fight it much as you squeal at the cold wet paint. He hugs you from behind and starts rubbing his hands all down your sides and front, coating your arms and shirt.

He was careful to avoid your chest. “There, now we’re both a masterpiece.”

“Wait a minute,” you say, out of breath from your giggles. You raise a coated finger to his rosy cheek and write your initials, “There. An artist always signs their work.”

He blows out a choking breath, shivers prickling the back of his neck. He has to clear his throat before doing the same to you, raising a long finger to your cheek. A double ‘s’ is painted along your cheekbone, beneath your sparkling eyes.

“Should we put the battery in while the paint dries?” you were closer than you thought, just inches between you. You could have sworn Stiles flickers his eyes down to your lips, no doubt smeared with paint.

“S-Sure,” he stutters, wiping at his nose, “It’s right over here.”

You help lift the heavy black box and slide it into the car. You giggle at the blue handprints all over the battery sides.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get a wet rag.”

“No!” Stiles grabs your arm, “I like it. Let’s let it dry. Our signature touch.”

You look at your handprint on the top and Stiles’ on the side below yours. “Whatever you want, Stilinski. This is your jeep.”

“Damn right,” he mumbles, connecting wires, “This baby needs to last me through college.”

The duct tape didn’t look very promising, but you had to admire his persistence. “I’ll get the topcoat ready then.”

It took another hour to get the hood ready for screwing in. You help with holding tools and holding pieces in place. Stiles makes sarcastic remarks and tries not to swear when he pinches a finger. You laugh at his jokes and ignore the unevenness of your heart rate.

When the hood was in place and the spray paint on your skin dry and cracking, the pair of you walk inside for some lemonade.

Stiles keeps staring at his initials on your cheek. “Thank you for helping me. It wouldn’t have turned out half as good without you.”

“It was fun,” you nod, a hand to your chest. A pain was flaring there. You try to breathe past the tightness, “I think I need… I need a second.” Your watch beeps the exact same time as Stiles’ phone.

You share a confused glance with the boy as he blabs, “I can explain!”

“One second,” you say, leaning forward and closing your eyes. You nearly collapse in a dining chair, and a moment later you feel large hands on your knees, squeezing gently.

“Try to ground yourself,” he whispers to you, “Remember… what do you hear?”

It takes you longer to answer, holding your chest like it’ll keep your heart there. “The refrigerator running. Birds outside. And your heavy breathing.” You crack a smile despite the frantic fluttering in your chest.

Stiles scoffs, “And what do you feel?”

“My heartbeat,” you put your free hand on top of Stiles’, curling your fingers around his. “Your hand. And the cracking spray paint.” It was getting easier to breathe.

Stiles was rubbing his thumb along the inside of your knee. His own chest was inflating again, that powerful warmth that only happened when he was near you. His throat bobs as heat floods his cheeks – thankfully he was covered in spray paint.

He checks your watch screen as your heart rate went down, “That’s it.”

“Thanks,” you say, letting go of his fingers. He pulls his hands away quickly after that. “I think I should head home and shower. All this paint is making my skin itch now.”

He laughs awkwardly, standing, “Well, uh… you could always, you know… shower here.” His eyes widen and he starts to ramble on further as if to stop you from saying no, “I mean, I have extra clothes and I was planning on taking Scott out tonight to get his mind off the breakup. You could stay and we could all go together?”

You let the silence go on just for your own amusement. He was practically shaking waiting for your answer. “Sure, that’d be great.”

“Yay… I mean, yeah sure – cool cool.” He gestures to the stairs and leads the way, “There’s everything you need in the bathroom. I’ll just… jeans probably won’t fit, and I don’t believe in shorts…”

“Sweatpants are fine,” you say, enjoying every second of his rambling.

“Right, good,” he was pinching the ends of his shaved hair. You wonder if he was one to run his fingers through his hair when it was long. “I assume you don’t need boxers…” he chokes on his laugh, probably thinking about you in that very item of clothing. “But I’ll get you a shirt and a towel. Wait right here.”

You spy into the hallway bathroom and giggle at the few items of clothing strewn about the floor. A toothbrush was thrown onto the counter and leaving white, foamy scum on the counter. A deodorant stick was open and toppled over. A 2-in-1 shampoo was leaking in the shower. Overall, about as much as you expected.

“Oh god,” Stiles yells, spotting the same things you were, “I’m so sorry. It’s such a mess in here.” He starts to bang against the walls, picking up clothes and fallen toiletries along the way. “Clearly I wasn’t expecting company.” He steps on a sleeve and trips to the floor in a colossal crash.

You stifle a laugh as you bend to help him up, “So you really didn’t expect me to show up, huh?”

His cheeks were a blotchy red, a terrible sinking pit in his stomach. “It’s a wonder you haven’t run out of here the first chance you got.” His arms were full of clothes and a sneaker and a couple stiff washcloths that you didn’t want to think about.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” you smile at his red face – the picture of embarrassment. He was so endearing in the sweetest way. The spray paint was starting to chip from his skin and flake onto the clothes he was holding. “I like you this way.”

Stiles figures he better leave before he does anything else stupid. “I’m going to use… my d-dad’s bathroom downstairs.” He fumbles the sneaker but catches it by the laces. “I’ll be super quick, so you have all the hot water.”

You nod, closing the door on his bright blotchy face. You step into the shower, not planning to use up the hot water either, and investigate any other hygiene products. The 2-in-1 must have been used as a body wash and face wash as well because there was nothing else to be seen. Shaking your head you use the bottle to clean all the spray paint off your body.

You had to scrub your skin raw, but the blue finally came off. You were quick to realize that the woods smell that Stiles usually had came from this shampoo. It was mixed with the strong scent of tea tree oil. At least the Sheriff knew a thing or two about antibacterial soap and how much a lacrosse player needed it.

The mirror wasn’t even fogged up with steam when you step out. You found the pile of clothes Stiles brought before he fumbled with cleaning.

Some dark sweatpants and a gray t-shirt with a star wars logo on the front. He even threw in a green and blue flannel to keep your arms warm when they went to get Scott.

You thread your fingers through your wet hair, carrying your ruined day clothes over your shoulder. Down the stairs you find Stiles making sandwiches in the kitchen. His shirt was a little damp from the shower, and he had goosebumps running up his arms.

“You look cold,” you say, sauntering in and catching the sweatpants before they fell a few inches. You tie the strings to make them tighter around your waist and find Stiles staring at you slack jawed.

“Um… uh – yeah. Sure, maybe a little.” He shrugs repeatedly as if that would calm the tension he was feeling.

You lean against the counter, watching him avoid your gaze, “Did you take a cold shower?”

“What – I like them!”

“No one likes them,” you scoff, “There was enough time for us both to shower fine.”

He stuck out his bottom lip, tilting his head to a shoulder, “I just wanted to make sure you had enough hot water.” Before you could make any other retort, he says in a louder voice, “I figured we could eat something and then pick up Scott.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, watching him work. It seems he wanted to busy himself, so he didn’t get caught staring at you again.

“Have you talked with Andrew at all since him babysitting you?”

You wince at the word ‘babysit.’ “We’ve been texting a little bit. I’m waiting for him to tell me when our date will be.”

“So he did ask you out.” Stiles cut his tomato with a little more force than was necessary.

“I guess, maybe,” you smile, feeling a little rosy in the cheeks.

Stiles sees the sudden flush and he flexes his jaw. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I mean – Andrew is actually a good guy compared to most of the boys at school.”

“Ah – shit!” Stiles drops his knife and holds his index finger.

You round the counter, “Are you okay?”

He waves you off, going for a band aid in a cupboard, “It’s fine, blood is red, tomatoes are red… no harm done.”

You laugh, snatching the band aid from him, “Let me see that.” You peel back the plastic and pull his hand towards your face.

He’s obviously upset about something, but that didn’t stop the red splotches from reappearing on his face. His long fingers were shaking slightly – from Adderall or his usual fidgets, you weren’t sure – but he was standing still as you gently apply the bandage.

You’re soft as you wrap the adhesive sides and push down to keep it stuck to the tip of his finger. “There,” you lean down and place a little kiss on the bandage, “All better.”

Stiles huffs an awkward laugh, almost shaken by your make-it-better kiss. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he says testily, making the sandwiches a little more roughly than before.

You squint your eyes, upset that he was holding back. “Are you going to give me a ‘you-shouldn’t-date-him’ speech like you did with Josh Arnett?”

Stiles takes a deep breath through his nose, and it seems to calm him enough to say in an even tone, “Like you said, Andrew is a good guy. He’d be lucky to date you.”

The sincerity in his voice put a little hitch in your chest, and you had to remember that he had access to your heartbeat.

“Moving on,” you say quickly, “Are you going to tell me how you got ahold of my heart monitor?”

Stiles plates the sandwiches and goes for a couple bags of chips in the pantry. He was stuttering the whole way and came back a little pink. “After the video store and I… stayed the night. I – couldn’t sleep. After a couple hours and me trying to read your latest Harry Potter book…”

“You can’t start reading the series on the sixth one, dummy.”

He waves you off, presenting you with dinner. “You turned over in your sleep… and your hand was – was resting on my arm; the hand that had your watch.” He takes a big bite of his sandwich and rushes through the rest, “It turned on when your heart rate went up a little bit in your sleep and I thought… it would m-make sense to share that monitor with other people so they can take care of you in an emergency.”

You quietly eat your meal as you listen, a warmth in your stomach at feeling looked after and cared about. Stiles took it upon himself to help you and strangely… you didn’t mind it like you did when it came to your parents.

“Your watch doesn’t have a password on it so…”

“My parents thought it’d be easier if someone needed to access my heart monitor app if I fainted.”

He nods, “So I opened it while you were asleep and connected my phone to the app.”

“Why didn’t you just ask?” you say softly, watching him with that warmth you were feeling. It was comforting and you realize how comfortable you felt around Stiles – especially when talking about something so personal to you.

“I was afraid you’d be all stoic and say you’re fine,” he smirks at you, “And that you can take care of yourself.”

You shake your head and huff a laugh, “Smart man.”

The two of you share a few more laughs before Stiles goes on to apologize again, “I’m sorry this isn’t the greatest meal. I’m no chef (Y/N).” He waves his hands around as he says it, “But…”

“It’s good,” you say, smiling. “I don’t like to cook all the time.”

You get off topic as you continue to eat. You discuss your science project and the upcoming chemistry test on Monday. Stiles tells you the made up story about what happened at the school. You ask more questions about Derek. Sherrif Stilinski had contacted state police to handle a possible serial killer. School had been closed Thursday and Friday to deal with the damages, so you hadn’t missed classes while being sick.

The sun starts to set as Stiles cleans your plates. “There is one more thing about tonight that I forgot to mention.” He puts his hands on the counter and leans in, “What do girls usually do during breakups?”

“Well, Allison, Lydia, and I had a night of crying as we watched The Notebook and Titanic. We ordered takeout and ranted about every stupid thing a boy has ever done to us. We ate chocolate and contemplated possibly being alone forever. And then we passed out after doing our hair and giving each other facials.”

Stiles was not expecting that, “You did all of that in one night?”

“Hence why we passed out at three in the morning.”

He shakes his head, “Well for Scott… we’re going to get him drunk.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

“We’re going to get drunk and make sure he has a good time.”

“Cause no one has ever been considered a sad drunk before.”

He gives you a deadpan stare. It makes you giggle – he was so open with his facial expressions.

“I just want to take his mind off of it.”

You consider him, “Where are we going to get alcohol?”

Stiles holds up a finger and goes to rummage in a side cabinet near the dining table. He returns with a full bottle of Jack Daniels. You smile to see the comparison you had made multiple times. Stiles’ eyes were sometimes like sunshine through whiskey.

He took your smile as a good sign, “You up for it?”

~~~

You and Stiles were leading the way past the park entrance and onto a cliff face with Scott trailing behind. The moon was out and very nearly full, shining a perfect light around the outcrop.

The ground was uneven and layered with rock, sparse pine trees growing between the cracks. There was a bonfire barrel just ahead that Stiles went to light.

“Where are we going?” Scott grumbles.

He was looking a little worse for wear. After your night of girl talk and general anguish, Allison seemed to be faring better. It was strange to see how each party handled the breakup.

“Cause we really shouldn’t be out here. My mom is in a constant state of freak-out from what happened at the school.”

Stiles sighs, “Well, your mom isn’t the sheriff, okay? There’s no comparison, trust me.”

“It’ll be fine, Scott,” you say, “It’s been quiet since Wednesday.”

Your friend was over it. “Can you at least just tell me what we’re doing out here?”

“Yes. When your best friend gets dumped…”

“I didn’t get dumped,” Scott butts in, “We’re taking a break.” He looks to you as if asking you to prove it.

You shrug, breathing in the cold air and swinging your arms in the too-long sleeves of Stiles’ flannel. “She’s pretty decided.” It was Scott’s fault after all that Allison made the decision. “She’s already given you a second chance.”

“Not helping!” Stiles snaps, “When your best friend gets told by his girlfriend that they’re taking a break…” Stiles stops walking next to the bonfire barrel, moon shining right above his head. “You get your best friend drunk.”

He holds up the bottle of amber, proud of himself for taking it from his father’s stash.

Scott sighs but doesn’t fight it. He was more interested in talking to you about the situation, which tells you how he really wants to handle the breakup. While Stiles works on lighting a fire in the barrel, you sit on a rock and pat the spot next to you for Scott.

He slumps down as if his body is heavier than usual. “Thank you for being here.”

You lean into him a little. It was cold and his body was warm. “I’ll always be here for my friends.”

“I mean, especially since you’re one of Allison’s best friends too.” His voice lowers when he says her name, like it was painful.

“Of course, I’m not picking sides, Scott. I have my girls… and I have my boys.” You wrap an arm around his shoulders and squeeze him to you. Your head lays on his shoulder, and you could almost feel the hurt he was feeling. It wasn’t as teary as Allison’s, but it was still very plain to see.

He takes a deep breath and stares out past the cliff at the rest of the forest below. It was almost like the moon was putting him in an even worse mood.

“Has she…”

“No,” you cut him off. “We had our night talking about it and she hasn’t brought it up since. But it’s only been a few days and you know Lydia is trying to swear her off of boys for a while.”

Scott nods, sinking into you a little more. “What do you think about it?”

You rub his shoulders a little, “I think what you did was done out of fear and anger, but it was still very stupid.” You feel him swallow thickly, “You shouldn’t have taken it out on her.”

He hangs his head, moving his hands up to hold his face. “I know.”

“If I’m being completely honest though… it’s going to be hard for her to get over you.” You lean closer to talk quietly as Stiles whoops at his roaring fire from behind. “Just give it some time to settle and try to apologize again. Try to give her more of a reason why you acted that way and she’ll understand. She’s very understanding if you don’t hold the truth from her.”

Scott turns his head sideways in one hand and looks at you with glassy eyes. You could tell he wasn’t going to cry, but he was heartened to hear your words.

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

You nudge him around a little, “Anytime.”

Stiles jumps off another large rock and lands with the bottle in his hands, already taking a swig, “Let’s party!”

Scott grumbles again but takes a couple gulps of the bottle before handing it to you. As you raise the rim to your lips, Stiles starts shouting.

“Hey, hey! You’re not supposed to be drinking that.”

You take a big swallow, the burning liquid stinging your throat as it goes down to warm your churning belly. “Because why?”

“Because alcohol can increase arrhythmias,” he says matter-of-factly, “I read that in my… research.”

You shrug, taking another gulp, blowing out a breath as if it were on fire. “Hasn’t stopped me before.” You mock the boys’ shocked silence with a muttered, “You’re not the only one that has stolen a drink from your parents liquor cabinet.”

Stiles still looks worried as you hand the bottle back, “Make sure you check your watch.”

“You have that on your phone now,” you stretch back, leaning on your hands, “You can worry about it.”

Scott gave half a smile, “You found out about that?”

“He hadn’t exactly hidden it well,” you giggle, already rosy from the alcohol.

You and Stiles continue to share the bottle, laughing at each other as you tell Scott about your day. You mock the state of the blue jeep while Stiles makes fun of your little crush on Andrew Wickstrom. You whisper (basically shout) about the old washcloths found in the bathroom while Stiles splutters his next swig all over the ground. And you finally laugh about how any of you were to take chemistry tests seriously when the school has been in disarray.

Scott stops drinking after his few sips and continues to stare off into the distance, hurting as he watches you and Stiles fall over each other on the ground. Stiles slams the bottle down with a tink of the glass and you shush him.

“You’ll break it,” you slur, words feeling funny in your mouth. You fall back and hit your head on the rock Scott was sitting on still. “Ow!”

Stiles rolls over from where he was laying and cups your head, pulling it from the rock, “Oh no…” he sounds just as drunk, “Did you get an owie?”

You rub at the slight egg forming on the back of your head, “The rock decided to punch me.”

“I’m sorry,” and he kisses your hairline, “There, all better.”

You laugh like that was the funniest thing in the world, “You gave me a make-it-better kiss!”

“I learned from the best,” he let your head go and you both fell onto your backs, laughing.

Scott closes his eyes and takes a shallow breath, tense from his friends having a flirty experience without them realizing it. He ignores as Stiles lifts his bandaged index finger and declares how “(Y/N)’s make-it-better kisses could cure cancer.”

You look up, laughing at that, and notice Scott folding his arms to keep the cold away. “Oh no…” you lean to whisper (again – basically shout) at Stiles, “He’s thinking about her again.”

“Dude, you know she’s just one… one girl. You know, there are so many… there are so many other girls in the sea.”

“Fish in the sea,” Scott corrects.

You gasp, “I should make a shrimp scampi.”

“Shrimp are not fish,” Stiles giggles, “Why are we talking about fish? I’m talking about girls.” His voice gets quieter, “I love girls. I love them.” He stares off at the moonlit sky while you try to contain your laughter, cheeks blooming red.

You tap out, refusing more drink but still overly drunk. Instead you wrap a hand around Scott’s ankle as if that was still giving him silent support.

“I love…” Stiles continues to ramble, “Especially ones that are super smart and like true crime and books and… and can cook super well and have a history of serious heart conditions.”

“Like (Y/N)?”

You lift your head but decided the motion was going to make you sick.

“Like who?” Stiles mutters before smiling wide, “Like whom? What was I talking about?” He looks up to see Scott brooding over his crossed arms, “Hey, you’re not happy. Take a drink.”

“I don’t want any more,” Scott says.

“You’re not drunk?” Stiles asks, only to hear you fall into giggles again.

You lean your head towards him, “I’m drunk.” You still had one hand on Scott, running your fingers weirdly around his ankle in an absentminded gesture. Scott didn’t care – he still found it somewhat comforting to have you there.

“Hey, maybe it’s like… maybe it’s like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know.”

You tug on his pants leg, “You used to need an inhaler?” You were starting to sound sleepy.

“Maybe you can’t get drunk as a wolf.”

Scott picked up a pebble and threw it at Stiles’ face.

“Hey! What the hell…” he rubs at his face harshly, throwing his arms out afterwards. One of his arms lands across yours. “Come on man, I know it hurts. I know. Well, I don’t know,” he chuckles, his fingers subconsciously finding the skin of your wrist just under the flannel sleeve. They’re light and lazy as they trail up your wrist and down to your palm.

You hardly react, too drunk to really care. “I don’t really know either. Never had anything past a situationship before. They always leave when things get too serious.” You shiver, tickled by Stiles’ fingers. “They get all scared about me dying.”

Stiles rolls his head around the rocks he’s laying on, too far gone to really register what you’re saying, “I do know this though! I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.” He laughs quietly, “That didn’t make any sense.”

His long fingers were overtaking the space of your hand now, tracing the skin there as he drifts off. Scott was staring at the two of you with mixed emotions, that is until a mystery guest appears to steal your bottle of whiskey.

“Well,” a sinister older looking boy says, “Look at the little bitches getting their drink on.”

Scott sets his face in cool indifference, “Give it back.”

Stiles’ fingers are no longer light and lazy – they grip your hand and pull you closer to him, half sitting up as he tries to clear his head. You hardly register the movement of your hand, only the distant panic starting to rise in your throat at the newcomers.

“What’s that, little man?” the guy had to be a senior or even a freshman in college.

Another guy of similar age was just behind him, “I think he wants a drink.”

Stiles was trying to stand up, “Scott, maybe we should just go.”

“Woah, woah – wait a minute,” the first guy whistles, “The party is just starting.” He eyes you down, “What’s your name, baby?”

You swallow hard, “We were just leaving.” Your head was terribly clearer now as a thrill of fear went down your spine. You try to stand too, “Enjoy the drink.”

“Oh, we will,” the guy says, approaching your standing figure, “But only if you enjoy it with us.”

“Hey, back off man,” Stiles says, wobbly as he holds onto you, “We don’t want any trouble.”

The guy goes for your free arm, slow but tight in how he grabs you, “You don’t want to spend the night with these losers. We can show you a better time.”

“Let go of me,” you say fiercely, but fear was shining in your eyes.

Stiles starts rambling off sentences of retort, pulling on you and pushing the guy away. Until you were yanked sharply, and a squeal escapes you.

All bets were off after that.

Stiles throws his drunken arms towards the guy, eventually punching him on the jawline closer to his ear. Scott, his eyes gleaming a strange yellow light, grabs the bottle of jack from the senior’s hand and throws it with incredible speed against a faraway tree.

His voice is deep and strange as he says, “Get out of here.”

And the two guys run off back towards the woods, passing the tree now drenched in whiskey and glass.

Your teeth were chattering, heartbeat rapid, and a look of fear plastered to your wide eyes. Stiles was shaking your shoulders, “You okay?” Then he pulls you into his embrace, guiding your head to rest under his chin, “You’re okay.” He rubs up and down your arm as he watches Scott stomp away towards the jeep.

“Hey, woah – Scott!” he holds you to him, kind of like a support for both your drunken bodies, but you’re grateful for the warmth his body provides as you head for the parking lot again.

Scott drives you all home, angry as he watches you sleepily lay in Stiles’ arms. The fidgety, sarcastic boy was slumped against the door and had his arms wrapped around you, snoring and completely unaware of how lucky he was.

He was going to lose his mind when he wakes up and doesn’t remember it all very well.

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #okay j hannah #okayjhannah #fandomfantasia

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justagalwhowrites · 6 months ago

Text

Yearling - Ch. 40: Home

Jackson holds a celebration. The final chapter of Yearling found on Tumblr in its entirety here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 7.7k

A/N: We are through the spoiler-y portion now and you're all OK to read from here if you just want to see how the fic starts to come to a close. There is no more overlap with TLOU 2.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter

December, 2002

“Is that pot?”

Your oldest brother, Brendan, damn near jumped out of his skin, looking around frantically for a moment before his eyes settled on you and he calmed, his hand going to his chest.

“Shit, bug,” he said. “Yell it, why don’t you.”

“If I yell it, Mom’ll take it away,” you said, joining him at the fence on the edge of your father’s property, climbing up and perching next to him in the moonlight. “But that means I need motivation to keep my big mouth shut so you’d better fuckin’ share.”

He scoffed but passed you the joint, anyway. You took it and breathed deep, pulling the smoke into your lungs and holding it there until the urge to cough was too strong and you gave into it, handing the joint back to your brother, clouding the winter air with a pot-scented haze.

“Jesus, getting high with my baby sister,” he chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s because you’re getting old,” you teased lightly. He smiled and shook his head, taking a hit before passing it back to you. You took a hit, too, a smaller one this time, trying to make smoke rings as you breathed it out. “So. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” he nodded slowly, taking the joint back. “Thinkin’ about starting up my own ranch…”

“No shit?” You asked, brows raised. He nodded. “Good for you. Think you’d be good at it. I do gotta ask though… This have anything to do with Amanda?”

You teased out the last word and he laughed.

“Was waitin’ for that,” he said. “Talked to Mom have you?”

“Here and there,” you said. “You really ask for Gran’s ring?”

“Jesus…”

“C’mon,” you elbowed him. “You’re thinkin’ of marrying her?”

“More than thinkin’,” he smiled a little. “If I’m marrying anyone, it’s her.”

He took another hit and passed the joint back to you and you nodded, mulling that over in your head. Your brother, settled down enough to get married and start a ranch of his own. It seemed like a completely foreign concept but it was one you liked.

“You’d like her,” he said after a few minutes. “Amanda, I mean. She might come to New Year’s, think you two would get on like a house on fire. She’s studying to be a vet, specializing in large animals. Only person I know who likes horses as much as you.”

“Damn,” you said, taking a hit yourself. “She does sound great. Too good for you, that’s for damn sure…”

He snorted.

“Don’t I know it.”

You passed him the joint again.

“Can I ask you something?” You said after sitting in silence for a minute.

“Shoot.”

“How do you know?” You asked.

He frowned.

“Know what?”

“Know that…” you sighed. “I don’t know, know that she’s the one? That you want to marry her and all that shit?”

He smiled a little, nodding knowingly as he did.

“Well,” he said. “Sounds dumb, but… when you know, you know.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes and he laughed.

“I’m serious,” he said. “You’ll know. But… Well, she’s my favorite damn person. I don’t want to do anything without her if I can help it. I love everything about her, even the shit that drives me nuts. Mostly, though, I just want to live life with her, you know? Want to go grocery shopping and do dishes and fuckin’ mow the lawn… all that shit. It all sounds great because it’d be with her. That’s how you know.”

You nodded slowly, trying to imagine feeling that way about anybody. It didn’t really seem possible.

“Don’t sweat it too much, bug,” he said, clapping you on the shoulder. “You got plenty of time before you need to worry about that shit. No need to rush into it. Just wait until the time is right and you’ve found the right person and then you’re good. It’ll all work out in the end.”

He was right, you thought as you nodded again. You had all the time in the world but, eventually, you’d find someone you’d want to share it with. Even if that sounded insane now, you thought you would. You looked up at the cold, December sky, the universe stretched out before you and you took a deep satisfying breath.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think it will.”

***

July 20, 2029

“Joel, where the hell is your wife?”

Tommy and Joel both looked at each other before looking to Maria, confused.

“Don’t think it was my turn to watch ‘er,” Joel said, setting his whiskey down. “Actually, think it was the exact opposite of my turn to watch her what with tradition and all…”

“Well maybe it should have been because I can’t find her,” Maria said, clearly flustered. “I’ve checked your place, her old place, the room she was supposed to be getting ready in…”

Joel smiled a little to himself, shaking his head and getting up from the table. There was one obvious place Maria hadn’t checked.

“Maybe she’s gettin’ cold feet,” Tommy teased, smirking. “Lord knows she’s too smart for you, anyhow. Maybe she figured it out…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel said, adjusting the collar on his shirt. He was in too good a mood to even give his brother shit back. “Don’t think it works that way if you’ve already been married a year and a half. Besides, I think I know where to find her…”

“Just tell me,” Maria groaned, half-heartedly trying to stop him. “I’ll go. It’s bad luck for you to do it.”

“Think we already had more than our share of that,” he said, giving her a wink. “Think we’ll be OK.”

He left his brother’s kitchen and started toward the stables, walking in the opposite direction of most of the town, everyone making their way toward the gathering place in the middle. They gave him warm smiles and nods and congratulations as he passed and he smiled back, a little bubble of warmth in his chest that swelled as he made his way to you. Because while Maria might not know where you were, he sure did.

He heard you before he saw you.

“You’re doing good,” you said. “Try not to let your fingers get ahead of where your mind is though, that’s where you’re stutterin’ a bit…”

“Easy for you to say,” Joel almost heard Savvy’s eyes roll as she teased you. “You don’t have as many fingers to keep track of.”

You barked a laugh at that as Joel came into the stable. You were perched on the wall of Perseus’ stall, Savvy and Ellie sitting on either side of you, the guitar he’d made for Savvy in her arms. She noticed him before you did, giving him a little smile.

“Here,” she said, passing the guitar to you. “You should play something Dad likes since you’re getting married today and all.”

“Look at you, bein’ all sentimental,” you teased lightly back. But you took the guitar and drummed on it for a moment before settling on a song. “Alright, this is the first thing he ever played me. His version is better but this song always makes me think of him now.”

Joel just leaned against the door, watching and listening as you played I’m On Fire, that warm glow in his chest somehow growing as you did, wondering if you could possibly be any more perfect. You were wrong about one thing, though. Your version was better.

It had taken you a while to pick up the guitar again. You’d been back more than two months when he came home from a short patrol to find you on the couch, the guitar he made you in your arms and a determined - if frustrated - look on your face. You glanced up at him when he came in before looking back at the instrument.

“I’m tryin’ real hard not to throw this,” you said, arranging your intact hand on the neck of the guitar. “But it’s pissing me off.”

“Think I’d rather you throw the pillow,” Joel said wryly, coming to sit beside you. You rolled your eyes. “Want to show me?”

“Not really,” you said but you did anyway, starting to play the way you had for years and then seeming to forget that you had two fewer fingers, notes missing and fumbled and you shouted in frustration, almost throwing the guitar before clenching your jaw and moving to set it on the coffee table. Joel took it from you before you could, setting it on the other side of the couch before pulling you against him and kissing the top of your head.

“You were sounding good there, baby,” he said, stroking your arm. You scoffed. “Mean it, you were.”

“Yeah, I was playin’ a mess of bullshit there at the end,” you said. “Real good.”

“It’s gonna take time, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You spent a long time playing the way you used to. Takes a while to adjust. You’ll get there…”

“Because there are so many famous eight-fingered guitarists,” you muttered, your voice thick.

“Sure, but you’re better than every guitarist I’ve ever heard of,” he said, tugging you closer. “You will get there, baby. If anyone can it’s you.”

You sighed but snuggled into him and he hoped that you believed him. He wasn’t just saying it. Something inside him knew that you’d find a way to make music again the way you used to.

He was right. It took a few weeks - a few weeks of almost perpetual frustration - but you got there. He watched it happen, the moment it seemed to click into place almost startling in its clarity. You were playing in the kitchen while he cooked, not really working on anything in particular, just seeing what sounds you could pull from your instrument and how you could make them work together in that way you had when, all of a sudden, you played a few notes in quick succession. Joel frowned to himself and glanced over his shoulder, hoping you weren’t paying attention to him. You weren’t. You were intently focused on the guitar, your hands frozen on it for a moment before you did it again, adding more chords this time. The next thing he knew, you were playing the riff from Layla, laughing as you did.

“Joel!” You looked over to him after playing it a few times and he’d stopped pretending he wasn’t watching you, just leaning against the counter so you had the space to do what you needed to do. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah baby,” he smiled. “Sure did.”

You made a giddy little noise and carefully arranged the guitar in your arms again before starting over. He had to practically pry the instrument away from you when dinner was done but you were beaming when he did, even though the place where you’d lost fingers was bleeding from the guitar strings.

Joel made you something after that, a simple piece of leather that covered that sensitive place and looped down around your wrist. It seemed to work wonders for you, making it easier to play guitar and work with the horses and he let himself feel good about it. He’d done something for you that made your life here better. He could still take care of you, still give you what you needed. They hadn’t taken that, too.

It still took a while for things to get back to normal. Or close to normal, anyway. After everything that had happened over the last two years, Joel didn’t think there was any real way to go back. You still woke up afraid some nights, his leg still bothered him more often than not. But there were good changes, too. Savvy had moved into the bedroom you’d set up for her, happy to have her mother to come home to again. Ellie came around all the time, often with her girlfriend in tow - something that had taken Joel by surprise but had settled into quickly. You’d even become more involved in Jackson, joining the council in the most recent election after Maria encouraged you to run. When the results had come in you sat there, wide eyed, for a moment before you got up and smiled and thanked people for voting for you. It was the shortest acceptance speech Jackson ever had.

While he wouldn’t want to go back and relive the worst of those times, he was starting to think the heartache was there for a reason. It was to get you both here, to this place, building your family and community together.

You finished the song and Ellie and Savvy clapped and you scoffed.

“Sounded real good there, baby,” Joel said from his place by the door. You didn’t jump at the sound of his voice, instead just looking over your shoulder back to him. “Tryin’ to show me up?”

“Nah,” you smiled, handing the guitar to Ellie and jumping down from your perch. “Never could with I’m On Fire. Other shit, though…”

He laughed and shook his head a little as you walked over to him, a blissful smile on your face, and he gave himself a chance to really appreciate you in that moment.

Joel always thought you were beautiful. You were beautiful when he’d first seen you in the forest years ago now, you were beautiful when you fell asleep against him when watching movies, you were beautiful when you came home covered in sweat and dirt and the smell of horse. But damn, were you ever beautiful here, like this. You were in a white eyelet lace dress that went down to your ankles, dropping low enough at the neck that the swell of your breasts were going to be a constant fucking temptation. Savvy had made you a crown of flowers that sat on your head and Joel’s old wedding band hung on a chain around your neck and your cowboy boots had been polished to shining and damn did he want to sweep you off your feet and carry you back home to hide you away from everyone else looking that good.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the most beautiful woman on the damn planet?” He asked as you draped your arms around his neck and his hands found your waist.

“You,” you smiled, your eyes crinkling at the edges with it. “From time to time.”

“Should say it more then,” he smiled back. “Been slacking.”

“You’re not supposed to see her, you know,” Ellie said, trying to sound stern but smiling a little instead. “Maria told me.”

“Well someone decided to sneak away without tellin’ anyone where she was headed,” Joel teased lightly.

You just smiled broader.

“The important people knew where to find me,” you said.

Joel looked between you and the daughters you shared.

“Yeah,” he said. “Suppose we did.”

He took your hand and the four of you headed for the middle of town, Joel kissing you goodbye in a spot that was a little tucked away so not everyone would catch a glimpse of you.

“You’re too damn pretty,” he smiled. “Don’t want to spoil it for everyone. See you up there?”

You smiled back.

“Try and stop me.”

Joel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt quite so happy as when he watched you walk down the aisle toward him. The two of you said more traditional vows this time, Savvy and Maria by your side, Ellie and Tommy by his. There was something about making promises to you publicly, where everyone the two of you knew could see, that just felt right. You exchanged new rings this time, ones made of the antler of a moose Joel had felled a few months earlier, him slipping yours on your middle finger this time. When he kissed you, the rest of the town fell away and it was just you and him, the way it felt like it should be.

The whole town celebrated after, tables put out on the grass and lights hanging from the trees. Someone had rigged up a sound system and the children of Jackson chased each other, weaving in and out of tables shrieking and giggling as they went. You and Joel were sat at a head table with the girls, Tommy, Maria and William and Joel kept his hand on your knee all through dinner.

To kick off the dancing, Joel tugged you onto the floor, your chin tucked into your chest, and swayed slowly to Hallelujah, so like you had the first time he danced with you, before everything had fallen into place this way. You smiled and pressed close to him, moving alongside him in front of everyone the two of you knew in the world and Joel was happy.

Back at your table, he was just starting to think of a way to steal you back to the house when Ellie gave you a look, jerking her head off to the side. You gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled, a little nervously.

“See you in a second,” you said, before following Ellie, who was whispering conspiratorially with you.

“What in the hell…” Joel frowned, watching you.

“Just have to wait and see, Dad,” Savvy said, looking far too pleased with herself.

He didn’t have to wait long. You and Ellie returned with your guitar and a boom box, Tommy setting up a chair for you in the middle of everything so everyone could see you before cutting the music.

“Hey, everyone!” Tommy yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. “Pay attention to my baby sister!”

The whole of Jackson obeyed and Joel could tell that you were fighting the urge to just go and be next to him, far from the public eye. Instead, you stood next to Tommy, the guitar Joel made you dangling from your hand, Ellie standing nearby next to the boom box.

“Thanks, everyone, for comin’ tonight,” you said, your accent thick like it was when you got nervous. Joel smiled a little, the sound of home coming from your lips. “Means a lot to us that you’re here and sharing this with us. It means a lot to me, especially. I know it took me some time to settle in here because I ain’t had somewhere to call home with anyone other than my daughter for a real long time. But here feels like home, and the way everyone here has welcomed us… it means everything to me.

“Now, a lot of y’all may not know it but…” you took a deep breath and Joel could see you try to swallow your nerves. “I’m something of a musician. I don’t much like playing for anyone besides family but since I feel like y’all are family now, well… seemed only appropriate I play for everyone here tonight.”

You sat down and rested the guitar on your lap.

“Music’s always been the way I get my feelings out,” you said, now focused on Joel. His heart swelled. “I’ve never been great with words and I love you just doesn’t feel like enough when it comes to you, Joel. This ain’t much but… feels closer at least.”

You gave Ellie a nod and she pressed play on the boom box and Joel had to fight to not tear up as you played, the song growing and swelling as it went on, the boom box adding in piano and violin. The music was beautiful and intimate and made Joel think of the quiet mornings he spent with you in his arms, trailing his fingers over your the curve of you, your breath warm on his skin, gently kissing his way over you before the world woke up and it was just you and him and the love you made together. He loved those mornings with you, he wanted countless more of them and he could practically see them now, laid out in front of him like the world at his feet.

When the song ended, the whole of Jackson was silent, the only sound the rustle of the breeze on the trees. You tugged your lower lip between your teeth and, for half a second, looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you up. But then, all at once, everyone broke into applause, thunderous and adoring and you gave Joel a bashful look. Ellie took the boom box and your guitar to stash them away again as you made your way back to him, what seemed like everyone in town on their feet for you as you went.

“Hope that wasn’t too embarrassing,” you said as Joel pulled you in close.

“Baby, that was incredible,” he said, giving you a long, deep kiss. “I didn’t even know you’d been workin’ on the piano and the violin again!”

“I know,” you smiled a little, pressing close and tight to him. “You’re a hard man to surprise. But once I figured out the guitar, I wanted to get those back, too. Tommy even helped me tune the piano at my old place.”

Joel looked to his brother who gave him a small salute before he turned back to you.

“You’re amazing,” he said, resisting the urge to take off with you then and there. You just rolled your eyes before he kissed you again and he tried to be content with just having his arm around you as everyone in town made their way up to congratulate the two of you.

After what felt like a small eternity - and a few more dances with you - Tommy finally leaned over to whisper in Joel’s ear.

“I’ll hold down the fort and make sure the girls are all good,” he said. “Get outta here before you lose your damn mind.”

“Thanks, man,” Joel clapped him on the shoulder and Tommy just gave him a lopsided smile, one that Joel would would call paternal if it came from anyone else. He supposed it did from Tommy, too, now. It was still an odd thought, his brother finding his way to a wife and a place in the world before Joel had, that Joel was the one playing catch up and, in some ways, relying on his brother for help and guidance. But with you, it felt like he’d more than caught up. He’d come out ahead.

“Hey,” Joel gave you a little squeeze and whispered in your ear. “What do you say we get outta here, Mrs. Miller?”

“Really?” Your face lit up and Joel smiled and nodded. “Oh thank fuck, I don’t think I can talk to anyone who isn’t you or the girls again for a week…”

He laughed a little, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s sneak out…”

Joel took your elbow as you got up, the dance floor full as Tommy got to his feet, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone again.

“Ladies and gentleman!” He yelled. “For the last time tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”

Joel gave him a look and Tommy gave him a wink as everyone turned and clapped. You and Joel waved goodbye before he put his arm around your waist and pulled you tight against his side, leading you home.

***

“Mrs. Miller,” Joel trailed his nose over your cheek, his words quiet in your ear.

“Hm,” you grunted in response, eyes still closed.

“C’mon,” he said softly, his hand smoothing over your stomach that was still covered by your wedding dress. “Gotta get up, we got places to be.”

You opened a skeptical eye at that. The ceiling of your bedroom was painted orange by the sunrise and Joel was there, smiling down at you, his curls still a little unruly from where your fingers had wound in them the night before.

“Where do we have to be?” You asked. “Pretty sure we get the day after our wedding off.”

“We do,” he said, his hand gliding over you, between your breasts in the low cut of your gown, over your chest to cup your cheek. “But still want to get an early start. Made you coffee, let’s go.”

“Early start for what?” You asked, sitting up now.

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “You’ll like it, promise. Think you can ride a horse in that pretty dress of yours?”

You gave him an incredulous look.

He laughed.

“Fair enough. Then let’s get goin’.”

“Do I need to pack a bag or anything?” You asked, trying not to groan as you got out of bed.

“Already handled,” he said. “All I need is my beautiful wife to come along for the ride.”

You smiled a little.

“Think I can manage that.”

You had coffee and slices of leftover wedding cake with Joel before walking with him, hand in hand, to the stables, the sound of Jackson just coming to life around you as you went.

It felt a little silly to still be in your wedding dress but, you had to admit, it was a damn nice dress.

Staying in it the night before had been Joel’s idea. His lips had been working their way over your throat to your ear before he whispered to you there.

“That dress of yours comfortable?” He asked, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” you panted, pulling back just enough to frown at him. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, taking a moment to nip at your lower lip. “Did things backwards our first wedding night, already had you naked when we said our vows. Kinda want to have you in the white dress, make a real pretty mess of you in it.”

You smiled, reaching up and trailing your fingers through his hair.

“Whatever you want, Mr. Miller.”

He made you come four times in that dress the night before and you passed out in his arms before you could will yourself to move enough to take it off, too tired from the day of celebrations to bother changing once he was done with you.

It had been Joel’s idea to have a wedding ceremony. He’d brought it up a few months before, once you’d fallen back into life in town again, things as normal as they could be now. You still sometimes felt the ache of fingers that were no longer yours, you still sometimes woke up afraid that your daughters were gone, but you’d healed, too. Your skin was no longer broken and raw, you could play the music you loved again, you could go down the hall and look in on Savvy when you woke up afraid she was gone.

“We’re already married, Joel,” you laughed at him, your feet on his lap as you played guitar one night when Savvy was out with Kyle. Orion snuggled closer to your knee. “You forget that just because we don’t wear the rings anymore?”

“Never forget that,” he smiled a crooked smile at you as he massaged the arch of your foot. “One of the best damn nights of my life. But… I think now’s a good time to celebrate that with our family. Girls weren’t there for it, neither was Tommy. Think it’d be nice to do it again with them.”

You nodded slowly, mulling it over. It wasn’t a bad thought. You did want to share that with Savvy and Ellie, especially now that Savvy would actually be happy about it. And you knew that Joel had missed Tommy and Maria’s wedding, something he regretted now that he had a proper life here in Jackson. You understood why he’d want his brother there. You’d want your brothers there, too, if they were still alive.

“Sure,” you said eventually. “Let’s do it. Have witnesses when you make promises to me this time around, really hold you to that shit…”

He laughed at that.

“Damn right, baby,” he said. “You can hold me to whatever you want.”

Plans quickly grew, though, from just your family to family and friends to the whole of Jackson. Warren manipulated patrol schedules so there would be one afternoon that everyone was in town, damn near every chair and table that could be moved set up for the reception. It had become more than a celebration of you and Joel, changing into something celebrating the peace the city had known in the year since Mitchum’s downfall.

The raider attacks became almost non-existent, patrols hunting down the smaller side groups and wiping them out quickly once Mitchum’s control fell away. After that, even the threat from infected lessened. With fewer people in the forests in the miles around Jackson, there was less reason for them to be there. Patrols had become quiet and mostly peaceful, the town no longer afraid of what they might lose every time the gates to the city opened.

You were happy for the excuse for the focus to not be entirely on you all night, anyway. You’d never been comfortable being the center of attention and, while you liked having a chance to actually show how much your husband meant to you after years together, having that many eyes on you got old fast. Going home just you and Joel had been a relief.

“Hey there love birds,” Olivia said when you got to the stable, two sets of reins in her hands. “Ready to get underway?”

“Think so,” Joel said, taking the reins from her, Renaissance and Ares both packed like they were leaving for a long patrol. “Thanks for doin’ this.”

“Hey, anything to get her to take a break,” she gave you a wink. “Lord knows she deserves it. Have fun you two.”

“Joel,” you laughed, almost nervously, following alongside him as he led the horses to the gate. “Where are we going? What’s going on?”

“You’ll see,” he smiled a little as you reached the gates, handing you Renaissance’s reins. “Just have to keep up.”

You raised your brows at him and he laughed.

“Alright, just have to let me lead for a change, how about that?”

“That, I can do,” you smiled.

It was an easy ride, you following where Joel led, smiling and laughing and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of the forest as you did. For a while, you so rarely left Jackson after Mitchum. No matter what Joel and Tommy and Maria and Julie said, it didn’t feel safe. The worst things that had ever happened to you had happened outside those walls, it just wasn’t worth the risk to leave. If you were inside, in the house you shared with Joel and Savvy or at the stables or the Tipsy Bison, everything would be OK.

But you missed the outside, too. You missed how crisp the air was when you were outside, the sound of the animals in the wild, the way the world spread out in front of you vast and unclaimed.

Joel, Ellie and Julie had been easing you back into it. Julie asked you for help collecting fruit for one of her cocktail plans one day. You’d been hesitant but she convinced you, your whole body stiff the entire two hours you were outside, hyperaware of everything around you. But because you were so aware, you noticed everything too, things you’d missed like the rustle of the grass and the way the air smelled. You were a little more willing to go then.

Ellie told you she wanted to practice shooting as she got ready to go back out on patrol, taking some time off from it after everything that happened. She asked you when Joel was busy and Olivia was there to take over at the stables and you knew it was contrived but you went with her, anyway. She kept you talking, pointing out different birds and asking questions about things that you knew she knew the answer to but it did make you miss being out in the wild more. When you told her you knew better, Ellie kept pretending she had no idea what you were talking about.

Joel, at least, hadn’t tried to couch it in anything. He’d been holding you one morning when neither of you had to be anywhere, his fingers trailing gently up and down your arm.

“Been thinkin’,” he said quietly before pressing his lips to your forehead. “We should take the horses out, go on a short trail ride.”

You frowned.

“Why? They’ve been gettin’ plenty of exercise, don’t have any that need to be tested outside of town right now…”

“Because you could use it,” he said. You stiffened but he kept tracing his fingers over you, up and down.

“Joel…”

“You’ve been gettin’ out here and there,” he said gently. “And I know you miss it.”

“I miss how it used to be,” you corrected him. “It’s different now.”

“Don’t have to be,” he said. “Just come with me.”

You sighed, but he kept going.

“Just a few hours, not gonna take you far,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe.”

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, trying to calm your nerves as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes locked on yours.

“Would I try to get you to do somethin’ that wasn’t safe?” He asked gently. You gave him a look and he smiled a little. “I’ve got you, baby. Just you and me where you can open the horses up and get back out in the trees a little. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ve got you. S’OK.”

His eyes were so soft and his face was so open that you sighed and agreed. The first time had been scary. You only went for a few hours but you couldn’t relax the entire time you were gone, fully outside what felt like Jackson’s control for the first time since you’d come back. But Joel was right. He stuck close to you the entire time, always watching for any kind of threat, always ready to protect you. You made it back to Jackson in one piece, the only shots fired to take down a few stray infected ambling through the area.

He gradually got you to leave the walls of the town more and more, even convincing you to bring Savvy and Ellie along one day, and you realized - as you sat on a picnic blanket with your husband and daughters - that the safety may not have been the walls of the city after all. It may have just been Joel.

You felt comfortable now, outside Jackson with the man who had become your home, your safest place, your husband twice over. The trees were thinning, four hours into your ride and off the more beaten path. You looked at Joel, brows raised and he smiled.

“That’s where we’re headed,” he said. “When we get to there, go ahead and open ‘er up, you’ll know where to go.”

“So mysterious,” you teased and he shrugged, smirking a little, as you broke through the trees.

The sight was almost damn near idyllic, a small lake that was clear as glass, a cabin with a big front porch complete with a swing sitting on the other side of it. You looked at Joel, mouth open in shock.

“Me n’Tommy found it few months back,” he smiled. “Been fixin’ it up. Plenty of space for us, the girls, anyone they want to bring along. But… wanted to break it in right, just you and me. Besides, pretty sure I’ve owed you a honeymoon for a while now.”

You laughed, almost giddy, and pushed Renaissance into a full gallop, skirting along the edge of the water, standing in the stirrups so the air sent the skirt of your dress billowing out behind you. You rode her up to the porch, slipping out of the saddle before she’d come to a full stop, too excited to get a look at the place. You realized there was a small dock just off the porch, a rowboat tied to the side of it, and wildflowers among the grass outside the cabin.

“I do OK?” Joel asked, getting off Ares and coming up alongside you.

“This is amazing,” you said, awed, as you took it all in. “I can’t believe you did all this, it’s…”

You couldn’t find the words, just looking at him, a small smile on his lips.

“C’mon,” he said, taking your hand and leading you up the front steps. He opened the front door but stopped you from going through it. “You gonna let me carry my wife across the threshold? Always wanted to do that with you in a wedding dress.”

You laughed a little and draped your arms around his neck.

“Think that can be arranged.”

He bent and swept you off your feet and into his arms, making you laugh.

“Then let’s go, Mrs. Miller.”

He carried you through the front door and into the living room, some faded couches and mismatched arm chairs around a fireplace. Behind them was a table big enough to have the whole family gathered around it, a set of stairs beyond that and a kitchen off to the side. There was a bundle of wildflowers in a jar of water in the middle of the table, a shelf of board games and cards sitting next to the hearth.

“Give me a few minutes to get the horses settled,” he said, setting you down and kissing your temple. “Then I’ll show you the best part of this place.”

You took your time taking in the place, how much care you could tell Joel and Tommy had put into it. You could see places in the wall that had been patched, shelves that had been mounted. There were stores of canned foods in the cupboards, a canister of tea, a jar of honey, even a pair of matching mugs, both chipped with little owls on them that made you smile. In the living room, there was art on the walls: one of a horse grazing in an open field and another of a deer standing next to a moose in a clearing. You smiled, leaning in closer to see Ellie’s signature in the corner.

“She wanted to contribute,” Joel said from behind you and you turned to face him. He set packs down on the couch and you smiled as he came to you, putting his arms around your waist and tugging you against him. He trailed his lips along your forehead, your temple, down toward your throat, his hands slipping up your sides to slide into the low neck of your dress, making you moan.

“Want to see my favorite part about this place?” He asked, heat on his voice. You just nodded and he pushed the top of the dress down, bearing your chest to him. “No one around for miles. All alone out here. So I can have you all to myself, naked, in that water out there.”

He took the globes of your breasts in his large hands, cradling the weight of them gently in his palms, squeezing you and you groaned at his touch. He kissed you, dipping his tongue into your mouth and you pulled at the buttons of his shirt, opening them one by one.

“Should get me naked then,” you said breathlessly when he pulled away from you ever so slightly. “That water looks awful inviting.”

You undressed each other quickly then, Joel’s shirt and pants ending up in a heap on the floor, your dress draped over the couch. He took your hand and led you outside, pulling you along into the cool water. It was smooth and clear on your skin, the sandy bottom of the lake soft on your toes. He pulled you deeper, until the water was up to your shoulders, before tugging you against him. You smiled and he tilted your head so he could kiss you, his thumb over your cheek, fingers curving around the back of your neck.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you said quietly as he held you close. His thick, hard cock was pressed against your stomach, your breasts pressed against his wet skin. “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he smiled, his forehead against yours. “I want to give you everything, baby.”

You reached and put your arms around his neck, arching your back against him.

“You already have,” you said softly. “You gave me you.”

His hands drifted lower, cupping the round of your ass and lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. His cock was pressed against your slit and you moaned at the feel of it, the way the water and the tip of him moved against your clit already making your pussy tighten. He lifted you, dragging the thick of his length over your sex until he notched his head at your entrance and he moaned.

“Goddamn baby,” he said, voice tense with want. “Can feel how warm you are inside already…”

He pulled you down onto him, his cock pressing into you slowly, slow enough that you could feel how he opened you to him, stretching you around him. You groaned, burying your face in his neck and breathing in the smell of him.

“Fuck you feel good,” his mouth trailed over your neck, your bare shoulder. “So goddamn good, taking me so well…”

Your fingers sank into his skin and you pressed yourself impossibly closer and tighter to him as he bottomed out inside you, your clit pressed against the base of his stomach, the whole of him thick and heavy inside you.

“Joel,” you whimpered. “You’re so deep, feel so good…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he breathed, taking his hands from your ass to your back to clutch you close. “I know.”

He held you close and tight and you managed to pull your face from his neck to look at him, your eyes on his, noses brushing, breathing into each other as the water cradled you both. You moved together, every rock of your hips and thrust of his slow and aching. You weren’t able to tell where he ended and you began and you could feel his breath quickening as the heat inside you grew stronger, your channel getting tighter.

“Want you to come for me,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Need to feel you, come on baby and come for me.”

You could only moan in response, his thrusts growing firmer as you pressed your clit against his skin, his arms tightening around you. You were right on the edge, so close exploding around him.

“Come with me,” you managed, clinging to him. “Please, I need to make you come, please…”

He cut you off with a kiss, swallowing your needy sounds, moving in you desperate and claiming. Your orgasm built higher and higher, drawing you so tight around him it seemed impossible until he pulled you so close it almost hurt, body flush to his as you felt him come undone inside of you.

It only took a moment for the pulsing of his cock to set off your own orgasm, making you throb and flutter around him as rope after rope of his come filled you. For a moment, it was as though you and Joel were the only people left in the world, the way he was around and inside you the only thing you could be sure of then.

He held you after both your orgasms eased, his softening length still inside you, your head on his shoulder, your arms around him as his lips brushed your neck. The water was still and quiet around you, a soft breeze on the air and you smiled against his skin, a sense of peace settling over you as you did.

It had taken so long to reach this point, so many years of pain and healing, so much you needed to move past. But it had all led you here, where you were together, where everyone you loved was safe and happy and you didn’t need to be afraid anymore.

Joel’s hand trailed slowly up and down your spine and he pressed a kiss into your skin.

“I’m so happy we got here,” you said quietly.

You felt him smile against your shoulder.

“Me too, Bambi,” he said, kissing you again before pulling back from him just enough to look you in the eye. “Come a long way in the last few years.”

You smiled a little.

“Hard to believe,” you said. “I didn’t think I’d ever have something like this. I didn’t know it was possible to have something like this.”

“Me, too,” he said. “Makes it feel like all the shit we went through to get here was worth it.”

“Yeah,” you said, kissing him gently. “It does.”

You looked in his eyes, just appreciating him for a moment, the tan of his skin and the gray of his hair and the wrinkles and the scars that told the story of everything that he’d survived and felt deeply that he was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever held.

“So,” he said after a few minutes. “Since this is a honeymoon and all, we got the place to ourselves for as long as we want it but figure we’ll want to get back to the girls before too long. What are you thinkin’ baby?”

You hummed for a moment, considering.

“Well,” you said. “I do miss the girls. But… I like having you all to myself. Think I want to stay here, where I can take advantage of the fact that I can get you naked whenever I want, for at least a few days. Maybe a week.”

He smiled.

“Week sounds good,” he said.

“Plus,” you said. “We can always come back in the future. Have as many honeymoons as we want.”

“Yeah,” he smiled wider. “We can. We got time.”

You kissed your husband, soft and slow, before pulling away and smiling back at him.

“We do,” you said. “We have all the time in the world.”

A/N:

Hi, everyone!

I cannot believe we are here. Exactly one year ago today I published the first chapter of Yearling and now I'm publishing the last.

Thank you so so so much for going on this journey with me, Joel and Bambi. These characters have meant so much to me over the past year and it has been just an absolute joy to share them with you. I hope you've enjoyed how they've grown together and built the life they'll have from here on out.

If you'd like to keep reading what I'm sharing, I am starting up another few fics. There's an AU of Yearling that you can find here and I am working on another Joel fic that is a no-outbreak AU where Joel is reader's bodyguard. It's called The Savage and the Sanctuary and you can find that here.

I've always been bad at saying goodbye, so I won't do that. I will just say thank you for coming on this adventure with me and for all the love and support you've shared. I hope to see you again soon.

Be well, take care of yourselves, and spread a little kindness in the world.

Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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arlos-warm-drpepper · 1 year ago

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I like the idea of Derek being a good guy, kind to the people around him, generally loved by all. Soft.

But maybe, maybe Derek is having a really shitty day when he meets Stiles. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Laura’s death, or his families death, or maybe he had a run in with Kate Argent early that morning and couldn’t get it out’ve his head.

And maybe Stiles isn’t the type to take someone’s shit. Maybe Stiles is sure he knows what kind of guy Derek is. Maybe he misjudges Derek off of the first impression, and maybe Derek is too flustered to apologize right off the bat.

Maybe when they meet for the first time, at a place where they’ll be forced to see each other in a pretty permanent arrangement, (perhaps they’re coworkers at work, or roommates in college, or something) Derek is a little bit of a grade A asshole due to his mood, and maybe Stiles remembers Jackson from highschool, and makes a promise to himself that that will not happen again, so he gives as good as he gets. Derek makes a snarky, rude comment and Stiles immediately makes one back, deciding that if he’s going to have to deal with this jerk, then he’s going to have to do it well. Maybe the next time they see each other, Derek is feeling better but isn’t sure how to start a conversation since he’s sure he’s already ruined any chance at being friendly with Stiles, so instead he just quietly tries to stay out’ve Stiles way, to make things easier and less awkward for the both of them. And maybe Stiles takes this as just more assholery, because of course the super hot guy he’s forced to be in proximity with thinks Stiles is so below him that he doesn’t even speak to him. What a dickhead. Maybe he gets so annoyed at Derek that he needs an outlet to complain to, so he starts up a conversation with one of his friends (who knows Derek as well) by going “you know Derek, right?” And before he can even start complaining they go “Derek? Obviously. Everyone knows Derek. You don’t usually meet people who are so attractive and kind and just forget about them.” And so Stiles stops, mouth agape, before clarifying “Derek Hale? Kind?” And then the other person, seemingly not sensing Stiles disbelief, start’s basically waxing poetry about how kind Derek is. They start bringing up all the good deeds Derek’s done, like how Derek donates to local charities, and volunteers at homeless shelters, and all of the other kind stuff Dereks apparently done. Maybe after awhile the shock wears off, and Stiles asks around a little more, and it seems everyone is apart of the Derek Hale fan club, and Stiles is annoyed. He doesn’t understand how everyone is so unbelievably in love with Derek when he’s such a jerk. He replays the conversation he had with Derek in his head, because maybe he missed something and Derek wasn’t actually being a jackass, but there is no other way to see it. Derek was a jerk, simple as that. He spends his days assuming that maybe everyone was just blindsided by Dereks dashing good looks to even realize what a jerk he was, up until he himself sees how good of a guy Derek is. He sees Derek buy a kid another ice cream after they dropped theirs, and then he sees Derek help an elderly woman cross the street and huffs about how fucking cliche that is. He notices the way that Derek always holds the door open for anybody he’s accompanied by, and even holds the elevator door open for Stiles himself. He still doesn’t say anything to Stiles though, and Stiles starts to wonder what he could’ve done to have the best guy in town hate him. He tries hard to come up with an explanation other than ‘I’m just an unlikable guy, I guess’ because that just seems a little too pathetic. When he draws a blank, he decides to just confront Derek himself. He walks right up to his desk (or maybe his room, if you went with the roommates option and not the coworker option) and just asks “What did I do to make you hate me?” In a tone that was meant to come out angry, but for some odd reason it comes out a little bit desperate. It makes Dereks eyes wide and he stutters out, “I- I don’t hate you.” But he doesn’t sound sure enough for Stiles, so Stiles continues on. “Really? Because it seems like you hate me. You can’t even look at me half the time, and you go to extreme efforts to ignore me. Which, fine, that would be totally fine if everyone wasn’t constantly talking about how kind you are to them. So what is it about me that makes you hate my guts? Do I talk too much? Am I too loud? Is it just my general existence or-“

“Stiles! I don’t, I didn’t..” Derek attempts, struggling to find the words. “I don’t hate you. I was just trying not to bother you.” He mumbles finally, the tips of his ears pink. It sounds silly when he says it out loud, and he realizes how badly Stiles could’ve misinterpreted the situation.

“..bother me?” Stiles said, confused and shocked.

Derek nods, hesitating to continue but pushing through anyways. “Yeah, when we met I was… I was going through something, and obviously I know that’s not an excuse to be an asshole, which is why I was trying to avoid you. I could tell you disliked me, which you have every right to with how I treated you, so I decided to just stay out of your way. Didn’t want to bother you.” Derek says, his face heating up at the admission.

A quiet “oh.” Is all Stiles can manage, and Derek just nods.

(Just so everyone knows you can steal this idea and write it better as long as you send it to me or @ me so I can read it)

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ythankucaptainmccoy · 5 months ago

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The Cowgirl and The Aviator Ch7

Next chapter baby! @smoothdogsgirl Warnings: Mentions of Death, Scene with a gun, Stalker, Stalker Behavior, Abusive Behavior and mentions of pregnancy

The squad was gone longer than a month, but you received word from Penny they would be coming in on Saturday. You only had four days until you could see the squad again, and you spent those four days making sure the apartments were spotless in between going to work and sleeping. Friday night you sat on Jake’s couch watching a movie when there was a knock at the door. You walked to the door and looked out the peephole, but didn’t see anyone so you opened the door.

You looked around not seeing anybody there, but down on the ground was a picture laying face down with writing on the back of it. ‘YOU LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL. YOU NEVER WORE ANYTHING LIKE THIS FOR ME, BUT YOU WILL WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!’ it read, and when you flipped it over it was a copy of the photo you had sent to Jake. You slammed the door and started to panic. How the fuck did he find you so quick. You should call the police, but that would mean handing over that photo.

You were torn and didn’t know what to do so you triple checked that the door was locked and crawled into Jake’s bed. You pulled his pillow to your chest and sobbed into it wishing he were here with you. You fell asleep like that and when you woke up you got dressed for the day. You went about your day like normal and then to work. “(Y/N) are you okay you seem out of it”, she said. “Yeah I’m okay just missing the squad”, you replied. “They’ll be back before you know it”, she tells you.

The next couple of days you are on edge constantly watching your surroundings. Any car that follows behind a little too long has you paranoid. At the grocery store while checking out constantly looking to see if you spot your ex. You continue trying to figure out how he found you, but no matter how many times you think about it you hit dead end after dead end. Then you think about who would have known you had come out this way.

The only person you knew was your brother as you had told him you were leaving. If he had threatened your brother's kids which he had done before your brother probably told him anything he wanted to know. You didn’t blame him, you would do anything to keep your niece and nephews safe. He was just doing this to get back at you for leaving him. He didn’t have power over you anymore and damn it if you were going to let him take your happiness.

After Friday night's shift at the Hard Deck you grabbed your pouch from the front seat of your truck and walked into Jake’s apartment. A knock on the door and you opened it and there stood your ex. “Get back in your car and get the fuck out of here Jackson”, you seethed. “(Y/N) I just want you to come home with me. We were gonna’ get married”, he said. “I told you it wasn’t going to work. I’m not going home with you”, you hiss.

He grabbed the door as you went to shut it in his face. “I’m serious (Y/N) you’re coming back home with me”, he growled. “No I’m not, I have a boyfriend and I am happy here now get out of here!”, you yelled. “Listen here you ungrateful bitch”, he started. You reached for your pouch that you hung up by the door and brandished the .40 caliber sig in his face. “I told you no and I meant it Jackson, and if you ever threaten my brother's family again I’ll make sure you stay gone”, you declare.

His eyes go wide, but he can tell you mean it and he lingers a moment longer. “FINE!”, he shouts. You watch as he high tails it to his car and peels out of the parking lot. You close the door locking it then sink to the floor as you try to catch your breath. You had hoped you never had to ever point a gun at someone, but you knew what Jackson was capable of and you weren’t going through that again.

You couldn’t sleep and you had to pick Jake up anyway so you sat watching tv and started a pot of coffee. Penny had told you when they should get in so you left the apartment at nine in the morning to get there by nine thirty. You parked in the spot where you had dropped Jake off and waited for what felt like forever when you saw Phoenix and Bob come out to the lot. You waved them down and they came over each giving you a hug.

“Where is Bradley and Jake?”, you panic. “They are being assessed, it will probably be a few more hours”, Bob explains. “What do you mean assessed are they injured what happened?”, you asked. “We lost Banshee and Fluke”, Phoenix whispered. You were glad to hear they were okay, but saddened to know that they had lost two men. “I’m so sorry”, you whisper. “Are you all okay?”, you ask. “Yeah just like with anything it will take time, but Jake seems to have taken the blame for what happened”, Bob said.

“What do you mean?”, you inquired. They explained what had happened, how Banshee and Fluke were killed, and that Jake had been their wingman. You thanked them for telling you then after a while you let them go so they could go home to decompress and unpack. It was two hours later when Bradley emerged and you ran to him and hugged him. You could tell he was wearing the guilt of what happened and reassured him he had done all he could, but when Jake stepped out two minutes later your heart broke.

Jake had dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted. Bradley waved you on as he left to go back to the apartment. You approached him like you would a wounded animal slowly and quietly other than your boots clacking on the pavement. “Jake”, you gently called. He looked up as you came to stop in front of him. He took you in to make sure this moment was real as you tilted your head at him. “Let's go home”, you whispered. He didn’t say anything as you took his bag from him and walked to your truck.

“Do you want anything to eat?”, you asked. He only shook his head no as you drove back to the apartment. You grabbed his bag and headed up to the apartment as he walked behind you seeming to still be in a daze. When you got him into the apartment you sat his bag down and kissed his cheek then led him to the bedroom where you grabbed sweatpants and a shirt for him to change into and left to fix breakfast. He changed then joined you in the kitchen where he pulled you into his arms. You let him hold you for as long as he wanted.

“I’m sorry about Banshee and Fluke”, you whispered to him. “It was my fault they died”, he breathed. You pulled back and looked up at him as you took his face in your hands. “No, don't ever think that Jake. Baby none of what happened was your fault. Bradley told me what happened and there was nothing either of you could do”, you soothed. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, but he was willing himself not to cry in front of you.

He releases you so you can finish fixing food and he did eat a little, but you assumed he wouldn’t eat a whole lot after what he had been through. “When was the last time you got any sleep?”, you ask. “What day is it?”, he questions. That’s all you need to hear as you go to lead him to the bedroom. “No I’d rather watch TV”, he tells you. You relent but go and grab a blanket from his room as you sit down on the couch.

You coax him into laying down on the couch with his head in your lap. You run your fingers through his hair as you put a comedy movie on. You continue to glance at him every so often and a third of the way through the movie he is asleep. He wakes up periodically, but you both don’t really move from the couch until dinner time rolls around. You get up to make dinner and this time he eats all of it. He seems to be settling and that makes you feel better as he tells you he is going to go shower.

You clean the kitchen then pop next door to check on Bradley. He seems to be faring better than Jake, but you can tell he isn’t a hundred percent okay. “Are you going to be okay?”, you ask him. “Yeah Lilly is coming over to stay the night”, he tells you. “So what exactly are you two?”, you inquire. “Well I’m not dating her if that’s what you're asking” , he tells you. “I swear you give Jake shit, but you're just the same way apparently”, you laugh.

“I’m going to stay at Jake’s for quite a while. I came to grab some of my stuff”, you tell him. “That’s fine we were all given four weeks leave and Lilly is gonna be crashing here”, he explains. Jake hadn’t told you they were on leave, but with the events you figured it would be for the best. When you made it back to Jake’s he was still in the shower so you decided to slip in with him. He was leaning against the wall letting the water fall over him. You gently called to him and he acknowledged your presence, but you jumped when you felt how cold the water was.

You reached for the knob and turned it to where the water was comfortable. Then you turned him to face you. “I’m here for you Jake”, you explain. He smiles weakly at you, but he leans down to steal some kisses from you. You both help wash each other and by the time you finish up it’s around eight at night. He follows you to bed and he pulls you into his side as he relaxes for bed. Sleep doesn’t take long to find either of you, but it doesn’t last long.

You wake to find the bed empty and it’s late judging by how quiet it is. You get up and go into the kitchen where you see a figure sitting with their back against the fridge. When you flip the light on Jake is sitting there his chest heaving and you see the tears streaming down his face. You waste no time in kneeling beside him and pulling him into you. He automatically buries his head where your shoulder and neck meet and his hands grab fistfulls of your shirt.

“It’s okay Jake, I’m here”, you soothe, holding the back of his head with one hand while the other rubs his back.“I’m sorry I shouldn’t be crying”, he says. “No Jake it’s okay to cry for the ones we have lost. It’s part of grieving and yes, real men cry. I won’t think any less of you baby I promise”, you whisper into his hair. You stay there letting him cry until the tears slow. “It’s the first time I’ve lost a wingman”, he whispers. “I remember when my dad lost his first wingman. He was devastated, but he learned that if you flew long enough it was bound to happen”, you tell him.

“What matters is you did all you could and I bet that Banshee and Fluke wouldn’t want you to be upset with yourself for it. You know the risks of flying right?”, you asked. “Yeah it’s never guaranteed you will make it back”, he says. “Exactly and they accepted that risk same as you do. They loved flying as much as you or any other pilot does. Remember them that way instead of how they died”, you told him. It seemed to help him as you asked if he wanted to go back to bed.

This time you pull him into your side and he lays his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair until his breaths even out. You follow soon after and this time you both sleep through the night. The next couple of days Jake seems to be doing better as he goes in for evaluations at the base. He tells you that they deemed him ready to return after the four week leave was up. “Darlin’ do you think Penny would give you a couple weeks off?”, Jake asks out of the blue one morning.

“I don’t know depends on what it’s for”, you reply. “I told my sister and her husband about my leave and they invited me to come stay at their ranch for a couple of weeks”, he explains. “What are you saying?”, you ask. “I want you to come with me”, he blurts out. You sit there in stunned silence for a minute before saying, “I don’t know if your sister will want a stranger staying in her house”. “Well technically it would be their guest house and I already asked her if I could bring you along which she said yes to”, he smiles devilishly.

You stare at him incredulously as he pops a cherry into his mouth from where you were making a cherry pie. “I guess I could call and ask Penny. What day were you thinking about packing the truck up and leaving?”, you ask. “Truck? Oh no darlin’ I already got the plane tickets” he boasted. “Jake what if Penny says no!”, you exclaim. “Won’t know till you ask her”, Jake laughs. “What day would we leave and when would we be coming back?”, you ask, pulling out your phone.

He tells you the dates and you call Penny right away because it’s two days away. Penny doesn’t seem bothered by it and pretty much tells you to go and keep Jake out of trouble. You swear that Jake had already somehow told Penny his plan, but how he got her to agree to it you have no idea. The two days flew by and you had packed a suitcase full of clothes to where it looked like if it were opened it would explode.

You’re nervous because you had never flown commercially on a plane. Every time your family moved it was always a moving truck and the old van. Jake took your hand when you started to fidget at the gate for boarding. “Why do the movies always make this part look so easy”, you state. “Well that’s because it’s a movie darlin’ and it doesn’t work that way in the real world”, he chuckles. He is loving watching you try to school your nervousness. “Why are you so nervous? You weren’t nervous when I took you up in Mav’s plane”, he states. “Because you were the one flying and I trust you”, you reply.

You watch as his smile widens and you know you just fed into his ego. “I’m glad you trust me so much”, he tells you as he places a kiss to the top of your head. Once boarded you make it to your seat and realize you have the window seat. You sit down and strap in as Jake takes his time. He buckles in once he is comfortable then leans back in the seat waiting for the rest of the passengers to get seated.

Once the plane is ready they start taxiing to the runway and Jake can’t help but notice you bouncing your leg. He takes your hand in his again and grabs your attention. “Just keep your eyes on me”, he tells you. You do but it still doesn’t help and he seems to notice this. “When we get there do you want to go to one of the rodeos? I looked up the dates and I found one we could go to”, he tells you.

“Yeah I’d like that”, you tell him as the plane picks up speed. When the wheels leave the ground and the weightless feeling you get makes your stomach roll you grip Jake's hand tighter. He winces but you start to relax when the plane reaches optimal altitude and levels out. After that Jake notices you watching the landscape and how it changes. “How long is this flight?”, you ask. “Around three hours”, he responds. You end up reading your book you brought with you and Jake can’t help but notice the cover and title.

Ideas start popping into his head at the shirtless cowboy on the front holding a saddle and rope. When you put your book down Jake leans over and kisses your cheek. “I’m glad you decided to come with me”, he tells you. “Like you gave me a choice, but I’m glad I get to see the state you grew up in”, you tell him. When the plane lands in Austin, Texas you immediately want to get to the ranch. “How far from here is the ranch?”, you ask. “Well it’s about two hours away”, he states.

Once you pick up your bags Jake takes you in search of his brother in law. He isn’t hard to spot as you take in his tall and broad stature. He makes Jake look small in comparison, but you soon learn he is very sweet as he introduces himself as Colton. He takes your suitcase from you and carries it all the way to the truck and on the ride to the ranch you let Jake and him catch up. The landscape is so different from what you were used to back home, but you enjoyed it and couldn’t wait to see what a ranch in Texas was like.

When you pull up to the ranch your eyes go wide as you realize how large this ranch truly is. You could ride in any direction for what seemed like as far as the eye could see. Jake turned to look at the wonder on your face and smiled. “I bet you ain’t seen nothin’ like this back home huh”, Colton said. “No we had cattle and things like that, but nothing on this scale”, you replied.

“Question is, do you think you could live here on a ranch like this?”, Colton asked. Jake’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t say anything as you pondered the question. “Yeah for the right person I could and hell I’m sure a couple of kids wouldn’t hurt either”, you responded. Colton gave Jake a smug look, but Jake just rolled his eyes. When you all pulled up to the guest house it was beautiful. It had a wrap around porch with a swing with beautiful big windows. Colton helped you both into the house and handed Jake the keys.

“Supper is in another hour and Evelynn is making your favorite steak. The guest truck is out back and the keys are hanging up by the back door”, Colton told Jake. “We’ll be sure to make it in time”, Jake replied. Colton took his leave and headed home while you marveled at the inside of the house. It was a cowgirls wet dream here and now you were hooked. Jake smiled as you took in your surroundings, but had to cut it short so you both could unpack.

There was no time to rest after you unpacked as you and Jake got into the guest truck to head to the main house. It was a fifteen minute ride but when you arrived you swore you were in heaven. There was an A-frame ranch house and it was absolutely gorgeous. “Holy shit your sister and her husband live here”, you gasped. “Yeah for the past ten years with their two kids”, Jake responds.

As soon as you both get out of the truck a little girl comes running. “UNCLE JAKE!”, she yells. “Annabelle”, Jake says. She jumps into his arms as he spins her around. Then like a flash of lightning a second kid much smaller collides with his leg. “Unc Jake”, the second child says. “Hey Georgia”, Jake responds. He places the older girl in one arm and picks the youngest up in the other. “Who’s that?”, Annabelle asks. The younger girl cocks her head at you and smiles.

“This is my girlfriend (Y/N)”, Jake says. You introduce yourself and the youngest who looks to be about four reaches for you. Jake looks at you not sure if you want to hold Georgia, but you take her in your arms right away as she giggles. “It’s very nice to meet you Annabelle and Georgia”, you say. “DINNERS READY GIRLS AND YOUR UNCLE JAKE BETTER BE HERE”, someone who you guess is Evelynn calls out. “That’s our que”, Jake says as he takes your hand leading you into the house and to the dining room.

“Oh well I see you have met my children and you already met my husband. I’m Evelynn”, a woman says as she places dishes down on the table. When you look at her you definitely see the family resemblance and as your gaze travels lower you notice she is heavily pregnant. “Nice to meet you I’m (Y/N)”, you reply. You sit down as they say grace then start to eat as Jake talks with his sister. “So you never did tell me if you're having a boy or girl”, Jake says. “Well you're getting a nephew this time”, Evelynn replied.

“I knew it”, Jake boasted. Colton talked about how he was excited to show him all the ropes and how to play football. The rest of the night went like that as they asked you about your family and you told them everything. By the end of dinner Colton made mention to his wife that Jake and you were technically here on vacation and that she could talk to you all tomorrow. She sent you back to the guest house with homemade apple pie that was to die for. The day was catching up to both of you as you got into bed. Jake pulled you back against his chest making you the little spoon as you both fell asleep.

#top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #dagger squad

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childrenofcain-if · 3 months ago

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Author, I want to pick ur brain because the D's section in the death ask destroyed me. I reread it for the third time and noticed that you specified that they died in Chelsea Hotel, I put my detective hat on and found out that it's been inoperable since 2011 but a lot of artists and poets and musicians died there ??? Notably Sid Vicious from the Sex Pistols who killed his girlfriend, Nancy Spurgen. Jackson Pollock, Dylan Thomas, Patti Smith and many more.

It's so fitting that D, a tortured artist haunted by a ghost, died in a place like that. I am going to analyse all your writings now on like a professor on crack. Your mind is brilliant and all these references are killing me

not you going all sherlock on it, dear bonnie 😭 i didn’t think anybody was going to look so deep into it but i’m really happy that you caught it!

honestly, if D lost MC, they would make the 27 club. i also think someone definitely made a song about the incident in the upcoming years 😶

#ro: d diaconu #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #twine wip #interactive story

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ch-4-eri · 8 days ago

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Favors — Maria Miller.

Maria Miller X fem!Reader

Tommy can’t handle allat but I can, i don’t know what’s this but guys I need her so bad I’m not joking anyway smut under the cut, I finally wrote something for her gahhh. 😩

“Shhh-!” You warned, your palm placed across the blonde’s mouth, keeping her from making any noises as you fucked her in her bedroom while her husband out and about in the lovely walls of Jackson.

Which is a good thing really, wouldn’t want him there while you were rearranging his wife’s guts, while she’s such a disciplined woman, very assertive about the way she ran this town, she surely moans like a slut.

“Darling please—“ Maria whined, her hands gripping your wrist, desperate to make noises, “how are you gonna explain that if anybody hears?” You tormented her, the smirk on your face making the woman even more guilty, nervous, knowing what she’s doing is wrong but she somehow never even tried to stop you.

She loves Tommy so much— one of the few things she’s sure about in her entire life, but the way you looked— this young beautiful woman interested in her made her feel things Tommy never really had, and she wanted more of it, more of you.

Worn out from begging and your teasing she finally came, for the second time that morning, her blue eyes shut tight, short blonde hair splayed out on the pillow as you leaned in and hovered above her.

As her eyes opened, she wasn’t Maria the town runner, Tommy’s wife, no— she was someone else completely and you somehow preferred this version a lot better, the way she looked at you, the way you could make her yours with the power you hold over her, maybe coming to Jackson wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

#maria miller #maria tlou #tlou smut #lesbian #wlw post #maria miller x reader #the last of us smut

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ameagrice · 6 months ago

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Capsize

percy jackson x f!reader

chapter thirty-three: run, girl, run!

That night, you sneak up to the Big House again, when all is quiet across camp. The balls of light floating around the camp store allow you to sneak past without falling down the hill, grateful to see the lights of the house still on.

He must have been expecting that you couldn’t just get in bed and fall asleep with so many things on your mind. You climb the steps of the porch, and slide in slowly through the open doorway. It’s warm again tonight, the air is hot and humid, but inside the Big House it feels homely as ever, cool. Chiron stands, reading through an old and tattered book in his hands. He looks up when you walk in.

“Hi,” you say.

“It’s very late,” he replies, snapping the book shut. “You want to know if I’ve considered what you asked, don’t you?”

You nod. It’s not like you’d asked anything else. “But I want to know what happened to Chris Rodriguez, too. How Clarisse found him. Why he went down there.”

Chiron sighs, like he’s tired, and waves a hand to the couch. You don’t hesitate in taking a seat.

“It started after you left with Percy for the summer…”

You spend the remainder of the night flicking through all the books in the house, on Ancient Greece, the gods, Daedalus mainly. Chiron talks as you read, of how Clarisse blew up an entrance to the maze somewhere in the country, of how it simply moved a few yards away. He talks of Chris going insane from what he saw down there, from what Luke’s men had him do. Chris currently resides in the basement, the only place he feels safe enough without panicking to high heaven. He refuses to come out, but at least nothing can hurt him down there. Clarisse was scarred from the maze itself, and vowed never to step foot in there again. It makes sense—the few hours you were down there with Percy were creepy enough.

“I dreamed of Nico, and Percy did too. He’s trying to raise the dead, and someone is guiding or helping him or something,” you offer over a cup of hot tea and The Odyssey. You close the chapter on your mother. “He misses Bianca. Makes sense, but…he needs help.”

“The boy is troubled,” he agrees. “He has been led astray.”

“We can get him back. He doesn’t have to end up in trouble. You thought Percy was the only child of the Big Three who would make a mess of things. Then Thalia turned up, and left. But now there’s Nico; do you really want him running loose, led astray?” Chiron tilts his head. “We all heard about the ‘dangers’ of the children of those three. Although I really doubt Percy could wreak havoc. He misses his mouth when he eats pizza.”

Chiron laughs, but it’s missing something. Does he think of all your failures in the past? Is that why he doesn’t want you to go on this quest? You wouldn’t blame him, because all you’ve done so far is evade your own death and cause other people’s. Not directly, but your choices spurred theirs. At least that’s how it feels.

“I know you think I’m not right for this, but I need you to trust me.”

“It isn’t that you’re not right for this,” he deflects. “It’s that things in our world are getting worse, and sending heroes off to fight these battles have more risks than before. You know what happened to Chris and Clarisse. I’d like to avoid that from happening to anybody else.”

“Well, sometimes we can’t change fate. What’s meant to be is meant to be.”

It’s like you’ve shot him. He stills, blanching. Chiron recovers his expression quickly, and gives you a tense smile. “You should go, now. It’s been a long day for you.”

After breakfast, Chiron called a council meeting. You and Percy headed down together, chatting about what it could be. A distraction, obviously—you both knew what it would be about. You met up with everyone in the training arena, compared to the usual meeting at the ping pong table. Mrs O’Leary chewed on a giant dog toy, bounding around the arena as you discussed the fate of everything.

Juniper the tree nymph accompanied Grover, Travis and Connor sat beside each other, Charles Beckendorf and Silena, and Lee Fletcher, a son of Apollo. Quintus and Chiron, by the sword racks, led the meeting at first, passing over to Clarisse and Beckendorf for input.

Finally, they turned it on you. Clarisse, addressing you properly for the first time, demanded your thoughts. “What do you think about this?”

You inhaled, sitting up straighter on the bench. All eyes turn to you, listening intently. “I think Luke knows about the entrance to the Labyrinth, and he’s probably known for a while. Think back years ago to when Percy was poisoned; the monster came out of nowhere, and so did Luke. The maze moves—maybe he lost it for a while, hasn’t used it since. But he’s definitely trying to get back inside camp, now, using the maze. He was here longer than anyone, wasn’t he? He probably knows it like the back of his hand.”

“The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it.”

You raise an unimpressed brow to Juniper. “You knew about this? And haven’t said anything?!”

Juniper’s youthful face turned green in embarrassment. “I didn’t know it was important. Just a yucky old cave.”

You see Chiron rub his hand over his forehead in stress, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing—Luke’s been doing this under his nose for years it sounds like.

“She has good taste,” Grover defends.

“I wouldn’t have paid any attention, except…it was Luke,” she blushes further. You wave your hand in her direction, somewhat agreeing. Luke might have been good-looking, but he’s still a psycho.

Grover huffs. “Forget what I said about good taste.”

Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. “Interesting. And you believe this young man, Luke, would use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?” He raised his eyes to you.

“Definitely,” Clarisse came to your defence. “If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just have ‘em pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about the camp’s boundaries, we don’t stand a chance. He could wipe the place out easy. Probably been planning it for a while. He’s been sending scouts into the maze. We found one. You know…”

“Chris Rodriguez,” you mumble.

“Ah, the one in the…”

“The one in the what?” Asks Percy.

Clarisse glared at him. “The point is, Luke has been searching for a way to navigate the maze. He’s looking for something.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Probably Daedalus’s workshop.”

Percy shifted beside you. “The guy who created the maze.”

You hum in response. “He’s considered the greatest architect of all time. If the legends are actually true, his workshop should be in the centre of the maze. Except…the maze always changes so…where’s the centre meant to be. If Luke managed to find it, he could easily convince Daedalus to help him navigate his own creation.”

“The thing is,” adds Clarisse. “He wouldn’t have to stumble around watching for people or traps. He could navigate and go anywhere he wants safely. First to Camp, and then—well, Olympus.”

The arena turned very silent. Mrs O’Leary even grew quiet. Beckendorf straightened up on the bench, running a strong over his face. “Hold up. You said convince Daedalus. I thought Luke was—kicked off a cliff? Isn’t Daedalus dead? Shouldn’t Luke, in theory, be very dead?”

Your jaw drops. How stupid can you be? You chide yourself, looking at Chiron for some guidance. He’s watching you too, but doesn’t offer any sort of help.

“In theory, they both should be dead. Extremely, extremely dead. Uh—but Luke is not. Definitely not. And Daedalus…well, nobody really knows. People have said that towards the end of his life, he went down into his maze and stayed there. Others have said different. There are a lot of uh, disturbing rumours, stories. But long story short, he might still be down there.”

You’re aware of Travis staring at you from the other side, but you can’t bring yourself to look. You’ve barely spoke to him thus far, for being so caught up in everything. “We have to go into the maze. We have to find this workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we can convince him to help us, not Luke. If, for some miracle Ariadne’s string still exists too, we make sure it doesn’t fall into Luke’s hands.”

“Why don’t we just blow up the maze?” Came Percy. “Block Luke off from the outside?”

You give him a gentle look. “Clarisse tried. The maze just moved.”

“It’s not so easy, stupid,” Clarisse snapped. “We tried in Phoenix. The best thing to do is to stop Luke from navigating it. Which means, we get down there first.”

“We could fight,” Lee said. “We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a line of defence and wait for the army to come through. We’ll be ready, waiting.”

“We will certainly set up a defence,” agrees Chiron. “But Clarisse is right. The best thing to do is for our side to move first. If they come through here…we won’t have enough to defeat them.”

You stand. “We have to get to Daedalus’s workshop first, then. Find Ariadne’s string, stop Luke from getting it.”

“But if nobody can navigate it,” Percy reached for your elbow, getting your attention. “What chance do we have down there?”

“I’ve been reading about it. I know more than we did before. We’ll be fine.”

“From reading about it?”

You clenched your teeth. “Yes.”

“That’s not gonna be enough.”

“It’s gonna have to be.”

“It isn’t!”

“Are you gonna help me or not?” You exclaim. You’re suddenly aware of everyone watching, listening to you argue. Mrs O’Leary violently ripped the head off her toy—EEEEEK.

Chiron cleared his throat. “First thing’s first. We need a quest.” Your heart stopped. “Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Luke from using the maze to invade.”

“Well,” Clarisse waved a hand in your direction. “We all know who should lead this. She’s got my vote.”

Much to your surprise, there was a murmur of agreement. Under the watchful eyes, you shift on your feet, hip to hip, uncomfortable, edging back to near Percy. “But you’ve done loads for this, too. You should be a part of it.”

Clarisse shook her head. “I’m not going back in there.”

Travis barked a laugh. “Chicken, Clarisse? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

She got to her feet, cheeks aflame, and visibly shaking. She pointed in Travis’s face. “You don’t understand anything, you hear me? I’m never going in there again.” She stormed out of the arena.

Travis sheepishly voiced, “I didn’t mean to—”

Chiron raised his hand. “The poor girl has had a difficult time. Now, do we all agree who should lead this quest?” Everyone nodded, every hand went up. You scarcely believed your eyes. Travis offered you a tiny hint of a smile, albeit a nervous one. Chiron, at last, turned to you directly. “Very well. My dear, it’s time you visit the Oracle. Assuming you return to us in one whole piece, we will discuss what will happen next.”

You’ve been up in the attic before. You spent the whole month before the summer break trying to get the mummy to talk to you. You don’t stop to offer assistance to Clarisse in calming down a frantic Chris in the basement, crying his heart out. Instead, you place your hand on the banister and trail up the four flights, to the attic where the Oracle sits waiting. You wind up the narrow set all the way to the top, an attic full of relics of years passed from heroes who passed through the same walls.

You walk slowly over the dusty floorboards, to the window behind the Oracle, and you watch for a little while the figures in the distant training arena, one figure in particular pacing nervously. Percy, pacing up and down the arena. You absentmindedly pull on the ends of your hair, before moving back and turning to the mummified girl, who seems to know what you want before you open your mouth. The room grew darker, and dark green fog spilled from the Oracle’s mouth. She came to life in a way you’ve seen only once before, this time just as scary as the last when she’d wandered out of the house. Her eyes open, dark, broken holes, and she spills the prophecy you’ve waited so long for.

You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze,

The Traitor, the Dead and the Lost one raise.

You shall rise or fall by the Ghost King’s hand,

The child of Athena’s final stand.

Destroy with a hero’s final breath,

And may lose a love to worse than death.

Cheery.

You want to grab the nearest baseball bat and scream. The child of Athena’s final stand? Worse than death? Why, oh why, did nothing work out for you? Frustrated tears burn your eyes. You’re unable to stop them, a sudden fear at your line, undoubtedly. You find yourself lowering to the floor, where you sit for a while, trying to think. You can’t make anything positive out of this one. Somewhere downstairs, the floorboards creak, and you jump to your feet, dust scattering in the air. You wipe your hands across your cheeks ridding them of tears and give yourself a minute to calm down before you tear out of the attic, back down to the arena. You must look a little out of touch, or something.

“My dear,” Chiron says. “You made it!”

You find your spot next to Percy on the bench, collapsing heavily and stare at the floor.

“Well?” Asked Quintus.

Turning your head ever so, you look at your best friend, who sits wide-eyed and waiting for you to say anything. “I got the prophecy. So…I’ll lead the quest to find Daedalus’s workshop.”

Chiron scraped a hoof against the floor. “What exactly did the prophecy say, my dear? The wording is important.”

Taking a deep breath, “Uh…well—it said you shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze…the dead, the traitor and the lost one raise—”

Grover perked up. “That’s Pan!” He proclaimed. “It has to be!”

“With the dead and traitor,” Percy, ankle touched yours. “Not so much.” I’m here, his touch said. I’m listening.

“And? What is the rest?”

“You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand, the child of Athena’s final stand.”

The murmur of excitement dropped. Everyone looked uncomfortable. Because you are the daughter of Athena attending.

“Hey, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions!” Silena urged sweetly. “You’re not the only child of Athena, it could be anybody!”

“But who’s this ghost king?” Beckendorf asked.

You had your suspicions, alright.

“Are there more lines?” Asked Chiron. “It doesn’t sound complete.”

That’s because it’s not. “Um, something about destroy with a hero’s final breath.”

“And?”

Feeling suddenly tired, you stand to make your point. “Look, I have to go in. I’ll find the workshop and I’ll stop Luke. I need help, though…” He must have expected it. Was that not why he was pacing, earlier? Percy’s bright eyes did not waver, set on your own. “Will you help me?” The last line worried you, but doing this without Percy worried you more. You didn’t think you could do it without him.

He didn’t even hesitate. “I’m in.”

You smiled. “And Grover. You, too. You need to find Pan, and we’ll need your help.”

“I’ll pack extra recyclables for snacks!”

“Two companions,” assured Chiron. “Are you sure on your final choice?”

You nod. You want to take Annabeth, too, but you’re not risking more than three ever again. Not this time. Not when the prophecy talks of a child of Athena’s last stand. You won’t do it to her. “Mhm.”

“Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, you will enter the Labyrinth.”

You tried not to cry again, you really did. But the lines were going round and round in your head, and the sudden hurry to go make a new weapon was nagging, and you couldn’t find your spare flashlight, and packing your things made you doubt you could do this. Which was why when he called out from the doorway, you melted. You paused looking through the wall of books for anything that could help you along the way.

“Knock knock?” He tapped on wood.

You turn to him, putting down the books on the side. “Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you.”

“You okay?”

“Just trying to do some more research, find something useful. Just in case. But, uh, nothing can seem to agree on anything. So…yeah. I know a bit but I just feel like we need more.”

He closed the door with a small thud, coming closer. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry so much.”

It’s all you ever do. Does he know you’re always on high-alert? Does he know you’re overthinking?

You shift on your hip, rubbing your hand over your arm. “I wanted this so badly.”

Percy’s bright green eyes keep you balanced, and he smiles reassuringly. “I know. You’re gonna do great.”

You’re so grateful to him. “I’m just worried I’ve made the wrong decision. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. Or Grover.”

“Hey, we’re your friends. We trust you. We wouldn’t want to miss this.”

You shakily exhale, throat closing up. Uh oh. “It’s just…” you almost gag as the words get stuck. Percy’s smile fades, replaced with a concerned frown.

“What is it? Is it the prophecy?”

You gulp. “I’m sure it’s fine,” you utter quietly.

“What was the last line?”

You squeeze your eyes shut before the tears can hurt anymore, and without any thought, you hold your arms out to him. And he comes right to you, just holding you. He’s warm and a solid figure in a shaky world. Percy’s hand awkwardly pats your back, and you can’t help the way you squeeze your arms around him.

“Hey,” he mumbles. “It’s—it’s okay.”

You’re shivering. He smells soapy, and cotton fresh, yet distinctly boyish. You shove your face into his shoulder and hope he doesn’t feel the tears soak in his shirt.

“It sounds weird,” you muffle into his shirt. “But I know this is right. I need you and Grover with me. It feels right.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” he sighs. “We’ve had plenty of problems before and we solved them all, right? We can do it this time too.”

“This is different. I don’t want anything happening to you.” You slip up. “Or to Grover. Or me.”

“Try not to worry so much,” he pats your back a final time. “We’re gonna be alright. We’ve got each other.”

When you finally part, Percy avoids your gaze, trailing his fingers across the maps laid out across the table you stand beside. “About your prophecy…the line about a hero’s last breath—”

You wipe your nose. “You want to know which one of us. I don’t know, Percy.”

“No, something else. You didn’t give us the last line, earlier. Hero’s breath should rhyme with the last line. Was it something like—did it end in death?”

You stare with hot eyes at the book on the table. “You should go, Percy. Pack your things. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He stands quietly for a moment, before putting his hands in his pockets. “Okay,” he says. “Just…try to sleep. See you tomorrow.” And he leaves you standing there to think about what you’ve done.

It’s easier said than done. You manage archery that afternoon, and news spreads pretty quickly of what’s coming tomorrow. Annabeth brings you back some food from dinner, and helps you pack your bag. Your siblings wish you good luck, Malcolm saying he’ll pray for you. Annabeth provides you with an extra flashlight, and then Clarissa, which makes three. You don’t know how long you’ll be down there, she says. It makes your stomach churn even more. You set out your outfit for tomorrow and pack a good few. The brief time in the maze the other evening was cold, so you lay out a pair of jeans, a tee and a jacket.

You lay in bed that night and raise your hand to pull back the curtain above your head, watching the stars. It might be the last time you ever see them.

When morning comes, you find yourself gearing up to go, after breakfast, backpack over your shoulders, accompanied by Annabeth past the cabins and into the woods, where the entrance last was. People had set up tents and would take it in turns to watch over the entrance, should anyone come through. Percy and Grover already stood waiting when you turned up, Chiron and Quintus standing with terse smiles.

“Good morning!” Chiron tried to be upbeat, but you couldn’t help the nerves. You couldn’t even smile. “You’re all here, at last.”

You want to tell him you’re shaking to your very core with nerves. You don’t.

“Take care,” Chiron offered. “And good hunting.”

“You too,” Percy nodded.

You follow after Percy and, after a few brief words from Chiron, a goodbye from your friends, and a last look at the woodlands, you find yourself facing the darkness.

“Goodbye sunshine,” said Grover miserably. You trudged forward after Percy, dropping down into the eery space that was the uninviting maze. “Hello rocks…”

It’s not unfamiliar in feel, only in…sight. Where the walls were brick last time, and cool to the touch, they’ve changed to smooth stone, dewy and threaded with hanging vines. Under your feet, tough ropes of them tangle and lead down the pathway.

Beside you, Percy breathes out slowly. You hear Grover’s teeth chattering, and your flashlight provides a good look at your billowing breath in the cold hall. You’ve inside, now, fully—the opening above has disappeared, closed up, and your friends are gone. You’re alone in here, the three of you, and already the claustrophobia is suffocating.

“Alright,” you start, sounding more positive than you feel. “Anyone have any suggestions, first, or can I just lead the way?”

“Lead the way!” Grover prompted. “Because I haven’t any idea what we’re doing.”

“That’s lovely, Grover, thank you for that.” You take the first step in the darkness, voice echoing. You shine your flashlight around, doing a quick circle of your surroundings.

“Oh, damn, it’s like something from a horror movie.”

“And thank you for that, Percy,” you smile sardonically. “Keep your eyes peeled for any clues.��

“This isn’t the crystal maze,” he laughs.

“I think I’ll give you over to the monsters personally.”

You really tried to keep your place in the maze. Left, left, straight on, down the slope, left again…you only got about a hundred or so metres before you were hopelessly, completely lost. Nothing looked at all as it had last time, as if you’d entered a completely different part of the maze. You backtracked following your memorised turnings, but stopped at a dead-end; the maze had changed completely in such a short amount of time. It was scary, and you could feel anxiety threatening to swallow you up, suffocating with every turn. Because not only were you terribly lost with a jittery Grover humming a tune every five minutes, but you’d forgotten about the threat of monsters around every corner, and the possibility of getting split up down here.

“So, new idea,” you voiced. The three of you stopped for rehydration, the tunnel growing warmer the further you walked. “I say we stick to the left wall. That way we aren’t getting split up, and we’re not losing contact with the wall itself, so it cant physically change.”

Percy nodded, raising his hand to your head and dunking you in light spirits. “Good idea.” He quickly lost his sense of humour when, shortly after voicing the brilliant idea, the left wall literally fell away, the bricks disappearing as if they were never there. “Well then.”

You kept walking the long hallway, changing from that of a metal container to a red-brick chamber, with holes in the ground every few steps. It was like playing a dangerous game of hopscotch, except you really didn’t want to relax. At the end of it you entered a round room, with eight different tunnels open and looming branching off the main circle you found yourselves in. Behind you, you watched with your own eyes as the entrance changed from red brick to yellowing, floral wallpaper and rotting wainscoting groaning quietly. Queasiness irritated you. You ran your hands through your hair with a stressful sigh.

“Which way did we even come in?” Grover hummed uneasily.

“Just go back. Turn around the way we came.”

Except, now it had changed, everything blended into one, a huge confusing mess, and nobody could decide on what to do or where to go. You swept your flashlight over the eight tunnel archways, like train tunnels, but none of them offered any differences…at first glance, anyway. Finally, you closed your eyes and stopped the flashlight—opening your eyes, you’d stopped the light on the left-middle tunnel. “That one.”

Percy entered your line of sight, looking unsure. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged. “Deductive reasoning.”

He gagged on a laugh. “So you’re guessing?”

Readjusting your backpack, you nodded to the tunnel and took off. “Just come on.”

You’d never do anything by chance again. The tunnel soon got so low and cramped that the concrete walls pressed against your shoulders your hips, bent over and trying not to hyperventilate. Unfortunately, Grover wasn’t doing the same thing. His erratic breathing happened to be the loudest thing in the tunnel.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” he whispered. “Are we nearly there yet?”

You had to admit that you were getting fed up with it as well. Percy remained quiet and composed—once, he smacked his head on the ceiling and bit back a series of words.

“We’ve been down here, like, five minutes,” you offered. “Calm down.”

“Why would Pan even be down here anyway?” He rambled. “I mean, look how dark it is! This is disgusting. What does the god of nature want with a place this dank? This is the opposite of wild!”

Just when the tunnel became so narrow you were about to call it quits, it spilled open into a huge room full of old mosaic tiles in golds, reds and blues, like something from an old Greek book in the Big House. And it was Greek—upon closer inspection with the tiles closest to you, they showed a myriad of images of the gods: Aphrodite in a white chiffon, all done up pretty; your mother in battle, wearing all gold; Ares in feast, at a table drinking dark wine. You leaned in closer, running your fingertip along the pictures.

“This is beautiful.” You straightened up. The ceiling, though dirty and dark, glittered in gold and silver, and an ornate three-tier fountain sat empty in the middle of the room.

“What is this place?” Asked Percy, tilting his head back to look up. “Ancient Greek?”

“Looks like it. Kinda reminds me of Olympus, the last time we were up there.”

“Before you guys came to camp,” Grover joined you, looking around. “We went up to Olympus in winter, before the solstice. Only the grounds but…it was amazing. Looked a lot like this.”

“How can it be here, though?” Asked Percy, “it’s so…out of the blue.”

“The labyrinth is like a patchwork blanket. It grows itself, decorates itself—it doesn’t end.”

“You’re making it sound like it’s alive.”

“It basically is, Percy. Look around.”

“Can we stop talking about it being alive, please?” Begged Grover. A groaning noise came from the tunnel before you. “Oh no,” he moaned.

“Alright,” you said, “onward.”

“Down that way with the noise?” Grover grimaced.

“Exactly that way. Things are looking older so…maybe that’s the way to Daedalus’s workshop. Since he’s old and…whatever. Shouldn’t the workshop be in the oldest part of the maze?”

Logically, it made sense. Literally, it didn’t. The maze didn’t abide by any rules of thumb. The maze soon went back to playing with you (and your sanity) as it turned into modern caves decorated in spray paint, and then a restaurant-esque room full of gleaming mirrors. Every few feet, the maze changed, the tunnels shifted, and the floor beneath your feet turned from cement to metal and back to cement again. Through a wine cellar Dionysus would adore and out into a basement, you were slowly losing your mind. It didn’t matter how much you backtracked or memorised, the maze just didn’t care, and kept changing, changing, changing. At one point, standing in a wooden warehouse, you could have sworn you heard voices on the floor above, but then again, you’d been down here for far too long.

The first skeleton you found appeared far too quickly for your liking.

“Oh, man!” You waved a hand in its direction. “Should we consider this a marker? We’re so far into the maze we’ve got dead bodies?”

Grover gagged. “Milkman!”

“What?”

“A milkman,” he reiterated. “They used to deliver milk.”

“Thank you, Mister. Obvious,” Percy smirked. “But that was like…a million years ago. What’s he doing down here?”

You shrug. “Some people just wander in and get lost. Like us, I guess. Some probably come exploring on purpose and never make it back. In fact, like a bazillion years ago the Cretans sent people in here as sacrifices.”

Grover gulped. “He’s been down here a loooong time.” The skeleton’s hands were frozen clawing at the wall, like he’d died being dragged. “And it smells of monsters down here, too.”

“Well, they’re probably everywhere down here.”

“Yeah…sure smells close, though.”

“We can’t just abandon ship, guys,” you try, “we need to head deeper into the maze. There’s definitely a way to the centre, we’re just going about it the wrong way.”

Percy cleared his throat, prompting your attention. “Maybe there isn’t a right way,” he suggested with a shrug. “I mean, it is a maze, and you said it’s always changing. Maybe the workshop moves with it?”

You hum, and try hard not to think that he might be right. “Nah. We’ll find it. We’re close to something; I can feel it.”

You could, in actual fact, feel the upcoming challenge the way your demigodly instincts always helped you to, like a weird feeling up your spine, a lingering over your shoulders. Your stomach was tightening just as you crawled through a metal air shaft, and came out…

In the tile room. Again.

Getting to your feet with a groan, aching from the constant ducking and diving, you almost yelled in anger.

“We’re just going ‘round in circles!” You yelled and span in one to get your point across. Percy came up after you, casually at first, and then Grover. Percy paled. Grover shrieked.

Spinning on your heels, you weren’t the only ones in this room anymore. You screamed, scrambling to shove yourself behind Percy, back-to-back. You fumbled around for your dagger.

A Greek hero, or what was left of him, sat at the fountain. He wore old armour, bronze and gold, only it was rusted with something you didn’t want to think about. His gold-blond hair lay messed and thick, like he couldn’t stop pulling on it. He lacked an eye, a wound, and looked like he’d been in agony for a very long time. The stuff of nightmares, honestly. A Greek horror.

The personification of struggle.

Percy stiffened at your back. His hand raised and caught your forearm, fingers tight around you, shaking.

“Come on!” A voice like honey drawled, though it was thick with sadness and triumph together. “You guys…what are you doing? You’re going through wrong way, you know. Turn back.”

You couldn’t turn back. You’d already made that mistake. He was trying to confuse you, that’s all. His voice grew louder and more aggressive, more persuasive, and got closer. You tried to block him out, and slow your heart rate. In your mind, you thought of all the songs you loved, humming the lyrics.

“Hey!” You heard Percy. “Leave her alone. Leave us alone.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Riptide was drawn. You really hoped you didn’t have to fight this guy. Though he was obviously an old spirit, or an old and minor god, you didn’t doubt he was powerful. Being down here was a nightmare enough without having to fight.

“Poor thing,” he drawled, like you would a hurt puppy. “Weak, bitter. But persistent. Only hurt lies ahead, you know? You can turn around, now,” he called your name. Percy’s fingers danced along your arm, a distraction. Being under fire made your skin crawl, and the aggression in the hero’s tone had brought on an anxious stomach ache.

Percy raised Riptide. Just when you thought you were done for, a scalding light filled the room, like a floodlight had suddenly appeared. Your heart skipped way too many beats; Grover raised his hand to shield his eyes. When the light died off, you kept your eyes shut.

“Are you causing trouble for these heroes?” A woman’s voice called into the terrible scene. You slowly unclenched your jaw, opened your eyes slowly, and shifted to peek around Percy’s shoulder, ever so slightly inching so you didn’t see the bloodied Greek. She stood tall and proud, beautiful brown curls the colour of chocolate dancing down her spine in a long braid threaded with gold ribbon. The plain, white dress she wore turned to rainbow when she moved, and you thought of oil on a river, the way it moves under sunlight, shimmering. Her milky skin was flawless, and you had the sudden feeling that you knew this woman, somehow.

His voice, mellowed now, shook. “No, milady!”

Liar. You exhaled shakily.

“I see,” she crooned. “Well, you’ll let them be on their way then, yes? You’ll leave them be, from now on? Leave these heroes to me. You’re creating unease.”

The woman turned to face you, Grover and Percy, and made direct eye contact with you first. She smiled, and it was like taking a chill pill, a strange and sleepy calm that washed over you. Whether the boys felt it too, you couldn’t say, but you were glad of it. The anxiety fell away, your heart slowed, and you became aware of the grip you had taken on Percy’s jacket, at the base of his spine, scrunched between your fingers.

“You must be hungry,” she nodded. “Come. Sit with me, let’s talk.” She waved a perfect hand, and the room came to life. Candelabra chandeliers lit in warm yellow, and the dirt fell away from the room. The fountain sprung to life, trickling water, and a pretty table and chairs set appeared waiting, the length of the table filled to the brim with sweet sandwiches cut in small triangles, and tiny plates holding delicately decorated chocolates.

You didn’t realise you’d gotten so hungry. How long hadn’t you eaten for? Time passed so different here, it could have been a whole day, or two. Grover got right to pouring the lemonade, adorned with fresh strawberries, gulping it down like he’d never taken a sip of it before. Understandable, in your eyes.

Gradually, you unclenched your stiff fingers from Percy’s jacket, hand falling away. “Who are you?” He asked, approaching the table.

You didn’t sit like the boys, but instead reached for a sandwich, and then another, and another, and another. Standing opposite each other, you blinked as she spoke with pretty, gentle eyes.

“I am Hera,” she smiled. “Queen of Heaven.”

Ah. That’d be the familiarity, then. Godly hierarchy. You didn’t feel unnerved up close to her, but so much more relaxed than before. She took the pitcher of lemonade from your still-shaking hands with the gentleness of a mother, and you didn’t even stop her from pouring you a glass. You thanked her quietly, and she reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked, lacking formality. Hera hummed softly, before snapping her fingers out of the blue. Instantly, you got cleaned up—your hair fixed itself without effort, feeling cleaner and less sweaty, tied back in a low bun. The dirt abandoned your clothes. The sweat and dirt cleaned off of your face.

“I came to see you, naturally,” she replied. The boys at the table shared a look.

You frown heavily. “I thought—I didn’t think you really liked heroes. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

Something changed about her, but you struggled to place it. She waved a perfect hand. “Oh, water under the bridge! Because of the little…spat, with Hercules? Goodness, so long ago. I had so much bad press because of one little argument!”

You wouldn’t call attempted murder an argument, but hey-ho. You can’t stop the words flowing out of your mouth. “Didn’t you try to kill him, though?”

Hera laughed, though it wasn’t funny at all. She flicked an imaginary piece of dust from her dress. “Oh, dear, no. Greek myths, am I right? Hercules was my husband’s son by another woman; my patience ran thin, I’ll admit. But Zeus and I have come out the other side, we have an understanding. Especially since that last incident.”

Percy choked on his sandwich, red in the cheeks. You bug-eyed him, a warning. Hera dropped her hand from your hair where she’d been, dare you say it, admiring you. It wasn’t uncommon—your family’s friends and even strangers commented on your luckiness. You wanted to call it more of a curse.

“You mean when Thalia came into the picture?” Percy just couldn’t help himself. Hera’s eyes turned frostily on him.

“Ah, Percy Jackson, isn’t it? One of Poseidon’s…children. As I recall, I voted to let you live at the Winter Solstice. I hope I chose correctly.”

She turned away, like Percy wasn’t worth her time, and her eyes shone like she’d hit diamonds on you. It wouldn’t be a good idea to shy away from a goddess, any of them, never mind Hera, so though you didn’t particularly like the attention or extra care that she wasn’t providing the boys, you didn’t move away. Who knew what dire consequences she’d send your way? Grover spied you looks every few seconds, like making sure you were alright.

A sunny smile plagued her. “Anyway, I bear you no ill will, my girl. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have old Greek troublemakers to deal with. Brave girl.” Brave, though you hid like a child.

“Why was he here?” You shoved a chocolate in your mouth. “I felt like I was dying.”

“Hmm, he likes to do that. The minor gods…they enjoy causing trouble, scaring young heroes. The minor gods, you three must understand, have always despised the very small roles they play. Some I fear have little love for our Olympus, and can easily be swayed to support the rise of my father.”

Kronos. Luke’s new best friend.

“We have to watch the minor gods. They give lip to Olympus, and yet—”

“That’s where Dionysus went!” Exclaimed Percy. “He was checking on the minor gods.”

“Indeed.” Hera stared at the fountain. “You see, in times of trouble such as these, even gods lose faith. They put their trust in the wrong things. Petty things, should I say. They stop looking at the bigger picture and turn selfish. But I’m the goddess of marriage; I’m into persistence and perseverance. You have to rise above the arguing and chaos. You have to keep your goals in mind, demigods.” Spoken like a proud soccer mom.

“What are your goals?”

“To keep my family together, of course! The Olympians. Right now, the best way to do that is by helping you—the ringleader of the quest! Zeus does not allow me to interfere too much I’m afraid, but once every century or so for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish.”

Like something from a Disney movie. You’re Cinderella, and she’s the fairy godmother.

“A wish?”

“Before you ask it, darling, let me give you some advice. I know you seek Daedalus. His labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you! But if you wish to know his fate, you should visit my son at his forge. Daedalus was a brilliant inventor, there has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would know about Daedalus’s whereabouts, it’s Hephaestus.”

You consider this carefully. For anything, you could wish anything at all. But…

“How do we get there, then?” You ask. “That’s what I wish for. I want a way to navigate this maze.”

Hera’s shoulders drooped, and she looked disappointed. “So be it. But you ask for something that has already been given, I’m afraid.”

You blanch. “Huh?”

“The means is already within your grasp!” She spared a look over her shoulder…at Percy. “With him. Percy knows the answer.”

This time, you run cold. Unimpressed, you offer another, “What?” Percy sits up straighter in his seat, fumbling like a fish out of water.

“I do?” He panics.

“But you’re not telling us what it is,” you pry, being careful. “That’s not fair.”

Hera shook her head of pretty hair. “Getting something and having the wits to use it are two different things, darling. I’m sure your mother would agree.”

The floor vibrated as thunder rumbled from high above, reverberating all the way through. “That would be my cue,” Hera beamed. “Zeus is very impatient. Think on what I have told you,” she aimed at you, “locate Hephaestus, and the rest is smooth sailing! You’ll have to pass through the ranch I think, but don’t stop, and use all the means at your disposal…however common they seem.”

She pointed across the room, where two doors had appeared. They flung open, revealing two dark corridors.

“And one last thing,” she clasped her hands together. “Try not to run into any more troublemakers. The minor gods are unlikely to give you an easy time, and, well, I won’t be back. Farewell, my heroes. And good hunting, as they say!”

She waved a hand, and turned into a puff of white smoke. The food and the table disappeared, Grover and Percy falling off of imaginary chairs. The fountain stopped running, the walls turned grimy, and the room became dark again.

All that aside, you were pretty mad.

“What sort of help?…”

“Well,” said Grover. “She said Percy knows the way. That’s something at least.”

You round on your friend, whose cheeks are pink. “But I don’t!” He protests. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. Honest.”

You sigh deeply. “Alright. Whatever. Which way now, then?”

“Left,” said Grover, getting to his feet and hurrying along to the entry. “Because I hear something big coming from the right.”

Percy caught your wrist in his hand. “Left sounds good. I vote left.”

Together, you disappeared into the dark corridor.

AYO what do we think of this one then? Honestly I got a bit stuck, but I think it turned out alright. I had to replace Janus with my imagination (though after the day I’ve had it’s LACKING) because he creepy fucker scares me as much as the cat in the hat does.

taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx

@rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress

@distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky

@emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m

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pedrospatch · 2 years ago

Text

jealousy l a safe haven drabble

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: When Esther invites Joel to her place for dinner, he reassures you that you have nothing to be worried about.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. jealous reader, soft Joel, infidelity, at this point these two are having a full on affair, fluff.

word count: 3k

“Helloooo? Yoohoo, is anybody home in there?”

“Ouch,” you gasp out as a foot connects with your shin underneath the table. You look up and shoot an annoyed glare at the curly haired woman sitting across from you at one of the smaller tables in the commune’s mess hall. You reach down, your hand rubbing over the spot where she’d kicked you with the hard toe of her boot. “What the hell was that for, Martha?”

Martha giggles. “Oh, hi. So glad you could join us again.”

Glancing from her to Maria, you frown. “What are you talking about?”

Maria playfully scoffs into her glass of lemonade. “Oh wow, she was so zoned out that she didn’t even realize she was zoned out.”

“I was not zoned out,” you counter, shaking your head.

“Okay, if you weren’t zoned out then tell me, what were we talking about right now?” Martha challenges, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. It widens when she sees the uncertainty in your gaze. “Just now, what were we saying? Hm?”

Shit.

“You said that—um,” you rack your brain, desperately trying to remember what the two women had been chatting about. “Something about—it was something about the market, right?”

“Aha! I knew it,” Martha laughs again, pointing an accusing finger at you. “That proves it. You weren’t listening.”

“Alright, alright. You caught me, Sherlock. I wasn’t listening,” you admit, sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just that my mind’s been a little preoccupied.”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Maria teases, shaking her head. “And judging by that big ol’ smile you’ve had plastered onto your face all afternoon, I’m guess that whatever’s on your mind is a good thing and not a bad one.”

You glance down at the plate of fresh garden salad on your lunch tray, avoiding your friend’s curious gaze.

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’d started meeting with Joel. Early on, you both decided it was safest to meet after midnight and spent a couple of hours together, going your separate ways in the earlier hours of the morning just before sunrise to avoid being seen by anyone who woke at dawn for first shift work duties. Once you were certain that Luke was fast asleep, you’d carefully climb out of bed and silently slip out of the house, then walk over to Joel’s where he would already be waiting for you on his front porch. You would sit together on his porch swing—you wrapped up in the warm embrace of his strong arms, your head on his chest as you talked, stole kisses, and held each other for as long as possible until it was time to return to reality.

The reality where you’re not his and he’s not yours.

You’d tell him stories about where you grew up, described to him the foothills of your town and talked about your family’s ranch with fondness, with such passion that at one point, Joel had started to feel like he’d been there before. You told him about your family, your childhood, the dreams you had before the outbreak had pulled the rug from beneath your feet—and he listened earnestly, wanting to know everything there was to know about you. In exchange, Joel would tell you about his own life before the world ended. He’d talk about his life growing up with Tommy in Texas, how the two of them became contractors and started their own business together. He wasn’t quite as open as you had been, and oftentimes, you could sense Joel wasn’t ready to fully open up to you about his past—not only his past before the outbreak, but everything in between then and when he’d arrived in Jackson with Ellie. He wasn’t ready to talk about any of it, and you didn’t mind it.

Just like with Ellie, you’re willing to be as patient with Joel as you need to be.

Maria’s voice breaks into your train of thought. “What’s got you grinning from ear to ear, anyhow? Is there something we should know about?” She pauses, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth before asking, “Is there some kind of special news that you maybe want to share?” Placing a hand over her small, but now prominent baby bump, she gives you a hint as to what she’s insinuating.

She’d never lost faith that, one day, it’s going to happen for you and Luke. But little does she know that your desire to carry your husband’s child died a long, long time ago.

“I’m not pregnant,” you tell her, causing her to frown in disappointment. You finally look up at her and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. To add another casual touch, you reach for your glass of iced tea and take a sip before saying calmly, “I’ve just been in a good mood lately, that’s all. I don’t think that’s anything too out of the ordinary, is it?”

Before either of them can chime in and say another word, a familiar voice rings over the loud, lively chatter in the mess hall. “Ladies!” Esther hurries over to your table and drops down into the vacant chair beside yours. “I’m so glad you’re all here!”

“Where the hell else would we be?” Martha remarks with a snort. “It’s lunchtime, Estie.”

“Where’s your lunch tray?” Maria questions her. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

Esther waves her hand dismissively. “You will never guess what I just did,” she says, excitedly, looking around the table. She waits and when nobody responds, she rolls her eyes and urges, “Come on, take a guess!”

“We’re not teenagers,” Martha chuckles, tossing her an eye roll right back. “Just fucking spit it out. What did you do?”

“I asked Joel to come over for dinner tonight!”

As you’re about to take a bite of your lunch, you drop your fork and it clinks loudly against your plate. All three women glance at you.

“Sorry,” you mutter quickly, your cheeks burning. “Clumsy me.”

Martha turns her attention back to Esther. She shoots her a skeptical look. “You asked Joel Miller over for dinner—and the man said yes? Are you serious?”

Beaming, Esther nods. “Yes! He’s coming over to my place. Tonight.”

Your stomach gives a violent, nauseating churn and for a split second, you’re afraid you’ll be sick all over the table.

“Wow,” Maria says, incredulously. “I can hardly even believe it. My brother in law likes to keep to himself most of the time. I can’t picture him agreeing to a dinner date.”

Esther doesn’t seem offended—in fact, there’s a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “Well, you had best believe it,” she says with a smug smile. “Because tonight, I do in fact have a dinner date with Joel Miller.”

You still haven’t said a word.

You can’t speak.

You feel like you can’t even breathe.

All you want to do is get up and leave the table before you can hear another word come out of Esther’s mouth, but you know you can’t do that without raising suspicion—or making your jealousy painfully obvious.

Esther turns to you and waits expectantly for your reaction. “Well?”

“That’s great,” you manage to reply, giving her the best supportive smile you can muster under the circumstances. “I’m really happy for you, Esther.”

“Wait, so if you’re going to cook the man dinner, then does that mean you’re going to be his dessert?” Maria jokes, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Of course,” Esther smirks. “Oh, with the things I plan on doing to him tonight, I’ll have to go down to the church house tomorrow morning and confess all my sins.”

The women burst into a fit of schoolgirl giggles.

Suddenly, you feel even sicker than you did a minute ago, but you have no choice but to force yourself to laugh along with them.

“Alright, come on, my love. Let’s pick up the pace. That’s a good girl,” you murmur softly in encouragement to Luna. You’re outside in the paddock hand walking the mare and observing her legs, searching for abnormalities in her trot. Ellie had mentioned she thought she’d seen the horse in some discomfort while she’d been out on an afternoon ride. Wanting to see it for yourself, you decided to take Luna on a stroll out in the paddock while Ellie and Dina are inside the stables taking care of the grooming. “Come on, pretty girl. Little bit faster now—”

The sound of Joel’s deep voice saying your name causes you to stop in your tracks. Stiffening, you glance over your shoulder.

He approaches the paddock, his rifle hanging over his shoulder by a worn, black leather strap—you immediately know he’s just gotten in from afternoon patrol. He’d mentioned to you that he had been taking on extra shifts, even working doubles after there had been sightings of potential raiders fifteen miles south of the gates. Afraid they’d draw closer to the commune, Tommy decided to heighten security, placing more men and women on the wall as well as on every patrol route.

“Hi,” you greet him. There’s a cool edge to your tone as you turn back towards Luna. You don’t even realize how hard you’re gripping the lead rope in your hand until you look down and notice how tightly your skin is stretched over your knuckles. “Ellie’s in Shimmer’s stall brushing her.”

Joel chuckles. “S’good to know, but I came to see you, darlin’,” he states, lowering his voice. There’s no one else out in the paddock, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Being seen together can easily be played off by the fact that his kid’s working in the stables—but being overheard would be detrimental to yours and his blooming relationship. “Listen, I had an idea I wanted to run by you. Was thinkin’ we could meet out behind the barn tonight. Might be a bit safer than hangin’ out on my front porch—no risk of the neighbors seein’ us. What do you think?”

You don’t reply.

“We’re still on for tonight, ain’t we?” he asks, his hopefulness subtle, but present. “S’the first time all goddamn week I ain’t gotta work a double or do overnight patrol.”

You lift your unoccupied hand, resting it on Luna’s neck, focusing your eyes on her. “I don’t know, Joel. You tell me—are we still on for tonight?”

Frowning, Joel reaches out and places his hand on your arm—you immediately jump away, as if he’d burned you. “Hey, hey.” Though he’s confused, he remains composed. “What’s the matter?”

You try to meet his gaze, but you can’t even look at him. “Nothing, Joel.”

Stepping forward, he hooks a finger underneath your chin, lifting it as his eyes try finding yours. “Baby, look at me—”

“Joel, stop,” you hiss, swatting his hand away, your head furiously whipping around. “Don’t do that! Someone could see us.”

“Relax, darlin’. No one’s around. What the hell’s got you so worked up?” Perplexed by your strange behavior, Joel’s eyebrows pinch together. “There somethin’ I should know ‘bout? Did somethin’ happen with Luke?”

Your jaw clenches.

Either he’s a gifted actor or he’s genuinely clueless.

But Esther is your friend.

Surely Joel knows you would find out about their dinner date.

“Talk to me,” he encourages softly.

You release a small, but heavy sigh.

“I was having lunch in the mess hall with Martha and Maria today. Esther joined us and she told us all about how she invited you over to her place for dinner tonight.” You cringe at the way your own voice trembles. “She said you accepted.”

“Jesus, I knew that woman had a big fuckin’ mouth,” Joel mutters, irritably. He shakes his head. “Yeah, s’true. I accepted the invitation,” Noticing the disappointment—the hurt—that flashes in your eyes, he holds up his hands in defense as he begins to explain himself. “Look, it just happened. Me and Tommy were walkin’ to the mess hall after mornin’ patrol to grab a quick bite to eat before headin’ back out for afternoon watch when she came up to us and said hello. She asked me right then and there if I wanted to come over to her place for dinner—right in front of Tommy. She put me on the spot and I blurted out a yes ‘cause I knew Tommy would give me shit if I said no to her. Trust me baby, I wanted to tell her no. Almost did, but Tommy’s been insistent on help’ me meet someone. Figured acceptin’ one dinner would get his ass off my back.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, your eyes flit down and you stare at your boots in silence.

“Wait just a minute.” There’s a hint of amusement on Joel’s tone. “You ain’t jealous, are you darlin’?”

“I’m so glad you think this is funny,” you mumble, your face growing warm under his curious stare. You finally bring yourself to lift your gaze and it meets his. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s being honest, but that does nothing to make you feel any better—or any less envious. Foolishly, you add, “She’s planning to seduce you, Joel. She said something about being your dessert.”

He smirks. “She really said that?”

You glare at him. “Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?”

Joel laughs. “Oh, c’mon now, peach. Y’know I’m just messin’ with you. Esther could serve me dinner naked and I still wouldn’t be tempted,” he reassures you, confidently. “Look, I’m just goin’ over to her place to have dinner with her. That’s all. After that, I’m gonna head back home and wait ‘til it’s time to see you. Alright?”

Anxiously, you nibble the inside of your cheek.

You believe him. Of course you believe him. But there’s another part of you, the jealous part of you, that isn’t thinking rationally. Esther’s one of the most beautiful women in the entire fucking town—maybe he feels certain he’s not interested now, but all it could take is one look into her crystal skies to make him realize he could find happiness with someone he doesn’t have to sneak around with.

“I’ll meet you tonight,” he promises. “I will.”

“Joel, what if something happens and you decide not to show?”

“M’gonna show, peach.”

“But Joel—”

You stop abruptly as Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and begins to walk away from you.

“Midnight,” he says over his shoulder. “Behind the barn.”

Squinting, you hold your watch up to the moonlight to check the time.

It’s five minutes after twelve and Joel’s nowhere in sight.

He’s coming, you silently offer yourself the reassurance as the panic begins to settle in. Relax. He’s coming. He said he would be here, so he’ll be here.

…but what if he isn’t?

For all you know, Joel and Esther could be in her bed right now, tangled up in each other’s arms as they—

A pair of large, rough hands grab at your sides, startling you out of your thoughts.

Squealing in fear, you whirl around.

Joel doubles over slightly, muffling a laugh in the palm of his hand.

“Joel,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes at him. Slowly, your heartbeat slows, returning to its normal rhythm. “That wasn’t funny! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“Y’must have your head up in the clouds if you didn’t hear me comin’, darlin’.” Grinning, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms. He goes in for a kiss and chuckles again when you turn your face, his mouth meeting your temple instead of your lips. He gives your body a gentle squeeze. “C’mon, sweet girl. Don’t I get a kiss hello tonight?”

You lightly push him away. “That depends,” you state, taking a step backwards. “On whether or not you got a kiss from a certain blonde earlier this evening.”

Joel’s eyes twinkle. “Wow. You really are jealous, huh?”

You say nothing as you wait expectantly for his answer.

His smile fades slightly as he admits, “She, uh—she did try to kiss me tonight.”

Crestfallen, your heart sinks deeply.

“I dodged it,” he adds, quickly. “Look, Esther’s a nice woman and she’s real pretty—”

“Keep talking, Joel,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re doing great.”

Joel exhales something caught between a scoff and a laugh. His fingers curl around your wrists as he tugs you forward into his chest once more. “But she ain’t you, peach.”

Surprised, you glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.

“Y’know what I was thinkin’ ‘bout the whole time I was with her?”

“What?”

“How fuckin’ bad I couldn’t wait for it to be over,” he tells you. “All I was doin’ was countin’ down the minutes ‘til I could go back home—and when I did go home, I started countin’ down the minutes ‘til it was time to come see you.”

The tense, taut muscles in your body finally relax.

“Really?”

“Swear it on my life,” Joel murmurs. “I’m hooked on you, baby. Been hooked since the first time you ever smiled at me. You remember that mornin’?”

“Of course I do. During winter, in the stables. You were in Buck’s stall, saddling him up when I walked by and saw you.” You laugh softly as you recall, “You didn’t smile back at me.”

Exhaling an amused huff through his nose, Joel presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah, I know I didn’t,” he acknowledges quietly against your skin, his guilt evident. “But I couldn’t forget it. Even after all that time passed when I wasn’t here, I couldn’t fuckin’ forget it and I didn’t know why. And then when I came back, I saw you again and you gave me that same goddamn smile. You even know what it did to me, peach? Hell, do you even know what you do to me, baby?”

You lean forward, resting your head on his chest. Closing your eyes, you relish in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping softly against your cheekbone.

Joel nuzzles his face into your hair. “Don’t want anyone else but you,” he declares. “Swear it. You’ve got me, sweetheart. Alright?”

Eyes still closed, you make him the same promise. “And you’ve got me.”

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller series #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #fic: a safe haven #fic: ash

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daughterofapollo-official · 2 months ago

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What body type are they most attracted to?

Disclaimer: this is not intended to hurt anyone’s feelings. I am not saying anybody is more attractive than another body. Everyone is beautiful please do not get offended or take this too seriously. Attraction is subjective. And everything about this post is subjective because these are simply fictional characters from a book series that I care way too much about and spend way too much time thinking about. If this hurts your feelings, I am so sorry. That is not my intention if you want you can comment and I’ll write a fanfiction based off of your body type with a character have a crush on.

Leo Valdez.

So I’ve stated before in the past that Leo probably has an eating disorder, specifically I suspect it’s a form of anorexia, character does not eat and he seems to have a lot of insecurities, revolving around his body.

Because of this, I feel like Leo would overcompensate on his lack of body mass by being sexually attracted to people who have more of the “ideal body” he knows such a concept is absolutely stupid and there’s no such thing. But it makes him feel better about his eating habits and his body type if he is in a relationship with someone who is downright gorgeous and has the “perfect body.” it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism something that Leo has way too many of. (the guy really needs to learn how to deal with his emotions in a healthier way.)

I don’t think he’d be attracted to anyone too much heavier than him. He probably has dated people who are twice his weight, but not much more than that.

Reminder that I looked up his weight on the Percy Jackson, Wikipedia page and it’s 76 pounds.

So he has a similar weight to a child.

I believe he has a lot of muscle mass but very, very scary little amout of body fat.

He would date people who weigh between 130 to 150 pounds.

You’d be more attracted to people who are slim, practically a slim waist, but have more curves in other areas like thighs, butt, breast. If you were a man, he’d be attracted to a slim waist as well, but more of a muscular physique.

He knows he can never have this body type for himself and it makes him feel less pathetic and less ugly to be dating people who are “10s” it’s a very unhealthy way of him coping with his dysmorphia.

Jason Grace

Jason has a similar type as Leo, but for a very different reason. Jason is a very athletic person. He is a warrior. He has been training to be soldier and a leader since he was three years old so he’s very athletic and very muscular. And he’s attracted to having a partner with a similar body type and similar habits.

Confident in his body and he thinks his body is beautiful and he wants someone else who has a similar body and he would also think is beautiful.

That being said, Jason is a very kind boy and you find all bodies to be beautiful in their own way. He is just attracted to the idea of having someone who has a similar life towards him. Something he can relate to.

Also, Jason is heavily attracted to people with darker skin. African-American girls, Native American girls Latinas, Middle Eastern, Indian. He is very attracted to girls of darker skin. All shades of darker skin.

Percy Jackson

Blondes.

I’m kidding. lol.

I feel like Percy would as well be attracted to more athletic people (I really don’t mean to be mean I’m just you know considering his wheel girlfriend is demigod. It’s a fair assumption.)

But he would not be as particular on having a muscular physique or perfect physique, much rather date someone who is healthy and has healthy proportions he would prefer to date someone who is more muscular, but he wouldn’t mind dating a girl with a little bit of a tub, a little little bit of a pouch.

Is your mama‘s boy he likes to hug soft women you know. A soft body he would like a capable warrior, but he also wants someone he can cuddle with someone who’s delicious to snuggle someone who wouldn’t mind eating crap with him.

Frank Zhang

Frank doesn’t really have much of a preference when it comes to the shape of the body. He doesn’t care if you’re chubby I mean, it’d be hypocritical if he did.

More focus attraction wise to your height he’s a really big guy and he’s attracted to really small girls.

That being said, he’d never go for a girl who’s really really skinny.

It’s not that they’re not beautiful or that they’re attractive. It’s just that as the chubby kid, he always assumed that the skinny girls or the white shaped girls would want nothing to do with him because of his body type and eventually after keeping that insecurity in mind for so many years during development that it just kind of shaped his sexual attraction to not involve that.

Nico

Average healthy body. Taller than him more muscular. He is a Twink. He likes guys that are a little bit bigger than him and he doesn’t necessarily have this really high expectation. He is just attracted to someone who is healthy.

And blonde.

Will solance

For boys, it’s definitely Twinks. lol

As for his attraction towards girls, I think it be more attracted towards pillar skin. You’d be really attracted to the combination of pale, dark hair.

He thinks the contrast is very captivating and very beautiful his attention a lot.

he is not the type to care about eyecolor. I don’t think I can picture will in a relationship with anyone with an eating disorder. And that’s not the say that he thinks there any less attractive or any less beautiful. I just think it would be too hard of a situation for him as so, and who cares about health a lot and dedicated his entire life to it already a very challenging position for him to be in a relationship with someone with unhealthy eating habits, because it would be really hard for him to not pressure them into trying to be healthier or trying any diet.

And he knows that could be bad for mental health if he couldn’t filter himself. It would be something that really bothered him not being able to help this person, especially if you love them, especially if he was attracted to them about some things so severe and his eyes.

It would cause a lot of complex in the relationship he would try so hard to get you to stop hurting yourself to no avail and it would just cause a lot of arguments and your relationship.

I totally think you would have the habit of just giving people unsolicited health advice just an average settings and I think it’s increased tenfold to people. He has a strong emotional connection to that being relent, romantic partners and friends. It would be really bad situation for the person and himself to be in a relationship with that conflict.

However, I do think you’d be attracted to to people who are slightly smaller than him. he gives off very much energy and I think he’d be attracted to people with very striking features very alluring features, but that are slightly smaller than him in a regard. Height or weight.

Connor Stoll.

I don’t think he has a very strong preference. I think he’s just a boob guy. That’s weird to say we don’t really get enough information on him as a character.

Maybe we do Demigod diaries. But I have not read that yet, so please forgive me.

After I read it and there’s any more information that can tell what is a type would be I might edit this part in in the future.

Yeah, basically I feel like that’s just I can’t picture him liking anything more than him liking boobs.

Big boobs, little boobs, perky boobs, round boobs. He just likes boobs of course there’s other factors that go into what he’s attracted to, but I feel like that basically covers all the grounds. He just likes boobs.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #greek mythology #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #pjo #connor stoll #jason grace #leo valdez #frank zhang #nico di angelo #will solace

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waywardxwords · 1 year ago

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The Fix - Part 3

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Warnings: Child abduction, mentions of domestic violence, slight language (maybe? I feel like maybe not in this chapter, but honestly it's me, so there may be one or two slipped in there. Adding it here to cover myself lol)

Word Count: ~2.5k

There were multiple deputies coming and going from your home. Mo seemed to be the constant—he was the only one who actually came inside. He wanted to make sure you had water and he tried to get you to eat (tried being the key word). But you were glued to the television. The search had begun, but they weren’t showing much. You had only seen Beau once on your screen, but you assumed they were trying to be inconspicuous with where they searched, just in case Jackson was watching.

Matt, the FBI agent, had stopped by. You assured him you didn’t know anything about the press conference or the search. The anger you felt around Beau ditching you had mostly diminished. But now it was replaced by anxiety, fear and this deep despair that you couldn't fix.

Mo had been gracious enough to close Bailey’s bedroom door when he spotted you staring from the doorway with tears falling down your face.

“She’s probably cold and tired,” you muttered as he approached.

“It’s going to be okay, ma’am. We’re going to find her,” his words were meant to be comforting, but you knew he couldn’t make you any promises. So now you waited, because you didn’t know what else to do.

It had been hours. You had practically paced foot trails in your hardwood as you walked. But you heard the sound of tires against the gravel and you darted to the front porch. Mo had stopped you long enough for Beau to open the driver’s door and step out onto the gravel. But after that, you wiggled out of his grasp and headed straight for the Sheriff.

Your feet carried you quickly through the trail of the headlights until you reached him. Instinctively, your hands reached out to grasp at his jacket lapels. “Have you found anything?” Your words were rushed and your heart thumped heavy in your chest.

Beau’s hands gently gripped your shoulders and you watched as he carefully chose his words. “Not yet. Let’s get inside, okay?”

Your knees buckled at his words. As you wanted to move, you struggled and Beau could see that. With one hand on your lower back, he led you past the deputies and into the house. Even though the kitchen was warm, your body shuddered.

“There’s nothing you can tell me? No signs of them? Do you have any leads?” You turned towards the tall man and saw that same sympathetic look across his face. “And for the love of God, can you please wipe that sad look off your face?! I’m so sick of everyone in this damn town feeling sorry for me.”

Beau nodded and averted his gaze. “I get it,” he leaned back against your countertop and folded his arms across his chest. “Listen, when I came in as interim Sheriff, this town wasn’t too sure of me. Hell, if I remember correctly, you weren’t too sure of me, either,” he eyed you with his brows raised. You didn’t even realize that he hadn’t addressed any of your questions. Your brain felt like you were running on fumes. “I know what it’s like to have people talkin’ and lookin’. Maybe not for the same reasons, but I still understand.”

You bit at the inside of your lip and begged the tears to stop flooding your eyes. You were sick of crying. “I know they can’t understand why I didn’t leave him sooner,” you mumbled as your eyes stared at the hardwood below your house shoes.

“That’s not anybody’s business but your own,” Beau spoke firmly. “You don’t owe anyone anything, you hear me?” You nodded and wiped angrily at your face. “Now, I already know you’re gonna fight me on this…but I need you to try to get some sleep.”

Your head shot upward and you stared at him like he had two heads. “Yeah, right,” you huffed. “First of all, it’s like 9:30…I don’t go to bed this early on a normal night. Secondly, there’s no way in hell I could sleep right now even if I wanted to.”

Beau stared at you blankly for a moment before he glanced at the clock in your microwave. “Darlin’, it’s after midnight.” Your eyes followed his gaze where the little green numbers clearly read 12:01. You didn’t have a clue how that was remotely possible. “And I know it’s not easy, but you bein’ sleep deprived isn’t gonna do us any favors.”

“Beau…” you started with a look across your face that said you couldn’t do it.

“I’m gonna be here, I’ll keep an eye on the place and an ear out to make sure there aren’t any leads,” his words reassured you. Beau seemed to understand you would never ask him to stay in the first place. “I know you don’t feel like you can trust me,” his gaze stayed on you to try to prove his words. “But I promise you, I’m handlin’ Bailey as I would my own daughter. We’ve enlisted other departments and law enforcement outside of Big Sky. We’re gonna get your girl back. I just need you to be in the right frame of mind when we do.”

“I don’t even feel tired, Beau,” it was a partial truth. Adrenaline had been coursing through you for hours now. But your body felt the weight of the exhaustion.

“Well, let me make you a hot cup of tea and we can at least sit on the couch and chat for a bit,” he tried to reason. “How’s that sound?”

You contemplated for a moment. “Fair enough,” you knew you weren’t going to win this fight.

Beau made his way around your kitchen. You redirected him to an electric hot water kettle and then to the tea bags and mugs. You busied yourself with finding the honey in the pantry before settling on a stool as he waited on the hot water.

“So,” he glanced over his shoulder at you as he prepared a chamomile tea bag in a mug for you. “Tell me, have you always lived in Big Sky?” Most people had been born and raised in this town.

“No,” you sighed. “I’m from Pittsburgh. I came out to Big Sky for a backpacking trip with some girlfriends about seven years ago.” You had assumed everyone in this town knew your story, but you had to remind yourself Beau wasn’t from this town, either.

“Ah, fell in love with the mountains?” He asked nonchalantly.

There was a pause before you continued. “Or fell in love with a person I thought I could fix.”

“That’ll do it,” Beau replied as the kettle flipped off once it was done boiling the water. He pulled it from the hot plate and poured some water over the tea bag. “I don’t mean to look at you like I feel bad for you,” he said gently as he fixated on the cup of tea. When you didn’t say anything, he realized you weren’t following. “Earlier, when you said you were tired of the way everyone in this town was lookin’ at you. I just wanted to say I didn’t mean to look at you any kinda way.”

He walked with the mug over where you sat on the bar stool and placed it in front of you. “Oh,” you breathed, not really sure what to say in response.

“I guess for me it’s easy to see that you’re a good person,” he held your gaze with his eyes. For a moment, you got lost in the mossy hues and speckles of gold and brown. “I see a lotta people get mixed up with the wrong ones. You didn’t deserve that.”

His words were simple, but they hit you harder than you had anticipated. You had blamed yourself for a lot of things that happened over the last few years. The warning signs you had avoided, or the red flags you had written off.

“I’ll never regret what I went through,” you said softly. “Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Bailey.” Her name brought a blur over your eyes once more.

“And that’s what makes you a good mother,” he said. “We make sacrifices for our kids, and they’re sacrifices people might not understand. But they don’t have to. I meant it when I said you don’t owe anyone any sorta explanation.”

“I do feel like I owe you somewhat of an explanation. You’re here because of me in the middle of the night when you could be at home sleeping right now,” you felt comfortable talking to Beau, though you still weren’t ready to admit it entirely. There was something about the way he had jumped into action when he heard how distraught you were on the phone, and how he blatantly disregarded the FBI’s request to stay in his own lane when it came to this case.

“Sleep and I aren’t friends these days anyway, darlin’,” he chuckled. “You can’t really value sleep when you become the Sheriff.” You nodded and glanced down at your mug. “If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears. But just know you don’t have to.”

A sigh escaped your lips, but for the first time since you realized Bailey was missing, a small smile tugged at the corners. “Let’s go to the living room. It’s comfier.” You slipped off of the stool and grabbed your mug before you led the way to the couch nestled against a wall in the next room.

Beau took a seat next to you but left enough room between you so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable. You set your mug down on the end table before you continued.

“My ex, Jackson,” you began. “I knew he was broken when we met…I just didn’t realize how broken.” Your eyes didn’t meet Beau’s, but you knew he was listening. “But I couldn’t walk away. My mama always said I would take in a hundred stray cats, if I could, just so I could fix them up and take care of them.” You picked at the skin around one of your fingernails as a distraction. “Too bad I didn’t just adopt a cat, right?” You managed a chuckle.

Beau looked sympathetic again, and it made you want to groan. His silence urged you to continue.

“So, we moved faster than we should’ve…my family hated Jackson. They never trusted him, rightfully so,” you explained. “But we got married anyway. At that point, I knew he had struggled with addiction in the past, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me from loving him. I just didn’t know he was dealing and getting mixed up with the big drug bosses on the side…” this was the point in the story where you always started to feel really stupid, for lack of a better word. Your fingers continued to wreak havoc on your cuticles, a nervous habit.

From the other side of the couch, you felt Beau’s calloused palm fall on top of your hands. His movement halted the picking and pulling your fingers were doing around your nail. You raised your head to look at him.

“Sometimes we have blinders on...but love always has a way to make us see what we wanna see,” his voice was low.

“But it wasn’t love, Beau. It was never love,” you shook your head and repeated the words you had practiced with your therapist in so many sessions before. “The only love that ever came out of that relationship was Bailey… I was thankful for her for so many reasons.” Your gaze shifted again, because this was your least favorite part of your story. “He didn’t start hitting me until well after we were married…but he stopped once I got pregnant. I thought it had changed–he had changed. I thought that was the end. But as soon as she was born, it started up again.”

“Hey,” Beau’s voice was firm and it forced you to look at him again. “That isn’t your fault. You hear me?” His eyes were dark, almost and his brows knitted together.

“It’s hard to recognize that sometimes,” you answered honestly.

“Well, you just lemme know when you’re being down on yourself and I’ll remind you,” his words kind of surprised you. You didn’t know Beau. And though he knew parts about your life, he didn’t really know you, either.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked, your voice just barely above a whisper.

He hesitated only for a moment before he answered. “Bein’ a Sheriff gives me really good intuition when it comes to people,” he started. “And I can tell, you’re good people.” This time, you reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. You saw a look you couldn’t quite place mirror in his eyes. “Besides, I know what it’s like to be the outcast. Everybody’s just waitin’ for you to fail.”

Your brows pulled together at what he had said. “This town loves you, Beau. I know people are a little unsure at first. People who are from here don’t really know anything else. The big, bad Sheriff from Texas was hard to accept at first.”

A soft chuckle left his lips as he seemed to study you. “Oh, yeah? Was that why you didn’t trust me? Big, bad Sheriff from Texas, an’ all,” his grin made a dimple hollow out underneath his stubble on his cheek. You hadn’t noticed that before.

“I didn’t not trust you,” it was a fib, but you felt bad now that he had called it out.

“Ha!” He couldn’t help the louder laugh. “Yeah, okay.” He said sarcastically. “The first time I showed up over here, your demeanor was colder than frickin’ ice.”

Heat rose in your cheeks as you recalled the first time you had met Beau. “Sorry,” you felt bad about how you treated him the first time you had met months ago. “Law enforcement was always showing up here. I felt like a suspect, when I was the victim. Nobody believed that I would leave Jackson, so when they were looking for him, the whole town assumed the battered wife took him back. I felt…degraded. Worthless, just about.”

Beau softened at your words. “Hey, in all seriousness, I don’t blame you. Didn’t blame ya then, definitely don’t now.”

“Thanks for that,” you smiled at him. He matched yours, and you felt that same flutter in your chest.

He nodded once, then cleared his throat. “I really need ya to try to get some sleep,” he eyed you with raised brows. “It’s late, and tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

A sigh fell from your lips but you nodded. “Okay,” you stood from your place on the couch and reached for your mug of tea. “I’ll try. No promises, though.”

“Give it a fair shot and I’ll be happy,” he smiled as he stood while you left the room.

“Night, Beau,” you glanced back at him over your shoulder. In the moment, you felt like you could get used to seeing him in your living room.

“Night, darlin’,” he crooned. As you padded to your bedroom at the end of the hallway, you felt exhaustion wash over you. You felt safe for the first time in a long time.

All of that would change just a few short hours later when you awoke to gunshots.

I'm so sorry--I NEVER do cliffhangers...please don't hate me, lol. To be fair, I'm going to include a preview of the next chapter below that will hopefully hold you over until Saturday! I'm just barely getting this out (this has been written for a while but I did a quick read through to edit--my family has had the freaking stomach virus since Saturday so I'm STRUGGLING over here today, so I probably missed some errors, apologies in advance). Thank you for all of the feedback, likes and shares! I appreciate you all <3

Side note: If I'm a reader on something you're writing and I haven't sent feedback in the last 5/6 days, it's coming, I promise! I'm hoping to get caught up on my Tumblr reads this evening after my kiddo is in bed.

New installments posted on Wednesdays and Saturdays!

A preview of the next chapter to hold you over:

Pop, pop, pop.

The sound was nauseating and caused you to bolt upright in your bed. You were disoriented and confused—you didn’t even remember falling asleep.

Beau’s voice was muffled through your closed bedroom door. “Jackson, drop the gun!” He demanded with a tone you hadn’t heard him use before. “Nobody else needs to get hurt.” He said firmly.

Nobody else? Your heart was in your throat. Bailey.

You pulled on the metal doorknob and swung it open so hard that it bounced against the wall. It was so loud that it caused Beau to flinch slightly, but as you stepped into the hall you realized his focus was fixated on someone in your kitchen, his gun drawn and aimed in that direction.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna need you to stay put,” Beau’s tone had shifted slightly—it was more gentle—but his gaze remained locked on the person in your kitchen.

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