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selfishdoll · 5 months

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━━ ❛c’mon baby, let the camera see how pretty you are for me...❜ ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒

NO LOOKING AWAY ft. HANGE ZOE

୨୧ SUMMARY ━━ your lovely significant other bought some fun glasses & can not wait to try it out with you!

୨୧ AUTHOR’S NOTE ━━ hange with a dick has been on my mind for a HOT MINUTE. and they just seem like the type to record sex for.. scientific purposes. as always please excuse any typos & grammar mistakes <3

The cold air circulated the room, emitting a shiver from you each time it licked at your barely covered skin. Your hand grasped the blanket strewn across you lazily, pulling it up higher whilst your eyes were glued to your phone. You were mindlessly scrolling, enjoying the random book a friend of your’s recommended.

That was until you heard hurried footsteps heading in your direction.

The familiar sound caused a sweet smile to pull your lips, shutting off your phone and placing it to the side. You looked up in time to spot your partner rushing into the living room, cloaked in a simple black t-shirt and sweats. The smile on their face was breath taking, eyes gleaming under the glasses perfectly perched on their broad nose.

“[Name]!” The excitement wasn’t only clear on their features but voice as well, pitch rising as they approached you. Without a second thought they were climbing onto the couch, resting in your lap with their hands settling on your shoulders. You weren’t given a moment to complain about the sudden weight since Hange leaned closer, “Notice anything different about me?”

You blinked slowly, gaze dancing about their form in search of something different. You’ve been with Hange for about two years now, so you were sure you would have noticed just about anything.

Except.. you didn’t. Not a thing looked different, out of place,— nothing.

You slowly shook your head, lips pursed just a tad. “No baby, I don’t see anything different.” You watched as their eyebrows pushed together, a subtle pout even forming. Wordlessly, they obnoxiously tapped the stem of their glasses— causing your gaze to click to them. Your eyes slowly widened, finally noticing what was different.

The usual color of their glasses was a chocolate brown, which you believed reflected perfectly off their olive colored skin. But now, they were black; sleek with curly white writing on the right stem.

You smiled, reaching over and playfully poking the edge of the rim. “They’re very nice, where’d you get these?— also can you get up?” You huffed softly, hips rising just a bit to hopefully elevate the pressure. Hange unfortunately didn’t move, even getting a bit closer. You complained softly, hands falling to their waist in an attempt to push them off— only for their much larger hands to grab your wrists.

“These are special glasses..” Hange drawled, cold nose brushing your own the closer they got. You huffed softly, eyebrows pushing together as you gave your best attempt at an annoyed glare.

“How so?”

Their grin deepened, releasing a hand of yours to shove into their pocket. You watched as they snatched their phone out, showcasing the screen to you. You pulled back a bit and squinted, confusion settling in your form. That was until you quickly realized you weren’t just looking at your face, but instead your face— from Hange’s point of view.

You blinked wildly, eyes tearing away to glance at them. “The glasses have a camera in them?”

“Yep!” They spoke, excitement hugging their words. Hange pulled back to straddle your waist properly, eyes tracing down your form not so subtly. “Everything I see, the camera catches..” They spoke slowly, tapping their finger against the glasses before directing your attention back to the phone

“—which I can then, save on my phone. Cool, isn’t it?”

“Very cool..” You breathed softly the moment your eyes flicked back to their face, catching the far too familiar look they were giving you. So that’s why they were so excited, you thought— shivering the moment their hips rolled. The growing bulge inside their sweats brushed across your thin blanket, the friction causing you to feel incredibly warm beneath your skin.

“How about we test them out? I wanna see how long they last,” They rose from your form while grabbing you by the thighs, lifting you before sitting down onto the couch— manually wrapping your legs around their waist. “—if the glasses can pick up every angle,” Hange then peeled the blanket from your body, hands gliding across your form covered by a thin tank top and black Juicy Couture shorts. “— every shiver, every twitch..” They crawled over your body, now hovering with their hands sinking into the pillow under your head.

“—every sound.. You’ll indulge in my little experiment, right my love?”

How could you say no? With those dark eyes drawing you in, clear excitement and want glittering inside them. Your tongue brushed your bottom lip, hands rising to place onto their strong arms. “Mmhm.. I would love to.”

The smile they flashed you was far too sweet, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep kiss. Lips locked, moving slow as your gentle commingled breaths entered the other’s mouth. Your breathing hitched however the moment their hips rolled forward, allowing you to fully feel their bulge brush across your barely clothed cunt.

Hange pulled away for a split moment to breathe before devouring you in another kiss, tongue slinking into your mouth and coating the cavern in their saliva. Your tongues tangled and played, your lover gently sucking on your wet muscle to hear your breath quicken once again.

Keeping you focused with their kisses for a moment, a hand lowered to your neck, thumb brushing across your throat whilst holding the side in their palm. Hange pulled away, blinking and slowly licking away the string that connected the two of you. “Oh, I can’t wait to look back on this.” They breathed heavily, so, so excited.

Their hand rose from your neck to adjust the glasses, assuring they got your perfect form laid out on the couch. Hange’s hands ghosted your body, finally finding purchase on your hips just below your shirt. Carefully they plucked the thin fabric from your body, revealing your chest.

You were all too aware of the focused eyes on you, and even more so of the camera. Your hands spread and gripped the cushions the moment Hange leaned down, gasping as their wet lips caressed your breasts. “Hange..” You spoke softly, feeling their hand grab one of your boobs; thumb rising to roll against your hardening bud.

At the mention of their name Hange’s face was pulling away from your chest, head tilted as their eyes bored into your own. An intense stare you couldn’t return, eyes fluttering shut as they continued the gentle ministrations upon your chest. Such an act caused a sound of disapproval to leave your lover’s throat.

“C’mon [Name], don’t be shy..” They pulled back to sit in between your legs, a hand still remaining on your chest whilst the other carried down the plane of your stomach, fingers hooking on your shorts and panties to tug down. Your soft, wet cunt was soon on display— Hange pushing at your thighs to assure they — the glasses — got a clear view.

“Look at that..I’ve barely touched you.” Clear adoration and amazement circulated their words, fingers carrying along your wet slit gently. Two digits parted your folds, another finger pressing against your hardening nub. Hange watched carefully as your legs twitched, hips rising up to feel more of their finger. They flicked at your sensitive bud delicately, all while continuing to grope your chest; tweaking your nipple between their digits.

The pleasure danced up your spine, feeling their pace quicken as melodic moans thrummed against your lips. Escaping the moment their fingers moved to push inside your wet entrance, curling to brush against that gummy spot inside you. Soft squelches entered the room with each push of their thick digits inside you, and as Hange’s thumb brushed against your clit— your eyes finally opened once again, lips parted as the sweet moan of their name escaped you.

“There she is..” Hange spoke so sweetly, far too gentle compared to the pace of their fingers. Muscles moving, fingers thrusting and scissoring inside you to brush against your velvety walls. “So perfect, so perfect and beautiful— I wish you could see yourself in my eyes..” A soft snort escaped them after their rambling all while the movement of their fingers never skipped a beat.

“— well.. technically you’ll be able to.”

Hange was such a talker, even during sex. Words of praise and encouragement spilling from their bruised lips, looking down at you with clear worship in their eyes. They were completely smitten by you, a sentiment that was undeniably mutual.

Your hips rose into Hange’s hand, hand lowering to their wrist to feel the muscles pulse against your palm with each thrust. Honeyed gasps escaped you, eyes squinted and barely being able to see their form above you. “Fuck—! Hange please..!”

“Hm?.. Please what, what’s wrong? Is it too much— want me to stop?” Your lover spoke slowly, mock-concern clear in their voice. The moment their fingers even threatened to stop, you were shaking your head back and both;

“N—no, no! Please, keep going.. ‘m so close!” Tears threatened to spill over your curly eyelashes, hips rising and practically fucking yourself on their fingers. The band inside your stomach was tightening even more, walls pulsing around their digits as hurried breaths escaped you.

Hange’s other hand fell from your breast, taking your thigh and pushing it up, all while their face grew closer to your cunt. They watched intently; camera catching it all. The arousal that coated their fingers which each thrust, how your walls fluttered around the digits, and how your essence leaked from your pussy the moment you came— a sharp moan following the action.

You panted softly as the high ran through your body, head sinking into the pillow and whimpering as their fingers slipped from inside you. You felt them come to hover over your body, hissing as their broad thigh brushed against your sensitive center. A soft whine escaped you as strong fingers grabbed your cheeks, directing your attention to their face. Their eyebrows were furrowed, thumb coming to brush against your lips as a soft hum escaped them.

“It’s unfortunate I didn’t get to see your face..” Hange spoke softly, leaning down and placing a firm kiss to your messy lips. “It’s no big deal.. I’ll just see it this time.” Their words came out in a whisper, causing a shiver to run down your spine all the way to your toes. Hange was enjoying this far too much, as if further stirred by the camera resting in their glasses.

However.. you couldn’t fault them. Since, truth be told— you felt the exact same way.

Your body went hot as their hand rose to your cheek again, a thumb swiping right under their thigh and slowly getting off the couch— leading you to sit on the cushions. You watched intently as their free hand fiddled with their sweats for a moment, lazily pulling at the strings just to watch your perfect eyebrows furrow in impatience.

A languorous grin painted your partner’s features, fingers gliding to your chin and lifting your face to meet their eyes— all while tugging their sweats and undergarments to their thighs. Hange leaned down, thumb pressed against your chin to open your mouth; delivering a heated kiss to your lips. Their hand slowly stroked themself, precum beading at their pretty red tip.

Hange pulled away slowly, licking away the string of spit whilst rubbing your commingled saliva across your lips. “Gonna get it all nice and wet for me, right baby?” Their breath fanned across your skin, watching that pretty head of yours bob back and forth quickly. Hange grinned far too wide, rising to their full height whilst moving closer. Their eyes— the glasses— were focused intently as the tip of their cock brushed your lip, making an even glossier mess.

Your lips parted slowly, eyes fluttering shut as they fed you inch by inch of their cock all while a soft praise of being such a good girl, fell from Hange’s lips. Your hands rose to their thighs, nails gliding across their skin as you breathed through your nose— struggling not to gag. Finally they were fully inside your wet mouth, tip brushing against your uvula for a moment before they were pulling their hips back; slowly thrusting back inside.

Hange watched you carefully for a moment, searching for discomfort— but found nothing. So, their thrusts continuined; the wet sounds of your mouth echoing the room as well as their pleased groans each time your tongue glided across their dick. Your cheeks were hallowed at this point, little tears forming in your eyes as they fucked your mouth— spit mixed with cum creating a sticky ring around the base of their dick, tainting their trimmed hairs.

Their hand rose from your cheek up to your hair, grabbing a gentle handful as their strained words entered your ears; “C’mon beautiful.. let the camera see— fuck. Good girl, look at you; sucking me off so well.. shit—!” They struggled not to throw their head back in ecstasy, other hand rising to pushing at the glasses to catch everything. The sweet expression on your face had their cock twitching in your mouth, soft, soaked claps following the strained sounds escaping their bruised lips.

Hange was so close, grip unintentionally tightening as their release approached. Except they didn’t allow themselves to tip over the edge, quickly pulling out of your mouth before they could finish. Heavy pants escaped them, grip loosening in your hair a bit whilst they hunched over.

“You di—“

“Only inside you, princess— do I wanna come. You know that.” Hange spoke through bated breath, taking you into a gentle kiss while pushing at your shoulder to lead you to lay on the couch again. You sunk into the cushions, breathing heavily into their mouth the moment they crawled over your form. Their hands treaded to your thighs, hitching them to their waist whilst their drenched cock brushed against your folds.

Teasingly so, bumping against your clit before leading down to your hole; resting there for a moment, before leading back to your swollen bud. Your hands rose to their messy ponytail, fingers curling into the brown tresses and tugging. Hange groaned into your mouth, pulling back when you gently tugged again; “So impatient, baby..” They grinned, leaning over to rest their forehead against yours.

You simply whined in response, watching as they rose to rest on their haunches. A hand lowered to grab the base of their dick, slowly pushing inside your awaiting entrance. The camera took in everything, from how your body twitched from the stretch to how your walls clung to their length far too greedily. Hange’s hips moved back a smidge before pushing all the way down to the base, teeth caught on their lip to suppress their moan.

You attempted to wrap your legs around them, only for their strong hands to travel underneath your thighs, pushing you up and open; knees brushing your chest. You weren’t given a moment to complain seeing as they were pulling their hips back and driving them forward in one go. The spark of pleasure eliminated any pain you felt from the stretch, nails clinging to the cushions as a languid pace begun.

Hange always started off slow, as if being introduced to your body for the first time, every single time the two of you fucked. The thrusts long and deep, drawing little moans from your bruised lips as your walls clung to their length. Soon enough you were begging for more, clit throbbing with need each time their pelvis brushed against it.

Squeezing your legs tight, Hange wasted no time in obeying your wish; trading their slow pace for something much faster— hips slamming against your skin as their cock drove into you. The moans that escaped you were heavenly, their eyes finally tearing away from your pussy stretching on their length to your face — and fuck was it a sight.

Hange moved to let your legs lay on their shoulders, slamming deeper inside; brushing against that special spot that caused stars to interrupt your vision. They got close, hand laying your throat and tilting to take you in fully. Their lips were parted, sharp sounds of pleasure escaping their throat as the pace of Hange’s hips never ceased. “You’re a mess, baby.. such a— pretty fucking me—mess..” Their words were strained as your walls clung to their length.

Your toes were curling the moment they went deeper, pressing up against your cervix and fucking you harshly. The pain and pleasure fought for dominance as cries escaped you, hand moving to their waist to drag your nails along their heated skin. Hange groaned softly above you, relishing in the way you gulped under their thumb.

“Feels good, baby?.. Yeah, keep clenchin’ my dick like that— don’t wanna let go do you?” Hange drawled, thrusts switching back to long and deep strokes; assuring you felt every single inch that was currently ruining you. Your hands rose to their back, nails dragging across their skin as the prettiest moans escaped you. You were pretty all over, really. Simply perfect, someone Hange could never get enough of looking at.. or watching cry all over their cock.

“Ha—hange..!” You whined out, eyes flying open the moment their thumb nudged your clit. The little nub throbbed under their digit, soon being rolled into tight circles by your lover. You felt your stomach tightening as the pleasure contained, arousal dripping down their length— making a mess under you.

Hange pulled back just to capture your pussy again, their cock twitching just from the sight. They hummed softly, free hand pushing at your thigh even move just to get a better look of their dick disappearing inside you. “Shit..” They groaned heavily, steady thrusts turning sloppier as they felt their own end approaching. It didn’t help your walls were spasming around them, clear you were close as well.

“— mm.. don’t close your legs, baby, keep ‘em wide and open for me.” Hange hissed, hips rocking into you as their head slackened, assuring their eyes were focused on your pussy. “Let the camera see you milking my dick..”

Tears dribbled down your cheeks, hips rising uselessly before creaming all over Hange’s length all while a drawn out whine of their name escaped you. Your walls clenched around them tightly, emitting a groan from your lover— struggling to move their hips. But they managed; rutting into you desperately before painting your insides white, thrusts stuffing the cum that threatened to spill out of you.

You whimpered softly, gripping their arms as you twitched from the sensitivity. Finally Hange let up, slowly pulling out of you and watching ever intently as your mixed essence dropped out down to your ass.

Hange’s eyes flicked to you, a sweet smile on their features as they crawled to hover above you; placing a feverish kiss in-between your eyes. “Did so good for me, [Name]. Can’t wait to see how the video turned out.” Their hand went for their sweats tossed to the side, grabbing about for a moment before snatching their phone from the pocket.

They opened the device, rising to lean on their knees and looking at the screen. Eyebrows furrowing slowly..

You blinked up at your lover, rising up from your laying position. “What’s wrong, baby?”

A nervous, maybe even playful chuckle escaped Hange; gaze switching to your form. “I never pressed record.”

“Hange!” You huffed, watching as they tapped something on their screen before leaning to place it on the table beside you. You opened your mouth to speak again, only for them to swallow your words; leading you back to the couch all while sinking back into your soaked entrance— ignoring your whines.

“Looks like we’ll just have to do another trial for our.. experiment.”

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #aot smut #black writers #x black reader #x chubby reader #hange x reader #hange x black reader #hange x black!reader #hange zoe x reader #hange zoe x black reader #hange zoe x black!reader #black reader #anime x black reader #anime x black!reader #aot x reader #aot x black!reader

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kelcemenow · 5 months

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Little Do They Know.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1380

Warnings Strong language, smut and talks of casual sex.

It's another Anon request! I really loved this request but I did find it a bit difficult not to be too similar to As The Snow Falls but I think I did it! "I have a smut request 🫣 Travis X reader are secretly hooking up (none of their friends know) and they go on a friend trip or something where they have to be really quiet when they’re trying to have sex"

"But, do you not miss it?" Zoe asked, as she adjusted her swimsuit.

You squinted and shielded your eyes from the beating sun, "Miss what?"

"Sex!" She giggled, "I know I sure would. Come on, you've been single for almost 4 months now. How are you still surviving!"

"Some of us aren't obsessed with sex."

The sound of rushing water caused you to turn your head. Travis was exiting the pool and the bright rays shone against his tanned skin, highlighting his bulging muscles as he pulled himself up onto the side. You quickly looked back towards the book that was nestled in your lap, grabbing your sunglasses from the top of your head and pulling them down to cover your eyes.

"Hey." Zoe whispered, "Trav's single, right?"

You snorted a laugh, "Yeah, right."

"No, I'm serious! He's funny, successful...not to mention quite easy on the eye."

You rolled your eyes behind your shades.

"Come on! At least consider it?" Zoe said as she tipped her head to the side.

"What are we talking about?" Marcus asked as he approached the loungers, placing a gentle kiss on Zoe's forehead.

"Zoe-"

"The fact that Y/N and Trav should totally be getting it on." She interupted.

"Will you stop?"

Marcus laughed, "You know my girl is always trying to hook people up."

You glanced behind your shades at Travis as he walked into the beach house, his feet leaving wet prints onto the wooden decking.

"But, it's not a totally weird idea." Marcus said as he reached for his can of soda.

"See! I told you, I'm good at this shit." Zoe nodded.

You nervously chewed on your bottom lip for a second before turning a page in your book, "I need to focus on my career right now."

Zoe groaned and Marcus rolled his eyes, the pair showing their disappointment at your reluctance.

"Whatever, dinner and drinks at 7?" Marcus asked.

______________________________________________________________

You squeezed your eyed closed and tightly gripped at the sheets, balling a corner up in your fist. Travis loomed over you, his brow slick with sweat, the heat causing his cheeks to flush bright red.

He grunted above you, his hips thrusting harshly as his hard dick pounded into you, wetness pooling around your pussy.

You reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, shushing loudly.

He furrowed his brows, "What?"

"If I have to be quiet, so do you." You whispered.

His rhythm slowed slightly, "Sorry, I'm just not used to having to be quiet."

You giggled lightly as he lifted up and lay back next to you, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"What are we doing?" You asked, breathlessly.

"Well, I don't know about you but I was fucking the sexiest woman in the world."

You turned to look at him, beads of sweat dripping down his jawline, "You know what I mean." You steadied your breathing, "Zoe is trying to hook us up."

Travis grinned, "Little does she know."

"I know. I feel bad lying though."

Travis held his gaze on the ceiling, "You wanna stop?"

You pressed your lips together as you felt a tingle of energy coarse through your veins. Travis turned his head, his glassy eyes staring deeply into yours. The corners of his lips curled up slowly into a smile as the back of his hand grazed the sides of your thigh.

"Hell no." You said, quickly lifting yourself up and moving to straddle his waist.

Travis' hands roamed your body as you leaned down to kiss him passionately, his fingers leaving trails of shivers in their wake. You pulled away and gasped for air, placing your hands onto his solid stomach to aid in lifting your hips up. The tip of his cock glistened with pre-cum as it ran along your entrance, making your knees weak.

"Take it, babygirl." He groaned.

Without hesitation, you lowered down, allowing him to fill you entirely. Your mouth dropped open, a slow exhale of breath leaving your lips. Travis watched as your head fell back, his hands gripping at your waist to hold you steady.

You slowly began rocking your hips, grinding down on his dick. Travis' face was contorting with pleasure and you happily watched, your nails digging into his flesh. Your stomach fluttered and a tightness built up in your core, waves of electricity shooting to your pussy. You began to bounce up and down, your wet skin slapping against his. Travis looked down to observe your folds engulfing his hardened cock, a milky substance pooling at the base.

You removed your hands from his body and ran them through your hair, sitting up straight and angling your hips back so that he hit your g-spot better. Travis moved his hands around to your ass, kneading your soft, supple skin harshly. You hissed as his fingers dug in a little deeper, his grip sending sharp pains across your body. Your thighs were beginning to weaken so you leaned back a little further and held onto Travis' lower legs to steady yourself. Biting down on your bottom lip, you tried your hardest not to scream out, something Travis didn't seem to be concerned about, his grunting growing louder and louder with every thrust.

Your rhythm began to falter and your chest heaved, hot breaths escaping your lips. Travis could see that you were close, causing him to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer, your forehead hitting the pillow next to him. Travis dug his ankles into the bed and lifted his hips upwards, allowing him to deepen his fill. He held onto you tightly and thrusted fast and hard, your jaw falling open and tears building in your eyes.

You let out a small squeak which only made Travis quickly push your face into the pillow further to try to muffle your sounds. You clamped down onto the pillow with your teeth and rode out your orgasm, feeling moisture bursting from you and collecting onto Travis' torso. Travis groaned in pleasure as he pushed himself deeply into you with a few sluggish thrusts, his large hands splayed across your back.

After a few moments, you allowed your muscles to completely relax, your full body weight resting on Travis. He lazily ran his fingers up and down your spine, his gentle touch causing you to twitch occasionally. You could feel your eyes beginning to grow heavier so you lifted your head to face him, his hazy expression making you smile.

"I prefer it when I can be loud." You said softly.

He threw you a smirk, "I do too."

______________________________________________________________

"I don't think I could do the whole 'casual relationship' thing. A friend with benefits." Zoe said as she spread butter across her bread.

Marcus looked up from his plate, "I fucking hope not!"

"You know what I mean! I have to know where I stand with someone I'm sleeping with."

"Can we talk about anything other than sex for 5 minutes, please?" You said as you rolled your eyes.

Zoe pointed her bread towards you, "I bet Y/N agrees with me? Y/N...am I wrong? Sex is better when there is a relationship involved and having a friend that you fuck...like a booty call, if you will, just ends in disaster? Am I wrong?"

You chewed your chicken quietly, hoping for someone to interject.

Travis cleared his throat, "I don't know, I think in some situations it can work out okay for both people?"

"Maybe it's a girl thing?" Zoe shrugged her shoulders.

You looked up at Travis through your eyebrows, hoping no one would notice, his cheeks growing red.

"Is it a girl thing? Y/N, you're pretty quiet on the matter." Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know...maybe. I think I could do it." You said, intentionally indifferently.

Zoe's eyes grew wider, "Woah...okay. Well, now that you mention it...Travis?"

You shook your head as Travis wiped his mouth with his napkin, humming in ackowledgment.

"Y/N's available, you're available...how about it?"

"Zoe, you are the worst." You mumbled towards her.

Travis smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "Sure, why not?"

You couldn't hide your amusement when Zoe began clapping her hands wildly and squealing with excitement at Marcus, "See baby, I told you! I'm good at this shit!"

______________________________________________________________

I love a secret lovers story! This one was fun to do so I really hope you enjoyed it. I'm slowly working through my requests list but it was bigger than I thought it was! I'm aiming for 1/2 releases a week and hopefully I'll get to the end of it sooner rather than later so I can get my requests open again! If you want to be in my Taglist, just drop me a message!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry @calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29 @cedricbitch @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes @mmb219

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #nfl fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #nfl smut #nfl angst #nfl fic #kelcemenow requests

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tonyspank · 7 months

Text

WH0 R U 3???

Summary: Tara’s worst worries are back. Will they scare you away?

Warnings: kissing (ew! right??), ghostface, violence, and bad writing 😞

A/N: pt.4 finna be a lit crazy movie yall. ALSO WHO’S GHOSTFACE????? who r yall suspecting

part 1 part 2

"That feels so good." Tara groans out, closing her eyes and sinking deeper into the plush covers of your bed. You playfully roll your eyes, continuing to rub her feet. "You're such a drama queen," you tease, a smile playing on your lips. Tara lets out a contented sigh, her body relaxing under your touch.

Tara couldn't be any happier, her worries faded about you. You didn't distance yourself from her, if anything, you were the one who started approaching her, texting her random thoughts throughout the day, and surprising her with little gestures of affection.

She had never felt so loved and cherished before. As the days went by, Tara realized that her heart was slowly healing from past hurts, thanks to your unwavering presence in her life. Your constant support and affection made her feel secure and valued, allowing her to let go of her to fully embrace the happiness you brought into her life.

"Have you thought about it?" Tara asks. You snap your eyes from your daydream and meet her gaze. "I can't come to the party, sorry, Tara."

Tara lets out a dramatic groan, "The frat won't even care! You're a cool professor!"

You chuckle, "Maybe...but that's just unprofessional. If someone reports me to the university, it could jeopardize my job. I can't take that risk." Tara pouts, and then a lightbulb clicks in her head.

"What if you wore a mask?" Tara's eyes light up with excitement as she suggests, "You could disguise yourself and go incognito! No one would recognize you!"

You actually consider her idea for a moment, it could be a fun and safe way to attend the party without risking your professional reputation or job.

"Uhh..." you hesitate a bit, unsure if wearing a mask would fully protect your identity. However, the thought of attending the party without any consequences is tempting, and you begin to seriously consider Tara's suggestion. "I guess I could do that."

Tara's eyes light up with excitement as she hears your response. "Yes!" she exclaims, sitting up quickly before pulling you into a passionate kiss. You begin laughing in the kiss, bringing Tara into a hug as you place more kisses on her cheek.

"I'm having second thoughts." You mumble to Tara, now dressed as Batman, her matching as Catwoman. Tara playfully rolls her eyes, taking your hand and dragging you quicker towards the Halloween party. "Come on, don't be a party-pooper," she teases, smiling widely in excitement.

You both enter the Halloween party hand in hand, met with half-drunk college students dancing and mingling in their elaborate costumes.

"There's Mindy and Anika! I'll be right back, I'm gonna go say hello." You watch as Tara weaves through the crowd, disappearing into the sea of costumes. You stand there alone a loud sigh escaping your lips.

You walk into the kitchen, deciding to get a drink for both you and Tara. You don't get too far as you're stopped by a ghost.

"Can you hold this for me? I'll be really quick, I just have to use the bathroom." The girl hands you her ghost costume, rushing off in the direction of the bathroom.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to see Tara, grinning mischievously. "Changing costumes?" You chuckle and shake your head. "No, just holding it for someone. They'll be back soon." Tara raises an eyebrow curiously. You put the ghost costume over the two of you, smiling.

"I like this mask." You say, tracing over Tara's very accurate copy of Zoe Kravitz's Catwoman mask. Tara smirks and says, "Thank you." You snicker, smiling back at her before bringing her into a kiss.

Tara tries her hardest not to break the kiss with her wide smile. You made her so happy.

Suddenly, the blanket is pulled off of you both, revealing the owner of the costume. Tara ducks away, walking back towards the living room with a bashful expression.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know—"

You cut her off with a wave. "You're fine, don't worry about it."

The owner of the costume smiles, walking away towards the kitchen. Tara blushes and shyly joins you again, causing you to chuckle. "Why'd you run? I thought the mask helped cover my identity?"You ask in a teasing tone, playfully nudging Tara.

She giggles, grabbing your hand and leading you further into the party.

"Batman!" You recognize the voice calling out to you. You turn to see Mindy, who ushers you over. You exchange a quick glance with Tara before making your way towards Mindy, with a bit of hesitation in your steps.

"Professor Y/LN, are you trying to duck me?" Mindy asks with a mischievous grin, causing you to laugh nervously, your heart pounding in your chest. How on earth did Mindy know it was you?

You try to play it cool, putting on a fake Russian accent—a bad one too. "Uh...Professor? I don't know of such guy." Mindy raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your act. "Come on, I know it's you. No need for the accent," she says, smirking.

You sheepishly drop the accent, realizing that there's no fooling Mindy.

Anika joins in, "If you really wanted to hide your identity, you shouldn't have matched with Tara. I mean, who else has she been talking to lately? It's not exactly a secret that you two have been spending a lot of time together."

Mindy and Anika nod at each other in sync, leaving you feeling even more exposed.

"Can you guys, like...not pester Y/N? It's a party for Christ's sake," Tara interjects, coming to your defense. Mindy and Anika exchange surprised glances before finally relenting.

You breathe a sigh of relief before feeling yourself being pulled again.

You end up upstairs in an empty bedroom, sitting on the bed as Tara huffs to herself. She seems frustrated and agitated, her hands clenched into fists.

You can sense that she has something to say, but she struggles to find the right words. You take off your mask, sit up from the bed, and walk over to your girlfriend.

As you approach Tara, you gently place a hand on her shoulder, silently conveying your support and willingness to listen. Her tense expression softens slightly, and she takes a deep breath before finally finding the right words to speak her mind.

"I just wish we could be together without everyone judging us," Tara whispers. "It's exhausting constantly worrying about who sees us or what others will think or say about our relationship." You nod understandingly, softly grabbing her hand.

"Me too, T." You rub your thumb against the back of her hand, smiling. "If my job wasn't on the line, I would shout from the rooftops how much I adore you. But even though I can't, I hope you know I do truly cherish you."

Tara smiles. "I think I got that when you started giving me foot massages without protest." You chuckle, slightly rolling your eyes. "Yeah, I guess my secret is out."

Tara places a hand on the back of your neck, leaning in closer. "Well, lucky for you, I adore you too," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

Without breaking the kiss, you lift Tara, walking backwards, before laying her down on the bed and taking off her Catwoman mask.

Your favorite sound is heard—Tara's soft laughter playing in your ears. You break away from the kiss, kissing her face and neck. "I can't get enough of you," you confess, trailing kisses down her collarbone. Tara's fingers tangle in your hair as she pulls your mouth back toward hers.

"Tara!" You jump away from the girl, quickly trying to compose yourself. "Chad? What are you doing here?" Tara asks sitting up from the bed, surprised to see Chad standing in the doorway. You find your mask and turn around to see one of your students in the doorway, looking confused.

"Uh...Sam...Sam's here. She's downstairs looking for you." He stammers, his eyes darting between you and Tara. Tara glances at you, grabbing up her mask, before rushing out of the room to find Sam, Chad not too far behind.

You linger in the bedroom, not wanting to face Sam, and when you finally gather the courage to go downstairs, you slip out of the party and make your way home. Hoping your girlfriend isn't in too much trouble with her older sister.

When you're at home, fresh out of the shower, your phone begins ringing. Without even looking at the caller ID, you answer it. "Tara?"

The voice on the other end of the line is not Tara's, but it sounds very familiar. "So sorry to disappoint, but this isn't Tara." You furrow your brow in confusion, trying to place the voice.

"Who is this?" you ask, your heart pounding with anticipation.

"Now, where would the fun be in telling you that?" the voice teases. "You know, you should stay away from Tara."

You remember the voice. Ghostface—was this real? Or was this Laura pretending again?

Your mind races as you try to comprehend the situation.

No, it couldn't be. "Laura? Is this you?" The voice chuckles softly. "Why don't you turn on the news and see what happened to your co-worker? Maybe then you'll begin to understand this isn't some silly prank call."

No, it can't be.

Your hand trembles as you reach for the remote, flipping on the television. The news anchor's voice fills the room, confirming your worst fears - Laura's lifeless body had been found just hours ago.

"You see, Y/N? It's easy to get away with murder. Do you want to be the next professor on the list?" Your heart races as you try to comprehend the chilling words. You might be the next target of this deranged individual.

You run to your kitchen, all your knives are gone. Fuck! They had to be inside your apartment, but when?

Immediately, you run to your front door, opening it quickly, your eyes widening when Ghostface stands there, holding a knife and wearing a menacing mask.

You don't have any time to react. Ghostface stabs you in the shoulder, sending a searing pain through your body. The adrenaline kicks in, and you manage to push Ghostface away, slamming your door shut.

You quickly lock the door, desperately searching for a way to defend yourself.

Ghostface starts to kick on your door, trying to break it down. Panicking, you grab a nearby heavy object, ready to defend yourself if necessary. The kicks grow louder and more forceful, and you brace yourself for what might come next, prepared to protect yourself at all costs.

Ghostface successfully breaks down the door, lunging towards you with a knife. With quick reflexes, you swing the heavy object at Ghostface, making contact and momentarily stunning them. Seizing the opportunity, you sprint towards the front door and down your apartment steps.

You don't look back, you keep sprinting as fast as your legs can carry you. You manage to make it to the crowded streets, where you blend in with the bustling city dwellers.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you search for a safe place to hide, constantly glancing over your shoulder to ensure Ghostface isn't following.

A body clashes with yours, you jump slightly and instinctively brace yourself for an attack, but it's just...Tara?

"Tara?" you say, slightly out of breath. "W-what? Why..? What are you doing here?" Tara looks at you, confused but mostly relieved.

"Sam left the apartment to go to the police station after we saw the news of Professor Crane... I was just worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay. And I...I was scared and wanted to be with you." Tara explains, her eyes staring into yours, full of vulnerability.

But it's soon replaced with worry, her eyes finding their way to your bloody shoulder. But it's soon replaced with worry, her eyes finding their way to your bloody shoulder.

She gasps and softly pulls you closer to examine the wound. 'What happened? Are you okay?"

"Ghostface called me and attacked me. Fucking lunatic was outside my apartment," you say through gritted teeth, wincing as Tara's gentle touch brushes against the wound. "He said something about staying away from you."

Tara's concern deepens as she hears your explanation, her brows furrowing in both fear and anger, regardless, she stays silent, unsure of what to say.

You clench your jaw. "But that's not happening, T. I won't let him scare me away. I adore you, remember?"

#tonyspank #jenna ortega #reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #wattpad #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter angst #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x g!p reader #tara x reader #tara x y/n #tara carpenter scream #scream x reader #scream #scream 6

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sunlightmurdock · 29 days

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The Odyssey | 1.4 | Bradley Bradshaw

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In the middle of nowhere with no power, the world you knew back home feels further away than ever.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, nudity, mentions of erections, making out.

…

“Mm, che pioverá.” Teodora had sighed, early that morning, while sitting at the breakfast table with Bradley and Pasquale, her son, and her daughter-in-law surrounding her. The three of them had paused eating to look up at the beaming sun, the still trees and the cloudless sky.

Sweat was already beading at the back of Bradley’s neck as he chewed at a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Sandro had brushed her off with a simple shake of his head and an affectionate eye roll. Bradley had flashed an amused smile between the two of them and swallowed down his bite. Pasquale had hummed a thoughtful, but not necessarily agreeing sound.

The three of them already had plans for the day to drive out and take a look at the spinitrae at the university an hour away, after Bradley’s morning run, Pasquale’s phone call home and Sandro’s morning swim.

As usual around here, Teodora was right.

You’re woken by the first rumble of thunder. Face down, your arms wrapped securely around the pillow, Bradley’s blue shirt wrapped securely around your body. Only thirty minutes after the two of them had so briskly dismissed the old woman’s claims.

Already since then, the landscape has transformed. The skies are thick with dark clouds and the wind whips at the trees, knocking fruit to the ground with ease.

With Bradley supposedly gone for the day, you had figured that things around here would be a bit of a free for all. Zoe had suggested digging through the Gabris’ VHS collection in search of a movie in English while you go through pages of Ovid. Nothing to get up particularly early for.

The thunder makes you lift your head and frown a bit. It’s not like you have been really keeping up with the weather forecast, but yesterday’s clear skies hadn’t exactly alerted you to an oncoming storm. It’s barely rained at all since you got here.

Stretching your legs across cool sheets, you sigh and roll onto your back. It’s not cold, per se, but once you’ve strayed from the warmth of your sleeping position your skin starts to prickle with chill.

Your engagement ring stares back at you from its discarded spot on the dresser by the window. This place isn’t like a hotel, Malcolm wouldn’t have a clue which numbers to punch to reach you all the way out here. He wouldn’t even know which province you’re in. You might as well be on a different planet.

It kind of feels like you are.

The point of closing the window is what drives you out of bed first of all. You pad along the floor and turn to the window, all blackened skies and pouring rain for miles around.

Then, a figure by the trees catches your eye. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, that defined line running down the middle of his chest — you recognise him right away.

Bradley is soaked from the rain, wearing a pair of blue running shorts. Caught in the middle of the downpour, he jogs back along the path as rain beats down his back.

Your fingertips push back the edge of the curtain as your shoulder leans up against the window frame. The Gabris estate really is beautiful, miles of stretching, rolling fields and hills with dustings of green forests at its edge..

Those blue shorts sit low on his waist and they’re still exposing so much of his long, muscled legs. His chest is wet, and that cross necklace of his bounces against his collarbones with each footfall.

Maybe he feels the eyes on him, or maybe he catches you in his peripheral — either way, his gaze flickers up to the window and he catches sight of you. Catches you smiling at him.

Through the rain-splattered window pane, he spots his shirt wrapped around your shoulders, just a few of the buttons fastened. Your skin peeking through the gaps between the open buttons. Even with his run cut short, his mouth grows dry all of a sudden.

He lifts a soaked palm and cards it through his hair as he slows to a stop, attempting to tame his drenched curls. From outside, it’s hard to really tell what he’s thinking when he looks at you, especially under the cover of the rain.

You lift your hand from your side and wave your fingers at him.

The rest of the group might be up, they might not. Not a single one of them would know yet that Bradley’s trip to the university has been canceled, they wouldn’t be looking for him. Not in your room, especially.

He stands there for a second and lets himself fall into the fantasy. Walking up those stairs and clicking that heavy wooden door shut behind him. Working open the buttons on that shirt, coming to realize that you aren’t wearing anything under it.

You’re driving him crazy, and he savors every second of it. He can’t stand and stare for too long, he can already feel all of his attention rushing south. He swallows. Then, he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and blinks the rain from his eyes, shaking his head.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and tug at it and shit— that really doesn’t help his problem at all. His mouth ghosts at a smile as he reminds himself to move.

His attention is back on the path ahead as he resumes his jog back to the house. Thunder rumbles in the air.

You’re free to resume your staring. You wonder if he’s even wearing underwear under those tiny shorts— doesn’t look like it.

The thought makes your cheeks hot. His perpetually warm hands soothing your chilled thighs, brushing so coolly under the cotton of his shirt, reclaiming it as he unfastens the buttons, and your mouth on his chest, the salt from his skin— his shoes on the stairs snap you out of it.

The villa is old and the stairs creak at every opportunity. He’s skipping steps, his long strides make that easy and you hear him pause at the top. His room is to the right. Yours is just a bit to the left. You swallow, holding your breath to listen out.

His footsteps fall to the right. One, two, three steps and you hear his door open and close. A dejected sigh pushes past your lips as you lean back into the wall.

He’s wet, and probably sweaty from his run. He always showers before everyone else, too. Your towel is hanging on the hook behind the door. You cross the room briskly and grab it on the way out, crossing into the hallway as he steps back out of his room, also holding his towel.

You’re two steps closer to the bathroom than he is. His eyes flicker down to your bare legs, then at his shirt hanging partially open across your chest. Finally, he meets your gaze and smiles a bit.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” You copy back, turning on your heel and crossing the hall to the bathroom. He watches your hand settle on the door knob. He catches the purposeful way you glance back at him over your shoulder, and catches on.

He thought about going into your room. He really did. With everything you have learned in the past few days, he has been trying to give you space — he figured the last thing you would want would be him getting handsy.

With the way you’re looking at him now, he’s not so sure.

He checks the hallway. Still empty. With Sandro out swimming, Pasquale yapping away in the kitchen, and Dorie painting out in the sun room, it’s like you’re alone.

He starts towards you, slowly.

“I like your shirt.”

You glance downward. This was bold. It wasn’t exactly well thought-out, rushing into the hallway barely dressed. He’s still barely dressed. His hair and his skin are still wet from the rain. He still looks warm.

“Thanks.” You answer him softly, as he comes to stand before you. He reaches out and finds your skin with his fingertips, gently stroking a pattern against your thigh.

“You about to shower?” Bradley asks you, close enough that his stomach is just about brushing yours. Your mouth is dry, and you forgot to close the window when you got out of bed. You shiver. Finally, when you remember you’ve been asked a question, you nod at him.

He hums, “Weird. Me too.”

Your eyes widen, somewhere between shock and excitement. Then, there’s a sudden cold feeling in the pit of your stomach. It’s like a physical force pushing you back. Your mother, maybe, trying to push you in the right direction from across the Atlantic.

He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, or more pressingly, what’s gotten into you. He had given you his shirt as a kind gesture, and here you are, using it against him in such a cruel, cruel way.

As his mind crosses over into the territory of saying fuck it and suggesting that he take you right here in the hallway, your gaze meets his firmly and your fingers twist the doorknob.

He swallows, feeling the nylon of his shorts grow tighter at the semblance of an invitation. The bathroom door creeps open, and you glance towards it.

He shouldn’t. Your head is all over the place. Keeping his hands to himself is the right move.

“Ladies first, I’ll wait.” He tells you, shooting you a quick wink.

That’s a no. It’s a kind way of saying no, but it’s a no nonetheless. He doesn’t want to. A quick glance downward proves to you that he's half hard in those running shorts.

“No need.” You whisper, hoping to god that was the right thing to say. The two of you can’t possibly keep whispering out in the hallway, half dressed like this. He doesn’t answer, he just blinks at you.

You swallow a breath and hold it, stepping past him and into the bathroom. The door remains loudly open behind you, like it’s a car-alarm going off right in Bradley’s ear, actually.

He inhales and steps inside, shutting the door behind him. The alarm stops.

“Stop. Look at me,” Somehow now, he feels the need to be quieter than before, and not just because this old bathroom echoes. You fidget, bare feet on cold tile as you stand before him. His brows knit together a bit. “Are you sure about this?”

You purse your lips for a moment and look down at yourself. Honesty is the best policy. You just have to figure out why you’re here yourself.

“It’s just showering.” You say it confidently, like you aren’t even trying to convince yourself. It surprises him. “Doesn’t have to be… sexual. It’s just two people in the shower. Together.”

“Right. Naked.” He reminds you.

“Right.” You copy back, hoping you sound more certain than you feel.

“And you’re cool with that?” He checks. The way he raises his eyebrows tells you that he expects you not to be. In the same breath, you catch the way his eyes flicker to the shower head behind the two of you.

You, him. Naked. You have toed that line before. It wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t bad at all actually, it was incredible.

“Yeah.” Your sudden why-wouldn’t-it-be attitude has Bradley prickling with suspicion about your motives this morning, and the morality in being in here with you when he’s certain that your head isn’t quite clear about what happened with your fianc��.

But, he reaches to his right, and bolts the lock across the door. His eyes study your face, and his fingers linger for a moment against the brass. Upholding your unspoken role in this, you twist away from him and turn on the water.

So, we’re doing this. Bradley holds onto that breath, not quite ready to let the thought pass or the exhale follow, as he drops his towel to rest against the sink basin.

You’re bent at the waist, calculating the measure of hot and cold water between the two taps, and Bradley is met with an unobstructed view of your legs. In the vein of following your impulses this morning, he considers sinking to his knees and letting his mouth greet them — but he doesn’t. He half considers tucking his hands behind his back just to remove the temptation at all.

He thinks back to that movie he saw last November, with Anthony Michael Hall and the other kids. In particular, the shower scene where too inept teenage boys stand awkwardly in the back of a shower cubicle, not knowing what to do with their hands, while a beautiful woman showers in front of them.

And then you turn to look at him again.

“You first.”

“Me…? — right,” Clothes. You’re talking about clothes. With his running shoes, he probably has more articles of clothing on than you do. Depends if you’re wearing underwear, he guesses. He isn’t. He kicks off the shoes and goes for his socks next, warm condensation starts to permeate the space between the two of you. Strange, this room feels awfully cramped already, he doesn’t know where the steam finds the space to join. “You just going to stand and watch?”

With his socks gone, he only has one article of clothing left. He hooks a thumb into the waistband of those blue nylon shorts and pushes just an inch, revealing a soft tan line and a sharp V following the shape of his hip.

Stiffly, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. His pulse quickens, watching you watch him.

“Can I?” Bradley asks finally, rushing it out at once. He gestures to the one button left fastened, sitting above your navel.

If this was anyone else, Bradley would probably already be in the shower by now. This pace is unfamiliar, and foreign for him. He’s not quite sure where to tread.

You give him a little nod.

He takes one step forwards and pinches the button between his index and thumb, popping it open as his other hand fits securely against the small of your back and pushes you into him. There’s a second of observation as your bare stomach comes flush against his, where his eyes won’t leave your face for fear of missing some kind of a sign.

Being undressed by him as steam clouds the room, him doing absolutely nothing to hide the darkened look in his eyes. You weren’t fooling anyone by pretending that this could have been something innocent. You might as well accept it for what it is.

As his fingers dip under the material covering each of your shoulders and guide it back, off of your arms, you stretch up and kiss his mouth softly. Experimentally. He shuts his eyes and waits. Your second kiss is firmer, and your fingers reach for the nape of his neck.

He follows suit, relieved finally that he has some kind of sign about how you’re feeling about this. His hand hugs the nape of your neck, his nose bumping your cheek, his tongue swiping across your lip.

‘I like you, you know?’ Your words from yesterday afternoon have been playing in his mind all night. He’s an idiot for not saying more, he just hadn’t wanted to push his luck.

“Come on, we can’t be in here all morning.” He remembers, against your mouth.

“Right.” You sigh, eyes closed as you lean in for another kiss.

With your back to him, you drop your underwear to the ground with his shirt as he steps out of his shorts. You step into the tub first, falling under the safety of the warm spray. He steps in behind you, his fingers finding your waist.

You’re naked. Completely naked, and so is he. With your back to him, he can’t really see you, and you’ve no way of seeing him. The thought of turning around makes your chest feel tight.

He hasn’t ever had to feel so calculated about this before. Is he an appropriate distance away? — well, nothing about this is appropriate, but is he making it worse? — Are you waiting for him to make a move or do you want him to keep his hands to himself?

“I thought you were going to the university today.” You say to the wall of tile in front of you.

“Yeah. Weather took a turn, the road through town floods when it rains like this, apparently.” Bradley answers you.

The only parts of him that are touching you are his fingers. Experimentally, you lean your head back and as expected, it falls to rest against his shoulder. It just looks like you’re rinsing your hair.

His fingers stray from your hip and unfurl across your bare stomach, as he drops his head to press a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder. That’s safe enough.

Heart racing, you lift your arms and pull your hair back, saturating it under the stream of water. As you stretch up to do so, your back curves away from him and your ass grazes his thigh.

He swallows thickly. Looking down, he knows you feel the way his half-hard package is pressing into the back of your hip. He turns his face toward your neck, kissing softly.

In a last ditch effort to regulate your breathing before he offers you a nebulizer, you screw your eyes shut. In the dark, you feel his heartbeat against your back, his warm fingers smoothing along your middle, his lips on your throat, and his erection behind you.

“God.”

His mouth stills against your neck. The tickle of his mustache alerts you to the hint of a smile on his lips.

“You alright?” He’s referring to the way you had audibly whimpered inches from his ear, in this extremely tight enclosed space, of course.

“Mhm.” You squeak.

He nuzzles the tip of his nose against the crook of your jaw. “You’re shaking.”

You swallow. “It’s cold.”

“It’s not.” He reminds you.

Screwing your eyes shut once again, you “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Slowly, he tucks two fingers around the hair at the nape of your neck and guides it away from your shoulders. With your eyes closed, you feel his breath on your neck first. It’s cooler than the steam from the shower and it hits exactly the right spot between your collar and jaw to make you shiver.

He takes hold of your bicep and turns you steadily towards him, biting at his lip as he finds you just opening your eyes. He knows that if you look too long, you’ll panic. He presses swiftly forwards, his bare chest flush against yours as his open mouth closes around your pulse point.

Mm. The sound slips from your mouth before he is even done with the first kiss, while his fingers are still stretching around your hip and while his tongue is just softly greeting your warm skin.

For a man who, less than three days ago, was adamantly telling you in the streets of Florence that sleeping together would be a bad idea, Bradley sure does seem to be okay with all of this.

He’s okay with it. Too comfortable with it, really. He’s still holding back. If he wasn’t, he would flatten his palm against your ass and pull you against him, and let you feel exactly how comfortable with it he really is.

Instead, he focuses his attention on his mouth. Flowing opposite to the droplets of water, he sucks softly at the tender skin, trailing towards your jaw.

Each time his lips close around a new inch of skin, there’s an urging ebb that prods at you like electricity, buzzing within you and leaving you powerless. His frame towers before you; you know he would catch you if your knees actually did give out but you’d rather die than live through the embarrassment.

Like he shares the same sentiment of keeping you on your feet, Bradley’s hands flex around your waist, curling tighter around your soft skin. He pulls back, sweeping a hand through his wet curls as he studies your face.

He’s getting better at this, reading you.

His eyes break away from yours, and his gaze slips downwards. He’s dead quiet, drinking you in, studying your naked body.

The water droplets seem to have it all figured out. Spilling over your shoulders, flowing along the valley between your breasts. His gaze lingers there for more than just a few droplets.

Each one of your shaking breaths disrupts the pattern in a new way, rise and fall, spill and flow. Water beads across the soft flesh, flowing right past the warmed, softened, flushed skin of your nipples.

Maybe that water doesn’t have it all figured out after all — Bradley thinks there’s no way he could pass that by so freely.

Then, he watches where the droplets spill to once they pass your breasts by. They surge across your soft stomach, spilling across your abdomen, dripping into the navel and tracing the dulcet curve of your hips.

He hasn’t ever had you like this. Unobstructed, unwavering — all-encompassing. There could be a flood outside and he wouldn’t care. He knows he should be grateful for this, alone, and he is, it’s enough, you’re more than enough, but there’s a greed growing in him that wants more.

He wants to inhale the fresh, soapy smell of your skin. Taste the remnants of yourself on your skin, before it’s scrubbed clean. Feel you melt into him. His gaze flickers back up to yours like a drumbeat.

It makes you stiffen, the sudden look in his eyes. All red-blooded, lust-driven, filthy thoughts pooling into the soft browns of his irises.

Before he loses the nerve, or before you do, he tips your chin back swiftly and kisses you hard enough that the two of you fall into the cold tiles behind you.

Sturdy, centuries old structure behind your back and even sturdier, warm weight against your front, you’re pinned at an angle and your feet feel like they’re slipping but you’re smart enough to know that falling isn’t an option.

A deep and desperate sound falls from his lips as he pulls back, his forehead knocking into yours. Your mouth hangs open, your eyes wide, like you know just what Bradley’s thinking when he looks at it.

He squeezes at your body, leaning forwards and letting his mouth cover yours. You’re just about growing comfortable with it, with his nose bumping your cheek and his broad shoulders, his weight pinning you to the wall. Then, his hand skims along the centre of your back and without warning, squeezes firmly around the flesh of your ass.

It’s not that it feels bad. In fact, there’s something that makes you want to keen into the rough touch that you don’t quite understand. But all of a sudden, it clicks that you’re pinned between him and the wall, and his weight is a heavy anchor, his hands are everywhere and his mouth is hot.

He feels your fingernails press weakly into his bicep.

“Stop.” you tell him quietly. Really, you aren’t even sure if he would hear you. Maybe Malcolm hadn’t heard you, if you had asked him to stop.

He pulls back swiftly and looks down at you, both hands planting safely on your hips. He’s watching you carefully, but he doesn’t have to search hard go find what he’s looking for.

“Yeah?” He says softly, nodding.

It’s an instant thing, the way you shrink back into the wall behind you and duck your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he swallows and gives a shake of his head. He got carried away, that’s all. “You’re right. We should hurry up.”

And just like that, it’s not about sex. The fear in your eyes fades to recognition, and Bradley leans forwards and presses his lips to your forehead.

The two of you finish your shower in strictly platonic nature. One by one, you duck out of the bathroom and leave behind any evidence of your morning together, to get ready for the day.

Trees bow under the weight of the fat raindrops as the rumble of thunder grows closer. The villa groans and creaks, shutters rattling and slamming. The power gets knocked out a little after two, leaving very little for anyone in the house to do.

Bodies are strewn lazily around the living room everywhere you look. Luke’s taking up the majority of the couch, his raven-coloured hair tucked back under a Jets cap and a book balanced against his sternum, a concentrated frown plastered across his face.

Bradley got the good spot, tucked halfway into the reading desk in the far right corner of the room. His face is illuminated by a cluster of flickering candles, sitting amongst his piles of papers. Alessandro sits beside him, the two of them have been talking away for hours now. Their conversation is muted for the benefit of others, but you can hear the occasional Italian cuss word from your spot on the floor.

“Do you think they used to jerk it to these pictures?” Zoe whispers. You glance up at her, then across at Abigail.

She grins, lifting up the book and turning it onto its side, displaying a printed artwork like a centerfold. “See? Like an ancient playboy? — Miss June, and Miss July.”

Bradley looks up as the three of you giggle for the third time in ten minutes. It doesn’t take him long, when looking at the way Zoe is pointing out the spread legs of a woman riding a man, to notice the comparison she’s making to modern pornography.

He’s used to it by now, his students pointing at tits in the books and giggling to themselves. If she was doing her work, she would be reading about exactly what made the mulier equitans so popular in Roman art.

You’re laying on your front, looking up from the pages of your notes, with a soft grin toying at your lips. None of them know how you started your morning.

Today, Bradley is studying a passage from Ovid’s Art of Love, depicting various forms of copulation and the cultural attitude to them at that time. Sexual variety fascinated the masses back then. Paintings in homes, carved into architecture, spinitrae tokens in Pompeii.

Astrology and its links to sexual preferences. An intriguing read, really.

“Man, this is a wicked storm.” Robin glances over her shoulder at the mass of bodies lazing around the living room, then back out of the window at the sheets of rain pouring onto the fields beyond.

��This is wicked boring.” Luke says from his spot on the couch. As one of Bradley’s best teaching assistants, this work comes much more easily to him than it would to most. He could finish it in thirty minutes if he wanted to.

“Hey, Bradley—“

“No.” Bradley says swiftly.

Luke’s mouth stretches into a little-brotherly kind of annoying grin as he tucks an arm behind his head. “Come on. We’re bored.”

“Sounds wicked tough, dude.” Bradley answers, looking back down to the book, mocking his student so coolly. Luke has always found an older brother in Bradley, so the taunting just makes his grin stretch wild.

From your spot on the ground, you find yourself smiling at the pages at Bradley’s joke.

“Can you teach me how to do that card trick where it’s upside down in the deck?” Luke persists. You didn’t know that Bradley knew any card tricks.

“No.” He answers bluntly, but in the kind of way that shows he’s clearly still getting some kind of enjoyment out of this rapport with Luke.

“Bradley, did you ever tell anyone else that you took piano lessons for like twelve years?” Luke asks, shooting a pointed look at the baby grand in the corner of the room.

Bradley looks up at him, and your mouth twitches. A red flush starts at his ears and spreads across his temples, onto his cheeks and down his neck. You’ve never seen a grown man blush like that.

“Don’t go there, buddy.” Bradley warns him, knowing equally embarrassing facts about Luke and starting to categorize them in his mind.

“Did you really, Bradley?” Abigail asks.

He glances at her, then makes a point of trying to focus on his work once again. Big, boyish Bradley, delicately tapping away at the keys of a piano is difficult to imagine.

“He sings too.” Luke declares.

“Luke.” Bradley warns, not looking up this time, flushed pink.

You’ve never seen Bradley be quite this shy about anything. He frowns at the pages of his book, oh, so serious.

“C’mon. One song and I’ll leave you alone. We’re bored.” For once, you’re on Luke’s side. Not that you would voice that.

The wind whips the side of the house and the shutters rattle in support of Luke’s campaign. Bradley starts to scribble down nonsense annotations in the effort of getting at least something done.

“Go find a puzzle or something.” He mutters.

“Aw, come on, Bradley, please?” Zoe joins in.

“Just one song.” Robin adds.

Bradley looks up, and finds you. Caught smiling at him from the carpet, clearly amused by the entire situation. You stare back at him, unwavering and expectant.

With a dejected exhale, he looks down at his watch. “One. And then none of you are allowed to speak to me until at least 4pm.”

You know that he would make an exception to that rule for you. There’s no planned alone time for the two of you this afternoon, since he was supposed to be out. Maybe he’s as disappointed about that as you are.

“Play something we know this time.” Luke interjects as Bradley crosses the room to the piano. Last time, Bradley sang a track from the 50s and Luke didn’t have a clue what the hell it was.

Bradley untucks the bench from the piano, and sits down. His back is straight as he removes the cover and settles his fingers onto the keys. “Uh-huh, like what?”

“What, you’re thirty-three and you don’t listen to the radio anymore?” Luke scoffs.

Bradley closes his eyes for a second and tries to think of a song that he knows how to play from this decade. He doesn’t play too much these days.

The room is quiet, even the rain seems to have quieted in anticipation for his performance.

He shoots one more pointed look toward Luke, and then presses his fingers into the keys. You settle your chin against your palm as he taps out the opening chords of I guess that’s why they call it the blues.

Just like everything he does, he makes it seem effortless, fluidly playing the melody. And then he starts to sing.

You watch him across the darkened room. The candlelight flickers on his face as lightning strikes outside. Don’t wish it away, don’t look at it like it’s forever.

His fingers press gently into the keys, the only noise in the otherwise silent room. Alessandro sits back in his chair and smiles softly, knowing how much easier Bradley would have been convinced to perform all those years ago.

His voice is deeper than you would have expected, but soft as he finishes the first verse. God, he’s handsome.

It couldn’t possibly have taken longer than four and a half minutes for him to get through the song, but it feels like you watch him play all afternoon. Broad-shouldered, serious, still flushed-pink even once he has stopped singing. He turns sheepishly to face the room.

“Encore!” Luke whoops before anyone else gets a chance to say a word. Bradley groans, pushing himself up from the chair swiftly and rolling his eyes.

“Bite me.”

Zoe whips around to face you, clearly not as captivated by the performance as you had been. “Bradley’s kinda hot when he sings.”

Your mouth flattens, purely because it occurs to you suddenly that it wouldn’t be appropriate to smile. If she thinks he’s hot when he’s singing, she would be captivated by what you had gotten to see in the shower this morning.

The afternoon workload grows tiresome quickly, and Bradley watches his students filter out of the living room one by one. You disappear with Zoe and Abigail trailing in tow a little after three.

Alessandro’s wife serves a family style dinner, since the house is full and it’s still too rainy for anyone to have other plans. Bradley sits at the far end with Sandro and Dorie, all of them talking in politely hushed tones. You are at the opposite end, finding yourself missing those private dinners the two of you had gotten to share in the city.

After dinner, Bradley knows that his room upstairs is likely to be occupied after seeing Robin’s hand wandering across Luke’s board shorts at dinner. He disappears into the study to finish up with his work, and you call it an early night.

Well, you try to. After rereading the same three pages of Sarah Keene’s Air of Enchantment six times, you give up and head back for the stairs. The house is quiet and empty feeling. Without power, you guess there isn’t a lot to do around here.

You trail your fingers along the wallpaper, rounding the entryway into the now empty living room. The bench of the piano is still untucked from where Bradley had sat earlier. You let yourself be drawn towards it, taking a seat and brushing your fingers along the keys. Dust under your fingertips, candlesticks burning around the room — you figure that Sandro or his wife must be around somewhere if there are still candles lit.

There’s no sneaking around in a house like this. The handle clicks, and the wood creaks loudly from a room away. Bradley’s weight passes across noisy floorboards, growing closer.

He was hoping to see you, trying to convince himself to stay away from your room. His lips twitch. His eyes flicker over the grey track shorts and the Nicks jersey you’re wearing, casual and comfy, with your hair down. He likes it.

“Hey.” He says softly.

“Hey.” You answer, watching him. Maybe someday you’ll talk him out of wearing those t-shirts that are too sizes too big for him, but today’s not that day. It hangs on his broad frame as he walks towards you.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, squeezing your shoulder with a warm palm.

“Here.” You realize suddenly, shifting over as far as you can on the bench to make room for him. He glances down, knowing he won’t fit, and decides to perch half off of the bench anyways.

At your side, Bradley considers bringing up this morning. It’s been itching at him all day to know what about his behavior in the shower had been too much. He’s been wishing he was a mind reader, really. He would love to figure out exactly what he can do to make you relax.

“I didn’t know you played piano.” You tell him, watching your fingers ghost over the keys.

“I don’t, so much anymore.” He answers.

“I liked hearing you play.” You say.

He turns his head, smoothing his fingers along the length of your spine. Maybe he won’t hit Luke for revealing his secret after all.

Luke wants to do what Bradley does, and Bradley is only nine years older than he is — they had grown close quickly when Luke has first started TA’ing for him. Luke knows plenty about Bradley, and Bradley knows plenty about Luke. He hopes the two of you never get to making small talk, really.

“Will you play it again?”

He blinks, broken from his train of thought, and finding you looking at him now. Bradley looks between the piano and your face, his brows drawing slightly together.

”The same thing?” Bradley asks, displaying that awful habit he’s got of leaning one of those thick shoulders into you, crowding your space and grounding you with his presence. His thumb brushes tenderly over the tip of your nose, then across the bow of your top lip as he tips his head to one side. “You don’t want to hear anything else?”

You purse your lips in thought, then shake your head. The way your lips twist and hint at a smile just drives him crazy. Like he really has to work for the full thing. You shrug your shoulders at him. “Can’t a girl want a private rendition?”

He taps his thumb against your chin, his fingers stretching along the underside of your jaw. He doesn’t make you work for the smile that he gives you. Really, he would have to fight to keep it off of his face. “Fine.”

The tip of his tongue dips from between his lips to wet them, then he sighs softly and straightens into proper posture and turns his attention towards the keys. Your arm loops under his, your head settles to rest against his shoulder. He likes that feeling.

Wind whips rain against the shutters. The older ones creak and bang in complaint, unprepared for such miserable weather. Bradley’s fingers tap fluidly at the keys. Your fingertips trail the vein in his forearm up to the cuff of his rolled shirt sleeve.

He sings quieter than before. After all, this performance is just for you now. His voice is softer, if it wasn’t so effortlessly melodic, it would be like he’s reading to you. He doesn’t have to, there’s no sheet music in front of him and he knows which keys he’s reaching for, but his gaze remains solely on the piano. He can feel you looking at him.

From where your head is resting against his shoulder, you’re peering up at him with your obstructed view of his face. Your touch tickles against his forearm, your fingertips grazing the strap of his wristwatch with each trip.

As the first verse ends and the pace of the song builds into the chorus, Bradley winkles his nose slightly in concentration. Your lips twitch. The shutters bang against the old house. He turns his head and catches your gaze; you pull back so that he can really see you.

And I guess that’s why they call it the blues;

time on my hands could be time spent with you.

Laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder, under the covers.

And by the time he gets the words out, he’s smiling again. Not because of the absurdity of him performing Elton John for the second time in one evening, or because this is far from what he would have chosen to sing you, but because of the way you’re watching him.

Like you’re watching him play Sonata No. 14.

Long before Elton John first graced the US charts, Bradley would be sent over to his grandmother’s neighbor’s house every Thursday for two hours while the adults were at work. There, he sat at the piano and seethed to the pace of the metronome while a miserable seventy year old war vet scolded his posture. He hated playing piano back then.

It’s not so bad anymore.

And that miserable old man wasn’t really a bad teacher. Maybe Bradley was just a bad student.

Just stare into space, picture my face in your hands. Live for each second,

He turns his attention back towards the keys like he didn’t have the song memorized by ‘84.

And never forget I’m your man.

Wait on me, girl. Cry in the night if it helps. But more than ever, I simply love you, more than I love life itself.

Your head settles back against the warm muscle of his shoulder. Your fingers dance along the sensitive inseam of his forearm. You close your eyes and the rain grows louder, Bradley’s breaths between the lyrics grow deeper.

This is nice. You let your mind wander, wondering if evenings would always look like this with Bradley, if he would always sing you the same song over and over. On evenings like this, he would kiss the top of your head and tell you he loved you, and you would tell him the same.

It’s not hard to picture.

Your eyes remain closed through the chorus and remaining verses. Just the soft cotton of his shirt against your cheek, the rumble of his singing voice and the rain outside.

He swallows and clears his throat quietly, as he withdraws his hands from the keys.

“What’s your favourite song?” You ask him softly. His hands rest in his lap, his eyes on the painting directly across from him. He takes a moment to think about it.

“Have you ever heard the song Take it To the Limit by The Eagles?” You might not have, he figures that since you probably would have been in school when that album came out, you probably weren’t as big of an Eagles fan as he was.

You shake your head softly. “I don’t think so. What��s it sound like?”

He pulls back, and raises his eyebrows at you. “Is this an elaborate plan to get me to play for you all night?”

Your smile grows bashful, but your eyes remain steadily on him. “I just want to hear how it goes.”

“Well, what’s your favourite song?”

“You know that song from last summer, rhythm of the night?”

Bradley stares back at you. His eyes wrinkle at the edges and his mouth breaks into a grin before the laughter bubbles over and he spills forwards.

“Like El de Barge? Forget about the worries on your mind, da-da-da-duh-da-da?” You’ve never heard Bradley giggling quite like this before, literally tickled pink by your revelation as he jokingly hums out the words.

You’re powerless but to grin back at him. “Uh-huh. What’s wrong with that?”

Alessandro peers into the sitting room as he passes by. He doesn’t take time to stop and stare at the two of you sharing the piano bench, giggling with each other, but now he understands what the other students have all been gossiping about.

“I was expecting Madonna or — Wham, or something.” Bradley manages through his giggles, swiping a hand through his curls, almost gaining composure before bubbling over into laughter again.

“Sure, I like them,” You agree with him, smiling dumbly at the way he leans into you to laugh, “But come on! — You just can’t listen to that song and not feel happy!”

He’s up so close that you could kiss him when he finally gets himself together, still smiling softly back at you. Driven by his amused disbelief, he shakes his head softly. His fingers brush against your knee.

All of a sudden he has this image of you wandering around with that headset covering your ears, and De Barge being the soundtrack you have picked. Scowling at him from the back of the minivan, listening to such an upbeat track.

“You’re a trip.” He tells you.

Your eyes flicker downward, briefly catching on the way his fingers are curled into the skin of your thigh. Not too hard, just kind of holding you close. His own eyes follow suit, and linger on the way your hands sit in your lap. On your still bare ring finger.

When he looks at you this time, he’s thinking of the shower this morning. Your head lulling back onto his shoulder, sighing in pleasure as you just let yourself enjoy the moment. His lips tug at a soft smile.

“So, will you play that song for me? — Your favourite?” You ask. There isn’t a lot of room on the bench so, as you twist to face towards him, your thigh sits across the top of his, halfway into his lap.

Maybe he will end up playing for you all night, after all. He shoots you an amusedly pointed look, then lifts his hands and settles them onto the keys once more.

You grin at him, shifting closer again, settling your cheek against his shoulder.

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666@krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #jake hangman seresin #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x you #professor bradley

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thewidowsghost · 4 months

Text

The Sky (Annabeth Chase x Jackson!Reader)

After hearing Annabeth gripe about her father for the last two years, (Y/n) had expected him to have devil horns and fangs. She had not expected him to be wearing an old-fashioned aviator’s cap and goggles. He looks so strange, with his eyes bugging out through the glasses, that she, her brother Percy, Thalia, and Zoe take a step back on the back porch.

“Hello,” he says in a friendly voice, “Are you delivering my airplanes?”

Thalia, Zoe, Percy, and (Y/n) look at each other warily.

“Um, no, sir,” Percy says.

“Drat,” he says. “I need three more Sopwith Camels.”

“Right,” (Y/n) says, though she has no idea what he’s talking about. “We’re, uh, friends,” - not exactly - “of Annabeth’s.”

“Annabeth?” he straightens, as if (Y/n) had just given him an electric shock. “Is she all right? Has something happened?”

None of the demigods answer, but their faces must’ve told him that something was very wrong. He takes off his cap and goggles. He has the same sandy-colored hair as Annabeth, and intense brown eyes. He’s handsome, for an older guy, but it looks as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his shirt is buttoned wrong, so one side of his collar sticks up higher than the other side.

“You’d better come in,” Dr. Chase says grimly.

The Chase’s house smells like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and jazz music is coming from the kitchen. It seems like a messy, happy kind of home – the kind of place that someone had lived in forever.

“Dad!” a little boy screams. “He’s taking apart my robots!”

“Bobby,” Dr. Chase calls absently, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“I’m Bobby,” the little boy protests. “He’s Matthew!”

“Mathew,” Dr. Chase calls, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“Okay, Dad!”

Dr. Chase turns to us. “We’ll go upstairs to my study. This way.”

“Honey?” a woman calls. Annabeth’s stepmother appears in the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Who are our guests?” she asks.

“Oh,” Dr. Chase says. “This is . . .” He stares blankly at the demigods.

“Frederick,” she chides. “You forgot to ask them their names?”

The demigods introduce themselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seems nice to (Y/n). She asks if the demigods were hungry, and they admit that they were, and she lets them know she’d bring up some cookies, sandwiches, and sodas.

“Dear,” Dr. Chase says. “They came about Annabeth?”

(Y/n) half expects Mrs. Chase to turn into a raving lunatic at the mention of her stepdaughter, but she just purses her lips and looks concerned. “All right. Go on up to the study, and I’ll bring you some food.” Her gaze rests knowingly on (Y/n), and she smiles at the daughter of Poseidon. “Nice meeting you, (Y/n). I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Upstairs, they walk into Dr. Chase’s study, and a gasp of amazement escapes from (Y/n)’s lips.

The room is wall-to-wall books, but what really catches (Y/n)’s attention are the war models. There is a huge table with miniature tanks and soldiers fighting along a blue painted river, with hills and fake trees and stuff. Old-fashioned biplanes hang on strings from the ceiling, tilted at crazy angles like they were in the middle of a dogfight.

Dr. Chase smiles. "Yes. The Third Battle of Ypres. I'm writing a paper, you see, on the use of Sopwith Camels to strafe enemy lines. I believe they played a much greater role than they've been given credit for."

He plucks a biplane from its string and sweeps it across the battlefield, making airplane engine noises as he knocks down little German soldiers.

(Y/n) smiles slightly, looking up at her girlfriend’s father.

Zoe comes over and studies the battlefield. “The German lines were farther from the river.”

Dr. Chase stares at her. “How do you know that?”

"I was there," she says matter-of-factly. "Artemis wanted to show us how horrible war was, the way mortal men fight each other. And how foolish, too. The battle was a complete waste."

Dr. Chase opens his mouth in shock. “You –”

“She’s a Hunter, sir,” Thalia says. “But that’s not wy we’re here. We need –”

"You saw the Sopwith Camels?" Dr. Chase says. "How many were there? What formations did they fly?"

“Sir,” (Y/n) breaks in this time. “Annabeth, sh-she’s in danger.”

That gets his attention. He sets the biplane down.

“Of course,” he says. “Tell me everything.”

It isn’t easy, but they try. Meanwhile, the afternoon light is fading outside.

The demigods were running out of time.

When they'd finished, Dr. Chase collapses in his leather recliner. He laces his hands. "My poor brave Annabeth. We must hurry."

"Sir, we need transportation to Mount Tamalpais," Zoe says. "And we need it immediately."

"I'll drive you. Hmm. it would be faster to fly in my Camel, but it only seats two."

"Whoa, you have an actual biplane?" Percy asks.

"Down at Crissy Field," Dr. Chase says proudly. "That's the reason I had to move here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—"

Sir," (Y/n) says. "Just a car would be great. And it might be better if we went without you. It's too dangerous."

Dr. Chase frowns uncomfortably. “Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I . . . I can’t just –”

"Snacks," Mrs. Chase announces. She pushes through the door with a tray full of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Cokes and cookies fresh out of the oven, the chocolate chips still gooey. Thalia and Percy inhale a few cookies while Zoe says, "I can drive, sir. I'm not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car."

Mrs. Chase knits her eyebrows. "What's this about?"

“Annabeth is in danger,” Dr. Chase says. “On Mount Tam. I would drive them . . . but apparently it’s no place for mortals.”

It sounds to (Y/n) like it was really hard for him to get that last part out.

(Y/n) waits for Mrs. Chase to say no, but to her surprise, Mrs. Chase just nods. “Then they’d better get going.”

“Right!” Dr. Chase jumps and starts patting his pockets. “My keys . . .”

His wife sighs. "Frederick, honestly. You'd lose your head if it weren't wrapped inside your aviator hat. The keys are hanging on the peg by the front door."

“Right!” Dr. Chase says.

Zoe and (Y/n) each grab a sandwich. “Thank you both,” Zoe says. “We should go. Now!”

The four hustle out the door and down the stairs, the Chases right behind them.

“(Y/n)” Mrs. Chase calls as they’re leaving, “tell Annabeth . . . tell her she still has a home here, will you? Remind her of that.”

(Y/n) takes one last look at the messy living room - Annabeth’s half brothers spilling LEGOs and arguing, and the smell of cookies filling the air. Not a bad place, she thinks.

“I’ll tell her,” (Y/n) replies, smiling slightly at her girlfriend’s stepmother.

They run out to the yellow Volkswagen convertible parked in the driveway. The sun is going down, and (Y/n) figures they have less than an hour to save Annabeth.

. . .

At the top of the mountain are ruins, blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses. Broken columns. Statues of bronze that look as though they’d been half melted.

“The ruins of Mount Othrys,” Thalia whispers in awe.

“Yes,” Zoe says. “It was not here before. This is bad.”

“What’s Mount Othrys?” Percy asks, feeling like a fool as usual.

“The mountain fortress of the Titans,” Zoe explains. “In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was –” she winces and holds her side.

“You’re hurt,” (Y/n) says, ignoring her own possibly cracked ribs. “Let me see.”

“No!” Zoe protests. “It is nothing. I was saying... in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces.”

“But . . . how is it here?”

Thalia looks around cautiously as they pick their way through the rubble, past blocks of marble and broken archways. "It moves in the same way that Olympus moves. It always exists on the edges of civilization. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good."

“Why?”

"This is Atlas's mountain," Zoe says. "Where he hold s—" She freezes. Her voice is ragged with despair. "Where he used to hold up the sky."

They had reached the summit of the mountain. A few yards ahead of them, gray clouds swirl in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touches the mountaintop, but instead rests on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze dreams. This is what (Y/n) had seen in her dream - though it hadn't been a cavern roof that Artemis was forced to hold.

It was the weight of the world.

"My lady!" Zoe rushes forward.

But Artemis says, "Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now." Her voice is strained, and she is drenched in sweat. (Y/n) had never seen a goddess in pain before, but the weight of the sky is clearly too much for Artemis.

Zoe is crying. She runs forward, despite Artemis’s protests, and tugs at the chains.

A booming voice speaks behind them: “Ah, how touching.”

They turn.

The General is staging there in his brown suit. At his side are Luke - and half a dozen dracaenae bearing the weight of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos.

Annabeth stands at Luke’s side - her hands cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, and Luke is holding the point of his sword to her throat.

(Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s gaze, her sword, Tsunami, still in pen form in her hand, a thousand questions running through her head. There is one message Annabeth is sending her, however: RUN!

(Y/n)’s face hardens. “Luke,” (Y/n) snarls. “Let her go.”

Luke’s smile is pale and weak. “That is the General’s decision, (Y/n). But it’s good to see you again.”

(Y/n) spats at him.

The general chuckles. “So much for old friends. And you, Zoe. it’s been a long time. How’s my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you.”

“Do not respond,” Artemis groans. “Do not challenge him.”

“Wait a second,” Percy says. “You’re Atlas?”

The General glances at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Percy says, and (Y/n) grunts her agreement. “We won’t let you.”

The General sneers. “You have no right to interfere, little heroes. This is a family matter.”

Percy frowns. “A family matter?”

“Yes,” Zoe says bleakly. “Atlas is my father.”

The terrible thing is: (Y/n) can see the resemblance. Atlas has the same regal expression as Zoe, the same cold proud look in his eyes that Zoe sometimes got when she was mad, though on him, it looks a thousand times more evil. The Titan was all the things (Y/n) had originally disliked about Zoe, with none of the good she’d come to appreciate in her friend.

"Let Artemis go," Zoe demands.

Atlas walks closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

Zoe opens her mouth to speak, but Artemis says, "No! Do not offer, Zoe! I forbid you."

Atlas smirks. He kneels next to Artemis and tries to touch her face, but the goddess bites at him, almost taking off his fingers.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckles. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

(Y/n) looks at Annabeth. She is desperately trying to tell (Y/n) something. She motions her head towards Luke. But all (Y/n) can do is stare at her. (Y/n) hadn't noticed before, but something about her had changed. Her beautiful blond hair was now streaked with gray - but that didn’t make Annabeth look less beautiful in (Y/n)’s eyes.

"From holding the sky," Thalia mutters, as if she'd (Y/n)’s mind. "The weight should've killed her."

"I don't understand," Percy says. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas laughs. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." Atlas smiles. "Unless someone else takes it from you." He approaches the group, studying Thalia, (Y/n), and Percy. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," (Y/n) spits. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

"So you're another coward," (Y/n) snickers.

Atlas's eyes glow with hatred. With difficulty, he turns his attention to Thalia. "As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you."

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. He looked terribly weak, and he spoke every word as if it were painful. If (Y/n) didn't hate his guts so much, she almost would've felt sorry for him. "Thalia, you still can join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waves his hand, and next to us a pool of water appears: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for the Ophiotaurus. Percy can imagine Bessie in that pool. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more he was sure he could hear Bessie mooing.

Don't think about him! Suddenly Grover's voice is inside my mind—the empathy link. Percy could feel his emotions. He is on the verge of panic. I'm losing Bessie. Block the thoughts!

Percy tries to make his mind go blank. He tries to think about basketball players, skateboards, and the different kinds of candy in my mom's shop. Anything but Bessie.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persists. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke . . ." Her voice is full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods?

Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Thalia shakes her head. "Free Annabeth. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promises, "it can be like old times. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree . . ."His voice falters. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

(Y/n) doesn’t know what he means, but the fear in his voice sounds real enough. She could believe that Luke was in danger.

His life depends on Thalia's joining his cause. And (Y/n) is afraid Thalia might believe it, too.

"Do not, Thalia," Zoe warns. "We must fight them."

Luke waves his hand again, and a fire appears. A bronze brazier, just like the one at

camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," (Y/n) mutters. "No."

Behind Luke, the golden sarcophagus begins to glow. As it did, (Y/n) sees images in the mist

all around us: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful

palace rising around them, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promises, in a voice so strained it is hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

He points toward the ocean, and (Y/n)’s heart falls. Marching up the side of the mountain, from the beach where the Princess Andromeda was docked, is a great army. Dracaenae and

Laestrygonians, monsters and half-bloods, hellhounds, harpies, and other things (Y/n) can’t even name. The whole ship must've been emptied, because there are hundreds, many more than (Y/n) had seen on board last summer. And they are marching toward the mountain. In a few minutes, they would be there.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke says "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitates. She gazes at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wants in the world is to believe him. Then she levels her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleads. "Please. Don't make me . . . Don't make him destroy you."

There is no time. If that army gets to the top of the hill, we would be overwhelmed. (Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s eyes again. Annabeth nods.

(Y/n) looks at Percy, Thalia, and Zoe, and she decides it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to die fighting with friends like this.

"Now," (Y/n) says, and together, they charge.

Thalia goes straight for Luke. The power of her shield is so great that his dragon- women bodyguards flee in a panic, dropping the golden coffin and leaving him alone. But despite his sickly appearance, Luke is still quick with his sword. He snarls like a wild animal and counterattacks. When his sword, Backbiter, met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils of power.

As for (Y/n), she does the stupidest thing in her life - which is saying a lot. She attacks the Titan Lord Atlas.

He laughs as (Y/n) approaches, her sword Tsunami springing to life in her hands. A massive javelin appears in Atlas’s hands and his silk suit melts into full Greek battle armor. “Go on, then!”

“(Y/n)!” Zoe calls. “Beware!”

(Y/n) knows what Zoe is warning her about. Chiron had told her a long time ago: Immortals are constrained by ancient rules. But a hero can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as she has the nerve. Once (Y/n) attacked, however, Atlas would be free to attack back directly with all his might.

(Y/n) swings her sword, but Atlas knocks her aside with the shaft of his javelin. (Y/n) flies through the air, and slams into a black wall. It isn’t Mist anymore. The palace is rising, brick by brick. It’s becoming real.

“Fool!” Atlas screams gleefully, swatting aside one of Zoe’s arrows. “Did you think, simply because you could challenge that petty war god, that you could stand up to me?”

The mention of Ares sets a jolt through (Y/n), and, ignoring her throbbing ribs, she shakes off her daze and charges again.

The javelin’s point slashes towards (Y/n) like a scythe. She raises Tsunami, planning to cut off the Titan’s weapon at the shaft, but her arm feels like lead. Suddenly, the sword weighs a ton.

And then (Y/n) remembers Ares's warning, spoken on the beach in Los Angeles so long ago:

When you need it most, your sword will fail you.

Not now! (Y/n) pleads. But it is no good. She tries to dodge, but the javelin catches her in the chest and sends (Y/n) flying like a rag doll. (Y/n) slams into the ground, her head spinning. (Y/n) looks up and finds herself at the feet of Artemis, still straining under the weight of the sky.

“Run, girl,” she tells (Y/n). “You must run!”

Atlas is taking his time coming towards (Y/n). My sword is gone. It had skittered away over the edge of the cliff. It might reappear in her pocket—maybe in a few seconds—but it doesn’t matter. (Y/n) would be dead by then. Luke and Thalia are fighting like demons, lightning crackling around them. Percy is fighting the dracaenae, and Annabeth is on the ground, desperately struggling to free her hands.

“Die, little hero!” Atlas says. He raises his javelin to impale (Y/n).

“No!” Zoe yells, and volley of silver arrows sprout from the armpit chink in Atlas’s armor.

“ARGH!” he bellows and turns back towards his daughter.

(Y/n) reaches down and feels Tsunami back in her pocket. She couldn’t fight Atlas, even with a sword. And then a chill goes down her back. She remembers the words of the prophecy: The Titan’s curse must one withstand. (Y/n) couldn’t hope to beat Atlas, but there is someone who might stand a chance.

“The sky,” (Y/n) tells the goddess. “Give it to me.”

"No, girl," Artemis says. Her forehead is beaded with metallic sweat, like quicksilver. "You don't know what you're asking. It will crush you!"

"Annabeth took it!"

"She barely survived. She had the spirit of a true huntress. You will not last so long."

"I'll die anyway," (Y/n) replies. "Give me the weight of the sky!"

(Y/n) doesn’t wait for her answer. She takes out Tsunami and slashes through her chains. Then she steps next to her and braces herself on one knee—holding up her hands—and touches the cold, heavy clouds. For a moment, Artemis and (Y/n) bare the weight together. It was the heaviest thing she'd ever felt, as if (Y/n) was being crushed under a thousand trucks. She wanted to black out from the pain, but (Y/n) breathes deeply. I can do this.

Then Artemis slips out from under the burden, and (Y/n) holds it alone.

Every muscle in (Y/n)’s body turns to fire. Her bones feel like they’re melting. She wants to scream, but she doesn’t have the strength to open her mouth. She begins to sink, lower and lower to the ground, the sky’s weight crushing her.

(Y/n) concentrates on breathing. (Y/n) thinks about Bianca, who’d given her life so they could get to this moment. If she could do that, then (Y/n) could hold the sky.

(Y/n)’s vision turns fuzzy. Everything is tinged with red. She catches glimpses of the battle, but she isn’t sure if she is seeing anything clearly. There is Atlas in full battle armor, jabbing with his javelin, laughing insanely as he fights. And Artemis, a blur of silver. She has two wicked hunting knives, each as long as her arm, and she slashes wildly at the Titan, dodging and leaping with unbelievable grace. She seems to change form as she maneuvers. She is a tiger, a gazelle, a bear, a falcon. Or perhaps that was just (Y/n)’s fevered brain. Zoe shoots arrows at her father, aiming for the chinks in his armor. He roars in pain each time one finds its mark, but they affect him like bee stings. He just gets madder and keeps fighting.

Thalia and Luke go spear on sword, lighting still flashing around them. Thalia presses Luke back with the aura of her shield. Even he is not immune to it. He retreats, wincing and growing in frustration.

"Yield!" Thalia yells. "You never could beat me, Luke."

He bares his teeth. "Well see, my old friend."

Sweat pours down (Y/n)’s face. Her hands are slippery. Her shoulders would've screamed with agony if they could. (Y/n) feels like the vertebrae in her spine are being welded together by a blowtorch.

In her daze, (Y/n) can’t place Percy’s or Annabeth’s positions. She watches, however, as Artemis advances. The goddess was fast, but the Titan’s strength is impossible. His javelin slammed into the earth where Artemis had been a split second before, and a fissure opens in the rocks. He leaps over it and keeps pursuing her. The goddess was leading him back towards (Y/n).

Get ready, the goddess speaks in her mind.

(Y/n) is loosing the abulity to think through the pain in her ribs. Her responce is somthing like agggghh-owwwww.

“You fight well for a girl,” Atlas laughs. “But you are no match for me.”

He feints with teh tip of his javelin and Artemis dodges. (Y/n) sees the trick coming. Atlas’s javelin sweeps around and knocks Artemis’s legs off the ground. She falls, and Atlas brings up his javelin tip for the kill.

"No!" Zoe screams. She leaps between her father and Artemis and shoots an arrow straight into the Titan's forehead, where it lodges like a unicorn's horn. Atlas bellows in rage. He sweeps aside his daughter with the back of his hand, sending her flying into the black rocks.

(Y/n) wasnts to shout her name, or run to her friend’s aid, but she can’t speak or move. She couldn’t even see where Zoe had landed. Then Atlas turns on Artemis with a look of triumph in his face. Artemis seems to be wounded. And she doesn’t get up.

"The first blood in a new war," Atlas gloats. And he stabs downward.

As fast as thought, Artemis grabs his javelin shaft. It hits the earth right next to her and she pulls backward, using the javelin like a lever, kicking the Titan Lord and sending him flying over her, (Y/n) sees him coming down on top of her and she realizes what would happen. (Y/n) loosened her hold on the sky, and as Atlas slams into her, she doesn’t try to hold on. (Y/n) lets herself be pushed out of the way and she rolls.

The weight of the sky drops onto Atlas’s back, almost smashing him flat until he manages to get to his kness, strugging to get out from under the crushing weight of the sky. But it is too late.

"Noooooo!" He bellows so hard it shakes the mountain. "Not again!"

Atlas is trapped under his old burden. (Y/n) tried to stand and fell back again, dazed from pain. Her body feels like it was burning up.

Thalia backs Luke to the edge of a cliff, but still they fought on, next to the golden coffin. Thalia has tears in her eyes. Luke has a bloody slash across his chest and his pale face glistened with sweat.

He lunges at Thalia and she slams him with her shield. Luke's sword spins out of his

hands and clatters to the rocks. Thalia puts her spear point to his throat.

For a moment, there is silence.

“Well?” Luke asks. He tries to hide it, but (Y/n) can hear the fear in his voice.

Thalia trembles with fury.

Behind her, Annabeth comes scrambling, finally free from her bonds. Her face is bruised and streaked with dirt. "Don't kill him!"

"He's a traitor," Thalia says. "A traitor!"

In her daze, (Y/n) realizes that Artemis is no longer with her, and Percy had taken the goddess’s place at her side. The goddess had run off toward theblack rocks where Zoe had fallen.

"We'll bring Luke back," Annabeth pleads. "To Olympus. He . . . he'll be useful."

"Is that what you want, Thalia?" Luke sneers. "To go back to Olympus in triumph? To please your dad?"

Thalia hesitats, and Luke makes a desperate grab for her spear.

"No!" Annabeth shouts. But without thinking, Thalia kicks Luke away. He looses his balance, terror on his face, and then he falls.

"Luke!" Annabeth screams.

Percy helps (Y/n) as they rush to the cliff’s edge. Below them, the army from the Princess Andromeda had stopped in amazement. They are staring at Luke’s broken from from teh rocks. Despite how much (Y/n) hated him, she couldn’t stand to see it. She wants to belive the son of Hermes is still alive, but that is impossible. The fall is at least fifty feet, and he isn’t moving.

One of the giants looks up and growls, "Kill them!"

Thalia is stiff with grief, tears streaming down her cheeks. (Y/n) pulls her back as a wave of javelins sail over their heads. They run for the rocks, ignoring the curses and threats of Atlas as they pass.

"Artemis!" Percy yells.

The goddess looks up, her face almost as grief-stricken as Thalia's. Zoe lies in the goddess's arms. She is breathing. Her eyes are open. But still . . .

"The wound is poisoned," Artemis says.

"Atlas poisoned her?" Percy asks.

"No," the goddess says. "Not Atlas."

Artemis shows them the wound in Zoe’s side. (Y/n) had almost forgotten her scrape with Ladon the dragon. The bite is so much worse than Zoe had let on. (Y/n) can barely look at the wound. Zoe had charged into battle against her father with a horrible cut already sapping her strengh.

(Y/n) feels a hand lacing through her’s. She glances over to find Annabeth standing beside her.

“The stars,” Zoe murmurs. “I cannot see them.”

“Nectar and ambrosia,” Percy says. “Come one. We have to get her some.”

No one moves. Grief hangs in the air. Even Artemis is too shocked to stir. The demigods may have met their doom right there, but then (Y/n) hears a strang buzzing noise.

Just as the army of monsters come over the hill, a Sopwith Camel swoops down out of the sky.

“Get away from my daugther!” Dr. Chase calls down, and his machine guns burst to life, peppering the groud with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering.

“Dad?” yells Annabeth in disbelief.

“Run!” he calls back, his voice growing fainter as the biplane swoops by.

This shakes Artemis out of her grief. She stares up at teh antique plane, which is now coming back for another strafe.

"A brave man," Artemis says with grudging approval. "Come, We must get Zoe away from here." She raises her hunting horn to her lips, and its clear sound echoes down the valleys of Marin. Zoe's eyes are fluttering.

"Hang in there!" Percy tells her. "It'll be all right!"

The Sopwith Camel swoops down again. A few giants threw javelins, and one flew straight between the wings of the plane, but the machine guns blazed. I realized with amazement that somehow Dr. Chase must've gotten hold of celestial bronze to fashion his bullets. The first row of snake women wailed as the machine gun's volley blew them into sulfurous yellow powder.

"That's . . . my dad!" Annabeth says in amazement.

They don’t have time to admire his flying. The giants and snake women are already recovering from their surprise. Dr. Chase would be in trouble soon.

Just then, the moonlight brights, and a silver chariot appears from the sky, drawn by the most beautiful deer (Y/n) had ever seen. It lands right next to them.

"Get in," Artemis says.

Annabeth helps (Y/n) get Thalia on board, and Percy helps Artemis with Zoe. They wrap

Zoe in a blanket as Artemis pulls the reins and the chariot sped away from the mountain,

straight into the air.

"Like Santa Claus's sleigh," (Y/n) murmurs, still dazed with pain.

Artemis takes time to look back at her. "Indeed, young half-blood. And where do you think that legend came from?"

Seeing them safely away, Dr. Chase turns his biplane and follows like an honor guard. It must have been one of the strangest sights ever, even for the Bay Area: a silver flying chariot pulled by deer, escorted by a Sopwith Camel.

Behind them, the army of Kronos roars in anger as they gather on the summit of Mount Tamalpais, but the loudest sound is the voice of Atlas, bellowing curses against the gods as he struggles under the weight of the sky.

. . .

Annabeth and (Y/n) fly along side by side on the back of the pegasai.

“Your dad seems cool,” (Y/n) tells Annabeth.

It was too dark to see her girlfriend’s expression. She looks back, though California is far behind them now.

“I guess so,” Annabeth replies. “We’ve been arguing for so many years.”

“Mhmm,” (Y/n) hums. “You mentioned that.”

“You think I was lying about that?” It sounds like a challenge to (Y/n), but a pretty half-hearted one, like she is asking it of herself.

"I didn't say you were lying. It's just . . . he seems okay. Your stepmom, too. Maybe they've, uh, gotten cooler since you saw them last."

She hesitates. "They're still in San Francisco, Percy. I can't live so far from camp."

(Y/n) doesn’t want to ask her next question. She is scared to know the answer. But I asks it anyway. "So what are you going to do now?"

They fly over a town, an island of lights in the middle of the dark. It whisks by so fast they might've been in an airplane.

"I don't know," she admits. "But thank you for rescuing me."

"Hey, you’re my girlfriend. I would go through Tartarus to rescue you."

"You didn't believe I was dead?"

"Never."

She hesitates. "Neither is Luke, you know. I mean . . . he isn't dead."

(Y/n) stares at her. She doesn’t know if Annabeth is cracking under the stress or what. "Annabeth, that fall was pretty bad. There's no way —"

"He isn't dead," she insistas. "I know it. The same way you knew about me."

Word Count: 5630 Words

#annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase x jackson reader #annabeth chase x female reader #annabeth chase x fem reader #percy jackson x sister reader

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14thcommander · 10 months

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moment's silence || hange zoe x reader

cw: smut, 18+ ONLY. oral, dirty talk, age gap (8 years), reader is a baby gay, nb! hange, afab! reader. based on this post.

“Can I eat you out?”

The words escape from your mouth before you can stop them. Hange pauses the movie currently playing on the television before you – Jaws 2 would have to wait. It’s not like they were particularly invested in the narrative, anyway.

Hange was fine with this night going down a soft and romantic route, just cuddling on their sofa would be fine. Although this new path seems unexpected, they can’t hide the excitement in their eyes. They finally turn to look at you, eyes big and doe-like under the soft blue halo coming from the screen. They like you like this, soft and spontaneous. Youthful. The eight year gap that attempts to separate the two of you surely kicks in, sometimes.

“Uh, sure. Why so out of the blue, though?” They ask, as a soft chuckle leaves their mouth. A soft hand finds its way towards your face, softly caressing your cheek. You shiver under the coldness of the silver rings wrapped around Hange’s thin fingers, and they pretend not to notice.

“Um, I don’t know.” You giggle nervously under their gaze, aiming your stare towards the paused movie. There’s nothing special about thai night – except for the fact Hange is wearing a suit. The occasion called for it, apparently: a few hours earlier, you visited a new art gallery downtown.

After a beat or two of silence, you speak again:

“I just really want to taste you.”

Your confession almost makes Hange moan out loud, which causes their teeth to sink on their bottom lip – not in a “I’m trying to seduce you” type of way, but in a “I have no words for this, and I don’t want to let my body react for me” way.

Zoe is a few years older than you, much more experienced – in a few different ways. They’ve had their fair share of sleeping with beautiful women in their life… you, not so much. You were not a virgin when you met Hange, you just hadn’t realized until that point that your romantic and sexual interest went way far than just sleeping with men – and pretending to like it, most of the time.

It’s been a couple of months since then: you’re taking things slow – or trying to. Hange wants to do this right, for you. They don’t want to scare you away, or overwhelm you. It does take a lot of self control when you pull shit like this, though.

“So?” You ask, feeling your heart in your throat. There’s many thoughts clogging your brain right now: what if they don’t want this, what if I’m pushing them, was I too quick, or maybe too slow, I don’t know what I’m doing–

“Of course, princess.” They whisper, coming closer to you.

Hange’s lips are soft against yours, delicate even. Their kiss never fails to sweep you off your feet, as you feel like you’re floating. You hum against the kiss, sliding your tongue against theirs. Eventually, you leave their lips unattained in order to place open-mouthed kisses on their neck.

You climb on their lap, spreading your legs on top of them. This feels so good, Hange thinks. I should definitely say it out loud, let her know how good she is. Your curious hands travel through their body, warm and possessive: you travel this new territory with so much desire, it’s almost suffocating. All Zoe can come up with is a weak…

“Fuck” They whisper once you climb down from them, knees hitting the carpet beneath you.

Shortly before opening their pants, you move the fabric of your dress down, so your tits are freed from its confinement. Is this the right move, though? Guys usually seemed to like it… I hope they don’t notice I have no idea what I’m doing, you think .

“Is this okay?” You ask, looking up at them with darkened eyelashes. Hange can’t stop thinking about how they want to melt your makeup away, make a mess of you. Eventually, they think. Not tonight.

“Yeah,” They reply, voice sounding hoarser than they intended “Go ‘head.”

With hunger dripping from your eyes, you move their pants down, along with the plain black boxer-style panties they were wearing. Meanwhile, Hange takes their blazer off and starts unbuttoning the white dress shirt they were wearing.

“You’re so attractive.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper, as you start heatedly placing kisses on Hange’s thighs. They sigh, as a pink tint starts blossoming on their cheeks.

You mean it: Zoe has this unique appearance to them, one that just lures you in even more once you get to know them. Hange is everything you’ve ever wanted, but you still don’t have the heart to tell them that.

Instead, what you do is place your hands on their knees, carefully spreading their legs and exposing what you’ve been dying to taste this whole night. Hange’s pussy is better than what you’ve been imagining for the past few months, better than what you’ve been picturing when playing with yourself. They’re not shaved or waxed, but they are carefully trimmed. You lick your lips in excitement when you realize how wet they are – and it’s all for you.

You place a kiss on their clit, an experimental one. Then, another one. Looking up at them, you lick a single stripe from their entrance towards their needy clit. They taste good, so good. This is so much better than I expected, we should have done this before…

“Oh God, yeah, just like that.” They purr, voice sounding restrained and snapping you out of your thoughts, only to make you realize you’ve been making out with their clit.

Experimentally, you suck on it, which causes Hange’s head to tall back against the sofa’s armrest. You part their lips to give you better access to their bundle of nerves, lapping at it – slowly, and then building up the speed and pressure.

“Feels so good.” They whisper, hands gripping the back of your neck – and, for a moment, Hange wonders if this is too much. Their worries go away as suddenly as they came when you moan against their pussy, diving even deeper between their thighs.

Now, you’re sucking and slurping on them, nails carefully raking against the soft skin of their inner thighs, and Hange thinks – no, actually knows – this is what heaven feels like. With you, on your knees, willingly pleasuring them. They already feel addicted to you.

Zoe looks like a mess: hair all over the place, glasses lowering on the bridge of their nose, and tanned skin sweaty.

“Fuck, fuck.” they whine, moving their hips against your face – which seems to make you happy, given the fact you moan against their clit. “Yeah, I’m almost there, don’t stop.”

You tap on their thigh, showing you understand their request – you keep the same amount of speed and pressure, tongue moving against their now puffy clit relentlessly.

A wave of white-hot feeling travels through Hange’s body, as their body convulses underneath your mouth. Their members go limp, relaxing underneath your touch. They cum choking on your name, letting out a final whine as you try to lick them clean.

Hange grips your hair, removing you from in-between their legs. They pant, looking at you almost incredulously.

“You good?” You ask, hair messy and face wet, smiling up at them.

“Yeah. You?” They breathe, reaching for your body once again.

You nod, straddling their lap, as Hange pulls you in for a kiss.

“Good. My turn now.”

#hange x y/n #hange x you #hange zoe x reader #hange smut #hange zoe smut #aot smut #hange x reader

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ameagrice · 4 months

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Capsize

chapter thirty | fine line

percy jackson x fem reader

There are silver streaks shared by Annabeth and Percy, scattered through their hair.

It’s something that will connect them forever, you know for certain. It’s a symbol of a shared strength.

It’s just one more thing to make your heart melt.

Realistically, you should feel nothing but proud of them both, and in your own way, you do. But there has been too much loss to feel any sort of good from the ending, and you can’t get Zoe Nightshade’s death from your mind.

“I can see the stars, my lady,” she whispered, so gently you’d barely heard her at all. The wound on her side gaped, and bled, the golden ichor of an immortal on her way out. An inch of a smile appeared on her face, struggling, before it dropped, and the light faded from Zoe Nightshade’s eyes. A wisp of silvery light lifted from her lips, drifting up into the air, before it, too, faded.

In the sky, the stars showed an image of a girl, running across the sky. Zoe Nightshade had, finally, found her peace.

Atlas was in his rightful place. His daughter had been stolen from the world. Luke Castellan was kicked to his death by Thalia’s action.

Except, they couldn’t find a body.

Body, upon body, upon body. They just kept piling up.

Bianca; Zoe; Luke. Lost lives; people who could have had so much more than they were given.

But Gods who couldn’t care any less.

And if you had to, you’d bet they didn’t even know their names.

You could see now, just why Luke was so angry. Because you felt it too. And it was terrifying.

“You don’t believe me about Luke,” Annabeth said, sounding faded amongst your thoughts. “We’ll see him again. He’s just under Kronos’s spell.”

Thalia jolted away, somehow seemingly unbothered by the height at which you travelled in the sky, Artemis in the lead. “There it is,” she pointed, sitting up. “It’s started.”

“What’s started?” Percy leaned forward, catching your hair between his hand on the seat he held onto. You didn’t say anything.

High above the Empire State Building, Olympus was its own island of light. A mountain ablaze with torches and braziers.

“The Winter Solstice,” she breathed. “The Council of the Gods.”

In the early-morning darkness, torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colors, from bloodred to indigo. Apparently no one ever slept on Olympus. The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings bustling about, riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by Cyclopes. Winter didn’t seem to exist here. The scent of the gardens in full bloom, jasmine and roses and even sweeter filled your senses. Music drifted up from many windows, the soft sounds of lyres and reed pipes.

Towering at the peak of the mountain was the greatest palace of all, the glowing white hall of the gods.

You touched ground outside towering, silver gates, just inside the courtyard. Pegasi travel was rather terrifying, and you were much more than glad to be alive and on the ground. Olympus glowed with warm, the kind that settled in your bones. The warm wind, blowing from nowhere, shifted your hair when you clambered down to the ground.

“Yeah,” Percy muttered.

“Huh?”

Percy froze. “Uh—the horse. Sorry! Pegasi.”

A laugh escaped you, startling in the night. Thalia turned, eyebrow raised. “Why are you talking to a horse? It didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Haven’t I told you?” He averted his gaze.

“What,” you landed your hand on your hip, waving the other to the pegasi. “You talk to animals now, too, like Grover?”

“Just sea creatures. And horses. Pegasi, sorry!”

“Yeah, you’ll really have to explain that later,” you trailed off. “We’ve got more important matters at hand.”

The Pegasi flew off, leaving yourself, Percy, Thalia and your sister together. You liked to think, years later, laying on the glass floor of a ship, that you were all trying to gather the courage after everything to step inside the giant building, and face gods you had once only ever heard about in stories.

Side-by-side, you walked into the throne room.

Twelve enormous thrones made a U around a central hearth, just like the placement of the cabins at camp. The ceiling above glittered with constellations—even the newest one, Zoë the Huntress, making her way across the heavens with her bow drawn.

All of the seats were occupied. Each god and goddess was about fifteen feet tall. Under their judging eyes, despite your own mother being one of them, you were uncomfortable.

“Welcome, heroes,” Artemis said.

“Mooo!”

That was when you noticed Bessie and Grover, the latter standing at the side of a pool of water which Bessie swam in.

“Grover! You made it.”

He started to run towards your friends, then stopped, and looked back at Zeus, who up close, felt a lot scarier than he looked. You only realized then, that there was a major difference in terror of humans, and the intimidation of gods. You could deal with this kind.

“Go on,” Zeus nodded once. But he wasn’t looking at Grover—he was looking at Thalia.

None of the gods spoke. Grover’s hooves echoed on the marble floor, Bessie the Ophiotaurus mooing warmly at your arrival.

You took the time to observe the gods up close, because you might never get the chance to again. Artemis, looking as if she hadn’t ever even been hold hostage, watched the exchange between Percy and Grover. Percy’s father, Poseidon, dressed so casually you might have laughed in other circumstances, had this sort of barely-there smile on his face, bright eyes shining just the way Percy’s own did, too. Apollo, sunglasses covering his eyes, had his earbuds in, golden head of hair tilted back to the ceiling. And…

Ares. It was impossible to not feel him looking at you. Why the special interest, you wanted to ask. Do you see yourself in me? You wondered. Do I see myself in you?

Your eyes met his dark ones, a stark difference, between the extreme fatigue, and the colors. Your eyes burned with exhaustion and the tears you had shed since yesterday. He wore his signature black leather jacket, dark, dark hair being tousled by Aphrodite’s touch. When it was obvious her husband wasn’t looking at her, perched at his side, her love-ridden smile slowly fell away, and those sparkling eyes fell on you as well.

Or maybe it’s you, I see myself in. Too romantic. Too caught up in feelings. After all, you only had so much love to spare between friends, and the dead ones.

What do you see in me? You were desperate to ask, curiosity clawing at your chest. Why am I the way I am?

Gods sometimes took a special interest in heroes. All the tales told you so. You just had to wonder, what would come of this.

Ragged and bruised, you felt as though you were being picked apart under the watchful eyes of so many olympians.

You hadn’t realized Grover was doing the rounds until he yanked you into a hug. You found it in yourself to hug him back—at least he was still alive.

“Glad you made it,” you whispered.

“You too.” He nodded. Neither of you smelled amazing after this quest, but it went uncared for. A trouble shared is a trouble deeply understood.

“You have to convince them,” he said to the remaining four of you. “They can’t do it!”

“Do what?” You blinked.

“Heroes,” Artemis called. The goddess slid down from her throne and turned to human size, a young auburn-haired girl, perfectly at ease in the midst of the giant Olympians. She walked toward your little group, her silver robes shimmering. There was no emotion in her face. She seemed to walk in a column of moonlight.

“The Council has been informed of your deeds,” Artemis spoke loudly, addressing everyone in a steady, clear tone. “They know that Mount Othrys is rising in the West. They know of Atlas’s attempt for freedom, and the gathering armies of Kronos. We have voted to act.”

There was some mumbling and shuffling among the olympians, as if they weren’t all happy with this plan, but nobody protested.

“At my Lord Zeus’s command,” Artemis said, “my brother Apollo and I shall hunt the most powerful monsters, seeking to strike them down before they can join the Titans’ cause. Lady Athena shall personally check on the other Titans to make sure they do not escape their various prisons. Lord Poseidon has been given permission to unleash his full fury on the cruise ship Princess Andromeda and send it to the bottom of the sea. And as for you, my heroes…”

She turned to face the other immortals.

And that, was the moment you saw your mother for the first time.

Dressed in a beautiful white dress, draped over one shoulder, her eyes, as gray as your own, as gray as Annabeth’s appeared lost in thought. You took the chance to just look at the woman you never thought you would meet.

“I gotta say—” Apollo cleared his throat. “These heroes did okay.” He began to recite. “Heroes win laurels—”

“Um, yes, first class,” Hermes interrupted with a side-eye in his brother’s direction. You were unable to help the smirk. “All in favor of not disintegrating them?”

A few tentative hands went up: Aphrodite, Demeter, Apollo—waving his iPod.

“Hang on a minute,” Ares growled, sitting up on his throne. He pointed at Thalia and Percy, on the other side of Annabeth. “These two are dangerous. It’d be much safer, while we’ve got them here—”

Don’t say anything, you begged yourself. Even Annabeth elbowed you.

“Ares,” Poseidon interrupted. “They are worthy heroes. We will not blast my son to bits.”

“Nor my daughter,” grumbled Zeus. “She has done well.”

You leaned forward around your sister, who visibly shook, pale, in need of a lie down from the looks of things. Thalia blushed—you grinned wickedly. All the things you could do with this moment in the future.

Athena cleared her throat. Annabeth sighed. The goddess leaned forward. “I am proud of my daughters, as well. But I agree—there is a security issue with the other two.”

Annabeth elbowed you a little too late, this time.

“Mother!” You exclaimed.

Your heart dropped and splattered on the ground. Never had you addressed her as such. And never had she looked you in the face the way she did now.

Too late to back out, now.

“How can you just—”

Athena cut you off with a girl, but calm look. “It is unfortunate that my father, Zeus, and my uncle, Poseidon, chose to break their oath not to have more children. Only Hades kept his word, a fact that I find ironic. As we know from the Great Prophecy, children of the three elder gods…such as Thalia and Percy…are dangerous. As thickheaded as he is, Ares has a point.”

“Right!” Ares said. “Hey, wait a minute. Who you callin’—”

He started to get up, but a grape vine grew around his waist like a seat belt and pulled him back down.

“Oh, please, Ares,” Dionysus sighed. “Save the fighting for later.”

Ares cursed and ripped away the vine. “You’re one to talk, you old drunk. You seriously want to protect these brats?”

Dionysus gazed wearily. “I have no love for them. Athena, do you really think it wise to destroy them?”

“I do not pass judgement,” she said. “I only point out the risk. What we do, the Council must decide.”

“I will not have them punished,” Artemis cut in hotly. “I will have them rewarded. If we punish heroes who do us such a great favour, then we are no better than the titans, are we not? If this is Olympian justice, I will have none of it.”

“Calm down, sis,” Apollo scoffed. “Chill. Jeez, you need to lighten up.”

“Don’t call me sis! I will reward them!”

“Well, perhaps. But the monster must be destroyed. We have agreement on that?”

“Bessie?” Percy burst out. “You want to destroy Bessie?”

Your heart swelled. Gosh, he cared. It was lovely.

And then you wanted to slap yourself.

What was up with the emotions lately?

Poseidon frowned. “You have named the Ophiotaurus Bessie?”

“Dad,” Percy said. “He’s just a sea creature. A really nice sea creature. You can’t destroy him.”

Poseidon shifted uncomfortably, a trait Percy shared with him, you noted. “Percy, it’s power is considerable. If the titans were to steal it, or—”

“You can’t,” Percy insisted.

Zeus opened his mouth, looking as though he was getting antsier by the second. But you had experience with this sort of thing that needed a good negotiation, so you cut in.

“Controlling the prophecies never works. Isn’t that true?” You tried, stepping forward. All eyes landed on you, and you swallowed. “Have we not just experienced it? Are we not experiencing it now? The Ophiotaurus is innocent. Killing something like that is wrong. It’s as wrong as Kronos eating his children just because of something they might do.”

Zeus looked to be considering it. You breathed heavily, in a mild panic after consulting the king of the gods head on. If he wanted to, you could be zapped out of existence in less than a second.

“And what of the risk? Kronos knows full well, if one of you were to sacrifice the beast’s entrails you would have the power to destroy all of us. Do you think we can let this possibility remain? You, my daughter, will turn sixteen on the morrow, just as the prophecy says.”

“You have to trust them,” you tried, pleading with your eyes. “Please, you have to trust them.”

Zeus scowled. “Trust a hero?”

“She is right,” Artemis nodded slowly. “Which is why I must first make a reward. My faithful companion, Zoe Nightshade, has passed into the stars. I must have a new lieutenant. And I intend to choose one, but first, father Zeus, I must speak with you privately.”

Zeus beckoned Artemis forward, leaning to listen as she whispered to him.

“Annabeth,” Percy whispered from behind you. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Look, I need to tell you something. I couldn’t stand it if—I don’t want you to—”

Artemis turned. “I will have a new lieutenant, if she will accept it. Thalia, daughter of Zeus, will you join the Hunt?”

Your jaw almost dropped. Stunned silence filled the room.

“I will,” Thalia said firmly. She moved to your side, and then a little bit further ahead. Confident.

Zeus rose, his eyes full of concern. “My daughter, consider well—”

Don’t let him change your mind, you prayed. Hold your ground.

“Father, I will not turn sixteen tomorrow,” she shook her head. “I will never turn sixteen. I won’t let this prophecy be mine. I stand with my sister Artemis. Kronos will not tempt me again.”

She knelt down before Artemis, and repeated the same words Bianca had uttered what felt like years ago at the cliff side in the snow and weary sunlight.

When she had finished, she hugged each of you and said a few words. You felt awkward, putting your hands into your coat pockets, when Thalia stood in front of you. For once, there was no spiteful comments from either one of you. She smiled small, looking rejuvenated the same way Bianca had, as if the quest had never happened.

“You’re a good friend,” she nodded. “You’re brave. You’ve got what it takes to help them with this prophecy.” And then she leaned in, and hugged you just as she had with Annabeth and Grover and Percy. “Trust yourself.”

Thalia went and stood with Artemis, and the atmosphere changed instantly.

“Now, for the Ophiotaurus.”

“The boy is still dangerous,” Mr. D. opposed. The beast is a temptation to great power. Even if we spare the boy—”

“No.” Percy said firmly. “Please. Keep the Ophiotaurus safe. My dad can hide him under the sea somewhere, or keep him in an aquarium here. But you have to protect him.”

“And why should we trust you?”

“I’m only fourteen. If this prophecy is about me, that’s only two more years.”

“Two years for Kronos to deceive you,” Athena uttered. “Much can change in two years, young hero. It is only the truth. It is bad strategy to keep the boy alive. And the animal.”

Poseidon stood. “I will not have the creature destroyed if I can help it. And I can, help it.”

He held out his hand, and a spear shimmering with blue light appeared. “I will vouch for the boy and the safety of the Ophiotaurus.”

“You won’t take it under the sea!” Zeus stood suddenly. “I won’t have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession.”

“Brother, please,” Poseidon sighed.

Zeus’s lightening bolt appeared in his hand, and the whole room filled with the smell of ozone.

“Fine,” Poseidon nodded. “I will build an aquarium for the sea creature here, with the help of Hephaestus. The creature will be safe. The boy will not betray us. I vouch for this on my honor.”

Zeus thought about it. “All in favor?”

A dozen hands went up, besides Mr. D, your mother’s, and Ares just sat looking bored.

“We have a majority. And so, since we are not destroying these heroes, I imagine we should reward them.”

—

There are parties, and then there are Olympian parties. And Olympian parties are filled with gold and beautiful colours, exotic flowers and the Muses music, braziers of fire, and delicious food and drinks. It became busy very quickly, and before you knew it, you found yourself stumbling into a corner to get yourself together. All you wished to do was go to your cabin and cry. To let it all out.

“This doesn’t look like you’re partying.”

“What the hell are you? A spy? Just leave me alone.” You shoved yourself further into the corner just away from all the partying, a quiet corridor devoid of anything but cold marble and tall, golden ceilings.

Ares hummed lowly. You didn’t have to see him, shoved into the corner like a child, but you knew he was just on the other side of it.

“I’ll let you off just this once, demigod.”

You rolled your eyes. The marble edges dug into your back uncomfortably from how hard you were trying to disappear for a few minutes. “What do you want? Spit it out.”

“If you weren’t her’s, I would say you’re one of mine. You’ve got the fire, I’ll give you that. And my wife has taken a special interest in you and that boy. Her business is my business, you’ll understand. Since you’re her business, now, you’re my business, too.”

You wanted to scream at him to leave, to go away so you could breathe for five minutes. But…you really wanted to know what he had to say. Curiosity always got the better of you.

“I don’t want to be anybody’s business,” you settled on, weakly. “I’m my own person.”

“Whatever, kid. I’m just here to pass along a message.”

“Which is?”

“She says, you’re doing exactly what you should be doing.”

“Oh, really?”

You shoved away from the corner, and paused.

He’d already gone.

—

Making your way back into the crowd was the last thing you wanted to do, but it would be best to show your face for a little while. Eventually you made your way back to Percy. He smiled as you popped up next to him, and then slowly frowned. His green eyes glistened under all the lights.

“You’ve been crying,” he reached up, and then lowered his hand, unsure of what to do.

You laughed pitifully. “Yeah.”

Because, really, what more could you say? It was rather obvious. And you sounded as if you’d just developed the world’s worst cold and stuffy nose.

Percy still stared at you, concerned. It was touching, really.

“I’m just tired.” You nodded. “I promise. When we get back to camp you might not see me for a couple weeks. I’m about to fall off the face of the earth in sleep mode.”

He smiled, tight-lipped, those eyes dancing across your face. For the first time ever under Percy’s eyes, you felt self-conscious.

“I’ll clean up later. My dad always says I look like I’ve just done thirty rounds of coke after crying. It’s funny because it’s true,” you tried lightly.

Percy’s dark curls shook. “No,” he denied. “I think you look…I think you look pretty—uh—I mean—”

Your heart jumped into your throat, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe. Because AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

“Uhm—” you frantically tried for something to do; hair behind your ears, leaning back and forth on your heels. “Thank you. Thanks.” Heat flooded your cheeks. Percy was already scarlet in the face, nodding frantically, avoiding your eyes.

When you looked up, Athena watched from a distance, and then looked away, as if she hadn’t been interested at all. But you weren’t about to let her ruin what just happened—Percy called you pretty.

“I was thinking,” he shoved out. You turned your head, blinking expectantly. “I owe you a dance, don’t I? We got interrupted at Westover Hall, right?”

This time, you allowed yourself to smile, your heart and lungs expanding.

“Right.” You took his hand, shaking.

The music played on, a gentle tune of the future, the past, and the present.

—

Chiron greeted you all at the Big House with hot chocolate and toasted cheese sandwiches. Grover went off to his satyr friends, telling them all about his brief experience with Pan.

Annabeth, Percy and yourself sat with Chiron by the fire. A couple of others joined you, too—Clarisse, back from a quest of her own it seemed. Her hair was cut short, like somebody had hacked it with scissors without a care, and there was a jagged scar on her chin. For once, she kept quiet.

“I got news,” she said glumly. “Bad news.”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Chiron said with forced cheerfulness. “The important thing is you’ve prevailed. And you’ve saved Annabeth!”

The Stoll brothers were there, too. You hadn’t even looked Travis in the eye. The high of the short dance with Percy had worn off, that tiny spark of normality had gone, and left you with the sadness you’d been feeling before it. You struggled with getting Bianca and Zoe’s deaths from the front of your mind, and Thalia’s moving on. Everybody was leaving, it felt like. And everybody was too happy for what had happened along the way.

Percy, sitting next to you in front of the fire, felt the same. You could tell by the sheer look of something bordering on a deep sadness he had.

You didn’t speak.

Annabeth talked about Atlas, and where she had been kept. She yawned the whole way through, still shaking with weakness even after some ambrosia.

Chiron’s positivity spread a little bit to you tired campers, but in the end, the unwavering need to go somewhere and cry won. You set down your mug of hot chocolate, and walked away. Another chair scratched the floor behind you, as you walked away toward the fields.

“Let her be,” you heard Chiron utter. “She needs time.”

You heard happy babbling just as you wandered away, boyish, childish talking. You looked to the left, and there was Nico di Angelo, two figurines in hands, talking to himself the way children tend to do. Every organ in your body twisted painfully, and you got away before he could see you. You couldn’t be the one to tell him Bianca was long gone. You still didn’t want to believe it yourself.

The air was bitter cold, your fingertips numb already. Snow fell lightly as you wandered into where you probably shouldn’t have been. You didn’t get far until his voice caught you up.

“Scout?”

You stopped, the snow crunching quietly. Behind you, Travis grew closer until he was right in front of you. You hadn’t even realized how tall he’d gotten until you saw him again, like seeing him in a different light.

Bundled in a red sweater and jeans, a coat and scarf atop of that, he still shivered.

“I just need to go for a walk. I’ll be alright later.” You shrugged.

Silence captured the air. Until he said, “Chiron…mentioned what happened to Nico’s sister. And the Hunter girl. Zoe. I’m—I’m so sorry.”

The first tear fell without any effort. And then you grew too cold too quickly. And crumbled.

He enveloped you instantly, as if without thought—like the action would be unknown, to hesitate in your arms. Against his warm, soft chest, Travis’s heart beat gently against your ear, his hands coming up carefully to your back, to your shoulder.

Safety.

And at the end of it—Travis.

You allowed yourself the tears. Your hands scrunched at his shirt. He smelled of the outside weather, of wind

of life.

—

PAIN. So, we’ve reached the end of Titans Curse! How are we feeling so far about relationships and eve thing? Feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @crackerphobic20 @mata0-0mata @jccc1000 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible @obxstiles

if they’re not highlighted, it wouldn’t let me tag you!

this chapter’s quite short. I didn’t want to drag it out too much.

aaaaand I’ve added a few more songs to the playlist (on my profile if you don’t have it saved!) if you want to give them a listen. thanks for reading!

#capsize #percy jackson #pjo #asks #leo valdez #annabeth chase #jason grace #nico di angelo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #Percy Jackson x yn #Percy Jackson series #Travis stoll #connor stoll x reader #Travis x reader #Travis stoll x reader #ares

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