REMEMBER THAT NIGHT? — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF NYX
masterlist | rules
❝ I was wondering maybe u can write headcanons for percy with nyx daughter!reader where they're literally the same person personality wise and same sense of humor and sarcasm and same interests etc.. ❞ — 🪼
in which percy dates a daughter of nyx
pairing percy jackson x nyx!reader
warnings none!
on the radio . . . remember that night? (sara kays)
Your first proper introduction comes during Capture the Flag. Annabeth, one of the few children of the Olympians you spoke to, had asked you to play on her team
You usually didn’t play, seeing it as a game for the children of the Gods, not a demi-primordial such as yourself. However, after lots of begging (and agreeing to buy you the good chocolate from the outside world), Annabeth convinced you to join in
On the day, she quickly explained the rules to you then pulled you to the side, distress etched on her face as her head whipped around, clearly looking for someone
“Percy, you’re late! You almost ruined my plan,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him to where you were standing. The boy started rambling something about two hippocampi needing his help with their housing situation, giving the two of you a sheepish look until Annabeth interrupted him
“This is Y/N, daughter of Nyx. You’ll be working with her today,” Annabeth said, “the two of you will be stationed at our flag, which I put near the lake. Y/N, I’m gonna need you to use your powers to blind anyone who comes near our flag so that Percy can use the element of surprise to his advantage and spray them with water. Got it?” Before you could say anything, Annabeth ran off to be with her siblings, leaving you with the flag and Percy Jackson
It was really awkward at first. Percy walked circles around the flag while you played around with your shadow, making it turn into all sorts of shapes
You weren’t keeping track of how long the game had been going on for, but you were bored. You didn’t agree to play Capture the Flag just to stand around the flag with some random guy (even if he was really handsome)
Eventually, you were no longer interested in your shadow and decided to strike up a conversation with Percy, asking him about the hippocampi he mentioned earlier
“Well,” Percy began, cheeks turning pink as he realised how silly his story was, “these two hippocampi broke up, but neither of them wanna move out of the cove they’re living in, so I’ve been trying to find a cove just as nice that’ll hopefully convince one of them to move,” he finished, hoping you wouldn’t think he was weird
To his surprise, you started laughing, “so you’re their divorce attorney?” You managed to ask through fits of giggles, “that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”
Percy was relieved. He was so worried he’d embarrassed himself in front of a really beautiful girl, but you were actually amused!
People started showing up for the flag, but the two of you defended it like your life depended on it. You worked your magic, causing the area around the people from the opposite team to turn as black as the night, while Percy sent them away with a wave of water
Soon enough, you heard cheers erupt as Annabeth and everyone else from your team came running towards you with the other team’s flag. After celebrations took place, people started heading back to their cabins and various other activities, leaving you and Percy alone
You began to walk away, missing the comforting darkness of your cabin, when suddenly someone stopped you in your tracks, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder
“Hey, Y/N, I had a lot of fun playing Capture the Flag with you today,” Percy said, “you’re really cool and stuff… and I was wondering if, you know…”
“If we could hang out? Sure, Percy! I had a lot of fun with you too. Come to my cabin tomorrow!” You said, giving him a smile before leaving
Percy sighed. He meant to ask you out on a date.
He still showed up at your cabin. You didn’t specify a time, so he hoped first thing after breakfast was alright
(It was. He could’ve shown up at 3am and you would’ve been fine with it)
You started to get to know each other, realising with every passing minute how incredibly similar you were
Both of you spoke sarcasm like it was a second language, you both enjoyed rock music, skating, basketball, and of course, sea animals. Whatever Percy liked, there was a high chance you liked too, and vice versa (I had to look up Percy’s interests on reddit)
He began showing up at your cabin more often, and then you started showing up at his, and soon enough you became known as one package
You still weren’t dating though. You were both worried the other only saw you as a friend
One day, a half-asleep Percy was making his way to the dining pavilion (is that what it's called?) when he overheard your siblings talking
“She’s so in love with him!” One of them said to the other, giggling. Percy didn’t like to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help himself. This could be about you, after all
The other nodded enthusiastically, “I think Percy’s in love with her too, they’re both just oblivious about it.” Okay, so it was definitely about you. You’re the only person Percy could ever be in love with
Grinning, he began to plan his confession
In the middle of the night, you heard knocking on the front door of your cabin. Exhausted, you dragged yourself away from the comfort of your bed to go and answer.
You were ready to berate whoever your visitor was, until you discovered it was none other than Percy. With a finger in front of his lips, he took your hand and walked you all to the beach
There, Percy finally deemed it safe for you to talk. He watched as you took in what was in front of you: a midnight picnic consisting of a blue tablecloth and a wide range of blue foods
“Perce, what is this?” You asked, unable to hold back the smile that was making its way onto your lips. This might’ve been the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you
“I wanted to stargaze today, and thought I should bring the expert with me,” he replied as you sat down, opening a bottle of blue coke and handing it to you
You looked up at the sky and marvelled at how clear it was that night, “I love the stars, they’re so pretty. They remind me of home,” you told him, mesmerised by the way they glimmered in your mother’s domain
“They are,” he said wistfully. Turning to him, you found that he had never been looking at the stars to begin with, but at you
According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves
Slowly, you and Percy inched closer and closer together. When you finally kissed, you felt reunited with your other half.
Now that my essay of a backstory is done, we can move onto the dating
You have midnight feasts all the time. Most of the time, you do them at his cabin, since he’s the only one there and you’re less likely to be caught by the harpies, but sometimes you do them at that spot at the beach (it’s been dubbed ‘Percy and Y/N’s spot’ by everyone at camp because Percy’s weirdly territorial over it)
Percy loves spending time at your cabin too. Specifically spending time with your siblings. Being the children of night, you can easily camouflage yourselves within the night and shadows, which means you can eavesdrop on whoever you want
Therefore, your siblings know EVERYTHING and Percy loves hearing about it all
He used to be scared of the dark, as it meant losing an important sense, but you showed him all the beautiful parts of it. Now, the dark feels like a warm blanket reminding him of home (you) <3
He still has nightmares though, and waking up to a pitch black room after a nightmare isn’t the best feeling, so one day, you help him out
You woke with a start as you felt Percy shift next to you, clearly trying to process the nightmare he just had. Pouting, you felt your heart ache at his pain. He deserved a good night’s rest
You put your hands together and began to make a ball of light, illuminating the room. Now, you could see the unshed tears in Percy's eyes
“What is this?” He asked, reaching his hand out to touch it. You let go, giving it to him
“Your own star, for when I’m not here. It’s like a night-light. You turn it off by tapping it.” Percy let go of the star, opting to hold you instead
Kissing the top of your head, he mumbled “thank you, sweetheart, you’re the best.”
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Can you do an autistic trans(if you do that) male reader who doesn’t really get social cues but is overall pretty quiet and reserved with the people from the Hazbin hotel?
𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕪
Words: 1111
𝔸𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣:
He will be unaware at first, so his first impression about you is not good. Thinks you’re being rude on purpose, but when he finds out that's not the case he’ll feel slightly bad.
For his assumptions he’ll subtly apologize by dropping presents in your room (Unnamed of course.) and lending you a helping hand.
If you two become close he will take you to his tailor to get matching suits, different colours obviously, can’t have you taking his signature colour now, can we?
***
For the first few days you’ve been at the hotel Alastor has been weirdly stand offish. Others didn’t mind, often glad he’s staying away rather than closer. But you wanted to know why, so you asked Charlie.
Who asked Alastor, to which he gracefully answered.
“Well, I don’t enjoy seeing terrible manners around the hotel, surely you don’t either?” At his words the reason for avoidance clicked in her head.
“Why didn't you say so? Well knowing you, you wouldn’t… But Y/N isn’t that good with social cues, so he doesn’t mean any of, whatever he’s been doing.”
“Oh…” At her words he left the room, finding you. “Well hello my Handsome fellow,”
“Hi?” After his most recent actions you didn’t expect him to just waltz up to you.
“Unfortunately someone has ruined my suit,” Correct, a good chunk was missing. “And hopefully you would accompany me?”
“Sure, I guess?”
“Perfect!”
ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕖:
She's unsurprisingly similar when it comes to social cues.
When it comes to you being autistic or trans she won’t notice, that’ll be the last thing she knows.
You two can not be left alone, someone will need to supervise you both.
***
It has been barely a week since you fell into hell and it’s been terrible. There were too many things happen that you could say or even recall, so today was meant to be relaxing. Or at least somewhat close, until someone pulled you around.
They were your only friend here, so of course you had to follow. After a few hours walking around you found you both in front of a hotel, one called the ‘Hazbin hotel.’ Excitedly knocking at the door while you watched.
Within seconds the door swung open revealing an excited blonde.
“Oh my, hi!” Pulling you both in as she spoke, which allowed you to see other people hanging around. “I’m Charlie, and welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”
“Told ya you’d like it here.”
You were both aware nothing was said beforehand but you didn’t confront them. Seemed like the others knew something was up, so they had Charlie pull you away.
“Since you're new, how about a private tour of the Hazbin Hotel?”
𝕍𝕒𝕘𝕘𝕚𝕖:
Compared to the other hotel residents your quietness is a surprise, but a welcome one at that.
If you ask or signal at all to her she’ll be at your side to subtly help you with social cues and anything else needed.
Especially if you’re new (Also if not) she’ll help you get masculine clothing, although she might have to get others help as she isn’t the most masculine either.
***
Charlie had just brought you to the hotel in a… not so good condition. She wasn’t sure what you went through to look like that but she knew you needed some help, and she was going to help where she could.
“Alastor, I need your help”
“Hmm?”
“You know the newbie, I have to get him some clothes. Problem is I have no clue where to go.” At her words his smile increases slightly.
“I could help, for a price…”
“Nevermind.”
While she wanted to help she wouldn’t risk anything with Alastor, maybe Angel would be better.
𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝 𝔻𝕦𝕤𝕥:
He’s seen some shit during his time down in hell, so your actions and attitude isn’t seen as weird to him.
To a degree he’ll take advantage of you. Never anything you wouldn’t want, but to keep him safe from Vaggie or Alastor.
But only he can do it, if anyone else even tries he’ll be there to protect you.
***
“Vaggie, why would I do that?”
“Oh I don’t know, maybe you–”
“Doesn’t matter, I would never when Y/N is with me!”
At his words Vaggie looked down at you, finding you wrapped in Angels pairs of arms. You had a few blooming bruises around your face but otherwise seemed alright.
“Just… Don’t do it again, I don’t want to see Y/N or Charlie get mad at you.”
“Really, Y/N mad at me? Never!” One pair of hands had come up to cup your cheeks, able to leave multiple kisses. Causing Vaggie to leave quickly.
“Now, let me take care of those bruises.”
𝕊𝕚𝕣 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤:
He’s been thrown into the same boat as you, has absolutely no understanding of social cues.
If anything the eggs make it worse, as they are somehow worse than sir pentious.
He has accidentally hurt the both of you at once somehow, no one is sure how that happened.
***
The streets didn’t seem too busy, which was weird for hell. But it might’ve been the fact you and Sir Pentious just weren’t aware of them walking. His tail was swaying dangerously behind him, knocking over any people.
During this his eggs were scattered around the both of you. Some stayed behind, in between and some strayed next to you. Which caused an even bigger barrier to form, now people had to step off the path.
ℍ𝕦𝕤𝕜:
When he first meets you he won’t really care, he’s had worst people hang around.
If he’s being honest he understands and gets social cues, but majority of the time he just doesn’t care about them.
Even then he knows with your lack of awareness you’re likely to get into some unwanted trouble, so he hangs around a lot more.
***
Husk never had the heart to blame you for any trouble, he knew you never meant it. So tonight he accompanied you to a nearby bar, intending for at least a semi-nice night out. But of course someone had to ruin it.
A drunk demon decided he wanted to bother you for the night, ignoring Husk the whole time. But over time his anger rose, you weren’t even looking at him and you didn’t seem interested.
In which you weren’t, but he seemed so incessant that you spoke, even if you didn’t. His attitude quickly became clear very quickly, except you didn’t notice. As he reached for you Husk was quicker, sending a card flying into his head.
That caused everyone to start their own fights. Which gave you two the chance to leave, with minimal injuries of course. Taking the chance you both ran out, luckily no one else was waiting outside.
“We’re going back.”
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4. green smoke
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself
summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.7k
chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n.
an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"
prev chapter | frankie's ig
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
Friday soon arrives.
It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.
Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.
Pretend is the optimum word.
Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.
Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.
It’s him.
Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.
Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—
Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.
It's difficult not to smile at his message.
Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.
It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.
Excuse me?
Rain.
Oh, that is such a dad joke.
It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile.
I will not confirm or deny.
So that means it did.
Shut up.
Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.
So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table?
Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant?
Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles.
Are you flirting with me when I’m at work?
Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work?
In my defence, you choose your own hours.
Do you mind me flirting with you?
Not even a little bit.
Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now?
Hopefully nothing.
I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt.
Still hot.
Get back to work, Butterscotch.
You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.
Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.
Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.
The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.
His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.
And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.
“I’m really sorry—“
And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.
“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"
“—Frankie—“
“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”
“—Frankie?”
You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.
“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”
The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."
A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.
“Baby… I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."
“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.
“Not even a little bit.”
Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."
Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.
You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.
And an idea appears.
It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.
Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.
You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.
Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.
For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.
Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.
“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”
Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”
Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.
“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”
Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.
“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”
Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.
“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”
It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.
“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”
Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”
Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”
He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.
You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.
Turning back to you, he extends a hand.
"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.
As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.
You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.
"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.
“Careful.”
Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”
“Harold would murder me.”
Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.
“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”
“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”
Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”
“Ah.”
Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”
“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”
Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”
“Okay.”
His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.
Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”
Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I want to.”
Nodding, he half smiles.
And then he does.
He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.
That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.
Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.
Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.
His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.
“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”
Your heart falls, and descends.
Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.
“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”
“It wasn’t healthy?”
Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”
Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.
“That was probably a lot.”
“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”
Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”
“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”
Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”
Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”
“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”
Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”
Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”
“Of course.”
Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”
Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”
Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”
Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad too.”
Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous, that.”
“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”
Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.
“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”
Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”
“Do you want to… now?”
“Tonight?”
Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.
Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”
The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.
Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.
When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.
It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.
“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”
Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”
You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.
Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.
“What a gentleman.”
“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”
Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.
If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.
If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.
“It’s not a lot…” he begins.
But he couldn’t be more wrong.
It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.
As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.
Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.
As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.
“C’mon, let me show you around.”
He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.
Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.
“That where the magic happens?”
“Not usually…”
"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."
You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.
He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.
Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.
“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”
It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.
When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.
Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."
He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"
Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”
“So.”
With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”
Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”
A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.
an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
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