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loonylupinblack3 · 16 days ago

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Powerless

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: extremely toxic!rafe, violence, swearing, many threats issued

Summary: you hate being a Pogue. Hate how vulnerable and weak and powerless it makes you. Rafe reinforces this for you.

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: heavily based off of season 1 episode three of obx when pope is delivering groceries and Rafe jumps him. also the ferrari sf90 spider is actually my favourite car so i yapped about it a lil bit :)

You were helping Heyward load the grocery bags onto the boat alongside Pope and JJ, stacking the bags of food and other knick knacks in the middle of the vehicle.

“You kids get these groceries over to Figure Eight,” Heyward instructed, grunting as he lifted a pair of heavy bags off the dock and moved over to the boat, Pope, waiting at the ready, taking them from his father. “Get straight back here when you’re done.” He gave you a pointed look. “No fishing.”

You grinned at him, saluting him as you grabbed a pair of bags from him and placed it on the boat. JJ was right next to you, with Pope behind, the three of you working in tandem.

“I promised delivery by this afternoon,” Heyward continued. “Rich folk don’t want to wait for you lazy sons-” Seeing JJ with his arms already outstretched waiting for another bag of groceries and a beaming smile on his face gave Heyward pause. “Oh, JJ, thank you.” As soon as JJ grabbed the groceries he continued. “-sons of bitches.”

He glanced at you. “Excusing you, of course, Y/n. You’re always a delight.”

You beamed at him and JJ gave a scoff. “How come you get all the praise and I get nothing?”

You sniffed, flipping your hair to the side. “‘Cause I’m better.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are-”

Heyward interrupted the two of you. “Hey, alright enough. No bickering. Get your asses moving and deliver these groceries.”

You all gave the man a salute and entered the cabin part of the boat as Pope started it up. Heyward didn’t trust JJ enough to drive the boat and knew you’d end up going the wrong way with your poor sense of direction, so Pope was in charge of steering the vehicle.

You drove through the river, leaving the Pogue side behind and entering Figure Eight, the Kooks domain. You noted the large houses, clean and tidy, and the smooth way they all seemed to be running with enough electricity and clear running water to their heart's content.

“Doesn’t even look like the storm hit there,” Pope exclaimed in indignation. No doubt he was thinking about your own houses, all of them damaged in some way and not yet fixed.

JJ twirled a pocket knife in his hands. “That’s because they got generators, bro. Get used to it.”

You scowled, shaking your head. “And then they say the juice will be out all summer at the cut.”

Pope shook his head, jaw clenched. “Nice to be a Kook.”

You nodded your head in agreement as JJ said, “lucky bastards.”

“One day I’m gonna become a Kook,” you said. “Dunno how yet, but I’m gonna go full Kook, with a pool, mansion, Ferrari SF90 Spider.”

JJ and Pope both groaned as you mentioned your favourite car, again. Sometimes they found you just never shut up about it, going on about the horsepower, the V8 engine, the fact it was the very pinnacle of Ferrari technology, with the thrill and versatility of open top driving.

“Time for you to stop talking,” JJ said, commandeering the conversation. You didn’t mind, content to listen to him for the rest of the way to Figure Eight, where you docked the boat and divvied out the grocery bags between you.

You and Pope were gonna go together, with JJ taking the rest and heading in the other direction. You bid each other quick goodbyes and hurried with Pope, walking around the unfamiliar streets. Everything looked so much nicer here, from the pavement to the shops lining the streets, everything inside looking like it cost more than a week's worth of your pay.

You took a shortcut, walking through the golf course instead of around it. The employees let you through without a second glance. It was surprising what you could get away with as a Pogue working in Figure Eight. The two of you walked on the side of the golf course, talking under your breaths as you looked around cautiously.

“I’m also going to golf here every week,” you stated, watching a particularly fit woman swing a golf club, her muscles flexing with exertion.

You could almost imagine it being you, the golf club, hat, skirt, everything. If you really thought about it, the girl almost looked like you, similar hair colour and figure.

Pope laughed. “You hate golfing.”

You shrugged, swinging the bags in your hands slightly as you walked. “Yeah, but it's what Kooks do isn’t it?”

“What is your obsession with being a Kook?” Pope asked. “I get being rich, everyone wants it, but you seem almost obsessed with it.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself when movement caught your eye. You involuntarily recoiled when you recognised Topper and Rafe heading towards you. Pope noticed too, muttering swear words under his breath and advising you to just walk past and ignore them.

“Hey what’s up guys?” Rafe asked, putting up an innocent facade. He used his golf club to stop your walking, pressing it to the box of beers in Pope’s hand. “Hey how much for one of those beers?”

Pope turned to the side, trying to push past. “They’re not for sale.”

Rafe made a tutting sound. “Wait, wait, wait.” He stopped Pope as he tried to pass, forcing the two of you to stay there. Topper was standing directly in front of you, creating a barrier of sorts across the pathway. “You can just give us one, then, right?”

You wanted to snap at him. Wanted to ridicule him, ask him if he knew what not for sale meant. You were scared though, and you knew it wouldn’t help you or Pope standing up to him like that.

“Or you can order one like everybody else,” Pope replied, again trying to push past.

Rafe was rougher this time, ignoring Pope’s struggles and shoving him back. The coil of fear in your gut tightened. “Listen. Wait, wait, wait, you’re not listening to me. Um…” he gestured with his hands. “You’ve got so many bro, and we’ve got nothing.”

“Got nothing man,” Topper chimed in.

You scowled. “They’re not ours, they’re already paid for.”

Rafe looked at you, surprised you spoke, and then all of his attention was on you. You regretted even speaking, because his attention was like a guillotine, one wrong movement and the blade would fall.

“Oh, already paid for?” Rafe asked. “Knowing you Pogues, you probably stole them, right?”

Before you could stop him he was in front of you, his golf club snagging at the plastic bags in your hands as he pulled. Everything fell to the floor, and you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering.

“What the hell Rafe?!” You cried. “You owe us for that!”

He laughed, getting all up in your space. “Oh I owe you do I? I don’t owe you shit, Sweetheart.” He grabbed your chin, his fingers forcefully curling around your skin.

“Hey, get off her!” Pope yelled, grabbing Rafe’s shirt and yanking him back. You were grateful for the space, rubbing your jaw as the fear weighed you down, down, down.

Rafe spun around, “don’t fucking touch me you Pogue.”

“Come on man,” Topper said from his other side. They had him surrounded. “We just want a beer.” He made a lunge for it. “Just give us one of these.”

Topper and Pope were full on wrestling with the box now, and the fear was in your throat, especially when Rafe joined in, tripping Pope up and making him fall to the floor with a slam, rolling over a few times.

You gasped, going to him, but Rafe got there first. He had a bruise on his head, looking red and scratched. He scrambled upright, a hatred kindling in his eyes as he threw a punch. Rafe was ready though, avoiding it easily and using his golf club to slam into your friend's stomach. When he was bent over Rafe slammed it down again, Pope crumpling to the floor.

You couldn’t watch it anymore. As he raised his club again you moved forward, shoving him to the side. You only managed to move him because he wasn’t expecting it, and even Topper looked surprised, doing nothing to stop you because really, how much damage can a girl do?

You planted yourself in front of Pope, and when Rafe, laughing in disbelief, walked up to you, you were ready. You swung your fist but it was in poor form, Rafe catching your wrist mid-movement. His grip was tight enough to make you wince.

“Getting involved?” Rafe asked you, moving forward until you were chest to chest. “That’s cute.” His voice was low and mocking. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

You yanked your arm back. That was the second time he’d grabbed you and your skin felt dirty, his fingerprints crawling all over you. Rafe just seemed amused, a cruel delight in his eyes. There was no fear in his expression and why would there be? He was a Kook. He had his friend right behind him ready to defend him if needed. His real competitor was still on the floor, pain immobilising him. No, there was no fear in his expression, only a sick satisfaction of knowing exactly how much control he had over this situation.

Pope gave a groan, attempting to pull himself upright but Rafe didn’t even glance at him. His focus was zeroed on you, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach churn. “What’s it like, being a Pogue? Being powerless?”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, to say something humiliating and knock his ego down a few inches, anything to stand up against him. Rafe seemed to know you too well though, grabbing your jaw in a bruising grip, his fingers cold and rough. More threat than affection. “You’d be better off with me, y’know that?”

It wasn’t a flirtation he spoke to you – it was a threat. You could hear the danger in every word, the treacherous promise that he’d never leave you alone, that this sick game of his would only end on his terms. You could see the lines between desire and control blurring, and nauseatingly realised that Rafe’s affection for you might be even more dangerous than his fists.

You tried to jerk away, revolution surfacing inside you but Rafe only tightened his grip. “Nah, don’t do that,” he warned almost lazily. “Don’t make me hurt you too.”

You wanted to cry. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall. You’d hate to give him the satisfaction of seeing them roll down your face. All of this was a game to him, a test to see how much fear he could wring out of you. The worst part was you knew he would do it, just because he could.

Your gaze darted to Pope, your friend just managing to sit upright. Topper was standing to the side, an uneasy expression on his face. You didn’t want Rafe to escalate things any further, because you knew he would, just to prove a point. He noticed your line of sight and forcibly pulled you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear.

“You’re lucky I like you,” his breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. An edge of cruelty laced his tone, as did delight, the same one a kid would get from playing with their toys, which was what you were to Rafe. “Otherwise you’d be right there next to him.”

Before you could answer he shoved you back, hard enough to make you stumble. A sickeningly smug smirk was on his face as he picked up two cans of beer off the ground, chucking one to Topper.

“Catch you later Sweetheart,” he called to you, going as far as sending you a wink, acting like everything had just been harmless fun, which you guessed it was to him.

You watched him saunter away, leaving a mess in his wake that he seemed to do everywhere. Except this time it was worse, because with a sickening dread you realised the next thing he’d leave a mess would be you.

And you suddenly had an answer to Pope’s earlier question. Why did you want to be a Kook so badly? It was simple, really. This whole interaction had just reinforced the feeling that you were too vulnerable, too weak. And the answer appeared from the ashes of Rafe’s destruction, a truth you guarded with your heart.

You didn’t want to be powerless.

#rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #toxic rafe cameron #fanfiction #fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #outer banks x reader #rafe outer banks #outer banks fic #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #pope heyward #jj maybank #pogues x reader

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scientia-rex · 7 months ago

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Seems unfair that I’ve been telling Machiavelli Dad stories for literal years and people still accused me of making him up. I ASSURE you I could not possibly create this man in fiction. He has an IQ in the 150s. He cares about IQ, so you know he’s a dick. He grew up in abject rural poverty and clawed his way through an associate’s degree in electrical engineering that no one wanted him to or thought he could get. He showed up to the final of one class drunk off his ass because his professor had said at the beginning, jokingly, that if anyone got their electrician’s license before the end of the class, they would have an automatic A, and of course he did. He met my mom when he parked in her spot at their apartment complex that did not, let me assure you, have assigned spots and she yelled at him. He read bedtime stories (mostly about trains and how electronics work) to me every night until I was at least like 8. His friend and roommate in that first apartment building tried to kill my mother’s Siamese cat (they owned at least like 6 over time) in a rage by shutting it in a cooler; it was freed in time. He got so mean by the time I was 12 that I remember one day he came home from work when me, my mom, and my sister were standing around the top of the stairs and without saying a word to each other we just scattered; he said, like he was angry-joking, “why is everybody running away?” And I said to him, “we’re scared of you.” I don’t remember what happened next. Dad didn’t beat us, but he’d threaten. He’d take off his belt and snap it as a threat. He once lived with a guy who made his own nitroglycerin as a hobby and threatened to detonate an entire dorm when his girlfriend left him. That friend once accidentally bought two boa constrictors. The reason Dad and I stopped talking was when I texted them that I had cancer and they left me on read. The reason I stopped talking to Dad was that I finally realized the word for what he did to all of us was abuse. He built a swing set in our back yard using two retired telephone poles he got from work. The ropes were so tall you could spin the swing up enough to unwind for like 4 straight minutes with zero effort. He thought about becoming a lineman once and practiced climbing on those swing set telephone poles. Hornets nested in there afterwards.

If I were going to create a fictional father, I would either love him more or love him less.

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shjsnjkj · 1 month ago

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The Boy Next Door ┊ p.js

kinktober day 3! -masterlist

warnings: MDNI, make out, anxiety, unprotected sex,

genre: Smut

taglist:@blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @moonpri @blushbunini

wc: 2,8k✧.*

☆ bnd!jay x reader ; Thunderstorms, no electricity, no key to your apartment. The only thing you could do was to stay for the night at your neighbor, Jay's apartment.

“Why aren’t you eating the dessert, darling?” -your mother asked you.

“Mom, I’m full. I can’t eat more” -you said while holding your stomach.

“Alright, then. I will put this one in a box as well and you can share it with your lover boy” -she smiled at you.

“Mom, please don’t refer to him like that. I already told you — he’s just my neighbor. On top of that, I’m not sharing this delicious cherry pie with anyone!”

You were sitting at the usual family dinner at your parent’s house. Even though you were always tired, reuniting with your siblings and parents after a long week apart felt so comforting. You didn’t have to make dinner for yourself and could relax all afternoon.

“However, it was a bit uncomfortable sometimes. The reason was all the questions you received from your mom and siblings. Even though you were the middle child they had high expectations for you. Since everyone had a boyfriend or a girlfriend and you didn’t they had to mention it again and again. You didn’t understand why they made such a fuss and care about your love life but you were busy focusing on your own goals at first. Then love could come into your life. You got the “It’s just a cliché” sentences but you ignored those comments and ate your food in silence.

The second thing was your so-called lover boy, Jay. Your neighbor. Not your lover as they say it.

Since you moved in next to Jay, everyone's been talking about him non-stop.

Bringing up the memories, of when he helped your father bring your packages into your home or when Jay helped you put your sofa and wardrobe together. You felt at ease around him and his smile made your heart melt for a second.

You admit he’s sweet and acts like a gentleman but you’re just not ready for a relationship now.

��Okay guys, I guess I’m going to head home. Thanks for the dinner again.”

“Y/n don’t you want to stay for the night? There's a big thunderstorm coming, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to be driving in it on your way home."

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to call you when I get home.”

“Okay, sweetie. Take care, I love you” -she hugged you.

“I love you too Mom”

After you said goodbye to your family you got inside the car. With chilly, jazzy music you started the engine and drove home.

The clouds were already starting to form a big shape getting darker and darker as time passed. To be honest, you’ve always been afraid of thunderstorms and really wanted to get home before the storm started. So you pressed the gas pedal harder to make it home in a few minutes.

When you got out of the car your hands were full of packed food and raindrops started pouring from the sky.

You arrived safely and were delighted to spend the evening watching a movie while enjoying a cup of hot cocoa, taking your mind off the thunderstorm.

As you searched for your apartment key you bumped into Jay who was seemed to be coming home from work. He smiled at you softly which you returned.

“Do you need any help? I can hold your boxes.”

“Oh, no thank you. I can do it myself. I'm having a bit of trouble finding my keys, and I'm starting to get a bit stressed. ” -you said in a worried tone.

“Okay, Y/n if you need anything just let me know. I’m gonna be up. Have a good night.”

“Thank you, Jay. Have a good night too”

He went inside and you still looking for that freaking key. The lightning flashed on your face and panic started to take over you. It felt like you were trapped in a box and breath didn’t come easily to you.

“Y/n take it easy. Everything’s gonna be okay!” -you started to tear up.

“Perhaps, I should give Mom a callIt's already late, though. Chances are they've gone to sleep. I guess I'm stuck here in the cold stairway for the time being. All, alone, in the thunderstorm.” -you started to accept your situation and slid down at your door to the ground feeling anxious and tired.

You cried until you heard the door open next to you.

"Y/n, come on in. You need to stop being like this." -you slowly looked to the side and gazed up, only to meet Jay's eyes- "Come on, I can't leave you here."

"Jay, you really don't have to," -you said. "Y/n, please." -he stepped closer, took the bags from your hands, and took them inside. You were still sitting on the floor, so Jay didn't hesitate and picked you up in a bridal pose.

“Jay, put me down. Wait!”

"I'm not waiting around any longer. You didn't stand up, so I'll take you inside my home.”

You made your way from the dark stairway into the light. As Jay stepped over the doorstep, you were hit by a subtle orange scent. Although, his woody scent filled your senses completely. Since your hands were on his neck, your body was pressed up against his, his hands were holding your back and legs as well. All you could do was smell him and get goosebumps afterward. You hate to admit that something switched in you once you felt his scent and body. He held you so gently that you didn't want him to let you go.

"You can let go of me now," -he said, looking at you.

"Oh, right. My apologies." -you finally stood up and fixed your dress.

Jay showed you around his place. Even though you lived in the same building, his apartment was bigger than yours. It was full of designer furniture and decor. It was a perfect match, and the scent in his home was so captivating that you wouldn't want to leave. You also noticed a few guitars across his bedroom, and you got really excited because you loved the sound of the guitar. It always helps you relax.

"Jay, can you play the guitar for me?" -you asked him.

"The guitar?" Sure, why not? It's getting late, though. Maybe we can do it another time."

"Please, that would help me calm down." -you grabbed his arm.

"Y/n, you should eat something and get some rest. I'll play some music if you're going to be in bed."

"I'm not that hungry, but we can share the cherry pie my mother made."

"She made cherry pie? I love cherries. They're my favorite fruit!"

"Really? Then I hope you'll like it," -you said, smiling at him.

Once you'd turned off the lights, you made your way to the kitchen and opened the food box. There it was, the delicious pie with fresh cherries right next to it. Jay brought two plates and forks so you could finally taste the dessert. You took a bite and looked at him, only to see him tasting the cherry. The red fruit's juice ran down his pink lips, making them blood red. The juice almost dripped to his white designer shirt, so you quickly moved your finger to his jaw to stop it. Jay just looked at you and you blushed a bit from embarrassment. "It almost painted your shirt," -you said, taking your finger into your mouth and licking the juice off.

"Oh, thank you, Y/n."

Jay really liked the pie, and so did you. He asked you to bring your mother over to bake this pie for him again. You said you'd do it, but you know how your mother is, so I don't think she'd be too happy about it. You offered to help with the dishes, but Jay said no. Instead, he insisted you take a shower.

You agreed and went to the bathroom with Jay after behind you. He gave you one of his t-shirt, which was long enough to cover you, and put a towel on the rack to dry yourself with.

After he left the room you were alone with your thoughts and the candles that he lit up for you. You took off all your clothes and stepped into the shower. There was quite a selection of bodywashes to choose from. Since the orange scent filled your nose in Jay’s home you decided to go with that one. It felt amazing to be under the hot water and just think about nothing. Nothing, I mean Jay. He popped into your mind continuously and you couldn’t do anything to stop this. He is just too perfect and kind to you always. He even let you stay over for the night. You couldn’t count the times when he helped you. You were deep in your thoughts when the power suddenly turned off. Only the candles gave you a little light but you still couldn’t see anything.

“Jay!” -you called out to him for help.

“I’m here, Y/n can I come in?”

“Yes, please” -he opened the door- “Please don’t look, I’m still in the shower.”

“Okay. I’ll give you my hand. Just hold it and I’ll help you get dressed.”

You extended your arm to meet his hands and he took yours in his gentle grasp. You took slow steps, and Jay handed you the towel, then the t-shirt.

“I’m done” -you turned him around.

It was still dark but you felt his gaze on you. It made you smile, and you couldn’t help but blush. Jay led you to his bedroom and made sure that you were all tucked in the blanket. He sat down next to you with something in his hands. The moment you heard the beautiful sound you knew that he was playing the guitar for you. It made you feel more sleepy but also calmer. You were thankful for Jay for keeping you safe from the loud lightning and thunderstorms outside. “Now, sleep well Y/n. I’m going to be outside if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Jay. Goodnight.”

You went to dreamland but only managed to stay asleep for half an hour. You tried to go back to sleep but the lightning couldn’t let you do that. “Maybe Jay’s still up. I should ask him to play something for me again?” On the other hand, you thought this might be a bit much at that hour. You opted for a cup of hot milk instead. When you opened the door you instantly saw Jay lying on the sofa and sleeping like a baby. You didn’t want to bother him with any voice so you tiptoed to the kitchen until you heard his voice.

“Y/n why aren’t you sleeping?” -he asked in a low husky voice.

"I couldn't sleep" -you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm outside- "The thunder... it's still bothering me." You hesitated for a moment, feeling a mix of vulnerability and comfort in Jay's presence. "I was just going to make some hot milk to help me relax."

Jay sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Let me help you with that," he said softly, rising from the sofa. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you towards the kitchen. "I know a trick that might help you sleep better than just hot milk," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the storm's chaos.

In the dim kitchen, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning, Jay moved with practiced ease. He reached for a small pot, poured in some milk, and set it on the stove. As he worked, he explained in a low, comforting voice, "We'll add a pinch of cinnamon and a touch of honey. It's an old family recipe - always helps me sleep on stormy nights." The warm, spicy aroma soon filled the air, momentarily drowning out your anxiety about the thunder.

As Jay stirred the milk, you leaned against the counter, watching him work. The gentle clink of the spoon against the pot and Jay's calm presence began to ease your nerves. When the milk was ready, he poured it into two mugs, the steam rising in delicate wisps. "Here," he said, offering you a warm mug. "Let's go sit down and enjoy this together."

You followed Jay to the living room, both of you cradling your warm mugs. As you settled onto the sofa, the storm outside seemed to fade into the background. The spiced milk warmed you from the inside, and Jay's presence beside you provided a comforting shield against the night's terrors. You sipped in companionable silence, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with each passing moment.

"Jay?"

"Hm?"

"I don't mean to be forward, but would it be okay for me to sleep here with you?" -you asked with a voice that was a little shaky.

“Of course. I assumed you’re not a fan of thunderstorms that’s why I put my tiredness aside and played you the guitar too. I want you to feel good and comfortable. Now come here, let’s sleep.”

You waited until Jay was settled in before you made your way over to the couch. You somehow managed to get down next to him, but Jay was only a few centimeters away. His eyes were bright and he was looking at you, so you couldn't help but look back at him. Jay had a way of captivating you, and your mind couldn't quite process the feelings your heart was having when you were this close to him. Then, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder and realized that Jay had pulled you into a hug. You swallowed nervously but could easily melt into his body. His thumbs were rubbing circles into your sides, and before you knew it, Jay's hands reached your upper thigh.

That moment, you realized that you didn't have anything underneath your t-shirt, or to be more precise, Jay's t-shirt. He was well aware, and you gave in. You gave in because he was so infuriatingly handsome, and all the things he did were just another turn-on for you. Even if you wanted to deny it, your body was telling the truth.

You leaned in for a kiss and finally met Jay's lips, which were as sweet as honey. His lips were soft, and your kiss turned into a passionate makeout session shortly after. You loved feeling his soft moans in your kiss and being all over him. His hands explored your body while you kissed his face and neck. As you sat on Jay's thigh, he looked at you, a bit surprised at how wet you were. You could care more, but there was no time for that. You started moving up and down on him, while your hands paused at the growing bulge in his pants. To make the moment even more intense, you started rubbing him through his pants, making him cry out for more of your touch. You can't help but smile when you see Jay acting like this. You slowly pulled down his pants and took his length into your mouth. He was already leaking precum, but you sucked on him until he was trembling under your touch. Jay's moans encouraged you to keep going. He gulped as he felt his erection grow harder. You stopped at this point. You pulled up your shirt, eager to be stretched out by Jay. To moan his name and feel him deep inside you.

Jay lined himself up with your entrance, and you slid down on him as slowly as you could. Your eyes got teary from the pleasure. He's right inside you, fitting perfectly.

"Jay," you said, your breath coming in gasps.

"F-fuck, baby. You feel so good." -he closed his eyes, keeping his hand on your waist.

You moved up and down, bouncing on him, resting your hand on his toned abs for support. The two of you were on the edge. You hadn't felt this way in a long time, and he helped you forget all the things that were stressing you out. As he hit your G-spot again and again, you felt a familiar knot building up in your stomach. Hot breaths and incoherent moans filled the room.

"Mhm, fuck Jay," -you said, rolling your eyes back.

"I'm going to cum, baby." -then you felt his cum filling up your hole. Just a second later, you came as well. You let out a series of moans from your pretty lips.

You collapsed onto Jay, your body finally giving in for the day. Once again, you melted into a sensual kiss, and he helped you clean up. You moved closer to Jay, still wanting to feel his presence nearby. He gave you a hug, just enough to feel his heartbeat. Before you knew it, you were sleeping next to him, feeling all the love he gave to you.

You didn't want the night to end, but you knew this was just the start of your love story. Even though you didn't want to start anything with Jay, you made love with him and you didn't regret it. You'd do it again by the time he wakes up next to you this morning. After all, he might be more than just the boy next door.

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kawareo · 4 months ago

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Thank you lovely people for giving me a chance to ramble more about something (this is genuine, i mean no shade)

I find it really cool how every character has a parallel with Durge! In general every single romance pairing has reasons for why i think "yeah i could see them being good together", but I love those for Durge especially since I think about Durges way too much

Gale. Prodigy, Chosen of a God(ess) with a relationship that went far past god/Chosen, with him and Mystra being 'lovers' and Durge and Bhaal being 'family'. They were also both groomed to a degree to fulfill a role and have since fallen from grace of their gods.

Lae'zel. Raised in what is essentially a cult, having her entire world fall apart when she learns the truth about Vlaakith and Orpheus (while Durge's world falls apart when they learn about who they are in act 3). Cult has harsh and merciless punishments for those that disappoint, with death and beatings for githyanki and... Well. You know what, for Durge (looking at you, deleted bad ending).

Shadowheart. Having an equivalent of an electric collar on you that her God(ess) can punish her with (for Durge, that punishment isnt so immediate but Bhaal can literally stop their heart if he wants to). Amnesia. Having to choose between leading your cult or leaving everything you thought you knew and being an outcast. Depending on what you do with Shart, they also both kill their parents.

Karlach. Having your body changed without your consent, in drastic ways that you have no control over; the engine for Karlach, lobotomy + Slayer form for Durge (slayer in a more minor way but i will say that even in evil route you dont get a say whether or not you transform the first time). They both hurt people that get close to then without meaning to. They both have someone more powerful who sees them as property. Also, ties to Gortash.

Wyll. Daddy issues! And being rejected and outcast by your Father, wanting to prove yourself that you're still worthy. They were also both given shitty fucking names by their dads. They both at some point chose between power at the cost of freedom and freedom at the cost of literally everything; Wyll when he made a deal with Mizora, Durge at multiple points through the game when it comes to Bhaal. They both struggle with being tied to an evil, manipulative being that wants them isolated and weak and alone. Similar with Karlach, unwilling body modification, but specifically one that turns you into a 'monster'.

Astarion. 'Father'. 'Siblings' that you are in constant and brutal competition with, for momentary approval of your Creator who will never have enough of anything short but the world. Creator who's end goal very much includes you dying for him. Having no bodily autonomy as your Creator can literally violate your mind whenever. Sexual abuse. Struggling with bloodthirst! Your existence itself is violent, you can't live without hurting someone! (Bloodthirst for Ass, Urges for Durge)

Halsin. (Potential) guilt for something you have done, being pushed in a leadership position (Halsin at the grove, Durge with companions) that you may or may not be unsuited for. Being so, so alone, without anyone to care for your feelings. They both also have sides of them that they sometimes can't control, with the Bear and Urges, or more literally, the Slayer.

Minthara. A proud and efficent warrior that got one upped by a person they underestimated. Ties to Orin. Living as someone with the highest social status in a brutal, cruel society. Fanatic worship of an objectively evil god(ess) and then the betrayal that follows, waking up from quite literal brainwashing, seeing how your God(ess) turns against you.

And I could go on! Theyre all so good and interesting and depending on what path you decide to take, there is always something that Durge can relate to on with any companion! I tried to avoid repeating points or talking about my Durge specifically by just talking about what is set in canon for them, and there is still! So! Much!

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support-husam · 13 days ago

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Please don't skip !!🍉

my survival fund has been vetted by global mutual a!d collective @beesandwatermelons

My name is Hossam, and I am a young man from Gaza. For over a year, our city has been in a state of continuous war. Before the war began, I dreamed of getting married and was planning for it with great enthusiasm 💍❤️. I worked in my father's shop, which was our only source of income 🏪. However, when the war started, the shop was completely destroyed, and we no longer had a home to shelter us 🏚️.

Despite all these difficulties, I did not lose hope 🌟. I decided to wait until the war ended so I could achieve my dream of getting married. But the war continued, and life became even harder. Nevertheless, I did not give up on my dream. I saw marriage as a glimmer of hope amidst the surrounding darkness .

I decided to get married despite the war, but I faced a major problem; I did not have enough money to achieve this dream 💔. I knew that marriage required a lot of expenses, and I could barely provide for our daily needs 🍞. However, I did not give up. I started looking for ways to achieve my dream, hoping to find someone who could help me 🙏.

My story touches the hearts of many, as I am an example of a young man who does not give up despite all the hardships 💪. I dream of having a wife and children and living a decent life away from the horrors of war 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦. I hope to find someone who stands by me and helps me achieve this dream 🤝.

If you can, please help me achieve my dream. Let us be part of my success story and help me build a new life filled with hope and happiness 🌟😊.

my survival fund has been vetted by global mutual a!d collective @beesandwatermelons

Please help me 👆👆👆

finnitesimal @andalusiya @skinwretch

@rednines @elderling @sour-soda @stiltonbasket

@hello-kitty-milkshake @butchmartyr @laurellament

@saltyfinalboss @dirtangeldean

@antrunner @xgoldenlatiasx @cinnamontoasten

@beatricebidelaire @strawberriandromeda

@hamletisintown @septemberlikestea @lttleghost

@somegrumpynerd @megabuild

@innovatorbunny @flanneldragon @butiknowiloatheyou

@ashstfu @autisticandroids

captainsplat @vasira96 @suggestionsofkindness

@catgirl-kaiju @melissa-titanium

@psalidodont @weirdplutoprince @xanfeursel @droodlebug

@tothepointofinsanity

@ruthlesslistener @the3rddenialist @drakkonyan @eligobrrrrr

@strawcherrily-ish @paperandpencilsandskips @saga-ordsmed

@sploonswagtournament @iridescentscarecrow @cantsayidont

@trueloveistreacherous @beedok @normalslimeguy

#freepalestine🇵🇸 freegaza savegaza savepalestine donations gofundme pleasehelpme

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musicfren · 2 months ago

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Help Mohammed Rebuild His Home And Complete His Education!

I have helped set up this GoFundMe on behalf of Mohammed M Siam, who is not on Tumblr but is vetted through a friend of mine. I don't know how else this is going to get traction, so I'm gonna try to boost it here. Mohammed is a 23 yo Palestinian IT student whose home was destroyed by an IOF attack. He is trying to raise funds to rebuild as much of his home as he can manage and cover basic survival needs. If we're able to meet this goal, he hopes to raise enough money to travel outside Gaza and continue his education. In Mohammed's own words:

Mohammed's Story: A Gazan's Journey Through War and Loss.

My name is Mohammed, a 23-year-old young man from the heart of Gaza, Khan Yunis. My story is one of resilience, loss, and a burning hope for the future.

The war ripped through our lives with a ferocity that left scars on our hearts and our city. We were forced to flee our homes, seeking refuge from the relentless bombing that turned our once vibrant streets into a landscape of dust and debris. The "Al-Arous Ice Cream Factory," a familiar landmark and a source of joy, was reduced to rubble, a symbol of the devastation that engulfed us.

The journey of displacement has been long and arduous, stretching over ten months. We have endured hunger, the constant threat of violence, and the agonizing lack of essential medications. This shortage has created a desperate situation, particularly for those with chronic illnesses who struggle to find the treatment they need.

Our home, a testament to the love and hard work of my family, was shattered beyond repair. My brother, who had only recently begun his life with his wife, lost everything – their home, belongings, even their dreams for a future together. My father's shop, the cornerstone of our family's livelihood, was also destroyed, leaving us with nothing but the painful memories of what we had lost.

I, too, was a victim of the war's destruction. My pursuit of knowledge at the Islamic University of Gaza, where I was excelling in Information Technology, was abruptly halted. The university, a beacon of hope for countless students, lay in ruins.

We are now left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the unwavering spirit to rebuild. My plea is for assistance – any help, however small – to rebuild our homes, our lives, and to restore the future we have lost. I long to complete my education outside of Gaza, where I can pursue my dreams in safety and peace of mind.

I hope that my story will touch your heart and inspire you to offer a hand of support. Together, we can help rebuild Gaza and give hope to those who have suffered so much.

This is Mohammed's story, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of unimaginable adversity.

أنا محمد، شاب في الـ 23 من العمر، من قلب غزة، خان يونس. قصتي هي قصة صمود وخسارة وأمل مشتعل بالمستقبل.

الحرب مزقت حياتنا بعنف ترك ندوبًا على قلوبنا ومدينتنا. اضطررنا للفرار من منازلنا، بحثًا عن ملجأ من القصف المتواصل الذي حول شوارعنا النابضة بالحياة إلى مشهد من الغبار والركام. مصنع "العروس للآيس كريم"، معلم مألوف ومصدر للفرح، تحول إلى ركام، رمزًا للدمار الذي اجتاحنا.

رحلة النزوح كانت طويلة وشاقة، امتدت لأكثر من عشرة أشهر. تحملنا الجوع، والتهديد المستمر بالعنف، ونقص الأدوية الأساسية المُؤلم. هذا النقص خلق وضعًا يائسًا، خاصةً بالنسبة لأولئك الذين يعانون من أمراض مزمنة ويصعب عليهم العثور على العلاج الذي يحتاجونه.

منزلنا، شهادة على حب وعمل عائلتي، تحطم بشكل لا يمكن إصلاحه. أخي، الذي بدأ حياته حديثًا مع زوجته، خسر كل شيء - منزله، ممتلكاته، حتى أحلامه لمستقبل مشترك. محل أبي، ركيزة رزق عائلتنا، دُمر أيضًا، تاركًا لنا ذكريات مؤلمة لما فقدناه.

أنا أيضًا كنت ضحية لدمار الحرب. طموحي في المعرفة بجامعة الإٍسلامية في غزة، حيث كنت أتميز في تكنولوجيا المعلومات، توقف فجأة. الجامعة، منارة أمل للعديد من الطلاب، تحولت إلى أنقاض.

لم يبق لنا الآن سوى الملابس على ظهورنا وعزيمة لا تتزعزع لإعادة البناء. مناشدتي هي المساعدة - أي مساعدة، مهما كانت صغيرة - لإعادة بناء منازلنا، وحياتنا، واستعادة المستقبل الذي فقدناه. أطمح لإكمال تعليمي خارج غزة، حيث يمكنني متابعة أحلامي بأمان وهدوء بال.

آمل أن تلامس قصتي قلبك وتلهمك لتقديم يد العون. معًا، يمكنكم المساعدة في إعادة بناء غزة وإعطاء الأمل لمن عانوا كثيرًا.

هذه قصتي، شهادة على صمود الروح البشرية في وجه محنة لا تُصدق.

Before the destruction:

After:

tagging below the cut

@dlxxv-vetted-donations @fairuzfan @nottesilhouette @ethanscrocs @newdog14 @funds4gaza

#palestine #free palestine #gaza

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mangocheesecakes · 5 months ago

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Hello

My name is Ahmed I'm from Gaza, i am engineer I created this link in order to save my elder parents and my brothers and sisters from the cruel horrors of war and take them to a safe place.

Our house and all our shops were completely destroyed, and we were displaced to an unlivable area in Rafah, and then we were displaced to a tent inside which we felt as if we were in a hot oven.

We suffer in our lives inside the tent. There is no water, electricity, or food, not even enough flour to make bread.

My father and mother's health condition is getting worse day by day due to the lack of food, medicine, and health care

I created this campaign so that I could travel to a safe place, as the cost of travel per person reaches $5,000.

My family and I will be very grateful for your help

https://gofund.me/815dac1e

Hello, Ahmed. I'm so very sorry for not being able to answer your ask for so long. I hope you and your parents are alright.

User @/nabulsi has vetted Ahmed's fundraiser here. Please do not hesitate to donate and keep sharing his posts and link.

Please consider putting together even just the equivalent of £5 in your currency and send it Ahmed's way. Encourage your friends and family to give some as well.

His fundraiser is only at £125 (!!) / £30,000 as of this post.

#palestine #free palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #mutual aid #ahmed-ziad

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earlycuntsets · 1 month ago

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"Wanted: 1979 Pontiac Trans Am

Tuesday March 24, 2009 | Posted by: Gerard

Some of you, who have seen my twitter about wanting a 1979 Pontiac Trans Am, may be asking yourselves, "Is this for real?"

And my answer to you is one-hundred percent MFR ("Mad Fucking Real" for short).

Some of you may be asking, "Why?" , so I provided this photograph to answer your questions, and if you need further persuasion-

Quite simply, I need the vehicle for "research and exploration". I will be researching the high-voltage hydra known as the 9th dimension , I will be exploring the barriers of speed and time, the history of heavy-metal haircuts, and the 24-Hr rest-stop cappuccino.

I will be chasing the "electric-manticore", and unlocking the riddle of "Muscle Mystery" in this muscle-machine, and it will most likely occur in the desert.

Now that I've assuaged your curiosity, here's what I'm looking for, more or less, and some might think I'm picky, but I think you should be picky when looking for such an important piece of scientific equipment.

***What I want*** First and foremost, I want a good car. It doesn't have to be great, it doesn't need to have been kept in an airtight garage for 30 years, but I would prefer something that's not a piece of shit. I would like it to be in California, close to or within the greater Los Angeles area. I would also like "the fast engine" to show you how much I know about cars, though I have friends with vast automotive knowledge, and my father was a mechanic when I was a child. I want it to run, run well, and have no rust. Oh and it needs to be an automatic, as I can't drive stick (suprise!).

***Colors and specifics*** Exteriors (in order of awesome): Silver, the color of steel, and the eye of the falcon. Faded, slightly shitty, or semi-bombed out looking Nocturne Blue. This color looks great with some age. Mad-Max Black. Shitty bombed-out Red/Orange

Obviously I am looking for something with a bit of character but I will settle for better shape for a better car.

I am open to other things but I absolutely do not want Gold, Brown, or that frigging Smokey and The Bandit car- that shit is whack.

Interiors (again in "awesome order") Red leather (combined with a silver exterior is an ideal car for me- like a fucking Mach-5 red-velvet cupcake with Terminator 2 frosting) Black leather (of course) Blue (cuz it's cool, but this limits what I can paint the exterior if I choose to do so) Interior material is not as much a deal breaker as a bad color.

I've seen the "Anniversary Edition" '79 Trans and I like it but something about the silver leather interior rubs me weird. Looks like pudding, and a light color will only stain when I shit my pants as I tear-ass through scorched earth.

T-Tops a BIG plus.

All of this stuff I am semi-flexible on, as I just want a great car, but I think I will know the right one when I see it.

***Important*** No scams or hustles. I won't have cash on me, and I'm not important enough to kidnap, but if you've got the right car and the right "vibe" I can find us someone important enough to kidnap together- IN-THE-CAR-YOU-JUST-SOLD-ME. Like, for example, the Jonas Brothers. I have been on T.V. and I have access.

You bring the 'bird- I'm bringing "British Steel" by Judas Priest.

xo g

PS- Thanks for everyone's help thus far- you guys are great. I will be looking in the twitter replies for leads. ***Update*** I have noticed that some people are wondering if I am having a mid-life crisis or asking why I am not buying a station wagon or something for a baby. Answers! Firstly, I am only 31, so I have a bit of time before that whole "crisis" thing, and secondly- I've run the numbers on car safety and have come to the conclusion that this IS the car for the baby. This thing is a tank. Usually, when people get into accidents while driving a Trans Am they usually ask "How is the other guy?". Trust me. I got this."

from gerards blog on mychemicalromance.com 03/24/2009

#gerards trans am search 2009 #omg he's hilarious in this #“this IS the car for the baby”#mad fucking real #(mfr)#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way

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hobbithabits · 10 months ago

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I understand it takes a lot of the fun out of it but what if Garak was actually just a tailor. And he had really shitty social skills.

Julian staring in awe as Garak dismantles electronic systems on ds9 cause ‘Holy Shit he is a spy’ and Garak is just recalling all his school lessons on basic electronic science while stressing the fuck out cause starfleet engineers mangled the place. Half of Garak getting stuff to turn off or turn on again is his half baked knowledge of cardassian work and the fact that the starfleet tech wasn’t actually integrated very well.

Julian keeps catching Garak staring at him with that look he has, and it’s mysterious and haunting (and sexy) but Garak is just. Really attracted to him and can’t get himself to say anything.

But then it’s revealed that he’s Enabran Tain’s son and everyone’s like “oh this guy is totally a spy” and Julian bursts into his shop to confront him about it and promptly causes Garak to nearly cut his finger off with electric scissors, because “what do you mean you know who my father is? I don’t even know who my father is! and I didn’t tell you that!”

Garak genuinely thought all the spy stuff was just a really long bit and he played into it to make Julian happy. He knows how to shoot a phaser and how to fight and stitch himself up because “it’s basic self-defense and first aid, doctor!” Garak hates the idea of being a spy cause he’s a tailor and he’s a good tailor, so why in the world would he get involved in something like that? Yes he used to be a gardener and briefly did engineering but people change careers all the time, and he wasn’t as good at those as he was at being a tailor.

Garak is literally just a very smart middle aged tailor. With an awful, awful crush on a doctor who’s like 20 years younger than him—A doctor who keeps getting him involved in very important and secret starfleet issues. Truly Julian just has no sense of subtly.

#star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #elim garak #julian bashir #garashir #elim garak is NOT a spy #he’s just a gay dude with daddy issues

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thewidowsghost · 11 months ago

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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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