#zoe x luke

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

#Running Into Your Soulmate In A Hay Maze like

[hanahaki-disease]

And You Wonder What I Believe

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“When Tim looked over to his best friend, now adoptive brother, whose made of lean muscle and gangly limbs of a growing fourteen year old boy much like him, he wonders if he would have done the same. Would he have kept it all a secret from everyone if he knew it would save them? Would he try and keep the two worlds separate because only disaster can come from them meeting?”

To further enhance your reading experience, go and read “You? You!” and “Sing Sweet, Nightingale”

A/N: this installment is like 8,000 words…I did not plan for it to be that long

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When it comes to Percy, Tim tries not to pry. Not even after their argument when Percy returned the first time.

The first time Percy disappeared, Tim had no control and no way to help. He hadn’t even begun to train as Robin, hadn’t confronted Bruce about him being Batman, and had been in the middle of a gala when he heard the news.

Percy’s first disappearance was the one of the many reasons that made Tim push harder to become Robin, especially when he had called Dick to let him know about the news. Because Robin was able to help the justice league look for the missing Wayne child. Robin had access to information Tim Drake couldn’t see. He knew that the New York police department didn’t even follow proper protocols when it came to the search, he knew that a gang messed with the footage of the gas station explosion because one of their members had been spotted as part of the passengers.

The second time Percy disappeared, Tim was watching Percy escape the school with the weird tall kid and a girl he had never seen before from the other side of the gym doors. The entrance blocked by some kind of debris and the gym was absolutely wrecked when the first responders had been able to get in.

Tim wanted to follow him, he wanted to make sure Percy was going to be okay and not vanish off the face of the earth for months on end again. He wanted to drag him to one of the many emergency cave and interrogate him, keep him there till Bruce joined them, and continue to question him. Tim wanted to know what had happened to his best friend, and he hates that it felt like they weren’t anymore.

Percy had been his first friend, his first real friend since the younger of the two got adopted by the Batman. Their sarcastic personalities clicking together like link-n-logs, becoming brothers the moment Percy suck up on him on that rooftop. They used to be able to tell each other anything. Nonsense about their current shared brain rot, secret crushes about the girls and boys in the middle and high schools. They would laugh at the gaudily dressed women in the galas, banter with Jason and Alfred for hours on end—Percy knew Tim better than Tim knew himself, and he knew Percy better than anyone in the world.

So why did it seem like the Percy stuffing his duffle was someone Tim had never known before?

Why was he so okay to drop everything he was doing the moment that random girl showed up at the manor? How did she show up at the manor, how did she get past the security triggers and over the seven foot tall gate? None of this was making sense and Tim had been growing worried for Percy ever since he came back two years ago.

He had come back home a bit more reserved than before, a bit more angrier like how Dick had been when he found out Jason died. New scars littered his body, ones that were never reported in his files about how he had gotten them. There was an air of knowledge around him, one with matching chains of secrecy that dragged his limbs down and pulled him away from getting too close with Dick or Tim again.

Something happened to Percy on the first summer away, and it happened again this past summer and now—not even four months later—Tim was watching Percy change before his eyes.

“You—You can’t go! What about Dick? What about Bruce and Alfred?” Tim eyes followed Percy as he ran around his room, grabbing what seemed to be the most random things to put in his bag.

“Dick is said he’d be back in January, he’s on a mission with the Titans to find clone Roy,” Percy said. “And Bruce could give less of a shit if I disappeared and came back.” He zipped up one side of the bag. They must’ve fought recently for him to say that, about what? Tim doesn’t know, but it couldn’t have been good. “I will feel bad about Alfred though.”

“And I’m going whether you like it or not, Tim,” he slung duffle on his shoulder walking out the room. “Nothing you say or do will not make me go. I have to do this.”

“If you go, I’m following,” Tim said.

“No, you’re not coming with me.”

“Then you’re not leaving Percy!” Tim said. “I’m tired of you disappearing every summer. Do you know how worried we all get when you do that?! No, you don’t, cause you’re not here!” He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. “God, just tell me what’s going on! I can help you, B can help you!”

“I can’t tell you, I wish I could, but I can’t.” Percy pushed past Tim towards the main stairs.

“Why not? Why can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” Percy dropped his duffle on the edge of the stairs. He made eye contact with the girl downstairs before Percy turned his attention back to Tim. “I’m doing this to protect you, to protect all of you. This is something Batman has no chance with and even if he did, it’s not his fight. I need to do this to make sure you guys are safe.”

“And what do you think the rest of us are doing every night, huh? Playing hopscotch with Penguin and having tea parties with Scarecrow?” Tim said. “We get hurt already, hell, you’re there to help Alfred patch us up! I just…” Tim sighed. So many words were bubbling up in his chest to the point where he was beginning to feel overwhelmed by all the emotions in him.

He wanted Percy to understand that he didn’t need to do whatever it is that he’s doing by himself. Percy had so many people that could help him with the ‘fight’ he has been doing the past two years. And if he didn’t want Bruce, then Dick would do anything for him. He didn’t want Dick? No worries there’s the entirety of the justice league and their associates. Percy could literally have his pick of the litter for help and yet he’s choosing to go solo?

God.

For someone who doesn’t like Bruce much nowadays, he’s acting an awful lot like him.

“I just want my best friend back, Perce,” Tim felt his shoulders drop. The heat of his worry and anger fading and leaving him exhausted. “I want to know how to help you.”

It was quiet between them for a bit, neither of them wanting to break the fragile silence that settled in the hall. Tim could feel his heart pounding in his chest and tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t often he cried. The emotion was too overpowering and draining, not cathartic like most people say it is. He cried at his mother’s funeral, he cried when he and Percy had their first real argument, and before that? He couldn’t remember, each time he wanted to curl up under the covers of his bed and follow Percy’s lead and disappear for a while.

He couldn’t stop them from falling when Percy carefully wrapped him up in his arms. “I want my best friend back too, but I have to go.” Tim nodded against Percy’s shoulder before the younger separated, the soft shuffling of feet made their way back down the hall to where the duffle sat at the edge of the stairs.

Tim didn’t stop Percy as he made his way down the stairs. Didn’t stop him when he zipped up his winter coat and slung the duffle over his shoulders. He didn’t move from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, one hand holding onto the rail as he grabbed one set of the keys to the front door, shoving them and his favorite gold Bic pen in his pocket.

“When I get back,” Percy held down the latch to the door handle. The cold Gotham air wafting into the foyer and chilling Tim to the bone. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Ten words and the sound of the door closing left Tim frozen in his place. He wanted to shove his boots on and his coat and trail after him down the drive way. He wanted to join him in whatever he had to do, whatever was so important that he had to miss the next few weeks or months or however long.

But Percy promised him that he would tell him, Tim had his word. Percy never broke his promises.

—

A week later, looking as if he had just went against Bane in nothing but the clothes on his back, Percy stumbled into Tim’s room. The duffle he had was gone and the clothes he wore were not the same, except for his Reebok, though they had seen better days. Dark circles lined his eyes and he looked paler than he did when he left. Even during the winter months, Percy retained this sun-kissed, beach side tan. It was a warm glow that, alongside the permanent sea salt waves, made it looked like he had been raised on the shores of the Caribbean his whole life. He did not look like that when he walked in.

A bright shock of white was the first thing Tim noticed about Percy when he collapsed at the side of his bed. It still had his signature wave to it, starting at his temple and curving around and through the curls already there. For as well has he knew Percy, he knows that he wasn’t really into dying his hair. Percy liked keeping it the same length and not really doing much to it, aside from styling it for the occasional gala or press release. So then why the white streak?

“Percy?” He watched as his friend ran his hands through his hair, interlocking his fingers behind him and tucked his head in between his knees. There was a tenseness to him, one that—even if he was in one of the most secure places in the world—wouldn’t relax.

When he turned his head toward him, there was a different kind of tiredness in his eyes. A kind of defeated but accepted kind of tiredness. His green eyes were duller than they had been before he left and he sported new scars once again. Faded white lines on his hands and one that down across his jaw from the end of his ear. Percy sucked in a deep breath when he placed his head back where it had been, unclasped his hand and leaned back against the bed.

Tucked under the new gray hoodie and rumbled orange shirt was the leather necklace Percy had started wearing after that initial summer. It had only one bead then, a solid black charm and a glowing blue trident in the center. It was cool at first. The little symbol and the faint light it emitted in the dark, Tim really wanted to inspect it. But then another was added onto the string the following summer. Just like the other, it was a simple sandy-beige colored bead with a pine tree and something gold hanging off the branch. The gold glowed like the tridents, if not brighter in the dark of Tim’s room and it let him see the most recent addition to the necklace.

It wasn’t a bead like the other two, a metal bow and arrow charm with accentuated star shaped corners rested on the neckline of the shirt. Silver and shiny and brand-new, unlike the worn and handmade beads he head. Did they mean something to him? Where had he gotten them? Percy never took it off, wanting the necklace to stay on his persona at all times. Which wasn’t that strange to be honest. Bruce had a particular watch he was fond of when he wasn’t Batman, Dick had his favorite blue studded earrings he never took off, and Tim had his mother’s wedding band hung around his neck too. But, just like his hair, Percy was never one to wear jewelry. He never like having anything around his wrists or around his neck because he would get overwhelmed by the constant rubbing against his skin and neck.

So then why the necklace all of a sudden?

“Where should I start?” Percy said, picking at the skin on his fingers in front of him.

“The beginning, I guess,” Tim closed his laptop, wanting to give Percy his full attention.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone unless I say so? What I’m going to tell you is gonna change how you see everything, even the Amazonians,” Percy turned his head.

“I promise,” Tim slid down to the floor beside him.

Percy nodded his head and sighed, the words heavy in his chest before he even began, “It started with mine and Jason’s dad. Our actual dad.” He locked his fingers together again. “He met our mom seventeen years ago on the beach in Montauk, New York. A summer fling that left my mom pregnant with Jason, and he said that they would go back to the beach for the summers before I was born.

“Jason said that he’s only seen our dad twice before I was born,” He held up two fingers. “The first he said was a fuzzy memory when he was three, and then during the summer the year I was born. After that, he never saw the guy again. We kept going to Montauk till I was three, our mom died in November that year when we were passing through Gotham and Jason and I never left. That’s when Catherine and Willis found us and picked us up.” Percy gave him a quick glance at that. “You already know what happened after that.”

Tim nodded his head quietly. Percy had told him about his years living with Catherine and on the streets. The days in a ratty old apartment, smelling like cigarette smoke, burning crack and moldy walls. Where water leaked from the ceiling and his and Jason’s shared mattress was the same one Catherine shot up heroine. It wasn’t all to different from their years on the streets, they still had to forage for their own meals and take care of themselves when Catherine was too high to even remember her name and Willis was in prison. But at least with them, they had a roof over their head and place to hide from the winter.

He hadn’t known about his birth mother though.

Percy and Jason never talked about her or how they ended up in Gotham. They didn’t even tell Bruce either. All the information they had about her was whatever Bruce dug up when he took them in. Her name was Sally Jackson, a single mother of two boys living in a somewhat bad part of New York, working at a candy shop a few bus stops away from her apartment. She didn’t have a college degree since she had to drop out after her uncle got cancer, and she didn’t have her parents since they did in a plane crash when she was still in middle school.

It was the bare bones information that Bruce could get and it was the only information he had about their biological family. After Percy disappeared, Bruce had tried to dig up his birth father, wondering if maybe he had taken Percy when he had gone to the Met. Maybe the man had seen his son, wanted him back, and took him while he was with his school. But no matter how much Bruce dug, there was nothing. No name, no description, no age. It was as if the guy never existed. He had to, though, otherwise his two sons wouldn’t exist.

“Two years ago, during the field trip to the Met, I had been isolated from the group by the substitute algebra teacher Mrs. Dodds,” Percy said and Tim looked at his with a confused stare.

“There was no Mrs. Dodds in middle school, though,” Tim countered. “I would know, I have an eidetic memory.”

“No you wouldn’t have and let me tell you why,” Percy turned to face him, his hands outstretched before him. “This is the mortal world—” He gestured with on hand. “This is where you and ninety-nine percent of the earth’s population reside. You see things how they are in your head pretty straight forwards. A dog is a dog, a person is a person—unless they’re an alien—and so on and so forth, right?” Tim nodded. “This is…this is my world.” He lifted the other hand. “In my world, I see things that you cant. Dogs aren’t always dogs, people aren’t always people, and natural phenomenon is not caused by science, but by magic. The barrier between these two is what we call the ‘mist.”

“Missed?”

“M-I-S-T. Mist. It’s a magical barrier that blind the mortals from the mythical and magical monsters and people. The Amazonians are a part of my world, they can see what I can see, they can fight what I can fight, but since they’ve been so isolated to the world of man, they’re unable to see past the mist now that it’s gotten stronger since ancient times,” Percy said. “The point is—The gods are real.”

“Like, like Jesus?”

“No, not Jesus,” Percy clarified. “The Greek gods. Zeus, Artemis, Hades—they’re all real.” Distant thunder made Tim’s head turn towards the window.

“But they’re just stories, myths!” Tim leaned back on his hands. “They can’t be real and you’re just making this up.”

“If they’re not real, how is Diana the daughter of Zeus? How are the Amazonians able to live on an isolated island in the middle of the Mediterranean sea, protected by magic? How is Shazam able to channel the ‘Speed of Hermes’ and the ‘Strength of Zeus?” Percy questioned.

Tim stayed quiet. “I don’t know!”

“They can do that because the gods are real. My dad, Jason’s dad, is Poseidon, god of the sea,” Percy said. “I didn’t know that until that summer two years ago.”

He turned around to lay back against the bed again, and eyes trained on the old skateboard mounted on Tim’s wall. The words were hesitant at first, tongue stumbling and stuttering as he recall that first summer. He told him of how the cab they paid had gotten stuck by lightning, flipped and burst into flames on an abandoned back-road. How the glass dug into his skin, the heat of the fire singing the hair on his forearms, and the cold rain digging into his bones and blinding him.

There was a smirk on his face as he spoke about the first monster he defeated. The Minotaur from the legends. He was big, apparently, seven feet tall, four feet wide at his shoulders, and just a mass of coarse bull hair and bright, white fruit of the loom underwear. Tim couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips at the mental image. The monster of the labyrinth? With tidy-whities?

His smile remained as Percy spoke about camp. The automatic camaraderie from the campers who just simply understood everything he had gone through and will experience. The children of the Hermes cabin, those claimed and unclaimed, welcomed him with open arms, teaching him all that he needed to know about life at camp. And while the nights were lonely and filled with nightmares, they’d fade away the moment the morning conch woke them up and started their day.

“The Friday of my first week was when I got claimed by my dad in the most show-offy way, I swear,” Percy chuckled as he threw his pen towards the cup on the other end of the room. They had been getting restless as they talked, Percy especially. He had taken to messing with anything he could get his hands on, a spare wheel for Tim’s current skateboard, the aglets of Percy’s laces, the gold Bic pen Percy always had.

“Claimed? What’s that?” Tim asked and launched his pink highlighter at the cup. “Is that like when a hospital does a paternity test for the baby or something?”

“Kinda,” Percy threw a pencil. “It’s when a god acknowledges their kids. It tells the camp and the other gods and monsters that you are their kid and, thus, have their powers or are a threat.” Percy fist bumped the air when his pencil landed in the cup, he was able to go again. “Sometimes the gods don’t claim their kids, they arrive at camp and they just stay in the Hermes cabin waiting for the day. Other kids get claimed shortly after arriving, but from what I heard that’s pretty rare.”

“Why the Hermes cabin, I though you said only kids of that god could stay in the cabin?”

“Hermes is the god of travelers, so he protects wanderers and stuff,” Percy dropped his arms against his lap. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked more annoyed than angry, if his tight voice was anything to go by. “The camp abuses that fact and shoves all the unclaimed kids in there and that’s not fair to the actual kids of Hermes and the unclaimed kids.” He throws another pencil towards the cup, watching it bounce way as it missed it’s target. “And you’d think the gods would be better with stuff like that, right? They’re gods, all mighty and all knowing, but they don’t even do the bare minimum of claiming their kids? It’s stupid.”

Tim stayed quiet as Percy continued his tale, offering comments and questions as it wore on. It felt unreal, what he had gone through at the age of twelve. (As if Tim was doing any better back then either, he was packing his bags to go a train in Paris to be Robin, so he really wasn’t one to judge.) It made the manhunt and new reports make sense too. The bus explosion was because a fury, the St Louis arch was a Chimera, and Percy was the reason zoo animals had been released in Las Vegas.

It all seemed like an impossible story, a modern Greek myth. Right down to the stages of “the hero’s journey” literature lesson. Tim had been told that there was magic that keep him blind to Percy’s world, the awesomeness of it all too much for him to comprehend. But he can imagine it pretty well. He can picture a younger Percy in his head surrounded by kids in the same bright orange shirts he was wearing, going ham on straw dummies in a Colosseum like the one in Rome. He can imagine the stone statues of the innocent lives Medusa captures, the souls in the fields of asphodel and the gems that sparkled on the food of the underworld.

He might not have been blessed with sight, but he does have a pretty good imagination.

Percy’s trip out the Bermuda triangle last years was even more impossible than the year before. First, the big kids in the gym class were Laistrygonians and Tyson was a baby cyclops and Percy’s half-brother. Which, what? How does that make sense?

“Cyclops are mainly children of Poseidon and some kind of nymph or naiad,” Percy had switched from throwing writing utensils at Tim’s empty tea mug, to trying to perfecting his batarang throw with the spares Tim had in his room. And, yes, Tim knows he shouldn’t have them outside the cave. Though people didn’t come over unless it was a gala, Bruce and Alfred did not want it to become a habit to have anything cape related in the manor. But Tim was always careful when it came to stuff like that, Percy can vouch for him.

“Why? I don’t know, but I have a feeling it has to do with his title of ‘father of monsters,” Percy shrugged before landing one bullseye. For claiming he was a terrible shot with a bow at camp, Percy had good aim. He hit whatever targets they set up with pretty good accuracy and speed, only missing the dart board on Tim’s door once. Alfred will not be happy about that when he sees the edge sticking out in the hall. “Oh, and Polyphemus, the cyclops guarding the golden fleece, is my half-brother too. I stabbed him in the eye.”

“That’s gonna make thanksgiving dinners awkward,” Tim joked.

“They’re already awkward now,” Percy pointed out. “I really don’t want to know how that’d go. Jeez. I think they’d trade me for the turkey.”

Percy continued to talk about what he did besides stab his brother. And despite being told that he was the son of Poseidon, Tim didn’t really believe him. Like, yeah, sure, Percy told him that he had perfect nautical bearings while at sea and that he could control any sea vessel while it was on water. And in theory, Percy can control water. (which, what was the limit to that? Was it just water or was it anything that contained water? Could he move poisons and toxins? Can…Can Percy bend blood?) But there is no proof of Percy doing that anywhere near Tim and the manor, therefore: Pics or it didn’t happen.

But back to Percy’s story—the fleece had done what to the magic tree? It brought the dead girl back? A part of Tim wanted to call bullshit on that, because how did that work? It went against all laws of nature to bring people back from the dead after so many years of them being in the ground. Even if the reason was magical in nature, one does not simply bring the dead back to life. Surely there was consequences for doing that right? Would it attract the wrath of Hades or Thanatos or something?

“So if you only go on quests in the summer, why’d you leave last week?” Tim pried the batarang out of the targets, small pieces of his bookshelf being pried out with each one. Alfred was going to given them so many chores for destroying the furniture.

Tim watched as the light heartedness Percy had vanished as he sat on the ground once more, the widow in front of him, the bed at his back. His knees came up and his arms were laid over them like it had been when they had first started the conversation. One hand reached to fidget with the bow and arrow charm and the streak of white in his hair seemed to glow in the dark, catching Tim’s eye.

“Last Friday, Thalia came to get me because she heard from Grover that there were two demigods that needed to be taken to camp. He said their scents were strong, like mine and hers, and it was an all hands on deck situation,” Percy said, dropping the charm before he began to spin his pen as an alternative fidget. “Me, Thalia, and our friend Annabeth went to upstate New York where we met Nico and Bianca, later we find out that they’re children of Hades.”

“We tried to save them, but there was a problem.” Tim placed the weapons in their case, his focus mainly on Percy. “There was a manticore and so many monsters that the three of us were getting out numbered. Thankfully the hunters of Artemis were able to come in, but, we lost Annabeth.”

“What do you mean?”

“She tackled a monster down into a trench and went missing for the week, eventually we found her, but I had to go on the quest given to the leader of the hunters, Zoe.” He had that dull look in his eyes again. No doubt the memory replaying in his head. “Her quest was to save Artemis, who had also been missing the for the past month, and it lead her to Mt Tamalpais where Artemis and Annabeth had been held hostage by Atlas.”

Incredulously, Tim cocked his head as he made his way to sit next to Percy. “Atlas? The guy who hold up the sky?”

Percy nodded. “He was set free by Luke because Kronos told him to. He really wants his general to lead his army or something. Anyway, Luke took over the weight of the sky and Annabeth was placed under it to save Luke.”

“Why though? The guy sounds like a total asshole, no offense ,” Tim commented.

“Oh, no, he is an asshole,” Percy agreed. “Luke is like her big brother, them and Thalia had come to camp together and she looks up to him the way we do to Dick. But, Luke is angry at the gods. He hates that they don’t care about us and wants them to fall so Kronos can take over, he doesn’t realize though that once Kronos gets his way, Luke’ll be thrown away like yesterday’s trash, ya’know?”

Tim nodded. He understood where Luke was coming from, after all, his own parents didn’t really care for him that much anyway. He knew they loved him, he knew they cared…in their own…special way. But he can’t imagine wanting his parents’ downfall because they weren’t there for Christmas every year. It was as if he summoned Trigon to smite them because they didn’t go to his third grade recital.

“Back to the story,” Percy said. “Once they got Annabeth to mt Tamalpais, He used the affection that she still had for him to have her take the weight instead. I think she was there for almost a whole day before they brought in Artemis. Eventually Artemis switched with Annabeth because she could last longer than a demigod, and also because she’s a maiden goddess of women. She’s gonna want to protect her as best as she can.

“Luke also knew that I would go where ever Annabeth was because, besides you, she’s my other best friend.” Percy rubbed the back of his neck and Tim smirked. Even in the dark of the night, with only the light of his singular lamp to light the room, Tim could see the tips of his ears turn a bit pink

He liked her, he just doesn’t want to admit it yet. Tim will file that information away for black mail for later.

“So by having her and Artemis there, Luke was using them as bait?” Percy nodded.

“Kronos wants me to be his meat suit,” he admitted. “Since I’m a child of his strongest children, I’ll be able to withstand the sheer amount of power that comes with hosting a titan. Especially since with my powers I basically control seventy percent of the earth, I can cause hurricanes that devastate the ground, and earthquakes to strong I could sink the Philippines.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting.” Tim nodded his head. Okay, maybe he didn’t want Percy to prove it. Like, it’d be cool for him to make the ground move a little, or raise the entirety of the pool water in the back gardens. But if he uses too much power? If he looses control? Tim doesn’t want to be the reason the docks get over flooded and the bridges collapse, even if it wasn’t him who did it. “How’d you guys get to there anyway? It took you a while to get across country on your first…quest, so wouldn’t it have taken you the same amount of time this time around?”

“You’d think but, we had more help this time,” Percy began explain how he made it across the county in a week. First he flew on Pegasus horseback, then boarded a magic train that took him to Colorado. While there he rode a magic boar that took him to Death Valley.

Percy paused once he got there though, the flow of words coming to an abrupt halt and an apprehensive bob of his Adam’s apple. It was clear that something shifted in Percy after that night. A realization of some kind, an acceptance to a truth and a guilt chaining him where he sat. Still, Percy continued on. His hands holding tight to his arms as they crossed atop his knees, the pen long forgotten somewhere on the floor.

First he described the sky, how the stars were so bright and every constellation made their appearance. He was able to trace Gemini and Corvus, point to where the little dipper ended at Polaris. Tim had never known a clear night sky like that, be he can imagine it. All the stars glittering without the smog and lights of the city to dim them.

“We got stuck in the desert for a bit though, in one of Hephaestus’s junkyards,” He held tighter to himself. “It would have taken longer to go around and we didn’t have the time for that, so we went through it. It was cool at first. All the machines and weapons and trinkets, you would’ve had a blast. But we didn’t know there was a giant mech made to protect the stuff.

“One of us had grabbed something and it woke. We tried everything, no one took anything, or at least we didn’t think anyone took anything” Percy rested his cheek against his arms and Tim could see his eyes grow glossy. Tears springing up and threatening to spill as he spoke.

“We lost Bianca, Nico’s sister,” Percy whispered as a tear made its way down his cheek into the sleeves of his jacket. Just like Tim, Percy wasn’t one to cry much. Preferring to express himself in solitude of his room or one of the various hideouts he had in the manor. Last Time he saw Percy really let his emotions go was when Jason died. Tim heard his voice grow hoarse with his cries, his face red and eyes puffy from crying.

Now that he’s thinking about it, Tim remembers the weather being all weird during Jason’s funeral. Small earthquakes rippled through Gotham for a while, rattling the glass of every window and nearly collapsing a few old buildings. The water in the harbor rose higher, the boats in the bay nearly capsizing. Not to mention the hurricanes that devastated a few cities in the south, the record high waves in the ocean.

Was that Percy doing that? Was it him and his father grieving the loss of a brother and son?

“And I…I promised Nico that I’d keep her safe—” He dropped his head, arms reach over his head to pull at his hair. Tim could hear his sniffles, the stuttering breaths that kept him from pulling in a full breath. “I told him that I would bring her back to camp, but she—she sacrificed herself to make sure the rest of us didn’t die there.”

Percy lifted his head and wiped at his tears, trying to could himself together. “Gods, he was so angry with me.” Percy said. “He hates me now, ran off and we can’t find him now. But I promised him that I’d keep her safe. I promised that she would come back!”

“You did what you could, Perce,” Tim sat closer to Percy, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He’ll be honest, he wasn’t the best when it came to comforting someone under emotional distress. The most he can do is a stiff pat on the shoulder and a robotic “there, there.” But he has to do something to help the guy, he can’t just leave him to wallow in guilt and anger like Bruce tends to do six days out of the week. “You protected her until she had to protect you, that’s how it goes sometimes. Especially in our lives.”

“I know, but I just wished Nico hadn’t run away,” he sniffled, wiping the tears off his cheeks. “He’s a son of Hades, monsters are going to be after him and he’s only ten. He can’t fight. He wasn’t in camp long enough to know how to defend himself. I just—“ he cleared his throat. “I just don’t want to be the reason something bad happens to him. He left the one place that safe for kids like us because I got his sister killed.”

There was a lull of silence between them and Tim could feel the guilt weight down heavy on Percy. He didn’t like that all of this has happened to him, hates that they’re only fourteen and already they have lost so much. Tim understands what Percy’s going through, he knows how the chains of guilt and regret feel around his limbs. Because how many lives could have been saved if Tim was just that much faster? If he was that much smarter? How many parents could have lived to see their children get married, graduate college, or even celebrate the next Christmas with them? How many kids will never go to school again, never see their friends or family, never age? All because Tim couldn’t save them in time.

Dick explained the guilt that come attached to this life, of knowing that they had the power to save them, but they couldn’t. He told him that every person they couldn’t save was another link on the chain. Dick also told him that, while they should be upset they couldn’t help them, their death shouldn’t hold them back. Yes, it was tragic. Yes, it’s good to feel guilty and sad and angry that they couldn’t do more. But he couldn’t let it consume him, Tim can’t let their deaths keep him from saving every one else.

A few more moments passed, and Percy’s breaths were even again. His voice still had that post-cry warble to them, no doubt the lump in his throat the cause for that, and his eyes were red and puffy from the cry. “When we got to the mountain, we found out that Zoe is one of Atlas’s daughters. She lost her place as one of the Pleiades because she helped Heracles in the ancient times and got banished, joined the hunters to avoid men and protect women since she couldn’t go back.

“There was a big fight between us and Atlas and Luke,” Percy said. “Zoe needed Artemis’s help to stop Atlas, Annabeth and Thalia were preoccupied with Luke and his minions, but she was still holding up the sky. If she dropped it, it would crash against the earth and kill us all.”

“Did you hold it for her?” Percy nodded. “Is that how you got the…?”

“Demigods who hold up the sky are given the streak of white as a trophy, that they were strong enough to not be crushed by its weight and understand the prison in which Atlas is chained to,” Percy said turning his head so that Tim could see it. Like some kind of magic anime girl, the streak of white seemed to glow in the moonlight. A silvery tint highlighted the black curls around it, as if Artemis was helping him show off this feat of strength. “Luke and Annabeth have more in their hair than I do since they held it for longer, but eventually we got Atlas back under the sky, not without consequence though.”

“What happened?” Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“We lost Zoe. Atlas stabbed her in the fight when she was protecting Artemis. We tried to save her on our flight back to camp in Artemis’s chariot, but she didn’t want to be saved.” Percy got up from his spot and motioned for Tim to follow him to the window.

It was a clear night for once. The gray clouds didn’t cover the ark blue of the night sky and, most importantly for this demonstration, the stars. Bright twinkling lights of various sizes and brightness, some strung together by the human mind over the centuries. He tilted his head around, scanning the skies for a second before he stood back and pointed in the direction he was looking. There in the sky, near to Orion, was a new constellation. A set of stars Tim had never seen before. “Artemis turned Zoe into a constellation, she loved the stars and told me she didn’t like how in modern times we couldn’t see it anymore. It’s called ‘The Huntress.”

“Wow.” Tim gaped at it and he could see her figure in the sky. Her arm outstretched, and arrow notched in the bow ready to fire. It was beautiful.

“Yeah.” Percy sat on the bed, shoulders slumped and his body language timid. “That’s all that happened but it’s not what I’m most worried about.”

Tim took one last look at the constellation before joining him on the bed. “There is this prophecy that says a child of the oldest gods is going to fight Kronos when they reach sixteen,” Percy says. “It’s said that they’re either the catalyst for the fall or the survival of Olympus.”

“At first we didn’t know who is was going to be about, the prophecy was spat out a few decades ago. But then I showed up and everyone thought it was me,” He said. “We thought it would have been Thalia since she got revived by the fleece and she’s fifteen, but she joined the hunters and is now immortal. Bianca and Nico could be chosen, but Nico’s ten, and Bianca’s…”

“So that leaves you again.”

“Yeah.” He nods and takes a breath. “I don’t want this to fall on Nico, he’s already lost his sister and he’s so young.”

“But if you’re going against Kronos, the Kronos, you’re gonna need all the help you can get Percy.” Tim says.

“I know, and no I don’t want Bruce to know.”

“But—”

“No! This isn’t league business, it’s not Batman business. This is demigod stuff,” Percy stood up. “You guys can’t even see the monsters I fight, how are you going to protect yourself if you don’t know what you’re fighting? Mortals can’t see through the mist, they can’t get blessed with sight, unless they’re born able to see it.”

“And how do you know I can’t?” Tim crossed his arms.

Percy dug into his pocket and pulled out his pen and uncapped it. “What do you see me holding?”

“A baseball bat.”

“Wrong. It’s a sword.”

“No, you’re lying.”

“No I’m not, you just can’t see it. You can’t even feel it when I hit you with it, it goes right through you because you’re mortal. Bruce is mortal. Alfred and Dick and Barbara are mortal.” The bat changed back into a pen. “You guys could die trying to fight in my war and I won’t let you.”

“If you don’t want us to fight, then why are you telling me?” Tim said.

“Because you’re my best friend and my brother and I miss you!” Percy yelled. Whatever anger that was growing dissipated with the confession and he just looked defeated and tired again. “I missed just hanging out with you like we used to. And I can’t do that if you’re wondering where I disappear off to in the middle of the day cause I’m fighting a hell hound during fifth period.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want anything to do with me anyway when you said I wasn’t mean to be Robin! You’re the one who instigated it.”

“Because if I didn’t then you wouldn’t stop questioning me about what happened! You would try and tell Bruce, and then Bruce would try and take over and be a general to a child army of the gods. I don’t want that! You guys save the world all the time,” Percy said. “Can’t I save it just once without him?”

“You could’ve been Robin thought, I don’t see why you have to fight the titan of freakin’ time!”

“I don’t have a choice Tim!” Percy yelled. “Do you think I want to fight him? That I want to be the deciding factor of if Olympus falls and the world gets overruled by the titans and sent back to the stone age?!” Tim stayed quiet, watching Percy’s arms flail to accentuate his words. “No! I don’t, but I don’t have a choice. The sisters of fate have already said that I have to do it, and bad things happen to those who go against fate. And it’s bad enough that kids of the big three are essential cursed from birth now, I don’t want to tempt fate any more than I should.”

“What do you mean ‘already cursed?’ did something happen?”

“Yeah. World War Two. One side had the children of Zeus and Poseidon, the other the children of Hades, and they decided that—for the safety of the world—to not have kids since. They swore of the river Styx, which is the strongest bind of all kinds, and if you break it, bad things happen.” Percy answered. “Zeus broke his oath and Thalia died, Poseidon broke his oath and Jason died and I get stuck with eternal bad luck.”

“But what about those other kids you mention, Bianca and Nico, aren’t they cursed too?”

“Technically no, they were born back in the forties before the oath—” Tim opened his mouth to question. “Time magic and a casino in Vegas, I told you about it earlier.” Tim closed his mouth. “The point is Tim, I don’t want to be the center of the biggest prophecy of the century, but I have no choice. And it puts my mind at ease knowing you all can’t get hurt because you don’t know anything. Yeah, you guys can handle your own, obviously, but you can’t handle this.”

“You guys protect Gotham and the world and me from everything else,” Percy sat down next to Tim again. “Let me protect you guys from this.”

Tim let the words circle his head for a moment. The moon was way over head now, the stars outside the window shifted to the other half of the manor and he was kinda upset that he wouldn’t get to see Zoe’s constellation from his window. Logically he know that new stars didn’t just appear out of nowhere, they were already there in the sky, but to think that they had been just assembled into the constellation all of sudden was mind boggling.

Maybe Percy was right. Maybe the gods were real and that’s why strange things happen, it surely would explain Diana’s immortality and the other Amazonian’s abilities. It does explain where Percy’s been and the scars he has, why he’s good at sword fighting in the cave and why he acts like he knows more than anyone else.

Well, it’s because he does, Tim thinks. His brain had to process both normal mortal customs and that of the demigod world. He has to remember all the mythological monsters and gods, the heroes of old and how their stories help or hurt him now. He has to train all year around because the monsters won’t stop going after him because it’s a school day. No wonder some nights Percy’s wide awake, tired and sleepy, but adamant about not going back to sleep. He probably has nightmares that keep him up the same way it does for him and Bruce and Dick.

When Tim looked over to his best friend, now adoptive brother, whose made of lean muscle and gangly limbs of a growing fourteen year old boy much like him, he wonders if he would have done the same. Would he have kept it all a secret from everyone if he knew it would save them? Would he try and keep the two worlds separate because only disaster can come from them meeting?

“Okay.” Tim breathes. He would. Tim would be doing exactly what Percy is doing now because, ultimately, Tim can’t do anything to help. He can study the old myths all he wants, he can read the Odyssey and every variant of every myth ever, but he’ll never be able to cross the line that separates Percy’s world from his.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” He confirms. “You do what you have to Percy. I’ll try and help as much as I can with my puny mortal mind and body—” Percy breaks into a smile and snorts, pulling a smile of Tim’s own on his lips. God, how long has it been since he’s seen Percy smile like that, like when they were kids. When the duty of didn’t Gotham bind him to a mask and place the weight of the sky in his hands. “And I’ll try my best to keep B off your back. But can you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“Promise me when you’re out on quests, saving the world, doing your thing as the son of Poseidon,” Tim says, holding out his pinkie. “That if you need help, of any kind, you won’t hesitate to call?”

Percy stared at his finger for a second, no doubt running through the possibilities in his head, but instead he wrapped his own little finger around Tim’s. “I promise.”

*******************************************

I love the relationship I’ve built for Tim and Percy, their characters (both canon and in this au) are just *chef’s kiss*

Also, I hope the rants they have are in character. They’re both those type of characters that it’s easy to accidentally write as their fanon-self and not their canon.

Thank you for reading!!!!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[lxstfathier]

Luke being nervous that his big cock isn't gonna fit in your tiny little pussy 🫣

Omg?? 🥴🥴🥴 this is so hot 😩

I can totally picture Luke from esb, trying to fuck you after some training with master Yoda, still sweaty and breathing heavy, making you lay down on the nearest surface while he kisses your neck and pulls down your pants.

But when you spread your legs for him and he sees that perfect untouched pussy dripping with arousal, he’s pretty sure that his big cock is not going to fit inside. Also, he doesn’t want to ruin you and tear you apart on that dirty swamp.

So you both have to settle with some sloppy grinding, and you’re more than happy to let him thrust his thick length back and forth between your wet folds until you cum and he spills his hot seed all over that pretty cunt that he’s so afraid of splitting open 🥺💗

[diorsdahlia]

LET THE STARS BARE WITNESS

luke castellan x reader, set during the titan's curse. wc : 1.4k

cw: MAJOR character death, suicide, suicidal ideation, angst.

summary: established relationship, reader is held hostage by luke, they never really broke up, luke tries to convince reader to join.

a/n : no cap i dreamt about this. if i have to suffer so does everyone. im sorry if this doesn't make any sense tho, still rusty i fear💔

Darkness filled your irises and silence deafening your eyes, you could only hear your heartbeat. You don't know how long you've been here but you did succumb to your exhaustion, falling asleep twice, so it's been at least a few days. You knew your boyfriend was the lightning thief, deep down it was the reason you left camp after summer break and went back to the real world, reconciling with your family and starting school again. However, never in a million years would you expect him to take you hostage.

Luke Castellan, just last summer was so vibrant and charming. The boy made it a habit to kiss your jaw in the mornings to wake you up, stealing glances at eachother, and even sparring as a form of flirting. But now, just by the look in his eyes, it was like he aged 5 years. He no longer was smirking every opportunity he had, but an angry scowl was carved on his face every second of the day.

You don't know what is happening to camp or if any other camper knew you were gone. The General made it clear your death would be made a warning or a showcase of his wrath to other half-bloods, especially Percy Jackson. Luke had tried convincing you to join his side of the war, a desperate attempt to spare your life from The General. You don't miss the way his face darkened as your answer remained the same. No to fighting the Gods. No to awakening Kronos. And especially no to betraying your friends.

The time—your time, was nearing the end and you knew it. This was not how you imagined you would have died. Either by a bottle of pills or even jumping off a bridge, but dying by the hands of your lover never crossed your mind. It's almost ironic, the very same boy who had convinced and shown you that life was indeed worth living, was going to end yours.

Luke crouched about a foot away from you and you can't help the way your eyes dart to his face, taking in his appearance. Words completely escaped you, you always had a smart remark to tease him, but not now.

"Please. Just join me." He pleaded, his voice breathless and you could him quiver slightly. "It doesn't have to be for Kronos, just for me"

"Luke, no. I can't." You exhaled, it took all the strength in you to not start crying.

Silence filled the room again and he was looking everywhere but at you, avoiding your wide eyes looking up at him.

"Just..one last kiss? Before you, you know." You chuckled breathlessly with a hint of pleading. It's been a year since the news broke that Luke had turned for the worse, it's been an even longer time since you felt his lips on yours, or his calloused palm on your skin.

To your suprise, he leaned in and cupped your jaw rather softly, and kissed you softly. It wasn't like your other kisses from the past, when he was so quick to force his tongue into your mouth to taste you. This time, it's as if he was savouring the kiss, attempting to commit this kiss to his memory.

  After what felt like an hour, you were the one to pull away. He still had his hand on your jaw and leaned his forehead against yours. For a moment, it was just like old times, when you two would just be breathing quietly in eachother's presence.

You pulled out a dagger from your sleeve. His eyes widened only slighly, he taught you this. Always keep a weapon on you. He almost chuckled that your stubborn self had listened to him for once, ignoring the threat to his life momentarily.

"Get on with it, will you?" He sighed, not pulling even an inch away from you. He shut his eyes, you knew his weak spot just as well as he knew yours.

"No, this isn't for you." You let out between heavy breaths, you couldn't help but smile for a second. Did he really think you were going to kill him?

"I've made peace with death a long time ago, Castellan. Hell, I wanted to die for as long as I can remember." A tear escaped you, trickling down your cheek onto the cold concrete floor.

"You were so good. You gave me reason to get out of bed in the mornings. It's kinda poetic, isn't it?" You sobbed. A bad habit of yours was once you started crying, you can't stop yourself.

He stayed quiet with a pained expression on his face. You knew him too well, he was putting on a tough act.

"We were so fun, weren't we?" You inhaled sharply.

His hand darted to hold onto your wrist, but you had always been the faster one. The dagger was facing you and you lunged in deep into your stomach, a few inches left to your belly button, exactly where your weak spot was.

"No— no no no, baby." He cried out, pulling out your dagger from your torso. You were relieved, you would bleed out faster this way. Being the glorious swordsman and strategist he was, Luke knew it too. He just wanted to believe he could save you.

"It's not too late. Stop this. Go back to camp. They would forgive you." You muttered, gathering all your strength to cup his cheek.

"I forgive you. I really do, my love." You could feel tears falling, both his and yours.

"I'm sorry, this is what's best for us. The Gods don't even care. They're letting you die." He grunted and you could feel his fingers intertwining with yours.

You strained your neck to look upwards, seeing the starry night sku in place of what was previously a moldy ceiling. Memories of you and Luke stargazing back at camp, hoping the harpies don't find either of you. Both of you always fought over who could spot the most constellations and he always let you win.

"Pretty. I can see the stars, Luke." You mumbled between heavy breaths, your body begging for oxygen.

Eventually, your wheezing stopped and you went stiff in his arms. Luke couldn't stop himself from crying out, burying his face into your hair, trying to engrave your scent into his mind. He cursed the Gods, and The Fates for letting this happen, for letting such a loyal and kind and brave demigod such as yourself die. If they cared, your godparent would have intervened, stopping you or even healing you, but they didn't. The thought of the Gods turning their backs on you because you still loved him crossed his mind, but he couldn't deal with that right now, or ever.

He couldn't pull his gaze away from your eyes, once so joyful now was expressionless. You always that glint in your eyes, whether during lunch or arts and crafts, even when you scolded him in the infirmary for getting into a fight with Clarisse. But now you had no glint in your eyes and your body was getting colder by the second. Luke couldn't stand to think whether or not you would stop smelling the way you always did. He couldn't stand at all, his knees were jelly and his arms were too weak to pull himself up.

"I'll never love anyone the way I love you." He confessed to your corpse, hoping your spirit would hear him.

So he sat there, pulling your head onto his lap until he calmed down. He ran his fingers through your hair, careful not to tug on any tangle in your hair too harshly or you would wince. Only you couldn't wince anymore, you couldn't do anything.

"What have I done?" He sobbed shakily, trying to even out his breath before he had a heart attack.

He placed one last kiss on your forehead, closing your eyes shut. He took your dagger which was stained red with your blood and he wiped it clean on his pants. Momentarily, he couldn't move as he reminisced on how you forged this dagger with his help, on how his stomach hurt from laughing so much with you that day. He took a deep breath before standing up, dusting himself off and collecting his composure.

"They're going to pay, I swear it." Luke hissed underneath his breath and left.

Surely enough, The General kept his promise. His soldiers left your lifeless body beside Thalia's pine tree, ensuring campers would find you and sending a message that no camper was safe. Surely enough, you were found.

[kermitthesog]

spoilers hehehehehhhe (pjo + toa deaths)

literally stop. literally stop. stop. stop. stop. i can’t. I was just reminded of how there literally is no main character privilege in pjo other than for percy, annabeth and idk grover? LIKE STOP. you cannot trust rick riordan like other authors because guess what? One of the main characters? Like in the Titan’s Curse with Zoe? nope. dead. Luke? No returning to the good side, no! had to kill himself to stop kronos. Dead. STOP IT. Jason, who was there for a whole series? dead! Silena who was there the whole series and was a secret spy for kronos but redeemed herself by sacrificing herself? oh yeah also dead. Beckondorf who was also there the whole series and helped percy so much? oh you liked him? that’s funny. dead. And yeah you could argue that, at least in that particular series, that character might not be a “main” character, but come on.

it just hurts so much more when you’ve gotten a backstory, personality, fears, motivations, growth, even a redemption arc of a character and you have to watch (well, read) them die. and when that character was so well loved by the other characters and the audience. when the character dies and you have to endure everybody’s reactions. when you cry because someone is screaming out in pain for them like piper for jason, screaming he’s not dead. when they describe their anguish like clarisse with silena. when a character has to walk away after the other sacrificed themselves like percy and beckondorf. when they have to cope with them being forever gone.

i cannot deal with the fact that there are so many deaths of important people. and they still weigh so heavily on everyone else. they made an impact. want some examples?

Zoe: percy still thinks about her.

Luke: he made an everlasting impact on everyone who met him or fought against him.

Jason: the whole rest of the series after the burning maze, apollo/lester dedicates his actions to jason and promises to be human like jason had pleaded for.

Beckondorf + Silena: Are fought for in the end during the final battle against kronos.

[kammieeeee]

percy jackson

PERCY JACKSON

✦ - nothing yet

ANNABETH CHASE

✦ - nothing yet

LUKE CASTELLAN

✦ - nothing yet

SILENA BEAUREGARD

✦ - nothing yet

CLARISSE LA RUE

✦ - love wins all

THALIA GRACE

✦ - nothing yet

NICO DE ANGELO

✦ - nothing yet

BIANCA DE ANGELO

✦ - nothing yet

WILL SOLACE

✦ - nothing yet

JASON GRACE

✦ - nothing yet

RACHEL DARE

✦ - nothing yet

ZOE NIGHTSHADE

✦ - nothing yet

TRAVIS STOLL

✦ - nothing yet

CONNER STOLL

✦ - nothing yet

HAZEL LEVESQUE

✦ - nothing yet

PIPER MCLEAN

✦ - nothing yet

REYNA AVILA RAMÍREZ-ARELLANO

✦ - nothing yet

[rainyvalentines]

im back if anyone would like to send in any requests im open! i dont have rlly any fic ideas right now do im taking whatever! 💗

[avant-gaarde]

percy jackson & the olympians | a playlist

in lieu of the new pjo book and trailer for the upcoming show, I decided to post a playlist. here you go...

[cabin10diaries]

i love fucking with canon so much that i have friendgroups that dont make much sense or have any canon material except in that au

luke clarisse beckendorf silena chris & jake

thalia nyssa laurel mitchell pollux castor & zoe

annabeth katie travis holly clovis & drew

jason connor & valentina

nico lou cecil celyn & will

percy piper & leo

hazel reyna frank & lavinia (actually. this one makes sense but adding anyway b/c it's a part of the au so)

bianca kayla julia alice lacy & billie

estelle yan harley georgina & meg

[sawyerconfort]

ask me a prompt!

So, I've decided that I'm going to innovate with the AHS: Coven imagines and write them based on a new list of prompts (now made exclusively by me), to help with ordering and writing as well.

Ask rules remain the same, but now you can use more than one prompt when you ask me! I'll use the same list for the other fandoms I write about, if anyone wants it, feel free to ask.

Requests are open!

PROMPTS HEREEEEE:

--------------------------------

“you smell really nice.”

“is that my shirt?”

“i think i’m falling for you.”

“you okay?”

“i’m here with you.”

“was that your first kiss?”

“please, i want cuddles.”

“yes, you can hold my hand, sweetie.”

“go to sleep.”

“i’ll keep you warm.”

“it’s a surprise.”

“i’d never be afraid of you.”

“i’ll always protect you, no matter what.”

“i trust you.”

“will you be my girlfriend/boyfriend?”

“will you marry me?”

“why are we hiding?”

“please, talk to me.”

“it’s okay, you can cry.”

“hold still.”

“i’m glad you’re okay.”

“you’re here with me.”

“i missed you.”

“don’t go!”

“listen, i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“looking good, babe!”

“did you just called me baby?”

“you called me.”

“baby.”

“you’re my family.”

“you matter to me.”

“language!”

“kiss me.”

“i’m ready.”

“was that good enough for you?”

“you’re my whole world.”

“i love you.”

“what do you mean with... pregnant?”

“stay.”

“no, i’ll take care of you.”

“are you hungry?”

“tell me who hurt you.”

“i’ll be the little spoon.”

“you’re sick, you need to rest.”

“who’s jealous?”

“who’s she/he/they?”

“you’re so jealous.”

“you look sexy.”

“take off your clothes.”

“let me unzip your dress, please.”

“i will never get enough of you.” 

 “use your words.”

"don't hold back.."

REQUESTS OPEN!

Feel free to ask!

[winterxisxcomingx]

Mina Harker interacting with everyone, I love her sm.

DEMONS (2009) || Nothing Like Nebraska (6x01)

[dont-trust-list]

Don't Trust List (Ship Edition)

[ad-writes]

Masterlist - Requests open

PJO/HoO Characters I will write for: Basically any character from PJO and HoO

SPN: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (I'm only on season 5 so Cas is kinda new to me), maybe Jared, Jensen, and Misha but idk how to feel about writing about real people yet lol

Percy Jackson/Heros of Olympus

Nico di Angelo:

Your side of the bed 1190: While on a quest Percy, Nico, Grover, Annabeth, and Reader stop at a motel.

Percy Jackson:

Garden Gnome Emporium 1970: (request) Reader is friends with Percy, Annabeth, and Gover. They go on a quest to find Luke and bring him back to camp to imprison him but things go wrong along the way.

Thalia Grace:

Breathe: Fem reader pronouns. Reader and Thalia are dating and on a quest with Percy and Annabeth, when the reader got hurt while fighting a monster.

Supernatural

Sam Winchester:

Picture you 1250: Song fic based off of Picture you by Chappell Roan.

[alexusonfire]

Joan Ramsey Falling in Love with a Witch Looks Like:

Joan Ramsey x Fem!Witch Reader

A/n: What can I say, I'm a sucker for "hyper-religious woman views witch as divine instead of deviant". Slight canon divergence, but hey, so is the homosexuality 😁 Reader is a teacher at Miss Robichaux's. Headcanon style. Hope y'all enjoy!

This is the slowest of all burns. Joan, of course, objects to everything about your person in the beginning, refusing to get to know you past a casual "hello." After the stunt Madison had pulled with the knife and setting their curtains on fire, you couldn't entirely blame her.

It was the little things about you specifically that caught and kept her attention. How you'd still continued to smile at her after she'd banished "your lot" from her house and Luke from the school. A small wave here and there when she was out on the front porch and you'd pass by. A handful of times she'd been struggling to get her groceries inside, and though each and every time she denied your help to either call for Luke or simply continue to struggle, you'd still offer whenever you'd catch her. Your voice was warm and kind, and you always seemed genuine, even if she believed something else entirely.

As it would happen, your bedroom window was almost directly across from hers, and, unbeknownst to you, she'd started watching you from the safety of her curtains. She adored how you would bite your lip when you concentrated on something or did a little dance and listened to music as you picked your clothing out for the day. Of course, she'd never look in your more private moments; she was simply curious about you is all, not a peeping tom...

Joan often took late-night drives, as she had never been a good sleeper. The lull of the car engine and low volume of gospel music were sometimes the only things to bring her peace enough to be able to drift off. As she arrived home one evening, she spotted you coming down the street, a rather troubled look on your face. Against her "better" judgment, she called out to you and asked if you were alright. One thing led to another, and before she realized what was happening, you were sitting at her island while she made you tea.

This was the moment Joan would later pinpoint as the "beginning" of her feelings for you. She began to smile back, and wave to you first from her seat on the porch. The next time she struggled with groceries, she'd simply handed you a few bags without a word, then made you some fresh lemonade as a thank you. Your conversations were never as deep or thoughtful as that first night (Joan thought perhaps the illusion of safety darkness brought had been the cause of it) but they were still pleasant, and something Joan could look forward to now and again.

Her watching sessions had also intensified, to nearly every evening when she could manage it.

While you did appreciate the change in her demeanor, you did notice it was only when no one else was around. If one of the girls trailed beside you, or Luke was in the front yard, she wouldn't so much as look at you, one time even purposefully getting up and going in the house when she saw it was Nan with you. It stung a bit, but you were still pleased with the progress you'd made in the months since she'd moved in.

The real turning point had been Halloween Night, when the zombies attacked the school. Luke had stopped by earlier to bring Nan some cookies, then foolishly run out thinking the dead were merely school kids playing a prank. Upon hearing his cries for help, Joan had come running, unaware of the danger she was now in.

Between Zoe's chainsaw and your pyrokenesis, you'd managed to kill off the dead undead and get Joan and Luke safely back into their home. You quietly tended to Luke's wound as Joan and Nan watched on, the former clutching her abdomen while nausea swirled in her throat. While Nan helped Luke up to his room to rest, Joan stayed behind to help you tidy up. When you'd finished, she grasped your hand in hers and looked at you with teary eyes.

"You saved my son. You... you saved me."

She threw herself into your arms and clutched you tightly, muttering into your chest about how she'd prayed her entire life for protection from dark forces, and God had answered her prayers with you.

"My angel, Heaven sent."

Joan would have you over all the time now, convinced you had been sent to her for a reason. She sat beside you on the porch and invited both you and Nan over for dinners (always keeping a watchful eye on Luke and Nan's interactions). Her favorite thing to do was pick you up for her late-night drives, she finding your presence more soothing than anything. Once again, under the cloak of darkness, you'd share your innermost thoughts with each other, growing closer and closer as the days turned cold.

Joan held steady in her faith, which could be tricky to navigate some days. She'd definitely become less rigid the more she learned about your practice and abilities, but whenever there was a chance to toss out a verse or two, she'd take it. Her smile of satisfaction was so endearing however, you couldn't bring yourself to care too much.

Church was a hard no for you. This originally was a frequent point of contention, until you sat Joan down one evening and explained, start to finish, the Witch Trials that had plagued your sisters for centuries by the Church. The pain in your voice softened her resolve greatly, and she merely kissed your forehead and promised not to ask it of you again. She valued your friendship too much to risk it, even with her faith.

"Friendship"

She wasn't so sure that properly described your relationship anymore. She'd never been so close to anyone in her life, including her late husband. She found herself wanting to be near you always, and the weight of missing you grew heavier and heavier. Somehow living next door wasn't close enough for her, and she became jealous of the school you called home.

"You can stay. If you'd like. It's... late."

It was a flimsy excuse, and she knew it. Especially since you were a two minute walk from your front door. But she was tired of missing you, tired of waiting for you to be available. She wanted you with her. Always.

Much to her delight, under the coveted cover of night where you'd both grown to feel most comfortable, you confessed you felt the same. Her sweet witch-angel, so pretty in the moonlight... she simply couldn't resist any longer. On her tip toes she stood, sealing her lips against yours in a slow and tentative kiss.

.... yes you moved in with her the following day NO we are not elaborating <3

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 1.7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

you bare your heart finally. amongst other things.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, nudity, mentions of erections, smut (pinv), oral (f receiving). arguing.

…

Bradley had assumed it was clear that part of the deal was that you would take that thing off before you joined him. He doesn’t look up as you cross the hotel room.

He thinks about Luke, knowing that kid spends most nights in Robin’s room since you moved out, shooting a quick glance to his open suitcase still in the corner of the room. He could come back anytime, really.

It’s dark, beside the bedside lamp and a floor lamp near his makeshift desk. Luke’s things are strewn messily beside one of the double beds— Bradley’s is tidied with a military precision. It’s about the only thing about him that would ever give away that he had served.

Straightening your shoulders, lifting your chin, you walk barefoot towards him with some kind of pseudo-confidence you’re hoping he’ll fall for — and bump right into the file hanging off of his make-shift desk.

The papers slip and start to fall, shuffling the order he had taken time to organize them into. 

“What are you doing?” He chastises, wrinkling his face disapprovingly as he moves to save the cascades of papers. You stand, stuck in place, as he snatches his glasses from his face with his other hand and looks you over. “And what are you wearing?”

The satin bristles against your skin with the breeze from his open window, your skin prickling to attention as you hug the pages you had managed to save to your chest. “I’m trying to help.”

His gaze flicks downward with a beat. It lingers for a moment on your bare ring finger. You must have gone back for you clothes. Meaning, you chose not to put it back on.

The last thing he wants is your help. Morning is creeping closer and he isn’t anywhere close to being finished. He begrudges you, pushing his chair back from the table, motioning for you to sit.

The wood of the chair is cold against your half-bare ass. Feeling exposed, and scolded, and humiliated all at once, you settle into your seat.

He regrets his comment for a moment, seeing you tug shamefully at the edge of the lace as if it’ll cover you more. A muscle in his jaw ticks. He opts for silence; he should really finish this.

You know what you should be doing by now, Zoe and Abi helped with that. You swallow the thick lump in your throat as you pull the papers towards you and start scanning for anything that could help with Bradley’s research topic. You figure you’re still probably on the same chapter he was on at the Gabris house.

Work begins in silence, the two of you sitting opposite one another with so many things to say that it’s easier to just not say anything at all.

There’s an invisible barrier between the two of you, yesterday hangs in the air like a fog. The small, dimly lit study feels even smaller, like the walls are closing in on the two of you. 

The waiting game is agonizing. You had started off working faster than he’s ever seen you work before, so desperate for him to tell you that you’re doing well. It dwindles and dwindles, until it’s one yawn too much. 

As the afternoon heat fades, the chill creeps in through the open windows. Bradley pretends not to notice you shivering as much as he pretends not to notice the way your pert nipples are perked against that pink fabric. Well, he pretends for as long as he can.

“You should get some sleep.” He interrupts finally, making you spring up from where you had been drooping against your own arm.

You blink tiredly at him from across the table, frowning like that’s some kind of baseless accusation rather than an affectionate suggestion.

“I’m not tired, and we aren’t finished.” You answer him. His gaze flickers downward, his brows drawing together a little as you sit up straight, seeming to forget exactly how much of you is on display.

“You’re falling asleep on my annotations.” He corrects you.

Maybe if you stay here and let yourself fall, he’ll carry you to bed. He would, too. Begrudging you even more as he sets you down gently, cradling your head onto the pillow and guiding the sheets up around you. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering if he’ll ever even touch you again. A frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as you fiddle absently with the babydoll you’re wearing; he finally understands why you’re so fidgety. You don’t want to be in it.

“So, you bought that for my sake?” He asks incredulously, trying to keep the smile off of his face. He hasn’t ever needed lingerie to appreciate what’s right in front of him. His lips tug at the corners, thinking of how giddy and embarrassed you had been for him to find your Wednesday embroidered panties.

“Yes.” 

He presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek, watching you thoughtfully, shamelessly. After all, it’s all for him. Sitting here in this aged hotel room, you’re all his to look at. Even with another man’s ring on your finger.

If you had asked him, Bradley would have told you that he hasn’t ever cared more for lingerie. He has always preferred what comes after. 

“Well, are you going to let me see it?”

Your brows knit together. He has already seen it, he’s looking at it — at you — right now. Bradley sits back in his chair and parts his knees, jerking his head for you to come closer.

Cautiously, you push up from your seat. Instinct tells you to cover your face with your hands and hide from him like a child, your nerves tell you to cover up and pretend this never happened, the humiliation of this whole exchange prompts you to argue back and tell him that this is all his fault.

You swallow back all three and trust that he isn’t going to make you regret it. He watches you cross the short distance around the table and come to stand between his legs.

It’s sheer, and pink. His gaze falls unashamedly to your nipples, bristling against the almost transparent fabric. The satin bow that sits just between them against the curved neckline. Frilly, lacy straps sit against your shoulders. His gaze trails, falling to the matching pink panties.

He has seen items like it before, but he hadn’t stopped to consider for one minute what you might look like in something like this. Staring at him like he’s about to knock you down a peg, it’s a feeling that makes something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

His gaze flickers back up to yours with a beat, his gaze analytical and calm. Your throat constricts around a dry swallow, as your hands come to fiddle with the hem. 

Bradley reaches for bare skin, skimming his palm over the back of your thigh. Still studying your face like he’s waiting for you to break. 

“What made you pick this one?”

You close your eyes for a moment as his fingers toy with the hem of the garment. “I’ve been told that pink is my colour.” 

He hums, considering. “What was the plan? — That I’d fuck you and we would go back to pretending you don’t have a fiancé waiting for you at home?”

Shame courses through you, hot and pulsing. Dizzying, like a wave of nausea. You look toward the ground and just find your feet settled between his, and his feet still tucked into those stupid, sporty Nikes. 

Still, you’ve been made to feel small before. It’s not time to shrink back and hide. You close your eyes for a moment, gathering yourself. Then, exhale.

“Let me explain myself,” The words all rush out in one breath as you lean into him, brows pinched together and a serious look in your eyes. “Please.”

Bradley hesitates. He doesn’t want to hear it. He knows that when he’s looking you in the eye, his opinion will be far too easy to sway. Even if you weren’t wearing that sheer number.

He looks to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fine.”

“I panicked,” It’s no explanation, but it’s where you start. “Yesterday, we were in bed together — and… I don’t know, it didn’t feel like we were on the same page.”

Malcolm would speak now. He would defend himself, often skewering through the middle of your next sentence. Even though Bradley would like to defend himself here, he waits.

“When I told you that I wanted us to… you know… it felt like that wasn’t much of a big deal to you, and it probably wasn’t, I get that, you must have done this all the time, and then everyone was talking about how you were screwing Miss Penny and—“

Now he interrupts.

“Miss Penn— April?” Your mouth wrinkles as he coughs out her first name, you hate to imagine how many times he must have called her that. How many times she might have sat across his lap like this. “Would you stop worrying about what I did before I met you? — Yesterday was a big deal to me. I know what it means to you, I know what you mean to me.”

It surprises you that he doesn’t deny sleeping with her, and then it doesn’t. You start to think back and, beside denying his relationship with Natasha when you were accusing him — he hasn’t lied to you. Not that you know of. Something tells you that he just has nothing to lie about.

His head had, admittedly, been a little scattered yesterday morning. He should have noticed that you weren’t okay.

“I’m sorry that you felt like it didn’t,” Bradley whispers, skimming his hands along your middle. “The call from your father kind of threw me off, you didn’t even want me to speak with him.”

“Because he’s a jackass!” You rush back. Bradley blinks at you, trying to stop his lips from tugging at the corners. He just can’t help it. “I was trying to protect you.”

At once, he softens. Amusement coats the honeyed brown in his eyes, he lifts his palm from his leg and tugs you down against his knee. Dragging you in, he presses one soft kiss to the swell of your lips.

“I don’t need protecting, honey,” He murmurs against your mouth. “I’m sorry. You look incredible, and I… I care about you, but I meant what I said — this isn’t a good idea anymore.”

You push forwards the second that the last syllable is out of his mouth, kissing him again, hard. Your chest presses firmly against his, that sheer fabric doing nothing to keep your peaked nipples from grazing up against his shirt.

“It wasn’t a good idea to begin with.” You agree against his mouth, grabbing firmly at the fabric of his shirt. Your lips trail away from his, working down to the curve of his jaw and nipping softly at his skin. The action almost makes him jump.

You, sitting on your knees in a sheer lace babydoll and a thong, biting at his neck. He feels like he’s dreaming.

“Right, we lost our heads for a bit,” Bradley hums, skimming his palm down your back,  eyes closed as he lets you kiss across his throat. “But it’s alright, you’re going to be fine. A couple more weeks and you’ll— you’ll be home.”

Your mouth stops. You glance downward, eyes widening slightly. Between you, Bradley’s cock has already stirred to life, struggling against the seam of his shorts, and his free hand is white knuckling the edge of the table. The other sits politely on the small of your back.

You nod at him, wide-eyed, as your palm skims down his graphic tee, 

“Exactly, it’s just a couple more weeks,” And suddenly you have flipped the conversation, you’re not agreeing with him anymore. Your soft hand is wrapped around his cock over his shorts and Bradley, for once, is speechless. “It wouldn’t make a difference, given what we’ve already done.”

“Is that right?” Bradley realizes the thought you have put into this little plan — and how it extends far beyond pretty pink lingerie, half-amused and half-shocked. His hand skims from the small of your back to the swell of your ass swiftly. His other comes to grip at your hip as he drags you into his lap.

Your eyes meet as you land haphazardly. The swell of his stiffened cock sits against your ass. You stare back at him, suddenly bashful.

“I just want us to be like we were.” You whisper, bracing yourself for the rejection. Your heart thuds at a sickening pace in your chest, fingers suddenly stiff and uncertain against his shoulders.

Bradley squeezes your hips firmly, “No, not if you’re going to marry him.” 

Your eyelids fall into a heavy blink, closing all together as you sit forwards for one more kiss. “I told him no.”

It’s not the entire truth. Bradley’s eyes widen a little, confused as he blinks. His mouth falls open and you watch his mind race to decide which pressing question must be answered first.

“We spoke on the phone and— I told him that I didn’t think I ever wanted to see him again,” That’s a little more of the truth. Bradley’s fingertips press softly against your thighs as you squeeze your eyes shut. It feels ridiculous to say, “I don’t trust him the way that I trust you.”

The light beside the bed flickers as you lean in for one more kiss, his mouth soft and pliant against yours as he skims his hand back to your ass.

“That’s why I want you to be my first.” 

He swallows softly. Bradley is used to telling his students no — he’s sure that most of them think that he’s an asshole for how frequently he does. No, I won’t curb your grade. No, I won’t tell you which chapter the exam will be on. No, no, no. But when you’re sitting in his lap and looking at him with that wide-eyed, trusting, pleading look— he’s putty. 

“Baby…” He whispers. His head starts to shake weakly, but he knows deep down that he wouldn’t really tell you no. He should.

You kiss the bridge of his nose, and then the high-point of his cheek. “Whatever happens, I’ll always know that my first time was with someone who really cared about me.” Putty, he’s pure putty in your hands. “Right?”

“Of course.” He whispers against your neck, closing his lips around the soft skin. He sucks a delicate path, slow and growingly tender with each spot his mouth settles, until he reaches the fabric covering your breast.

His thumb strokes back the flimsy strap, letting it fall off of your shoulder. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure… if you still want me.”

He scoffs against your chest, letting his forehead rest there for a second. Your fingers are in his hair again, so gentle with him that it almost makes his chest ache. He kisses at the space between your breasts, letting his nose brush against the lace covering them.

How ridiculous of a suggestion, that he would be losing so much sleep over a woman he didn’t want.

“I want you.” He mumbles, pushing the other flimsy strap off of your shoulder. He bunches at the lingerie around your thighs and stops, then watches with fervor as the cups slip off of your breasts and the fabric falls to hang around where your legs are bent. So bad, and you don’t even know.

Bradley’s eyes are on you as his warm hands come up to cup at them. He watches you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, his touch achingly slow as he kneads them both in his hands, swiping his thumbs along the swell of them.

He finds something on your face, some kind of tell that you must have that you have never noticed. He squeezes at your tits, eyes flashing with excitement as his lips tug at the corners.

Those warm brown eyes drop from your face to your chest with a beat. There’s no shame in the way he watches himself touch you. Something that resembles intrigue, maybe, as he trails the pads of his thumbs across your pebbled nipples. He lowers his mouth to them, warm and gentle as he sucks at the tops of your breasts the way that he had with your neck.

Then, his tongue leaves his mouth. He remembers how you had damn near smacked him the first time he had slipped his tongue into your mouth — how far you have come.

Your fingers press into the flexing muscles of his upper back as his tongue works over the sensitive bud, so expertly. One of his large hands falls to grab at the supple flesh of your ass while the other caresses the side of your chest that his mouth isn’t touching.

The bristle of the facial hair you used to begrudge him for makes you fidget and shift, an almost electric kind of ticklish feeling. One fidget too much and Bradley’s palm grips your ass a little tighter, his torso twisting as he turns and pushes his hips up into yours — grinding the tip of his cock against you through his shorts.

Then, he stands swiftly. Your feet barely have time to hit the floor, eyes blinking wildly. He walks you backwards and tangles a hand into your hair, taking you down onto the bed with him. 

Like this, he finally has the freedom to tear that scrap of pink down your body, discarding it onto the floor. From the second that his mouth is on your chest again, you’re whining in complaint, reaching for his t-shirt. Bradley pulls back solely to give you what you want, tossing the shirt to the ground.

He’s on you again at once, this time holding your jaw steady as he kisses you. Everything feels like such a blur, even as his kisses grow slow and steady, deeper, like he’s melting into you with each one. You don’t remember when he parted your thighs and settled between them — you don’t notice until he’s pushing his hips against you.

The growing excitement between your legs seeps through the pink thong, soaking a spot into the middle of it. 

Bradley nips softly at your shoulder, kneading at your thighs, spreading them wide. His mouth is divine, spreading like wildfire along your exposed skin. Your fingers skim through his curls, brushing them swiftly back off of his forehead.

If Malcolm could see you now — keening into another man’s touch in a way you never had with him. 

Bradley is enthralled, tracing the intricacies of your skin with his mouth. He goes down to your navel and back up, winding up by your exposed collarbones, rocking you against the growing tension in the front of his shorts.

Glancing up at you, the deepened look in his eyes has you squirming again. Lust-filled, deep, oak-coloured eyes stare up at you. He lets them fall shut as he works open-mouthed kisses along your sternum. 

Your eyelids are heavy, that dazed feeling that comes with his mouth on your skin trying to lull them shut. The intrigue of watching him drink you in tries to pry them open.

Bradley lingers as his mouth reaches the waistband of this silly pink thong. He leans slowly forward and presses a soft kiss to your clothed pussy, right where that soaked spot permeates the pink gusset.

A soft sound slips his mouth, something deep and wanting. 

He could take them off here and now, but as much as he hasn’t ever been a lingerie kind of man — he can’t help but admire that soaked shade of pink on you. He hooks them to the side, kissing the apex of your thigh softly.

Bradley starts off slow, pushing his fingers through that growing excitement until his fingers are glistening, kissing at your stomach and your hips with a feverish magnetism. 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as he sinks two fingers into you. He kisses tenderly at your hip, then across those pretty pink panties.

“That’s it, take ‘em just like that, honey.” He whispers, nipping gently at the soft skin of your navel. His fingers pump slowly a few times, easing you into the steady rhythm of being filled.

Your short breaths increase with his speed as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot deep in you that has you grabbing at his shoulders. You shudder under his touch, grinding against his fingers. 

His hand tucks your thigh over his shoulder in the same swift movement that his head drops down between your legs. Nosing the edge of your panties to the side once more, he drags his fingers to an agonizingly slow pace.

Those honey-oak coloured eyes flicker up as he purses his lips and kisses the lowest part of your pelvic bone, letting his lips gaze your soft skin the rest of the way down. His fingers curl sharply as his lips wrap around your sensitive clit, making you gasp in sharply.

You whimper at the fervor of his mouth, eyes squeezed shut like they always are when he touches you. The sounds of excitement as his fingers curl deeper into you. You wish he was closer, and that you could hold onto him as you grow closer to your climax.

He groans with you, fidgeting almost uncomfortably at the strain in his pants as he shifts against the bed. Even with his growing discomfort, he’s not done, pulling you closer to his face.

Curling your fingers into the sheets just doesn’t cut it with how he makes you feel. Bradley’s tongue patterns across the sensitive nub like he’s French kissing, his fingers keeping steady pace. Despite your best efforts, those panting breaths spill into quiet moans all too quickly.

Maybe there’s a little competition in all this. Bradley doesn’t know what you got up to with that little fiancé of yours, but he knows you’ve never felt like this with him, and you never will. He’ll never have you trembling and choking back sheepish, graphic sounds like this.

“Let me hear you, honey,” He murmurs, lips wet and glistening as his fingers make your body jolt. “Yeah, that’s right, little louder.”

Slow and steady wins the race, sure, if this was a competition. Bradley could be slower, he could drag this out, bring you to and from the edge, but he feels the way you’re trying to grind against his mouth and his fingers. You’re chasing him, and you’re too sweet to beg him.

His lips quirk at the corners as your heel presses into the muscle of his back, writhing against him as the shudder of your orgasm rolls through you like crashing thunder.

He kisses his way away from you, down your thighs and across your stomach, reveling in the sounds of your pleased sighs.

Then, he sits back on his knees and hooks his fingertips into the sides of your underwear. You take in the sight of him. 

Broad, golden shoulders. His gold chain dangling between his collarbones. His stomach taut and strong. His cheeks freckled and warm, his lips terracotta.

You’re starting to understand all of those lewd artworks now, someone feeling the need to immortalize their lover looking like this.

“Still with me, pretty girl?” Bradley murmurs, his voice tinged with an affection neither of you had been expecting to develop. Eyelids heavy, you nod your head at him and lift your hips. His smile turns to something cocky, a lopsided grin as he cocks his head at you while he waits for his answer.

That shining look in his eye and that confident smirk on his mouth has him looking devilishly handsome. You press your thighs together, giving him a polite nod.

Underwear discarded, Bradley moves to undress himself. You push up onto your knees and kiss his mouth and his jaw, as he fumbles open the buttons on his shorts and shoves them down his legs.

He tugs down his boxers, your mouth is otherwise occupied. It hangs open just slightly, your lips flushed and swollen, studying his newly naked form. He tosses his underwear and wraps his hand around the base of his cock, pumping it a few times as his free hand captures the nape of your neck and pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

“Tell me that you’re sure.” He mumbles against your lips, brows drawn together as you keen against the tip of his cock, smearing pre-cum across your navel. “And not for my benefit, I want you to mean it.”

“I do mean it,” You answer him giddily, fingers in his hair and your chest pressed flush against his. “I trust you, and that’s why I want you to— us, to do this.”

Bradley ducks forward, his next kiss firm and soft at once, his hand skimming along the naked length of your spine until he’s got a firm grasp of your round ass. He squeezes at the flesh, pulling you into him and planting you on your back.

“Sit tight, honey,” Bradley breathes out, stepping one foot off of the bed to grab his work bag. You aren’t going to like this. He plucks a condom from the inside pocket, sitting back on his knees. You watch, one brow quirked, as he tears the packaging and lines up the latex. He takes one glance at the look on your face and quirks a smile. “Don’t give me that look.”

He’s right, you’d rather not think about why Bradley might have packed protection for this trip. And, as his mouth hits yours and his chest plants your body firmly to the bed, there’s not one chance that you’re thinking of anything but him.

It’s a tangle in the soft-lamp light, his body covering yours like a blanket as the street bustles below. The smell of your perfume fills his senses, drawing him in like magic. His nose brushes your hair, his hands skimming across your naked waist.

Just like he had when he was between your legs, Bradley kisses you lewdly, his tongue doing most of the work in a way that makes you shudder against him. He nips softly at your bottom lip as he pulls away, turning his attention to your jaw and the shell of your ear.

His hand squeezes firmly at your ass, a smile tugging at his lips. He feels the way you’re rocking softly against him, soaking the tip of the latex that’s covering him.

“You just tell me if you want me to stop, alright?” Bradley hums, kissing pliantly across your jaw and down your neck. A half-way incoherent sound of acknowledgement comes from your lips.

He shifts his hips, dragging the tip of his dick through your folds. One last cautious look toward your face, he swallows softly before he presses the tip into you. You grab onto his shoulders tighter, squeezing your fingertips into his muscle.

He hisses softly, his stomach muscles tightening at the way you’re squeezing him.

“How’s that, honey? — Talk to me, I wanna hear it.”  Bradley breathes out, his voice all deep and desperate, coming out hot against your neck. His adam’s apple bobs just slightly as he swallows back the dry feeling in his mouth. 

Your fingers press into the muscle of his back, brows knitted in concentration. You’re cute when you’re focusing. 

“It — yeah, it’s great.” You’re lying to him, you just don’t expect him to know that so quickly. His lips quirk up with abject amusement as he gives his head a soft shake.

“I’m just checking that I’m not hurting you,” He clues you in on what’s making him smile like that, pressing his lips softly to yours. “Am I, baby?”

A little. It’s not necessarily a pain. A slightly uncomfortable stretch, maybe. A foreign feeling. A slight discomfort. Nothing to write home about.

“No, keep going.” You urge him, draping your arms around his shoulders. His palms find your hips, already weighted to the mattress by him on top of you. He glances down between the two of you.

He drags back his hips until just the tip of him remains buried, then pushes slowly forwards once more, feeling your thighs squeeze around his hips. It’s been a long time since he was so cautious in bed.

His focus is torn. There are few things that he lets himself get in his head about, he’s usually a pretty laidback guy. But this, this is important. You’re important. “You’re beautiful. Looking at me like that — you’re gonna have to be careful or I’ll never let you go.” He whispers, barely joking.

His lips press softly to the column of your throat, more of that French-kissing kind of assault across your skin. His lips on your throat have your head falling back into the sheets, eyes rolling as you tip your jaw to give him better access.

Bradley wraps his arms under you, hugging you close, cradling you against his body. As you keen into the feeling of his tender mouth on your collarbones, a soft gasp slips your lips. He begins to thrust in and out, slow and shallow, holding you to him. 

“That’s it, honey, just relax,” He murmurs against your skin. Your head falls backward as he hits you deep. You smell the soft sweat on his skin and the intoxicating perfume of his cologne, you’re wrapped in his weight and his warmth— how could you not be relaxed? “I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. And he does. In his arms and beyond that too. Your ring sits, discarded, in your room down the hall. 

As his hips push forwards once more, you’re struck by the realisation that it doesn’t hurt anymore. It — It feels good. More than good, he drags through you like velvet as his warm breath fans out across your skin.

He feels when it happens; there’s no way to miss the sudden way your rigid thighs melt their way around his hips and your fingers squeeze into the flexing muscles by his shoulders. You gasp, moaning into the curve of his neck and he grunts like he has been punched.

His hand smooths over your bed-mussed hair, his lips on your temple and your cheek and your mouth.

“Atta girl, there you go,” He murmurs affectionately, the pattern of his thrusts almost musically rhythmic and fluid. He’s so deep that your head is spinning, hitting that one part of you that makes you want to scream. “That’s it, baby. You’re so good.”

The sudden praise has you clinging to him tighter, panting hard against his skin, pressing your heel into the apex of his thigh.

His hands skim along your naked back until he’s got two handfuls of your ass, squeezing at the soft flesh. You’re so full that you’re practically mindless. 

There’s an urgency to your movements that makes his lips tug. He grins breathlessly against your hair. Your breaths shallow out, rushed and spilling over with soft moans. 

“I’m— I’m— Ugh.” You sigh, giving up on communicating as you cling to his shoulders. He nods his head against yours, knowing anyway.

“Tell me, baby.” One of his arms withdraws from around you, slipping down between your bodies to stroke tentatively at your clit. And then, he turns his face towards your cheek and kisses softly. “Wanna hear how good you feel.”

Your legs stretch and the static comes for you next. You try to muffle the shriek by burying your face against his neck, but you know that he hears it all the same because of the way his hips twitch. He slams into you hard, stroking your hair back off of your forehead and kissing your temple.

He should have guessed that with an attitude like yours, you’d be loud. Whimpering into the curve of his neck as his hands explore your writhing body.

Your comedown hits him hard. His stomach tightening and his muscles going rigid as a fraction of his weight presses into you, just that much heavier. His voice grows deeper, growly and desperate as he curls his fingers into your roots and tugs your head back.

Lips hanging open, breath sucked out of you, your eyes wide and pleading as your legs tremble around him. 

The warm light from the bedside lamp casts an amber glow over him, his brows knitted seriously. He pants softly, squeezing at his hold on your roots, drawing you in for another kiss. He punctuates each draw of his tongue with a slow, deep thrust of his hips.

His free hand squeezes at the soft flesh of your thigh, his already rigid body going totally firm as he drops his head down against your shoulder, spilling into the condom.

Eyes still closed, he peppers your salted skin with soft kisses, stroking his thumb along the nape of your neck, his palm along your waist. You inhale softly as he pulls out of you, blinking through hazy eyes as he kisses across your collarbones.

Hugging your breast in his palm, he flicks his thumb across your nipple once more before drawing it into his mouth. You watch him curiously, as he kneads at and kisses your body.

Finally, his chin resting against your navel, he looks up at you with his hands hooked around your hips. His brown eyes glint with affection. “Hey, honey.”

“Hi.” You whisper back, your face growing hot under his sudden gaze. His smirk tips, lopsided as he presses another chaste kiss to your hipbone.

“How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy all over,” You blurt out, before you can consider how embarrassing of an admission that might be. Bradley grins at you as he moves to lay beside you and drags you onto his bare chest. He strokes your hair back from your face. “Does it always feel that good?”

His smile just grows. He chuckles softly as he leans in and kisses your mouth again, slow and romantic. “I dunno. Maybe we’ll have to find out.”

He’s just kidding around, but your eyes go wide with intrigue and excitement. 

“Like… do it again?”

Bradley strokes across the ends of your hair, breathing out a chuckle that has you rattling against his chest.

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” He has already sparked the idea of having sex again and just the idea has you feeling restless.

His brows knitting firmly as you push up from his chest and spin around to face him.

His gaze flickers down to the hand that you’ve got planted on the centre of his stomach, then back to your face.

“Could I take a picture of you?”

His brows dip toward each other. His lips tug at the corners. His head tips slightly to the right. Perplexed, really, is the only word for it.

“Now?” Bradley gives you some room as you push yourself onto your elbows, hair mussed and bedsheets tangled around your hips. He takes note of the way the sun catches on the already faded ghosts of rough kiss marks that he left on your chest and considers propositioning you for a photo opportunity yourself.

“Only if you don’t mind,” You tell him, already twisting around and stepping off of the bed, letting the sheets fall in your place. His eyes trail the length of your spine all the way down to the round swell of your ass. He swallows softly, losing all of the humour he had just found in you wanting to do it again, as you bend over and search the little bag you had left by the table. “I just… want to remember how you look right now.”

And then you turn to face him, the Siena summer sun setting behind you. It occurs to Bradley that this is the first time he has seen you so bare. No fidgeting, covering or hiding. Your bare skin bathed in a pure gold shadow. 

Powerless, he gives you a certain nod. 

One foot in front of the other, you toe your way back into bed and settle down on your knees. Bradley doesn’t even register that he’s reaching for you until his palm has balled over your smooth knee. 

“How do you want me?” Bradley asks, lips quirked as he remembers the time he had been talked into posing nude for an art class. A story that would have scandalised you weeks ago. 

“Just relax.” That’s rich, he thinks with a soft smile tugging at his lips. You, who had damn near hit him for having the nerve to dip his tongue between your lips, naked and telling him to relax. 

Still, he tucks his free arm behind his head and gives your knee a soft squeeze. His bicep swells, the veins in his forearm still pressing against his skin, his auburn curls spilling onto his forehead. His expression settles, calm as ever, terracotta lips quirked at the corners, just hinting at a smile. Affection in his eyes.

You smile back at him, lift the camera to your eye and squint. Peering through the viewfinder, you study its version of him. His big, broad shoulders and matching biceps, the look in his eyes isn’t deafened at all by the lens. The shutter clicks. 

You pull back and set it down against your thighs as the picture starts to put itself together and peel out from the top of the camera. He smiles softly, giving your knee a gentle squeeze, winking one of those pretty brown eyes at you.

Flapping the picture back and forth, you lift it to take a look and he watches your mouth twist upward. He’s laying back against the pillows with one arm tucked behind his head, his curls messy and his smile all-knowing. He’s beautiful. His eyes are on you.

…

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

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Maybe in Another Life |17 - Final|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

It had been a couple days since the battle of Manhattan, and you were fully healed. Apollo had saved your life, but you still ached like crazy after, you fell asleep pretty much as soon as you got to the cabin when you and the others arrived at camp. The first night back was one full of celebration, all the cabins came together, partying and cheering each other on. Even the demigods who had sided with Luke were welcomed back, at least those that lived and realized the error of their ways. 

The second day though, was one filled with grief and mourning. Everyone had been so excited to win the war, no one truly knew how things would actually go, there had been a real possibility of Kronos winning. After the win, after the celebrating, it finally hit everyone, they might have won the war, but it came at a great cost. Every cabin lost members, everyone lost someone, whether it be a friend or sibling. You might have been saved by Apollo but many were not, many Hunters had not been. You weren’t sure if the poison made you lucky, dying slowly was the only reason you were still alive at the end to even have the chance at being healed. 

Apollo might have been annoying, but you didn’t take him saving you lightly. You were as good as dead until Apollo intervened, there was no reason for him to do that, other than he simply liked you. You owed him everything, you owed it to your sisters who didn’t get the chance to continue on. You owed everyone who didn’t make it, you would spend the rest of your life dedicating yourself to making sure Apollos gift wasn’t in vain, that you deserved this second chance at life. 

You hadn’t seen Clarisse much since getting back to camp. She helped you to your cabin and then left you, after you insisted she go enjoy the night. The next morning at breakfast she came over to check on you but then quickly went back to her table. Breakfast was depressing that day, everyone sat quietly at their tables, no one was making jokes or being rowdy. There was a somber mood that coated the entire camp that day. The next few meals got louder and louder until there was a consistent amount of chatter amongst the demigods. 

You had only seen Clarisse at meals though, usually across the pavilion. You’d be at Artemis’s table with your sisters, and you’d look up, meeting Clarisse’s gaze, who was seated with her siblings at the Ares table. Clarisse had lost her best friend, you wanted to be there for her, you remembered what it was like losing Zoe. You didn’t want to push her though; Clarisse wasn’t exactly the type to be open about her feelings. You silently made it known you were there for her, if she wanted to talk, she could come to you, but if she wanted her space, you’d happily give that to her as well. 

You threw yourself into training as soon as you were able. You spent your days on the training grounds, shooting arrows or swinging a sword at the dummies. You said it was to stay in fighting shape, just something to help your recover but every time you slashed your sword at a dummy you saw the faces of your sisters, the faces of all those lost. 

“Hey,” Thalia called out, just as you dealt another hard blow to the wood dummy. You turned to face her, sheathing your sword in the process. “Just got word from Artemis.” Your heart dropped at that, that meant you were leaving soon. As much as you were ready to leave Camp Half-Blood, you weren’t ready, you hadn’t had a real conversation with Clarisse yet. “We leave tomorrow.” 

You gave a small nod. “Well, I’m always packed,” you said. 

You turned back around, facing the dummy. You put your hand on the hilt of the sword, intending to draw it again and continue your training. “You should say any goodbyes tonight,” Thalia’s voice made you freeze. “We’re leaving at sunrise.” 

You didn’t turn around; you just turned your head enough to see Thalia out of the corner of your eye. “Thank you,” is all you said. 

When you heard Thalia finally walking away you drew your sword and continued on with your training. You knew it was your last day to talk to Clarisse, but you didn’t know where to start, so you trained. You trained for hours, ignoring the other campers as they came and went, ignoring as lunch time came and went, ignoring as dinner time came and went. You finally stopped when the only light in the sky was from the stars. 

You looked up, your eyes instantly going to Zoe’s constellation. You sighed; you knew what you had to do. Even if Zoe wouldn’t have approved of your feelings for Clarisse, she definitely would have called you out for avoiding the girl just because you were scared. You once again sheathed your sword and made your way off the training grounds. You made your way to your cabin to put away your weapons, then you were going to go to the bonfire you knew the campers were having. It would be the last bonfire for all the Hunters there and you figured Clarisse would be there. 

After putting your stuff away and getting cleaned up you made your way to the bonfire. By the time you got there the party was in full swing, demigods were all paired off or in groups talking with one another. You saw most of your sisters there as well, most of them branching out and talking to other campers by this point. You passed by Percy and Annabeth, making sure to give Annabeth a small nod and completely ignore Percy, not even bothering to turn when you caught him frowning. You made eye contact with Thalia across the fire who gave you a small nod. You saw everyone, everyone besides Clarisse, the one person you had actually wanted to see. 

You soon left the bonfire, knowing there was one other place Clarisse might be. You made your way through the camp until you came to the Ares cabin. The cabin was dark and not a single sound came from it, most would assume no one was home but that didn’t stop you from walking up the steps and knocking on the door. 

It took a moment, but you finally heard shuffling and then the door creaking. “Hey,” you breathed out when you saw Clarisse standing before you. 

“What are you doing here?” Clarisse asked, she crossed her arms, but she didn’t sound angry. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” 

Clarisse nodded, suddenly refusing to look you in the eye. “I heard.” 

“I needed to say goodbye.” 

You reached up to grab Clarisse’s hand but paused midair, questioning your decision. You saw Clarisse eyeing your hand out of the corner of her eye. When she didn’t pull away or make any move saying she didn’t want you to touch her you got over your nerves and continued. You gently grabbed her hand, letting her arms fall to her side as you swung your clasped hands between the two of you, gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand with your thumb. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“We both knew this day was coming,” she sighed. She looked up, giving you a sad smile. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, returning her smile. “Until we meet again.” 

Clarisse tugged you by the hand, pulling you in for a hug. You were sure she would never seem so vulnerable out in the open, the two of you were standing on the porch of the Ares cabin, anyone walking by could see the two of you. You knew everyone was at the bonfire though and they’d be there all night. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed there, you just hugged each other, enjoying the comforting silence. 

When you finally parted Clarisse went back into her cabin and you walked back to Artemis’s. You weren’t in the mood for a bonfire. As soon as you walked through the door you kicked off your boots and laid on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. The odds were that once you left camp, you’d never see Clarisse again. Clarisse graduated next year, meaning she probably wouldn’t be at Camp Half-Blood anymore, even if that wasn’t the case, it wasn’t often the Hunters came to camp. The war was fought and won, there was no reason for you guys to come back to the camp as often as you had in recent years. Unless you ran into her on a quest this would be the last night you saw Clarisse. 

The next morning you made your way to the top of the hill with your sisters. Your sisters crossed over the barrier, making their way down the other side of the hill. You were about to follow when you caught Clarisse running towards you out of the corner of your eye. “Give me a second?” you asked, looking at Thalia. Thalia nodded, then walked away enough to be out of earshot. 

“I just...” Clarisse started when she got to you. “I just wanted to say goodbye.” 

You smiled. “Goodbye,” you whispered. You reached out, offering her your arm which she hesitantly took, gripping your forearm. You pulled her forward, resting your forehead against hers. “Until the next life,” you whispered. 

You heard Clarisse let out a shaky breath and felt her give a small nod. “I’ll hold you too that,” she whispered. You couldn’t help but smile at her words. 

The two of you stayed like that for a second before you both of you finally, though reluctantly, pulled away. She walked backwards down the hill until she finally turned around, jogging down the rest of the way. Your eyes followed her the entire time, you intended to watch her until she disappeared from your view. You felt the air change and the hair on your arm stand up, you gave a sad smile, knowing it was time to leave. 

“You’re older,” you said, not even bothering to turn around. You knew who was behind you, you always knew when she was near, you could always feel her presence. 

“I know you feel weird when I look like a child,” Artemis said. 

“It’s just a little weird to be getting advice or be given orders by a twelve-year-old.” You chuckled before finally turning around to face Artemis. 

She looked similar to how she always did, however instead of taking on the appearance of a twelve-year-old she made herself look a little older, made herself to look around your age. It wasn’t often Artemis changed her appearance, she hardly ever made herself look older. Given the fact that she’s taken on this appearance to talk to you, even though you were all supposed to leave in a few minutes, didn’t seem like a good sign. 

You turned away from Artemis again, looking back over camp from the top of the hill. You had done this a hundred times, you had left camp without so much as a glance back, you despised Camp Half-Blood, you always looked forward to leaving, except now. It seemed camp was getting harder and harder for you to walk away from, you couldn’t help but assume it had to do with the daughter of Ares. Your eyes found Clarisse, walking down the hill, getting further away from you. 

“I’m releasing you from your oath.,” Artemis said softly but instantly breaking you from your thoughts. 

“What?” you asked, turning around. You looked at her with wide eyes, you weren’t sure you had heard her right. 

“You deserve to be happy.” she gave you a kind smile. She didn’t need to repeat herself, you really had heard her correctly, that didn’t make you any less confused though. 

“I am happy,” you insisted, stepping closer to Artemis. “I’ve always been happy with you, with my sisters.” You weren’t sure why she was doing this, you had remained loyal, you never broke your oath, you didn’t know why she was abandoning you now, you thought you had done everything right, you tried to do everything right. 

“I know,” she sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder. “But now your heart isn’t in it anymore,” she gave you a sad smile. Your eyes fell, she was right, she was always right. “You have been a great second to my lieutenants, to Zoe and then to Thalia. You’ve been an even better friend and confidant these last thousand years.” 

You glanced up to see Artemis not looking at you but down the hill at Clarisse. “I’ve seen you two together, you have strong feelings,” Artemis said softly, no animosity in her voice. “You have been willing to ignore those feelings, to sacrifice what you want, to honor your oath.” Your eyes fell once again, the feeling that you’ve disappointed your goddess washed over you. “I am not disappointed in you.” You looked up, your eyes widening, it was like Artemis had read your mind. She had always been good at reading you though. “You have fought admirably by my side. I will miss you,” she gave you a sad smile. “But I want you to be happy.” 

You looked back down at Clarisse, watching her slowly disappear from your sight. “Do you want to be with her?” Artemis asked. 

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Despite the conversation going on you were caught off guard by Artemis’s question. “I am loyal to you,” you found yourself saying. It didn’t matter what you wanted or what you felt, you were loyal to Artemis. 

“I know. You have never once wavered. I am not angry,” she smiled, so you knew her words were true. “You have stayed the course and pushed away your temptations and desires better than anyone.” Despite her words, despite knowing Artemis wouldn’t lie, if she was angry or felt you betrayed her, she wouldn’t bother with this conversation, she’d just punish you. Despite all that, you still felt like you had failed her. 

“Do you want her?” she asked again. 

“I-yes,” you whispered. There it was, you said it, it was the first time you admitted it out loud. 

“I am releasing you. You will no longer be immortal, but you are free to be with her, to love her, to live a new life, one that you choose.” 

“I don’t know what to do without you.” You had been with Artemis and the Hunters for so long, you barely remembered your mortal life. 

“I’m not abandoning you; I will be there if you need me, you will always be my friend, and a sister.” That brought you some comfort, you knew Artemis still kept in contact with the few people she did let leave but you never expected her to do the same to you. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Believe it or not just because I reject love does not mean I don’t want my Hunters to be happy,” Artemis chuckled lightly.  You couldn’t help but smile as well, Artemis could be harsh, but she did truly want her Hunters to be happy. “If that’s what they ultimately desire, so long as they don’t break my trust.” 

“Thank you.” 

“No, thank you. Thank you for a thousand years of service.” Artemis stepped forward and gently rested her forehead against yours. She brought a hand to the back of your neck, then she slowly began taking away the gifts bestowed upon you, leaving you mortal once again when she pulled away. 

“I can never repay you for all that you’ve done for me.” 

“You don’t have to; you’ve done more than enough.” 

“Thank you, for everything, truly.” 

Artemis gave a small nod. She looked down the hill at the Hunters waiting for her then back to you. “Also, it might be unconventional but feel free to continue to stay in Cabin Eight.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I appreciate that.” Artemis didn’t have to allow that, but you appreciated that she did. You were a child of Nike and despite Percy’s terms Nike didn’t have a cabin yet. You would have been stuck in the Hermes cabin and that was certainly not what you wanted; you would have rather set up a tent outside. 

“It’s been an honor and a pleasure,” you said. “Fighting by your side, my goddess.” You held out your arm and Artemis gripped your forearm giving it a firm shake before making her way down to the Hunters. 

Lastly, Thalia appeared beside you. “I’m never going to find another second like you,” she said. 

You smiled at the comment, giving a shy nod. “That’s true,” you said cockily. 

Thalia smacked you on the side of the arm before giving her own goodbye. “I owe you my life,” she whispered. 

You gave a little shrug. “Just doing my job.” 

Thalia tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly at you. “You deserve this, you know?” You scrunched your eyebrows, tilting your head in question. “To be happy,” she clarified. You sucked in a breath, giving her a small nod. “There’s nothing to feel guilty about, Zoe would understand.” 

Your eyes widened slightly, that was always something you worried about. Zoe might have been gone but you were constantly worried about disappointing her. You knew how much the Hunters meant to her, how seriously she took the oath, she was the one that had been by your side since the beginning, walking away now almost felt like a betrayal. Zoe was like Artemis though, she never thought less of those who wanted to leave the Hunters, so long as they didn’t break their oath to do so. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Thalia gave you a final nod before running off to join the rest of the Hunters. You stood at the top of the hill, giving them all one final wave before watching them take off into the woods. You turned around, looking back down at camp, you let out a shaky breath before making your way back down the hill, intending to find Clarisse. 

You didn’t have to try too hard to find Clarisse, she was where she was the majority of the time, on the training grounds. She wasn’t in the middle of training though, her back was to you, and she was talking to Percy and Annabeth. 

“I thought you left?” Percy questioned when his eyes landed on you. 

“Change of plans,” you said. 

Annabeth tilted her head, her eyes flicking from you to Clarisse, and you could swear a small smirked appeared on her lips. You saw Clarisse’s body stiffen before turning to face you. “Didn’t Artemis arrive this morning?” Clarisse questioned. 

“She did,” you confirmed with a nod. 

“Then what are you-” 

“She and the Hunters just left,” you cut her off. 

You watched as her brow furrowed then her eyes widened in realization. “What does that mean?” she asked quietly, like she was nervous to hear your answer. 

“It means,” you hesitantly stepped forward. You were only partially aware of Annabeth dragging a confused Percy away. “I’ve been released from my oath,” you let out in a shaky breath. You reached out, ignoring the way your hand shook, and took Clarisse’s hand in your own. 

“You’re not a Hunter anymore?” You could see the hope in Clarisse’s eyes. 

You shook your head, giving her a shy smile. “I hope that’s okay?” Despite having feelings for her and knowing she had feelings for you, you weren’t sure if this was actually something she wanted. 

Clarisse crashed into you, wrapping you up in a tight hug. “Of course it’s okay,” she mumbled into your neck. 

You instantly wrapped your hands around her waist, pulling her closer. She pulled away just enough to rest her forehead against yours, your noses lightly brushing against each other, both of you hesitating to lean in. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” you whispered. This was all new to you, you might not have minded Apollo’s flirting, but you still had never crossed any of these lines before, you had never felt anything like this, even before joining the Hunters. 

“Me either,” Clarisse whispered back. Your shoulders relaxed at that. You knew she had a crush on Chris but knowing the rest of this was all knew to her definitely eased your nerves a bit. 

Clarisse finally closed the distance, kissing you. For a split second you froze but quickly gave in, kissing Clarisse back. You both smiled into the kiss as it got more intense. When the two of you broke apart, Clarisse rested her forehead on yours again, both of you smiling like crazy. 

Clarisse swung an arm around your neck, and you swung your arm around her waist as the two of you began to walk off the training area. You ignored the way Percy’s mouth was hung open and his eye practically coming out of his head and the way Annabeth was smirking as the two of you passed them. 

Taglist: @cxcilla @danonered @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @fictionalwhor3