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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

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⚾ Hidden; Mihashi Ren (Sportember #006)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Slice of Life, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,523

Pairing: Reader, Mihashi

World: Ookiku Furikabutte

Prompt: “I’m the poster child of denial, there’s nothing I can’t hide.”

Sport: Baseball

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Anyone that met Mihashi Ren could almost instantly tell that he’s a sensitive boy, terrified of confrontation. No matter who it’s from, he’ll just sit back and accept whatever abuse people give him, whether it’s physical or mental. People call him weak and pathetic, a boy without a spine, but what they don’t seem to realize is just how precious he is – a boy with a heart of gold who only wants to play baseball. If he were to be compared to anything, you would choose a flower – without proper care and attention, he’ll just wilt away, but if you give him the love and care he so rightly deserves, he’ll bloom into a beautiful part of this world.

This is what you thought when you first met him after visiting your cousin Azusa. You had always been rather protective over your friends and family, but something about the mousy boy brought out your parental instincts and you were determined to keep him safe while also teaching him to be more confident in himself. It was a slow-going process and he was so easily set back, but neither you nor Nishiura’s baseball team were prepared to give up on the pitcher.

You glanced at Abe as he sat on the bench in the dugout, his knee bouncing up and down, expression sour. He was clearly feeling antsy since Mihashi wasn’t at school today since he had a doctor’s appointment – he was training too hard and caught a cold, so Abe made him agree to go to the doctor in order to get ahead of it.

Abe lifted his head, eyes meeting yours. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Because you’re adorable and precious.” You grinned in reply.

“Huh? The hell are you on about?” He huffed, turning his head away from you, but you didn’t miss the light dusting of pink across his cheeks.

“Y/N,” Coach Momoe approached you with her wallet in hand, a smile on her face. “Do you mind running to the store for me?”

“I don’t mind,” you chirped happily. “Whatcha need, coach?”

“Sports drinks, water, and rice balls. Enough for the whole team.” She handed you a wad of bills. “Thank you!”

You nodded, making a mental note of the items she requested as you pocketed the money and left the baseball field. It was the last week of summer and mother nature definitely wanted you to know it. The sun was shining brightly, undeterred by the fluffy white clouds floating across the bright blue sky. The UV index was high, causing you to sweat as you exited the school grounds. There a very light breeze, at least, cool against your skin as it hit the sheen of sweat.

The convenience store wasn’t far from the school, thankfully, and it was nice and cool inside, making you release a content sigh. You picked up one of the small, plastic baskets by the door before heading toward the back of the store which was lined with refrigerators, each filled with an assortment of beverages. As you were deciding on which flavors to get, the doors slid open again.

Two third-years from Nishiura entered the store with little Mihashi squished between them, looking meek and small. He wanted nothing more than to run away but he was far too scared to do so, choosing instead to just do what they wanted rather than fight against them. The question was – why wasn’t he at home getting rest? He was supposed to be, but he suddenly got a craving for chocolate milk and there was none at his house. He could have asked his mother, but she had to go babysit for her best friend.

For weeks, the two older boys had been bullying the mousy first-year, forcing him to blow his money on them. All he wanted was some chocolate milk while snuggling under the comforter, why did it have to come to this? He didn’t understand.

The boys headed toward the back to get their daily caffeine fix and Mihashi slowly trailed after them, chewing on his bottom lip. When he stepped around the aisle of chips, he noticed you and jumped back, eyes wide and heart racing. Mihashi was terrified of people finding out that he was being bullied again and he went to extreme lengths to ensure this, but now he wasn’t sure what to do.

Oblivious to this, you moved closer to the boys to get to the water, choosing a brand you knew your cousin enjoyed. You glanced at the two as they argued over which soda was the more superior option and you recognized them. They were notorious troublemakers, after all, and had made the mistake of trying to bully your cousin, but you shut that down real fast.

‘Now I just need… rice balls!’ you stepped behind the bickering boys, nearly running into Mihashi who was trying to press himself against the end of the aisle. “Mi-chan? What are you doing here? You should be at home resting.”

Mihashi gulped, keeping his eyes focused on his sneakers. Tears stung at his eyes, hands shaking at his sides. What he wouldn’t give for the ground to just swallow him up whole.

You frowned, gently grabbing his hand with your own. “It’s okay, Mi-chan. I’m not mad at you.” His fingers wrapped around your own, holding on for dear life as the two boys finally stopped their bickering, turning their attention to you.

“How cute,” the blonde gained a mocking smirk. “Two losers comforting each other.”

The brunette snickered. “Two losers sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Are you five?” You deadpanned, feeling Mihashi shifting closer to you for comfort.

Blondie started guffawing while his friend scowled, glaring at you. You didn’t back down, meeting his gaze head on. “Che, get lost, loser!” He tried to grab Mihashi but you pushed his arm away, using your body as a barrier to shield the smaller boy.

“Like hell I’m letting him go with you,” you scowled, dropping the basket to the ground so you could rest your hand on your hip.

“You can’t decide that for him,” the blonde commented with a grin, his hazel eyes set on the younger boy. “Don’t you want to stay with us, Mihashi-kun?”

Mihashi flinched in response, his hands fisting around the back of your shirt, a soft whimper escaping his lips. Your body tensed up in response, preparing to fight the two if the need should arise. “I already warned you once about your bullshit. Stay the hell away from Mihashi!”

The blonde’s eyes widened a bit. “I knew you looked familiar – you punched Asahi when he was messin’ with Azusa!”

“Wait, this is them?!” The brunette snapped his eyes between the two of you before sizing you up, straightening his back. “There’s no way, bro.”

“I’m tellin’ you, man, that’s definitely them.” The blonde glanced at you before shrugging. “I wanna keep my nose in tact, so I’m out.”

“Bro!” The brunette watched in disbelief, as his friend exited the store. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I ain’t scared of -”

Crack.

Your fist connected with his face, sending him back against the counter. This caused packs of gum and candy bars tumbling to the ground as a moan of pain passed his lip, hand clutching his nose, blood leaking through his fingers.

“Hey!” The store owner came rushing from behind the counter, her face twisted in anger. “Get out before I call the cops!”

With a scoff, you grabbed Mihashi’s hand again, pulling him behind you as you left the store, the drinks long forgotten. Your heart hurt as you thought about the current situation. Why hadn’t he reached out to you? Or Abe? Or anyone for that matter? Did he not trust any of you? You suddenly came to a stop, shaking your head, which caused him to run into your back, but you didn’t even notice, far too caught up in your thoughts.

‘No, I don’t believe he doesn’t trust us. Maybe he just didn’t want to bother any of us…’ You frowned.

Mihashi swallowed hard before calling out your name, but it turned to a squeak when you suddenly whipped around to face him. He had never seen you wear such a serious expression before. “Y-Y/N-senpai…”

You suddenly tugged on his hand, pulling him into your arms. “Listen to me, Mihashi. I know you’re not used to relying on others, but please don’t hide things like these. You’re so precious and you don’t deserve to be treated that way!”

His cheeks burned, heart beating rapidly within his chest and it took him a moment before he was able to raise his confidence enough to throw his arms around your waist, face buried in your shoulder. Tears built up in his eyes and, despite trying to hold them back, you could feel your shirt growing damp, his body shaking with soft sobs.

You smiled warmly, running your fingers through his soft hair as you pulled him closer, free arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders. ‘No matter what, I will always be here for you, Mihashi.’

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storiesandgarbage · 5 years

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It’s just rec softball

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Style: One-shot

Warnings: Language (is that even a warning anymore, y’all know I can’t help it), the most sassy Y/N, a sassy Bucky, an umpire Bucky, yes, it’s a warning

Word count: 3k

Summary: Y/N needs a good call in this game, can’t her umpire just come through?

A/N: I’m back. I’m writing crappy content but this is here in the name of baseball season. An umpire Bucky! I got the urge while watching a game and this came of it. Hope you guys enjoy!

The crack of the bat. The wind in your hair as you rounded third base, coming home. Suddenly, the ball was coming back, you didn’t have time, the catcher was directly in your path, blocking the plate and what came next, was painful.

You collided full force to teach a little lesson in base running etiquette and of course, you were suffering as much as the other team’s catcher was as a result. You both lay on the ground for a moment, your teammates coming to check on you. You thought to laugh but then you realized how much this was going to hurt tomorrow and suddenly lost the humor of the moment.

“You son of a bitch!” You exclaimed, as you sat up, rubbing your leg.

“Me?” The catcher lifted their head and glowered at you. “You plowed into me.”

“You were blocking the plate asshole!” Sure this guy was big, probably had 70 pounds on you and at least 5 inches but you didn’t care. There was enough alcohol in your system to make you brave.

Sure, this was rec softball. Yeah, it was supposed to just be for fun. Absolutely, you got way too competitive for it, especially given the fact that the majority of the players were drunk and the rest were well on their way but it didn’t matter in this moment because you were going to be called safe.

You and the catcher stopped bickering long enough to get up off the ground but were immediately in each other’s faces, you were of course actually only at his chest but it didn’t matter. The anger was enough to make you seven feet tall. Your teams looked on and tried to get both of you to calm down.

“Well it doesn’t even matter because I’m safe anyways.”

“No you aren’t! I tagged you!” The guy huffed and crossed his arms.

“Well of course you did dipshit, after blocking the base line! That, my friend, is against the rules and since I’m currently standing on the plate, I’d say I’m safe.” It was at that moment that everyone there turned to the umpire, you hoped he would confirm your statement so that you could go get another beer to ice your elbow with and finally sit down but the man standing next to the both of you who had been trying to get you to stop arguing the entire time just shook his head.

“I’m sorry but you’re out. And you’re both lucky I don’t kick you out of the park.” Your jaw dropped in disbelief, was this guy for real?

You turned and once again stood up to a man who was way too big for you to actually take on. It was only then that you really saw him. Broad chest, significantly taller than you, with jet black hair tied into a bun and ice blue eyes that were clouded with anger.

“Are you serious?” Your voice was just as loud as before but a little less confident, this guy was a looker and it was mixing poorly with the anger you were currently feeling toward him.

“Just deal with it sweetheart, the man said what he said,” the catcher said from behind you and your friends and teammates were urging you to drop it but you just couldn’t.

“Have you even read the rule book for this god forsaken league?” You asked the umpire, knowing you were being unreasonable. “It clearly states that if the plate is blocked then the runner is safe.”

“That’s my call to make and I said you were out. Get back to the dugout before I escort you to your car myself.”

You were stunned and let your friends pull you away as you talked loudly about how this whole thing was bullshit and that he couldn’t even escort you to a car because you had taken the subway here in the first place. The rest of the game went off without a hitch and your team did win, despite the lost run and an “incapable umpire” you grumbled about to yourself.

At the end of the game you and the catcher made up with one another, both of you apologizing and laughing about the bruises already forming post collision. You just couldn’t get over that umpire though, he was doing his job, you knew, just calling the game but man the way he tore you apart was infuriating.

“You’re just mad because you’re attracted to him when you’re supposed to hate him.” You friend Wanda said to you as you were packing up your things to leave the park.

“Shut up Wand.” You grumbled at her and she laughed. You stole a glance in his direction, he was talking to someone from the other team and he was beautiful. Maddeningly so. You watched as he shook the hand of the man he had been speaking to and then came walking toward your dugout.

“Can you just behave for this one time so we can all go home?” You heard Tony’s voice come from across the dugout.

“I thought we were getting dinner.” Clint whined and Wanda helped reassure him that the group was still planning on going to dinner together. The dugout got quiet as you heard the umpire’s steps grow closer. You turned around as he spoke.

“All right gang?” He was smiling at everyone and got pleasant responses in return from everyone but you, you just stood and watched him walking toward you. When he finally reached you he stuck out his hand.

“No hard feelings, yeah?” He smiled at you and you felt your heart overreact to the action but your face stayed cool calm and collected.

“No,” you reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a firm shake, “not at all. You’re just doing your job right?”

“Exactly. The name’s James Barnes, friends call me Bucky, yours is?”

“Y/N,” you shared, “friends call me annoying.” He laughed at you and adjusted his hold on his gear.

“Well, I’m headed out but maybe I’ll ump your next game.” He flashed another brilliant smile at you and you could tell he was flirting. You picked up your bag and slung it over your shoulder, signaling to your friends you were ready to go.

“Well, James, I certainly hope not but just in case you do, I’ll bring you my spare pair of glasses so that maybe you can see the strike zone.” Your friends collectively groaned at you and apologized to the man who was suddenly looking much less confident in himself than he had been a few moments prior.

The group quickly ushered you out of the park before you could do any more damage and continually scolded you, reminding you that you needed umpires on your side in games so that they didn’t kill your chances of winning but you just brushed them off. You couldn’t resist looking over your shoulder one last time to catch a glance of James who was now walking toward his car, shaking his head, but smiling.

It took the next few days but your elbow recovered from your collision with that catcher and by Saturday afternoon you were ready for another game. You arrived at the field with Wanda and noticed that most of the other team was already there, warming up.

“Some people take this stuff too seriously.” Wanda commented and looked at you pointedly, causing you to giggle.

“Oh shut it.” You elbowed her side playfully and went to unpacking your bag and waited a bit until the whole team had arrived and you ran some field warm ups together.

Ten minutes to game time you had a wine cooler in your hand and were just sitting back, watching Tony and Clint try to balance their bats on the tip of their finger when you caught sight of you umpire approaching the field. The swagger in his walk caused you to groan. It was James.

He entered the field and walked towards your dugout.

“Hey man, good to see you again.” Tony greeted him with a handshake and introduced himself. You were too busy downing the rest of your drink to join the team in greeting him. You were also too bust mentally kicking yourself because you had a strong feeling that this guy would definitely take his personal feelings about your past interaction out on you and by extension, your team.

“Hello everyone, beautiful day for softball, right?” Everyone agreed and Wanda was staring at you, waiting to see exactly how you were going to handle this. The plan was to ignore the situation so you stood up and headed for your bag, but you heard James call after you.

“Hey Y/N, how’s the elbow?”

“Much better actually, thanks for asking,” Your back was turned to him so his next words caught you by surprise as he was much closer.

“Gonna play fair today?” He asked teasingly, “Took a look at the other team’s catcher, he’s a brick shit house, you may not find yourself getting up if you plow into him.”

You smiled in spite of yourself at his comment and turned to face him.

“I dunno, I’m pretty capable of handling my own as I think you know.”

“Just don’t make me throw you out of the game, doll.” He winked at you and walked away, leaving you fuming and you turned to respond but the look in Wanda’s eyes made you stop in your tracks. You had the game to think about, you practically heard her plea though no words came out.

So you held your tongue and watched as James approached the other dugout, being greeted by a very loud chorus of hellos and the realization dawned on you that he knew the other team. You nearly screamed in frustration.

“Well, boys and girls, we may as well pack our bags now.” You huffed and sat down on the bench between Rhodey and Carol who each offered you a drink. You politely refused and watched until James approached the plate and called for team captains.

Getting up and walking to the plate you watched a man get up from the other bench, wearing catcher’s gear and walk to the plate, you rolled your eyes in spite of yourself. Took a look at the other team’s catcher didja, James? You got to the plate and shook the hand of the man on the other side.

“Hey, I’m Steve.” He smiled and you gave him a tight lipped one in return.

“Hi Steve, Y/N.” Steve’s eyes widened as he realized who you were but you shook it off in your annoyance. “Brick shit house huh James?” You turned your head toward the umpire who was obviously very much enjoying himself at the moment.

“Told ya I took a look at ‘im.” Was his only reply as he began to laugh.

“You forgot to mention he’s your buddy.”

“Hey.” James got completely serious, “This isn’t my buddy. This right here is my best friend.” He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and continued to smile that shit eating grin at you.

“Should we just forfeit now?” You sighed at his antics.

“Nah,” Steve interjected then, “Buck is a professional, he’s just also a little shit.”

“Yeah, I always call it fair. Got a reputation to protect.”

“Weren’t worried about your reputation on Tuesday then, is that it?”

“Hey now doll, you essentially mugged a man on Tuesday so don’t come at me.” James retorted and waited for your response.

“He was in the base line! And you can go ahead and not call me that,” you were cut off by Steve who put a hand on both of your shoulders.

“As entertaining as this is, we do have a game to get to, you two can resolve these issues you have after the game.”

“Over dinner?” James smirked in your direction.

“Over my dead body.” You huffed and crossed your arms. “Got a coin?” James, though he was still pouting at your sassy remark pulled a quarter out of his pocket and prepared to flip it.

“Ladies call,” Steve said simply and James flipped the coin in the air before catching it and placing it on his fist.

“Heads.”

“It’s heads,” James smiled at you, “You’re home team.”

You and Steve exchanged “good lucks” and went back to your teams.

A few innings later you were back up to bat and James was really laying it on thick.

“Need Sam to slow it down for ya?” He teased as you stepped in the box and Steve elbowed him in the shin from his crouched position. “Ow, that hurt ya jerk.”

You blocked James out, you had to concentrate, Sam put some pretty good movement on the ball but you were figuring him out well enough. The first pitch came and went, definitely a ball. The next pitch came and you held still, another ball you thought to yourself until you heard.

“Striiiiiiike.” You looked up in shock from your place.

“Oh come on! No way that was a strike Barnes. You’re killing me!” He took off his mask and grinned at you.

“It was a strike doll, need me to loosen up your zone for you?” You scoffed at his innuendo and stepped back into the box. Bat back, see the pitch, swing, and contact. From the moment the ball left your bat you knew it was gone. You had taken off at a trot when it landed on the other side of the fence a few moments later. You cleared the bases, making three total runs for your team and putting you in the lead. When you reached home Steve gave you a high five and James just stared on in awe.

“Looks like my zone is just fine without you James.” You retorted as you picked up your bat and headed for the dugout.

The game ended after Wanda hit a double that broke the tie in the 8th inning. You were joking with your teammates and deciding on if anyone could handle more drinks when the other team came over and introduced themselves to your friends. The pitcher, Sam walked approached you, “Damn girl, out here making me look bad.”

“Sorry Sam!” You laughed and shrugged your shoulders from your place on the bench.

“Nah, any girl who can hit like that and look that good doing it deserves to show me up!” His flirty tone made you laugh and smooth back your hair instinctively. Sam was cute, tall dark and handsome, it definitely wasn’t a bad thing that he was flirting with you currently. You spoke to him for a little while until you noticed out of the corner of your eye a very tense looking James, standing and staring at the two of you.

“You’re getting me in trouble,” Sam laughed when he noticed where you were looking, “Bucky doesn’t like it when I go after his girls.”

“Well I suppose it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a claim on me then, huh?” You lowered your tone hoping he wouldn’t hear your conversation.

“Ah, it’s a bro code thing I suppose,” he sighed and you nodded understandingly.

“Well, we should get drinks sometime!” You said a little loudly and Sam laughs, catching your game quickly.

“You’re killing me.” He whispers under his breath before saying, “Of course! Let’s get the gangs together, yeah?” The whole group, seemingly nodded, you all fit together strangely well. Vis’ arm was wrapped around Wanda as they spoke to another couple, the man of which was named Peter, the statement of his name had piqued your own young Peter’s interest. Meanwhile, Pepper and Tony had been discussing their tech business with another couple, Hope and Scott who developed security equipment. Steve was holding hands with a brown haired woman with a British accent, and they had engaged Thor and Rhodey in conversation after seeing Rhodey’s Army hat, revealing that Steve was a veteran too. A woman with blue hair, Nebula and another African American man who you hadn’t heard his name but ran the bases with the speed of a panther were both talking to Carol about space facts. Clint had seated himself glumly on the bench until a blonde named Natasha attempted to introduce herself in sign and they were already thick as thieves.

Yes, it was almost as if these two groups of people were meant to find each other, in some strange way. You and Sam were mutually admiring that until James approached you.

“A word?” He asked and Sam instantly took off in another direction, leaving the two of you alone.

“What’s up James?” You asked and stood up, still having to look up at him but definitely feeling as though you were on a more level playing field this way.

“Wish you would call me Bucky, doll.” He smirked at you, knowing that the nickname was grinding your gears.

“Well you said your friends call you Bucky, so I can’t be doing that, you might get the wrong impression.” He laughed when you nudged him playfully and took the action as a good sign.

“Listen, I was wonderin’ if I could get your number.” His hand found the back of his neck, something you read as a nervous habit.

“Why so you can torment me with more bad calls?” You teased and he pretended to be hurt by your jab.

“You were out sweetheart, deal with it.”

“You can’t just say I was out,” James started to protest until you finished your sentence, “you have to take me out first.” You winked at him as he realized you were saying yes and held your hand out for his phone.

As your teams parted and you grabbed your bag your phone was already ringing, you looked up to see Bucky standing at the trunk of his car, phone up to his ear. You answered your own.

“Hello, Bucky.” You said and watched his smile expand to immeasurable amounts. Finally a good call.

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millennial-medusa · 6 years

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Anything, Everything

Oh look another super cheesy percabeth baseball au fic, what a surprise

Figured I should give Percy & Annabeth a little backstory and history, yeah? So here we go, how they met and the first game Annabeth went to.

read on ao3

February 16

Annabeth pulls her coat tighter around herself and pushes forward, stepping over and across the orange-and-black-clad fans with as much grace as she can muster. She successfully avoids stepping on any feet—though she nearly loses her balance several times—and makes it, finally, to Grover’s and her seats in the student section.

“There are too many people on this planet,” Grover grumbles, plopping onto the bleachers and immediately wincing at the bite of cold metal.

Annabeth laughs and huddles closer to him. “You’re not wrong, but at least the crowd is generating some kind of heat. I’m freezing. Whose idea was it to start baseball season in February?”

Grover shrugs and digs into his nachos. “Want any?” he asks, his voice muffled by the mouthful he’s working on.

Annabeth shakes her head absently and studies the field. She hasn’t been to a baseball game since her dad took her to see the Yankees in sixth grade, but she spent the last week researching the rules and history of the game. She’s determined to be the best, most supportive girlfriend ever, so knowing the basics of the sport isn’t enough. She wants to really understand it, especially since she’s planning on being at all of his home games.

“It’s not a big deal,” he’d told her when he saw her stack of books. He’d brought her coffee for their Thursday night library study date, with just the right amount of cream, and the gesture had made her even more determined to learn everything there is to know about baseball.

“It is a big deal, Seaweed Brain,” she’d answered stubbornly. “You want to do this professionally, and you love it, and I want to love it too. So I should figure out how it works.”

He’d blushed a little, clearly pleased at her enthusiasm, but he had laughed all the same. “It’s really easy to pick up on, I swear. You just have to pay attention to the game on Friday and you’ll have it figured out in no time.”

“Yeah, but I want to really get it. And I like research.”

With a grin, he’d leaned over and kissed her temple. “I know, Wise Girl.”

Thinking back on it makes Annabeth smile, and she has to shake herself out of the memory to refocus on the field. The teams are in the dugout, so she can’t see him yet, but she’s straining to get a glimpse. He’s the starter, she remembers, and it’s a home game, so he’ll pitch at the top of the innings.

Actually, she thinks, with the amount of research she did this past week, she should know who decided to start the season in February.

She taps her heel against the metal bleachers, the cold and her nerves making her jittery. Grover must notice, because he wraps his arm through hers and squeezes lightly.

“It’s gonna be a good game,” he tells her. “He’s a fantastic pitcher—you should’ve seen him in high school, everyone on the other teams was terrified to bat against him.”

She smiles back at him. “Yeah, but the Giants were top of the college league last year.”

Grover blinks at her. “I thought you didn’t follow baseball,” he says, and Annabeth grins.

“I didn’t until about four months ago.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “All those years I tried to get you to watch baseball so we could talk about it together, and you kept saying you had 'more important and intellectually stimulating' interests to pursue,” he mimics her in a high pitched, snooty voice, and she snorts. “But now that you’ve got a boyfriend…”

“First of all, I didn’t sound like that,” she scoffs, ignoring his grunt of disagreement. “And second, it’s a little different now that I have to go to all these games to be a supportive girlfriend. Just be happy you can talk baseball with me now.”

“I wouldn’t want it to get in the way of your superior intellectual endeavors,” Grover shoots back, but there’s no malice behind it.

“I’m sure those can wait. Besides, I’m pretty sure I actually know more than you do now,” she teases.

Grover gives her an affronted look. “In your dreams, Annabeth.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

August 24

Annabeth’s favorite time to go to the library was right at the beginning of the semester. Midterms and finals were months away, it was too early for any tests or papers to be looming on the horizon, and the library was always practically empty. When it got busier, she usually preferred other various study locations—anything to escape the throngs of caffeine-high college kids—but now, on the second day of classes? She was the only one on the whole floor. She could browse the stacks, leaving her stuff at her table without fear of it being stolen, even read out loud if she needed to. There was no one to bother.

That is, until he showed up.

He was tall and lean, with a shock of unruly black hair, and maybe under different circumstances she’d be impressed, but as it was he had stumbled onto her while she was laying in one of the aisles reading Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise out loud to herself, and she was not pleased at the interruption.

A few feet away, he faltered under her gaze. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but he seemed frozen in place, watching her. She felt a blush start to creep into her cheeks, but forced herself to stay cool. Their eyes locked; she expected him to leave now that she was glaring at him. He didn’t.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “Can I help you?”

He shook his head slightly and ran his hand through his hair. Annabeth tracked the movement with her eyes.

“Sorry,” he coughed out, “I just…um, I’m looking for a book, and I’m not—I mean, it might be here. Somewhere.”

She studied him as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes darting about nervously and settling back on her.

“Somewhere?” she echoed.

He nodded.

“As in ‘somewhere’ in this aisle, or ‘somewhere’ on this floor, or—?”

“Somewhere in this library,” he squeaked, his voice pitching up at the end as though it were a question. Annabeth only blinked back at him, noting the flush spreading across his cheeks. It was a lovely shade of pink. “I, uh, well I don’t really know how to find it, so I figured if I just sort of walked through the aisles eventually I’d have to stumble across it, you know?”

At that, Annabeth sat all the way up and frowned. “You’re walking all over the library looking for one book?”

His blush deepened, and some of Annabeth’s irritation melted away at his obvious discomfort.

He stared down at his shoelaces. “I’ve never really…”

“Been in a library?” she snorted, but immediately regretted it at his cringe. “Sorry, that’s not what I—”

“No, it’s okay.” He shook his head. “I haven’t, actually.”

She gawked at him. Annabeth had been spending her free time in the library since…well, since she was old enough to walk to the public library. That anyone could get to college—college!—without having set foot in one? It was unfathomable.

“How?” she asked, not bothering to hide her incredulity.

The boy shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny and played with the strap of his backpack. “It’s sort of a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” she answered, settling her back against the shelves and patting the floor next to her. “Not that you have to tell me, of course. But you’ve piqued my interest.”

He watched her a moment, as if sizing her up, before making his decision and dropping down next to her. “It’s sort of embarrassing, and not very entertaining.”

He was about a foot away from her, and Annabeth took the opportunity to study him more closely. He wore old, black converse, jeans, and a dark blue tee shirt. The color looked good on him, she noted, suddenly realizing how incredibly attractive this guy was. She wasn’t sure how it could have slipped her notice before, even amid her annoyance and confusion, but he had the bone structure of a marble statue and the lean but muscular build to match.

Frankly, he was…well, he was gorgeous. And sitting next to her. In the middle of an empty library. As her heart rate picked up, she began to wonder if maybe she’d made a mistake in inviting this impossibly handsome stranger to continue their conversation. She didn’t need to get her heart broken again after the last year and the whole Luke debacle, and she was afraid that the longer she talked to this boy, the greater the risk of being let down.

But, Annabeth, decided, that was ridiculous. It was just one conversation, and then campus was so big she’d probably never see him again.

“I’m in the library on a Thursday night. It’s not like I’ve got anything more interesting going on.”

He turned to meet her gaze, and his eyes were so green it knocked the wind out of her.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. She forced herself not to blush.

“Annabeth Chase.”

And then he was smiling, smiling so widely and brightly that Annabeth couldn’t help but smile back, and maybe this was a bad idea after all, maybe there really was something different about him, but she was already too far gone to back out now.

“What’s yours?”

February 16

“Percy Jackson with another strike out!”

Percy grins, watching the K flash across the scoreboards. It’s the top of the third, and he’s only let five batters get past him. Only one scored a run, Beckendorf’s already hit a homer for the Demigods, and Chiron is almost smiling in the dugout.

As he and Jason jog back to the dugout with the rest of the guys, they high five and wave to the crowd.

“I love home games,” Jason shouts over the cheers, and Percy nods in agreement.

He turns to search the student section for where he saw her earlier, and quickly spots her blonde hair. He waves once, and she’s in the stands on the other side of the field but he’s confident she knows it’s for her.

Suddenly Charles Beckendorf, a sophomore that Percy took to as soon as he made the team, slaps him on the back. “Nice inning, Jackson,” he says as they shuffle into the dugout.

“You too. That was a wicked double play.”

“Gotta show the Giants we mean business.” Beckendorf winks and takes the seat on the bench next to him. “So the girlfriend you talk about nonstop is here?”

Percy blushes a little—okay, so he talked about her a lot, especially to Beckendorf since he’d given him the advice on asking her out and everything, but it wasn’t that much—but he can’t help the wide grin that stretches across his face at the mention of her. “Yeah, she’s in the student section with our friend, Grover.”

“With the way you get all mushy just talking about her I figured you’d get distracted when she finally saw you play,” Beckendorf says, and Percy frowns at him.

“Why would you think…?”

He snorts. “Because the first time Silena came to one of my games, I was so nervous I struck out every single time I was at bat.”

Percy gawks at him. Beckendorf is one of the best batters on the team, has drawn the attention of several big league teams, and Percy would never have believed that if he hadn’t just heard it from Beckendorf himself.

“You struck out…every time?”

Beckendorf nodded. “Silena still teases me for it.” Chiron calls him over, and he stands to grab his bat. “But if you keep playing the way you have been, Jackson, you won’t have that problem.”

Percy shoots him a thumbs up before he turns to confer with Chiron, and he heads into the bullpen to keep himself warm. He’s determined not to embarrass himself in his first college game, even if his stunningly beautiful and dangerously smart girlfriend is in the stands. He’s been dreaming about this game since he was a little kid batting off a tee in the public rec center, and it’s even better than he’d imagined. Annabeth is an added bonus he hadn’t dreamed up before.

So Beckendorf is right; he won’t have that problem. Besides, even if he does majorly screw up somehow, he knows Annabeth wouldn’t tease him about something so important to him.

August 24

“So after I was diagnosed it made a little more sense that reading was so hard, but I still hated it, and it was embarrassing to sit there and struggle, so I just sort of…avoided it,” Percy said with a sigh. “My mom sat with me every night for an hour just to get through a few pages, and I know I probably sound stupid but—”

“You don’t,” Annabeth interrupted.

Percy glanced over at her and searched her eyes for the wariness or judgement he was used to seeing, but instead found them open and understanding and a beautiful gray flecked with blue, so subtle you’d miss it if you weren’t staring into them, and was she closer than before? He wanted to answer, but he suddenly found his mouth incredibly dry.

“You don’t sound stupid. I’m dyslexic, too,” she said softly. “And I’m not ADHD but reading is already really hard for me, so I can’t even imagine having to deal with that on top of it.”

He felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could breathe more easily, and he wasn’t sure how five minutes after meeting this girl she could make him feel like that, but if listening to her talk and staring into the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen was what it took, he was happy to do it as often as possible.

“Um, yeah,” he said dumbly, slightly distracted by the blonde wisp that had slipped from her ponytail and curled along her jaw.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, each taking in the other, and yeah, they were definitely closer together than they were before but Percy didn’t mind at all, and he had to remind himself that he’d only just met this girl, that they hadn’t known each other for years and didn’t really know anything about each other, because he was dangerously close to kissing her right then and he didn’t know what her policy on kissing strangers was but he figured it wouldn’t be in his favor, and—

“So,” she coughed, “What book were you looking for?”

He blinked a few times. “Oh, um. It’s called Red Harvest? It’s a detective novel.”

“Yeah, I read it a long time ago. It’s really good! It’s like an action novel, but with a good plot and compelling writing and you get into the detective’s head. You’d probably actually like it even with the dyslexia and everything,” she said, getting to her feet and offering him a hand.

Percy couldn’t help but be a little disappointed; he’d been enjoying talking to her, and it hadn’t lasted very long. But she probably wanted to get back to her own book, so he nodded and explained, “My friend, Grover, recommended it to me, and that’s pretty much what he said.”

Annabeth stared at him slack-jawed, and his mind raced to figure out what he’d said to upset her.

“Grover?” she asked, and Percy nodded mutely. “Grover Underwood?”

“Yeah, how did you—?”

“You know Grover?” They spoke at the same time, both excited and intrigued.

“He’s my roommate, and we went to middle and high school together,” Percy said.

Annabeth’s smile was the prettiest he’d ever seen, and he had to practically bite his tongue off to keep himself from telling her.

“Grover and I have been going to the same summer camp since like, eighth grade.” She laughed, and then a thought seemed to occur to her. “Do you play baseball?”

It took Percy’s brain a few seconds to process and catch up, but he stuttered out a confused, “Um, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” Annabeth laughed, “you’re him! You’re the best friend Grover always talked about, that plays baseball and gets himself landed in detention all the time!”

Percy scoffed. “I wasn’t in detention all the time, and there was always a good reason.”

“Oh, I know, I’m a big admirer of some of your pranks.”

“I hope he only told you the really good ones, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Annabeth rolled her eyes, but the delighted smile hadn’t left her face and Percy was determined to keep it there. “So I take it that means you’re his genius architect friend that was a counselor with him?”

A pretty flush painted her cheeks, and she glanced down shyly. “I wouldn’t say I’m a genius.”

“Grover would, and I trust his judgement implicitly.”

She looked back up at him, a new light in her eyes that made Percy’s heart stutter. “I do, too.” Then, before he could think of anything even remotely clever to say: “Well, your crime fiction novel is not likely to be in the world languages section. Let’s look somewhere that actually makes sense, huh Seaweed Brain?”

February 16

“Come on, Seaweed Brain!” Annabeth shouts, clapping wildly. He can’t hear her over the din of the crowd—they’re all on their feet, yelling and waving, cheering their support as Percy prepares to strike out the third batter of the seventh inning—but she screams herself hoarse all the same. She’s wholeheartedly invested in the game now. Percy had been right; the sport was incredibly easy to follow, but she finds herself watching anxiously, not just for Percy or even their school’s team, but for herself as well.

Annabeth had never pegged herself for a baseball fan, despite her unwavering support of the Yankees. (This love was, of course, cultivated from a young age and in support of her favorite city, rather than being built on an informed opinion, but now that she knows how much she likes the game, she figures keeping up with the Yankees won’t be too much of a hassle.) And yet here she is, jumping up and down beside Grover, who is just as animated as she is. They clutch each other’s hands as Percy rears back and sends the ball flying.

A swing and a miss, and the stands roar around them.

As he heads towards the dugout, he turns towards them and waves, just as he has at the end of the last six innings. He’s too far for her to really see his face, but she knows it’s for her and Grover every time. Annabeth’s cheeks are starting to hurt from all the smiling she’s been doing, but she can’t bring herself to care. Not even the cold can bother her now.

(Seeing Percy in his uniform for the first time helps with that too. The jersey? The cap? The knee high socks, weirdly enough? And sweet Lord, those pants…she’s heard girls talk about the pants football players wear, but they must not have been to a baseball game before. Even from a distance, she can tell how well Percy fills out those pants, and the thought is enough to keep her warm all over.)

“You know,” she says, turning to steal some of Grover’s sour patch kids, “it’s interesting that Percy likes to talk about Tom Seaver’s pitching style so much.”

Grover’s brow furrows, and he swallows the mouthful of candy he was working on. “Why? He was a great pitcher, and you know Percy loves the Mets.”

“Yeah, but with how much he likes him, you’d think he’d mimic his style more.”

“You think he doesn’t?”

Annabeth shakes her head. Chris Rodriguez is at bat now, and she watches him take a few warm up swings. “Seaver liked to pull his hands all the way up over his head and swing his leg out on the follow through. Actually, Roger Clemens’s style was similar, and he talks about him a lot, too, even though he played for the Red Sox. But Percy just pulls back, not up and over, and his leg doesn’t arc out like Seaver’s so much as it just sort of twists. And he’s more relaxed. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying very hard.”

Grover is staring at her now, wide-eyed.

Chris doesn't swing, but the pitch is outside. Ball one.

“He reminds me more of Mariano Rivera than Seaver, or Clemens,” she finishes.

It takes a moment for Grover to process what she said, apparently, because she has time to steal three more candies from him before he finally answers, “Who are you?”

Annabeth laughs.

Chris hits a pop up foul.

“No, seriously, who are you and what have you done with Annabeth Chase? Because the Annabeth Chase I know doesn’t care about baseball and can’t tell you the difference between a short stop and an outfielder.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sniffs, “of course I knew the difference between a short stop and an outfielder. Just because I didn’t watch it doesn’t mean I was completely in the dark.”

“I distinctly remember having to explain the difference to you the summer before our freshman year of high school,” he says, raising his eyebrows at her.

Chris swings and misses. Strike one.

“Whatever. I did some research, so now I do know the difference, and all the rules, and the major milestones in the history, and the most famous players, and I spent a few hours on Percy’s favorite pitchers. So I’m fully prepared, and you can talk my ear off about baseball and I’ll actually understand what you’re saying.”

Grover smiles widely at her, and she assumes it’s because after years of pestering her, she finally appreciates the game. But his smile is too soft for that, too positively gleeful, so she frowns questioningly back at him.

“You like him,” he says.

Annabeth rolls her eyes, but she can’t help blushing a little. “Of course I like him, Grover, we’ve been dating for four months.”

“Yeah, but you really like him. Like, spend hours doing research on a sport you don’t think you like, like him.”

Chris hits the ball way out to left field, and manages to make it to second base.

“I like my research,” she grumbles. And then, softer, “But yeah, things are going well and I really, really like him. I’ve got a good feeling about him.”

He nudges her shoulder with his own. “If it’s not super obvious already, he really, really likes you, too.”

“Well, I’m glad the last four months haven’t been a waste of both of our time.” Annabeth ignores the way her heart flutters and her stomach feels like mush. She knows how much he likes her. He’s not subtle, and frankly, neither is she.

“I think there will be plenty more not-wasted months ahead, then,” Grover says. “You know, as long as you don’t tell him you just compared his pitching style to Mariano Rivera.”

She blinks at him. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because Mariano Rivera played for the Yankees, Annabeth!”

“Yeah, so? So did Babe Ruth. They’re one of the best teams in history.”

“And you know how much Percy despises them.”

She rolls her eyes, both of them pausing to cheer as Jason’s line drive gets him to first and Chris to third. “The Mets are terrible, and I’ve got the stats to prove it.”

“What are you gonna do if they recruit him?” Grover asks, popping another handful of sour patch kids into his mouth.

She thinks it over, and then says, “I’ll have to go to his games, I guess. But I’ll wear my Yankees jersey to every single one.”

Grover snorts, and they both dissolve into giggles.

October 5

“If I have to read another word about liberal hegemony I’m going to scream,” Annabeth said as soon as he arrived, sliding deeper into her seat.

“Government that bad?”

“You have no idea,” she groaned. “It’s so easy, but so incredibly boring.”

Percy frowned down at her. “If it’s so easy, why bother studying for it?”

She sent him a look he’d come to understand as “I’m going to assume you already know how ridiculous what you just said was”, and he conceded with a shrug.

“I’m almost done, thankfully, but I’ve read so much about ‘actors in the global system’ I feel like a goddamn theatre major.”

Percy chuckled and slid into the chair across from her, the same seats they could be found in every Tuesday and Thursday night for the past six weeks. He’d chickened out of getting her number the night they met and spent the whole week regretting it, so the next Thursday he wandered the library again—searching for her, rather than a book. He thanked every deity he could think of when he found her, and the smile that lit up her face when she spotted him was so bright he decided he’d spend every day in the library just to see it.

From there it had become a sort of tradition to meet in the library on Tuesday and Thursday nights, sit at their table, and spend hours studying and doing homework and talking. Or, more accurately, Annabeth studied and read out loud—it helped with her dyslexia, and Percy loved the sound of her voice—while Percy listened and procrastinated on his own work by watching, entranced, as she did hers.

Studying her came much more easily to Percy than any scholarly subject. He had picked up on her habits: how she’d chew her bottom lip and frown when she didn’t understand something, how she’d tap her heel on the floor when she’d been sitting for too long, how she sat up straighter and talked excitedly when he asked her questions and she got to explain, how she smiled and flushed and rolled her eyes when he complimented her. He’d learned about her family, about her love of architecture, about her summers at camp with Grover, about how she’d tried sushi when she was thirteen and gotten food poisoning and refused to ever eat it again, and about how she’d been correcting people’s grammar since she was about four. They’d both been grateful that not many people came to their little secluded corner of the library during that story; they’d laughed obnoxiously loudly. Percy could just picture her, tiny and chubby with perfect blonde ringlets, precociously announcing that, “Um, actually, it would be ‘whom’, not ‘who’.”

He had also learned, in those weeks, that he was an absolute fucking coward who could not ask the most beautiful, funniest, smartest, most perfect girl he’d ever met on a date.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. It had been a struggle to keep himself from kissing her at any given moment from that very first night they’d sat together, and his inner monologue was pretty much always just a stream of please go out with me please go out with me wow your eyes are really pretty please go out with me I want to run my fingers through your hair how do you make different kinds of columns sound so fascinating what do I have to do to get you to kiss me please go out with me please please please—

But every time he decided he’d finally ask, she’d get to a tricky spot in a reading, or want his advice on a part of her essay, or even just look at him in a way that made the words stick in his throat, so now it was October and he was pretty sure he was falling in love with her despite the fact that he couldn’t even get her on a date.

They fell into their usual routine, Annabeth finishing her reading—out loud, now that he was there to read to—and Percy watching her tug at the necklace that rested against her collarbone and trying not to imagine what noise she’d make if he kissed the skin there.

She finished the article and turned to make some notes, and Percy took a deep breath. Beckendorf had talked him into asking her today, no backing out, and he needed to know her answer one way or the other and it had to be now because waiting for another week sounded like torture.

“Hey, Annabeth,” he said slowly. She hummed, not looking up from her notes. He coughed a little, his throat suddenly very, very dry.

“What’s up, Perce?”

His heart caught in his throat at the nickname, and he could feel his cheeks warming. “Well, I was wondering—hoping, really, if you…um, I just…if—if maybe tomorrow night, I mean if you wanted, because I want to—um, do you—?”

“—Want to go to dinner?” she finished for him. He swallowed nervously and nodded. “I’d love to.” She smirked at him and all the air left his lungs.

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yeah, Seaweed Brain, I’ve only been waiting over a month for you to ask,” she laughed.

Percy didn’t stop smiling the whole rest of the night. But, he noticed, neither did Annabeth.

February 16

As Percy jogs to the mound at the top of the ninth, he’s aware of several things.

First, he’s aware that Chiron has been reluctant to let him pitch this late into the game, and he has to prove that he isn’t even a little tired. Pitchers don’t normally stay in this long, but Percy had insisted and Chiron has a soft spot for him, so he’s determined to finish this game.

Second, he’s aware that they are currently beating the Giants 7 to 4, so as long as Percy can keep them from scoring more than two runs, they won’t even have to bat the bottom of the inning. The game will be over. He doesn’t intend to let them score at all.

Third, he’s aware that along with thousands of fans and everyone watching it on television, his family, best friend, and girlfriend are all in the crowd, cheering him on. The thought should be nerve-wracking. Instead, it settles him. He can’t wait to give every single one of them a giant hug. (Annabeth will be getting more than a hug later, but he can’t let himself get distracted right now.)

Fourth, he’s aware that his stamina is at an end. He needs to make the next few pitches accurate and tricky, because he doesn’t want to have to pitch to more than three guys.

He steps onto the mound and watches as the umpire examines a few baseballs before handing one to Jason. Jason, in turn, lowers his catcher’s mask and tosses it to Percy, who catches it easily and cradles it in his glove, feeling the weight of it. He transfers it to his other hand, and his fingers skim across its soft surface.

As he rubs the red stitches under his fingers, everything synthesizes into one thought: make these next few pitches count.

He gets into position, spreading the soft dirt with his feet and tugging the brim of his cap down slightly. The ball twists in his hand, buried in his glove, as he watches the batter lift the bat above his shoulder.

And then he’s rearing back, his left leg lifted high across his body, and then he’s twisting and throwing and the ball his leaving his hand and his left cleat is digging into the mound and his body is rocking forward with the momentum and all he can see is Jason’s mitt, and then the ball is too far left, it’s outside of the strike zone and Percy is catching himself on his right foot, and then the ball is curving right and down and crossing home and the batter isn’t even swinging and Jason’s mitt is closing around it it’s a strike, and then the crowd is cheering and Percy can breathe again.

He repeats the process again, and again, varying the types of pitches he’s throwing to keep the batters on their toes and rarely missing the strike zone. He does it all unthinkingly, entirely on instinct, and before he knows it the third batter is slumping dejectedly and the noise is deafening around him.

It’s his first college baseball game and Percy just struck out the last batter.

Jason reaches him first, his mask discarded in the dirt near home, and pulls him into a bear hug.

It’s his first college baseball game and Percy pitched every inning.

The rest of the guys are surrounding him, Beckendorf is next to him, and Lee Fletcher, and Coach Hedge and Chiron are coming over too.

It’s his first college baseball game and Percy just won it.

Suddenly he turns, craning over the heads of his teammates to see—

His mom and step-dad, Paul, and his little sister are all in the center section of the stands behind the net. They’re cheering, Estelle bouncing gleefully, and Percy can see the pride and tears gleaming in his mom’s eyes even from here. She returns his wave and gestures towards the exits; he knows he’ll meet them outside in a while.

Then he turns to the student section, but he can’t find Grover and Annabeth. They weren’t where they had been sitting, and he frowns a little because surely they couldn’t have gotten out so quickly in this crowd, and they wouldn’t have left before the game was over, would they?

But then he spots a head of blonde curls pushing forward, followed by Grover, the two of them fighting against the crowd.

Percy pushes through his teammates and takes off at a run.

For as quickly as the last inning passed, reaching the low wall separating the left outfield from the stands takes an inordinate amount of time, and Percy feels like he’s running in water or time has slowed down or something because he just wants to be there and to see her and it’s not fair that it’s taking so long. Finally, though, he’s reaching the wall and slowing down slightly, watching eagerly as Annabeth shoves through the last crowd of students and reaches the wall. He’s staring up at her, and her hair is wind-blown and tangled and her cheeks are rosy and her coat is askew and the setting sun on their right is casting a golden glow over her and Percy thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

Her hands on the wall rest just below his chin, and she’s bending over it, her face hovering just over his own.

“You won,” she says simply.

He pushes onto the balls of his feet, braces one hand against the wall for balance, and places the other on the back of her head. And then she’s leaning further and he’s pulling her in and they’re kissing, and they’ve kissed plenty of times before but something is different now. Kissing Annabeth, he realizes later, has the same effect as twisting a baseball in his hands; Percy’s entire world narrows to the most important thing. And right now, that’s the feeling of her lips moving against his, pressing hard and hot and passionately.

It’s the best kiss of his life, he thinks.

(But, of course, he thinks that just about every single time he kisses Annabeth Chase, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never stop thinking it.)

Suddenly he’s yanked backwards. His eyes fly open to see Annabeth, still hanging over the wall with a dazed smile on her face, and Grover laughing behind her, but he’s being dragged backwards and away from them. He’s dimly aware of Jason and Sherman Yang on either side of him, gripping his arms, while others—Beckendorf, he thinks, and maybe Lee Fletcher—laugh behind him, but he can still feel Annabeth’s lips on his and her silky hair under his fingers and she’s still hanging there, getting smaller and smaller as he’s pulled back to the team.

“Sorry to interrupt, Jackson,” Sherman laughed on his left, “looked like you were having a good time.”

“You don’t sound too sorry,” Percy shot back, getting his feet back under him and pulling away.

Jason wrapped his arm around Percy’s neck and turned him so they were walking back towards the dugout together. “We are. But only a little.”

“You’ve got to celebrate with your team!” Lee added. “It’s your first win, and we loooooove you!”

Percy laughed as Lee batted his eyelashes, giving him a playful shove to the shoulder.

“Besides, you’ll have time to celebrate with Annabeth later,” Sherman said. “And celebrate, and celebrate…”

Lee laughed, “I’ll bet you’ll be celebrating with her all night long!”

Percy blushed bright red. “Fuck off, Fletcher,” he snarked, but there was no real bite behind it. After all, if the way she’d kissed him back just now was any indication, he wasn't too far off.

As they jostle into the dugout with the rest of the team, Percy throws one last glance over his shoulder to the student section. Annabeth and Grover are nowhere to be seen, having disappeared into the crowd or already made it out of the stadium. He’ll see them, and his family, in a while.

He follows Beckendorf into the dugout and is greeted by a chaotic mixture of wolf whistles, congratulations, and roughhousing.

It’s perfect.

October 6

Annabeth stopped outside her dorm building and turned to face him.

“This is me,�� she said shyly.

They were still holding hands; she couldn’t remember when they’d started. She liked the way his hand felt in hers. It was larger and warmer and rougher than her own. It was perfect. She never wanted to stop holding his hand, and that was dangerous, that was how she’d gotten hurt with Luke, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of Percy’s hand.

He stepped closer. “I, um…I had a really nice time,” he said, just as awkward and shy as she felt. It was a little bit of a relief. She smiled up at him.

“I did, too. I wouldn’t mind doing it again some time.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, almost in disbelief. Just like he had the night before, she remembered with a chuckle.

“Yeah.” Their eyes were locked together, sea green on grey. “Or doing something else. Like a movie, or coffee, or a concert, or just hanging out. I like spending time with you, Percy.”

She was determined to be honest with her feelings. She was determined to make this work.

“Me too,” he answered, then frowned. “I like spending time with you, I mean. Not with myself, obviously, but you probably got that so—”

Without really thinking about it, Annabeth found herself pushing up onto her toes and grasping his other hand in hers and pulling him forward and pressing her lips softly, ever so softly, to his. He was still for a moment, and she was about to pull away but then he was kissing her back and it was delicate and tender and perfect.

It was the best kiss of her life, she thought.

She lowered herself back down, pulling away slightly, but he bent to keep their foreheads pressed together. They breathed, unable to quite catch their breaths, and they stayed there—eyes closed, foreheads together, hands entwined—for the shortest eternity Annabeth had ever experienced.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found his already staring down at her. They were darker now, the mischievous glint she was used to replaced by something more serious. The fire behind them burned deep and hot and intense and it was burning up all the air in Annabeth’s lungs, and she couldn’t breathe. She was drowning on dry land.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered to be careful, that she’d barely known him a month. That she was moving too fast. That this was only a first date. She shushed it. She’d known him her whole life. She’d known him a thousand lifetimes.

“Percy,” she whispered, letting her breath ghost against his lips, “kiss me again.” Her voice was hoarse, and her lips were dry, and his eyes tracked the movement of her tongue as she wetted them. “Please.”

And then his lips were on hers, harder and hotter, and his hands were sliding up her back to pull her flush against him and she was gasping and sliding one hand into his hair, the other thrown around his neck to press him harder against her mouth. His tongue teased the seam of her lips and she opened willingly under him, letting him take whatever he wanted, anything. Everything.

This, she thought, was the best kiss of her life.

By the time they slow and pull apart, another eternity has passed, and they are both panting, still pressed together.

“So,” he said finally, “how does pizza and a movie tomorrow sound?” His smile was hopeful and cheeky and positively infectious, and she returned it without hesitation.

“Sounds like a plan, Seaweed Brain.”

They stared at each other a few moments longer, and she couldn’t look away from his eyes on hers.

“Goodnight, Percy,” she whispered finally, pulling out of his grasp.

“Night, Wise Girl.”

Annabeth headed inside, glancing over her shoulder as she entered the building to see Percy standing where she left him, watching with a dopey smile on his face. It matched hers. By the time she reached her room, her eyelids were already drooping, so she hurried through her nightly routine as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake her roommate, and fell into bed, tired and happy and already dreaming of sea green eyes and excited for tomorrow.

It was perfect.

#wow this is long ok #caroline write a fic that isn't unnecessarily dramatic and cheesy challenge #apparently i am incapable #so y'all are gonna have to settle for this #my writing #baseball au #otp: best underwater kiss of all time #percabeth #fanfic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #hoo

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therollyjodger · 7 years

Text

The Winning Goal (Captain Swan One Shot)

Summary: Killian Jones is a striker for the Storybrooke Wanderers. They're playing in an FA Cup Final Match against Bridgeroad United. It's 1-1. 5 minutes left of the game. Who will win? And who will lift the trophy in front of 90,000 spectators?

Words: 2,188

Rating: Teens

Also available on: AO3, ff.net

5 minutes. 5 whole fucking minutes left of the match. Killian nearly stormed over to the fourth official right there and then to give him a piece of his mind. Right. 5 minutes. They could do this. They could win this. All they need to do is focus and be together as one.

Wembley Stadium was roaring with noise and full to bursting – there wasn’t a seat in the entire 90,000 seat arena that wasn’t occupied. Everyone wanted to see the final of the FA Cup between the Storybrooke Wanderers and Bridgeroad United.

5 minutes. The score’s tied at 1-1. They needed to do this now before the referee blows his whistle for full time and then it’s the dreaded 30 minutes of extra time and then… penalties.

Killian looked over his shoulder at the players with the ball behind him, ready to pounce at any given second. The Wanderers held the ball in midfield. Robin Loxley passed the ball to his right to David Nolan as David then looped the ball up and over to the other side of the pitch to Will Scarelet, another midfielder. Killian was up front, he stayed in line constantly with United’s defenders, so that he stayed on side.

Killian’s eyes flicked up to the scoreboard above one of the sections of fans. The clock was ticking. They were running out of time. He was already exhausted after playing 90 minutes of full on proper football. He knew he would struggle to play another 30 minutes let alone stand on his two legs without being propped up to take a penalty if it was to come to that.

“Push, push, push.” Killian yelled, as he pulled the white and blue armband signalling his captaincy, further up his arm. His words seemed to knock some sense into his team mates as they started to move up the pitch, now seeking that second and hopefully, winning goal.

The defenders pushed up, the goalkeeper came out of his line slightly, the midfielders and wing backs pushed up further the pitch, which in turn, pushed the oppositions defender’s closer to their goal, allowing Killian to get into a good position.

2 minutes.

And then there was a break down the right hand side. David snatched the ball in midfield and ran down the right hand side. Killian made his way into the box and ran into clear space just as David crossed in the ball. Killian jumped and his head made contact with the ball. He turned his head to angle it towards goal, but the goalkeeper claimed. Shit. Come on Jones. Pull yourself together.

Their goalkeeper quickly rolled the ball out of one of their defenders as Killian jogged back slowly into position. His eyes went over to his manager, Gold they call him. Or if he’s having a bad day, the Dark One. Gold was clapping his efforts, however you could easily tell by his demeanour that his was still pissed off that they hadn’t finished this game off already – they’ had the chances, but just couldn’t convert them into goals. Just behind the players dugouts, his eyes drifted to Emma, just for a second. She was standing up, with her hands together over her mouth and her eyes closed. From her stance, it almost looked like she was praying to the Football Gods that they could pull this off.

Killian’s attention was brought back into the game at precisely the right time. The crowd erupted as Arthur intercepted the ball from the opposition and then passed it to Will on the left wing. Killian’s hand went straight up into the air, signalling that he was ready for the ball. Will’s eyes came up and Killian knew that this was his last chance before extra time.

Killian started the run just as the ball collided with Will’s foot so that he stayed onside. It was a dream pass. The ball passed over the opposition and right into the path where Killian wanted it. He managed to out run the defenders that were marking him and ran with the ball towards United’s goal. He looked up as he edged closer to the 12-yard box and he was one on one with their keeper. He kept his focus as best as he could in that situation, but he couldn’t help but notice the fans behind the goal, his team’s fans, stand up in unison as he took a shot. It must have been Immediately after his foot collided with the ball, that he got taken out by a defender and fell to the ground, but Killian couldn’t mistake the roar that sounded out when the ball hit the back of the net.

Pandemonium is the best word to describe it. A word meaning chaos or mayhem. And it was. Killian got up from the floor and ran towards the celebrating fans behind the goal. Before he knew it, his team mates and joined the celebrations and Robin and jumped onto his back. Killian couldn’t stop grinning as he high fixed Will for the tremendous assist and then he jogged back into position for the whistle to kick off once more.

As he passed where Emma was standing, he couldn’t resist looking over at her and blowing her a kiss. And Killian couldn’t help but smile even more at the sight that greeted him. Emma was still jumping up and down celebrating his goal with Mary Margaret and Regina, David’s and Robin’s wives respectively. In her arms, was his 6 month old daughter Eva and next to them, standing on his seat to get a better view, was his 4 year old son Alfie.

30 seconds. They could do this. They could actually do this. The clock continued to tick as United kicked off. They passed it back to one of their defenders who booted it up the pitch in a last ditch effort to equalise and let the game go into extra time. August Booth, one of the Wanderer’s longest serving defenders, controlled the ball with his chest and then let it come down to his feet.

“Keep it boys!” David yelled as Victor, another Storybrooke defender came to assist August. Victor passed to ball back to August who then played the ball neatly to Will in midfield. When the ball reached Killian’s feet, the referee blew his whistle to indicate full time. All of the players with red shirts, collapsed onto the floor in defeat, however, all the players in white, erupted into celebrations, high-fiving and giving each other hugs.

The team had put blood, sweat and tears into this campaign. They’ve won 14 games of football to get to this point. That’s 1260 minutes of football. Or 21 hours of playing time. No one expected them to win. Hell, most people were surprised that they passed the fifth round. But no one could say they hadn’t fought all the way through and that they hadn’t deserved the win today.

Killian shook the hand of the oppositions manager, as he had done with the rest of the players and the officials, before he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Daddy!” He turned around and scooped Alfie into his arms who had escaped Emma and ran onto the pitch. The little boy had Emma’s blonde hair but his blue eyes, and was wearing a football shirt with his father’s name and number on the back. Killian protested that it was too big for him however, Emma had put up the fight that he’ll soon grow into it.

“Hey there little man.” Killian greeted and spun his son around in a circle, which resulted in an eruption of giggles from the four year old. “Where’s Mommy?” He asked his son and then gave him a small kiss on his head. Alfie pointed behind him at Emma who was approaching with their daughter.

“You did it.” She exclaimed and planted a kiss upon his lips. Her smile was undoubtedly one of the purest sights Killian had ever seen.

“No. We did it.” Killian said as Emma passed Eva over to him as well so that he had both of his children in his arms.

“I don’t think I kicked a single ball so I don’t see how I did anything.” Emma said and ruffled Alfie’s hair. Killian couldn’t help but steal another kiss from his wife.

“How can you even say that, love? You’ve been to every game, sat through every minute and supported me all the way. So I’ll say it again” Killian paused and kissed her once more. “We did it.” Emma looked over at him with their two children in his arms. Eva was starting to get restless at this point so Killian put Alfie down on his two feet and adjusted Eva in his arms so that she was more comfortable.

“Hey there baby girl. Did you see Daddy score that goal? Did you? Hmmm” Killian mumbled to Eva and placed a kiss upon her head.

“I did Dad!” Alfie said and jumped up and down in excitement. “You were the best!”

“Thanks lad.” It was at that moment that an interviewer and a cameraman came up to Killian to hear his words on the win.

“Killian Jones. What a win for your team today and a tremendous last 5 minutes.” The man said and then thrust a microphone in is face. Killian took a second to compose himself, knowing that this was a live interview being broadcast live to millions of people. He could play football comfortably on the big stage in front of thousands upon thousands. Public speaking however, are a completely different matter. He could no longer hide behind his skills with a football, he had to be himself, open and raw. Killian had gotten better at it over the years with Emma’s help. The numerous hours spent together, practising interviews had definitely helped.

“Yeah, we played really well today and we deserved the win. All the boys, David and Robin in particular, were exceptional. We knew coming into this game that we had to be at our best, otherwise we weren’t going to get the win.”

“Talk me through your goal.” The interviewer said and Killian balanced Eva better in his arms.

“I kept looking at the clock and I knew we were running out of time. When Will looked up and I made the run, I knew it was now or never. We’d put so much into the game that I knew we’d really struggled if this game went on another half an hour. So when the ball landed at my feet and I took the shot, I just prayed that it was at least on target as then there’s always a chance it could go in.”

“The fans here today sang all game long, even when you went down 1-0. Did that help you at all?”

“Oh absolutely.” Killian said. “The crowd are always our 12th man. I said to the boys at half time that if we were going to do it, we’re going to have to do it for them as they’ve stood by us all season long. The least we can do know is try out very best and come away with a trophy to take back to Storybrooke.”

“Well Killian. You’ve got that trophy. Congratulations, I’ll let you go to get the trophy and celebrate with your teammates and family.” Killian held his hand out and the interviewer shook it firmly.

“Thank you.” Killian said and turned back to Emma who was hiding behind the camera. She came straight up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I love you.” She whispered and leaned in close.

“I love you too.” Killian said and closed the gap between them as they shared one last, lingering kiss.

Killian’s lips were still tingling as he ascended the steps in Wembley Stadium with the rest of his team mates and backroom staff. As he was the captain, he gets to lift the trophy and present it to the fans, therefore, he was smack bang in the middle of the line to collect their medals. Stood in between Robin and David, Killian couldn’t help but be nervous as the FA Cup was brought to him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the winners of the FA Cup 2017…. Storybrooke Wanderers.” Huge cheers went up all around the stadium when Killian lifted the cup high into the air. Elation and excitement were like waves that shot through his body when he looked out and saw all the fans celebrating. On the edge of the pitch, was Emma with her arms around her infant and her son. Even though he wasn’t next to then, Killian already knew what Emma was thinking. She was proud. She loves him. And he loves her. And that’s all that matters. Yes the team had worked hard and they’d won the Cup. But all his hard work would mean nothing to him if he didn’t have Emma and his two children to share it with. Because that’s the meaning of life; love and family.

So this is what happens when Colin O'Donoghue plays in a football match and you get the urge to write a Captain Swan one shot where Killian is a football player. I'm English so this is football/soccer not American Football.

I had so much fun writing this as I'm a huge football fan myself. I hope you guys like it. Let me know what you think :)

I apologise if there are any mistakes but I wrote this in one sitting and I just wanted to upload it.

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan ff #ouat #once upon a time #ouat ff #the winning goal #therollyjodger ff #therollyjodger fanfiction

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